(fic) The Worst Intentions (Chapter Eleven)
Title: The Worst Intentions
Rating: PG - 13 (this chapter)
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Wordcount: 2845
Summary: What if Draco's task was not to repair the Vanishing Cabinet, but instead, to learn Dumbledore's secrets through Harry? Bitter enemies from their first meeting, Draco must find a way to forge a bond with Harry.
Author's Notes: This is an alternative reality fic in which Draco's mission differs from that of J.K Rowling's book. However, some elements of the canon will be used.
Feedback: Yes please!
Disclaimer: None of this is mine as I'm sure you already know
Previous Chapters: Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four / Chapter Five / Chapter Six / Chapter Seven / Chapter Eight / Chapter Nine / Chapter Ten
Draco had never anticipated a Quidditch match with less excitement, though admittedly this was only Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff, and made his way to the pitch in low spirits. His gloom was not alleviated in the slightest as a broad-shouldered Gryffindor took Weasley’s place in front of the goalposts. Harry looked equally distracted as he circled the stadium and was clearly far more concerned about his best friend’s absence than winning the match.
The Gryffindor team as a whole were performing terribly, not least because their replacement keeper seemed to be under the impression that he was the captain. Barely half an hour later, the crowd took a collective intake of breath, hardly believing what they were seeing as the keeper grabbed a beater’s bat, swung it with all his might only to crack it against Harry’s skull with a sickening crunch.
Losing his grip on his broom, Harry lost consciousness and hurtled towards the ground. Draco shoved his fellow Slytherins out of the way as he fought to reach the front row. He hung over the railing, desperate to see what was happening on the pitch, and watched anxiously as a stretcher was conjured to transport Harry to the hospital wing.
On the way back to the castle he found himself at the centre of the sixth-year Slytherins, all of whom seemed to consider Harry’s accident highly entertaining. Not wanting to draw attention to himself, Draco joined in with the cruel laughter, making a sneering comment about Harry’s flying ability which left a sour taste in his mouth.
Someone, probably Pansy, suggested bewitching badges to read ‘Support Cormac McLaggen - the best keeper Gryffindor will ever have,’ in a bid to lower Weasley’s confidence even further. Draco was unable to force himself to nod along with the others as he remembered with uncomfortable guilt the last time he’d campaigned maliciously for another student. That was two years ago and the student in question had died that summer, murdered by the very wizard Draco had sworn his allegiance to.
****
Draco had been awake for hours on Sunday night, dreading the arrival of another anxiety-ridden week, and would have gladly given anything to stay in bed on Monday morning as everyone got dressed. The relief he felt on seeing both Harry and Weasley in good health at breakfast left him almost light-headed, but he was quick to rearrange his expression to one of disappointment in front of the other Slytherins.
Weasley’s recovery from the poisoning had not only cured him of any physical damage; it had also appeared to have knocked some sense into him. During the Potions lesson that Friday, Draco observed him being positively pleasant towards Granger, who seemed more than a little pleased at his attention. Harry, too, looked far more at ease as he chopped his ingredients, but Draco felt a pang of what could only be regret as they could no longer share an exasperated eye-roll at the Weasley-Granger situation.
****
Owing to the pressure of his task and the emotional turmoil Harry caused whenever they so much as eye contact, Draco had completely forgotten that during sixth year everyone would be coming of age. He, himself, didn’t turn seventeen for many months yet, but there were plenty who already had, so the announcement that the Apparition test would be held that weekend was greeted with a great deal of panic.
Draco went with a large proportion of students to the entrance hall and watched them nervously leave the castle for Hogsmeade. He caught sight of Granger’s bushy hair, accompanied closely by Weasley, and was on his way back to the Slytherin dungeon when a voice spoke softly in his ear,
“I didn’t realise you weren’t of age either.”
Without his knowledge, Harry had sidled up to him and together they watched the last of the sixth years leave.
“Well, you’ve never asked.”
“I never thought I’d want to know,” Harry replied instantly, his tone thoughtful.
Confusion and surprise played across Harry’s face in a way which Draco recognised as an attempt to make sense of whatever it was that had drawn them together this year. It was a range of emotions he was incredibly familiar with and was about to remark on it when he became aware of Snape’s formidable figure at the other end of the corridor, watching the pair of them with narrowed eyes.
