AN: Eeeee~ I've managed to get another chapter going, kinda short but still. Don't know how long that will last BUT so as long as the ideas keep flowing, we should be good. These last few months have been rather crazy, and with a lot of ongoing problems, it's made me less motivated to write at times. Thankfully, it's cooled down and I've been eager to start writing again. So, thanks again for reading! An' checking the story out. Thanks for the lovely comments and please stick around as we reach towards the end of Book 3. Constructive Criticism is welcomed, and Reviews are appriciated. As always, Follow/Fav/Review.

Grabbing his plant clippers, Mortimer was careful in removing the fangs from Vampiric Vegetation. A plant with sharp-like teeth, they were known to be difficult to cultivate and extremely dangerous.

And despite the challenging task, Mortimer was very much content in his effort to remove its razor-sharp teeth.

"Excellent work!" Professor Sprout praised. "I've been meaning to de-fang them for quite some time but haven't found the time, with Professor Snape and Madam Pomfrey running out of ingredients, it's no wonder I haven't progressed at all!"

Setting down the plant sheers, Mortimer carried the now toothless plant and sets it down near the corner of the class, with the other plants. Once he was finished, he takes off his dragon-hide gloves. "It has been a rather busy week, hasn't it?"

Carrying two large pots of the Moly Plant, Sprout lays them on the ground. "Things could be better, I'll admit. When you offered to help, I was quite touched. Normally, it's Mr. Longbottom, or one of my own badgers volunteering. But you dear lad, are representing your house well. On the brighter side, with your help, I've just about caught up with my work."

Representing his house well? She might be the first to think so. "Is there anything else I can do for you? Water your Alihosty? Change the pots on your Bubotuber? De-fang the Geranium?" Anything to avoid the others! Keep clear from those who can see right through him.

"Hmm. . ." Forgetting she was wearing gloves, decides to rub her chin quizzically, leaving dirt stains on the side of her face. "None that I can think of at the moment. At any rate... five points to Slytherin."

A letdown, Mortimer kept the tiny smile on his face long enough for Sprout to look away. When she does, Mortimer slumps his shoulders, his expression replaced with blunder.

"You should head to your common room." Professor Sprout glanced back. Mortimer's avoids eye contact; she might see through him. "Dinner will be served soon and I'm sure you don't want to head to detention on an empty stomach."

Detention. . . right...

Mortimer nearly forgot. A month's worth of detention has finally been served. All except one. However, with it being a new month, he'd think they would just forget. Only to realize his punishment was only put on hold, paused during Black's force entry. But it mattered not, considering it was to be his last day, spending it with Madam Pomfrey.

Nodding, he removes the gardening apron and puts away the supplies before leaving the greenhouse. As he slowly paced the outside grounds, Mortimer was thinking hard. Not in the mood to see anyone, his arms rested behind his back, appearing in thought as he conjures up a plan to evade Draco and his other friends. In truth, they've done nothing wrong to warrant the sudden treatment. Speaking truthfully, he was afraid that the minute they spot his face, they'll know something is wrong. He was open book to them, Draco, more so than others will immediately assume Mortimer was dealing his personal demons.

There was no need to burden his cousin with his own problems. They were still kids trying to figure their place in this world. For Draco, he knew what was expected of him, his fate was already sealed by his loving parents, and from every talk they've had Draco has accepted it without much debate. For Mortimer, however, was none too sure. Did he even want to stay in wizarding world? After what he's seen, heard. This place was no different than the other side. If not, more dangerous. He'd like to return the muggle world at some point, but stay there? It was hard to grasp, considering there was nothing there for him. He had no family, no friends, no one who knew he existed. Then again, he'd be free to do whatever he wants and not having to fear about petty reputation, 'staining' the so-called family name. It was pleasant thought, he admits. In a way, the more he pondered the more it suited him, convincing himself it was an option. Not set in stone, he keeps that small detail in mind.

Taking a left and lost in his own views, he was completely unaware of the shadow lurking behind him.

A sideways glance was sent to the empty hall of the school. Jumping back when a small group of first year students rushing across the column of entryways cross his path. A sigh, Mortimer was simply being paranoid. No surprise there. . . He's been out of sorts since his occlumency lesson with Snape. Still not fully processing what indeed really happen since the minute he ran out the door, he completely shut himself off, hiding under his blankets like a scared child. His head of house has yet to approach him or mention anything from nights before. But something told Mortimer he was planning something, maybe he actually did go to Dumbledore. Telling him about everything that has been going on. The question now was how long it would take them to come the young heir. To nudge him into talking, spilling every secret, every lie he's been telling.

