Don't worry! Don't worry! He's not dead - well, not yet, at least. Don't kill me! Anyway, I've had a bunch of ideas, and I have a feeling that this fic is going to go on for a while - at least, until the seventh year begins.
Thanks to everyone who reviewed (though I'd prefer next time if you didn't threaten to kill me :) )! I love you all. Thanks also to the people who corrected my spelling in the last chapter. I did realize it after I'd uploaded it, but I was way too tired to bother to correct it then...anyway...
St. Brutus's Program for Incurably Homosexual Boys...
by AnonymousBystander
Chapter Nine - Screaming Silent
"WHAT?!"
Voldemort's screech echoed around the chamber, bouncing off of the cold stone walls. Lucius Malfoy cringed and took a small step back, centering himself, and praying that the Dark Lord would not throw a fit at what he was about to hear.
"M-my lord," he said, "Dumbledore found out. I don't know how. He took Potter back to Hogwarts."
The Dark Lord seethed, looking as though he could destroy all of London with just a glance.
"Why didn't you stop them, Lucius?" Voldemort's voice was murderously quiet, a mere hiss.
"He disappeared the moment after I entered the room, my Lord. I was just about to transport Potter to the room where It would take place, but they were already there."
"'They', Lucius?"
"Yes, my lord. I do not know exactly why, but my son was there, next to Dumbledore, as was the Mudblood," Malfoy said.
"Granger," Voldemort hissed. She was high on the Dark Lord's hit-list, after Potter, Dumbledore, and a few high-ranking members of the Order of the Pheonix, she was a very important target.
"Perhaps... Perhaps we can turn this into our advantage, Lucius," Voldemort continued. "The four of them, all at Hogwarts right now...with nobody else there..."
Lucius gulped. "What about my son, my lord?"
"I need to question him. Bring him to me..."
-----
"Professor... is he all right?"
Dumbledore sat behind his desk, having just completed his tending to Draco in Hogwarts' hospital wing.
"I - don't know, Harry. Normally, such an injury would be easy to heal, but when I transported us here, I used a very complex spell that is similar to Apparition, but I did not take into account his injury, which, because of one of the side-effects of the spell, closed completely around the bullet, which has punctured one of his lungs and is dangerously close to his heart. I've just called for Poppy, but she can't arrive until tomorrow. Until then, there's really... nothing we can do."
There was a very tense pause. Then Dumbledore spoke. "Hermione, may I please speak to Harry in private?"
Hermione stood up. "I'll go check on Draco." She left the room, closing the door behind her. Harry looked back at Dumbledore, apprehensive at the lecture he was sure was coming.
"Harry, I do not know the whole story of what happened at St. Brutus's, nor do I want to. I want to tell you - as I'm sure you already know - that what you did was very, very foolish, and not just personally."
"How so, sir?" Harry said, his voice cracking.
"Your relationship with Draco was a very important one politically. The Malfoys are a very powerful family, and have very close ties with Voldemort, as I'm sure you know. It is very likely that your relationship with Draco will not continue after this."
Harry knew it. He knew it, but it wouldn't sink in. He HAD to keep Draco, he HAD to.
"In addition," Dumbledore continued, "it is possible, or even likely, that Draco will return to his father's political affiliation, and we will have lost a valuble asset."
Harry nodded sullenly, the grief starting to overtake him.
"I'm not trying to make you feel guilt, Harry, because I'm sure you already do. I am merely trying to say that after - and if - Draco wakes up, the situation here will be very delicate. Do you understand?"
Harry nodded, and without asking permission, got up and left.
----
It was midnight.
Or, at least Harry thought it was. It didn't really matter to him, anymore. Staring at Draco's pale, moonlit face in the hospital wing made time stop altogether.
Harry felt sick, the turmoil inside him raging a constant war. He wanted to jump out of the window and die, or at least be in Draco's place, feel what it was like.
Tears began to slide down his face.
He was silent. And he was screaming.
----
A/N - review and there's more where that came from.
Thanks to everyone who reviewed (though I'd prefer next time if you didn't threaten to kill me :) )! I love you all. Thanks also to the people who corrected my spelling in the last chapter. I did realize it after I'd uploaded it, but I was way too tired to bother to correct it then...anyway...
St. Brutus's Program for Incurably Homosexual Boys...
by AnonymousBystander
Chapter Nine - Screaming Silent
"WHAT?!"
Voldemort's screech echoed around the chamber, bouncing off of the cold stone walls. Lucius Malfoy cringed and took a small step back, centering himself, and praying that the Dark Lord would not throw a fit at what he was about to hear.
"M-my lord," he said, "Dumbledore found out. I don't know how. He took Potter back to Hogwarts."
The Dark Lord seethed, looking as though he could destroy all of London with just a glance.
"Why didn't you stop them, Lucius?" Voldemort's voice was murderously quiet, a mere hiss.
"He disappeared the moment after I entered the room, my Lord. I was just about to transport Potter to the room where It would take place, but they were already there."
"'They', Lucius?"
"Yes, my lord. I do not know exactly why, but my son was there, next to Dumbledore, as was the Mudblood," Malfoy said.
"Granger," Voldemort hissed. She was high on the Dark Lord's hit-list, after Potter, Dumbledore, and a few high-ranking members of the Order of the Pheonix, she was a very important target.
"Perhaps... Perhaps we can turn this into our advantage, Lucius," Voldemort continued. "The four of them, all at Hogwarts right now...with nobody else there..."
Lucius gulped. "What about my son, my lord?"
"I need to question him. Bring him to me..."
-----
"Professor... is he all right?"
Dumbledore sat behind his desk, having just completed his tending to Draco in Hogwarts' hospital wing.
"I - don't know, Harry. Normally, such an injury would be easy to heal, but when I transported us here, I used a very complex spell that is similar to Apparition, but I did not take into account his injury, which, because of one of the side-effects of the spell, closed completely around the bullet, which has punctured one of his lungs and is dangerously close to his heart. I've just called for Poppy, but she can't arrive until tomorrow. Until then, there's really... nothing we can do."
There was a very tense pause. Then Dumbledore spoke. "Hermione, may I please speak to Harry in private?"
Hermione stood up. "I'll go check on Draco." She left the room, closing the door behind her. Harry looked back at Dumbledore, apprehensive at the lecture he was sure was coming.
"Harry, I do not know the whole story of what happened at St. Brutus's, nor do I want to. I want to tell you - as I'm sure you already know - that what you did was very, very foolish, and not just personally."
"How so, sir?" Harry said, his voice cracking.
"Your relationship with Draco was a very important one politically. The Malfoys are a very powerful family, and have very close ties with Voldemort, as I'm sure you know. It is very likely that your relationship with Draco will not continue after this."
Harry knew it. He knew it, but it wouldn't sink in. He HAD to keep Draco, he HAD to.
"In addition," Dumbledore continued, "it is possible, or even likely, that Draco will return to his father's political affiliation, and we will have lost a valuble asset."
Harry nodded sullenly, the grief starting to overtake him.
"I'm not trying to make you feel guilt, Harry, because I'm sure you already do. I am merely trying to say that after - and if - Draco wakes up, the situation here will be very delicate. Do you understand?"
Harry nodded, and without asking permission, got up and left.
----
It was midnight.
Or, at least Harry thought it was. It didn't really matter to him, anymore. Staring at Draco's pale, moonlit face in the hospital wing made time stop altogether.
Harry felt sick, the turmoil inside him raging a constant war. He wanted to jump out of the window and die, or at least be in Draco's place, feel what it was like.
Tears began to slide down his face.
He was silent. And he was screaming.
----
A/N - review and there's more where that came from.