Gryffindor's Common Room was its usual bustling, boisterous self. Assorted Gryffindors were curled up in the threadbare armchairs or sprawled on the floor by the fire. They were laughing and joking, playing exploding snap or swapping wizard cards, enjoying what amounted to a quiet evening for them. Hermione, however, paid them no attention whatsoever. She had commandeered a table in the corner of the Common Room and proceeded to spread books and parchment all over it. Enough, she hoped, that none of the other Gryffindors would bother her. Thus far they hadn't. Even Harry and Ron had steered clear when they had entered, choosing instead to join Dean and Seamus who were sitting in the corner, hunched over a deck of exploding snap cards. Hermione hadn't even acknowledged them. Even if she had been on speaking terms with them, she wouldn't have welcomed their company now. Her mind was on…other things.
'Why did he do it?' the question had run round her head so many times that Hermione was sure that her ears would start to bleed at any moment. Her fingers knotted and un-knotted over and over again beneath the table. She had chewed on her lip so much that it was probably already starting to show the traces of the bruise that it was surely going to show in the morning. Draco had kissed her! She couldn't believe it. The idea, the memory of it just wouldn't fit into her head. Why had he done it? How dare he do it? Of all the presumptuous, arrogant, beastly things he could have said or done to her, why did he have to kiss her? Then her mind turned against itself. Why didn't she stop him? Why hadn't she seen it coming? She should have, there had to have been signs, signals to indicate his intentions. Hadn't there?
The true answer to that question was that she wasn't sure. In books, the stupid yet strangely appealing romance novels that her mother read religiously, there were usually some signals before a man kissed a woman for the first time. Sometimes there was a look, sometimes a held breath, a sly smile or a wistful pause. She sighed, there hadn't been any of those things from Draco, or had there? She had been so caught up in what she was doing at the time that he could very well have been wearing a sign that read 'I'm going to kiss you now,' for all the good it would have done her. She still wouldn't have seen it coming.
'Why didn't I see it coming?' She bit her lip again, instantly regretting it as the pain lifted her and she jumped.
"Ouch!" she hissed aloud. The pain snapped her out of her thoughts, a brief respite from the chaos. Blushing slightly, she sat forward and returned her attention to the table in front of her. Her mind didn't get far from her troubles; the table was covered in her old notes and Draco's half finished study journal. Draco! It seemed that he was everywhere. She couldn't escape him. If he wasn't inside her head sending her mind spinning in circles, he was out here on the table, needing her help to keep his head above water in his classes. Why had he kissed her? Why had he stopped?
"Penny for them," Ginny's head appeared in front of her, smiling.
Hermione shook herself awake. "What?" she asked.
"That is the right expression, isn't it?" asked Ginny, frowning. "A penny for your thoughts?"
"Oh…yes, it is." Hermione smiled.
Ginny smiled back as she cleared a chair and sat down opposite her. "Good," she said. "Muggle expressions confuse me sometimes, I wasn't sure."
"Well, you got it right. But where did you learn that expression in the first place?"
"I'm not sure." Ginny shrugged. "I heard it somewhere a while ago I think. So?"
"So?"
Ginny laughed. "So what were you daydreaming about?"
"I wasn't daydreaming," said Hermione, trying to force her voice to sound calmer than she was.
"You could have fooled me," said Ginny, "I called you twice and you didn't answer."
"You did?" Hermione frowned, "I…I guess I didn't hear you."
Ginny smiled again. "I guess you didn't. So…who is he?"
Hermione sat bolt upright. "He?" she asked, a little louder than she had intended, drawing looks from several others in the Common Room. "What are you talking about?" she asked in a less public tone.
"Well," Ginny answered, the smile never wavering from her face. "In my years of experience," her tone was playful, "there are only two things that can distract a girl like that. One is clothes the other is men. Now no offence or anything Hermione, but you don't seem to be the kind of girl that would dream about clothes." Ginny's eyes darted to her right, over Hermione's shoulder. "Unlike some people around here."
Hermione turned in her chair to follow Ginny's look. Lavender, Pavarti and a couple of other Gryffindor girls were sitting on the floor by the fireplace, crowded around a magazine. Hermione couldn't see the magazine itself, but whatever it was, it had the girls rapt with attention. It was even enough to keep Lavender focussed, not an easy thing to do when Seamus was around these days. Curious, Hermione strained her ears to try and make out what they were saying. It wasn't all that hard, they weren't being very quiet.
"Look at it, it's so beautiful," squealed Samantha Cole, a pretty blonde third year as she pointed at the open page.
"I know, but I think I prefer the golden one, with the feathers," said Pavarti wistfully, pointing at another page. "I think gold is my colour."
Lavender looked at her and raised an eyebrow. "No," she said, shaking her head slightly, "I think you'd look nicer in cream." She flipped through the magazine. "Yes," she said, settling on a particular page, "you'd look great in this one."
"That's hideous!" Pavarti said, horrified. "Imagine how big my bum would look in that thing!"
The rest of the girls fell into a fit of laughter, though the exact source of the humour was completely lost on Hermione. She turned back to Ginny.
"Ball gowns!" said Ginny simply, apparently an explanation for the girls behaviour. "The new Christmas designs. Pavarti got that magazine delivered this morning, they've been ogling it ever since." She shook her head. "I don't get it myself. I mean, they're nice and everything, but it's not like any of us will ever even see any of them, let alone actually own any."
"Expensive are they?" Hermione asked, though she didn't really care if they were or not.
"Y E S," said Ginny emphatically. "You could probably feed a small country for a year with the price of one of them." She shook her head and rolled her eyes, then stared off into the distance for a moment. "They are nice though. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to wear one. To go to a big, fancy ball all dolled up, you know?" Hermione stared, bewildered at her for a moment before Ginny snapped out of it. "Silly, I know." Ginny laughed. "But there you go. Right," she turned her attention fully back to Hermione, "back to your mystery man."
Hermione found herself blush at the question. "I…I don't know what you're talking about," she said, grabbing at her quill and looking for an empty bit of parchment to write on. It didn't matter that she had nothing to write, she wanted to look busy. "Now if you don't mind, I have work to do." She hadn't managed to finish writing the first word, which happened to be 'Otter' before the quill was suddenly jerked out of her hand. "Hey!" she snapped as Ginny sat down again, pointing Hermione's own quill at her like a weapon.
"Now I know I'm right," she said defiantly through a big grin. "Come on…spill!"
"There's nothing to 'spill'," Hermione lied insistently. "Really," she added, avoiding Ginny's grinning eyes, "Nothing!"
Ginny continued to stare at her for a moment. Then, without losing her grin, she shuffled her chair round the table closer to Hermione. She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, "It's alright," she said eagerly, speaking loudly enough for Hermione to hear but not so loud that anyone else could. "You can tell me. I won't tell anyone." Her eyes darted about rapidly for a moment, "I promise. I…well I just want to know, that's all."
Hermione sighed. "There isn't anything to tell, Gin." Ginny's face fell slightly, as though she finally believed her. "But," Hermione added, driven by a sudden urge to share the turmoil in her head with somebody. There were so many questions and problems battling for space in there, that she felt as if she would burst if she didn't at least try and tell someone about some of them. "If there was something…"
"Or someone?" said Ginny, her curiosity and her excitement reignited in an instant.
"Or someone," said Hermione, "and I'm not saying there is mind you," she added hastily.
Ginny nodded, "Of course you're not, I know, but if there were…"
Hermione rolled her eyes and took a breath. "If there were…well…oh I don't know." She wrung her fingers together again. "I'm not sure what I will…what I would do about it. There's so much going on right now, so many bad things happening…" she stopped herself mid-sentence as her mind flashed up an image of Percy. From the look on her face, Ginny was having a similar thought. Her smile wavered and her eyes glossed over. "Oh Ginny…I…I'm sorry…I didn't mean…I mean I meant…"
Ginny shook her head. "I know what you meant…or what you didn't mean." She shook herself again and repainted her smile, though it was now slightly forced. "But what were you saying?" she asked.
Hermione swallowed hard. "Yes…like I was saying. With…things as they are, I don't know if I want…anything like that to happen. It might not be a good idea, you know what I mean?"