Would Dumbledore think of him less? Causing a rift and further convincing the old man that he was just like Tom? Mortimer could never be like Tom; he didn't want to imagine growing up to be as demented as that old fool was. Regardless, he needs to be calm, remain in control, it was all about control. Too many people already know he isn't right, one of them being Professor Lupin. Thinking about it more, the man was a whole new bag of strange. Appearing ill one day and the next, chipper and lighthearted. Whatever his deal was, Mortimer planned to stay away.

"Oof!" A hard heavy thud, children begin to laugh and point.

Glancing over to the side of his shoulder, he spots the younger Greengrass girl. What's her name again? Astoria? She topples on her feet to the floor, parchments and books flew in different directions.

A face hidden underneath the curtain of her hair, hiding in embarrassment as she collects her books. It was a slow process considering her body was shaking and flinching anytime a student walked past her. Those in the back continue to laugh.

He remembers not long ago he had been in that exact position. Tripping and falling over as they all laughed at him. Having to pretend he wasn't a bit humiliated, when in reality he wanted to disappear.

A silent breath, Mortimer walks in her direction. He was not noticed until he began to bend down, picking up a few parchments and a book.

You could still hear the other houses giggling in the background as Mortimer makes his way down. Yet, he could hardly find anything humorous about the situation.

"Here, let me help." Offering the girl a hand, she finally lifts up her head. Exposing her beet red face and watery eyes.

The laughing instantly stops when Mortimer throws them a threatening glare, daring anyone to continue on. Being a Black carried certain benefits he used to intimidate unwanted crowds. It was given proof when a swift glance and the group disperses. At that moment, Astoria decides she's had enough of the floor and gets up, wiping her eyes with the helm of her sleeves.

It took Astoria a minute to realize she was facing the prominent Black heir. Seeing his tall altitude, she felt her face flare red with further humiliation and her chest beating faster. Mortimer could tell by expression alone; she wanted nothing more than to run. It was one he often wore, the feeling of helplessness he couldn't stand.

No words came from here, just the silent stare of a girl in panic.

He sighed - Yup, being a Black sure had its perks. . . "Fine," Naturally grabbing the rest of her books he makes a small pile. And seeing as how she didn't even want to look at him, he instead decides to make a small pile, setting them gently in front of her feet. "Be careful out there." He advises as he starts to walk away.

"Th-Thank You!" She piped up.

He stared at her and there was a surprising stretch of silence between them before he finally nodded and left her to her own.

Mortimer would never understand the human nature of girls. He had only just left her, the doors to the great hall open in front of him. Taking only four steps he hears Draco coming towards him. "There you are. I've been trying to look for you. Where you've been?"

Clearing his throat, Mortimer responds. "I was helping Professor Sprout de-fang a few of her plants.

"What on earth for?"

A small shrug. "We could always use the points and... it looks good on my record."

"I guess." Draco didn't think much and turns around to head to the slytherin table. "The next quidditch match is coming up."

Going along the same route, Mortimer was listening on and off, mumbling and automatically agreeing as his wander across the other tables. Gripping his hands when he spots Professor Lupin staring. From somewhere else Professor Snape was noted as he started at the boy with a certain look he could only describe as suspicious. He figured it had something to do with his memories. He could sit here all day and speculate, but the fact remained Snape knew the truth. Knew how the true origin of his own little story. How pathetic he must think of him. Or maybe this is what Dumbledore wanted. Wanted someone to take a gander and confirm that Mortimer was a boy with a motive to hate the world. And that was all because one person.

"What do you think, Mortimer?"

Draco's informal tone of voice brought him out of his dazed introspection. "What was that?"

Rolling his eyes Draco, he seemed unaware of his ponderous trance. "Who do you think will win? I'm hoping hufflesnuff will throw out those hapless gryffindors."

Gazing at the Gryffindor, he sees Ginny waving.

Mortimer couldn't help but wave back.

"What are you doing, waving at a Weasley like that?" Draco snaps his hand down. "You can't be friends with the competition."

"Says who?" Mortimer questions. Food suddenly appearing, he grabs a plate.

