Bound
By Angel Of Music

Chapter Ten: Unpleasant Surprises

The library was rather empty for a Friday evening. Perhaps it was because Draco hardly bothered to notice the crowds winding around him, but he sat in a daze as if not realizing where he was. He threw a book open that he had found upon a shelf entitled, 'Do Your Own Dream Interpretation.' By Wedlock Thorn, and began to read fiercely.

"This is worthless!" He exclaimed aloud as someone took a seat beside him. He quickly closed the book, taking his time to turn to the person next to him. But after a moment he did so, and with a slight hint of disappointment in his voice, he muttered, "Hello, Blaise." But Blaise did not respond. She took his face between her palms, stared at him for a moment, then leaned herself into a long, passionate kiss. When she pulled away, she leaned her forehead upon his, hands still cradling his cheeks.

"I can't believe you did that." She whispered, not noticing the small crowd of people that had gathered to stare. No one was much used to public displays of affection at Hogwarts. "I can't believe you'd do that for me."

"What did I do?" He asked softly, his eyes closed.

"That letter." She exhaled, smiling kindly as she wrapped her arms about his neck. "Your father sent you a letter this morning, and enclosed was the one you'd sent him. I apologize for reading it, but now that I have I'm so very thankful. You finally told him no, Draco. And you did it because of my parents. They died as martyrs for standing in what they believed in, and you stood up to your father in telling him so. I cannot thank you enough." She kissed him again, and he then finally pulled his forehead from hers. He embraced her and shut his book.

"What did that letter from my father say, anyway?" He questioned worriedly.

"I don't know if I should be the one to tell you. It's back in the common room if you ever wish to read it."

"I won't."

"Draco, I'm sorry I ever doubted what you said to me; it was just difficult with the death of my parents to realize that you weren't trying to harm my judgment after all." She grinned feebly at him, then took his hand and stood. "I can't stay here long. I've got a divination project that I need to begin. You're lucky you don't take it." He nodded and watched her exit through the door, oddly angry with himself.

"I'm glad you finally have someone you can talk to, Malfoy." Came a meek voice. He swiveled around to face Hermione.

"Yeah." Was all he could say. He had so many things that he wanted to tell her, yet no words could be found. He was utterly speechless, and he cast his eyes down towards the floor as the silence continued.

"Yeah." She repeated, chewing on her bottom lip.

"Listen," He started, drumming his fingers together. "We should talk."

"About what, exactly?" She asked, sounding slightly harsher than Draco hoped she had intended. He slowly led her from the library and into the deserted corridor. He motioned for her to sit upon the ground as he himself did so. She sat uneasily next to him, and looked upon her lap.

"I had a dream last night. It wasn't like most others; it was so very real."

"And what does this have to do with me, exactly, Malfoy?"

"The thing is- I'm not sure. I thought maybe you could help me."

"Even if I could, Malfoy, why would I? Haven't I helped you enough? You've got to expect me to stop somewhere."

"It's just that you're the only person who I can tell that won't get insane on me. Just listen to me for a minute, there's a lot I have to say." He paused, waiting for her recognition, and she nodded. "I never wanted to be a death eater. Well, that's not true. It used to be my only dream to become like my father- until last year.

"He had come home on a Thursday night, a grim smile playing on his lips that I'd never seen before. He was unusually happy, and this was not like my father. He sat down in the dining room at one end of a long table, commanded a house elf to bring his food, and motioned I sit near to him. In doing so, he leaned over to me, and with a brief cackle, told me that Lord Voldemort had commanded him to kill my mother.

"Don't get me wrong, Granger, my mother and I were never very close. I'm not a person that truly likes being close to people. But the fact that my father was proud that he would have to kill his wife was appalling. I left the room, baffled as to what I should do, and went into the cellars. There I escaped the Manor. I slept in the forests behind it for over a week, expecting that when I returned, I'd find my mother dead. I thought about nothing but where my life was leading me, and that's when I decided that something about the macabre art of being a death eater was not where I wished to go. It's kind of ironic, but before I knew that my family was so dark (this was when I was but a small child), I wanted to be an auror. I don't know, maybe that would be interesting." He concluded, watching an expression of concern forming on Hermione's face.

