Rated R for swearing, violence, and suicide (and/or suicide-related issues). If this offends anyone, don't read. Thought I'd add that I own nadda. All characters, names and related indicia are property of J.K. Rowling. I am merely trying to share some of her goodness in a non-illegal way. :)
Thanks,
you guys, for reviewing. I honestly have no idea where I'm going to
take this, so your suggestions and comments are awesome. Thank you
all!!
-------
Chapter 8: Into the Fire
Draco
opened his eyes. His neck screamed in pain as he moved his head from
side to side (however very slightly), trying to make sense of where
he was. Sleep fogged his brain. He slowly sat up, wincing, and looked
around as his eyes automatically squinted against the glow of the
fire.
Ah yes. He must have fallen asleep in the
Slytherin common room. Oh, how he ached.
"Never again,"
he mumbled as he stretched. Those chairs were murder on the back. He
really should write to father about this; the level of comfort was
atrocious.
The blond boy ran his hands through his hair,
giving himself a mental note to shower later. He grinned then, like
one who'd suddenly found something very funny, as images from the
previous night ran through his mind.
Potter had been
quick...
"If you even dare touch Hermione," Harry
hissed. "I'll have you - "
"You'll have me
what?" Draco whispered, his mouth close to Harry's ear. "Have
me bleeding and broken? Oh, I'm scared."
"I don't
care," Harry said, his voice shaking with outrage. "I don't
care about Quidditch, I don't care about points. You hurt her and I
swear I'll kill you."
"You reek of fear," the
Slytherin jeered, his blue eyes cold and full of spite. They met
emerald green ones. "Your stench is betraying your mask, Potter.
And what a good way to get you off the team, too! Maybe we will pay
the Mudblood a visit. Kill two birds with one stone, eh, boy?"
"Stop
it!"
"Ha!" Malfoy backed away and leaned
against the opposite wall, observing the pathetic Gryffindor in front
of him. "You are weak, Potter! Wow...honestly, I don't know how
Dumbledore can go on about you being strong, being the Golden Boy,
being as much as he says you are, when really you're nothing but a
sniveling mass of quaking fear. I find this amusing,
actually...you'll be much easier to defeat in the end, won't
you?"
The Slytherin's laughed.
Draco gave his
house members a clear field. Harry's eyes darted back and forth,
counting. There were seven of them. Seven against one. The boy
thought. If Dumbledore could take out several highly trained Ministry
workers at one time, surely he could do away with seven stupid
Slytherins. Then he remembered that it was Dumbledore he was thinking
of. Dumbledore, whom Voldemort was afraid of. Dumbledore, who
possessed power unimaginable. Great.
Draco watched, a hungry
look on his face, as he saw the boy slightly panic. Oh, this was
bliss beyond his imagination. "HEY!"
He hadn't
expected the boy to draw his wand, nor had he expected him to break
the rules and fight. Holy shit. The boy was doing things with a wand
he hadn't even seen his dear Death Eater father do. The corridor was
suddenly filled with light as Harry's wand emitted spell after spell.
Shouts and scuffles broke out and Draco couldn't tell who was who.
Several Slytherins lay on the floor.
Harry had turned quickly
to look Malfoy in the eye. Ha, his one mistake. He hadn't expected
the blow that came from behind and the Boy-Who-Lived was soon on the
ground. The remaining two Slytherins who were coherent enough to walk
did him in. Spectacularly.
Draco shook his head. He
should've known to bring more people. He had to admit, Potter was
good with a wand. But now he knew that the kid had some issues as
well. He could further torment him later. Elsewhere, he had a
Mudblood to pester.
This was going to be a good
month.
-------
"Harry."
No
response.
"Harry."
Silence.
"Harry,
please, talk to me."
A small moan of protest.
Hermione
leaned back in defeat and exhaled loudly. "Harry, who did
this?"
It was Saturday morning. Ron was attending a
Quidditch meeting that Angelina had suddenly called during breakfast.
She had been pissed that Harry wouldn't be attending, although
neither Ron nor Hermione had known why.
The Hospital Wing was
chilly. Surreal. Pale. Hermione sat beside Harry's bed. She had been
trying to get him to talk for almost an hour. So far, that little
noise was all she had heard out of Harry's mouth.
The poor
boy...she had almost burst into tears when Professor McGonagall had
called her up. She'd been worried enough when he didn't come back
from his detention with Snape, but this was...this was...
He
had been found on the third floor. Which was strange, considering his
detention had been in the dungeons. Professor McGonagall had been up
early, earlier than the students thank goodness, so there would be no
talk of this if they were lucky. McGonagall had talked to Hermione in
the Hospital Wing about her concerns...how she thought he had been
brought to the third floor from where the act had actually occurred.
Madame Pomphrey had worked her magic on Harry, but the boy still
looked awful. Bruises. Cuts.
And
his arms...oh dear god, his arms...
"Harry,"
Hermione said, her voice weak and shaking. The girl was close to
tears. "Please, Harry. I'm your friend, you know I love
you. Why didn't you tell me you were sad? Why aren't you talking to
me? Are you angry with Ron and me? I am so sorry we didn't pay close
enough attention." She placed a small hand on his
shoulder.
Harry stirred. He was lying with his back to her,
but he slowly turned, hisses of pain escaping from behind his
clenched teeth, until he was facing her. His eyes were
watery.
"Nobody did this," Harry rasped. "Nobody
you need to know about."
"How can you say
that?!"
"I don't want you to get hurt."
