Title: Black and Deep Desires
By: Dr. Kim-chan
Me: Sorry for the delay. Apparently Muse!Draco won't be joining us for a while due to him recently being institutionalized at St. Mungo's. Some days of good (and I mean REALLY good) and intense counseling and he'll be good as new. Anyway, you might have noticed I left out the part of the actual test in Draco's Pensieve sequence (thank you for yelling at me, Crimson). It was a symbolic gesture, actually—
Plushie: Since these are very complex fears we're dealing with, like Professor Mills said, it won't just be enough for her to hand them a task to do. It may be mentioned in the next chapter, but if you pay attention very closely, then throughout the story you'll see whether Ron, Harry, and Draco faced their fears or not.
Me: (gapes in horror) You're actually helping me with the commentary?
Plushie: That's just how skunk-drunk I am! Isn't it WILD! (passes out)
Lucius: So who will be driven to madness next?
Me: Lessee… (checks list) Ah! Our own favorite raven-haired, green-eyes-like-a-fresh-pickled-toad, death-defying, incredibly handsome, star-of-his-own-book-series, Boy-Who-Lived-Multiple-Times…Harry Potter himself! (six hundred miles away in a hospital bed, Draco gasps along with everyone else) What's the thing most in the world that our favorite hero is afraid of? And let me tell you, it wasn't easy. He's faced almost everything under the sun; that's why the chapter's late. So let's find out now, shall we? Rolling! (clicks remote)
(Begin Chap. 31)
…As disciplined as he was, Blaise Zabini never saw the use of attending study hall.
That afternoon, like any other afternoon, he was lying on his mattress going over his Astronomy homework, with the green gauze curtains slightly drawn. Suddenly, he turned his head towards the window, pondering the fresh October air going to waste. He sighed and got up to crack the window on the other side of the dormitory, but he wasn't able to complete the trip before the door swung open with a terrible wrath. Draco was standing on the other side. This was the worst Blaise had ever seen him, even surpassing the evening he had his nightmare. Without a word Draco crossed the room and collapsed on his own bed.
At least, he didn't say anything for two seconds.
"That bloody madwoman! Is that her idea of an exam! IS it? 'Simple test' my arse! She's a damned poor psychopathic excuse for a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher; worse than all the other idiots Dumbledore hired!" he screamed hoarsely."I hate her, I hate her! I swear on everything I will tell my father about her—never mind! What's the use? He isn't a school governor anymore, and he's pissed at me!"
Whatever he had been planning to say afterwards, if he was, it was wasted in tears and frantic gasps of breath. Blaise stopped and walked over to comfort him—it was the least he could do. The bitterness he had felt about Draco before, when he had humiliated Ron, was gone now. He had gotten his retribution long ago.
However, Blaise hadn't taken three steps before Draco glared up at him.
"I want your help least of all," he hissed.
"What did I do?" Blaise protested.
"My fear had something to do with my father and Weasley. In the Pensieve, I had been killed by Father because I double-crossed him. I didn't know what for at first—then I found out why. I had fallen in love with Potter—as if I ever would. What I had to do to face my fear was to make a choice. I had a choice to save myself and Potter. I was looking him dead in the face, and he told me that we had a chance to escape together. Either that or I went ahead and faced my father first. When I refused, he asked if I loved him."
"And did you say anything?"
"What did you think?" Draco yelled, slowly working himself into a rage again. "Of course I didn't! And to make it more embarrassing, I remembered what you told me, and I made Potter change into you! Professor Mills said she never saw 'a more cowardly approach to one's fear'."
He looked at Blaise again. "I could've lied, of course, and got her off my back, but…I don't know. It felt too weird."
A pause.
"You're a bloody fool, you know that? The Pensieve test just made it more obvious: if I say anything to Potter, it'll only mean certain death. I already fed him the Elixir, anyway. It'll only be a matter of time."
At this he wiped away his tears and broke into the smallest of grins. "I see he already hates Weasley. Maybe that Mudblood Granger will be next—"
"No wonder you failed."