Ginny nodded and tucked her hair behind her ear again. "I do," she said in a calmer, more serious tone than before, "and, to tell you the truth, until a few weeks ago I would probably have agreed with you, but then…"
Her eyes misted over again just as they had when she was thinking about the gowns. She didn't finish the sentence but Hermione didn't doubt for a moment that she could finish it for her. "Then you met Etean?" she asked tentatively.
Ginny looked at her again and smiled, properly this time. "Yeah," she half sighed. "Then I met him and I…changed my mind I suppose."
"But," said Hermione, "nothing has really changed, has it? The world is still…as it is."
"Yeah," said Ginny in a flat tone. "But the way I see it, if you spend your life letting the evil in the world stop you from being happy," she shrugged, "what's the point?"
Hermione was going to say that she didn't know but decided against it. There wasn't really an answer to that question and, based on the way that Ginny sat back in her chair and turned her attention to the fireplace, she guessed that she wasn't really looking for one. She sat still and quiet for a full minute, staring into the dancing flames.
"Can I ask you one more question?" said Ginny at last. "I'll leave you alone then, I promise," she added when she saw Hermione scowl slightly. Hermione sighed and nodded slightly. Ginny leaned forward again. "This whoever he is…"
"I…" Hermione started to interrupt.
"If he were to exist that is," said Ginny rapidly, cutting her off. "Does he…or rather, would he make you happy?"
Hermione thought about it, the question came so far out of left field that she really didn't know how to answer it. In the end, "I don't know," was the best she could come up with. "That's another problem I suppose," she added.
Ginny nodded slowly. "Ok," she said, laying a hand on top of Hermione's. "In that case, do you want some free advice from a friend?" Hermione nodded. "Find out! If he does, then stick with it and damn the world. If he doesn't…well at least you'll know it then won't you?" she smiled and sat back. Hermione was mulling over what Ginny had said when she suddenly leapt to her feet. "Toadstools!!!" she shrieked, "I'm late." Ginny turned and headed round Hermione's chair toward the door, muttering to herself. "I'll never hear the end of it…maybe if I run…"
"Ginny?" Hermione called.
"What?" said Ginny, spinning back to face her.
"Thanks," said Hermione warmly.
Ginny beamed at her. "You're welcome," she said, "Anytime. Now, you'll have to excuse me, I have a Slytherin to chase down," she spun on her heel, ignoring the grumbling grievances from several of the Gryffindors who apparently equated her words with treason.
Ginny was a blur of red hair disappearing out of the Portrait Hole as Hermione whispered to herself. "So have I!"
The rest of the Gryffindors returned to their earlier pursuits with the exception of Ron. He snarled in anger and bounced to his feet, making to follow Ginny before Harry leapt up and restrained him.
"Don't Ron," he hissed. His voice was strained with effort. "You'll only make things worse."
"Worse?" asked Ron, giving up his struggle and stepping back. "How can it be worse? I am not about to just sit here while she carries on with that…prat!"
"Oh, just leave it, Ron!" said Harry in a frustrated tone. "You have already tried to talk to her and she wouldn't listen. If you interfere again, things will only get messy."
"Interfere?" growled Ron, his ears glowing pink with anger. "She is my sis…"
Harry raised his hands in surrender. "Her word Ron, not mine. Don't take my head off again, please. Just let it go for now, there's nothing you can do about it."
"Yeah, Ron," said Dean. "Come on, it's your turn."
Ron relented and sat down. Hermione's eyes settled on Harry who had turned to look at her. His eyebrows raised and he seemed as though he was going to say something to her. Hermione turned away before he could and returned her attention to the table, and to Draco. The conversation with Ginny had helped her sort some things out. At least it had made the questions clear in her head, if not the answers. Would Draco make her happy? The question, like the kiss simply wouldn't settle in her head. But it was a good question and the fact that she really didn't know the answer to it made her stomach queasy. Part of her wanted to jump up and run back to him right then and there. She pictured the journey, every step and turn between Gryffindor and the Hospital Wing. She imagined herself standing in front of him and…then what? Ideas and possibilities collided and shattered against one another. Part of her wanted to interrogate him, to find out just what the hell he was playing at kissing her like that. Part of her wanted to beat the snot out of him for ever daring to kiss her, and yet another part of her wanted to jump on him and beg him to kiss her again.
The different desires bubbled and boiled over in her head and, as much as she wanted and needed to go to him, fear of the fact that she didn't know what would happen kept her rooted in place. Having the will, but lacking the capacity to do anything else, Hermione turned her attention back to the study journal. If she finished it, she reasoned, then at least she would have an excuse to go to him. She could deliver it and leave, see him and then get out before she could get herself further into this mess.
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Draco was still smiling to himself as he lay on his bed. Even now, hours after Hermione had left him, he was still tingling with joy. The feeling of giddy light-headedness seemed to be permanent, and he didn't mind one bit. For the first time in a long time, he actually felt that his life wasn't a complete mess. Life, it seemed, could go on. If he needed any more proof, a distracting pain in his groin told him that, good mood or bad, bodily functions would go on.
Draco stood up and crossed the room to the tiny adjoining bathroom to relieve himself, pulling the glove from his left hand as he went – leather gloves were simply inappropriate for some things. He was washing his hands when, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. The half glimpse of his blonde hair and silver-grey eyes obliterated his good mood in a heartbeat. He looked fully at his reflection, examining it closely. There could be no doubt of it; he was his father's son. The hair, the eyes, the shape of the jaw, it was all there. Lucius Junior was staring back at him. It made him sick to his stomach just to look at it…to look at himself. He balled up his fist to punch the mirror and shatter the offensive image but stopped himself. Destroying the reflection wouldn't change the source. Even if he couldn't see it, he would still look like his father. Or would he?
He stared at his face again, cataloguing the features that resembled Lucius. The nose, the cheeks, and the jaw – all were fairly immutable but the rest, his hair and eyes were another story. He rummaged about in his robes for his wand, and in his head for the spells he needed. They came to him as his fingers closed on his wand in his trouser pocket. He drew it out and touched it to his head.
"Dathnel Gruaigaire," he whispered. The tip of his wand flashed white and he felt his scalp start to tingle as the spell took hold. He moved the tip of it round his head, allowing the spell to hit all of his hair before he lowered it. The tingle on his scalp grew stronger as he watched the spell in the mirror. Slowly at first, then with increasing speed, his hair darkened. A smile of satisfaction spread across his lips as he watched it get darker and darker until it was jet black all over. Draco turned his head to the left and right, admiring the change. He looked different, that was one certain fact. His smile faded, now he looked like Lucius with black hair!
'Still,' he thought, 'it's a start at least.' He turned his attention to his eyes. They would be tougher. The spell to change them was more difficult. Performing it didn't worry him, but he was at a loss as to what colour he would make them. 'Brown maybe…like hers?' But then he thought, 'No, hers are far too pretty to copy.' He smiled again. 'Maybe black…to scare the shit out of anyone who sees me.' The idea of having people uncomfortable to look at him appealed to him. He was busy pondering the notion when he heard a slight sound from the bedroom behind him.
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Hermione laboured and worked into the night, somehow managing to ignore numerous attempts from her housemates to break her concentration, which was hanging by a thread as it was. She paid no attention as the crowd of Gryffindors thinned until she was alone. She did look up briefly when, well after eleven, Ginny crept back in. She was smiling to herself and jumped in fright when she saw Hermione. Ginny opened her mouth to explain herself but Hermione shook her head and gave her a look which she hoped would convey her sincere desire not to repeat their earlier conversation. It worked, Ginny nodded once and headed up to bed. Hermione returned to her work, determined to finish it and get the dreaded encounter over with. It was well after midnight before she had finally finished adding the final colour coded block to the journal and packed up her wand and quill. She found herself trembling uncontrollably as she packed up the books and pages and stuffed them rather untidily into her bag. She dumped the bag in the corner and picked up the journal, setting her jaw before she headed out.
The journey seemed to take forever. Corridors seemed to grow longer as she crept down them, afraid to make a sound for fear of being discovered. Every little sound she did make was amplified a thousand fold to her ears as it echoed off the walls and nearly made her pass out in anxiety.
"Get a grip, Granger," she whispered to herself in desperate need to hear a friendly voice, even if it was her own. At last, after what seemed like a lifetime, she reached the corridor and the hidden door. Swallowing hard against a lump in her throat, she whispered the password and the door opened.
