Black Glass IV - Counting Crows
- Sherry and Taylor, et al
A/N: Well... I really hope you all enjoy this... please, please review after you read. I love reviews. The 'black glass' thing comes in here, I *think*... it is SO much worse than the other part. Read on! I'm sorry it took so long. I have exams... the nasty things... no, not finals. My finals are in October! I can't wait for HP book 4!
Disclaimer: We all live in a yellow submarine... and some people have a lot more possessions than others... so I stole J. K. Rowling's...
'...fiat...' Draco mumbled, feeling helpless. What was he to do? Tom Riddle stood behind him, a kind of manic grin on his face, and Draco panicked.
'...fiat mer alve...'
And then, suddenly, there was a sharp pain in his hand. Draco lifted his left palm and looked at the lightning mark. Then he looked at Hermione's left temple, with the twin burn, and he realised in a sharp sudden rush that he could not kill Hermione. He - he cared about her too much. Draco slapped himself mentally, but couldn't bring himself to do it. She lay there, sleeping innocently on her side, her hair over the pillows. He tried desperately just to utter the last, fatal word, but he couldn't do it.
Was he in love?
He fell to his knees by the side of the bed, sobbing into his hands. As the hot salty water trickled over his hands, the pain disappeared as suddenly as it had arrived. Tom Riddle gave a hiss and disappeared in a puff of smoke, leaving Draco with the words Next time... next time... echoing in his head, which ached as though there were a thousand hammers pounding inside.
How could I have ever consented? Draco asked himself as he sobbed into his hands, finally running his fingers through his rumpled silvery hair, and straightening up on his knees to look at Hermione. She was still in a deep sleep, partly induced by Madam Pomfrey's tea and partly because she had been very worried, and lost much sleep. He smoothed her hair and shuddered, thinking about what he had almost done.
'Oh, God,' Draco muttered to himself. 'I am never, ever going to come close to doing something like that again.' He smoothed Hermione's hair again, and smiled a little, wiping the tears from his eyes. He bent and kissed the lightning mark on her temple. Stirring, she opened one eye slightly.
'Draco?' The voice was lost, a small whisper. Draco put his finger to his lips and she closed her eyes, smiling. She wasn't really awake, Draco realised, and he went back to his own dormitory, shaking. As he entered the room he realised in horror that he had just - had just kissed a Mudblood, and he put his fingers to his lips in disgust. Then he realised strangely that he didn't feel bad about it at all.
Shaking his fist at the ceiling, he declared, 'This is what you do to me, Tom Riddle,' and fell asleep almost immediately.
Lucius Malfoy looked down the bowl he held in his hands, a bowl made of glittering black glass filled with water that looked like slime from the blackness. In it he would soon be able to see what Tom Riddle was doing with his son. With the right incantations, soon.
He spread his hands over it and muttered some strange words, then sprinkled a pinch of silver dust over the surface of the water. It lit as though there were candles floating on its surface, and in the flickering light Lucius saw Tom Riddle materialise near his son's bed. Lucius stiffened, watching.
'No...' he groaned. 'Stop it.'
'Do you really want that to happen, Draco?
The pale-haired boy sat up in bed suddenly. 'Who's there?' he called, his voice shaky. And a form began to materialise at the foot of the bed. It was a dark-haired boy, a boy with sharp, malevolent eyes and handsome features. Draco frowned, recognising it vaguely.
'Draco, I am Tom Riddle,' the apparition said, becoming solid and real and taking a seat on the edge of the bed.
'Tom - Riddle,' Draco gasped, and then, regaining composure, said, 'I should have thought that Tom Riddle would have better things to do than to skulk around the foot of my bed in the middle of the night.' He twisted his slender fingers together. 'What do you want with me? Father often talked of you.'
Tom Riddle laughed devilishly. Draco shuddered, raising an eyebrow with a snide expression. 'I want you to join me, Draco,' the boy said. He was not much older than Draco himself, and resembled Harry Potter in a way - Draco smirked, then straightened out his face reluctantly. 'I want you to join us. Your father and myself. You will be the next Dark Lord, Draco. I have no descendants.'
