A Powerful and Painful Addiction

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"Don't make promises you can't keep."

"Are you under the impression that I can't keep this promise?" he sneered, leaning his face downward until their foreheads touched.

"No," she said, a twinge of fear in her tone, "I'm just asking that you not."

"We're both exhausted. Let's get some sleep and we can talk about this later. I don't think either of us is up for an all night discussion."

"Draco? Thank you."

"Goodnight," he smirked.

Chapter 18: Rest In Pieces

Sleep had never felt as relaxing as it had that night for Draco. Even over the course of the times he awoke to confirm her presence beside him, a sincere smile, though not as big as the one he felt internally, bedecked his face with each closure of his lids, sealing her face into his dreams. It's been a long battle to make it this far, he thought, and it's going to be even longer from this point on. This is my battle, her battle. This is our battle, and far from being won. He chastised himself for sounding like an arrogant hero.

The weekend passed and the two removed themselves from the safety of the bed for voyages to the bathroom only. Their bellies' cries for sustenance were ignored with ease, the ordering raps on the door for the Slytherin prefect to remove himself from his dormitory were quieted with an Abolishing Charm; it jettisoning all that darkened the three foot shield around the door. But all was not pleasant for an importunate voice called for the prince's retreat from his closed quarters. Well, that is to say it was not all pleasant until a Silencing Charm was employed; the creator of such a glorious spell praised and gloried to the highest degree.

"She doesn't give up, does she?"

"You're supposed to be asleep," Draco stated, firmly, turning on his side to face his bedmate.

"We've been sleeping all weekend."

"Delightful, isn't it?"

"Yes, b... but - " she yawned, "but I'm not tired anymore." She grasped her chest as she stretched.

"You're still hurting, aren't you?"

She forced her wince away. "No."

"Show me." Joely feigned knowledge. "It would be folly to try and hide from me what I'm seeking."

"Huh?" she remarked.

"The scar, Joely. Show me the scar." Again, she faked comprehension. Draco rolled his eyes in a prime display of teenager annoyance. "The scar between your breasts that you clutch whenever you stretch or sit up. Believe you me, it would be foolish to try and hide it from me when I know that the muscles and bone beneath are what's hurting you."

Joely laughed uproariously, her hands not upon her upper torso as Draco assumed they would be as such a hearty laugh would surely impair the chest muscles, but they were frantically wiping away the tears of gaiety pouring from her lavender eyes. Draco looked into their glossiness for he knew from intense lessons from his father that eyes were always to be looked into, for true feelings and emotions glowed there when the rest of the body lied. He saw not pain, but his own humiliation as she tried to keep her eyes open, cackling exhaustingly at his ego's expense.

Draco eyed her in suspicion as her mirth subsided and she calmed. She wasn't off the hook that easily. He knew it was there; he had seen it in the silhouette as she lowered the neck of her shirt for Tyler to gaze upon it when it was fresh in the hospital ward. He had happened upon it when he went to fetch her from the bathroom out of worry when she had seemed to take up residence in there for two solid hours without so much as a peep, finding her asleep in the bath. No, it was there, and she was going to start of new trend of being honest with him, if it nearly killed her, and show him the flaw.

"I know we've had too much sleep because you're confusing dreams with reality," she chuckled. "I've been holed up in here since Friday afternoon and I need some air."

"You barricaded yourself up in here. Don't even think about pushing the blame for that on me," he leered.

"Whoa! I never said it was your fault. This was the only place I could think of where I knew I'd be safe from everyone. Why the sudden attitude change just because you think you saw a scar? And I thought I had vicious mood swings."

"You do have biting mood swings," he confirmed, "for your information. My mood, however, has not swung. I haven't changed."

"Yeah, you're still a sour, bitter thorn in my side. I'm leaving."

"Oi!" he shouted, grabbing Joely by the ankle as she clambered over him heading toward the bathroom, pulling her feet out from underneath her. "I'm not bitter! I - what's wrong?" he asked collectively as he watched her writhe about on his bed, her hands clawing at her chest. "What're you doing?"

"My chest! Oh god, it hurts!"

"You're going to irritate it more if you keep pawing at it. Take your hands off it. Move your hands, Joely!" She fought aggressively against him as she started to scream from the torturing burning and tearing sensation between her breasts. "Move your hands!" he commanded.

He had to use force; magically binding her arms to her sides and moving her body up the bed to rest on the pillows. She continued to wiggle about in distress, the pain only seeming to sear and boil her insides more. Knowing the conquering way to distract someone's mind from pain was to replace it, Draco planted his lips on hers; her bleats muffled against his mouth; his soul swallowing a bite of her pain as each second passed. He couldn't be asked to give a clear unknowingly taking it upon his self. His father's teachings of seeing truth in eyes failed him as his remained sound grey, no sign of pain; his mind, body and soul hollered in suffering.

"You shouldn't have done that," she said, resting her released hands around his neck, asking his body to move over hers. "That was my pain."

"You were handling it so well," he chided, caustically, panting.

"See if you ever mock me again for what I go through." He shook it his head. Brutal, it was. "That wasn't your call, Draco."

"I don't know how I did it, but I'll do it again."

She chortled. "Brave and courageous Draco Malfoy saves the damsel in distress."

"You? A damsel?" Joely scowled at him. "A damsel is defined as a young, unmarried woman of noble birth."

"It's also defined simply as being female, you twit."

"You're young, though that could be my endorphins talking out of cheer that the pain's gone." Joely pinched his side. "Unmarried... who the devil would want to marry you?"

"You told Giselle you'd marry me," she whimpered.

"So you did hear that? I'm too smart for your own good, Jem. The noble birth... Well that's a laugh in the face, isn't it?"

"You're heinous, truly, you are."

Draco chuckled under his breath. "Will your Highness knight thy hero, or may I have the honor, daily and nightly pleasure," he winked fiendishly, "to rule beside thou as your King?"

"One step at a time, please, good sir."

Draco slid his arms under her body to elevate her frail upper half and roll them. She hissed as he began. The pressure weighing down on her breast bone with his body under her was too severe and crushing to be tolerated. He rolled his own body onto his side, his left arm under his head and his right hand resting on her stomach.

He minded the antique clock on his wall above the hearth; his eyes wavered between the hands on the teller of time and the rising and falling of his hand on her belly. A storm of impulses to kiss her pale pink lips and button nose thundered through his steely veins. He abstained. He needed answers to his questions, like always. He longed to know how much of his dedicated time was going to waste if all she would grant him with, and put into this battle, was lies.

"You're still lying to me, aren't you?" he said softly.

Joely cracked one eye open, gazing it steadily on Draco.

"I'm never going to be free from your lies, am I? There'll never be a day when you will be as open with me as you are with others, will there? How long will it be until I know who you really are and can really trust what you say is true?"

She closed her one eye then opened both, staring intently at the door and avoiding the madness she feared his eyes told.

"If you're wanting a date or time, your guess is - "

"Liars look away when they speak. Look at me and at least have the decency to let me know that what you're telling me right now isn't a lie."

"Draco," she sighed, looking into his eyes and not finding madness, but hurt, "I can't give you an exact date because even I don't know that myself. I can't even guesstimate because that would only disappoint when that time comes and nothing happens. There's something I need to hear; something that the part of him that's still inside me needs to hear."

"What? Just tell me what it is," he pleaded, not hiding his heart's desperation well.

"I don't know," she whispered. "But I can offer you consolation. What you ask, I will answer truthfully, or I will not answer at all. That I can promise, and that I can vow."

"Beginning when?"

"Now," she said, smiling.

"And to be sure that what I'm hearing is truth?"

"I'm looking you in the eye, aren't I?"

"That's not enough, Jem."

Beckoning him with a jerk of her head, he raised himself up and swung his leg over to straddle her mid-section, resting back gingerly on her thighs and knees. Using her teeth, she bit into the collar of her tee, creating a notch from which she proceeded to tear her shirt in half. Draco scrunched his forehead but kept his calm demeanor as he wondered what she was playing at.

Looking down at the tear she made, she then looked up at Draco, rolling her head back, eye-to-eye no more. Is this really going to convince him that I'm being as honest with him as I can be? She heard the voice of her grandmother in her ear.

"The time has come, my child. Your time with Draco has now begun. Now is the time for you to be faithful, truthful and loving with all that you have. You have all of yourself to give as you please. Do right by him."

Gaining Draco's eye contact again, she nodded down toward the rip. Slowly he opened the tear, his eyes pierced at the sight of the mark she had claimed he had dreamt about. Purple and raised with a silver streak down the middle, the scar burned itself in to Draco's memory as it made his blood stew in abhorrence of Damon Hælan. Gently he ran his index finger down the mark, followed by the middle finger; taking in all the features of it. Starting at the base of the scar, he sweetly spread kisses up the token of violence to the base of her throat, along her neck and jaw line, finally pouring affection on her lips in trust and perhaps love as well.

"Thank you."

