Before I Come Undone

Chapter 2

Once you had gold,

Once you had silver,

Then came the rains

Out of the blue.

Ever and always.

Always and ever.

Time gave both darkness and dreams to you.

-"Once You Had Gold", Enya

The note fluttered down onto his plate soon after breakfast had begun. He opened it with deft fingers, shielding it from view of the rest of his table.

Draco,

Your presence is required for a reception at Malfoy Manor this Saturday. Your Head of House and Headmaster have been notified that you will be leaving by carriage the evening before.

Father

"By blood only!" Draco crumpled the paper between his fingers. "Stop staring, Pansy, and eat your bloody breakfast." He stared at his own meal, and finding his appetite gone, stepped away from the table.

"I'm going to class." He shot a furious glance around the table to ensure that no one followed or questioned him.

Across the hall, Harry watched Malfoy stride away from the Slytherin table and out of the Great Hall. He saw the glint of Malfoy's hair disappearing around the corner as he leaned forward to grab a piece of toast. He shrugged and buttered the toast liberally, pushing the image of Malfoy from his mind.

Several floors above the Great Hall, Draco scribbled a hasty reply to his father's note and watched his eagle owl soar into the air with it. He scowled, angry that he hadn't written a more forceful reply or perhaps tried to beg out of the reception, which was sure to be political and nothing more than an opportunity to introduce Draco to his future 'co-workers'.

He sighed bitterly and gripped the windowsill. "Shit."

~~~

"I hate autumn," Ron mumbled.

"Why?" Harry asked, as the leaf he was holding crumbled under his fingers.

He turned to look at his friend, squinting in the fierce sunlight that turned Ron's hair to flame.

"Everything dies."

"Oh, I don't know, it has some benefits." Harry gave him a quick smile.

"Like what?" Ron asked.

"Quidditch, Halloween...the first snowfall of the year."

"Great," he scowled. "I hate snow as well."

Harry laughed and nudged Ron's knee with his boot. "What are you angry about?"

"Nothing." Ron glared at a group of first-years that passed them noisily. "Did you know Hermione isn't planning on staying in England next year?"

Ron stood up abruptly and Harry followed.

"She's taking that American fellowship. She told me this morning." Harry shrugged. "You had your chance, Ron. You let it pass."

Ron whirled to face him. His blue eyes were glittering brightly. "What if I wanted another chance? Do you think..."

"She'd stay?" Harry offered him another weak smile. "I don't think so. She already accepted the position. You could still tell her, though. Maybe you could go with her."

He felt disinclined to mention that after Ron and Hermione's very public, very heated breakup that he doubted she'd do so much as look at him sideways without reproach.

Ron nodded and brightened a bit.

"Maybe I will."

"C'mon." Harry picked up his books and started to walk toward the greenhouses. "We're already late for Herbology. And you know what Sprout is like. She'll have us repotting Mandrakes after class if we don't hurry."

~~~

The rain was falling heavily. It dashed itself against the thick glass windows of the castle and covered the ground in wet despair. He stood in the center of it all, silver hair plastered to his forehead, eyes matching the rainclouds.

His cloak clung to him as he moved toward the body lying in the mud. The hair was dark and unruly and when he flipped the person over he caught a sudden glimpse of bright, gr-

He jerked awake, shielding his eyes from the harsh sunlight. He could hear a voice droning and it took him several seconds to realize that he had fallen asleep in Arithmancy class. He had been dreaming again.

This was the first time he'd fallen asleep in a class. His dreams had always occurred at night, when he was in the solitude of his dormitory room. He felt shaky and cold, and he pressed his hands together for warmth. Draco forced himself to listen to the remainder of the lecture and was the first out of the classroom at the completion of the day's lesson.

Draco wound his way around groups of chattering students and reached Professor Snape's office in no time at all. He knocked softly before slipping into the darkened room. His favorite professor was in the storeroom, cataloguing new packages of armadillo bile, scarab beetle eyes and other potions ingredients. Draco very nearly left when he saw that Snape was busy, but the older man looked up when he heard Draco's shoes on the flagstone floor.

"Draco? Something wrong?"

"Professor Snape." He swallowed heavily. "I wondered if it would be possible to bother you for a Dreamless Sleep Potion."

"You're having dreams." It wasn't a question, but Draco nodded anyway.

He watched as Snape searched for the potion, and having located it, passed it to his pupil.

"Thank you."

Draco rolled the black glass bottle between his fingers, felt the sharp corners dig into his skin.

"Is there anything else, Draco?"

"No." He looked up and began to walk back toward the door.

"Draco?"

"Yes?"

"You're very nearly eighteen, are you not?"

"Yes, Professor Snape. About five months short of it."

