"No sooner met but they looked; no sooner looked but they loved; no sooner loved but they sighed; no sooner sighed but they asked one another the reason; no sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy."
-William Shakespeare
It was by pure fate that he found her. He rarely went that way, and, besides, he'd had enough of the cold night air. It was far too uncomfortable for his standards. However, upon reaching the Slytherin Common Room, he realized he'd lost his pocket watch-a rather expensive gift from his father, a prize for being admitted into Hogwarts-and an irrational fear of it being covered in a blanket of snow seized him. He raced outside, his feet pounding against the cobblestone steps and then froze.
There, laying face down in the snow, was the Weasley girl. Even from the distance, he could see the color in her small hands ebbing from them. Her red hair covered her face. And she wasn't moving.
He was beside her in an instant, and, without thinking, he lifted the small sixth year into his arms. For the first time, he was grateful for the strenuous workout his father was getting into a habit of subjecting him to.
Her body was stiff, and frozen. Fear, unlike anything he had ever felt, gripped his heart with an icy palm. He had to do something, and soon. He'd have to tend to her-the girl obviously needed treatment. But where to take her?
The thought of the Gryffindor Common Room and Madame Pomfrey swept though his mind, but both were swiftly rejected. He would be accused of doing this to her, undoubtedly. And the last thing in the world he wanted was to get himself expelled. He could just imagine the look in his father's eyes…
The Slytherin Common Room was so absolutely ridiculous that it was discarded before it had even became a full thought.
Her lips were turning blue.
He knew, rather instantly, what his decision was, and acting with speed he would have otherwise insisted he did not have, he flew up the stairs to the room he had chosen.
He found the secret wall immediately, despite the fact that he'd only been inside once in his entire life. Mr. Malfoy had found the room as a child, and shared it with his son. Anything that had to do with his father was worth avoiding, Draco had decided long ago. Carefully, he placed his hand on the designated spot and, glancing over his shoulder once more, stepped inside and shut the camouflaged door firmly.
With trembling hands, he laid the girl on the bed, and wrapped the blankets around her. The fireplace on the wall beckoned to be lit, and with a simple spell, he fulfilled the request. The crackling of the flames warmed the room quickly, and finally he went to check on her.
Then he was able to breathe a sigh of relief when she shifted in her sleep. The frostbite was beginning to recede, and her frozen cheeks were already warmed. He collapsed into a nearby chair and dropped his head into his hands, finally able to allow his mask to slip ever so slightly. There was no one around to see it.
For a full 15 minutes he sat there, trying to regain control. The Weasley girl-she'd be sleeping until he gave her the antidote for curse that had been put on her. And no one else knew where he was…
When he was able to move without fear of tripping over his own feet, he approached a cupboard and pulled out the ingredients he knew were needed. In the meantime, as he prepared the antidote, his thoughts began to wander.
It was a simple sleeping spell, he knew. They were fairly easy to spot, and just as easy to cure. But why put a sleeping spell on a 16 year old girl who was outside in the cold? If whoever had done it wanted to *kill* her, certainly there were less sloppy ways to go about it. Mentally, he shrugged, reminding himself that he certainly didn't care.
The potion was done. Carefully, he opened Weasley's mouth and poured the solution inside. Almost immediately, her eyes slid open, and stared at him.
"What's…going on," she whispered, fear lacing her voice.
He smirked. "You got hit by a sleeping spell."
She didn't ask for details. Her narrowed eyes spoke volumes.
"It wasn't me," he snapped.
He expected her to argue, to stare in incredulous disbelief, but either came to pass. In fact, the only words that escaped her lips were, "I can't move."
He cleared his throat and nodded. "Yes, well, the only potion I know how to make only wakes the victim. I haven't any idea how to speed up the physical recovery." Reading her expression, he added, "Have no fear, though. It'll happen naturally. We'll just wait."
"We?" she questioned, gazing up at him in surprise.
He rolled his eyes. "Don't flatter yourself. I am only staying because when you are physically able to leave, I'll have to bind your eyes and lead you out so you can't see how to enter this room again."
"I assure you, if this is a place you spend a lot of time, you've no fear of me breaking in."
The pair glared at each other for a full minute before she sighed and dropped her gaze. "Thank you," she muttered.
