Chapter 4 ~ The Lullaby

The next morning I woke rather grudgingly, as I had only fallen asleep an hour before. However, I didn't have time to sleep in, and I changed quickly, though I was still the last person to the Great Hall. As I entered, it seemed the post had just arrived and I sat down next to Theodore Nott, ignoring the noise around me. Parkinson was once again gossiping, this time to Bulstrode and Davis. They seemed to be hanging onto her every word, though I noticed that this did not slow Bulstrode's eating, or should I say… inhaling. She could multitask. Who knew?

Daphne Greengrass glanced up at me from the other side of the table, and sneered at me. "Charming" I said, as I slowly poured myself some pumpkin juice, wishing they were serving some much needed coffee this morning. "Where were you?!" Parkinson demanded, and I sincerely hoped she wasn't talking to me. Though, of course she was. Keeping my eyes on my pumpkin juice, I ignored her, hoping she would take a hint.

It seemed she did and, scoffing, she turned to Greengrass and began to complain that some people should be pushed off of the Astronomy Tower. She had that right. It seemed Greengrass too agreed, and I have to snicker quietly to myself. I took a small sip of my (delicious) pumpkin juice, and glanced around the table. Nott was eating quietly beside me, and Parkinson was once again talking to Bulstrode and Davis.

There was a bowl of porridge in the middle of the table that seemed to have been stirred, but not eaten. I glance at Greengrass again. I will never understand why she continuously pours herself a bowl of porridge every morning when she doesn't even take a bite. Surely she would have learnt by now? Though, I suppose, unlike me, some people just don't catch on very fast. Pity.

She saw me glance at her, and she merely turned her head towards Parkinson again, not even sparing me a second glance. One can only wonder how another could look at Parkinson's squashed in face for more than a few minutes without feeling ill. Pushing that thought away, I ate breakfast slowly and only just made it to class in time. It wouldn't have mattered, though. Professor Binn's voice did not help my energy levels, and I found myself again wishing there had been coffee that morning.

The day went on slowly, and I doubt I really got much work, if any, done at all. That afternoon the Slytherin Quidditch Team had its first practice of the year. It was fairly uneventful… pretty much a revision of what we had been doing all of last year. Malfoy kept disrupting the practice with witless remarks, and I think Crabbe and Goyle were the only ones laughing… as usual, I suppose.

Practice was over fairly quickly, and I escaped to the library. It was quiet in there, mostly filled with Ravenclaws; however, there were a few students from the other houses there as well. As far as I could see, the only other Slytherins there were Greengrass, Nott and a small second year who looked like he would have better suited Hufflepuff.

Walking around for a few moments, I found myself a book that looked promising and sat down at the nearest table. Nott was a few seats away and he glanced up as I sat down. However Greengrass merely kept on reading, ignoring me, her dark hair in a bun that was slowly coming undone. I smirked slightly to myself and flipped the book open to the first page.

As for Nott, the weedy boy and I had been sharing a dormitory for five, going on six, years, though we had only spoken a few times. He preferred his solitude (with the exception of Greengrass), and I preferred mine. It was as simple as that. Plus, we hardly crossed each other's paths. Despite both being in Slytherin, and the sharing the same dormitory, we led completely different lives.

The words on the page seemed to make no sense to me and I realized I had been reading the same line over and over again. I sighed in frustration and closed it; I really didn't even have the energy to even sit any more. Standing up, I shoved my hands into my pockets and went off to my dormitory, hoping for a good night's sleep…

She sang a sweet lullaby, and although her words were soft, her eyes were hard and cold. A dark, rich substance trickled down into a goblet, and the singing became louder. Her nails were painted a deep blue, and she moved her fingers obliviously.

There was a flash of red, and a burbling noise that made no sense.

"Vieni mia cara, mia bella ..." she sung, her soft footsteps echoing gently on the hard floor. Water shook violently as droplets met its surface. A clock chimed distantly. Her singing became louder, words sung sweetly, a dull thud repeating with each step… "Non dobbiamo temere"

The clock chimes again. Another flash of red. The burbling is louder, more urgent. "Non bisogna nascondere" she sings, every step on the dark wooden floor getting louder, closer, echoing throughout, shaking windows.

The droplets continue, each drop oozing out slowly. Impatient fingers tap against a table, a scowling face. The clock chimes once more, masking the broken sobs of a child. There is a flurry, the burbling is becoming clearer… louder…

"Per presto vedremo ..." her voice lifts, the melody beginning to lose its sweet, fragile touch, replaced with a cold, cutting tone.

The clock chimes again, every chime jolting violently. A child sits, though only his curly hair can be recognized. A droplet of water crashes, and a clash of thunder is heard. A bright light flashes suddenly in the sky, as the blurred voice is frantic now. The once sweet voice now hard and uncaring "…perché presto sapremo'

There is a burning, fire blazing and a sickening stench. A door swings open. The clock chimes louder. Its every beat becoming unbearable, ringing throughout, tearing and ripping. The child stops, and glances up, the fire consuming him. "Così soggiorno quiete, amato"

The red flashes once more, and the once frantic burble is now gasps for breath, dark figure flailing hopelessly. There is one more dull thud, before a large clash jolts all. Everything crashes down, glass shatters, and fire takes over, consuming everything. The burning child screams in terror. The voice finishes with a cutting pitch.

"E il sonno"

There is silence. Dark red lips twist into a curled smile. Red flashes for the last time and he realizes that the dark figure flailing hopelessly covered in red is himself.

She watches apathetically as he drowns in his own blood.