The Reader of Books
Disclaimer: I own all!!!! (except Harry Potter, and all adjoining statures,
from a story based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is
being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended)
A/N: Ok this is actually a rewrite of my old story, with a lot of enormous differences. so enjoy. (Flames will be taken preferably with marshmallows. mmm marshmallows.)
~^~^~Chapter Three - Who are you?~^~^~
The wind whistled through the forbidden forest, a black haze creeping up to the very edges of Hagrids tiny hut, and climbing the unnameable legions of stairs to blow eerily through the open windows of the astronomy tower.
He had come here before, when the sleepless nights drove him, into the cold hours of the night when the thoughts went to fast, to far. He came alone and left alone, as always, hiding from his reflection. Every day he saw it in the mirror, the pale face, silver hair.
Every day he became his father again, and every night he ran alone through the dark corridors to hide from him.
But Draco wasn't alone this time. Standing beside him, as far away a she could in the cramped stairwell, she stared out through the empty stone windows to the forbidden forest.
Draco wondered if she felt the freezing indifference of the tower around them, if she could feel the moonlight silvering her back or the stars singing in the heavens above them. Probably not.
The creature he saw her as didn't exist, couldn't except in his eyes. In his mind he had made mysterious, a riddle. Glorifying himself, pretending he would "decipher" her, and in the end there was nothing there beyond... well, he hadn't exactly worked out what was "beyond" yet.
Not that it matters, he reasoned with himself. She was probably just another faceless creature, wearily treading her tracks to wherever.
But. her eyes disagreed. There was something there, something. he couldn't explain it, even to himself.
Yet he would never know unless they spoke.
Even now, while the rest of the school sweltered in the strangely warm autumn night the tranquil tower froze, barren as always. As far as Draco's tormented memory could grasp it was never used beyond astronomy classes, though, despite the other nocturnal "uses" of many of the classrooms by students, the tower was always empty, excluding him.
Or perhaps he was the basis for other student's avoidance of the tower. He wasn't exactly popular, even with the Slytherins, despite appearances. When all others left, so did they.
They may as well be on a payroll for his friendship. But in the end did it matter? Did the End even matter? Did it mattering matter???
___________________________
"Emperassion" he ordered, flicking his wand around the tower. He felt the warmth trickle up his spine, no better than the cold.
Ethany didn't even know what the hell she was still doing up here. she wasn't the type to trip over, meet Draco Malfoy in a corridor, scream at him for stalking her, find out his hidden secrets about his father then follow him up into a tower were he would probably murder her. She just wasn't.
Who was that type anyway? Probably his type. and she was so not his type.
Not that she wanted to be.
___________________________
"Well?" his voice interrupted her determined thoughts about how much she hated him.
"Well what?" Ethany replied, determinedly staring away from him. If anyone else was watching it would have been hilarious, but as it was just the two of them it was just annoying.
After an eternity of stifled calm she finally spoke, breaking the freezing walls of silence surrounding them.
"Who are you?" she asked quietly, almost hoping he couldn't hear. Ethany doubted she'd want to know the answer.
"What? I'm Dra-" he started, confused. She quietly shook her head, fending off the droplets of dew. They had been standing there a long time.
"Not your name. Not what they call you. Who are you?"
God. He hadn't even asked this question to himself. But she wouldn't let him go without an answer. Instead she stood there, hiding in her own little clump of shadows in the middle of the tower room.
He slowly shook his head, but his silver-blonde slicked back hair didn't stir. Ethany wanted to mess it up, destroy the perfection. She always hated perfection.
"Not here" he said, destroying her hazed images of his messy hair.
Weird.
He sounded almost. well, not mean. Or even spiteful. If she had trusted him before, he would have lost it by now. But she never trusted him. He looked down on even his own kind, the sneering disdainful purebloods. He spat on his own kind, the rich, the beautiful, the "purebloods".
Ethany was "pure" but he wouldn't have known. She doubted he knew her name, but of course she knew his.
Draco Malfoy.
When he met anyone's eyes other than his own in a mirror it was headline news. Not that that happened often. He was too busy with himself to even notice, let alone care about anyone else.
He was a little cardboard cut out of his father.
Somehow Lucius Malfoy had survived through the ministry, despite the evidence of his dark mark, regardless of his midnight "escapades" in a mask.
Yet he was still in the ministry. Of course. He was rich, powerful and pureblood. And it seemed that was all that mattered.
It probably had a lot to do with gold changing hands.
