Chapter 17: Clear As Mud
Harry and Hermione walked on in silence. Every so often, Harry would have to stop and readjust Ron's position in his arms; he refused to stop and rest even when Hermione had mentioned that the Vipertooth's fangs are only venomous, not fatal. Along with Slytherin's sword, Harry had also retrieved their wands, but had smacked Hermione's arm away when she had tried to apply Mobilicorpus to Ron's still form.
He felt absolutely awful for messing up again.
The whole world considered Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, to be the luckiest boy in the world. He had survived when the Dark Lord had come for his life when he was just a baby boy. He had escaped Voldemort's clutches every time his sworn enemy had come for his life. Harry would often scoff when he heard witches and wizards whispering about his accomplishments and achievements when he passed them at random in the middle of London. With such a mess of black hair poking out at every angle from his head, he was surprised people could still identify him by his scar.
Because his parents had died, he had survived Voldemort's first and second attack. Because Cedric had been a mere pawn at getting Harry to Voldemort, Cedric had died. Because the Dark Lord was so bent on getting rid of him, Mr. Weasley had come close to dying and his one, his only, the first and last person he had ever cared for… Sirius had lost his life… but at least Harry had survived. Yes, how lucky, indeed.
Harry raised his shoulder to wipe off a trail of dragon blood that rolled off his hair and onto his cheek. His arms ached and he was so tired. He wasn't even eighteen, yet he felt like an old man. Every time he took a step with his left leg, Salazar Slytherin's sword would bang against the length of his leg and he felt as though every bang sent a flurry of vibrations through his body. He was blinking repetitively now and he knew Hermione was saying something to him—he could see her mouth moving, but he didn't have the will to hear her anymore. His body didn't want to hear anything anymore. He found himself wishing a familiar wish all over again—he wished so hard that all of this was over. Selfish as the wish might be, he wished that so many years ago, Voldemort had succeeded in killing him when he was a little baby. His parents could have gotten away, Cedric would still be alive, Ron would be living happily with a healthy Mr. Weasley at the Burrow, Hermione would continue on with her studies, and most of all, his beloved Sirius would still be alive.
He continued walking, but he had his eyes closed now. Behind his closed lids, he could imagine a day last year at Hogsmeade. It was snowing and he, Ron and Hermione had had a snowball fight. Ron, naturally, had won since he could run farther with his long legs and could throw harder with his long, sturdy arms. Hermione had been clever about it all and had found a systematic way to dodge most of the snowballs headed her way, but Harry had tried to duck in the snow when snowballs came his way, which proved not to be very effective as he was completely soaked after they had tired.
And now he saw himself sitting at The Three Broomsticks, sandwiched between his two best friends, watching their coats, scarves, hats, and gloves dry in front of a fire while they thawed their insides with warm butterbeer. Harry saw Ron was saying something—he could only see his mouth moving, but he remembered what it had been that Ron was talking about: Draco Malfoy's Russian snow hat.
"He thinks he's so extravagant in that foreign piece of junk, but he just looks like Hitler!" Harry remembered Ron had said. Then Hermione had looked at him with awe, surprised that Ron actually knew about Muggle history, but Harry remembered Ron had looked up Hitler in Hermione's Muggle history books just so he could effectively make fun of Malfoy's hat. They had had a good laugh over the issue. Harry watched himself and his friends laughing heartily… how he wished days as simple as those would—could return…
- - -
"Harry!"
Harry felt someone's fingers digging into his shoulder, shaking him furiously.
"Harry! Oh, Harry! Harry! Please wake up!"
Harry's eyes snapped open. He was sitting against the wall and Hermione had been the one yelling at him to wake up.
"Harry, how do you feel?"
"A little dizzy," is what he felt like saying. "Like crap," is what he might've liked to say, but instead, he muttered, "Fine," ignoring the fact that his vision kept blurring every few seconds.
Then he turned and saw Ron's still form was leaning against the wall opposite him. His friend had sweated a lot; almost his whole shirt was drenched. He would be angry to find out his Chudley Cannons shirt was ruined. Ron's mouth hung open as he slept and occasionally let out an obnoxiously loud snore.
"What happened?" Harry stuttered, though he knew the answer already.
"You fainted, Harry," Hermione said with a stern, yet sad look in her eyes.
Harry drew his knees up, put a hand to his forehead, and heaved a grand breath before proceeding in getting up and preparing to carry Ron again. However, he could not; Hermione had pushed him back to the floor.
"Harry! You just fainted! Do us all a favor and rest just a little so you don't end up fainting the whole way to wherever it is you're taking us!" Hermione huffed. "Do you even know where you're taking us? Also, it isn't even your fault Ron's hurt! If anyone could take part of the blame, I could since I was there when the Vipertooth injured him, but even I know it wasn't my fault! So, just because you feel bad about Ron doesn't mean you need to walk around Malfoy Manor, aimlessly, no doubt, carrying Ron in your arms the whole time even though you've been blessed with the knowledge of magic. Oh yeah, you're also hurting yourself along the way!" Though Harry was propped against the wall, Hermione took her hand and pushed Harry's right shoulder. "I know you're used to playing hero, and that's great, Harry, I support that, really, I do! But if you go hurting yourself so carelessly, there'll be no one left to play that hero." The look on Hermione's face softened. "I know you have a lot to be upset over, Harry, but I also know that you're perfectly aware of the fact that Ron and I told you to come to us if you ever have any problems. You haven't been yourself as of late, Harry, and I bet you feel terribly clever for hiding it from us, but as ignorant as Ron and I may seem, we're going to notice if there's something wrong with you. Judging from what's just happened with you and from other things that Ron and I have both witnessed, there is something wrong with you—you're hurting, we can tell, and I really wish you'd tell us what's up, Harry. I know there are some things you want to keep to yourself and I respect that, but I really wish you'd tell us what's wrong. You're hurting yourself, Harry, and if that doesn't matter to you, just know that you're hurting us, too."
Harry didn't take his eyes off Hermione's face the whole time she spoke, and now that she had finished, he didn't know what to say. He didn't think he really had anything to say.
He had messed up again.
Hermione stared at Harry, waiting for him to at least say something, maybe even grunt. But it didn't look like he was going to say anything at all, so with a depressing sigh, she too leaned against the wall next to Harry.
But before she was able to form another thought, she saw Harry move from the corner of her eye. She had thought he was going to try and pick up Ron again, but she internally scoffed at herself when she saw that all Harry had done was slid down lower on the wall so that he was slouching and had turned his head so that he could see both Ron and herself through the corners of his eyes.
"I… I'm sorry," Harry finally said in a low, deep voice.
