Notes: Ugh. No comments whatsoever on the lateness of this chapter. I know this is a poor thing to say but...at least, I haven't forgotten about this story. I almost want to say nothing else. I think I won't...
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C.Night > Well, I'm glad you think so. But to make matters worse, I've done it again. Ah, but this time I do have a good, good, good reason as to why I did it...yet again. I hope you'll like this one. Thank you for your support!
Chapter eight, 'Do we Ever Forget?'
The next thing I heard was Potter thanking the barmy old fool for whatevers thing he had done for him. I couldn't hear very well, it was as if it was a goddamn secret all of a sudden. But something wasn't right. He wasn't even leaving the Infirmary. Nope, not at all. Instead, he was heading straight toward my bed. Close your eyes. Pretend to be asleep, pretend to be asleep. Steady your breathing, kep your cool. Maybe he'll go away then.
But, of course, I had no such luck. as I heard his footsteps stop near my bed, as I felt him near me. I couldn't hear his breathing, he didn't make any noise but I could feel his mere presence. And I couldn't just feel any presence. I felt his. It was creepy. My heart pounded frantically in my chest for Merlin only knew why. But this was bloody Potter we were talking about. Why would I care ?
"I'm glad you're still asleep, Draco. I wouldn't have wished for you to hear the row between Snape and I. It wasn't exactly pretty, you see, "he said to me, chuckling lightly.
Why should I care? Because he does? Because he saved my life? Poppycock. I was doing just fine on my own before he had shown up. I was doing just great. I didn't ask for his help, God help me. I never asked anything of him except his friendship which he refused anyway. And for all I cared, he could shove his bleeding help and friendship there.
You don't have to tell that it's a lie. Believe me, I knew it...
I felt him take my hand carefully in his again and press it. I really wish he'd stop touching me because I nearly gave myself away as when I tried to pull away. Instead, I sighed lightly. He didn't say anything. He must've not notice. Too daft, I presume. Always had been.His thumb began to brush against my hand in such a tender manner. It was almost a lover's touch.
"I guess you lost it pretty bad there, huh? "he sighed as if wondering if he should press the matter further. "Well, whatever it was, you scared me there. You really scared me. I was afraid you were..."
Almost. And I felt the urge to pull away again. I wish it was of disgust but somewhere in my heart, I knew it wasn't. I felt a cold breeze spinning around the room. The strange thing was that none of the windows were open...I felt him gasp. He squeezed my hand harder, up to where I winced. I felt something change in him. I couldn't say what though.
"Dead."
His tone was harsher, colder. Idly, I thought that it wasn't Potter anymore.
"At least, here, it's comfy. Always did like the Hospital Wing myself. Spent quite a few times here. And, funny thing is, most of the times, it was because of you, dear Draco... "
I cringed a bit at the endearment as well as when he cupped my cheek. Well, agreed, I was bloody shocked too. He had called me dear but it hadn't felt soft, caring. It hadn't felt felt warm at all. It almost felt as an insult. He had touched my face but it hadn't felt good. It had made my skin crawl. But whenever we fought, it never had felt this repulsing.
"...were proud when you sent me here. When you ever got the chance to wound Perfect Potty, or Scarhead, or Saint Potter, or Golden Boy, or the Boy-Who-Lived-Too-Long-For-His-Own-Bloody-Good, but the list goes on forever...But there were also Hero and Champion too. Those're your special ones...Wouldn't ever thought I'd know of this perhaps? Or had you wished of my hearing them?
"Yes, yes, I would presume. Your goal, after all, has been all along to hurt me. To get back at me for what I did to you. I'm surprised you still hold a grudge old of five years. 'Poor Malfoy, too weak to get Potter to be his friend, poor Malfoy still too much of a weakling to beat Potter' Yes, I know all about it. It's amazing what you get to hear when you're...invisible.
"Such wonder, I'll say. Not to be seen by anyone, hearing such things you would never dream of, hearing confessions, secrets...I wonder. Indeed things are heard by gossip and rumours too. But that is so plain. Invisibility is so much more fun...Similar to destroying an entire dormitory. Such power you hold in your hands. Though, I must wonder, it must have quite an incentive you had there..."
His voice had changed, it had dropped down a couple of degrees, becoming enigmatic, mysterious, somber. I had this nagging feeling that this, him, it wasn't Harry Potter anymore. I couldn't have said who this was though. It scared me to some point. I didn't like where this was going, where I wasn't in control of the situation. The room became cold, almost deprived of its kindness. He became cold. Harry Potter was no more.
