A/N: Thank you all that reviewed. And just so I answer things: fyrelement (really cool name by the way) it'll be a Draco/Hermione. I believe that's the only ship I really WANT to happen even though J.K. herself said it WASN'T going to happen. Well that kills hope for us D/Hr shippers, eh? ANYWAY, read, review, you know the drill.
Ohhh wait, just so I can apologize now: Ignore any typos I might make. My spell check is a defective piece of crap and my attention span won't allow me to go over what I've just written before I post it.
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Draco Angor
Chapter 2
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"Welcome, Draco," Dumbledore said, smiling slightly, "To Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place."
I stepped out of the fireplace and dropped the bag on the floor. There was a crack on my right and Daisy appeared in a flash of white light. Her nose had finally stopped bleeding, but the front of the pillowcase she was wearing as a dress was still covered with blood. I smiled slightly at her before I looked around the kitchen I found myself in. It was a large, gloomy room with rough stone walls that gave it the appearance of a dungeon. Large iron pots and pans hung from the dark ceiling, blending into the shadows. A large wooden table stood in the middle of the table, surrounded by chairs. Goblets and plates still full of half-eaten food with from lunch apparently lay on top of the table.
"Left in a rush, did you?" I asked, looking at the food.
"The news of your…The news came as a surprise," Mrs. Weasley answered, quickly rushing to clean up the dirty dishes. My stomach growled painfully. I hadn't eaten in over a day.
"I'll cook dinner then," Mrs. Weasley said, waving her wand so the dishes began to clean themselves.
"Can I help, miss?" Daisy asked, taking a cautious step towards Mrs. Weasley.
"Oh," Mrs. Weasley said, smiling at the tiny House Elf, "Yes, sure, umm…"
"Daisy, miss."
"Yes, yes…Daisy. Please, can you pass me the pot over there?"
"Yes, miss."
Daisy and Mrs. Weasley began to cook dinner while the rest of us just looked at each other in silence. Potter was the first one to speak.
"You'll have to room with me," He said, crossing his arms and staring at me through his glasses, "There's a bathroom up there if you want clean up a bit."
"Uhh…" I shook my head a bit. I was getting dizzy for some reason (probably blood loss), "Sure. Show me where it is."
Potter turned and started to walk towards the hallway, but he stopped at the door and turned around.
"Be quiet once you get into the hall," He said, "We have a really evil portrait."
The last comment made me stop and stare at him a bit, but I just shook my head and continued on. I did as he told me in the hall and made as little noise as possible as we climbed the stairs. Once we got to the second floor he stopped being careful and continued on until we reached what was apparently his room. He opened the door roughly and walked inside, beckoning for me to follow.
"It's not much," Potter said as he waved his hand, causing the candles on the walls to immediately glow with life, "But it's the best we can give you."
This room was spacious and it seemed gloomy compared to the brightly lit hallway. Two beds were against the far wall, one with crimson blankets on the right and one with emerald green blankets on the left that had my mother's bag sitting at the foot of it. Hermione had apparently sent the bag up with a spell. A doorway on my right led to a bathroom (at least I was assuming it was). I squinted in the dim light at a portrait on the wall between the beds and was able to see the dark silhouette of a man inside the frame.
"What's that?" I asked Potter, nodding my head towards the painting.
"A portrait of my godfather," Potter replied, his expression growing dark in an instant, "You can just throw a curtain over it if you don't like him looking at you."
"No," I said, walking up to the green bed and dropping my bag on the floor next to I, "It's okay."
"I got a friend to paint it with an enchanted canvas in sixth year," Potter said softly, walking up to the painting and tracing a finger along the frame.
"Who painted it? It's pretty good."
"Dean Thomas."
"Can…can you get him to paint something for me?"
"What do you want him to paint?"
"…A portrait of my mother."
Potter looked up at me and stared at my face for a moment before he switched his gaze back to his feet.
"Yeah," He finally replied, "Just give him a picture."
We dropped back into silence, me staring at my feet and Potter still tracing a finger absentmindedly along the frame of the picture. He finally dropped his hand from the frame and smeared his arm across his face before he turned to me.
