Surviving Malfoy _ Part II : Anger and Depression
KIZ 'Der durch die Scheibeboxxxer' – Bin drei Tage lang nicht ansprechbar wie Jesus Christus.
Chapter 16:
The stench is the worst. The smell of old sweat and unwashed clothes, of unbrushed, yellowing teeth and blood feels heavy on my tongue. His smell is what announces him. He is silent otherwise. He prowls, he bides his time until the opportunity to pounce comes along, until his target is distracted.
Something has distracted me. Something has caused me to avert my eye, to momentarily lose track of the hunter, to become the hunted. But I can't remember what. He's pounced, he's dug his claws, his overly long fingernails, into my neck and back. His fangs, his pointed, no longer human looking canine teeth - I saw them coming. I saw them approach my face, biting down on my cheek, digging through my eyelid.
I wake with a start, sharply sucking air into my aching lungs. I stare at a set of dark curtains, light tries to push through from the outside, but the heavy fabric keeps the room dark. I screw my eyes shut and open them wide again. Only my right eye seems to work, my left is pitch black, as if bandaged in.
But I know it isn't. A deep sense of déjà-vu comes over me. He really has sunken his claws into me, almost ripped my eye out. But I'm not in pain. It was months ago. I can't for the life of me remember the man's name.
I try pulling my hand out from under the heavy covers and regret it immediately. I let out a loud moan, straining my vocal cords. The more I come to, the more every muscle in my body becomes sore, cramped, forcing me to curl up on myself and tighten my fists in an attempt to escape the ache.
"Miss is awake."
I flinch at the sound and my neck spasms, making me pull my shoulders up to my ears. I force my eyes open. A tiny creature stands by my bed, it's huge, yellow green eyes almost glowing in the darkness and fixed intently on my face, hopeful.
An elf.
An elf I know.
"Who-" I screw up my face again as the elf hangs its ears.
"Alf, Miss," it says.
"Alf. Alf, yes," I mumble. But Alf is an alien. I shake my head in confusion, my brain so foggy it refuses to put together any useful information. "What happened?"
"Miss was tortured," the elf says carefully. "And Miss's memories were jumbled. Miss Bella looked through them and left a big mess, Master said."
Whatever jumbled means. "Who's- Water," I croak, eyes searching my surroundings. There isn't much I can make out, nor can I move my head around without starting to shiver violently. My neck feels like it has cramped up entirely now.
The elf pulls a glass of water out from somewhere I can't see, pops a straw into it and holds it to my lips. I suck up the entire contents of the glass in just a few seconds, feeling the cold liquid running into my stomach. "Thank you."
"Miss should drink this." The elf holds up a cup, gold sparkling smoke emanates from it, slowly drifting upwards in wide spirals.
"What is it?" I ask, not allowing the straw the elf has now drops into the liquid between my lips.
"A memory solution, Miss," Alf says.
I still refuse to take it. I know what a memory solution is. At least I should know what is in it. It's a fairly simple list of ingredients, only four or five. I screw my eyes shut again. "What's in it?"
"Jobberknoll feathers, mandrake, sage and galanthus nivalis, Miss."
"That's right." Only four. I take the straw and suck.
"Alf will draw Miss a bath too, with willow bark and mullein root. It will help the spasming, Master Draco said."
Master Draco.
A vivid image of a blond, teenage boy springs up in my mind, his features twisted in anger, one hand pulling on my hair and another at my- I fling myself over the edge of the bed despite my limbs screaming in protest and throw the potion right back up. The elf conjures a bucket under me, narrowly saving the thick carpet. He takes hold of my hair, brushing it out of my face and out of the way as I heave up bile.
"Miss is burning up," Alf says, placing a cool, gentle hand on my neck.
"Where am I?" I groan when my stomach has calmed down, empty at last, except for a dull ache.
"Miss is safe," the elf says.
I shake my head. "Where am I?" I ask more forcefully. The elf wipes my mouth with a damp cloth, but doesn't respond. I look around, trying to take in as much as I can with my one eye and my head hanging awkwardly off the bed. I've been here before. And it wasn't long ago. I sat at that same desk with those same scrolls in a neat pile.
They haven't always been in a neat pile.
The boy was here with me. This is his room.
"Alf-"
"Alf has an anti-nausea potion for Miss." The elf ignores me and a sense of dread flourishes in my gut.
