Hello, I'm Shooting Jewel. . . Just thought I'd probably have to reintroduce myself as nobody on ff has heard even a squeak from me for the last . . . innumerable months. I'm really sorry that this chapter is, again, more of a filler than anything else, though it plays Draco's character up a bit and reveals some of his history (at least, the one I have invented for him. I'm sure he doesn't mind . . .). Plus he might seem more evil here, cause I'm re-reading all the HP books and have decided that my Draco has been a little OOC so far. Anyway, I can't promise it will never take this long again to update this story, but as long as not everybody is so discouraged they stop reading altogether, I will definitely continue writing, cuz I love it! So, here's the continuation of last chapter, as the title already says:

Levitational Dance & Legilimency II

While searching for a chair that would transport him to his doom – the Headmistress' office – Draco feverishly tried to rid his mind of anything that could be counted against him. By trapping his gaze for that brief period of time, Professor Sole had already seen some images he would have done almost anything to keep from her.

. . . he was just a small kid, sitting helplessly beside a small, lifeless puppy, rubbing his eyes so hard it hurt to try to stop the tears – the last time he had cried from grief, not pain . . .

. . . out on the Hogwarts Quidditch field, second year, Harry Potter was diving towards him, and neatly caught the snitch that had been hovering right beside him while he had been laughing...
. . . he was fifteen, and was standing bruised, yet triumphant, in front of a Dementor without showing any sign of weakness or fear, while his father looked approving . . .

Suddenly a golden sofa appeared right beside him, occupied by a group of people who were obviously teachers. One of them Draco even recognized, a tall wiry man with iron-grey hair who was his new Spells teacher – Professor Cockle. He had not taken much notice of him, mostly because of his nondescript appearance and mannerisms. The professor was accompanied by another man who looked strict enough to rival McGonagall, and a middle-aged woman wearing dark purple velvet robes and as much jewellery as his mother had ever owned, Draco mused.

'Oh, Mr Malfoy,' Professor Cockle said in the quiet voice he always used. 'Professor Sole is already waiting for you in her office.'

At this point the other man started and moved forward quickly. 'This is Draco Malfoy?'

'No, I'm my twin brother,' Draco retorted. It was nerve-racking to stand here and be goggled at by some idiot teachers when he would have to face the real, much more dangerous enemy any moment now.

He could see that his answer shocked the witch, had no effect on Professor Cockle, and amused the other wizard.

'Well, tell your brother from me that I've heard he has played for his school Quidditch team and am looking forward to his performance at his next Flying lesson,' he said with a smirk that rivalled Draco's own.

Scowling, the young blond muttered: 'Well, I have to go see your headmistress now', with slight emphasis on 'your'. He wanted no part of this school, even though the attention from the Flying teacher was flattering.

. . . Harry Potter shooting through the air, his hand eagerly clamping around the snitch, inches from his own face which was contorted with fury . . .

Turning away from the three real figures and the shadow one in his head, Draco continued looking for the chair, that, he decided, must not exist at all. The whole situation was completely out of his depth.

Suddenly, he was aware of the witch striding towards him. Saying not a word, she clamped surprisingly rough fingers around one of his wrists and led him to a small golden arm-chair. The words 'Headmistress' Office' on it almost made Draco sigh from both relief and weariness. The greatest menace was still to be tackled.

Judging by experience that the witch was expecting gratitude, he cocked an impudent eyebrow at her and was about to let himself drop into the chair and disappear, when she pressed her fingers on his arm again and spoke. Her voice was dusty, old and full of an ancient and timeless wisdom.

'To know a man you must have walked a thousand miles in his moccasins.'

On instinct, Draco dropped into his seat, still gazing stupidly up at the witch's face. Not even he could think of a suitably deprecating comment to that.

Just before the world around him turned into the blackness of the travel, the teacher's eyes widened and her mouth opened as if she wanted to say something, but she didn't.

The dance looked like a room of statues had suddenly come gracefully alive. While two of them were turning slow cartwheels in the air, another was doing rapid turns that took her high off the floor each time. Still others formed a revolving pyramid with the lowest members hovering inches from the floor.

Ginny watched, entranced, as a suddenly authoritative Professor Kelsey directed the whirling dancers in front of her by calling out things like 'Higher up, girls' – 'Keep your weight on your left foot, Miriam' or by flourishing her wand so that sparks shot out of the end and attacked the dancer who was not performing as she wanted her to.

For Ginny, it was hard to understand how you could criticize anything in the dance, even though that might be due to her inexperience. Vaguely she recalled clumsily shuffling about with Neville at the Yule Ball – but that was a different world from the beauty and agility here. She suddenly wished, grinning, that Professor McGonagall could see this. It would certainly change her mind about the worth of levitational dance.

