Title: Jaded
Disclaimer: For purposes of entertainment only..blah..
Draco set his little bag on the stone floor. He was standing, alone, at the end of a small dark corridor that was all but unfamiliar. His features were faded, his cool gray eyes resigned.
I seek sanctuary.
Why he had come here, he may never have known. He knew very well what he was doing here, but why had he come?
Draco felt his finger jerk. He tried to calm his mind.
A spasm ran through his body, forcing him onto his knees as violent flashes of memory danced across his vision.
Lord Voldemort, wand held high.
The
Spy, Draco's truest friend in the world, falling.
Falling.
After thirty seconds or so, it stopped with a sharp shock. Draco took a deep breath, sweat dragging his fine silver hair into locks. This had been occurring steadily since yesterday. Since..
Draco let a fresh set of tears roll down his fair features. He was tired. Merlin, he was tired. Too tired to weep, even.
There was a silent creak as the door to Professor Dumbledore's office opened.
So Draco stood up resolutely, and walked in.
Sanctuary.
|
Draco shut the Daily Prophet angrily and threw it onto his table. It burst into flames as a result of his emotions. Reporters, he thought maliciously. No respect whatsoever for anybody but themselves. How dare they?
By this time he was almost shaking from fury, and an owl managed to bring him back to his senses. It bore a message from the Headmaster.
Draco skimmed the note. It was a formal greeting. Welcome…apologies for not being here in person..begin at will…
This piece of parchment, too, ended up as a heap of ashes. It reminded him that he now had an obligation.
He got dressed.
Ginny grit her teeth as her quill snapped. She was in class early, working on a Transfiguration essay.
This was the third time, and she was rather frustrated. She set down her quill and transfigured a nearby goblet of some vile Potions ingredient or other into orange juice. She hadn't gone down for breakfast; she'd had another nightmare the evening before, and was not in a mood for people, even if she did not know them.
She had woken up with this feeling. The unpleasant kind.
Ginny was strange. She got premonitions. Real ones, not the type that Professor Trelawney got, and not as serious as the other type Professor Trelawney got. Shadows. And a deep sadness, as if something she cared about had been snatched away from her.
She often took refuge in the Potions dungeons, when the world was becoming too much for her. Opposed to her brother and his friends, she actually liked Professor Snape. She was good at Potions, something her entire family had never achieved. She'd spent some depressed hours here, helping the equally depressed Potions master, and they had developed a sort of understanding. It was not friendship, although Ginny never really had anything to compare it with. Companionship, perhaps? Neither knew.
Around her, Gryffindor students had begun to file in and take seats. Ginny noticed that they weren't as full of their usual cacophonic chatter this morning as they usually were, and she wondered.
Damn. There must have been some sort of announcement this morning. I hope Ron's still safe.
She panicked slightly, remembering the unpleasant spasm.
Then, another shroud of silence filled the dungeon. If they had been quiet before, they were now completely silent. Nobody was even moving.
Just as Ginny began wondering what all the fuss was about, she had to put up her hand to stifle a noise.
Draco Malfoy has just walked into the dungeon.
Ginny was, in all senses of the term, a polite person, as was Draco. For different reasons, naturally.
For Ginny, she was a nice person by upbringing, and she believed manners were in order for everything. She was met with reciprocation from almost everybody she bothered to talk to. She was polite, but not inclined to make friends. In Draco's case, manners were the sign of ultimate aristocracy. Impoliteness was for tradesmen and beggars, and exhibited weakness, and Malfoys were not weak.
At this instant, she forgot all etiquette an openly stared at him, her steady gaze a mixture of shock, confusion and, somehow, fury. Without knowing it, all the Weasleys who had ever been at Hogwarts' hatred for the silver Slytherin had been handed down, generation to generation, and it did not stop with Ginny.
Draco swept into the Potions dungeon, his expression completely neutral. He fought back a choke of sadness as he noticed (how could he not) the number of stares he was getting. Unwelcome emotions were evident in the faces of each and every one of the Gryffindor students. He felt a slight pang hit him.
Then he caught the stare of a certain person. A person who, despite obviously trying to hide into the shadows, seemed to be shone on, apart from the rest of the class. The volume of the pang increased. She was staring at him with such lividness, he nearly faltered in step.
For some reason, he was filled with remorse. Even he did not know why, but the sight of that red-haired girl's bitterness made unwelcome emotions that he wished to avoid wash over him again.
He paused, his eyes locked with hers.
Ginny started. Why was he looking at her? She was puzzled, but angered at the same time. His gaze held no emotions whatsoever. None discernable, anyway. What gave him the right to stare at her like that?
