Darkness Before the Sun Rises
Chapter 4
I noticed that in the chapters before this, I never included a Disclaimer, so I thought that I would finally include one. I do not own Harry Potter (my friend Allie wants to though) nor do I own any of the characters mentioned. All ideas are mine and though they are not copy-written I would appreciate it, if you would not use those. If it were not for the genius mind of J.K. Rowling, I would not be able to write this, so 99.9% of the credit goes to her.
Pure-blooded wizard, Draco Malfoy, strut through the dark hallways of Hogwarts Castle en route to his common room. Though the events of the day had been relatively boring, he was thoroughly exhausted. His mind had been reeling with questions since mid-afternoon over a certain Gryffindor mudblood. He searched his brain for any plausible reason as to why he had helped her, but found nothing. Finally he gave up as his thoughts continuously circled, never once getting a clear or concise reason for his actions.
Draco ran his hands through his hair in frustration. Why couldn't he get that pathetic excuse of a witch off his mind?! It was disturbing; something as low as the dirt on his feet shouldn't occupy his mind. Instead, he should be thinking of more important things, like those of Voldemort, his plans after he graduated, and his Gringotts account. But no, he was thinking of the witch he happened to share a bloody common room with.
All term he had to endure Granger and her snot-nosed self. He was blatantly sick of it and everything about her. Sure, they didn't fight as often, but that didn't make them friends now did it? He had to sit through hours of quiet torture as she sat studying at her desk on the opposite side of the room, surrounded with stacks of books. Any time he made a noise, she sent him a look that shut him up.
On many occasions - particularly the ones where he had wanted to ruffle a few of her feathers - he managed to get a rise out of the mudblood, which resulted in a thrilling and satisfying argument. Her face would turn beet red, her hands hanging in fists at her sides as she tried to control her anger. She would shout the entire tower down if she were not afraid of getting in trouble, but many times, she had shouted. Draco would usually stand back and smirk or laugh at her incredulous banters, which normally caused her to only yell more. Though on one rare occasion the witch had had the audacity to smack him. Before then, she hadn't smacked him since third year, but that night he had gone so far as to insult her parents, and for that she had smacked the shit out of him. The small handprint on the side of his face had taken hours to disappear, he vividly recalled. Every time he thought about that day, he could still feel the sting.
Rounding another corner, Draco's thoughts continued to swirl around Granger. The dark hallway hid everything that was more than three feet away. Pictures left and right were snoozing away; some mumbled in their sleep.
All was at peace in the Hogwarts castle. All but a soft scrape against the stone floor that rang through the hallway.
His ears alerted themselves to the sound and he suddenly froze on the spot, whipped out his wand, and pointed it in front of him.
There was silence. The sound a few seconds prior seemed to have just been a figment of his imagination.
Draco scolded himself for being such a pansy. If his legs could perform the movement, he would have kicked himself in the arse for his moment of weakness.
But there it was again! The same sound he had heard! Surely this time he wasn't hallucinating.
"Lumos."
The top of Draco's wand emitted a bright light from the tip of it, allowing him to see a fraction more of the corridor he was in. He waved it in all directions, receiving cries from the sleeping portraits to put the light out. Some weren't as nice and yelled a few obscenities at the Slytherin. Draco just smirked and made sure to hold his wand even closer to the portraits that had the impudence to curse at him.
"Bloody portraits," he mumbled, advancing forward with utmost caution.
Another scrape of a foot on the hard floors rang through the quiet corridor and this time, he was able to detect where the sound had originated.
The sound was coming from his common room. Perhaps it was Pansy Parkinson, a good friend of his. He soon against that possibility, knowing she would be sleeping in the Slytherin dormitories at this time of night. He racked his brain for someone, anyone, who could possibly be in the heads' office at such a late hour. Maybe, it was one of Granger's pesky Gryffindor friends. They always seemed to lurk around this corridor. It was probably the illustrious red-head's sister, crying her poor little eyes out about her dear lost brother.
