Author's Note: Ok, I'll just say sorry. I couldn't help it. I'll try to get the next one up soon.
Chapter 22: Apprehension - a moment for truth
Draco missed the storm. It had suited his mood, all dark and gloomy, all lashing and violent. It had also filled the echoing silence in his head. But the storm had gone and now the weather was unnaturally calm. Lying in bed, trying to fall asleep, Draco felt the calm and silence settling over him like a too warm blanket, smothering him, holding him in a state of conscious lethargy from which he could neither move nor escape into sleep.
He wasn't sure if he wanted to sleep, really. As much as he had tried, he hadn't been able to get last night's dream out of his head and his body was still tense with anxiety that this night would bring similarly disturbing visions.
Draco groaned and rolled over, casting his pillow to the side. It was hopeless. He was never going to get to sleep now. He shivered and sat up, turning sideways on his bed and pulling the blanket up around his shoulders. Despite the smothering quality of the quiet and the still air, the dungeon room was still uncomfortably cold.
He sneered into the darkness. This was so stupid. Huddling in his bed like some child? Afraid to fall asleep? What was he? Five? No, come to think of it, this had been beneath him when he was five. And what was he so scared about anyway? A nightmare? How could you even call a dream like that a nightmare? He'd dreamt he'd killed the Weasel. A dream like that should be cause for celebration, not insomnia.
He sighed and leaned his head back, banging it lightly against the wall. Then his breath caught in his throat as it all came back to him in a rush. That heady feeling as he drained Ron's blood. The sense of wholeness and wellbeing and the horrible crashing guilt and despair. Draco gasped and banged his head back against the wall for real this time but barely even noticed the pain. He didn't understand it! WHY did he feel like that? Why should he care whether one more Weasley lived or died, especially if his death could only improve Draco's own situation. It was all just so stupid.
He wouldn't even admit it to himself, but deep down, Draco knew that a part of him was afraid. Afraid of giving in to his father's imperatives. Afraid of being alone again. Afraid.... Instead of admitting these things to himself he just forced his mind to go blank, staring into the darkness with no promise for sleep, staring at the window, hoping for rain. Of a sudden, he felt a sharp stab of agonizing fear and despair, followed by a smothering sorrow.
"Thank God it's stopped raining." Once again Ron Weasley had found himself on the couch in the Gryffindor common room late at night. Once again he was contemplating the weather in a futile attempt to keep his mind occupied with anything other than what had brought him out there. But of course, this wasn't possible. His mind was like a tiger, locked up in a cage, forever circling.
"Damn it! What does it even matter?" Ron turned his head angrily away from the window and stared moodily into the coals. Tonight's nagging thought of choice was Draco Malfoy's confession about his dream, and the way Ron's mind kept coming back to it, kept turning it over and over, searching for a new angle, was driving him mad. What did it matter what Malfoy dreamt about? His own dreams could be bad enough without bringing something like this into it.
Part of the problem was, Ron didn't really know how he felt about the whole issue himself. He knew that he could say, with a certainty, that he didn't want to die. He was only sixteen for Merlin's sake. He hadn't done nearly half the things you were supposed to before you died. But he also had to admit to himself with all honesty that, despite all that, there was a big part of himself that seriously doubted he had anything worth living for. What was the point? His friends and school were great and all, but then after school, then what? All he had to look forward to was seeing Draco bloody Malfoy everyday for the rest of his life and that certainly wasn't making him jump for joy.
Ron groaned and flopped back on the couch. And that was the crux of it. Why in the name of anything worth naming was it that two people who had always loathed each other had to be forced together like this. You'd think if the world had any justice in it at all it would have never come up with such a cruel joke. Part of Ron didn't mind the thought of being killed by Draco for the simple reason that then one of them at least would be put out of their misery.
