Author's note: This section is part of a much longer chapter. I haven't actually finished writing the whole scene yet, but I hope to have it done by midweek. I'm posting this now because I haven't posted anything in a while, and I wanted to keep this going. I promise, once I get this particular part of the angst out of the way, we'll start to see some D/G romance. Reaching out to each other, and such. For those of you who've been patiently waiting for me to slog through all of this internal darkness, and have stuck with me, I want to say a HUGE thank you! I want to thank all of you who've read and enjoyed my fic enough to give it praise! I really take inspiration from you, and I am truly grateful! J
Particular thanks to Abforth, Mytsie, and Rebuky for being so encouraging in your e-mails! I was really motivated by them! But I don't mean to leave any of you out! Thank you all!
Draco stared out over the water, trying to empty his mind of the events of the last week. He'd been attacked, almost kidnapped, cut from the Quidditch team, and had had a verbal confrontation with his father that was pointless and enraging. What more could possibly happen? He had a feeling that if things got any worse he'd fall dead from the stress alone!
His muscles ached with stiffness, and his stomach burned. Madam Pomfrey had told him he was developing an ulcer, and he needed to relax. How in Agrippa's name was he supposed to relax when he was trying to fight off werewolves, vampires, and his father all at the same time? The Nurse was mixing a curative for him and had told him to return in an hour, and as he rubbed his middle absently he silently willed her to hurry up.
He blinked as a shout of laughter broke in on his thoughts, but he quickly regained himself and tuned out the sound. He really should leave here; go to his room or someplace quiet. But he didn't know of any quiet or secluded place on the grounds because he'd never needed one before, and he didn't want to be alone in his room at the moment. Memories of the previous night still burned like fire in his brain, even though they were vague and half formed. It was so strange to think he was capable of such mindless rage, such horrific destruction. It made him think of old time barbarians entering their battle frenzies. What was the term? He wondered. Then he remembered; Berserk.
Earlier in the week his father had arrived to see that Draco was safe, which had surprised Draco to no end. Especially seeing how Lucius had seen fit to drop a Freezing Menace on his son only that Monday. Draco's face burned and his heart squeezed painfully as he remembered how the first day of the week had gone…
The green envelope had arrived by special owl delivery right to the commons door. He hadn't known what it was initially. But he'd accepted the envelope and examined it curiously. It had his name and house on it, but no other identifying marks. Flipping it over, he saw the wax seal was from a post in London. Slipping his thumb beneath the wax, he'd been about to break it when Frieda Lawson's voice had rang across the commons.
"A Freezing Menace," she'd exclaimed excitedly, "Who sent it to you? Is it from your father?"
Draco had frowned at her, but hadn't wanted to appear ignorant. So he'd fished his way through his reply.
"My father would send me a…Freezing Menace only if he thought I needed one. Do you think I need one, Frieda?"
The dark haired, horse faced girl had smiled then, and something about that smile set Draco's teeth on edge, "Do you know what that is, Malfoy? I don't think you do, so why don't you open it for us?"
Draco might have allowed himself to be goaded into it, but the obvious excitement in Lawson's eyes made him uneasy. He decided his room would be a much better place. He'd carefully slid his thumb from beneath the wax seal and pocketed the envelope, tossing a careless smile to Frieda as he walked towards the stairs.
"I think I'll keep this particular treat to myself. I do so love leaving you breathless!"
His parting comment had surprised the silly girl so much her beady eyes had nearly popped from her head, which had made him smile with cold delight. But his smile faded once he reached his room. Crabbe and Goyle were just about to exit for the commons, and Draco had tersely commanded them to meet him in the Great Hall. Once they were gone, he'd removed the envelope from his pocket and studied it again.
Except for the emerald green color, it was unremarkable. It was addressed in gold ink, directly to him;
Draco Malfoy, Slytherin House
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Who could have sent him this? What was it? Remembering Lawson's reaction, Draco was wary of opening it. He pulled out his wand and passed it over the envelope. He knew many detection spells, and tried six of them. Five of them didn't detect anything out of the ordinary, but the last spell seemed to freeze up. Instead of his wand giving off a soft green light to indicate all was well it gave off a white light. Draco stared, feeling a chill. That had never happened before!
If an explosive or other booby trap was detected, his wand was set to give off a red warning light. If the object was safe, then his wand would flash a green light. Never before had it flashed a white light with this particular spell, and Draco had no idea what it meant. He was too familiar with the consequences of dark spells to rashly open the envelope now, but his curiosity was overwhelming him.
He thought of Lawson's reaction. She had been excited, anticipating something eagerly, so he didn't think it was life threatening. But he had to be sure.
