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Chapter II "BOO!" Draco didn't jump, just sighed and turned around. One of the Weasley twins, Draco could never remember which was which, was standing behind him, chuckling with his other Gryffindor friends and his brother. This had been going on all day ever since he'd left Snape's office. "Oh, do shut up," Draco told him, not having the energy to come up with a witty insult. The Gryffindors laughed again. "Better watch out, Malfoy," Lee Jordan said, grinning like a loon. "We're all in this conspiracy together, you know!" "Yeah, you never know who's out to get you these days!" added the other twin. Knowing he was fighting a losing battle, Draco turned on his heal and walked away, moving quickly through the halls towards the Great Hall, desperate to get to dinner. Classes were hell - the last half of Herbology with the Ravenclaws is what started this whole "Boo!" joke, Lisa Turpin thinking herself quite witty. Pansy Parkinson managed to shut her up fairly quickly. Regardless, the joke spread through the school and now seemed to be the first thing coming out of everybody's mouth that wasn't in Slytherin. It didn't help any that Draco had refused himself any sleep the night before, not wanting to share another dream with Potter. He could only flinch at the thought of what dinner would be like. But he wouldn't lose his cool, not again. Besides, nobody would be foolish enough to mock him in front of the whole teaching staff, right? Right? Draco shook his head and rushed with as much dignity as he could to the Hall, putting on his best "Don't shit with me" face. He'd feel better once he was surrounded by his friends. Professor Sprout took his note and frowned, but didn't give him a detention or take any points from his House. Instead, she insisted he come to the green houses after all his classes were done for the day to make up the work he'd missed. An hour of repotting plants was enough to make anybody cranky. Draco strongly suspected Professor Sprout made up the assignments to coordinate with her own private research, rather than in the interest of actually teaching them anything. Draco could admire her deceitfulness in that respect. Still, it left him with sore fingers from digging and sore arms from lifting heavy pots, so he found himself slightly ticked off. Dinner had already started, the Hall noisy and smelling wonderful. Draco walked to his usual seat, an empty plate set out before his chair, just waiting for him. He almost smiled, but checked himself. Gregory and Vincent gave welcoming grunts as they wolfed down their food, which Draco returned with a nod of his head. He sat down gracefully in his chair, looking down at his plate as it filled itself with a marvelous dinner - Terrine de Saumon aux Epinards, a French dish favored by his father. This time, Draco did smile. Ever since Dobby found employment at Hogwarts, all his food tasted like it came from home. Maybe this day won't be all bad, he thought to himself, picking up his fork in a well-practiced, well-mannered, smooth motion, befit of his etiquette training at the Manor. "BOO!" Draco dropped his fork, hearing it clatter to the table then on to the floor. He looked up to see Ron Weasley, laughing like a buffoon. Potter suddenly appeared by his side, no amusement on his face. Rather, he seemed embarrassed. "Ron..." Harry said warningly, holding on to his friend's arm, trying to pull him away from the table. Draco, wrapped up in his own embarrassment and anger at giving the school more to ridicule him about, didn't hear Harry's plea. Instead, the Slytherin stared at the table, trying to sort out his emotions before making a reaction. As it turned out, he didn't have to worry about it. Vincent and Gregory rose out of their seats as one, their hulking bodies blocking Draco from Ron's view. "Leave," Vincent growled. "Now," Gregory finished. They cracked their knuckles for emphasis. "Oh, so now you need your cronies to fight your battles for you, huh, Ferret?" Ron said loudly. Harry grabbed onto Ron's arm again, making a real effort to drag him away this time. It didn't work. "No," Blaise Zabini said easily, rising from his chair in one fluid motion to stand next to Greg and Vince, crossing his arms over his chest. "He just doesn't need to get his hands dirty bothering with fungus like you." Ron's face went as red as his hair, sputtering angrily. Harry again made a valiant effort to pull his friend away from a situation that he could see was rapidly spinning out of control. Just when it looked like things could start getting interesting (and perhaps a