"To trigger such power...But then again, this could be your death. Relying on emotions, on unpredictable feelings, rather a weakness you got there. Especially when you have such conflicting feelings held up in your chest. Emotions you don't understand, you don't want, you don't think decent, appropriate. Emotions that involve love, lust, care...
"Getting all fired up, losing your cool, forgetting your name, your place, your facade...I always wondered. It must've taken long to finally master that mask, that impenetrable, cool mask you've always got on. It must've been pretty bad. Well, I should know...As I did invade your mind, implant those images..."
What the hell...?
"Although, I should warn you. Do not get near him. Do no get your feelings involved. Forgot about what you're going through. Forget his touch, his hands, his eyes, his beautiful eyes that can look deep into your soul. Forget about it all. Because, you know, showing weaknesses to your nemesis is never an option. Do try to remember that, Draco. He will have to kill you eventually...
"Well, it'd be either him or me. It would most likely come down to your choice in the end, Draco. Not that it would matter. Dead at my hand or by his, you'll never see the light again. However. You can still change your mind. I have a great sense of forgiveness. At great price but still. Make your father proud. Though I never did like my father myself..."
He...didn't?
"I wish for you to change your mind and join me. We would be great together. I would love you as I can love. Yet either way, you will have to bow down, Draco. Willingly or not, painfully or not. Remember. That was but a mere taste of what you will suffer if you still refuse...Well, farewell, Draco Malfoy. "
There was another stream flowing in the room almost as if it was spring. Clearing all the snow, the cold, the bitterness changing them with sun, flowers, warmth and birds. I felt him grip harder even on my hand. I heard him gasp as if something was ejected from his very body. He released my hand and stumbled to the floor.
I stole a look quickly. He was crumpled to the floor, panting, trying to get his breath back. I saw him frown, shake his head, frown again. I could almost smell his surprise, his confusion for I was also puzzled. What happened? He hadn't been himself. He had been bitter with a cold voice. He had shown no fiery emotions. Potter had always shown his emotions on his sleeve.
And he had talked about...
About my father, my loyalty, about changing my mind, about when I fainted, about those images, this pain. About my apparently inevitable death. About these feelings I'd been having recently. He had said something about being the one who caused it, about invading my mind, inserting those thoughts in me.
But Potter, he was strong but not that strong. And he was noble. A funny hex was nothing compared to this. Even Weasley would not have the cruelty to inflict such pain upon me, a Malfoy. There were few who I could think about that could know about this much. There were very few if not only one...
But he couldn't...?
"Bastard, he dared...Now, of all moments..."Potter muttered under his breath.
He pushed his glasses back on his nose and got up on his feet swiftly. He smoothed his robes a bit. His shadow soared over me imposingly. I shivered absently, too absorbed by his emerald eyes. There in the dark, there were all I could see clearly. They shone with a strange gleam but I did not question it. I was entranced by his eyes; green pools that made you drown, that made you spellbound.
"H-Harry...?"
He studied me lightly as I uttered his given name. He wasn't shocked, wasn't pleased. He was just...upset. But upset at something else, it seemed.
"I wish you'd said it under different circumstances but...oh, well. "
At this, he grinned at me.
"I'm glad you're alright. But I wish you forget everything you've heard, seen or felt tonight. Forget it all, please...Goodnight."
"Forget...? "I said to myself, frowning.
"Oh? And Draco?"
"Yes?"
"You were always such a poor actor. Don't go to Broadway, "he smirked at me.
"Broadway...?"
What the hell was a broadway?
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Late in the next morning, I woke to find a small letter on the night table beside me. Something about it called to me, urged me to open it. A magnet of some sorts, a pull, a charm? I didn't know. The only thing I felt was the great importancy of the letter. Well, of any ways, a letter was meant to be opened and read, was it not?
The message was as follow:
Forget. Forget about everything last night. None of it happened. None of it mattered. Do not search for answers, you will find none. Follow my advice for I can do much worse than he can. Trust me when I say that there are plenty of things much worse than death itself.
I knew there had been something different in him last night. Even after he had recovered his spirits. And he still talked about someone else, someone powerful, someone cunning, someone merciless. I didn't know it back then but it had slowly consumed him, bit by bit. He became someone else, someone nobody knew or recognize.
