Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the associated characters or locations. The title comes from JRR Tolkien's masterpiece 'The Lord of the Rings' trilogy...great books.
Fade to Black, Chapter Two:
And in the Darkness Bind Them
by: darke wulf
~~*~~
"It
is a revenge the devil sometimes takes upon the virtuous, that he entraps them
by the force of the very passion they have suppressed and think themselves
superior to."
~George Santyana
~~*~~
"If
you turn to page 365 in you texts, you'll find..."
Snape's voice drones on in the chilly dungeon classroom, echoing slightly off the bare
stone walls. I have a well-practiced
look of rapture on my face, but if asked I couldn't have repeated any of the
lecture to this point. I know we're
making a lighter-than-air potion; that's all the information I need. Unlike some I could mention, I excel
at potions. I enjoy the cold logic
behind them, the precision and thought required to produce one correctly. It is an actual challenge, mentally
stimulating like little else I have experienced at this sorry excuse for a
school.
Snape's lectures, however, are not. As I
desperately try to keep occupied while awaiting his permission to begin working
I glance around the classroom, noticing that the Golden Boy still hasn't made
it to class. Fifteen minutes late
already, at this point he'd be better off not coming.
Of course, if he doesn't come, all my carefully laid plans will go to ruin. After letting him suffer through two and a
half weeks of near universal loathing and isolation, I decided to begin my
campaign to win's Potter's allegiance.
It would be just like that ungrateful bastard to not show up.
I relax in my chair and let my mind wander, without actually looking
like it, of course, until the slam of a door rather rudely breaks me from my
near-doze.
"Ah, Mr. Potter...so good of you to decide to grace us with your illustrious
presence. That's 20 points from
Griffindor for your tardiness."
It's about damn time. If looks could kills,
Snape would be nothing but a bad memory by now. I must admit, I've been finding myself more and more impressed
with the recent improvements in Potter's glares. I wonder if he practices in a mirror at night? For someone who used to look as if he was
suffering from indigestion whenever he tried to look intimidating, he's become
terribly good at making a person know exactly how displeased he is with
them. I wonder if Potter's aware of how
much hatred there is trapped inside his own heart, just begging to be finally
let out. Probably not, he's quite the
textbook case in denial.
Of course, having suffered through nearly all of his worst attempts, I am perhaps
the best qualified to notice the differences in his 'death glare'. Really, now that I think of it, I should
charge him for all the tutoring I gave him over the years in proper glaring
techniques.
"If you would be so good as to take your seat, Mr. Potter. Or do I need to take yet more points from
Griffindor for your insubordination? If
you keep with your present behavior, it will require you being called upon to
once again save the world to earn back all the points you are going to lose
your House this year. You truly are
setting new lows for ineptitude, Mr. Potter."
I smirk at that. Snape's right. Ever since classes started, Potter's done nothing
but glower at people and lose House Points.
Not that I'm complaining, mind.
I would have no problem with Slytherin finally winning the House Cup
this year. DO you have any idea how
irritating it is to have the Cup in your hands, only to have it ripped away
from you at the last moment? I do. Let me tell you, it is not an enjoyable
experience. Dumbledore could have at
least awarded the Terrible Trio their points before the
presentation ceremony. To let us think
we had won the Cup; to put us through such humiliation and pain; I don't think
that I will ever forgive Dumbledore for that.
My thoughts return to the present, and I notice that Potter has taken a seat at
the only empty table in the room.
Typical. He has been alone,
isolated, since he arrived at Hogwarts; the combined effect of the students'
fear of him coupled with his own desire for solitude. He has tired of dealing with the incompetent idiots around us,
not that I blame him. Unfortunately, I
am currently included in his list of incompetent idiots, which won't do at all.
This is why I am currently sitting at the only other table, besides Potter's,
without two people. Normally Pansy
would be serving as my partner, or at least sitting in the seat beside me. As I would never be stupid enough to allow
her to even think of trying to 'help' make a potion, partner might not be the
appropriate word. In any event, a small
dose of Nauseo Potion in her pumpkin juice at breakfast ensures that she will spend
most of this morning in the restroom.
It was a risk, I admit, assuming that Potter would be the other odd man out, but
only a small one. None of the other
Slytherin would dare to risk doing anything that might make it appear as if
they are trying to move in on Pansy's spot as my partner, and the associated
rank within the House hierarchy. Not
that they wouldn't love to move up in the ranks, but they wouldn't be so
blatant about it. Meanwhile, the
Griffindors have been ignoring Potter's existence all year, leaving him to work
alone in class. Now my only concerns
are that Snape either decides to make up the groups on his own, or else decides
to have Potter and I work individually rather than 'subject' me to working with
Potter.