Draco rounded a final corner and stopped dead in his tracks. It wasn't Pansy. It wasn't even the Weasley girl…
It was Granger.
He rolled his eyes when she looked up at him. Her face was tear-streaked; her hair in complete disarray, and now she was looking at him like a deer trapped in headlights, expecting him to say something.
So he did.
"What the hell are you doing out here, Granger? Did you forget the password?"
He looked down his nose at the girl on the floor; her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped tightly around her legs. She did not reply; just sat there looking incredulously at him as though he had two heads.
"Stupid mudblood," he mumbled, before walking past her to the portrait of their common room.
"Spectrum."
With that, the portrait opened and allowed Draco to enter. He stepped inside the warm confines of the Head's common room. It was rather nice compared to the dungeons; a vast improvement indeed. It was decked out in a mixture of the Slytherin and Gryffindor colours and felt like Christmas all year round with green and red being the predominate colours. He took two steps in and then turned around to see Granger still outside. She had finally got to her feet, but for some reason she wouldn't enter the room
"What the bloody hell is wrong with you, Granger?" he said in an aggravated tone.
She looked up at him with round, chocolate eyes that seemed lost, even to a person who didn't care one ounce about her. Oh great, there was that fucking compassion he had felt for the mudblood earlier! 'What is wrong with me?!' he thought to himself, trying desperately not to throw his hands up in absolute frustration over his conflicting thoughts about the mudblood.
She was scum, she was lower than the dirt on his shoes! She ought to be where she had been just moments before: on the ground, at his feet! Though when her eyes looked the way they did at that particular moment - round, innocent and lost - no one, not even he, could tear himself away. Internally he was cursing himself - beseeching his limbs to move, to say something horrid, or just to walk away from her presence.
But he couldn't. He was transfixed to the spot. She, looking at him with questioning eyes, and he, looking at her with a new sense of reverence.
"What are you staring at, Malfoy?" she sighed, interrupting their moment of ambiguity.
She had been intimidated by his penetrating stare. It felt as though he could read her thoughts and discover her secrets, even though there were few to tell. Still, the way he was looking at her chilled her to the bone, and she couldn't even tell what look it was he was giving her! Was it negative, specifically designed to derail her? Or could she see compassion fighting to make its way to the surface?
The little hamster inside Draco's head was running double-time trying to come up with something - anything - to say to the witch in front of him, but no matter how hard the little creature ran, he remained mute. Malfoy's eyes scanned her being from top to bottom, clandestinely taking every detail in. 'What the fucking hell is wrong with me?!' his mind screamed as he and Granger continued their staring contest, neither willing to take their eyes off the other. 'Say something, you coward. Call her a mudblood, a filthy vermin, anything!'
He continued his inward struggle as he watched Hermione finally lower her eyes, breaking their intense contact.
Hermione, too scared of the intimidating look Malfoy had been giving her, kept her eyes down. His eyes held little emotion in them, she noticed. Hermione usually had the insight to tell what others were thinking or feeling, but Malfoy's emotions were deeply hidden, buried deep beneath layers of concrete walls that would take an immense amount of trust and loyalty to break their confines. Why she was even thinking of this, she did not know. She was confused - very confused. Nothing made sense anymore. The world was her enemy, just like the person standing in front of her.
"Well mudblood, are you just going to stand there all night staring at something you sure as hell can't have, or what?"
Draco's hamster finally gave him something credible to say and he mentally congratulated the little fella on his hard work.
Hermione whipped her eyes back to focus hard on him.
"Excuse me?" she spat.
"What, hard of hearing mudblood? I believe I enunciated very well. And we all thought you were the smart one."
He smirked, casually leaning back against one of the stone walls in the common room.