"Then...why did you become a death eater?"

"Force, and the unwillingness to being set under the cruciatus curse. When my father wants something, he gets it."

"I'm really sorry, Malfoy. I would never have guessed." She looked uncomfortable, like she wished to say something.

"You want to know what happened to my mother, don't you?" She again nodded with a sparse bob of her head. "Nothing. Apparently the message had traveled wrong to my father, and he was not expected to kill her. But he was fully prepared to, I can tell you. One does not argue with Lord Voldemort." He paused and looked about. "But the dream- it made me wonder." He told her about it. Everything from the death eater meeting in which Voldemort had demanded they kill the Fredcooks to the actual night of the dream. He explained his dream in detail, and when he finished, Hermione's eyes were so wide it was as if she'd swallowed a cockroach cluster whole.

"I would have been frightened out of my mind." She told him promisingly.

"But what does it mean?"

"I'm not sure. All I know is, it's horrid as to what goes on in those meetings. I can't even begin to imagine how palpable death is near Voldemort." Draco moved his eyes up and down her face. It was so simple, yet something within it held a reflection of beauty. He stared. "I never realized that you were so complex. I always thought you were just a stupid Slytherin with no feel for anything; that all you thought about was cruelty."

"That's not so far from the truth." He admitted, biting his lip. "I've been raised by a self-absorbed man and that is what I've become."

"Don't say that, you've certainly changed my mind." She put her hand upon his knee. Startled, he inhaled shakily and placed his palm atop hers. They stayed like this for a moment, until Draco suddenly stood and declared,

"Blaise. She's probably waiting for me."

"Oh, right." She answered, also standing. "You've got Blaise now."

"Yes. I've got Blaise now-" He paused, turned, and departed. Hermione sparsely waved after him, then turned to make her way towards the Gryffindor common room.
* * *
Dusk came like a leaf caught in the wind. It happened so suddenly that Hermione hardly had time to realize that it was growing quite dark outside. Though the Gryffindor common room had no windows, the air grew dense: the perfect feature of evening. The candles, though they all glowed brightly, seemed to dim as night fell upon the castle. Hermione sat in the common room, her arms spread out over a large wooden table, spilling through rolls of parchment. She nearly always did homework to get things off of her mind.

Slowly, someone approached her. Hardly caring, she continued her work and did not look up. "You've been doing a lot of hanging about with Malfoy, Hermione." Came an uneasy voice from the shadows. Ron emerged, his fingers entwined and placed over his stomach. "We're bloody worried."

"Well you shouldn't be." She snapped, rolling up a sheet of parchment. "Because Malfoy and I are the same as ever, I can swear it." She wasn't trying to lie to Ron so much as herself. She did not wish to believe that anything was different. Malfoy would always be Malfoy. Granger would always be Granger. Slytherin would be Slytherin, Gryffindor would be Gryffindor. And the two houses would never get along, because that was the way it was always done, such as a tradition.

"He isn't- bothering you, is he? I'll smash his face in if he is."

"No!" She began quickly, not really knowing to which part of Ron's speech she was opposing.

"Well, all right. If you're okay then..."

"Ron, I'm fine, really. I've just had a lot of thinking to do lately, that's all."

"Like, about?" He sat beside her, looking very shaken up. She glanced at him, then back down at the surface of the glossy table.

"Like Voldemort, for one. I have a feeling he's behind something. I just wish there were something we could do to stop him."

"Of course you do, Hermione, we all do. The fact is no one will be able to by themselves- maybe not even an army of wizards."

"And witches." She added, frowning.

"And witches." He repeated. "I just don't see the point in worrying over it. You're safe here at Hogwarts."

"But what if there are death eaters here? Honestly, Ron, you think Voldemort hasn't thought of that?"

"Maybe, but there's nothing much they can do without Voldemort with them, and he can't get into this place; we've got Dumbledore."

