The way it's done

Falling Angels

It was three o'clock in the morning and in the dark, quiet Slytherin common room Draco was fast asleep draped over the sofa. He had been up the whole night worrying over the upcoming Quidditch match and then slowly fallen asleep; no one had thought to wake him up (Oh, just leave him alone, Blaise had said when Pansy made a move to shake him awake). So he had lain there for hours, momentarily tossing and turning about in a restless, drifting, dreamless sleep. This forgetfulness was like the swallowing up of a stone by the ocean, or the disappearing of an eagle as it circled higher and higher over the earth… …these things; he had often talked about this dissipation of the consciousness with Blaise and pansy, but now even this he did not know. It was above all, a comfort.

"Hey, morning Draco." He could feel her hand with its long, thin fingers and long, scratchy nails on his shoulder, "Sorry we didn't wake you up last night, Blaise said not to bother you and anyway, you looked so tired so we just left you there."

"Huh? Oh no, not at all. Just fell asleep thinking about what to do for the next match."

"Still thinking about it? You got your thing planned out already?"

"Yeah…" He sat up and pushed his hair back from his face. "It's dreadful really, I'm going with that 'broomstick' plan. I hope nothing besides what I expect happens."

"I hope so too. Look, I got up early just so I could come down and check on you so you've got time to go up and change—see, everyone else is still asleep."

"What time?"

"Six-thirty in the morning, I know you like to take your time about things. Now go change."

"Thanks. See you."

He gave Pansy a quick wave then opened the door and tiptoed into the dormitory. It was strange seeing the dormitory in the early mornings, he had never been an early riser, choosing instead to drag himself out of bed after everyone else had already left. The air was cold and smelt rather like the streamwater running over the icy stones at his home. In the half-light he could make out the row of six beds, the first one neat and tidy—untouched, this was his. He headed for his closet, inside, his clothes were organized in a way reminiscent to documents in a filing cabinet, they were sorted by colour and labeled according to type; he had always been fanatically neat about his clothes. After awhile, he carefully picked out whatever he wanted to wear as well as his toothbrush (always on the top right-hand corner of his bed side table) and locked the bathroom (which was unnecessary but done only to satisfy his perverse liking of slowing everything down when others were in a hurry—the only person in the dormitory who wasn't on the Quidditch team was Blaise).

He took his time about getting ready so that when his moment of glory came—a loud scrabbling at the door and two guttural voice muttering about the door being jammed; obviously Crabbe and Goyle—he was only halfway through with brushing his teeth and so had an undeniable right to keep the door closed.

"Oh, that wicked bastard!" someone shouted—Theodore. More banging followed.

"Stop it right now, one more time and the door's going to be permanently busted." That was Blaise, "Look, why don't you change outside the bathroom—oh no, don't look like that, I mean with your bed curtains drawn or something!"

"BANG! Bang, bang."

"Oh god, that door is going to break—stop, stop!"

"But he's not going to open up if we don't."

"Wait. Just wait. The more you bang the more he's not going to open the door."

Draco leaned over and spat into the sink. One, two, three…open. "Hi everyone, bathroom's free." And then he walked out to join Pansy.

"What was that incident in the dormitory about?" Blaise asked as he set down his books and slid into his place at the Slytherin table.

"Punishment for the team… sorry if you were held up Blaise, I couldn't resist."

"It's alright, just don't do it again. I nearly had my tooth knocked out when Crabbe pushed past me to get to the bathroom."

"Report him then."

"What, and let Snape take off some more points? By the way, what's your plan Draco?"

"Fall off broomstick, I hope I survive it."

"Be careful then."

Draco smiled inwardly then went back to eating his breakfast.

He was high up in the air then, he had always loved flying and the bright, russet-hued landscape could be seen for miles around. Looking down, he could see the rest of the team far below on their broomsticks. They had been practicing for hours, and usual, very half-heartedly.

--Now's the time, breathe in…breath out…oh I can see Blaise and Pansy at the stands…that's her red coat, it's so bright……and he's waving, no, the both of them are…okay, so it's one, two, three…breathe, breathe…slip, slip then drop…spring's bright paradise is gone as the leaves…green…fall…they're not moving; dimwits…the wind…it's so loud and—

"Oh god, he's falling. Blaise, quick let's run!"

"Bloody f— it all, those dimwits…they're not doing anything, oh damn it all!"

They could hear their footfalls sound hollowly, echoing about the empty stands as they ran. Pansy's coat was flying out behind her and she dashed, Blaise only a small way behind, down the stairs and out onto the Quidditch pitch. They had been expecting this but hadn't ever seen it happen and so they ran as fast as they could, boots pounding against the autumn rain-wet soil, grey with water towards Draco's crumpled form that had landed atop his broken broomstick.

"Run to Snape somebody, don't just stand there!"

