CHAPTER 13
“Blaise, stop, stop!” gasped Draco as his best friend continued to throttle him relentlessly. “Stop……s-stop….”
Draco’s eyes were starting to roll back, and he was frantically clawing at Blaise’s hands and trying to get him to slacken his grip.
But it was to no avail.
Blaise continued to choke Draco, and as Draco began to shake his whole body in a final effort to throw him off, a dull thud and a scream were heard resounding throughout the common room.
In an instant, Blaise was thrown off and knocked to the ground, and Draco rapidly lifted his hands to his throat in order to massage it just as another pair joined in. Still gasping for breath, Draco looked up into the frazzled face of Pansy Parkinson who was very deliberately not making eye contact with him and kneading the pale skin of his neck.
A shout of “Incarcerous!” and a yell for Professor Snape could be heard as Pansy gently rubbed Draco’s neck and whispered, “Calm down, Draco, it’s okay, you’re safe now. It’s just Theodore over there, making sure Blaise is tightly bound…”
“B – Blaise...how could it h – have been….” Draco croaked in bewilderment just as a pale figure wearing all black swept in through the door.
“Mr. Malfoy!” Professor Snape shouted as he rushed over to his favorite student (Ha, thought Draco weakly). “Who did this? Who did this?”
Pansy lifted a slightly shaking finger towards the writhing Blaise who was being watched over by Theodore.
Without another word, Snape hastened to Theodore’s side and pointed his wand at the restless boy, saying “Mobilicorpus.”
“Everyone,” Snape called in a clipped tone, “To Professor Dumbledore’s office. Ms. Parkinson,” he added as he nodded towards her and Draco. “Please help Mr. Malfoy up and out.”
Pansy wordlessly acquiesced by helping Draco get to his feet and keeping a firm grip on his upper arm as they all marched up the stairs and onto the main floor. By the time they reached the entrance to Dumbledore’s office, Draco decided he was feeling much better, and lightly tugged Pansy’s hand off of him. She didn’t say anything to him, but her forehead crumpled in displeasure as she stared at the bright red finger imprints on both sides of his neck.
Since when do you care? Draco wondered as he locked eyes with her for a fleeting second. She backed away slightly from him, as if to show that what had just happened was not to serve as some sort of connection between them, and then carefully rearranged her features back into something bordering indifference.
As Draco rubbed his neck with his palm, Snape muttered the age-old password “Lemon drops”, and in a second, they were all standing on the revolving staircase and ascending to the familiar circular room.
They were met by Dumbledore who cordially ushered them all inside and then asked as he peered at Snape over his half-moon glasses, “Well, Severus, what seems to be the problem?”
Snape waved his wand and Blaise floated forward, still struggling against the tightly bound ropes in midair. “We had an incident just now in the common room involving Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Zabini.”
Draco stepped up into the soft candlelight from Dumbledore’s desk, causing the marks on his neck to be exposed. Dumbledore said softly, “Ah, yes, I see. Strangling marks. Mr. Malfoy, can you explain this incident?”
“I was just in the common room, talking with Blaise, when all of a sudden, he just jumps on me and starts to…choke me. I swear to Merlin, professor, I have absolutely no idea why or how Blaise did such a thing. But,” he added with a side-long glance at his friend’s futile attempts to free himself. “I can give you my full vote of confidence that Blaise is not the sort to do something like this from his own intentions. We don’t hold grudges against each other, and I think there’s something very wrong going on right now.”
Dumbledore nodded and then stood up to stare intensely at Blaise’s face. After a few moments of speculation, he murmured softly, “The Imperius spell.”
Draco could feel his eyebrows go up instantly, and saw that Snape’s were also in danger of disappearing into those greasy curtains of hair.
“Imperius curse, Professor? By another student?” asked Snape, his voice tinged with skepticism.
“It is indeed, Severus. The eyes are blank and glassy, and Mr. Zabini shows no signs of comprehension or understanding of his environment and surroundings. However, since it is best assumed that this was conducted by a fellow student, it can also be easily assumed that this spell can be rapidly eradicated.”
Snape wordlessly raised his wand and pointed it at the thrashing, hovering boy.
“On three,” Dumbledore instructed. “One, two –”
“FINITE INCANTATEM!” both men cried as identical flashes of light engulfed Blaise, and the confining coils vaporized around him.
Blaise fell to the ground, unmoving, before Snape took aim at him again and muttered, “Enervate.”
Blaise opened his eyes and blinked thrice rapidly as an expression of disorientation appeared on his face. Once he registered the five people anxiously gazing at him, he scrambled gracelessly to his feet and his head swiveled back and forth from Draco to Dumbledore as the questions spurted from his mouth.
“Draco? Professor Dumbledore? What am I doing here? Is there something wrong?”
