Nicole Stevens: Dragons and Deceit

Chapter Three

Almost the second after she left, Draco peered in through the gap where the door had been. It took him a few moments to process the scene, and then he said in a lazy voice, "You blew up the door."

"I did not," I said. "It was that girl."

"Girl? What girl?"

"She just left. She had black hair and a black dress."

He shrugged, "Whatever you say." He paused for a moment. "Are you okay?"

"I'm just fine."

"Oh, well..." he took out his want and directed it at the pieces of the door.

"No, don't. I'll fix it."

"All right."

There was an awkward pause, in which we both looked anywhere but at each other. Draco kept his eyes firmly on the floor, and I looked at a spot over his head. Finally he broke the silence.

"Well. I'll just be going now. I hope you can manage to repair that door."

I nodded, and just as he turned to leave, I asked a sudden question. "What did it feel like?"

"What did WHAT feel like?" he returned, without turning to face me.

"What did it feel like, when you realised that I was with Harry, even after I said that I love you--loved you?"

He kept his back to me. "It felt like you had driven a knife through my heart." Then he turned around, "And tell me, how did it feel to do that to me?"

"It felt cold."

He nodded curtly and left me with my thoughts. And the letter.

I opened it and read the message quickly.

The candle in the rain

Will be put out.

The candle's owner would do well

To put it back inside.

I stared at the message. What did it mean? Well, I knew that if it meant nothing else, it meant trouble. And I was not looking for trouble. Not yet.

------------

The food at the banquet was rich and heavy, and tasted extremely good. Much better than the summer snacks I had eaten for the entire holidays. I laughed at the jokes between Harry and Ron, and silently snickered at Hermione as she scolded them for the dirty jokes. After all, she was Head Girl, and thus must keep order. But with Harry and Ron--well, I doubted that she could say or do much that would scare them.

During the Sorting I had not been attentive, even though I knew most of their older siblings. It was almost like I had come home after a long absence...even though Hogwarts was not my home. Well, not really anyways. Not like it was for Harry. He didn't have the kind of home that I had. I had my parents, while Harry, on the other hand, had only the Dursleys. Well--there were not many pros to his situation.

Everyone around me was laughing and chattering, happy to be back amongst their fellows. I was happy too, though not as much as I would have expected. This time around, I had a stable boyfriend, pure confidence, and the knowledge that this was my last year as a student. Why shouldn't I be happy for myself? Why did it feel like there was a dark cloud hanging over my head?

Because there was.

That girl from the train still bothered me. Who was she? Why had she given me the bracelet and note? What was the language she had spoke? I would not know until we met again...So I wanted to see her again, but I didn't. Oh, great. Just what I needed. Another evil demon out to get my soul--or maybe she wasn't. But, that too would have to wait until she reappeared. And something told me that I would not have long to wait...

The people around me were standing up, jostling to get out the doors. I could see people stretching and yawning, the warm food easing their mind off school and onto the warm beds they would soon be crawling into. And I could not help thinking about MY warm, cozy bed...with its fluffy down pillows and heavy velvet covers. Ah...

"Nicole? You coming?" Ron's voice brought me out of my fantasy of warm beds.

"Oh, yeah, sure." I drained my glass and followed after Ron and Harry, who were following Hermione towards the door. I pushed my way through the crowd of students, slowly but surely getting closer and closer to the door. Finally, I managed to catch up to the trio, just as they headed out into the hall.

Harry smiled and wrapped his arm comfortingly around my waist. "You sure didn't talk much this evening," he whispered into my ear. It was almost a question--as if he wanted an explanation.

"I was just...distracted. My mind was on the food and drink rather than socialising."

It wasn't a lie...it was just not the full truth.

"Ah...are you tired? It's been a long day."

He had NO idea--I hadn't told him about the train-girl. "Yes, it sure has," I replied, walking a bit faster so he wouldn't have to slow down. "I can't wait until I get to crawl into my warm bed and sleep."

He nodded, grinning gently. "I know. I'm exhausted too. And classes start tomorrow, so...You can count on a ton of homework."

"And don't I know it. I bet they'll bog us down so much that we won't be able to carry our backpacks. At least I won't be able to."

"Well, I'll carry it for you."

Harry Potter--the gentleman, as always. Or, as Malfoy had once said, 'The-Boy-Who-Lives-to-Save-Girls-From-Guys-Like-Me.' He was right. Harry was a true gentleman. But a little respect went a long way. Which was probably why every girl who ever dated Harry would give their life to go out with him again. Fortunately for me though, I didn't have that problem. Harry was mine--heart, body, and soul. Well, I hoped he was, anyway...But it was no time to worry about silly things like that. I had more important matters to concern myself with. Like remembering the password to Gryffindor Tower, which Hermione had just stopped in front of.

