Note: The italic text is a dream sequence.
Chapter 16: Crimson Rain Clouds
"Merlin's beard!" Ginny cried in a soft whisper. She immediately lifted her head off Draco's chest and stared at the pale boy with wide eyes, filled to their lids with shock. "Oh, please," she wished as she once again placed her head on the bloodstained portion of Draco's shirt above his chest.
Ginny's head lay on Draco's chest for what she counted to be thirteen seconds before she heard another thump. The next one came after another thirteen seconds, the one after came in fourteen seconds, and the one after that came in twelve seconds.
But the knife went through him, Ginny gawked. Now that what she had wanted—the miracle she had hoped for, had become a reality, all she could think was the knife went straight through his heart!
Ginny hated herself for trying to prove the fact that Draco Malfoy still had a fighting chance was false, but she had seen it! She remembered Draco had been screaming… screaming for rain—
Wait.
Ginny suddenly remembered when Draco had first started screaming and one of the very last thing's he had asked her had been: "Where's Rain?"
Rain was a person.
In a moment's notice, Ginny dashed over to where Draco's wand lay next to Blaise. He's not dead, Ginny thought. Then she looked at Blaise. The Slytherin girl with red hair, green eyes, emerald garb, and a bruised and bloodied face glared back at her with hatred.
"He's not dead," Blaise rasped.
Ginny had kept herself well composed thus far, but this was a surprise. "You mean you knew?" She asked angrily.
"You should've—" Blaise coughed. "You should've known, too, Weasley. He's a vampire—I was just playing around with him—"
Ginny's expressions lightened and her eyes widened. "And only a wooden stake through the heart can kill a vampire—not a sword, or metal, or anything like that!"
"Don't you feel smart? Too bad it's too late." Blaise tried to chuckle softly.
"What do you mean it's too late?"
Blaise didn't say anything.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT'S TOO LATE?!" Ginny screamed.
Blaise simply spit at Ginny's face in response.
Gripping Draco's wand so tightly that her knuckles turned white, Ginny decided it was a good time to test if Draco would really be able to get through this. Making a large loop in the air with her wand-arm, Ginny muttered, "Petrificus totalus."
And seconds later, Blaise Zabini lay perfectly still—she was petrified.
Ron leaned against the door he had just shut in Hermione's face—her distraught, confused, worried, kind, tear-streaked face. His best friend's face.
But how could he be in the wrong this time? That was the thing—he couldn't be wrong this time. He knew he wasn't.
Hermione was his best friend, but even before her, Harry had been his best friend. True, the three of them were known as the Hogwarts trio—the triumvirate—but Harry had been first. He'd always be first.
All his life Ron had been confined to the walls of the Burrow. Ginny had been his closest thing to a friend since the rest of his brothers were often at school, but other than cousins and acquaintances, he hadn't ever had the chance to choose who would be his friend, not that he minded Ginny's company. But that all changed the first time he boarded the Hogwarts Express, and as fate would have it, he, the nothing, had chosen to be friends with Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, the hero, the something—the everything, and Harry had chosen to be friends with Ron as well. In a way, Ron and Harry were very alike, despite their different rankings in Ron's mind. They were each the other's first friend. The fact was precious to Ron, but he was confused now.
He knew Harry had a lot to worry about, a lot to be upset over, and a lot to deal with, but upon the hinting of a war in the Wizarding World, Hermione and Ron had told Harry they'd stick with him through thick and thin. Back then, when things had seemed so simple, Harry had simply nodded in response. He hadn't even said anything.
And now Ron thought back on it.
Maybe Harry hadn't agreed? After all, he'd just nodded; he hadn't said anything.
Ron clenched his fists, his nails digging into the soft skin of his palms. The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. He didn't want to be angry and he especially didn't want to be angry with Harry, but try as he might, he couldn't help it. If anything, every grain of sand that tumbled through Time's hourglass seemed to weigh down his emotions even more, further deepening his anger with Harry. His emotions were strong, enflaming like him, and like all fires, they could become uncontrollable. He didn't want the emotions to take him over. He didn't want to be angry with Harry and if this continued any further, he was afraid he'd soon end up hating his best friend.
The boy with red hair thought of how he'd shoved the bushy-haired girl out the door.
Ron had been standing with his back against the door, but now he slid down the frame of the entrance and gripped his flaming red hair in frustration, elbows digging into his knees, which were pulled close to his chest.
Why had Harry just randomly disappeared like that? Maybe Hermione was right—maybe Harry was in great danger and really did need their help.
But it was just too strange and coincidental.
Harry had been so dodgy as of late. So silent and mysterious—just going about his daily patterns, staying out of the way as much as he could.
Hermione would pretend not to notice, but dull as Ron may seem, he could tell Hermione was worried, too.
And it suddenly dawned on him why he was so angry with Harry.
