I haven't even gotten to half of Night Of The Hunter but this story demanded to be get out for the occasion of Valentine's Day. So, here it /
Photo credit of Draco and Hermione in my cover art goes to /
This was 70% written a year back. So, I am editing them up and posting them. I hope to keep a weekly update /
So enjoy this story, lovelies.
Once upon a time (more like three years and five months ago )
in a place far, far away (Scotland isn't that far away from England, is it? )
lived a prince and a princess. (Oh, come off it. It was a fucking school. There were hundreds of people! But yeah, one prince and one princess ).
They weren't friends at first, (Damn, right! )
but after spending years with each other (and that fucking war )
they became friends (more like tolerated each other , because the eighth year students had gotten a single fucking tower to live in ).
Slowly, as time passed they became more than friends. ("More than friends? Huh! It was completely one-sided."
"Draco, you were dating Pansy back then!"
"No! I was saving her from getting betrothed to Flint."
"How was I supposed to know that?!")
Unfortunately for the prince, he didn't manage to share his feelings with the princess at the right time and she vanished into thin air after their last day at school.
For the princess had a secret. A secret that could be dangerous if someone found out about it (it wasn't that bad secret. )
"Draco, would you please let me write this story in peace?" Hermione turned to look at her husband of three months.
"Just trying to keep the facts straight," Draco replied with a smirk.
"As the wine flowed freely, the evening stood witness to the year's greatest highlight : the commemorative Ministry ball thrown in the honour of the defeat of the Darkness that claimed many lives.
The evening began with the Minister of Magic raising a toast in the memory of our fallen heroes and those who survived to write history. It was a marvelous event, with the elusive heroes and warriors of the battle mingling with each other with an ease that was cemented by the unwavering trust and support built during a very tough time.
The Man who Conquered , Harry Potter, turned up with his wife, Pansy Potter, the beautiful and dashing fashion witch of the year, along with their toddler, James Sirius Potter. They were soon followed by the other member of the Golden Trio, Ron Weasley along with his fianceé, Lavender Brown, the columnist at Daily Prophet.
But alas, the Golden Trio remained the Golden Duo for the rest of the evening. It was glaringly obvious that intellect extraordinaire, the lovely Ms Hermione Granger was missing from the party.
The last time she was seen amidst a grand gathering of people was at the book signing of her latest biography simply titled, The War That Was. Still rated the best best seller in the British book market, Ms Granger 's book is one worth to be kept in the bookcase of every household.
Moving on the other celebrities of the evening, Lord Draco Malfoy was seen joining the party later with gorgeous Dowager Malfoy neé Black as his date. The mother-son duo remained the—"
"Oh look, you made it to the sixth paragraph of the article," Blaise crackled as he read out the latest issue of Britain Weekly, "It was a good move to take Lady Malfoy as your date. Your latest slag wasn't worth showing off."
"My latest slag, as you so eloquently put it, happened to my cousin from the States," Draco replied with a glare.
"As if that has ever stopped the Malfoys," Theo snickered under his breath.
"Hah! You are the one to talk. Salivating over Daphne, who's your third cousin's fourth uncle's second wife's aunt's niece from your mother's side!" Blaise replied.
"How the fuck do you know that?" Theo replied, taking a generous bite of his toast.
"Oh please. It's my duty to know. Scratch that, it's my right to know," Blaise smugly, taking dainty sips from his coffee mug.
Draco rolled his eyes at the daily antics of his friends. Every Friday to Sunday, they met up at their joint house to hang out without public scrutiny. The three of them had their own wings in the house, allowing them sufficient privacy.
It wasn't like the stigma of being on the evil side still hung on them — a last moment snap decision on Draco's part during the end of the sixth year had changed the course of his life. And his friends too.
Now, the three bosom friends lived their lives in most mundane ways possible. They've had enough excitement to last them a lifetime.
But what nagged at Draco still was the missing part of the Golden Trio. When he had returned for his eighth year at Hogwarts, Granger was his assigned partner for...well… almost all the classes. Because he was the only one who could dare to keep up with her in academics. And as time passed, he had grown to care for her.