Hermione, glad that Harry had finally decided to remotely open up to her, responded immediately. "Harry, I told you, it's not your fault what happened—"
"No," Harry said a bit louder to signal Hermione to stop speaking. "I mean… I mean I'm sorry for… I'm sorry for leaving you two earlier tonight."
Hermione was taken aback. He had come back, so she didn't think they'd be talking now, of all times, about his leaving them in the first place. "Well, you came back, though," Hermione said a bit uncertainly. "You came back because you went to find our wands, right? And in doing so you probably stumbled upon Salazar Slytherin's sword, right?"
Harry still wasn't looking directly at Hermione.
Tears were welling up in Hermione's eyes and she didn't know why. "Isn't that right, Harry? Tell me," she pleaded.
"I…" Harry began to say in a croaky voice. He ran a hand through his blood-stiffened hair; his eyes were small and squinted, focusing on a random spot on the floor in front of him. He took a deep breath and started from a different angle. "Hermione, I knew I was hurting you—you and Ron both. I knew, and I'm terribly sorry for that, I am, honestly!" The words tumbled out of his mouth. "My whole life I have been a burden to people!" He could see Hermione shaking her head 'no', staring at him longingly with tear-filled eyes. "Don't deny it, Hermione! My parents died because of me! Cedric, Sirius, and hundreds of other people died on account of my existence! And then there's you two." Harry finally looked up at Hermione and she understood why he had been looking down the whole time. While she had been trying to hold back her tears, Harry had already begun to cry. "You two are the best friends anyone could ever have, and I mean it! You're always there for me; you not only say it, but do it as well, and I feel blessed to have found two people such as you and Ron. But…" Harry looked up at the ceiling as if the words he wanted to say were written there. He finally looked down at Hermione again; he wasn't crying anymore. "But why do you two have to be so damn faithful?" He sighed.
"Harry, I—"
"Hermione, I left tonight because I don't want to be around you anymore. I don't want to be around you or Ron. The total time I spent with Sirius in my whole life is less than a month! I hardly even knew him! I only brushed shoulders with Cedric on the Quidditch pitch! I knew him as a fantastic Quidditch player. And… and my parents… I didn't know them at all. I can't even remember them! They're all gone because of me, Hermione, and I don't want the same to happen to you and Ron, too. It's like I have three shadows, y'know?" Harry sniffed. "I'm grateful for you two, I already said that, but people aren't supposed to have three shadows… they're only supposed to have one."
Hermione was speechless. She didn't understand what Harry was trying to say and Harry could see that.
"I don't want you two to get hurt," he glanced at Ron, "or worse than just hurt because of me. I don't have anyone else besides you two, Hermione." And with that, he was finished. He turned away from Hermione, wondering what would happen from there.
And a moment later, he felt a weight on his shoulder. As he turned to see what it was, his chin brushed against something familiarly bushy. Hermione had laid her head on his shoulder.
Harry stiffened.
"I love you, Harry," Hermione said in her small, soft voice, closing her eyes.
Harry's eyes were plates on his face, but he dared not move.
Well…this is a bit awkward… he thought.
But then Hermione continued. "I love you and Ron both, Harry." She snuggled up closer to him; she was shivering for some reason. "And I know Ron loves us very much, too. Love is a very strong word, and that's why I'm using it. You and your mother are bonded by her strong love for you, and in a similar way, the three of us are bonded, Harry, and just because you're uncomfortable with it doesn't change a thing. It takes so much more than that to break a bond so strong, Harry, and I'm sure you know that from first-hand experience. So I guess I'm sorry, Harry… because death is the only thing that'll ever make me leave your side."
Harry felt an odd warm, yet cold feeling in his chest. He felt as though a great weight had been lifted from his burden, yet another heavier weight was placed in the same spot to replace it. But he already knew what it meant. For so long he was worried Hermione and Ron would get hurt on his account, but Hermione's reassuring had finally made him think otherwise. He was more than glad that he could always count on Hermione and Ron to be at his side, but unlike he who had not had the chance to choose who he would be, Hermione and Ron were at his side by choice.
Suddenly, however, the whole moment was ruined by a chilling voice that drawled, it seemed, forever. Hermione's head shot up from Harry's shoulder and they both stiffened, eyes wide with surprise, too shocked to turn around and see whom it was.
"How wise. A slumber party in the middle of Malfoy Manor."
- - -
"Well," Ginny broke the silence.
Draco was still staring into the air, clearly thinking deeply about something.
Ginny coughed a bit. "Well," she said a bit louder. "I… I, uh… I guess we ought to, uh—"
Draco finally spoke again. "Before we do anything, I need to change my shirt."
"What?" Ginny blurted out. "I know we're at your house and all, but all you can think of now is to change your shirt?"
"Yes," Draco said simply.
He slowly began getting up, unconsciously using Ginny's shoulders for support.
"Where're you going?" She asked, still confused.
"To my room," Draco said as if it were the most obvious answer to her question.
"For a shirt," Ginny said flatly.
"I believe we've already had this discussion." With that, Draco began to casually walk away and Ginny could only stare. When he got to the entrance of the dungeon room they were in, Draco turned around and looked at her. "You're coming, aren't you?"
"To your room?" Ginny gawked.
Draco shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and raised both eyebrows in response. Ginny was still staring, so he turned back around and began walking away again. And to his pleasure, moments later he heard Ginny's delicate footsteps following after him.
- - -
"My Lord—"
"Not now," a deep, loud voice boomed from somewhere in the elaborately emerald office.
"My Lord, please," Lucius Malfoy said again with more feeling.
"What is it?" The voice sighed lazily.
Mr. Malfoy waited to answer while a large amount of smoke materialized before him, which moments later resembled the face of the Dark Lord himself.
"May I say, my Lord, how honored I am to speak with you again—"
"Get to the point!" Voldemort hollered.
"Right, yes, forgive me, my Lord," Malfoy trailed off. "But, the wands. Potter's stolen the wands from us."
Voldemort chortled. "He can't have stolen them as they were his and his friends' wands to begin with. Worry not, Lucius. There is little they can do to us with their wands as opposed to without their wands. Those incompetent children are tired as well! I would've let them have their wands in due time. It's the least I can do… as I am going to kill them all… eventually…"
"My Lord," Mr. Malfoy addressed him again. "I beg of you not to take Potter so lightly."
There was an uncomfortable silence.
Even within the smoke, the furrowed brows of Voldemort were apparent. "I sense there is something more you have failed to mention to me as of yet?"
For the first time during the conversation, Lucius Malfoy took his eyes off Voldemort. "Your sword, my Lord," he trailed off.
"What about it?"
The smoke around Voldemort's head began to change into a blood red color.
"It's with Potter. He took that, too."
