Breathing In Mortality
03. The Ticking of the Clock
"Confusion never stops
Closing walls and ticking clocks
Come back and take you home
I could not stop, that you now know
Come out upon my seas
Curse missed opportunities
A part of the cure
Or am I part of the disease
You are
And nothing else compares"
-Coldplay, "Clocks" / album: A Rush of Blood to the Head
Draco sat in the library as minutes ticked by as days; he had lost his perception of time. This was something he'd trained himself to do…it wouldn't be any good to sit watching a clock so that you knew, to the exact millisecond, when you were going to kick the proverbial bucket.
As suspected, no one bothered him; it was almost as if he existed all on his own, in his own world where he was invisible. He liked the anonymity of it all, it made him feel powerful even when he felt like the weakest being on the earth.
Draco's hand hit the deep mahogany wood with a harsh thump and he flipped the book closed in frustration. There were no answers.
How could it be, in this world, in this age, that there were no answers to something so seemingly simple?
It wasn't fun for a male, particularly one of Malfoy heritage, to feel so out of control. His life was spinning around him, whirling in tornados and kicking his idiocy in the arse.
There was no alternative, he knew it…he just hadn't really accepted it yet.
With a heavy sigh, and an even heavier heart, Draco exited the library just as the moon was brightening in the darkened sky.
Cursing under his breath and snuggling deeper into his suddenly paper-thin and flimsy wizard robe, he stepped out into the night. He suddenly felt so alone, as if no one gave a damn what happened to him. Did anyone really, truly care what was to come of Draco Malfoy?
The answer, he knew, was not in the affirmative. He didn't have any true friends, he had only true enemies.
Actually, when he thought about it, his enemies might feel bad when he finally left this awful planet. Precious Potter and Woeful Weasley were bound to be grief-stricken when the news of his death hits their valuable ear drums. After all, if Draco were gone who would they terrorize?
Draco kicked some dirt as he walked, just for pure spite. The lake glistened with moonbeams and stars' reflections; he suddenly hated the world and everything in it. It would be good to be gone, really. He had no one. Who wants to live life all by yourself? Not even Draco Malfoy wanted that.
He plopped angrily down beside the lake and threw some grass blades onto the waters surface. They rippled the calm just barely and Draco rested his chin on his knees, watching and waiting; for what, he didn't know. Feeling sorry for yourself is a Malfoy trait…it also tends to be a male trait. So he had two strikes against him.
"I hate this fucking place." He shook his head furiously. "I hate it so fucking much. I might as well just freaking kill myself and head this blasted thing off. At least I won't suffer."
"I don't honestly think that will solve anything," declared a soft voice across the banking.
Draco's head snapped toward the voice and his hard facial features softened at the angelic sight of her.
Hermione sat, cross-legged, with the moon's glow illuminating her every feature from the background. Her hair was swept off her face into a messy bun and she wore a flowing white night dress that really looked wonderful on her, Draco was sad to notice. He would never have admitted something like that aloud, but just to think it was quite enough in his opinion.
"Why's that?" He demanded shrilly, picking his head off his knees to stare her in the eye.
She didn't break eye contact, her brown eyes were locked on his; she wasn't going to back down. She didn't seem scared of him like she used to be. Draco fleetingly wondered why that was. "Because," she said reasonably, "Then you're just letting it win. You're letting it decide your fate for you. Life, I believe, is predestined…but that doesn't mean you can't change your destiny, Draco."
"Oh, so I can?" He challenged, his voice holding such an angry edge that it scared him. He didn't realize he had so much hatred built up inside him. Before she spoke, he decided that this hatred had been boiling inside him for years, it had just taken this time to come to the surface and flow over his every emotion.
Hermione's lips curled into an ever-so-slight smile and she looked into the lake, brushing her fingertips against the water and watching as they created tiny little waves on the surface. "I don't know for sure, Draco, but I do know that you can't just give up. No matter how hopeless something seems, you can't give up. You have to fight. I know you have fight in you, I've witnessed it first hand," she laughed quietly as if reminiscing, "You're so strong, Draco…don't you know that?"
Draco scoffed and stood up, "I'm not strong. I'm a fucking baby. I mean, look at me!" He threw his arms out to his sides, "I'm dying of a SNOGGING disease!"
Hermione remained calm, her eyes stuck on his, "You're not dying of a snogging disease. It's a case of the snogging disease, it isn't the snogging disease itself."
"What's the fucking difference?" He stipulated, his voice higher than needed.
Her shoulders went up slowly and then she exhaled, bringing them back down to position, "I don't know."
"That's a first," he retorted, instantly regretting how pissed off he was acting towards her. His voice lost its edge and he stepped to the side of the lake, approaching her. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I didn't mean--"
"It's okay. You have reason to be angry…just not with me." She smiled, "I saw this Muggle movie once. Called 'A Walk to Remember.' In it, the girl was dying of cancer. She said 'I don't need a reason to be angry with God' to her boyfriend. I loved that line. I don't know why."
"Probably because it's true," Draco replied softly, taking a few more steps towards her. Hermione stopped watching him come towards her and looked into the lake once more instead. "I am angry with God. I hate that this is happening. I had a lot to live for…I HAVE a lot to live for. I don't want my life cut short."
Hermione looked up at him, tears glistening her eyes, "I don't either."
Draco took the final step that took him directly above her. She didn't move, but sat immobile below him, watching the peaceful water. He put a gentle hand on her shoulder and suddenly she was gone like a bubble is gone when you burst them.
Draco's head snapped up from the book, he was breathing heavily and erratically. He looked around him as his eyes adjusted to his surroundings. He was still in the library, he must have dozed off.
The dream had been so real, he could feel the cool breeze of the evening air brushing against his face. He could see the ripples plainly in the water; could feel the want to touch Hermione, to bring her into arms and never let go.
Standing angrily from the table, his chair feel to the ground with a loud clang that echoed around the large room. He sighed heavily, "What else!? HUH? What else do I fucking need."
Draco gathered up his books and set them by the table near the Restricted Section so that Madame Pince could set them back in the morning.
Making his ears and eyes go onto high alert, he listened for approaching footsteps that didn't exist. Quietly, and with much stealth, he exited the library and padded down the stairs to the main entrance hall.
As he pushed open the heavy oak doors, her words reverberated in his brain. "I don't either."
Dreams, Draco knew, had meaning pertaining to everyday life. He vowed to look more into his once he got back to the Manor. His relationship with Hermione, friend or otherwise, would not be ending on a sour note, he'd make sure of that.
When Hermione got up and dressed the following morning, there was an owl perched on her windowsill patiently as if it had been highly trained.
She carefully slipped the note off the owl's foot and it took flight into the early morning sunshine.
Hermione, perplexed, unraveled the parchment.
Hermione-
Meet me in the Library this evening directly after dinner. Please.
-Draco
Hermione had no idea what to make of this, and even less of an idea whether or not she'd go. What was going on with Draco?
She was known for her intelligence and it did not let her down as she walked stiffly to the Great Hall for breakfast.
Draco…all the questions…the kindness…the request…the paleness…the missed classes…the doctor visit…the books…the fountain of life…
Hermione put a hand to her mouth just as she reached the bottom stair, "Oh my, God," she whispered to herself, "Draco must be dying."
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A/N: Sorry that was so short! I promise to make the next chapter longer!!
Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far!!!!!!
