Recap: "...But as you know the time has come to fix this school for good, and
do the thing that they had tried and failed, for only we could. And so to
keep and save for now that which we value most, we must embrace our
differences, or, sadly, become toast."
Chapter Nine
When the song ended, the great hall filled with the sounds of applause and the whispers of students remarking on the last few lines.
"Here we go again mate." Ron shook his head. Hermione made an attempt at relieving the feeling of worry that Ron's words inspired.
"With any luck, we've all learned something from the last time that we were warned. This time the consequences should be very different." It didn't help.
In an effort to distract himself, Harry let his eyes roam the room, seeking out familiar faces. He was seated at the backside of his table, so he had a clear view of most of the hall. With Professor McGonagal's voice in the background, Harry's eyes skimmed the other Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws, finally coming to rest on the Slytherins.
Almost all of them were either glaring or smirking at the Gryffindors. However, Harry was pleased to note, there were a few who weren't. Blaise Zabini, for one, was giving them not an I-hate-your-guts-just-because- you're-insufferable-goody-goodies-who-have-a-soft-spot-for-filthy-muggles- and-mudbloods look, but more an I-dislike-your-insufferable-goody-goody- tendencies-but-respect-most-of-you-as-worthy-opponents kind of look.
For another, Draco Malfoy, Ice prince of Slytherin, was staring at them. One corner of his mouth was pulled up slightly in a hateful sneer, but that sneer didn't reach his eyes. His eyes looked, in fact, as though Malfoy were sad. Harry blinked hard and... the look was gone. Malfoy was still sneering but his eyes were blank.
"Jesse."
Harry's head jerked to the front of the room. He was surprised, but not because he recognized a name. McGonagall had only said Jesse's first name. Come to think of it, Harry didn't even know her last name. If memory served him, she had never told them. He was jerked, once again, out of his musings when the sorting hat shouted
"GRYFFINDOR!"
There was applause as Jesse, the last of the students, sat down beside Ron, who was on Harry's right. She looked quite pleased and was about to say something, when the Headmaster stood. Every head turned to face him.
"Welcome to a New Year at Hogwarts School of witchcraft and wizardry. I have a few announcements to make before we all dive headfirst into this magnificent feast. First, I would like to welcome back Professor Sibyll Trelawney. She will be part-time teaching with last-year's final divination teacher, Mr. Firenze."
Harry was staring at the man sitting at the end of the staff table. The man was rather tall and wearing a blood-red robe with the hood up. Due to the hood and the way the man was sitting (facing the Slytherins) they could not see his face at all.
"Second, I am pleased to announce that this year's Defense Against the Dark Arts postion," the man stood up from his place at the end of the table. His face was visible and immediately Harry noticed the eyebrows and scowl, "will be held by none other than –"
Hermione shrieked "Oh My God! Ron! Harry! It's –"
"Victor Krum!"
There was one moment of pure, shocked silence, and then the applause broke out. It was rather enthusiastic. After all, Krum was a world famous Quidditch player. But there was also a slightly reserved feeling. As far as anyone knew, all Krum could do was play Quidditch. There had never been much evidence that he was Professor-level in Defense against the Dark Arts.
"And so, without further gilding the lily, and with no more ado, I say... on with the feast!"
* * * * *
Dinner passed slowly for Harry. For appearance's sake, he tried to eat. At some point last month he'd realized that he didn't need to, at least, not in the traditional sense. In fact, he'd started to enjoy not having to bother with the usual... inconveniences of the digestive track. The problem with this, of course, was that, with the exception of a few teachers and his best friends, no one knew about his vampirism and so, would look on him with suspicion or worry if they noticed that he wasn't eating.
After an eternity, or so it seemed to Harry, the plates finally cleared and Dumbledore stood and signaled for their attention.
"Just one more word before you all head off to bed. As most of you know, Voldemort has returned. Because of the increased activity of the dark side, curfew is nine 'o clock. Common room doors will be locked shortly thereafter and punishment will be severe for anyone caught out of bed after hours."