Yes, she was the one who proposed that they bury the hatchet and at least be civil to each other — she was that compassionate despite being a fierce lioness.
But he had come to enjoy her company and then he had given his heart to her. Wordlessly, obviously. What did you take him for? But wasn't the smartest witch of her generation supposed to understand that?! He did spend every other free time of his with her, always seen in her company. He had even given her that promise jewelry. But too bad, she didn't realise that. Fuck his life. Scratch that, fuck the pureblood courting rules that is never taught at school.
"Surprisingly, they didn't mention anything about that fucker at the party," Blaise commented.
Oh...yeah. That fucker. Apparently, some pureblood sympathiser was waiting to ambush Hermione at that gala. But when he didn't find her, he turned to Draco and shot a spell at him. He had said that traitors needed to be put in their places just like… muggleborns should have been. The man was immediately restrained and thrown in a cell. Non-tolerance of such xenophobia was a very serious matter. The Minister of Magic, Kingsley, had passed strict laws regarding such.
Other than a small lump behind his head from hitting the wall a little too hard, Draco had no other evidence on him regarding that assault.
Head bump but no Hermione. That girl seemed to have vanished off the face of the world. Somehow, he was suspicious her close friends knew her whereabouts but were keeping their mouths shut. And if he said he wanted to reach her because he… had strong feelings for her, another head bump would be in his near future. He didn't need to be a Seer to predict that.
Draco coughed slightly and summoned his glass and conjured himself some water.
"Are you alright, mate?" Theo asked. "That's your sixteenth glass of water in a span of three hours. Too much water causes death too."
"I'm feeling hot all over. My throat is parched. Where is all this water getting stored?" Draco coughed as he spoke.
"Mate, you're getting red around your neck. Allergy?" Blaise asked, putting down his newspaper to look at Draco's inflamed neck.
Draco's coughing increased now, along with the itchiness. He itched at his neck, his face, his arms. His whole body was burning and itching.
"Could he be cursed?" Theo murmured as he tried to cast a winter breath charm over Draco.
"I'm calling my family's healer," Blaise replied as he rushed towards the Floo.
The healer wasn't able to find anything wrong with him. The curse had a trigger, but it was impossible to find. He had tried contacting the Weasley cursebreaker, but curse their horrible luck, the redhead war hero was out of the country for the next five months.
The changes weren't subtle at all. The unquenchable thirst had begun the morning after the Ball. At first, he began drinking water a bit more, but now he just couldn't stop drinking water. His whole body was itching, as if his skin was too tight for him. His mother was distraught, although she had the forethought of making Draco go wallow around in their natural pool in the gardens.
That eased a bit of his ache. He spent half the day there, drinking water, drinking lemonade, just drinking like a damn fish. By late evening, he could feel his unnatural thirst abating. There was a burning in his throat, but it didn't want a water bath every minute.
Then came the itch. The same day, late into the night he felt as if he was on fire. He felt his insides were burning. He was delirious. When afternoon had rolled in and he came back to his senses, he found he had tried to scratch his skin off himself. His arms and torso and anywhere his arm could reach was scratched. There were bits of his own skin and blood under his fingernails. He threw up when he saw them. Apparently, he had been so violent during the episode that nobody, not even the House Elves, had been able to help him.
Now he had a burning throat and scratched up body. Way to go. Could it be any worse?
. . .
He got his answer two days later when he started to shed his skin like he had got a damn sunburn. He grimaced as he peeled a long stretch of skin off his face. He was exhausted. He still had those heat flares; hadn't gotten a good night's sleep for the past three days. He was sore, peeling skin of his body, and tired. He was done with the whole thing. What was the use of getting cursed to peel your skin of your body other than mental torture? But looking at this from another point of view, it was only a mild inconvenience. His insides were not rotting, his blood wasn't boiling, he was not vomiting up his innards. Then what was the point of this curse? He was scared to think what tomorrow would bring.
