Author's Notes: So here's Part B. It's really long and I don't really like it. You could probably skip it if you've read the updated first and second chapters, but if you want to read it go ahead. I didn't read it over much, but I hope you like it anyway. Please review at the end. J
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
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******Draco's POV******
Well, that was easy, I thought as I watched Potter run down the hallway away from me. I honestly hadn't expected it to be easy as I'm not a very good actor. Or at least I'm not good at being sympathetic and the like. But he had fallen for it, and all was going according to plan. But then why was there this sick feeling in my stomach? You shouldn't be doing this to him... A voice in my head kept saying. Oh shut up conscience! Who asked you? I felt stupid at telling my conscience to shut up. But seriously, what good had my conscience ever done for me? If I listened to it now I risked being a slave to my cousin for two years. Needless to say, I didn't want that. But nevertheless, my conscience would not let me have peace. I did feel bad, I truly did. I was toying with him, exploiting his emotions for a bet. He didn't deserve what I was doing to him, what I would do to him. I knew that after I had won the bet I would just drop him, as if he were some object I didn't want anymore.
I turned, and started walking away from the direction Potter had taken, and away from the library. I wanted to find a nice, quiet place to sit and ponder. I also didn't want anyone around. People were a big enough nuisance without their thoughts penetrating my skull. I had never realized how truly annoying people could be until I had taken a Mind-Reading potion earlier this evening. That's how I had known what Potter was thinking earlier. After I had agreed to the bet, I had gone into the library in my house where I was actually allowed to look at books which contained the most unspeakable potions and spells. As a child I had often glanced through these books, anxiously waiting the day when I would be able to put their spells and potions to use. So you can guess how positively delighted I was to be able to use these books on my most hated enemy.
I rounded a corner, still in search of a quiet place where people's thoughts couldn't reach me. I didn't know just how powerful the potion was when I made it and drank it. It had been my intention to use that potion so I could read Potter's mind and thus know what he thought of me. I wanted to know where I stood. But I hadn't intended to read everyone's mind. They thundered in my head, threatening to drive me mad. I couldn't tell one thought from another. I decided never to use the potion again, even though I had half a year's supply sitting in my trunk. It was just too much to bear. I also didn't want to hear Potter's thoughts anymore. They hadn't been what I had expected; they were the total opposite. They hadn't been all bright and irritating as I had thought, but really quite depressing. Hearing how he felt only made what I had to do even harder.
I turned a corner and found what I was looking for: the girl's bathroom on the first floor. It had been inhabited by Moaning Myrtle for something like fifty years. My father had told me that a girl had died in the school fifty years ago, and rumor said that it was Myrtle. It was a perfect hideout; nobody ever went in there because of Myrtle's incessant whining. But ghosts meant nothing to someone who knew how to incapacitate them. I had read in a book about a curse that froze ghosts in their spot for a few hours. It had proved very useful against Peeves when I'd find him on one of my Midnight Excursions.
I headed for the bathroom, taking my wand out of the inside of my coat. I pushed the door open and looked around. It was a nice bathroom, save for a thin coat of water on the floor. It was a lot nicer than any of the boy's bathrooms. Bloody hell, why do the girl's get nice bathrooms? I thought. I knew it was silly, complaining about bathroom conditions. But I had always been a spoilt child, used to nice things. I stepped farther into the bathroom, gazing at the high ceiling and impressive masonry. The people who built this castle knew what they were doing.
"WHO'S THERE?"
I jumped slightly at the sudden voice. I turned towards the stalls, where I had heard the voice. A transparent girl was floating between the two rows of stalls. I stared for a moment, somewhat in awe. I had never seen Myrtle before, and had always been a bit curious of what she looked like. The moment of wonder didn't last long and I had frozen her in place before she even knew what was happening.
I studied my surroundings more thoroughly, and nodded. Apart from the wet floor and the ghost, this was a satisfactory hangout. I sat on the side of the sink, gazing at the ceiling, when I heard someone's voice. It wasn't talking to anyone and I knew that it wasn't talking period. I was hearing someone's thoughts again. Dammit, the power hadn't worn off yet. I tried to tune out the voice, but it just became louder in my head as the person approached. I eventually gave up and decided to listen.
