Nicole Stevens: Dragons and Deceit

Chapter Five

'I can do this,' I repeated in my head. 'I can do this by myself.'

I pushed open the door and stepped outside into the fresh air. The wind tossed my hair across my face, as I headed towards the Quidditch Pitch.

Passing the lake, I saw a giant tentacle rise out of the depths of the water, waving wildly. I shuddered. The giant lake-creature was enough to scare the wits out of me. With its purpley skin and many tentacles, only the bravest students dare go near it.

But I pushed these thoughts from my mind as I approached the Quidditch Pitch, where red dressed figures flew far above the ground. They soared around, and I could barely spot Harry as he darted after the tiny golden snitch. The beaters hit the Bludgers around, defending their players.

I stood beside the Gryffindor Quidditch Shack, waiting for them to finish practice.

I heard a clatter from the shack, the sound of gear being tossed into lockers. Then the door banged open and the players poured out. As Harry exited he spotted me leaning against the wall and came to stand by me.

"Hey. You weren't in classes today. Hermione wouldn't tell me what was wrong, but she came to class late." He leaned on his Firebolt and gazed pensively at me. "You feeling all right?"

"Actually, yeah. I'm all right. I didn't want to go to classes so I got a note to Dumbledore. Listen--"

"Hey, are you coming Harry?" asked one of his friends.

"Yeah, just a second," he turned back to me. "So what were you saying?"

"Listen, Harry. I don't know an easy way to say this, but...I'm breaking up with you. I've just realised some things, and I realise that I don't need to be concentrating on you when I have so many other things going on in my life. I hope you understand."

He stared at me for a moment before shrugging. "No big deal for me. Ginny'll be pleased."

I had expected some emotion.

"So, go already," he said. "Go back to Draco like you always do. It won't make any difference to me."

"Look. I'm not going back to Draco. Not now, at any rate. I've got too much on my plate already. I really don't need a boyfriend. Not you, not Draco, not anyone."

Harry shrugged again, his green eyes dull and his expression nonchalant. "Whatever. I have to go now. I was actually at classes today, and I have homework." He turned and strode briskly up to the castle. Well, fine then. He could act however he pleased and it was no problem of mine.

For once, I thought I might actually be able to make it on my own.

---------

Draco and I were in the back of the library, searching for books to help me.

"You seem quiet," he said in a whisper--Madam Pince was walking down the isles, patrolling. "What's wrong?"

I didn't look at him; instead I kept my eyes on the spines of the books. "Nothing. It's nothing, I'm nothing, I mean nothing, to anyone. Nothing, nothing, nothing."

"That's a lot of nothing. So what happened?"

"Why should I tell you?"

"Because I'm your friend."

"I broke it off with Harry."

Draco stopped. "Repeat that."

"Put these words in the correct order: with, Harry, off, broke, it, I."

He didn't smile, nor did his expression change, but there was a glimmer in his eyes. "Potter had it coming."

"Maybe he did, maybe he didn't. The point is that he's no longer my boyfriend, and it would seem as if he didn't want to be my friend, either. But I suppose that isn't unusual..."

"That's his misfortune."

"I suppose."

I felt him looking at me as I returned to scanning the shelves. His eyes burnt into me, as if he could see everything I was thinking and feeling. My very thoughts surely could be seen with those eyes.

Then Draco reached over and touched my hand. He wrapped his fingers around my wrist and gently pulled me closer. Closer, but not too close. Draco tilted my chin up and gazed at me, as if he didn't have to move ever again. And as if I wouldn't move away.

"You're unhappy that you did it. Why?"

"He," I answered, fumbling over the words, "he acted like I didn't matter to him at all. Like I was never important to him, or like I didn't mean anything to him. He just shrugged at me and left. Not that he seemed angry, it's just...he seemed so...calm. It was as if he didn't give a damn either way what I did."

"He's hurting too. He just shows it differently."

"How would you know?" I questioned.

"When you'd break up with me, how did I act?"

"You were loud and hateful and unhappy."

"Right. I showed my emotions. But Potter doesn't work that way. He keeps everything bottled up inside. So he won't show you what he's feeling, and that's why you think he doesn't care."

"No. I think he really doesn't care."

"Well, think what you like but I'm right."

I shrugged gently, pulling back and continuing my search for books.

-------Dream-------

Draco was on his knees, tears running down his face. Bloody gashes ran along his back, evidence of the torture. His face was full of emotion, and his eyes were filled with extreme pain and sadness.

Lucius had left only moments ago, and that was when Draco's tears had begun to flow. He was in so much pain. It was stinging, burning--like fire and ice flowing through his veins. The blood was dripping down his arms. Dripping, dripping, dark red drops of thick blood coming from the marks on his back.

"What have I done to be cursed with such a life?" he sobbed in agony. "If I had not killed my gods a long time ago I would think that I had angered them."

He rested his forehead on the floor. His head was throbbing, his back was stinging, and he was bleeding. His blood covered the floor, his arms, his hands, there was even some in his hair and on his face. This was just the way Lucius had wanted it to be.

