Nicole Stevens: Dragons and Deceit

Chapter Twelve

Draco pranced around in that stupid t-shirt all day. The teachers made no comment, instead choosing to berate me for being distant during classes. How could I not be distant when everyone in the school hated me?

Umbridge sat beside me throughout the day, causing the other students to stare. She interrupted the teachers on a regular basis, and when Snape was introducing the new potion we were to study, Umbridge cleared her throat and spoke. Snape was even more sour than usual after that, and he gave me no marks for my slightly-runny potion.

The day went steadily downhill.

Draco's fanclub--which was comprised of Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bullstrode, Blaise Zabini, and a few other girls from different houses--mocked me whenever I passed, and continually hung all over Draco. He was loving the attention, and his coy smirk gave me the urge to punch him.

At lunch, Draco was surrounded by his fanclub, all of whom shot me dirty looks across the room. He paid me no attention, which was fine with me. The only thing I could not stand was the fact that I was alone.

The rest of the day passed slowly, but without major incidence. When I finally fell into bed, I was glad to lose myself in the sweet abandonment of sleep.

--Dream--

Draco stood in the middle of his bedroom. He grabbed a crystal globe-like object from the mantlepiece, gazed at it for a moment and then hurled it across the room. It shattered and fell to the floor in pieces.

"Damn her!" he yelled. "It's--all--her--fault!" He chucked a book at the wall.

"It's always my fault," I sighed from the doorway.

He spun around. "You're not supposed to be here. It's my dream, not yours. Get out."

"I can't. You know that. If you'd just stop having dreams with me here, then I wouldn't be here. But I'm here and I don't know how to wake up. And unless you know something about this that I don't, then neither of us can do very much to wake up."

Draco took a step toward me, his hands in his pockets. "Hitting you would probably wake both of us up. And it'd make me feel better. So why don't I just skip to that part?"

"Sexual frustration," I said. "Not surprising."

"Are you trying to piss me off?"

"I might be. Are you pissed off?"

"Yes, now that you mention it. Now I'm going to skip to the yelling and hitting each other part of the dream. That okay with you?" he questioned. "Because if it's not I could always try to care. But I probably won't."

"Hit me and I hit back," I replied. "Are you sure you could handle me in all my fury?"

"Of course." He stepped around an armchair and advanced towards me, keeping my eye contact. My eyes flicked down to his black t-shirt which seemed, at first to be the same one he had worn today. But it readed different things every few moments.

The first message I read was, It sucks being laughed at. The second: I almost feel bad for doing that to her. But then it read: But she hates me anyways so it doesn't matter. Lastly it read: She's so sexy when she's angry.

"Um, Draco, your shirt..." I motion at my chest and then pointed at him. He looked down, pulling his shirt from his body to read. It said: Damn this shirt. "I think whatever you're thinking goes on the shirt."

He became frustrated with it, and pulled it off, flinging it into the fireplace. His hair stood up on his head, and I laughed.

"Don't tell me I have my thoughts pasted across my chest now, as well?" he groaned, spinning around to look in the mirror. Flattening his hair, he turned back to me. "All right. Well, that's a small comfort."

"So you're not going to fight with me?"

"I never said that," he replied.

"Ah, good. Because now I get to see you bruise."

"Challenging me, are you?"

"You bet. You humiliated me in front of the entire school population; I am going to rip you to shreds and then stuff your bleeding heart into a blender. Sounds like fun, eh?"

"Loads of it."

I stepped forward, bringing us less than a foot apart. I gazed up at him while trying to ignore the fact that he was standing in front of me, shirtless, with no real reason to hit me. But I was able to conceal just about everything. His hands pressed against my shoulders, forcing me to stumble backwards. I fell into the wall and he advanced towards me.

"You've always pushed me around," he said. "And I've let you."

I smiled back, unafraid. He knew how far he could go without hurting me. It was like a game.

"I want to push you around," Draco admitted. "I always have. You've always been in control of everything. It's my turn now. We do what I say, when I say it. Understand?"

"Real life doesn't work like that," I said. "But it's your dream. Do whatever...but try to keep the emotional damage at a minimum, will you?"

"If I feel like it." He pushed me back again and walked to the fireplace, where his shirt was smoldering quietly. I saw the long scars running down his back, no doubt from his father's cruel beatings. "Why are you staring at me?" he asked without turning around.

"Because I can," I replied. "It's never been a problem with you before. In fact, if I remember correctly, you enjoyed it. But now you've obviously decided that it's more fun to complain."

"When I wake up in the morning, I'll still hate you. In fact, I'll probably make another shirt, a green one, I think. Across the front, I think I'll write, 'My Dreams Don't Involve You.' Even if it's not entirely true, it'll make me feel better. So don't get used to all of this. Tomorrow you'll go back to being the most hated student in the entire school. And I'll go back to laughing at you with my fanclub."

