There was a strange muffled sound on the edge of my hearing, but I couldn't tell what it was. I rolled away from it, too tired to care why it was getting louder. I kept ignoring it, and finally it went away. But then the water came. I sat up with a gasp, water trickling down my blond hair, and onto my shirt. Cold! I shivered, and put my arms around myself, looking to see where it had come from.
"Good, you're awake." The boy I'd been caring for the past week had finally woken up. He watched me with grey eyes that reminded me of storm clouds. Ooh, they were pretty. "Where are my clothes?" he demanded, yelling of a sudden. I jumped and pointed to a spot behind him. I'd hung them on a bookshelf earlier in the week, figuring it would just be easier to wrap the blankets around him then to try and dress him. Taking the clothes off had been difficult enough.
"Go and get them." The boy ordered, lifting his slightly pointed chin higher in the air, and watching me. He frowned when I didn't get up. "Get my clothes!"
Wordlessly, I did as he ordered. I think I may like him better when he's sleeping. He looked so peaceful, so calm, but now…best not to think about it. I stared at him as he rummaged through his clothes, a blanket wrapped securely around his waist. Not that I would care, anyway. I'd been seeing him almost-naked for seven days now. Of course, he might not know that.
"Where is it?!" he hissed, his eyes turning darker as he advanced on me. I stumbled backwards, my feet not doing good with going the opposite way. I hit my head on the corner of the little table that sat next to my armchair when I fell. "I said, where is it?"
I ignored him for the moment, checking my head. Yep, it was bleeding. Damn. I hate my own blood, it makes me feel sick. I tried to stand, but swayed a little. No matter, the boy was there, grabbing my shirt collar and slamming me into the wall. That helped a little, actually. Cleared my head a bit.
"Where is my wand, you little idiot?" he shook his clothes at me as I processed what he said.
"Wand?" I spoke quietly, wincing at the sound of my childish voice next to his aristocratic one.
"Yes, wand! What did you do with it? Do you know who I am?"
And then it hit me. He was… One. Of. Them. The slight nausea my blood had caused now roared to life again, roiling around in my stomach like an angry ocean. No, no. It couldn't be.
"Your wand is right here, Mr. Malfoy." A silky, familiar voice had me frozen against the wall, the boy still clutching my shirt. He let go a moment later and approached One of Them almost casually.
"Give it to me," I winced at the imperious tone. Did he not know who he was dealing with?
"Certainly, Draco." The man clothed in white handed over a small stick with ease, a smile playing on his false face. He'd told me once that it wasn't his, just a mask. Didn't make him any less creepy. I watched the wand change hands with apprehension. Such a small thing to cause such hurt. "But you must know, Draco, that you'll only be able to perform rudimentary spells."
The man watched Draco's reaction carefully. Draco, I like that. It's almost as pretty as his hair. Almost.
The white haired boy held his wand tightly in a fist, not lowering it, but not pointing it, either. "What do you mean, rudimentary?"
The man shrugged. He told me to call him Mr. Dasan, but I never addressed any of Them by name. Although they spoke mine with ease and familiarity. Like a family member at a picnic. "Spells that will help with things around the house," he gestured around the library with a sweep of his white-clothed arm. "and help you take care of Cameron." Here he pointed at me with a long index finger decorated with a green stone.
Draco chuckled suddenly, and took a step back. "Take care. Of her!" he repeated, now leaning casually against the couch arm. "And why would I do that?" he drawled, twirling his wand, like he was bored. Meanwhile, I was still plastered to the wall, sweat and blood running down my face as I tried not to vomit.
Dasan shrugged. "She took care of you, Draco. For a week. Without any help. If you wish to stay alive, you will do the same." He held up a hand as Draco began to protest. "She's been here for at least a decade with no one; I think you'll make a nice companion. There is a map of the town in a drawer in the front hall. On it are directions to the general store should you acquire food that we currently don't offer, or supplies of any kind. There is a good-sized backyard, perfect for practicing your flying. Your broom is in the closet in your room, as are some of your clothes. We'll start at a month, see how well you do."
Dasan bowed then, a movement I knew to mean he was about to leave. I started to breathe again. "Draco, should you attempt to hurt Cameron in any way, know that We are watching with careful eyes. We will not tolerate violence of any kind towards her." With that, he swept from the room, going back to wherever he always comes from.
Oh, good. I took in a lungful of sweet air before passing out.
There was the familiar sound of the dinner bell ringing, and I gingerly stood up from where Draco had left me on the floor. Dried blood crusted the side of my face as I made my way from the library to the dining room. I looked around, but I didn't see Draco anywhere. Maybe he went to take a nap, or something.
Shrugging, I sat down in my chair at the large table, eleven other chairs empty, as usual. Food began to appear after a moment, and I dug in heartily. Having a concussion really gets the appetite going.
I was so excited! I was going to have a friend. Draco was going to be my friend. And he was going to stay with me, here, at my house. Humming as I sipped on my orange juice, I began to smile. Maybe he would read to me, this time. And when I got scared, I'd have someone to talk to. That was good, 'cause I had a lot of nightmares. Dasan being one of them.
Loud footsteps preceded Draco into the dining room. I looked up, smiling, when I saw him. He was muttering to himself, his pretty hair shiny from the rain outside and sticking in every direction. His bloody clothes were dirty and he angrily threw a broom on the ground.
My smile faded when I remembered that Draco was one of them. Uh oh.
"How the hell do you get out of this place?" he shouted, slamming his hands down on the table so that my glass jumped. He pressed his face close to mine and growled.
Confused, I pointed to the hall. "The front door." I answered. He didn't like that.
"I've tried! I've tried to leave, but I only got as far as the front gate! And then I tried the backyard, but those damn hedges are too tall, so I tried to fly over them," he gestured impatiently at the shiny broom. He shot me an accusing glance. "How do you get out of here?"
I didn't want to make him any angrier, but he didn't seem as scary as Dasan. He hadn't hurt, and wait! Didn't Dasan say he couldn't hurt me? So, maybe he will be a good friend!
I shrugged as he waited for an answer. "I don't."
"You don't?" he repeated, incredulous. He crossed his arms with a glower. "You don't ever leave?" he spoke slowly, as though I were stupider than I am. I hate it when people did that.
I shook my head, and then pointed to the food still on the table. "Are you hungry?" He had to be, he hadn't eaten in a week.
He eyed the food with disdain, sniffing, and turned on his heel, not giving me an answer. I wondered if all boys were this moody. One minute he's unconscious, then he's mad, and then he's furious, and now he's not even hungry. Weird.