.............................................

Joely woke up to a clinking sound of coins hitting each other Tuesday morning. She remembered Sunday and having shown Draco the scar, but where had Monday gone? She twisted around in the tangle of bed sheets and caught Draco dropping a few Galleons and a couple Sickles into a roughened and frayed leather pouch around the leg of a larger than seemed possible sized owl. She glanced about the room looking for the offering the colossal bird brought. On Draco's desk curiously sat a brown papered and twined package. Her eyes bulged. Surely even that sized animal couldn't have handled a parcel so mammoth by its lonesome.

"Alert The Daily Prophet for she has awoken," said Draco, quickly burying his present in his wardrobe. The word odd was all that came to mind to describe his hurried movements.

"Is it really Tuesday?" she asked, checking the date function on her watch.

"Yes. Our mothers arrived yesterday as a side trip on their holiday and you became hysterical. I had no choice but to put you straight to bed, and that was about twelve hours ago."

"Liar," she chuckled.

"Am I?" he said pointedly with a slight inkling of roughness. "I suggest you examine your thigh for your own satisfaction. You screamed about like a raving lunatic, nearly slashing your thigh to bits."

Joely started to make a grab for under the blankets when Malfoy turned his back, halting the action. She felt about the topside of her thigh, quietly as to not rattle the down in the comforter and alert Draco. There was nothing there.

"Liars turn their backs on those they're lying to."

"Yes, they do."

"You're not trying to lie to me though."

"Right again. Though, that didn't stop you from fondling yourself," he said, snapping around and smiling wickedly, scanning over a parchment letter.

"Daddy taught you well."

"He did indeed."

It wasn't like the usual Malfoy to credit his father with something like lying. The normal Draco would've stroked his own ego and taken pride in stating that he himself had become the perfect liar that he was on his own time. Skills that required the ability to see through people's lies, to know how to break an enemy into pouring out vital information, the know-how to bamboozle one into wanting to curl up in a ball and scream for their mother were the types of things that Draco credited to his father. The art of lying was needless to say strange, if not totally unusual, for being turned over to Lucius.

Something about Joely's look did not sit well with Draco. He felt needles roving up and down his spine, scrutinizing every little detail, seen and unseen. He felt the little, tiny hairs on the back of his neck prickle, standing on end sharply. He was well aware of her tenacious stare; his throat went dry as he stuck his nose in the air proudly to sway the opinions and thoughts swirling about in her secretive head. He couldn't let her even begin to think that her continuous presence in his bed was fancied; that she being there thrilled him and made him feel loved. He curled his upper lip and cocked that infamous eyebrow snidely.

"Letter from home?" She snapped her feet down onto the cold floor for a full and abrupt awakening.

"Hmm," he answered for which was determined to be a yes. "I was going to have breakfast brought up. Are you hungry?"

"Brought up? You can do that?"

"Money talks, Joely," he returned, pulling a fresh t-shirt over his head.

"HA! It doesn't always. I've offered Damon more money than I'll ever see in three lifetimes; more money than one would know what to do with."

"Ones greed for power cannot be satisfied with their monetary greed. The power that comes with having money means a life of luxury, getting the finest things available, being treated with the utmost respect. Physical and magical power will get you those things, but it's not the same."

"I'm guessing you're going to tell me that Damon knew that?" Draco nodded. "Thank you, oh wise Buddha."

"I would let you rub my belly and watch you squirm about as you hope I'll grant all your wishes and fulfill your heart's deepest desires, but I'm feeling quite ticklish today and you're in no shape to spar back," he said, closing and locking his armoire. "Now, I can grant your stomach's deepest desires. What shall it be?"

"You wouldn't happen to know what an Egg McMuffin is, would you?"

Draco turned perplexed faced. "Is that some sort of disgusting, tacky, artery-clogging American food?"

"Like black pudding is any healthier?"

"I'm getting the feeling you're more trouble than you're worth."

"My hero."

.....................

"Morning, darling," said Sean McGill joyfully, kissing his wife's cold cheek and attempting to take his place at the breakfast table.

Noelle remained stone-cold and steadfast in her actions, not returning the affection, but going back to her breakfast of an English muffin and fruit.

Breakfast was without a doubt tense and curious. Silver utensils and drinking goblets crashed down onto the mahogany tabletop; a few house-elves cringing at the sure to find scratches in the varnish that could be down to the wood itself. Every chair Sean tried to pull out was bound to the floor and refused to move. The farthest chair from his wife welcomed him to sit. Thanking the house-elf Camus for his breakfast, he groaned at the thick muck that was his coffee. His toast was burnt, his eggs tasted of Styrofoam and his fried tomatoes looked sundried. Only one conclusion could be drawn: Noelle had insisted she make Sean's breakfast. It was an ongoing hint that if Noelle burned her husband's breakfast, he was in more trouble than he could get out of.

"Care to explain why you have me drinking mud? Camus, tea, please."

"No, Camus!" Noelle shouted. "If he wants tea he can do it himself."

"Misses, it be my duty to serve Master."

"He will get his tea himself or he will go thirsty."

Camus turned toward Sean who waved him off with hand that said, "it's all right," and an appreciative smile. The house-elf bowed to his master and misses and excused his self to the kitchens. Magicking himself a pot of Earl Grey and an accompanying saucer of lemon slices, Sean poured himself a cup and leaned back, cheekily, a sly smirk infuriating his wife even more.

"Are you unhappy with me today, my queen?" Noelle looked at her husband through the tops of her eyes; a resounding yes. "Do tell what's wrong or I'm afraid I'll just burst."

"Everything's a joke to you; Joely takes after you on that. But you won't be laughing so much when I divorce your sorry ass for ruining what life our daughter has left after you thoroughly fucked over her life in the states."

"I haven't the faintest idea what you're on about."

"You know damn well what I'm talking about, you slimy, pathetic excuse for a caring father, not to mention the biggest son of a bitch alive!" Noelle shouted, throwing her coffee cup at her husband, the china breaking on the marble floor.

"That's my grandmother's china you're throwing, my love."

"Do you have any idea what you're doing to my daughter? Well? You're saving your own ass again!"

"Our daughter, Noelle."

Noelle slumped down into her chair and hid her face in her hands. Sean rubbed his eyes and smoothly got up, cautiously approaching his wife. She was very hostile currently and angering her further could be dangerous. It wasn't a mystery at what was firing her up. He had opened his mouth at the wrong time last night and confessed his dealings for today. She hadn't slept in another bed last night, but she had forced away his advances causing him to assume that she would be calm in the morning. He hadn't a clue that she would be even sorer at him today.

It may appear that he was trying to save his own neck from having more incidents transpire because of his first foul up, but his only motive for today's conference was strictly to further his daughter's recovery from a situation that was his fault. His wife didn't see that though, and he couldn't and wouldn't hold that against her. He hadn't exactly been the best father and he admitted it bluntly, but he was trying to make up for it the best way he knew how: telling Draco how he, Sean McGill, had cursed his own daughter.

Noelle was adamant in stating that she felt Draco wouldn't be able to fully understand what Sean would be revealing to him. He hardly had a foot in the door to understand the simplest parts that she knew Joely explained to him. How would he react to Sean's involvement in her predicament? Rage, and blinding rage at that, was all she saw emanating from the young Malfoy.

"May I?" he asked, gesturing toward the chair to Noelle's right.

Ardently, she kicked the chair out to him. She was touchy and on edge; he had one chance, two if he was lucky, to hopefully get her to see his side as being right.

"Noelle, he needs to know what Joely can't tell him, or in this case, doesn't know herself."

"He needs to find out on his own, Sean, or be told by Joely when she finds out, which she will, I guarantee it, you bastard. He won't understand any other way. He's going to take it out on her," she cried softly though shedding no tears.

"No, he'll blame me, which I expect and will be highly disappointed if he doesn't."

"You're not listening to me!" she yelled, throwing her napkin down on to the table as she leaped up. "Draco doesn't have the knowledge of the basics of what's going on for you to gallivant off and tell him how you fucked up. He needs to know everything between Joely and Damon first, then Cody, then your involvement to complete the puzzle. If you lay this on him and he doesn't piece it together one-by-one himself, everything will come to him in one blow, he won't understand, then he'll wash his hands of it. You know what that means? Our promise that she will be free again will be broken, though it's not as though she's not used to us breaking this promise. Please, Sean, let Joely tell him when she finds out."

"He needs to know now! I'm doing what I know needs to be done to make up for what I've done to our daughter. It's going to strengthen his bond with her. On another note, Draco isn't unaware of the fact that fathers use their children for advancement. Need I remind you who his father is? You weren't to know, but I have orders, conspired by Fudge and Megan, against Lucius. It wasn't an accident that Joely was only accepted to Hogwarts."

"Orders, Sean? Can't you ever put your family before your ego?"

"Damn it, Noelle! You need to trust me!"

