Chapter 16: Lessons (Clever, eh?)
Harry and Azar sat in the library the next day, researching for a Defense Against the Dark Arts parchment. Harry, however, didn't see a word of what he was reading. He couldn't stop thinking about what Draco had said.
"Did you know Draco thinks his mum didn't commit suicide?" Harry asked, the question having rolled around in his head so much that it simply tumbled out.
"Yes," Azar sighed, looking sullenly at the table in front of her, "And frankly, I think he's right."
"You knew? Why didn't you tell me?"
"I knew when Draco wanted to tell you, he would. And if he didn't, then there was probably a reason."
"He always seems to confide in you..."
Azar gave him a slightly irritated look. "Don't tell me you're on that again."
"What? No. Of course not," Harry said defensively, "I was just wondering aloud, that's all."
"We talk," Azar replied simply, "You should always talk to people."
Harry smiled slightly. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind."
"Do."
Hermione walked in then, sitting besides them. "Hello."
Harry and Azar both greeted her warmly, but after that was silence. Hermione looked at each of them, a little curiously.
"Where were you two yesterday?" she asked.
Harry avoided her eyes. "Oh, nowhere really."
Hermione laughed forcibly. "Well, you had to have been somewhere."
"Just here and there," Azar said, feeling a bit awkward.
Hermione was silent now, sullenly so even. And then she suddenly stood up, saying, "Okay then."
Although he wasn't sure, Harry thought he heard her mutter, "Just what I feared."
Harry turned to Azar, raising his eyebrow. She returned the look.
"Do you think she suspects something?" he asked.
"You mean do I think she suspects that we are Heirs and were at a meeting concerning the resistance and will soon be training to lead Voldemort to his downfall? Somehow I doubt it," Azar grinned.
Harry smiled slightly. "I guess I'll take your word for it."
****
"Why are we wasting our time with an old woman?" Draco muttered.
"Thin ice, Draco," Azar said warningly opening the Entrance Hall door to let him, Harry, and James through.
"Jumping to conclusions, Azar," he shot back, "You let Fletcher get to you. I was simply meaning that a person of her age probably knows little we can use. Senility gets in the way."
"Would you call Dumbledore senile?" Harry asked.
Draco looked a bit uncomfortable. "Well...no. But he's a special case."
"Jumping to conclusions, Draco," James piped up.
The older three stopped, staring at him. James blushed, looking at his feet.
"Sorry," he said quietly.
Azar burst out laughing. "No, no, don't be. Just a bit surprising, that's all."
"Poor lad, we're rubbing off on him," Draco lamented jokingly.
James grinned sheepishly, very pleased.
The four Heirs headed along the grounds of Hogwarts, towards the Quidditch pitch. Each had received an owl the day before, informing them to meet there that night, to receive a defense lesson from Arabella Figg. Needless to say, Draco was skeptical.
A full moon was up tonight, round and silver, creating a surreal day. The air seemed almost as if made of ice, cold weather having swooped upon Hogwarts those past few days, and it caused the Heirs to hold tightly to their cloaks. The six Quidditch hoops cast ominous shadows, glimmering pretentiously. As they finally entered the stadium, they found the field empty.
"Told you she's senile," Draco said, clearly in want of sleep, "She forgot."
"I don't know about being senile, Draco," came a voice from behind them, "but my hearing is as good as ever."
They spun around to find Arabella Figg sitting complacently in the stands. With some effort, she got to her feet, walking towards them. She stood up, straighter and taller than seemed natural for her apparent age. She was smiling slightly, confidently, and her eyes held a power that made her quite intimidating, despite her musty violet cloak and hood lined with limp ostrich feathers.
"So," she said simply, "here stand the Four upon which the whole fate of the world may rest."
"And to think I was nervous about this whole thing!" Draco exclaimed sarcastically.
"You think yourself quite the comedian, Draco," she said, folding her arms, "but we shall see if you're still laughing when this night is through."
Draco didn't say anything, though James gulped audibly.
