Author's Note: hmmm, don't have much to say about this. Hope you enjoy.
chapter 28: ISOLATION - a separate place in hell
Draco glanced at his watch and rolled his eyes. 11:55. Damn time was moving slowly. He looked once more around his room at the Manor before flopping backwards on the bed. This was So Boring. If he had to be taken out of school for a day at least he could be Doing something. Locked alone in his room was definitely Not Draco Malfoy's idea of a good time.
There was a soft knock at his door and Draco sat up slowly as he heard the low click of the latch releasing. The door swung silently inward and his father strode into the room, the soft thump of his shoes on the carpet and the rustling of expensive fabric the only sounds he made. Lucius Malfoy crossed the room and sat down on the bed next to his son.
Draco glared at his father as hautily as he could, but with that look on his father's face he knew nothing would faze the man. Right now he was just watching Draco with a serene expression that said Draco was in the wrong but was soon to be corrected. Draco restrained himself from curling his lip. That particular expression never went over well with his father.
"Draco," Lucius finally began, "You do understand why I've brought you here, don't you, boy?" His tone was smooth, sinister as a snake and just as cold.
Draco stared at his father defiantly. "You want me to kill Weasley." He put all of the cold dignity and nonchalance he could muster into his words. Even still, his voice caught briefly on the last and he hoped his father hadn't noticed.
"Wrong!" Lucius' tone held the steel lash of a sharp whip and he rose to frown down upon his son. "I've brought you here so that you may know what it is you face. You are here so that you may see reality, boy." Lucius' voice had once more gone chillingly cold and his face slipped back into that sneering indifference that was the mask and strength of all Malfoys. "What you choose to do with the knowledge you gain today is your own affair, but choose you must, and with eyes open to the reality which is upon you." Lucius turned, his robes flaring around him, and strode back across the room to the door. "Meditate on that, Draco." And he was gone. The lock clicked with cold finality.
"Ron, where are you going? Don't you have detention with Malfoy?"
"Did you see Malfoy in class today, Harry?" Ron continued on his way to Griffindor tower, sidestepping a third year as he came around a bend in the hall.
"No, but don't you still..." Harry continued half-running after him.
Ron put his long legs to good use and lengthened his stride a little more. He really just didn't want to talk to anyone today. "No, Harry, I don't. The whole point is to serve the detention With Malfoy, and if he's not there, then it's just a waste of everybody's time." He started up the stairs to the tower two at a time and was soon standing in front of the Fat Lady's portrait. "Whortle Berries." He stepped inside.
"Look, Ron." Harry tripped and half fell into the common room after him. "You don't have to tell me what's going on but there's no call to go snapping at me about it." Harry sounded cross and if Ron had been in a slightly worse mood, he would have smiled at it. As it was he just turned and glared at Harry.
"Listen, Harry." Ron tried to keep the frustration out of his voice but it came through anyway. "Just leave me alone right now, okay? I'll see you in class." He turned and hurried up the stairs to the boys dormitory and, hopefully, a few minutes of quiet.
The clock struck two o'clock. Draco glared at it. If it had been stupid before, sitting around in his room doing nothing was Really stupid now. If he hadn't known better, Draco would have thought that Lucius had locked him up as some sort of weird torture. Oh, wait a minute. That's Exactly what it was. Draco growled half-heartedly at the door. At least his father hadn't come back. He wasn't sure if he could handle more of that lovely company.
With a sigh and a clenching of his fists, Draco rose from his seat on the bed and resumed pacing around his room. If this kept up much longer, he was going to wear a circular trail into the carpeting. Not that it really mattered, but that seemed to be the only thing of note he was doing all day.
At least the hunger wasn't really that bad. It would have been better if his father had let him have lunch. Oh well, Draco had gone without food before. He was sure he could go without a meeting with that Weasley brat as well. It was just another hunger, after all. Just something he noticed at the back of him mind but didn't really have to pay attention to. A light tension in his back.
It was the boredom that was killing him. Just a few minutes ago he'd sped up his pace and walked around in tight circles as fast as his feet would carry him just to see how long it would take before he got dizzy. That was how bored he was. He had almost wished he had some books in his room so there was something to read, but then spent five minutes berating himself for that thought and reminding himself of the evils of bookishness. Just leave the heavy reading to Mudbloods like Granger. He had no need to concern himself with such trivialities, most especially NOT for recreation. If only his father had left him his wand. Then he could practice his Transfiguration or Charms or something. Not that he considered homework an ideal cure for boredom but at least he'd be doing something productive. Of course, if he had his wand, he could be even more productive by planning some sort of escape. It was generally a bad idea to try to thwart his father, but it was also so satisfying when he managed to do just that and Really, this was getting ridiculous. He was missing school so he could spend the day getting to know the room Better. So lovely. No. Wait. He was bored of that train of thought. He'd covered it pretty well by now.
