Author's Note: hmmmm can't think of much to say right now except pleeeeeaaaaase review. Reviews are the breath of life. I don't care if you hate it. I just want to know what you think.
chapter 9: ABOMINATION - the hauntings of lost pride
After the hour in Snape's offices drew to a close, the two boys parted in the same stony silence that had consumed the better part of their assigned time together. Ron skittered off towards the stairs, knowing full well that, once again he would be late for Astronomy at the other end of the castle. Draco turned in the other direction, heading deeper into the dungeon corridors to fetch his Arithmancy text from his dorm room.
Discontent seethes under my skin like the tossings of an angry sea against an impervious shore. The shadows and corridors pass by me in a blur of grey and damp as my footsteps echo hollowly against the stones. My hands are cold where they leave the protection of my sleeves and the air brushing my temples can be described as nothing less than chill as it stirs sluggishly in my wake.
How Dare ...!
My hands are knots at my sides and I force my fingers to open, noting a clamminess that clings to the flesh and chills my hands further. I loathe the damp. Living for six years in the dungeons has been a trial on my nerves and right now it's one more annoyance to add fuel to my anger, like flicking water on an angry cat.
No!
calm. calm. I will be calm. . . . Damnit.
My teeth are grinding together again and I unclench my jaw with a disgusted snort. The tapestries down this hall are getting ratty. Out of the corner of my eye I see frayed edges and reds that are now the color of dried blood but I have trouble looking at them directly. In fact I barely see the hall at all. I keep seeing him scoffing. Scoffing! as though his lies are of no importance. Of course he takes everything lightly. I take out my wand and roll it between my fingers as I walk down the corridor. And why shouldn't he? He's got nothing to worry about. The wood is smooth and soothing as I rub at it with the edge of my thumb. He says he doesn't want anyone to see the marks but I'm sure he just likes giving me a hard time. 'No not there, there, no not there, there.' I think I feel a draft. It's stirring the loose hairs along my forehead. God, this place even smells damp. So carefree. Careless. And what does he have to be careful about? He's not a...thing.
Not! I am stronger than this.
I pause, feeling the silence left by my absent footsteps, and draw in a full breath.
You are Draco Malfoy and you will never be weak.
I breathe out strongly, feeling the release in my chest, and I almost miss it. Such a small sound. A faint scraping, like sand on stone, the hint of bare footsteps. And a strange whispering sighing sound, as though the whole castle were breathing and had just exhaled. I feel the cold bite into my hands once more and pocket my wand, leaving my hands in the warm folds of my robes. My hearing never plays tricks on me.
"Who's there?"
My tone is demanding and cold as I can make it. People don't sneak around in the dungeons. Either you have business here or you leave.
Strange laughter floats down the hallway to my right, breaking against my ears high and tinkling and sinister. I feel a chill begin to walk its way up my spine and berate myself for a coward. The ghosts at Hogwarts may range from jolly to gory but it's not like they can hurt you. Falling back on my default approach to life I scoff, turn on my heel and prepare to stride off down the other hallway when it stops me, a voice this time, ghosting down the hall like a chill wind.
"...little boy........"
what the fuck!
My hands clench involuntarily now and I'm rooted to the spot, ears straining after that soon to be hated sound.
"...i seeeeeee you........"
shit and bloody jesus christ
The voice seems to come from directly behind me and I spin around, wand unconsciously drawn and buzzing in my grasp, to face my . . . Nothing. The hall is empty and still but for a musty draft washing my face and smelling of cold and mildew. My heart is pounding like an uncomfortable, insistent drum against my breast but I force myself to ignore it and stay focused, calm.
A chill washes the back of my neck. My shoulders tense, waiting for what will come next.
"..coward!" The hate filled word is spit out from a point just beyond my right ear and I jump slightly from its suddenness.
NO
"..pathetic, simpering excuse for a wizard.." The voice is so cold and I can feel the warmth of breath on my neck, before if evaporates, icing my skin. I can't move. They're so close but I feel like I've gone numb.
Lies!
"Not even half the man you father is. NEVER Worthy...." I feel like I'm suffocating, I can feel this...presense..clinging to me. pressing against my hands, my shoulders. shifting, swirling restlessly about me in a fury.
but!
"Why can't you be strong?" The voice is a hiss, sharp and demanding and still I can't move, can barely think. I feel a sudden void around me as this presence draws away and suddenly I am desperate for the proximity, for whatever warmth they provided. Because suddenly it is Cold. Colder than the blackness of a dead heart. Colder than my father's voice every time he tells me
"Dependency is for the WEAK. how can you ever be a Malfoy if you depend so strongly on..."
