Chapter Three: Thoughts

Warnings: See earlier - SLASH, some language

Notes: Thank-you to all reviewers, particularly those who came back and reviewed again. Some have commented on the title (in anticipation, I note, just be patient guys * g *) It is a line from a Justin Timberlake song - No, I don't particularly like him or the song but I did like that line and I thought it fitted well.

Would Draco have noticed Ron if the potion had gone right? I think he himself was in such a rush he didn't even think about that, but I think to be truly effective form of revenge, yes, the perpetrator would be aware of it.

I apologise for spellings of Teachers' names - all my books are currently on loan to a friend

I am having the * most * fun writing this - I hope y'all enjoy it too…

~~***~~

Calm.

Shit what was it was it the hemlock I thought it said a spoonful maybe it didn't maybe that was another spell altogether how could this happen to me how could this happen it wasn't supposed to happen it's an accident I never meant it to happen it happened so quickly…

Unmoved.

I can't see he's so still but they're blocking the view and she's crying too why doesn't Trelawny arrive why is it so cold here is he cold is he really cold why does Snape look so scared why is everyone so quiet what is the bloody * delay * getting him help why won't my feet move I can't seem to breathe any more…

Uncaring.

He's so still so very still the eyes are staring but they're blank can they see me can he see me from somewhere else has he gone no he hasn't he's still here because no one's taken him to the Infirmary yet why don't they move he's so pale he swallowed all of it why did I put in so much dear God they have to help him the delay may kill him…

No, that was my job…

There is a pain in the bridge of my nose, and behind my eyes, but I'm not giving in…

Calm, unmoved, uncaring. As a Malfoy should be, as my Father is, through everything. Even unto death.

They are beginning to look at me now, in contempt, as I stand aloof. I do not care - the only look I watched for is hidden behind sightless eyes.

I must be still outside; or else this inside would surely explode…

No Please No Please Please No not him Please * Ron * No Please Please No…

~~***~~

He is in the Infirmary.

He isn't dead.

It is all over.

But the feelings are still here.

I feel ice cold, shaking, nervous, sweaty, tense, pains in my stomach, unable to sit still, obsessive, angry, fearful…

I finally realise I am feeling guilty. It is an odd sensation.

I wanted to see his look when he turned in anger and knew I had got one over him.

I wanted to make the flush rise in his cheeks as it always does.

I wanted those eyes to glare back at me again, to watch me and worry, and never stop thinking of me.

// Blank eyes staring right at me. Blank, sightless eyes//

I wanted to hurt Ron Weasely; I wanted to make him suffer in no small terms. I did * not * want to kill him. I think I've never truly considered what I meant when I talked about the Dark rising and taking over. I meant death, I meant what we all thought had happened to Ron Weasely in those awful minutes before he reached the Infirmary.

Those are minutes I never want to relive, but I can't help it. It was so cold and hard and final, like a wall. 'Stop now, no more, there is nothing more'

I was a fool last night, sitting all that time in the rain, what if they'd seen me? I'm under suspicion as it is. But I * had * to see, see what I'd done.

See him. Check he was alive.

Besides, I had a lot to think about. My Father sometimes told me stories of people he'd killed, people he wanted to kill. He said it was fun, glorious and beautiful, I believed him. I honestly thought one day I would kill many people - probably Potter and Weasely among them.

Now all I know for certain is that I never want to see my Father again.

I sat in the fucking downpour with my existentialist problems and not even a raincoat, and the entire episode has solved sod all. Either: he will wake up and have no idea who did this to him and I'll have to think of some other way of making him realise he pissed me off…

(Not really something I feel like doing)

…Or he'll guess, and then he'll think that I…He'll truly believe I…That I wanted…

He must * never * think that

Why? Hell, I don't know, there are too many fucking questions…

~~***~~

'I asked you a question, Mr Malfoy'

God, McGonagall's ugly up close

'Mr Malfoy'

And somehow, I don't like to make fun of Dumbledore, even in my head, I think he would know.

'Mr Malfoy, are these allegations true?'

Potter glares at me from Dumbledore's side, as does Granger, McGonagall and bloody Dean Thomas, whose reawakened memories of the Potions lesson and my actions in it (he was in the row behind Potter and Weasely) have brought me to this tribunal.

What can I do? Lie, of course, and that's tempting, but then Dumbledore plays his ace…

'Mr Weasely has come out of a coma after three days, he will not be able to leave his bed for at least a month, we are all fortunate that he has not been rendered deaf or worse. I understand his Mother hasn't slept in almost 72 hours'

Not the Nanny, or the Au pair, or the hired nurse, no - Weasely has his mother

Pauper.

Lucky beggar.

'Now, do you have anything to say, Mr Malfoy?'

*Don't * confess, * Don't * confess….

'Fortunate he has not been rendered deaf or worse'

Just because you hate me…

Just because you hate me…

But I * don't * hate you…

'It..It was an accident'

And for some unknown reason, I explain it all. Not why of course, but they all assume some vague addition to the feuding of the Slytherins and Gryffindors, so I escape those questions. Luckily, Dumbledore at least believes that the potion went wrong, and that I was not actually intending to cause grievous harm. But he looks at me with grave eyes, and I know I'm in trouble.

And for the first time in my life I feel I deserve it.

~~***~~

I got off lightly really.

