Hello, everyone! The long-awaited Chapter Seven! Here, we pick up right where we left off with the very first day of Draco's Sixth Year.
Copyright: I own nothing. There are a few quotes from The Half-Blood Prince film (I went through this film with the subtitles on, second after second, pausing it to get these quotes right. It was so. Tedious.), but they are not my own words.
Chapter Seven
The whole day passed by in a blur. There was breakfast, but I hardly ate anything. My stomach protested against me if I tried to eat anything more than a piece of toast.
There was a class period and a class change, but I barely paid attention. You hardly ever had to the first day. It was usually just the professors saying what to expect during the school year and very little instruction.
Nothing throughout the morning stuck out until Potions that day. Slughorn taught differently than Snape, and Potter walked in late with his redhead friend, but neither of those were what caught my attention.
"Liquid Luck," Potter's curly-haired friend interrupted.
"Yes, Miss Granger. Liquid Luck," Slughorn agreed. "Desperately tricky to make. Disastrous, should you get it wrong. One sip and you will find that all of your endeavours succeed."
Hope sparked inside of me, the first I had felt since I started training. I had to win that potion. It was the best chance I had at repairing the Vanishing Cabinet and reforming the pathway between it and its twin and Borgin and Burkes. I might eventually be able to do it on my own, but that was a might. The potion was a guarantee.
But there was only so much of it. Should I use the potion to kill who I was supposed to or to repair the Cabinet? If I fail at one but succeed in the other, I still might die.
As soon as Slughorn let us begin, I tore through my book to find the recipe for the Draught of Living Death. I scanned the ingredients and ran through the classroom to find them. I was the first person to gather everything, and I was the first person to start.
"Man, you're fast, Malfoy," Blaise laughed.
I laughed with him and said, "Do you know what I could do with that Liquid Luck?"
"What?" Blaise joked, lowering his voice as Slughorn passed. "You gotta big test to pass already?"
"I guess you could say that," I responded.
Eventually, I moved onto the Sopophorus beans and carefully brought my knife to the one I held in my hand. The instructions said to cut the bean, but it was impossible. The bean refused to stay in one place. As soon as my knife came into contact with it, it rolled all over my station, no matter how tight I held onto it.
Why couldn't I cut that stupid bean? I had to get that potion. I didn't think I could repair the Cabinet in time or kill Dumbledore. I still don't, but back then, when I was thinking about it, my hand shook so much that I almost cut my other hand open.
"Malfoy," Blaise called, getting me to look up from my work. "Are you sure you're okay? You didn't even notice when that bean from Weasley flew by, and you look like you're gonna throw up."
"I'm fine," I countered, releasing my knife.
"Merlin's beard! It's perfect!" Slughorn exclaimed from across the room. I glanced his way and found him leaning over Potter's cauldron. "So perfect I daresay that one drop would kill us all! Potter wins the Liquid Luck!" the professor announced, turning to address the whole class.
My heart sank, and my legs grew so weak that I had to lean against the table to support myself.
Of course Potter won it. It's just my luck. I had nothing to help me, now.
But I refused to take it lying down. I had to at least try.
At the end of the day, I slipped away from my old friends and moved briskly to the Room of Requirement. No one was ever in that corridor, so all I had to do was make sure that no one would follow me there.
Once there, I repeated the process that Snape told me of imagining the room I needed. I ran through the doors as soon as they formed and begged that they would disappear quickly.
The doors dissipated after a second or two, and I combed my way through the mess of the room.
It was all junk. There was nothing there but broken and dusty things. The only thing that stuck out was the skipping record that repeated itself constantly, grating on my eardrums.
My frustration almost got the better of me, the tremor in my hand worsening by the minute. I was about to give up and come back later in the day after I had eaten and drank a little when I spotted a red covering draped over an object that was about as tall as the Cabinet in Borgin and Burkes.
I approached the covering with caution, not wanting to get my hopes up in case it wasn't what I thought.
With one last breath, I ripped off the covering and stared at the Vanishing Cabinet underneath. I had found it. Finally, I could get to work.
I opened the Cabinet doors to see what I had to work with. The wood seemed to be in good condition, but the magic inside the Cabinet was broken. I could feel it. The shards of the pathway to Borgin and Burkes were there, but it wasn't enough to allow for a safe passage.
I pulled an old pocket watch my father gave me a few years ago and glanced at it, finding that it was already halfway through dinner. I had to go back before anyone missed me.
"Where've you been, Draco?" Pansy interrogated.
"Lavatory," I answered coolly as I took my seat.
"For over a half hour?"
"Not feeling well," I covered. "Must've eaten something at lunch that didn't agree with me."
"Do you need to go to the infirmary?"
"Nah," I answered, taking a small sandwich from the plate in front of me. "It's not that bad."
"Okay," Pansy conceded. "But only if you're sure."
"I'm sure," I insisted, taking a bite of my sandwich.
I swallowed the food and waited a few seconds without any protest from my stomach.
I placed the sandwich on the plate at my seat and poured some water into the nearby goblet, taking a cautious sip.