little bloody) a dark figure swooped down over the table. Severus Snape towered over his students, fixing them all with glare so powerful, the Hufflepuffs could feel it across the room. "If you are finished eating, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter, then I suggest that you return to your dorms for the night," he snarled, using the word "suggest" in place of "demand" and ending the sentence with an unspoken, "or you'll wish you'd never been born." Ron quelled under the Potion Master's expression and finally allowed Harry to drag him off and out of the Great Hall. The Professor spared one glance to the students in his own house who were still standing, giving them a brief nod, before returning to the teacher's table. The Slytherin boys took their seats. "There, that worked quite well, I think," Blaise said cheerfully. "Here Draco, you can use my fork. I don't need it." "Thank you," Draco replied, taking the offered implement. He looked at his three dorm mates and graced them with a barely perceptible smile. "Thank you." The "Boo" joke died that night. * * * * * * "Damn, I don't understand it," Ron groused as he toppled next to Hermione and Harry onto the long couch that sat along the back of the Gryffindor common room. "I finally get a chance to get a jab in on the Ferret and I end up looking like an idiot." "Well, you did provoke him," Hermione said, looking up from the large book on her lap. "And during dinner, no less." "He deserves it!" Ron argued, huffing again. "He never misses an opportunity to get one over us. Why is it when we have chance to do the same, we always end up with egg on our faces?" "He really hasn't been," Harry said softly. Ron gave him a confused look. "Provoking us," Harry explained. "Not this year, anyway." "Yeah, well, the hex we gave him on the train at the end of last year taught him a lesson," Ron boasted. Hermione shook her head. "I don't think that's it," she said. "And Harry, you're right. Malfoy has been rather... subdued. The Slytherins even managed to play a clean game of Quidditch against the Hufflepuffs two weeks ago." "And win," Ron grumbled. "We shouldn't bother him," Harry said rather forcefully, drawing a look of surprise from his redheaded best friend. "If he's not bothering us, we should return the favor. There's no need to sink to his level." "Oh, come off it Harry," Ron said, standing up, glaring at his friend. "After all the crap he's put us through, he's earned a little pay back." "I just think we should leave him alone!" Harry retorted. "Why bring problems where they don't belong?" "This is ridiculous," Ron snapped, shaking his head angrily. "I'm going upstairs. If you want to play nice with the Snakes, that's you business. I guess you understand their language." "Ron!" Hermione said, aghast. Harry's parseltounge ability wasn't really discussed among them and it wasn't a talent Harry ever flaunted. It was far too identifiable with Voldemort to make anyone feel comfortable about it. "Forget it," Ron said and stormed up the stairs to the boys' dormitories. "Is he crazy?" Hermione asked Harry, exasperated. "I think he's crazy." Harry just turned his head to look after him, smiling a little. "It's okay. We're all under a lot of stress right now." Harry looked back at Hermione and flinched at her knowing expression. "What?" he asked. "You were staring at Malfoy all day yesterday," she said, her tone clipped. "I want you to tell me why." "Nothing gets by you, does it?" Harry asked, giving her a small grin. "Very rarely," Hermione replied smugly. "Now spill." "I can see why they made you a prefect," Harry said, then sighed. "All right... remember the weird dreams I mentioned yesterday morning?" "Yes," Hermione said excitedly, sitting forward on the couch. "Well, Draco was in them." Harry watched as Hermione raised and eyebrow, than sat back on the couch. "Is this a conversation you should be having with Snuffles?" she asked, grinning wickedly. Harry blinked in confusion, then opened his eyes wide and blushed bright red. "'Mione! No!" he protested. "Nothing like that! Jeez!" The girl laughed. "Sorry, sorry. Please continue." Harry took a deep breath. "Well, in this dream, he was out on lake, floating on it, right in the middle. He looked so..." Harry struggled to find the right word, not wanting to say "beautiful" in light of Hermione's apparently perverted frame of mind. "...peaceful," he settled on, ignoring her shrewd expression. "He said something to me, but I couldn't hear it. Suddenly, the sky got dark and he fell into the water. He looked like he was struggling with something, like something