Unwilling to be caught conversing amicably with Harry, Draco led the other boy to an empty classroom nearby in a purposeful manner so as to hopefully convince Snape that he knew exactly what he was doing and was working on his task. Harry made no complaint as Draco guided him into one of the Transfiguration classroom and seated himself on one of the desks, swinging his legs.
Draco glanced out into the corridor just to be certain that no one else, other than Snape, had seen them enter. He shut the door and turned around, finding Harry observing him with curiosity. Neither of them said a word and for a moment Draco worried that Harry was trying to think of a way to escape the situation he had found himself in.
His fears were not confirmed, however, when Harry spoke,
“You haven’t said when your birthday is yet.”
Surprised that Harry genuinely wanted to know, Draco replied,
“Oh, it’s in June; just over a month before yours.”
Again they lapsed into silence, only this time Draco didn’t find it as uncomfortable. He moved closer to Harry until he was standing directly in front of him. From his vantage point on the desk, Harry was for once able to look down on him and he considered Draco intently.
“Why did you gatecrash Slughorn’s party? It really wasn’t that great and, to be honest, I’d rather have spent the evening elsewhere.”
Draco could tell that Harry had been mulling this question over ever since last term and felt his cheeks burn as he remembered how foolish he’d looked that night. Hoping that Harry would understand his embarrassment and not interrogate him in great depth, Draco mumbled,
“It sounded as if it was going to be amazing and I just wanted to see what all the fuss was all about....”
“I overheard Snape talking to you.”
Harry sounded awkward, almost as if he was unwilling to pry into something which was obviously a private matter. Taking a deep breath, Draco forced himself to remain calm and brushed off Harry’s comment.
“Oh, yeah.....well, Snape was furious with me for being out after curfew; you know what he’s like.....”
The excuse sounded weak in Draco’s own ears and he was unable to meet Harry’s eye, so he changed subject.
“There’s been a lot of strange things happening lately. Have you noticed that Dumbledore isn’t always at Hogwarts?”
He let the observation hang between them, realising that he may be able to gain enough information to keep Snape off his back for the time being. Harry looked as uneasy as Draco had when the party had been mentioned and answered hesitantly,
“I expect he’s doing something important because he wouldn’t leave the castle for anything that could be dealt with by owl post.”
Draco couldn’t bring himself to interrogate Harry further, not when they had at least an hour of uninterrupted time together. He reached out and placed a hand cautiously on Harry’s thigh, hoping that the other boy wouldn’t flinch and disappear out of the room as quickly as he could.
Harry didn’t seem averse to the touch and ceased swinging his legs immediately, but to Draco’s bewilderment, he didn’t appear certain how to reciprocate. For someone who had this kind of attention from girls quite frequently, it was peculiar how lacking in confidence he was.
Deciding to take control, Draco lifted his other hand and placed it at the nape of Harry’s neck, allowing his fingers to tangle in the untidy black hair. Harry mirrored his actions and leant forward as Draco tilted his head up.
Unlike their kiss beneath the Invisibility Cloak, this was far more hesitant, almost nervous. They moved their mouths together slowly, exploring tentatively with their tongues. Harry’s eyelashes brushed against Draco’s cheek as his eyes fluttered closed. Draco shivered involuntarily and wound his arms around Harry’s neck more tightly.
Eventually they drew apart breathlessly, but despite the intimacy they had just shared, Harry continued to look unsure of himself.
“What about Pansy? I thought you and her.....together.......”
Draco scowled at Harry for ruining the moment with a mention of her and snapped,
“She is singularly the most stupid, empty-headed girl I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet and no matter how many times I push her away, the message never gets through her thick skull.”
Harry seemed mollified by the vehemence with which Draco had denied any relationship with Pansy and pulled him forward for another kiss. Draco resisted, finding it odd that Harry seemed so concerned about Pansy when he had his own horde of female fans.
“Why were you asking about her? You sounded.......jealous, but it should be me feeling like that. I’ve heard all the rumours about you and the Gryffindor girls.”