She lit her wand and slowly, cautiously, she climbed the stairs. At the top she froze, all thoughts of Draco vanished as she looked at the bedroom door. She remembered the door. It was no different than any other door in the school, made of heavy varnished oak, plain with no adornment whatsoever. This door was different. The door she was standing at was a lot heavier than the one she had expected. The light of her wand reflected of a series of carved swirls and designs on the wood, but it was the knocker that most held her attention. Draco's door had no knocker but this door had, and what a thing it was. Set at her eye level and standing at least five inches from the surface of the wood hung a wolf's head, made of what looked like solid silver. It hung there with its teeth bared, challenging anyone who would dare attempt to force entry. Its eyes were two black jewels. They shone in the light of her wand and stared at her. Almost unconsciously, Hermione tucked the journal into her pocket and reached out to touch the wolf. She wanted to see if it was real. Her fingers brushed the metal and, for an instant, she felt a charge run through her. Her eyes slid closed as a wave of dizziness hit her. Added to her already queasy stomach, the sensation nearly made her buckle over.
Hermione fought the feeling down and opened her eyes; the wolf was gone! She was standing outside Draco's door with her hand extended in the air. Her fingers were shaking so hard that they were a blur before her eyes. Hermione clenched a fist and tried to slow her breathing. As she got her heart rate under control she opened her hand again, but her fingers were still shaking as hard as they had before. She shut her fist again and stuffed her hand beneath her right arm, shivering suddenly. Her hand brushed against the top of journal that was sticking out of her pocket, reminding her why she was here in the first place. She steeled herself up and knocked on the door. There was no answer, only silence.
'Maybe he's asleep,' she thought. 'I'd better call back tomorrow or something.' But she didn't move, instead she just stood where she was. She wouldn't sleep a wink if she didn't see him and she knew it, not that she slept anyway. 'One more time, maybe he just didn't hear me,' she said to herself and knocked again, slightly harder this time. To her surprise, the door swung open. The room behind it was dark. Hermione stepped inside cautiously and shone her wand around. The room was a mess! It looked as if a hurricane had hit it. All the furniture was broken and hurled about. The bed was lying at an awkward angle on its side. Draco was nowhere in sight.
"What the hell?" she asked herself. Her wand illuminated a series of stains on the wall. She prayed to herself that they weren't what she thought they were but, given the state of the room, there was little doubt. Hermione turned round and round in the centre of the floor, shining her wand into every nook and cranny. The door of the bathroom was open, she looked inside to see that it had been spared the fury that had devastated the outer room, but there was no trace of Draco. She was starting to get really worried now. What had happened here? Where was he? Hermione felt a sudden horrible dread settle over her. What had happened to him? Her mind threw up dozens of images, each more horrible than the last. She had to find him! She'd tear the castle apart if she had to. Hermione turned to leave when she noticed something on the floor. She bent to retrieve it, recognising it instantly. 'But,' she thought, 'what was he doing here?' Clutching the tea cosy in her hands, she headed off at a dead run toward the kitchens.
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By the time Etean got back to the Slytherin Common Room, it was all but deserted. He yawned as he entered and threw himself down across a sofa, letting out a sigh of contentment.
"What are you so happy about?" Pansy snapped at him.
Etean rolled his eyes. 'Not again,' he sighed to himself. "Switch off Parkinson," he growled at her, "I'm in far too good a mood for you right now." He grabbed a random magazine from the table beside him and pretended to read it.
It was the wrong thing to say. "Good mood?" hissed Pansy. "What the hell is with everybody lately that they're so blasted happy?"
"Spare me the whining, will you?"
Pansy stood up and looked as if she were about to argue the point some more. She opened her mouth but then closed it again. She shook her head. "I'm sorry if I disrupted your good mood, Etean." She stormed off toward the bedrooms, nearly flattening Nott on her way out.
"Well excuse me," he said as he recovered his balance. He turned to Etean. "What the hell is up with her?" he asked.
"I'll give you three guesses," replied Etean, dropping his magazine. "But you'll only need one."
"Draco?" said Nott, dropping into a chair opposite Etean.
"What else?" Etean sighed.
Nott shook his head. "She needs to sort her head out," he said. "This is getting boring."
"I didn't know that you were paying that much attention," said Etean idly.
"I'm not," replied Nott. "But it's hard not to notice. She's been like a thunderstorm waiting to happen ever since Draco disappeared. You only have to let her see you smile and she goes for your jugular. It seems she won't be satisfied until everyone else is as depressed as she is."
"Misery loves company," said Etean. "But I suppose she'll get over it in time."
"And we are just supposed to put up with her until then, are we?"
Etean sighed. "Until then, Theo, there isn't much else we can do about it, is there?"
"I don't suppose there is," said Nott, sounding very unhappy about it. "But I swear, if she lays into me one more time for no good reason I'll swing for her."
"I hope that remark wasn't meant for me," said an oily voice from behind Etean. He turned to see Annabelle appearing up from the bedrooms. Her expression was expectant as she glared at Nott. "Theo?" she prompted him.
Nott cleared his throat. "No," he said in a tone that seemed to suggest that the notion was ridiculous, "of course not."
"Then," said Annabelle as she crossed the room toward him, "who were you referring to?"
"Pansy," said Nott.
Annabelle stopped beside his chair and glared at him for a moment, then she shook her head. "Oh," she said, spinning round and plopping herself onto Nott's lap, "her. She's kicking off again is she?"
"Yes," Etean answered.
"The usual: the world is my enemy routine," added Nott.
Annabelle made a growling noise in the back of her throat. "Again?" She looked from Nott to Etean. "Is it just me or is that getting old really fast?"
Nott nodded at her; Etean raised an eyebrow. "She's just worried about Draco."
"Obsessed is more like it," said Annabelle. "She's been pestering the staff relentlessly with questions about him ever since he pulled his little disappearing act. I heard that she even got herself a detention for bursting in uninvited on McGonagall's second year class." Annabelle shook her head. "Draco had better come back soon, that's all I can say. Before someone kills her."
Etean wasn't all that surprised by Annabelle's words, but the edge in her voice seemed to him to be a little above what was called for. He was going to comment on it, but Nott spoke up before he got the chance. "I wouldn't count on Draco coming back anytime soon, Baby," he said.
Annabelle turned to look at him. "What makes you say that?" she asked. Etean was curious too.
"Just something I heard," he said with a slight grin.
"Which was?" asked Annabelle.
"Which was that Draco's continued absence, or his return is not something he can control. Even if he wanted to, he can't come back unless Dumbledore allows him."
"So what?" said Annabelle in an astonished tone, "He's a prisoner or something? Dumbledore has him locked up?"
Nott nodded. "In a secure ward in St. Mungo's, or so I heard anyway. He's under twenty-four hour supervision."
"For what?" barked Annabelle. "What does that old fool think he'll do? Kill someone?"
"Kill himself is more like it from what I hear…"
Etean tuned out the conversation for a moment. Nott certainly seemed convinced that his little story was true and it didn't take a genius to work out that Annabelle believed him. From whatever source it had come, the lie had convinced Nott, an interesting little fact. So the question was, given the correct stimulus, could Nott be made to believe other lies? If so, what lies would it be most beneficial for him to believe? Etean returned his attention to the present as Annabelle stood up. She took Nott's hand,
"Are you coming?" she asked suggestively, nodding toward the stairs down to the bedrooms.
Nott grinned wide, but then shook his head. "Maybe later," he said, standing up, "I have…something to take care of first."
Annabelle seemed to understand what this meant, she nodded and gave him a peck on the cheek before leaving, pausing only to say goodnight to Etean over her shoulder. Nott watched her go then straightened his robes. He looked down at Etean.
"Don't ask," he said, before Etean could ask what he was doing, "It's a private matter." He turned away, then paused. "Just do me one favour."
"What?" Etean asked.
Nott glanced about to ensure that nobody else was within earshot. "If anyone asks, tell them you haven't seen me. You have no idea where I am, got it?"
Etean swallowed his initial, biting remark at the way that the request had been delivered. He didn't like being ordered to do anything by anyone, least of all by this twit. He nodded. "Sure."