"Well," Arabella continued promptly, withdrawing her wand, "the first thing is to test your wand skills in a duel. Since you seem so eager, Draco, you're first."
Draco glanced at the other three, then back at Arabella. "Wait, you mean I'm supposed to duel you?"
She nodded.
Piercing the cold silence, Draco roared with laughter. "You?! Now that's a challenge!"
Arabella simply smiled. "I suggest you get ready, Draco."
Harry, Azar, and James retreated to the stands, and Draco, sneering smugly, pulled out his wand. He and Arabella held their wands before them, bowing. Before Draco could even think of a way to start, Arabella relieved him of that duty. He was really laughing this time, but Harry knew that it wasn't because he wanted to. He smiled to himself, because he'd suffered under the same spell.
Draco managed to get a spell out, but Arabella dodged it almost lazily. Then she took the tickling charm off of Draco. He stood up, breathing heavily.
"I certainly hope you can do better," Arabella said.
Draco glared darkly. Without warning, he yelled, "Canicera!"
Without so much as batting an eye, Arabella blocked it, and shot right back, "Erauyowere!"
Draco swayed precariously a moment and then tumbled onto his back, crying out in pain for his feet were still planted to the ground. He grimaced, struggling to get up but having little luck. Partly from pain, mostly from aggravation, he yelled again.
"Stop it!" James cried, jumping to his feet, "You're hurting him!"
Arabella glanced up at him, then waved her wand, releasing Draco. The boy quickly straightened his legs, panting slightly and looking angry and defeated. Arabella, however, hadn't taken her eyes off James, and walked up to him now. The Hufflepuff looked more than partly terrified, but stood his ground.
"I do realize, James," she said firmly, "that you do have less experience with these matters than the other three. And that you are younger, and probably have yet to duel your first time. However, a slight discomfort because your legs are bent is Christmas to what you have ahead of you."
James took quick gulps of breath, his eyes wide, but didn't back down. "I-it-it doesn't mean y-you should hur-hurt him."
A glimmer of remorse came to Arabella's eyes, but she quickly dismissed it. "It doesn't work that way, James. Voldemort or his Death Eaters will not stop because you ask them. They would laugh, and kill you just like that." She snapped her fingers sharply.
James' eyes were even wider now, shining more than was natural in the moonlight. "I could still try," he said, barely above a whisper.
Arabella sighed deeply. She looked carefully at James, as one who must kill a butterfly. "There is one thing you must learn James, something we all must learn. There are times when one must suffer for a greater good. People have died fighting Voldemort, and more will. I know that if my suffering, even my death, can help the resistance, I am willing. You must be willing to do the same; and be willing to let your friends do the same."
Arabella turned away, towards Draco, who had listened still sitting on the damp grass. As she walked over to help him up and check on him, James sat down slowly next to Azar. He was staring straight ahead, his breathing troubled.
"I don't want to be an Heir anymore," he whimpered, tears finally streaming down his cheeks.
"Oh James," Azar whispered, embracing him gently.
He buried his face deep into her shoulder, holding to her arm as if it was his life on the line, the tears coursing like rivers down but not so much as a whimper escaping his lips. Draco and Arabella walked over now, Draco looking concerned but far from worse for the wear.
"Okay," Arabella said, businesslike, ignoring as James hastily dried his tears, "You're next, James."
"You can't be serious!" Azar cried out in objection, "You drop this on him and expect him to face you? He doesn't even know how to duel!"
"He will learn," she replied simply, "and protecting him is the worst you can do for him."
Azar glared at her mutinously, not one to be beaten. Harry, however, touched her shoulder. "She's right," he whispered.
Azar didn't look pleased with the arrangement, but kept her mouth shut. James, reluctant but firm, stood up and went onto the field. He stood in front of Arabella, quivering, unsure.
"Raise your wand," she commanded. He did. "Now bow."
When he straightened up, he looked like someone about to be pounced on by a griffin.
"Begin," Arabella said.