'Ha, ha,' said Draco composedly, although inside he was shaking. 'Me, the next Dark Lord? Think again.'
'It is true,' said Riddle, coming up closer to Draco and speaking in his ear. 'You could be great, you could have power. You could rule the world - finally get one over on the Potter boy.' At the mention of that name, Riddle's lip curled. 'All you have to do is do what I tell you to. Your father and I will instruct you.'
Lucius smiled slightly. This was going rather well. He looked into the bowl, the miniature versions of Riddle and Draco moving like those on a television screen, and chuckled.
'I might,' he replied.
'Good,' Tom replied. 'You will. Come with me.' He took Draco's hand, and at the touch of his hand a sharp pain burned in the mark on Draco's hand. Draco pulled his hand back and ran his fingers over the mark on the palm.
'Did you have anything to do with Hermione?' he asked abruptly. 'With that spell I cast at her? Was it you?'
Tom rubbed his hands together delightedly. 'You are intelligent; I'll give you that. Yes, of course I did. I want you to kill her now, yourself. Come.' And Draco found himself in the infirmary, next to a sleeping Hermione. Tom clapped him on the shoulder, and Draco raised his wand as though in a trance.
'No, I can't,' he muttered, dropping his arm.
'You can,' Riddle said, smiling at him evilly. 'You can. You can and you will. This is a first step, Draco. A first step to the many Mudbloods you could kill. A first step to the many you will overcome. First her, then "Potty and the Weasel",' Draco laughed uncertainly, 'and then Hogwarts. Then, my dear boy, we will have the world.' He raised Draco's arm once again in his firm grip, and Draco was poised over Hermione, ready to strike.
'I - I don't know the spell,' he said, his thoughts confused. He did want to rule the world - he did want to get rid of Potter - but could he kill? Kill someone?
'Your father taught it to you over vacation,' Riddle said. Draco remembered. His father had drilled him endlessly, and he had learnt a few spells by heart. 'Now will you do it?' The force of the question struck Draco like a bullet to the heart.
'Yes,' Draco said. 'Yes, I will.'
A frown marred Lucius' icy features as he gazed into the bowl. He had told Tom not to push the boy... Draco was likely to break. Still, Tom was good at 'persuasion'... Lucius smirked and looked into the bowl. And then he saw what he thought would happen. Draco, dropping his wand, falling to the ground in tears. Lucius cursed softly, looking for more, and suddenly the bowl clanged onto the table, spilling just a few drops of innocuous-looking water onto the faded mahogany surface.
His son, the only Malfoy descendant left, was actually kissing a Mudblood.
Lucius overturned the bowl as he saw Draco smoothing her hair in the white atmosphere of the Hogwarts infirmary. He knew the signs. Boreal, another of the Malfoys, had fallen in love with a Mudblood, and lost his head. He had gone exactly that same way. None of the Malfoys ever fell in love - their wives and husbands were carefully handpicked by their parents out of a seemingly pre-cut set of people, all perfect, all pureblood. Lucius jumped out of the chair and ran up the stairs. He was going to consult his wife.
The moonlight shone once again on the halls of Hogwarts as Draco Malfoy slipped out of his common-room. He tiptoed past each classroom, a breeze ruffling his perfect silver-tipped hair, but this time he was too worried to care. He wanted some peace to be able to think. Crabbe and Goyle had been questioning him about his attitude since that night - he had been staring into space and not paying attention in even Snape's class. Draco didn't bother to answer, which only made them more curious. He stole up toward the Astronomy tower.
Treading the familiarly creaky steps, Draco let out a hooting sigh. The spiralling stairs took forever to tread carefully, and he didn't really care about being found or not. There was no one there to disturb him...
Or so he had thought. Leaning over the railing, this time without the book, was Hermione Granger.