He watched as her face contort into different expressions and nearly choked on his laughter as he watched each one cross her face. He loved knowing that he could read her like a book. Her feelings and emotions were always etched on her face and anyone with sense about them could easily tell when she was happy, angry, upset, or any other human emotion known to man. This made it exceptionally easy on him; it allowed him to add the correct fuel to her fire, and to back off when he knew she was on the verge of exploding.
He watched her for a moment, as she tried to school her features and bottle up all her thoughts inside. He could tell she was in angry at him, but there was also something that ran more deeply. Pain. Pain for her two best friends.
Draco almost snickered but then frowned at this gesture. He wanted to be mean to her, to take advantage of her vulnerability and moment of weakness, but he also wanted to help her.
Even if it meant keeping his cynical and snide remarks to himself.
Draco's eyebrow rose subconsciously whilst listening to the voices inside his head debate on the next course of action. It was like there were two different and distinct personalities battling internally. Hell, he felt like the muggle book Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. 'Granger would have a right laugh at you if she knew you'd read a muggle book!' he thought, shifting his weight and running a hand through his blond locks in frustration.
Having split personalities was not a good sign. Draco wanted to scream at the two voices nagging him.
The nicer one was telling him to go to Hermione and comfort her. He was appalled! 'Since when was she Hermione?!'
The other voice - the mean and nastier one - egged him to call her 'Mudblood', to tease her about her critically-injured friend in the hospital, and to constantly remind her of the other friend that could be rotting away in some hellhole!
Draco closed his eyes and rubbed a forefinger against his temple in a meditative motion. He was thoroughly confused and beginning to get a headache!
Hermione, who had finally walked into the room, stood but a few feet away from Draco, seeing in the mental battle that played itself out on the Slytherin's face. The boy was acting like a crazed lunatic. He was standing there, changing emotions quicker than Harry could catch the Snitch!
"Malfoy? Are you alright?" she asked, genuinely concerned.
She watched as Draco took a long, hard look at her.
"Why wouldn't I be alright, Granger? I should be asking you that question. You looked as if a centaur ran you over."
Hermione nearly laughed at the lame insult. Whatever was going on it that blonde head of his had obviously prevented him from coming up with a cunning affront. She continued to gaze at him a moment longer before sighing out loud and turning towards the fireplace.
The head's fireplace was very similar to that of the one in the Gryffindor common room. There were only a few slight differences. This one was more elegant, with carvings made into the wood. She shuffled over to the glowing hearth and felt her body instantly warm up. Her mind drifted back to the day's problems. First to Harry and how he must be feeling, then it immediately switched to the events a few hours prior. She watched the scene in Knockturn Alley replay in the flames of the fire. Then she remembered Malfoy and how he was standing only a few feet away.
Her mind swam with questions that perhaps the Slytherin could answer. Perhaps he could know the whereabouts of Ron, but had been forbidden to disclose that information. Maybe he had been lying! Or if he wasn't, he might have some general idea as to where Ron could be! Surely someone who grew up with the likes of a Death Eater would know something of how their military tactics worked. Would they keep Ron captive for security reasons? Or would they simply kill him, just to cause more pain to Harry? She hoped the latter wasn't the case. Harry couldn't take much more.
Hermione whipped around to see Draco lazily sitting on the sofa, watching her. The incisive gaze sent goose-bumps up her arms. His intense glare nearly caused her to lose her backbone, but she couldn't - wouldn't - back down from the opportunity of learning about Ron.
"Malfoy?" she questioned, sitting in a chair near the sofa facing the wizard. He looked up at her, giving her permission to continue. She cleared her throat, which suddenly felt as dry as the Sahara Desert. "Earlier, you said you knew nothing of Ron. Is that true?"
She held her breath.
He looked at her, a look of disgust etching his perfect face. "Are you calling me a liar, Granger?"
She jumped to her feet. "No! No, I'm not… honestly. It's just, well… you see, there have been many times when you have stretched the truth and flat out lied, so what would make this time any different? I mean, you do hate Ron after all."
She ran her hands through her unruly hair.