And as the words left his mouth, the large quantity of smoke before him vanished and Tom Riddle walked out from its fading form. Before Lucius Malfoy could so much as greet the younger version of his Lord, a shriek that could've been heard through all the lands, had Malfoy Manor not been charmed against outside interference, was emitted from Mr. Malfoy's mouth.
A sly smirk slithered across Riddle's face as he hissed again, watching the writhing form of Lucius Malfoy at his feet. "Crucio!"
- - -
By now, Ginny was aware that Draco knew she was following him and Draco was aware that Ginny knew that he was aware that she was following him. However, they spoke not a single word through the several corridors they tiptoed along and up the innumerable spiraling staircases they ventured beyond.
And after what seemed like hours, Ginny finally saw Draco stop in front of a door, not the least bit tired or exhausted from turning so many corners and directions.
The door looked like all the other doors in Malfoy Manor. It was painted a dark black color—probably expensive ebony wood. The carvings on the wooden door were eccentric, macabre, and gorgeous all at once. The image on Draco's postern looked like several black crows flying through an enigmatic black night. And there seemed to be nothing special about the doorknob, as it was the shape of an ordinary doorknob, save the fact that a silver serpent with emeralds for eyes was coiled around the knob. Ginny looked about and noted that the serpents on different doorknobs were coiled around the knobs in different fashions. The one on Draco's doorknob was coiled in a simple spiral form around the doorknob, but the head, with the glowing green eyes, peeked out from under the knob with a most sinister look present on its face.
Ginny shivered as she looked at the door and then the doorknob. Something so beautiful looked so unappealing. She closed her eyes, imagining Draco's hand reaching out for the doorknob and the snake on the doorknob uncoiling and striking his hand. She willed her eyes to open to stop the mini-nightmare and instantaneously moved closer to where Draco stood.
To her relief, he didn't touch the doorknob at all. He reached for his wand, which had been haphazardly stuffed in his back pocket, and with it, touched the beaks of three specific crows. She could tell he wasn't choosing the crows at random because first he stood on tiptoe to touch a crow at the top left corner of the door, then bent down to tap the beak of a crow near the bottom, then stood up again to touch the beak of a third crow that was a little to the upper right of the doorknob.
With that, Draco stepped back and Ginny blinked several times as she watched the carvings of all the crows disappear into the black door of Draco's room. When all the crows were gone, the door looked so black that Ginny felt that if someone were to lean against it, he or she would fall right through into an endless pit of darkness.
She edged closer to Draco, but he didn't notice and slowly walked toward the door. He looked it up and down, examined here and there, and without a single word to her, stepped right through the door!
Ginny gawked. Draco was gone! He had stepped through the door! Through it!
Still staring with her mouth wide open, Ginny noticed the crows reappearing on the door. Panicked, she jumped after Draco, disappearing into the darkness.
Just as her form had vanished into the door, all the crows immediately reappeared and all was back to normal… or so it seemed.
The serpent on Draco's doorknob slithered so slowly and so stealthily that a person staring straight at the doorknob might not have noticed. And in a minute's time, the snake's head now rested on top of the doorknob—its eyes wide open, now revealing two crimson red rubies for eyes.
- - -
Harry and Hermione sat so rigidly in shock that their forms didn't even shake as their insides shivered with fright.
Then, gathering all his courage, Harry suddenly sprang up from where he sat, wand in hand, and proceeded in shouting out the first spell that came to mind. "Riddikul—!"
However, the enemy was prepared for Harry. "Expelliarmus! Petrificus totalus!"
Hermione screamed as the force of both spells caused Harry's body to be catapulted to the opposite wall. He lay still and petrified on the floor after he hit the wall.
Then Hermione's eyes widened and her jaw dropped in shock when she saw who it was. "Professor Snape?" Of all people, it was clear that he was the last person she expected to see at that very moment. But when Hagrid rounded the corner, followed by Dumbledore, she took back that thought.
"Professor! What've ye done ta 'Arry?" Hagrid growled.
Snape looked down at Harry's petrified form with narrowed eyes filled to the rims with dislike. He pocketed Harry's wand, folded his arms and tried to hide a smirk as he muttered almost inaudibly, "I've always wanted to do that."
Hermione rolled her eyes at that. How immature! Is he still angry that Harry's "Expelliarmus" spell from third year knocked him out?
Dumbledore stepped through the space between Hagrid and Snape and waved his large, purple wand about. "Finite incantatem."
Hermione saw Harry blink and weakly stare aghast at the three professors before him. "Snape?" He finally gaped.
"That was my first thought, too," is what Hermione was about to say, but Dumbledore quickly cut in.
"Professor Snape," the wrinkled headmaster corrected as he smiled and bent down to help Harry to his feet.
- - -
Ginny was about to scream, but she suddenly landed on the floor of the other side of the "darkness". She lay on her stomach since she had more leapt than stepped through the door.
"That was a stupid thing to do," Draco said offhandedly.
"As if I should've known that stepping through some… some freaky door… thing was going to take me to your room! Sure, it could've been somewhat understandable at any other house, but this is your house. Your father's house."
Ginny quickly got back on her feet. It baffled her that the mere atmosphere of Draco's room made it feel okay to talk again.
"Well, we're safe in here for now," Draco said as he casually walked over to his closet.
Ginny watched Draco open the closet door. Most of Draco's shirts were button-up dress shirts, most of which were black or dark colors. Feeling a bit awkward, she spotted Draco's large four-poster bed pushed against the far wall of the large room; she walked over to it and quietly sat, observing Draco finger through his clothing items.
Draco parted the shirts at one section of his wardrobe and pulled out a long-sleeved emerald dress shirt. He held it at arm's length, tilting his head a little while he examined it with a slight frown on his face. Finally satisfied, he hung it on the door of the closet and went back to fingering through the clothes. In the same fashion, he parted the clothes somewhere in the middle of the hung clothes and pulled out another shirt that looked just like the first, except this one was a dark red color.
Draping both shirts over his right arm, Draco walked over to where Ginny was sitting. "Here," he said, holding the emerald shirt out to Ginny.
She stared at it.
Annoyed, Draco dropped the shirt into her lap.
"What do you want me to do with it?" She asked at last.
"Wear it," Draco said, rolling his eyes.
Ginny stared at the shirt. "Why?" She asked, completely confused. "And why, may I ask, of all colors, did you have to pick out green for me—" she looked at his arm. "—And red for you? It's a bit ironic, isn't it?"
"Nothing about this is ironic, Weasley." Draco took off his already unbuttoned, bloody shirt and discarded it on the floor. He stood in front of Ginny with his bare chest as he took his red shirt off the hanger it was on. He didn't notice Ginny look him over, gulp, and scoot back a bit more on the bed. "The green shirt is smaller than the red one. They both fit me, but if you insist on me color-coordinating us, then you're more than welcome to drown in this shirt." Draco said as he swung it around his back and allowed both his arms to slide through the sleeve-lengths.