Draco moved up, silent as a mouse, to stand beside her rather awkwardly. They hadn't spoken since she had come back to classes, and all the students had surrounded her, fingering her mark, giving Draco accusing looks. He had gotten used to it, and now held up his hand derisively whenever he came near Weasley, who always looked ready to rip his throat out. But he'd been thinking, privately, and realised that his strange feelings about Hermione were tearing his heart out. He had to speak to her.
'Hello, Draco,' Hermione said.
'Hello,' he returned. 'What are you doing here without your book?'
She let out a sigh, running her fingers through her hair. Draco thought he had never seen anyone - any girl - with such beautiful hair. Not even Blaise Zabini. 'You told me you come out here for solitude. So... I decided to try it. I've been feeling pretty torn up these past few days.'
'Too bad,' Draco said derisively, looking at her. 'You might want to try finding solace in Weasley. He's been mooning over you for years.'
Hermione didn't slap him this time, she just groaned. 'Oh, Draco, shut up. I have this premonition that something really bad is going to happen. Professor McGonagall says she does, too.'
'Characteristic of Mudbloods,' Draco said abstractedly. 'Premonitions. Superstitions. That reminds me, I have a rabbit's foot to sell - you interested?'
'Oh, shut up, Draco. I'm really worried.' She groaned, moonlight shining over her features, not as bright as it had the other night, but enough for Draco to see her. His breath was ragged.
'So am I,' he told her, taking a step closer to her.
'What about?' Hermione asked, finding herself also breathless.
'You,' he told her.
She laughed shortly, resting her arm on the railings for support. 'Very funny, Draco.'
'I think I'm in love with you, Hermione.'
She studied his pointed features, his face, which was impassive. 'It isn't true, is it, Draco,' she whispered.
Seriously, he told her, 'It is.'
'It's going to ruin everything.'
He gave a short laugh, his eyes flashing. Hermione could have sworn they turned slightly blue. 'Yes. It will ruin everything. But... it doesn't matter, does it, Hermione? Weasley will have my head; that's all, really.' He moved closer to her, his elbow brushing hers, and she didn't know what to say.
'Draco, stop it,' she muttered, but he paid no heed; he stepped closer still.
'Draco!'
'There's nothing I can do,' he murmured, seemingly to himself. 'It's done. Father will kill me.'
'You don't really - love me,' Hermione cried wildly, looking around. 'You're hallucinating. All that Dark Magic has clouded your brain.'
Draco laughed again, a small smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. 'No, Hermione, it has in fact cleared my brain and opened my eyes to one simple fact - I can't do anything about it, I think I love you.'
'You think,' Hermione uttered desperately, clutching at straws. 'You don't know.'
'Well, I'll have to test it out, then, won't I?' His face and eyes had a kind of impervious glitter, a smile at the corners of his mouth. Hermione shivered pleasantly as he put his hand on her cheek, more gently than she had expected, and drew her face towards his despite her protests. He bent his head over hers, and she had to stop talking as he kissed her. Hermione tried to move away, but found herself putting her arms around him and holding him, as though he were actually comforting her, and she was upset. And she was, in a way. They broke apart, and Draco smiled at her.
'I thought,' he said. 'Now I know.'
Hermione put a hand to her head, rumpling her hair. Draco reached out and smoothed it down for her. 'Draco, please,' she begged, her voice not much more than a whimper. 'We can't be doing this. There's the Dark Magic thing and you're a Slytherin and I'm a Gryffindor and Harry and Ron will go insane and your father will kill you and...' She stopped abruptly as Draco pressed his lips to hers again, and to her annoyance found herself holding onto him. When they let go, she narrowed her eyes slightly and glared at him, hands on hips.
'Nothing we can do about it now,' he whispered as if to himself. 'It's too late.'
'Now you've gone and done it!' Hermione cried, shaking her head at him.
'Done what?'
'Draco...' Hermione paused, unable to admit that she had just realised that she loved him as well.