"Everyone!" Draco almost shouts, watching his cousin serving himself a full plate of potatoes. "Remember what I said about appearances?"

Playing with spoon, he nods. "I was only saying Hi, I don't see why it should count."

"Trust me," Shaking his head, dissent while trying to explain. "every move counts and you befriending the likes of a Weasley, diminishes any potential alliances for the better future."

"He's right."

Hearing Parkinson's snobby girly voice, Mortimer had to suppress offending the pompous brat. "Is that so?"

Nodding her head, Pansy lifts her nose high in the air. "You'd never see me associating with those kinds of freaks. Or any sane person for that matter." Scooting closer, she speaks her unwanted opinion. "Draco is only trying to look out for you. The others have seen you, and they're starting to think of you as being untrustworthy..."

At the same time quickly trying to assure him. "Oh! But don't worry, they'll never tell you straight to your face, just behind your back, you know? When you're not looking."

His fork stops mid air. "Gee. . ." speaking softly. "Thanks Pansy."

Pansy was either deluded or just dumb to spot the sarcasm in his tone. "Oh anytime!" She smiles before returning to her meal.

Sharing a questioning gaze, Mortimer and Draco saw no point in saying more and merely brushes off Pansy.

They ate their meal soundly and made little comments every now and then. However, Mortimer felt as though he was constantly being stared at. Whether it was Snape or Lupin, he didn't care, what he wanted to know as to why.

A short glance, he was surprised to see the pair of eyes, which belonged to neither, was that of Dumbledore.

Mortimer looks away rapidly. He knows he was caught but didn't want to give the old man the satisfaction that he was slowly getting to him. He won't let Dumbledore make him do anything rash, anything that will bring him any scrutiny among the suspicious crowd. Mortimer will just have to wait and see what the headmaster does next.

It was heavily pouring, the dreadful rain showing no remorse for the great sport of Quidditch. Despite the bad weather, students were undeterred as they came to stand on the booths, screaming and cheering for the playing teams. They were not discouraged by the chill bitter winds but rather felt the exhilarating effects of the ongoing game. While Gryffindor played against Hufflepuff, the other houses continued to watch, rooting in excitement.

Somewhere among the crowd, Draco and his friends observed with much skepticism and disdain. If only his arm didn't hurt so much. . . A lie, undoubtedly. But he wasn't going to risk getting wet, nor risk the chance of losing to Potter in this horrible weather. He could beat Potter anytime! Simply. . . choose not to...

As he watches from the sidelines, he sat comfortably in cubbyhole with a nice little roof over his head, to avoid the awful damp weather. He raves for the hufflepuff team to win. Frankly, it was getting harder to see with all this broad rain smacking their faces as it comes down, crashing into anyone it comes across. Theo, along with Daphne and Tracey, urged for hufflepuff to win. Mostly because the girls seemed to find the hufflepuff seeker, Cedric Diggory, to be quite the hunk. Smiling whenever he dodged the rival players.

Further into the game, clapping thunder strikes the air. It was at this moment that the gyrffindor captain, Oliver Wood, calls for a timeout. Seeing this, Draco laughs, along with some of the slytherin team members. He couldn't hear what they were saying, following Wood's body language, he flanged his arms into the air, yelling at his teammates, making them laugh even more.

A set of clamorous cracks, another roll of thunder surrounds the skies.

When the game finally proceeds, it didn't take long for the snitch to be spotted. What no one expected was for the hufflepuff seeker to find it first. But this is what Draco wanted, he wanted gryffindor to lose, watch Potter's smug face turning into a miserable frown. The twit, thinking he can flaunt his name around and expect everyone to fall for him. But not Draco, he was better than him!

Mortimer would call him deluded.

Wait, where was Mortimer?

"Has anyone seen Mortimer?"

Theo abruptly stops clapping and swirls his head to face the blond, sharing the same worried look as Draco. When suddenly the sky gets darker, one would think nighttime has arrived early. A long silent ring, the environment swiftly becomes cold, colder than your usual autumn weather. This was more associated with winter, even then, it was too cold for a anyone to survive without wearing a very thick coat.

Daphne's eyebrows reel in sharply. "Is that a dementor?"

"Dementors." Tracey corrects. "A lot of them!"