"No," I say, unable to shake my head no matter how violently I want to do so.
"Then Miss can try the memory solution again."
"No!" I pull my shoulders back as much as I can, rolling my head back onto the mattress. "They won't react well together. The ginger will set off the stewed mandrake and I'll just throw up more." I know this. I remember learning this at school. "Alf, where's Draco?" The pain in my stomach makes me curl up on myself, makes my teeth chatter and my voice come out shaky and panicked.
"Does Miss want to try the memory solution again?" He repeats himself.
"Alf, answer me." He doesn't. "Look at me." His saucer sized eyes look up at me sheepishly. I eye him for a moment but no, I rack my brain and nothing. He's brought me food before, and blankets to keep me warm. He's never done me any harm - that my brain fog allows me to remember. "Draco," I say. "Blonde hair, right? Tall." The elf nods. "Grey eyes, pointy face."
The elf looks down at his fingers. "Master Draco said this might happen."
I groan in frustration. "Where is he?"
"Alf will draw Miss a bath to help with the pain." He turns and walks away.
"Alf no," I say, breath hitching and heart hammering. "Come back."
"Alf will only be a moment."
I whine in pain when he vanishes and try pulling my arm free again, but my muscles have cramped so hard I can't stretch out my elbow. The sound of running water starts next door and a moment later the elf reappears, a small flask in hand filled with blue liquid.
I shake my head, or jerk it from side to side as much as my muscles will allow. "No," I mumble.
"Master Draco said Alf should make Miss take a calming draught now." The elf approaches.
"No no no." I repeat. I suddenly vividly remember my mouth being pried open, a minty blue liquid being poured into it and someone pinching my nose closed, forcing me to swallow it. The anxiety of the situation comes with the memory just as abruptly and I turn my head to the side, trying to escape the elf and immediately regretting it. I yelp in pain and the elf jumps on the occasion; he's suddenly sitting on my chest, flask at my lips, holding my chin as gently as ever and pouring the liquid into my open mouth.
"No," I try saying again as he covers my mouth with his hand. I inhale some of the liquid and cough violently, just once. Alf snips his fingers and clears my airways. "Miss should feel better now." He says matter-of-factly.
I feel my heart rate drop almost immediately, my breathing slows and my guts unfurl. Only the pain and the tension in my muscles remain. Alf removes his hand from my mouth, and I suck in a deep breath. This too feels familiar; the minty taste that lingers on my tongue is not new. But it comes with deep-rooted anger and disappointment.
Directed at Draco. Who's been the one to force this calming draught on me last. And who cried into my shoulder afterwards. I stare at his canopy as things slowly click into place and I struggle reconciling the fury in his voice with his tears.
"The bath is ready Miss," the elf says, hopping off the bed.
I groan and turn to the side as best I can, eyeing the bathroom door. I'm not sure how I can make it there. I will the muscles in my legs to decontract. Alf pulls the heavy covers off my body, exposing it to the cold air and making me shiver. I push my knees to the edge of the bed and hang my feet off it, pushing myself up with a loud groan. I feel dizzy sitting upright and gratefully take Alf's extended hand.
"Thank you," I say, leaning heavily on his tiny form, my other arm still cramped against my upper body, and I try awkwardly moving my fingers. Standing makes me nauseous. "How long was I out?" I ask, not making another move.
"It's January 3rd, Miss." Alf says. "Miss was asleep for two and a half days."
"Mh." I mumble, gripping his shoulder as I take a tentative step forward. My legs work, but very slowly. It takes 2 minutes for me to reach the bathroom on wobbly knees, taking a rest in the desk chair, almost doubling over.
The bathroom smells heavily of herbs. Alf clumsily helps me pull off the grey pyjamas I'm wearing and lowers me into the brass tub. The water is almost uncomfortably hot, but the willow and mullein force my muscles to relax, soothing the ache. I let out a long sigh as I sink into the mixture. I let myself slide all the way in, submerging my head, letting it loosen up my clenched jaw and the frown on my forehead. I hold my breath, releasing bubbles to the surface until my lungs can't take it anymore and push myself up, brushing my hair out of my face. When I look up, Alf still stands by the side of the tub, his watery, wide eyes on me.
"Would Miss like to try the memory potion again?"
I sigh, savouring the warmth spreading through my body. "Can I get some more water?"