Nott grinned and left. Etean let him get a minute's head start before he got up and headed to the bedroom stairs. He descended a couple of flights until he was alone before he reached into his robes and took out his cloak. Packed up, it was no larger than a handkerchief. He flipped it in the air, mentally stroking it awake and persuading it to open out to its full size. It obeyed and he donned it in silence, lifting the hood and fading into the shadows before he turned and darted back up the stairs.
None of the students that remained in the Common Room noticed the outer door opening and closing in silence. Once outside, he closed his eyes and focussed on Nott. It only took him a moment of sifting through the noise of the school and he found him heading toward a lesser used section of the dungeons. Etean moved as quickly as silence allowed to catch up. He passed nobody on his journey, Nott having chosen a good place to go for someone who didn't want to be disturbed. Etean was still a couple of minutes behind him when he sensed Nott come to a stop. He had gotten wherever he was going. Etean quickened his pace, though as it turned out, he needn't have bothered.
Nott's destination was a storeroom. It had the look of a place that had once held large casks of wine or some other liquor, but it had long been unused. The few remaining barrels were all empty and broken. Their shattered remnants lay scattered on the floor. Etean was surprised to see then when he entered and picked his way to where Nott was standing that the room had a fireplace. He focussed on it and forced his mind into the Ether. The fireplace was new, as in brand new. The spells that had created it were still shimmering inside the marble. A small but active little fire burned in the hearth, providing the only illumination for the room. Etean saw on closer inspection and to his further surprise that the fireplace was connected to the Flu Network. The connection, like the fire itself seemed new. Etean's impression of Theodore Nott's magical skills was elevated a notch. To create a fire and connect it so quickly without raising seven kinds of hell in the castle was a major achievement indeed.
Nott didn't look all that pleased with himself. If anything he looked annoyed, or scared…or both. He went from pacing nervously across the dusty floor to chewing his nails to chewing his nails while pacing. Etean decided to find a nice spot and make himself comfortable. Nott was clearly waiting for something and so, therefore, must he. He moved over to the corner, decided not to risk sitting on one of the rotten casks and sat on the floor with his back to the wall. He didn't have long to wait, barely ten minutes had passed when, at nearly half past midnight, the fire sputtered. Nott spun and dropped to his knees as it sputtered again and a man's head appeared in the flames.
"Father," Nott addressed the man, to Etean's not so surprise.
"Theodore," Nott Senior said, "I am glad to see that you are on time for once."
Nott sighed slightly. "Yes, of course I am father, though I don't like doing this. If Dumbledore finds out…"
"How will he?" asked Nott Senior. "I trust you followed my instructions to the letter?"
"Yes father, I did it the way you showed me."
"Excellent, then Dumbledore should be none the wiser, provided of course that we keep our conversation short. How are things progressing?"
Nott hung his head slightly. "Fine I guess."
"You guess?" Nott Senior's voice took on a dangerous tone. "How do you mean? At last report things were progressing well, what has changed?"
"Nothing, it's just…"
"Yes?"
"Well….Etean is no fool, father." Etean's attention spiked. 'What?' "He isn't going to trust me overnight. He's too smart for that."
"Yes," Nott's father smiled at him. "Of course he isn't going to just trust you. But he is not so smart that he is above needing help. Have you explained that to him?"
"I have," Nott nodded, "I told him exactly what you told me to tell him."
"And?"
"And…I think he listened."
"But you aren't sure?"
"No," Nott shook his head, "I can't figure him out. One minute I get the impression he's totally on our side, the next…he changes. It's like he becomes a different person from one minute to the next. I have a feeling that he's on nobody's side but his own."
"Well, of course he is," spat Nott Senior. "The Eteans have always been survivors. It's genetic at this stage. He will do whatever is in his own best interest. All you need to do is to convince him that what you are offering is what's in his best interest."
"But I don't know that I can father," said Nott carefully. "I'm operating in the dark here. How can be expected to…to think on my feet in conversations…to know what to say and what not to say, when I'm not fully aware of what it is that I am offering?" Nott hesitated slightly. "Perhaps…if I knew what it was that the Dark Lord wants with Etean, it might help me understand."
"You do not need to understand, Theo, in order to carry out my instructions. Just tell him what I tell you to tell him and not a word more." Nott's father's voice was full of ice. "And, as for what Lord Voldemort wants with Lord Etean…" He laughed. Etean felt a wave of surprise and fear pour out of Nott at the sound of his father saying the name. Along with the cold laughter from the fireplace, it made Etean feel as if the temperature in the room had dropped suddenly.
"Father, I…" Nott started.
"Please, Theodore," said his father in a stern tone. "You should really learn to view matters with a mote of perspective. I doubt if Lord Etean has even entered into Lord Voldemort's plans as yet. He is focussed on…other matters that he has chosen to keep private for the present. But, and this is the point that I feel I must stress Theodore, His agenda is not the only one."
"I don't understand, father," said Nott quietly.
"Nor should you," his father spat at him. "You need only obey. Your job, Theodore, is to gain Lord Etean's trust. More than that…you must make him believe in you…he should depend on you as much as possible. The reasons don't matter. You do it because I tell you to do it, not because Lord Voldemort wants it."
"But…to betray the Dark Lord, father?" Nott's voice was filled with genuine fear as he spoke.
His father laughed again. "Who said anything about betrayal, Theo? As far as I know, Lord Voldemort has no plans for Lord Etean…and if I do, that does not violate any order he has given me. If…someday…his plans change then I may re-evaluate my position, but not before. Now," his voice became even sterner, "you know what you have to do?"
Nott nodded slowly. "I do, father." His voice was a choked whisper.
"Do it then!" Nott Senior ordered, and then disappeared with the faintest popping sound.
Nott knelt there without moving for a long time. Etean got the impression that he would need some time to absorb what had just happened. He didn't blame him. In fact, Etean could barely believe it himself. The revelation that not only was he the specific target of a Death Eater's scheme, but that the Death Eater in question was skirting the edge of betraying his master with that very scheme was a shock to say the least. Etean stood up as Nott took out his wand and from a kneeling position began to dismantle his fireplace bit by bit. He was working slowly, as if his brain wasn't engaged in the task. There was little point in hanging around any longer so Etean left him to it. Etean's mind began yet another rearrangement of players as he travelled toward the Training Room. Nott was degraded. It was now clear that his father was the real mystery and it was also clear that Nott's father would not share his intentions with his son anytime soon. So splitting them up, Nott became a tool, a thing to be used to get to the truth, to his father. Etean smiled to himself. He need only push him far enough and he would break and open the door to his father – and to his father's secrets.
Etean reached the Training Room and entered. The table was still as he had left it, covered in reports of Death Eater activities. Etean waved his hand and muttered a cleaning spell under his breath. He had had enough of those reports to last him a lifetime, there was little use in keeping them any longer. A twinge in his temple prompted him to conjure and consume his potion almost without thinking. His mind was still churning over the evenings encounter when the door behind him opened.
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Hermione skidded to a halt outside the entrance to the kitchens, Dobby's tea cosy clutched in her hand. She reached up to tickle the pear. Her fingers were still trembling but she ignored it. The handle appeared out of nowhere and she opened the door. There was a massive commotion inside. It seemed that every house elf in the school was there, and all clamouring and jostling for position round the fireplace. A couple of them looked up and shrieked when they saw Hermione. Most of the elves in the school were terrified of her, they were afraid that she'd try and free them at any moment. The majority of them were too preoccupied to notice her, however. Hermione couldn't remember ever seeing them so worked up.
Through their whispers, Hermione thought she could hear the sound of someone crying, a strange, high-pitched wailing sound. She pushed forward, shoving elves aside as gently as she could until she could see the cause of the commotion.
"Dobby?" she said when she finally found him. "What's wrong?"
Dobby didn't answer her. He was sitting with his back to her, huddled up in a little ball. Winky was sitting beside him with her arm around his shoulder.
"Dobby!" she said in an urgent voice. "Miss is asking you a question, Dobby. Be a good elf and answer Miss." Dobby ignored Winky's pleading and continued to sob. Winky looked up at Hermione and shook her head. "Winky is sorry, Miss," she said, "Dobby is being very upset, he is not meaning to be a bad elf Miss."
Hermione knelt down. "What's upset him, Winky?" she asked, struggling to keep her voice calm despite the growing panic in her heart. "What happened to him?"