"Father," Draco spoke into the silence. "Father, why must it always be my fault? Why must you punish me so?"

He stopped quickly, as the door opened. Draco wiped the tears from his eyes and sat up.

Narcissa was standing there, a washcloth in her delicate hands. Draco looked plaintively up at her, and she grimaced.

"Do not look at me so," she muttered, kneeling on the ground beside him. "It makes me uncomfortable."

"Mother," he moaned quietly. "Mother, my head. My back. Please, help me. Make the pain go away." He sounded like a child.

She shook her head sadly, "I have no wand. Lucius told me to clean you up, and bandage your wounds."

Draco looked at her with sorrowful eyes. She shivered under his piercing gaze, and began to clean the blood from his face.

"Mother, why does he do this to me?"

"Because he does not know what else to do."

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

I awoke, feeling unhappy and disturbed. These dreams were becoming too...personal. Private. Draco had not told me about these things--and if he had meant for me to know he would have told me. But what was I supposed to do? Refrain from sleeping? No. I couldn't possibly do that. So, I would ask Draco and be done with it. Maybe then I wouldn't have these creepy dreams.

Dressing, I thought about what I might say to him. 'Yo! Draco! How've you been? Whipped by your father lately?' Nope. Not going to cut it. Something... considerate.

By the time I got to the great hall it was almost time for breakfast. Just as I was heading through the doors, Draco emerged from the Prefect's Door. As he saw me he managed a light smile. I stopped to wait for him.

"Hey," he greeted.

"Morning. Um...listen, I need to talk to you. Do you think maybe we could go somewhere alone to talk?"

He looked around us and then back at me. "We are alone."

"Yes," I grabbed him by the arm and began dragging him towards the stairs, "but this is kind of private so...I don't think you'll want to talk about it in the middle of the hall."

He shrugged, giving me a funny look as I dragged him up the stairs and led him into an empty classroom. "Look," I began. "I'vebeenhavingthesecreepyscardreamsaboutyouandyourfather. Andit'sfreakingmeout. Socanyoupleaseexplain?" I said in a rush.

"What?"

"I've been having these dream about you and your father."

"What kind of dreams?"

"Well, in one he gets mad at you for speaking out of turn in front of his colleagues. And in the next one he takes you to this room. Then he...hurts you." I tried not to include all the gory details.

Draco's eyes widened.

"He whips you. And you bleed."

"How did you find out about that?" he asked.

"I told you. I had dreams."

"No. That's impossible...I know you're different but no one can do that."

"Do what?"

"Intercept people's dreams."

"I didn't--I just..." I faded out. "You were dreaming about the same thing?"

He nodded.

"Tell me about it. Is it real? Did it really happen?"

"Yes. It really happened. A couple of summers ago. But...it's happened before. It happened when I was younger too. If I didn't follow the rules, or if I made him angry, he would take me and beat me. Though sometimes it was worse than others. Whips, fencing matches that lasted hours, he thought of many things to hurt me. And my mother...she wanted to help, but he would take her wand from her and send her up to clean me off. Sometimes she would cry, too. She loves my father, and she loves me, but I don't hurt her like my father does. He beats her too. But she's learned. She learned not to disobey him. I still haven't." He looked at me with doleful eyes. "I know this probably scares you, but it's the truth. And there are so many rules, and if I break one of them, that's what happens to me. Sometimes, he even hurt her--my mother, I mean--to punish me. She cried then, too. I would have taken the beatings for her, but he knew what would hurt me most." He looked close to tears, now.

"I've never told anyone about it before. No one knows. My father's friends--I don't even think any of them know either. If they did, they wouldn't say anything. None of them like my mother very much anyways...they think she's a seducing demon of some sort. And, in a way, she is. Her grandmother was part succubus. But...never mind."

"Oh. Well. All right. Bye, then."

"Wait, just one more thing."

I turned back to him.

"I love you," and he pulled me to him and kissed me.

---------

The first Quidditch game of the season, Gryffindor verses Slytherin. I could hear the crowds cheering in the stands, even though I was tucked away in the far corner of the library, researching. A loud horn sounded--they were off.

I returned to my book, knowing how much I would have enjoyed being in the stands, cheering and laughing with the rest of the students. But it wouldn't have helped me make any progress with my research. Besides, it wasn't worth it. Not really, anyways. Not anymore. My mind was too occupied as it was.

'Naturally, the Founders never suspected Slytherin of making an Opticilym, but the creation of such an item was documented by Slytherin. Had Gryffindor or the women known of Slytherin's cunning plan, they would have put a stop to it immediately, which was why they were never told of the Opticilym's existence.

'The Opticilym resembled a large gem, likely green--Slytherin's signature colour. It was never used, though it's main purpose was to destroy or control a person. There were, without a doubt, other uses for the Opticilym, though only two were ever documented. However, the Opticilym was as beautiful as it was dangerous.