Her grin growing broader, she imaged Malfoy seeing this – he would hit the roof when he found out that he was going to be expected to dance like that.

And that was all it took. Malfoy's outraged expression in her imagination triggered a sudden torrent of memories. The red light reflected in his hate- frenzied eyes, the twisted grimace he had managed to change that normally smug, superior-looking face into. And the brute violence with which he had flung her against the wall, forced her chin up to meet with the full force of his hatred. There were no words for his voice.

Ginny shivered, the splendour of the dance lost on her as she heard that voice again in her head. He could kill her, easily, and he was going to. With a painful bitterness she realized that Draco Malfoy was not who she had thought him. The exchange of humiliating taunts and insults that had hurt her so much was only a children's quarrel to him. He was capable of so much more. Threats. Violence. Murder. A killing machine, serving his Dark Lord. And she had wanted to be his friend.

The outlines of the dancers becoming blurry before her eyes, she cried out silently: How could a killing machine comfort her? How could she dream about lying in a killing machine's arms, protected by it? There was no answer to the problem Draco Malfoy. But one thing was sure: he was dangerous.

Suddenly Ginny became aware that the dance had ended. Hastily, she clapped her hands, feeling awkward as the only guest. But the girls from the Levitational dance company smiled gratefully at her, and Professor Kelsey's severe face expression – Ginny had not known that the ever-smiling teacher could look severe – softened.

'Yes, well done, girls,' she conceded. 'But –' Now followed a long commentary of corrections and improvements, which rapidly turned into a complaint that they had become stiff and lazy during the long summer holidays.

Except for some rolling of eyes, everyone accepted this meekly. Ginny had a first whiff of how hard and straining the beautiful work might be, but she was feeling as if Draco Malfoy was closing in on her from all sides. It was hard for anything to penetrate that terrifying mind-barrier.

Just as she was trying to quell the thought that it would be easiest to faint again, the dancers were dismissed and hurried into the clouds of stars, presumably to get changed.

The professor, smiling widely again, approached Ginny: 'Well, does it look like fun?'

Ginny grabbed hold of the picture in her mind featuring the spinning dancers, glad to have something to distract her. 'Oh, yes,' she agreed, trying to sound as lively and spirited as she usually did, 'it was really beautiful; I don't know how they do it!'

'Certainly one needs the talent,' explained Professor Kelsey, beaming with pride. 'And these girls all have it. Would you like to try some before your first lesson?'

Ginny explained her condition in a confused rush; told the other witch about her shakiness, the nausea that made her feel faint, and the coldness that hadn't left her bones since the accident on the Sedes Aeris.

Even as she was still trying to find words to describe the clammy feeling, she knew it was no good by the way the professor's eyes lit up.

'Come', she was commanded in a voice that cut off her own faltering one. Professor Kelsey stretched out a hand towards her and Ginny grasped it, fearing that she really couldn't get up on her own.

After she had pulled her to her feet with surprisingly gentle force, the professor led her firmly to a small sofa that would probably seat three people. Ginny wondered, suddenly eager to detect a flaw in this perfect system, how only two people could travel in it. She had seen for herself how the chairs and couches only disappeared when they were full.

But Professor Kelsey simply propped her feet up gracefully on the part of the seat that wasn't occupied, and while Ginny was still watching her and understanding, they left the Levitational Dance Studio.

During the brief journey, Draco's eyes had snapped shut automatically: he wasn't prepared, he had been thrown off his guard by the witch he now decided was insane. But as soon as he felt the rushing noise stop, he opened his eyes again. The witch knew he had cried when he was five years old, she didn't have to know that he was still a coward in some ways.

The first thing he was aware of was that the headmistress was not looking at him. Instead, she was bent over two rolls of parchment, copying something from the one onto the other with a very ordinary quill, even though there was a magnificent one made out of a phoenix feather lying right beside it.

Once he was sure she was immersed in her task, Draco quickly took in the rest of the room. The room was sparsely furnished, consisting only of the headmistress' ivory-coloured desk (which looked like it was made out of ivory, too, except that that was impossible), her matching chair, and a large glass closet, that was completely see-through. And empty. Also, one wall was one big window, through which streamed open sunlight, already turning red in the sunset. It glinted off the many crystals hovering in the air, and was diverted into different-coloured lines of light that made tiny rainbow-coloured points on the walls and floor. Not to mention the headmistress' bowed head, and his own hands.

