Authors note: I'm releasing this chapter before I've read any comments,
because I
just finished it, and you never know when my computers gonna screw up... ~_~
Anyways, I hope you all like it!
Please review, because it means a lot to me!
Chapter. 2
Draco was standing by the window, partly hidden behind the long curtains, watching his mother as she stepped into the dark wagon which would bring her to the dinner party.
It was a beautiful wagon. Carved with intricate patterns, drawn by snowy white horses.
He closed his eyes, and turned away.
He was alone now.
He began to walk slowly away from the window. Aimlessly. Heading for nothing in particular. His mind drifting trough a mist of nothingness, with no intention to focus.
Which was exactly how he wanted it. He didn't want to think.
Somehow, the house seemed so much bigger, when only he was left.
When he had been younger, he had used to believe that the house really did grow bigger everytime he was alone. Thought that it, perhaps, was magic. Alive, in a way. And that it had some kind of grudge against him.
He knew better now.
And yet, there was that feeling of emptyness again...
It was a feeling that would not disappear. Growing steadily larger until it threathened to devour him from inside. Make him become nothing more than a hollow shell of the Draco he had once been.
He took a deep breath and shook his head slightly from side to side, attempting to rid himself of the feeling.
He had other, more important concerns on his mind, and couldn't allow himself to be bothered by such childish imaginations.
He reached down his pockets and drew out a small, blue bottle. He held it carefully between two fingers, contemplating it, as if he had never seen such a thing before.
It was made out of thin, blue glass. So delicate and so easily broken... He held it up against the light, admiring the way it was shining, like thousands upon thousands of tiny, blue stars.
But he knew what was inside. He knew what secret the little bottle was hiding.
A clear, slightly bluish liquid which would make whoever drank it sleep, for almost twenty-four hours.
A sleeping potion.
"The Sleeping Beauty"
Draco laughed softly to himself.
My sleeping beauty...
He had yet to discover a way to make his victim drink the potion, but this didn't bother him. He would think of something. If there was a way, he would find it!
It had eventually occured to him that he, neither, was allowed to use magic outside of school without being expelled. It had to be done without magic.
At first, this had seemed like an insurmountable obstacle to him. But then it hit him. The answer was, of course, a potion! Potions weren't illegal magic. He could make as many potions as he wanted to, and no one would ever know.
How very fortunate indeed.
He put it back down in his pockets, and started to walk slowly towards the front door of the mansion.
It had to be done tonight...
Draco had always hated muggles. He had been raised to despise and detest them, and so he did.
He hated their boring life style with its lack of miracles.
He hated the way the laws of nature tied them forcefully to the ground. Laws, so easily broken by magic... And yet, so impossible without!
Now, however, he was sitting on a plain, black iron bench among them, far away from the magical world, dressed as a muggle, and forced to act like one.
He wanted to scream...
This was a nightmare! Why on earth had they placed Potter with a muggle family, anyway?! He was a famous wizard for crying out loud! He ought to live with his own kind, not here!
But here he was, and here Draco was. No matter how miserable he felt.
He had discovered a handy invention called a 'telephone book', where all the muggles were listed in alphabetical order by names along with their adress and phone number.
In Draco's opinion this sounded like an utterly stupid, not to mention risky idea, but at least it made it easier for him to find the place Potter called home during summer, as he was already familiar with the name of the muggles he lived with.
'Dursley'
Bit stupid name really, Draco thought to himself as his eyes searched the street for a life sign.
He was sitting at the corner of Magnolia crescent, with a clear view of Privet drive. According to the telephonebook, these 'Dursleys' lived in nr. 4 Privet drive, so that was where he had to be.
His only hope was that Potter, for some reason or other, would come out. If he didn't, Draco would have to wait, either for some brilliant new idea to pop into his mind, or for another evening. Neither options applied much to him.
It had to be done tonight!
He had only been sitting there for about ten minutes, though it felt like much longer. He wasn't cold. It was summer, and the night was warm. A beautiful night it was. The sky was filled with stars, shining above him, like precious gems.
And suddenly, as he sat there admiring them, a loud, angry voice cut trough the silence of the night. The sound was muffled, probably coming from inside one of the houses, but Draco was still able to make out every word.
It was a man's voice. He sounded very angry, and was yelling at someone.