Harry knew perfectly well that he and Hermione would be there for him no matter what the dilemma. Ron remembered their first year at Hogwarts, how he had sacrificed himself in the Chess challenge so Harry would be okay and would be able to continue. He remembered their second year how even without Hermione, he and Harry had taken care of the whole Basilisk issue. He had been there, down in the chamber, and probably would've done something significant if the rocks hadn't separated them. And then their third year, it was he who had helped lead Harry and Hermione down to the Shrieking Shack and had had his leg broken in the process. And though they had their differences in their fourth year, while Hermione was goggling at Viktor Krum, that twit, Ron had been the one to show his support for Harry throughout the whole TriWizard Tourney. He knew Hermione's support was there, too, but he remembered the second task—he, Ron, the nothing, had been Harry's precious person. That should've meant something to Harry…Ron had literally gasped aloud in shock when he'd realized he was Harry's precious person. Harry had made him a something. But to know Harry was now carelessly wandering the floors of Malfoy Manor, was perhaps planning something without telling him or Hermione about it, hadn't even cared about what he, Ron, his best friend would think of the whole matter…it made Ron feel like Harry was mocking his feelings and their friendship—taking it all for granted—and the reason he hated Harry so much for this was because this wasn't like Harry at all.
Ron exhaled. That's why he was so upset.
He felt ignored, overlooked, and mistreated. Though it was all quite childish, he was quite ready to explode.
But, no.
He exhaled again.
Ron knew Harry often allowed his emotions to take him over, but Ron wouldn't settle for that. Ron wasn't Harry and he never would be. Ron was Ron—himself. He was Harry's best friend and he wasn't supposed to be like Harry.
They called him the sidekick for a reason. He was supposed to stick with Harry, through thick and thin—he had said so himself! So that's what he would do.
And only a second after feeling somewhat content after so long, he heard a high-pitched scream next to his ear.
Hermione! Ron thought, instantly back on his feet. She's still here?
He opened the door in a flash and his eyes widened and his jaw hung open at what he saw next.
"Oh look, Rubeus! I've some Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Jelly Beans! Want some?" Dumbledore asked, thoughtfully sucking on a coconut flavoured jelly bean.
"Sure!" Hagrid answered enthusiastically, helping himself to the small box in Dumbledore's hand. "Thanks, Headmaster!"
"Severus?" Dumbledore offered the box to Snape.
"No, Headmaster, I don't want any, thank you for asking. What I do want to know is why we are having a picnic instead of saving the children! Care to explain that, Headmaster?" Snape asked, his lips pursed tight, trying hard not to yell at the Headmaster.
Dumbledore laughed. "Saving the Children! Sounds like it ought to be the title of some Muggle video game!"
Snape pulled a face, in disbelief of how odd Dumbledore was being. Then he remembered that during the first war against the Dark Lord, Dumbledore had delayed all the plans by half an hour because he had run out of lemon drops.
But Dumbledore quickly spoke again, seeing Snape's face. "Rubeus has already told me what the both of you have undergone and know, I don't really have much to contribute since I only spoke to Mr. Crouch whilst here, we still don't really know where any of the children are, so I thought it'd be wise to munch on a few snacks before we made our way."
"Heroes with full stomachs are cooler than heroes with empty ones!" Hagrid added, making an interesting face as he sucked on a lime flavoured jelly bean.
"Good God," Snape covered his face with his hand and turned away from the two men with him.
"Hermione—" Ron had begun to say before allowing an extremely high-pitched scream escape his lips. "Hermione! What, in Godric's name, are you doing? That's a dragon!" He pointed out with a shaking finger.
Hermione, still crouched on the floor near the door where she had been all along, looked up at Ron and mouthed wordlessly before finally saying, "It's—it's a Peruvian Vipertooth!"
And just as Hermione had defined it, the Vipertooth threw itself toward the two people before it, but just in time, Ron flung Hermione back into their room and had shut the door tightly.
The door bounced as the dragon crashed into it.
Back against the door, breathing hard, Ron finally looked up at Hermione, who sat on the floor, the palms of her hands behind her. "What were you doing with that?" Ron gestured in the direction of the Vipertooth.
"Are you insane?" She panted. "Why would I ever want to conjure up a Peruvian Vipertooth?"
"You tell me! Where did it come from if you didn't conjure it up?"
"Ron! I don't even have a wand! Are you daft? We're in Malfoy Manor! The whole mansion is filled with things five trillion times worse than that Vipertooth!" Hermione explained.
Both of them still exasperated with the other could only pant and occasionally sneak a glance at the other.
Suddenly, the door behind Ron was ripped off its hinges—literally. Ron screamed, the magnitude of force used to tear down the door caused him to topple to the floor next to Hermione. They both began to back away from the approaching Vipertooth. The animal stood before them; they could see its large yellow eyes rolling in its copper-coloured head, staring at them each in turn.
"What do we do now?" Ron whimpered, making a face.
Hermione honestly did not know. She pursed her lips together, looking determined while she thought of anything that might help the situation. Peruvian Vipertooths are dangerous, their fangs are venomous, and they have been known to actually eat humans, meaning the one before them wasn't going to remain standing there, swishing its grand tail back and forth, all day long.
But before she could think of anything, the dragon had made its decision; it flew through the air at—
"Ron!" Hermione cried
"Hermione, help!" Ron screamed.
And just as the Vipertooth, its mouth wide-open baring two rows of sharp fangs, had reached the redhead, Hermione used all her strength to pull Ron into her—
"Aaaaaargh!" Ron wailed.
Hermione looked down at her friend; she saw a long gash along the left side of his lower torso.
"Ron!" She gasped.