And this rich, power-hungry, vile, filthy piece of wizard kind who had everything and more than he could ever want had taken all Ethany had, when she had nothing left.
Only last night her mother had lived. Only hours ago her last breath, her last words rang through the air.
She was dying, and she laughed, in her death, submerged in her own blood, surrounded by her slaughterers she laughed, leaving it to echo through the air.
Ethany heard her mother's last words, and she screamed, yet in the silent dormitory no one heard her. She was unseen, unheard, and immovable. They would never hear. Her mother was dead and they would never see, never hear.
But she wasn't coming back. There's no cure, magical or otherwise for death.
But revenge couldn't hurt. Well more specifically, revenge would hurt. That was kind of the point.
___________________________
Slowly her mind strolled back to now. Then could wait for later.
Draco was silently staring at her, watching the glassy eyes fill with tears. He wondered where she was, or at least where her mind was. She wasn't here.
It took a while, but her eyes slowly returned from the world inside her mind to the world out of it.
He held his hand out to her, for once his eyes truly meeting hers. Her eyes silently asked him what the hell he was doing.
"Trust me I have no idea" Draco mumbled, wishing he could look away from her. "We can't talk here, we might be overheard." he faded off, not mentioning who would hear. She could guess on her own.
"But then where."
He silently pointed up. Her eyes glowed in the shadowed tower. Everywhere but her was lit up in moonlight. Only Ethany's eyes sparked bright.
But of course, neither moved. Everything was halted, paused.
He slowly checked his watch.
4:23
Only an hour left before dawn. he had to move, or at least an attempt.
Slowly Ethany moved over to him. He once again held out his hand, to help her up. And once again, she ignored it. This must have been the stupidest thing he'd ever done.
Well, other than that time he had gotten really drunk and slept with Millicent Bullstrode.
He shuddered in the stiff night air. He didn't remember that night, and he doubted he would ever want to. Who could have ever imagined he could get that drunk.
He had worried about his father's vengeance, but surprisingly there was none. In the end, Draco had just been part of a deal. Everet Bullstrode, her father, was quite a large hand in the ministry, and Lucius had needed some illegal substances.
In the end, Draco could only do as his father wished. His whole life was choreographed, scripted and he did only as his father wished. What else was there to do?
In the end, Draco was the good little boy, playing the big bad boy.
But climbing up the side of a tower wasn't exactly the best time to reminisce. He usually saved that for History of Magic, where his eyes weren't the only ones glazed over.
She had climbed up easily, gripping the strange ornaments adorning the tower. But they shifted under his hands, threatening deafeningly of what would happen if he fell.
The ground was a long way away. And he guessed it would seem a little suspicious if they found his corpse lying on the ground, after trying to climb an enormous tower at. he resisted the impulse to look at his watch. After all this time, his watch mattered more than he did.
He cared more about his underwear than his pulse.
When his life wasn't his own, these still were, his shoes, his watch, his socks. Long after he was gone, they would remain, and like him, no one would care. Even when no one was left to him, they would still be there; if even in pieces, or those strange worlds vanished matter went.
He would be dead, and his body well disposed of.
In the end, he feared his life more than his own death, those muted spaces between words in a conversation. This life was just killing time, hanging around till the end. But knowing Dumbledore it wouldn't come quickly.
They didn't use Avada Kedavra. They were "the good guys" so of course his end would be painful and drawn out. Didn't they see there are things worse than death?
But after climbing, nearly falling, contemplating death, climbing, falling, catching on, climbing, nearly falling, climbing, he saw a pale arm reaching down for him. She had small hands, he noticed, as she pulled him onto the domed roof. They were so cold he almost felt the temptation to pull away.
The night was pitch black, despite the pallid moon and stars determinedly twinkling in the sky. He hadn't been here in so long. He hadn't needed or wanted privacy in a while, it felt like he was turning back to a page in a book of his life, a page long forgotten about.
He wasn't sure whether he liked it or not. Draco wondered if beating his head repeatedly against the domed astronomy tower roof would help.
Yeah that would make him seem sane.
Her feelings weren't that much different, though she didn't tend to think of beating her head against things quite as often. The bitter night breeze coiled its frozen hands around her tiny frame and leisurely crept through her robes into her nightgown. Silently trembling she turned back to Draco, as he was determinedly avoiding eye contact with her.
Against her own unnoticed pleas Ethany saw she still hadn't let go of his cold hand as she had pulled him up the tower. He was on the roof but she didn't let go. he still felt her icy hands in his, but they were warm.
He still didn't pull away. Neither did she.
But of course still completely refused to admit to anything.