After Draco had finished buttoning his shirtfront, Ginny only said, "Oh." She thought she'd wait for him to tuck in his shirt before she said anything more, but he left his shirt untucked.
"What?" Draco asked, staring at Ginny oddly.
Ginny mouthed wordlessly for a bit, "Well... well, don't look at me!" She yelled.
Draco furrowed his eyebrows and took a step backward, slightly confused. "I thought you didn't want my shirt."
Ginny got up, furiously pushing Draco away. She didn't even know the geography of Draco's room, nor where she was pushing him to, but she pushed anyway. "Don't look!"
Draco finally turned around and placed his weight on his legs to stop Ginny from pushing him any further. "My God! Just rip my head off and spit in my neck, why don't you? If you'd just asked, I would've turned around—see?" Draco turned his back to Ginny and crossed his arms over his chest.
After a few moments of not hearing any movements behind him, Draco took a tiny peek at what Ginny was doing…which was nothing. He turned back around. "Why aren't you changing? We haven't got all our lives or all day, mind you!"
"Get out." Ginny said simply, crossing her arms and tapping her foot.
"Of the room?" Draco asked aghast. "Of my room?"
"Yes," Ginny answered as though it was obvious that he ought to leave the room.
"I already told you I wasn't going to look!"
"I don't care what you told me! Get out!" Ginny ordered.
Draco sighed and put a hand to his temple. "Fine. Go in the closet. Close the door and take as bloody long as you want."
Ginny's face had been crinkled from the expression she had been making, but seeing sense in Draco's idea, the muscles on her face relaxed. She looked at the closet door, then nodded at Draco in approval. "I'll only be a minute." She gave him a small smile and went into the closet.
As the door closed, Draco grumbled to himself and sat on the bed where Ginny had previously been positioned. "Even Gryffindor women are intolerable!" He huffed. "Not that that ought to be surprising." And he then put his head in his hand as he looked at his reflection on the black tile floor.
"I imagine they are intolerable... women…"
Startled, Draco looked up, his platinum bangs flying through the air as he did so. That voice…
Draco turned around and felt all his muscles tighten when he saw Tom Riddle standing in front of his door. He kicked himself internally for having forgotten to set the crows back to normal on the door after he'd entered his room.
"Draco," Riddle hissed, elongating the vowels in his name. "After what I'd sent Miss Zabini out to do, I thought our meetings might've been… punctured." A long, thin smile curved along the bottom half of his face. "I guess not." He said lightly as he walked over to Draco. "Which is good… my fellow—"
Draco narrowed his eyes. "What do you want?"
"Don't be so demanding, my boy! Your well being is at my will, I'll have you know. As I'm quite sure you know… just as you know other things." Riddle ended the statement as if it were a question.
"You're mad," Draco said through clenched teeth.
"Oh, I know. So terribly mad. But still, you knew that. Just as you know where… the Weasley girl is?" He stretched out the first syllable of Ginny's last name.
"Like I'd let her hang around me," Draco scoffed.
The smile on Riddle's face faded and he brought his face close to Draco's. "Do you lie to me, boy?"
Draco's mouth was a thin line on his face and his gray eyes were on fire.
"You know where she is," Riddle said.
Draco then tried to move away from Tom Riddle but found he couldn't. It was as if the muscles in his body had all been frozen.
"I can see it in your eyes." And as Riddle said that, the small head of a snake with curiously crimson red eyes slithered out from under Tom Riddle's cloak and now sat on Riddle's shoulder, its neck stretched to where it was only a centimeter away from the center of Draco's neck. Draco could feel himself sweating and his heart racing.
"I'll ask again," Riddle said more lazily. "Do you know where the girl is—?" Draco wasn't listening; he was eyeing the snake. "Don't mind the snake. He won't strike unless ordered to do so." Riddle waved his hand and Draco felt a slight tension relieved from his body; he could use his muscles again. "The girl?"
Draco slowly began backing away, but after one step, then two, then three, he saw that the snake would always adjust itself so it was just a centimeter away from striking. Still eyeing the snake, Draco stuttered, "I…I…I've no idea. I've no idea where she is." Draco answered, keeping his voice steady to satisfy himself rather than Riddle.
Then something wet and slippery touched Draco's neck. He knew it was the snake. He felt its long, skinny body creep around the nape of his neck ever so slowly. Now its whole body was out of Riddle's robes, its head resting on Draco's right shoulder as the rest of the snake's body hung from Draco as a scarf might.
"You're quite sure?" A sinister grin spread over Riddle's face.
Draco was breathing hard. He knew if his next answer didn't please Tom Riddle, the snake would most likely strike. So, without thought, Draco grabbed the snake's tail and began to swing it around his head, pleased to see Riddle back away. However, when he saw that the tail-end of the snake had transformed into its head and its head had transformed into its tail, therefore making the snake's vexed head be in Draco's fist, Draco yelled and flung it at Riddle.
The man screamed and as he used his wand to subdue the oncoming snake, Draco quickly grabbed his own wand from his back pocket. Nostrils flared and intentions set, he hollered, "AVADA KEDAVRA!"
Ginny was hearing everything from where she stood in the closet, but at hearing that, her heart sank.
Riddle's eyes widened as they focused on the tip of Draco's wand. There was a sudden flash of light, and then… nothing…
Author's Note: Yay! I ended this chapter exactly like Erika (ugahill) ended chapter 6 of In the Shadows! Though no one really ought to care if Riddle dies or not… but that's not what's important here. Will Draco become a murderer? Or will Riddle have some odd Dark Lord-ish way to get out of this fix? -cue collective gasping- Duh, you have to wait for the next chapter to find out! And I suppose the chapter title fits quite well with what I've left you with. Unless you know me, you're not quite sure if I ship H/Hr or R/Hr and no one's quite sure what's going on with Draco, hence the chapter title, Clear As Mud… since mud isn't that clear. -laughs- Go me for lamely creative titles!!
Also, I will be roaming Europe (including London, England! Go Harry Potter! -waves flags-) for a good portion of June and the last bit of May, so DINB18 may come out a bit later than usual. But can ya blame me?! ;) EUROPE!!
Chapter 18: Of course, we'll have to find out what happens in our Draco/Riddle mini-duel and how that does or does not affect Ginny. Also, the Harry/Hermione/Ron issue isn't quite settled, as Ron's still unconscious and there may be some wild teenage hormones flying about! We'll see!