was dragging him down. I couldn't move to help him, but I think he was shouting to me to save him. I don't know what was attacking him, but my scar started hurting. The next thing I know, he's dragged under the water and I know he's drowning. Then, I woke up." Harry looked back at Hermione, her face dark and unreadable. "And your scar was hurting when you woke up?" she asked. Harry nodded. She frowned. "I don't know what to say," she told him. "Dreams are funny things, especially yours. It might be just a fluke, but I somehow doubt it." She reached out a hand to rest on Harry's arm. "Did you have another one last night?" "Actually, I didn't get any sleep at all last night," Harry said sheepishly. "That's not good," Hermione chastised. "You will get some sleep tonight, correct?" Harry made a sound of acquiesce and Hermione smiled triumphantly. She looked over at the clock on top of the mantle place, then stood up. "It's almost curfew," she said in her best prefect voice. "You should go to bed. We can look this up in the library tomorrow." Harry stood as well, then was surprised as Hermione gave him a quick hug. "Thanks for telling me," she said. Harry grinned. "You didn't give me much of an option," he replied. She chuckled, then pushed him towards the stairs leading to the boys' dormitories. "Goodnight, Mr. Potter," she said, then turned to her own dorm. "Goodnight, Ms. Granger," he said in kind, then started his slow trek up to his room, hoping that he wouldn't dream. * * * * * * Draco whistled a tuneless song as he walked quickly through the hallways, heading towards Snape's office. The dungeons were practically silent, the only sound an occasional drip of water. Draco loved this time of day, just after curfew when Hogwarts took on a distinctly creepy feeling. It reminded him of home. In his haste to get to his destination, he stepped on an irate Mrs. Norris, who looked up at him with her lamp-like eyes and yowled, then hissed. Draco cursed. "It's just me, you stupid cat," he growled at the animal, picking her up in his arms and running a quick hand over her injured tail. "You shouldn't stand in the middle of dark hallways like that." "What delinquent student have we caught out of bed tonight, my pretty girl?" came the raspy voice of Argus Filch as he turned the corner right in front of Draco, a predatory grin on his face. He saw the young Slytherin and frowned. "Oh," he said, sounding hopelessly disappointed, "it's just you." "Sorry to spoil your night," Draco snapped, still petting the large cat in his arms, who'd started purring quite loudly. "On your way to see Professor Snape?" Filch asked him. "Of course," Draco replied, then put the cat on the ground, who immediately began rubbing herself around his ankles. "Go on then," he said, grumpily. "Come, my pretty. Let's go find some children we can punish." Draco reached down and gave Mrs. Norris one final scratch behind her ears, then watched as she followed Filch down the hallway away from him. Brushing off the cat fur covering his robes, he continued on his way, reaching Snape's office in a matter of minutes, rapping twice quickly on the door. "Come in!" came Severus' annoyed and foreboding voice. Draco, used to his teacher's moods, walked right in. "You're late," Severus snarled. Draco shrugged. "Sorry," he said easily. "I ran into Filch on the way over." Draco paused, wrinkling his nose as he sniffed the air. "Wolfsbane?" he asked, looking towards the private potions lab. "Do we have a werewolf coming over?" "Something like that," Severus said testily, walking over to a shelf and pulling down a small glass bottle filled with a bluish, thin liquid. He handed it to Draco. "Drink it." Draco did instantly as he was told, recognizing it as a sleeping potion. The potion felt cold in his mouth, but warmed as it made it's way to his stomach, making his arms and legs feel prickly. It tasted vaguely of raspberries. "Not bad," he said, licking his lips. "How long until it kicks in?" "Half an hour, give or take," Severus replied, taking the empty bottle back from his student and putting it back on the shelf. He gestured to Draco's usual chair in front of his desk. Draco sat down, feeling the potion coursing through his veins, his eyeballs starting to tingle. Who said potions wasn't fun? "Is having the werewolf here going to cause a problem?" Draco asked his teacher, finally getting down to business. Severus sat down in his chair and sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, his face showing exhaustion. The Wolfsbane Potion was notoriously difficult to make, requiring many hours of preparation and days