"Look Granger, I didn't lie. I don't know anything about Weasley."
He pulled his wand out of his pocket and whispered an incantation at the table, which resulted in a glass of Butterbeer being conjured for his pleasure.
"I see."
She paused, not knowing what to ask next. She watched him drink the warm liquid.
"Malfoy, is there anyway that you could possibly know or do to obtain information on Ron's whereabouts?"
She looked at him through russet eyes that he couldn't bring himself to look away from. They were pleading, begging for him to help.
"Granger, I don't believe it! You of all people, are actually asking me for help!" He had been taken aback by her question. Never in all his years at Hogwarts had the bossy witch asked him for help. She had always done things on her own and would flaunt that fact to anyone who noticed - and he certainly had noticed.
"Look, Malfoy, this is serious," she started. "A person's life is at stake here! Could you get your stubborn, egotistical head out of your own arse and possibly help out?! I thought you said you didn't support the Dark Side!"
"That wasn't exactly what I said," he mumbled, staring intently at his Butterbeer, before taking a swig.
"So then you do? I knew it. Bloody hell, Malfoy, what are you about? Have you already received the Mark on your arm then?"
She sank into the chair she had occupied earlier. She had been defeated; he was never going to help her.
She had not noticed Malfoy get up, but he was now striding towards her; his eyes blazing. Her eyes grew to large orbs as his hands gripped both arm rests and levelled his face with hers. She could see the anger burning in his grey eyes.
"Listen, you fucking mudblood," he snarled, "let me get one thing straight. I do not support them and I never have. I am not a fucking Death Eater, nor am I the lying son of a bitch that everyone makes me out to be."
He pushed himself up, making the chair move back a few inches in the process. He gave her a disgusted look before unbuttoning the cuff of his sleeve and then pushed the material up, over his forearm. There, staring back at Hermione, was pale, flawless skin. There was no Dark Mark there. She sighed in relief, but then registered the insults he'd just maliciously spat at her.
"Then why do you act the way you do? Why are you such a cold-hearted bastard?! If you don't support them, then you must support our side? Why don't you fight with us?" she interrogated, rising from the chair and facing him indignantly.
"That's none of your business, Granger. What I do is no concern of yours."
"You know what, Malfoy?" He looked up at her with dark, penetrating eyes. "You're just like him."
"Who am I just like?" he snarled. She wouldn't. She wouldn't have the audacity to make such a comparison.
"Your father!" she spat with the most venom she could muster.
Draco tried to retort back, but she interrupted him before he could even form the first word.
"You are just like him, Draco Malfoy. You may not be the heartless Death Eater that he is, but deep down you are no better than he. While he has tortured and killed innocent people, you sit back in your luxurious mansion never saying a word! How can you be so callous? You keeping silent for so many years has caused the death of muggles and wizards!"
Draco stared at her for a long, hard minute. His mind reeled with the false accusations she had just made. He knew the allegations were fabricated, but the fact that someone even thought them had hurt. She had the audacity to accuse him of being like his father, and furthermore accused him of aiding and abetting his father in all the murders the elder Malfoy had committed.
Draco's anger continued to reach such a point that he was nearly ready explode. His morals held him back from doing the one thing he felt like doing at that present moment.
Since he'd come to Hogwarts, he had learned and built up a few strong morals that he would only break if the situation were severe enough for him to actually question them. This one was bordering on it. He wanted to strike the witch in front of him, and he truthfully thought she would deserve such a blow. But his strong principles fought with him, saying that such actions would only send him back to being the cold-hearted bastard she had accused him of being. The evil being inside his head wouldn't let him cease these thoughts. It was egging him on, saying that it would be okay and that the mudblood bitch actually deserved it.
At a last minute decision, Draco abandoned all his morals and raised his arm just as there was an insistent knocking on the common room door. His thoughts froze and he quickly lowered his arm, plastering a scowl upon his face.