Yay! Thanks to my lovely reviewers: ugahill, bigreader, Jonah, Spinn, Eiko, and Grace. Yall're kewwwl and keep the wheels churnin'!! ;)
Harry and Hermione walked on in silence. Every so often, Harry would have to stop and readjust Ron's position in his arms; he refused to stop and rest even when Hermione had mentioned that the Vipertooth's fangs are only venomous, not fatal. Along with Slytherin's sword, Harry had also retrieved their wands, but had smacked Hermione's arm away when she had tried to apply Mobilicorpus to Ron's still form.
He felt absolutely awful for messing up again.
The whole world considered Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, to be the luckiest boy in the world. He had survived when the Dark Lord had come for his life when he was just a baby boy. He had escaped Voldemort's clutches every time his sworn enemy had come for his life. Harry would often scoff when he heard witches and wizards whispering about his accomplishments and achievements when he passed them at random in the middle of London. With such a mess of black hair poking out at every angle from his head, he was surprised people could still identify him by his scar.
Because his parents had died, he had survived Voldemort's first and second attack. Because Cedric had been a mere pawn at getting Harry to Voldemort, Cedric had died. Because the Dark Lord was so bent on getting rid of him, Mr. Weasley had come close to dying and his one, his only, the first and last person he had ever cared for… Sirius had lost his life… but at least Harry had survived. Yes, how lucky, indeed.
Harry raised his shoulder to wipe off a trail of dragon blood that rolled off his hair and onto his cheek. His arms ached and he was so tired. He wasn't even eighteen, yet he felt like an old man. Every time he took a step with his left leg, Salazar Slytherin's sword would bang against the length of his leg and he felt as though every bang sent a flurry of vibrations through his body. He was blinking repetitively now and he knew Hermione was saying something to him—he could see her mouth moving, but he didn't have the will to hear her anymore. His body didn't want to hear anything anymore. He found himself wishing a familiar wish all over again—he wished so hard that all of this was over. Selfish as the wish might be, he wished that so many years ago, Voldemort had succeeded in killing him when he was a little baby. His parents could have gotten away, Cedric would still be alive, Ron would be living happily with a healthy Mr. Weasley at the Burrow, Hermione would continue on with her studies, and most of all, his beloved Sirius would still be alive.
He continued walking, but he had his eyes closed now. Behind his closed lids, he could imagine a day last year at Hogsmeade. It was snowing and he, Ron and Hermione had had a snowball fight. Ron, naturally, had won since he could run farther with his long legs and could throw harder with his long, sturdy arms. Hermione had been clever about it all and had found a systematic way to dodge most of the snowballs headed her way, but Harry had tried to duck in the snow when snowballs came his way, which proved not to be very effective as he was completely soaked after they had tired.
And now he saw himself sitting at The Three Broomsticks, sandwiched between his two best friends, watching their coats, scarves, hats, and gloves dry in front of a fire while they thawed their insides with warm butterbeer. Harry saw Ron was saying something—he could only see his mouth moving, but he remembered what it had been that Ron was talking about: Draco Malfoy's Russian snow hat.
"He thinks he's so extravagant in that foreign piece of junk, but he just looks like Hitler!" Harry remembered Ron had said. Then Hermione had looked at him with awe, surprised that Ron actually knew about Muggle history, but Harry remembered Ron had looked up Hitler in Hermione's Muggle history books just so he could effectively make fun of Malfoy's hat. They had had a good laugh over the issue. Harry watched himself and his friends laughing heartily… how he wished days as simple as those would—could return…
"Harry!"
Harry felt someone's fingers digging into his shoulder, shaking him furiously.
"Harry! Oh, Harry! Harry! Please wake up!"
Harry's eyes snapped open. He was sitting against the wall and Hermione had been the one yelling at him to wake up.
"Harry, how do you feel?"
"A little dizzy," is what he felt like saying. "Like crap," is what he might've liked to say, but instead, he muttered, "Fine," ignoring the fact that his vision kept blurring every few seconds.
Then he turned and saw Ron's still form was leaning against the wall opposite him. His friend had sweated a lot; almost his whole shirt was drenched. He would be angry to find out his Chudley Cannons shirt was ruined. Ron's mouth hung open as he slept and occasionally let out an obnoxiously loud snore.
"What happened?" Harry stuttered, though he knew the answer already.
"You fainted, Harry," Hermione said with a stern, yet sad look in her eyes.
Harry drew his knees up, put a hand to his forehead, and heaved a grand breath before proceeding in getting up and preparing to carry Ron again. However, he could not; Hermione had pushed him back to the floor.
"Harry! You just fainted! Do us all a favor and rest just a little so you don't end up fainting the whole way to wherever it is you're taking us!" Hermione huffed. "Do you even know where you're taking us? Also, it isn't even your fault Ron's hurt! If anyone could take part of the blame, I could since I was there when the Vipertooth injured him, but even I know it wasn't my fault! So, just because you feel bad about Ron doesn't mean you need to walk around Malfoy Manor, aimlessly, no doubt, carrying Ron in your arms the whole time even though you've been blessed with the knowledge of magic. Oh yeah, you're also hurting yourself along the way!" Though Harry was propped against the wall, Hermione took her hand and pushed Harry's right shoulder. "I know you're used to playing hero, and that's great, Harry, I support that, really, I do! But if you go hurting yourself so carelessly, there'll be no one left to play that hero." The look on Hermione's face softened. "I know you have a lot to be upset over, Harry, but I also know that you're perfectly aware of the fact that Ron and I told you to come to us if you ever have any problems. You haven't been yourself as of late, Harry, and I bet you feel terribly clever for hiding it from us, but as ignorant as Ron and I may seem, we're going to notice if there's something wrong with you. Judging from what's just happened with you and from other things that Ron and I have both witnessed, there is something wrong with you—you're hurting, we can tell, and I really wish you'd tell us what's up, Harry. I know there are some things you want to keep to yourself and I respect that, but I really wish you'd tell us what's wrong. You're hurting yourself, Harry, and if that doesn't matter to you, just know that you're hurting us, too."
Harry didn't take his eyes off Hermione's face the whole time she spoke, and now that she had finished, he didn't know what to say. He didn't think he really had anything to say.
He had messed up again.
Hermione stared at Harry, waiting for him to at least say something, maybe even grunt. But it didn't look like he was going to say anything at all, so with a depressing sigh, she too leaned against the wall next to Harry.
But before she was able to form another thought, she saw Harry move from the corner of her eye. She had thought he was going to try and pick up Ron again, but she internally scoffed at herself when she saw that all Harry had done was slid down lower on the wall so that he was slouching and had turned his head so that he could see both Ron and herself through the corners of his eyes.
"I… I'm sorry," Harry finally said in a low, deep voice.