of careful observation. He'd probably started on it right after dinner ended, some six hours ago. "It might," Severus finally admitted. "Your father and I agree that the fewer people we involve in this business, the better. Gryffindor-types have a tendency to stick their noses where they don't belong." "That's very, very true," Draco agreed, then frowned. "But still, we can't change the time table. We have to do this before the holiday break. It might be too late after that." "How many are we looking at?" Severus asked. Draco reached into the pocket of his robes and withdrew a blank piece of paper. Drawing out his wand, he cast a complicated unlocking spell on the parchment, his neat handwriting gradually reappearing. Looking intently at the paper, he did a quick count, then gave a sharp nod. "Forty-seven," he said, handing the parchment over to Severus. The Potions Master took the document, his expression growing concerned. "More than I expected," he muttered as he looked at the page, then quickly added, "Which is a good thing, of course. Still, it will be difficult." "But doable," Draco said, his voice filled with conviction. "It has to be done. Tensions are starting to rise. You've told me what it was like during the last time..." "Yes, yes," Severus said shortly, cutting Draco off. "I remember. Now that we know how many we're dealing with, we'll start putting the final touches on the plan." Severus looked up suddenly, turning his head towards his lab, then stood up. "I have to tend the Wolfsbane," he told Draco, handing the parchment back to the boy. Draco quickly cast the re-locking spell, the paper going immediately blank, then returned it to his pocket and rose to his feet. He closed his eyes, swaying dizzily. "Yes, and I think your sleeping potion is kicking in," Draco said, picking his way to the door. "Can you make it back to your room?" Severus asked, already on his way to his lab. "If not, you can stay here." "No, I'm fine, Severus," Draco assured him, pulling the door open. "I'll see you at breakfast." The Potions Master gave him a curt nod and waved Draco away, who gingerly made his way back to the dorm, making it to his bed just before the potion kicked in full force, knocking him into unconsciousness. * * * * * * Draco found himself out at the green house again, the morning light just peaking over the forbidden forest. He stood, feeling the warm sun wash over him, smelling the green plants growing around him. The morning larks had just started singing their songs, rustling in the branches of a nearby tree, getting ready to find their breakfasts. Draco ran his fingers through his hair and sighed happily, looking down at the small flowering bushes that lined the base of the green house. Without warning, Draco was shoved forward into the shrubbery, a shout of surprise pulled from this throat, his body twisting around of its own accord, landing on his back. Draco looked up, shaking his hair out of his face, squinting in the light to see who pushed him. An all too familiar dark-robed figure stood before him, ominous in its silence, a halo of light shining behind it as it blocked out the sun. Draco gaped in terror, trying to stand up, trying to reach his wand, anything! His arms wouldn't move! In horror, Draco looked down to see the unassuming bushes he'd once admired were now thick vines of Strangleweed, winding its way around his arms, legs, and chest, quickly moving up to wrap around his neck. With a strangled gasp, Draco started twisting his body, trying to get away, knowing intrinsically that it would only make it worse but unable to do anything else. He turned his head sharply to the left as the vine tightened around his throat, looking for anyone who could help him. Standing not five feet away, a look of shock on his face, green eyes opened wide, stood Harry Potter, apparently dismayed beyond belief at Draco's situation. He took a step forward, but it seemed to take all of his effort. Draco felt his vision dimming around the edges, sharp spots jumping before his eyes as his head grew more and more light and he realized he no longer had any feeling in his body. Everything went black. Draco sat up, his blankets twisted around his body, testament to his frantic thrashing during his night terror, sweat dripping down into his eyes. He gasped, his breath shaky, limbs trembling as he tried to reorient himself with his surroundings, gripping his sheets and voicing the only phrase that seemed appropriate. "Damn it!" prologue, part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven, part eight, part nine, part ten, part eleven, part twelve back? |