(Green Pig ~PROUD Hufflepuff~ :- Howdy Ho! Well here's chapter 5 at long last! Sorry it took so long but I have been without a pc! ::BOO HOO:: And the next part - chapter 6 isn't written yet because I just wiped it all and I'm starting it again! (it was just *so* wrong) I actually cut a lot off the end of this chapter that would've run into the next but, ah forget it, all you need to know is the next part isn't coming for a while... ::looks nervous:: okay bye!)
DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter is not mine, I'm writing this for my own pleasure and I regularly pray at my J.K Rowling shrine for the next books' speedy journey to bookshops hehe ^_~ Okay I'm really not that insane but you get the idea!
Chapter Five
Blood Falls – Part One
Eyes twitched and sprang open, the glimmering silver irises flickered left and right frantically; searching.
Draco groaned and put his palm across his eyes; too bright, even the dark gloom of his dungeon room was too bright this morning.
What happened last night? I don't remember falling asleep.
He attempted to sit up but found his muscles far too weak to support him. What was the time? He wasn't sure what day it was either, but that was absurd! The first day back at Hogwarts wasn't it? Wasn't it?
Flashes of memory passed through his mind; the feast at the Slytherin table, Cecelia going over to Hufflepuff; Darklis commenting briefly on her disappointment with her and the obvious mocking stares from the Gryffindors at the shame his sister had brought onto the family. Especially from Harry Potter and his stupid friends Weasley and Hermione Granger. That was another thing that Draco wondered about, it seemed Granger didn't think it was as funny as her ex-boyfriend Ron had thought all last night – she didn't laugh once. There was something on her mind, her eyes wandered away from her friends and wandered the hall, not searching, just wandering.
Bored with the Gryffindors?
He was slowly feeling his muscles strengthening and risked another attempt to sit up. He just managed it, but Draco knew that the cause of his sudden lethargy could have been linked to why his skin was paler than usual. He rubbed his left wrist; it was painful all of a sudden and pulled back his sleeve – he hadn't changed out of the clothes he wore last night and they were filthy with mud, but he hadn't the time to think about that now; his left wrist showed the definite mark where something had slashed right across his veins. The sudden vision of fast flowing blood pouring from his wrists made him recoil and he pressed the seemingly healed wound to his stomach, realising as he held his left arm with his right hand that the other wrist had also be cut, yet had also healed to leave only the mark of a faint scar. Hopefully it would fade in time, but what was going on?
Who has done this? Did I do this?!
His head was spinning with questions and blurred memories of the night after he left the Great hall for bed; he remembered clearly the walk back to his common room, greeting old acquaintances, going through things with Crabbe and Goyle about where they should be the next morning. Then he went into his new private room – all seventh years had private rooms in the Slytherin house, all years in the fifth and above – and he sat down on his bed, spotted his trunk had been brought in by the House Elves of Hogwarts, felt sleepy and relaxed, leaned back…
…must've fallen asleep.
Did he cut his wrists? Where was the tool that done this… He leaned forward to open a drawer in his bedside table and there, in the first place he looked was the dreadful dagger, stained with blood. His blood. If it had a face it would have been sneering mockingly at him, but as it was just an object all it did was lie there. Though it was clearly staring him right in the eye. He didn't like its expression at all.
He slammed the drawer back, leapt up and turned away from the sickening thing. Maybe it was just his imagination, but his wrists were hurting more now, like the memory of the scorching blade across his flesh was coming back.
Why don't I remember?
"Where is Malfoy this morning?" The Slytherins stupidly looked at the empty seat where Draco should have been as usual. McGonagall shook her head irritably. "First day back in his last year and he doesn't turn up to his first lessons. Ulrich, please would you fetch Malfoy from the Slytherin Common room? If he's still in bed you can hex him, you do have my permission." Nott stood and before he made any move towards the door he waited to see if McGonagall would add at the end that she was only joking.
He left with no extra comments. Hah! Now he could hex Draco Malfoy all he liked!
"Look at yourself, pitiful." I know. "You should be ashamed of your failures." Yes... "That's all you are." Yeah, yeah, I know… I know. "So what are you going to do?" … Dunno… I gotta go to lessons, apologise to McGonagall I suppose.