"Winky isn't knowing Miss," said Winky sorrowfully, "Dobby is coming in like this, Miss. He is not saying what is wrong, Miss, no matter how many times Winky is asking him."
Hermione shuffled forward and laid a hand on Dobby's shoulder. "Dobby," she said in the softest voice she could manage. "Please tell me what's wrong."
"NO!" Dobby shrieked suddenly, making Hermione and Winky jump in fright. The other elves hissed and drew back from them. "Dobby is not telling," Dobby howled through increased sobs, "Dobby is not telling again. He was not wanting to tell Master Draco, but Master Draco is making him. Master Draco is getting very angry, he is scaring Dobby. Then he is getting even angrier. He is screaming and hurting himself and it is all Dobby's fault. Dobby is not telling again!" he repeated then buried his head again and wailed uncontrollably.
"Bad Dobby!" Winky hissed in his ear. "You is not supposed to be talking like that to Miss." Dobby ignored her scolding. He covered his ears and started to rock back and forward, whimpering to himself. Winky turned to Hermione. "Sorry again, Miss," she said through quivering lips, "Winky is thinking you should go, Miss. Winky is taking care of Dobby."
Hermione barely heard her. Draco hurt himself? Her thoughts scrambled and she felt suddenly dizzy. Her queasy stomach lurched. Now she really did have to find him and fast. She stuffed Dobby's tea cosy into Winky's arms and without so much as a word to the elves, she jumped up and ran out of the kitchens.
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Draco spun in alarm. His fingers tensed on his wand as he killed the light and opened the bathroom door as quietly as he could. Another sound! The quiet scuff of someone moving a chair across the floor floated to his ears. Draco extended his senses to try and identify his new visitor. There was definitely someone there, but the sensation was odd. Whoever it was, they felt different to any sensation he had felt before. Uncertain of what he would face, Draco tensed himself up and leapt through the door. He let his senses guide him to target the intruder as he cleared the doorframe. He was about to roar a curse when he saw two large round eyes glowing in the candle light. They seemed oddly familiar to him. Familiar too was the terrified squeak that the creature let out when it saw Draco. Recognising that it was a house elf, and that he was not in any danger, Draco lowered his wand and looked more closely at the creature. After a moment he recognised it.
"Dobby?" he asked in disbelief. "What are you doing here?"
The elf quivered slightly beneath the tea cosy that it was wearing as a hat. "Dobby is working Sir…he is clearing the table he is. Dobby is thinking that there is being nobody in here, Sir."
"Working? You work here?" Draco asked. "Since when?"
The elf straightened up. "Dobby is working for Professor Dumbledore, he is giving Dobby a job two years ago." It seemed proud of the fact. Draco still couldn't believe it. He hadn't seen that elf since Potter had tricked his father into freeing it over three years previously. Now, here it was, large as life.
"I see you landed on your feet then," said Draco, turning away.
"Sir?" said Dobby. Draco turned back to face him. "What is Sir meaning, Sir?"
Draco looked at the elf; it seemed confused. "You do recognise me, Dobby?"
"Sir?" said Dobby, looking hard at Draco. Then its eyes widened in fright. "Master Draco Sir!" he wailed, prostrating himself on the floor. "Forgive Dobby, Master Draco Sir. Dobby is not knowing it is you, Sir."
The elf continued to bow and grovel. It was an act Draco had seen it do before whenever it thought that it was in trouble for something. "Stop that, Dobby," Draco ordered it, "you didn't do anything wrong so get up."
Dobby got up cautiously and looked at him again. "Thank you, Master Draco Sir. Dobby is thinking that he is being bad, Master Draco Sir."
Draco rolled his eyes. "Stop calling me that, Dobby, I am not your master anymore."
"Yes, Sir," Dobby nodded. "Dobby is knowing that Mas…Sir, but Dobby is having a habit."
"Well, it's a habit you should break." He waved the elf off. "Now, do whatever it was you came here to do and leave me be."
Draco turned away again and walked over to the bed. Behind him, he heard Dobby shuffle about. "Sir?" the elf asked quietly.
"Yes." Draco sighed.
"Is Dobby allowed to ask Sir a question, Sir?"
Draco shut his eyes and shook his head. "I suppose so, yes."
"Is Sir in trouble, Sir?"
"What?" asked Draco, turning round.
Dobby glanced round him at the walls. "Is Sir in trouble? Is that why Sir is being locked in here, Sir?"
"Locked in?" Draco asked, then decided he didn't want to have the conversation. "Yes, you could say that Dobby." He said to dismiss the subject.
It didn't work. "Oh," said Dobby. "Well, it is better than the coal shed that Dobby was being locked in when Dobby was being in trouble, Sir."
Draco looked at the elf in disbelief. It wasn't that he was surprised to hear about it being locked in a coal shed, that was old news to him, but the fact that it had mentioned it in that fashion. It had almost been making a dig at Draco for the way that his family had treated it. What kind of elf was this? What had freedom done to it?
Dobby turned away. He picked up the tray that held the remnants of Draco's supper and started toward the door. "Dobby?" Draco called after it.
"Sir?" said the elf, turning to look at him again.
"Do you like being here? I mean," he corrected himself, "do you like being free?"
"Yes, Sir," said the elf, beaming. "Dobby is liking working for Professor Dumbledore, Sir. He is," Dobby stepped closer to Draco and whispered, "He is paying Dobby, Sir."
"Paying?" said Draco, astonished. "What does an elf want to be paid for?"
The elf giggled. "Dobby is saving his wages and buying clothes Sir."
Draco looked at the elf again and took in for the first time the 'clothes' it was wearing. Other than the tea cosy, it had on a pair of odd socks, two large woollen jumpers and what appeared to be a skirt! He shook his head. 'I don't want to know!' he thought to himself. He waved the elf off, and then called it again. "Dobby?"
"Sir?"
"Did you really not recognise me just now?"
"No, Sir," said Dobby. "You is looking very different, Sir, than Dobby is remembering. You is…taller, Sir."
Draco laughed. "I suppose I am."
"You is, Sir," said Dobby eagerly. "You is being as tall as Master soon, Sir." Draco's heart stopped. That was just about the worst thing the elf could have said, and it seemed to realise it. "Is Dobby saying something wrong, Sir?" it asked nervously.
"No Dobby," said Draco in a hollow voice. "You didn't."
Dobby seemed to feel the need to rectify the situation. "Dobby is not saying that you is being like Master, Sir," it said, showing an amazing level of intuition. "Dobby is not thinking that you is like Master at all, Sir. Master is a very…" it hesitated, "a very bad man, Sir," it hissed rapidly.
"A bad man, is he?" asked Draco. "And what am I then?"
The elf shifted nervously. "Dobby…is not really knowing, Sir."
Draco smiled, at least it was being honest with him. "Well, I'll tell you shall I? I'm a killer, Dobby. Does that make me a bad man?"
Dobby jumped and gave a little shriek. "A killer, Sir? You is being a killer?" it said, backing away slowly. The contents of the tray rattling as it started to tremble violently.
"Yes, Dobby. You remember your old Master, do you remember Mistress too?" the elf nodded. "Well she's dead now Dobby, because of me. Master killed her because of me!"
Dobby went paler than he normally was. His eyes widened so far that Draco half expected them to pop out of his head altogether. "He is doing it!" it said. "He is saying he is going to do it and he is doing it. She is not listening to his threats, she is interfering in his business…and he is killing her."
The elf ranted on, it wasn't talking to Draco, it seemed to have forgotten that he was even there. Draco stood up. "What are you saying, Dobby?"
Dobby jumped, dropping the tray and unseating his tea cosy from his head. "What, Sir?"
"You said something about her interfering in his business. What did you mean?"
"Dobby is not knowing, Sir," said the elf evasively. It dropped to its knees and started to gather up the tray again.
Draco dropped down beside it and grabbed its wrist. "Don't lie to me Dobby," he growled, causing Dobby's eyes to widen again in fright. "Tell me what you meant," Draco demanded, releasing the elf but not backing away.
Dobby shifted on his knees, a visible shiver ran through him. "It is…it is just something that Dobby is remembering Master saying Sir," it said at last.