She had no idea what to do with herself. Ron was completely out of it—the fangs of the Peruvian Vipertooth are venomous—fortunately not fatal, but dangerous nonetheless. Ron was breathing heavily and sweating hard and neither of them had a wand.
"This is hopeless!" She whispered; she had never felt this confused in her life.
"Hermione!" Ron hissed urgently, tugging on her shirt from where his head lay in her lap.
She looked up. The Vipertooth was about to strike again. It let out an awful roar, kicked out its legs, jumped up and flew straight at them.
They both screamed and as a last resort, Hermione hugged Ron tightly and turned over, putting her back between the dragon and her friend.
She could almost feel the dragon on her when suddenly, the dragon stopped mid-roar and let out an anguished screech of pain. Hermione's eyes widened, she turned around and was speechless at what she saw.
Harry was fighting the dragon with what looked like Godric Gryffindor's sword! He had stabbed the dragon's tail!
He came back! Was all Hermione could think.
Harry was much more experienced in fighting dangerous creatures and such—if he could survive a duel with the Dark Lord, a dragon couldn't be too much trouble. He rolled under the Vipertooth's tail, which had shot out and attempted to strike Harry. The boy jumped from side to side, face screwed up with concentration, trying to taunt the dragon and hopefully find an angle from which he could gain an advantage…and then he did!
The Vipertooth lurched at Harry and in doing so, had all its legs in the air. Harry took this chance to quickly roll under the dragon and then he inserted the sword into the dragon's underbelly and using all his might, sliced down the whole intestinal cavity, which immediately caused blood from the Vipertooth's open body to drench Harry, who jumped away from the dragon's falling and dead form just in time to avoid being squashed by it.
"Harry, are you all ri—?"
"Ron!" An alarmed Harry yelled. The blood all over his glasses disabled him from seeing, so he took them off and threw them aside as he rushed to his best friend's side. He constantly had to use his forearm to brush his blood-drenched hair off his face; he was dripping dragon blood all over the place. He turned to Hermione. "What happened to him?"
"Oh, Harry! The Peruvian Vipertooth's fangs! The fangs slashed his side!" Hermione said hysterically. Harry was about to suggest getting some of the bed sheets to create a kind of bandage for the wound, but then Hermione explained that the Vipertooth's fangs are venomous.
Harry wiped his bloody hands on the carpet and placed his hand on Ron's forehead. He had passed out during all the action and was feverish.
"We have to help him!"
"I know!" Harry growled.
Hermione winced at his tone.
"I know," he said again, trying to tame the frustration in his voice. He walked over to the dead dragon, pulled out the sword that was still buried in its body, and wiped off the blood on his pants. "I bet Lucius Malfoy himself could help us out."
Hermione gave him a quizzical look.
Harry placed the sword through the space between his pants and his belt as though an imaginary scabbard was at his waist. "I've got his Lord's sword, after all." He gave Hermione a mischievous smirk, patting the sword of Salazar Slytherin at his side. He then placed a clean-looking bed sheet around Ron's torso, bent down and took his friend in his arms, trying not to sag under Ron's weight, and looked at Hermione. "Let's go."
Ginny stared at Blaise Zabini's motionless form and then at the wand in her hand.
So Draco's alive, she finally allowed herself to think.
She walked over to where Draco lay and began examining the boy. Biting her lip with uncertainty, she kneeled next to him. Hopefully her elementary knowledge of healing charms would come to use now.
And she set to work.
Draco felt as though he was floating, which was mostly because he was floating.
He blinked over and over, but all he could see around him was pitch-black nothingness. It was quite odd in a way. What he saw was the same, whether he had his eyes opened or closed.
Then he heard something and his eyes were wide open out of instinct. From his peripheral vision, he spotted a striking blotch of red.
"Rain," he said in relief.
But he sensed something else and turned to the other side and saw—
"Rain?"
He frantically turned his head from left to right. Both girls before him were identical.
"R-rain?" He asked this time.
And without a moment's notice, both women had zoomed over to where he was and began circling around him at great speeds. They were going so fast that he could hear a muffled swooshing noise; however, when he listened closer, he realized the swooshing noise wasn't noise—they were whispering.
"Trust."
"Hope."
"Friendship."
"Betrayal."
"Blood."
"Hero."
"Love."
"Courage."
"Deceit."
When they spoke, their voices seemed to echo.
Not able to handle the confusion anymore, Draco grabbed fistfuls of his hair and tugged. "Arrrrgh! What do you want with me, Rain?"
And both women suddenly stopped and stood before Draco now.
"Do you not bleed?" The one to his left asked in the all too familiar gentle, yet haunting voice.
Then the one to his right came closer to him and extended an arm to touch his face. "Tell me, do you not bl—?"
In the middle of what she was saying, Draco firmly grabbed the woman's hand to prevent her from touching his face like… like that. Something was quivering at the edge of his mind, but he wasn't quite sure what.
"What do you mean by this bleeding business?" Draco asked furiously. "I've had enough of this, Rain!" He glared at the girl whose hand he held, but then remembering she might not be Rain, glared at the other girl, whose face was completely emotionless.
"You," he called out to the indifferent face. "Who are you?"
She only raised her eyes to his, but said nothing.