Draco's heart jolted, his breath caught and he slumped to the floor by his mirror on the inside of his cupboard door. His hand reached up to the bedpost to right himself but he couldn't shake off the suffocating pressure he felt all over his heart and throat.
God… what is happening…? "Think about what you just decided." What? "What will you do now?"…I want to get away from this pain, my heart, I know it's my heart! Why is it hurting so much?
A wave of incredible weakness swept across him, the world spun, grew dark and distorted.
"…DRACO…" Bastard! You little thieving bastard!
"…DRACO?" I didn't take it!
"DRACO…?" Liar! You are a liar!
What has he done now? Have you found it Lucius? "…DRACO…?"
"…DRACO!" "DRACO!" He needs to be punished!
I didn't take the diamond!
He took it? "DRACO!!" "DRACO!!"
I demand you hand it over right now!!!
"Draco!"
The blackness vanished as quickly as it had come, his head ached and twitched, but he could hear him now that the voices had silenced inside his mind.
"Draco! Draco!" He couldn't move, he couldn't respond. Just listen. "Come on man! Wake up!…"
Maybe I will die right here…
"Fine! Then you face McGonagall later, hurry up or you'll be late for Charms class as well!"
… Nott… he's left now… Charms… yeah… Charms lesson, second period… Transfiguration, I gotta be in Transfig-yur-ation…I gotta get up, come on Draco, you can get off the floor, show a little dignity. "Yeah, show a little dignity."
Draco struggled with his breath, sorted out an easy rhythm to keep up and stretched his fingers, one by one to start his muscles working again. After five long minutes he finally had the strength to open his eyes and sit up. He really didn't think there was any point in leaving his bed today – he felt very sick and ready to collapse any moment.
"Why do you worry so much about school? Studying long hours into the night is a fool's way to live. You should be free… you'd like to be free wouldn't you…?" Yes. I would. But freedom comes only when you make the effort to gain it. "Stupid logic." It's the truth… "That is why you fail." No it isn't; I just don't try… "Because you want freedom… you know the real truth inside don't you…? It could be so much easier if you'd just follow in your father's footsteps."
Green and silver light flashed across his line of vision, as he sat there leaning his heavy head against the bedpost, too weak to do much else, he thought of the terrible things he knew his father had done; Death Eating, following the Dark Lord like a loyal dog, but only when it suited him. When he was younger, much younger he found this out and at first was terrified of the power his father held, as he grew though he learnt more about the way the Ministry ran the Wizarding world, always hiding those with magic away from the Muggles, he learnt to agree with whatever his father said to avoid a beating and soon he too believed that the only way to live was to get rid of the Ministry and get rid of the Muggles who ruled the earth. His favourite thing to state, in conversations with his parents whenever the Ministry and Muggles were brought up, was: Why should those without magic, have so much power over those with magic? And why does the Ministry encourage this way of life for us to continue as it is when we could easily overpower the Muggles? It really never made sense to him. It still didn't, as far as he always saw it when you are blessed with better abilities, how come it was the magical community who had to hide away like they were the outcasts? The freaks?
Draco flopped down onto his pillows and relaxed, the pain all gone - all that was left was numbness. Like a feeling of complete… nothing. He wasn't thinking, wasn't dreaming, he wasn't registering anything he looked at: the ceiling, the pillow, the cupboard or his bedside table with the drawer that hid the dagger from view. Even that had escaped his memory. All he saw, in his own head, was darkness. The voices returned…
Draco sat back up again and swung his legs off the bed, stood, reached for the drawer and took the dagger, then left the room. Just like that Draco had got up and left, still in the muddy robes he wore all day yesterday and last night, still unwashed or without his school bag to go to his lessons, he made his way through the corridor that led away from the dormitories and into the main area of the Slytherin common room, through the secret wall out into the corridor in the dungeons, concealing the dagger once again in his robes he headed up and out of the dungeons to the Entrance Hall.
Then things started to go a bit hazy again, the darkness was twisting and curling around him, occasionally he saw through and saw the light, he wanted to get to it but he was so tired and doubtful that he could ever make it, the darkness swelled in again and he grew cold…
Cold as ice…
… Cold as death.
