Disclaimer: Everything is J.K Rowling's. I own nothing, except my plot and Discordia.
This is my first FanFic ever so, bear with me.


- Tu m'aimes?! - (You love me ?!)

Chapter 8- Une Découverte

He should have know. He had been so stupid. What had he expected? And why had he gone to the Infirmary anyway? After all, he didn't care if the Weasel was hurt. Besides, if she had paid more attention she could have avoided the bludger. So, why? Why had he gone and made such a fool of himself?

//Because you did care...//
No, he didn't ! She was a Weasley, nothing more. She didn't mean anything to him.
//Then why did you save her...//

That was true. Why had he? Why had he flown to rescue her? He had been so close... The Snitch had been within his reach... Then, before he knew what was happening, he had caught her. He could still see Flint's glare... Luckily, all the Slytherins had been too shocked to react, but he knew they wouldn't let this pass. His Father had power, yes, but it did not excuse such treachery. His Father. Lucius Malfoy would not take this lightly either. They'd probably throw him out of the team and ostracise him.
//What have I gotten myself into this time?//
Why had he been so stupid? And what had he gained? Nothing. Even the Weasel herself hated him.

"Serpensortia" Draco spat, as he reached the Dungeons. A hidden door swung open and he stormed into the dark Slytherin common room, walking purposefully towards his room, head high and face emotionless Even without looking he knew all their eyes were on him. But he didn't care.

Locking his door with both locks and spells, he threw himself onto his bed, making sure he didn't squash Eris and brought his pale hands to his face. What had he done? And why? If only this could all just be a nightmare... If only he could wake up from it.

He could feel the tears surging... But no, he wouldn't cry. Draco hadn't cried since he was seven, and he would not now. He had not cried when his father had submitted him to the Cruciatus spell He would not let this incident affect him, crying was a weakness. He sat up and took a deep breath, and found himself staring at his own reflection in the mirror and what he saw disgusted him. Was that all he was? His Father's puppet? An immature, selfish git, living in Lucius' shadow? Was that how people saw him?
//Yes, and nobody loves you.//

As if to prove him wrong, Eris came onto his lap, starring at him with large questioning eyes as she purred.
« Eris... » he whispered, stroking her head gently.
« Why do I have to be such a fool? Nobody loves me... Ouch !»
Draco brought his hand to his cheek and ,sure enough, he was bleeding.
« Self. Pity. Is. Bad » mewed Eris calmly, as though scratching one's owner was normal - and as though a speaking cat was equally normal.

"You spoke." said Draco, staring in disbelief.


"Indeed, I did. Now, tell me what is troubling you so." she replied.

"No. First, you tell me whom you are." said the blond slytherin.

Was he dreaming? Or had he gone mad?

"Well, to tell you the truth, I am not sure. I cannot remember anything of my past. I only just awoke a few hours ago. I was hoping you might tell me. I was once human though..."


He must be dreaming. This was madness.


"... I am now trapped in this cat form. But why, I know not. It is strange that one should want to trap me like this, judging by the complexity of this spell, surely they could have killed me?" she continued.

//A dream... Just a dream// Surely this couldn't be the little kitten he had been so fond of.


"What was that you called me? And where did you find me?" she meowed softly.


Draco told her about how his father, Discordia and him had gone to the finest and most expensive pet shop on Diagon Alley. He had been shopping for a new Eagle Owl when his father had offered to buy him a Magical Cat instead. He would have refused, he didn't usually like animals, but his cousin had been so excited... How could he refuse?

"A pet shop... Did the shop owner tell you anything about me?" she asked.

"No."

"Well, I guess I'll have to try and find out whom I am. But that can wait. So, why are you so upset? What happened?"

And he told her. Everything. In normal times, he would never have shared his thoughts with another, especially not with a stranger, but he was too upset to refuse. Besides, he still half-believed he was dreaming, so it didn't matter. When he had finished, he felt very tired indeed and, strangely, relieved.