Draco wanted to try and say something, but Dumbledore lightly cut across. “Mr. Zabini, there’s a certain issue at hand, and I’m afraid you and Mr. Malfoy are at the center of it. We have just now discovered that your actions were being led by the Imperius curse, most likely cast by a student. Whoever it was who cast it, he or she wanted you to harm and perhaps murder Mr. Malfoy here.”
Draco took another small step forward and locked eyes with Blaise’s shocked and widening ones. All the color had drained from the suddenly frozen boy’s face, and the overall effect would have been comical had it not been for the horrified expression now quickly sinking into his countenance.
“Draco,” Blaise breathed, his chest rising and falling rapidly as his eyes swirled in turmoil. “Those red marks on your neck…p-please tell me that wasn’t me…”
Nothing was to be heard except for a momentarily deafening silence, and then, Blaise fell back with a strangled cry. “No, no, no, no, NO! How is this possible?! Draco,” he bleated as his gaze returned to the now-pink marks around Draco’s neck. “Draco, mate, you know I’d never do such a thing! I swear, I don’t even know how it happened! Professors,” he pleaded beseechingly to Dumbledore and Snape. “You know that I consider him my brother…I couldn’t do something like this on my own! I don’t know how it happened, but I can assure you that I have no ties to it!”
Draco wanted to hold Blaise by his shoulders and steady him to clam him down, but before he could do so, Pansy walked over to Blaise and wrapped her arms around his waist to gently but firmly pull him back, as he was on the verge of mild hysteria.
The action surprised Draco, since he had never seen her exhibit any kindness or sympathy for anyone.
Have you ever thought that maybe one good turn deserves another?
Ugh, why was it starting now, when he needed to focus on his near-death experience at the hands of his best friend? God, those voices really had the most irksome timing. Oh, well. He figured he’d just have to deal with it and work with versatility for a while.
I’m sorry, I was busy contemplating my recent escape from the chilling clutches of Death, could you repeat that?
Oi, shut up, you dim-witted bastard. It’s all right jolly that you were nearly strangled into unconsciousness, but now that we’re sure that you’re alive and well, why don’t you think about Pansy’s change of heart?
Listen, you effing blighter, I’m not about to analyze the reason why she restrained Blaise in such a caring way, all right? Maybe she’s going on some bipolar medication or something. Whatever it is, I don’t care enough to continue thinking about it! Now keep quiet! Dumbledore’s trying to say something!
“Mr. Zabini, my boy,” the old wizard said in a voice that overflowed with kindness and understanding. “There’s no need to be so distraught and terrified. It has already been established that you were under the Imperius curse…not a very strong one, since Professor Snape and I were able to efface it with a simple, combined ‘finite incantatem’, but it was powerful enough to control you and lead you into such a predicament.”
Draco watched with just the slightest bit of resentment as even Theodore awkwardly patted Blaise on the back and mumbled, “Calm down, mate. You’ve done nothing wrong.”
The outrage…hissed the more belligerent voice in Draco’s head. I’m Nott’s bloody Quidditch captain, and he’s never tried to help me out or comfort me before!
Um, Draco? He’s the bloke who made sure Blaise was securely bound back in the common room after your little near-death experience. I’m pretty sure he was looking out for you right then.
It’s not the same, though! Hell, I would’ve done something like that had it been the Weasel or, (gah, I can’t believe I’m about to say this), Potter! Restraining people is one of my strengths. But what Pansy and Theodore are doing is just…mind - boggling. They’ve never showed an ounce of care or comfort for ME before! I was Pansy’s fucking boyfriend and she never gave a damn about me!
Put a sock in it, you blond-headed pig. It’s not as if you ever really strove to comfort Nott or Pansy when they were in trouble or going through a hard time either. Remember when Theo’s sister, Flavia, drowned herself? Or when Pansy broke her ankle when she was trying out for the Quidditch team as a joke? I don’t remember you –
Flavia’s death was terrible, of course, but it’s not like Theo came to me bawling for comfort. I found out about the incident only after Blaise was notified. And as for Pansy’s stupidity…whether it be broom - related or bed - related, it will always be ruddy hilarious, not saddening or requiring consolation from ME.
This is exactly why no one ever really shows you any kindness, Draco. You’re constantly griping about how you’re so bloody special, and how the Slytherin Prince deserves so much more than what people give you. In case you didn’t notice, mate, sometimes you need to work for things, like friendship, loyalty, and trust. Don’t you remember how you completely tore down anything Pansy had for you that day in the common room? Oh, and let’s not forget that up until now, all you’ve ever harbored for Theodore was just a supercilious indifference. Do you honestly think you deserve better than what they’re giving you right now? At least Blaise is civil to everyone…I don’t think the same can be said about you, though!
I…I am civil to people. Why else would Blaise still be my friend? Why is it that the Weasleys and Potter can actually stand to speak with me (even if it is in small terms)? And…why is it that Hermione likes me so much?