"The shower's in there," He said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder, "I'll sent Hermione up with food soon if you want any."
"Sure," I said, my voice sounding far away to me, like I was listening to someone else talk through a phone or a radio.
"There're towels stacked next to the door," Potter said as he turned and walked to the door, "Some of us have somewhere to go, so you'll be here alone with Hermione, Mrs. Weasley, the twins, and your house-elf."
"Where do you have to go?" I asked as I headed for the bathroom door.
"Shopping," Was all he said before he left.
I sighed and walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind me. I lifted my gaze from the floor and was surprised to find a floor-to-ceiling mirror in front of me. I hadn't seen myself since Lucius had beaten me, and I was now able to see the damage he had caused.
My hair was not its usual white-blonde, but instead seemed a deep red with stains of dark brown where the blood had dried. My clothes and pale skin were stained with blood as well, some of it from the deep scratches all over my body and some of it from my mother…Bruises blossomed over my skin, some of them in the shape of fists and other in the shape of footprints. Most were hidden by the blood, but the few that peeked through the veil of crimson looked pretty bad.
I growled at my reflection and turned my head so I didn't have to see myself. I instead turned to the bathtub and turned on the hot water, then the cold water once steam began to rise. I plugged up the tub and allowed it to fill with water, turning off the water once the bathtub was nearly filled with the clear water. I stripped off my bloody clothes, leaving them in a pile next to the door before I stepped into the water and slid down until only my head remained above the water. I felt my tense muscles relax as closed my eyes and tilted my head back. After a while I slipped my head under the water and furiously massaged the blood out of my hair, leaving the already pinkish water stained red. I grabbed a bar of soap from a stand next to me and worked out the rest of the blood from my body. When I was finished with that I simply laid my head back and closed my eyes, wishing all the pain away. I felt my head slip under the water before I was aware of myself moving. I felt myself hold my breath before my head was completely submerged under the water, and after that I felt completely oblivious to whether or not I kept that one, precious, life-sustaining breath. I already felt dizzy from what I was assuming was blood-loss. Who knows? Better yet…Who cares?
I don't think I ever would have raised my head back out of the water were it not for the fingers twisting in my hair and yanking me upwards. I was raised into a sitting position before I started to cough up red tinted water. I looked up at the person that had saved me from committing suicide (even if it was an unconscious attempt at suicide) and was met with honey brown eyes that could only belong to one person.
"What in the hell were you doing?" Hermione demanded angrily, her eyes locked firmly onto my own.
I suddenly began to laugh, my voice rising steadily until it filled the small room. I don't even know why I was laughing. Because I had just attempted to drown myself without even thinking about it? Oh yes, that was truly hilarious. This apparently didn't make Hermione feel any better, because she hauled back and slapped me much like she had in third year, only this time much harder. My laughing ceased automatically while I looked up at Hermione with wide eyes.
"Were you just trying to kill yourself?" Hermione asked again, her eyes flashing dangerously.
"I didn't mean to," I said slowly, realizing how stupid I sounded. I didn't mean to attempt suicide. That sounded really sane…
Hermione made a sound of disgust and grabbed a towel, handing it to me and turning around so her back faced me. I stood up, dripping the red water off of me, and wrapped the towel tightly around my waist. I realized two things at that moment. One, you couldn't even see through the water because it was so red with blood, and two, Most of the blood was mine, not my mother's.
"Are you done?" Hermione asked viciously a second later, turning her head slightly towards me. I pulled the plug of the bathtub, letting the water run down the drain as I stepped out onto the floor, dripping a mixture water and blood onto the floor.
"Yeah," I managed to say.
Hermione walked out the door, leaving it open as a sign that I should follow her. I stood there for a second before I turned my gaze downward and followed her into the bedroom. She was sitting on the end of Potter's bed, glaring in my direction and vigorously rubbing her left wrist with her right hand.
"Sit," She commanded me, jerking her head towards the end of my bed.
"Can I at least get dressed?" I asked.
"Sit," She repeated.
She had murder in her eyes, so I did as she said and sat on the end of my bed, facing her.
"So…" I said softly, bringing another glare in my direction.