So he knew about not being himself lately. He knew about Him, aobut his plans, about everything. And he didn't want anyone to bloody know about it. I could only suppose he was planning himself on going there alone, taking him on all by his own. And he probably was well aware of the weak chances of survival. For all I knew, he was planning to sacrifice himself.
Please, don't ask of me as to why I would be concerned with his welfare...
Alright. He helped me tonight, granted. But it didn't mean anything. Well, I did owe him. After all, Malfoys never kept their debts unpaid. They were noble enough. We did have a reputation to be true to. And even if it bloody sucked, I would eventually have to settle up my dues with Potter. Even if it would cost me a lot. Because, as I suspected, he would claim his debt, consciously or not, when he would need it the most.
The Great War.
And who knew? It might be tomorrow, in a month, a year, in five years. It might be anytime soon or late. But it would happen. Everything's eventual. And odds are, I would be forced to bear that mask, that mark, to owe him that allegiance, to bow when he'll demand it, to kill when I'll be allowed, to speak when I'll be spoken to, to nod when I'll be asked to.
But Potter. He didn't seem afraid. Mainly, mostly annoyed at him. As if they were buddies and He was playing a prank on him. I didn't ever seem to fully understand what was Potter. But why was he so irritated that He chose this particular moment to invade his mind? There was nothing special about this moment. Nothing whatsoever.
He was merely talking to me, holding my hand.
Holding my hand.
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It wasn't long before I was back in my dormitories.
Don't say I didn't try to get another day or two at the Hospital Wing. It seemed Madam Pomfrey was adamant on emptying the Infirmary as soon as possible. Great, so I would get another week worth of utter boredom. It was simply amazing. What would I do? There was still nothing to do more. Well...
I could. Hell, I probably would.
My only chance at entertaining myself was to find Potter. I knew it. But you can imagine that with my phenomenal luck, I wasn't quite as fortunate as to finding him. There were so many places he could be yet still so few. Damn Hogwarts for being as big as it was. Damn Potter for being seemingly missing.
Now where could he be? Perhaps on the Quidditch field? Ah, I remember the first time he flew. He was brilliant. Flew like he had been flying forever, he did. And I clearly remember allowing him to be in the Gryffindor Quidditch team. I remember that damn Remember-All, that damn impulse that passed through me. I remember the punishment I received.
Or perhaps in the Library? Potter wasn't quite the bookworm though. He would have to be utterly bored to go there. And even then, Madam Pince would have his neck for the ruckus of last time and the time before and the one before that one...Well, you catch my drift. Maybe she was even considering a lifelong ban to the Library. Now that would be funny.
It reminded me of that time in Fifth Year where I got Umbridge to catch him in that funny room they call Room of Requirements. I was rather proud of it. So was Father and everyone else in the bloody Slytherin House. Hey, don't look at me like that. You know the saying: enemies of my enemies are my allies. Well, they were.
Umbridge was a fucking incompetent. She was absurd. I didn't understand why Dumbledore had let her in. Well, maybe it was the Minister then. Ministries do reflect their Minister. Cornelius Fudge, what a bastard. A fucking sheep in wolf's clothing. A blasted shadow of Dumbledore back then. Now, more of Father's, of whomever are willing to stand by him instead of Potter. A greedy little character who only wanted power. What had we, wizards, done to ourselves ?
We were the bane of our very existence. And yet, he did make it so much easier for the Dark Lord to come back. Pushing aside Dumbledore was perhaps the stupidest thing one could do except possibly falling for...Either way, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's return would most likely be awardable to dear old Fudge. Such stupidity led to such power. Shame truly.
But do not get me wrong. I was not preaching the Light side. Merely pointing out the flaws of our world. I was not considering ranging with the Dark side either. I did not believe in such raw siding. No black, no white. Purely greys, deep tones of it, paler ones. In betweens. No such thing as cutting in the middle, equal on both sides, exact measurements. No such prejudices.
But, in my honest opinion, the Dark side was bound to fail. Miserably, if I might add. Do as we say and not as we do. Following the lead of a Halfblood, preaching about blood purity. Talk about ironic, huh? But don't get too far of yourself. I was indeed proud of being a Pureblood. Of belonging to one of the most ancient wizard family. Well...belong is a very broad word as a matter of fact. And I still am today.
Now, as I was saying before, where in the bloody hell did Potter go ?