Nicole Stevens: Blood and Daggers

Nicole Stevens: Blood and Daggers

Chapter Eight: Intermission

"Ugh, morning again. I hate the morning," I growled, rolling out of bed and landing with a thump on the floor. "Why does morning always have to come so soon? It feels like I got about an hour of sleep. I am going to pass out. I feel sure of it." I wondered why I was talking to myself, but decided not to question it.

I yawned and stumbled over to the window. I threw open the golden curtains that were shielding the light. The sunlight streamed through the window, bathing me in its radiance. It still did not help to improve my mood. "I wonder if Helga Hufflepuff was always so sunny?" I asked myself with a frown. "And if she was, WHY did she have to go and decorate her bedroom sunny too?"

This was, after all, her bedroom, or had been at one time. Had she been a downcast sort of person, I would have understood the need for bright golden curtains and a window with a great view, but I knew better. Hufflepuff had been a happy person, with no need for bright colours.

A scowl crossed my face as I thought of the day ahead. There would be, no doubt, more explanations, pressing questioners, and most of all, more headaches. My life had too many problems. It was too complicated. I wanted death to whoever had come up with problems. I refused to believe that it was a woman who had set evil and problems loose into the world. She was a woman, and the evilest person around these days was Voldemort, who happened to be a man. Logically, it made no sense whatsoever.

I'm starting to think I need therapy, I thought.

No, really? my conscience returned sarcastically.

Yes, really. You're so mean to me, you know. I've never done anything to you. Besides, I've been relatively nice to you this summer. How do you expect me to live every day with you in my head? I've done considerably well lately.

Possibly, my conscience sighed, but it is not a fun job, being locked up, bodiless, in your mind. I wish you would try to speak to me a bit more.

If you weren't so mean to me, then I would be, but...

Oh, bother. I have not been rude to you, and I refuse to believe that.

Fine, I answered indifferently. But I can ignore you.

How in the world can you do that? I believe that last year you told me I was insufferable and if you could tune me out, you would.

Well, if I didn't, I'm saying it now. You. Are. In-suff-er-a-ble.

My conscience made an indignant noise and began spluttering, What?--no--of all the things--not true!

Tehehehe, I laughed. You're so touchy. And why do we never call each other by our names?

Because, it said slowly, as if I was stupid, you have a name, but I don't. How moronic of you.

Sighing, I turned away from the sunlight that was flooding through the window into the room, and headed over to the wardrobe, ignoring my conscience's protests. Upon opening the heavy wooden doors of the closet, I found a selection of many old-fashioned robes. They were made for a woman, and were plain, but sensible for working. I spotted a green loose robe with a black dress-like thing to go underneath, and put it on, tossing my nightgown onto the bed. The robe and dress looked fine on me, not too flashy, not too drab. Old clothes were nice. Really old clothes were the best. The robe was comfortable, and definitely something I would keep, if Dumbledore allowed. I turned around and headed to the bureau, pulling the drawers open. Inside, I hardly found anything worth notice, but I did find a silver bracelet and large matching hoop earrings. I wore them, just because I could. So what if they weren't technically mine? They had once belonged to Helga Hufflepuff, but she was dead, so what would she care?

I looked in the mirror, twirling around and grinning to myself. It was rather like playing dress-up in your grandmother's old clothes. However, these clothes were much older than my grandmother's old dresses. Connie, my mother's mother, was only ninety-three. Hufflepuff had lived about a thousand years ago. Very big difference. I wondered why the clothes has preserved for so long, before realising that it was most likely done by magic. My mood, though not entirely improved, had been lightened considerably. I no longer felt like I wanted to go kill someone, instead feeling relatively normal.

I stopped twirling when I heard a knock on the door. Blushing for no apparent reason, I headed to the door and opened it. Harry was standing there, wearing a wrinkled pair of old, black school robes. Knowing that he must have gotten them from the extra supply Hogwarts kept, I stepped back and allowed Harry to come in. He walked through the door and sat on my bed.

"So, I see you've found some robes. I had to ask Filch to get some old ones for me. He made me pet his stupid cat, Mrs. Norris, before he would even talk about getting me suitable clothes. I don't know what Malfoy did to get something to wear, but knowing him; he's most likely going to show up wearing some robe of his own from his home."

"That's where you're wrong," I said, pointing at the door, where Draco was leaning against the doorframe wearing--

"What it the world is THAT?" Harry exclaimed, pointing at Draco's attire.

"They are black jeans...at least, that is what Dumbledore called them when he handed them to me," Draco said, not moving from the doorway.

"Ew--" Harry said disgustedly, "--they're not quite loose enough."

"Wow," I whispered, awestruck, examining Draco. His jeans were black, and tight. Very tight. And his shirt was black, formal, and it was tempting me to think things about Draco that were quiet inappropriate. I shook my head slightly, trying to clear my mind of the pictures Draco had inspired.