"Do you realize what you tried to do?" She asked me, rubbing her left wrist even harder now.
"Uh…" I focused my gaze on her wrist, "I tried to drown myself without really realizing it until you forcibly yanked my head up out of the water."
"And any reason why you attempted to kill yourself?" She asked.
Another laugh tried to force its way up my throat, but I held it back for fear of being hit again.
"Well," I said, "My mother was just beaten to death by the man that I believed was my father for eighteen years, that same man has been beating me since the age of five for no reason other than the pleasure of hearing me scream, all the people I have ever loved in the world (including the man who truly was my father although I didn't know it until an hour ago) are now all dead, at the rate I'm going I'll be dead by my nineteenth birthday, and I really have no reason to live on this pathetic shit-hole they call Earth anymore."
I took a deep breath and stared steadily at Hermione. She looked stunned at my outburst. I became increasingly annoyed by her rubbing her wrist, so I reached forward and tore her hands apart, revealing why exactly she was rubbing her wrist so hard.
"I see you're no stranger to suicide either," I said to her, looking down at the ugly scar that made its way across the veins of her left wrist. I looked at her right wrist and saw the skin unmarred.
"Didn't finish the job, eh?" I said softly to her. She looked down at my hands and tears soon began to fall down her cheeks.
"I…Harry stopped me…" She whispered.
"So why did you do it?" I asked her, leaning forward until I was a foot away from her face.
"My…Voldemort…My parents were his last victims before Harry killed him…" She answered.
"So if you know where I'm coming from why did you stop me?" I asked, leaning even closer, "You don't even like me. You've told me you wish me dead…"
She really had wished me dead. She had told me in sixth year right after she kneed me in the…Never mind.
"I…" She raised her head and looked at me through tear-filled eyes, "I don't want any more death…"
I took a deep breath and numbly realized I was holding tightly onto her hand. I let go of her and stood up, walking over to my bag and unzipping it. I grabbed a set of clothes out of it and walked to the bathroom, leaving Hermione crying on Harry's bed. I dressed quickly into jeans and a black t-shirt before I walked back out and went over to Hermione, sitting next to her on the bed. She was still crying, but now her tears fell silently down her face and she stared blankly at the wall in front of her. I raised my hand and hesitantly began to rub her back. She stiffened slightly, then relaxed, turning her head down and staring at her hands. I continued rhythmically running my hand over her back until she stopped crying and wiped her eyes.
"You okay now?" I asked her softly. She sniffed and nodded, standing and walking to the door.
"Can you please not tell anyone about…" She held up her wrist, causing the pale scar to catch the dim candlelight and flash white.
"Don't they know?" I asked, standing up and crossing my arms over my chest.
"No," She answered, "Only Harry and the twins."
"Then sure," I replied, "I won't tell anyone."
"Thanks," She said, "And dinner should be done by now….That's why I came up in the first place."
"Okay," I said, "Give me a minute and I'll be down."
She smiled at me and nodded before walking out the door. I sighed, ran my hand through my damp hair, and walked to the bathroom. I looked at my reflection now that I was free of blood. My hair was back to its old white-blonde color now that the bloody water had leaked out of it and my skin seemed to glow because I was so pale. At least, the skin that wasn't covered in bruises. I had a particularly nasty one around my neck. Apparently Lucius had tried to strangle me but I had forgotten. I looked at the cuts and bruises on my arms, grimacing at them now that I could see them clearly. I walked back to my bag and grabbed a black turtle-neck, slipping it on over my head and hiding the ugly bruises. I looked once more at my reflection and turned, walking out of the bathroom and crossing the room. Once I got to the door, I turned and waved my hand, causing all of the candles in the room to go out before I stepped out into the hallway and headed down to the kitchen, wishing more and more with each step that Hermione hadn't pulled me back up…
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A/N: Well, here's chapter two. Sorry I took so long. The teachers love to load us down at the end of the year (only EIGHT DAYS left!!) and I've had social issues to deal with. But, hey, it's out. If the next chapter's not out by June 11, it probably won't come out until late July. I'll be on vacation and far away from my dear…no, from my horrid computer. But, I'll try to make it interesting to make up for it…Until then, review please. I'm aiming for at least 150 reviews by the end of this fanfic. I got 102 on my other one…But one was a flame…My squirrels will take care of it though…don't worry…muahahahahaha…
Ohhh wait, just so I can apologize now: Ignore any typos I might make. My spell check is a defective piece of crap and my attention span won't allow me to go over what I've just written before I post it.