At this there were moans and groans from many of the students. A rather annoyed voice stilled the moans at Harry's end of the table
"At least you're not the ones patrolling." Hermione stood up and glared at them all. "And you won't be complaining half as loud when there's an attack on the school and no one's hurt because everyone was safely in their beds." It was only after this that she realized how loud she was speaking. Most of the hall was staring in her direction. She flushed bright red and sat down hurriedly. Dumbledore smiled.
"Thank you, Mrs. Granger. You are quite right." He smiled all around the room.
"On a more enjoyable note, house Quidditch tryouts will be staged next week. Also, I must inform the first years that the forest on the grounds is off limits, as is the village of Hogsmead to all without a legitimate pass. A number of our older students" he glanced at a few select Gryffindors (guess who), before continuing, "need to remember this as well. Our caretaker, Mr. Filch, would like me to remind you that magic is not allowed in the corridors between classes. Also, quite a number of products by the company 'Weasley's wizard wheezes' are, now, not permitted either. For the full list, check Mr. Filches door and when you reach the floor, knock and he will be glad to show you the rest of the list that wouldn't fit. With that, I bid you all a goodnight."
There was applause for a few moments before every one stood up and moved toward the doors. With a muttered "catch you later, Dumbledore wants a word" Harry left his friends and made his way to the headmaster's office.
About halfway there, somewhere near the "forbidden third floor corridor" Harry realised that he was being followed. Ducking into a niche behind a tapestry, Harry waited with bated breath for his stalker to appear. When the other boy stepped round the corner Harry pounced, pinned the boy, and put his wand to the boy's throat.
At least, that's what would have happened had not the other boy shoved his wand into Harry's chest when Harry pinned him. For the second time that day, Harry stared at Malfoy in shock. It didn't last very long, however, due to that fact that Malfoy's wand was shoved painfully into Harry's chest.
They rolled apart and carefully stood, brushing themselves off.
"What do you want, Malfoy?"
"None of your business Potter, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't jump me."
They both glared for about a minute, before stomping off to their appointed destinations. As it turned out, Malfoy was going to the headmaster's office as well. Obviously though, he'd never actually been inside the office because he stood staring at the stone gargoyle in bewilderment. Harry smiled and stepped in front of him.
"Cockroach clusters."
Nothing happened.
"Lemon drop."
Still nothing.
"Sherbet lemon."
"Hey Potter, do you actually know the password, or are you just guessing?"
Malfoy was smirking. Harry glared.
"For your information, Malfoy, I'm making educated guesses. But, wait a minute, you wouldn't know what 'educated' means would you?"
Harry smirked, Malfoy sneered.
"And how, exactly, do you come to that conclusion, brave, brilliant, little 'hero'?"
Malfoy smirked, Harry glared.
"Your father once said, 'the company you keep, and I thought your family could sink no lower'. So, how's it feel, your daddy being the dark lord's bitch and all."
Malfoy had gone very red with anger. Harry started to regret what he'd said.
"You leave my father out of this and I'll leave out yours. After all, my father was strong enough to escape from the highest security prison know to wizard kind, while yours is six feet under."
Their friendly argument had turned into an all out shouting match.
"If your father's so perfect, then why'd he get landed there in the first place? Huh? Answer that, ferret boy! My dad at least lived an honest life and died to protect someone!"
"Someone not worth protecting! My father only got in there thanks to you, and at least he knew enough to not piss off those stronger in magic than himself!"
"True, I guess he is rather smart. He knows how to throw out garbage! Admit it! My parents at least cared about me!"
"And look where it got them! You managed to kill your own parents!"
That was too much. Within minutes they were in an all-out fistfight that took them to the ground. They were so preoccupied, they didn't notice that the gargoyle had moved until a spell ripped the two of them apart and dragged them up the stairs and into the headmaster's office.
