Reaching Maturity
Disclaimer: see previous
A/N: don't suppose there's anyone out there that could help me with Latin, is there? Plural of Hippocampus – I've made a stab at it, but if you want to correct me, please do!!! Riob, are you reading? You did Latin…(hint hint)
A/N 2: Tuesday January 18th 2005 – Burnley 1 Liverpool 0!!!! Oh yes!! Rafael Benítez, serves you right for fielding a weakened team! Burnley may be a division below you, but we were the better side on the night!!!!
(Sorry; still on a high from that).
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Chapter 12: A Letter From Narcissa
Draco couldn't eat his breakfast. He stared uncomprehendingly at the letter on the Slytherin table in front of him.
I cannot tell you where I am, for I do not know. I was lucky that an owl came in to where I am being held captive. I am being held prisoner in a distant place. It is unlikely that I will see you again.
NarcissaAbruptly he stuffed the letter into his robe pocket and left the Great Hall, biting his lip hard enough to suddenly have the metallic taste of blood in his mouth, to stop himself from crying. He had been dreading something like this, but had tried to force it to the back of his mind, to prevent it from overwhelming his thoughts completely. Now he was scared. Scared that he would never see his mother again. Scared that something terrible was in store for her. Scared that he would lose one of the few people that had shown him any affection in his seventeen – nearly eighteen – years of life. Scared that she would die some horrible, tortured, pain-filled, agonisingly slow death at the hands of maniacs who showed no mercy.
Maniacs that could have him marked as their next victim.
Halfway to his dormitory, he stopped, leaning against a stone pillar, and doubled up, coughing violently as a fit hit him. It felt as though his chest was going to explode and he couldn't breathe. This thought only served to increase his panic and thus the tightness and pain in his chest. The coughing, from the sheer violence of it, soon brought his headache back in full force and he sank to his knees, gripping the nearby vertical railing post for support. Now he'd started coughing he couldn't stop. His entire body hurt. He was so focused on his coughing fit that he didn't hear the footsteps behind him.
Hannah put a hand on his shoulder, making him jump. "Sorry," she apologised. Then, "You OK?"
He nodded weakly. "I-I'll be fine in a moment."
She bent down in front of him, hand still on his shoulder, and eyed him critically. "No you're not. I'm getting Madam Pomfrey."
"Don't you dare!" he hissed, one hand shooting up and seizing her wrist tightly.
"But Draco –"
"No buts," he interrupted angrily, taking a deep breath. "I am perfectly fine. If Pomfrey hauls me out of lessons, I'll know who ratted on me." He stared hard, evenly, into her eyes, and she saw a flicker of his old, unpleasant personality in the grey depths of his eyes. It scared her (and she was one of the bravest Hufflepuffs). She merely nodded shakily and he released his hold on her. "Good," he said before forcing himself to his feet. "We'd better get to our lessons." Hannah, somewhat scared, hurried off, having a different lesson to Draco, but he remained still for a few more minutes, reading and re-reading his mother's letter. She'd used her name instead of the 'Mother' she used to use. Was there some significance in that?
He listened to absolutely nothing that Flitwick had to say in Charms, and when Hagrid took them down to the lake to show them some Hippocampi for Care of Magical Creatures, he was too preoccupied and upset to bother making any nasty comments about the half-giant. He didn't even bother going to Vector's Arithmancy lesson. Lunch held no appeal for him, although he somehow managed to force himself to eat some of the soup when he sensed Snape's eyes on him.
In Potions that afternoon, it was all he could do to lift Magical Drafts and Potions and Potions for NEWT Level out of his bag. Moments later, Snape swept in, long black robes swishing along the cold stone floor, and deadly silence fell. "I hope you are all prepared to make the sleeping potion I requested you read up on for last lesson's homework. If not, I suggest you leave now and do not ever bother to return to this room. Are you sure you want to stay, Longbottom?"
"Y-yes, Professor," Neville stammered. Once again he wished he hadn't had to take Potions, but he'd managed (somehow) to get the top grade in the subject in his OWLs. And he needed it to complement Herbology for any decent career he had in mind.
"Crabbe? Goyle?" (Only taken on to remain in favour with the Dark Lord).
Dumbly they nodded.
"Good. You have the entire lesson. Begin!"
Harry carefully set about following the instructions in his book. Next to him, Draco was also doing so, but considerably slower, his hands shaking. He was having trouble maintaining the small fire he needed to heat his potion, and Harry went over to him. "Need some help?" he asked in a low voice.