Then Draco had an inspiration. He generally despised muggles, but, from what he could tell, they basically had to figure out how to do everything wizards did, only without magic. Hoorah for them. So, they probably had to figure out how to escape from boring situations without magic as well. Well, if a muggle could do it, he sure as hell could too. Draco strode to the window with a new sense of purpose.
Ron slouched over and rested his chin on his crossed arms. He scowled at the blackboard, more than ready to be done with the last class of the day. The defense against the dark arts professor was a real winner this time, and he meant that with all possible sarcasm. He was sort of a weird cross between Professors Lockhart and Moody, darkly intense and serious about his subject and far too conscious of his appearance and presentation. Most days it was exhausting just trying to follow his mood swings, let alone his lessons. Professor Gannibal was, what his father would call, quite the character, said with the least possible amusement.
Ron sighed and glanced over at Hermione who was sitting next to him. He had felt rather wary when she'd come and sat down beside him, sure that she too would start pestering him with the wherefores of everything that had been going on today, but so far she'd kept her thoughts and questions to herself and Ron was grateful. The events of today were making it increasingly obvious that he really did need to tell his friends what was going on, as well as making Ron increasingly sure that he didn't want to. With another sigh he turned back to the lesson.
Gannibal had decided that today they would review the basic defenses against curses and Ron was feeling less-than-pleased with the subject matter. It really wasn't helping that the professor was being so dramatic today, either. He kept darting about the room as if searching out some curse hidden in a corner and would periodically stop and lecture sternly about the importance of their lessons and the life-threatening positions they might potentially find themselves in.
Currently he was standing in a corner by a bookshelf, no doubt trying to use the shadows to make himself look particularly dark and forbidding. "Now remember class," he barked, his voice rolling sternly over the classroom, "I'm sure I don't have to remind you, but the Best and ForeMost defense against curses Is Prevention." Ron rolled his eyes and tried to keep from grinding his teeth together. "The mere act of awareness that allows you to avoid a curse or a curser is the most effective means of not being cursed. There are tell tale signs you may observe, insights you can gain if you keep your eyes and ears Open. Negligence is the foremost reason that people allow themselves to become cursed. Do not make this mistake."
Ron felt like pounding his head on the desk. Wasn't this jolly fun? He felt like getting up and screaming, "Well that's bloody good advice, but what if you're cursed a thousand years before you're even born!?" Instead he settled for digging his nails into his arm in an effort to distract himself. Professor Gannibal would no doubt come up with something Ron had done wrong that had landed him with that curse if he did yell that anyway. Sometimes the man could be so black and white that Ron had even once heard a Hufflepuff complaining about some of his opinions.
Of course, none of this could distract Ron for long from what was really bothering him and his thoughts turned, once again, to the missing Malfoy. It really hadn't been That long since they usually met everyday and so so-far everything could really just be alright. His absence Could actually be legitimate and there could be nothing for Ron to worry about. Ron would probably see him at dinner. But, of course, Ron didn't really believe that. Deep down he knew that Lucius was up to something and, however this turned out, it wasn't going to be pretty. But he needed to stop worrying. Worrying wasn't going to do anything except make him more tense and on edge than he already was, and besides, no way would Malfoy be worrying about him if their situations were reversed. This whole thing was costing Ron nothing and he should just let it go. Snape would tell him when Malfoy got back, anyway.
It was 5:30 and even the view was boring. No, scratch that. Especially the view was boring. After three and a half hours Draco had determined that muggles either also couldn't escape from locked rooms with metal grates on the windows, or else they were bloody geniuses and that's why Granger did so well in school. Of course, that left some of the other mudbloods with unexplained acts of stupidity but hey, maybe it only cropped up in survival situations. Maybe they were feeding the mudbloods too well at Hogworts. Maybe if they had to forage for their own life necessities their minds would really blossom. Starving them would really be doing them a favor. Yes, Draco liked this plan. He should find some way to introduce it.
