Tied Up With Strings
Summary: Draco Malfoy, like a string puppet, obeys his father. But this time, a certain brunette wanders into his life, throwing everything out of order. Will he continue under his father's control or will he act on his own- for once?Chapter 2
Disclaimer: I forgot about this thing and I'm so glad I remembered for no doubt some ignorant psychopath out there would want to sue me if I didn't. So I want to use this space to hereby dismiss any and all ownership of Harry Potter & Co. However, the book A Theory of Wizardry in Ancient Civilisations and it's author, Sir Rumfield Rascherstone III, belongs to me and no, neither he nor the text exist because I made them up so please do not ask me for a copy of the book or the author's mailing address.
That should do it.
Draco Malfoy took one look at his surroundings and uttered a cuss word that he had no shame in saying.
"Where the hell are we?" he demanded from his unwanted companion, who ignored him.
Instead, Hermione clasped a firm hand onto the railing of the staircase, forcing herself to be patient while it pondered about which direction it should move. Draco, extremely frustrated, tried walking up the stairs.
"Don't," Hermione warned immediately. "The stairs are moving."
"Well done, Captain Obvious," he snapped back at her. He nearly lost his footing as the great stone steps suddenly changed its mind and jerked towards the left instead of the right. His hand shot out, grabbing on to the railing. He pretended to ignore her "I told you so" look and gritted his teeth, impatiently.
The staircase finally reached its new destination happily, and, as an afterthought, threw the two students off their balance and face first into the landing in an act of revenge. Hermione winced as her head made contact with the hard marble floor, then winced again at Draco's colourful vocabulary. She got to her feet, picking up her bag and book.
"Where's my book?" Draco asked crankily, rubbing his aching shoulder. "Where did you-?"
She shoved the textbook in front of his face.
Slightly shocked, he accepted it, then regained his composure and added a glare in her direction. She returned it, backing away to give him room to get up.
"What are you waiting for?" he asked.
"You, of course, what does it look like?" she crossed her arms, annoyed. "Hurry up."
"Since when have I bowed to your command?"
"Since I figured out how to get us out of this mess."
He shut up, mostly because he couldn't think of comeback to that last statement. Which was true; he had no earthly idea where in the castle they were and he might as well make out his last will and testament now. The school was much too big and much to complicated to figure out an easy passageway out by himself. Of course, he'd rather die on the stairs from a concussion than admit that to anybody, much less a Mudblood like Granger, but the truth was the truth. Just this once, they'd have to compromise a little if either wanted to see daylight again.
It was quite a long time until he noticed the book she was carrying. It was a brand new copy of the recently published A Theory of Wizardry in Ancient Civilisations.
"Where did you get that?" he blurted out in a tone that actually portrayed his curiosity.
"Where did I get what?" she repeated absentmindedly glancing around the corridors.
"That book."
"This? The library, of course."
"Which library?"
"The school library," she paused in her search to throw him a funny look before continuing.
"Our school library? That pathetic excuse for a house of books?"
"It so happens that that 'pathetic excuse' receives all the latest books because Professor Dumbledore requested it."
"I was just at the library and I didn't even see that."
"You? What for?"
"What else do you do at a library?"
"You read?"
"Of course not, Granger. I wait until the holidays when my dear mummy can tuck me into bed and read to me every night."
She ignored the sarcasm.
"Why would you be looking for it anyway?"
"Because Sir Rumfield Rascherstone III happens to be a good author."
"I know. That's why I checked it out."
"And why should a Mudblood like you judge a Pureblood author's works?"
Hermione refused to answer. It had been a good start at a conversation but she knew they'd never get more than a few lines without some comment like that.
She marched onward, head held high. Then, after hesitating a moment, she asked,
"So, what were you doing in the library?"
"Looking up some stuff for those bloody assignments the teachers give," Draco scowled as he recalled McGonagall's most recent and most traumatic twenty-seven-parchment essay. He made a mental note to himself to borrow Pansy's work.
"For which one?"
"Why should I tell you?"
"I'm just trying to strike up a conversation."
"Why? You aren't scared, are you, Granger?"
"Of course not!" Hermione glanced uneasily around the dark corridors.
"Are you sure?" He could have a lot of fun out of this juicy bit of news. "You never know what could be lurking in the hallways…"
She didn't reply, trying her best to surpass her shudders.