Harry’s eyebrows nearly reached his hairline as his eyes widened. He spluttered a response,
“Rumours? What......I’ve never.......there’s only been Cho and she --”
“Only Cho? You mean to tell me that you’ve never taken advantage of your status as the ‘Chosen One?’”
Draco could hardly believe it, but Harry’s cheeks were tinged deep crimson and he muttered,
“No, I just.....I guess girls aren’t really my thing......”
Draco found Harry’s discomfort incredibly endearing and spoke softly,
“Yeah? Well, I’m not all that into them myself, but I’ve only realised that recently.”
He pressed his lips against Harry’s gently, stroking the other boy’s cheek gently with the back of his hand as he tried to reassure him that he was in no way mocking his lack of experience.
Harry relaxed and began to return the kiss with a tenderness that made Draco’s breath catch in his throat.
****
Snape lost no time in cornering Draco the next day and quizzing him about his interchange with Harry. Draco confidently brushed off Snape’s questioning, feeling as though he had made great progress.
Admittedly, this may have been owing to the surge of happiness that he felt whenever he remembered the soft pressure of Harry’s mouth on his, but it was true: he had found some valuable information about Dumbledore.
The Headmaster was definitely leaving the school for something terribly important, which Draco could only assume was to do with defeating Voldemort. He told Snape as much, but instead of being pleased that Draco had made some headway, the professor demanded to know his plan of action.
Although he continued to reject Snape’s offer of assistance, the constant reminder of his task’s purpose weighed heavily on his mind and Draco often found himself despairing. Snape’s interrogation had severely undermined his self-confidence and the enormity of actually murdering the Dumbledore threatened to overwhelm him.
Though it had thoroughly shocked and disgusted him at the time, Draco clung to the fact that he had been able to injure a student enough for them to be transferred to St Mungo’s, so actually killing someone else was only another small step.
He refused to visualise the cold, limp body of the Headmaster lying at his feet and spent many nights feverishly tossing and turning to prevent himself from imagining the confrontation between himself and Dumbledore.
****
The day he discovered the Gryffindors to be in a celebratory mood had begun like any other: he had woken from a fitful sleep, exhausted and drained before he had even dressed, and stumbled to the Great Hall for breakfast with a throbbing headache.
Both the Ravenclaws and the Hufflepuffs also seemed in a state of great excitement and many of them had crowded around the Gryffindor table. Draco tried to ignore the noisy babble of chatter as he toyed with his porridge, stirring it absentmindedly with his spoon. He only looked up when his own House began to confer with one another, glancing over their shoulders at the other tables.
As the students gradually returned to their seats, Draco noted with surprise that, for once, it hadn’t been Harry at the centre of attention. Draco’s spoon clattered on the table top and he ignored the curious gazes of the other Slytherins as he stared over at the girl he thought would never be fit to return to Hogwarts.
For the second time that term, Draco fled from the Great Hall with a hot, prickling sensation in his eyes. He knew that Snape would have seen him and the thought of the professor’s gloating, triumphant sneer only spurred him on further, his lungs feeling as if they were about to burst. The green and silver tie around his neck seemed to be restricting his breathing and he yanked it loose to prevent it from choking him. He stormed into a bathroom, but with enough foresight to check the sign on the door to ensure that this was definitely not a girl’s toilet.
Other than the steady drip of the leaking taps, the bathroom was deserted and Draco rushed to a nearby basin, unsure as to whether he was going to vomit or pass out. He stared unseeingly at the rusty plughole, unable to look at his own reflection in the grimy mirror as his chest heaved with heavy sobs.
Thoughts of his inadequacy, of his incompetence which he had been trying desperately to suppress emerged with a sickening jolt of fear. Every plan that he had contrived and every attempt he had made to complete the task had failed with catastrophic results. He wasn’t even capable of successfully cursing another student, let alone commit the murder of the most powerful sorcerer of the age.
Draco let the tears stream unrestrained down his face, biting down on the knuckles of his hand to prevent the sound of his pitiful crying from carrying too far. Despite his best efforts, the sound must have echoed down the school plumbing because Moaning Myrtle rose out of a cubicle almost instantly and glided over to him. Behind her thick-framed glasses, her eyes softened with understanding sympathy.
“Don’t,” she crooned. “Don’t....tell me what’s wrong......I can help you.....”