As these questions were being voiced in his head, Draco was also listening to Blaise trying to induce a glimmer of recollection as Dumbledore encouraged him to keep searching. Snape merely stood to the side, his sallow face unreadable, while Pansy and Theodore were standing further back, both murmuring things to each other.
Draco’s mind was silent for a second, but then the harsh tone of the more logical and ethical side returned, bringing with it a foreboding sense of brutality.
You wonder why Hermione likes you, eh?
I believe that is what I asked. But of course, please feel free to remain silent.
She doesn’t know you, Draco. She doesn’t know how you used to be, before she happened. She doesn’t know how you would laugh when people got hurt, how you ruthlessly antagonized her and her friends, how you used to take out five girls in one week, and then throw them away for a night’s use.
Shut up, you, just shut up!
Why should I, Draco? Don’t you want to listen to the voice of reason? You think she won’t find out about your history, or anything you’ve been involved with unless you tell her? Let me remind you, Draco, that the whole school hasn’t lost its memory…only her. People here won’t think twice before poisoning her ears against you, and then where will you be? Back to square one: The - Slytherin – Prince – Everyone – Loves – to – Hate.
I thought I told you to shut up!
The other voice taunted him now. Overly defensive, I see. Maybe it’s because you know whatever I’m saying is true. Forget it, Draco, you’ll always be just like your father: cruel, malicious, and excessively proud. It’s a shame…your mother had always hoped you’d be different. I suppose not.
I am not my father! I never was, and I never will be! Just leave me alone!
Fine, then, Draco, I will. But before I leave, I just want you to think about one thing: some mirrors reflect things exactly as they are, yet others reflect only what a person wants to see. So my question to you is, when you look in the mirror, what stares back at you? The truth? Or a lie?
The voices faded away, and Draco saw that no one was saying anything around him. Then, Dumbledore gave a small sigh and addressed Draco, “Mr. Malfoy, please go down to the hospital wing with Mr. Nott. You too, Mr. Zabini,” he added as he nodded towards the other exhausted boy. “Madame Pomfrey will make sure you both have a good, deep sleep, and I will expect to see you attending classes regularly tomorrow. Of course, if there is anything you hear of, or if another incident happens, notify either a teacher or myself immediately. Things can not be allowed to get out of hand, and we need to be informed of anything suspicious if we are to catch the culprit.”
Dumbledore bowed his head once, and said, “Good night, everyone.”
Soundlessly, the group trudged back down and later that night in the hospital wing, just a few seconds before the sleeping potion took effect, Draco thought back to the parting words of that voice in his head.
They filled him with unease and an unnerving sort of discomfort. They were riddled with bitterness, but he knew that there was also a great depth to them. The questions were simple, but it was finding an answer that was the tricky part.
And that was what kept scraping away at his mind. The fact that he himself had no response for his own question.
…When you look in the mirror, what stares back at you? The truth? Or a lie?
*************
Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!
Hermione stirred slightly in her warm, comfortable haven before prying open one eye to glance at the shiny watch perched on her nightstand next to her beeping wand.
7:00? Bloody hell, is it time to wake up already? Merlin, I barely got any sleep last night, what with trying to finish two homework essays and waiting for Draco to come back…
She jumped up as the sudden realization hit her: she had never seen Draco return. Shaking off the miniscule doubts dancing around in her head, she threw off the covers and stood, rationalizing that he was probably still dozing in his own room. She quietly entered the bathroom and padded across the floor until she was directly in front of the heavily polished door that led to his room. Channeling her nervous energy into quick raps of her knuckles, Hermione tentatively knocked on the door.
Plock. Plock. Plock.
There was no answer.
Forcing herself not to let her imagination run away with her, she called out, “Draco? Draco, are you in there?”
Again, there was no answer.
Hermione frowned, and then headed back to her own room to change into the school-clothes and to freshen up with a few convenient spells. As she slipped into a maroon, knee-length skirt and a well-fitted, white top, she attempted to reassure herself.
“Now, now, Hermione, you’re just being unnecessarily neurotic about such a small matter,” she muttered as she did up the buttons of her top. “I’m sure Draco’s in the Great Hall having an early breakfast with Blaise or someone. There’s no need to be worried.”
Without further ado after her not-very-helpful pep talk, she threw her bag over her shoulder and rushed down and out of the portrait entrance. With an abrupt thought, she swiveled around on her heel and faced Wickham the Wise.
“Wickham,” she said anxiously. “Could you please tell me whether Draco returned here last night or not?”
The young man furrowed his brows in brief thought before shaking his head. “Sorry, Miss Granger, but can’t say that he did. Is something the matter?”