By the time they were dropped unceremoniously on the floor, they'd stopped trying to get at each other. They both looked sheepishly up at Dumbledore. He was not amused
"If you two are unable to get within twenty feet of each other without attempting murder, you're certainly not going live through next week."
Harry was puzzled. He looked over at Malfoy. Malfoy was puzzled.
"Uh, sir?" Harry started to inquire, "we've been, uh, at odds with one another since first year. Why should our, erm, differences matter now?"
Dumbledore looked deathly serious but Harry though he almost caught a twinkle in his headmaster's eyes.
"Due to each of your own special circumstances, it's no longer safe, smart, or in any way practical to have you sleeping in your house dormitories. It is in the best interest of everyone for the two of you to have rooms separate from the rest of the students."
Harry was getting nervous. The twinkle was definitely there.
"And so, it is my duty to show you both to your new rooms."
The twinkle was quite pronounced now. Harry didn't like the way the Dumbledore said that and he REALLY didn't like that twinkle. Glancing sideways, it appeared that Malfoy didn't much like it either. He was looking rather uneasy.
"Follow me."
Harry and Malfoy followed in silence.
* * * * * * * *
Harry looked at Dumbledore in horror.
"YOU expect US to practically SLEEP in the SAME ROOM as each other and LIVE through it!?!"
Malfoy was looking exactly the same as Harry
"Pardon me professor, but you must be even more dense than my father thought you were if you have ANY hope that these rooms will REMAIN in ONE PIECE with BOTH of us LIVING in them!"
It seemed that the rooms Dumbledore had been talking about were actually connected. There was one larger room, done mostly in black with a touch of silver here and there and dark reds weaving through it until it was red and gold by the hearth, with one couch, and few chairs scattered about. There were also several landscape portraits of things like forests and night skies. At the back of the room, the wall started to go marble looking again. This time, the black was threaded through with dark, forest almost, green. There were three doors. The door on the far left had silver lettering spelling "Draco Malfoy". The door on the right was the same, but with Harry's name. The middle door was a bathroom with a Jacuzzi size bathtub.
Ignoring their protests, the headmaster turned and left, shutting the portrait that guarded the entrance.
Harry and Malfoy took one look at each other before sprinting to their rooms and slamming the doors. They had every intention of not talking ever again.
Funny, how fate interferes with intention.
*******
Draco was flying. He loved flying. He was good at it too. He had thought he would be the best in his year. He hadn't reckoned on Potter. Draco was also good in school. He had thought he would be the best in his year. He hadn't reckoned on Granger. Every time he turned around, it seemed, a Gryffindor was waiting to mess something up. Life no longer held the same fun it had previously. He now had to work hard to be good at anything. He couldn't please his father if he wasn't good at everything.
Even flying had lost it's joy, now that he had to work at that too. His father wasn't proud of him any more. Draco knew it instinctively. Every time his father saw him, Lucious would sneer slightly. And every time Lucious lectured him on how he wasn't good enough, Draco felt the waves of sadness emanating from behind the mask. Draco knew, every time, that he was letting his father down, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. Anyway, back to Draco's flying.
He knew he was dreaming, but he took great pleasure in the flying anyway. He was making great swoops through the air over the mountains near the manor. It was wonderful. He would fly high enough to touch the clouds and then he'd go into a dive for thirty, forty, fifty feet, straight down and just barely touch the treetops on the mountain. He'd had this type of dream before so he knew what was bound to happen. Still, he put it off as long as possible.
Eventually though, he found himself drifting steadily nearer the manor. He knew that his father would be waiting when he touched down, and so he put that off as long as he could. When he finally did touch down, he found that he had been correct.
Lucious was waiting for him, waiting to reprimand him for flying when he could have been studying. Draco took the lecture in silence. He took the insults about his intelligence with his head bowed in shame. And when the Cruciatis Curse came, as it always did in his dreams, he would bear it in silence as he had the one time his father had performed it on him.