"I gave you my trust with Jonathon and Damon, and look what happened?" she proclaimed, storming out.

Sean cursed loudly; the china flew off the table, the candle flames flared and the French doors into the gardens burst open; the glass in all eight doors shattered.

"Do control yourself, young man. I will not have my mother's china blasted to bits because your wife is right and you haven't the decorum to admit it. Keep your powers in line and your wand in your hand. Do not draw attention to yourself as that will bring about ancestral investigations, and - "

"Spare me, Father," he snarled. "I have a meeting in twenty minutes that I will not miss because you've suddenly chosen to take the role of a father who advises his son."

"You're very much the father I was, Sean. You thought of yourself and the want to climb the ladder before you thought of your family. I don't want my granddaughter or her future dead."

"Nor do I, but you haven't a clue on the events as of late or past other than what you're told. I suggest you stop while you think you're ahead."

"You are destroying what life she has built up with the pieces you've left her to deal with. You're setting a date for her future's execution."

"Draco's not going to die; Joely will have a future!"

Sean paced about in his space; his aching mind brooding on what he had to do. He needed a second, a lieutenant. He needed someone that could not only attest that what Draco was finding out was right, but wouldn't protest against it. He snatched his keys from the bureau near the door and shouted for Camus and his crew to clean up his porcelain and glass mess around the dining room.

"If I had known that my opposing argument was going to help him get a move on with finally showing what a bastard he is, I wouldn't have kept my mouth shut all these ages."

"Well, Douglas," said Noelle, taking a comforting hold of her father-in-law's arm, "I've been telling him for years that you're both bastards that keep their mouths shut too often, and I'm shocked to see that it took a granddaughter for you two to realize you need to speak more often."

"My darling wife was right about you," he snickered.

"Of course she was. She's a scary judge of character."

"And a damn good manipulative bitch," interjected Lauren McGill, entering in from the shadows.

............

Draco traipsed down the hall from his dormitory and out into the loud common room. His mind concentrated on his well-spent weekend in bed with Joely. As he had watched her sleep, he marveled revenge. Revenge would be sweet and luscious. His vindication would be the epitome of all things cruel and torturous. He decided that not one coin would go unspent if it meant he was going to be in control from now on.

The want for control devoured Draco. Just like his father, he obsessed over the dominating power. It was a multi-meaning word for him now; complex and dangerous. Draco wanted mastery over Damon. He wanted to break him, make his lungs burst with pain. He wanted to be master of the man that took more away from him than he cared to take the time to think about. Revenge would assure him of that return to authority.

His pursuit, however, would start with Joely's father.

The extent of the details of how Sean was involved with the curse was unknown; though frankly, Draco cared not. It didn't perturb to any degree to know how the McGill patriarch was embroiled in this anarchy. He was going to make all pay for her torment in some form. Walking past the portrait of the cackling, and known for her crazed demeanor, Madam Batty Butterfish, Draco internally celebrated and joined in the cackles for even the golden trio was on his list of offenders.

Poisons sounded too outdated for a way a Malfoy would torture and kill. Slow poisons were easily annihilated as they worked slowly in the bloodstream and were easy to detect. Fast poisons were just that, too fast of a kill for his liking. Unforgivables? No, he wanted to freely bask in the glory of the slaughter and that wouldn't happen in Azkaban. The dungeons of Malfoy Manor were operable... The actual spilling of blood was reserved for Damon. Draco wanted to be cruel in a way that would satisfy his notorious sweet tooth.

"I thought I might find you here, Mr. Malfoy. Neither you nor Miss McGill have been seen at meals all weekend. Naturally food would be a priority this glowing morning." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he studied Draco.

"I spent my weekend in bed, sir. Food wasn't something I cared to bother with. As for Joely, I can't speak for her," he returned, his sneer wide from ear-to-ear.

Dumbledore, Draco thought, he's kept vital information that I could've used from the beginning. He said it wasn't his place until after Damon attacked. Oh yes, Dumbledore, black listed you are.

"Is that so? Would you follow me, please? There are a few things which you must hear. I don't think Miss McGill will mind too terribly waiting for breakfast a bit longer."

"Professor Dumbledore, you're mistaken. I - "

The headmaster held up his hand. "My dear boy, I do not pretend to be privy to even a quarter of what goes on between students and their affairs. But I am aware that Miss McGill is currently residing in your dormitory. Lying will not sway my mind from that fact. I don't condone such behavior on a regular basis; you are the only one that she currently trusts. Therefore, my allowance is based on my understanding of her necessary comfort and solace."

"Spies are everywhere," Draco commented, ruffled, looking all around.

"Spies are indeed everywhere, Mr. Malfoy, but not in my school. Rules on the other hand, are known to many. Those you would least likely think to understand regulations, knows which rules those they're competing against have broken."

Draco nodded. Dumbledore's informant he knew. This person had been lookout when devious activities were put into action. She was the watcher when they're conspired actions were set in motion; the one who now would do just about anything to say goodbye to Joely. Dumbledore was right. She didn't give a fig about the rules and regulations she broke, but she knew all principles that those she was watching broke, almost as well as Granger.

"As I said before, please follow me up to my office. I do believe that what you will hear may drastically change your mind about plotting your revenge." Dumbledore winked and Draco shook his head.

Not being privy my arse.

............

Joely stretched out long, curling her toes against the dark wood footboard, feeling the super soft cotton sheets tickle her bare legs and kiss her slightly exposed belly. Cotton sheets surprised her. She thought Draco's covet for the finest satin sheets extended beyond home to school; apparently not. It was noted that in lieu of the finest satin, she was likely slumbering on the finest Egyptian cotton money could buy. She shook her head in dismay. She didn't understand the Malfoys' need to flash their money.

Money and power relate to all, she mused. And it creates problems in all its associations. It was true, was it not? Those without money were powered over, and those with it had power others dreamed about. The problems money created were despicable, and those that had the power and money to change things and still did nothing made her despise wealth more.

Money didn't buy happiness and it didn't buy her freedom. She hung her head knowing she abused her family's riches in offering it to Damon in selfishness of keeping the power she hadn't rightly earned, but had been born with it. She looked around Draco's room and considerately took in everything. Unless all was under masking charms to hide its true ugliness, Draco was in possession of some of the finest things one may want or need. Was her dorm this showy with the pleasantries she owned? What about her room at home? Did she flaunt her family's wealth? If she answered yes to any of those questions, she was turning into the people she spat at venomously for their greed.

"Disgusting, isn't it?"

Joely bolted upright. She exhaled with a giant pfft that it was Blaise.

"What is?"

"Seeing you in his bed like one of his usual Saturday night trysts. I guess you're possibly one of perhaps three that he hasn't binned as soon as he was done."

"How dare you - "

"How dare I?" he shouted, picking up his simple wooden chair and throwing it across the room. "Draco knows nothing about you! Nothing! Not even a small amount about your father and Jonathon Hælan! I know everything about you and yet you run to him!"

"Why does that bother you?" she questioned calmly, praying her smaller voice would ease him a bit.

"Did he satisfy you? Did he make the first time enjoyable? Was he as gentle as I would've been?"

Joely's heart stopped. She begged her mind to retract it saying that he had just referred gentle as being in the context of the two involved in sex. Her comfort level went sour.

"Draco and I didn't sleep together. He was right there when I blamed my dad because my being here is his fault. I knew he wasn't going to question me."

"You're such a liar! All you do is lie!"

"How did you know about my dad and Damon's father?"

"Silly girl, I have my resources... Light and Dark."

............

"Please sit, Mr. Malfoy," said Dumbledore. "Sherbert Lemon? Tea, perhaps?"

"No, thank you, sir, I'll stand."

Dumbledore gestured Draco up the stairs of his private observatory, instructing him to step out on to the balcony and Draco did as he was told. He growled with the ferocity of a prowling lioness on the hunt; his eyes wafer-thin at the vermin before him. Sean McGill, Draco said to himself, imagining him smiting the bastard, I hope to make you suffer. I hope you dread your birth when I'm finished with you.

The door slammed behind him. From behind Sean, around the balcony corner, Lucius stepped into view. Draco tried visualizing what a bugger such as his father could be thinking currently, but reading his father's facial expressions was not one of Draco's strong points. It was a skill on the mastery level for Lucius; one he did not desire to educate his son on. A father must keep something for himself, right?

"I should've known you would insert yourself in everything, Father. A headlining story and you feel the desire to be present. How like you."

"Don't be cute with me, boy."

"I'm a big boy, Father. Sean does not need you to be around to keep my etiquette in line."

"Your cheek is going bring you trouble, son. I taught you to respect those above you." The glint in Lucius' eyes magnified his hatred he felt for his disrespectful offspring.

Draco shifted his head toward Sean. These men made him crave to take all his repressed anger and unleash it on those in his current proximity. This man truly made Draco crave to be violent.

"You're beneath me. Both of you repulse my very nature. I will not show respect for a man who is reason to a curse on his daughter, nor will I respect a man who felt that using Unforgivables on his son," he turned to Lucius, "was training and preparation for his future."