"I suppose." She sighed. But she had more to worry about then her own safety. If Voldemort smelled betrayal after Draco refused to kill the Fredcooks- someone else's safety might be in danger.
* * *
He had Blaise now. What a complete waste of breath. Blaise had not been there when he had needed her most, and now that she had returned to him, he didn't need her anymore. She had chosen to leave him to wither. If she were such a close friend, why would she do such a thing to him? Angrily, he barked "Salazar" at the entrance to the Slytherin common room and made his way down the winding, dank stone stairs.

He didn't want Blaise anymore. He didn't know what he wanted. It was all the more confusing that he had just told a story of his life to his hated enemy, and Blaise's sudden and random change of heart was not guiding him. More then anything he felt angry; the timing was horrid, the place was horrid, the situation was horrid. He wanted nothing more than for life to be like it had been a year ago, when things such as relationships and his career were not so important. Back then, even his father was extraneous, and left him well alone. He was sick of life, and more specifically the people in his life. If he could go through the years without any human contact, maybe his thought process would be much clearer.

He didn't know if he was furious, confused, or depressed, but what he did know was that nothing anyone could say or do would change the fact that something inside him had just activated. He was filled with concealed hatred towards Voldemort, and pretentious hatred of Hermione. Maybe he had been wrong all these years about her. Maybe she wasn't the stupid, filthy mudblood he once degraded her as. She was possibly the only one that could save him from exile. For she had listened to him when no one else had, and showed him that morality is not always perfect. But he wasn't sure if he admired her or detested her for this.

Should he continue with the way things always had been, and show her that he was still a heartless Slytherin? Or should he prove everyone wrong? As a Slytherin, he knew rumors had been spread about him; things like he killed every muggle-born he laid his fingers on, things such as the fact that he was becoming more vile than his own father. This rather aggravating form of gossip did not truly bother him until he thought of what Potter and Weasley might be saying to Hermione.

The question was: if he truly despised the change that had occurred between their fifth and sixth years, why didn't he just return to being his naturally rude and nasty self? And the answer was simple, although this was the last thing he wished to admit to himself: because something in that pathetic no-blood called Granger had changed him. Something about what she'd said that day in the library made him realize that his life of dissimulation was seemingly completely consequential. Nothing about the way he insulted and nagged was relevant in his life. And the way that she had put the preceding statements so beautifully and with such a strong point made Draco understand that he was not with the right guild.

He wanted to be there if she needed him; to show her that he was not the Malfoy she thought he was. He was angry that she'd think him to be such a distasteful person. He had to prove her wrong.

In mid-step, he stopped, smirking slightly. He was being powerful and strong, even when he was trying to prove himself humble. He now remembered why he was a Slytherin, and was certainly proud of it. Even when attempting to show someone that he was caring, he had to promote the fact that she had been wrong. His smirk died as he entered the common room.

Ablaze, the emerald room looked like a placid forest at sunset. As he did every evening, he idolized it for a brief, yet longing moment, then made his way over to a plush, evergreen couch and threw himself upon it.

"You don't seem yourself ever since you've been talking with that...that Granger girl. That's her name, isn't it? There's nothing wrong, is there? She's putrid and annoying- isn't there anything you can do to rid yourself of her? She cares too much about your well being, and I say that's not healthy. Did I tell you she made me take you back into the common room? It was disastrous how worried about you she seemed. Egh, if I were you, I'd give her a piece of my pure-blood mind." Blaise finished, sitting beside Draco. "You're sure to have some of those old tricks up your sleeve." She sneered, resting her elbow on his shoulder. Draco nodded, too deep in thought to answer. "But don't worry." She began quickly. "Nothing can get in our way." Shining a bright, mysterious and evil grin, she brought her arm back to its side. "Seriously, you're all right, aren't you?"

"Yeah- the endings of the holidays are usually tedious. January is just a month for thought, that's all."