"Well then that's one detention for Draco Malfoy, I shall go fetch him myself later when he leaves your Common room, me being a Gryffindor I can't possibly go in there myself. What was he doing?"
"He didn't answer, I think he's still asleep, Professor." Some of the Gryffindors chuckled; it was always great to hear Draco Malfoy's name dragged in the dirt. He had got the first detention of anyone in the seventh year and he still lay about in bed completely ignoring his lessons like the typical Malfoy and Slytherin that he was. Everyone knew his grades had never been great, his fifth year was the worst – Harry, Ron and Hermione and subsequently all the rest of the Gryffindors in their year heard how much he failed his exams in the fifth year. He came back in the sixth very quiet and he had a sulk all through December – that's when people began the rumours that his parents were so angry with him afterwards that he had been punished so hard with the Dark magic the Malfoys loved to use, and all his pride and inner strength as a Malfoy had been cracked, shattered. He did work harder though, after Christmas he studied all the time – Hermione always saw him remarkably content to work alone without the protection of Crabbe and Goyle long into the night at his own private little table (that he'd suddenly seemed to have complete ownership of) in the library.
"Thank you for wasting your precious lesson time Ulrich." McGonagall went on. Hermione came back from her thoughts. "The rest of the class have already started their final work pieces. You must read your revision textbooks and complete the task set for you, the deadline is December 10th, so you have plenty of time to gain the best marks you can. Copy out what is written on the board and then you may begin your planning." Nott sat back down at his place and obediently began copying down the notes.
… Always busy, he's just like me in a way. I suppose that's why we never get to hear about him very much. Hermione's head was too full of other things to worry about end of year exam tasks. It felt weird not to be working - even Ron and Harry had their heads down and plenty of workbooks out, already scribbling out diagrams and plans. She looked down at her parchment:
Final Tasks for Seventh Years:
Your final exam in JUNE will test your knowledge and skill in Transfiguration, you will need to use skills learnt from all your years at Hogwarts to complete the HIGHLY SECRET final task. To prepare you, there shall be THREE Work Pieces;
1) Useless and inanimate to practical and decorative e.g. a common rock into a coffee table
2) Practical and decorative to practical and mobile e.g. coffee table into a moving food and drink dispenser – great for parties and special occasions when the guests drop in.
3) Practical and mobile to animate e.g transfigurate the coffee table into a small living creature – either a rat, cat or an owl.
The challenge is not necessarily whether you can in the end turn a non-living thing into a living thing, but whether you can turn a very large inanimate object into a small animate creature that must be a rat, cat or an owl of SPECIFIC BREED.
You are allowed this time from the 4th September to December 10th to prepare and experiment for task 1) listed above, as well as complete your research studies on famous Animagus wizards and witches of the past, how to combat them and how to recognise them. The deadline for your studies is November 21st.
It was a long task, but one she was sure she could handle without much problem. Out of all the subjects she took at Hogwarts Transfiguration, Charms, Defence against the Dark Arts and Herbology were dead easy to study. Either a quick wave of your wand or a good set of nimble fingers set you in the right direction. Potions, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes and Astronomy were harder to know your way around – they all involved remembering specific orders and positioning, steady minds, quick reactions…
… But she couldn't be bothered right now, not to worry about exams and work. Ron and Harry scribbled and scribbled like mice scurrying about in the attic, the scratch, scratch, scratch of quills on parchment, pages of the books turning back and forth as people hurried to get as much done now so they wouldn't have to do much for homework, it all seemed so silly to not join in.
Oh God isn't it just a little easy? She wondered. I'm not worrying; we have four months to plan and that's only for task one! I could do that right now with McGonagall's desk and make it covered with ancient runes and all sorts of stuff to make it as decorative as she wants! As for making it walk and… and perhaps make it open its drawers for her, that just takes a little more concentration and time. I can do this, no problem.
Just then the door opened and Professor Sinistra in all her pale blue robes glided in, she went straight to McGonagall who was quietly marking some third year essays. Sinistra bent down to whisper in her ear. Neville, who always sat very close to the front out of habit just in case he'd break anything or need help, picked up little, but enough to find out why Draco never turned up to class.