"I asked you a question! Dammit! Answer the question! Who are you?"
The girl simply stared at him sadly, then lowered her eyelids and turned away from him, not even looking back as her form receded.
"Wait!" Draco instinctively hollered after her, releasing the other girl's hand as he attempted to chase after the retreating girl. "Wait!" He cried again.
The girl turned around and Draco was taken aback by the emptiness in her eyes. Just knowing her cold as steel eyes were looking into him sent an icy chill down his spine. If he could just warm her a little…
Draco lifted his arm and his hand came near the girl's face; she watched his fingers until they were on her cheek.
She allowed him to hold her face there.
Draco saw the girl's ashen eyes glance at him when he had touched her face, then she lowered her eyelids to stare at the hand that was on her cheek. At that moment, a tiny smile slowly spread across her lips—they seemed redder now. When the girl looked up, Draco became so startled he removed his hand from the girl's face with an intake of cold air.
Her eyes were a never-ending shade of cinnamon-brown now. Before, she had seemed even paler than he had, but now color had flooded into her face, her bare forearms, and small legs; she looked as though she had a healthy tan from lazy days spent under a familiar sun. Her hair was still the same shade of ginger, but now it shone gold.
The mere sight of her was completely breathtaking to Draco.
"Do you not bleed?" The girl behind him said suddenly.
Jarred back to his senses, Draco turned around and saw the girl behind him looking very much different than she had moments before. Her fiery red hair was bent out of sorts into curls and she wore a long, lacy black dress.
"Do you not bleed?" She snarled again.
Before Draco could say anything, however, the girl next to him put her small hand on his shoulder. "I won't let you bleed, Draco."
Something inside him finally clicked and his eyes widened.
"Ginny?" He breathed.
"I won't let you bleed, Draco!" She said as she floated past him.
When Draco turned to see where she was going, it was too late for him to do anything. He saw the girl with the black dress coming at him full speed, her open mouth bearing long, pointy fangs. However, just before the woman crashed into him, "Ginny" had put herself in-between them.
The moment the fangs had made contact with "Ginny", her new, beautiful form shattered away into a million tiny pieces and disappeared into complete oblivion.
"Ginny!" Draco cried
But before he could completely consume what had just happened, the woman in black rammed into him and he felt her fangs sink deep into his throat. They toppled over and he lay on the ground, unable to move while the beast of a woman lay sprawled on the ground with him, her mouth still attached to his throat.
Everything began to appear blurry, the few colors around him were melting into each other, then all he saw was black and without warning, the black faded to a shocking shade of crimson—
"GINNY!"
Draco snapped open his eyes and all he saw was the crimson from his dream. But as he struggled into a half-sitting position, he realized the crimson he saw was hair.
"Gi—Weasley?" Draco gasped.
The girl before him smiled weakly, her kind eyes holding back tears. He looked her over and couldn't remember where she had gotten so many bruises and how she had come to look so bloody.
"Draco, you're all right!" Ginny finally gasped, lunging herself into his chest, hugging him tightly.
He looked down at Ginny, but then caught sight of his unbuttoned shirt—covered in his blood?
"Bloody hell!" Draco's unused voice croaked. He internally whacked himself for the bad pun and he pushed Ginny away from his torso. "Why am I—why are we covered in so much damn blood?" He asked, completely baffled, his fingers feeling around his throats for fang-scars. He found none.
Ginny silently forgave him for shoving her away so abruptly—she'd be confused, too, if she awoke to find herself drenched in her own blood.
"It's a long story," Ginny said. "But I checked all your wounds and they all seem to have healed themselves, oddly enough. And the blood on your shirt probably looks startling, but a teaspoon of blood can dye a whole shirt red—"
"—I know."
"—So don't worry about that. But even if you had been bleeding, you'd have nothing to worry about. I'm training to become a medi-witch, I'll have you know. I mean, I've had enough practice with healing my brothers and such. Like that one time—Goodness, I must sound like I'm rambling now!" She laughed nervously. "But don't worry, I would not let you bleed all over the place! Honestly, though! Do you really not remember anything that happened—?"
"You wouldn't let me bleed?" Draco suddenly asked.
"Well, of course not!" Ginny said slowly, a bit confused.
Draco then groaned and proceeded in massaging his temples. "Dear God," he croaked, finally remembering how his dream had ended.
He couldn't bear to look at Ginny—his savior—anymore. She may be a poor, stupid, Mudblood-loving twit, but this very twit had just saved his life.
That moment, he closed his eyes tightly and promised himself to get away from her as soon as he could make sure she was safe.
If his dream had been a prophecy, from this moment onward, he vowed to avoid its reoccurring at all costs.
Author's Note: Yay! I liked this chapter! 'Twas phun to write! Anyway, sorry for keeping Draco unconscious for so long in the fic! I imagine it must've become somewhat annoying and boring, eh? Oh well…now that he's conscious again, on to the D/G madness! waves flags around Go D/G!
Chapter 17: Most importantly, we'll find out what happens to Ron! And remember, the trio's little dilemma with Harry isn't completely solved just yet. D/G madness as well, and more of the professors! Jelly bean, anyone?
As always, thanks to my reviewers: Maureen, ugahill, bigreader, Spinn, Moogie, and seekerpeeker! Gotta luff yall!