Hermione, glad that Harry had finally decided to remotely open up to her, responded immediately. "Harry, I told you, it's not your fault what happened—"
"No," Harry said a bit louder to signal Hermione to stop speaking. "I mean… I mean I'm sorry for… I'm sorry for leaving you two earlier tonight."
Hermione was taken aback. He had come back, so she didn't think they'd be talking now, of all times, about his leaving them in the first place. "Well, you came back, though," Hermione said a bit uncertainly. "You came back because you went to find our wands, right? And in doing so you probably stumbled upon Salazar Slytherin's sword, right?"
Harry still wasn't looking directly at Hermione.
Tears were welling up in Hermione's eyes and she didn't know why. "Isn't that right, Harry? Tell me," she pleaded.
"I…" Harry began to say in a croaky voice. He ran a hand through his blood-stiffened hair; his eyes were small and squinted, focusing on a random spot on the floor in front of him. He took a deep breath and started from a different angle. "Hermione, I knew I was hurting you—you and Ron both. I knew, and I'm terribly sorry for that, I am, honestly!" The words tumbled out of his mouth. "My whole life I have been a burden to people!" He could see Hermione shaking her head 'no', staring at him longingly with tear-filled eyes. "Don't deny it, Hermione! My parents died because of me! Cedric, Sirius, and hundreds of other people died on account of my existence! And then there's you two." Harry finally looked up at Hermione and she understood why he had been looking down the whole time. While she had been trying to hold back her tears, Harry had already begun to cry. "You two are the best friends anyone could ever have, and I mean it! You're always there for me; you not only say it, but do it as well, and I feel blessed to have found two people such as you and Ron. But…" Harry looked up at the ceiling as if the words he wanted to say were written there. He finally looked down at Hermione again; he wasn't crying anymore. "But why do you two have to be so damn faithful?" He sighed.
"Harry, I—"
"Hermione, I left tonight because I don't want to be around you anymore. I don't want to be around you or Ron. The total time I spent with Sirius in my whole life is less than a month! I hardly even knew him! I only brushed shoulders with Cedric on the Quidditch pitch! I knew him as a fantastic Quidditch player. And… and my parents… I didn't know them at all. I can't even remember them! They're all gone because of me, Hermione, and I don't want the same to happen to you and Ron, too. It's like I have three shadows, y'know?" Harry sniffed. "I'm grateful for you two, I already said that, but people aren't supposed to have three shadows… they're only supposed to have one."
Hermione was speechless. She didn't understand what Harry was trying to say and Harry could see that.
"I don't want you two to get hurt," he glanced at Ron, "or worse than just hurt because of me. I don't have anyone else besides you two, Hermione." And with that, he was finished. He turned away from Hermione, wondering what would happen from there.
And a moment later, he felt a weight on his shoulder. As he turned to see what it was, his chin brushed against something familiarly bushy. Hermione had laid her head on his shoulder.
Harry stiffened.
"I love you, Harry," Hermione said in her small, soft voice, closing her eyes.
Harry's eyes were plates on his face, but he dared not move.
Well…this is a bit awkward… he thought.
But then Hermione continued. "I love you and Ron both, Harry." She snuggled up closer to him; she was shivering for some reason. "And I know Ron loves us very much, too. Love is a very strong word, and that's why I'm using it. You and your mother are bonded by her strong love for you, and in a similar way, the three of us are bonded, Harry, and just because you're uncomfortable with it doesn't change a thing. It takes so much more than that to break a bond so strong, Harry, and I'm sure you know that from first-hand experience. So I guess I'm sorry, Harry… because death is the only thing that'll ever make me leave your side."
Harry felt an odd warm, yet cold feeling in his chest. He felt as though a great weight had been lifted from his burden, yet another heavier weight was placed in the same spot to replace it. But he already knew what it meant. For so long he was worried Hermione and Ron would get hurt on his account, but Hermione's reassuring had finally made him think otherwise. He was more than glad that he could always count on Hermione and Ron to be at his side, but unlike he who had not had the chance to choose who he would be, Hermione and Ron were at his side by choice.
Suddenly, however, the whole moment was ruined by a chilling voice that drawled, it seemed, forever. Hermione's head shot up from Harry's shoulder and they both stiffened, eyes wide with surprise, too shocked to turn around and see whom it was.
"How wise. A slumber party in the middle of Malfoy Manor."
"Well," Ginny broke the silence.
Draco was still staring into the air, clearly thinking deeply about something.
Ginny coughed a bit. "Well," she said a bit louder. "I… I, uh… I guess we ought to, uh—"
Draco finally spoke again. "Before we do anything, I need to change my shirt."
"What?" Ginny blurted out. "I know we're at your house and all, but all you can think of now is to change your shirt?"
"Yes," Draco said simply.
He slowly began getting up, unconsciously using Ginny's shoulders for support.
"Where're you going?" She asked, still confused.
"To my room," Draco said as if it were the most obvious answer to her question.
"For a shirt," Ginny said flatly.
"I believe we've already had this discussion." With that, Draco began to casually walk away and Ginny could only stare. When he got to the entrance of the dungeon room they were in, Draco turned around and looked at her. "You're coming, aren't you?"
"To your room?" Ginny gawked.
Draco shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and raised both eyebrows in response. Ginny was still staring, so he turned back around and began walking away again. And to his pleasure, moments later he heard Ginny's delicate footsteps following after him.
"My Lord—"
"Not now," a deep, loud voice boomed from somewhere in the elaborately emerald office.
"My Lord, please," Lucius Malfoy said again with more feeling.
"What is it?" The voice sighed lazily.
Mr. Malfoy waited to answer while a large amount of smoke materialized before him, which moments later resembled the face of the Dark Lord himself.
"May I say, my Lord, how honored I am to speak with you again—"
"Get to the point!" Voldemort hollered.
"Right, yes, forgive me, my Lord," Malfoy trailed off. "But, the wands. Potter's stolen the wands from us."
Voldemort chortled. "He can't have stolen them as they were his and his friends' wands to begin with. Worry not, Lucius. There is little they can do to us with their wands as opposed to without their wands. Those incompetent children are tired as well! I would've let them have their wands in due time. It's the least I can do… as I am going to kill them all… eventually…"
"My Lord," Mr. Malfoy addressed him again. "I beg of you not to take Potter so lightly."
There was an uncomfortable silence.
Even within the smoke, the furrowed brows of Voldemort were apparent. "I sense there is something more you have failed to mention to me as of yet?"
For the first time during the conversation, Lucius Malfoy took his eyes off Voldemort. "Your sword, my Lord," he trailed off.
"What about it?"
The smoke around Voldemort's head began to change into a blood red color.
"It's with Potter. He took that, too."