"Gods Pansy, I think we'd better go get Pomfrey too." And they ran off in the direction of the Infirmary.

By the time Blaise and Pansy came running back with Madam Pomfrey, Snape was on the Quidditch pitch as well.

"What happened? You all saw this take place right in front of you and you didn't do anything—what did I tell you about House unity? Now, will anyone here give me a full account of what happened?"

The Slytherins were quiet for awhile, then Blaise spoke, "Professor, Pansy and I were at the stands when the accident occurred so we saw everything. Draco was at least fifty feet above all the other team members when he fell, so I suppose he was at least a hundred and fifty feet up when he fell. At first he flew around giving everyone instructions or something—I couldn't hear—and well, after that he flew right up, waited for a moment then just let seemed to zone out or something so he was on his broomstick when he fell. That's how it landed on top of him. That's all."

"Thank you Mr Zabini," then the professor turned to the Slytherin team. "Can any of you tell me something about how this happened?"

All of them muttered very low, "No".

"In that case, we will just have to wait for Mr Malfoy to wake up so that he can give us his version of events. You may go now."

Blaise and Pansy waited outside the Hospital Wing in silence, they had trailed Madam Pomfrey all the way from the field only to have the infirmary door shut in their faces

(the nurse had insisted vehemently that Draco needed rest and quiet, conveniently forgetting that he was out cold and so whether or not there was noise he wouldn't have noticed) so the best they could manage was the folding chairs along the corridor. The walls were yellow with the darkling light that came streaming in through the high windows. Pansy bit her lip and looked at Blaise's winter white face, he simply stared into space. What either of them were thinking, the other did not know; this was how quiet the air was.

As the minutes ticked by—audibly, from an unseen wall clock—Pansy sighed and began inspecting a strand of her hair. It had turned a bright shade of amber in the light she noted, and also that she was beginning to get split ends where the hair turned bleached as a tree in the lightning. No more birds will sing their madrigals.

Blaise lifted his gaze to the long, high window opposite. Absent-mindedly, he slipped off his green school scarf and knotted it around his hands so that they looked like pale wings in a forest. Cockatoos…… white ones, he thought, looking down and seeing the memory of a summery day back in Florence. It was strange, these hours; from far off he could hear dinner going on in the Great Hall but he wasn't hungry. Time stood still for the two of them in the corridor.

They sat there the whole night. Nobody told them to leave and they were thankful. Day broke the next morning, Pansy shifted in her chair as a shaft of light shone into her eyes and slowly she opened them. Blaise was still fast asleep in his chair and the place held the customary morning coldness. She stretched a little more then got up, paced about for awhile to de-cramp her legs then shook her friend awake.

"Get up, morning already." She said as Blaise miserably opened his eyes.

"Uh huh, morning to you too, lady. And also, I think we should go get our books, I don't suppose they'll permit us to miss lessons today."

And they set off down the corridor in silence.

As the pair entered the dining hall, the entire school broke out in furious whispers. Pansy groaned inwardly, how could Dumbledore have blabbed the incident to the whole student body? Plus, he must have made it seem like Draco jumped or something. Quietly, Blaise squeezed her hand—he must have known just what she was thinking—and gratefully she clasped his as well and bravely, they made their way to the Slytherin table. It would be a long day ahead of them.

Lucky for them, Blaise and Pansy attended the same classes and so they sat together at the back of the classrooms for the entire day; under the table they passed notes to each other and shared their views on the shape of Professor Vector's nose to the shape of Professor McGonagall's bottom:

Blaise—Looks like old chewing gum stuck on somebody's shoes

Pansy—It's pink, it's mottled, it's ancient, yeah.

Blaise—My, we are wicked.

Pansy—Yup.

Blaise—But who would want to guzzle her nose anyway?

"Zabini, Parkinson! What on Earth have you written there? Give it to me!

--short pause—

"Arrgh! You(bleep) KIDS! Fifty points from Slytherin!"

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Pansy—My, it's sort of……..heart-shaped.

Blaise—No, I'd say oval.

Pansy—On the broad side or sharp side?

Blaise—Is it not obvious?

Pansy—Sharp side then, like old weasel's face.

Blaise—And under that robe that bum is spotty; that's what you're saying?

Pansy—Don't even think of it! Yuck!

They had fun even if they left the room without hearing a word of what the teacher had said. Unlike Gryffindors, Pansy would remark afterward, Slytherins—at least the smart ones—had enough sense to make concessions for themselves.

After the school day was over, Blaise and Pansy (after getting permission from their House head) went to 'visit' Draco, but whether or not they had bothered to do so, he—still being unconscious—would have been none the wiser.

"Oh dear, he looks dreadful." Pansy burst out when they saw their friend lying motionless, tucked up in bed.