'What are we going to do?' she asked him as she sank onto the floor on her knees, Draco following her. 'You've got to forget this ever happened.'
'Impossible,' Draco replied. 'Anyone who's ever kissed you should know that.' He grinned at her, brushing back his pale hair, the moonlight sparkling on his glittering eyes. He moved closer to her, putting an arm around her. Hermione looked at him with a mixture of annoyance and twisted affection.
'No one's ever kissed me before - seriously, that is,' she replied, thinking of the times Harry and Ron had kissed her on the cheek and snickering at the recollection of Dean attempting a Draco-esque move on her in the common room, only to be yelled at by a very red-eared Ron.
'I should consider myself lucky,' Draco said as she finally relaxed, leaning on him.
'Draco would never do a thing like that,' Cecilia Malfoy protested.
'I'm telling you, he has,' Lucius told his wife, taking a seat on a hard wooden-backed chair. 'We are in deep trouble, Cecilia. The boy seems to be emulating Boreal. And you know what that means.'
'No!' Cecilia exclaimed, but she knew that her husband was right. The black glass bowl never lied. 'Well, then, Lucius - we'll just have to find him another girl.'
'Isn't it rather early?'
'We were betrothed at the age of sixteen ourselves, Lucius,' Cecilia reminded him.
'Oh, all right,' Lucius concurred, groaning. 'How about - that Zabini girl. Her father's a powerful one - she would make a good enchantress.'
'Yes, but...' His wife ran a hand through her hair. She had dark hair, dark as Blaise's, and pale skin like Draco and Lucius. 'How about the Parkinson girl?'
'Not very strong Dark Magic ties. In fact, I don't think the family is acquainted with the art.'
'Her mother is a good friend of mine,' his wife retorted. 'Really, Lucius, you could hardly do better. The girl is very nice - but I do not recall her as good to look upon.'
'No,' Lucius agreed. 'She's too fat.' Cecilia snorted, and told him that Pansy was only slightly pudgy now. 'I still think that Blaise Zabini is a good choice,' he maintained. 'She is very pretty, and clever as well, I believe. A good choice for him.'
With an unusually wistful look on her face, Cecilia said, 'I wish we didn't have to take such drastic measures for Draco. He's only sixteen. Are you sure about it, Lucius?'
Impatiently her husband went out of the room, returning with a black glass bowl filled with water in his hands. The Dark Arts bowl. Cecilia watched, her eyes wide, as he muttered the word, 'Draco'. The surface of the water lighted up, became flickering, showed Draco. The night sky was all around him. 'Let's watch him, then,' Lucius said heavily. 'We shall see.'
They saw Hermione.
Cecilia let out a gasp. Lucius turned to her, sighing. 'Did I not tell you?' he said. 'This is what will happen. Has, indeed, happened.' They watched in horror as Draco kissed the girl, and they fell asleep in a corner of the Astronomy Tower.
Hermione said sleepily, 'Draco, we could get into trouble.' She was leaning on Draco, both of them huddled in a corner of the tower, Draco's arms around her.
'I know,' he murmured, smoothing her hair. 'But does it matter?'
'No...' she breathed, closing her eyes. 'This time we didn't get our solitude, did we?'
Draco smiled, taking her hand. 'No, we didn't,' he agreed. 'But I'd rather have you here than be staring out at the stars in... solitude.'
She laughed faintly, her eyes closed, her lashes on her cheeks. 'I never knew I'd ever feel this way.'
'I'm a very lucky person.'
She laughed again. 'No, actually, you're not. You should have got yourself mixed up with some other, nicer girl... someone who's pretty, perfect, funny... someone who isn't a Gryffindor.' Her tone turned hard for a moment, then she relaxed. 'I don't really believe this is happening,' she told him softly. 'I think I'll wake up in my own bed, in my own dormitory, and I'll just have dreamed that I was up in this tower - and in love with you.'