And as the words left his mouth, the large quantity of smoke before him vanished and Tom Riddle walked out from its fading form. Before Lucius Malfoy could so much as greet the younger version of his Lord, a shriek that could've been heard through all the lands, had Malfoy Manor not been charmed against outside interference, was emitted from Mr. Malfoy's mouth.
A sly smirk slithered across Riddle's face as he hissed again, watching the writhing form of Lucius Malfoy at his feet. "Crucio!"
By now, Ginny was aware that Draco knew she was following him and Draco was aware that Ginny knew that he was aware that she was following him. However, they spoke not a single word through the several corridors they tiptoed along and up the innumerable spiraling staircases they ventured beyond.
And after what seemed like hours, Ginny finally saw Draco stop in front of a door, not the least bit tired or exhausted from turning so many corners and directions.
The door looked like all the other doors in Malfoy Manor. It was painted a dark black color—probably expensive ebony wood. The carvings on the wooden door were eccentric, macabre, and gorgeous all at once. The image on Draco's postern looked like several black crows flying through an enigmatic black night. And there seemed to be nothing special about the doorknob, as it was the shape of an ordinary doorknob, save the fact that a silver serpent with emeralds for eyes was coiled around the knob. Ginny looked about and noted that the serpents on different doorknobs were coiled around the knobs in different fashions. The one on Draco's doorknob was coiled in a simple spiral form around the doorknob, but the head, with the glowing green eyes, peeked out from under the knob with a most sinister look present on its face.
Ginny shivered as she looked at the door and then the doorknob. Something so beautiful looked so unappealing. She closed her eyes, imagining Draco's hand reaching out for the doorknob and the snake on the doorknob uncoiling and striking his hand. She willed her eyes to open to stop the mini-nightmare and instantaneously moved closer to where Draco stood.
To her relief, he didn't touch the doorknob at all. He reached for his wand, which had been haphazardly stuffed in his back pocket, and with it, touched the beaks of three specific crows. She could tell he wasn't choosing the crows at random because first he stood on tiptoe to touch a crow at the top left corner of the door, then bent down to tap the beak of a crow near the bottom, then stood up again to touch the beak of a third crow that was a little to the upper right of the doorknob.
With that, Draco stepped back and Ginny blinked several times as she watched the carvings of all the crows disappear into the black door of Draco's room. When all the crows were gone, the door looked so black that Ginny felt that if someone were to lean against it, he or she would fall right through into an endless pit of darkness.
She edged closer to Draco, but he didn't notice and slowly walked toward the door. He looked it up and down, examined here and there, and without a single word to her, stepped right through the door!
Ginny gawked. Draco was gone! He had stepped through the door! Through it!
Still staring with her mouth wide open, Ginny noticed the crows reappearing on the door. Panicked, she jumped after Draco, disappearing into the darkness.
Just as her form had vanished into the door, all the crows immediately reappeared and all was back to normal… or so it seemed.
The serpent on Draco's doorknob slithered so slowly and so stealthily that a person staring straight at the doorknob might not have noticed. And in a minute's time, the snake's head now rested on top of the doorknob—its eyes wide open, now revealing two crimson red rubies for eyes.
Harry and Hermione sat so rigidly in shock that their forms didn't even shake as their insides shivered with fright.
Then, gathering all his courage, Harry suddenly sprang up from where he sat, wand in hand, and proceeded in shouting out the first spell that came to mind. "Riddikul—!"
However, the enemy was prepared for Harry. "Expelliarmus! Petrificus totalus!"
Hermione screamed as the force of both spells caused Harry's body to be catapulted to the opposite wall. He lay still and petrified on the floor after he hit the wall.
Then Hermione's eyes widened and her jaw dropped in shock when she saw who it was. "Professor Snape?" Of all people, it was clear that he was the last person she expected to see at that very moment. But when Hagrid rounded the corner, followed by Dumbledore, she took back that thought.
"Professor! What've ye done ta 'Arry?" Hagrid growled.
Snape looked down at Harry's petrified form with narrowed eyes filled to the rims with dislike. He pocketed Harry's wand, folded his arms and tried to hide a smirk as he muttered almost inaudibly, "I've always wanted to do that."
Hermione rolled her eyes at that. How immature! Is he still angry that Harry's "Expelliarmus" spell from third year knocked him out?
Dumbledore stepped through the space between Hagrid and Snape and waved his large, purple wand about. "Finite incantatem."
Hermione saw Harry blink and weakly stare aghast at the three professors before him. "Snape?" He finally gaped.
"That was my first thought, too," is what Hermione was about to say, but Dumbledore quickly cut in.
"Professor Snape," the wrinkled headmaster corrected as he smiled and bent down to help Harry to his feet.
Ginny was about to scream, but she suddenly landed on the floor of the other side of the "darkness". She lay on her stomach since she had more leapt than stepped through the door.
"That was a stupid thing to do," Draco said offhandedly.
"As if I should've known that stepping through some… some freaky door… thing was going to take me to your room! Sure, it could've been somewhat understandable at any other house, but this is your house. Your father's house."
Ginny quickly got back on her feet. It baffled her that the mere atmosphere of Draco's room made it feel okay to talk again.
"Well, we're safe in here for now," Draco said as he casually walked over to his closet.
Ginny watched Draco open the closet door. Most of Draco's shirts were button-up dress shirts, most of which were black or dark colors. Feeling a bit awkward, she spotted Draco's large four-poster bed pushed against the far wall of the large room; she walked over to it and quietly sat, observing Draco finger through his clothing items.
Draco parted the shirts at one section of his wardrobe and pulled out a long-sleeved emerald dress shirt. He held it at arm's length, tilting his head a little while he examined it with a slight frown on his face. Finally satisfied, he hung it on the door of the closet and went back to fingering through the clothes. In the same fashion, he parted the clothes somewhere in the middle of the hung clothes and pulled out another shirt that looked just like the first, except this one was a dark red color.
Draping both shirts over his right arm, Draco walked over to where Ginny was sitting. "Here," he said, holding the emerald shirt out to Ginny.
She stared at it.
Annoyed, Draco dropped the shirt into her lap.
"What do you want me to do with it?" She asked at last.
"Wear it," Draco said, rolling his eyes.
Ginny stared at the shirt. "Why?" She asked, completely confused. "And why, may I ask, of all colors, did you have to pick out green for me—" she looked at his arm. "—And red for you? It's a bit ironic, isn't it?"
"Nothing about this is ironic, Weasley." Draco took off his already unbuttoned, bloody shirt and discarded it on the floor. He stood in front of Ginny with his bare chest as he took his red shirt off the hanger it was on. He didn't notice Ginny look him over, gulp, and scoot back a bit more on the bed. "The green shirt is smaller than the red one. They both fit me, but if you insist on me color-coordinating us, then you're more than welcome to drown in this shirt." Draco said as he swung it around his back and allowed both his arms to slide through the sleeve-lengths.