He should wait to introduce it until he himself wasn't starving, though. Hunger definately did not improve His mental skills. Right now the questions he could deal with were quite simple: Why wouldn't his father let him have anything to eat? (Really, it was redicuous) How much longer could he take this room before his head exploded (Draco felt that when he got out of this he should write a book on the evils and torture methods of boredom) and Where would the best place be to find Weasley once he got back to Hogwarts.
Ok, so Draco would admit it. He was feeling hungry, and not just for food. The craving had been growing inside of him for several hours now and was no longer just a nuisance easily ignored. He imagined the taste of Weasley's flesh when he bit into it, salty and sweaty and warm. He imagined the taste of his blood as it poured past his lips with its sweet and iron tang. Draco bit his lip and shut his eyes for a moment, savoring that thought before lunging up from his seat by the window and beginning to pace once more. These thoughts certainly were not doing any good. What he really needed to do was to try to think about something else, something to distract him from his hunger. He tried reciting his ABC's backwards but got lost somewhere around W. So he tried counting backwards from 100, but that was too easy and soon he found his mind wandering again. Throwing his hands up in frustration, he began stomping around the room singing the baudiest songs he could think of at the top of his lungs. This method was sure to bring his father down on him, but right now Draco would welcome any sort of distraction.
"Ron. Eat." Ron kept his lip from curling only by sheer force of will as his sister passed him, giving him a what?-I've-only-got-your-best-interests-at-heart look. He hated that look. Fred and George used to give him that look right before they did something that invariably managed to land Ron in trouble with Mum.
"Yes, Ron. You've hardly touched your food. Aren't you feeling well?" Hermione was looking concerned again and Ron just wanted to crawl under the table and hide. Why did he have to be around People all the time? Though he wasn't surprised they had noticed he wasn't eating. Usually food was one of his all time favorite things, but he'd just been worrying so much all day that his stomach felt like it was tied into knots. The thought of putting something in it and asking it to digest was just this side of revolting.
"I'm ok, Hermione, really." He knew she wasn't buying it, but he also knew it would get her to leave him alone for a little bit at least.
"No, really, Ron. What's wrong?" Well, wrong on that count anyway.
He decided to settle for a half-truth. "I've just been feeling stressed out today, that's all."
"Is it to do w... No, never mind." Hermione's jaw shut with an audible click and her lips settled into a hard line.
At her cold tone, Ron rubbed a hand over his eyes and found himself wishing, not for the first time that day, that he was brave enough to tell them what was going on. He wasn't though. "Listen, guys, I think I'm just gonna head off and get a start on my homework." In their silence, he rose from the table and headed out of the hall. Once he got back to Gryffindor tower he headed up to the dorm and fetched his books down to the common room. He didn't have any illusions about the amount of studying he was going to get done, but he wanted to be ready for when Snape contacted him. As he settled down at a table in the corner he hoped it was soon.
Night had fallen. The world outside the windows was dark and forbidding. The cold leaked through the glass and the wind rattled the branches of an old tree against the side of the Manor. Draco Malfoy lay curled atop his bed and listened to the sound of the clock ticking past the time. The scant amount of light from outside filtered dark shadows over his pale face and just barely illuminated his eyes that stared fixedly at the wall.
He felt like he was no longer solid. Like if he moved he'd break into a million pieces and lie scattered around the room. So instead he held himself curled as tightly as he could, motionless and tense. He let his mind sharpen and focus so that the whole of his brain was devoted to one thought, one sensation: His hunger in the passage of time. He counted the seconds up like a miser counting his gold, meticulously, ceaselessly. He could feel the time passing like water flowing over his skin, measure the current as it swirled through his hair. He drifted in time. So attuned, he could feel the drop-off moving closer.
Draco Malfoy felt his fear in the night. The time was approaching when the red flow would cease and the darkness would come, that special moment when one day turned into the next. Watching the seconds tick by like grains of sand pouring out of an hour glass he felt so helpless. Once a day. Once a DAY. Where was Weasley when you needed him? Lying alone on his bed Draco felt like he'd been abandoned. He'd gotten lost in the dark and no one was coming to save him. His hunger would devour him until all that was left was a bare husk of himself. And still the seconds ticked by. The clock struck the hour: nine o'clock, and Draco felt the notes reverberate over his skin, worming their way inside him and feeding the beast of his fear. And time continued slipping ever by, seconds flowing into minutes into. Ten o'clock. The shadows had slipped their way across the bed, leaving Draco puddled in darkness. Eleven o'clock. The door clicked open and a shaft of light fell across the room and onto his still form. "Rise and shine, my boy."
chapter 28: ISOLATION - a separate place in hell
Draco glanced at his watch and rolled his eyes. 11:55. Damn time was moving slowly. He looked once more around his room at the Manor before flopping backwards on the bed. This was So Boring. If he had to be taken out of school for a day at least he could be Doing something. Locked alone in his room was definitely Not Draco Malfoy's idea of a good time.