Watching as the soul sucking creatures make their way across the quidditch field, everyone starts to scream in a fit of panic. However, the dementors didn't stay there for long. Soon, they shoot up to the sky, targeting the one and only, Potter.

Draco could care less for him. In fact, let the dementors have him! No, it wasn't the spectacled boy he was concerned about. It was Mortimer.

Looking around for an exit. "I have to look for Mortimer!" Draco comes around, pushing his way out of the field.

Daphne and Tracey have no time to react, alternatively, holding each other for comfort as the dark creature's twist and manipulate the skies, causing dread and fear to spread. Ignoring Theo as he calls for him, Draco instead dashes back inside. He couldn't let those nasty creatures get to him. He just had to find him first.

"He went into the forest."

Instantly stopping, his body slides in motion, snapping his head to the source. "Uggh -" It was the looney ravenclaw girl again.

Standing there barefoot, she seemed dazed, wearing a small umbrella hat and large jumper made to look like lion's fur.

"Go away."

Hearing Draco give her orders did nothing. Claiming instead. "Mortimer is out in the forest, if you want to catch him."

Normally, Draco would've called her a freak and leave. Thinking she was the wrong sort to hang around with. His deluded cousin disagreed. What made her special out of those from their inner circle?

Draco didn't stop to think about. Little time was given, and he was desperate. "You better not be wrong." he said lastly, running once more.

Luna says nothing in return. Standing in the middle of corridor, she stares out, frowning at the idea. "I do hope he gets there in time."

Mortimer frowned, trying to blink through the rain, even as the water collected on the corner of his eyes and dripped down his already wet face. The injury to his ego had yet to dwindle in full. It kept him from going out, speak to anyone, just him and his solitary prison he created inside his mind. Ruined by the haunting memories that mutilated him at the very core of his heart. The monstrous glee Nana had on her face as she watches beyond the grave, satisfied with the fact she had stolen his innocence. The horror of which fate patronized Mortimer with, he looked out beyond the forest trees. The rain was moderating, coughing up thick mist in its wake. The clouds moved the grey light sky, creating an atmospheric sense that lacked any cheer.

Mortimer could all but feel the sorrow and dread above the northwest country.

Having resided on top of a very old tree truck, waiting for a sign. What kind? He doesn't know. All he knew is that he needed something, anything to get him through the school year. The term has barely started and already feels like an eternity.

Wearing a pink raincoat, with blooming bright yellow sunflowers, he ponders more. Sure, the coat was a little tight around the arms, but it did manage to keep him from being entirely wet. Luna was kind enough to loan him the jacket after she had spotted him the following morning.

Recalling the small encounter.

Coming out the great hall, Mortimer was just about finished with breakfast. He had an hour to kill before detention and nothing left to do. He told himself, a change in scenery is an order.

Walking straight for about a minute, he about to turn the right corridor until he heard a soft voice appearing behind his shoulder.

"Where are you going?"

Abandoning his planned morning stroll, he turns. Luna and all her innocence, asking and Mortimer not wanting to answer, manages to reply out dully. "Out."

Her forehead crinkles a bit, tilting her head in a confusing manner. "But it's raining outside."

Very much aware of the weather, Mortimer didn't seem bothered in slightest. "I know."

There, she stood silent. It was unusual for her to act so... calm. Appearing to be relatively understanding, she offers. "Would you like to barrow my raincoat?"

Showing solidarity in his neutral face, he lowers his eyes before going back to the small blonde. "Sure."

Returning to his contemplative state, his elbows resting on his knees while his head laid on his not so comfortable knuckles. He stares farther among the trees, occasionally snapping his head and clenching his sweaty hands. Anxious, he didn't know what to do. A broken record player, the persistent scream of his departed grandmother plays on repeat. The images, freshly glued to his mind, it was all he could see, hear and think of all day. Torturing him for hours on end that he's lost track of time. Was it Tuesday? Wednesday? He forgets. Tough, none of that mattered, nothing mattered when Mortimer has lost all sense of hope.

Mortimer's head jerked forward to the sky that surrounds him, proceeding to look out into space, where a small group of Thestral's clanked their hooves. Making their way down an old river. They didn't notice him, even if they did, they didn't think him a threat as he only watches them soundlessly, yet, at his distance, he felt the airspace turn melancholy. An annoying little reminder on why he was able to see them in the first place, why others could not. It angered him to know he couldn't erase the pestering memories of a previous life. He thought by now, he would have forgotten, moved on to better things. But again, he was asking for too much. Instead, he gets a headache and a few nightmares and boom! There goes his sanity.