"Oh, sure." She agreed, bobbing her head. After a pause, she started again. "Hey, Draco, listen. I haven't go anywhere to go this summer. After all, my only other family lives in Copenhagen, and no one is really willing to come here. I'm not going to leave London; it's always been my home and will remain my home. When I'm eighteen, I want to go work for the ministry and get a place of my own, but for now-" She trailed off, looking hopeful. As if not quite knowing what to say, she began once more, "The Manor is very large, right? Well, there's probably extra rooms in it, and since they aren't being used-"

"I'd like to say that you could come and stay, Blaise, but you read that letter. I'm not going home after that. I don't really know where I'm going to go, either. Maybe with one of those great lugs, Crabbe or Goyle."

"Draco," She breathed in a slightly more alarmed tone. "If I don't find somewhere to stay, they are going to force me to move to Denmark with my relatives. You've got to help me." Nothing about this statement, oddly enough, seemed to disturb Draco. He shrugged, and instead of being panicked as she, bit his lower lip and tilted his head, his silver-blonde hair hitting his cheek.

"You'll find something." She embraced him tightly at once, placing her chin on his shoulder.

"I won't leave you; they can't make me." Draco, feeling slightly guilty, hugged her back, then pulled away. "If they do I will run away. I'll come and find you- we can go abroad and find a place to stay-"

"Blaise! You're getting way ahead of yourself. You'll find somewhere. Do you understand me?" She nodded and massaged her forehead.

"I still sometimes forget that they're gone. It's just a sudden instinct I have all the time- 'hey! Why don't I owl mum today?' or, 'I should send dad a birthday gift.' it's strange how life works out. Now that everything is different, things somehow seem clearer." Draco could not nearly say the same thing. In the change, he had become even more confused. "Sometimes you can't really see things plainly until you admit to yourself that something certainly is different, even if it is for the worst."

"Yeah." Was all Draco could manage to choke.
* * *
After a long night of tossing and turning, Draco flung himself up from his sheets in a cold sweat. He had dreamt something new- he saw a cold face and felt so much pain; it was more like reality than a nightmare. He shivered and drew the covers more tightly around his sleek body, sheltering his pale and beautiful complexion from his view. Nights seemed so long recently.

He slipped back down into the bed and shut his eyes, placing his head upon his feather pillow. As he was about to fall into a slumber, a small draft brought him to his senses. He sat up as slowly as he could, and after a moment, realized that the curtains to his four-poster were now open.

"Who's there?" He questioned softly. No response came. He shrugged and shut the curtains, lying back down.

"Leave those open." Came a hushed voice. "You and I have to talk." Startled, Draco drew the curtains open and peered out into the darkness.

"Father-" He gasped, as Lucius came into his vision. He was deeply reminded of his dream. "What are you doing here? I told you never to contact me-" Lucius's fowl grin broadened.

"You don't remember. No, I didn't think you would."

"What are you talking about? No- don't answer, just get out of here. I'll yell for someone, I'm warning you." Lucius shook his head, his smirk never fading.

"You can go ahead and do that, boy, it won't do you any good."

"You don't think I'll do it, do you? IMPOSTER!" He screeched suddenly, and immediately the grunts of Crabbe and Goyle came, as well as a candle flickering on.

"What's going on here?" Muttered Goyle, half-sleeping. Draco looked about the room. Lucius was no where to be seen.

"He was just-"

"You're going mad, Draco." Huffed Crabbe, snuffing the candle out and lying back down. Perhaps he was going mad, he thought. After about 10 minutes of sustained silence, he decided that he must have just been so paranoid that he started seeing things. He paused, listening, then lied back down.

"Not so fast. Like I said, we have some discussing to do." He sat up violently. "Don't make me do that again, Draco." Said Lucius, opening the curtains and staring down at his son. "I'm not fond of disappearing."

"How did you do that?"

"I can do many things that you aren't aware of. Just a trick of Lord Voldemort- though I dare say a select few who are not dark can do so. That Dumbledore- I'm positive he can. Anyway, we should be off to that meeting." Draco wanted to ask how Lucius had gotten into the school, but he already knew the answer. By phoenix.

"What meeting?"