I couldn't make out what it was saying; it was speaking in a strange tongue I didn't know. But I recognized the accent and the deep seductiveness to the voice: Lestair. I was a bit excited at being able to read the villain's thoughts. But at the same time I was apprehensive. To put it bluntly, Lestair scared the shit out of me. I knew he could read thoughts, I could feel it. When he looked into my eyes I just knew that he was probing my mind, trying to discover all my secrets. He didn't like me; this much I could tell from his black, thoughtful eyes. They were the only thing that registered emotion, and the only things that showed life in his white face. But I also got the distinct impression that he wanted to kill me, and slowly. I told myself it was crazy, but I couldn't dismiss the feeling that easily. There was this feeling I got when he was around me, warning me to stay away. And I kept having flashes of him standing over me, staring into my eyes with a sick, malicious pleasure. If given the chance he would kill me, and he'd enjoy it.
I sat, not daring to move as if he could sense my movements through the door. His voice was growing faint now, but not because he was moving away. My power was fading; the potion's effect was draining. I strained harder to hear his thoughts, even though I still couldn't understand him. It must have been his voice that kept me captured, it had that quality to it. Then his thoughts halted their endless train, as if distracted by something. They were doing something now, and I couldn't figure out what it was they were doing. I couldn't read Lestair's mind now, no matter how hard I strained. Damn, my power is completely gone now. But I was wrong.
I could still read Lestair's mind, but he wasn't thinking. He was concentrating on something, but what? Then the sickening truth hit me; he had sensed me reading his mind. He was reading mine! He knew who I was, and where I was! I didn't waste a moment, there wasn't one to lose. He was opening the door now, slowly. He was taunting me. I ran to the last stall on the left and shut the door behind me, stepping up onto the toilet bowl. This is foolish, I thought. He was going to find me, there's no doubt about it. But what would he do? He wouldn't kill me, would he? He can't, they'd find him out and he be sent off to Azkaban. I heard the door open finally and I shut my eyes, willing myself not to think. I hoped that if he couldn't read my mind then he wouldn't be able to find me.
I could hear the click of his shoes echo in the cavernous room. He was walking slowly, enjoying my fear that I couldn't keep hidden from him. As hard I tried, I couldn't stop thinking.
"I know you're here, poppet {1}. You can't hide from me."
I was shaking now, so much so that I was afraid that my foot would slip off the seat and into the toilet. Lestair was walking between the stalls now, following my thoughts.
"Come out, come out, where ever you are{2}."
FUCK YOU! I screamed at him in my mind. He was toying with me, playing with my fear. YOU STUPID SONOVABITCH! There was no use trying to hide from him anymore. He knew very well where I was, and I might as well be ready for him. I grabbed my wand again and prepared to stun him with it long enough so I could get away. I heard him laugh. It was a horrible, merciless, cruel laugh that sent shivers down my spine. Oh how I hated him.
He was in front of my stall now. I could see his feet from beneath the stall and I could feel his ominous presence. I tightened my grip on my wand. My hands were so moist now that I thought my wand would slip right out of my hand. It was now or never. I drew my wand back and cast the stunning spell. The door went flying off its hinges and smashed into the opposite stall, bringing Lestair with it. I wasted no time. I jumped off the toilet and raced towards the door.
Lestair was not immobilized for long. He jumped out of the wreckage and was upon me in seconds. I felt something grab my coat, and I cursed it for being so long. He pulled me closer to him and I lost my balance, falling to the floor with a slap. I groaned, trying to pick myself up. But Lestair chose to do that for me. He grabbed my coat collar, picked me up off the floor and tossed me into the sink. I hit it hard, and I was very surprised to find that my back hadn't been broken. But I still found it difficult to move. I was in an excruciating amount of pain. The only thing keeping me awake was my need for survival, to get away from Lestair.
I was lying in a pitiful heap on the floor, blood dripping to the floor from my mouth. I had coughed some up after being thrown into the sink. I looked up as Lestair stood beside me, shadowing me. It seemed he blocked out all else, and all I could see was him. My wand was too far for me to reach, I was doomed. Unless...
I concentrated hard on my wand, willing it to come to me. Lestair was staring at me with interest. Doubtless, he knew what I meant to do, and was intrigued. He wanted to know if I could actually force my wand to come to me using only my mind. I concentrated harder on my wand. Come on, come on! It started twitching, and I could hardly believe it! Come on, just a little more... He turned and saw my wand moving.
"It can't be!" He exclaimed, showing the first real emotion I had ever see from him. I smirked. I guess you don't know everything you stupid sonovabitch!
The wand flew into my waiting hand. I grabbed it, pointing at him. He snarled at me, and although his expression terrified me, I also felt a sense of power at having surprised him, forcing him to give up his calm, emotionless demeanor. I knew that stunning wouldn't work on this creep; I had to go for something stronger. He was laughing again.