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Draco Angor
Chapter 2
----
"Welcome, Draco," Dumbledore said, smiling slightly, "To Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place."
I stepped out of the fireplace and dropped the bag on the floor. There was a crack on my right and Daisy appeared in a flash of white light. Her nose had finally stopped bleeding, but the front of the pillowcase she was wearing as a dress was still covered with blood. I smiled slightly at her before I looked around the kitchen I found myself in. It was a large, gloomy room with rough stone walls that gave it the appearance of a dungeon. Large iron pots and pans hung from the dark ceiling, blending into the shadows. A large wooden table stood in the middle of the table, surrounded by chairs. Goblets and plates still full of half-eaten food with from lunch apparently lay on top of the table.
"Left in a rush, did you?" I asked, looking at the food.
"The news of your…The news came as a surprise," Mrs. Weasley answered, quickly rushing to clean up the dirty dishes. My stomach growled painfully. I hadn't eaten in over a day.
"I'll cook dinner then," Mrs. Weasley said, waving her wand so the dishes began to clean themselves.
"Can I help, miss?" Daisy asked, taking a cautious step towards Mrs. Weasley.
"Oh," Mrs. Weasley said, smiling at the tiny House Elf, "Yes, sure, umm…"
"Daisy, miss."
"Yes, yes…Daisy. Please, can you pass me the pot over there?"
"Yes, miss."
Daisy and Mrs. Weasley began to cook dinner while the rest of us just looked at each other in silence. Potter was the first one to speak.
"You'll have to room with me," He said, crossing his arms and staring at me through his glasses, "There's a bathroom up there if you want clean up a bit."
"Uhh…" I shook my head a bit. I was getting dizzy for some reason (probably blood loss), "Sure. Show me where it is."
Potter turned and started to walk towards the hallway, but he stopped at the door and turned around.
"Be quiet once you get into the hall," He said, "We have a really evil portrait."
The last comment made me stop and stare at him a bit, but I just shook my head and continued on. I did as he told me in the hall and made as little noise as possible as we climbed the stairs. Once we got to the second floor he stopped being careful and continued on until we reached what was apparently his room. He opened the door roughly and walked inside, beckoning for me to follow.
"It's not much," Potter said as he waved his hand, causing the candles on the walls to immediately glow with life, "But it's the best we can give you."
This room was spacious and it seemed gloomy compared to the brightly lit hallway. Two beds were against the far wall, one with crimson blankets on the right and one with emerald green blankets on the left that had my mother's bag sitting at the foot of it. Hermione had apparently sent the bag up with a spell. A doorway on my right led to a bathroom (at least I was assuming it was). I squinted in the dim light at a portrait on the wall between the beds and was able to see the dark silhouette of a man inside the frame.
"What's that?" I asked Potter, nodding my head towards the painting.
"A portrait of my godfather," Potter replied, his expression growing dark in an instant, "You can just throw a curtain over it if you don't like him looking at you."
"No," I said, walking up to the green bed and dropping my bag on the floor next to I, "It's okay."
"I got a friend to paint it with an enchanted canvas in sixth year," Potter said softly, walking up to the painting and tracing a finger along the frame.
"Who painted it? It's pretty good."
"Dean Thomas."
"Can…can you get him to paint something for me?"
"What do you want him to paint?"
"…A portrait of my mother."
Potter looked up at me and stared at my face for a moment before he switched his gaze back to his feet.
"Yeah," He finally replied, "Just give him a picture."
We dropped back into silence, me staring at my feet and Potter still tracing a finger absentmindedly along the frame of the picture. He finally dropped his hand from the frame and smeared his arm across his face before he turned to me.
"The shower's in there," He said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder, "I'll sent Hermione up with food soon if you want any."
"Sure," I said, my voice sounding far away to me, like I was listening to someone else talk through a phone or a radio.