"I don't care what happened! Don't you dare turn your back on me boy! Come back here! You're not leaving this house before you've undone this!"
A door was slammed open, and the angry voice sounded ten times louder than before.
"I swear, if you don't come back here I'll-"
Suddenly, another voice sounded trough the open door. This belonged to a young person, a boy most likely.
He sounded just as angry as the man, but he was not shouting.
"You'll what? Kill me?"
His voice was calm, filled with an ice cold rage which the boy was obviously fighting to surpress.
"I'd like to see you try," he said. "Don't touch me!"
And then the door slammed shut. Draco could hear the crunching of gravel and then the sound of feet walking quickly on asphalt, and he saw a dark shape coming towards him.
A row of street lamps glowed bright orange, bathing Privet drive in golden light, and as the shape came closer Draco to see it more clearly.
It felt like someone had suddenly emptied a bucket of ice cold water down his back... His heart skipped a beat and he had to gasp for air.
Potter! It was Potter! The shape, the cold voice, it was Potter!
He had to fight down the urge to run. His body felt suddenly numb, and it was hard to breathe.
Potter had slowed down, and was obviously deep in thought. He hadn't seen Draco yet, and Draco decided that he did not wish to be seen. It would be so much easier if he caught Potter by surprise. So much easier.
He got quickly to his feet and ducked down behind a low wall waiting for the boy to pass.
He wasn't scared. Not nervous. He was quite beyond any of these feelings. His head felt strangely empty, as if all the blood had vanished. It felt like he was about to faint...
He peeked carefully at Potter as he walked by. Slowly, lost in his own thoughts, unaware of the world surrounding him. Convinced that he was safe, probably.
Nothing could hurt him here, in the muggle world. Nothing.
He was wearing something black which had probably been a hooded T-shirt once. It seemed that he had ripped off the sleeves, and most of the bottom line to make it fit. But it was still much too wide for him, and a little too short. It was, in fact, so wide that it fell down his right arm, exposing a slightly tanned shoulder.
His jeans were baggy, and he had tied a string around his waist to keep them from falling. Still, they sat very low, and Draco got a glimpse of shiny grey fabric beneath.
He was surprised to find how much his rival had changed since the last time they had seen each other.
Harry looked taller, and had obviously grown a few inches over the summer. His body was slender and seemed somehow less skinny than before. His hair was longer than Draco remembered it, and fell down in his face in a strangely seducive way. Almost sexy, even.
He was... beautiful.
Draco waited until Harry had walked further down the street, before he decided to follow.
He felt a slight shaking in his knees, but ignored it. He needed that feeling right now, simply to remind himself that he was still alive, even though he could no longer feel his body.
He blinked a few times to clear his vision.
Too late. There was no turning back now. He had come too far for that...
He breathed deeply, before he slowly, carefully, followed after Harry.
He placed one foot in front of the other. Slowly at first, then faster. It all felt so unreal, almost like in a dream. He walked automatically, as if he was unable to control his own movements.
He could see Harry's bare neck, only inches in front of him. Only a few more steps now...
Suddenly, Harry stopped. A pricking sensation in the back of his neck had brought him roughly out of his thoughts, and back into the reality that was his.
A sense of danger...!
Draco realised with a slight panick what was happening, and without thinking the matter trough, he acted!
He reached out and grabbed Harry by the arm, twisting it so that he couldn't move without breaking it. Harry gasped and arched his body, desperate to ease the pain.
He could feel Draco's warm, uneven breath against the smooth skin of his neck. His body, only inches from his own.
Draco slipped a hand gently around Potters fine neck, and squeezed it lightly. He wasn't going to hurt the boy, just scare him. Show him that he could kill him if he wanted to.
Harry was standing completely still. He realized, with the use of plain logic, that if he moved, the pain would increase, and he didn't want that. Clever boy.
Slowly, Draco loosened the grip of his neck. On a sudden impulse, he reached out and carefully removed the glasses. He toyed with the idea of, somehow, destroying them, or throwing them away, but let it go.
Instead, he folded them and put them in his pockets. They might prove useful to him someday.
He could feel the cool smooth surface of the bottle with his finger tips.
No turning back now. He had come too far for that. It was now or never.