The elf disappears and reappears in an instant, holding a glass of water with a straw, so I won't have to lift a finger.
"Master Draco said Miss should take a memory solution as soon as possible, so Miss's memories don't stay jumbled," the elf says as I suckle on the straw.
"Where is he?"
"Out Miss."
I frown. "What day did you say it was?"
"January 3rd Miss."
"He's-" I pause, rubbing my forehead and immediately plunge my hand back into the water when the cold air hits it. "Shouldn't he be in school."
"Alf can't say yet Miss." The elf hangs his ears again. "Alf shouldn't tell Miss anything that happened until Miss has her memories back in order, Master said. So Miss should-"
"Take the memory solution, I know. Give it to me."
I suck up the potion he's been pestering me to take and sink my shoulders back under water, resting my head on the edge of the tub and stare up at the ornamental white ceiling. A simple chandelier hangs in its middle. The candles aren't enough to illuminate the entire space, so torches have been fixed to each wall, spreading a warm glow over the room. But there are small slithers of light running along the floor, emanating from the wall to my right, where heavy curtains hang over two large windows.
"Can you open the curtains please?" I whisper, staring at them, and Alf does as I ask. I squint at first, as bright white light rushes over me. The windows reveal a view of snow-covered grounds - January 3rd, I remember Alf saying. It's the middle of winter, but snow isn't something I'm used to. At least I didn't grow up around a lot of snow and I'm not supposed to be around a lot of snow now. I'm not supposed to be here.
I drop my head back. Two and a half days I've been out cold. Since New Year's. I close my eyes and strain my thoughts back - New Year's bides nothing good. It hasn't in a long while. But this time was worse. I'm not here of my own free will, I've been kidnapped and brought here in an attempt to get information out of me. That's why I was tortured.
I remember pain and close my eyes, focusing on that day. On Bella. She's Draco's aunt and she has a knack for torture. And legilimency. She enjoys combining the two and she blew through my brain like a storm. She blew through my house like a storm.
In for five, hold for two, out for five, I let myself sink deeper as I focus on that house. It is chaos. Jumbled is an understatement. Memory upon memory flits through my brain, from room to room, no longer confined to the spaces I allocated them to and in orders I know can not all be right. A white curtain lays ripped in shreds at the bottom of a flight of stairs, up to an attic. Dread spreads through me. Nothing good can be found up there, so I turn my back on it.
There is more, I know. There is more I didn't want her to find. And she hasn't - or I would likely be dead and most definitely not laying in a warm bath, allowed to soothe my aching body. I just have to remember where. Lower, I remember that much, but there are no stairs to get me lower. I carefully step around images of dark dungeons and airy dorm rooms, filled with people I know should not be there and arguments with people I know I have never spoken a word to. These are trivial, they can wait for now.
There's a basement. There is a door to a basement, but it can't be inside. It's a heavy wooden door I carefully protected with magic only I know the counter curses to, and I wasn't stupid enough to place it inside my house where someone might find it. I find it on the outside of the back wall, rigorously disguised and eerily quiet. I open it up. She hasn't made her way in here, everything is still in order. She hasn't found the worst, which also means I can trust these memories.
I carefully flip through them until I find what I'm looking for. The first time Draco forced me to drink his minty blue calming draught, I hadn't been feeling much different than today - physically at least. I was curled up in pain when he forced it down my throat, leaving nothing but resentment behind, yet holding me closely to his chest as his tears soaked through my shirt.
He was feeling sorry. Sorry because he'd done the same thing his aunt had just a few days ago, except at that time I was completely incapable of protecting myself. And he dug through my brain to find what had happened to me one year and three days ago. He was relentless and I remember the pain of trying to push him out. But he forced me to relive what was, until that point in my life, my worst memory - of cold bathroom tiles and lavender soap, of a hand on my neck and another pulling at my skirt. And of unimaginable pain despite grey cotton wrapped around my world.
But I didn't suffer this at the hands of Draco. If I had, he wouldn't have needed to go through my thoughts in the first place. Unless he wanted to relive it through my eyes, as some sick twisted kink - but no, the man's eyes were darker, as was his hair. And he tasted of cigarettes and liquor and I've never seen Draco smoke or drink.
This is the memory I can trust. The one Bella found, of Draco pulling at my skirt, can't be real - not if both hands in both memories feel the exact same. One has to be wrong, and it can't be the one I found in this basement.