"Yeah, I suspected that was how you were going to react. After all, admitting that you were wrong never was your strong point. But it doesn't really matter. I never had many friends anyway."

He stared into the fire, his arms rested on the mantle. "You had me," said Draco quietly. "And you had Potter. But neither of us was very appreciated by you. You took us for granted. You thought that one of us would always be around to help you get through life, but now...Potter's gone. Maybe forever. And I'm not coming within ten feet of you at school. So what're you going to do? How're you going to cope?"

"You act like I'm supposed to be an adult," I pointed out. "But you realise that I've just turned seventeen. While I should technically be able to care for myself, I'm not ready for that. I've been pushed into this situation, and I can't find a way out of it. And you ask me what I'm going to do? Here's the answer: I'm going to do the best I can. Coping? I don't know if that's possible, but if it is, I'll try to manage it. I've never been alone like this before. You said it yourself. But I'll try, because trying is the only thing I can really do right now."

He turned to face me, crossing his arms over his chest. "You really think you can do this? You know, this whole saving the world without batting an eyelash? Do you think you're capable of doing it?"

"No way," I replied. "I've never been capable of it. Everyone's tried to put a little faith in me, but what they don't realise is that it all drains out. Faith's left me. All of you have tried to give me some hope, but hope's been overcome by hatred. And trust, well, we all know that trust is broken as often as Neville's teacups in this world. So what does that leave for me to hold on to? As you mentioned, I've got no one left. I have myself and the knowledge that if I screw this up, the Boy Who Lived will become the Boy Who Lived and then Died. If I make a single wrong move, Hogwarts will be obliterated, and everyone will have no one to blame but me. So not only am I utterly alone, but I have no hope, no faith, and no trust. In a phrase, I am without everything. But the strongest person in the world is the person who stands alone, or so I've read. I just hope it's true."

"We all do," he replied.

----

The next day was as bad, if not worse. Draco had indeed made a green shirt with the phrase 'My Dreams Don't Involve You' across the front. After classes he could be seen lounging against the bookshelves in the libary, chatting with his fanclub.

I was in the library, with Umbridge. My Guardian sat across from me, placidly going over her notes, and occasionally making new ones. Draco sat on one of the tables in the corner, with Pansy Parkinson sitting on his knee. Blaise Zabini stood across from them, smirking. A few other nameless Slytherins stood around, and only a couple of non-Slytherin girls were present.

Something Draco said made them burst into giggles, and Pansy wrapped one of her arms loosely around his neck, kissing his cheek. Zabini shook her head, uttering a few soft words. The other girls stopped laughing, listening to her closely. She finished, and the other girls laughed again. Pansy reached across to Blaise, hitting her lightly on the shoulder. Blaise smirked again, and said something else. Draco grinned wickedly, threading his arm around Pansy's waist.

"I mean, it's not as if everyone liked her anyway," Blaise said loudly. "They were all just dying for a reason to hate her. But now...she's about as likeable as an Acromantula. And unless you're someone like Hagrid, Acromantulas aren't likeable at all."

Draco smiled, nuzzling Pansy's neck. She drew her fingers down his neck, as one of the other girls began speaking. Draco was conspicuously quiet; Pansy engrossed him completely. I doubted that her personality was what kept him distracted, however it might have seemed to his fanclub. It was more likely that he was enjoying the attention she bestowed upon him.

Pansy whispered into his ear, and the grin slowly dissolved from his face. He glanced casually towards me, before saying loudly, "It's true that I was, unfortunately, infatuated with her for the shortest of times. She was more like a call girl though, you know. Pick-me-up, actually. We never actually did anything, but really, the bint didn't know why I seemed to like her so much. I was hoping to get a few laughs out of it. That didn't pan out so well. In the end a few words to put her off didn't work, so I had to tell her flat out. Just didn't understand, that one."

I stood, deferring Umbridge's questions. Walking deliberately towards Draco, I grinned at the fanclub. Pansy sensed that something was coming, and she slid from Draco's lap, moving to Blaise's side. Draco perched on the table, one eyebrow arched in a Malfoy-esque manner. I tilted my head to the side, smiling. Then I slapped him, with such force that his head snapped to the side, an angry red handprint appearing on his usually pale cheek.

"You couldn't be more like your father if you tried," I growled. "And this--" I spit onto his shoes, "--is what I really think."

Turning, I stormed out of the library. There were heavy footsteaps behind me as I headed towards the marble staircase. Draco caught my arm and threw me back into the wall. My head slammed into the wall. The sharp crack of my head against the stone seemed to reverberate inside my mind. I slid to the floor, but Draco pulled me back up.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" he whispered, his voice full of venom. "You think you can just walk up and slap me, and then leave? You are mistaken. I don't know if you realise how close you are to being..." he let out a sharp hiss. "If I don't hit you, it will be a miracle."