She said the password and led us inside. Harry came with me to the stairs up to my dorm and kissed me on the cheek. "G'night," he said.

"You too," and I smiled and headed up to bed.

-------------

Lucius took Draco into a dark room. Then Lucius snapped his fingers, and a fire sprung to life in the grate.

"I would rather do this in the light," he hissed, his voice full of deadly venom.

The room was decorated with lush velvet everywhere. But on the walls--the walls had weapons hanging from them. There were whips of all kinds--spiked, leather, thin metal. Swords, too. Rapiers, swords with thick hilts and sharp edges. All sorts of instruments designed for only one purpose.

Pain.

Lucius strode to the wall, surveying it. The wall of whips. His fingers brushed--almost lovingly--over the handles of the whips. His fingernails made a faint scraping noise on the stone of the wall. And then he stopped. He had found the whip he wanted.

It was leather--black, with a leather-covered wood handle. Lucius gently took it from the wall. He held it in his hands, looking it over to check if it would do what he wanted. Draco stood a few steps away from his father, not standing perfectly straight, and with a blank look on his face. His eyes were pale, almost white from fear. He seemed petrified with fear. Draco never even blinked.

Lucius slowly turned around, his expression menacing.

"Stand straight, boy. Do you wish to appear meagre, a mere weakling?"

Draco stood to his full height, barely shorter than Lucius.

"Very well. Now, before I begin, I would like an explanation. Why would you do such a thing--such a damaging thing--to my reputation? If it is some mistake of mine, tell me now and save yourself a great deal of pain. If it was because of my actions that you did this, speak up now."

"Father," Draco began, his voice showing little of his fear. "I spoke because I believed that what I said was important to the matter at hand. I would have asked you for permission to speak, if only I had thought before I spoke. But, as far as I could tell, my statement had no impact on the meeting. Everyone seemed genuinely interested in what I had to say, and none of them thought any the worse of you. Though, I doubt that they took my proposal seriously. It is no fault of yours, and no fault of your intelligence. It is, in my opinion, a fault of the human mind. Speaking comes naturally, and thus, it is not uncommon that, on occasion, someone will speak out of turn. I do regret my actions, though I curse not myself but the mind of humans. Your colleagues were speaking of a matter that you have very properly schooled me in, and I simply thought of nothing but of what you had taught me. I thought also that it might further your colleagues' opinion of you, firstly, and me, secondly."

Lucius stood for a moment, seemingly pondering what his son had said. It barely made sense. But punishment--did Draco deserve punishment? For his actions, he certainly did. But his reasoning behind it was not something consequence-worthy.

"I have heard what you said, and I believe that I do understand. You blame this, not on myself or you, but on the mind. And yet you claim to have thought that what you said would further my status? Explain how you might think, and yet not think. I would be delighted to hear your answer."

Draco nodded. "My goal, Father, is always to further your reputation, in all situations, which is why I was thinking of that and nothing else. Excuse my wording before, Father. I might have made myself or my point unclear. I was hoping to further your reputation, but I was not thinking of consequences."

Lucius nodded at Draco's words, running his finger along the whip's handle.

"I suppose that makes sense."

----------------

I woke to a shrill alarm at six in the morning. It beeped insistently, and I opened my eyes. The blurry, red numbers read '6:01--Get up you lazy girl.' I scowled at it, growling a few curses before dressing in my uniform. The snores of my dormmates were muffled by their pillows and blankets--they didn't have the same agenda as I had.

First, I've got to go to the library. Maybe I can find something on that language the girl spoke. What was it she said? Lay lily van tadu ree ann oo doo. In oo la ria doo lee wah dula lily. Or something like that...It sounded like a spell--but what would it have been about?!

I grabbed my bag and jogged down the stairs, trying to be as quiet as I could.

Pushing open the portrait, I glanced around the halls and continued on my way down to the library. There was reason to be careful--if someone saw me walking around the halls, carrying my books, almost two hours before class, surely people's suspicions would be aroused. After all, I was known for meeting with Death Eaters and other dark creatures, though no one would ever guess the extent of these meetings. Luckily for me.