Ron lately was trying very hard not to kid himself that this wasn't just as much an awful situation for Malfoy as it was for him. Sure, he had to be a walking blood bank for the rest of his life, but Malfoy had to drink it. When Ron really thought about it, he couldn't for the life of him decide which was worse. He was even starting to feel sorry for Malfoy sometimes, which was really getting on his nerves. The pompous git didn't deserve pity.
Of course, the pompous git could seem so lost sometimes. It wasn't that Ron thought Malfoy used his meanness and his snobbish ways as a mask to hide his true self. Ron was absolutely certain that that Was Draco's true self, only, perhaps that was only half of his true self. The other half was probably just as mean and annoying as the first half, only it seemed that it was also angry, and afraid. One half seemed to be following merrily along the way that had been set out for him, while the other half just circled and circled, looking for a way of making his own route through life.
Ron put a pillow over his face and left it there until he felt that he was running out of oxygen. This was WAY too much philosophizing to be doing over one Draco Malfoy. Ron just had to live with his presence, not analyze his psyche. Of course, it would probably be a lot easier to live with Malfoy's presence if he could find a way not to hate his bloody guts.
Ron took the pillow away from his face and stared hard into the fire. He did hate Malfoy's guts, didn't he? Of course, Draco had been a lot easier to handle lately. It was sort of like they were forming some sort of truce about the whole thing, but also there was some sort of strange instinct in Ron taking over. An instinct that insisted that Ron couldn't take on a responsibility like this without caring about it. Without wanting to make things as good as possible. And it really was a responsibility, Ron realized. An important and burdensome responsibility but one that Ron must strive to fulfill as best as he was able, to make sure that the burden fell no heavier than it needed to on anyone else, including Malfoy.
The clock over the mantel stuck twelve thirty and, as if on cue, Ginny padded quietly into the room. A part of Ron was not at all surprised to see her, sleepless people just fit so well into the mood of the night. What was surprising was that she came over and sat down on the couch next to him. Even more so that she leaned into him and lay her head against his shoulder.
"Hey, Ginny," he said softly, slightly bemused by this casual show of affection. "Couldn't sleep either?" Ginny just shook her head against his shoulder and remained quiet, staring vaguely into the fire.
"Ron?" she asked finally, after several minutes of quiet had passed. "Would you do anything for me?"
Ron was startled by the question but answered without hesitation, "Of course, Ginny. You're my sister."
"Would you kill Draco Malfoy for me?"
This startled Ron so much he started up quickly from where he was leaning back on the couch and looked at his sister in shock. She sat up slowly, looking straight back at him, unblinking. "Ginny! What are you talking about?" Ron's mind was a whirl of confusion but he was sure once he got things figured out, he wasn't going to like the answer.
"He's dangerous, Ron. You don't know what he could do." Ginny continued to stare directly at him, her face an unreadable mask.
"Ginny, no, what are you saying. He's not dangerous. Everything's under control." Ron was no closer to understanding what was going on but he was beginning to get the impression that something was very wrong.
"But what if it stopped being under control? What then, Ron?" Ginny's voice had developed a dangerously low edge but her face remained a perfect mask.
Ron, however, was beginning to feel angry. "You can't just go around killing people because they might someday be dangerous. You just can't do that! Why are you asking these things, Ginny? What are you doing?"
Ginny was just shaking her head sadly. When she looked up Ron was struck by the intensity of her gaze. "I thought you loved me, Ron." Her voice shook slightly but still, there seemed to be hard purpose behind it. "But I knew you'd say that. I knew you'd pick the wrong way. Well, now I need you to help me along the right way."
"Ginny, what.." Ron didn't know what to think. The look in Ginny's eyes was scaring him. And yet, she looked so vulnerable and fragile sitting there on the couch that all he longed to do was comfort her. To tell her that everything would be ok.
"I'm so sorry, Ron." Tears glistened in Ginny's eyes. "You betrayed me but still you're the only one that I can trust." Ron's mouth just gaped in bewilderment. With tears now running freely down her face, Ginny raised her wand and leveled it at Ron.