"There're towels stacked next to the door," Potter said as he turned and walked to the door, "Some of us have somewhere to go, so you'll be here alone with Hermione, Mrs. Weasley, the twins, and your house-elf."
"Where do you have to go?" I asked as I headed for the bathroom door.
"Shopping," Was all he said before he left.
I sighed and walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind me. I lifted my gaze from the floor and was surprised to find a floor-to-ceiling mirror in front of me. I hadn't seen myself since Lucius had beaten me, and I was now able to see the damage he had caused.
My hair was not its usual white-blonde, but instead seemed a deep red with stains of dark brown where the blood had dried. My clothes and pale skin were stained with blood as well, some of it from the deep scratches all over my body and some of it from my mother…Bruises blossomed over my skin, some of them in the shape of fists and other in the shape of footprints. Most were hidden by the blood, but the few that peeked through the veil of crimson looked pretty bad.
I growled at my reflection and turned my head so I didn't have to see myself. I instead turned to the bathtub and turned on the hot water, then the cold water once steam began to rise. I plugged up the tub and allowed it to fill with water, turning off the water once the bathtub was nearly filled with the clear water. I stripped off my bloody clothes, leaving them in a pile next to the door before I stepped into the water and slid down until only my head remained above the water. I felt my tense muscles relax as closed my eyes and tilted my head back. After a while I slipped my head under the water and furiously massaged the blood out of my hair, leaving the already pinkish water stained red. I grabbed a bar of soap from a stand next to me and worked out the rest of the blood from my body. When I was finished with that I simply laid my head back and closed my eyes, wishing all the pain away. I felt my head slip under the water before I was aware of myself moving. I felt myself hold my breath before my head was completely submerged under the water, and after that I felt completely oblivious to whether or not I kept that one, precious, life-sustaining breath. I already felt dizzy from what I was assuming was blood-loss. Who knows? Better yet…Who cares?
I don't think I ever would have raised my head back out of the water were it not for the fingers twisting in my hair and yanking me upwards. I was raised into a sitting position before I started to cough up red tinted water. I looked up at the person that had saved me from committing suicide (even if it was an unconscious attempt at suicide) and was met with honey brown eyes that could only belong to one person.
"What in the hell were you doing?" Hermione demanded angrily, her eyes locked firmly onto my own.
I suddenly began to laugh, my voice rising steadily until it filled the small room. I don't even know why I was laughing. Because I had just attempted to drown myself without even thinking about it? Oh yes, that was truly hilarious. This apparently didn't make Hermione feel any better, because she hauled back and slapped me much like she had in third year, only this time much harder. My laughing ceased automatically while I looked up at Hermione with wide eyes.
"Were you just trying to kill yourself?" Hermione asked again, her eyes flashing dangerously.
"I didn't mean to," I said slowly, realizing how stupid I sounded. I didn't mean to attempt suicide. That sounded really sane…
Hermione made a sound of disgust and grabbed a towel, handing it to me and turning around so her back faced me. I stood up, dripping the red water off of me, and wrapped the towel tightly around my waist. I realized two things at that moment. One, you couldn't even see through the water because it was so red with blood, and two, Most of the blood was mine, not my mother's.
"Are you done?" Hermione asked viciously a second later, turning her head slightly towards me. I pulled the plug of the bathtub, letting the water run down the drain as I stepped out onto the floor, dripping a mixture water and blood onto the floor.
"Yeah," I managed to say.
Hermione walked out the door, leaving it open as a sign that I should follow her. I stood there for a second before I turned my gaze downward and followed her into the bedroom. She was sitting on the end of Potter's bed, glaring in my direction and vigorously rubbing her left wrist with her right hand.
"Sit," She commanded me, jerking her head towards the end of my bed.
"Can I at least get dressed?" I asked.
"Sit," She repeated.
She had murder in her eyes, so I did as she said and sat on the end of my bed, facing her.
"So…" I said softly, bringing another glare in my direction.
"Do you realize what you tried to do?" She asked me, rubbing her left wrist even harder now.
"Uh…" I focused my gaze on her wrist, "I tried to drown myself without really realizing it until you forcibly yanked my head up out of the water."