Lucius backhanded Draco.

"You will respect me or you will become the moneyless street urchin I've threatened you with!" Lucius wailed, reaching for the head of his cane.

Sean pulled Lucius' wand arm behind his back and crushed him against the wall, pushing his forearm in to the back of the Malfoy patriarch's neck. Lucius struggled against his brace with his free arm. Sean anchored his strong stance with his left foot.

"You try that again, Lucius, and you will not live to see your son's next birthday," Sean gruffed. "If I see a mark, you get a bloody lip. If I see a bruise, you get a scar. One broken bone, you get a broken neck! I strongly caution you not to push me!"

Lowering his head to the side, Draco spat a mouthful of blood near his father's feet. Looking up for that glaring confirmation of disgust he wanted to see, he saw Sean's eyes scorching with red flames. Joely's eyes, he thought. In retrospect, Snape commented on her eyes doing such violent reds ages ago. But she had also told the trio after her squabble with Pansy that an uncle had taught her such a display. Surely her uncle wouldn't have taught the same to her father. Perhaps it was an uncle on her father's side? No. Draco knew Sean was the only sibling.

"Are you threatening me with a tap?" chortled Lucius.

Tapping?

"You know bloody well I'm not one to mess with, Lucius."

"As you know well that I'm not one to take your intentional taps seriously."

What the bloody hell is tapping?

Menacing mirth poured like a busted spigot from Sean's mouth. "I'm out of control, Malfoy. I nearly killed nine house-elves and attempted to re-banish a ghost last night. Keep yourself in check and things will be just fine, but I'm not promising anything." Sean released Lucius.

Draco stood firm as his father collected himself and cautioned him with silent declarations of eventual pain for his disregard to his elders. After Sean reappeared from his absence round the balcony bend, he emerged calm and straightened.

"Draco," Sean began, "I know that you've taken on the role of helping my daughter through what's happened, but there's something very important you must know. While I commend you for feeling up to the challenge - "

"It's not a feeling."

"Whatever you may think it is, I commend you for it. Damon is no picnic in St. James' Park."

"I wouldn't expect so seeing as you weren't up for the fight for your daughter."

Sean jutted out his arm to discontinue Lucius' approach.

"That's fair. That's more than fair, actually. My reasons for not interfering and for the curse having been cast in the first place are what I want to explain to you."

Screams, loud screams, both male and female raced about the air around Draco. Both voices eerily familiar.

"Did he satisfy you? Did he make the first time enjoyable? Was he as gentle as I would've been?"

"Draco and I didn't sleep together. He was right there when I blamed my dad because my being here is his fault. I knew he wasn't going to question me."

"You're such a liar! All you do is lie!"

"Draco? Are you all right?"

............

"What... what resources?" she whimpered, cowering and curling up into a ball against the headboard.

Blaise smirked and removed his school robe. "That's my little secret, my pet. You know how to keep a secret, don't you?" She nodded quickly, her body shaking like a terrified little girl. "I thought so. You've been keeping so many secrets from everyone for so long."

"Blaise, please don't tell anyone what you know," she pleaded, pathetically.

"You don't want all of Hogwarts to know who you are?"

"No."

"Aww, but, love, you'll feel so much more relieved when it's all over with. It will be all right. I promise. Then it will be just you and me, just the way it's always meant to be. We would have such a beautiful life."

Joely smartened up. "You know him!" she growled. "You're in with Damon! You're feeding him off me!"

She jumped up and ran across the bed to the bathroom door. Blaise wailed in woe at his cracked and bleeding nose; the slammed door made contact with face. Locking the door, she rummaged through everything in Draco's cabinets, ransacking it all in desperateness to find weapons. The reality of being a witch dawned, but sank when she noted that her wand was in the drawer of the bedside table. Again, she fine-tooth-combed it all; coming up with a dull-bladed razor. He shaves? Don't you carry anything that cuts, Draco?

"Joely, out, now!"

"Leave me alone!"

"Open the fucking door!"

"What were you offered, Blaise? What did he promise you? Me?"

"Don't flatter yourself. I've got better things to do than to consort with the excuse of a wizard that Damon is. You've been asking for this!"

"Asking for what?"

She began to panic. She begged and prayed to her grandmother to show her an exit. Kelly stayed silent. She looked around and surveyed the cards she was dealt to free herself. Being in the dungeons, there were no windows to escape out of. She might've possessed enough power to blast down the door, but Blaise knew of that power; he would be waiting for that. Swallowing the want to cry, she crawled into the bathtub and closed the glass doors as if they would protect her.

Blaise pounded on the door and blasted spells at it to crumple it. Over and over he cursed the barrier, watching the mortar around the frame loosen and fall like dust. You're mine now. Harder and with deadlier and more destructive spells, he weakened the door; his smile turning wickeder. You're mine for my pleasure.

............

"Right, yes, I'm fine."

"I assume that the best way to let everything sink in is to tell you that Joely's right. I am the reason that she's cursed. I am the sole account that she's here. I did use my daughter."

Draco cringed and stepped away from Sean. The thought of him abusing Joely brought back painful memories of his own.

"I didn't abuse her, Draco, as you think. I used her to obtain what my job required of me."

"You were forced into using your own flesh and blood?"

"Boy, shut your mouth and listen to what you're told."

"That's enough, Lucius," Sean spoke.

"I promised Joely breakfast so move it along."

"Let me guess. Is there an Egg McMuffin involved?" Draco did not return Sean's humor.

Leaning against the balcony railing, Sean peered out over the Forbidden Forest. The McGill master recalled on how every waning moon he would stand on this very ledge and watch Joely and Holli escape out into the night to send the healer off to change into her phoenix form and shed her curative tears. Every moon phase, he cried internally over this; his fault, but for the sake of his pride and as not to risk his flesh and blood hating him, he refused to disclose the truth or be seen shedding glistening pearls.

"When I left - "

"Escaped," Lucius interjected.

"When I left England for America after graduation, I took everything I had learned and applied it to what I could do at the Society. I wanted something that would allow me to protect people from an uprising there as was going on here in England. I was asked to enroll in a Hit Wizard program and graciously accepted. Tracking and hunting was a specialty I had learned, so it felt natural to be working that skill as my profession.

"I trained with Tyler's father, Michael, the first American friend I had. Not many others were welcoming to me; they knew what I had left behind and for all they knew and no doubt believed, I was a spy for Voldemort. But, those that selected me, and Michael, saw past that and were willing to let me make my own impression."

"If this is where you create the beginning of your story to make me feel sorry for you, telling me that you had no other choice, this conversation is over. I don't want to hear anything about the Society ordering you to use Joely to prove that you turned your back on the Ministry and are loyal only to the States. Naïve I am not. I have no sympathy for you."

"Boy, you will listen with an open mind. You will not devise your own ideas before he has finished. Is that clear?"

Draco ignored his father and leant over the balcony, staring down at the ground and wanting to further his independence from him with a wise comment.

"Am I to assume that you picked this balcony because this is one of those muggle movie situations where you're going to tell me the real truth and then kill me by tossing me off this ledge?" Draco smirked at his own statement.

"Don't tempt me, boy," said Lucius.

"I will not be killing you, nor will your father. And no, this is not a sob story, and I wasn't made to use Joely to prove loyalty. Just listen. For training, I was assigned to watch Michael; he knew me inside and out; my best and worst areas. We were made to believe that the other was a mole for an infamous family known for their organized crime, the Wright family. We were being trained to kill; friend or foe if necessary. The finale of the test was to deploy our final plan to kill the other. We outsmarted each other in our maneuvers and nearly died before we found out it was a game.

"After some time, we were moved to actual Hit squads and as gruesome as it sounds, the more successful trackings and killings we made, the more respected we became; much like everything else in society. And then, four years after Joely was born, I moved up to a position that plans out missions to which the insufficient applicants would not be returning from. I decided who lived and who died. But, I was placed in a section, if you will, that was called upon for the most dangerous and critical missions that only the deadliest and best trained Hit Wizards and Witches could succeed at. I'm nothing more than a murderer. I enjoyed my job because it made me feel as though my want to keep England's troubles from reaching America was fulfilled. Hurting and killing the weak gave me a sense of the power I craved."

"What did he promise you? Me?"