She gave James a moment to get the first shot, but when he didn't take it, she did. Following the same course as Draco, James was soon in a laughing heap on the ground. He raised his wand, but couldn't get anything out. Arabella withdrew the spell soon, and James quickly got to his feet, determined to prove himself. Again, as she had with Draco, Arabella cried, "Erauyowere!"
James, however, didn't try to move his feet at all, and stayed standing. He yelled the first charm that came to mind, which Arabella had little trouble with. There was a pause, as though Arabella wished she didn't have to continue, but she did, yelling the Banishing Charm.
James flew backwards, skidding along the grass. Azar gripped Harry's leg. Tight. Less swiftly this time, James got up. Arabella gave him little time, shouting a curse. In almost a panic, James dove to the ground, inadvertently dodging the spell. Arabella burst into laughter.
"Good instincts," she remarked, coming up to James and helping him up, "You have promise."
With the slightest of limps, he walked back to his friends. Azar stood up suddenly and began clapping. Harry and Draco, smiling, joined in. Sheepishly, James came up to them.
"I-it wasn't so bad," he smiled, giving a small laugh through his tears.
Azar laughed, hugging him tight. "You did well."
"You're turn, Azar," Arabella called, "And after Harry, the real work begins."
Late that night, the four Heirs finally returned to the castle, each one of them bruised and sore. Azar went to take James to his tower, so Harry and Draco walked on alone.
"Are you tired?" Harry asked.
Draco shook his head. "You?"
"I'm this close to bouncing off the walls," Harry grinned.
"And so here we are going off to bed."
"Can't be done."
"So what do you suggest, Mr. Potter?"
"Something along the lines of sitting around and talking, Mr. Malfoy."
Draco laughed. "You really do walk on the wild side. In any case, Filch would catch us in a second."
Harry knew exactly what he was going to say now. Or what he wanted to say. It had been gnawing at him since last year. Now was the time to break all prejudice; he was going to invite a Slytherin to the Gryffindor tower.
"How about my house tower?"
Draco stopped dead in the middle of the hall. "You mean the Gryffindor tower? I thought that was off limits to the likes of me."
"Was. Doesn't mean it is." Harry shrugged.
Draco shrugged back, though unnaturally wide-eyed. "Okay."
In silence, they walked to the portrait of the Fat Lady, who was first none-too-pleased to be woken, and then very unwilling to let a non-Gryffindor in. However, Harry managed to convince her that Draco wasn't a knife-wielding maniac. They crawled through the hole and into the bright Gryffindor common room, a sight Harry was very glad to see.
"I can't remember the last time I worked so hard at curses. I wouldn't care if I never saw this thing again," Harry said jokingly, tossing his wand aside.
Not hearing any comment, Harry turned around. Draco was looking the room over thoroughly from where he stood.
"Oh, yes, sorry, I forgot the proper introduction," Harry said, clearing his throat and then beaming like a tour guide, "Welcome to the Gryffindor Common Room, place of study and socializing for Hogwarts' best and bravest! It was in that corner that Fred and George Weasley caused a salamander to fly through the air spouting fireworks. And over there is where Harry Potter and Ron Weasley fudged many a Divination assignment. And some say that if you are very quiet, you may yet here the peep Neville Longbottom emitted when he suddenly turned into a giant canary!"
"Not bad," Draco said, turning his gaze from the ceiling to Harry, "Can't say much for the color scheme, but it has windows. Windows are good. And a nice fireplace."
"Yeah, the Slytherin common room is so dark it's depressing," Harry agreed.
Draco looked at him oddly. "You've been in the Slytherin common room." No need to question.
Harry smiled to himself. "Oh yes. I talked to you, in fact." He laughed at the look of confusion on Draco's face. "Another adventure from the Year of the Killer Diary."
"You really had a death wish that year, didn't you?" Draco shook his head, looking around the room again. "Why does it seem that everything Gryffindor has is bright and welcoming, while everything Slytherin has is dark and gloomy?" he asked wistfully.
"I dunno," Harry shrugged, "Karma?"
"Hey, I resent that!" Draco exclaimed, "I'm a Slytherin, and proud of it!"
"A fact that still has me baffled," Harry said, flopping into a crimson armchair, "Here, make yourself at home."