There was a soft knock at his door and Draco sat up slowly as he heard the low click of the latch releasing. The door swung silently inward and his father strode into the room, the soft thump of his shoes on the carpet and the rustling of expensive fabric the only sounds he made. Lucius Malfoy crossed the room and sat down on the bed next to his son.
Draco glared at his father as hautily as he could, but with that look on his father's face he knew nothing would faze the man. Right now he was just watching Draco with a serene expression that said Draco was in the wrong but was soon to be corrected. Draco restrained himself from curling his lip. That particular expression never went over well with his father.
"Draco," Lucius finally began, "You do understand why I've brought you here, don't you, boy?" His tone was smooth, sinister as a snake and just as cold.
Draco stared at his father defiantly. "You want me to kill Weasley." He put all of the cold dignity and nonchalance he could muster into his words. Even still, his voice caught briefly on the last and he hoped his father hadn't noticed.
"Wrong!" Lucius' tone held the steel lash of a sharp whip and he rose to frown down upon his son. "I've brought you here so that you may know what it is you face. You are here so that you may see reality, boy." Lucius' voice had once more gone chillingly cold and his face slipped back into that sneering indifference that was the mask and strength of all Malfoys. "What you choose to do with the knowledge you gain today is your own affair, but choose you must, and with eyes open to the reality which is upon you." Lucius turned, his robes flaring around him, and strode back across the room to the door. "Meditate on that, Draco." And he was gone. The lock clicked with cold finality.
"Ron, where are you going? Don't you have detention with Malfoy?"
"Did you see Malfoy in class today, Harry?" Ron continued on his way to Griffindor tower, sidestepping a third year as he came around a bend in the hall.
"No, but don't you still..." Harry continued half-running after him.
Ron put his long legs to good use and lengthened his stride a little more. He really just didn't want to talk to anyone today. "No, Harry, I don't. The whole point is to serve the detention With Malfoy, and if he's not there, then it's just a waste of everybody's time." He started up the stairs to the tower two at a time and was soon standing in front of the Fat Lady's portrait. "Whortle Berries." He stepped inside.
"Look, Ron." Harry tripped and half fell into the common room after him. "You don't have to tell me what's going on but there's no call to go snapping at me about it." Harry sounded cross and if Ron had been in a slightly worse mood, he would have smiled at it. As it was he just turned and glared at Harry.
"Listen, Harry." Ron tried to keep the frustration out of his voice but it came through anyway. "Just leave me alone right now, okay? I'll see you in class." He turned and hurried up the stairs to the boys dormitory and, hopefully, a few minutes of quiet.
The clock struck two o'clock. Draco glared at it. If it had been stupid before, sitting around in his room doing nothing was Really stupid now. If he hadn't known better, Draco would have thought that Lucius had locked him up as some sort of weird torture. Oh, wait a minute. That's Exactly what it was. Draco growled half-heartedly at the door. At least his father hadn't come back. He wasn't sure if he could handle more of that lovely company.
With a sigh and a clenching of his fists, Draco rose from his seat on the bed and resumed pacing around his room. If this kept up much longer, he was going to wear a circular trail into the carpeting. Not that it really mattered, but that seemed to be the only thing of note he was doing all day.
At least the hunger wasn't really that bad. It would have been better if his father had let him have lunch. Oh well, Draco had gone without food before. He was sure he could go without a meeting with that Weasley brat as well. It was just another hunger, after all. Just something he noticed at the back of him mind but didn't really have to pay attention to. A light tension in his back.
It was the boredom that was killing him. Just a few minutes ago he'd sped up his pace and walked around in tight circles as fast as his feet would carry him just to see how long it would take before he got dizzy. That was how bored he was. He had almost wished he had some books in his room so there was something to read, but then spent five minutes berating himself for that thought and reminding himself of the evils of bookishness. Just leave the heavy reading to Mudbloods like Granger. He had no need to concern himself with such trivialities, most especially NOT for recreation. If only his father had left him his wand. Then he could practice his Transfiguration or Charms or something. Not that he considered homework an ideal cure for boredom but at least he'd be doing something productive. Of course, if he had his wand, he could be even more productive by planning some sort of escape. It was generally a bad idea to try to thwart his father, but it was also so satisfying when he managed to do just that and Really, this was getting ridiculous. He was missing school so he could spend the day getting to know the room Better. So lovely. No. Wait. He was bored of that train of thought. He'd covered it pretty well by now.