My head spun, and my vision went blurry. "Can't--see," I mumbled. "Head--hurts."

"You're lucky that's the only thing that's hurting you right now," he growled. "I doubt you have a concussion. If you did, then I might pretend to feel bad. But since I don't think you do, I'm not going to care."

"You're going to be in so much trouble for this."

"For giving you what you deserved? For wanting to hit you?" He let out a bark of laughter.

"Let me go, before I scream," I said hoarsely.

"Scream. Go ahead, do it. I'd enjoy it," he said tersely.

Tears formed at the corners of my eyes. "I hate you. You're a sadistic coward. I can't believe I ever even considered loving you. I don't even know what I thought I saw in you, but whatever it was, obviously I hallucinated it."

His gaze hardened and his fingers tightened around my arm. I flinched, causing him to smile. "You know, maybe I am like my father. Why does it matter so much to you if you hate me? After all, it's not me you're dating, is it. No, wonder boy Potter, is the one you're with. Or, at least, if you hadn't run away, you'd be with him."

"Let me go," I moaned, pushing him back. He slammed me back into the wall. "Ow...my head. Let go of me. Leave me alone."

Tears streamed down my cheeks. He shook his head, whispering in my ear, "Never."

Pansy and Snape came from the corridors that led down to the dungeons. Snape strode to us, quickly pulling Draco from me. The handprint had faded a little from Draco's cheek, but Snape noticed it immediately.

"Mister Malfoy, Miss Stevens, to the Headmaster's office with both of you."

"But, Professor--" Pansy began. "It was Draco's fault."

"Nothing from you, Parkinson. I do not need comments on the situation. Mister Malfoy, go to the Headmaster's office. Miss Stevens, follow him."

"Professor Snape," Draco said. "It's not--"

"Go!" Snape bellowed, pointing at the stairs. Draco nodded reluctantly, going up the stairs. "Miss Stevens--" he stopped as I collapsed to the floor. "Miss Stevens," he said, shaking me. My eyes closed as I fell unconscious.

---

My head was sore when I awoke. I uttered a sharp curse and sat up, only to be pushed back down. Dumbledore stood over me, frowning slightly.

"Miss Stevens, please refrain from moving, if you will."

"Ugh. My head hurts. I feel..." a wave of nausea swept over me, "sick."

Dumbledore helped me up and took me to the bathroom, standing outside the door. I was violently sick into the toilet, and the only thing that kept me on my feet was the fact that I could hold onto the sink. Heading back out, I was met by Draco and Dumbledore. Draco reached out to steady me, but I shot him a glare and walked to my bed. I sat.

"Miss Stevens, I think Mister Malfoy would like a word. I'll just be in Madam Pomfrey's office, in case you need to speak to me."

Draco watched him go, before sitting in the chair beside my bed. He gazed at the floor. "Look, I didn't mean to hurt you. It was...it was a stupid mistake. I let my anger get the best of me, and I shouldn't have. I'm sorry." He reached for my hand, but I flinched away. Draco let his hand drop, a pained expression on his face. "I can't...I can't do this." He stood up, running his hands through his hair. "I have to go."

I shrugged, waving a hand at the door. He went to the doorway; stopped, looking back at me. Then he left. I fell back against the pillows, already exhausted. Dumbledore appeared, pushing his spectacles up the bridge of his nose.

"Poor young man. So much pressure. Now, Miss Stevens, do tell me what he had to say?"

"I think it was an apology. Whatever it was, he sure had an awfully hard time saying it, which is why I think it was probably an apology. He doesn't like to apologise," I muttered. "But that's beside the point. What punishment do I get? I struck another student, so...punishment is in store for me, right?"

Dumbledore nodded, "Yes, indeed it is. The situation is odd, but punishment is in order. Professors Snape and McGonagall are conferring on what punishment suits. I suspect, though I could be wrong, that it will be planned for sometime within the week."

"Oh no," I groaned. "Snape's choosing my punishment."

"Yes, though Professor McGonagall is helping him with that duty. Now, do you remember why you slapped Mister Malfoy?"

I thought for a moment, "He was talking about me. He said some awful stuff, so I slapped him. If anyone ever deserved to be slapped, he did."

"Ah, yes. He said that was what happened, but I had to verify it. Now, Miss Stevens, you should get some rest. Your concussion has been healed, but sleep will help the nausea to pass. Goodbye, Miss Stevens," Dumbledore said. He turned and left the infirmary.

I rolled over, letting sleep wash over me.