He made a non-committal sound and dismissed the youngest Malfoy. Had anyone looked at Snape's eyes at that moment, they would have noticed the concern they reflected.

~~~

By Friday evening, Malfoy was a mess. He'd had perhaps a total of ten hours of dream-free sleep over the course of three days and even the other Houses were beginning to notice. Just that morning he'd overheard part of the Gryffindor Quidditch team plotting how to best use his current condition against him in their upcoming match.

He shivered in the night air and pulled his traveling cloak more tightly around himself. When the family carriage burst from the shadows, he took a deep breath and prepared himself for his father. He opened the door and was surprised to find the interior empty.

"Ah. Right then."

He shrugged. It would be a quiet journey, at least.

He levitated his trunk and climbed in, relieved to find that it was warmer inside. The door clicked shut and the horses slid back into shadow. He closed his eyes as they raced along the countryside, invisible to magical and non-magical folk alike. He'd loved the idea of being invisible when he was younger. Now it just felt like a tired, old cliché.

They reached Wiltshire in the early hours of the morning and the Malfoy Manor gates a short ten minutes after that. The Manor had been charmed to avoid detection by Wiltshire's populace and was situated on the outskirts of town, partially hidden in a valley and surrounded by lush foliage.

The house elves were waiting when he arrived and his luggage was quickly spirited away to his wing of the Manor. There was no evidence, however, that either of his parents had remained awake to greet their son.

Electing to sleep, rather than find them in the maze that was his home, he trudged up the stairs, along the West Corridor and into the Green Wing. He was rather pleased to find that the elves had already turned his bed back and he wasted little time de-robing and climbing between the sheets.

He whispered a quick "Nox" and a plea that his night would be dreamless.

~~~

When his father's party began, Draco was quite sure the fates were conspiring against him. He hadn't dreamt last night, though that fact was little comfort. He had awoken with the worst headache of his short life and a dull ringing in his ears. It had taken several of his father's personal house elves to pry him from bed and several angry summons from Lucius himself before he appeared at the breakfast table. He'd choked down what little food he could before ensconcing himself in his father's library.

He'd been set a task, of course, though he hadn't accomplished much. Secretly, Draco thought his father had simply offered him an opportunity to rest and collect himself for the day ahead. His task had been ridiculously simple: review the procedure for preparation of the Draught of Living Death.

He didn't need to review. He knew how to brew it perfectly, and had been doing so for several years.

He allowed himself to relax fractionally. As per every dinner party, he needed to rehearse the answers to the questions he was sure to receive. His father's guests were notoriously nosy.

He remained in the library for another hour, before returning to his rooms to ready for his father's party. The house elves had already laid out his father's choice of outfit and Draco took his time in dressing. After checking to be sure that everything was buckled correctly, appropriately straightened and shining to perfection, he made his way down to the drawing room.

Most of the guests had arrived and it took several moments to spot his father. He made his way toward him, stopping occasionally to answer a question or smile politely in response to a compliment. When he finally reached his father, he was heartened to find him in a good mood.

"Ah, Draco," he murmured, clapping his son on the shoulder. Lucius turned to face the man he had previously been talking to. "Draco is the Quidditch captain for Slytherin this year, Mr. Fonnt. A position I believe you held during your schooling?"

This Mr. Fonnt, whom Draco had only heard of in passing and never met in person, smiled tightly. "Indeed."

Draco found it hard to imagine the man as athletic at all, let alone as captain of a team. He was built rather like a box, short and squat and with a personality to match.

The conversation dwelt on Draco's accomplishments for several more minutes before he was dismissed to mingle with the rest of the guests.

He was momentarily waylaid by the Parkinsons and the Zabinis, both of whom were looking to garner information not so much on the Malfoy family's youngest heir as on their own children.

He was in the process of looking for his mother when the guests were summoned for dinner. He took his customary place at the table, four seats down from his father and to the right of his closest associates.

Dinner passed fairly quickly and without incident, though Narcissa had still failed to put in an appearance. He cornered his father as quickly as he could and asked after his mother, received his answer ("Bedchambers, I do believe.") and slipped out of the Grand Hall.

He took his time in walking to his parents' chambers, trailing down the silent corridors and skimming his fingers over gilded wall hangings. He was so rarely permitted in these halls and he never ceased to be amazed by the beauty that was kept hidden away from everyone save his mother and father.

He passed his father's study with a quick glance inside and soon arrived at the doors of his mother's bedchamber. He knocked, waited for a response and then slipped inside.

He could see his mother in the dim light, could see the way her hair shimmered across the satiny pillows she was currently lounging on. Her face broke into a gentle smile when she saw him and she sat up a bit in bed, laying aside the book she had been casually flipping through.

"Draco."

"Mother." He smiled, perching on the end of her bed. She looked well to him, there was a sheen of color across her cheekbones and her eyes were sparkling brightly. "You were not at the reception."

"No, alas I was not. How is school, dearest?" She flashed a small, dazzling smile in his direction.

"Fine. Are you not well?"

"Oh, on the contrary, dear. I'm quite well. I'm just in a rather fragile state at the current time."

He was momentarily puzzled.

"I'm pregnant, darling."