Draco gave a short laugh. 'I won't wake to the snores of Crabbe and Goyle again, that's for sure. Hermione... I don't know what's happening to me. And I'm scared. I have to tell you something.' And he related his encounter with Tom Riddle, Hermione frowning slightly. 'I couldn't kill you, Hermione,' he told her finally.
'I'm - I'm glad, Draco.' She gave a small shiver, strands of her brown hair waving gently in the breeze. 'I'm scared too,' she admitted. 'What is he trying to do to you, Draco?'
'I don't know,' Draco told her, 'but I think Father has something to do with it.'
'Don't think about it,' she advised him. 'I'm tired... are you?'
'Yeah.' Draco yawned and closed his eyes as well.
'Do you see now?' Lucius asked his wife, who nodded numbly. Both of them felt horrible. 'We shall have to do something about it.'
'I want you to consult that boy,' Cecilia cried. She had never felt so confused in her life. 'Tom Riddle. What is he doing to Draco?'
'Nothing, my dear, merely trying to turn him to our side.'
'But Lucius - why?'
He gave her a look. 'Cecilia, what do you think?'
His wife sagged. 'All right, Lucius,' she uttered in a tone that boded no good. 'However, I wish for you to go easy on the boy.' Her face softened. 'Is it really wrong, Lucius, to love someone? Even if she is a Mudblood?'
'Of course it's wrong!' thundered Lucius. 'Draco is a pureblood! He cannot mix with her kind! It is terribly wrong!'
Cecilia turned her face away to hide her tears. 'It wasn't wrong for me, once.'
'HERMIONE GRANGER!'
Hermione awoke to the sound of someone calling her. Moonlight streamed onto her face, very faint now, mixing with the illusion of darkness that came just before morning. She opened one eye blurredly, and saw robes. Groaning, she opened her eyes. It's all true! she realised, feeling Draco's arms around her. She felt him stir and turned to him, but was interrupted by a teacherish ahem.
She looked straight up into the face of Professor McGonagall.
'Er... good morning, Professor,' she managed, looking over at Draco. He was rubbing his eyes, trying to comprehend the situation. Hermione quieted him with a finger to his lips and turned back to the professor, who was tapping her foot impatiently.
'I think we all should have a talk,' said Professor McGonagall, but in a gentle tone. Hermione wondered what she was going to do, and got up, pulling Draco along with her. They followed the professor meekly down the rickety stairs and into an empty classroom.
'Now what were you two doing up there?' the professor asked.
'How did you find us?' Draco asked, dry-mouthed.
'Filch told me,' Professor McGonagall said, a hint of a smile on her face. Hermione and Draco exchanged looks, and the professor went on to explain, 'It isn't safe to be out of your dormitories at night.'
'Why?' Hermione queried.
The professor, in answer, thumped a newspaper down on the table. Draco and Hermione gulped as they read the headline:
DARK LORD RETURNS
'This arrived early,' she said, her voice heavy with strain. 'Voldemort has returned. It is said that he is focusing on us. On Hogwarts.'
'Tom, we have to fix Draco,' Lucius explained.
The tall boy grimaced. 'Ugh. Ah well, what is the problem?'
'He's in love with the Mudblood.'
Tom's face registered shock. 'He can't be! That's horrendous!' Lucius nodded, sighing heavily. 'Lucius! What kind of training does your boy receive?'
Ignoring the slight about his manner of bringing up his son, Lucius said, 'I wanted to talk to you about the attempt, Tom. Please don't push him too fast. He's easily broken by pressure.'
Tom rubbed his hands together. 'I'm planning to push him over the edge. And I know just how. You and I, Lucius,' he put an arm around his friend, 'are going to wage war. And Draco will be forced to choose between us - and her.'
A/N : Hope you didn't hate that too much. We really must get more sleep. Sherry is really tired and Taylor is dropping off. Why else do you think we would be writing about sleepy people? :) Review, please... I love those reviews... I'm sorry I didn't kill Hermione... I need some rest... bye... zzzz...