"Amy! Amy please, answer me! Amy! Amyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy..." The Voice. The Voice. The Voice. The ever haunting Voice...the one that never went away...Amy tossed in her sleep.
She couldn't move. She tried to speak, but no sound came out. "Daddy! Mommy!" Little Amy's arms wouldn't move. She was down on the floor. She could not move...and her parents...
"My dear Amy..." the other Voice, dripping with honey and syrup and oil. "You need to put this on...put this on...put this on and then your parents can return...you need to put this on..." The silver chain dangled before her face. It seemed so simple...just put it on and all her problems would be over...
Shining, catching the moonlight, swaying gently back and forth in the cool evening breeze. Little Amy reached out her small hand, still wet from the river. The chain was close, within grasp. Amy extended her arm, keeping her eye on the small skull and snake charm dangling from the chain.
Suddenly she pulled back. Even as a four-year-old she knew that nothing came easily. The flowers, the snow, even the tiniest grain of sand...nothing came easily. "NO!" and then she ran. But she couldn't move again...her arms clamped to her sides, her legs stuck together, and she was falling, falling like a-
Amy awoke from her sleep, drenched in sweat.
She pulled back the curtains on her four poster, slipped down onto the carpet, slid her feet into warm bunny slippers...
"You're up too?" Sitting in the Slytherin common room by the fire, none other than Draco Malfoy himself. "Yeah." Amy replied. "Thinking. You?"
"Thinking. Trying not to think, really." Draco tossed a piece of paper into the fire. Amy caught a brief glimpse of writing, and then the paper was nothing but a charred part of the fire.
"WHAT are you two doing up?!" a silky voice cracked with anger broke the silence. "Honestly you'd think that four losses in a row to those...those..." Proffessor Snape could never find a fit word for the Gryffindors. "...you know who I mean! You'd think four losses to them was nothing, the way you all go about! If Minerva was to catch you two up at...what is it...4:00 in the morning?"
"I'm deeply sorry Proffessor," Amy said coolly. "I was thinking about how to best do the thought-inspiring homework you assigned us. All five pages of the essay on the elements of the Bezoar." She was not in the mood to deal with Snape. Having volunteered to take the Slytherin house when no one else would...seemed a careless venture now.
Proffessor Snape narrowed his eyes. "Of course Miss Parkinson. If it weren't for that idiot Minerva always strutting around because Gryffindor seems always to win the House Cup, you would find yourself having lost 10 house points and with a detention."
"As for YOU, Mr. Malfoy," Snape turned his greasy glare to Draco. "I believe your father would love to know that his heir is up at 4:00 in the morning after having been out...somewhere...until midnight."
Draco turned three shades paler than his usual pallor. He too narrowed his eyes. Amy cast a glance at each of them, and left the common room, climbing the winding steps to the girls' dormitory.
Or so it seemed. Each and every aurorette drafted to protect anyone, undergo any mission, knew how to appear in a way almost completely different from who they really were. And Amy was of the Elite, chosen to protect the Boy who Lived himself. She kept walking in place when she reached the fifth step, gradually getting softer.
"...If you tell him I will cut your...he won't listen to you over me! We all know you betrayed the Dark Lord! Dumbledore's lap dog...he hates you!" Draco's voice was audible in its cold fury.
"That may be so. But I'm sure Lucious can't have his heir wandering about talking to girls that he doesn't even know. FIVE of them."
"HOW MUCH DO YOU KNOW?!" Draco looked as though he may punch the Professor.
"Enough so that your hair-if it may be called that-would curl. So don't strut around this school, high and mighty, just because your father is rich. Acting just like Potter..."
"Don't you DARE compare me to that...that...that...Gryffindor pile of..."
"Shut up you idiot! I'm not here to listen to your spoiled complaints. You father is some Death Eater; dancing around the World Cup in a mask, and then running from his master's Mark."
"Don't you insult my father traitor." With that he was gone. Up to the boys' dormitory. Snape gathered himself and also left.
Amy pondered about what to do next. It was late. Nearly 4:30 now. She must get to bed...but stored up energy prompted her to do something...yet she couldn't blow her act. Tiptoeing upstairs, Amy got into bed. She didn't notice that someone besides her was awake and watching.