Draco took off his cloak, laying it on a nearby chair and sitting stiffly on the couch, his eyes concentrated on the fire. The sound of crackling flames was all that filled the room, making Harry a bit uncomfortable.
"Pretty good session, though, don't you think?" he finally asked, "Arabella may be old, but she knows a lot."
"I guess," Draco said quietly, "Well, wandwork at least. There's so much more, though."
Harry cocked his head to the side. "Like what?"
Draco shrugged slightly. "Like what to do when we're caught wandless. I know Azar would have little trouble, but it's not a good situation to be in."
The blond boy looked down at his left forearm, running his hand along it gently.
"I guess just avoid that," Harry said, shrugging.
"Or be ready for it."
Draco reached deep into his robes, withdrawing a sheathed dagger. Harry sat up sharply, a little surprised.
"Where did you get that?" he asked.
"My father," Draco said quietly, unsheathing the blade, "A family heirloom or tradition or something like that. I used to keep it in my trunk, but recently got in the habit of carrying it with me. I don't know why, really. Just a feeling."
Draco turned the dagger this way and that, watching the fire flashing along its silver blade. It glinted, sparked, winked, almost as if speaking to him, entrancing him.
"I can see why Muggles might even prefer killing this way," Draco mused, weighing the blade in his hands, "Spells are so simple, so dry, like snuffing out a candle. But this... this is more like pinching the flame."
"You'd get burnt," Harry said slowly, suddenly very wary.
"But that's the adventure in it," the Slytherin said, almost eagerly, "With a wand, you say a few words, and that's it. This...this provides danger. This means there's a chance you could fail. This is fire. The wand is cold."
Harry was wondering how in the world the conversation turned to this. There was something going on in Draco's head, and he couldn't for the life of him hope to imagine what it was. He stood up, walking towards the fire, towards Draco.
"I wonder if he even bleeds," Draco mused, turning the blade slowly in his hands.
Harry wanted more than anything to get that knife away from Draco. The boy was talking nonsense.
"What do you mean?" Harry asked, trying to get enough time to formulate a plan.
Draco stared at the blade, turning in his hands as if it was a wondrous new invention that would solve all his problems. "He's not human enough to die, so why would Voldemort bleed? What do you think would happen if he was stabbed? I imagine liquid as black as night pouring from him. Or maybe nothing at all. Maybe he's just an empty shell with nothing inside."
"Well, we're not very well going to kill him with a knife," Harry said, trying to sound light-hearted and reaching for the dagger. But Draco pulled it from his reach.
"Why not?" Draco said, his eyes of stone, "Who says it wouldn't work? He survived Avada Kedavra when he tried to kill you; some of the most powerful magic in the world was unable to destroy him. Who says a dagger couldn't? Anyone ever thought of that?"
"D-Draco, come off it," Harry stuttered, his voice and attempts at light-heartedness fading into quiet.
"Come off what, Harry?" Draco whispered, standing up, the words coming out like ice, "This isn't a game, some happy little child's book where the hero always wins. This is the real thing. This is Death."
"I know about death, Draco," Harry said, backing up slightly as Draco walked towards him.
"Yes, but not your own," he said, almost like a warning, or a threat.
The firelight played shadows upon half of Draco's face, but both his eyes seemed to be glowing, lit by some inner madness. Harry, unconsciously, backed up further, finding the common room wall, a stone barrier. Yet he couldn't move left or right, frozen as Draco came slowly forward.
"Those preparations we go to, those little lessons, what good do they do?" he went on, jerking his head back slightly at such a preposterous idea, "They prepare us for direct assaults, face-to-face wand work. That's not how the Death Eaters work… They sneak and skulk. They slink into your bedroom and destroy you in your sleep. They are everywhere, and everyone; your neighbors, your professors,…your friends."
The lilt in Draco's voice at that last word caused Harry's heart to pound in his chest. He tried to read the look in his friend's eyes, but that only furthered the terror. His throat had seized up, and so he stood there, speechless, motionless, defenseless.
