Disclaimer: Again, I should not need to express this simple concept twice--this thing is for free, reading this won't cost you a penny...it means that I don't make anything outta this. Despite my urge to say the complete opposite, my consciousness does not allow me to. "To be or not to be?" Ah...pay me, pay me!!!! PS: for the true disclaimer, please feel free to go to chapter three.
Dear Ashmmon: I'm sorry about the cliffs but I just couldn't help myslef. It's killing me too.
My breath became ragged and my voice was hoarse in the cold and empty chamber.
"WHO'S RESPONSIBLE FOR ROOM NO. 208? WHO WAS IT?!" I yelled. None of the owners of the pairs of frightened faces have ever seen me angry before, let alone yell at someone. That impression would be no more. A small voice quivered to meet my question, a near whisper in the bunch of staff before me, "I…I am."
"SO EXPLAIN WHY RONALD WEASLEY IS GONE!" I roared, despite the eerie quiet in the room.
Draco Malfoy was not one to panic when it came to emergencies. The screen flickered until a firm press of a finger blacked it out. He stood up. Ronald Weasley is gone from the hospital. That was the first-hand news he'd gotten from Harry damn Potter. One of his men from the most elite troops in the RIA is missing because of the most stupid of reasons. He couldn't understand. Now of all time. He couldn't quite take it.
He needed confirmation.
"I'm waiting," Draco pushed, strumming his fingers on the table which he propped himself up against.
"Malfoy," Harry began, his irritancy rising as well as his frustration. "I apologize." Someone is going to be so sorry for this they'd wish they'd never been born; he nearly bit on his tongue as he resumed, "I'll do my best to get him back. He's my friend too, so I don't see why you should be suspicious of me."
Draco snorted. "Of course, it's not like I'm the one responsible over here."
"It won't happen again," Harry declared hotly, sensing how bizarre it all sounds when it slipped out of his mouth. He wanted to slap this git in front of him, but had no reason whatsoever to support his ground if he did. Draco Malfoy simply looked at him mockingly, almost daring him to do so.
"Well, there won't be a chance for it to happen again, Potter, we all can't afford it if it ever happens twice, I'm afraid. I won't put my trust in you and your hospital's services anymore, and I doubt that the rest of England would if I spat this out." Malfoy furrowed his brows and looked at Harry with a dark look. "Imagine: 'patient Ron Weasley, inhabited temporarily at the supposedly most infamous and therefore guaranteed, secure hospital in England, (well of course it's just a branch so that may have affected the qualities within, take that into account, mind you), kidnapped by Death Eaters—'" he sneered, "—so on and so forth," And with an over-exaggerated sigh, he leaned forward. "Why, wouldn't that be bothering?"
"Shut it, Malfoy, this is none of the hospital's business, it's mine and mine alone." Only so much could be said when it came to serious matters concerning the hospital, Harry wasn't even sure how much of it is true.
"Oh, really, so how's that you've nearly considered beating up one of your assistances?" Draco lolled his head sideways, a questioning look spread across his face.
"Now that is none of your business." Harry shot back, his raven hair standing on its end as he tried to restrain himself from hitting Malfoy.
"Again, you sound just like a three year old trying to get away from punishment."
Harry felt his knuckles tightening. What in Merlin's name does he want?
"The thing is," Draco continued as if he hadn't noticed Harry's reaction, "I've got a brilliant idea," he smiled a pretentiously affable smile, just like a zoo visitor would to the adorable animals within, "which would leave your history, concerning your future career in the healing institution, unscathed." The smile was so sociable that, for a moment, Harry actually thought there was a special radiance coming from it.
But it was oh so short-lived.
Malfoy's smile disappeared as quickly as it came by, replaced by the familiar smirk that Harry knew only too well.
"And what's that?" A sense of nervousness charged through him, and Harry relaxed his fists a little, a tad curious for what is to come next.
"Substitution," the blonde said in a whistling tune.
Harry's heart missed a beat. "For what?"
"Why, for Ronald Weasley," Draco replied nonchalantly, "it's called compensation, making up for a little mistake you've failed to handle with."
"You mean switching places with—?" Draco nodded, waiting.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? I'M NOT GOING TO BE AN AUROR UNDER YOUR ARMY AND CALL YOU A BLOODY COMMANDER JUST BECAUSE I—"
"You don't have to," the calm reply came so unexpected that Harry almost gagged.
"WHAT DO YOU—"
"I mean in private." The commander smirked again. "Discipline is important in the institution, so you'll have to be a bit more polite in public…and call me…" He paused, letting the incredulous look on Harry's face, almost enjoying it. "…Sir".
Harry's mind went blank. For a moment, he could feel that throbbing ebbing from his forehead again, as if Voldemort is going to pop out from his head anytime.
"How dare you," he hissed, his temples aching as if an explosion is about to take place.
"I have my rules and you have yours," Draco said in a dark voice, "we'll see who can make it to their limits. See, if you don't cooperate, I'm afraid I'll have to spread around a bit of information…and it probably wouldn't be very wise if you let me. Get the picture?"
"It sounded rather like final," Harry pointed out, his piercing eyes now shooting daggers at the relaxed brat sitting on the table, seeming very comfy.