Blaise simply rolled his eyes and shrugged, he was never very good when it came to comforting others, "There's nothing we can do, just wait and see when he'll wake up… …look, don't be so worried, I'm sure he'll make it."

"Dear god, I just hope so."

That night, Blaise lay awake quietly in the shadows of his drapes. He blinked as he gazed up at the ceiling, both hands clenching the edge of his blanket. He could hear the sound of his own breathing and his heart beating, swish-huff, swish-huff, swish-huff, swish-huff……bump, bump, bump. And then a flutter on the conception of an idea; silently and bright as a hummingbird he slid out of bed and then out of the dormitory after taking the care to arrange his pillows and blanket in a vaguely human shape in case anyone happened to wake up while he was gone and look around. Blaise, chewing his lip furiously, set off down the stairs; he was going to see Draco.

Blaise ran down the darkened corridors as fast as he could (well, as fast as a person with absolutely no prior experience doing real exercise as well as a ridiculous pair of fluffy bunny slippers on his feet), he was nervous, although his friends had had innumerable experiences sneaking out after bedtime, he had never done it personally. As he shuffled along uncomfortably, he began to count the reasons for why he had even considered doing this. One, guilt; two, he wanted to be able to prove to Pansy that he was right—Draco would be fine; and three… …he wanted to make sure Draco would be all right.

Down the stairs, through the corridor, left, right, straight ahead……oh if only I had wings or something…and ah, we're here Blaise!

On reaching the infirmary, he inspected the door and by some miracle, no, it wasn't locked and so he reached out an arm and tried to push it…f it, no, it is locked…oh well, I'll see what I can do, I don't want to come this far for nothing…let me see, and he pulled his wand from his pocket and proceeded to pick the lock with it (remember everybody: MLNMK, which means Magic Locks Need Magic Keys). Just a little bit more there…and it's done! Triumphantly, he proceeded to enter the hospital wing and headed straight for his friend's bed.

He leaned over and proceeded to take a good look at Draco who seemed to be still out cold. "Goodness Draco," he muttered. "What have you done this time?" It was then that Draco suddenly opened his eyes—not a very good time for either of them.

"My god! What are you doing here Blaise! And with your face so close to me! I could've gotten a disease!"

"And what are you doing, opening your eyes just like that? As for putting my face up to yours, I was preparing to give you a great smacking kiss on the lips in the hope of waking you up! Disease indeed!"

"Oh really, if you'd wanted a kiss you could've asked for one, needn't go around in the middle of the night and give me a shock like that."

"That was a joke, what I was really doing was inspecting your skull to see whether it had cracked or not."

"Good, that sort of scared me you know."

"Well, it scared me too if you want to know. And also, I'm just glad you're all right."

As Blaise walked back, every once in awhile turning back to check if he was being followed, he could feel someone's gaze boring into him. Nonsense, even old Pothead isn't stupid enough to sneak out like this, he thought as he tried to shake off the odd feeling that came climbing like a lizard up his back. Oh dear, could it be Filch ……but wait, he would've came pouncing out at me ages earlier. No, never mind, just walk quickly. And duly he sped up, trying hard not to break into a run. He was annoyed at himself really, (this type of feeling was very natural to anyone who had grown up with his level of intelligence) Blaise, why're you scared? It's nothing ……then what's that I feel behind me, huh?

"Blaise, Blaise don't run, stop. It's me."

"And who's me?" he hissed back, he was now very annoyed to the extreme.

"I'm Ginny. You know, the one from Gryffindor."

"So? What're you calling me for? Got lost or something? Gryffie Tower right over that way, find it yourself."

"No, I am not lost!"

"Then what? Look, if it's not important, ask me tomorrow I haven't any time to waste. I'm tired."

"It is important!" It was in near total darkness and yet Blaise could hear the hint of desperation in her voice, he took out his wand, "Lumos." He would regret that, because in the light he could see that her eyes were brimming with tears and he knew immediately that, Slytherin though he was, his conscience would not let him get away without at least trying to help her.

"Alright then, since I've got a soft spot for the ladies, I'll help. What is it?"

"Okay, it's like this, Harry and I went flying—you know, on his broomstick—and well, there was an accident."

"Yes? Go on." Blaise could feel himself getting worried as well."

"Yeah, there was an accident, he fell off his broom."

"What! Potter, falling off his broom?"

"Yes! And look, it's not funny. It was so dark out there and quite a windy night too, a great gale came and blew the broomstick off course, right into the Whomping Willow."

"Oh, why is it that you people never learn from their mistakes? He must have crashed into that blasted tree for two times at least."

"It was an accident! And for your information, he did learn from his 'mistakes', this time he jumped off his broom before it hit the tree."

"Oh god, just how much of an improvement is that? No, never mind, how high up was he when he fell and where did he fall?"

"At least fifty feet up. Landed near the lake."