I was surprised when my body didn't reject the food and water by making me nauseous again, but I took advantage of it. I finished off the sandwich quickly and downed the goblet of water before my stomach could stop me. That was the first real meal I had eaten since two weeks prior to school. Anything I ate before barely stayed down.
I waited a few minutes before picking up a piece of chicken and putting it down on my plate. My body seemed to be tolerating the food, but I still wanted to take it slow. I took small bites and carefully swallowed each one. I drank a little water after I ate and waited, seeing if my stomach would heave.
I was about to take a small amount of pudding when my stomach churned again, and a little bile rose up into my mouth. I groaned and put a hand to my lips to try and keep the bile inside.
I sat for the rest of the hour of dinner, watching as the others piled food onto their plates.
At last, we could head to bed. I was the first one to leave for the common room, and I ran into the boys' lavatory once I got there. I rushed to a stall and locked it behind me, what I ate immediately releasing itself into the toilet.
I must have been worse than I thought. I got sick a while back, yes, but I didn't think it would affect me for this long.
"Draco?" a voice called as I held my aching torso. It sounded like Blaise.
I spat a bit of saliva into the toilet. "What?"
"I saw you rush in here. Are you alright? Pansy said you weren't feeling well at dinner, and now you sound like you're throwing up," he answered.
"I'm fine! Just leave me alone," I shouted, leaning back into the wooden wall of the stall.
Footsteps sounded, growing closer to the door of the stall, and before I could do anything, Blaise kicked the door in, small splinters of wood flying in every direction.
He looked down at me on the floor and sighed. "I knew there was something off with you lately."
"I'm just sick," I responded, pleading that he would go away. "I caught something a week or so ago, but my family and I had thought it had passed."
"Yeah, well…" Blaise bagan. "We're taking you to the infirmary. Now."
"No, I'm fine," I protested as Blaise crossed me and flushed the toilet.
"You look like death, Draco!" he exclaimed. "You can say that you're fine all you want, but you are clearly not fine." Blaise ripped off a piece of bathroom tissue and held it out to me. "Clean yourself up. We're going now."
"Isn't it passed curfew?" I reminded, taking the tissue from his hand.
"Yeah, but if Filch catches us, we'll just tell him what happened," Blaise explained. "Then he'll either come with us to be sure we get there or let us go."
I groaned and tossed the bathroom tissue into the toilet after I wiped my mouth off, using the wall to help myself up.
Blaise grabbed my upper arm for support, leading me out of the lavatory and into the common room where Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy waited.
"So you are sick?" Pansy tried to confirm.
"Yeah," Blaise answered for me as I rolled my eyes in annoyance at the question. "He said he caught something during the last week before school. I'm taking him to the infirmary to be sure he gets there."
"I'm fine. I can get there on my own," I insisted.
If I went alone, I wouldn't have to go to sick bay. I could go to the Room of Requirement and work with the Cabinet, formulate some sort of plan.
"No, Draco. We know you too well," Goyle added. "You're saying that you're fine, so as soon as we let you go alone, you'll sneak off."
"We'll all take you," Crabbe agreed, Pansy nodding along with his words.
"Come on, guys," I groaned, yanking my arm out of Blaise's hold. "I'm fine," I protested, another heave from my stomach betraying my words.
"Yeah. We're definitely going now," Pansy ordered as I covered my mouth to force down more disgusting bile.
"Let's go, then," Crabbe insisted, starting off towards the door.
The other three stayed near me for support as they guided me out the door,.
They practically had to force me through the halls, the nerves coursing through me making my stomach churn even more than it already was. Madame Pomphrey might make me stay there indefinitely. Then there would be no way I could repair the Cabinet or kill my target.
But at the same time, I was glad that my friends were still my friends. I never knew that they cared that much about me. I thought that they only stuck around me because of my last name and to make fun of Potter.
And going to the hospital might not be all bad. The only thing that was really wrong with me was this never-ending nausea, and it would be nice to have that alleviated.
"What're you five doing out of bed?" Filch's voice bellowed as we rounded a corner.
"We're taking Malfoy to the hospital," Pansy answered calmly. "He's sick, sir."
"Oh, yeah?" Filch questioned as he approached, raising his lantern closer to my face. "What's wrong with you today, boy, huh?"
"I'm throwing up," I responded, trying to keep my voice steady as my stomach grumbled in discomfort.
"You sure you didn't just skip dinner?" Filch pressed.
"I found him in a stall in the lavatory," Blaise intervened. "He really was throwing up, sir."
"Yeah, well," the Squib sighed, backing away a little. "I'll go with you. I can't keep you from the hospital if you really are sick, but I have to make sure you get there."
"Not a problem, sir," Pansy agreed.
My stomach lurched once more, sending more of my stomach's contents into my mouth. I replaced my hand in front of my lips to keep back the foul-tasting bile.
"We should get going," Goyle said, noticing my discomfort.
Filched threw a glance at me as I swallowed back the acidic bile and nodded, starting off towards the hospital wing.
Perhaps it was the best thing that I went to the hospital that night. I lost time I could have used to repair the Cabinet or formulate a plan to kill Dumbledore, yes, but it would have been much more difficult if I had continued like I was.
