IMPRESSIONS chapter two
Disclaimer: Don't own anything, except for stuff you don't recognize.
Summary: An emotionally, physically, and mentally wounded Draco needs someone to help him, whether he wants to admit it or not, after his father lands in Azkaban, his mother is committed to St. Mungo's, and his entire world crumbles. Romance/Angst.
Author's Note: Please review!
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"Don't worry, Granger, I'm not dying," said Malfoy, smirking. "I had no idea you cared for my health so much."
"Wait a second – why can't Madam Pomfrey help?" asked Hermione, confused.
"Haven't you heard of the Permeus Surpos curse?" asked Malfoy, crossing his arms.
Hermione's eyes widened and her jaw dropped in utter astonishment. "That's – That's ancient unforgivable dark magic!"
"Don't think I don't know it, Granger."
"It hasn't been used in three thousand years!" said Hermione, shock bubbling out of her mouth in the forms of random facts.
"Granger, spare me the reiteration of a textbook," said Malfoy, irritated. He crossed his arms and his face formed the predictable blank expression. "Swear on something meaningful that you won't tell anyone."
"But I –"
"Merlin, Granger, why can't you just leave it at that?" said Malfoy, annoyed. "It's my business. If you do me one favor in my entire life, let it be this."
"Why should I?" said Hermione, realizing how important it was to him. Why can't he just go to Madam Pomfrey? Why doesn't he research it?
The cold look behind his eyes faltered. "Don't make me beg, Granger," he spat. "This is bad enough as it is."
"I want you to tell me everything. If you don't, I'll go to Dumbledore," said Hermione, smirking in a way reminiscent of Malfoy.
He looked at her in disgust. "You have no idea what you're asking me to do."
"So? It can't hurt to tell someone, can it?"
"Yes, it can, actually," said Malfoy crossly.
"Why? In everything I've read about it, it doesn't place limits on the subject's willpower. It just cripples them to the point of servitude, almost slavery. It can also be used to keep the subject from a certain person, object, or thing –"
"I know! Can't you just give it a rest? I need you to promise not to tell!" Malfoy had an almost wild look in his eyes.
She looked put out. "Tell me who did it, and why, at least. Then I'll promise," she finally relented.
"I already told you that I can't do that. Is that bushy hair impeding your hearing?" said Malfoy spitefully.
She ignored the barb and sat down on the tile floor. "I'm not doing anything until you've told me what happened," she informed him.
He looked up to the ceiling in disbelief, turning from her. "I'm being blackmailed by a mudblood," she heard him distinctly mutter.
"It would improve your chances of getting me to promise if you didn't insult me," said Hermione coolly.
"It's really none of your business, Granger," said Malfoy, ignoring her and returning to the problem at hand.
"So? You've meddled in plenty of things that had nothing to do with you," said Hermione.
"Like what?"
Hermione found her comeback slightly inappropriate and shut her mouth. "I'm not leaving until you tell me," she repeated. "And believe me, I'd rather you get it over with. I'd like to take a bath."
A slow smirk grew across his face. "I don't mind watching if I have to."
She reddened. "That's completely tasteless," she said with a sense of dignity.
"Fine," he said at last. "I'll tell you. You have to swear on – on Potter or something else god-like –" he paused to leer at his joke – "that you won't tell anyone. Anything."
"Fine," said Hermione waspishly, her curiosity conquering her sense of going to a teacher in bad times.
"Right then," the blond sighed, wincing and touching his stomach, where the fresh bandage was already beginning to bleed through, staining the linen a morbid black. "My father's in Azkaban, as you probably know," he began.
Hermione nodded, fighting the urge to smile and rub it in his face.
"Well, since he's been such a good member of the community, he was granted two days to spend with his family, to…" he trailed of, looking for the right words. "To say his goodbyes, to ease the passing."
"Right," said Hermione.
"Don't interrupt," he said coldly.
A bit taken aback, she nodded and fell silent, and he continued. "Well, I was naturally a bit… unhappy over the summer, and when my mother found me on one of the balconies, she thought I was going to jump. My father came into my room later, to… punish me duly." He ran his fingers through his hair, jumped when he realized its wetness, and tapped his wand to his scalp, drying the silky strands immediately. "Anyway, I was a bit pert with him, and he got angry. He said that even though he would be in prison, he could still affect me, make me do the correct thing, in terms of upholding the Malfoys' pledge to the Dark Lord, and so on," he said easily, thinking nothing of his words. "Anyway, he called it a reminder to do my duty."