Draco nodded, wiping sweat from his forehead with a trembling hand and coughing weakly. "Thanks," he said hoarsely. He gripped the table with clammy palms and sat down slowly, shakily, on his stool.
"No sitting down!" Snape barked – admittedly at Dean rather than Draco. "It is a basic safety rule. If the cauldron spills its contents, or the potion spits or explodes, you are far more likely to get injured if you're sitting down, because you cannot escape as quickly. Is that understood?"
Dean, red-faced, nodded and Draco got to his feet again, still leaning on the table for support. Harry had just turned to go back to his own cauldron, when Draco felt his legs giving way. He collapsed to the floor, letting out a small cry as he fell. Fortunately he did not hit his head on the floor, but he was unconscious. Snape was instantly beside him, kneeling next to him and briefly examining him. "Granger! Get Pomfrey!" he ordered Hermione, the person closest to the door. She obligingly dashed off and Snape cast a spell that extinguished all of the fires in the room. "What happened?" he demanded, looking up from Draco's still form.
"He just…collapsed," stuttered Harry. "He didn't look well, right from the start of the lesson. He asked me to light his fire because he couldn't – his hands were shaking really badly. He looked really ill."
"Tried to come back to lessons too soon," deduced Snape softly, shaking his head.
The dungeon was silent, the seventh-years unsure what to do or say, until two sets of hurrying footsteps in the corridor outside signalled the arrival of Hermione and Madam Pomfrey. "Miss Granger said Mr. Malfoy collapsed?" inquired the mediwitch briskly.
Snape nodded and rose to his feet. "He's not looking good."
"Can you carry him to the hospital wing?" Madam Pomfrey requested.
Snape nodded and turned to the class. "Clear everything up. We shall do this potion again next lesson. You have the remainder of today's lesson free. To do some independent study, of course – and for those of you who didn't read about this potion before this lesson, to read about it." He waited until Hermione, as Head Girl, took charge of the tidy-up, then lifted Draco into his arms. He was worryingly light, no doubt the result of his illness. A tightly-balled piece of parchment fell from his hand as Snape stood, and Pomfrey picked it up, opening it and showing it to the teacher.
Narcissa has disappeared? This is the first I have heard of it. No wonder Draco hasn't been himself. Snape was moving fast as he strode up to the hospital wing, Pomfrey close behind him. Upon arriving in the hospital wing, Draco was quickly changed into nightclothes and placed in a warm bed. He still hadn't come round, so Pomfrey ordered Snape up to the Owlery to contact Dr. Keller.
Madam Pomfrey watched over Draco anxiously, currently her only patient. He hadn't moved at all, and there was a deathly whiteness to his face that hadn't been there before. Is the child dying? she wondered. She couldn't know that Draco was reliving some of the worst memories from his childhood…
The room was cold. He was only three years old, shut up in one of the storage rooms for being exactly two minutes and seventeen seconds late for lunch. No food; just half marched, half dragged by his father up the two flights of stairs. He was flung violently into the room. It was dark – only a tiny slit window in the top corner let in any form of illumination. The window had no glass in it, and there was a cold draught. The occasional stray snowflake drifted in, slowly melting on the cold stone floor. Draco was freezing, hungry, scared. Spiders and other creepy-crawlies – and possibly mice and rats – could be seen and heard scurrying about the room.
Eventually he grew so tired that he fell asleep on the cold floor, waking stiff and sore in the morning. The coldness had penetrated right to the bone. His father soon reappeared and hauled him roughly to his feet. "Let that be a lesson to you to be punctual!" he hissed in his son's face…
And then he was six. His mother's third-best china set was lying on the dining room floor in pieces around him. His hands and legs were scratched and bleeding from where the sharp pieces of china had cut him. His mother was standing by as his father repeatedly pummelled him into submission. Draco didn't cry – he knew he'd only get hurt more severely if he did. "You clumsy idiot!" his father yelled furiously. "What are you? Well?" And Draco was forced to repeat the words, being careful to not sound arrogant or defiant – doing that would only make things worse…
By the time he was eight he had learned to hide in his room. But even that wasn't safe, if it wasn't deemed tidy enough. Time and again he was locked in the storage room if things weren't perfect in Lucius Malfoy's eyes. Draco did his crying alone, late at night, when nobody would know…
And many more memories besides. For three days he endured this, drifting somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness, desperate to see Hannah but unable to convey this to anyone.