'In view of your exemplary record at this school we have decided not to suspend you this time. But should you ever be found guilty of intentionally harming another student again, whether or not you intended it to be a prank, you will be almost certainly expelled.'

Almost certainly, my Father would fight tooth and nail to stop it. I'm so relieved that I'm not going, that I don't have to go back home - I can never fit in there again.

'You are to be punished, however, to the best of our ability…'

And so on, no leaving the school, no taking books from the library, no permission to access the restricted section, curfew imposed, detention for the rest of the term etc

'And one other thing…'

Huh?

'You will visit Mr Weasely in the Infirmary at least every other day until he is well. It is simply not acceptable for this kinds of feud to exist in our school. You will visit him and the two of you will learn to tolerate being in the same room like mature adults'

I stare at Dumbledore in astonishment. This is unheard of! I can't do that; I can't see Weasely, not now, not ever. He will know it was me, he'll know I screwed up or he'll think I wanted him dead…

I can't have him look at me and think that. I can't talk to him. I can't… But I can't argue with Dumbledore either.

'And Mr Malfoy…'

'Yes?'

'I trust that this incident will teach you how easily a spell may find the wrong person.'

'Sir?'

'Why did you think you could be sure Mr Potter would drink it? No, don't tell me about it, think it over. You may leave now.'

~~***~~

'You can't leave Harry alone can you?'

'What's wrong with Harry anyway?'

'Potter should never let you into his sight'

'Tough luck not getting Potter'

It's all of them. Every single bloody member of this school. From Crabbe to Zabini, every one of them thinks I wanted Potter to drink that potion.

I don't give an answer, they don't usually want one anyway, but inside I am so angry I can barely sit still. Those * idiots * What are they thinking? Why are they so * stupid *?

Then it hits me - Why am I angry?

I'm angry because they don't believe Weasely's important enough for me to want to hurt him?

Because Weasely nearly fucking * died * and all they can think about is Potter?

Weasely is twice the person that Potter will ever be, on his own actions too, not his parents. Weasely is the one who annoyed me by trying to protect his friends; Weasely is the one who could read my plans almost before I had them…

Just because you hate me you don't have to get at them

I don't hate him.

I don't think I ever did.

I don't what I feel about anything any more.

Last night I dreamt about walking over a rain-soaked Quidditch pitch, except that it's raining potions instead of water. It's grey and huge and empty and cold. Then I hear a voice and Weasely comes running at me, and I try and tell him to watch the cliff edge that suddenly appears behind me. But he ignores me and runs on - I scream at the waiting people to catch him but they are all absorbed in watching Potter on his broomstick and Weasely falls over and down and down. I reach out to grab his hand and for one second his skin is warm and soft against mine, but then he looks at me in disgust and wrenches his hand away and falls…his eyes stare back at me through the dark until he hits the ground and it all goes black.

~~***~~

In the morning I am told a scream in the night woke several Slytherins from their bunks, but it was never discovered who was responsible.

Thank god for cold reputations.

I don't feel cold now though, waiting outside Weasely's room in the Infirmary, waiting to see him for the first visit of what I fear will have to be many.

Fear / hope. Nothing's as simple as it was a week ago.

His voice inside tells the door to open, and I step in.

I was tense and the sight was so shocking.

What other explanation is there for what I said?

'Ron!'

'What are you looking at, * Malfoy *?'

Oh shit…

~~***~~

He looks so pale, and delicate somehow, lying back among the pillows on that hard little bed.

His hair seems even redder against the pale skin, and the eyes flash brighter and darker - but they have the same look, for which I am almost glad.

Too much has changed.

'Well, come in if you're coming'

His voice is resigned, and I imagine Dumbledore has talked to him as well about this. I had hoped to get through this with some dignity, but two minutes in and I've called him by his name, stood gawping in a doorway and let him get one up on me…

He sits up straighter as I perch on a chair by the bed. There are black lines under his eyes and a bruise on the side of his face still from where he hit the bench. His expression is reserved, but I wonder if he is scared.

'I didn't mean to do it, you know' There - that's as close to an apology as a Malfoy is allowed to get.

Silence.

'I didn't want to hurt you, at least, not this much'

And he looks away.

'Look, I'm…sorry, ok?'

Did I just say that?

He * still * isn't looking at me. I'm cross, I'm embarrassed. I'm really, really stupid…

'Come now, Mummikins has gone - you can use naughty words if you like'

And that makes him turn around, and seethe with anger. He lashes out his hand and I run out of the room.

Why do I do it? Why?

All he's ever going to see in me now is a bastard.

Hell, that's all I can see of myself.

I am * not * crying in the middle of the passageway

But it seems I am…

~~***~~

No one believes it when Colin Creevey says he saw Draco Malfoy running out of the Infirmary block with a red face.

Ron will neither confirm nor deny, and Harry and Hermione are confused by how little he wants to talk about Malfoy's visit. They conclude that he is still feeling shaky from the illness.

Malfoy spends the rest of the day as usual, pointedly ignored or insulted by most, pointedly encouraged by a few. He doesn't seem to care about either. He retires early, but first he wanders down to the Quidditch pitch and stands in one corner, looking about.

The Ravenclaw team see him and they come down to practice, and chase him off, but they wonder what he was looking at in vain.

That night there are two nightmares at least in Hogwarts school. And both dreamers awake the next morning with the same awful thought:

'I'm seeing him again tomorrow'

~~***~~