"Nothing you can do will affect me," he sneered. He spread his arms out to a 45 degree angle, daring me to strike him.
"We'll see about that," I said. I knew I had to use something powerful on him, otherwise I'd just end up back on the floor. I needed him to be incapacitated so I could get away. But what could I use? I didn't know any powerful spells except for...
No, it's too dangerous. And was I even powerful enough to use it? But I knew that if I didn't try it, I'd die. And I wasn't about to be killed in a girl's bathroom! I drew up power within me, forcing it into my wand. Here goes nothing:
"Avada Kadavra!"
There was a look of surprise on Lestair's face as my spell hit him and sent him rocketing through the air. He hit the floor hard, and didn't move. I stared at his motionless body, utterly surprised at the power I had just used. I knew I wasn't strong enough to use that attack properly. The most it should have done to him was given him a bleeding nose, and maybe knock him back a pace. But this attack had launched him.
I painstakingly stood up. It was unbearable to move, but I knew I had to. Lestair was still alive; I could barely see him breathing. But he was unconscious, which was a good thing. I hobbled over to him; step after agonizing step. He was not in a good state. His eyes were still open, but glazed over and blood was dripping from his nose to the floor and his head was surrounded by a small pool of blood. How is this guy still alive? I shuddered, turning away from him. It was an awful sight, to be sure.
I made my way to the door, wishing there was some way to ease my pain. Groaning, I pushed the door open. Slytherin house was far enough from this bathroom without an aching back. Something in my back was definitely broken, probably a vertebrae. But I knew that no one would come to help me, there was no one around. I painstakingly made my way down the hallway. I wanted more than anything to just lie down and let somebody find me in the morning, but I was too afraid of Lestair waking up and finishing the job. So I kept on walking.
It was when the library was in sight that I gave up. Sitting with my back against the wall, I prayed that someone would find me. Most people would have left the library by now, but there had to be at least a few stragglers. Right? I laughed at how pathetic I sounded. Even if no one found me tonight, they'd find me tomorrow. Lestair wouldn't wake up. At least I hoped he wouldn't...
My thoughts wandered back to Lestair lying unconscious in the bathroom. The attack had done much more than I had thought it would. It shouldn't have done anything, actually. I was too inexperienced to use it properly, and I had never used it before. Then how had it caused so much damage? I gazed at my hands, remembering the strange and incredible power I had felt pass through them when I had attacked. It was as if the power had come from within me, from a reserve inside my body that I didn't know I had. Did I have a hidden power, just waiting to be released? No, I told myself, you're being silly. Or was I? But hidden power or no, it was still unlike anything I had ever felt before, and it had felt good.
I pushed the idea of a hidden power aside, concentrating on something more important: what to do with Lestair. If he would try to kill me again, I didn't know. Though some part of me said that I would be safe; he wouldn't dare attack me again after what I had just done to him. But there were others to consider... What would keep him from attacking Potter? That boy was so easily swooned, he wouldn't stand a chance. He'd probably let Lestair kill him. Such was the power that Lestair possessed. But how could he mesmerize you, enthrall you with just one glance? Then it hit me. He was a vampire.
The memories flooded into my mind, memories that had been forgotten. They flashed before my eyes. Lestair holding Harry...Lestair coming towards me...Lestair holding me, preventing escape...Lestair bending down to bite my neck... I shuddered as they came back to me, and I suddenly began weeping. I don't know why I was crying, and I couldn't stop it. The tears just kept pouring down my face. When I stopped, I was filled with a new resolution: I would stop Lestair before he could harm anyone else. With that, I closed my eyes, letting sleep come to me. From somewhere far away, I heard familiar footfalls, and a dark little tune I had heard when I was a child.
Damon...
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End Notes: So that's the end of that chapter. I didn't really like it when I was writing it, and there's really not much of a point to it unless you haven't read the new first and second chapters. So if you didn't like this chapter then just say so, I won't be hurt. But I promise you that the next chapters will be better. But they probably won't be up for a while. I've got this fucking Mosaic in Art Class I have to finish and an English Book Report to write. And I have to do it by the end of March Break. I shouldn't even be writing this! Oh well.
BTW: Please, please review!
BBTW: Yeah, in case you were wondering why the numbers are there it's cuz I took those lines from somewhere else. If you can figure out where they came from, say it in a review and I'll give you a special treat. I haven't decided what, but I'm open to ideas. Those lines again are:
{1} I know you're here, poppet. You can't hide from me.
{2} Come out, come out, wherever you are.