Raising an eyebrow, he studied the girl. "I've done nothing to deserve your thanks," he informed her.
The expression on her face read impatience. "Of course you have. You saved my life."
"Any one else would have done the same." His tone was biting. "Why does my completion of this task merit gratitude? Because you view me as an evil villain who wouldn't lit a finger to save another."
The last was not a question.
"You don't exactly radiate evidence that would lead one to believe the contrary."
Well, there was no arguing that.
"I thought you Gryffindors were supposed to believe in the benefit of the doubt."
"Which is not the same as being naïve."
"You're welcome."
Their eyes met, fire and ice, and both hearts did a simultaneous flip flop.
And both pairs of eyes looked away.
Well, this was awkward.
"I'm sorry about your parents," she finally murmured, making sure to keep her gaze downcast.
Silence filled the room as he fought for an appropriate response. No one but he knew the truth about them-that they weren't dead. That both senior Malfoys were alive and breathing, and they had gone into hiding after Voldermort was truly defeated two years ago. That while he *did* stay with his aunt over the vacation, both his parents were also there.
"It doesn't matter," he finally decided on.
"I meant to tell you," she continued, talking quickly, as not to lose her nerve, "I wanted to. But you never seemed all that interested in my…"
"Pity?"
"Sympathy."
Ha. That was what they all called it. Even Potter, who had made a last ditch effort to leave the past behind them and attempt to reconcile. Had to admire the guy-he had courage.
"It was a long time ago."
A long silence followed, but for this he was grateful. He wasn't at all sure he could handle any more dazzling repartee with Weasel's sister. And any more of those wide eyed innocent looks she had given him may make him reveal things he shouldn't be revealing.
Like truths.
"Malfoy," she said suddenly.
Oh well. So much for that.
He didn't look up at her again, but she continued.
"Malfoy, what *is* this place?"
"A zoo."
She glared at his sarcasm. "I *mean* how did you find it?" She paused to examine the room. "It's like an extra Common Room, or something, with a bed."
"My father used it to seduce my mother."
She asked, didn't she?
"How..." she fumbled for words but ended up with, "interesting..."
He chuckled. "My thoughts exactly. I could tell you more…"
Shaking her head feviously, she said, "No thank you. I expect I've heard enough."
The reluctant hero
-William Shakespeare
It was by pure fate that he found her. He rarely went that way, and, besides, he'd had enough of the cold night air. It was far too uncomfortable for his standards. However, upon reaching the Slytherin Common Room, he realized he'd lost his pocket watch-a rather expensive gift from his father, a prize for being admitted into Hogwarts-and an irrational fear of it being covered in a blanket of snow seized him. He raced outside, his feet pounding against the cobblestone steps and then froze.
There, laying face down in the snow, was the Weasley girl. Even from the distance, he could see the color in her small hands ebbing from them. Her red hair covered her face. And she wasn't moving.
He was beside her in an instant, and, without thinking, he lifted the small sixth year into his arms. For the first time, he was grateful for the strenuous workout his father was getting into a habit of subjecting him to.
Her body was stiff, and frozen. Fear, unlike anything he had ever felt, gripped his heart with an icy palm. He had to do something, and soon. He'd have to tend to her-the girl obviously needed treatment. But where to take her?
The thought of the Gryffindor Common Room and Madame Pomfrey swept though his mind, but both were swiftly rejected. He would be accused of doing this to her, undoubtedly. And the last thing in the world he wanted was to get himself expelled. He could just imagine the look in his father's eyes…
The Slytherin Common Room was so absolutely ridiculous that it was discarded before it had even became a full thought.
Her lips were turning blue.
He knew, rather instantly, what his decision was, and acting with speed he would have otherwise insisted he did not have, he flew up the stairs to the room he had chosen.
He found the secret wall immediately, despite the fact that he'd only been inside once in his entire life. Mr. Malfoy had found the room as a child, and shared it with his son. Anything that had to do with his father was worth avoiding, Draco had decided long ago. Carefully, he placed his hand on the designated spot and, glancing over his shoulder once more, stepped inside and shut the camouflaged door firmly.
With trembling hands, he laid the girl on the bed, and wrapped the blankets around her. The fireplace on the wall beckoned to be lit, and with a simple spell, he fulfilled the request. The crackling of the flames warmed the room quickly, and finally he went to check on her.