Reaching the library, I stepped inside, looking around at all of the shelves of books. Madam Pince, the librarian, had already been here and was probably in one of the back rooms sorting new and extremely old books. That thought triggered something inside my head--EXTREMELY old books. Just what I would need. Ancient languages were most likely to be discussed in ancient scrolls or books. If I could only find someone who might be able to translate the books. I knew that it was highly unlikely that any were written in English. And I was only fluent in two languages--English and Girl-Speak (or as men might think of it, 'Yeah, she was totally crushing on this one guy and he was totally not picking up the vibe--so I told her, "You need to get some moves in on this guy, not just pink nail-polish and great smelling hair. I mean, the serious stuff, like Dolce and Gabana."') Well, I knew some sparse French, though a couple of years ago I had thought myself very well-schooled in the French language. Then I heard French people speak, and the only thing I understood was 'yes'.

Draco could probably translate it. His father had made sure that he could speak many languages. Ancient as well as modern. But no, I could never ask him. Not now. Not ever. And especially not since I had been kidnapped twice, thanks to him, and dumped him at least twice that amount. No, asking him was definitely not an option. Unless I just happened to say something about it to Harry as Draco was walking by, but not if he heard and didn't offer to help.

NO! I thought fiercely. I can NOT even think of doing that.

So my resolve was set. I would not ask him, or take his help. Unless he offered.

No!

All right, now I was serious. I was really NOT going to ask him. So there.

-----------

After searching for half an hour with no luck, I finally gave it up for the day and headed to breakfast. I saw a few early-risers who were also going towards the great hall. They all looked to be Prefects. When that thought had finished sinking in, I paused for a moment. Prefects.

Draco was a Prefect. Actually, I had heard the vague rumour that he was Head Boy. But I doubted the validity of these claims, since Draco had been known to cause fights monthly. Anyways, whether or not he was Head Boy, it had absolutely nothing to do with me. Nothing whatsoever.

If my resolve was as strong as I'd thought, it was not enough to stop me from waiting near the doors of the Great Hall. My hope was that Draco would approach me, instead of me going to him, asking for help. It would be better for me if it happened like that, but if it didn't happen as I hoped, then I would risk being seen talking to him. Okay.

So I waited, sitting on the bottom stair of the enormous grand staircase, waiting for Draco to come and do who-knows-what to help me. Not that I even really thought that he would. No, I expected he would talk to me, throw a few insults to patch his damaged ego. But other than that--I didn't expect he would do much in the way of helping me.

If he wouldn't help me, I could always go to someone else. It wasn't like I was hated by the entire school populous. Sure, there were a select few who couldn't stand my presence, but other than that I was generally well-liked.

After about five minutes, I spotted him coming, not from the corridor that lead to the Slytherin dungeons, but from a separate door. He was glancing around him, as if checking to see if anyone was watching him. And yet he didn't spot me.

That's odd, I thought as he walked towards the door to the Great Hall, his hair's ruffled. And his cheeks are flushed. What HAS he been doing in there? No, never mind. I was pretty certain that I didn't need to know.

I hopped up from my place on the steps, hurrying to catch him before he went into the Great Hall. Coming up behind him, he turned around and looked me straight in the eye. Apparently, he had seen me on the steps, ignored me, and then heard my footsteps.

"Stevens, what do you want and why should I waste my time listening to your answer?"

I hated the way he said it. My name, in a hurried tone, his usual drawl dropped from his voice. And not "Nicole"--"Stevens." Well, now I knew what he felt like. I supposed that was his intention...

"Draco, I need you to help me with something."

"And why should I do that?"

"Because--" I stumbled awkwardly, trying to find an answer before he decided that I wasn't worth his attention. "Because, I don't know of anyone else," I paused thinking about how best to stroke his ego. "I know that no one else has the experience that I'm looking for."

"Is this a job offer?" his casual drawl was back, a faint smirk toying with the corners of his mouth--something that not many people would have noticed.

"Not exactly. If you want to be paid to help me, then I will. I was hoping that you could help me translate something, and then maybe teach me a bit of the language."

"Payment?" a small frown appeared, before he reverted back to his subdued smirk. "What kind of payment?" His eyes glittered playfully. I missed that quality about him--I hadn't seen it for over half a year.

I let a small smile play gently across my face, "Galleons, sickles, knuts...Muggle money, potions ingredients. I can go quite high in my payment."

"Hmn..." Draco crossed his arms over his chest and surveyed me from under his lashes. "I could do that. But, what I want is not something you offered."

"Oh?" I asked playfully. I laid down my pride and pretended to flirt with him. Touching his arm, I added, "What exactly DO you want, Draco?"

He smirked, but then he stopped, and his expression became stern. "Stop it. Stop doing that."

"What?" I kept flirting, gently running my finger up his arm.