"No one knew who we were, which was the objective. Even Tyler's mother, Nicole, and Noelle were oblivious. Should they, or anyone, appear to be catching on to our sometimes weeks and months absences and begin to ask questions, we were under direct order to Obliviate them or have them 'modified,' while we were away. It wasn't a pretty job, but it boosted the ego; having the power to kill your enemies without them knowing you were upon them, or having the authority to decide who isn't progressing and off them. Having to keep those secrets was not easy though. Luckily, when Megan Baker became the official Mistress of Magic, discrepancy rules were changed. Too many questions were asked when a wife filed a lawsuit against the Society because her husband, who she believed was a classified mail sorter, was given the excuse that her husband was killed by a paper cut to the throat." Americans and their dumb excuses. "Then Joely found out and I didn't have the heart to take that knowledge from her when she let on to how she figured it out. Little did I know that not only was she privy, but Tyler, as well as many of the other children of my co-workers, now had known for ages who their parents were long before we questioned children being able to figure such out. So I trained her to lie, encrypt, track, hunt, and kill, just as I was. I taught her to work and manipulate everything to her advantage. She could pull fast ones on her mother and I that wouldn't seem believable in hundreds of years; her most infamous tales being about her playing football during the summer holidays and living with her grandmother until she started Salem, which I know she's still using on her three housemates.

"Around the time you and Joely were ten, intelligence began to come in stating that there were moles in the Ministry and the Society that were feeding and being fed information about Voldemort's attempts to regain power. We knew, Draco. We knew about the Philosopher's Stone, Slytherin's Chamber, Sirius Black, Bertha Jorkins... We know about everything. Around that same time, word was being circulated that a league was building in the States dedicated to spreading Voldemort's power; wanting purebloods to rule and muggles and muggle-borns to be destroyed. The leader was Damon's father, Jonathon Hælan.

"Jonathon was skilled in the Dark Arts, which made him prime for such a position." Sean paused, sighing at his weakness. "Even I shudder in thinking about what he was capable of. He was hell-bent on bringing England's first war with Voldemort to America, so, I was assigned to him. I had to know him inside and out like I knew your father. I needed a way to get... exceptionally close to him without there seeming to be a meaning, so I involved Joely. She and Damon were the same age... and he was a loner who needed friends. Everything seemed to fit when I applied Joely to the equation as manipulator in sucking Damon in, and thereby Jonathon would see friend in our family, and that would get me in closer and keep me closer until deployment. I played welcoming to Jonathon in the beginning like all in trying to make a friend, and when he and I chatted about his problems with his son making friends, I encouraged him to buy the vacated Tratt estate in our neighborhood as to try and begin anew with a fresh and exciting outlook for his son. I sold him my idea, and step one was complete."

Draco shook his head as the voices yelled at him again. "Don't flatter yourself. I've got better things to do than consort with the excuse of wizard that Damon is. You've been asking for this!"

"Draco, you look a bit peaky. Too much to take in?"

"No," he crabbed.

"I had Jonathon, so now I needed Damon, and Joely helped me get him. I volunteered her to show Damon around town and introduce him to her friends. She had him," he chuckled heartily. "Oh she had him under her thumb in a matter of days. I taught her well. But, as Voldemort's opportunity to be reborn grew stronger, Jonathon began to involve Damon in the deadlier aspects of the Dark Arts, but I still continued to push Joely toward him. He began to use her as a guinea pig, and I knew it. While teaching her myself, I exploited her feelings so that I would have control of her, and then have the weight of being able to manipulate her into lying to herself as well as she lied to others that what Damon was doing to her wasn't as painful as she thought. I had made too much progress and if she moved out of the battle, all was lost."

............

When Joely didn't hear the sound of footsteps or the cracking and shattering of Draco's things, she climbed out of the tub and crawled across the floor to the sink. Holding on to the basin to prevent stumbling, she stood up and tended to the images in the cracked mirror of the many degrees and angles her face and upper torso appeared in. Her lips and face were ghostly pale and the whites of her eyes glistened with a pearlescent shimmer from cornered and extinguished tears. Her hair was a salt and pepper war of mortar and cement dust. She looked dead and frankly felt death ardently approaching.

But this was Blaise. Why would Blaise want to bring harm her way? He had been there when she had happened upon Pansy and Draco at the beginning of school. He had been her bodyguard, her defender, guide, helper, listener... He had been another Tyler, promising to stick by her side through thick and thin. They were friends.

Blaise leaned back in chair in the corner near the bathroom, humming a tune of his own creation. With each backswing of his right leg, he tapped his foot against the solid leg of the chair, counting each indentation he made; prizing each eye sore. He treasured knowing she was trapped with no escape. Her exit was her entrance. Blaise beamed with amusement as he pictured where he would "take her next." Peering around the dormitory, the room did not seem fitting for such an event to take place. It was nowhere near what he had in mind.

He dropped the chair to the floor and weighed all he had to do. He stood at the foot of the bed and with a swish and a jab, the black cotton bedding on Draco's four poster burst into flames, singing the mattress's down pillow-top. "Oh, Malfoy won't be pleased," he jeered. It was going to be all the more gratifying to see the Malfoy heir heated. Wanting to be fancy, he covered the naked mattress with maroon satin; the color and feel of the material together was butter to the body. Candles were a cheap accessory that always gave what was about to take place away, and he knew that if she saw them first thing upon leaving the bathroom, she would know immediately what he was intending to happen. It would scare her away or back into the bathroom. He couldn't have any of that. He needed her calm and relaxed; it would make it much more comfortable and enjoyable if the tension was missing. Yes, tonight was going to change both their lives.

A tedious half of an hour later, Blaise admired his decorating. It was warm with the enticing dark red of the bedding, the small fire gave just enough warmth to ward off the aggravating dampness and buzz about the room, giving it a sensual glow. He didn't fiddle with cheesy food options as they would surely spoil before they had a chance to eat them, but he did bother with a bucket of ice to cool the searing heat he would cause her body to become drenched in. He was pleased. He had turned a dark, uninviting dormitory into a carnal boudoir.

"Joely, it's meaningless to ignore me. It's much too cold in there without proper clothing. You're in what - a t-shirt and a pair of boxers? Come now, it's warm out here."

"Leave me alone!"

"Come now, darling, no need to hide. You forget, you're without your wand and your strength is not up to par to make tapping available. Come."

"I don't know what you're playing at, Zabini, but I'm not a hatchling. You've got something up your sleeve and I want to know what it is!"

Joely banged on the door for emphasis on her statement. Blaise grinned to himself as he removed his jumper, shoes and socks, folding them neatly and placing them on top of Draco's desk. He cursed the writing platform after stubbing his toe. Fortune had struck when he was given sight to a secret compartment on the front of the desk drawer. He was blessed with an elegantly folded piece of paper popping out of the slot.

"Tsk, tsk, Draco, you never did know how to keep your things private."

Picking up the parchment and proceeding to read it, his blood boiled as he finished an unsent love letter to Joely dated back to the night of the decorating for the Halloween Ball. The epistle explained what Draco had been doing when he and Joely arrived to get her notes and he had been absent. Recalling the morning after, Blaise remembered opening Draco's door and watching him place a piece of parchment folded in the same cultured manner before bolting out the door, then once again staring at it as he laid slumped in a chair by the fire before folding it again and storing it in his shirt pocket.

He crumpled the letter then blasted it down onto the desktop, practically flying over to the bedside table and extracting Joely's wand from the drawer. Twirling it in his fingers, he growled as he remembered Joely rotating the stick of wood and asking him more questions about Draco than he thought possible. Draco. It was always about Draco. Gripping the middle, he stomped across the room childishly and pounded on the door.

"What is it, huh? What is so fucking special about Malfoy? Why him?" he squalled. She didn't answer. "If I ask you a question, I expect and answer. Now answer me!"

"I don't have an answer!"

"Why not me? You let everyone touch you but me. Do you know what torture it was to see Ron tickle you in the corridor ages ago? Do you?"

"They're like my brothers, Blaise. They're my best friends here."

"What am I then? I've always been there for you in everything, Joely! When you found Draco and Pansy having it off together, who comforted you and helped you back to Gryffindor? Me. I was more than obvious at my want for you on Halloween. I've told you many times how I feel about you and since I'm not Draco fucking Malfoy, you don't get a rat's arse. You know he doesn't feel the same way about you as you do him and yet you continue to try to grab hold of him."

Lying on her belly, she watched Blaise's shadow march across the floor through the space under the door.

"I can't stop trying to win his heart. It's the same things you see in me, I guess. I don't know what I see him," You're lying again, Joely, "or if I even see anything in him." Stop lying!

"What about Tyler? You let him sleep in the same bed with you. You let him touch you, cuddle with you, hold you. You danced with him at Christmas and then let him carry you off to bed when you both were tired of the New Year's Eve Ball."

"Draco told you about all of that? Tyler is Tyler, Draco is Draco and you're you."

"Don't give me that bollocks! You're a liar and a tease!"

"I'm not a tease! Yes, I lied because I don't have a choice. I have to lie. I couldn't let all these people know how selfish I am. I wanted friends."

"You didn't have to lie to me. I promised I would be there for you!"

Images of Tyler promising her the same vow played in her mind; figures and a picture danced on the wall of how that night happened. She needed him now to protect and save her. She needed the one who she played "knight in shining armor" with; the brave one who rescued her, the "damsel in distress." She prayed for him, but she knew he wouldn't come.