Then he was able to breathe a sigh of relief when she shifted in her sleep. The frostbite was beginning to recede, and her frozen cheeks were already warmed. He collapsed into a nearby chair and dropped his head into his hands, finally able to allow his mask to slip ever so slightly. There was no one around to see it.
For a full 15 minutes he sat there, trying to regain control. The Weasley girl-she'd be sleeping until he gave her the antidote for curse that had been put on her. And no one else knew where he was…
When he was able to move without fear of tripping over his own feet, he approached a cupboard and pulled out the ingredients he knew were needed. In the meantime, as he prepared the antidote, his thoughts began to wander.
It was a simple sleeping spell, he knew. They were fairly easy to spot, and just as easy to cure. But why put a sleeping spell on a 16 year old girl who was outside in the cold? If whoever had done it wanted to *kill* her, certainly there were less sloppy ways to go about it. Mentally, he shrugged, reminding himself that he certainly didn't care.
The potion was done. Carefully, he opened Weasley's mouth and poured the solution inside. Almost immediately, her eyes slid open, and stared at him.
"What's…going on," she whispered, fear lacing her voice.
He smirked. "You got hit by a sleeping spell."
She didn't ask for details. Her narrowed eyes spoke volumes.
"It wasn't me," he snapped.
He expected her to argue, to stare in incredulous disbelief, but either came to pass. In fact, the only words that escaped her lips were, "I can't move."
He cleared his throat and nodded. "Yes, well, the only potion I know how to make only wakes the victim. I haven't any idea how to speed up the physical recovery." Reading her expression, he added, "Have no fear, though. It'll happen naturally. We'll just wait."
"We?" she questioned, gazing up at him in surprise.
He rolled his eyes. "Don't flatter yourself. I am only staying because when you are physically able to leave, I'll have to bind your eyes and lead you out so you can't see how to enter this room again."
"I assure you, if this is a place you spend a lot of time, you've no fear of me breaking in."
The pair glared at each other for a full minute before she sighed and dropped her gaze. "Thank you," she muttered.
Raising an eyebrow, he studied the girl. "I've done nothing to deserve your thanks," he informed her.
The expression on her face read impatience. "Of course you have. You saved my life."
"Any one else would have done the same." His tone was biting. "Why does my completion of this task merit gratitude? Because you view me as an evil villain who wouldn't lit a finger to save another."
The last was not a question.
"You don't exactly radiate evidence that would lead one to believe the contrary."
Well, there was no arguing that.
"I thought you Gryffindors were supposed to believe in the benefit of the doubt."
"Which is not the same as being naïve."
"You're welcome."
Their eyes met, fire and ice, and both hearts did a simultaneous flip flop.
And both pairs of eyes looked away.
Well, this was awkward.
"I'm sorry about your parents," she finally murmured, making sure to keep her gaze downcast.
Silence filled the room as he fought for an appropriate response. No one but he knew the truth about them-that they weren't dead. That both senior Malfoys were alive and breathing, and they had gone into hiding after Voldermort was truly defeated two years ago. That while he *did* stay with his aunt over the vacation, both his parents were also there.
"It doesn't matter," he finally decided on.
"I meant to tell you," she continued, talking quickly, as not to lose her nerve, "I wanted to. But you never seemed all that interested in my…"
"Pity?"
"Sympathy."
Ha. That was what they all called it. Even Potter, who had made a last ditch effort to leave the past behind them and attempt to reconcile. Had to admire the guy-he had courage.
"It was a long time ago."
A long silence followed, but for this he was grateful. He wasn't at all sure he could handle any more dazzling repartee with Weasel's sister. And any more of those wide eyed innocent looks she had given him may make him reveal things he shouldn't be revealing.
Like truths.
"Malfoy," she said suddenly.
Oh well. So much for that.
He didn't look up at her again, but she continued.
"Malfoy, what *is* this place?"
"A zoo."
She glared at his sarcasm. "I *mean* how did you find it?" She paused to examine the room. "It's like an extra Common Room, or something, with a bed."
"My father used it to seduce my mother."
She asked, didn't she?
"How..." she fumbled for words but ended up with, "interesting..."
He chuckled. "My thoughts exactly. I could tell you more…"
Shaking her head feviously, she said, "No thank you. I expect I've heard enough."
The reluctant hero