Chapter 16: Crimson Rain Clouds
"Merlin's beard!" Ginny cried in a soft whisper. She immediately lifted her head off Draco's chest and stared at the pale boy with wide eyes, filled to their lids with shock. "Oh, please," she wished as she once again placed her head on the bloodstained portion of Draco's shirt above his chest.
Ginny's head lay on Draco's chest for what she counted to be thirteen seconds before she heard another thump. The next one came after another thirteen seconds, the one after came in fourteen seconds, and the one after that came in twelve seconds.
But the knife went through him, Ginny gawked. Now that what she had wanted—the miracle she had hoped for, had become a reality, all she could think was the knife went straight through his heart!
Ginny hated herself for trying to prove the fact that Draco Malfoy still had a fighting chance was false, but she had seen it! She remembered Draco had been screaming… screaming for rain—
Wait.
Ginny suddenly remembered when Draco had first started screaming and one of the very last thing's he had asked her had been: "Where's Rain?"
Rain was a person.
In a moment's notice, Ginny dashed over to where Draco's wand lay next to Blaise. He's not dead, Ginny thought. Then she looked at Blaise. The Slytherin girl with red hair, green eyes, emerald garb, and a bruised and bloodied face glared back at her with hatred.
"He's not dead," Blaise rasped.
Ginny had kept herself well composed thus far, but this was a surprise. "You mean you knew?" She asked angrily.
"You should've—" Blaise coughed. "You should've known, too, Weasley. He's a vampire—I was just playing around with him—"
Ginny's expressions lightened and her eyes widened. "And only a wooden stake through the heart can kill a vampire—not a sword, or metal, or anything like that!"
"Don't you feel smart? Too bad it's too late." Blaise tried to chuckle softly.
"What do you mean it's too late?"
Blaise didn't say anything.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT'S TOO LATE?!" Ginny screamed.
Blaise simply spit at Ginny's face in response.
Gripping Draco's wand so tightly that her knuckles turned white, Ginny decided it was a good time to test if Draco would really be able to get through this. Making a large loop in the air with her wand-arm, Ginny muttered, "Petrificus totalus."
And seconds later, Blaise Zabini lay perfectly still—she was petrified.
Ron leaned against the door he had just shut in Hermione's face—her distraught, confused, worried, kind, tear-streaked face. His best friend's face.
But how could he be in the wrong this time? That was the thing—he couldn't be wrong this time. He knew he wasn't.
Hermione was his best friend, but even before her, Harry had been his best friend. True, the three of them were known as the Hogwarts trio—the triumvirate—but Harry had been first. He'd always be first.
All his life Ron had been confined to the walls of the Burrow. Ginny had been his closest thing to a friend since the rest of his brothers were often at school, but other than cousins and acquaintances, he hadn't ever had the chance to choose who would be his friend, not that he minded Ginny's company. But that all changed the first time he boarded the Hogwarts Express, and as fate would have it, he, the nothing, had chosen to be friends with Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, the hero, the something—the everything, and Harry had chosen to be friends with Ron as well. In a way, Ron and Harry were very alike, despite their different rankings in Ron's mind. They were each the other's first friend. The fact was precious to Ron, but he was confused now.
He knew Harry had a lot to worry about, a lot to be upset over, and a lot to deal with, but upon the hinting of a war in the Wizarding World, Hermione and Ron had told Harry they'd stick with him through thick and thin. Back then, when things had seemed so simple, Harry had simply nodded in response. He hadn't even said anything.
And now Ron thought back on it.
Maybe Harry hadn't agreed? After all, he'd just nodded; he hadn't said anything.
Ron clenched his fists, his nails digging into the soft skin of his palms. The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. He didn't want to be angry and he especially didn't want to be angry with Harry, but try as he might, he couldn't help it. If anything, every grain of sand that tumbled through Time's hourglass seemed to weigh down his emotions even more, further deepening his anger with Harry. His emotions were strong, enflaming like him, and like all fires, they could become uncontrollable. He didn't want the emotions to take him over. He didn't want to be angry with Harry and if this continued any further, he was afraid he'd soon end up hating his best friend.
The boy with red hair thought of how he'd shoved the bushy-haired girl out the door.
Ron had been standing with his back against the door, but now he slid down the frame of the entrance and gripped his flaming red hair in frustration, elbows digging into his knees, which were pulled close to his chest.
Why had Harry just randomly disappeared like that? Maybe Hermione was right—maybe Harry was in great danger and really did need their help.
But it was just too strange and coincidental.
Harry had been so dodgy as of late. So silent and mysterious—just going about his daily patterns, staying out of the way as much as he could.
Hermione would pretend not to notice, but dull as Ron may seem, he could tell Hermione was worried, too.
And it suddenly dawned on him why he was so angry with Harry.