Then Draco had an inspiration. He generally despised muggles, but, from what he could tell, they basically had to figure out how to do everything wizards did, only without magic. Hoorah for them. So, they probably had to figure out how to escape from boring situations without magic as well. Well, if a muggle could do it, he sure as hell could too. Draco strode to the window with a new sense of purpose.
Ron slouched over and rested his chin on his crossed arms. He scowled at the blackboard, more than ready to be done with the last class of the day. The defense against the dark arts professor was a real winner this time, and he meant that with all possible sarcasm. He was sort of a weird cross between Professors Lockhart and Moody, darkly intense and serious about his subject and far too conscious of his appearance and presentation. Most days it was exhausting just trying to follow his mood swings, let alone his lessons. Professor Gannibal was, what his father would call, quite the character, said with the least possible amusement.
Ron sighed and glanced over at Hermione who was sitting next to him. He had felt rather wary when she'd come and sat down beside him, sure that she too would start pestering him with the wherefores of everything that had been going on today, but so far she'd kept her thoughts and questions to herself and Ron was grateful. The events of today were making it increasingly obvious that he really did need to tell his friends what was going on, as well as making Ron increasingly sure that he didn't want to. With another sigh he turned back to the lesson.
Gannibal had decided that today they would review the basic defenses against curses and Ron was feeling less-than-pleased with the subject matter. It really wasn't helping that the professor was being so dramatic today, either. He kept darting about the room as if searching out some curse hidden in a corner and would periodically stop and lecture sternly about the importance of their lessons and the life-threatening positions they might potentially find themselves in.
Currently he was standing in a corner by a bookshelf, no doubt trying to use the shadows to make himself look particularly dark and forbidding. "Now remember class," he barked, his voice rolling sternly over the classroom, "I'm sure I don't have to remind you, but the Best and ForeMost defense against curses Is Prevention." Ron rolled his eyes and tried to keep from grinding his teeth together. "The mere act of awareness that allows you to avoid a curse or a curser is the most effective means of not being cursed. There are tell tale signs you may observe, insights you can gain if you keep your eyes and ears Open. Negligence is the foremost reason that people allow themselves to become cursed. Do not make this mistake."
Ron felt like pounding his head on the desk. Wasn't this jolly fun? He felt like getting up and screaming, "Well that's bloody good advice, but what if you're cursed a thousand years before you're even born!?" Instead he settled for digging his nails into his arm in an effort to distract himself. Professor Gannibal would no doubt come up with something Ron had done wrong that had landed him with that curse if he did yell that anyway. Sometimes the man could be so black and white that Ron had even once heard a Hufflepuff complaining about some of his opinions.
Of course, none of this could distract Ron for long from what was really bothering him and his thoughts turned, once again, to the missing Malfoy. It really hadn't been That long since they usually met everyday and so so-far everything could really just be alright. His absence Could actually be legitimate and there could be nothing for Ron to worry about. Ron would probably see him at dinner. But, of course, Ron didn't really believe that. Deep down he knew that Lucius was up to something and, however this turned out, it wasn't going to be pretty. But he needed to stop worrying. Worrying wasn't going to do anything except make him more tense and on edge than he already was, and besides, no way would Malfoy be worrying about him if their situations were reversed. This whole thing was costing Ron nothing and he should just let it go. Snape would tell him when Malfoy got back, anyway.
It was 5:30 and even the view was boring. No, scratch that. Especially the view was boring. After three and a half hours Draco had determined that muggles either also couldn't escape from locked rooms with metal grates on the windows, or else they were bloody geniuses and that's why Granger did so well in school. Of course, that left some of the other mudbloods with unexplained acts of stupidity but hey, maybe it only cropped up in survival situations. Maybe they were feeding the mudbloods too well at Hogworts. Maybe if they had to forage for their own life necessities their minds would really blossom. Starving them would really be doing them a favor. Yes, Draco liked this plan. He should find some way to introduce it.