"What if one of them caught you off guard; what would you do, Harry?" Draco whispered darkly, his voice rising with each syllable. The grip on his dagger tightened. "What if one night, a friend attacked you? In your own common room? You, wandless?"
Harry felt his stomach drop to his feet. He tried in vain to remember where exactly he'd tossed his wand when they'd come in. His eyes suddenly fixed on Draco's hand holding the dagger, watching it grip the blade so tightly that Draco's knuckles lost what little color they had.
"So, what are you going to do, Harry?" Draco asked, his voice a quiet threat. Suddenly, his voice rose in a yell, his eyes flashing with an insanity Harry had never seen in them before. "What are you going to do?!"
Right then, Harry knew exactly what he was going to do: run. Dodging to the left, he headed straight towards the common room door. Not quick enough. With a speed Harry never imagined the boy possessed, Draco leapt in front of his only exit. Harry quickly turned tail, dodging around an armchair and behind the couch. This gave him enough time to turn so he could face Draco. Not much, however, and he was in constant movement to keep the sofa between him and Draco, who now wielded the blade out and swinging.
"What are you going to do, Harry?!" Draco yelled again as they dodged around the couch.
"Snap out of it, Draco!" Harry cried in a panic.
"That won't work on a Death Eater, Harry!" the Slytherin called, "What are you going to do?!"
He suddenly leapt on the couch, raising the dagger. Harry dashed away, hearing the blade rip into the top of the sofa. Running, he looked over his shoulder to see Draco jump the rest of the couch and come at him. When he turned back, he saw he was headed straight for the wall. He tried to turn sharply, but felt something round and wooden under his foot: his wand. It caused him to slip. Before he could even regain his balance, Draco grabbed his shoulder, slamming him into the wall. He held his forearm roughly against Harry's neck, his other hand raised with the dagger, his teeth gritted and eyes flashing with malice. Harry's eyes were wide with terror, his heart pounding, and he knew that this was it. They had been right about Draco all along, and now he was going to die.
Suddenly, that burning, mad light in Draco's eyes died. His teeth unclenched and hold on Harry's neck loosened. His eyes filled with a horror that matched Harry's. Slowly, his left hand fell to his side, and the clatter as the dagger hit the floor rang through the empty room.
"Oh God…" Draco murmured, slowly backing away, "Harry…I…I'm sorry… Oh God, I'm sorry…"
He slumped to his knees, staring at his hands as if they were covered in blood. Then he buried his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking with sobs. Harry stood there, trying to steady his breath. He was so sure it must have all been a dream, some twisted fabrication of his imagination, but no. This was real, he kept telling himself, and he had to deal with it. He glanced at his wand, then shook his head. Slowly, he moved forward, crouching down next to Draco and putting a hand on his shoulder.
"Draco, hey, it's okay," he soothed, "It's okay."
"No it's not!" Draco yelled through his sobs, "What was I doing, Harry? I don't even know what came over me! Oh God, I'm going insane."
"No, you're not," Harry said firmly, though he wasn't even sure himself, "You didn't hurt anything. Well, besides the couch."
"I'm so messed up," Draco muttered, sitting fully on the ground now, "It's all too much... I can't take it!"
"You're not alone in this," Harry assured him, "I'm an Heir, too, Draco. I understand."
"No, you don't. I'm the damned Heir of Slytherin! And a Malfoy, to top it off!" Draco cried, still not looking up from his hands, "And sometimes I just get these urges, like voices in my head, to lash out, and I don't even want to. Yet I do. Badly. God, everything about me just says 'evil!' I don't know why I don't just give up and let it happen."
"Because you-don't-want-to!" Harry yelled, enunciating each word.
Finally, Draco looked up at him, confused yet hopeful.
"Draco, it doesn't matter at all who you were born as!" Harry insisted, his grip on his friend's shoulder tightening, "It's your choices; those are what make you who you are! As long as you choose to fight it, then you are not 'evil'. Not by a long shot."
