*~*~*~*~*~
Chapter 6
*Flashback-Hogwarts, before the Christmas Holidays*
Draco strode from the Great Hall in a stunned daze. Lucius had sent him a piece of parchment with one sentence on it:
8I have informed Severus Snape that you will be returning home for the holidays.8
Draco panicked and did the same thing he did at the beginning of the summer: took off at a run. He ran out of the castle and onto the grounds, only stopping at the lake to catch his breath. He, as always, marveled at the fact that Lucius had so much power over him that he could just send him a parchment that had one sentence on it, and Draco could feel the fear cut into his very soul. Lucius was obviously not happy that Draco had stayed at Meg's for the rest of the summer, helping her with Billy and Dante. Draco, honestly, wasn't worried about himself---He'd been put through almost every kind of torture imaginable---but worried about his mother constantly; Was she alright? Was she---it hurt him to think it---dead?
Whether it was from the biting Late November wind or the thoughts of what Lucius was going to do to his mother, Draco started shivering.
*~*~*~* (IMPORTANT AN: Now I'm going past the part where Draco goes home and going straight to the scene in the Hospital Wing after the holidays because if I left that to anything but your imaginations, I'd have to up my rating to NC- 17 and thus be booted off ff.net, and I REALLY don't want to do that. So you get make up this part, it doesn't matter how you do it, because the results will be the same. Much obliged.) *~*~*~*~*
Draco bolted awake in a panicked frenzy. Where was he? It took a minute to realize that he was NOT at the Malfoy Manor, but in Hogwarts, in the Hospital Wing. He slowly relaxed (as much as one who is constantly on edge *can* relax) and tried to remember what his nightmare/flashback was about.
Ah, yes. The classic 'Begging-my-father-to-stop-beating-my-mother' dream. He'd had that one on a few occasions. God, he hated his father. He wanted to rip his (non-existent) heart out for hurting Narcissa.
*Hey, that sounds good. 'Well I want, to rip his heart out, just for hurting you'.Hmm, better write that one down.*
Draco sat up and fished the muggle pen out of his jeans pocket (Draco thought that muggle pens were so much easier to use than quills and ink) and turned to get the notebook Meg had given him for his birthday out of his night table.
Only his bloody t-shirt was in there.
Draco frowned. *What the hell?* Had he taken it out last night? Yes! He had. He finished a song last night before the Healer had come in to give him some sleeping pills.
But where was it? He stood up and knelt down on the cold marble floor, his back screaming in protest. He checked behind the night table, under his bed, and behind his bed.
It wasn't there.
He flopped back down on his bed and tried to think. Had Madame Pomfrey picked it up when she had cleaned or something? No, that couldn't be it. Had someone stolen it? His steely grey eyes narrowed dangerously. If someone had, he would *never* hear the end of it. He shuddered to think about what Potter and his gang of friends would say if they found it. Hell, even if one of the Slytherins had found it, he'd be shunned even more than he already was. He turned onto his side to ease the pressure off his back.
A soft, warm, vanilla-ish smell invaded his nose. It was a nice smell, no doubts there, but who had left it? He *knew* he had smelled that somewhere before, but couldn't remember where. It was a perfume of some kind, and maybe the person who had stolen his notebook had left it, and it was definitely a girl.
*Oh, that narrows it down to about, oh, 500! Come on, you idiot!* He berated himself. Goddamnit, he KNEW he had smelled this nice (okay, very irresistible) smell before.
But from where?
*~*~*~*~*
Chapter 6
*Flashback-Hogwarts, before the Christmas Holidays*
Draco strode from the Great Hall in a stunned daze. Lucius had sent him a piece of parchment with one sentence on it:
8I have informed Severus Snape that you will be returning home for the holidays.8
Draco panicked and did the same thing he did at the beginning of the summer: took off at a run. He ran out of the castle and onto the grounds, only stopping at the lake to catch his breath. He, as always, marveled at the fact that Lucius had so much power over him that he could just send him a parchment that had one sentence on it, and Draco could feel the fear cut into his very soul. Lucius was obviously not happy that Draco had stayed at Meg's for the rest of the summer, helping her with Billy and Dante. Draco, honestly, wasn't worried about himself---He'd been put through almost every kind of torture imaginable---but worried about his mother constantly; Was she alright? Was she---it hurt him to think it---dead?
Whether it was from the biting Late November wind or the thoughts of what Lucius was going to do to his mother, Draco started shivering.
*~*~*~* (IMPORTANT AN: Now I'm going past the part where Draco goes home and going straight to the scene in the Hospital Wing after the holidays because if I left that to anything but your imaginations, I'd have to up my rating to NC- 17 and thus be booted off ff.net, and I REALLY don't want to do that. So you get make up this part, it doesn't matter how you do it, because the results will be the same. Much obliged.) *~*~*~*~*
Draco bolted awake in a panicked frenzy. Where was he? It took a minute to realize that he was NOT at the Malfoy Manor, but in Hogwarts, in the Hospital Wing. He slowly relaxed (as much as one who is constantly on edge *can* relax) and tried to remember what his nightmare/flashback was about.
Ah, yes. The classic 'Begging-my-father-to-stop-beating-my-mother' dream. He'd had that one on a few occasions. God, he hated his father. He wanted to rip his (non-existent) heart out for hurting Narcissa.
*Hey, that sounds good. 'Well I want, to rip his heart out, just for hurting you'.Hmm, better write that one down.*
Draco sat up and fished the muggle pen out of his jeans pocket (Draco thought that muggle pens were so much easier to use than quills and ink) and turned to get the notebook Meg had given him for his birthday out of his night table.
Only his bloody t-shirt was in there.
Draco frowned. *What the hell?* Had he taken it out last night? Yes! He had. He finished a song last night before the Healer had come in to give him some sleeping pills.
But where was it? He stood up and knelt down on the cold marble floor, his back screaming in protest. He checked behind the night table, under his bed, and behind his bed.
It wasn't there.
He flopped back down on his bed and tried to think. Had Madame Pomfrey picked it up when she had cleaned or something? No, that couldn't be it. Had someone stolen it? His steely grey eyes narrowed dangerously. If someone had, he would *never* hear the end of it. He shuddered to think about what Potter and his gang of friends would say if they found it. Hell, even if one of the Slytherins had found it, he'd be shunned even more than he already was. He turned onto his side to ease the pressure off his back.
A soft, warm, vanilla-ish smell invaded his nose. It was a nice smell, no doubts there, but who had left it? He *knew* he had smelled that somewhere before, but couldn't remember where. It was a perfume of some kind, and maybe the person who had stolen his notebook had left it, and it was definitely a girl.
*Oh, that narrows it down to about, oh, 500! Come on, you idiot!* He berated himself. Goddamnit, he KNEW he had smelled this nice (okay, very irresistible) smell before.
But from where?
*~*~*~*~*