"Me
to get hurt? What are you talking about? Why would I get hurt? Look
at you! I'm hurt because you never told me anything! I who am
your friend, or at least I thought. Can you not...can you not trust
me enough to help you? Harry...I would've wanted to help
you!"
"You don't understand," the boy
whispered, so quietly that Hermione had to lean in to hear him.
The
girl llooked at him helplessly. "Oh god, Harry, why did you do
that to yourself?"
Harry fell silent. Closed his eyes.
Rolled back over.
Hermione cried. She left her chair and
slowly crawled onto Harry's bed where she curled up next to him,
careful not to press too much into his body. An arm snaked overtop
his waist to let him know she was there.
This would never
happen again, she would make sure of that.
Hermione let her
tears fall into his messy black hair and she eventually slept, not
noticing that Harry was crying too.
-------
"Ah,
Professor Snape."
"Good morning, Minerva." Piss
off, ancient wench.
"I trust you have spoken to Albus
already?"
"Oh, I have. I would prefer not to have to
appear in his office so early on a Saturday morning, but alas..."
He took a seat in a high-backed, rickety wooden chair.
McGonagall
sipped her coffee and perched herself high in her throne. Snape
didn't like her office much, either. Too...prissy. God, the whole
school was prissy.
"Good," she said, apparently
bypassing what he'd said. "Then you have heard my concerns."
"I
have."
"What do you make of them?"
Severus
Snape put his fingertips together and surveyed McGonagall through
half-closed eyes. It was so early. He'd wanted to have a lie-in this
morning, but one could not ignore the presence of Albus Dumbledore in
their chambers, no matter how tired they were. His brain wasn't quite
fully functional yet. He realized suddenly that he hated the
professional air McGonagall had adopted this morning.
"I
do agree, the area in which Potter was found in is
suspicious," he began slowly, longing for a mug of coffee. And a
Firewhisky. "But then again...Potter does have a reputation for
waving way the rules and trooping through the school whenever he
likes, wherever he likes. You do realize that him being in the
third floor corridors could merely have been his way of...blowing off
steam?"
"You mean, he might have been going for a
little walk," Minerva said, eyebrows raised. She sighed, and her
face suddenly drooped. She looked tired, almost as tired as he was.
"Yes, his past should come into account, I guess."
Good.
Now go transfigure your mouth shut.
"But even if he
was simply out walking, where was his Invisibility Cloak? We
never found one when Miss Granger and I searched the area
afterwards."
"Maybe he didn't feel like using it. I
don't know, Minerva, I wasn't there. I was bloody marking essays all
night."
"As was I," she retorted. "You are
not so hard done by, Professor Snape; I'm sure every teacher in this
school can perfectly relate to you on some level. The topic at hand
is what happened to Harry last night. I want to see whoever that did
this expelled!"
"Do we know who did it? Has he said
anything?"
Minerva sighed. "No. He won't talk. Miss
Granger is with him now in the Hospital Wing."
Snape fell
silent, reflecting. He was still in shock from the night before, and
his insides squirmed with guilt. Albus had told him to look in on the
boy, and he hadn't done a thing. Of course, his feelings of concern
were not for that of the boy (well, maybe a smidgen), but more for
himself. He hoped he wouldn't be facing a lecture from McGonagall
about this.
"Severus...his arms...Madame Pomphrey said
they were self-inflicted."
Snape cleared his throat
uncomfortably. "I know," he said, staring at Minerva's
coffee mug as though it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
"I found out last night."
"What!"
"During
his detention, Potter thought it would be all right if he left the
dungeons before I gave him leave. So I grabbed his arm to stop him,
and a patch of skin on his wrist showed."
McGonagall
looked astounded. "And you said nothing to the Headmaster?"
"If
I remember correctly," Snape said hotly, his eyes flashing.
"Upon my attempt to inform dear Albus of his Golden Boy's
troubles, I was told to wait until morning, as he had left the school
suddenly on an urgent owl and was in an important meeting in London
with the Wizengamot. So I am sorry, Minerva, that I was unable to
approach him."
"I am the Deputy Headmistress,"
she said irritably. "You could have come to me."
"Once
again, I apologize." I loathe the word.
"And
then this whole fiasco might never have happened."
Snape's
eyes grew icy. "Are you implying that this is my fault?"
"No
need to get so testy, Severus. You're sure you have no idea
who could have done this?"
Snape shook his head moodily.
Oh, how he hated this woman right now. "It might have been
someone from outside the school, it might have been a jealous
schoolmate, I really don't know." I am tired, I am hungry,
and I need to visit the goddamned Hospital Wing later on, so let me
go.
The woman looked at him a moment later. "Very
well. You may go."
-------
"Hermione?"
"Mmmm?"
"Can
I ask you something?"
Harry rolled over slightly, his
breath catching as the pain swept over him afresh. The bruises, on
top of the ones from Uncle Vernon, were calling out to him in pain.
His head was going to burst. He looked at Hermione sadly and she
looked back at him, her eyes red from crying. Harry hated himself for
causing her so much grief.
"Don't tell Ron
anything."
Hermione looked slightly surprised, then her
face changed to an expression of understanding. "I know you and
him have been going through some rough patches, Harry. I won't say
anything, OK?" She ran a hand through her frizzy hair in an
attempt to flatten it. It did absolutely nothing.
Harry
relaxed and closed his swollen eyes. "How long have we been
out?"
"Oh, an hour and a half at least."
Harry
was so tired. He was ashamed and angry. He was so angry.
"Good,"
he mumbled as sleep overtook him once more.
-------
