Disclaimer: I DO NOT own the Harry Potter Series. That right belongs solely to the amazing J.K. Rowling. I DO, however, own the plot, Oura (not her last name, again the literary goddess J.K. Rowling) and my favorite cat Sterling.
xXx Hello my little Owlettes! Not much to say this time, except that I haven't been getting any more reviews for Chapter 10. I would love to hear some feedback, constructive criticism, or any ideas you might have. Remember, the more you review the faster I post the next chapter. Anywho, that's about it... so enjoy! xXx
Chapter 11
The wind was howling as Draco roamed the castle halls. Shadows from the torches danced across his face and he sighed gently. For some reason, he had been woken from peaceful sleep and couldn't go back into his sated state. He now wandered the halls with the pretense of I.S. duties, although the castle was practically empty. Draco stopped at a large window that looked out onto the Quidditch field and let his mind wander. He pondered the meeting he wasn't invited to, when his mother would owl him the Christmas presents that he had left at home, and then his mind, against his bidding, pulled a certain flame-haired girl into his consciousness. He shook his head at the thought. Oura was different than anyone else he had been commanded to watch. First of all, she knew who he was, and yet kept the information to herself. Not to mention that she had bested him twice already. He growled in anger. Draco took pride in his dueling skills, and could barely accept that Potty had bested him, now a girl had as well. It's not the first time, a little voice nagged. Well, of course, the Mudblood had slapped him in third year, but a true wizard wouldn't stoop down to such vulgar means of attack. He shook his head again, as if to banish the thoughts. They weren't becoming of a Death Eater. Subconsciously, he rubbed his left arm. It was still sore. He focused on the yard, to keep his mind off of the thoughts that were becoming less and less uplifting. At first the grounds were pitch black, clouds selfishly stealing all the light of the stars, when gradually a gust of wind parted the dark mass and the silver light of the full moon shined down onto the Quidditch posts, making them glint in the wavering and uncertain glow. The wind kept blowing and soon there wasn't a cloud in sight, and the bright light of the moon filtered through the wavy glass making a small patch of silver where Draco stood. He smiled at the glowing orb. Moonlight was one of the few things he actually found calming. The tension in his shoulders relaxed and he stood in the sweet silence of the castle, the cool light gently wrapping him in its embrace. Then he heard the cry.
It rang out through the hushed halls, and was followed by the sound of books dropping to the stone floor. Without thinking, Draco raced to the source. The scream had been full of anguish and pain, and it shook him to the core. Somehow, this cry pulled at him in a way the deaths he himself caused never did. Why did this single cry affect him like that? It hit him as soon as he rounded the corner. He knew the voice, personally. There, in a pool of the moonlight that had just embraced him warmly, Oura lay shuddering and convulsing.
Oura ran through the halls, her bare feet making no noise on the cold, stone floor. She had forgotten a book in the library, and if she was fast, she would be able to get it back, before the library put the books that rested on the tables back into their places, a spell that Oura loved to watch. She had stayed late many times before, since Madam Pince had taken to her and let her, provided she leave when the books began to put themselves away. Even though the night was supposed to be cloudy, Oura wanted to get back to her dorm as fast as she could, just in case. Once she gathered the books, she calmed a bit. Casting another weather spell, she gazed at it thoughtfully. It still called for a cloud-filled sky. Sometimes they were wrong, but it couldn't be wrong this close, could it? She shook the worry out of her head and continued walking back to her dorms. There was no need to rush now. Oura opened the book to the page she was reading earlier, and quickly became engrossed in her research. She didn't hear the soft sound of footsteps that was a few corridors away, nor did she notice when they stopped. She only noticed that the clouds had pulled away from the silver moon, when the light drifted down onto her hand and a searing pain raced through up her arm and wrapped around her like a vice. She fell to the ground, letting out a scream of pain. Her body convulsed and she was only just aware of the sound of hurried footsteps that turned around the corner and then freeze. Oura struggled to pull her eyes open, but when she did, she wished she had left them closed. Through slitted eyelids, she watched Malfoy slowly approach her as though she was a wounded animal. She groaned in pain and convulsed again, causing him to forget his caution and hurry towards her.
'I want you to befriend my daughter.' Now was a good a time as any. He ventured a question
."Are you okay...?"
Even in her current state, she mustered a growl at him, "Do I look okay, Malfoy?" she ground out, her voice barely audible.
Malfoy rubbed his neck and mentally hit himself for asking such a stupid question. He shook his head. "I guess I should bring you to the Hospital Wing, seeing as you are in no condition to go by yourself." He couldn't keep the sneer out of his voice.
"NO!" Oura's eyes snapped open all the way and then hissed in pain from the effort. "No," she said quieter, the effort of just talking making her weaker and weaker. "7th floor... opposite the tapestry... Barnabas the Barmy... walk back and forth... 3 times... think what you need..."
The look on Malfoy's face told her he thought she was insane. He shook his head.
"You really need to get to the Hospital Wing." He reached down to help her up when he heard something that made him freeze.
"Mal- Draco... Please" He looked down into her pleading eyes and sighed. As he bent down again to pick her up, Oura faded into a pain-filled darkness. Please, she thought as she lost conciousness. Please.