I flip back until I find the image of Harry slicing Draco up with a curse. I ran to him after, screaming for help and desperately trying to keep him from bleeding out. I wouldn't have done that if what I showed Bella was true. What she saw was a construction, a set of memories I jumbled together to satisfy her, to keep her from finding out how Draco truly was with me. How vulnerable he could be.
I carefully look through everything else that I know is intact, as a reference point for the mess upstairs. I leave the door open for now, I can always close it back up if Draco's aunt is still a threat.
I ignore whatever is on the ground floor again and make my way up to the attic, to where I know I can find the true memory of what happened, not of Draco forcing me through it again.
She dropped it in the middle of the room, discarded when she abruptly left my head. I silently thank Draco for the calming draught and the memory solution, allowing me to look at this rationally. I swiftly pick it up, look through it and separate Draco from the New Orleans bathroom. What remains is the anger and fury on his face and his hand around my throat. That didn't happen in a bathroom. But the answer to why he violently slammed my head into the wall is hidden away in the basement, so I drop it for now.
I carefully sort through what I can find, piecing together what makes the most sense, but I'm not sure of everything. I know I will eventually need the help of the people involved to make sure I'm not making anything up. I don't piece things together that are on different levels, just in case I need to hide them away again, but I keep the doors unlocked and easily accessible.
The first floor is the most work. It's where Bella spent the most time and done the most damage. And simultaneously what is hardest to piece back together. Most are related to mundane school days. That there are two schools doesn't necessarily make the task any easier and the fact I might not be able to speak to anyone who can clear things up anytime soon, makes me fear I might have lost more than I want to know.
I can't make it through it all. I pluck apart what seems least rational and organise what I can in the order that makes most sense - at least at first glance. Bella hasn't touched it all. I have a base structure left, I know who I am, where I'm from, who my family is and who my friends are… But building up from that will take weeks. And even then, I'm not sure I'll ever piece my memories back together fully.
And I'm not ready to face what that means.
The water is still warm when I finally open my eyes, but the grounds outside are dark, the snow sparkling gently in the moonlight. The torches on the walls are off, the room only illuminated by the soft candlelight of the chandelier. The ache in my muscles has subsided, but my brain now feels sore instead. Draco's calming draught hasn't fully worn off yet, so it can't be that late. But fear and unease are starting to rear their heads, bubbling under the surface.
"Alf," I call. "What time is it?" I ask when he appears.
"7.46pm Miss. Would Miss like some dinner?"
I've been laying here for hours. My fingers and toes are pruney from the water Alf must have kept warm for me. I take the towel he offers and climb out of the tub. I still feel awkward stretching my limbs, but at least there is no more pain. Alf sets dinner up while I dry off and slip into the fresh set of grey pajamas, he's lain out for me. They are too big, I can barely tie the waistband tight enough to fit me and have to roll the sleeves and legs to be able to use my hands and feet.
"Will Draco be back tonight?" I ask, poking at the beef wellington on my plate. I know I probably haven't had anything but nourishing potions in the past few days, but I can't really bring myself to eat.
"Yes Miss."
My stomach drops and I put the fork down. "Do you know when?"
"No Miss."
"Do you know where he is?"
"Yes Miss. Alf can't tell, Miss." He ads when I look at him expectantly. "Miss should eat."
I shake my head. "Why isn't he in school?"
"Alf can't say, Miss."
"You said you could after I took the memory solution." I press and the elf hangs his ears.
"Master Draco wants to explain himself," he says.
"Have you seen him?"
"Yes Miss. Miss should eat," he repeats.
I take my fork to appease him and pick up a piece of carrot, pushing it into my mouth. It tastes strangely bland, but I force myself to eat another piece. Maybe I can wiggle something out of the elf if he sees I'm following orders.
"How safe am I here?" I ask quietly.
The elf's ears perk up. "Master Draco put protective wards on the door, Miss. Only Alf is allowed in Master Draco's room, the other elves have been barred from coming in."
"Who knows I'm here?"
The elf blinks. "Everyone knows, Miss."
I purse my lips and put my fork back down. "What if someone wants to see me?"
"Master Draco will explain, Miss."
I sigh. "Can you ask him when he will be back?"