"Something, something, wandering about in the Entrance Hall, er, bit delusional, I think that's what she said. She said he couldn't attend lessons today because he had to lie down in the Medical Wing." Neville told the rest of the Gryffindors later during free time. They didn't really make a point in gathering personal information about others – especially about a Slytherin whom they all hated – because they knew they had to respect certain boundaries, but they all agreed that it was extremely strange behaviour for Malfoy. Dean Thomas had heard it too since he sat next to Neville in Transfiguration so it was obviously true.
"Bleedin' weirdos the lot of them." Ron grumbled as he sat down before the Gryffindor fireplace with Harry and Hermione, the rest of the Gryffindors off doing something else and leaving them three alone. "They all turn bad and then go mad."
"I can believe that." Said Harry.
"Hm,"
"What's wrong with you Hermione? You were alright until we got back here,"
"What are you talking about Ron?"
"You're all quiet – it's annoying. You hardly done any work in Transfiguration and in Charms it was like you was away somewhere else."
"Oh, sorry." Ron sighed.
"I think we should get ready for double Potions next. Did you do the homework Snape set us over the holidays?" Harry said to Ron who suddenly went as pale as a sheet. "You didn't…?" Ron slammed his palm into his face.
"I bloody well knew I'd forgotten to do something!"
"Oh Ron," Harry and Hermione groaned.
"You'll get detention for a week! Scrubbing the underside of the tables, scraping the muck from the bottom of Snape's ingredient jars!" Ron groaned loudly.
"Why did I forget to do my homework? Why…?"
"Well there's no use grumbling about it now, come on, we've got a Potions lesson to attend." She slung her school bag over her shoulder and the three left the Common room.
"Nice to see you're talking again at least." Ron said smiling.
Let me out let me out! Please let me out! I want to get out!!
Can you hear me Draco?
Do you know what this is?? Not this, I'm not here I'm not here…
I know the blood in you - you will be mine eventually
Why am I here? I shouldn't be here!
Why, you are here, with us, one of us…
This was a long time ago! I've already told you I don't want to!
No I'm not! I'm not!
"You don't know. You'll never know."
Stupid fool, just like his father!
Take him! Hold him! This will hurt boy!
PLEASE! I don't want to be here anymore!! Let me out!!
NO! I don't want to! I will not!
Draco snapped awake and screamed. It was the first time he had woken screaming since a nightmare he had when he was eight, he screamed so loud now that it shocked Madam Pomfrey who had been straightening pillows on another bed.
"Goodness gracious me! What on earth was that?" She exclaimed rushing over to Draco. He was in a hospital bed and still shaking, but recovering quickly. Madam Pomfrey gently pushed him back down onto the pillows and fussed about making sure he was calming down. "Gosh, well that was a short nap, had a nightmare I suspect - probably something to do with your strange behaviour. Feeling better now? Back to the real world Draco?" He took in all the surroundings and was trying to deny himself being there, but where had he been? Images of the past were suddenly popping up and tormenting him, it had felt so real…
He lay back and didn't say a word, he didn't think to look at Pomfrey and confirm to her that he was back, but where from he couldn't tell, she just kept talking to him but he didn't hear her words. His head ached and throbbed, his heart was beating unusually faster and all his muscles felt as weak as jelly. All the time he just lay in a haze, trying to think why he was there but finding it so increasingly difficult that in less than five minutes of him waking he just closed his eyes…
… But did not sleep. Just lay quietly, calmly…
Twenty minutes later Madam Pomfrey came back in with a potion, it was in a little drinking cup and fizzing bubbles flew up, out and away occasionally singing as they went. She put it down on the table by Draco's bed.
"Master Malfoy, are you awake? You need to drink this to recover your strength," She tapped his shoulder, "Master Malfoy, Draco…?" He grumbled weakly, but it was a definite: " I don't want to get up" kind of teenage grumble.