Draco stared at Harry for a while, silent. Then slowly, he brought up his knees, holding them tight against his chest. "It's just not fair," he said sullenly, "I can't take all this, I really can't. Did anyone think of consulting me before making me an Heir?"
"Do you think someone consulted me before making me an Heir? Or when my parents were killed when I was one? Or every person I meet knowing my name before I tell them?" Harry's voice wavered, fighting the bitterness. "No one ever asks if this is what we want for our lives. We just have to make the best of it, and make sure we're ready for what lies ahead."
"I don't feel ready," Draco said dejectedly.
"You will be," his friend assured him, "We all will be."
A silence filled the room, broken only by the dying fire's attempts at reviving its embers. Draco stared blankly at the wall, chin on his knees, and Harry knew that no amount of pep talks would give him confidence. That was something that only came when one had to choose between standing tall or going under.
"So," Harry said, smiling and finally pocketing his wand, "care to explain why you decided to try and make a Harry kabob?"
"Bloody hell, I don't know!" Draco exclaimed with a slight laugh. It all seemed so absurd right now. "I guess I was just feeling a bit frustrated."
"I'd hate to see you when you feel very frustrated, then."
Draco smiled wryly. "Well, if I can't learn to accept all this, you will."
"Accept what?" came a voice from the stairwell.
Both boys jumped, turning their heads to find Hermione standing there, one hand against the stairwell wall. She had a tired look about her, as one whose persistent attempts had yet to yield sleep that night. Her two friends stood up, Draco particularly quick. As she walked cautiously forward, she crossed her bare arms, rubbing her hands along them as if she was cold.
"What do you need to accept?" she asked again, "And why are you frustrated?"
Draco shrugged slightly. "I dunno. Life really. You know, the regular: homework, girls, evil snake creatures who want to take over the world."
Hermione wasn't amused. "What has been going on with you two lately? And Azar, and even James. You're hiding something." She looked at each of them calculatingly. "I don't like secrets."
"We can't, Hermione," Harry said quietly, "We promised not to tell."
"That's never stopped you before," she replied bitterly, walking over to the couch and sitting on it, hugging her knees to her chest.
Draco gave Harry a meaningful look, indicating his head to the boys' staircase.
Harry looked at him, confused, raising his hands slightly and mouthing, "Why?"
Draco rolled his eyes, waving his hands as if to shoo Harry away.
There ensued a soundless argument, Draco trying to get Harry to go to bed and Harry wanting to know why but receiving no answer. Draco won in the end with a very icy glare and a hand firmly pointing to the staircase.
"I guess I'll be off to bed, then," Harry said a bit awkwardly, walking, albeit hesitantly, up the stairs.
After he heard the opening and shutting of Harry's dormitory door, Draco walked slowly over to Hermione, standing in front of her.
"Trouble sleeping?" he asked after a while.
"Oh, no. I just use make-up to look this tired," she scoffed, staring at the glowing embers that had once been a roaring fire.
Draco smiled. "You're pretty funny when you're bitter," he remarked airily, "Reminds me of me."
"Oh, that's encouraging," she said sarcastically.
"What's the matter? Really," he insisted.
"Oh, I dunno. Life really. You know, the normal: homework, boys, realizing that one of my best friends seems to have left me behind."
"Clever," Draco laughed, sitting next to her, "But Harry hasn't left you. He never would. Circumstances just change, that's all."
"But why?" she asked helplessly, "We used to be inseparable. Harry, Ron, and Hermione: the terrific trio! We could do anything. But then came Azar, and you, and now James. I mean, I'm glad to be friends with all of you, but sometimes I wish things hadn't changed."
"Everything changes, Hermione. But was it really because of more friends? I believe things changed long before that."
Hermione finally looked at him, perplexed.
"When you and Ron started dating," Draco continued, "That changed everything forever. Harry felt left out. Yes, I know you didn't mean to leave him out, but you did. So he was forced to reach out, to find more friends. You can't blame him for succeeding."
Hermione stared at him for a long while, her face blank with fatigue. "What's going on?" she finally asked, "What are you hiding?"