"Well, obviously you're girlfriend likes them," Draco said, noticing me staring at him. "I did think this was too formal an outfit, but Dumbledore just handed it to me. Though, I do like the results."

"What?" Harry turned to me as I looked away.

"They look all right," I said, "but if they were leather they'd be even better. Oops, did I just say that out loud?"

"Yes! Ew, gross mental images!" Harry yelped.

"Yes you said that aloud," Draco answered with a smug air.

I flushed looking at the floor. Harry was giving Draco his Glare o' Death, but Draco only smirked and continued looking at me, causing my face to redden even more.

Finally summoning up some courage, I asked, "So, what are we going to do for breakfast?" It broke the tense silence, but did not help me at all.

"While I was up in Dumbledore's office, he told me that Potter knew where the kitchens were and that we could get food, and eat it somewhere."

"Okay. C'mon Harry, let's go to the kitchen and see what the house elves can get us," I said, tugging on his arm like an impatient child. "We can go outside and eat it under the oak tree by the lake."

"Malfoy, you're coming with us?" Harry asked, standing from the bed.

"If you can get me food, yes," was Draco's answer.

"I can get you food," Harry answered.

"Then I'm coming."

"All right," Harry said resolutely.

*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*

I carried a small jug of cider under my arm, balancing a package of sandwiches in the other hand. Draco was carrying the small, wrapped parcel that was a few freshly made pumpkin pasties. Harry carried a second jug, this one full of water, and a small basket with some snacks inside. As soon as we were in view of the oak tree, I ran ahead and plopped down on the springy turf. Draco and Harry ambled slowly after me, looking exhausted. Harry had the most to carry, while Draco had the least, but they both seemed to be wearier than I was. Draco arrived first, sitting down beside me. He set his dessert package onto the ground, next to the place where I had put my load. Harry came last, setting his burden beside ours. Then he sat on my other side, and I began handing out the sandwiches. Draco grabbed three goblets from the basket and began pouring each of us cider. I was surprised the boys were being kind to one another, but decided not to question the miracle. Besides, if I asked, they might start bickering again. Harry took the sandwich I handed him and began wolfing it down. I grinned at him and handed him the glass of cider. He took it gladly and drank it all in two gulps.

"Whoa, Harry. No need to finish everything in the first five minutes," I chided, "You might choke yourself."

"And that would be a tragedy," Draco gibed in a playful tone.

Harry and I laughed, and for the first time in forever, it seemed like Draco was making an effort not to annoy Harry. I passed a snack to Draco, and then got one for myself. I drank my cider thoughtfully, enjoying the soft sounds of my friends' breathing and the occasional hoot from an owl. When I looked at Draco, I noticed for the first time how tired he looked. His milky white skin was almost translucent, and he had dark black circles underneath his eyes. Draco's hand lay on the green grass, contrasting with its colour. His cheeks were feverish, and he looked ill. This was not the same Draco I had known exactly one year ago. He was so different; his appearance, his personality, everything about him was changed. Harry, however, looked rather the same. He, too, seemed weary, though. His eyes were open, but duller than usual. It was like the spark and flare had gone from his eyes, his gaze was less piercing. I sighed, thinking how things had changed, because the certainly had changed.

Draco must have felt my gaze on him, for his eyelids suddenly flickered open, and he looked at me. He moved his hand over mine, enclosing it in his. Draco squeezed my hand, and his gaze told me that it would be okay. He would make it that way, was what he was silently telling me. I nodded and closed my eyes, leaning my head back against the tree. I rested, glad that Draco did not let go of my hand.

I fell asleep, and as I did, I dreamt.

"...Then what you must do is you must pretend that you love me. The others, Ro, Godric, they will not be blind to it. They shall see us, and in turn, tell Helga. Helga will be, if I am not mistaken, possessive of me. She might attempt to scare you away from me, but do not allow her to. Until she comes begging, I shall continue to give the outward appearance of being involved with you. Sooner or later, she will tell Ro of Helga and my affair, and they will realize that our relationship was not merely platonic," Sal continued.

"Oh. But, we'll never...do anything, right?"

"We might," he said uncaringly, "but it would make no difference. She would only believe it further. Actually, it might even make it more believable if we did. I do not know, as of yet, but I will decide later."

"Well, I agree, but we won't do...that. Kissing is okay. Holding hands is fine. Anything more than that is a no."

"Agreed. We must make it look natural. So--" he broke off suddenly, leaning over me and giving me a rough kiss. He even kissed like Draco! I pulled him down, but he pulled back and crawled up onto the bed. Salazar pushed my shoulders down with his hands, and gave me another kiss. As I tried to lock my arms around his neck, he gripped my hands pressing them into the bed. It was a message: He would rule everything. I would choose nothing.