"Imperio." Everything seemed to fade.
Chapter 22: Apprehension - a moment for truth
Draco missed the storm. It had suited his mood, all dark and gloomy, all lashing and violent. It had also filled the echoing silence in his head. But the storm had gone and now the weather was unnaturally calm. Lying in bed, trying to fall asleep, Draco felt the calm and silence settling over him like a too warm blanket, smothering him, holding him in a state of conscious lethargy from which he could neither move nor escape into sleep.
He wasn't sure if he wanted to sleep, really. As much as he had tried, he hadn't been able to get last night's dream out of his head and his body was still tense with anxiety that this night would bring similarly disturbing visions.
Draco groaned and rolled over, casting his pillow to the side. It was hopeless. He was never going to get to sleep now. He shivered and sat up, turning sideways on his bed and pulling the blanket up around his shoulders. Despite the smothering quality of the quiet and the still air, the dungeon room was still uncomfortably cold.
He sneered into the darkness. This was so stupid. Huddling in his bed like some child? Afraid to fall asleep? What was he? Five? No, come to think of it, this had been beneath him when he was five. And what was he so scared about anyway? A nightmare? How could you even call a dream like that a nightmare? He'd dreamt he'd killed the Weasel. A dream like that should be cause for celebration, not insomnia.
He sighed and leaned his head back, banging it lightly against the wall. Then his breath caught in his throat as it all came back to him in a rush. That heady feeling as he drained Ron's blood. The sense of wholeness and wellbeing and the horrible crashing guilt and despair. Draco gasped and banged his head back against the wall for real this time but barely even noticed the pain. He didn't understand it! WHY did he feel like that? Why should he care whether one more Weasley lived or died, especially if his death could only improve Draco's own situation. It was all just so stupid.
He wouldn't even admit it to himself, but deep down, Draco knew that a part of him was afraid. Afraid of giving in to his father's imperatives. Afraid of being alone again. Afraid.... Instead of admitting these things to himself he just forced his mind to go blank, staring into the darkness with no promise for sleep, staring at the window, hoping for rain. Of a sudden, he felt a sharp stab of agonizing fear and despair, followed by a smothering sorrow.
"Thank God it's stopped raining." Once again Ron Weasley had found himself on the couch in the Gryffindor common room late at night. Once again he was contemplating the weather in a futile attempt to keep his mind occupied with anything other than what had brought him out there. But of course, this wasn't possible. His mind was like a tiger, locked up in a cage, forever circling.
"Damn it! What does it even matter?" Ron turned his head angrily away from the window and stared moodily into the coals. Tonight's nagging thought of choice was Draco Malfoy's confession about his dream, and the way Ron's mind kept coming back to it, kept turning it over and over, searching for a new angle, was driving him mad. What did it matter what Malfoy dreamt about? His own dreams could be bad enough without bringing something like this into it.
Part of the problem was, Ron didn't really know how he felt about the whole issue himself. He knew that he could say, with a certainty, that he didn't want to die. He was only sixteen for Merlin's sake. He hadn't done nearly half the things you were supposed to before you died. But he also had to admit to himself with all honesty that, despite all that, there was a big part of himself that seriously doubted he had anything worth living for. What was the point? His friends and school were great and all, but then after school, then what? All he had to look forward to was seeing Draco bloody Malfoy everyday for the rest of his life and that certainly wasn't making him jump for joy.
Ron groaned and flopped back on the couch. And that was the crux of it. Why in the name of anything worth naming was it that two people who had always loathed each other had to be forced together like this. You'd think if the world had any justice in it at all it would have never come up with such a cruel joke. Part of Ron didn't mind the thought of being killed by Draco for the simple reason that then one of them at least would be put out of their misery.
Ron lately was trying very hard not to kid himself that this wasn't just as much an awful situation for Malfoy as it was for him. Sure, he had to be a walking blood bank for the rest of his life, but Malfoy had to drink it. When Ron really thought about it, he couldn't for the life of him decide which was worse. He was even starting to feel sorry for Malfoy sometimes, which was really getting on his nerves. The pompous git didn't deserve pity.