"Madame Pomphrey?" Filch quickly called as we entered the doors of the infirmary.
"Yes, Mister Filch?" the witch responded as she came out of her office.
"There's a student here that says he's sick," Filch explained, gesturing to me.
"Come in, then," Pomphrey ordered.
Filch stepped aside as my friends rushed me forward to a nearby hospital bed.
"Sit down, Mister Malfoy," the nurse urged as I lowered myself onto the edge of one of the hospital beds. "Thank you, Mister Filch. You can return to your rounds."
Madame Pomphrey briskly moved back to us and asked, "What seems to be the problem, Mister Malfoy?"
"I found him throwing up in the bathroom, Madame," Blaise answered for me.
"And he wasn't there for the first half of dinner," Pansy added. "Said he was in the bathroom and that he ate something that didn't agree with him at lunch."
"Is that true, Mister Malfoy?" Pomphrey questioned.
"Mostly," I answered. "I was in the bathroom during the first half of dinner, but it wasn't because of anything I ate at lunch. I didn't eat anything at lunch."
"So you haven't been eating?" Pomphrey interrogated.
"I have been. Just a little, though," I told her. "Don't want to throw it up like I did tonight."
"Has this been happening just today?"
"No," I responded. "It started a week or so before school. After a while, it looked like it had gone away. Guess not."
"Are you allergic to any foods?" she questioned.
"Not that I know of," I said.
"What did you eat at dinner?"
"Just a sandwich and a piece of chicken," I answered.
Madame Pomphrey cupped my chin with her hand and made me look up at her as she place the back of her other hand on my forehead. She then backed away a few steps and drew her wand. The tip of it glowed blue as she leveled it at my abdomen.
"Well, your temperature is a bit too high, and you're dehydrated from throwing up," the nurse explained, lowering her wand. "I can make you something for the next time you get nauseous, if you like."
I nodded to her, and she swiftly moved to a set of cabinets across the room, taking out various containers and vials.
After a few moments, the nurse returned with a small glass bottle filled with an amber liquid, and she held it out to me.
"The next time you feel like throwing up, drink a tablespoon of this, then drink a cup of water, and it'll help get your fever down, as well," Pomphrey instructed as I took the bottle from her. "Drink a lot of water, but drink it slowly. Eat something if you can, but make it small, like a bit of biscuit or some bread. I suggest that you take a day off tomorrow and stay in bed and rest. Have your friends fill you in on the school work."
"I don't have to stay here?" I wondered, fearing that my relief could be heard in my voice.
"Not for something like this," Pomphrey laughed. "If it gets worse, you will have to stay here for a while, but for now, you'll be fine on your own. Be sure to get some rest, though. You don't look like you've been sleeping"
"I've been waking up in the middle of the night the past two weeks to throw up," I muttered, giving them a half-truth.
"Well, this should help with that," Pomphrey said with an encouraging smile.
I nodded in response and rose from the hospital bed.
"Now, off to bed you lot," Pomphrey finished, moving back towards her office.
"Let's go, guys," I suggested as I moved towards the door, the others following close behind me.
Once we got back to the common room, the boys and I parted with Pansy after she wished me well, and we all went to the bathroom to and get ready for the night.
I collapsed to the ground in exhausted pain after yet another Cruciatus Curse. My fourth one that day.
When would this stop? Something had to make it stop.
I didn't know how long I laid there for, but for once, nothing woke me. There was no splash of water or demands for me to waken, but someone soft did call me, gently shaking my shoulder.
My eyes fluttered open, and I struggled to focus my blurred vision to find my father staring at me with worry and regret.
"I'm sorry about this, Draco," he whispered, his words echoing hollowly. "But you have to understand that neither of us have a choice, now."
"Father-" I croaked, carefully trying to raise myself up.
"No, no. Shh. Lie still," he insisted, gently pushing me back down. "They've allowed you a little reprieve, which is the only reason I can be here. I just came to apologize. I love you, Draco, despite what you may think at times. Rest, now. Get as much sleep as you can. It's the only way you'll be able to keep going, and if you stop now, they might kill you."
My vision worsened as my eyes started to close again.
"I don't want to keep you awake, but you have to listen," Father rushed, the echo in his voice becoming more profound. "There are only three possible outcomes for this. One: you collapse and die. Two: you don't die, but you can't continue, in which case they will kill you. And three: you live, and you fix that Cabinet and kill Dumbledore. Those are the options you have."
I struggled to focus on Father as my eyes nearly closed without my permission. I tried to understand him, but his words made no sense. My mind was too fogged to understand much of anything other than the fact that I was losing consciousness.
Father smiled softly at me and patted my hand, his face and touch growing more and more distant, until I finally lost touch with the world entirely.
My eyes flew open as I woke from my dream. Or was it a memory? If it was a memory, it was so blurred and distant that it might as well have been a dream.
My father would never look at me like that. He never had before, so why would he now? And he had never apologized for anything in his life. It had to have been a dream.
Either way, it was the best sleep I had gotten since the Dark Lord returned.
Hope you guys enjoyed. Until next week with Chapter Eight where you find out what Draco does on his "day off".