"Now, now Draco, you've come in here on account of acting very strange in the Entrance Hall instead of being at normal lessons, did you realise who it was who found you?" No answer, just a couple of feeble eye twitches, Pomfrey took this as his way of acknowledging that he was listening. "Filch found you, just walking about like you were drunk, dragging your feet and mumbling a lot. What was that all about? Have you been drinking? Smoking some sort of weed?"
"No…" He mumbled.
"Then what was wrong with you? I feel quite silly myself for not knowing, and me saying that after years as a nurse here and what about those marks on your wrists?" She babbled on,
"…Go away… silly old woman…" He blacked out before he heard her comment on what he'd just said.
Hours later, after all the lessons of the day had ended, it was nearing time for evening dinner in the Great Hall. Usually all teachers attended on important occasions but on normal days the only members of staff who usually ate with the students in the hall were Sprout, Flitwick, (Dumbledore like to attend a lot but decided not to tonight) and occasionally the present Dark Arts teacher – this year it was a fierce looking old man with flaming red hair and very sharp green eyes, he walked with a limp and a cane and his name was Professor Reapher. It had been made quite clear when he arrived late last night that he was an ex-Auror and so well prepared to teach Defence against the Dark Arts. Today Professor McGonagall and Professor Sinistra joined Sprout, Flitwick and Reapher at the staff table to eat dinner, it had been an alright first day back; no trouble at all with any of the students and it seemed all the new first years were getting on well settling in.
Cecelia walked into the hall with Lucy Bassinroar, the curly black-haired girl with red rosy cheeks and blue eyes, Rachel Hartley who looked very drab and plain, but she had proven to be a great listener and could think up the best activities during free time, and Roger Prutts who had seemed to attach himself suddenly like he thought he belonged there. The three girls didn't really mind his company because he was funny and friendly, Roger had short light brown hair that suddenly sprouted a very cute, thin little pigtail at the back of his head. (A/N Obi-WAN!!!!! So cute! ^_~)
They sat down together at the Hufflepuff table and ate, chatting jovially with each other.
"Well I'm pure," Lucy said, "But my cousin isn't – he's in Ravenclaw, third year."
"What's his name?" Lucy pointed him out,
"Jack."
"What about you, Roger?" Rachel asked sweetly.
"I'm a pure blood too, my family's real old, come from somewhere up in Scotland I think."
"You don't sound Scottish, where's your accent?" Cecelia stated,
"No, that's because I've lived down in the south all my life, my dad though – he's got such a strong accent, sometimes even I find it hard to make out what he's saying!" They all laughed. Suddenly, not ten minutes since they first walked in something was happening up at the staff table, McGonagall screamed and soon all the teachers had jumped back away from the table as across the white cloth deep red blood was spreading, underneath the plates and goblets and over the table edge to fall onto the cold stone floor. It was real blood, not an illusion, real blood. Then the students panicked and got away from their tables as they too saw blood appearing where they ate.
"Return to your common rooms!" McGonagall ordered. "You can finish your dinner there!" The Prefects present led their house members away. "I'll get Dumbledore…" McGonagall's breath was staggering, but she was strong enough to stride off to the headmaster's office.
"I think he may have lost some blood; his wrists have been cut quite clearly. And his robes are in a terrible state! I don't know when or why he's got them so mucky!"
"Hm, yes…"
"Cut wrists will explain his weakness, which will go as soon as he regains his required blood level. It's only a wait now, but that doesn't explain why he was acting so strangely in the Entrance Hall this morning. Filch believes firmly that he was drunk and out to cause mischief but you know how Filch can be sometimes."
"Indeed, well thank you for telling me Poppy, I shall send an owl home to his parents informing them of this event and maybe they can shed a little light on the problem."
"Yes, Dumbledore."
"Wish him luck from me when he comes round."
"I will."
"Good bye, I've got lots of things to attend to today what with the Ministry having fits over the rise of Lord Voldemort again." Pomfrey winced at hearing the name. Dumbledore left the Medical Wing. Then Reapher came in, limping towards Draco's bed every thud of his hard wooden cane clunking down on the floor every other step he took.
"You are the new Dark Arts professor?" Pomfrey frowned.