"That's because it is."
"What makes you think I'll say yes?"
"As I've already explained; you wouldn't want the reputation of this hospital to be wrecked just because a case you had got out of hand," Draco raised his gaze so that their eyes met. "Not to mention that Ronald Weasley was taken by a Death Eater. Or worse still—Voldemort himself."
Harry stifled a snort, "Yeah, sure—"
"Don't tell me you don't remember your dream."
Harry felt his shoulder tense, accompanied by an involuntarily shudder on the inside. He wasn't prepared to discuss about this yet, let alone hear others bring up the subject. He thought he was the only one with the problem.
"How did you know about them?"
"You're not the only one with the goddamn problem, Potter." Malfoy seized back his gaze and looked the other way. What's left of his smirk faded away into an uneasy, grim expression from what Harry could see from his askew perspective of Draco's profile.
Harry froze. Not that he was even moving, but his whole body froze. It's as if the blood in his veins had stopped flowing altogether. For a long while, he found himself speechless. He was so lost for words that all he could do is to stare at Malfoy as the other went and shut the door with a small click, waking up an idle Harry, temporarily, from the middle of a trance.
"What—what do you mean?" he stuttered when he finally woke up.
"Just like you've heard it. You're not the only one with the problem."
"You have them too?" Harry tried to see Draco Malfoy properly in the dim light, not knowing what to expect.
"Every person who died by Voldemort's curse," Draco said dryly, "would leave a connection in between the Dark Lord and the one he or she is trying to protect." He still didn't look up, and Harry didn't know what to say.
Fortunately, there was no need. "—Everyone who studied Aurostry should have known that by the end of their basic education."
Harry could only stare. Who was it that brought the nightmares into Malfoy's life? He thought would need some champagne to celebrate this new discovery, like he would if he had known this fact earlier. But right now, coming from Malfoy, something just doesn't seem right. And all he could do, really, is to stare.
"Now it's none of your business to wander who is it that leads these stupid nightmares into my life," Malfoy snapped as he looked up, as if he could read Harry's mind.
Harry's gazed zapped right back into focus. "…I'm sorry."
"Well don't be."
Harry tried to look as normal as he could, but found it rather hard to do so without knowing what expression he was actually wearing. He tightened his jaws, setting them in a firm, pressed line, trying to keep his face muscles under control again, but to no avail.
"So…" Harry coughed slightly, "you were saying that Ron might've been captured by Voldemort?"
"Yes; any questions?" Malfoy said without looking up.
"So what're your plans?"
"There aren't any."
Harry was puzzled. "There aren't?"
"Look—" Malfoy got up, "—if he had been caught by the Death Eaters or Voldemort, we won't expect him to be alive by now."
Harry felt a burning sensation seethe inside him. In every pore of his body there seemed to be a little flame setting up, prickling his nerve, and the bloody temper that never failed to create spectacles.
"So I see you're not even trying to save your man, are you?" He said coldly.
"This isn't the time—"
"You're just trying to get a substitute, is that what you're trying to say?"
"No," the reply came slowly.
Harry looked at Draco Malfoy properly now, as if he only saw him for the first time. It was a weird feeling to be looked upon like that, and Malfoy could only snap his eyes shut for a moment, letting the hatred pass through him.
But that couldn't be forever. He had to say something.
"You need to understand, there's no such thing as useless sacrifices."
"I don't have to." Harry felt his fist tightening.
There was silence for a long moment, before Draco broke it.
"…Remember the time when the chamber of secrets was opened?"
It was Harry's turn to shut his eyes, "Yes."
"I am not going to ask you how you've felt when you carried Ronald's sister up from the chamber, but it is necessary that you understand: nothing could be changed just because someone went after the dead, just to bring back a body." Malfoy took a step backward into the shadows, where the circle of light above their heads couldn't reach. He saw Harry's eyes open.
"How can you be sure?" He heard Harry's voice as he might've from thousands of miles away. It sounded incredibly determined, like a child asking the extent of the span of the universe, not preparing to give up until he got a definite answer.
Draco paused, as Harry continued to stare at him.
"The dream." He said, at last, somehow glad that he was in the shadows. Potter's pierce was too intent. He exhaled silently, as if a burden had been freed from him.
"The dream." Harry repeated. He sound unconvinced. "The dream," he said again.
Malfoy said nothing.
"You think that, with a dream you had, you were able to believe that Ron is gone." Harry said, as if discussing some usual routine work. He turned to Draco. "How can you be sure?"
"Because they always come true."
"How so?"
Malfoy sighed. "Look, the things that I've been dreaming about—they're not just about the Dark side's activities—they can be about other things as well. Last time I had a dream about the things that happened exactly twelve hours ago."
"Like Déjà vu?"
"Yes." He paused. "Like Déjà vu."
"And did you dream about Ron dying as well?"
Malfoy admitted with a slight nod. It was slight, but a nod nevertheless.
"And so do you believe that? That Ron is dead by now?" Harry asked, and, without waiting for an answer, "'Cause I've had that dream too, a while ago."
Then, in a voice so resolute that Malfoy looked up, "And I thought it was bullshit."