Harry knew perfectly well that he and Hermione would be there for him no matter what the dilemma. Ron remembered their first year at Hogwarts, how he had sacrificed himself in the Chess challenge so Harry would be okay and would be able to continue. He remembered their second year how even without Hermione, he and Harry had taken care of the whole Basilisk issue. He had been there, down in the chamber, and probably would've done something significant if the rocks hadn't separated them. And then their third year, it was he who had helped lead Harry and Hermione down to the Shrieking Shack and had had his leg broken in the process. And though they had their differences in their fourth year, while Hermione was goggling at Viktor Krum, that twit, Ron had been the one to show his support for Harry throughout the whole TriWizard Tourney. He knew Hermione's support was there, too, but he remembered the second task—he, Ron, the nothing, had been Harry's precious person. That should've meant something to Harry…Ron had literally gasped aloud in shock when he'd realized he was Harry's precious person. Harry had made him a something. But to know Harry was now carelessly wandering the floors of Malfoy Manor, was perhaps planning something without telling him or Hermione about it, hadn't even cared about what he, Ron, his best friend would think of the whole matter…it made Ron feel like Harry was mocking his feelings and their friendship—taking it all for granted—and the reason he hated Harry so much for this was because this wasn't like Harry at all.
Ron exhaled. That's why he was so upset.
He felt ignored, overlooked, and mistreated. Though it was all quite childish, he was quite ready to explode.
But, no.
He exhaled again.
Ron knew Harry often allowed his emotions to take him over, but Ron wouldn't settle for that. Ron wasn't Harry and he never would be. Ron was Ron—himself. He was Harry's best friend and he wasn't supposed to be like Harry.
They called him the sidekick for a reason. He was supposed to stick with Harry, through thick and thin—he had said so himself! So that's what he would do.
And only a second after feeling somewhat content after so long, he heard a high-pitched scream next to his ear.
Hermione! Ron thought, instantly back on his feet. She's still here?
He opened the door in a flash and his eyes widened and his jaw hung open at what he saw next.
"Oh look, Rubeus! I've some Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Jelly Beans! Want some?" Dumbledore asked, thoughtfully sucking on a coconut flavoured jelly bean.
"Sure!" Hagrid answered enthusiastically, helping himself to the small box in Dumbledore's hand. "Thanks, Headmaster!"
"Severus?" Dumbledore offered the box to Snape.
"No, Headmaster, I don't want any, thank you for asking. What I do want to know is why we are having a picnic instead of saving the children! Care to explain that, Headmaster?" Snape asked, his lips pursed tight, trying hard not to yell at the Headmaster.
Dumbledore laughed. "Saving the Children! Sounds like it ought to be the title of some Muggle video game!"
Snape pulled a face, in disbelief of how odd Dumbledore was being. Then he remembered that during the first war against the Dark Lord, Dumbledore had delayed all the plans by half an hour because he had run out of lemon drops.
But Dumbledore quickly spoke again, seeing Snape's face. "Rubeus has already told me what the both of you have undergone and know, I don't really have much to contribute since I only spoke to Mr. Crouch whilst here, we still don't really know where any of the children are, so I thought it'd be wise to munch on a few snacks before we made our way."
"Heroes with full stomachs are cooler than heroes with empty ones!" Hagrid added, making an interesting face as he sucked on a lime flavoured jelly bean.
"Good God," Snape covered his face with his hand and turned away from the two men with him.
"Hermione—" Ron had begun to say before allowing an extremely high-pitched scream escape his lips. "Hermione! What, in Godric's name, are you doing? That's a dragon!" He pointed out with a shaking finger.
Hermione, still crouched on the floor near the door where she had been all along, looked up at Ron and mouthed wordlessly before finally saying, "It's—it's a Peruvian Vipertooth!"
And just as Hermione had defined it, the Vipertooth threw itself toward the two people before it, but just in time, Ron flung Hermione back into their room and had shut the door tightly.
The door bounced as the dragon crashed into it.
Back against the door, breathing hard, Ron finally looked up at Hermione, who sat on the floor, the palms of her hands behind her. "What were you doing with that?" Ron gestured in the direction of the Vipertooth.
"Are you insane?" She panted. "Why would I ever want to conjure up a Peruvian Vipertooth?"
"You tell me! Where did it come from if you didn't conjure it up?"
"Ron! I don't even have a wand! Are you daft? We're in Malfoy Manor! The whole mansion is filled with things five trillion times worse than that Vipertooth!" Hermione explained.
Both of them still exasperated with the other could only pant and occasionally sneak a glance at the other.
Suddenly, the door behind Ron was ripped off its hinges—literally. Ron screamed, the magnitude of force used to tear down the door caused him to topple to the floor next to Hermione. They both began to back away from the approaching Vipertooth. The animal stood before them; they could see its large yellow eyes rolling in its copper-coloured head, staring at them each in turn.
"What do we do now?" Ron whimpered, making a face.
Hermione honestly did not know. She pursed her lips together, looking determined while she thought of anything that might help the situation. Peruvian Vipertooths are dangerous, their fangs are venomous, and they have been known to actually eat humans, meaning the one before them wasn't going to remain standing there, swishing its grand tail back and forth, all day long.
But before she could think of anything, the dragon had made its decision; it flew through the air at—
"Ron!" Hermione cried
"Hermione, help!" Ron screamed.
And just as the Vipertooth, its mouth wide-open baring two rows of sharp fangs, had reached the redhead, Hermione used all her strength to pull Ron into her—
"Aaaaaargh!" Ron wailed.
Hermione looked down at her friend; she saw a long gash along the left side of his lower torso.
"Ron!" She gasped.