But it never came. Draco awoke just as his father raised the wand.
Immediately, Draco knew something was wrong. He was out of bed, wand in hand, and almost to the door before he realized he was even awake. Coming to his senses a moment later (running into closed doors will do that to you) he realized that, if there were some kind of danger, he'd do best to be quiet.
As quietly as possible, Draco inched open his door. He stepped lightly out, into the common room. For a minute or so, he carefully scanned the room. Nothing seemed amiss so he turned to go back to bed. At that moment, the slight feeling that something was wrong increased tenfold. He suddenly found himself standing in front of the door to Potter's room. Draco had one hand on the knob and, before he could stop himself, he'd opened Potter's door. The sight that met his eyes was not what he expected.
Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, Dumbledore's Golden Boy, the person that Draco had always envied, was, apparently, writhing in pain. His bed sheets were all twisted about his body, and his tossing and turning and writhing was doing no good whatsoever. His mouth was open, he appeared to be screaming at full lung power, though Draco could hear nothing. Wait, on second thought he took that back. He could hear, very faintly, the words "no, not him. Sirius. No. Not again. Leave them alone. They never hurt... no. Don't do it. Don't make me do it. Don't. No. Please don't."
Now, most people believe that all Malfoys are cruel, sadistic, masochists, and that is true of a lot of them. Draco, however, felt some stirring deep in his chest and, before he knew it, he was standing next to Potter's bed. As soon as he leaned over the boy however, he jumped back in pain. Apparently there was some kind of silencing spell over the bed. Unfortunately for Draco, once inside the spell's range it no longer blocked Potter's screams. As Draco's cursing while rubbing his ears will attest, Potter had a very good set of lungs on him.
After the ringing faded, Draco decided to wake up the boy without getting in the spell's range again. And so, he performed a spell which dumped a bucket of cold water on Potter's head.
Or it should have.
Instead, it simply poured the water all over Draco. Once soaked, Draco realized that there was also some kind of shield spell surrounding the bed. Well duh. Draco was about to give up and let Potter fight his nightmare out alone, after all, Potter hadn't shown ever COMMON COURTESY earlier that evening, when the boy started scratching fiercely at his body and hands. It would have been one thing to be scratching at his pajamas, but when the blankets slipped a little, Draco noticed that Potter wasn't wearing a shirt. Draco found himself admiring Potter's body. Potter looked... well damn! Quidditch definitely did him good!
When Potter started bleeding, however, Draco stopped admiring.
Bracing himself for the noise, and shoving all doubts and protests to the back of his mind, Draco leaned over Potter. Trying to ignore the deafening screams, Draco grasped the other boy's shoulders and shook him. Potter didn't wake, although he did stop screaming. Instead he whispered brokenly, "my fault, all my fault. Mum. Dad. My fault. Frank Bryce, Bertha Jorkins, my fault. Cedric, my fault. Sirius..." Potter began to sob as Draco held Potter's hands together, away from the bloody rivulets they were causing.
"All their blood. On my hands. Sirius. God. Sirius. I kill everyone I love. My friends will go next. Torn to pieces."
Potter was sobbing hard and Draco found himself overcome by something he didn't recognize. Draco was feeling compassion. Not knowing what else to do, Draco leaned over and gave Potter an awkward hug.
At the comforting touch, Potter's eyes opened.
Draco released him slowly. Potter looked at him curiously.
"Malfoy? Are you all right?"
Draco looked at him quizzically,
"I should be asking you the same question."
* * * * * * *
A/N: sorry it took me so long. It's really late right now so I'll have to make this short. I've got the next chapter completely planned out so it should be up soon. Thanks to everyone who reviewed (especially those of you who offered to let me e-mail you).
Sorry I can't make this longer, but I have school tomorrow, which means I need to be up at five-thirty. It really doesn't work when I go to bed at midnight or one. I'll post this tomorrow (Wednesday) and I'll sacrifice my lunch period so please be grateful (or at least not mad).