She put her most menacing glares into her eyes, and did not break contact with the new Potions Master. That was the only thing she could deduce from his presence. She did nothing to mask the anger in her eyes. She noticed that she was the only surprised student in the room. Everybody else was just seething.
Frankly, his piercing stare unnerved her, but she would be damned if she would let a Malfoy get the better of her.
Somewhere behind him, Draco heard a quill drop, and awareness was brought back to him.
He greeted the class, who replied.
"I am Professor Malfoy," he said. He was not drawling as usual, but his voice held a quality that Ginny and everyone else was familiar with. The same grim, oily tone that characterized Professor Snape. "I will be instructing your miserable selves in the art of Potion brewing this year."
He had said the word 'you' with half hearted malice. How odd.
Next to her, a couple of girls almost giggled. Ginny understood this; he sounded exactly like Professor Snape had on their first day ever.
Ginny felt a wave of sentimentality crash onto her. Someone had been taken from her. Somebody she had cared about. Now she knew who.
A hot, silent tear found its way down her cheek.
Draco nearly flinched. He knew that the Weasel's sister had been close to his mentor. That was one of the reasons he had avoided her while studying. She hurriedly wiped away the offending drop of salt water, and her expression had turned stoic. He sighed mentally. Why did that girl bother him so?
"This year," he continued firmly, "you will all be undergoing the Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests, for which I am sure none of you are in the least prepared. However, no matter what goes on in the world, your single most important goal is your education."
The words sounded strange even to himself. Everyone knew what was really going on outside the walls. But he knew the alien phrase to be true, at least to the students, if not himself. That was all that mattered.
So the first lesson of the year passed with quizzes, point deduction, memory triggers, and ultimately without event.
Ginny did what she always did. Kept her head down, answered when asked(very well, if she said so herself), scored points. She could hardly believe that the one teacher she had ever actually liked ( to some extent, anyway) was simply not there anymore.
Throughout the day, Ginny was reserved, even more so than usual. That in itself was an accomplishment.
Her last class had been Charms. The new teacher was a timid young man who adored Ginny. She had finished up her class work in record time and asked to be excused. The poor boy let her off without argument, and the Head Girl rushed out and disappeared.
Draco made his way down another path that he knew well. This was outdoors, and although the autumn painted Hogwarts' grounds in brilliant shades, Draco was not looking at the leaves. He was carrying his school equipment to a small hut, almost akin to Hagrid's, which was hidden somewhere in a little grove. No students had ever known about this hut. It had been the living quarters of Severus Snape.
He found the door slightly ajar, and took out his wand. He could hear slight sobbing from inside. Treading softly, he walked towards the sound.
Ginny turned around. She was shocked, for the second time that day, by Draco Malfoy.
"What are you doing here?" they both cried indignantly.
Her eyes were puffy, and Draco knew that she had been the one crying.
"I live here," said Draco icily. Ginny looked around. Indeed, there were unpacked trunks in the modest living room.
Her eyes widened as she realized just how much trouble they would be in if caught in such a situation. "Oh, I'm s-sorry" she stuttered, flustered. "I was just.."
She trailed off. He was looking at her again. Like studying her. He had this sort of strange curiosity in his eyes, like he knew something she did not.
Hi eyes traveled to a book in her hands. "What's that?" he snapped.
She panicked again, and held up the book. It was a photograph album. "I was just wondering if I could keep this," she tried.
He strode over and snatched it up. He opened it, and at once, the face of Severus Snape was looking up at him, smiling and waving. He shut it, pained.
Ginny was confused. Why was he living here? All teachers got new quarters when they first came to Hogwarts. Unless he had requested the chateau..
She found herself studying him as well, the same calculating way he had studied her. What was he doing here?
Draco nearly started. Nearly. Self control was the most important thing in the world to a Malfoy, and he was no exception.
Gruffly he handed the album to her. "Take it," he spat. "I have no use for sentimental rubbish."
Ginny took the book silently. She was still intimidated by Draco. She realized that she had never carried on such a long conversation with him before, and part of the reason she had had the bravado to give him that insolent look earlier was that she did not know him well enough to be afraid of him. He had avoided her through the years.
"And now, Miss Weasley," he said, "I will thank you to excuse yourself from my house."
She practically scurried towards the door. When she had almost reached, she stopped short facing the door and said, almost inaudibly, "Thank you."
Draco looked at her back.
"Sir," she said before closing the door.
Weird? Good? Awful? Please review!! Flames totally accepted