She had no idea what to do with herself. Ron was completely out of it—the fangs of the Peruvian Vipertooth are venomous—fortunately not fatal, but dangerous nonetheless. Ron was breathing heavily and sweating hard and neither of them had a wand.
"This is hopeless!" She whispered; she had never felt this confused in her life.
"Hermione!" Ron hissed urgently, tugging on her shirt from where his head lay in her lap.
She looked up. The Vipertooth was about to strike again. It let out an awful roar, kicked out its legs, jumped up and flew straight at them.
They both screamed and as a last resort, Hermione hugged Ron tightly and turned over, putting her back between the dragon and her friend.
She could almost feel the dragon on her when suddenly, the dragon stopped mid-roar and let out an anguished screech of pain. Hermione's eyes widened, she turned around and was speechless at what she saw.
Harry was fighting the dragon with what looked like Godric Gryffindor's sword! He had stabbed the dragon's tail!
He came back! Was all Hermione could think.
Harry was much more experienced in fighting dangerous creatures and such—if he could survive a duel with the Dark Lord, a dragon couldn't be too much trouble. He rolled under the Vipertooth's tail, which had shot out and attempted to strike Harry. The boy jumped from side to side, face screwed up with concentration, trying to taunt the dragon and hopefully find an angle from which he could gain an advantage…and then he did!
The Vipertooth lurched at Harry and in doing so, had all its legs in the air. Harry took this chance to quickly roll under the dragon and then he inserted the sword into the dragon's underbelly and using all his might, sliced down the whole intestinal cavity, which immediately caused blood from the Vipertooth's open body to drench Harry, who jumped away from the dragon's falling and dead form just in time to avoid being squashed by it.
"Harry, are you all ri—?"
"Ron!" An alarmed Harry yelled. The blood all over his glasses disabled him from seeing, so he took them off and threw them aside as he rushed to his best friend's side. He constantly had to use his forearm to brush his blood-drenched hair off his face; he was dripping dragon blood all over the place. He turned to Hermione. "What happened to him?"
"Oh, Harry! The Peruvian Vipertooth's fangs! The fangs slashed his side!" Hermione said hysterically. Harry was about to suggest getting some of the bed sheets to create a kind of bandage for the wound, but then Hermione explained that the Vipertooth's fangs are venomous.
Harry wiped his bloody hands on the carpet and placed his hand on Ron's forehead. He had passed out during all the action and was feverish.
"We have to help him!"
"I know!" Harry growled.
Hermione winced at his tone.
"I know," he said again, trying to tame the frustration in his voice. He walked over to the dead dragon, pulled out the sword that was still buried in its body, and wiped off the blood on his pants. "I bet Lucius Malfoy himself could help us out."
Hermione gave him a quizzical look.
Harry placed the sword through the space between his pants and his belt as though an imaginary scabbard was at his waist. "I've got his Lord's sword, after all." He gave Hermione a mischievous smirk, patting the sword of Salazar Slytherin at his side. He then placed a clean-looking bed sheet around Ron's torso, bent down and took his friend in his arms, trying not to sag under Ron's weight, and looked at Hermione. "Let's go."
Ginny stared at Blaise Zabini's motionless form and then at the wand in her hand.
So Draco's alive, she finally allowed herself to think.
She walked over to where Draco lay and began examining the boy. Biting her lip with uncertainty, she kneeled next to him. Hopefully her elementary knowledge of healing charms would come to use now.
And she set to work.
Draco felt as though he was floating, which was mostly because he was floating.
He blinked over and over, but all he could see around him was pitch-black nothingness. It was quite odd in a way. What he saw was the same, whether he had his eyes opened or closed.
Then he heard something and his eyes were wide open out of instinct. From his peripheral vision, he spotted a striking blotch of red.
"Rain," he said in relief.
But he sensed something else and turned to the other side and saw—
"Rain?"
He frantically turned his head from left to right. Both girls before him were identical.
"R-rain?" He asked this time.
And without a moment's notice, both women had zoomed over to where he was and began circling around him at great speeds. They were going so fast that he could hear a muffled swooshing noise; however, when he listened closer, he realized the swooshing noise wasn't noise—they were whispering.
"Trust."
"Hope."
"Friendship."
"Betrayal."
"Blood."
"Hero."
"Love."
"Courage."
"Deceit."
When they spoke, their voices seemed to echo.
Not able to handle the confusion anymore, Draco grabbed fistfuls of his hair and tugged. "Arrrrgh! What do you want with me, Rain?"
And both women suddenly stopped and stood before Draco now.
"Do you not bleed?" The one to his left asked in the all too familiar gentle, yet haunting voice.
Then the one to his right came closer to him and extended an arm to touch his face. "Tell me, do you not bl—?"
In the middle of what she was saying, Draco firmly grabbed the woman's hand to prevent her from touching his face like… like that. Something was quivering at the edge of his mind, but he wasn't quite sure what.
"What do you mean by this bleeding business?" Draco asked furiously. "I've had enough of this, Rain!" He glared at the girl whose hand he held, but then remembering she might not be Rain, glared at the other girl, whose face was completely emotionless.
"You," he called out to the indifferent face. "Who are you?"
She only raised her eyes to his, but said nothing.
"I asked you a question! Dammit! Answer the question! Who are you?"