Draco's surroundings definitely unnerved him. But on the other hand, he had some time to adjust. Taking a deep but silent breath, he let his eyes unfocus and gaze off into the distance. This was just like the rigorous training his father had given him the last few years. Well, at least it would come in handy now.

Then he did his best to lose his memories in a deep fog. Careful to feel nothing, not even satisfaction at his success, he started planning ahead answers to some of the questions she would in all probability ask him.

Suddenly, he was aware that a point of light glinted somewhere else in his enemy's golden hair. She had lifted her head and was watching him with the big amber eyes her students had learned to fear – and love, though Draco did not know it.

The power of her eyes when they met his was even stronger than he remembered it. They pierced right through the mist at a shadow of an image behind it. But the image was hazy: Draco couldn't see what it was, so neither could the professor.

'Draco Malfoy,' she said slowly, as if trying to remember what the name meant to her. 'I'm Professor Sole, the Headmistress of Arx Aurea.'

Wow, I didn't know that, thought Draco irritably. At the same time that his annoyance flashed up in his eyes, satisfied triumph appeared in Sole's. And the shadow picture flashed up instantly with a bright light, before he had his temper under control again and the fog clouded everything.

. . . a younger Draco, standing defiantly before the slightly stooped form of Dumbledore . . .

'Yes, tell me how my dear friend Professor Dumbledore is?' Sole was saying, smiling at him as if she was inviting him to take part in this game.

Draco sucked in his breath, blinked for a brief second in which he carefully hid his memories and feelings once more, and then answered in a bored, unaffected voice: 'Old.'

Sole had to smile at this remark, and replied with a little laugh: 'Oh, so am I. The school is getting old, and I was very young when I set it up.' She kept her eyes on him in expectation.

But her opponent was prepared this time: although he did register surprise at the news that the school had been established by Sole herself, it couldn't penetrate the lazy, arrogant trance he had put himself into.

'Was there any reason you called me here, Professor?' he drawled, hoping that he could end the wearisome conversation.

'Yes,' was the prompt reply. 'You see, I like to get to know my students personally. Only then can I help them when they're in trouble. And only then can the school function the way it does.'

Draco was carefully unmoved. 'Can't we just assume I won't get into trouble?' His voice came out without any inflection at all.

The witch's eyes glinted. 'No,' she said emphatically. 'You already are in trouble, Mr Malfoy. Therefore I think it very improbable that you won't get into any.'

Draco looked into her earnest gaze, bewildered. Trouble? Before he could stop it, his mind was racing, trying to find the reason for her mentioning trouble. And the cool shelter was lost. In its place, there was the vivid picture of a blond boy kneeling on the floor, kissing an auburn-haired girl as if his heart was being controlled by the passionate red light in the room.

Still feeling Ginny's soft skin and satiny hair on his hands, Draco tore his head around, hurled himself out of the golden chair and back into it without looking at the headmistress again. And then the chair took him away, and the merciful darkness swept over him.

Professor Sole looked intently at the spot where his chair had been a moment earlier, shrugged her shoulders in dismissal and picked up the phoenix-feather quill to write.

When they reached the Intersection, Ginny was surprised to find that her companion went straight to the big doors opening into the Entrance Hall. But she followed her eagerly, Malfoy being for the moment forgotten.

Professor Kelsey led her straight through the 'treasure cove' to the biggest treasure of all: the mesmerizing diamond in the center of the floor.

No sooner had Ginny caught sight of it than a deep force knocked her legs away from under her, and she slid to the smooth floor. Gazing at the diamond, she waited to fall into the depths of unconsciousness, as she had done so many times lately.

But not this time. 'No, Ginny, don't!' commanded a voice so harsh that she only barely recognized it for Professor Kelsey's. Then surprisingly strong arms pulled her reluctant form up off the floor. The professor took her arm and led the stupefied Ginny right to the heart of the diamond, which glowed up with a thrill of power. There she let her charge sink onto the diamond's smooth, lighted surface and stepped back.

Ginny, lying with her face against the mirror-like smoothness, felt the nausea and faintness subside; it was as if there had been a stormy ocean of fear and confusion inside her that was gradually ebbing away now. An electrifying force of both power and calmness, strength and beauty, filled the empty beaches inside that the waves had left. Her left palm, which was flat against the diamond, felt suddenly connected with millions of other hands that had been pressed against the ancient diamond. Ginny could almost follow their suffering, their joy, their anger, and their enlightenment.

And then she seemed to wake up from a night of beautiful, restful dreams to Professor Kelsey's smiling face. Blinking in bewilderment, Ginny got up, noticing at the same time that the middle of the diamond had stopped glowing.