He pulled off the top with his teeth, careful not to get any liquid on his own tongue, and held it in front of Harry's mouth.
He wasn't sure of whether Harry could see his hand, or the bottle he held without the aid of his glasses, but he didn't ask. He wasn't sure if he really wanted to know.
Somehow, he thought it would be better if Harry knew as little as possible. It would be easier that way. Easier for them both.
If he saw the shiny blue bottle, or the pale hand holding it he didn't show it. He was standing completely still.
Suddenly, with no warning, Draco twisted his arm a little more. Harry opened his mouth to scream, but before he could utter a sound, Draco emptied the contents of the bottle. At the same time, he let go of the arm.
The sudden lack of support caused Harry to fall. He stumbled and fell, hitting his head on the rough surface, and lay, barely conscious on the ground.
He blinked furiously, attempting to clear his head as well as his vision.
He curled up with his hands pressed against his stomach, coughing, in a futile attempt to rid his body of the unknown liquid now soaring through his veins.
He managed, despite the pain, to raise himself up into a sitting position. He didn't cry, nor did he call for help.
Draco bent down before him, allowing himself to drown in oceans of emerald.
He had heard somewhere, that when you kill a person, you would do wisely not to look into their eyes when they died. Because those eyes would haunt you forever...
Harry wasn't going to die. Not yet, anyway. He was just going to sleep.
What was the difference, anyway? Between sleep and death. Was there a difference?
No. Not really.
Except that when someone died, they never woke up again...
However, curiousity got the better of Draco Malfoy. He had never seen anyone die before. Never seen anyone fall asleep either.
But as he stared into those eyes, he knew that they would never give him peace...
Suddenly, without knowing why, he bent forward and placed his lips gently on the lightning bolt-shaped scar on Harry's forehead.
"I'm sorry Harry..." he whispered.
And those were the last words Harry Potter heard before he lost consciousness...
Authors note: Well? What do you think? I apologise for all the spelling mistakes I've
probably made *sweatdrops* but please remember that English is just a subject in
school to me, and I've had to learn most of it by myself.
I'd be delighted if you reviewed, but I wouldn't want you to unless you actually liked what I wrote, and would want me to continue.
just finished it, and you never know when my computers gonna screw up... ~_~
Anyways, I hope you all like it!
Please review, because it means a lot to me!
Chapter. 2
Draco was standing by the window, partly hidden behind the long curtains, watching his mother as she stepped into the dark wagon which would bring her to the dinner party.
It was a beautiful wagon. Carved with intricate patterns, drawn by snowy white horses.
He closed his eyes, and turned away.
He was alone now.
He began to walk slowly away from the window. Aimlessly. Heading for nothing in particular. His mind drifting trough a mist of nothingness, with no intention to focus.
Which was exactly how he wanted it. He didn't want to think.
Somehow, the house seemed so much bigger, when only he was left.
When he had been younger, he had used to believe that the house really did grow bigger everytime he was alone. Thought that it, perhaps, was magic. Alive, in a way. And that it had some kind of grudge against him.
He knew better now.
And yet, there was that feeling of emptyness again...
It was a feeling that would not disappear. Growing steadily larger until it threathened to devour him from inside. Make him become nothing more than a hollow shell of the Draco he had once been.
He took a deep breath and shook his head slightly from side to side, attempting to rid himself of the feeling.
He had other, more important concerns on his mind, and couldn't allow himself to be bothered by such childish imaginations.
He reached down his pockets and drew out a small, blue bottle. He held it carefully between two fingers, contemplating it, as if he had never seen such a thing before.
It was made out of thin, blue glass. So delicate and so easily broken... He held it up against the light, admiring the way it was shining, like thousands upon thousands of tiny, blue stars.
But he knew what was inside. He knew what secret the little bottle was hiding.
A clear, slightly bluish liquid which would make whoever drank it sleep, for almost twenty-four hours.
A sleeping potion.
"The Sleeping Beauty"
Draco laughed softly to himself.
My sleeping beauty...
He had yet to discover a way to make his victim drink the potion, but this didn't bother him. He would think of something. If there was a way, he would find it!
It had eventually occured to him that he, neither, was allowed to use magic outside of school without being expelled. It had to be done without magic.