There was one more spell he thought to try. It was a Sender Detector, and allowed the spell caster to vaguely identify the person who sent the object. If that person was unknown to you, you could at least buy time in deciding whether or not to open the package.
He passed his wand over the envelope, murmuring the incantation and watching apprehensively for the result. After a moment, a tiny, smoky tendril rose from the envelope and formed itself into the Malfoy Family crest. Draco had nearly dropped the envelope in surprise.
"Finite Incantatum!" he whispered, and the tiny replica disappeared.
His father had sent this, it was the only explanation. Slowly, Draco slipped his thumb beneath the wax seal and broke it open. Immediately a green smoke billowed out, surrounding Draco. It had a strange, sweet smell, like warm honey and clover. He felt a heavy lethargy steal into his limbs, and his eyelids grew heavy.
He tried to stand, thinking wildly that his father was trying to poison him, but he only managed to stumble forward and land on the floor, face first. He struggled to sit up, feeling an icy numbness creeping into his limbs, and managed to push himself against his bed for support, all the while the thick, green smoke swirled around him. Then his eyes unfocused and he heard his father's voice began to whisper in his mind.
"Boy, when I tell you to do something I expect it to be done immediately and without question! I do not tolerate defiance from anyone and I'll bloody well not tolerate it from my own son!"
Draco thought he might be going mad. Lucius's voice was as clear as if he was speaking directly to Draco's thoughts, soft but menacing and filled with an icy fury.
"I have been informed that you are refusing to cooperate as far as Miss Parkinson is concerned, and you are risking my best liaison to the ministry itself. I'll not have it! Her family is essential to my plans for you and our continuing expansion, and if you think I have any intention of allowing you to ruin that you are sadly mistaken!"
Draco felt his lungs struggle with the effort to breathe through the icy cold that was enveloping him. He could see his misting breath was tinged with green, and his heart hammered with fear.
"How dare you do this to me? That Parkinson girl is no different from any other idiotic gold digger, and if you don't like her you can bloody well learn to buy your pleasure as I do! I have already sent an owl to Snape with orders to pull you from the damn Quidditch team, and if you don't learn to conform to my plans I will make you sorry you were ever born to disgrace my existence!"
The last words of his father echoed thunderously through his head, and Draco feared his skull might actually split open. But as the echoes died away, the numbing cold had very quickly receded from his body, leaving Draco gasping and shaking weakly against the mattress.
Even now the memory caused cold sweat to break out over him, the words "born to disgrace my existence" echoing in his mind and causing his hands to clench around his lower arms. He stared grimly, unseeingly out over the water, unaware of Ginny's observance of him.
His face set painfully as he recalled struggling to regain feeling in his legs. When he was able to stand he'd run to the bathroom, splashing water on his face and retreating into one of the stalls. Fear had subsided fairly quickly to be replaced by anger, humiliation, and pain. So this was what a Freezing Menace was, a more fearful and insidious type of Howler.
Draco had sat in the bathroom stall for hours, not budging until Crabbe and Goyle had come looking for him. The same thoughts had whirled through his mind. When have I ever done anything right to you? When was I ever good enough, or smart enough to make you proud? When have you ever looked at me and just loved me?
No one had mentioned it except Lawson, during lunch when he finally came out of the bathroom with Crabbe and Goyle. She'd had a knowing and malicious smile on her face, and Draco felt his emotions boil into a murderous rage. Turning fully to face her, he'd calmly asked if she'd like him to demonstrate the effects for her. She turned her face haughtily away, but didn't pursue the subject.
Pansy had displayed good sense and avoided him. Draco would have been happy to leave it at that, except for what happened the next morning…
He'd raced out of the Common room Tuesday morning, telling Crabbe and Goyle he'd meet them in the Great Hall. He didn't want to be around if another green envelope arrived, and hopefully it would explode on its own, before it could get to him. No sooner had he sat down to scrambled eggs and sausage, however, when Snape appeared at his elbow.
"Mr. Malfoy, please come with me." Snape had said quietly. Draco had risen, a puzzled look on his face, and followed the Potions Master back to the stairs leading down to the Dungeon. Draco had wondered what Snape would want with him, and had grown steadily more nervous as they'd descended past moving tapestries of sour faced wizards wearing robes of black and green, and paintings of witches who appeared almost ghastly as the gloom deepened.