Disclaimer: I own all!!!! (except Harry Potter, and all adjoining statures,
from a story based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is
being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended)
A/N: Ok this is actually a rewrite of my old story, with a lot of enormous differences. so enjoy. (Flames will be taken preferably with marshmallows. mmm marshmallows.)
~^~^~Chapter Three - Who are you?~^~^~
The wind whistled through the forbidden forest, a black haze creeping up to the very edges of Hagrids tiny hut, and climbing the unnameable legions of stairs to blow eerily through the open windows of the astronomy tower.
He had come here before, when the sleepless nights drove him, into the cold hours of the night when the thoughts went to fast, to far. He came alone and left alone, as always, hiding from his reflection. Every day he saw it in the mirror, the pale face, silver hair.
Every day he became his father again, and every night he ran alone through the dark corridors to hide from him.
But Draco wasn't alone this time. Standing beside him, as far away a she could in the cramped stairwell, she stared out through the empty stone windows to the forbidden forest.
Draco wondered if she felt the freezing indifference of the tower around them, if she could feel the moonlight silvering her back or the stars singing in the heavens above them. Probably not.
The creature he saw her as didn't exist, couldn't except in his eyes. In his mind he had made mysterious, a riddle. Glorifying himself, pretending he would "decipher" her, and in the end there was nothing there beyond... well, he hadn't exactly worked out what was "beyond" yet.
Not that it matters, he reasoned with himself. She was probably just another faceless creature, wearily treading her tracks to wherever.
But. her eyes disagreed. There was something there, something. he couldn't explain it, even to himself.
Yet he would never know unless they spoke.
Even now, while the rest of the school sweltered in the strangely warm autumn night the tranquil tower froze, barren as always. As far as Draco's tormented memory could grasp it was never used beyond astronomy classes, though, despite the other nocturnal "uses" of many of the classrooms by students, the tower was always empty, excluding him.
Or perhaps he was the basis for other student's avoidance of the tower. He wasn't exactly popular, even with the Slytherins, despite appearances. When all others left, so did they.
They may as well be on a payroll for his friendship. But in the end did it matter? Did the End even matter? Did it mattering matter???
___________________________
"Emperassion" he ordered, flicking his wand around the tower. He felt the warmth trickle up his spine, no better than the cold.
Ethany didn't even know what the hell she was still doing up here. she wasn't the type to trip over, meet Draco Malfoy in a corridor, scream at him for stalking her, find out his hidden secrets about his father then follow him up into a tower were he would probably murder her. She just wasn't.
Who was that type anyway? Probably his type. and she was so not his type.
Not that she wanted to be.
___________________________
"Well?" his voice interrupted her determined thoughts about how much she hated him.
"Well what?" Ethany replied, determinedly staring away from him. If anyone else was watching it would have been hilarious, but as it was just the two of them it was just annoying.
After an eternity of stifled calm she finally spoke, breaking the freezing walls of silence surrounding them.
"Who are you?" she asked quietly, almost hoping he couldn't hear. Ethany doubted she'd want to know the answer.
"What? I'm Dra-" he started, confused. She quietly shook her head, fending off the droplets of dew. They had been standing there a long time.
"Not your name. Not what they call you. Who are you?"
God. He hadn't even asked this question to himself. But she wouldn't let him go without an answer. Instead she stood there, hiding in her own little clump of shadows in the middle of the tower room.
He slowly shook his head, but his silver-blonde slicked back hair didn't stir. Ethany wanted to mess it up, destroy the perfection. She always hated perfection.
"Not here" he said, destroying her hazed images of his messy hair.
Weird.
He sounded almost. well, not mean. Or even spiteful. If she had trusted him before, he would have lost it by now. But she never trusted him. He looked down on even his own kind, the sneering disdainful purebloods. He spat on his own kind, the rich, the beautiful, the "purebloods".
Ethany was "pure" but he wouldn't have known. She doubted he knew her name, but of course she knew his.
Draco Malfoy.
When he met anyone's eyes other than his own in a mirror it was headline news. Not that that happened often. He was too busy with himself to even notice, let alone care about anyone else.
He was a little cardboard cut out of his father.
Somehow Lucius Malfoy had survived through the ministry, despite the evidence of his dark mark, regardless of his midnight "escapades" in a mask.
Yet he was still in the ministry. Of course. He was rich, powerful and pureblood. And it seemed that was all that mattered.
It probably had a lot to do with gold changing hands.
And this rich, power-hungry, vile, filthy piece of wizard kind who had everything and more than he could ever want had taken all Ethany had, when she had nothing left.