The girl simply stared at him sadly, then lowered her eyelids and turned away from him, not even looking back as her form receded.
"Wait!" Draco instinctively hollered after her, releasing the other girl's hand as he attempted to chase after the retreating girl. "Wait!" He cried again.
The girl turned around and Draco was taken aback by the emptiness in her eyes. Just knowing her cold as steel eyes were looking into him sent an icy chill down his spine. If he could just warm her a little…
Draco lifted his arm and his hand came near the girl's face; she watched his fingers until they were on her cheek.
She allowed him to hold her face there.
Draco saw the girl's ashen eyes glance at him when he had touched her face, then she lowered her eyelids to stare at the hand that was on her cheek. At that moment, a tiny smile slowly spread across her lips—they seemed redder now. When the girl looked up, Draco became so startled he removed his hand from the girl's face with an intake of cold air.
Her eyes were a never-ending shade of cinnamon-brown now. Before, she had seemed even paler than he had, but now color had flooded into her face, her bare forearms, and small legs; she looked as though she had a healthy tan from lazy days spent under a familiar sun. Her hair was still the same shade of ginger, but now it shone gold.
The mere sight of her was completely breathtaking to Draco.
"Do you not bleed?" The girl behind him said suddenly.
Jarred back to his senses, Draco turned around and saw the girl behind him looking very much different than she had moments before. Her fiery red hair was bent out of sorts into curls and she wore a long, lacy black dress.
"Do you not bleed?" She snarled again.
Before Draco could say anything, however, the girl next to him put her small hand on his shoulder. "I won't let you bleed, Draco."
Something inside him finally clicked and his eyes widened.
"Ginny?" He breathed.
"I won't let you bleed, Draco!" She said as she floated past him.
When Draco turned to see where she was going, it was too late for him to do anything. He saw the girl with the black dress coming at him full speed, her open mouth bearing long, pointy fangs. However, just before the woman crashed into him, "Ginny" had put herself in-between them.
The moment the fangs had made contact with "Ginny", her new, beautiful form shattered away into a million tiny pieces and disappeared into complete oblivion.
"Ginny!" Draco cried
But before he could completely consume what had just happened, the woman in black rammed into him and he felt her fangs sink deep into his throat. They toppled over and he lay on the ground, unable to move while the beast of a woman lay sprawled on the ground with him, her mouth still attached to his throat.
Everything began to appear blurry, the few colors around him were melting into each other, then all he saw was black and without warning, the black faded to a shocking shade of crimson—
"GINNY!"
Draco snapped open his eyes and all he saw was the crimson from his dream. But as he struggled into a half-sitting position, he realized the crimson he saw was hair.
"Gi—Weasley?" Draco gasped.
The girl before him smiled weakly, her kind eyes holding back tears. He looked her over and couldn't remember where she had gotten so many bruises and how she had come to look so bloody.
"Draco, you're all right!" Ginny finally gasped, lunging herself into his chest, hugging him tightly.
He looked down at Ginny, but then caught sight of his unbuttoned shirt—covered in his blood?
"Bloody hell!" Draco's unused voice croaked. He internally whacked himself for the bad pun and he pushed Ginny away from his torso. "Why am I—why are we covered in so much damn blood?" He asked, completely baffled, his fingers feeling around his throats for fang-scars. He found none.
Ginny silently forgave him for shoving her away so abruptly—she'd be confused, too, if she awoke to find herself drenched in her own blood.
"It's a long story," Ginny said. "But I checked all your wounds and they all seem to have healed themselves, oddly enough. And the blood on your shirt probably looks startling, but a teaspoon of blood can dye a whole shirt red—"
"—I know."
"—So don't worry about that. But even if you had been bleeding, you'd have nothing to worry about. I'm training to become a medi-witch, I'll have you know. I mean, I've had enough practice with healing my brothers and such. Like that one time—Goodness, I must sound like I'm rambling now!" She laughed nervously. "But don't worry, I would not let you bleed all over the place! Honestly, though! Do you really not remember anything that happened—?"
"You wouldn't let me bleed?" Draco suddenly asked.
"Well, of course not!" Ginny said slowly, a bit confused.
Draco then groaned and proceeded in massaging his temples. "Dear God," he croaked, finally remembering how his dream had ended.
He couldn't bear to look at Ginny—his savior—anymore. She may be a poor, stupid, Mudblood-loving twit, but this very twit had just saved his life.
That moment, he closed his eyes tightly and promised himself to get away from her as soon as he could make sure she was safe.
If his dream had been a prophecy, from this moment onward, he vowed to avoid its reoccurring at all costs.
Author's Note: Yay! I liked this chapter! 'Twas phun to write! Anyway, sorry for keeping Draco unconscious for so long in the fic! I imagine it must've become somewhat annoying and boring, eh? Oh well…now that he's conscious again, on to the D/G madness! waves flags around Go D/G!
Chapter 17: Most importantly, we'll find out what happens to Ron! And remember, the trio's little dilemma with Harry isn't completely solved just yet. D/G madness as well, and more of the professors! Jelly bean, anyone?
As always, thanks to my reviewers: Maureen, ugahill, bigreader, Spinn, Moogie, and seekerpeeker! Gotta luff yall!