"What's the point of hiding something if you tell someone what it is?" he smiled roguishly.
Hermione turned from him, looking back at the fireplace. "Ron never keeps secrets from me."
Draco's eyes clouded over slightly. "I thought you were above manipulation," he said heavily, standing up.
"I'm not above anything when I've been tossing and turning all night because a friend proclaimed his love for me," she replied, a little angrily.
"So you haven't just dismissed it?" Draco said, turning towards her. She didn't answer. "Well, since this seems to be the night for questions, I have one for you. What exactly is your relationship with Ron?"
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean? You know what our relationship is."
"Not specifics. How serious are you? Has marriage ever come up?"
"Marriage?!" Hermione exclaimed, "I'm barely eighteen; why would we consider marriage?!"
"My point exactly. No one our age knows who they're going to spend the rest of their lives with. But you seem to have made your choice."
Hermione was silent for a long time after this. She hardly knew how to reply. "Well, what if I do know?"
Quietly, Draco replied. "What if you don't?"
Hermione jumped slightly, looking up at him.
"All I'm asking," he continued, "is for a chance. Don't make a final decision when that's all you've ever known."
She stared up at him, at his eyes, for what seemed like an eternity. Then, determinably, she looked away.
"You know," Draco said, breaking the silence, "my mum always had a way to help me to sleep. I could help you, too."
Not looking at him, she nodded her head ever so slightly.
Draco sat next to her again, though not uncomfortably close, and began to sing. Almost not of her own accord, Hermione closed her eyes. She had never realized what a beautiful singing voice Draco had. It was calm, soothing, almost like wind chimes.
Listen to the wind ride upon the darkened moor
Listen to the whispers upon the shining shore
Listen to the trees as you never have before
Lie yourself upon the grass and watch the dancing stars.
See the world as you only have ever in your dreams
See beyond all the world and everything it seems
See me as I am, and know what my heart means
Lie yourself upon the grass and watch the dancing stars.
Let me see beyond your face, that treasure never far;
To taste your kiss, hold your hand, and find out who you are.
And listen to my words speaking to your heart
And we shall lie upon the grass and watch the dancing stars.
Draco faded off, and smiled. Hermione had drooped into sleep long before. Quietly, gently, he edged his way off the sofa, standing up. On silent feet, he picked his cloak up from the chair he'd left it, and careful to not wake her, he laid it on her shivering frame.
For the longest while, he didn't move, just watching her breath go in and out, her lashes lying gently upon her cheek, her lips slightly parted. Then, knowing that during the day she would object and push her away, he leaned in closer and gently kissed her lips.
He suddenly withdrew, standing, and quickly headed for the portrait hole, hardly daring to trust himself further.
~*~*~
A/N: Well. So that's that. Hm.... ^_^
*glances at the chapter* This should have been much longer. There was a whole scene that I had written specifically for it. But then I would have to write more to fit it in nicely, and I've been long enough in updating. (I have more excuses this time, too, but hey, I'll not bore you. ^_^)
Weird? Yes, of course. Welcome to my mind. ^_^ I never suspected Draco to do that, actually. I had one line I had written long ago floating here and there among scenes and ideas, and it suddenly hit me, thus the Harry kabob incident. Very interesting indeed. Seems Draco is wrestling with some inner demons. (And if anyone felt that a certain part of that scene seemed veeeeery familiar, I meant it to be that way. I just love parallels.) Ah, me. Such big hints, and so many, too. And yet so vague... Not to me, of course, but hey, 'tis an author's right to know something of what's coming. ^_^
And what's with Draco and Hermione, huh? That seems like a veritable teeter-totter, doesn't it? Hm, we'll see.
And what about Sirius/Catherine and Remus/Juniata? Well, I had more R/J, but as I said, that scene was left out. It'll reappear, though.
Yes, well, enough of tired ramblings. THANK YOU EVERYONE WHO REVIEWED THE LAST CHAPTER!!!
I know I've been horrible about updating, and so I'm so happy that I have some who are sticking with me! Hugs for you all!
beater#4: Thanks, though that was a pretty shameful plug, and somehow I doubt that you actually read a word of my work.