Hermione, who had been watching Draco's reaction at her accusations saw the inner conflict he was experiencing. Then, to her astonishment, he had risen his arm as if he were going to strike her! This realization scared her. She thought that he wouldn't dare hit a girl. Surely he had more sense than that. Then, as if by some small miracle, a knock had sounded at their common room door. Hermione, who had been standing with her back to the wooden frame, turned from her predator to look at the door apprehensively. She looked back at Draco, eyes wide, before turning and hurrying to the door. She was afraid that he would find his wand as her back was turn and hex her into oblivion. 'Just stay calm. Don't panic. Nearly there.' She tried to appease herself and braced herself for such a spell, but none came.
Eventually her hand closed over the knob. She pulled the heavy door open only to be greeted with the welcoming sight of the Headmaster. Hermione felt like leaping into the old man's arms and thanking him dearly for saving her from the likes of Malfoy.
It was funny. Hours before, it had been Malfoy to save her from such a horrid fate and now she needed rescuing from her rescuer! She sighed out loud at how her day seemed to get worse and worse. What else could go wrong?
She looked up at the elder wizard and saw that he wore a grim expression. Hermione was puzzled. Never, not even when battles arose and were lost did she see such a defeated look on the Headmaster's features.
"Professor? Is there something wrong?" she asked respectfully.
"Miss Granger, I must speak with you."
He turned towards Draco.
"Mr Malfoy, would you be so kind as to allow Miss Granger and I a moment of privacy?"
"Yes sir."
To Hermione's surprise, Draco's anger had been contained at the sight of the old wizard.
Both Hermione and Professor Dumbledore watched Draco retreat towards the stairs that led to his chambers. Upon hearing his door close, Hermione turned back towards the kind, old wizard and gestured for him to sit down. He did, and Hermione followed suit.
"Miss Granger, I know that your day has thus far been hectic and terrifying."
Hermione gave him an odd look. Did he know about Knockturn Alley?
"I sincerely hate to make it anymore miserable for you, but I am afraid I must shed some light on a very grave situation."
Dumbledore paused. Hermione sat there. Impatience was never her forte, and for a good reason.
"What is it, Professor?" she asked.
"Well as you know, when Harry was fighting at the battle a few days ago, he was injured by a Death Eater."
Hermione nodded her confirmation
"You did well, Hermione, in healing a lot of his wounds, but when we took him to St. Mungos his condition was far worse than we had originally speculated."
Hermione's eyes widened.
"There was one wound, Miss Granger, that would not heal. Do you remember?"
Hermione nodded her head in recollection whilst thousands of questions ran through her head.
"Well, that wound was an advanced curse, used only by those on the Dark side. It's name is new to us, as it seems it was invented by Voldemort himself just a few years ago. It's called the Placidus Casus."
Hermione mentally scanned for the meaning of such words; she was sure she'd heard that Latin phrase somewhere before…
Silent Death.
Her head snapped up at the Headmaster; face drained of all colour and lips trembling. "Professor, Harry's not… he's not going to…"
"Miss Granger," Dumbledore interrupted. "Harry's situation is critical. The doctors cannot heal him as we do not know the counter curse."
Hermione lowered her head at the revelation, and tears started to will up in her brown eyes.
"Do not cry, Hermione." He conjured a tissue and handed it to her. "There is a way that the curse could be lifted." he said, and Hermione looked at him with hope-filled eyes. "It is said that the magic of one who has a history in the Dark Arts can heal a curse such as this."
Hermione wracked her brain for any such person. There were only two people she could think of.
"Headmaster? I don't mean to be disrespectful, but what about Professor Snape, or even Lupin?"
"Ah, I figured you would ask such a question Miss Granger. Lupin was merely a teacher of the defence against the Dark Arts. He only taught students to repel and defend themselves against Dark spells; he does not know how to cast them."
"And Professor Snape? What about him? Wasn't he, at a time, a Death Eater?"