The tone of sheer disgust in Blaise's voice immediately stopped Draco's tears.
"All you do is run away, and when you're not running away you're making fun of people to make up for your own faults. You know this whole mess started when you first met Potter. I know it'll be dangerous, but settling this is more important. Can you just get over your pride for once and stop being such a tramp!"
Then Draco's hand took over his mind as he slapped Blaise right across the face.
…October twelfth.
This day could very well be lost to history, and if it is, it'll be a shame.
Today the morning sun shone upon three major events that manifested within the walls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. These three events alone would set in motion others which would forever change the destinies of Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Ron Weasley, Blaise Zabini, and—indirectly—Lucius Malfoy, Peter Pettigrew, Hermione Granger, and the members of the Order of the Phoenix, including the Weasley family. Whether anyone knew it or not, the students were in the midst of the turning point of the entire war.
The first event: Blaise and Draco were officially at odds with each other.
The second: The event above forced Blaise to resort to the most drastic measures…not that he minded, considering the target. But really, did he have to sink so low as to seduce someone?
The third: Today was the day Harry had to take the Pensieve test.
Although the trio was out of sorts with each other, Ron and Hermione were there to witness his blanched face when he walked up to look at the schedule in front of the door. His fellow students for that day were Parvati Patil and Dean Thomas. For the record, Dean had been waiting for this day. He wanted to know exactly why Seamus had become so depressed. His dark brown eyes sparking with fury, he slammed open the door and marched in as soon as he saw his name written under the day's date. Momentarily throwing him a puzzled look, Parvati turned and talked to her sister for a moment longer before she went in after him. Padma had taken the test the day before, so she guessed it wouldn't hurt to know what it would be like. However, from seeing her disappointed frown it didn't seem like Padma was able to give her consolation.
"I'm guessing Dean wants revenge after what happened with Seamus," Hermione said offhandedly, although she didn't have to guess. The boy had been swearing it up and down for four days. Then her eyes focused on the boy standing in front of her. "I'm sure it'll turn out fine, Harry. You've gotten through much worse than this."
"Good luck, mate."
Both Hermione's and Harry's heads snapped up at the unexpected comment from Ron. He wore a shy half-grin, as if he wanted to make amends…and he did. Today marked their fourth day of not talking to each other, but this Defense Against the Dark Arts test was making strange bedfellows out of everyone. As Hermione had said two weeks ago, they needed all the encouragement they could get. Ron figured the least he could do was say something, lest we forget the mistake he made in their fourth year.
Still, Harry couldn't bring himself to do anything more than grimace, mutter a weak thanks and walk away. Ron frowned as the door closed and turned to Hermione.
"Git," he muttered under his breath. "You don't believe him, do you?"
Hermione adopted a look of surprise. "Believe who about what?"
"Harry. About…well…" Ron stammered.
"Oh, that. To be honest, I don't know who to believe. I'm not saying I don't trust you—I will admit Harry's been out of sorts lately. On the other hand, though, you've been hiding things too. I know the note was private, but there's something else bothering you," she conceded. "The only thing I'll agree with him on is this: certainly something happened over the summer. If you're embarrassed to talk about it, don't be. If you don't want to tell Harry, fine, but at least tell me."
Ron sighed. Now he really didn't have a choice. Harry's continuous interrogations were a pain, yet how could he deny Hermione's sincere request?
As the two departed to find a place of solitude to finally discuss the once-forbidden subject, Blaise stared at their retreating backs—more specifically Ron's. Even when he was unintentionally isolating himself from his friends, he kept them close. They didn't know him personally, but just the simple fact that he was a Slytherin would probably faze him. He had to take this slowly, step by step…
…"Professor Mills…"
"Yes, Mr. Potter?"