"You have been there for me, Blaise, but I can't tell you everything. There are some things you wouldn't understand. I need Draco."

"I'm never going to be good enough for you, am I? You're just another one of his whores! Would just being one of his strumpets be enough for you so you could have that much of him? You don't mean shit to him!"

"I'm not a whore, you bastard! I've never slept with anyone! Never!"

"You play with people's emotions!" he ranted. "You taunt and you tease and you try to seduce then you run away and that makes you a whore!"

Throwing Joely's wand down on the floor where she could see it through the gap at the bottom of the door, Blaise stomped on it and broke it.

...............

"I'm a pushy bastard when I want something, and I wanted the promotion I was promised for killing Jonathon. I lusted after it. I did all I could to suspend the real pain she would've felt, which didn't begin until after Cody died. I didn't have a license to dispense a specific potion to her then that I do now that makes her pain dormant, well, actually makes her numb and unfeeling except with carelessness, so I used spells and taught her to think that all the hurt was in her head, that she could control it, but that wasn't enough. Christmas of fourth year, we knew that Voldemort's rebirth was guaranteed thanks to your Aunt Bellatrix who was also an informant of Jonathon's. She was passed information directly from the mole in the Ministry and then she sent it off to Jonathon's second. I was given direct orders to take Jonathon out of the picture and I followed orders without hesitation as I was trained to do.

"That day, deployment day, Jonathon had a meeting with a local business that handled both muggle and wizard affairs. The owner of the business was on watch for dabbling in claiming that his profits off muggles were actually wizard profits which where considerably less. American muggle taxes are horrendous, so in claiming less muggle profits, he would be paying less tax to the muggle's government. Jonathon's job at the Society was director of financial matters between both worlds consisting of costs of importing and exporting, values of deals and trades, currency exchange rates, and the like, which not only kept his information on that side of the Atlantic fresh on the status of Voldemort's American uprising without making himself public, but it also made his knowledge about foreign goings-on extensive because some of his rich overseas clients were Voldemort supporters, and were funding his campaign in the States.

"I was ordered to make this killing an everlasting impression on those wanting or thinking of joining his campaign. The best way to do that was to kill the leader in front of a supporter, but spare the weak supporter, showing that if the leader can be dealt with, even an up rise of the lap dogs would be futile; pure and sweet intimidation. I followed Jonathon and eavesdropped on his conversation which naturally contained information about the league's so far successes, defeats, where the meetings were being held, overseas bank accounts that were set aside for funding, the whole nine yards. I had to take him out immediately before any of the fresh news was released, but I botched up my attack and was found out. I missed Jonathon but killed the supporter, Jonathon's second, Oliver de Marseille."

Lucius cleared his throat and stood pin straight. A distracted Draco stared at his crumbling father.

"Direct relation to Giselle, Draco," stated Sean, his chest out proudly. "Jean and Oliver were brothers, but Oliver had the financial backing of a massive inheritance that Jean did not, nor could get his grubby hands on. Oliver was Jonathon's second-in-command, working under the guise of a travel editor for the Pioneer Press, our Daily Prophet, and in reality being his head informant on the French's crusade to assist in bringing Voldemort back, while Jean was merely a peon, a powerful one, but low in rank.

"Jonathon escaped the building and I pursued, albeit haphazardly and very obvious in my use of magic, but all I had on my mind was being promoted from a killer to something deadlier, someone feared around the world. In hopes of not sounding like that of a cheesy car chase, muggle movie style, I'll only say that cars were involved in my hunt. I did what's called tapping, a form of wandless magic designed to bring forth mage powers, a birthright, and disabled the steering system of his car, causing him to lose control and spin out in the ditch. He was killed on impact; I had won."

"I'm not a tease! Yes, I lied because I don't have a choice. I have to lie. I couldn't let all these people know how selfish I am. I wanted friends."

"Draco? Draco?" called Sean.

Draco opened his eyes with a languish flutter; his thick eyelashes creating a hazy blanket that inhibited focus. He found his arms shaking as he groped about the railing for support, Sean's hold his alternate safety. His head felt heavy and soupy. Maybe I need breakfast?

"Boy," engaged Lucius, "return to your dormitory. It is apparent you are too weak-minded to handle such revelations."

"I will not. I have not heard the truth."

"Draco, son, I don't want to ill you further if you're too weak."

"I'm not weak, Sean! I want to know it all!"

Sean conjured a chair for Draco and resumed. "Damon was extremely close to his father, to say the least. He was his tutor, his mentor, his friend. Losing anyone around the holidays is a terrible thing, but someone that close is awful a hundredfold. Damon didn't know how to cope so he asked Joely for help because Joely knew that closeness and felt that loss when her grandmother Kelly passed. For so long I had told her to remain vigilant with him; never to give up. It backfired on me. Now that Jonathon was dead, I told her to remove herself from the situation, and at first, she didn't, but thankfully by then she was finding all of her self consumed with Cody Rawlings and Damon was losing his luster; she continued to deny him. Her denial of him went too far, though. The realization that he needed someone hit her. Like I said, she knew it was hard."

"I'm never going to be good enough for you, am I? You're just another one of his whores! Would just being one of his strumpets be enough for you so you could have that much of him? You don't mean shit to him!"

The scene playing behind Draco's eyes jumped. He saw the feet and the shadow of someone pacing through the eyes of the one watching through a gap at the bottom of a door. CRACK! He saw the wand break and felt the stomach of the person's body he was in lurch.

"She went over to apologize to him and try to talk to him against my begs and pleads. She wanted to tell him that she would help him through the grief, but he turned the denial over on her and denied to hear her. She had tried to escape, but he's sly like his father in keeping things hidden; she was trapped. As soon as she set foot in that door, spells were set, traps were engaged. She was barricaded in the manor. That night, the fourth of January, her curse was born."

"When did Cody die?" Draco asked.

"That summer, the tenth of July, six days after Joely's birthday."

"But he was missing from pictures in Joely's fourth-year year book."

Sean nodded. "If you're talking about that picture of the superlative of making people laugh, I did that. I thought it would help her deal with his death to be without pictures of him, but she caught on to what I was doing before I could finish and secured the rest pictures." Sean laughed as Draco clobbered himself in the head. "Are you all right?"

"I'm hearing things."

"Thank the gods that hearing things is on your mother's side," bantered Lucius.

Draco's spirit astral projected to his room. He shouted obscenely at the disarray. His wardrobe was on its side, clothes were strewn with piggish quality; the glass of his owl delivery window shattered and his bed was atrocious, not to mention covered in linens not his own. Silence reigned but for a small pattering from inside the bathroom.

A petite shadow danced in the gap at the bottom. Blaise edged his head around the closet doorframe, obviously waiting for his cue to pounce. Draco knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this was his room, so why Blaise present and hiding in the closet? But more importantly, where was Joely?

Blaise's head drew back into his concealing shadows when the bathroom commenced opening, squeaking offensively. Joely stepped slightly into view, canvassing her surroundings. She rested a hand on the scar between her breasts, inhaling, and then making a run for the door. Blaise jumped out and grabbed her; she struggled and resisted fiercely before he threw her onto the bed.

Draco was back on the balcony in his own body. He glanced at the door into Dumbledore's observatory and it flew open. He was gone.

Lucius jabbed his wand into Sean's back and bit his ear lobe.

"It wasn't wise to tell Draco of Oliver and Bellatrix."

"Oh yes it was. You and I both know that Oliver's death was the reason for the breaking of the betrothal contract. And yet you thought people married into the Malfoy family for power and not for money, you asinine man. Jean has nothing, Lucius. The Christmas holiday visit of theirs didn't go as they planned, did it?"

"I rejected the contract's reinstatement," Lucius groaned, burrowing his wand deeper into Sean's back muscles, his handhold on his friend's hip bruising.

"How thoughtful of you to know of your son's impending happiness with another female. What a wonderful father you are."

Lucius bit Sean's neck just above the collar. "Now, the event involving my son's three day adventure with one called Amanda Thurston will be explained."

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder."

............

"No!" she screamed, locking onto his fingers covering her mouth.

Blaise ripped the appendage from her bite, tearing the skin nearly to the bone. Blood splattered about their clothes and the bed like a Jackson Pollack painting. His eyes glowed with acid as his injured hand contacted her face.

Obscene words filled the air as she saw Damon's venom resonating through Blaise. The one friend who had never shown any violent tendencies was now exuding malevolence similar to her ultimate fear. This was a terror like none other. Vomit coated her throat, threatening to choke her unconscious. Stomach acid ripped her esophagus to shreds as she fought Blaise's roaming hands.

"See what you've made me do?" he yelled.

"Please don't." He bound her hands to the headboard. "You don't mean this."

"I mean every damn bit of it! Don't you understand?" Petrified from the thighs up, she was frozen. Inch-by-inch with brutal tugs that rattled her wounded chest, he ripped her tee down the middle. "This is payback for all that you've ever done to hurt me. This isn't even half of the agony you've caused me."

