Chapter 29
Oh, you're all being lovely, lovely people and reviewing! YAY! Thanks again to. . . Ambrosius, Pervert Bitch, Ruby Rose Edwards, Dianne (I know you're out there. . .*g*). . . and the rest of you! (sorry, brain has officially died. . . ) And thanks to Naomi, for proof reading and being nice! (I have reasons for that compliment, don't delete!) Alysun (minus brain).
Nothing Made SENSE!
Draco had woken to see the anxious faces of Snape and Dumbledore looking down at him. Like mother hens, he thought giddily. He felt light headed and sick. His mother had killed his father? Ridiculous! His mother had no reason to kill his father! Snape was just. . .was just. . . he was just. . . making it up! Yeah, that was it, Snape was making it up. Absolutely. No doubt.
Why?
He had made his way to the hospital wing distractedly, considering this. His mother must. . . no, MIGHT have killed his father, otherwise why would say she had? He had nothing to gain from her being. . .sent down. Draco shivered at the thought. He was now in the sick bay, sitting in the big, blue, incredibly battered (but why? It was only ever used by sick people.) armchair, waiting for Madam Pomfrey to return with something or other that she had set out for. He thought back to the dream he had had. . . It was more of a vision, he supposed, since he had been unconscious, not asleep, but still. . .
He had been staring into a high mirror, looking at the image of himself. He looked downcast, depressed. . . As he watched, his face started to change, the cheekbones a little higher, the face narrower, ageing, the hair sliding itself from one position to another before settling. . . he now stared into the platinum grey eyes of his father. His fathers face had none of the worry that his had had before, but seemed light hearted, cheerful, alive. . . The hair changed again, falling down lengthening, unfolding, and darkening, from silver blonde to grey to black . . . till it grew to a jaw length, jet black curtain around the morphing face. The nose grew, the liquid mercury colour of the eyes deteriorated into blackness, blocked by a mental wall of anti-emotion. The pure white of his fathers skin turned, melting into Snapes more sallow complexion, leaving the image of the despondent Potions master complete. The image of Snape stared deep into the midst of Draco's mind, seemingly, reading him, seeing his every thought, before looking away.
Then he had come round. What had it meant? Why had it happened? What did it mean? Draco's brow furrowed in frustration. Unless there was some connection between his father and Snape? They had been friends, yes, but why did that happen? Was there something else he wasn't seeing here? He slammed his hand down onto the well-worn arm of the chair, sending a small cloud of dust up into the air. It wasn't FAIR!!! He didn't understand! What did it all MEAN?
Nothing made SENSE!
Oh, you're all being lovely, lovely people and reviewing! YAY! Thanks again to. . . Ambrosius, Pervert Bitch, Ruby Rose Edwards, Dianne (I know you're out there. . .*g*). . . and the rest of you! (sorry, brain has officially died. . . ) And thanks to Naomi, for proof reading and being nice! (I have reasons for that compliment, don't delete!) Alysun (minus brain).
Nothing Made SENSE!
Draco had woken to see the anxious faces of Snape and Dumbledore looking down at him. Like mother hens, he thought giddily. He felt light headed and sick. His mother had killed his father? Ridiculous! His mother had no reason to kill his father! Snape was just. . .was just. . . he was just. . . making it up! Yeah, that was it, Snape was making it up. Absolutely. No doubt.
Why?
He had made his way to the hospital wing distractedly, considering this. His mother must. . . no, MIGHT have killed his father, otherwise why would say she had? He had nothing to gain from her being. . .sent down. Draco shivered at the thought. He was now in the sick bay, sitting in the big, blue, incredibly battered (but why? It was only ever used by sick people.) armchair, waiting for Madam Pomfrey to return with something or other that she had set out for. He thought back to the dream he had had. . . It was more of a vision, he supposed, since he had been unconscious, not asleep, but still. . .
He had been staring into a high mirror, looking at the image of himself. He looked downcast, depressed. . . As he watched, his face started to change, the cheekbones a little higher, the face narrower, ageing, the hair sliding itself from one position to another before settling. . . he now stared into the platinum grey eyes of his father. His fathers face had none of the worry that his had had before, but seemed light hearted, cheerful, alive. . . The hair changed again, falling down lengthening, unfolding, and darkening, from silver blonde to grey to black . . . till it grew to a jaw length, jet black curtain around the morphing face. The nose grew, the liquid mercury colour of the eyes deteriorated into blackness, blocked by a mental wall of anti-emotion. The pure white of his fathers skin turned, melting into Snapes more sallow complexion, leaving the image of the despondent Potions master complete. The image of Snape stared deep into the midst of Draco's mind, seemingly, reading him, seeing his every thought, before looking away.
Then he had come round. What had it meant? Why had it happened? What did it mean? Draco's brow furrowed in frustration. Unless there was some connection between his father and Snape? They had been friends, yes, but why did that happen? Was there something else he wasn't seeing here? He slammed his hand down onto the well-worn arm of the chair, sending a small cloud of dust up into the air. It wasn't FAIR!!! He didn't understand! What did it all MEAN?
Nothing made SENSE!