"That I am my dear lady." He growled through his perfect white teeth, though he seemed harsh and haggard with old age and a lifetime's experiences, Reapher still looked as noble and fine as he ever did as a younger man. He had money it was known, but where it was no one was sure because unlike nearly everyone else he didn't trust Gringotts to be completely safe from thieves. A lot of people didn't get on too well with Mort Reapher, perhaps most of the immediate distrust came when his name came up and with him being an old ex-Auror with tons of experience fighting Death Eaters and other such criminals, no, most people didn't get on well with the old boy at all.
"What brings you here? Are you sick?" Poppy hoped.
"No, no Madam Pomfrey, I am here because all the tables in the Great Hall were suddenly and mysteriously swamped in fresh blood…" Pomfrey waited anxiously to wonder about the way Reapher lowered his voice to a cryptic whisper.
"… Blood?" Was all she could muster up.
"Yes blood!" He snapped dramatically, "While Professors M'Gonagall whisked away to fetch the Headmaster and the children were all sent away to their dorms, I hung around a little while longer inspecting the scene of the crime-"
"You think it was a crime then Mr Reapher, sir?" She found a lot of the things about him strange and peculiar, like the way he always said 'professors' and seemed to enjoy acting out as if he were in his own drama series.
"-A crime! Yes and Professors Sprout, Flizwick-"
"That's Flitwick-"
"-Flitwick, yes, and that Professors Sinister could only gabble and wonder about it all, I noticed that a very cryptic message had appeared across the chairs belonging to each of the Heads of the Houses."
"Mr Reapher, shouldn't you be telling all of this to Dumbledore and not to me in the medical Wing? I think he'd know what to do about it more than I would."
"But you don't see, the message was clear for only a few seconds before the blood it was spelled out with ran off over the chairs. On Professors Snape, M'Gonagall, Flitwick and Sprout's chairs were all the same message," He pulled out a notepad from his pocket inside his robes:
smaerd ruoy stnuah taht ma I
"You were quick then but I think that maybe it wasn't really spelling anything out, that lot makes no sense."
"Ah, but what if you turn it around?" He flipped the paper to the next sheet:
I am that haunts your dreams
Pomfrey had to agree, that definitely made much more sense.
"You're very good at this stuff I take it, but why are you here?"
"Because, after that message faded away and before I'd figured it out another clue led me to the Medical Wing where I knew a boy had been taken to early this morning. I would be correct in thinking that this lad is one Draco Malfoy?" He said walking to the side of the occupied bed where its current occupier was still dozing thanks to the effect of the potion Pomfrey had given him.
"Yes…?" She felt uneasy in Reapher's presence and strangely protective over Draco so she stepped between them.
"He has lost a lot of blood overnight, mysteriously, not turning up to lessons the first morning back from the holidays and found wandering aimlessly about on his own, down in the Entrance Hall without a clue where he was or who he was is that all correct?"
"How did you-"
"This is how my detective work led me to believe that the cause of all the troubles at evening dinner were conducted by Master Malfoy," Reapher pulled out a blood stained old dagger from his robes and threw it point down onto the bedside table so that it wobbled with a twang deeply embedded within the wood. "This dagger came flying down from the ceiling above and was aimed directly at the seat where Headmaster Dumbledore would have been sitting if the man had decided not to continue working in his office, it hit the place where Dumbledore's head would have been with such force that the blade went all the way through to the back of the chair. It would have cut clean through Dumbledore's skull." The effective pause he left after the word skull, tipped Pompfrey over her line of patience;
"Mr Reapher I ask you to leave this Medical Wing immediately, or stop babbling such rubbish about murderous intentions of an almost seventeen year old boy who doesn't have anything to worry about except his N.E.W.T's in June and who is currently trying to recover from serious loss of blood-"
"That he gave up to stain the hall with-"
"Nonsense and poppycock! He couldn't have lost so much to do such a thing!"
"Not, if he used the right spells!"
"What spells would a Seventh year possibly know to commit such crimes?"
"You're forgetting he's a Malfoy…" Pomfrey shut her mouth. Yes he was a Malfoy and that would mean – if what they said was true – that Draco was already far more knowledgeable than most about the Dark Arts than others in his year.