"And any reason why you attempted to kill yourself?" She asked.
Another laugh tried to force its way up my throat, but I held it back for fear of being hit again.
"Well," I said, "My mother was just beaten to death by the man that I believed was my father for eighteen years, that same man has been beating me since the age of five for no reason other than the pleasure of hearing me scream, all the people I have ever loved in the world (including the man who truly was my father although I didn't know it until an hour ago) are now all dead, at the rate I'm going I'll be dead by my nineteenth birthday, and I really have no reason to live on this pathetic shit-hole they call Earth anymore."
I took a deep breath and stared steadily at Hermione. She looked stunned at my outburst. I became increasingly annoyed by her rubbing her wrist, so I reached forward and tore her hands apart, revealing why exactly she was rubbing her wrist so hard.
"I see you're no stranger to suicide either," I said to her, looking down at the ugly scar that made its way across the veins of her left wrist. I looked at her right wrist and saw the skin unmarred.
"Didn't finish the job, eh?" I said softly to her. She looked down at my hands and tears soon began to fall down her cheeks.
"I…Harry stopped me…" She whispered.
"So why did you do it?" I asked her, leaning forward until I was a foot away from her face.
"My…Voldemort…My parents were his last victims before Harry killed him…" She answered.
"So if you know where I'm coming from why did you stop me?" I asked, leaning even closer, "You don't even like me. You've told me you wish me dead…"
She really had wished me dead. She had told me in sixth year right after she kneed me in the…Never mind.
"I…" She raised her head and looked at me through tear-filled eyes, "I don't want any more death…"
I took a deep breath and numbly realized I was holding tightly onto her hand. I let go of her and stood up, walking over to my bag and unzipping it. I grabbed a set of clothes out of it and walked to the bathroom, leaving Hermione crying on Harry's bed. I dressed quickly into jeans and a black t-shirt before I walked back out and went over to Hermione, sitting next to her on the bed. She was still crying, but now her tears fell silently down her face and she stared blankly at the wall in front of her. I raised my hand and hesitantly began to rub her back. She stiffened slightly, then relaxed, turning her head down and staring at her hands. I continued rhythmically running my hand over her back until she stopped crying and wiped her eyes.
"You okay now?" I asked her softly. She sniffed and nodded, standing and walking to the door.
"Can you please not tell anyone about…" She held up her wrist, causing the pale scar to catch the dim candlelight and flash white.
"Don't they know?" I asked, standing up and crossing my arms over my chest.
"No," She answered, "Only Harry and the twins."
"Then sure," I replied, "I won't tell anyone."
"Thanks," She said, "And dinner should be done by now….That's why I came up in the first place."
"Okay," I said, "Give me a minute and I'll be down."
She smiled at me and nodded before walking out the door. I sighed, ran my hand through my damp hair, and walked to the bathroom. I looked at my reflection now that I was free of blood. My hair was back to its old white-blonde color now that the bloody water had leaked out of it and my skin seemed to glow because I was so pale. At least, the skin that wasn't covered in bruises. I had a particularly nasty one around my neck. Apparently Lucius had tried to strangle me but I had forgotten. I looked at the cuts and bruises on my arms, grimacing at them now that I could see them clearly. I walked back to my bag and grabbed a black turtle-neck, slipping it on over my head and hiding the ugly bruises. I looked once more at my reflection and turned, walking out of the bathroom and crossing the room. Once I got to the door, I turned and waved my hand, causing all of the candles in the room to go out before I stepped out into the hallway and headed down to the kitchen, wishing more and more with each step that Hermione hadn't pulled me back up…
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A/N: Well, here's chapter two. Sorry I took so long. The teachers love to load us down at the end of the year (only EIGHT DAYS left!!) and I've had social issues to deal with. But, hey, it's out. If the next chapter's not out by June 11, it probably won't come out until late July. I'll be on vacation and far away from my dear…no, from my horrid computer. But, I'll try to make it interesting to make up for it…Until then, review please. I'm aiming for at least 150 reviews by the end of this fanfic. I got 102 on my other one…But one was a flame…My squirrels will take care of it though…don't worry…muahahahahaha…