Of course, the pompous git could seem so lost sometimes. It wasn't that Ron thought Malfoy used his meanness and his snobbish ways as a mask to hide his true self. Ron was absolutely certain that that Was Draco's true self, only, perhaps that was only half of his true self. The other half was probably just as mean and annoying as the first half, only it seemed that it was also angry, and afraid. One half seemed to be following merrily along the way that had been set out for him, while the other half just circled and circled, looking for a way of making his own route through life.
Ron put a pillow over his face and left it there until he felt that he was running out of oxygen. This was WAY too much philosophizing to be doing over one Draco Malfoy. Ron just had to live with his presence, not analyze his psyche. Of course, it would probably be a lot easier to live with Malfoy's presence if he could find a way not to hate his bloody guts.
Ron took the pillow away from his face and stared hard into the fire. He did hate Malfoy's guts, didn't he? Of course, Draco had been a lot easier to handle lately. It was sort of like they were forming some sort of truce about the whole thing, but also there was some sort of strange instinct in Ron taking over. An instinct that insisted that Ron couldn't take on a responsibility like this without caring about it. Without wanting to make things as good as possible. And it really was a responsibility, Ron realized. An important and burdensome responsibility but one that Ron must strive to fulfill as best as he was able, to make sure that the burden fell no heavier than it needed to on anyone else, including Malfoy.
The clock over the mantel stuck twelve thirty and, as if on cue, Ginny padded quietly into the room. A part of Ron was not at all surprised to see her, sleepless people just fit so well into the mood of the night. What was surprising was that she came over and sat down on the couch next to him. Even more so that she leaned into him and lay her head against his shoulder.
"Hey, Ginny," he said softly, slightly bemused by this casual show of affection. "Couldn't sleep either?" Ginny just shook her head against his shoulder and remained quiet, staring vaguely into the fire.
"Ron?" she asked finally, after several minutes of quiet had passed. "Would you do anything for me?"
Ron was startled by the question but answered without hesitation, "Of course, Ginny. You're my sister."
"Would you kill Draco Malfoy for me?"
This startled Ron so much he started up quickly from where he was leaning back on the couch and looked at his sister in shock. She sat up slowly, looking straight back at him, unblinking. "Ginny! What are you talking about?" Ron's mind was a whirl of confusion but he was sure once he got things figured out, he wasn't going to like the answer.
"He's dangerous, Ron. You don't know what he could do." Ginny continued to stare directly at him, her face an unreadable mask.
"Ginny, no, what are you saying. He's not dangerous. Everything's under control." Ron was no closer to understanding what was going on but he was beginning to get the impression that something was very wrong.
"But what if it stopped being under control? What then, Ron?" Ginny's voice had developed a dangerously low edge but her face remained a perfect mask.
Ron, however, was beginning to feel angry. "You can't just go around killing people because they might someday be dangerous. You just can't do that! Why are you asking these things, Ginny? What are you doing?"
Ginny was just shaking her head sadly. When she looked up Ron was struck by the intensity of her gaze. "I thought you loved me, Ron." Her voice shook slightly but still, there seemed to be hard purpose behind it. "But I knew you'd say that. I knew you'd pick the wrong way. Well, now I need you to help me along the right way."
"Ginny, what.." Ron didn't know what to think. The look in Ginny's eyes was scaring him. And yet, she looked so vulnerable and fragile sitting there on the couch that all he longed to do was comfort her. To tell her that everything would be ok.
"I'm so sorry, Ron." Tears glistened in Ginny's eyes. "You betrayed me but still you're the only one that I can trust." Ron's mouth just gaped in bewilderment. With tears now running freely down her face, Ginny raised her wand and leveled it at Ron.
"Imperio." Everything seemed to fade.