I KNOW!
I'm not frozen anymore. I'm jello. I collapse to the ground, stone sending sharp pains shooting through my knees and wand twisting in my fingers as my hands hit the corridor floor.
..not here, not here....I'm not here.....i don't exist........please! let me just not exist
"prove yourself, Draco." The voice is smooth now, like silk over barbed wire. A fleeting warmth connects with the nape of my neck. "prove that you can rise above this." Light pressure against my arms makes me want to flinch away and simultaneously lean into the touch. "your father could."
wait
The absence of touch brings my head up to stare down the empty corridor. They haven't gone but I feel them drawing away, as the torches lining the hall seem to fade away from my vision, leaving me alone in a long, dark tunnel.
not alone!
A touch to my cheek and I find myself leaning into the caress, lulled in the sense of not alone, before the next words bring me up sharp. "just kill him. you know you want to." I find myself shaking with the effort to remain still.
no
"If you kill him your power will go unquestioned." My fingers are curling against the floor and I feel a distant pain as fingernails scrape at the stone. "If you kill him you will be free."
but i can't...!
"Grasp the power you know is within you! kill him" Hot lips press against my own and I reel from the shock of sensation and suggestion. And then it is gone. The space around me is empty. My lips cool in parts and the damp coolness of the dungeon pours over me, washing away the frosted ice of those words. I feel them sinking within me, though. Waiting, just under my skin, tenacious and cold.
breathe.
Air fills my lungs and I stand unsteadily, fingers cramped awkwardly where they hold my wand, knees unsteady, feeling like they got screwed on backwards. I feel like crawling to my bed and curling up in it and disappearing, letting my pain and disappointments drown themselves in void. Must I face the day?
yes.
Straightening my shoulders and letting my face fall into its familiar mask of indifference, I stride purposefully down the hall, ignoring my shadows that stagger crookedly along the walls, dismissing the cold that seems to radiate from my skin, calling the darkness to it, and the empty void.
As Draco disappeared around the bend in the corridor, a brief flash of movement could be seen at the other end of the hall behind him. If he had turned he would have seen a flash of fiery red, and dark eyes in a pale face, before the phantom slipped silently from sight.
chapter 9: ABOMINATION - the hauntings of lost pride
After the hour in Snape's offices drew to a close, the two boys parted in the same stony silence that had consumed the better part of their assigned time together. Ron skittered off towards the stairs, knowing full well that, once again he would be late for Astronomy at the other end of the castle. Draco turned in the other direction, heading deeper into the dungeon corridors to fetch his Arithmancy text from his dorm room.
Discontent seethes under my skin like the tossings of an angry sea against an impervious shore. The shadows and corridors pass by me in a blur of grey and damp as my footsteps echo hollowly against the stones. My hands are cold where they leave the protection of my sleeves and the air brushing my temples can be described as nothing less than chill as it stirs sluggishly in my wake.
How Dare ...!
My hands are knots at my sides and I force my fingers to open, noting a clamminess that clings to the flesh and chills my hands further. I loathe the damp. Living for six years in the dungeons has been a trial on my nerves and right now it's one more annoyance to add fuel to my anger, like flicking water on an angry cat.
No!
calm. calm. I will be calm. . . . Damnit.
My teeth are grinding together again and I unclench my jaw with a disgusted snort. The tapestries down this hall are getting ratty. Out of the corner of my eye I see frayed edges and reds that are now the color of dried blood but I have trouble looking at them directly. In fact I barely see the hall at all. I keep seeing him scoffing. Scoffing! as though his lies are of no importance. Of course he takes everything lightly. I take out my wand and roll it between my fingers as I walk down the corridor. And why shouldn't he? He's got nothing to worry about. The wood is smooth and soothing as I rub at it with the edge of my thumb. He says he doesn't want anyone to see the marks but I'm sure he just likes giving me a hard time. 'No not there, there, no not there, there.' I think I feel a draft. It's stirring the loose hairs along my forehead. God, this place even smells damp. So carefree. Careless. And what does he have to be careful about? He's not a...thing.
Not! I am stronger than this.
I pause, feeling the silence left by my absent footsteps, and draw in a full breath.
You are Draco Malfoy and you will never be weak.