At first, this had seemed like an insurmountable obstacle to him. But then it hit him. The answer was, of course, a potion! Potions weren't illegal magic. He could make as many potions as he wanted to, and no one would ever know.
How very fortunate indeed.
He put it back down in his pockets, and started to walk slowly towards the front door of the mansion.
It had to be done tonight...
Draco had always hated muggles. He had been raised to despise and detest them, and so he did.
He hated their boring life style with its lack of miracles.
He hated the way the laws of nature tied them forcefully to the ground. Laws, so easily broken by magic... And yet, so impossible without!
Now, however, he was sitting on a plain, black iron bench among them, far away from the magical world, dressed as a muggle, and forced to act like one.
He wanted to scream...
This was a nightmare! Why on earth had they placed Potter with a muggle family, anyway?! He was a famous wizard for crying out loud! He ought to live with his own kind, not here!
But here he was, and here Draco was. No matter how miserable he felt.
He had discovered a handy invention called a 'telephone book', where all the muggles were listed in alphabetical order by names along with their adress and phone number.
In Draco's opinion this sounded like an utterly stupid, not to mention risky idea, but at least it made it easier for him to find the place Potter called home during summer, as he was already familiar with the name of the muggles he lived with.
'Dursley'
Bit stupid name really, Draco thought to himself as his eyes searched the street for a life sign.
He was sitting at the corner of Magnolia crescent, with a clear view of Privet drive. According to the telephonebook, these 'Dursleys' lived in nr. 4 Privet drive, so that was where he had to be.
His only hope was that Potter, for some reason or other, would come out. If he didn't, Draco would have to wait, either for some brilliant new idea to pop into his mind, or for another evening. Neither options applied much to him.
It had to be done tonight!
He had only been sitting there for about ten minutes, though it felt like much longer. He wasn't cold. It was summer, and the night was warm. A beautiful night it was. The sky was filled with stars, shining above him, like precious gems.
And suddenly, as he sat there admiring them, a loud, angry voice cut trough the silence of the night. The sound was muffled, probably coming from inside one of the houses, but Draco was still able to make out every word.
It was a man's voice. He sounded very angry, and was yelling at someone.
"I don't care what happened! Don't you dare turn your back on me boy! Come back here! You're not leaving this house before you've undone this!"
A door was slammed open, and the angry voice sounded ten times louder than before.
"I swear, if you don't come back here I'll-"
Suddenly, another voice sounded trough the open door. This belonged to a young person, a boy most likely.
He sounded just as angry as the man, but he was not shouting.
"You'll what? Kill me?"
His voice was calm, filled with an ice cold rage which the boy was obviously fighting to surpress.
"I'd like to see you try," he said. "Don't touch me!"
And then the door slammed shut. Draco could hear the crunching of gravel and then the sound of feet walking quickly on asphalt, and he saw a dark shape coming towards him.
A row of street lamps glowed bright orange, bathing Privet drive in golden light, and as the shape came closer Draco to see it more clearly.
It felt like someone had suddenly emptied a bucket of ice cold water down his back... His heart skipped a beat and he had to gasp for air.
Potter! It was Potter! The shape, the cold voice, it was Potter!
He had to fight down the urge to run. His body felt suddenly numb, and it was hard to breathe.
Potter had slowed down, and was obviously deep in thought. He hadn't seen Draco yet, and Draco decided that he did not wish to be seen. It would be so much easier if he caught Potter by surprise. So much easier.
He got quickly to his feet and ducked down behind a low wall waiting for the boy to pass.
He wasn't scared. Not nervous. He was quite beyond any of these feelings. His head felt strangely empty, as if all the blood had vanished. It felt like he was about to faint...
He peeked carefully at Potter as he walked by. Slowly, lost in his own thoughts, unaware of the world surrounding him. Convinced that he was safe, probably.
Nothing could hurt him here, in the muggle world. Nothing.
He was wearing something black which had probably been a hooded T-shirt once. It seemed that he had ripped off the sleeves, and most of the bottom line to make it fit. But it was still much too wide for him, and a little too short. It was, in fact, so wide that it fell down his right arm, exposing a slightly tanned shoulder.
His jeans were baggy, and he had tied a string around his waist to keep them from falling. Still, they sat very low, and Draco got a glimpse of shiny grey fabric beneath.