One question. How do you do bold and italics?
Thanks.
Chapter Nine
When the song ended, the great hall filled with the sounds of applause and the whispers of students remarking on the last few lines.
"Here we go again mate." Ron shook his head. Hermione made an attempt at relieving the feeling of worry that Ron's words inspired.
"With any luck, we've all learned something from the last time that we were warned. This time the consequences should be very different." It didn't help.
In an effort to distract himself, Harry let his eyes roam the room, seeking out familiar faces. He was seated at the backside of his table, so he had a clear view of most of the hall. With Professor McGonagal's voice in the background, Harry's eyes skimmed the other Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws, finally coming to rest on the Slytherins.
Almost all of them were either glaring or smirking at the Gryffindors. However, Harry was pleased to note, there were a few who weren't. Blaise Zabini, for one, was giving them not an I-hate-your-guts-just-because- you're-insufferable-goody-goodies-who-have-a-soft-spot-for-filthy-muggles- and-mudbloods look, but more an I-dislike-your-insufferable-goody-goody- tendencies-but-respect-most-of-you-as-worthy-opponents kind of look.
For another, Draco Malfoy, Ice prince of Slytherin, was staring at them. One corner of his mouth was pulled up slightly in a hateful sneer, but that sneer didn't reach his eyes. His eyes looked, in fact, as though Malfoy were sad. Harry blinked hard and... the look was gone. Malfoy was still sneering but his eyes were blank.
"Jesse."
Harry's head jerked to the front of the room. He was surprised, but not because he recognized a name. McGonagall had only said Jesse's first name. Come to think of it, Harry didn't even know her last name. If memory served him, she had never told them. He was jerked, once again, out of his musings when the sorting hat shouted
"GRYFFINDOR!"
There was applause as Jesse, the last of the students, sat down beside Ron, who was on Harry's right. She looked quite pleased and was about to say something, when the Headmaster stood. Every head turned to face him.
"Welcome to a New Year at Hogwarts School of witchcraft and wizardry. I have a few announcements to make before we all dive headfirst into this magnificent feast. First, I would like to welcome back Professor Sibyll Trelawney. She will be part-time teaching with last-year's final divination teacher, Mr. Firenze."
Harry was staring at the man sitting at the end of the staff table. The man was rather tall and wearing a blood-red robe with the hood up. Due to the hood and the way the man was sitting (facing the Slytherins) they could not see his face at all.
"Second, I am pleased to announce that this year's Defense Against the Dark Arts postion," the man stood up from his place at the end of the table. His face was visible and immediately Harry noticed the eyebrows and scowl, "will be held by none other than –"
Hermione shrieked "Oh My God! Ron! Harry! It's –"
"Victor Krum!"
There was one moment of pure, shocked silence, and then the applause broke out. It was rather enthusiastic. After all, Krum was a world famous Quidditch player. But there was also a slightly reserved feeling. As far as anyone knew, all Krum could do was play Quidditch. There had never been much evidence that he was Professor-level in Defense against the Dark Arts.
"And so, without further gilding the lily, and with no more ado, I say... on with the feast!"
* * * * *
Dinner passed slowly for Harry. For appearance's sake, he tried to eat. At some point last month he'd realized that he didn't need to, at least, not in the traditional sense. In fact, he'd started to enjoy not having to bother with the usual... inconveniences of the digestive track. The problem with this, of course, was that, with the exception of a few teachers and his best friends, no one knew about his vampirism and so, would look on him with suspicion or worry if they noticed that he wasn't eating.
After an eternity, or so it seemed to Harry, the plates finally cleared and Dumbledore stood and signaled for their attention.
"Just one more word before you all head off to bed. As most of you know, Voldemort has returned. Because of the increased activity of the dark side, curfew is nine 'o clock. Common room doors will be locked shortly thereafter and punishment will be severe for anyone caught out of bed after hours."