Hermione sat in shocked silence, absorbing his words. "Your father did that to you?" she finally said, horrified.
He looked unconcerned. "He was punishing me," he said, not finding it in the least bit unusual.
"No, that's abuse! He put an ancient unforgivable curse on you, that isn't punishment, that's torture!" said Hermione hotly.
His gaze hardened. "I don't want pity, Granger. There's nothing to pity. I'm not, 'poor little Malfoy, his daddy hurts him.'"
"Why can't you tell anyone?"
"Because he would inevitably find out, and I would be both punished and never released from the curse. Not to mention, he doesn't need another black mark on his record. You said it yourself, this is highly prohibited magic."
"Can't you get it healed, and it wouldn't matter that he found out?"
"And you call yourself intelligent?" he stared at her in disbelief. "The Permeus Surpos can only be healed by one who casts the spell. Believe me, I've gone through everything in our manor trying to find it otherwise," he said.
Hermione looked very unhappy. "And Ron was making fun of you," she said miserably, quite unaware of Malfoy's presence.
"What are you talking about?" he said sharply.
"At Platform 9 ¾," said Hermione, glancing up to him. "We saw you grimacing, and Ron was making jokes about it." She had decided to be honest with him, since it appeared that he was being truthful with her.
He frowned, and Hermione fully expected a nasty comment about Ron, but not the reply he gave. "That's not good," he said quietly. "I can't show it," he said, more to himself than to her.
"Yes, you can! If people figured out what was going on, then Dumbledore could help you!" said Hermione, jumping up.
"Dumbledore? He's a fool," scoffed Malfoy, his features returning to his normal scowl. "I already said that it can't be healed."
"But maybe…" Hermione trailed off, as she did when hit with brilliant ideas.
"What?" he asked shortly.
"Maybe your father just wanted you to think there was no alternative cure!" she said.
"Granger, it shouldn't surprise you that we have an extensive collection of dark magic literature. I'm quite sure that if there was a counterspell, I would have found it," Malfoy drawled.
"But not if he destroyed it! Hogwarts is bound to have something in the Restricted Section, I'll look for it!" she said.
"And without violating your promise, how do you intend to go through the books in the Restricted Section without a pass?" asked Malfoy.
She waved her hand dismissively. "We're in N.E.W.T. Defense Against the Dark Arts. And…" she hesitated telling him about Harry's Invisibility Cloak. "Well, I've done it before. We made the Polyjuice Potion, once, in second year!" She immediately clapped her hand over her mouth, realizing what she had just told him.
His eyes narrowed as he understood, at last, the question that had been plaguing him for five years. "Ah… You and Potter drugged Crabbe and Goyle," he breathed, it coming together at last. "Because you suspected me of opening the Chamber of Secrets," he said, smirking.
"Not me… I just made the potion. It was Ron and Harry," she said lamely.
"Of course, leave it to them to take the glory," said Malfoy with a sneer.
"No, it wasn't like that," Hermione stammered.
"It doesn't matter. What matters it that you have to promise not to tell anyone," said Malfoy, turning his attention back to the Permeus Surpos.
"Malfoy…" began Hermione slowly. "I don't think I can do that."
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Author's Note: I noticed a lot of mistakes in the previous chapter, so I apologize. This chapter was certainly informative, was it not? I hope it was enjoyable, and I'm sorry that it was shorter than the first one. It seemed like a good place to stop. Tell me if it's getting to cliché; I definitely don't want it to go down that route. Also, if you have any ideas, questions, concerns, you can always email* me. Also, I know that Draco doesn't seem quite malicious enough, but remember, he's been humbled by the goings-on of the previous year. He doesn't want to jeopardize himself by getting in trouble for petty insults and such. Also… If you would like me to bring in Lucius again… I'd be more than happy. It would involve a lot of tedious out-of-the-way work, but… This is long, I know, but I wanted to get everything out. Please review; even it's a flame…
*If you want to contact me: KellenER@aol.com
Ar-Zimraphel formerly "Aphrodite"