Only last night her mother had lived. Only hours ago her last breath, her last words rang through the air.
She was dying, and she laughed, in her death, submerged in her own blood, surrounded by her slaughterers she laughed, leaving it to echo through the air.
Ethany heard her mother's last words, and she screamed, yet in the silent dormitory no one heard her. She was unseen, unheard, and immovable. They would never hear. Her mother was dead and they would never see, never hear.
But she wasn't coming back. There's no cure, magical or otherwise for death.
But revenge couldn't hurt. Well more specifically, revenge would hurt. That was kind of the point.
___________________________
Slowly her mind strolled back to now. Then could wait for later.
Draco was silently staring at her, watching the glassy eyes fill with tears. He wondered where she was, or at least where her mind was. She wasn't here.
It took a while, but her eyes slowly returned from the world inside her mind to the world out of it.
He held his hand out to her, for once his eyes truly meeting hers. Her eyes silently asked him what the hell he was doing.
"Trust me I have no idea" Draco mumbled, wishing he could look away from her. "We can't talk here, we might be overheard." he faded off, not mentioning who would hear. She could guess on her own.
"But then where."
He silently pointed up. Her eyes glowed in the shadowed tower. Everywhere but her was lit up in moonlight. Only Ethany's eyes sparked bright.
But of course, neither moved. Everything was halted, paused.
He slowly checked his watch.
4:23
Only an hour left before dawn. he had to move, or at least an attempt.
Slowly Ethany moved over to him. He once again held out his hand, to help her up. And once again, she ignored it. This must have been the stupidest thing he'd ever done.
Well, other than that time he had gotten really drunk and slept with Millicent Bullstrode.
He shuddered in the stiff night air. He didn't remember that night, and he doubted he would ever want to. Who could have ever imagined he could get that drunk.
He had worried about his father's vengeance, but surprisingly there was none. In the end, Draco had just been part of a deal. Everet Bullstrode, her father, was quite a large hand in the ministry, and Lucius had needed some illegal substances.
In the end, Draco could only do as his father wished. His whole life was choreographed, scripted and he did only as his father wished. What else was there to do?
In the end, Draco was the good little boy, playing the big bad boy.
But climbing up the side of a tower wasn't exactly the best time to reminisce. He usually saved that for History of Magic, where his eyes weren't the only ones glazed over.
She had climbed up easily, gripping the strange ornaments adorning the tower. But they shifted under his hands, threatening deafeningly of what would happen if he fell.
The ground was a long way away. And he guessed it would seem a little suspicious if they found his corpse lying on the ground, after trying to climb an enormous tower at. he resisted the impulse to look at his watch. After all this time, his watch mattered more than he did.
He cared more about his underwear than his pulse.
When his life wasn't his own, these still were, his shoes, his watch, his socks. Long after he was gone, they would remain, and like him, no one would care. Even when no one was left to him, they would still be there; if even in pieces, or those strange worlds vanished matter went.
He would be dead, and his body well disposed of.
In the end, he feared his life more than his own death, those muted spaces between words in a conversation. This life was just killing time, hanging around till the end. But knowing Dumbledore it wouldn't come quickly.
They didn't use Avada Kedavra. They were "the good guys" so of course his end would be painful and drawn out. Didn't they see there are things worse than death?
But after climbing, nearly falling, contemplating death, climbing, falling, catching on, climbing, nearly falling, climbing, he saw a pale arm reaching down for him. She had small hands, he noticed, as she pulled him onto the domed roof. They were so cold he almost felt the temptation to pull away.
The night was pitch black, despite the pallid moon and stars determinedly twinkling in the sky. He hadn't been here in so long. He hadn't needed or wanted privacy in a while, it felt like he was turning back to a page in a book of his life, a page long forgotten about.
He wasn't sure whether he liked it or not. Draco wondered if beating his head repeatedly against the domed astronomy tower roof would help.
Yeah that would make him seem sane.
Her feelings weren't that much different, though she didn't tend to think of beating her head against things quite as often. The bitter night breeze coiled its frozen hands around her tiny frame and leisurely crept through her robes into her nightgown. Silently trembling she turned back to Draco, as he was determinedly avoiding eye contact with her.
Against her own unnoticed pleas Ethany saw she still hadn't let go of his cold hand as she had pulled him up the tower. He was on the roof but she didn't let go. he still felt her icy hands in his, but they were warm.
He still didn't pull away. Neither did she.
But of course still completely refused to admit to anything.