Finally, on the fourth morning, he woke properly and forced his eyes open, though he was burning hot and feverish. His head was fuzzy, preventing him from being able to think clearly. What was worse – the memories or the illness? At this point in time, he didn't know. Both seemed equally unbearable.
"Draco?" whispered Hannah, who was by his side. "Are you awake?"
He turned his head to face her, nodding slightly. "I am," he croaked.
Hannah's face lit up with unbridled joy. "Madam Pomfrey! He's awake!"
The next few minutes were a whirl of checks and medicines. Madam Pomfrey shook her head in resignation. "I told you not to do too much," she scolded, though there was a slight twinkle in her eye as she said this. She helped him into a thick dressing-gown and helped him over to the fireplace, where he curled up in an armchair while she changed the bedclothes. His headache had returned in full force, along with the hot and cold flashes, the shivering and sweating, and the nausea. He was vaguely aware of Hannah's chatter on one side of him, although his mind was too unfocused to actually make sense of what she was saying. It didn't bother him; her mere presence was comforting to him.
"What's wrong? Draco?" She was distressed at the hot tears that were slowly slipping down his cheeks. Hesitantly she took a handkerchief (yellow, a badger embroidered neatly on it) from her robe pocket and tenderly wiped them away.
He hadn't even realised he was crying. "I – I just feel so awful…" he whispered, raising his head slightly and immediately wishing he hadn't as the throbbing intensified. "My head…"
"Madam Pomfrey can give you something for that," Hannah softly assured him. "Come on – she wants you back in bed." She helped him up and put a supportive arm around his thin waist. He was trembling from the effort and the fever, and leaned heavily against him. It was a slow process and took quite a bit of time, despite being only a short distance, and Draco was extremely relieved to collapse into bad, able to lay his aching head on the cool pillow. He was aware of Hannah sitting down beside him. "Shouldn't you be going to a lesson?" he croaked.
"It's Saturday," she informed him gently. "The only things happening today are Quidditch practices and, theoretically at any rate, homework. Oh, and Justin Finch-Fletchley trying to chat up just about every Hufflepuff girl from the third year upwards."
"He's an idiot," Draco muttered, feeling his temper suddenly flare. "He hasn't tried it on you, has he?" His outburst triggered a coughing fit and Hannah immediately helped him sit up and lean forwards, one hand firmly, comfortingly, on his shoulder. The coughing jarred his pounding head.
When it was over, he leaned, without knowing exactly why, into Hannah's embrace. Maybe it was her caring, comforting presence and the fact that she had loyally come to see him every day, even if it was just for a few minutes, when everyone else had seemingly abandoned him. Harry didn't count; he came fairly often, but he had a Quidditch team to train.
"No, Justin has not 'tried it' on me," retorted Hannah as she helped him lie back down. "And anyway, why are you so bothered about it?"
Draco had no answer for that. He closed his eyes and feigned sleep.
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Owls generally seemed to operate along the same lines as British postmen – none on Sundays. Not this Sunday, however, for a pair of eagle owls, who deposited a large parcel in front of the Head Girl at breakfast.
"What's that?" inquired Harry, looking up from his notebook, in which he was scribbling possible moves for the next Quidditch match.
"Prob'ly a book," mumbled Ron through a mouthful of sausage.
Hermione glared at him. "You shouldn't talk with your mouth full, Ron. It's not polite. Actually, I asked your father for some information on something."
"Wha inf'mation?"
"Never you mind," Hermione shot back.
"Why not?"
"Because it's none of your business!" she snapped, unwrapping the parcel. "And to be honest, it's not technically for me."
"Then who –?"
She silenced him with a Look. "Like I said, none of your business." Having finished her own breakfast, she picked up the parcel and stalked out of the Great Hall.
Ron rolled his eyes. "Some people."
Harry chose not to answer, his gaze lingering on Hermione's retreating back.
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Swift, purposeful footsteps echoing along the corridor. Madam Pomfrey's stilted greeting. Hannah suddenly pretending she was in the hospital wing because of a sprained ankle.
He was here.
Towering over him like an immense pillar, Lucius Malfoy observed his son, a slight sneer on his aristocratic face. "Well, well, well; we have been careless, haven't we?" he said scathingly.
Draco averted his gaze from the icy grey eyes boring into him. He felt sick and dizzy, and the adrenaline coursing through his blood right now was aggravating every aspect of his illness. He couldn't think properly; his head was still far too fuzzy.