"What? What did he say?" Draco pleaded with the elf. He had to know. "Tell me Dobby, please."
"D…Dobby is remembering…an argument that Master and Mistress is having years ago, Sir."
"Tell me what happened, Dobby," said Draco.
Dobby shut his eyes in concentration as he conjured up what appeared to be a difficult memory to relive. "Dobby is remembering…Before Master Draco is being sent to school, Dobby is cleaning behind the big clock in the Gallery Room, Sir. Mistress is there but she isn't knowing that Dobby is there. Dobby is being quiet so Dobby doesn't upset Mistress. Then," Dobby shuddered, "Master is coming in. He is really angry with Mistress and they is having a row."
Draco took a breath to try and rein in his growing anger. "What did they row about, Dobby?"
Dobby looked up at him, "Master Draco, Sir!"
"Me?"
"Yes, Sir. Master is angry because Mistress is accepting Master Draco's place in Hogwarts without his permission. Master is saying that he doesn't want Master Draco going to Hogwarts. He is wanting Master Draco to go to Du…Dung…"
"Durmstrang," Draco prompted. His Father had wanted him to go there, but Mother objected and they had sent him here. "That was what they rowed about?"
"Yes, Sir. Master is being very angry with Mistress. He is saying that she is interfering in his business. That Master Draco going to Hogwarts will make things complicated for him. Mistress is saying that she doesn't care. That she wants Master Draco to stay close to her and that she is not sending him to Dungstang. Mistress is saying that it is done, Hogwarts is already being told, so that is that. Then…"
Dobby stopped and started to shudder uncontrollably. "Then what?" Draco urged it to continue. "What happened?"
Dobby's eyes went wide again. It shook it's head. "Dobby is not knowing Sir," it said emphatically. "Dobby is not seeing Sir. Dobby is shutting his eyes. He is trying to being small and quiet so he is not noticed by Master, Sir."
"Don't lie to me Dobby," Draco said, his temper inching closer and closer to breaking point with each passing moment. "Whether you saw it or not, you do know what happened. Now tell me."
Dobby shut his eyes again. "Dobby isn't seeing what is happening…But Dobby is hearing Master yell and…Mistress scream and fall to the floor."
"He hit her?" Draco could barely say the words.
Dobby nodded slowly. "Dobby thinks so, Sir."
Draco swallowed, he was nearly blind with anger and pain. "Then what?" he croaked, he had to hear the rest now, he had come this far.
"Then…" Dobby started, then sniffed. Draco was surprised to see it crying when he looked over. "Then Dobby is hearing Master shout…the word…the word that h…hurts."
"The word that hurts?" asked Draco, and then his mind filled in the gap. "You mean Crucio, don't you?" he asked slowly.
Dobby cowered and hid its face when it heard the word as if expecting it to hurt. When it didn't, Dobby looked up and nodded slowly. Draco dropped back onto the floor hard. "He tortured her," he said quietly, hoping that hearing the words would make it easier to accept.
Dobby seemed to think it was a question. It nodded and sniffed. "Mistress is screaming. Dobby had never heard Mistress scream before. Dobby is…not liking the sound." The elf paused and wiped away another tear before blowing his nose on his jumper. "Master…Master is doing it again, Sir, and Mistress is screaming again, louder now. Then everything is being quiet. All Dobby is hearing is Dobby's own heart Sir. Then…Master is saying that what's done is done, but that Mistress isn't to interfere in his business again. Master is saying that if Mistress is interfering again, ever," Dobby stopped and gulped through a sniff. "He is saying he is going to kill Mistress."
Draco hunched forward, feeling as if he was going to throw up at any moment. Lucius tortured her! He couldn't believe it, but the elf wasn't lying to him. Free or not, house elves just didn't have it in them to tell bald faced lies so convincingly. He tortured her! The bastard. He tortured her…and then he killed her! Draco saw Lucius' face in front of him again and his stomach knotted up with rage. His breathing became rapid and shallow and he started to sweat as adrenaline flowed into him. The world blurred and faded to nothing. Nothing existed for him except his anger and an inescapable pain in his heart. He lashed out, trying to smash the pain but it was no good. The pain expanded, making it hard to breathe. It spread down his arms and legs, making them ache and throb. Coughing he dropped to his knees, feeling suddenly cold. He didn't remember standing up. Every part of him was sore. His clothes were drenched in sweat. He looked down to see that the floor beneath him was covered in dust and broken pieces of wood. He looked up to see the room in chaos. The table was smashed into smithereens, the chair too. His books were shredded and scattered about the floor. He turned to see the bed tossed over on its side. The walls were streaked with what looked like blood! Draco couldn't fathom what had just happened. He fought to concentrate. Each streak on the walls started with a splatter which looked…about the size of his fist. He looked down at his hands. His gloves were tattered and torn, he could see his bloody knuckles through the leather.
Draco stood slowly and looked around again, his mind started to put things together, to fill in the blanks. He got images of shattering wood and flying furniture, recalled the pain of his fists slamming into the walls. He remembered hearing screams and based on the pain in his throat, they had come from him.
Dobby!
Draco spun as he remembered the elf. It had been here when Draco's little tantrum had started but he had no memory of it after that. Draco's eyes settled to the bed and his heart fell. It was lying on the precise spot where the elf had been kneeling. Was Dobby under that? Draco grabbed the bed and heaved, but without his temper fuelled strength, was unable to even budge it. His wand! He needed to find it. He patted his pockets and felt it inside his cloak.
'Thank you,' he sent to the cloak and pulled it out. He stepped back and levitated the bed, dreading what he would see beneath it. To his immense relief the floor under the bed was empty. There was no trace of the elf anywhere.
"He must have run off in fright," said Draco to himself, relieved. He let out the deep breath that he had been holding and dropped the bed with a heavy thud. It landed at a precarious angle. Draco was sure it would eventually topple over, but he didn't care. His father's face still hung before his eyes, bleeding anger into his soul. Draco had to be rid of it, had to be rid of him once and for all. There was only one way to do that, and one person who could help. He spun on his heel and marched through the debris of his prison, out the door and down the stairs.
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Part of Hermione knew that she couldn't possibly succeed. On a good day, and had she been thinking clearly then she might just have been able to find Draco if she looked hard enough. This, however, was not a good day and she most certainly was not thinking clearly. The dungeons beneath Hogwarts were a bizarre tangle of twisted, interlocking corridors. It was easy to lose your way down here and next to impossible to search them alone in any sensible way. Hermione was not being sensible. She was almost certain that she had been down this corridor before. Almost, but not definitely; tonight all the corridors looked the same. Maybe that was why she was lost. She'd been running in circles and based on the stitch in her side and the pain in her legs, she must have been running for hours. Finally she could run no further or she would collapse. Draco wasn't down here. But where was he? She coughed and spluttered as she tried to catch her breath. Her heart rate slowed gradually.
'Where is he?' she asked herself for the thousandth time. She looked left and right, willing the shadows to give way to her eyes and give her some clue as to Draco's whereabouts. Dobby said he was hurt. She didn't know how badly and she wanted, no needed to find out. There had to be something, some way for her to find him. She tried to make herself believe it, but didn't do a good job. It was nothing more than a guess that he would be down here at all. He could be anywhere, and if he was in trouble, the odds of her finding him in time were slim at best. That was it, it was time to face it, she wasn't going to find him without help. Dumbledore would help her, he'd find Draco. She was about to set off for the Headmaster's Office when a shadow passed by the end of the corridor, a tall, thin shadow of a boy.
Her heart skipped, "Draco!" she whispered to herself and set off after him. She rounded the corner and came to an abrupt halt. A blinding ball of light shone in her eyes, the business end of a Lumos spell. The wand's owner was nothing more than a dark shadow beyond the light. Hermione stepped back and shielded her eyes as the shadow spoke.
"Well well well, what do we have here?" said a cold voice in a wicked tone. "You should know better than to run around the castle at night all alone, Granger." A laugh. "You never know who you're going to run into."
Hermione's head started to growl at her again, the sound of it lifted the small hairs on the back of her neck. Anger grew inside her and she slapped out, batting the offensive light away from her eyes. "Stop that," she hissed.
The response was another laugh. Hermione blinked, trying to force her eyes to adjust to the darkness once more. The shadow moved toward her. She felt two strong hands seize her by the shoulders and push her back into the wall. The blinding light returned. "Stop that," mewed the voice in a mocking tone.
