The red ambiance of this horrid travel engulfs them. The burning magic is coursing through his skull again, and giving him the most irritating migraine. He screams out, in pain, but the air rips the sound from his throat before anyone can hear it.
I guess it's a good thing, he thinks because they love to hear you scream.
There had been so much screaming that day. Horrible, piercing screams. Final screams. Vile, wicked laughter.
"Your fatuous acts disappoint me, Draco. Here I thought you had potential to be something great. But it seems you have been weak from the start."
Draco can't tell if he's hearing real sound or if Voldemort is speaking through his mind. At any rate, he can't respond.
It's not that bad though, that he can't speak. Because the next thing he sees leaves him speechless.
They were half-people once more, as they stood around a hill a few blocks away from the Weasley's shack-house.
Hermione and Draco were sitting across from each other with their legs crossed.
"Why, again, did you insist I come out here with you?" Draco asks, pompously, "how many times do I have to tell you it could never work out between us. I know that I'm devastatingly handsome, rich, a-"
"Malfoy. Stop it. You know that I wouldn't be drawn to you, ever. Not even in my worst nightmare."
That day was his worst nightmare.
A flash of hurt crosses his face, before his smirk is back in place. But his eyes give him away. He can see it now that he's witnessing it secondhand. He wonders if Voldemort sees it. He wonders if she sees it.
"We're here because I can't fix the Weasley's and I think it's creepy of me to just sit in that room with you, talking as if my friends weren't comatose on the floor."
Fix. What a funny word for to have used. Like people could be fixed as easily as wands or caldrons.
If you're in the people-fixing business, he thinks, you should give me a go. I'm pretty damned broken. I'm about as fucked up as they get.
"Well, now that we're sitting on this big pile of dirt-"
"Pleasant hill-"
"What do you suppose we talk about?"
Hermione opens her mouth and then shuts it again.
"No, I don't think your ability to look like a fish is worth discussing."
Clearly, this is an important decision to her. She sits there and calculates for a minute.
"Let's play Truth."
"What the hell is that?"
"How have you not played this before? What did you do on car trips or part-" she sits there for a moment, realizing by the foreign look on his face that he did not go on car trips or to Truth kind of parties.
"Okay, Truth was a game invented by evil preteen girls. You ask one person a question and they have to tell the truth. For each question you ask you're entitled to a followup question. Let's say you don't want to answer your question. You say 'pass'. If I can answer the next question you ask me I win. But if I can't, the game continues. It can last from hours to months."
"How do you know I'm not going to lie, Granger?" he says slickly.
She grabs his hand and a surprised, but smug look crosses his face.
"And you claimed you weren't into me."
"Iureiurando!"she says, and a blue mist wraps around both of their wrists before evaporating.
"That's how I know, Malfoy. And don't kid yourself. New kid goes first."
"How did you just do wandless magic?"
"It's a simple spell, made specifically for this game."
He was making no effort to hide his fascination.
"Do you know any other wandless magic?"
She hesitates.
"Yes."
"Why didn't you harm me?"
He glares at her and thinks for a moment.
"I didn't want to."
Really mature, Draco, really witty, he chides himself.
"Why didn't you want to?"
"You're the most rational. How else was I suppose to get a word in about why I'm here?"
"Do you know any dark magic?" he asks.
He waits for her answer as if it's the most interesting thing he will ever hear.
"Yes."
"Have you ever preformed it?"
"Yes."
His eyebrows raise as he looks at her inquisitively.
"Why did you come here?"
He can't lie, but the truth will get him killed.
"To gain the trust of the light side."
"But why?"
"Pass."
This game intrigues him terribly and he wants to keep it going. A humiliating question could save him.
"Granger. Out of Weasley, Potter, and I, who would you most like to shag?"
Her cheeks are on fire and she looks at him as if she wants nothing more than to drop dead, she's so ashamed.
"Pass."
"What now?" he asks.
"Well, those questions are taboo and the game continues."
"Who is your best friend?"
He considers his answer and it stings.
"I don't have any real friends."
"Do you want them?"
He tries to say At times, I think they would be beneficial, but the only thing that comes out is
"Yes."
Damned spell.
"Do you fancy the little Weasle king?"
Her brain shouts I should but her heart shouts I can't.
"No."
"Potter?"
"At one time, but not anymore. Not for a few years."
"Who was the last girl you fancied?"
"Cho Chang."
"When was this?"
"Ugh, Granger. Pre-Potter, I'll tell you that."
He tries to say I would never like a girl that Potter pawed all over but he couldn't.
"How far have you gone with a bloke?"
"Just snogging."
"Aw, isn't that precious?" he teased. "Who was he?"
"More than one guy."
"How far have you gone with a girl?"
"I'm no prude Granger. I've gone all the way."
"Who was the most recent slu-girl?"
"I can't recall her name. Some sixth year."
She grimaces, and for a moment he looks ashamed.
"Who were these fine young gentlemen?"
"One was Victor. The other was Ron."
"Didn't you say that you didn't fancy him? If this truth spell only works on me, I think this is hardly fair and-"
"Just because I don't fancy him doesn't mean he doesn't fancy me."
"Why do you care about my love life?"
"I'm trying to learn more about you, and this are things I could never find out in a real conversation."
"You do realize that talking and answering isn't just a game, you could always get to know people?"
"Yes."
"Hey!" she says indignantly, "that wasn't my ques-"
"Too bad. Before I forget, where did you learn this dark magic?"
She exhales loudly, obviously whining.
"The restricted section of the library."
"Why did you use it?"
She wants to say self defense but instead she says
"Because the book says that dark magic is more intricate than regular magic. That only really gifted people could use it. I had to prove to myself that I could do it."
"Have you ever used dark magic?"
"Yes, Granger."
"Where did you learn it?"
"In my lovely home."
He's getting detached.
"Do you have self-esteem issues?"
"No."
"Then why are you always so eager to prove yourself?" he asks cynically, "What's the point?"
"So that when people like you tell me that I'm dirt I have something to assure myself that I'm just as good as they are. As you are."
"Why didn't you kill Dumbledore?"
"He talked me out of it."
"Was it for your benefit or for his?"
"Both" he says, and they're both at a loss for words.
She stands up and they head back towards the house.
"Let's continue this anoth-"
Her voice begins to fade.
The pain is returning. The red winds are surrounding them once more.
"Mr. Malfoy, it was at this point that you dug your own grave. You not only played friendly with this girl again, but you told her something you hadn't told us. By choice, you defied your order to kill Albus Dumbledore and then lied about your motives to your master."
And there is only one thing he can say to that.
"You," he starts, so furious he was trembling, "are not my master."
He can't believe he was able to speak out and be heard, above the terrible miasma.
It is at this point that the tiniest bit of hope in him is restored.