"Good, the ground there ought to be soft—after the rain you see."

"Mm hmm, I need your help…"

"To what?"

"Carry him to the dormitory until its morning and I can think up of a story to explain how he got injured."

"Dormitory! Are you mad? He definitely needs to go to the Infirmary right away!"

"But we'll get into trouble… you'll get into trouble."

"Well, there'll be even more trouble if he dies in the middle of the night because you didn't dare to lose a few points."

"Oh, what'll we do?"

"Go wake up Madam Pomfrey and hope she doesn't tell on us."

"What'll I tell her then, I couldn't possibly tell her what really happened!"

"What? Then you want to say he fell out of bed and rolled out of the dorm and into the girl's dorm? Look, you'll just have to tell her the truth, it's A&E Room protocol."

"What's an A&E?"

"Never mind, forget it. Let's go now."

"Okay." And together, they ran to the nurse's office.

"Madam Pomfrey, Madam Pomfrey!" Ginny and Blaise pounded furiously on the door.

"Oh my, what are you two doing so late at night? I've got a good mind to tell your House heads about this."

"Please Madam Pomfrey, it's important."

"Yeah, Potter's had an accident."

"How did this happen?"

"Oh, they went flying at night, Potter fell."

"How dare you do this, I"

"I know, I'm sorry Madam Pomfrey, and as for Blaise here, he didn't tag along or anything, he's just helping."

"Never mind, spare me the explanation—where is he?"

"In the field."

"Quick, take me there then. I'll settle the matter of your abominable behaviour in the morning."

"It's this way Madam."

And before Blaise had time enough to think, Oh no, not again, he was dragged along off to the field with the other two.

"There he is," Ginny pointed out into the dark. "Over there, near the lake Madam Pomfrey."

"Lumos," Blaise could hear the school nurse say and then he saw the tip of her wand flicker with a silvery light, illuminating the spot where Harry lay. He was lying sprawled on the ground, and as for the broomstick, Blaise would rather not think about it.

"Weasley, Zabini, you two take this stretcher here…gently place him on, gently, gently, we don't want to further injure him……there, now we'll carry him back up, slowly, do it slowly." And all three of them proceeded back up to the Infirmary, Madam Pomfrey leading the way with her wand.

It was strange really, carrying the stretcher. All the while, Blaise avoided looking up, it gave him an odd feeling to see Ginny facing him that way, he kept his eyes on the floor and so, he did not see the girl occasionally looking up at him gratefully. They walked in silence excluding the times the nurse asked Ginny about how the accident occurred. An eternity seemed to pass before Madam Pomfrey announced, "We're here! Bring him in and I'll change him and check for any broken bones."

It was only when she opened the infirmary door that Blaise saw Draco's profile against the window, bright with moonlight. He wondered with a faint inkling of his coming doom what his friend would say if he saw him there with Harry and Ginny and so walked quietly to Draco's bedside while the nurse blustered about with bandages and Ginny wrapped a blanket round Harry's faintly groaning form.

"Draco," Blaise touched his friend on the arm, he knew he was awake.

"Wh-what is it?" Like any good Slytherin, he was playing his part—that was to pretend he hadn't seen Blaise at all that night.

"Ah! He's awake. See, I told you Mr Zabini, your friend is all right after all." The nurse's voice came from afar. "And as for you, Mr Malfoy, you've got company, it seems that Mr Potter here has also fallen off his broomstick."

"I have failed you me Lord." Blaise muttered , this was part of an old game they used to play as children after they read Geoffrey Chaucer's The Canterbury Tales.

"Aye, tis all right." Draco grimaced valiantly.

Blaise smiled inwardly, still the Knight and his lord.

Ginny had offered to walk back to their respective Common rooms with Blaise, and as day broke over the castle, they strolled through the corridors, watching alternating light and darkness as they walked past windows and stone walls. In an unprecedented show of compassion, Madam Pomfrey had agreed to keep quiet about the night's incident. Blaise could hear the alternating sound of his own slippers and Ginny's boots shuffling over the cold floors. He turned his head a little to get a good look at her, it was really all due to his innate sense of curiosity towards people really, as well as how he had always wondered what red hair looked like after he had done a project on Titian 1 when he was six. By some happy coincidence, he tilted his gaze just as they were passing another window; the pale glass had somehow been transfigured into a square of light; and the girl's long, loose hair seemed to catch fire, turning, as if by some wondrous alchemy, a shimmering shade of red-gold,

At last, he thought. And then she looked at him. And they stopped there, for just a moment, and quiet as the dewdrop falls from the branch they each turned and walked their separate ways. Much had passed between them in that light.

1: Many of Titian's paintings feature red-haired people.

Okay, I feel terrible for saying this but: Please, please please review. Any sort (of review, that is)is welcome.