sit down and write a damn good chapter . . . I hope.
My mailing list has twenty six people now! How cool is that?
But y'all can make it even cooler by coming and joining yourself.
Sound like a plan? I thought so
too. Here's the link:
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/hpperhaps/
I'm starting a fanfiction site! As of right now it's under
major construction, but I'm in dire need of some fanfiction to host.
I accept all pairings and all ratings except
for NC-17. If you'd like your story up there, just throw
me a line at yogurtgoddess@charter.net . Otherwise, I'll keep you
updated, and tell y'all when it's
working!
Thank you guys SOOOOO much for all your support. It really
is what keeps me writing, even if I only do so sporadically, naughty me.
So if you want me to
hurry up and keep on writing, tell me! It really does help.
And ssssssssspecial thanks to my mailing list, Ryan, and all that
reviewed the last chapter:
Bienfoy, °~lover~°, Stephanie, katie,
Yashshii-Soshite-Mujaki, Kirona, traleela, ??,
MOiT, SoulSister, dragon eyes, endlesschatting,
moonfire, Draco
Malfoy N Harry Potter, Joan, MOI, Prophetess Of Hearts,
Angel of Darkness, flynfish, Chibi slasher, Yonaka no
Inu-Ryuu, franthephoenix, McKaylah,
the-princess-bard, Krystiana, Hippy Flower(Voldie's
kid, Arabwel, stace, skye, and zoobigigi.
Sorry if I missed anyone! And now, with no further ado,
I give you chapter thirteen of Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps . . .
A darkness filled the air, both chilling and eerie, as Draco turned his back to see Harry lying on the stone floor, blood steadily pooling in sheathes, surrounding his seemingly lifeless body. A shadow lurked behind him, cloaked and corruptive, sucking any traces of glow and health from Harry's complexion, and leaving him looking as fragile and pale as Draco himself. Harry looked up at Draco and breathlessly whispered, "Run . . . go, Draco. I'll be right behind you." His voice hollow, his whisper grave. His hand reached out slightly, and his face called out for Draco to follow the trace of his words.
Draco suddenly felt panic fill his lungs as he stared at the figure eyeing and pleading for his compliance. He turned and ran, not watching where he was headed, not caring. His head hung low while his legs seemed to move mechanically, stiff, jerky and awkward, as his usual grace and pride had surprisingly left him--, and his feet in seeming defiance of will with each forced step.
Run, he told himself. Run for Harry, run for yourself, run if you want to live. Just don't stop.
He felt weak at the knees in mid-step, eyes tearing with pain.
A rush of air struck the nape of his neck as he looked straight ahead,
opened his mouth,
and remembered to breathe.
"Ughhhhhhh…."
Harry lifted his head and coughed. He gazed up at the shadow looming before him, and received nothing but a hollow laugh, haunting and inexplicably wicked. He turned his head to monitor Draco's progress . . . he saw not Draco, but a clumsy, awkward shell of a man, his fluidity as horribly mangled as the face of the monster above him. He took what strength he had left and pushed himself off the ground, barely dodging the shadow's swooping hand. He reached for his wand, but found nothing. With the ground spinning, his body unsteadily leaning forward as his eyes rolled back, he felt his right leg bearing his weight. Suddenly the world steadied and focused itself, and his left foot took a shaky step forward. Momentum soon followed, and he found himself running with a heavy leg. He approached Draco as best as he could, although he could hear the shadow's footsteps were not far behind. It was coming closer. He could feel it.
"Draco!" he cried out, just a few yards away from the boy's jolting figure. Draco turned his head back to see Harry's face wince as the shadow finally caught the hem of his robes. "No!" Harry screamed, falling to the ground face first with an audibly loud force.
Draco found himself struggling to redirect his body, he tried with all of his might to run back and help Harry. But he was frozen. His body stayed in its position although tears filled his eyes, and he watched Harry's arm fall out in front of him. His sleeve had slipped back, exposing his pale wrist to the shadow. It laughed again, the deep sound reverberating a tremor down Draco's spine. Harry screamed as its hands reached down towards his vulnerable forearm.
One more laugh, and then it contacted Harry's
skin. Immediately Harry stopped his insistent struggle, and a calm,
sedated look crossed his face. Draco
shook his head slowly. His mouth opened to talk, but nothing
came out. The shadow picked something up . . . a wand . . . it raised
its hand . . .
Harry's face suddenly snapped back into attentiveness.
He raised his free arm, and tried to protect his wrist. "Stop," he
moaned. "Please . . . oh god, please . .
." The shadow growled menacingly. It dropped the
wand, and attempted to pry off Harry's protecting hand. With one
final snarl, it tore the boy's hand off of his
wrist, scratching it in the process. "Ah!" Harry screamed
softly, his handsome face wincing in pain.
And to Draco's surprise, he winced too. Looking down at his own wrist, he saw a gash identical to Harry's. A loud step sent his attention back at the shadow, as it was, again, ready to curse, with wand in hand. Both boys screamed in pain as they lost all control, their bodies bleeding, near the brink of death…
In the Slytherin dorms, two boys awoke in a
cold sweat, one clutching his forehead.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"To mix the ethinsberry tonic with the infusion
of wormwood and your eye of newt, you must first add--Harry Potter, are
you listening?" Snape drawled. "I
wouldn't expect such a loyal student as you to not pay attention
in this class, Potter."