Hermione hurriedly shook her head before dashing down the long, treacherous staircases that adorned the interior of Hogwarts. Now seriously apprehensive, she made no move to squelch the rapidly growing fears in her heart as she flew down step after step and into the sparsely populated Great Hall. Upon reaching there, she quickly scanned what few heads there were, desperately searching for the blond head that always stood out in the sea of students like a bright beacon.
Her heart sank when no such beacon was sighted.
A small tap on her shoulder caused her to turn around and come face to face with Harry. His green eyes gazed at her quizzically as he frowned and asked, “Hermione? Are you all right?”
She shrugged her drooping shoulders, trying to act nonchalant. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”
He examined her face closely. “I don’t know. You just look really tense and worried to me.”
How is it possible that he can read me so well? It’s not like I’m bawling my eyes out or something that it would be obvious. Oh, to hell with being casual! I’m going to ask him if he knows anything.
Hermione cleared her throat and decided to start with something a little simple. “So, Harry, have you seen Ginny around? I haven’t seen her or Blaise yet. I know at least you and Ginny usually wake up early for extra homework or Quidditch time, if not Blaise.”
Harry shook his head. “No, Ginny hasn’t come down yet this morning, and haven’t you heard? Blaise and Mal – I mean, Draco, are both in the hospital wing.”
Hermione could feel the blood draining from her face as she near sprinted out of the Hall, Harry’s voice yelling, “Hermione, wait! Where are you going?!”
She barreled down the thankfully clear hallways before bursting through the familiar double doors of the hospital wing and nearly flattening some boy with a purple nose and antlers poking out of his head. Mumbling a haphazard “sorry”, she ran down the row of beds before skidding next to a bed that held a lightly snoring certain someone.
Panting and wheezing for breath, Hermione laid her bag down on the ground and plopped down into the wooden chair positioned near the oblivious blonde’s head. On the other side of him was a sleeping Blaise, and as Hermione regulated her respiration, the dark-haired boy turned around so that his back was facing her.
Hermione watched Draco as he slept, noting the peaceful look on his face, and how his chest rose and fell as he dreamed on. She let her eyes wander around his face, focusing periodically on his slightly upturned lips, the way his dark gold eyelashes caressed his pale cheeks, and the heavenly locks that framed his unblemished face.
“Beautiful,” she whispered softly while laying her hand down beside his. “Just beautiful.”
His eyelids opened a fraction of an inch, almost as if he’d heard her, but then they fell back down, closed just like before.
Hermione spread her fingers on the hand that was next to his and slowly grazed his forefinger with her own. This time, his eyes really did open, and Hermione found herself staring deeply into two mesmerizing pools of gray.
“Hermione?” he said confusedly, his voice raspy with morning grogginess. “What are you doing here?”
He observed his surroundings momentarily and then a look of dawning comprehension graced his face. “Ahhh, yes, now I remember. So stupid of me. Sorry, Hermione, I tend to be a bit slow in the mornings.”
“What are you doing in here, Draco?” Hermione asked, her voice unnaturally high-pitched. “What happened?”
Draco sat up and ruffled his hair. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”
“Just tell me, Draco! I was waiting for you to come back last night, and you never showed. So this morning, I figured maybe you stayed in the Slytherin common room, or maybe you came long after I fell asleep. Then, I find out from Harry that you and Blaise are in the bloody hospital wing! What on earth happened? I was so worried!”
Hermione didn’t care that her voice was too high, or that she was talking too fast, all she wanted to know was why he was laying in a hospital bed next to his best friend.
Draco sighed. “Hermione, trust me, I’m fine now. There was just a little incident with Blaise where he was forced to h –”
“DRAKEY-POOOOOOOO!” screeched a shrill voice that caused Hermione to nearly fall out of her chair in shock and Draco to jump out of his skin.
Hermione thought she heard Draco give a small groan as the one and only Daphne Greengrass click-clacked towards them on her gaudy three-inch heels.
“DRAKEY, DRAKEY, MY DARLING, WHAT’S WRONG?” she cried as she threw herself on top of him and nearly smothered him with her slobbering kisses. Hermione was disgusted to see spots of saliva actually planted on Draco’s cheeks before Daphne seized his face in her hands and dashed her lips to his.
Hermione could feel the bile rising in her throat and unconsciously raised a hand to her mouth to keep the nausea from overflowing into something more potent.
Draco grabbed Daphne’s wrists and pushed her back. “Merlin, Daphne, don’t kill me! I’m fine, honestly. Sheesh, what is it with you and always snogging my freaking head off whenever you see me?”
Daphne stepped back and gave a throaty little laugh that made Hermione want to punch the living daylights out of her. She realized too late that she must have made some sort of squeamish noise, because the rail-thin Slytherin turned to face her with her hip cocked out dangerously and a short-fingered hand twisted into a fist on it.
Daphne leaned forward until Hermione could smell all the artificial scents on her, and a hint of eau de garlic-breath.
“And just what do you think you’re doing here, mudblood bitch?”
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