“No one can help me.”
The words spilled from Draco’s mouth as the full horror of his position became painfully apparent. It now seemed absurd that he could even contemplate carrying out the task, much less actually succeed. His whole body was shaking so violently that it was difficult to speak and he clung to the basin for support.
“I can’t do it......I can’t.......it’s impossible.......and if I don’t do it soon......he says he’ll kill me....”
Myrtle continued to try and reassure him, even making an effort to stroke his hair with her translucent hand, when Draco heard the unambiguous sound of the door creaking open behind him. Ashamed that someone had caught him crying pathetically in the company of a ghost and enraged that they dared interrupt him, he spun round, his vision obscured by a haze of tears.
All the frustration and despair he had felt at his own abilities came bubbling to the surface and he raised his wand, shouting,
“Cruci --”
With all the instinctive reflexes of a born auror, the intruder whipped out their own wand and bellowed,
“SECTUMSEMPRA!”
Invisible blades slashed across Draco’s chest and his knees buckled as the burning pain almost blinded him. He collapsed on the damp floor of the bathroom, feeling his own warm, sticky blood seeping from the cursed gashes and onto his white uniform shirt.
Myrtle’s voice resounded hollowly around the tiled room and as Draco’s thoughts became less and less coherent, he could have sworn he saw Harry staring at him with his wand lowered. Breathing in shallow gasps, he blinked and Harry, if that really had been him, was replaced by Snape who rushed to his side, his face livid.
He traced his wand over the wounds and Draco felt as though his skin was being pulled and knitted together as the professor muttered a complicated incantation under his breath. The sound of his deep, hypnotic voice washed over Draco and his sight darkened. Almost as if he was miles away, Snape’s words sounded distant and Draco allowed himself to be hoisted up to a standing position like a limp ragdoll.
Before Snape carried him from the bathroom, Draco’s head lolled back and he caught sight of the Gryffindor again, the realisation that Harry had been the one to curse him only registering faintly in his mind. Draco wanted to say something, anything to make Harry stop standing frozen in the blood-stained water and staring transfixed at him in horror, but the bathroom door swung shut and he sunk into oblivion.
Chapter Twelve
Rating: PG - 13 (this chapter)
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Wordcount: 2845
Summary: What if Draco's task was not to repair the Vanishing Cabinet, but instead, to learn Dumbledore's secrets through Harry? Bitter enemies from their first meeting, Draco must find a way to forge a bond with Harry.
Author's Notes: This is an alternative reality fic in which Draco's mission differs from that of J.K Rowling's book. However, some elements of the canon will be used.
Feedback: Yes please!
Disclaimer: None of this is mine as I'm sure you already know
Previous Chapters: Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four / Chapter Five / Chapter Six / Chapter Seven / Chapter Eight / Chapter Nine / Chapter Ten
Draco had never anticipated a Quidditch match with less excitement, though admittedly this was only Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff, and made his way to the pitch in low spirits. His gloom was not alleviated in the slightest as a broad-shouldered Gryffindor took Weasley’s place in front of the goalposts. Harry looked equally distracted as he circled the stadium and was clearly far more concerned about his best friend’s absence than winning the match.
The Gryffindor team as a whole were performing terribly, not least because their replacement keeper seemed to be under the impression that he was the captain. Barely half an hour later, the crowd took a collective intake of breath, hardly believing what they were seeing as the keeper grabbed a beater’s bat, swung it with all his might only to crack it against Harry’s skull with a sickening crunch.
Losing his grip on his broom, Harry lost consciousness and hurtled towards the ground. Draco shoved his fellow Slytherins out of the way as he fought to reach the front row. He hung over the railing, desperate to see what was happening on the pitch, and watched anxiously as a stretcher was conjured to transport Harry to the hospital wing.
On the way back to the castle he found himself at the centre of the sixth-year Slytherins, all of whom seemed to consider Harry’s accident highly entertaining. Not wanting to draw attention to himself, Draco joined in with the cruel laughter, making a sneering comment about Harry’s flying ability which left a sour taste in his mouth.