"How much blood has the boy lost?"
"A lot, enough to render him very weak."
"He could have used the Cloning Spell – which is not on the syllabus for Seventh years am I correct?"
"No, they're not taught it."
"Well, him being a Malfoy and it is considered against the law to use the spell... It's rather easy to perform. Maybe he lost a lot of blood and then used the spell to duplicate that amount into maybe ten times its original quantity, fixing it with another spell to reappear on all the tables at precisely the right time when Dumbledore would be there. As for his wounds, one quick repair with a wave of his wand fixed that and he returned to his dorms to recover."
"This is ludicrous!" Pomfrey shook her head and got herself between Reapher and the bed – Yikes I didn't realise he's so tall. "Reapher please leave now, I won't believe this tale anymore! You're disturbing me and Draco, now go!" He looked sceptically at her, but took her orders seriously and left, clunking with his cane as he went.
Within the night Draco had almost recovered his strength again, but was suffering badly from a painful headache and severe stomach aches. Pomfrey just didn't know what to do but before mid morning Dumbledore suddenly breezed in with Lucius Malfoy trailing behind, his eyes set darkly ahead of him.
"Draco, your father's here." Dumbledore said. Pomfrey took the moment to quietly slip out with Dumbledore and they left Lucius inside the room. Through Draco's agonized groans Lucius spoke, his voice steady and flat with emotion.
"What's wrong with you all of a sudden then…?" He suspected the cause but didn't want to reveal to anyone what he knew - he was a traitor after all, to both sides.
"Why are you here?"
"…Dumbledore owled me. Told me you were sick."
"That's not all… I think I'm going mad…"
"No one in our family goes mad."
"Oh good, then…" Draco's head hurt more and his ears began to ring, he could hear his heart beat and felt the thud thud thud of blood as it pumped around his hot ears.
"Draco…?" He couldn't here anymore, couldn't even care anymore… Let me out let me out! Please let me out! I want to get out!!
"He's coming back home tonight." Lucius said firmly, they were still in the hospital wing.
"Are you sure that's wise? In his current condition?"
"Don't you try and stop me, Nurse, I will take Draco home immediately – it's clear this school is responsible for his sudden freak illness."
"Please, Lucius, please let's take this elsewhere. Shall we go to my office and discuss whatever you need to discuss?" Lucius sneered. Grumbled, then agreed and he swept out before Dumbledore.
"Do you want to go home?" She asked Draco when she was alone again, but the boy just lay there curled up in his blankets, face twisted in agony, twitching and shivering.
"Poor boy…" Madam Pomfrey reached for his forehead and felt his temperature. "Hmm, you're burning up more and more. If you ask me you should remain here until…until you're better." There was nothing else Madam Pomfrey could think to do.
Draco did not leave with his father that night, another night's rest saw him active the next day and more irritated than sick about not being allowed to leave the medical wing until tomorrow.
"We have to make sure you're fully recovered, think of it as a nice day off school."
"What fun could I possibly have spending a whole day in this bed?" Draco snapped.
"My rules, be quiet and grateful of your recovery." Draco stayed in the medical wing all day, but not in the bed despite how many times Pomfrey kept returning to put him back in it. When it was finally night time, Pomfrey came to check up on him one last time and then turned off the lights.
In the dark, Draco felt a headache coming upon him again...
Draco got up and dressed, went across to the window and pulled it open. He clambered up and out onto the grass outside and strolled casually across the lawns down to the lake.
Then stopped.
Draco shook his head, blinked twice and looked all about him as if he'd never been there before.
Wuh-what? What am I doing here...?
The lake was cold and still, faint ripples lapped at the bank. The calm water looked ominous in the moonlight.
I'm not understanding this…"there's nothing to understand"…yeah, you're right, wait, who is this? "Let me show you"
For Draco, his world became distorted and the image of the lake merged with the shadows of the far off trees, painting a picture of a black grave, open and with such depths he felt if he fell in now, he'd never stop falling. He stepped back quickly from the pit and fell back into another. The air rushed past him and though he wanted to say something at this point he couldn't bring out any sound from his suddenly dry throat, he watched the square patch of light above flew teasingly away from him. He tried to scream - nothing! His arms flailed to the sides hoping to grasp on anything – a root perhaps? It was getting colder, the air was now scorching his cheeks as it whizzed past, where was he falling to? Would this endless drop into darkness never end?