Super saya-jin Gotan: Oh, never lose hope on me. I shall finish, I promise. And hopefully before the New Year! (Don't hold me to that. ^_^) Thanks! (Well, not for the whip, but, yeah, you know. ~_^)
Trisana: Thanks. ^_^ See, beater#4? Now that's a shameless plug! That's how it should be done! Take notes!
summersun: If you think THAT sounded suspiciously romantic, just you wait for more Remus/Juni! ^_^ *shrug* Fletcher just fit quite well into a bit of a future plot hole (though I originally had it filled by someone else, but you would all have hated me terribly for that), and heck, he's fun to hate. ^_^ Thanks!
chrestomanci: ^_^ I wouldn't have dreamed it either. I was actually going to bring him in to fill a plot hole, but he insisted that was not his purpose. So the hole goes unfilled, but he ended up filling an even bigger one, so I'm happy. ^_^ Ah, thanks. I was hoping the Remus/Juni scene would work out well. Thanks very much!
Naralina: ^_^ Evil, sexist; to-may-to, to-maw-to. Well, in my mind. Doesn't mean he's in league with Voldesnort. Of course, doesn't mean he isn't, either. (Oc I'm not making it that easy on you. ^-^) And I would have named this chapter that, but it wasn't particularly light-hearted. It's just a bit odd. ^_^ Thanks!
jona: Thanks! *slight blush* Hope to see you more around the board soon! ^_^
*Jay*: Probably so, though Harry was the one who knew him best. Mundungus just walked in on me. Besides, he's part of the resistance, so he has to be there. ^_^ lol, yes, definitely. ^_^ Thank you!
Colibi: Thanks!
Jeanne: Thanks! And more chapters is never a bad thing... *hint*
Princess: Ah, the lovely Fletcher question. Something that won't be answered for a loooooong time. *bwa-ha-ha* Thanks!
Kelly: LOL You know my sick little mind too well! ^_^ Thanks very much!
yerbroham: There's nothing like a review that takes up almost the whole screen. ^_^ And more Lee and Fletcher, definitely! *gulps* Er, yes. About Dumbledore... *blushes deep red* I forgot about him. *hides face* He wasn't in that part of the scene initially, and I added him for little reason, and just... Well, in all fairness, Draco wasn't particularly bashed out in the open, just subtlety. And Dumbledore could very well have been preoccupied by someone wishing to speak to him. But, in all honesty, I just placed his name where it might need to go, and didn't do enough to make the scene work with him. *sigh* I swear, I'm getting so sloppy. I may very well ask for a beta reader soon. Ah, dear Harry. I particularly liked that bit. ^_^ *shrug* Well, I dunno. Somehow I see Lucius as the type who would, when asked about Dobby's disappearance, yell, "Shut up and go to your room!" If the diary had been a winning success, naturally Draco would have been treated with the story many, many times, but as it was, I doubt Lucius would want to bring it up, or let it be brought up. And yes, you had much to do with the writing of that scene, so thank you. ^_^ Thanks again for the lovely review!
Sonata: Pleased to make your acquaintance. Oh my, and don't apologize for not knowing about my stories. I'm thankful for every person who's nice enough to read my fanfics when there's an ocean of wonderful ones on this site alone. And yes, I'm very proud! ^_^ Wow, thank you. Another Golden Girls fan?! Rock on! So many of my friends either don't have cable or just don't watch it, so I'm glad to find someone else out there with such good taste. ^-^ Thanks!
sammi_chan: Wow, thank you. I'll try to check it out, but my fanfics-to-read list is quite long. ^_^
Well, thank you all! Hopefully the regularity of school will kick in my fic-writing frenzy. ^_^ My, I feel so overwhelmed by it all. I'm a senior, for crying out loud! Goodness, college next year (and deciding on one this year). And I'll probably be still writing fics. (Not this one, though. It'll be done long before then, promise. ^_^ But I've a number planned, so my joy continues. ^_^)
Be excellent to each other!
-Ady