The growl grew louder in her head, her fingers closed on her wand and she pulled it out. Batting the light away again, she stepped forward and levelled her wand at the shadow. "I said sto…"
There was a movement and her wand was knocked out of her hand. "Now now," said the voice, growing cold again, "play nice Granger or we won't have any fun."
Hermione blinked and pressed herself into the wall. The shadow loomed over her. His wand was still lit though he hadn't raised it again. Slowly her eyes adjusted enough for Hermione to see his face. "Theodore?" she said in amazement. "What the hell are you playing at?"
Theodore laughed. There was a hungry look in his eyes that stirred something in Hermione, a cold fear. "Oh so feisty, Granger," he said, lifting his free hand and running a finger down her jaw line. The sensation horrified her. Fear turned to rage. The growl in her head rose to a deafening level. She closed both fists and slammed them into his chest, letting out a guttural snarl as she threw her weight into him. Theodore staggered back, then recovered his balance. Hermione snarled again and made to leap at him but he was quicker than her. Before she could reach him, before she could smash his face in, his wand shot up and blinded her again. Theodore stepped aside and Hermione missed him completely. She staggered and collided with the opposite wall of the corridor, barely catching herself before she fell flat on her face. Theodore laughed behind her. "Phfewww," he said. "That was close. I never knew you had it in you. This might be more fun than I imagined it…" There was a slight coughing sound. Theodore stopped speaking. He turned, casting the light of his wand down the corridor. "What the hell are you doing here?" he hissed. Hermione turned to look. Etean was standing there, his eyes shone like diamonds in the light of Theodore's spell. The growling in Hermione's head changed pitch, the anger it had brought a moment ago faded slightly as Etean's mouth twisted into a grin.
"Just taking a walk, Theo," he said in his normal, carefree voice. "I was passing nearby and heard voices." Theodore glared at him as Etean stepped closer, further into the light. Etean looked at Hermione for a moment, she felt a sudden chill run down her spine. The kind you get when you're caught in a cage with a wild animal that may or may not decide to attack you. As Etean looked at her, Hermione could almost see the decision going on behind his eyes. His smirk remained as he turned back to Theodore. "When you said you had business to attend to, I never imagined that," he pointed at Hermione, "this is what you had in mind."
If Hermione felt annoyed at being spoken of in this way, the sound in her head and the fact that she didn't know what Etean would do if she spoke kept her silent. Theodore seemed thoroughly annoyed with Etean and, it seemed, he lacked any desire to hide it. "I don't care what you imagined Etean, this is my business and this is private!" he spat the last word. "Now if you don't mind," he nodded down the corridor, "fuck off!" It was said as an order.
Etean continued to walk between them, turning all the while to keep his face directed at Theodore. When Theodore ordered him to leave, Hermione nearly squealed in fright. She saw something in his eyes for an instant, a flash. The animal had decided to attack. There was no change in his outward demeanour, no sign of his choice but it had happened, Hermione was sure of it. Theodore appeared to have missed it, he stared at Etean's unchanging face and scowled. "Well?" he hissed after a moment. "What the fuck are you waiting for?"
Etean spread his arms wide. "Nothing," he gave Theodore a slight bow. "Nothing at all." He turned and walked away, fading into the shadows. He was almost out of sight before he stopped and bent down as if to retrieve something. Theodore had returned his attention to Hermione, the hunger back in his eyes. He seemed to think that Etean was gone, he hadn't noticed him stop. "Theo?" said Etean calmly. Hermione tensed, sensing something coming.
Theodore growled again and turned. "What?" he barked.
Etean answered in kind. Hermione didn't see him move but there was a flash of light and Theodore crumpled to the ground. The light of his wand died, leaving Hermione in total darkness. Over the sound of her heart racing and the growl in her head that still hadn't stopped. Hermione heard slow footsteps as Etean strolled back toward her. "Never tell me what to do," he said, finishing his last statement. Hermione swallowed in the dark, the animal had attacked once, would he attack twice?
She opened her mouth to speak but never got the chance. Etean reached out blind and clamped a hand over her mouth. He whispered and there was light. Etean was holding a wand aloft. Hermione's eyes were drawn to it and she was surprised to see that it was her wand he was holding. Without speaking, he twisted the wand in his fingers and offered it to her. She reached out with a trembling hand and took it. Etean's eyes sparkled in the light of the spell. Hermione was transfixed by them, the rest of the world vanished. The growl in her head changed again, becoming softer. Etean's voice boomed out in her mind. 'GRYFFINDOR…NOW!'
It was an order and Hermione would obey. Of course she would obey. She blinked once, and she had obeyed. She was standing alone in the dying light of the fire in the Gryffindor Common Room. Silence! There was nothing but silence in her head…bliss! Then her mind betrayed her. 'Draco!' she still had to find him. Now she had to start all over again. She turned to leave and stopped. The growl in her head returned once more, accompanied by Etean's voice. 'STAY!' he ordered, and she stayed.
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Draco was halfway to the Dungeons before it occurred to him that he looked a mess and would more than stand out if he were seen by anyone. He flipped his hood over his head and touched his cloak,
'Hide me,' he sent, feeling the tiniest of responses as it obeyed. He slipped down the back stairs to the Dungeons and ducked behind a hidden panel, taking a short cut almost without thinking. The chill of the night air made him shiver but he ignored it.
Draco met no one on his way to the Training Room, a fact that he was glad of. He reached the empty piece of wall and touched the hidden symbol. He didn't know if Etean was there or what he would say if he was but he was going to find out. The door opened and he stepped in. Etean was there, just as he had hoped. He was pacing and seemed to have not noticed Draco at all. It took him a moment to remember that he was invisible.
Draco lowered his hood and told the cloak to let him be seen again. Etean still didn't notice him so Draco stepped forward and cleared his throat. Etean wheeled around to face him, his face blanked with shock for a moment.
"What the hell happened to you?" he asked. Draco looked himself over for a moment and was about to answer when Etean waved him off. "No." He laughed quietly. "Don't bother." He shook his head slightly. "What is it with you and fighting the walls, Draco?"
"They're easy targets," said Draco in a flat tone.
"That they are," said Etean. "So…I'm glad to see you're…out and about again."
"What?" Draco asked before he realised. "Oh," he said, stunned. "Yes I am."
"And?"
"And?"
Etean laughed. "Forgetting for a moment that I can read your mind, my friend, it has always been my experience that anyone that has just had…an epiphany shall we say…will undoubtedly have more to say for himself than, 'Yes I am'! So get on with it."
"Right," Draco took a breath and pushed his fathers face as far from his mind as he could, he needed to say this with a clear head. "Epiphany?" he shook his head, "I don't know about that, but I have decided something."
"Yes?"
"Yes…I have decided that I want your help…to kill my father!"
Etean didn't react the way that Draco had expected him to. He just blinked once, then nodded, "I had a feeling that you would sooner or later."
Draco sighed. "Did you? And?"
Etean paused and drew himself up to his full height. "And," he started, "I could help you. If by help you mean track him down."
"Track him down and help me kill him. I want to do it and I want you to teach me how to do it."
Etean simply cocked his head to the side. "Do you now?"
"Yes, I do." Draco raised an eyebrow. "You know where he is?"
"There are reports…it wouldn't pose that much of a challenge to find him if I were so inclined."
"And are you so inclined?"
Etean paused. "Perhaps, but tell me this first. You want your father dead? Why? Do you want revenge? Or would you call it justice?"
"You can call it what you like, I'll settle for his head. So will you help me or not?"
"You are forgetting our other concerns Draco, they still take precedence."
"To hell with your 'other concerns'," Draco screamed, "I don't give a damn anymore. You help me kill Lucius and I'll do whatever it takes." Draco lost control, he advanced on Etean, shouting all the way. "Do you hear me, Etean? I'll walk right up to Voldemort with a smile on my face and a song in my heart and drag him into hell along with me," he took a breath and swallowed painfully. "Deal?"
Etean shrugged the question away to Draco's amazement. "I could arrange what you ask for. To be honest, revenge or justice, it doesn't matter, Lucius deserves everything he gets, but do you? The only question that remains is: are you prepared for what it would do to you?"