Someone, probably Pansy, suggested bewitching badges to read ‘Support Cormac McLaggen - the best keeper Gryffindor will ever have,’ in a bid to lower Weasley’s confidence even further. Draco was unable to force himself to nod along with the others as he remembered with uncomfortable guilt the last time he’d campaigned maliciously for another student. That was two years ago and the student in question had died that summer, murdered by the very wizard Draco had sworn his allegiance to.
****
Draco had been awake for hours on Sunday night, dreading the arrival of another anxiety-ridden week, and would have gladly given anything to stay in bed on Monday morning as everyone got dressed. The relief he felt on seeing both Harry and Weasley in good health at breakfast left him almost light-headed, but he was quick to rearrange his expression to one of disappointment in front of the other Slytherins.
Weasley’s recovery from the poisoning had not only cured him of any physical damage; it had also appeared to have knocked some sense into him. During the Potions lesson that Friday, Draco observed him being positively pleasant towards Granger, who seemed more than a little pleased at his attention. Harry, too, looked far more at ease as he chopped his ingredients, but Draco felt a pang of what could only be regret as they could no longer share an exasperated eye-roll at the Weasley-Granger situation.
****
Owing to the pressure of his task and the emotional turmoil Harry caused whenever they so much as eye contact, Draco had completely forgotten that during sixth year everyone would be coming of age. He, himself, didn’t turn seventeen for many months yet, but there were plenty who already had, so the announcement that the Apparition test would be held that weekend was greeted with a great deal of panic.
Draco went with a large proportion of students to the entrance hall and watched them nervously leave the castle for Hogsmeade. He caught sight of Granger’s bushy hair, accompanied closely by Weasley, and was on his way back to the Slytherin dungeon when a voice spoke softly in his ear,
“I didn’t realise you weren’t of age either.”
Without his knowledge, Harry had sidled up to him and together they watched the last of the sixth years leave.
“Well, you’ve never asked.”
“I never thought I’d want to know,” Harry replied instantly, his tone thoughtful.
Confusion and surprise played across Harry’s face in a way which Draco recognised as an attempt to make sense of whatever it was that had drawn them together this year. It was a range of emotions he was incredibly familiar with and was about to remark on it when he became aware of Snape’s formidable figure at the other end of the corridor, watching the pair of them with narrowed eyes.
Unwilling to be caught conversing amicably with Harry, Draco led the other boy to an empty classroom nearby in a purposeful manner so as to hopefully convince Snape that he knew exactly what he was doing and was working on his task. Harry made no complaint as Draco guided him into one of the Transfiguration classroom and seated himself on one of the desks, swinging his legs.
Draco glanced out into the corridor just to be certain that no one else, other than Snape, had seen them enter. He shut the door and turned around, finding Harry observing him with curiosity. Neither of them said a word and for a moment Draco worried that Harry was trying to think of a way to escape the situation he had found himself in.
His fears were not confirmed, however, when Harry spoke,
“You haven’t said when your birthday is yet.”
Surprised that Harry genuinely wanted to know, Draco replied,
“Oh, it’s in June; just over a month before yours.”
Again they lapsed into silence, only this time Draco didn’t find it as uncomfortable. He moved closer to Harry until he was standing directly in front of him. From his vantage point on the desk, Harry was for once able to look down on him and he considered Draco intently.
“Why did you gatecrash Slughorn’s party? It really wasn’t that great and, to be honest, I’d rather have spent the evening elsewhere.”
Draco could tell that Harry had been mulling this question over ever since last term and felt his cheeks burn as he remembered how foolish he’d looked that night. Hoping that Harry would understand his embarrassment and not interrogate him in great depth, Draco mumbled,
“It sounded as if it was going to be amazing and I just wanted to see what all the fuss was all about....”
“I overheard Snape talking to you.”
Harry sounded awkward, almost as if he was unwilling to pry into something which was obviously a private matter. Taking a deep breath, Draco forced himself to remain calm and brushed off Harry’s comment.
“Oh, yeah.....well, Snape was furious with me for being out after curfew; you know what he’s like.....”
The excuse sounded weak in Draco’s own ears and he was unable to meet Harry’s eye, so he changed subject.
“There’s been a lot of strange things happening lately. Have you noticed that Dumbledore isn’t always at Hogwarts?”