He was only glad to have this time alone. Feeling a little absurd for saying so, the presence of his friends only seemed to further convince him they were no good. They were all liars, waiting to gain his trust. When the opportunity comes, they'll rush him with dagger at hand and stab him right deep inside his back. Who knows how long it'll take; sure, they'll be friendly now. But someday, the waiting will stop and strike him down.

Not ever... Mortimer plays over his head.

He secluded himself in order to avoid everyone else, not wanting to be seen by anyone. Nowadays, he plays hide and seek with his friends and so far, Mortimer was winning. They've yet to find him and tackle him about the little ongoing problem he finds himself in. It was a small blessing, he guessed. It's been a good while since he's even spoken to anyone who wasn't his dark wiggly friend, Tobey.

"Master."

"What is it?"

"Someone is coming?"

"What is it?"

Straight away, his body tenses up at the possibility of who'd dare come here and disturb his moment of peace. Mortimer's eyes took in the surroundings, cringing at the sight of Draco running towards him. Almost appearing as though his life depended on it, his panicked face unnerved him.

He shook his head, reminding himself that Draco wasn't going to hurt him. However, the more he said it, the more he sounded doubtful. Questioning his motive.

"Mortimer!" Draco exclaimed, making that young pale face seem featherweight. He didn't question his appearance, what he cared about was getting his cousin out of the forest grounds. "We have to get out of here!"

Before Mortimer could even reply, Draco takes a strong hold of his arm. Dragging him across the colossal of trees and shrubbery bushes that were in the way of the path towards the school, there was a sense of urgency in his body language.

"What's going on?" Speaking loud, Mortimer could see his own breath. The air was becoming extremely cold for no apparent reason, leaving him at odds.

Not so much of glance, Draco retained his head forward, sounding terrified. "Shut up and keep running!"

They almost tripped a couple of times trying to get away from the invisible danger that followed. What was so upsetting that Draco felt the need to take him all over the forest grounds? There was nothing out of the ordinary, well not completely, but it was enough to know he wasn't in any danger. However, unbeknownst to Mortimer, things will only get worse from this moment on.

"Let go!" Mortimer orders.

Draco wasn't listening, breathing heavily he tugs his wrist harder.

As they ran, Mortimer kept shouting for answers, squinting his eyes the second freezing air strikes against his cheeks. Unable to get through to Draco, his brows snap in anger and breaks off his arm, causing Draco to release him. "What in the world has gotten into you!"

"There's no time!" Draco growls out. "We have to get you out of here."

"Time for what?" He yells out, throwing his arms in the air, Mortimer was getting sick and tired of his games. "A shrink? Now, I'm not going anywhere after you -"

His words feel off a figurative cliff, just as Mortimer looked up at the sky, he gasped. The ghastly colorless sky above them was horrifying enough that he couldn't help but take a step closer. Loud screaming hiss echoing within the overbearing mist clouds hid the danger that would consume them. Sighting closer, long stretched out hooded creatures dominated the ceilings, their sharp grotesque fingers stretching far and wide into the thin air, searching for a particular smell.

The wind knocked out of him; the still hush of the void begins filling his ears with repeatable dread.

Draco was freaking out - Mortimer would expect him to start running and leave him behind. But was ultimately shocked to find the bravery in his actions as the blond tries to cover Mortimer with his own body.

Although, it was not enough to protect him as Mortimer was easily spotted. A shift in the air turns dark. The dementors come in the masses, hovering in high speed before descended down to their location.

"Run!" Draco instructs.

Agreeing, they both start heading in through a small dirt pathway that would hopefully lead them to the school's entrance.

It wasn't a guarantee either, as Mortimer has only been in this part of the woods a handful of times. He wanted to get lost in the forest and he got just what he asked for. Both boys were afraid to turn around even as they listened to the bone chilling screeches of those dastardly creatures from behind. Mortimer could feel his skin prickling at the nearness, he knew why they were here, what they were after.

There was nowhere to go, fleeing for their lives, Draco's eyes watch the dementors soar in acceleration.

A silhouette of the school emerges the more they ran, there was hope but with that hope, there was also the persistent fear of being captured.

