Chapter Thirty-One: Undying Love

            A hard-faced young woman stood on the balcony of an ivory palace that reflected the sun in pearly pools of light on alabaster floors.  Her blood red lips sat like velvet cushions against her pale skin, making her face look far more severe than would be humanly possible.  She had great beauty: intense and fiery, causing all who looked upon her to crumble under her fierce gaze.  The balcony that held the woman soared above a realm of waterfalls, flowing over towering canyons in cascading layers.  She relished the sound of crashing water, letting her thoughts flow with the current of the falls.  A tall blond man approached her from behind, placing a refined hand on her shoulder.  His green eyes gave off an aberrant glow.  The features on his face were too captivating, far too fine.  As he spoke, no line appeared on his face as his muscles moved, everything staying in perfect formation like that of a beautiful wax sculpture.  "The elders have agreed to a truce," he whispered into her ear, "They accept our proposal for the New Year's Gala.  Circe informs me that they believe this is a cordial gesture on our part to celebrate the recovery of the Shangri-La."  He placed his fingertips on her neck lightly.  "However," his voice dropped to a low growl, "The nine of us have something else planned for this jovial event."  The woman turned around, a sneer playing on her lips as she caressed the man's waist. 

            "And what, dearest Thanatos," she said, brushing her lips over his, "May that be?"

            The god grinned at her, tracing her jaw line with a finger.  "There is a certain hungry creature that lies in the bottom of the Andaman Sea that awaits to be awakened.  Should the elder's little savior accidentally fall upon the grasp of this beast, then perhaps we will be able to assist her – by extracting her power to withstand the Shangri-La, and carry on her purpose through one of us, for surely, she would not live through the ordeal." 

            The dark-haired woman raised a skeptical eyebrow, grazing his cheek softly with her lips.  "And who, would receive the Bearer's power?" 

            Thanatos pulled back and smirked.  "Not you or I, Eris.  I would never want such a burden placed on me.  But come, the invitations await your approval before they can be sent out."

            Hermione approached the Potions Master desk carefully, cautious not to provoke his nasty temper.  Before she could utter a word, the professor cut in, slicing the air with his voice.  "Miss Granger, have you forgotten your task at hand already?  You are to be working with your partner on the assigned potion, not pestering me.  Ten points from Gryffindor for housing scatterbrained dolts."

            The girl widened her eyes in unease, squeaking out a protest.  "But, sir, I don't have anyone to work with.  My partner isn't here today."

            The Potions Master stopped his writing momentarily and slowly turned his glare on the Gryffindor.  A new hint of worry crossed his face, creasing his brow slightly.  "Ah, yes," he muttered, "Miss Slytherin is…indisposed.  You will have to do the assignment by yourself then, Granger."  After a moment, he added, his voice dripping with revulsion,  "Although, I understand why you would come to object to working alone.  If I were you, I would also be worried if I did not have someone else to think for me.  But do not fret.  When you make a mess of your potion, I will only give you a month's worth of detentions." 

            Hermione walked back to her desk, red with fury.  From behind her, every Slytherin was snickering but Draco.  He was far too absorbed in the dread of his father coming to see him this afternoon. 

            Snape briskly strode down the halls to the infirmary, intent on seeing Natalia's condition.  It had been two days since he had administered the extraction potion to the girl, and the Healing Master had still not arrived.  He knew that within hours, she would reach the point where the extraction potion would begin to mingle with her blood, causing the degeneration of her blood cells.  Children scampered out of his way as Snape hurried to the hospital wing, unsure of what to do when he saw her once again, ashen, thin, and completely helpless.  The previous night, he had watched over her until the sun melted into the morning sky once again, completely oblivious to the time that had passed or the sleep he had lost.  He had already harried Dumbledore about sending messages to Asklepios many times, and knew that if the god did not arrive within the next few hours, the girl's blood system would begin to collapse.  He had even considered going out to retrieve the Healing Master, but knew there would be no way for him to find the god, much less the city of Shambhala.  As he entered the infirmary, all the dread dissipated as he saw Natalia.  He found that even in this state, she gave him a sense of comfort and security, instilling in him an unfamiliar sense of hope.  Leaning over her frail body, he placed a gentle hand on her brow, checking to see that her temperature was not rising or dropping dramatically.  He sat in the chair next to her bed, watching as her throat jerked in awkward, strained breaths.  His mind pulsed from weariness as he sat, transfixed in the girl's condition.  She has to recover, he thought, She cannot die, not after what I did back when I…not after the way that Strages died.  Another Slytherin cannot die, she cannot die…  He rubbed his eyes irritably, shutting them for a moment.  That moment gradually stretched itself out into many minutes, and then, an hour. 

            Draco sat rigidly under his father's stony gaze in the Slytherin Common Room.  After a long moment of watching his son tense up under his cold stare, Lucius finally spoke up.  "I assume that you know of Natalia's condition."  Draco averted his eyes to the ground, hoping his anger would not show through.  "Yes, Father."

            "Well, then."  The blond-haired man extended a gloved hand to his son's face.  "You are to take this and see that it is administered to her."

            Draco carefully accepted a tiny vial and whispered, "What is it?"