He let the observation hang between them, realising that he may be able to gain enough information to keep Snape off his back for the time being. Harry looked as uneasy as Draco had when the party had been mentioned and answered hesitantly,
“I expect he’s doing something important because he wouldn’t leave the castle for anything that could be dealt with by owl post.”
Draco couldn’t bring himself to interrogate Harry further, not when they had at least an hour of uninterrupted time together. He reached out and placed a hand cautiously on Harry’s thigh, hoping that the other boy wouldn’t flinch and disappear out of the room as quickly as he could.
Harry didn’t seem averse to the touch and ceased swinging his legs immediately, but to Draco’s bewilderment, he didn’t appear certain how to reciprocate. For someone who had this kind of attention from girls quite frequently, it was peculiar how lacking in confidence he was.
Deciding to take control, Draco lifted his other hand and placed it at the nape of Harry’s neck, allowing his fingers to tangle in the untidy black hair. Harry mirrored his actions and leant forward as Draco tilted his head up.
Unlike their kiss beneath the Invisibility Cloak, this was far more hesitant, almost nervous. They moved their mouths together slowly, exploring tentatively with their tongues. Harry’s eyelashes brushed against Draco’s cheek as his eyes fluttered closed. Draco shivered involuntarily and wound his arms around Harry’s neck more tightly.
Eventually they drew apart breathlessly, but despite the intimacy they had just shared, Harry continued to look unsure of himself.
“What about Pansy? I thought you and her.....together.......”
Draco scowled at Harry for ruining the moment with a mention of her and snapped,
“She is singularly the most stupid, empty-headed girl I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet and no matter how many times I push her away, the message never gets through her thick skull.”
Harry seemed mollified by the vehemence with which Draco had denied any relationship with Pansy and pulled him forward for another kiss. Draco resisted, finding it odd that Harry seemed so concerned about Pansy when he had his own horde of female fans.
“Why were you asking about her? You sounded.......jealous, but it should be me feeling like that. I’ve heard all the rumours about you and the Gryffindor girls.”
Harry’s eyebrows nearly reached his hairline as his eyes widened. He spluttered a response,
“Rumours? What......I’ve never.......there’s only been Cho and she --”
“Only Cho? You mean to tell me that you’ve never taken advantage of your status as the ‘Chosen One?’”
Draco could hardly believe it, but Harry’s cheeks were tinged deep crimson and he muttered,
“No, I just.....I guess girls aren’t really my thing......”
Draco found Harry’s discomfort incredibly endearing and spoke softly,
“Yeah? Well, I’m not all that into them myself, but I’ve only realised that recently.”
He pressed his lips against Harry’s gently, stroking the other boy’s cheek gently with the back of his hand as he tried to reassure him that he was in no way mocking his lack of experience.
Harry relaxed and began to return the kiss with a tenderness that made Draco’s breath catch in his throat.
****
Snape lost no time in cornering Draco the next day and quizzing him about his interchange with Harry. Draco confidently brushed off Snape’s questioning, feeling as though he had made great progress.
Admittedly, this may have been owing to the surge of happiness that he felt whenever he remembered the soft pressure of Harry’s mouth on his, but it was true: he had found some valuable information about Dumbledore.
The Headmaster was definitely leaving the school for something terribly important, which Draco could only assume was to do with defeating Voldemort. He told Snape as much, but instead of being pleased that Draco had made some headway, the professor demanded to know his plan of action.
Although he continued to reject Snape’s offer of assistance, the constant reminder of his task’s purpose weighed heavily on his mind and Draco often found himself despairing. Snape’s interrogation had severely undermined his self-confidence and the enormity of actually murdering the Dumbledore threatened to overwhelm him.
Though it had thoroughly shocked and disgusted him at the time, Draco clung to the fact that he had been able to injure a student enough for them to be transferred to St Mungo’s, so actually killing someone else was only another small step.
He refused to visualise the cold, limp body of the Headmaster lying at his feet and spent many nights feverishly tossing and turning to prevent himself from imagining the confrontation between himself and Dumbledore.
****
The day he discovered the Gryffindors to be in a celebratory mood had begun like any other: he had woken from a fitful sleep, exhausted and drained before he had even dressed, and stumbled to the Great Hall for breakfast with a throbbing headache.