Snape's lips straighten into a thin line as he glances around the classroom, then he
send a quick look of apology my way.
Success. "Mr. Potter, if you
would be so kind as to move up front next to Mr. Malfoy. The two of you will be partners today. Perhaps, with Mr. Malfoy's assistance, you
might actually be able to brew a potion correctly for once."
The rest of the Slytherin snicker as Potter gathers his things and stalks towards
me. I, however, do not. Instead I begin the initial preparations
required for our potion, keeping my face nearly neutral; I allow only a smaller
version of my usual smirk to curl my lips.
It wouldn't do to appear too friendly.
I don't want to arouse Potter's suspicions and, even as dense as he is,
me smiling jovially at him would certainly arouse his suspicions.
Without looking at my erstwhile partner I begin to work, taking up a cupful of
crickets' legs, mixing them with dried moth wings, and grinding up the
combination. "If it's not too much of
an inconvenience, Potter, would you mind heating the dragon saliva?"
He turns towards me, his now omnipresent-scowl on his face, and is about to make
what I am sure is, in his mind, a scathing retort when Snape glides over to our
desk. "Problems, gentlemen?"
I look up at him with the appropriate amount of noble suffering on my face. "No, Professor, not yet at least. We were just getting started."
That shocked them both. They obviously
expected me to start complaining about Potter's...well...existence. I absently make a mental note to make it up
to Snape by sabotaging Longbottom's potion should an opportunity present
itself. Snape really does look forward
to taking points from Griffindor. It's
a shame I have to disappoint him.
Snape's eyes narrow, and he looks at me with an all too thoughtful expression on his
face...he obviously suspects something.
Finally, he mutters, "Very well, get back to work," and walks off.
Potter stares at me for a moment, and I am forced to literally bite my tongue to keep
from blurting out a scathing insult, but eventually he slowly shifts his gaze
down to the page I have my potions text opened to and turns to the same page in
his own book. He looks with confusion
between the rather simple die on page 364 and the lighter-than-air potion on
page 365.
I deliberately move my finger onto page 365, tracing the words as if reading
through the potion ingredients. It
doesn't take Potter too long, for a Griffindor at least, to finally get a
bloody clue and start reading the appropriate instructions. I take a deep breath, silently exhaling as I
remind myself that he can't possibly remain a naïve fool forever and in time hw
will make a powerful ally.
Finally he places our cauldron
above the torch, measures out two cups of drool, and lights the flame.
"Excellent work, Potter," I drawl. I simply can't
help myself, all this denial of my natural instincts can't possibly be healthy
and besides, I justify to myself, I can't seem too friendly at this early
stage. "Maybe next you can try
something difficult…like stirring."
"Shut up, Malfoy," he growls, thought I am certain that I detect a hint of relief in
his voice. It strikes me then that I am
probably the only person, at least among the students, who is treating him the
same way I always have. Or nearly so, at least.
We go back to our potion, with the odd insult thrown in every now and then. I deliberately make mine less personal than
I have in the past, not mentioning his dead parents or Diggory even once. I must say, I am rather proud of myself.
Potter, meanwhile, looks to almost be enjoying himself. He is still glaring but, rather than his more vicious
'I-hate-the-world' glare he has reverted back to his old
'I-can't-stand-Draco-Malfoy' glare. And
a half-hearted one at that. I mentally
pat myself on the back; phase one has gone according to plan.
Finally class ends. Snape come over to check
our potion and nods approvingly at me.
Apparently we were the only group to actually get the thing right. Of course, the extra eagle bone marrow I
threw into Granger and Longbottom's potion when no one was looking might have
had something to do with that.
"Excellent work, Mr. Malfoy. Ten
point to Slytherin…and five to Griffindor for not screwing things up." I wonder if awarding points to Griffindor
actually causes Snape physical pain.
From the look on his face, it must.
Potter and I clean up, continuing in our unique state of contentious harmony. As I turn to leave I pause, momentarily
considering giving Potter a 'good job'.
In the end, I settle for a respectful nod, my eyes locked on his. He looks more than a little surprised, but
recovers in time to give a nod of his own.
As I walk towards the door and exit the classroom, I can feel his
questioning eyes on the back of my head as he tries to burn a hole into my mind
to learn the cause for my near civility, as he tries to gauge my true
intentions.
I silently wish him luck; he will need it if he is ever to truly comprehend my
mind. And, as for my true intentions…
…he won't learn those until it is far too late to do any good.
~el fin~
Author's Notes: I really didn't intend on writing
any more after what has become the first chapter of 'Fade to Black', but I
received so many encouraging reviews/emails that I sat down one day to see if I
could at least outline a possible plot for a longer storyline. Two hours later, this was the result. I hope you all enjoy it, or at least don't
hate it too much.
As
always, please read and review!