"I heard you were ill," Lucius continued. "I was in the area and thought I would…pay a visit, shall we say."
Draco forced himself to concentrate. "Any – any news on Mother?" he whispered.
Lucius' face flickered momentarily – worry? – and he shook his head. "No news." He placed his hand on his son's shoulder and squeezed tightly. "And you will ask no questions. It is all under control. Understand?"
Draco gritted his teeth from the pain, but said nothing.
"I shall see you at Easter." With that, Lucius swept out of the room. Draco listened to him go, shaking from fear. He was dreading Easter.
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TBC
Author thanks:
Lucidity: You're getting the hang of this! There could well be more than meets the eye. I actually just put Trelawney in for continuity and for a bit of humour/light relief before things get even darker. That, and I'm just really bad at writing convincing prophecies!!
Samhaincat: Draco's feeling better – but not for long!
Wolfbrother: (stares at review in shock) I've actually got Draco-sympathy from you?! I must be doing something right in that case! JK writes Draco very two-dimensionally in OotP, which annoys me. Do you really think that I'm going to tell you about if/when Ron finds out?? If I did, I'd stand a good chance of ruining part of the story! As for the romance issues, I advise you to go back and read chapter 3 (two big hints), chapter 6 (one hint), chapter 10 (one big hint) and now chapter 12 (one hint). The clues are there if you look closely, like I told you on Saturday!
AshleyPorter: You realise it's like the soaps on TV – hooks you and then reel you in so far that you can't not continue reading?!
Evanescent Dawn: yet again, you put me to shame with your fantastically long reviews! Can you send me the link via e-mail for the GoF pics? Please? With a cherry on top? I couldn't resist Poppy and Severus bickering over Quidditch! Poor Minerva – it's bad enough having to deal with students squabbling, never mind staff as well! Re. the Patronus thing – Lupin's thinking is that if the new Death Eater does know how exceptional Harry is, chances are it will put him/her off and scare them a bit. Unnerve them, if you will. Dumbledore may or may not know who the Death Eater is; no comment. Not commenting on the Ron/Parvati implications. Any comments regarding that will bring you into direct conflict with wolfbrother. Hermione was talking to Ginny during that spat over Trelawney (I didn't say so in the story, but she wasn't within earshot of the boys' conversation). Glad my twists are unexpected and had you gripping your seat – plot twists have always been a weakness of mine. I struggle to do them well. Regarding the geography, I'm assuming Hogwarts is somewhere in north Scotland. Carlisle is 10 miles south of the Scottish border and is currently drying out after being completely cut off due to flooding.
Rebell: Someone on my wavelength regarding Draco! On the Voldie issue, trouble is never far away where he's concerned!
Dark Lady Arantraneth: (have I spelled that correctly?) If Poppy lets me, I'll pass on the message.
CloudofDreams: You're going to have to wait and see about Voldie and the student Death Eater! I know Lupin wouldn't normally boast about Harry, but he's aware of the Death-Eater-in-school situation. See my comments to Evanescent Dawn on this issue. I think it'll be interesting to see who JK pairs up. Ron and Hermione is so obvious it's painful. I can't believe there are people out there who haven't twigged yet! I've heard rumours of Harry/Susan Bones, but I'm not sure how true that is. Roll on July 16th! I imagine, though, that there'll be Draco/Pansy. Poor Draco.
Ruperts-a-honey: I've only ever written one slash fic, although I don't know if I'll ever post it. I don't tend to write it. You can guess all you like about Lucius (and Voldemort) being involved in Draco's illness, but remember he did go out in the snow without hat, gloves, scarf or winter cloak!! Romance-wise, read some of my other fics and you just may get an idea of where I'm going with the pairing you suggested. People aren't pressuring me for answers; I think they're just desperate to know what happens!! (cackles evilly). I am, however, interested to see what they're thinking about the way the storylines are going, just to see if I'm doing plot twists and clue-dropping well or not!!
Riob: don't worry about me complaining about the time continuity issue; I'd rather people picked up on it and told me if I was making a mistake, so I can then correct it. Much appreciated!! And would I honestly shoot you for having not read the books for a while? I haven't done so! Too much to learn for placement, and now essays. You're right about the Draco/Poppy friendship. The ma'am thing is just banter, but Poppy does sometimes strike me as someone with the "ma'am" aura! And of course, the make-up application would never be a reference to some people at WCHS, now, would it?!