Alf glances at the floor. "Master Draco doesn't want to be disturbed until Master is back Miss. Miss should eat."
I ignore him, pull my feet onto my seat and rub my forehead. "I'd like to eat by myself, please."
"Yes, Miss." Alf disappears and the crackling of the fire suddenly seems deafening. I ignore my plate, I have no appetite. Not if all I can do is anxiously wait for Draco's return.
The chandelier in his bedroom gives off more light than the one in his bathroom. Too much for my liking, but I'm not ready to call Alf back to turn it off. There are no switches that I can find. I assume a wand is needed, not that I have one. I have free range of Draco Malfoy's bedroom and for a moment I consider roaming through his bookshelf or his desk to distract myself, but it doesn't seem a wise idea. Alf made his bed while I had my bath. The french doors to the balcony are locked, as is every other door in the room, except the one to the bathroom. I resign and curl up on the cold leather sofa. There are no cushions, no blankets, nothing for comfort except the crackling fire.
I try not letting my mind wander too far. My brain still feels too tender and foggy with ignorance and the fear bubbling in my stomach is threatening to boil over. I pull down the sleeves of the grey pajama shirt and stare at the flames, breathing evenly and emptying my mind. I shun every thought that pops into my head, good or bad, staring emptily into space until the door finally opens.
My head snaps up. Draco pauses in the doorframe, and we look at each other for an awkward moment before he fully steps through the door and shuts it behind him, drawing his wand and muttering a few incantations. I sit up on his sofa, retreating to the furthest corner away from him, hiding my hands in my sleeves.
"How are you feeling?" Draco stands by the door, hiding his wand away in his pocket. I shrug. "Are you sore?"
"The bath helped," I say.
"How's your head?" He keeps his eyes on mine, his tone careful.
"Sore," I say, looking at my lap. His mask of indifference is immaculate, and it's making me uncomfortable.
"Did you take the memory solution?"
"Well, Alf practically forced it down my throat," I say. I hear him huff and he finally takes a step forward into the room.
"You should eat something."
I look up, his eyes are on the untouched plate of food on his desk, cold by now. "I'm not hungry," I say. He purses his lips but doesn't say a word. "Why am I here?"
He blinks at me before responding. "How much do you remember?"
"Of what?" I frown.
"New Year's."
I pause, gazing back at the fire. "I remember your aunt," I say. "Torture. She went through my head." I frown. "Champagne?"
"After that." Draco interjects. "When she let go of you."
"You-" I shake my head. "You said something."
"Do you remember anything that was said?"
I shake my head again. "I remember voices, but…"
"Ok." Draco holds his breath for a moment and walks over to the fireplace, leaning against the mantelpiece. "Potter, I need you to tell me exactly what my aunt saw."
My eyes snap up at him.
He pauses again. "Ideally I need you to show me."
I shake my head and immediately avert my eyes. "No."
"If she gets suspicious and questions me, and I can't show her exactly what she saw in your head, we'll both be dead. I need to know."
I screw my eyes shut and shake my head again. "Malfoy, why am I here?"
He sighs. "Because my aunt still thinks you're hiding something and whatever it is you showed her, somehow convinced her that you are so terrified of me, I'll eventually get you to crack. She can't have seen anything of our actual relationship, or I would be dead now, but she seems to think I have some kind of interest in you. So, the Dark Lord has given me the honour of looking after you during your stay here. As a thank you for my help in defeating Dumbledore last summer." His voice turns steadily colder, sending shivers down my spine. "In order to be able to look after you properly, I have been exempt from mandatory schooling. I have the honour of participating in certain Death Eater missions under supervision, but you are my priority." He pauses. "So again, I need to know what you've shown her so I can act accordingly."
I blink up at him, before looking back down at my lap. "I'm sorry," I mumble.
"You kept us alive," he says matter-of-factly. "But now I need you to keep keeping us alive."
I nod. He pulls his wand and I raise my hand to stop him. I take a deep breath and focus on finding what he needs to see, pushing it to the forefront of my memory and ignoring the rest, so he has no excuse to look any further. I look into his eyes. "Ok."
He is quick and clinical. I easily let him into the bubble of the fake memory I threw Bella off track with, but he doesn't push for more anyway. I stand back and let him analyse. He goes through it three times, from different angles, soaking in the details, before he leaves my mind. When his bedroom comes back into focus, he is gone.