And then, the worse comes to surface.

Draco knocked back a few feet was thrown forcefully by a single cloaked figure. To them, he was nothing, but to the fearful boy to his left, was a well prepared meal, ready to be feast on.

Mortimer tried to scream but struggling so and not possessing the abillity to move. Floating directly in the air, he was sedated. Souls of the damned reach him, surrounding him as one of them lifts their long sharp fingers in a vice around the back of his head. Stroking his cheek, as if they cared, the end of their sharp hooked nails scraped lightly against his already pale face. The strange noise they were making sounded like light humming. If they could show any expression, Draco would've thought they were smiling, cruelly and unsympathetic.

Draco couldn't see through the shadows of their bodies but could hear high shrilling voices, one that resembled hunger. The hard wind rumbling with the very darkness of their immortal souls - if they ever had one to begin with. The clouds parted by thunderous roars of lighting, a horrid trap above their heads, they'r prepare to dine.

Shouting for anyone, Draco cries out, "Help! Somebody help! Please!"

Casting one last look up to Mortimer's levitating body, there was moment of silence, waiting for the very thing he's feared to come to life.

"Alright, Mortimer let's try this again."

Encountering a wall, he remains silent.

"Listen, Mortimer..." The narrative advises from the therapist cause the boy to lift his head slightly. "The only way this works is if we talk about it and sort through the issues you're having - Don't you want to get better? Leave this place and live with a new family that will care for you?"

No, no he doesn't - What in the world was the Doc talking about? Mortimer didn't think it was possible. Things have never been any better. He was away from that very horrible place. Away from that horrible woman. No one could hurt him anymore... Here, in this magical place, he has everything. Food enough to stuff him, clothes that didn't force him to stand, a real warm bed at night for him to sleep in. It was great! Why would he want leave? Family? What family? He didn't need one to be happy. He was already fine at this very spot.

Lowering his eyes, he closes them gently before smiling to himself.

"Yes, family." Believing the idea had caught his attention, he continues the thought. "wouldn't that be great? I know you loved your grandmother very dearly and no one can ever replace her. But I'm sure after you've healed, we can find someone equally as loving and caring as her."

Or equally cruel, he thought.

"But first, we have to talk about what happened and really process everything in order to fully accept it. It won't be easy - What you saw... would traumatize anyone."

Another silent respond, Mortimer sat back comfortably in this fine cushion chair, wondering what they'll be serving for dinner.

"Mortimer." The man clenching his clipboard firmly.

He's been really good this whole week - Would they let him pick tonight's movie?

"Mortimer..." He was becoming less patient.

He was really excited for tomorrow as he'd be allowed ten minutes in the bathroom. With actual, real working shower heads!

"Mortimer!"

Lifting his head up, Mortimer emits a difficult breath. Even as he realizes someone was shaking him. Mortimer fought them off, panicked before he came back to his senses. Draco's silver worried eyes stared, murmuring. "It's ok, breath. You're fine."

Composing himself, Mortimer shifts faintly from the bed, searching somewhat frantically for any signs of danger. "Wh-Where am I? What... happened?

"The hospital wing." Draco was careful to respond, gazing over his shoulder quick. "The dementors, they went over the school's barriers. Are you going to alright?"

He half expected Mortimer to refuse answering any question, surprised when he did, he replies. "I just need a moment."

"We were all worried about you."

"We?"

"Half of the syltherin house came to visit. You've slept for nearly a week." Motioning his arms, Draco revealed a room filled with get well cards and small gifts. "They won't stop asking about you."

"I didn't know I was so popular." Talking in a playful manner, he shook at his head, not sure if he believed it.

"Apparently so." Tugging a smile, he grabs one of the cards and reads out. "My dearest love, I think of you always, get better soon, yours forever, Lavender."

Draco doesn't try to hide his amusement as he laughs. It only increases when Mortimer hides using the palm of his hands, groaning in sheer fluster. "It's not all bad." Draco jeers.

Mortimer was not charmed in the slightest. "You try avoiding Brown then."

"I already have my own problems, and her name is Parkinson." Chuckling, he puts the card back. His tone becoming instantly serious. "Professor Lupin drove off the dementors..." Quietly, he informs. "He came not long after they came. Nearly got to you too, I could practically see your soul being sucked out."

His eyes trained down on to his clammy hands. "Thank you... for coming."