I breathe out strongly, feeling the release in my chest, and I almost miss it. Such a small sound. A faint scraping, like sand on stone, the hint of bare footsteps. And a strange whispering sighing sound, as though the whole castle were breathing and had just exhaled. I feel the cold bite into my hands once more and pocket my wand, leaving my hands in the warm folds of my robes. My hearing never plays tricks on me.
"Who's there?"
My tone is demanding and cold as I can make it. People don't sneak around in the dungeons. Either you have business here or you leave.
Strange laughter floats down the hallway to my right, breaking against my ears high and tinkling and sinister. I feel a chill begin to walk its way up my spine and berate myself for a coward. The ghosts at Hogwarts may range from jolly to gory but it's not like they can hurt you. Falling back on my default approach to life I scoff, turn on my heel and prepare to stride off down the other hallway when it stops me, a voice this time, ghosting down the hall like a chill wind.
"...little boy........"
what the fuck!
My hands clench involuntarily now and I'm rooted to the spot, ears straining after that soon to be hated sound.
"...i seeeeeee you........"
shit and bloody jesus christ
The voice seems to come from directly behind me and I spin around, wand unconsciously drawn and buzzing in my grasp, to face my . . . Nothing. The hall is empty and still but for a musty draft washing my face and smelling of cold and mildew. My heart is pounding like an uncomfortable, insistent drum against my breast but I force myself to ignore it and stay focused, calm.
A chill washes the back of my neck. My shoulders tense, waiting for what will come next.
"..coward!" The hate filled word is spit out from a point just beyond my right ear and I jump slightly from its suddenness.
NO
"..pathetic, simpering excuse for a wizard.." The voice is so cold and I can feel the warmth of breath on my neck, before if evaporates, icing my skin. I can't move. They're so close but I feel like I've gone numb.
Lies!
"Not even half the man you father is. NEVER Worthy...." I feel like I'm suffocating, I can feel this...presense..clinging to me. pressing against my hands, my shoulders. shifting, swirling restlessly about me in a fury.
but!
"Why can't you be strong?" The voice is a hiss, sharp and demanding and still I can't move, can barely think. I feel a sudden void around me as this presence draws away and suddenly I am desperate for the proximity, for whatever warmth they provided. Because suddenly it is Cold. Colder than the blackness of a dead heart. Colder than my father's voice every time he tells me
"Dependency is for the WEAK. how can you ever be a Malfoy if you depend so strongly on..."
I KNOW!
I'm not frozen anymore. I'm jello. I collapse to the ground, stone sending sharp pains shooting through my knees and wand twisting in my fingers as my hands hit the corridor floor.
..not here, not here....I'm not here.....i don't exist........please! let me just not exist
"prove yourself, Draco." The voice is smooth now, like silk over barbed wire. A fleeting warmth connects with the nape of my neck. "prove that you can rise above this." Light pressure against my arms makes me want to flinch away and simultaneously lean into the touch. "your father could."
wait
The absence of touch brings my head up to stare down the empty corridor. They haven't gone but I feel them drawing away, as the torches lining the hall seem to fade away from my vision, leaving me alone in a long, dark tunnel.
not alone!
A touch to my cheek and I find myself leaning into the caress, lulled in the sense of not alone, before the next words bring me up sharp. "just kill him. you know you want to." I find myself shaking with the effort to remain still.
no
"If you kill him your power will go unquestioned." My fingers are curling against the floor and I feel a distant pain as fingernails scrape at the stone. "If you kill him you will be free."
but i can't...!
"Grasp the power you know is within you! kill him" Hot lips press against my own and I reel from the shock of sensation and suggestion. And then it is gone. The space around me is empty. My lips cool in parts and the damp coolness of the dungeon pours over me, washing away the frosted ice of those words. I feel them sinking within me, though. Waiting, just under my skin, tenacious and cold.
breathe.
Air fills my lungs and I stand unsteadily, fingers cramped awkwardly where they hold my wand, knees unsteady, feeling like they got screwed on backwards. I feel like crawling to my bed and curling up in it and disappearing, letting my pain and disappointments drown themselves in void. Must I face the day?
yes.
Straightening my shoulders and letting my face fall into its familiar mask of indifference, I stride purposefully down the hall, ignoring my shadows that stagger crookedly along the walls, dismissing the cold that seems to radiate from my skin, calling the darkness to it, and the empty void.
As Draco disappeared around the bend in the corridor, a brief flash of movement could be seen at the other end of the hall behind him. If he had turned he would have seen a flash of fiery red, and dark eyes in a pale face, before the phantom slipped silently from sight.