Both the Ravenclaws and the Hufflepuffs also seemed in a state of great excitement and many of them had crowded around the Gryffindor table. Draco tried to ignore the noisy babble of chatter as he toyed with his porridge, stirring it absentmindedly with his spoon. He only looked up when his own House began to confer with one another, glancing over their shoulders at the other tables.
As the students gradually returned to their seats, Draco noted with surprise that, for once, it hadn’t been Harry at the centre of attention. Draco’s spoon clattered on the table top and he ignored the curious gazes of the other Slytherins as he stared over at the girl he thought would never be fit to return to Hogwarts.
For the second time that term, Draco fled from the Great Hall with a hot, prickling sensation in his eyes. He knew that Snape would have seen him and the thought of the professor’s gloating, triumphant sneer only spurred him on further, his lungs feeling as if they were about to burst. The green and silver tie around his neck seemed to be restricting his breathing and he yanked it loose to prevent it from choking him. He stormed into a bathroom, but with enough foresight to check the sign on the door to ensure that this was definitely not a girl’s toilet.
Other than the steady drip of the leaking taps, the bathroom was deserted and Draco rushed to a nearby basin, unsure as to whether he was going to vomit or pass out. He stared unseeingly at the rusty plughole, unable to look at his own reflection in the grimy mirror as his chest heaved with heavy sobs.
Thoughts of his inadequacy, of his incompetence which he had been trying desperately to suppress emerged with a sickening jolt of fear. Every plan that he had contrived and every attempt he had made to complete the task had failed with catastrophic results. He wasn’t even capable of successfully cursing another student, let alone commit the murder of the most powerful sorcerer of the age.
Draco let the tears stream unrestrained down his face, biting down on the knuckles of his hand to prevent the sound of his pitiful crying from carrying too far. Despite his best efforts, the sound must have echoed down the school plumbing because Moaning Myrtle rose out of a cubicle almost instantly and glided over to him. Behind her thick-framed glasses, her eyes softened with understanding sympathy.
“Don’t,” she crooned. “Don’t....tell me what’s wrong......I can help you.....”
“No one can help me.”
The words spilled from Draco’s mouth as the full horror of his position became painfully apparent. It now seemed absurd that he could even contemplate carrying out the task, much less actually succeed. His whole body was shaking so violently that it was difficult to speak and he clung to the basin for support.
“I can’t do it......I can’t.......it’s impossible.......and if I don’t do it soon......he says he’ll kill me....”
Myrtle continued to try and reassure him, even making an effort to stroke his hair with her translucent hand, when Draco heard the unambiguous sound of the door creaking open behind him. Ashamed that someone had caught him crying pathetically in the company of a ghost and enraged that they dared interrupt him, he spun round, his vision obscured by a haze of tears.
All the frustration and despair he had felt at his own abilities came bubbling to the surface and he raised his wand, shouting,
“Cruci --”
With all the instinctive reflexes of a born auror, the intruder whipped out their own wand and bellowed,
“SECTUMSEMPRA!”
Invisible blades slashed across Draco’s chest and his knees buckled as the burning pain almost blinded him. He collapsed on the damp floor of the bathroom, feeling his own warm, sticky blood seeping from the cursed gashes and onto his white uniform shirt.
Myrtle’s voice resounded hollowly around the tiled room and as Draco’s thoughts became less and less coherent, he could have sworn he saw Harry staring at him with his wand lowered. Breathing in shallow gasps, he blinked and Harry, if that really had been him, was replaced by Snape who rushed to his side, his face livid.
He traced his wand over the wounds and Draco felt as though his skin was being pulled and knitted together as the professor muttered a complicated incantation under his breath. The sound of his deep, hypnotic voice washed over Draco and his sight darkened. Almost as if he was miles away, Snape’s words sounded distant and Draco allowed himself to be hoisted up to a standing position like a limp ragdoll.
Before Snape carried him from the bathroom, Draco’s head lolled back and he caught sight of the Gryffindor again, the realisation that Harry had been the one to curse him only registering faintly in his mind. Draco wanted to say something, anything to make Harry stop standing frozen in the blood-stained water and staring transfixed at him in horror, but the bathroom door swung shut and he sunk into oblivion.
Chapter Twelve