At this there were moans and groans from many of the students. A rather annoyed voice stilled the moans at Harry's end of the table
"At least you're not the ones patrolling." Hermione stood up and glared at them all. "And you won't be complaining half as loud when there's an attack on the school and no one's hurt because everyone was safely in their beds." It was only after this that she realized how loud she was speaking. Most of the hall was staring in her direction. She flushed bright red and sat down hurriedly. Dumbledore smiled.
"Thank you, Mrs. Granger. You are quite right." He smiled all around the room.
"On a more enjoyable note, house Quidditch tryouts will be staged next week. Also, I must inform the first years that the forest on the grounds is off limits, as is the village of Hogsmead to all without a legitimate pass. A number of our older students" he glanced at a few select Gryffindors (guess who), before continuing, "need to remember this as well. Our caretaker, Mr. Filch, would like me to remind you that magic is not allowed in the corridors between classes. Also, quite a number of products by the company 'Weasley's wizard wheezes' are, now, not permitted either. For the full list, check Mr. Filches door and when you reach the floor, knock and he will be glad to show you the rest of the list that wouldn't fit. With that, I bid you all a goodnight."
There was applause for a few moments before every one stood up and moved toward the doors. With a muttered "catch you later, Dumbledore wants a word" Harry left his friends and made his way to the headmaster's office.
About halfway there, somewhere near the "forbidden third floor corridor" Harry realised that he was being followed. Ducking into a niche behind a tapestry, Harry waited with bated breath for his stalker to appear. When the other boy stepped round the corner Harry pounced, pinned the boy, and put his wand to the boy's throat.
At least, that's what would have happened had not the other boy shoved his wand into Harry's chest when Harry pinned him. For the second time that day, Harry stared at Malfoy in shock. It didn't last very long, however, due to that fact that Malfoy's wand was shoved painfully into Harry's chest.
They rolled apart and carefully stood, brushing themselves off.
"What do you want, Malfoy?"
"None of your business Potter, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't jump me."
They both glared for about a minute, before stomping off to their appointed destinations. As it turned out, Malfoy was going to the headmaster's office as well. Obviously though, he'd never actually been inside the office because he stood staring at the stone gargoyle in bewilderment. Harry smiled and stepped in front of him.
"Cockroach clusters."
Nothing happened.
"Lemon drop."
Still nothing.
"Sherbet lemon."
"Hey Potter, do you actually know the password, or are you just guessing?"
Malfoy was smirking. Harry glared.
"For your information, Malfoy, I'm making educated guesses. But, wait a minute, you wouldn't know what 'educated' means would you?"
Harry smirked, Malfoy sneered.
"And how, exactly, do you come to that conclusion, brave, brilliant, little 'hero'?"
Malfoy smirked, Harry glared.
"Your father once said, 'the company you keep, and I thought your family could sink no lower'. So, how's it feel, your daddy being the dark lord's bitch and all."
Malfoy had gone very red with anger. Harry started to regret what he'd said.
"You leave my father out of this and I'll leave out yours. After all, my father was strong enough to escape from the highest security prison know to wizard kind, while yours is six feet under."
Their friendly argument had turned into an all out shouting match.
"If your father's so perfect, then why'd he get landed there in the first place? Huh? Answer that, ferret boy! My dad at least lived an honest life and died to protect someone!"
"Someone not worth protecting! My father only got in there thanks to you, and at least he knew enough to not piss off those stronger in magic than himself!"
"True, I guess he is rather smart. He knows how to throw out garbage! Admit it! My parents at least cared about me!"
"And look where it got them! You managed to kill your own parents!"
That was too much. Within minutes they were in an all-out fistfight that took them to the ground. They were so preoccupied, they didn't notice that the gargoyle had moved until a spell ripped the two of them apart and dragged them up the stairs and into the headmaster's office.