"Just imagine what that old fool of headmaster keeps hidden in any one of these closets. Any moment, at any time, one of them could snap open and before you even have time to react, something reaches out and-," he grabbed her elbow right then, adding an effect to his scenario. She shrieked, whirled around.
Her eyes were wide open; his unable to reflect anything of what he was feeling. Carefully, he brought his fingers to his cheek.
"I don't recall your slap being that hard since the last time, Mudblood," he said coolly.
"Don't touch me."
"It was a joke, Granger. Can't you handle that?"
"Don't touch me. Don't talk to me. Don't look at me."
"Gladly. It's not like there's much to look at anyway."
But she had already gone, eager to get away from him. He wouldn't let her out of his sight, not until he could find Pansy or someone else.
He dropped his gaze to the floor, guiding his body to the sound of her footsteps. Why had he frightened her? Was it because she was so much lower than he was? Or was it just for the moment?
Why did he do anything that he did?
Wait- he knew why. It was because of him. His father. No, not just him. His mother, their friends, the death Eaters, the other servants of the Dark Lord. Everyone. They all made him.
It was not of question of why he did it. It was a question of why he couldn't have done something else. His father really did have him controlled like a string puppet. He was now acting without even thinking. What frightened him the most was the fact that he was acting exactly like what his father would have written in the plan.
Had it really become that much a part of him? Had it really become his life, the way he talked, acted, and thought?
What was happening to him?
He wasn't a human anymore. He was nothing but a toy, a controlled mindless stuffed prize for people to manipulate and fashion into anything they wanted.
A puppet.
And he was letting them do it.
He put up no defence. He said nothing in contradiction. He went along with anything and everything. He couldn't even think for himself anymore. His body had become detached from his soul. The physical part was now slave to his father's will, and would be for all eternity. His soul had long since been lost.
He envied her. Even if she was a Mudblood, a disgusting excuse for a witch. She was allowed to be herself, wasn't she? She could think and do what and when pleased. She could make decisions and act upon them. She could decide what she wanted to do with her life, never mind what others would think. She could fall in love with whomever she chose.
They all could. They were in control of their own lives. They had that power. That gloriously wonderful gift. That beautifully enticing curse.
They didn't know how easy they have it. They'll never know. She'll never know.
He could never relate to them, be like them, learn to live like them.
But did he really want to?
It was happening again.
He stopped, leaned against the wall for support. His anger had blinded him, his mental outburst contaminating his organised thoughts. He dropped his book; his bags hit the ground with a loud echoing thud.
He heard her voice.
"Malfoy?" she sounded annoyed. "What are you doing? We aren't stop now. We're almost there. Malfoy?"
He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, biting his tongue to keep from crying out. He felt like his world was spinning, his hands shaking. He tasted the blood in his mouth, smiling involuntarily from the flavour.
No! he forced himself to think. No, not this time.
He would not give in.
"Malfoy? What's the matter with you? Didn't you hear me?"
Get out of the way, Granger…
"Malfoy, this isn't funny. I will leave without you."
Go!
"Malfoy?"
He could already feel his fingers aching for his wand. He grabbed the stone wall to stop them. He could feel his feet sliding away, turning in her direction. He forced them to stop.
Just let it pass. Don't give in. Don't.
Do you hear me, Father? I'm not giving into you this time.
"Malfoy?"
He spun around, his mind losing complete control of his body. His eyes were wide open now. No matter how hard he tried to shut them. His fingers clawed at his face in an attempt to blind his eyes again. But his hands were soon drawn like a magnet to his wand.
"Malfoy? What are you-?"
He could feel his body moving towards her, feet sliding on the ground. He tried to stop himself, but that only made his head pound more, the pain increase. In front of him, plastered against the wall, was Hermione. Her brown eyes were huge, face pale, as he came closer.
"Stop! Stop it! Mal-,"
No- he wasn't going to hurt her. He wasn't. He wouldn't let himself hurt her. Not her.
He heard the panic in her screams, could feel the panic in his own.
The magic was pulling him closer to her, wand posed, mouth forced to form the forbidden syllables.
No! He wouldn't.
"A…"
No! He gritted his teeth, but it was useless.
"Ava…"
No, not her. Not her!
He shut his eyes, afraid to see what would happen. His body was once again moving against his will, fingers working by the tugging of strings. The puppeteer was once again controlling his mind. Only his soul was left.
"Avada…"
NO!
Author's Note: Ha, ha! I leave you in suspense! I know, not as great as the first chapter, but it was my best shot…