She didn't know if she had stepped out of line with her impudence towards the respected Potions Master. She hoped Dumbledore would not be angry with her.
"It is true that Professor Snape was a Death Eater at one time. He was once capable of such powerful Dark magic that I don't believe anyone could even begin to comprehend the things he could have done with that power."
"Then he can help! He'll be able to perform the counter curse! Right, Professor?"
A small flicker of hope crossed Hermione's face. Maybe the situation wasn't as grave as the old Headmaster made it out to be. Maybe Harry could be cured and then, together, they could find Ron! She suddenly noticed the look on Professor Dumbledore's face and her heart sank. She saw no glimmer of hope on the aged features. He was worried.
"Miss Granger, I am afraid Professor Snape will be of little help. You see, as part of his agreement with the Ministry, he promised to no longer practice dark magic. Furthermore, he has no desire whatsoever of indulging in Dark magic, and refuses to even get slightly involved."
He paused, carefully observing the young witch seated a few feet away from him.
"So you see, Miss Granger, Professor Snape will be unable to help. I am terribly sorry."
Hermione allowed all the dreadful information to sink into her head. There was no counter curse, there was no one who could perform the spell needed to heal Harry. So what now? She looked up at the Professor who was making his way towards the door.
"Professor?" she called, standing and advancing towards him. Dumbledore turned to look at the young witch. "What must we do now?"
"I believe that all we do now is wait and hope that there is someone under our noses whom we have missed." He looked behind her, his eyes flickering towards the stairs that led to the student's bed chambers with an odd look on his face.
"Good night Miss Granger."
His eyes twinkled for some odd reason that Hermione couldn't fathom.
Hermione was astounded. One minute the old man was depressed and then there was an unknown spark about him! She was absolutely confused. And what did he mean little problem?! This was by far the biggest problem Hermione had fought thus far! She was utterly confused.
Meanwhile, unbeknown to Hermione, Draco Malfoy sat in his room listening to the conversation in the common room below. He knew it was rude, but he didn't care. One look at the old man's face told Draco that the details would be juicy.
He listened intently as he heard Hermione say, "Professor, Harry's not… he's not going to…"
Draco's eyes widened in astonishment upon hearing these words. 'Surely he's... It's not possible… Potter can't be...'
Draco stood up and moved closer to his door and listened as Dumbledore explained the severity of the situation to Granger. He then laughed when she tried to think of people who could help. 'Of course she would think of Snape!'
Draco smirked, but then frowned as he heard Dumbledore squash her hopes by revealing that the two she had mentioned could be of little, if any, help.
"Professor?" He heard Hermio – Granger – ask. "What must we do now?"
He could tell just by the sound of her voice that she was keeping a mass of tears down, and without realizing, his forehead wrinkled in concern.
"I believe that all we do now is wait and hope that there is someone under our noses whom we have missed." he heard the old wizard say, and then the door closed.
Draco stepped away from the door.
"Okay, the old loon has definitely fallen off his rocker now!" he mumbled as he strode over to the window. Outside, more snow had begun to fall. He thought it was beautiful, the way the white flakes lazily floated through the dark sky.
His thoughts drifted towards the witch in the common room. Perhaps he should go check on her. 'Make sure she doesn't do anything drastic,' he reasoned with himself, astounded at his concern; he wanted to see her… to see the tears in her eyes again – not for humility reasons, but so he could comfort her.
'What the fuck?!' Draco's mind screamed and he pushed himself away from the windows sill, aggravated. Nope, seeing Hermione would not be a good idea. His usual self would suffer some damage at seeing the girl cry.
Malfoy closed his eyes and tried to remind himself that she was a mudblood and that he shouldn't care. He stripped of his pants, shirt and shoes and climbed into the warm confines of his bed before slowly drifting into a fitful slumber.
Well, I hope you all liked this long chapter! I certainly had fun writing it. Thanks to my beta reader and all those that reviewed!