'I didn't go to sleep, did I?' she asked the professor hesitantly. 'Or faint?' she added, then was suddenly aware that there was no weariness in her body, that in fact she felt stronger than she had all day.

'No,' announced the witch happily. 'But the diamond always has a very soothing and regenerating effect: that's why I brought you to it. If you're done now, you should probably get back to your common room. No doubt you have work to do.'

Before following Professor Kelsey's brisk stride out of the Entrance Hall, Ginny cast a long look back at the diamond, gleaming with unused power until someone else had need of it. It seemed to her as if on the diamond, she had been perfectly content, while now there were the old battles to fight. Especially against Draco Malfoy.

Draco was beginning to fear wearily that every day would be much the same at Arx Aurea. He had been sitting at this exact same spot on his bed the night before, feeling like hell, just as he was now. If things went on like this, he could seriously turn himself in at St Mungo's because of mental instability. If he wasn't going crazy, then the world around him definitely was. The idiotic kissing had proved that.

Scowling about the unforgettable memory which now even his new headmistress had already seen, Draco had the sudden villainous urge to bully someone. At Hogwarts, there had always been somebody: if not Potter, Weasley or Granger, then Crabbe or Goyle.

A sudden longing for the old Hogwarts made him cringe inside. He had always thought of it as a soft place with an idiot – a dangerous, but pathetic idiot – as a headmaster. But now he really knew how irritating a school could be. Inside the Hogwarts castle, he had been able to walk the corridors with an air of smugness and command about him, and loyal, if thick-headed, friends on either side. As for the Slytherin common room, after his father had bought the Slytherin team new brooms when he was taken on as a member, there he had ruled supreme.

His homesick broodings were interrupted by the arrival of a guy who Draco remembered vaguely from the night before. He was one of the four people he shared the dormitory with, the others being Jason, R.W.D., and another boy who must be Tim.

This boy had ash-brown hair that was falling into his eyes and a skinny build. At first, he didn't even notice that there was someone else in the room, and just hurried over to his trunk. Just then, Draco moved slightly, and his room-mate looked up from rummaging among his possessions, alarmed.

One glimpse of the fear that radiated from the intruder into his private sulking, and Draco's bloodlust rose.

Leaning forward from his high perch, eyes glinting evilly, he asked with malicious innocence: 'Isn't it bed-time already for little boys at your school?'

The boy frowned, laughed nervously, coughed to disguise it and then finally started stuttering: 'Uh, no, uh, not actually . . . until later. Uh, much later.' He offered a lop-sided, companionable grin against Draco's wicked sneer.

Lame, he thought, becoming even more excited. This guy didn't even know he was bullying him. This could be fun.

'But you're not very reliable, are you? It must be hard to look at the time through that mat of – I suppose it's hair?' he added, feeling more and more at home in his drawling evil attitude.

His victim was by now totally lost. He opened his mouth, staring at Draco in disbelief, and forced an extremely fake laugh.

'Look, joking aside,' he said, half a minute late. 'There's no actual time for us to go to bed. It's just supposed to be quiet at ten o' clock.' He paused, peering nervously at Draco from underneath his hair. 'But, uh, we always use a sound-proofing spell,' he added.

To Draco, the chance was irresistible. In his mind's eye, he could already clearly see the boy cowering, terrified, before him, rendered helpless by a simple flick of his wand. Because he had that power. He had been building it up over the last five years (more, if you counted practising on the house-elf), and now he could even scare the hell out of someone who had just known him for five minutes. Someone who didn't even know his powerful connections and his dangerous talents.

He couldn't miss this opportunity. If there was one thing Draco couldn't and wouldn't be, it was insignificant. Lazily picking up his wand, he let himself float slowly off the bed and to the floor. His room-mate watched his descent warily, and even backed up a few steps in the direction of the two golden chairs in the dormitory.

'Uh, well, I should be – I mean, I only came here for . . .' The babbling died away as Draco took a step forward.

'So you've learnt sound-proofing spells already, have you?' Draco asked in mock interest. 'What other spells do you know, I wonder?' His wand started drawing eights in the air.

The guy looked at it in out-right terror, seemed to finally realize what danger he was in, and made a dive for the nearest chair. But Draco had already guessed this action, and quickly pointed his wand at it, shouting: 'Accio chair!'

In the last second, the chair shot across the floor as the jet of light from Draco's wand found it, and the other boy, who had been about to throw himself on it, staggered wildly, and collapsed in an undignified way onto the black-and-white tiled floor. He lay there, dazed for a second, which Draco used efficiently to perform a levitating spell on the second golden chair, causing it to rise slowly into the air and hover tantalizingly a foot over the body on the floor.