"I was—"
"Isn't it a bit late to ask? You'll find out as soon as we get out of this darkness…I've been doing this so many times, I don't even get stomach sickness anymore," she said. She looked below at what appeared to be an endless abyss. Harry's fear was certainly a peculiar one, by what she saw. It wasn't grisly murder, it wasn't betrayal…he could've stood up to that in a heartbeat. What he was afraid of…
In an instant they were surrounded by cold metal bars and shadowy figures. The walls were built from hard stone as cold as the bars, with a disheartening mossy gleam to them. Torches stood to attention in candelabras screwed into the stones. There were unnerving scraping sounds echoing all around, an inhuman groan or two. Even before the slithering shadows passed through the hallway, Harry did not need a guess to know where they were.
They had landed in Azkaban Prison.
A minute later, a few dark figures walked through the corridor, their faces half hidden by robes. The leaders of the group were two men Harry had never seen before. Right beside him was Cornelius Fudge, his face looking extremely worried. The third was Mr. Weasley, and the last one lagging behind was Moody himself.
"I must warn you, what you're gonna see isn't gonna be a pretty sight. You sure you wanted to bring Mr. Weasley behind?" asked the stranger.
"Wasn't really my decision now, was it?" Fudge growled, looking over his shoulder into Moody's scarred face. "Besides, rules dictate there must be at least one family member present to see to it nothing goes wrong. An ugly thing to face, but he has to be here."
"All right," the man consented, and they walked on. A second passed quickly, then Harry and Professor Mills followed behind.
"What are the charges of the accused?" Fudge asked nonchalantly.
The second man heaved a large sigh.
"We see a lot of cases enter these walls, but I can honestly say this is one of the most bizarre criminals we've ever seen—and we do mean criminal. Sad thing…he just turned seventeen. Also makes him the youngest criminal we've arrested in a long while. Could've gotten away with pleading Imperius if it hadn't been for the fact he was swearing their love up and down AND that he wore the ring at the trial. Let's see—most of them are for murder. He took part in the conspiracy leading up to the murders of Albus Dumbledore, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Hestia Jones. He outright killed Hermione Granger, Dean Thomas, and repeatedly attempted on Harry Potter's life. Would have led You-Know-Who to his own family if Potter hadn't taken him down."
Fudge adapted a look of surprise. "I hadn't heard this before! When—?"
"We opposed his marriage," Arthur said, no emotion in his voice whatsoever. " 'Couldn't do with a Death Eater in our family', Molly told him. And he left to the Malfoy Manor right after."
"I suppose it IS true. Love does make one do strange things."
"Would it make you do murder?" Moody asked cynically. The second man gave out a disapproving sniff.
"In any case, he's pretty much given up on living. We did in his husband the week before," the first man said. "Here we are."
The small congregation had stopped at the bars of one cell towards the end of the corridor. The first man reached up and dislodged a torch from one of the candelabras. He slipped the other hand into his robes and pulled out a set of skeleton keys. He turned around and gave the signal for everyone else to back up, stepping inside the cell. Harry stepped closer and took a closer look. For a quick minute he saw a quick flash of a mass of burning orange hair made dull from how many days passed from him not washing it.
"Your time's come, Weasley," the man said gruffly. The redhead looked up silently, a scathing glare in his blue eyes.
"You know your sentence, don't you? For acting in conspiracy, murder, and siding with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named—"
"He's dead, isn't he? I think we can say 'Voldemort' without tripping over ourselves."
But to no avail; Fudge gave out the smallest of involuntary flinches, then quickly regained his composure. The man holding the torch sniffed derisively and continued.
"—you are then hereby sentenced to receive the Dementor's Kiss, to be executed immediately," the man finished. "Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge, Alastor Moody, and father Arthur Weasley stand here as witnesses. Any last words for you?"
"Just this."
He held up his left hand. On the finger beside the small one was a ruby ring of considerable karats set in true gold. It sparkled in the light of the torch flame.
"Make sure I'm buried with this on my finger, and when you make my grave, my name is, was, and always will be Ronald Malfoy."