"Damon, no!"

She kicked and screamed; her foot planted dead-on in his abdomen and groin. She knew he had taken over Blaise's body. But where were the signs of possession? Damon was powerful, yes, that was easy to see, but he was nowhere near the capability and skill to make possession invisible.

"You whore!"

Blaise climbed on top of Joely, imprisoning her thighs tightly together between his. He squeezed her hips, bruising the sensitive flesh; his nails raked down the skin as he lowered her shorts just until her most private region was to begin. Folding the cotton cloth of her panties over the waistband of the boxers, he kissed and nuzzled the skin once hidden beneath, then nipped it, leaving behind his marks of black and blue and teeth imprints. He tasted and smelled her skin and eyed his signature with extreme relish. He would take all for his pleasure and never look back on how he had gotten what he wanted. He wouldn't regret it. This was what she had mercilessly taunted him with for ages. He was getting what was promised.

"Please, no," she cried.

"Shh. I promise to make you comfortable. I'll be gentle."

"No."

Up her belly, he suckled and licked, his wake a glistening trail of description of the sexual desire she caused to roar through him. He dipped his tongue into her belly button then followed the muscle indentation up her torso, stopping at her new flaw. He kissed it, whispering cajoling words. He promised to be respectful and slow, causing as little pain as possible. He guaranteed smoothness and an explosion of emotions and sensations that rivaled any and was unheard of in words. The urgency in his eyes told a different story. They told a biography of hurried movements that ripped and tore and scarred her physically, mentally, emotionally and sexually.

He tapped the material of her bra between her breasts; the lace split with a clean cut. She was exposed. Eagerly she clawed at her bindings in need to cover herself. He took each pebbled nipple between his teeth and moistened it with his tongue, then lifted it away from the areola. She felt ashamed at herself for emitting a sound that spoke of pleasure. He devoured her chest and neck, always leaving his bites behind to show dominion. He claimed her as his own.

He undressed down to only boxers and removed his shirt. He was hungry, starving, for her. He wanted to taste her, drink her, consume her, and pillage her, body and soul. He had craved this event for so long that it once felt to only be a dream to him and would forever be a lifetime of fantasy. This wasn't the most proper way to do this, he knew that, but she had bedeviled him long enough. He was going to take what she gnawed at his loins with. Again, he was going to get what was promised.

Palm side down, he slid his hand underneath her underclothes, smiling at the presence of the moisture he was expecting. He lowered his body against hers, mentally pushing aside her tears of protest. His groin was on fire; scorching to the touch; pained filled every blood vessel in the region. He fondled her breasts with a firm touch for a rough and quick stimulation. He rendered her immobile as he rubbed his nether area against her stomach; she trying to inch upwards and away. He kissed her lips then returned his hand under her shorts.

"Your body doesn't lie, Joely. You may think you don't want this, but your body craves for me."

The door burst open.

"You sick bastard!" Draco lunged at Blaise, pulling him off Joely. He pulled Blaise up to his feet, striking the left side of his face. Blaise's body slammed up against the wall. The air could be heard shooting from his lungs at the sudden impact.

"She asked for this, Draco."

"She asked you to rip her clothes off?" he screamed.

"She's a bloody tease, Malfoy!"

"She asked you to viciously ravage her?"

"All teases want one thing! She's been targeting me since we met!"

Draco fumed. Like a friend, he helped his mate to his feet and assisted in the gathering of his clothes and escorted him amicably to the door. He shoved Blaise against the opposite wall, smirking as he fell down the wall, and then lowered down into his face.

"Is this closeness comfortable for you? Would you be all delighted if I desecrated you with the same malevolence as you displayed in there? What if I just touched you like this, right there? You don't like that?" Blaise squirmed. "If you ever so much as try another act like that on Joely or anyone," he rigorously stressed anyone, "I will personally see to your castration and death, legally or illegally. Get out of my face."

Draco walked back into his dormitory and gingerly sat upon the bed. He walked on his knees to the head of the bed where Joely was curled up in ball, her face turned away as she clawed the headboard, presumably in hopes of trying to escape. He reached his hand out to touch her shoulder but she slapped him away.

"Don't touch me!"

"Just - "

"What?" she shouted. "You want to have a go too, or are you wanting the first go before you bring Blaise back in here?"

"I was going to help you get dressed, but seeing as you're pushing me away - "

He stopped as she crawled into his lap, clinging to shirt with fistful handholds like a lifeline. She didn't cry; she didn't speak. Draco thought it to be shock, but intervening on such actions was new to him, thankfully. He called for a blanket from his disassembled wardrobe, wrapped it around them and just waited.

.............................................

Draco tapped his fingers on his desktop, counting the chimes of the school bell tower. It had been two hours since he had put Joely to bed; two hours since he had sat down to draft a letter to Sean about what he had informed him of on the balcony. Two hours and all he manage to do was script out the recipient's name.

He wanted to grind Sean's bones into dust for all that he put Joely through. He wanted to make his heart bleed in hopes of recreating the pain he had and was causing. But in the end, he wanted, surprisingly, to thank Sean for finally being someone who noticed that he wasn't a small, naïve child that couldn't handle the truth, no matter how malignant it was. He had Sean's, Scott's and barely a quarter of Joely's side, but it was enough to get his plans moved up into the beginning stages of deployment.

But how to thank him without losing his pride and tarnishing his appearance of not giving a damn to more than the immediate important ones was the pressing matter.

Sleep beckoned to him as he stared at his pillows. The sandman cooed to his mind with promises of dreams he would surely remember in the morning. He binned his barely begun letter and unbuttoned his shirt to retire for the night. Opening his wardrobe, brown paper and a contrasting colored twine diverted his attention. Checking on his snoozing roommate, quickly and quietly, he divested his package of its wrapping. Two books were his prize: The Ins and Outs of Magical Torture: Everyday Items to Hex Your Victims With, and Ancient Ones to Zealous Types: Curses For Your Everyday Activities, Volume II, Blood Magic.

He opened the front cover of each book. Just as he suspected, the book's inside flap was stamped with the silver Malfoy crest. He sneered, making a hissing noise with his tongue clamped between his teeth. New, these books were not. It was common knowledge that they were no longer in circulation due to the Ministry's harsh ruling that such books be destroyed, and they certainly weren't acceptable reading material found on the shelves of the accessible libraries of Malfoy Manor. These books were from Lucius' private collection; the sixth library under his father's study. Oddly though, either the pages were completely blank and were used to frighten those that happen upon said book while in the hands of their torturer, or the print was too fine for Draco's eyes. He snatched his wand and reading glasses from the desk and locked himself in the bathroom.

He lit the wall sconces and warmed the marble floor tiles in his area, taking seat and leaning back against the tub. Upon opening both books, it was confirmed that it wasn't his eyes; the pages were blank. He breezed through the rolodex of spells in his head for the appearance of invisible things; none revealed the contents of his books. Frustration consumed him. He threw the heavier of the two toward the wall.

"All I want is some bloody information on this bugger of a curse!"

Immediately and simultaneously both tomes opened, the blank pages now blazoned with ink writings; all the colors the eyes registered whisking by as the pages flipped. They stopped together.

He read: The art of casting, cursing, and hexing through athames, knives, and/or daggers is an art form, dating in history to have begun during the beginnings of the evolution of Dark Magic. The first fully written excerpt of proof of dagger magic can be found to concern the banishment of Gadko, a prize pupil of Sir Pirkka, the master of the Dark Magic realm of Finland. It is told that Gadko believed himself worthy to become Pirkka's successor, the greed for Finland's vengeful population to seek him out and pay for his magical potions, herbs and spells blackening his once devoted affection for his teacher. Gadko attempted to expel Finland of Sir Pirkka but was brutally defeated and banished himself, exiled out of the country with permission to only carry his father's dagger.

He traveled south, seeking the tutelage of all those willing, taking apprenticeships in Romania and Egypt were it is rumored that his strongest powers were birthed. He bore a spell of control, harnessing the power of Sir Pirkka's known favorite ingredient: water from the River Nile, for which would be his mirror link to the master. He camped in the desert, waiting for the zodiacs and moon phases to be at their strongest and deadliest. The night before his curse was birthed, he claimed his athame in the names of the gods and goddesses of Spirit, taking rule over all directions and all magical essences around him, and created a slit up his wrist. The expelled blood poured black from his body, the lust for his professor's demise tainting the life-liquid, and hissed poisonously as it trickled into the bowl of blessed Nile water at his feet. He soaked the dagger in the liquid; the perpetual screams of Sir Pirkka echoing from the masonry.

He returned to Finland the following morning, challenging Pirkka not to a duel of spells, but to a duel of daggers. Sir Pirkka thrived on his humor of Gadko, declaring that only a fool, and a repulsive one as his name declared, would challenge with weaponry when magical powers from every direction could be concentrated through a blade. Such actions, Gadko knew of and would use. He invoked the control of the spell; his blood and the Nile water dried and imbedded in the concentrated athame; Pirkka was under Gadko's reigns. A gash to the back of the teacher's neck and he bowed to Gadko's every whim, his body undergoing excruciating and blinding pain for every moment he went against orders. Eternal torture became Pirkka's future.