He was surprised to find how much his rival had changed since the last time they had seen each other.
Harry looked taller, and had obviously grown a few inches over the summer. His body was slender and seemed somehow less skinny than before. His hair was longer than Draco remembered it, and fell down in his face in a strangely seducive way. Almost sexy, even.
He was... beautiful.
Draco waited until Harry had walked further down the street, before he decided to follow.
He felt a slight shaking in his knees, but ignored it. He needed that feeling right now, simply to remind himself that he was still alive, even though he could no longer feel his body.
He blinked a few times to clear his vision.
Too late. There was no turning back now. He had come too far for that...
He breathed deeply, before he slowly, carefully, followed after Harry.
He placed one foot in front of the other. Slowly at first, then faster. It all felt so unreal, almost like in a dream. He walked automatically, as if he was unable to control his own movements.
He could see Harry's bare neck, only inches in front of him. Only a few more steps now...
Suddenly, Harry stopped. A pricking sensation in the back of his neck had brought him roughly out of his thoughts, and back into the reality that was his.
A sense of danger...!
Draco realised with a slight panick what was happening, and without thinking the matter trough, he acted!
He reached out and grabbed Harry by the arm, twisting it so that he couldn't move without breaking it. Harry gasped and arched his body, desperate to ease the pain.
He could feel Draco's warm, uneven breath against the smooth skin of his neck. His body, only inches from his own.
Draco slipped a hand gently around Potters fine neck, and squeezed it lightly. He wasn't going to hurt the boy, just scare him. Show him that he could kill him if he wanted to.
Harry was standing completely still. He realized, with the use of plain logic, that if he moved, the pain would increase, and he didn't want that. Clever boy.
Slowly, Draco loosened the grip of his neck. On a sudden impulse, he reached out and carefully removed the glasses. He toyed with the idea of, somehow, destroying them, or throwing them away, but let it go.
Instead, he folded them and put them in his pockets. They might prove useful to him someday.
He could feel the cool smooth surface of the bottle with his finger tips.
No turning back now. He had come too far for that. It was now or never.
He pulled off the top with his teeth, careful not to get any liquid on his own tongue, and held it in front of Harry's mouth.
He wasn't sure of whether Harry could see his hand, or the bottle he held without the aid of his glasses, but he didn't ask. He wasn't sure if he really wanted to know.
Somehow, he thought it would be better if Harry knew as little as possible. It would be easier that way. Easier for them both.
If he saw the shiny blue bottle, or the pale hand holding it he didn't show it. He was standing completely still.
Suddenly, with no warning, Draco twisted his arm a little more. Harry opened his mouth to scream, but before he could utter a sound, Draco emptied the contents of the bottle. At the same time, he let go of the arm.
The sudden lack of support caused Harry to fall. He stumbled and fell, hitting his head on the rough surface, and lay, barely conscious on the ground.
He blinked furiously, attempting to clear his head as well as his vision.
He curled up with his hands pressed against his stomach, coughing, in a futile attempt to rid his body of the unknown liquid now soaring through his veins.
He managed, despite the pain, to raise himself up into a sitting position. He didn't cry, nor did he call for help.
Draco bent down before him, allowing himself to drown in oceans of emerald.
He had heard somewhere, that when you kill a person, you would do wisely not to look into their eyes when they died. Because those eyes would haunt you forever...
Harry wasn't going to die. Not yet, anyway. He was just going to sleep.
What was the difference, anyway? Between sleep and death. Was there a difference?
No. Not really.
Except that when someone died, they never woke up again...
However, curiousity got the better of Draco Malfoy. He had never seen anyone die before. Never seen anyone fall asleep either.
But as he stared into those eyes, he knew that they would never give him peace...
Suddenly, without knowing why, he bent forward and placed his lips gently on the lightning bolt-shaped scar on Harry's forehead.
"I'm sorry Harry..." he whispered.
And those were the last words Harry Potter heard before he lost consciousness...
Authors note: Well? What do you think? I apologise for all the spelling mistakes I've
probably made *sweatdrops* but please remember that English is just a subject in
school to me, and I've had to learn most of it by myself.
I'd be delighted if you reviewed, but I wouldn't want you to unless you actually liked what I wrote, and would want me to continue.