*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*

I woke suddenly, and then realized that we were still outside. Both Draco and Harry were asleep. The sun was setting, and I realised we had been out all day. Leaning against the tree, I sighed. My dream-life was as complicated as reality. It confused me.

I surveyed Draco, who was fast asleep, looking as peaceful as he ever could. I had a strange urge to either slap him or hug him, but I refrained from doing either, as he was asleep, and that would be mean. His eyelids fluttered, but he did not wake. His black eyelashes contrasted with his almost flawless skin, and he looked majestic and royal. How Draco managed to keep his skin so white, I would never know, but it must have been a Malfoy trait. Draco's profile was sharply outlined in the slowly-dimming light; his elegant nose, sharp yet regal, Draco's long, delicate eyelashes were beautiful, and his lips. Oh, I remembered the rapturous feeling of his lips on mine. His kiss, so exhilarating and dangerous, was one thing about Draco that I could not forget. Not that I would have tried to forget it even if I could. I frowned, thinking about my current relationships. Then, I looked at Harry. He was lying completely on the ground, except that he was using my lap as a pillow. His legs were stretched out to their full, and considerable, length. Harry's hair was, like always, messy, but in a cute boyish way. His skin was dark in the fading light of the sun, and I inspected his wrinkled clothes. I brushed away the hair covering his forehead, tracing the lightning-bolt shaped scar. As Harry slept, he sighed contentedly, and made a quiet noise. I giggled, how he would react if he knew he sighed in his sleep and wondering what Harry was dreaming. It was probably something funny, whatever it was. I stroked Harry's cheekbone with my forefinger, down to his lips. Lovingly, I bent down and kissed him softly. He slept on, unknowing of the affection I was showing him.

I heard Draco stirring, and turned to see if he had woken. He had, but only just. His grey eyes sparkled as he saw me, and he whispered, "I fell asleep, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did. We all did. Surprising, I must have slept for at least six hours. I still can't believe that we all did."

"And it seems we haven't all woken up yet," Draco replied quietly, indicating Harry.

"He was exhausted. I think he's been worrying a lot lately. So have I, as a matter of fact."

Draco nodded sadly, but with an understanding air. "That's what you get for loving a hero." The way he said it made me sad and regretful, but I knew what he meant. If Harry hadn't been a hero, I would be less prone towards insomnia. Were Harry not the wizarding worlds' saviour, Harry and I could have been much happier. Had he not been a hero, I might not have ever noticed him. I was still glad he was mine, though, despite all of that.

"I know."

"Of course you do. How could you not? I see it every day I'm with you. You're weary, both mentally and physically. He is wearing you out."

"That's not his fault. It's mine. You know it, too. He tries too much; comforting me, and all. If I weren't such an overbearing and antagonistic person, then none of this would ever have happened. All of last year, the Dark Lord's castle, Halloween, you, wouldn't have happened."

"So you wish I hadn't ever come into your life?" he asked, his voice showing only the tiniest hint of pain.

"Of course not. I wish I hadn't...done all of that. It was stupid, really. I could have been so much more responsible. I should have been a better girlfriend, and a better person," I said remorsefully.

"Possibly," Draco replied, searching the ground for something and not returning my gaze.

Harry woke then, rubbing his eyes and moving his head off my lap. He sat up and looked at Malfoy and me.

"How long was I asleep?"

"I don't know," I answered truthfully. "I was asleep before either of you."

"Well," Draco began, "I think you got off to sleep after I did, but I'm not certain."

"Bugger it if I know," Harry muttered, running his fingers through his hair. He stood and grabbed the basket.

"Hey, we can put everything else in the basket too," I suggested helpfully. The boys murmured their consent as I stashed the two empty drink pitchers and leftovers. Draco leaned against the oak, and Harry just stood, helping me check to make sure we had gotten everything.

We headed up to the castle at a leisurely pace. Neither Draco nor Harry spoke, seemingly too tired and stiff to make small talk. Draco pushed opened the heavy wooden doors of Hogwarts castle, standing back for me, and then Harry. I walked with my eyes half-closed, holding onto Harry for guidance. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders, leaning his cheek on my head. I sighed. Life was good. For now. Maybe.

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A/N: Fun, huh. My first Intermission. Don't ask me what's going to happen next, because I don't know. I am really going out on a limb here, with the whole dream-thing, but it might have a purpose. Oh yeah, Nicole is not, I repeat NOT, related to ANY of the founders. She just resembles Hufflepuff. And I know the Harry/Godric Draco/Salazar look-alike thing is WAY overused, but I'm just thinking that maybe there's a plot in here somewhere. Tell me what you think! Review!

R&R

Peace, Love, and a whole lotta' Draco!

AquilisRose