Draco had felt a chill wrack his frame that wasn't entirely due to the falling temperature of his surroundings. He suddenly remembered what his father had said about sending an owl to Snape. He'd wanted to halt the Potions Master then, but his voice refused to work. He'd wanted to stop walking, but his numb legs somehow seemed charmed to keep moving forward. Snape hadn't stopped till they arrived at his office, and as he closed the door, Draco had known beyond a shadow of a doubt what was coming.
Snape had looked at him, a look of pity combined with the strange look of understanding in his eyes. He began speaking slowly.
"Your father sent me an owl, and it concerned your place on the Quidditch team."
"You're cutting me out." Draco had stated with a quiet finality. Snape had nodded, not bothering to hide the matter.
"He says he fears your studies are suffering, and wishes to pull you so you can concentrate on your schoolwork." Snape replied, lips twisting with disapproval.
"That's not it," Draco had said numbly, "I'm being punished."
Snape had once more nodded, giving him a knowing look through narrow eyes. Draco had stared at the Potion Master's desk, trying to fight off the feeling that he was going to vomit, and noticed burns in the old wood. Wonder how long those have been there? He'd thought.
"Why are you letting him cut me?" Draco asked after a moment, "Can't you tell him I'm an important part of the team?"
"I already tried Mr. Malfoy," Snape almost smiled, "I received an owl from your father early yesterday morning, and sent off my reply by express owl. He wasn't pleased at my contradicting his wishes, and as your parent he does have final say on whether or not you can play. I'm sorry."
Draco nodded, and had quickly left the professor's office. He'd returned to the Great Hall to find Crabbe and Goyle stuffing their faces.
"Where were youf Dracob?" Crabbe asked, his mouth full of food. Draco glared.
"Kindly wait till you've swallowed before speaking to me!"
He'd spent the whole morning in a daze, his anger boiling beneath a thin sheet of numbness. During Transfiguration, as he'd taken notes on Animagus's and their various methods of transforming, he'd happened to glance over and noticed Potter whispering conspiratorially to Granger and Weasley.
What now? He'd wondered angrily. Did they perhaps know what Dumbledore had found out from that blasted Vampire? Dumbledore had yet to summon him for any reason, and Draco felt his numbness burn away as he'd stared at the Trio. Was it too much to ask that he be told anything that might make it easier to understand why he'd been attacked? Were they too damn good to share what information impacted him directly? Did they not give a damn about his life? He'd actually understand if they didn't, but hadn't they promised to share information?
Actually, they hadn't, and Draco's fury boiled even hotter. He'd spent the rest of the class staring at his parchment, hearing and seeing nothing around him.
On the way to lunch, Draco had spotted Pansy with a group of Slytherin girls. She was the center of attention, giggling, chattering, and otherwise making an arse of herself, as far as Draco was concerned. He'd approached the group with a smile, thinking that he could at least settle one score.
"Draco," she'd simpered, "How lovely to see you."
Her idiocy never failed to awe him.
"May I speak with you alone, Pansy?" he'd asked, giving his most charming smile. Pansy had blushed, "Of course!"
What had followed had perhaps been unnecessarily cruel, but it had nevertheless been well deserved. Draco smiled coldly out at the calm waters' surface. Sometimes in life, you can make wickedly satisfying memories…
Pansy had smiled as he led her outdoors to a small sitting area just off the entrance of the school. Not many were outside, as lunch was being served, so Draco had been assured of acceptable privacy.
"What can I do for you sir?" she'd curtsied slightly, giggling flirtatiously. He dropped his smile then and allowed his anger to surface.
"You can drop dead for all I care," he'd growled, almost snarling at her, "You got your wish, Pansy. I've been cut from the team!"
Pansy had suddenly gone pale, her smile disappearing so fast it looked like it had been ripped away. She immediately began to give excuses, saying she hadn't realized this would happen. Draco had laughed in her face.
"You were very aware that my father would make me sorry, but I believe you're telling the truth about this. You never did use your brain for anything more useful than absorbing the latest fashion tricks. Which is about all you ever talk about, really!"
"Draco, how can you say that to me?" she'd suddenly started crying, "I'll owl your father, I'll tell him I was wrong-"
"Yes you were, but it's too late for that." Draco interrupted, feeling a vicious pleasure at the sight of Pansy's tears, "Actually, you weren't wrong. I really can't stand you, Pansy. Now do me the favor of staying as far away from me as possible!"
Pansy had let out a screech at his statement, and pulled on his robes to keep him from walking away. He'd continued laughing; yanking away from her while she continued to protest her inane excuses. He'd finally halted her for good when he'd turned, brought his face very close to hers, and ground out "I hate you! I always have, and I want nothing to do with you!"
He'd felt slightly better about things after that, but nothing could have prepared him for the next day…