After Draco had finished buttoning his shirtfront, Ginny only said, "Oh." She thought she'd wait for him to tuck in his shirt before she said anything more, but he left his shirt untucked.
"What?" Draco asked, staring at Ginny oddly.
Ginny mouthed wordlessly for a bit, "Well... well, don't look at me!" She yelled.
Draco furrowed his eyebrows and took a step backward, slightly confused. "I thought you didn't want my shirt."
Ginny got up, furiously pushing Draco away. She didn't even know the geography of Draco's room, nor where she was pushing him to, but she pushed anyway. "Don't look!"
Draco finally turned around and placed his weight on his legs to stop Ginny from pushing him any further. "My God! Just rip my head off and spit in my neck, why don't you? If you'd just asked, I would've turned around—see?" Draco turned his back to Ginny and crossed his arms over his chest.
After a few moments of not hearing any movements behind him, Draco took a tiny peek at what Ginny was doing…which was nothing. He turned back around. "Why aren't you changing? We haven't got all our lives or all day, mind you!"
"Get out." Ginny said simply, crossing her arms and tapping her foot.
"Of the room?" Draco asked aghast. "Of my room?"
"Yes," Ginny answered as though it was obvious that he ought to leave the room.
"I already told you I wasn't going to look!"
"I don't care what you told me! Get out!" Ginny ordered.
Draco sighed and put a hand to his temple. "Fine. Go in the closet. Close the door and take as bloody long as you want."
Ginny's face had been crinkled from the expression she had been making, but seeing sense in Draco's idea, the muscles on her face relaxed. She looked at the closet door, then nodded at Draco in approval. "I'll only be a minute." She gave him a small smile and went into the closet.
As the door closed, Draco grumbled to himself and sat on the bed where Ginny had previously been positioned. "Even Gryffindor women are intolerable!" He huffed. "Not that that ought to be surprising." And he then put his head in his hand as he looked at his reflection on the black tile floor.
"I imagine they are intolerable... women…"
Startled, Draco looked up, his platinum bangs flying through the air as he did so. That voice…
Draco turned around and felt all his muscles tighten when he saw Tom Riddle standing in front of his door. He kicked himself internally for having forgotten to set the crows back to normal on the door after he'd entered his room.
"Draco," Riddle hissed, elongating the vowels in his name. "After what I'd sent Miss Zabini out to do, I thought our meetings might've been… punctured." A long, thin smile curved along the bottom half of his face. "I guess not." He said lightly as he walked over to Draco. "Which is good… my fellow—"
Draco narrowed his eyes. "What do you want?"
"Don't be so demanding, my boy! Your well being is at my will, I'll have you know. As I'm quite sure you know… just as you know other things." Riddle ended the statement as if it were a question.
"You're mad," Draco said through clenched teeth.
"Oh, I know. So terribly mad. But still, you knew that. Just as you know where… the Weasley girl is?" He stretched out the first syllable of Ginny's last name.
"Like I'd let her hang around me," Draco scoffed.
The smile on Riddle's face faded and he brought his face close to Draco's. "Do you lie to me, boy?"
Draco's mouth was a thin line on his face and his gray eyes were on fire.
"You know where she is," Riddle said.
Draco then tried to move away from Tom Riddle but found he couldn't. It was as if the muscles in his body had all been frozen.
"I can see it in your eyes." And as Riddle said that, the small head of a snake with curiously crimson red eyes slithered out from under Tom Riddle's cloak and now sat on Riddle's shoulder, its neck stretched to where it was only a centimeter away from the center of Draco's neck. Draco could feel himself sweating and his heart racing.
"I'll ask again," Riddle said more lazily. "Do you know where the girl is—?" Draco wasn't listening; he was eyeing the snake. "Don't mind the snake. He won't strike unless ordered to do so." Riddle waved his hand and Draco felt a slight tension relieved from his body; he could use his muscles again. "The girl?"
Draco slowly began backing away, but after one step, then two, then three, he saw that the snake would always adjust itself so it was just a centimeter away from striking. Still eyeing the snake, Draco stuttered, "I…I…I've no idea. I've no idea where she is." Draco answered, keeping his voice steady to satisfy himself rather than Riddle.
Then something wet and slippery touched Draco's neck. He knew it was the snake. He felt its long, skinny body creep around the nape of his neck ever so slowly. Now its whole body was out of Riddle's robes, its head resting on Draco's right shoulder as the rest of the snake's body hung from Draco as a scarf might.
"You're quite sure?" A sinister grin spread over Riddle's face.
Draco was breathing hard. He knew if his next answer didn't please Tom Riddle, the snake would most likely strike. So, without thought, Draco grabbed the snake's tail and began to swing it around his head, pleased to see Riddle back away. However, when he saw that the tail-end of the snake had transformed into its head and its head had transformed into its tail, therefore making the snake's vexed head be in Draco's fist, Draco yelled and flung it at Riddle.
The man screamed and as he used his wand to subdue the oncoming snake, Draco quickly grabbed his own wand from his back pocket. Nostrils flared and intentions set, he hollered, "AVADA KEDAVRA!"
Ginny was hearing everything from where she stood in the closet, but at hearing that, her heart sank.
Riddle's eyes widened as they focused on the tip of Draco's wand. There was a sudden flash of light, and then… nothing…
Author's Note: Yay! I ended this chapter exactly like Erika (ugahill) ended chapter 6 of In the Shadows! Though no one really ought to care if Riddle dies or not… but that's not what's important here. Will Draco become a murderer? Or will Riddle have some odd Dark Lord-ish way to get out of this fix? -cue collective gasping- Duh, you have to wait for the next chapter to find out! And I suppose the chapter title fits quite well with what I've left you with. Unless you know me, you're not quite sure if I ship H/Hr or R/Hr and no one's quite sure what's going on with Draco, hence the chapter title, Clear As Mud… since mud isn't that clear. -laughs- Go me for lamely creative titles!!
Also, I will be roaming Europe (including London, England! Go Harry Potter! -waves flags-) for a good portion of June and the last bit of May, so DINB18 may come out a bit later than usual. But can ya blame me?! ;) EUROPE!!
Chapter 18: Of course, we'll have to find out what happens in our Draco/Riddle mini-duel and how that does or does not affect Ginny. Also, the Harry/Hermione/Ron issue isn't quite settled, as Ron's still unconscious and there may be some wild teenage hormones flying about! We'll see!
Yay! Thanks to my lovely reviewers: ugahill, bigreader, Jonah, Spinn, Eiko, and Grace. Yall're kewwwl and keep the wheels churnin'!! ;)