"Understood. All right, stand back, Minister, everyone…"
The man in the torch backed out of the cell again and closed the door, locking it again. Then he signaled for everyone to step back a couple of more steps. Professor Mills and Harry, however, stayed right where they are. They were only shadows here, just like the Dementor coming up the dark corridor. All of this was so surreal to the bespectacled boy. It was the first time he had gotten so close to one of Azkaban's guardians without feeling anything—it passed straight through him and paused, its misshapen head "facing" the man with the torch. He nodded, Mr. Weasley kept his head to the cut stone floor, and the Dementor slithered through the open doorway and into the shadows. Harry wanted his eyes to stray from the sight, but they couldn't. The image soon became burned into his mind: Ron not resisting in the slightest as the ghostly figure hovered over him and slowly…ever so slowly…stole his soul.
With a last breath, the redhead slipped down towards the floor in a heap. His blue eyes were glossed over, his mouth showing nothing, neither pain nor anger. Its deed done, the Dementor glided out and back to where it went to wait until another convict offered up their life force.
"Will he be buried as you promised?" Mr. Weasley asked quietly.
"He isn't dead yet...only on the inside he is," the second man replied, peering curiously into the cell. "But he will soon. He is devoid of all emotion, all feeling. He'll just sit there until he wastes away—"
"Spare him the details," Moody said sharply. "Our work here is done."
He looked through the iron bars as well and heaved a breath. "That boy…he was one of Harry's greatest friends, you know that? So was Miss Granger. It'll be all he can do not to go over the edge."
"What scares you most?" Mills asked complacently as the men walked through them and out of the corridor. "The possibility of Ron ending up here, Miss Granger dying by him, the fact you had to bring him to justice, or the possibility all this could actually happen?"
"Is it true?" Harry burst out. "Is Ron working for Malfoy?"
Professor Mills shrugged. "It is as much of a mystery to Ron himself as it is to you and Hermione."
When Harry shot her the confused expression she expected him to give, she added, "This whole affair of being in company with Mr. Malfoy has put everything at an odd advantage. It could be possible Mr. Malfoy is trying to manipulate him, but aren't you wondering if perhaps Ron is manipulating Mr. Malfoy?"
"Ron isn't that clever," he confessed frankly.
"That isn't the point. Even I don't know if that's actually the case; I just threw it out there for consideration. My point is that you must have more confidence in your friends, or else…" She trailed off and nodded her head in the direction of Ron's listless body. "Let's see if you can do that."
Immediately Azkaban's maze of halls shrank back into nothingness. In the next instant Harry found himself in Ron's room at the Burrow, with Mills standing a little off to the side. Everything had changed so fast it took him a minute to notice Ron was sneaking into the room, closing the door with the greatest ease.
"Ron's going to tell you something—the question is, will you support him or berate him like you always do?"
Harry nodded, and the redhead in front of him was now rummaging around under his mattress, muttering something along the lines of, "Could've sworn I put it 'round here somewhere…"
After a while he let out a sort of sound of triumph as he pulled out something from underneath his pillow, which made Harry cringe in guilt for a brief moment. Why did he always have to hide things beneath his pillow?
"I didn't want to tell anyone else before I told you first. My parents would go mad, and Hermione—well, you know her," Ron began, his face lit up like a fairy out in the wilderness. He sat down and gave Harry a box…a box he could actually feel and hold. Trying not to look so shocked, Harry opened the box to see the exact same ring he had seen the convicted Ron wear just a short while ago.
"Where did you get this from?"
"Mr. Malfoy…" Ron said sheepishly.
"I thought I told you—"
"I know what you told me! I know what everyone's been telling me!" Ron suddenly yelled, standing up. "And I'm sick of it. Mr. Malfoy wasn't lying; he really did quit the Death Eaters, and we really do have something serious. I wanted to tell you first since you've been my best friend the longest."
"Tell me what? He promised it would never happen again?" Harry asked sarcastically.
"No…" Ron paused for a full three minutes. Harry raised his eyebrow. Then Ron turned and looked towards him fearfully.
"He asked if I would marry him."
(End Chap. 31)
Me: Took me long enough. So, how'd ya like it, everybody?
Harry and Ron: (gapes)
Me: (waves) Hello? Hello! Oh well. Until Chapter 32, everybody!