"As long as he's dead, who cares what happens to me?"
Etean laughed. "Nobody apparently, not even you. Sooner or later you will, or you will end up dead but, that's for later. For now just tell me, do you understand what you have just asked me to do?"
Draco hissed and turned away. "I don't want to play another one of your stupid games, Etean."
Etean spread his arms wide. "No game, just a question, but if you'd prefer another one, try this. If you had the chance, if your father were right here, now, how would you kill him?"
"Does it matter?"
"You'd be surprised," said Etean, no trace of humour in his voice. "Would you do it fast, or slow? Would you use magic, or a weapon? Or would you simply strangle him with your bare hands?"
"Well, unless you are finally willing to share some of the secrets about how you do what you can do, it seems that my options would be limited, but I would kill him, Etean," Draco turned back to Etean, "any way I could." Etean seemed to accept this, he nodded slowly then started to pace slowly in a circle around Draco, looking at him all the way. "What the hell are you doing?" Draco spat at him after the second complete orbit.
"Thinking…examining…deciding," was the reply.
"What are you thinking? What are you deciding? Have we a deal or not?"
"Patience. I must first decide if you are ready."
"Ready for what?"
"Ready to learn the hardest lesson that I will ever have to teach you," said Etean, coming to a stop in front of Draco and settling him with a hard stare for a moment.
"If it will help me kill him," said Draco, "I'm ready for anything."
Etean smiled for a second. "We'll see." Etean walked to the wall. He laid a hand on the stone. For a moment nothing happened, then Draco felt the room shift beneath his feet. The whole room vibrated for a second as the wall surrounding Etean's fingers started to glow. A pattern of hidden glyphs and symbols appeared on the surface of the wall. They reminded Draco of those he had seen in the other training room, the one at the Circle Academy. The memory seemed to be from another lifetime. The glyphs continued to glow brighter, the pattern spread and spread until the whole section of wall was glowing. Etean removed his hand and stepped back. The room shook again, a series of thuds and scratches filled the air. The floor shifted again and then with a final thundering boom and a blinding flash, it all stopped. Draco shielded his eyes against it then looked up to see the glow fade from the wall. The stone started to peel away to reveal a door. It was identical to the door that connected the other training room to the rest of the Academy.
"What just happened?" Draco asked.
Etean stepped forward and knocked the door three times before answering. "Something…and nothing." He turned round. "This place is now linked to the Academy."
"The Academy?" Draco couldn't believe it. "But how?"
Etean sighed. "I told you that this place exists only as needed, the same is true of the Academy and…now of the connection between the two. Thinking of it as you do, this place is now both a part of Hogwarts and of the Academy. It is in the castle and, in a way so is the Academy. Does that make sense?"
Draco thought about it one way, then another, then gave up. "No," he said, shaking his head.
"Good." Etean nodded. "You'd be a liar if you said you did." If he was planning on saying anything else, he was interrupted. There was a sound from the door or a heavy bolt being drawn back. Etean stepped aside as the door swung inward. Draco swallowed hard when he saw the dark, hooded figure standing in the doorway. The shadowy man walked forward into the room. The door closed behind him as he lowered his hood to reveal short, greying hair and a lean face. His dark brown eyes stared straight ahead unblinking.
"Who…who?" Draco stammered in sudden fear.
"He is…my assistant. He is here to help you learn this lesson. His identity is not really important, but if it helps, his name is Antoine."
"Antoine?" Draco gulped. "Your assistant?"
"Yes," said Etean, pacing around behind Draco. "Touch his mind."
"What?"
"Do it…it's OK, Antoine knows why he is here. Now touch his mind."
Draco steadied himself and reached out to touch Antoine's mind. He concentrated and brought his thoughts into focus. "He's thinking…"
"I don't care." Etean cut him off. "That isn't the point of this. I know you can read his mind but I want you to see it."
"What?"
"Draw back, pull away from the thoughts until you can see the whole of his mind at once," Etean said slowly. "If you need to, close your eyes."
Draco's eyes fluttered closed. He concentrated harder and tried to see Antoine's mind. The thoughts faded into a chaotic buzz as he drew back. At Etean's direction, Draco gave each thought a shape, a colour. Gradually an image formed in his mind, a ball of chaotic energy. Thoughts buzzed and flashed about in a hypnotic dance.
'Good,' Etean's voice sounded in his head. Draco was aware of him, watching through Draco's own eyes. 'You can see it. Now, give it a form.'
'How?'
'Don't think, just let it take shape. It isn't what it looks like now, not a formless ball of thoughts and feelings. It's a living thing, a free entity all of its own. Let it take its shape.'
As Etean spoke, the ball of thoughts started to shrink. The light inside it grew brighter as it collapsed in on itself and took shape. Draco watched in stunned amazement as it started to form…a butterfly. Draco couldn't remember ever seeing the like of it before. It was a butterfly, but it was as if it was made of light. Nothing he could conceive of could be more beautiful, more perfect. It just sat there in his mind, seeming content merely to exist.
"It's beautiful," Draco whispered. The sound seemed to scare it. The butterfly moved, turned to fly away. "NO!" Draco shouted, reaching out to catch it. It couldn't go away so soon, he wanted it to stay. It fluttered, Draco reached out but he couldn't reach it, Etean was holding him back. The butterfly fluttered again. "Let me go!" he yelled.
Etean released his hold and Draco surged forward. He reached out and seized the butterfly with both hands. A sudden jolt ran through him, a wave of pain, an instant of fear and it was gone. He heard a thud and opened his eyes. Antoine had collapsed, he was lying face down on the floor, unmoving. Etean was leaning against the wall. He stepped forward.
"Well done," he said.
Draco looked from Etean to Antoine and back again. "What?" was all he could say.
"I said well done Draco. That was faster than most."
"What was faster? What just happened?" he looked back at Antoine. A lump swelled in his throat, Antoine was not moving…at all. "Is he…"
"Dead?" Etean finished for him. Draco nodded. "That depends," he stopped beside Antoine and with cold unconcern, lifted him with his foot and rolled him over onto his back, "on how you define death." Antoine lay on the ground. Draco saw that he wasn't dead. His chest rose and fell as he breathed in and out, his eyes were open and staring at the ceiling, but he wasn't moving, not a muscle. Etean continued. "Is he alive?" He cocked his head to the side. "Well his heart is beating. You can see he's breathing…but," he knelt down and passed his hand over Antoine's eyes, getting no response, "his mind is gone."
"Gone? How?"
"You just destroyed it." Etean said it simply. "Crushed it in the palm of your hand – metaphorically speaking of course."
Draco's heart froze solid. "I didn't mean to…I just wanted to…"
"Hold it? Possess it?" Etean clucked his tongue and smiled. "The mind is a funny thing, brilliant…complex…"
"Beautiful!" Draco added without realising it.
"Beautiful," Etean nodded, "and fragile. It takes a different form for everyone that sees it, but always something small and delicate. For you it was a…"
"Butterfly," Draco filled in the pause, his throat knotted as he looked down into Antoine's vacant eyes. "It was a butterfly."
"And now it's gone." Draco rocked on his heels. Etean stood up and closed his fist in the air. "You destroyed something that can never be replaced in this world and now," he backed away toward the door. "Now you have to face what you did."
Etean turned to leave, Draco chased after him. "Wait…where are you going?"
"Out for a walk," he said dismissively.
Draco couldn't believe how little Etean seemed to care. "A walk? You can't…You have to…"
"What?" Etean spun round. Draco stopped, locked in place by his eyes, "What do I have to do?"
"I…I don't know," Draco's mind wouldn't engage, he looked at Antoine. "Fix this somehow."
"Fix it?" Etean laughed. "How would I do that?" Before Draco could answer, Etean cut him off. "No, I can't fix this. It's your problem now…you deal with it. If you can, then we will have a deal Draco." He turned away again and opened the door. "I'll see you in the morning." And he was gone.
"What?" Draco shrieked, crossing to the door in a heartbeat. "The morning? You expect me to stay here till…" he never finished the sentence. The door of the Training Room had closed behind Etean and now it wouldn't budge. It was locked and Draco had no idea how to open it, he turned and pressed his body into the door. He was trapped! His eyes settled on Antoine's immobile form. Trapped!