'Slytherin most likely disguised the Opticilym, because, though the other Founders were not schooled in the Dark Arts, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw knew much of the same things as Slytherin. If the Opticilym was disguised it could have been concealed in any way. But, however advanced it was, the true form of the Opticilym could not be changed. So it very well could have been disguised as a piece of jewellery that Slytherin wore, for it was said that he never let the Opticilym out of reach.

'Despite the dangerous nature of the Opticilym, it was also thought to be a dream-catcher, of sorts. It intercepted the dreams of others whom the wearer or bearer was closely connected to. Slytherin could have seen Ravenclaw’s dreams sounds better. This presented Slytherin with a big advantage--if some of his co-Founders had been plotting against him, it was almost certain that they would dream of it, and he would see it, which was why Slytherin escaped Gryffindor's attack. Were it not for the Opticilym, Slytherin would have been killed by Gryffindor's blow.'

"Blah, blah, blah. I don't understand any of this. If Draco had really wanted to help me he would have said what I was supposed to be looking for."

"Ah, you're quite right, of course. If he had wanted to help you, that is," Pansy Parkinson appeared in front of me. She pulled out a chair and sat, glancing casually at the books strewn across the table. "But you realise that all he's doing is leading you around in circles like a little terrier. He told me so. In fact, his exact words were, 'She'll lap it up. I know she doesn't like Potter very much, and if I tell her some things, well...I'll be in this time, for sure.'"

"Go away. I didn't invite you."

"You remember the time Draco hurt me? And you stopped him and took me up to the nurse's office?"

I nodded, slowly.

"Think of this as paying off my debt. You helped me, now I'm helping you. Beware of Draco. He's no good. You can't handle him. You don't have the skills or the practice it would take to handle him. Leave him be and go back to your Gryffindor buddies. Because I can promise you that if you don't, you'll only end up worse off. He does that to people."

"You excluded, right?"

She shrugged, "Sometimes."

"Look, whatever. Go away. It's my choice if I decide to be killed or not. I'm just doing what I think is right, for now. And until I get a truly reliable source telling me I'm wrong, I'm going to continue doing just what I think is the right choice. So go away."

"You think that there is a truly reliable source? Who would that be? Dumbledore? No one has all the answers, so don't expect that of anyone. If you do you'll only end up disappointed."

I glared at her and she smiled airily. "Well, I suppose that's that," Pansy said, "I hope you'll do the right thing."

When she had gone, I sat and pondered her words. She might be right. I couldn't control him. Not that I was trying to, or ever had tried. But I doubted the truth in Pansy's words. Slytherins tended to be untrustworthy people, which I had learned in my two years at Hogwarts. And Pansy Parkinson was one of the worst. Annoying, bratty, and all-around disliked.

From the distant Quidditch field, I heard a horn sound. The game was over. I wondered vaguely who had won. But it made no difference, although I was almost certain Gryffindor had won again. Harry always caught the Snitch. It was what he did best.

There were footsteps behind me, and I looked to find Draco standing behind me. His nose was bloody and he had a black eye.

"What happened to you?" I asked. He sat down across from me and shrugged nonchalantly.

"I took a little fall."

"Looks like a rather large fall to me."

He wiped the blood on his sleeve and shrugged again, "It was a small tumble."

"From how high up?"

"Oh, three feet, maybe. Weasley," Draco said with a grimace, scowling at someone behind me. Ron sat down beside me.

"Nicole, I think we have a small problem."

"We do?"

"Yeah. Harry's in Dumbledore's office. He's probably going to be expelled."

I stared at him, dumbstruck. "Expelled?"

Ron nodded, "He pushed that git off his broom. Shoved ferret-boy right off, fifty feet up in the air. Harry caught the Snitch right after but it didn't matter, because Slytherin won by default."

"He pushed you?" I said accusingly to Draco.

"I took a TUMBLE," he repeated.

"From fifty feet. My god, you could have been killed. Why aren't you in the Hospital Wing? You moron, you're seriously injured."

"Well, the thing is, I went to Madam Pomfrey, and she wanted me to stay so she could have a look at me. But I didn't want to. So...here I am."

"Boys," I growled. "All right. Thanks for telling me, Ron. Is there anything else?"

"Wait a second, aren't you going to rush up there and tell Dumbledore it wasn't Harry's fault?" Ron asked incredulously.

"Maybe you haven't noticed, Ron, but it was his fault. If he gets expelled, that's his problem and not mine."

"But that's what you always do!"

"I know. I just don't feel like being the heroine right now. Is that all right with you? I don't exactly want to go rushing up to defend Harry when he's in the wrong. He can defend himself, Ronniekins. He's a big boy."

Ron gaped at me like a dead fish, "But--but--but..."

"Weasley, get it through your thick head! She's not going to do anything. Go away and help Potter on your own."

Ron glared daggers at Draco and stomped away, looking like a grumpy child who's been told no.

"Stupid Gryffindor."

I turned to him, "How many bones have you broken?"

"A couple of ribs."

"Whatever," I began stuffing my books and notes into my bag. "I'm going to my dorm to work. I advise you to go back to the Hospital Wing. Internal bleeding is dangerous."