As nice as it was to hear, Draco was disenchanted with the whole ordeal. "Didn't make much of a difference." He could've done so much better, frustrated with his own actions, he couldn't bear to look.

Contrary to what Draco might think, Mortimer was all too happy. "It made a huge one. What you did, it was really brave."

Not sure how to take the compliment, Draco nods and retreats back. A small glance and Mortimer could tell something was bothering Draco, told by the small creases forming on forehead. "What is it?"

A moment to think, there was confusion, perplexed by a certain question. "I don't understand."

"Understand what?"

"The filthy mudbloods..." Draco kicks off, expressing his bafflement. "You don't hate them, but they're the reason why you're like this."

Biting his tongue, he asks. "Like what?"

"Like this." Directing his arms towards Mortimer, he vents.

Mortimer saw no need to hide the facts. "You mean crazy? Out of my wits? Barmy? Having too many loose screws? It's no one's fault but mine."

"Stop it! I'm just trying to understand." Frustratingly breathing, pinches the bridge of his nose. "How can you sit there and defend them, when all they've done is hurt you."

Shaking his head. He could explain, but would Draco appreciate his reasoning? "They..." Mortimer sneered. "didn't do anything - Just her. One person, that's it. I'm not going to blame everyone for her actions. She was a bad person who did bad things and I hate her. Then again, I'm probably no bettter. . ."

Draco was silent. An unexpected answer, it did nothing but further confuse him. "Why do you say that?"

Mortimer wants to tell him. Wants to confess and tell the complete hidden truth. The high adrenaline rush coursing in his blood as he showed the wretched trot of a woman what evil can do if pushed too far.

"No reason." Mortimer vaguely answers, during which time Draco can see his eyes becoming cold.

In the short moment of silence, the curtains separate. Standing there in the middle was Dumbledore. "My dear boy, glad to see you are recovering quite nicely. And Mr. Malfoy, I see you've not abandoned your post since your cousin's arrival."

Draco becomes easily tense at the headmaster's unannounced attendance and honestly, so was Mortimer.

Breaking the rigidity from his body, Mortimer was the first to speak. "I'm doing much better. Draco was just telling me Professor Lupin, once again, saved me from my admirers."

A small chuckle, the old man nods. "He did."

"Well, then I guess I'll have to thank him once Madam Pomfrey lets me out."

"A good idea." Dumbledore agrees, he was all smiles, leaving Mortimer left to fray. "I'm sure he'd appreciate the sentiment. Our poor Professor has been rather ill these couple of days, and I'm sure your gratitude will no doubt bring some well needed cheer."

Dumbledore beamed at Mortimer's scowl. Turning his flickering eyes to Draco, he spoke. "Mr. Malfoy, I don't mean to intrude on your time with your cousin. But, if I may, I'd like to have a private word with Mr. Black."

Folding his arm where he sat, Draco made no attempt to hide his objection. "Why? I'm sure whatever you have to say to Mortimer can be easily shared with me as well. I'm his family. My parents would want me to know anything involving his safety, as do I. We all care for him, isn't that important?"

"I whole-heartedly agree, Mr. Malfoy." Placing a wrinkled hand on the left side of his chest. "As any family should - Ultimately... a matter has been brought to my attention concerning a personal matter. I must insist it remains confidential. Wouldn't you agree, Mr. Black?"

Receiving two deep eye stares from where he sat, Mortimer played with his fingers, wishing he wasn't in the room. In the end, he gives in to the old man's demand and nods. "Y-Yeah... I asked for complete privacy. . ."

Mortimer's weak excuse lacked any enthusiasm, Draco didn't even buy into it for a second. "Mortimer -"

"Please." Lowering his head, he couldn't look at him. Aware of Draco's preceptive nature, Mortimer was going have to explain it to him later. "I just need a moment."

A harsh screeching stetches, as he abruptly slides the chair. Without so much as a glance, Draco stomps his way out of the hospital wing. With every step Draco made sure everyone knew he was not happy, and that idea alone, crushed him.

When Dumbledore was sure Draco had fully left, he retrives his wand, casting a quick silencing charm.

There was a long huff of air emitting from where Mortimer. "What did I do now?" Asking in rather bored tone.

"It's not what you did..." Dumbledore corrects. "It's what you didn't do."

"And exactly what did I not do?"