'So,' said Draco calmly through a huge smirk, while the chair swayed from side to side with his wand, 'pay attention, I'm teaching you an important lesson. The more you have to fight for something, the more you appreciate it – if you ever get it.'

And with a taunting laugh he made the chair speed over to the other one behind him, just as his 'opponent' feebly reached up for it.

'What is wrong with you?' he gasped, scrambling to his feet. 'You got some kind of anger management problem?'

He fought better when he was mad, Draco mused. At least, verbally. 'No,' he smirked, sardonic delight making his eyes shine. 'But you've got serious fear management problems.'

The guy glared at him with sudden hatred. But instead of saying anything back to him, he pulled out his wand – moving much too slowly, Draco noted deprecatingly – and pointing it at Draco, bellowed: 'Expelliarmus!'

He was, of course, too late. Already as he had been fumbling for his wand, Draco had slashed an X into the air in front of him. The spell bounced harmlessly off the air and, rebounding, very nearly hit its creator, who had to dodge, open-mouthed with astonishment.

'How amazing,' drawled Draco in mock admiration, at the same time wondering exactly what spell he would hit his victim with next. 'I didn't think you were up to a first year spell like Expelliarmus.'

There was just enough time for the boy's face to flush a brilliant red before Draco acted again. One yell of 'Amitti potentia!' and one blast of blue light later, the now thoroughly winded guy was lying on the floor, twitching violently and uncontrollably. Even his teeth were chattering jerkily, so that he couldn't speak. His attempts to get up only succeeded in his rolling over a couple of times.

Looking disdainful, Draco walked slowly around him and picked up the wand he had dropped in a spasmodic twitch of his arm.

As the guy on the floor saw him slowly twirling his own wand, his eyes, which he could still control, widened in fear and rage against the injustice.

And Draco, looking into them for a brief moment, saw them as duplicates of Ginny's terrified, glassy eyes. The smug grin on his face faltered, and he felt sick instead of triumphant.

Fighting the urge to just leap into one of the chairs and flee the ugly scene, he unwillingly muttered the counter-curse, leaving the boy lying exhausted, but still, on the floor, breathing rapidly.

Then he seemed to remember in what position he was in, and struggled to get up, still watching his tormentor fearfully. Draco tossed him the wand, and gave one of the golden chairs such a shove that it skidded across the floor and hit the figure lying there in the shoulder. A loud groan of pain was heard, before the guy recovered and hastily climbed into the chair.

Draco's cold eyes were watching him, and he said: 'I'm letting you go. You didn't beat me, remember that.'

When the chair and its occupant were gone, he turned around and savagely kicked his trunk, which happened to be in the way. The pain in his toe enraged him even more.

That stupid little chit of a Weasley was haunting him! No matter what he did, she was always there, keeping him from having fun, making his conscience poke him.

The power he had felt so clearly before seemed to have escaped him altogether. In its place, his own bored voice echoed:

When will wizards learn that it is not the purest blood that flows through the bravest man? When will society cease to judge us by our birth, be it noble or humble? How long will we allow fear to dominate our souls and close our hearts forever?

He still didn't get it.

Good place to stop, no? Well, so maybe not, but at least it lets me finally update! Yahoo! (No, that was not an ad disguised as a cheer, it was a cheer) So, in the next chapter, look forward to some more 'strange' dreams, weird school lessons, and battles between our two lovable protagonists!

Mucho thanks to all the numerous (cough 3) reviewers!

Wander Aimlessly - nice name that's really interesting, you've put into 2 words what other ppl write pages about . . . So, here is more and I hope you're still alive and reading this!

Taunting Ave - sniff you know what I love about writing on ff (besides the writing itself)? That there are these really nice reviewers out there (YOU) who leave such sweet reviews that I have to cry! Hope you can picture Draco as a Death Eater in this last scene, even though it wasn't a D/G. Are you kidding? Definitely 'torrid love and tears' – that's what I base my stories on. puts a finger to her lips ssh. . . don't give everything away! Think of all the poor readers who aren't as smart as you are. Won't say no more now. Well, your request has been heard, but sadly not put into action. . . I hope to do better next time! Luv ya!

SamiJo – well, you did have to wait. . . now I can't wait to hear more feedback! But seriously, thanks for reviewing!

Greetings to my dearest beta-reader (Arabian Knight) and the person this story is dedicated to (fallen phenoix)!!!

With that I depart for what is probably going to be the next few months,

Shooting Jewel