But Harry wasn't listening. He was gazing intently at his wrist, his sleeve pulled back slightly. Tainting his clear skin was a gash . . .
::With one final snarl, it tore Harry's
hand off of his wrist, scratching the wrist in the process. "Ah!"
Harry screamed softly, his handsome face
wincing in pain.::
Draco looked over at Harry along with the rest
of the class, and his eyes were directed down to Harry's wrist, seeing
the wound. The smirk left his face, and his
eyes widened.
Somebody from behind poked Harry, and he jolted back into attention. "Oh! Uh, sorry Professor Snape. I was . . . I . . "
"That's enough, Potter. I'll let it slide
this time, but let's not let it happen again." Hearing the Gryffindors
in the class start to groan, he glanced in their direction
and snapped, "That's final."
But Draco wasn't paying any attention to the Gryffindors' whining, or even the greasy-haired Professor Snape. Morbid curiosity controlling him, he casually slipped his hand down to his robe sleeve and slipped it back, not far enough to catch Harry's (or Snape's) attention, but just far enough to see the end of a gash peeking out at him from underneath the black fabric. Restraining a gasp that was trying valiantly to escape his mouth, he dropped the sleeve and drew his eyes back up to the lesson. A look of relief washed over his face as he realized nobody had noticed his odd behavior.
Both boys stayed jumpy throughout the entire
lesson, their eyes frequently glancing down to their wrists as they chopped
their roots and added them to the
bubbling cauldron. They were so distracted from the lesson
that when they tested out the potion, not only did it not give their mouse
a sufficient extra pair of legs,
but it seemed to have sprouted tiny horns on the top of its head.
"Potter, Malfoy, I would have expected better
from you. Perhaps you were . . . distracted? Whatever it was,
I would suggest you fix it." He sighed, before
adding reluctantly, "That's five points from Gryffindor."
After their dismissal from the class, they
walked out cloaked in a heavy silence. Breaking the pause, Draco
murmured, "Harry, I need to talk to you about
something."
Harry frowned. "What?" he asked.
"Not now, there are . . . people around."
Harry furrowed his brow, then suddenly opened his mouth. "Oh! You mean, about . . ." He bit his lip and blushed slightly.
Draco grinned. "Well, that too, but something else."
Harry's face drew back into a look of confusion. "But . . ."
"Later, Harry," Draco confirmed.
They turned right, and neared the Slytherin common room. "Draco?"
Draco sighed. "Yes?" he drawled, glancing in Harry's direction.
Harry looked up at Draco with a superbly innocent pout. "It's later . . ."
Draco stopped, and looked at Harry's pouting
lips and puppy-dog eyes. There was a moment of silence before he
let out a rather loud guffaw, turning several
heads. Walking again, he laughed, "Harry, never . . . ever
. . . use that face again!"
Harry grinned. "But it's so cute!" he defended.
Not wanting to agree out loud, Draco shot Harry a look that simply said, "I know."
A couple of Slytherins in front of them told
the password to the painting, and they slipped in after them. After
getting safely into their
dorm, the two of them crawled onto Draco's bed, and shut the
curtains. "It's best if no one hears us," Draco explained, then uttering
a silencing charm.
He bit his lip, not knowing how to approach
the subject. "Today, in potions . . . you . . . you were looking
at your wrist, and I saw that scratch. Well . . . "
Having no clue how to continue, he took the matter into his hands,
literally. He lifted up his sleeve and showed Harry the matching
wound.
Harry gasped. "But . . . the dream . . . h-how did--"
Draco slipped his finger up to the stuttering
boy's mouth. "Shh, Harry. I had the dream too. I figured
it out after I saw you in Potions today, looking at it. It all
makes sense, really. I read it in one of my father's books
last summer. It's a special sort of Serbian spell called a maštanje
spell, and it's not one that's performed
with wands or potions or anything like that. It's a steady
binding spell, and only occurs when two prophesized leaders achieve a certain
point in their relationship
where their dependence on each other grows complete."
Harry's mouth hung open and his eyes were as large as saucers. "But, why would we be prophesized leaders? And . . . just . . . how? And . . oh god!"
Draco shook his head slightly. "I'm not
quite sure. There are several other spells that have the same results,
but require intricate potions, or certain
procedures." Suddenly, his lips tightened. "Harry,
you haven't . . . nobody's been waving any wand at you or anything, right?
And you haven't drank any odd
potions?"
"Of course not!" Harry scoffed. "You think I'd have told you about that."
"Well, then I'm almost sure it has to be the
maštanje spell. Tell you what, let's go to the library right now
and see what we can find about this spell, okay? And
we'll make sure to check out any books of prophecies, specifically
Serbian ones." Draco smiled at Harry and took his hand in his own.
"Don't worry, we'll get it
straightened out."
"I hope so," Harry whispered, his lip quivering.
Hee hee hee! Took me long enough, eh? Well, the story's taking an interesting little twist . . . but if you want me to update soon, know how to inspire me?
**grins**
Review! What else?
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~Lauren~*~HPMystery~