"You have been keeping things to yourself." His once shiny eyes suddenly turn cheerless. "You lied."

Mortimer found himself snapping his neck. What did the old man had to be upset about? So what if he told a few lies. No big deal. Was he not entitled to a little privacy? Dumbledore already knew everything. Why did he suddenly care?

"And what if I did?" Mortimer answers a question with a question. "I don't owe you anything."

"Truly?"

Scoffing, Mortimer rolled his eyes. "I told you from the very start that I was happy where I was. I didn't need you to come and 'rescue' me, I didn't need all this rubbish coming down on me."

Frowning, he questions softly. "The dementors?"

"Not just them, but everyone else!" He rants on. "They either hate me or fear me. I'm constantly being looked at suspiciously, like i've already done something wrong... And those who don't are always pestering me about my personal life. It isn't fair. . ." Staring down at his own hands, he couldn't take it. "You should've left me where you found me."

For a small moment neither said anything. Dumbledore let his words sink in. A boy who's been through many, there was only so much he could take before he'd snap. "Professor Snape has brought his own concerns."

"Pffft - So what else is new?"

Setting aside the comment, he proceeds to say. "He worries about your. . ." Dumbledore treads quietly. "mental state."

From what Mortimer understood in Dumbledore's sentence, Professor Snape thinks I'm going to go off and start killing students, eh? Thinks I've lost my bloody mind...

"Does he now?" Lifting his brow, Mortimer asks dubiously.

"Very much so." A slight nod, Dumbledore takes a one-step close. "He was concerned about a particular memory. During an Occlumency lesson..."

Mortimer understood. It was only a matter of time before Dumbledore realized the potential danger Mortimer possessed. Though the old man's worries didn't lie with the concept of power but rather the lack of morality, in which he believed Mortimer did not carry.

But the old fool was wrong. "And what do you make of it?" Lifting his darkened eyes, he peers straight against Dumbledore's glossy eyes. "Do you agree?"

Standing there, a half-smile making him appear almost sheepish. "As I've mentioned before, I was too quick to judge young Tom... Gave up to easily because I truly believed he was beyond saving." A silent pause. "Perhaps, he wouldn't have gone astray, had I not offered my help." Nodding somberly in thought, musing over. "I've only seen to have made things much worse."

With his shoulders hunched over and head hanging low, Mortimer had to agree on this one. Sure, he could the similarities between him and Tom. They were tormented and judged too quickly without given the proper chance to prove themselves. But was it justified? Was causing a war, murdering innocent people, torturing and spreading undeserved fear rightfully deserved?

"We're not all perfect." Mortimer mumbled, the bags underneath his eyes expose by sunlight. "And maybe it wouldn't have mattered. You can be nice to someone and still turn to a piece of shit."

"The language. . ." Shaking the head, he went on, "But yes, you may have a point." rubbing his bearded chin lightly. "I need you to understand - If I am to help you - You need to speak openly, there cannot be any secrets. You must not only be honest with me, but to yourself as well. Bottling your troubles is never a good way to address these serious matters. It is bound to erupt."

A sole blink, he softly said. "Just like now?"

Dumbledore gives a stern nod. "Just like now."

There was an extensive amount of endurable silence. While the old man waited for the Mortimer to speak freely, the boy only sank further down on the bed.

Averting his eyes, Mortimer hides his flushed face. The reoccurring emotions of humiliation and fearfulness seems to never leave him. Just how many times was he going to relive this nightmare? Reawaken the memories of a dead woman, who didn't even deserve any recognition. If anyone really wants to help him, they'd make him forget. There's a spell for that... right? Nevertheless, the events of the last month have spiraled out of control. With the dementors wanting his soul, the boggart haunting his inner thoughts, and Sirius Black nearly kidnapping him. Without any sort of guidance, Mortimer was poisoned by his own venom.

Mortimer wasn't sure how much he could take at this point. He was tired of being angry, tired of being afraid. What he wanted now was simply to be left alone. Good ol' Dumbledore couldn't have that, the great and powerful wizard needed all his chess pieces in one board. What game was the old man playing? Mortimer was starting to think it wasn't a very fun one.

"Don't you want to get better?" Dumbledore asked finally.

Bringing up his eyes, Mortimer fixed his sights on the old man, expanding as his fists tightened.

Thinking, he might very well be on his way to breaking.