The Maze
I kissed her.
How could I?
How could she?
Abruptly I stood up and Disapparated, appearing with a crack back at my apartment. I sat down on the floor, my back against the couch, and turned back a little further, to the entry I hadn't finished. Crookshanks – old now, and graying severely through his ginger-colored fur – rubbed up against me, purring. I stroked his head absentmindedly, and began reading, my eyes sweeping the page.
But there was something there…she acted like she cared about me. Me, the pureblood who's made her life – in her own words – a living Hell. Me, the Slytherin; she comforted me when she is a Gryffindor.
I knew it. I'm going insane.
But I'd be crazy to say that she did it all to spite me. And falling asleep in my arms…she wouldn't have done that if she didn't mean it, I mean, she always says what she means. I don't understand it, though. And who…of all people…saw us lying there together, asleep? Severus Snape. Remus Lupin. Two worst enemies, just like Granger and I are. And they saw us, also opposites, sleeping together. I thought Snape would be the one to talk to me, but oh, no, he just won't look at me. It's Lupin who's flashing me concerned glances.
Concerned. I thought he'd be angry.
He even pulled me aside before I Disapparated. "Draco," he said, "I don't know what you're trying to do…"
"I wasn't trying to do anything," I snarled, and pulled my arm out of his grip. "It was an accident."
"I'm not angry with you."
His words stopped me cold. I stared at him rather than glared – a mistake, I know. "All I'm saying is," he continued, "if you can't get over your Slytherin pride to be with a Gryffindor, then control yourself and treat this incident like it never happened."
"I don't know what you're talking about," I muttered, pulling on my cloak.
"Yes, you do," Lupin said, gently. "I know exactly what it's like, Draco. Exactly."
My eyes traced the scars on the werewolf's face. He looked so much older than he usually did at that moment. "If I hadn't gotten over my fear of myself, then I would never have married my wife," Lupin said quietly. "I was prepared to spend the rest of my life alone. Isolation does terrible things to people, Draco. Don't let it happen to you. Don't be so afraid of what people think of you and what you think of yourself keep you from someone that you could potentially love."
I couldn't even think of what to say. Love Hermione Granger? Excuse me? Am I a pureblood or not? Then again, my name has been erased from that tapestry…bloody Hell…
"Love?" I finally snapped. "A Slytherin and a Gryffindor? Are you mad?"
He smiled woefully. "They were best friends, you know."
"Best friends they may have been," I said shortly, "but look at how they ended up."
"Maybe love between the two houses is all Gryffindor and Slytherin need to patch things up again," Lupin said after a moment, gazing thoughtfully into the distance. "You may be part of some grand scheme that you don't even know about. Make your choice, Draco. Think about it."
And he pulled his cloak on and left.
Infuriated, I Disapparated a couple of moments later, trying to get over my stun. How could I possibly love the best friend of a blood traitor, the boy who lived, the daughter of Muggles, the most intelligent witch of her age?
And why would she love me, a Slytherin, someone who's made her life a living Hell?
I took a break for a moment, stretching my legs out in front of me. The apartment was getting dark, but I didn't want to get up, not just yet. This whole thing seemed so completely off the wall. "This makes no sense," I said aloud. Crookshanks purred in agreement.
The rambling sound of music was coming through the wall; it sounded quite desperate. "Rosemary Raven, what on Earth are you listening to now?" I demanded of the empty room at large, and then shook my head, settling down to continue reading.
I kissed her.
How could I?
How could she?
After arguing…I admitted I was wrong about something, I could curse myself for that…after arguing for five minutes all of a sudden I was kissing her, that Mudblood, that Muggle-born, best friend of the late Potty and the Weasel. Have I gone out of my mind?
And yet there's a corner of my mind that wants to believe that for just a second she was kissing me back…
A sudden noise distracted me, and immediately I cast a vanishing spell on the book. Crookshanks straightened, lips pulled back in a soundless hiss. I froze, lifting my head slowly to stare at the tall, skeletal figure in the corner of my apartment. Its head was bowed, hands clasped, almost as though in prayer. The black cloak that clothed is body was ripped around the hems; a black hood was over its head.
I stumbled to my feet. It was not a dementor; even a dementor did not give off that intense feeling of absolute dread, of absolute fear, or of terror. There was black smoke furling from under its cloak; slowly, almost as though it sensed me looking at it, it lifted its head.
My mouth opened in a soundless scream, and I yanked my wand out of my pocket. Its face was a skull, a human skull, swirling black and purple smoke as eyes, with red pits at the centers, and a hideous, evil mouth, shaped into a permanent sneer. It reached out toward me; the black cloak was shaken back from its before hidden hands, and I saw that its hands were made of bone, too, bloodstained bone; somehow I knew, with a certain dread, that they were a child's bones; a child's bones had created the hands of this monster.
It lifted its head and looked at me, and it said one word; "Mine."
Its voice was a barely audible rasp; suddenly it rose up, cloak billowing, and swooped toward me. "Stupefy!" I shouted, even though I knew it was no good; sure enough, the creature barely twitched as the stupefying spell passed over it. I threw myself to the side; although saving myself momentarily, I had no time to rise again before the creature was once more upon me.
I stared, horrified, into its eyes, knowing that I was going to die, or worse; then, suddenly, there was a roar of anger and the creature was reeling back. Abruptly, my vision swam, and I passed out as a voice attempted to break through my ears. It did not succeed.