The pit was getting narrower; his legs and arms kept hitting and scraping down the earth, he heard it crumble above and realised with deathly fear that the grave was filling in on him! A sudden halting stop in a quagmire of earth and worms brought him to scream out in pain and he cried pitifully for help, splashing about in the bog to cling to the sides only to slip back into the centre where he was sure the water was growing deeper and filthier. The mud from the sides was falling in and hitting him, still he scrambled to the sides and cried for help. Why was there no help? How did he fall in here? Where was he trapped?
The miniscule dot of light disappeared as the grave collapsed in over his head.
Hermione was out walking alone tonight. She just hadn't been able to concentrate at all since returning to Hogwarts. She didn't know what it was that was troubling her so much. Shopping in Diagon Alley was pleasant enough, then their little wander along Evisnep Alley had been a bad idea, especially when surprise-surprise Draco's smirking face had appeared to make some smart-Alec comment on how much more money he had compared to them. Now she thought about it she couldn't remember what he had said exactly, strange that, she had a perfect memory for things (so everybody said) but she couldn't remember anything they argued about.
Since the beginning of her sixth year, Hermione had taken to wandering around Hogwarts on her own in between times when Harry and Ron had invited her along for a sneak about the place. It had suddenly seemed so childish to her to do so, so for a long time she hadn't gone out under the invisibility cloak with the boys because… well because things were different now. Hermione sighed and leaned against the wall of the castle nearby the greenhouses.
She had matured and Harry and Ron, still acted like little boys. They said girls matured before boys…maybe it was true. She had broke up with Ron before the Christmas of their sixth year, it was a bit heartless to do so, so close to the holiday but she couldn't stand it any longer; Ron was still as stubborn as ever and his childish grudge against the Malfoys was really getting her down. She hated the Malfoys of course, but she refrained from ever acting out on her hate any more than the occasional slap she would give to the self-centred stuck up snob.
Besides, she couldn't deny to herself any longer that she wasn't in love with Ron as a partner, but as a friend, and… it felt terrible to admit it, but she was already longing for the attentions of someone else in her life. There were many attractive boys in her year (and maybe a good few in the year below) but none matched the attraction of one…
Hermione sighed and shook her head; she felt so foolish.
… Draco Malfoy.
There, she'd said it to herself; the guy was as hot as, as… as nothing else she could think of right that moment. Damn! Talk about Romeo and Juliet! Star crossed lovers? Me and Draco? It'd never happen in a million years. He was the most Slytherin of all Slytherins and she was best friends with Harry Potter. The two were like mortal enemies, just like Snape and James Potter, things like that never finished. Anyway, Drcao was an idiot, a stuck-up spoilt brat with no manners and not a bit of care for anyone else except himself! She really wasn't doubtful that he'd not turn into his father – a Death Eater and just as bad a snob as his son.
But was his rougish nature the reason why she was so attracted to him...? Then there was the memory of seeing him alone and isolated in the library, it kept coming back to her whenever she tried to stop thinking about him...it was so sad and mysterious; no-one knew why there was this sudden incredible change in Draco's behaviour - he even stopped picking on the younger years, even his daily tauntings to Ron and Ginny had been cut down and when he did choose to taunt...
... it didn't seem as though his heart was in it anymore.
Hermione sighed again and wrapped her cloak tighter around her, she decided to go for a walk around the lake.
…The pressure on his body was immense and frightening… the air was thin and stank of filth and earth, worms, roots, maggots… it was freezing… wet… half buried in the bog…eyes tightly kept shut as was his mouth…dark…
…alone…
…help… Why am I here? Why am I here? …dying…
…mad…going mad… Let me out let me out! …help…
…help…
…Please…someone…get me out…
(Green Pig:- Please review!!! Do you think my chapters are too long? Should I make entries shorter? ANYTHING YOU WANT TO SAY? Then review!!! ^_^)