He should wait to introduce it until he himself wasn't starving, though. Hunger definately did not improve His mental skills. Right now the questions he could deal with were quite simple: Why wouldn't his father let him have anything to eat? (Really, it was redicuous) How much longer could he take this room before his head exploded (Draco felt that when he got out of this he should write a book on the evils and torture methods of boredom) and Where would the best place be to find Weasley once he got back to Hogwarts.
Ok, so Draco would admit it. He was feeling hungry, and not just for food. The craving had been growing inside of him for several hours now and was no longer just a nuisance easily ignored. He imagined the taste of Weasley's flesh when he bit into it, salty and sweaty and warm. He imagined the taste of his blood as it poured past his lips with its sweet and iron tang. Draco bit his lip and shut his eyes for a moment, savoring that thought before lunging up from his seat by the window and beginning to pace once more. These thoughts certainly were not doing any good. What he really needed to do was to try to think about something else, something to distract him from his hunger. He tried reciting his ABC's backwards but got lost somewhere around W. So he tried counting backwards from 100, but that was too easy and soon he found his mind wandering again. Throwing his hands up in frustration, he began stomping around the room singing the baudiest songs he could think of at the top of his lungs. This method was sure to bring his father down on him, but right now Draco would welcome any sort of distraction.
"Ron. Eat." Ron kept his lip from curling only by sheer force of will as his sister passed him, giving him a what?-I've-only-got-your-best-interests-at-heart look. He hated that look. Fred and George used to give him that look right before they did something that invariably managed to land Ron in trouble with Mum.
"Yes, Ron. You've hardly touched your food. Aren't you feeling well?" Hermione was looking concerned again and Ron just wanted to crawl under the table and hide. Why did he have to be around People all the time? Though he wasn't surprised they had noticed he wasn't eating. Usually food was one of his all time favorite things, but he'd just been worrying so much all day that his stomach felt like it was tied into knots. The thought of putting something in it and asking it to digest was just this side of revolting.
"I'm ok, Hermione, really." He knew she wasn't buying it, but he also knew it would get her to leave him alone for a little bit at least.
"No, really, Ron. What's wrong?" Well, wrong on that count anyway.
He decided to settle for a half-truth. "I've just been feeling stressed out today, that's all."
"Is it to do w... No, never mind." Hermione's jaw shut with an audible click and her lips settled into a hard line.
At her cold tone, Ron rubbed a hand over his eyes and found himself wishing, not for the first time that day, that he was brave enough to tell them what was going on. He wasn't though. "Listen, guys, I think I'm just gonna head off and get a start on my homework." In their silence, he rose from the table and headed out of the hall. Once he got back to Gryffindor tower he headed up to the dorm and fetched his books down to the common room. He didn't have any illusions about the amount of studying he was going to get done, but he wanted to be ready for when Snape contacted him. As he settled down at a table in the corner he hoped it was soon.
Night had fallen. The world outside the windows was dark and forbidding. The cold leaked through the glass and the wind rattled the branches of an old tree against the side of the Manor. Draco Malfoy lay curled atop his bed and listened to the sound of the clock ticking past the time. The scant amount of light from outside filtered dark shadows over his pale face and just barely illuminated his eyes that stared fixedly at the wall.
He felt like he was no longer solid. Like if he moved he'd break into a million pieces and lie scattered around the room. So instead he held himself curled as tightly as he could, motionless and tense. He let his mind sharpen and focus so that the whole of his brain was devoted to one thought, one sensation: His hunger in the passage of time. He counted the seconds up like a miser counting his gold, meticulously, ceaselessly. He could feel the time passing like water flowing over his skin, measure the current as it swirled through his hair. He drifted in time. So attuned, he could feel the drop-off moving closer.
Draco Malfoy felt his fear in the night. The time was approaching when the red flow would cease and the darkness would come, that special moment when one day turned into the next. Watching the seconds tick by like grains of sand pouring out of an hour glass he felt so helpless. Once a day. Once a DAY. Where was Weasley when you needed him? Lying alone on his bed Draco felt like he'd been abandoned. He'd gotten lost in the dark and no one was coming to save him. His hunger would devour him until all that was left was a bare husk of himself. And still the seconds ticked by. The clock struck the hour: nine o'clock, and Draco felt the notes reverberate over his skin, worming their way inside him and feeding the beast of his fear. And time continued slipping ever by, seconds flowing into minutes into. Ten o'clock. The shadows had slipped their way across the bed, leaving Draco puddled in darkness. Eleven o'clock. The door clicked open and a shaft of light fell across the room and onto his still form. "Rise and shine, my boy."