He pulled away, his eyes darkening angrily. "Don't you dare do that. Not again. I won't let you. So either stop the act and say what I want to hear or I'm leaving."

I looked at the floor, and then closed my eyes. He could always tell when I wasn't telling the truth. And when I flirted, he knew when it was real and when it wasn't. I knew that beforehand, but I had still used it against him. I cursed myself silently that he could read me so well.

"All right. Draco Malfoy, what payment do you want?"

"I want that necklace."

"What necklace?"

"The ruby one you found. I want it. Let me have it and I'll work for you," he kept his voice guarded, and I couldn't see any emotion but cold anger in his eyes.

"How do you--"

"Don't ask me that. Just give me the necklace."

"But--"

"Stevens, I am NOT fucking around here. Give it to me, I'll help you for as long as you like. That's my only offer, take it or leave it."

I was slightly taken aback. He knew about something that I had told no one about--not even the trees, who were doing much better now that I was safe--and he was asking me to give it to him, without questioning why he wanted it.

"I can't do that. Not unless I knew what it did and why you wanted it."

His mouth was set in a thin line. "Stevens," his voice was cold and controlled. "I will not help you unless I have the necklace." I started to re-state my question. "Don't ask me why, it's better that you don't know. Just give it to me. It'll be better in the end."

He saw the question in my eyes.

"It'll be better for everyone--especially you."

"And what about you?" I asked softly, not taking my eyes from his.

"It will be better for me, as well."

"Draco...you know I can't."

"Then," he carefully hid every emotion that might have shown on his face, "I will not help you. Find someone else to do it."

I nodded, also trying my hardest to hide the conflicting emotions raging inside of me like a tiger in a cage. "Thank you."

Draco raised his eyebrows, "For what?"

"For taking the time to listen to my proposal."

He nodded once, then turned and continued into the Great Hall to breakfast. I had the distinct feeling that neither of us would be eating.

---------

It was the ever-slow second week of school. The teachers were becoming extremely uptight, and homework was increasing each day. I had no idea how I was going to get through the enormous pile of homework but I spent less and less time with my few friends, and more and more time immersed in a sea of schoolbooks. And Draco still refused to help me, not that it surprised me.

'Monday,' I thought unhappily, sitting back in my chair to survey the cluttered library tale I was sitting at. 'I hate Monday and I hate homework and I'm beginning to hate the library, too.'

Did the professors think that because we were seventh years we could handle four projects, six essays, and one study group with some other people. Because if that's what they thought, then they were sorely mistaken. I had almost been unable to cope in fifth year--which now seemed like a day at the beach compared to now. But I knew that all complaining was likely to do was land me a spot in detention--something I did NOT need at the time.

I began working on the dreaded Potions essay.

As I flipped through the heavy, ancient pages of one of the potion books, someone gently tapped me on the shoulder.

I spun around in my chair to face the person who had startled me.

Pansy Parkinson--Slytherin Prefect--was standing behind me, with her eyebrows raised.

"What do you want?" I asked wearily. I was not in the mood to deal with snooty Slytherins.

"If I wanted anything from you I would take it. But I have been instructed to give you this," she handed me a sealed envelope. "It is--"

"Who is it from?" I questioned before she could finish.

"I was just getting to that before you interrupted me. I received it from Draco, and he said it was from his father." Her eyes glittered maliciously, as she turned to go.

"What does it say, Pansy?"

She stopped, looking back at me and smirking.

"I wouldn't know. I didn't read it."

And she turned, striding out of the library.

I tore open the envelope, pulling out a heavy sheet of parchment.

It began:

Dear Miss Stevens,

I am very distressed that I must be the one to tell you this, but it is my duty.

Your parents have been taken prisoner by Lord Voldemort, and his faithful servants. If you would like to have them returned alive, then you must not tell anyone of what has happened. To have Andrew and Lydia Stevens returned alive, then you and Harry Potter must appear formally in a gathering held by Lord Voldemort at the Dark Castle on All-Hallow's Eve. With you, you must bring the Corianthianum ruby necklace. If you do not appear, your parents and Harry Potter will be killed.

I sincerely hope that you understand what you must do.

                                    Sincerely,

                                 Lucius Malfoy

I sat for a few moments in stunned silence.

Then I let the letter fall from my hand. I blindly searched inside the envelope for something more--some kind of help, a message from someone who cared.

And at last I found a smaller scrap of paper.

On it, two words were written. 'Tempestus Goddard.'

I knew that fine handwriting. And I'd go to him, and we would talk it over. He would know what to do.

I hoped.