By the time they were dropped unceremoniously on the floor, they'd stopped trying to get at each other. They both looked sheepishly up at Dumbledore. He was not amused
"If you two are unable to get within twenty feet of each other without attempting murder, you're certainly not going live through next week."
Harry was puzzled. He looked over at Malfoy. Malfoy was puzzled.
"Uh, sir?" Harry started to inquire, "we've been, uh, at odds with one another since first year. Why should our, erm, differences matter now?"
Dumbledore looked deathly serious but Harry though he almost caught a twinkle in his headmaster's eyes.
"Due to each of your own special circumstances, it's no longer safe, smart, or in any way practical to have you sleeping in your house dormitories. It is in the best interest of everyone for the two of you to have rooms separate from the rest of the students."
Harry was getting nervous. The twinkle was definitely there.
"And so, it is my duty to show you both to your new rooms."
The twinkle was quite pronounced now. Harry didn't like the way the Dumbledore said that and he REALLY didn't like that twinkle. Glancing sideways, it appeared that Malfoy didn't much like it either. He was looking rather uneasy.
"Follow me."
Harry and Malfoy followed in silence.
* * * * * * * *
Harry looked at Dumbledore in horror.
"YOU expect US to practically SLEEP in the SAME ROOM as each other and LIVE through it!?!"
Malfoy was looking exactly the same as Harry
"Pardon me professor, but you must be even more dense than my father thought you were if you have ANY hope that these rooms will REMAIN in ONE PIECE with BOTH of us LIVING in them!"
It seemed that the rooms Dumbledore had been talking about were actually connected. There was one larger room, done mostly in black with a touch of silver here and there and dark reds weaving through it until it was red and gold by the hearth, with one couch, and few chairs scattered about. There were also several landscape portraits of things like forests and night skies. At the back of the room, the wall started to go marble looking again. This time, the black was threaded through with dark, forest almost, green. There were three doors. The door on the far left had silver lettering spelling "Draco Malfoy". The door on the right was the same, but with Harry's name. The middle door was a bathroom with a Jacuzzi size bathtub.
Ignoring their protests, the headmaster turned and left, shutting the portrait that guarded the entrance.
Harry and Malfoy took one look at each other before sprinting to their rooms and slamming the doors. They had every intention of not talking ever again.
Funny, how fate interferes with intention.
*******
Draco was flying. He loved flying. He was good at it too. He had thought he would be the best in his year. He hadn't reckoned on Potter. Draco was also good in school. He had thought he would be the best in his year. He hadn't reckoned on Granger. Every time he turned around, it seemed, a Gryffindor was waiting to mess something up. Life no longer held the same fun it had previously. He now had to work hard to be good at anything. He couldn't please his father if he wasn't good at everything.
Even flying had lost it's joy, now that he had to work at that too. His father wasn't proud of him any more. Draco knew it instinctively. Every time his father saw him, Lucious would sneer slightly. And every time Lucious lectured him on how he wasn't good enough, Draco felt the waves of sadness emanating from behind the mask. Draco knew, every time, that he was letting his father down, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. Anyway, back to Draco's flying.
He knew he was dreaming, but he took great pleasure in the flying anyway. He was making great swoops through the air over the mountains near the manor. It was wonderful. He would fly high enough to touch the clouds and then he'd go into a dive for thirty, forty, fifty feet, straight down and just barely touch the treetops on the mountain. He'd had this type of dream before so he knew what was bound to happen. Still, he put it off as long as possible.
Eventually though, he found himself drifting steadily nearer the manor. He knew that his father would be waiting when he touched down, and so he put that off as long as he could. When he finally did touch down, he found that he had been correct.
Lucious was waiting for him, waiting to reprimand him for flying when he could have been studying. Draco took the lecture in silence. He took the insults about his intelligence with his head bowed in shame. And when the Cruciatis Curse came, as it always did in his dreams, he would bear it in silence as he had the one time his father had performed it on him.
But it never came. Draco awoke just as his father raised the wand.