. . .
Tomorrow brought hardening skin. It brought small scales, almost like those of a dragon forming near his temple.
. . .
The day after brought accelerated hairfall. By the end of the day, his luscious blonde hair was lying all over the floor of his room as he curled up into a ball and sat by the foot of his bed, legs pulled towards his chest, head resting on the top of his knees.
. . .
The only ones who could enter his shut hole were the House elves. Mimi did try to coax some food into him but it could only do so much. His face, his arms, his legs, back and front- scales everywhere. He was turning into a lizard. A fucking lizard.
Everyday without fail his friends and his mother would knock on his door to let them in. Blaise had actually cast Bombarda on the door. But they were enchanted goblin made ancestral doors — they opened only to male Malfoy's. Not even his mother could open them. For that he was glad. He knew he wouldn't be able to stand the look on her face if she saw what he had become.
He'd rather die than let anyone see what he's becoming.
Maybe this was karma coming back to bite him. He wished he could see her one last time. How he missed that crazy girl. He was waiting for her. And now, there was no guarantee that she had not married some exotic guy like that Krum and had had two and a half kids; she might not ever be back. Still… he would have liked to get a closure. Heart wants what the heart wants.
They were still knocking on his door. He had half a mind to snarl at them but he was so exhausted, mentally and physically. He got up from his bed and walked towards his dresser to grab his socks. It got pretty drafty in the evening. He looked down at his hand that resembled more of a claw. The nails had elongated to sharp points and the colour… a ghastly dark brown-black.
Bald, scales for skin, claws for hands. Hideous. That's what he has become. Hideous. Monstrous.
His eyes fell on the ornate mirror that hung just above his dressing table. It had a vine pattern all around the long oval mirror, the leaves on the vine were intricate and delicate. A hand crafted marvel, all the way from Italy. It almost looked as if a silver vine grew around the mirror. There were tiny flowers in the tangled vines too. It was beautiful. Then he looked at his reflection and his breath got stuck in his throat out of disgust.
He had lost his ears. They had turned into spiky outgrowth that ran alongside his temple. His reflection lifted a claw and traced the hardened scales covering his whole head. Scales that were the same colour as his skin had been. His eyes had turned into slits like a cat. They had lost their stormy grey colour; instead it looked as if he had burst all the blood vessels in his eyes. So a terrifying amalgamate of grey and red.
As he continued taking account of his changes, his eyes filled with tears that he couldn't shed. No cursebreaker would be able to undo this curse. The ones that he had consulted had given up all hope. No potion, no salve, no balm — nothing. The local experts had given up by the time he lost all his hair. The international experts had yet to reply back to the Owls they had sent out. The curse was acting so fast that Draco was sure that by the end of the week he was going to become a human dragon hybrid. And there was nothing anyone could do.
He snarled and backhanded his mirror, shattering the ornate mirror into pieces, the frame bending under the assault it suffered.
Oh, did he mention the sudden strength in his limbs? There was that as well.
He needed a walk through the gardens.
The House elves knew their young master was out of his den after three difficult days. They had felt the curse grow more and more, tainting the aura they associated with their young master. Not being able to help the young master was such a horrible feeling. Mimi wrung her tiny hands in helplessness and worry. Maybe she could go to him and apply the new salve that Mistress had brought, but was unable to put on the young master. She was still fretting over what to do when she felt a tingle run down her spine and looked towards her young master, only to find him withering on the grass in pain as the loud cracks and snaps of bones breaking filled the night.
The inhuman growl that followed soon had Mimi apparate into the house to bring Mistress out. This was something beyond Mimi now.
Mimi and Mistress and young master's loyal friends came running out into the rose garden but they only found gouges on the immaculate lawn and completely burnt down rose bushes. It was as if the beautiful garden was visited by a dragon.
Mistress fell down on the grass, a heart wrenching sob leaving her mouth. Mimi cried wringing her ears in self inflicted punishment. She has failed her family. She has failed her young master.
To Be Continued...