            Lucius' gloved hand resounded on Draco's face as he backhanded the boy.  "Did I not teach you to hold your tongue and not utter obtuse questions?"  He sneered as he saw the boy clench his fists for control.  "But if you really must know," he said with a sneer, "It is an extraction potion.  And not from a voluntary vampire."

            Draco did not know what this meant, but remembered the effects that his Father's last potion had on Snape.  He could not allow the same thing to happen again, especially not to someone he cared about.  "No!" he cried, throwing the vial back at Lucius, "You cannot use me as your pawn anymore, Father!"

            The Death Eater spread his fingers and stopped the vial in midair, drawing it back to him slowly.  With the same cold mask of indifference on his face, he raised his cane and brought it down in a snapping motion, cracking the back of it down on the boy's chest.  Draco staggered back, falling into the chair.  "Do not ever disobey me, Draco," he said, clouting the boy's cheek with the back of his staff and then throwing the vial onto his bruised chest.  "You will get the front side of the cane when you have earned it again."  The Death Eater raised his arm quickly to strike again, and in seeing the boy shrink back, snickered, and left the dungeons in a wisp of robes.

            Hermione and Ron quietly sneaked past the sleeping Potions Master, setting a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans that Mrs. Weasley had sent by Natalia's bedside.  Typically, the potions professor would have awakened if a fly had landed in the room, but now, he was so engrossed in fatigue that not even a tempest could disturb him.  Quietly, they snuck out of the infirmary to rejoin Harry and Cho in the Gryffindor Common Room. 

            Draco sank deeper into the tub, leaving only his eyes to reflect above the surface of water.  He had stayed like this for nearly half an hour, not caring that the water was turning cold.  Every time he closed his eyes, he could feel his father's cane cracking across his chest, hear the stinging words ring in his ears.  After all those years of being under his father's abusive care, he knew that soon, he would not be able to withstand it anymore.  And now that he had begun to experience the slightest hint of affection for the first time, he could not bring himself to hurt her.  Every fiber in him fought against one another, waging war between his conscience and his upbringing.  The vial of extraction potion lay on the sink, its red tint glowing at him menacingly.  From across the potion lay a razor, its blade reflecting the cold black marble of the sink beneath.  His eyes bore into the sharp object, taking in the curve of its tip and the severity of the edge.  Surfacing an arm from the water, he reached out for the blade, cradling it back to the tub like a precious gift.  His gaze shifted between the razor and the vial, both taunting him, tempting his will like sirens do to lost sailors.  He knew that if he used the blade, no one would be hurt and the girl would survive, but if he lived, he would have to give her the potion.  Draco shuddered at the possible effects it could have on her.  Slowly, he dipped the razor blade into the water and raised it again, considering. 

            Snape awoke with a start and looked frantically around the room, unsure of his surroundings.  He settled slowly back in his chair as he saw Natalia lying in front of him and realized that he was still in the infirmary.  He looked out the window, reading the position of the sun.  He had slept for nearly two hours.  Rubbing his eyes wearily, he reached out to feel the girl's forehead and flinched at the iciness of her skin.  Panic ran through the Potions Master as he realized that her blood cells' deterioration had begun.  He drew his hand back and turned, heading back down to the dungeons to find a potion that would stabilize her condition.

            As he ran his fingers over the vast array of potions lining the walls of his office, Snape's hand stopped on a bottle of Unicorn Blood.  He smiled sadly to himself.  Ironic, he thought, That once, she had used this to save my life, and now, I will attempt to do the same.

            Draco stumbled clumsily to the infirmary, wrapping thick gauze around his left arm.  He had realized as the water laced with ribbons of his blood that even if he had administered the potion to Natalia, Dumbledore could call for the Healing God to restore her health.  And now, he slowly proceeded to the hospital wing, concealing his bandaged arm underneath his sleeve.  Everything passed by him like a daze.  He barely knew where he was and what he was doing – the only thing he was sure of was the fact that he needed to give the potion to the girl, and that somehow, he would indirectly contact Asklepios.  He staggered into the infirmary, unsure of where to go.  His feet led him to the back portion of the wing, his hands, ripping apart the closed curtains.  The sight that presented itself to him took his breath away.  He stopped, his hand going instinctively to his chest.  His fingers shook as he attempted to pry his eyes away, but to no success.  There was nothing protecting him from the truth now – no selfish temptations for martyrdom, no terrifying pangs of angst.  No, here in front of him was the real thing: the repercussions of his father's actions.  Slowly, after an eternity of paralysis, he reached out tentatively, placing his fingertips on the girl's brow.  The moment their skin made contact, he felt sick.  He had his father's hands, his father's touch.  He remembered the night when his father's lips had met her flesh, the way he looked at her with an insatiable hunger.  A small cry escaped from Draco as he choked back the disgust that threatened to spill out of him.  With these same hands, the ones that his father had given him, he would cause more harm to her.  Is this the way that all Malfoys are to go, he asked himself, Hurting the ones we love lest we die ourselves?  Biting his lip with bitter determination, he uncorked the vial, and slowly parted Natalia's lips with his finger.  Had I not been born a Malfoy, he thought silently to the girl, I would die a million times for you.  Carefully, he tipped the vial and placed it over the girl's mouth, allowing a single drop of the potion to suspend midair.