"You didn't read my letter did you? Well here's a brief summary: We have a meeting tonight, I told you to meet me at the astronomy tower. When I flew by on Jax, I didn't see you, so I came inside. Just a few, simple charms. It's not so hard, really. Those ministry members make it sound like it's impossible to do." He cackled to himself. "And I sent you back your letter- I didn't want it in sight. So, get dressed and let's head off to that meeting."

"No." Lucius frowned.

"No? You really are stubborn lately. I don't find this amusing, boy. Get up."

"No." He repeated, steadier this time.

"Then you leave me no choice- Imperio."
* * *
"Another meeting, men. Only one thing is on my mind that I wish to discuss with you: your assignments. Perhaps I shall give you more, if I like the job you've done. Hendrickson!" A tall man with platinum-blonde hair fidgeted. "I told you to get rid of the Fangthorn's, did I not?" The man nodded. "And did you?" Slowly, he shook his head. "That's too bad..." He sighed. "I truly liked you. Avara Kedavara!" Quickly, the man crumpled and fell from his chair, immediately dead under the curse. "Anyone else?!" Voldemort roared.

"My Lord." Lucius spoke. "The Fredcooks are finished with."

"Yes, that's laudable, Lucius. Very meritorious indeed. I applaud you." Apparently, so did some of the others. Muffled clapping came from around the circle of death eaters, giving Lucius the glory he wished for. He simply loved to satisfy Voldemort. "You and the boy have done a wonderful job with everything. Everyone is gone? Even the daughter?"

"Yes. Gone. Done away with. It was generous, Lord Voldemort, for you to allow us such a gallant task. I thank you."

"Mmm." He mumbled, peering around. "And that is why you are here. You shall each receive a small gift from me. Lucius, step forward." Doing so, he entered the center of the circle where Voldemort stood. "You have so many powers...let me see..." He twirled a thin wand between his fingers. "Then I shall give you the power to see into people's thoughts. It may at times become confusing, so I shall also give you the power to control your listening ability. You may turn this off and on as you please. Come forward, closer." Lucius had now bent upon his knees and was deeply thanking Lord Voldemort. "Yes, yes. Stand up, Malfoy, if you really want this power." He stood. Lord Voldemort place his wand atop Lucius's head and whispered the word, "Vedrai" into the cold night's air.

Draco was sick of the Dark Lord's despotic behavior. He did not find his "gift" very generous at all, but a mere reminder of all of Lucius's bad deeds.

Draco supposed that Lucius was lying to Lord Voldemort so he would not get into any trouble. For like he had seen, if the Lord found out that Draco had not done any work, he would most certainly be punished. Although he knew that his father did not care for him, he knew that he wanted a Malfoy heir in the Dark Arts. But still, Draco found it oddly offensive that he was being lied about in order to sound like a worse person. That simply seemed immoral.

"Draco, please step forward." Draco walked up to Lord Voldemort and bowed, not wishing to be charged with any felony.

"Thank you, my Lord." He muttered.

"Draco, I shall give you the power to disappear without any garment. Kneel." He knelt, and Voldemort placed his wand upon Draco's right shoulder. He then brought it to the left, then back to the right, as if knighting Draco. "Ytilibisivni." He exclaimed softly. A rush of warm blood danced through Draco's veins. "Now, whenever you wish to disappear, you concentrate on something that calms you for ten seconds. Then, when you wish to reappear, you think of something in which you despise for another ten seconds. Enjoy this, Draco, and use it to the best of your ability." Draco nodded and stood, once again thanking Voldemort. "You two are dismissed."

Draco had been off of the Imperius curse since they had arrived, but he still felt controlled. He did not wish to be anywhere near the area that he was in, and he almost immediately jumped upon his broom.

Father and son rode in silence for at least a half of an hour, until Draco asked softly, "Why did you stick up for me back there? I thought you hated me."

"Stood up for you?" Questioned Lucius loudly, wind rushing through his words and making them hard to understand.

"You let Voldemort think that I killed someone." Lucius let out a small, amused cry.

"Well, what did you think happened last night, you dreamed the killing of that little girl? You may have been under the Imperius curse, but I hardly thought you'd not remember your first killing. A spectacular show, Draco, it even made me feel proud."
* * *