Immediately, Draco knew something was wrong. He was out of bed, wand in hand, and almost to the door before he realized he was even awake. Coming to his senses a moment later (running into closed doors will do that to you) he realized that, if there were some kind of danger, he'd do best to be quiet.
As quietly as possible, Draco inched open his door. He stepped lightly out, into the common room. For a minute or so, he carefully scanned the room. Nothing seemed amiss so he turned to go back to bed. At that moment, the slight feeling that something was wrong increased tenfold. He suddenly found himself standing in front of the door to Potter's room. Draco had one hand on the knob and, before he could stop himself, he'd opened Potter's door. The sight that met his eyes was not what he expected.
Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, Dumbledore's Golden Boy, the person that Draco had always envied, was, apparently, writhing in pain. His bed sheets were all twisted about his body, and his tossing and turning and writhing was doing no good whatsoever. His mouth was open, he appeared to be screaming at full lung power, though Draco could hear nothing. Wait, on second thought he took that back. He could hear, very faintly, the words "no, not him. Sirius. No. Not again. Leave them alone. They never hurt... no. Don't do it. Don't make me do it. Don't. No. Please don't."
Now, most people believe that all Malfoys are cruel, sadistic, masochists, and that is true of a lot of them. Draco, however, felt some stirring deep in his chest and, before he knew it, he was standing next to Potter's bed. As soon as he leaned over the boy however, he jumped back in pain. Apparently there was some kind of silencing spell over the bed. Unfortunately for Draco, once inside the spell's range it no longer blocked Potter's screams. As Draco's cursing while rubbing his ears will attest, Potter had a very good set of lungs on him.
After the ringing faded, Draco decided to wake up the boy without getting in the spell's range again. And so, he performed a spell which dumped a bucket of cold water on Potter's head.
Or it should have.
Instead, it simply poured the water all over Draco. Once soaked, Draco realized that there was also some kind of shield spell surrounding the bed. Well duh. Draco was about to give up and let Potter fight his nightmare out alone, after all, Potter hadn't shown ever COMMON COURTESY earlier that evening, when the boy started scratching fiercely at his body and hands. It would have been one thing to be scratching at his pajamas, but when the blankets slipped a little, Draco noticed that Potter wasn't wearing a shirt. Draco found himself admiring Potter's body. Potter looked... well damn! Quidditch definitely did him good!
When Potter started bleeding, however, Draco stopped admiring.
Bracing himself for the noise, and shoving all doubts and protests to the back of his mind, Draco leaned over Potter. Trying to ignore the deafening screams, Draco grasped the other boy's shoulders and shook him. Potter didn't wake, although he did stop screaming. Instead he whispered brokenly, "my fault, all my fault. Mum. Dad. My fault. Frank Bryce, Bertha Jorkins, my fault. Cedric, my fault. Sirius..." Potter began to sob as Draco held Potter's hands together, away from the bloody rivulets they were causing.
"All their blood. On my hands. Sirius. God. Sirius. I kill everyone I love. My friends will go next. Torn to pieces."
Potter was sobbing hard and Draco found himself overcome by something he didn't recognize. Draco was feeling compassion. Not knowing what else to do, Draco leaned over and gave Potter an awkward hug.
At the comforting touch, Potter's eyes opened.
Draco released him slowly. Potter looked at him curiously.
"Malfoy? Are you all right?"
Draco looked at him quizzically,
"I should be asking you the same question."
* * * * * * *
A/N: sorry it took me so long. It's really late right now so I'll have to make this short. I've got the next chapter completely planned out so it should be up soon. Thanks to everyone who reviewed (especially those of you who offered to let me e-mail you).
Sorry I can't make this longer, but I have school tomorrow, which means I need to be up at five-thirty. It really doesn't work when I go to bed at midnight or one. I'll post this tomorrow (Wednesday) and I'll sacrifice my lunch period so please be grateful (or at least not mad).
One question. How do you do bold and italics?
Thanks.