Dagger and athame magic must be and can only be cast when the moon phases are in accordance with the castor's astrological symbol. Another time, and the only outcome will be that of backfire; the castor's mind controlling the body and taking on a life of its own. To date, muggle psychiatrists have been brainless in their diagnosis and site this control as schizophrenia: hallucinations and delusions of other beings having authority over the victim's body with no corporeal apparitions or presences.

Every curse of this breed is cast in the same manner with the same constants, but alterations in the incantations and regulations harnessed by the blade can be made. A favorite liquid of the victim, blood of the castor, and a dagger, knife, blade, or athame are the constants that cannot be changed for any purpose. Love curses through athames pose for additions in the constants to be made.

Love and affairs of the heart are regarded as one of the most, if not the most, deadly casting due to the factor that blood from the victim is now a requisite. The blood must also be that of being extracted unwillingly. A willing victim will reverse the spell; the initial castor becoming the controlled. Cures and reversals are known and available, though knowledgeable only to the castor and thy victim. Dagger magic is blood magic is black magic.

Draco pushed the book aside and proceeded to piece everything together. If all coincided with each other, he determined that all of this horror was real, and that only Joely and Damon knew how to release the spell. But that wasn't true, was it? Both his and Joely's parents knew, the professors, Madam Pomfrey, Jasmine Neveau, Tyler... the whole lot of them. Other aspects he deciphered were that this dagger had been soaked in a favorite liquid of Joely's; Draco rolled his eyes knowing that it was most likely a frou frou scented perfume, poisoned with the powers of hers and Damon's blood, and that obviously she had been unwilling; the unwillingness truth gave him clarity that this wasn't a vie for attention. She may have promised that she wouldn't lie to him anymore, but honestly feeling that to be a lie, this book gave him truth he needed. The control was and is real. The pouring of blood was fact; he had experienced it himself. He felt an odd tingle shimmy up his spine. A tingle of a romantic nature, it was. A tingle that told him someone's touch should not withheld from the one they love. Love? That was a whole different topic.

He angled his body to reach for the second book when the rustling of sheets and mumbles of protest thrummed his eardrums. The movements grew more and more fitful. He drew his hand away from the tome. Hasty conclusions presented themselves on a quickly and hazy, unwanted speed. The thought that was the easiest to believe was that Blaise had returned. He mentally stabbed his mind. The prat didn't have the arrogance to return. On another note, bursting through the bathroom door and waking a sleeping Joely was a horrid thought after Draco declared her a nuisance in coaxing into sleep. Break the door, or gingerly peek in? I should not have to be brooding on this. Blaise would never defy me. That bastard is too weak to disobey.

Flicking his wand at the reads; the pages closed and the books stored themselves in the cabinet under the sink. He traipsed to the door and casually undid the locking bolt. Pulling the door open wide, he smirked at the breeze he created that ruffled his hair and clothes; imitating face-to-face contact with a wind machine. Groaning inwardly, he shuffled his feet about as Joely continued to wrap herself up in the sheets, making one foul tangle. From the doorway he immobilized her and then rolled her back and forth to loosen the linens, finally jerking the sheet down; removing her from the mess she had caused. He had a flash image of foreboding: her lifelessly hanging body in the arms of a St. Mungo's healer running down the halls of the hospital. He was pushing himself into Sean as he restrained him from following her dead form. To his side stood a mirror, reflecting an older and haughtier version of his self dressed in a black suit and deep red silk shirt, the time-consuming hair gel slicking back the platinum-blonde locks. The McGill family, his mother, the trio, infamous Loony Luna Lovegood and Tyler dawdled about in pacing; all having age at least five years.

He returned to the present as Joely began to plead to Blaise and her eyes fired open. He curled his arms behind her and flipped them onto his back. He cradled her, keeping silent. The pants of fright subsided and she rolled her head up to look him in the eye.

"Please don't make me leave."

...................................................

A few days passed and the ridiculous assumption was made that from now on, it all would be on the upward spiral. The current situation had its perks for both Draco and Joely. Downsides were few and far between, but that wasn't to say that there was none.

Joely thrilled in Draco's constant closeness night and day. If leaving, he made her aware of where he was off to and how long he would be gone. He never faltered in being punctual and true to his word. She wasn't sure if he was doing such so she wouldn't feel alone and completely up to her own devices, or if was simply because he wanted to. She liked to think that her intentional mumbles in her "sleep" of her needing him desperately had a hand in his demeanor, but thinking that much of her self was laughable. He catered to her early morning nightmare awakening screams with showers of kisses on her face, lips and neck; holding her tightly in his arms as though he her security blanket. He treated her as though she was worthy of his time and budding affection.

Draco wasn't transparently clear with his feelings or ideas on how he currently thought of this arrangement, but he was far from appearing adverse to it either. He lacked the protesting spirit he could usually find in the smallest things of annoyance, but a shout from the rooftops of his delight in the company of his roommate didn't feel unattainable. This coldness was what he aimed for. Not even under torturous conditions would he admit that he hoped for her to awake from her nightmares so that he might have that moment of embrace, but thoughts of her fearing another Blaise-like attack did cross his mind. Every moment that he pulled her into his arms, scooted herself up against his chest, or spooned her brought back memories of the summer when their bond felt eternal and unbreakable. Again he laughed. Nothing was unbreakable, humans, the most fragile thing ever created. But these recollections stood out in her spoken words as she secretly foretold of the oncoming complications.

Physically he wanted to emanate being separate but at the same time make her well aware that he was there, waiting patiently. He laughed in his head. He was growing tired of this patient rubbish. He had never been much of patient in his life, should things really change because of an attraction to a female who carried a curse that pushed him away? Bugger! Being patient was murder.

KNOCK! KNOCK!

Harry stood astounded as Hermione escorted Malfoy toward the girls' staircase.

"Hermione?"

"What in the bloody hell is this wanker of a ferret doing in our common room?" ranted Ron, shoving Harry aside and blasting his words in Draco's face.

"Darling," Draco taunted, pulling Hermione's body against his, "I thought you said you cleared up that mess of a relationship you had with Potter? Potter, Hermione and I are dating. I would apologize, but that would suggest my being sorry for once again proving that I am far better than you. Did I not say that she would want a bit of me in the bedroom? A bit wasn't enough. She wanted all the bliss and perfection I create."

Hermione slapped Malfoy away. "You, Malfoy, can piss off, and Harry, you can shut your gob. Malfoy asked if he could come and get some of Joely's belongings."

"You do know that we'll have to fumigate for pests when this pest leaves, eh?" Ron snorted.

"When did she leave?" queried Harry.

"She's not leaving, Potter. You would've known that had you bothered to speak with her. She's staying in my dormitory until the end of term."

"You might want to tell that to Blaise. He's been searching for her."

Two at a time, Draco jumped down the steps of the stairs, grabbing Harry by the collar and pulling their faces together.

"One message in that floo to Sirius, Malfoy, and I doubt he'd be as lenient with you as I am. Paws off." Draco complied. "Smart move. Why the confrontation?"

"About Blaise. Why has he been looking for her?" Draco ground out.

"He mentioned something about wanting an apology or wanting to apologize. He was a mess, Malfoy. He hasn't slept in days."

"That's not my problem, Potter, nor do I care." He smoothed out his ruffled shirt.

"What's the fuss between you and him?"

"Blaise - " Hermione began.

"It would do you well to keep quiet, Granger."

Draco turned on his heels as Ron nodded toward the entrance. There Joely stood frail and emaciated, caring not about her appearance. Her hair was bed-matted, her eyes crusty in the corners and bloodshot; her clothes hanging on her the way Dudley's old rags did on Harry. Barefooted, she padded across the room with her head bowed, Hermione following her closely behind into their room.

Draco groaned, his jaw tight. Keeping her hidden was butchered, her new place of resident no longer a secret, thanks to him wanting to anger Potter at her whereabouts. Her deliberate disobedience of his order to stay in bed was enraging. He hissed through his teeth.

................................................

Before all realized, the last day, a sultry day of warmth, the air perfumed of flowers with a hint of citrus and evaporating water off the lake, had arrived. The Leaving Feast's preparations were well underway and students shrieked about their summer holiday plans. Nearly Headless Nick raved of his acceptance in the Headless Hunt as the official coordinator of the Headless Polo matches and tournaments, and the Fat Lady had finally found the love of her life in Lord Zephyrlin, a portrait a batty old man with a fetish for newt eyes on the sixth floor who loved her enormously; girdles, curlers, voice and all.

First years were sad to see such an experience have gone by so quickly and anxiously awaited the coming term, and sorrowful goodbyes were ear-bleeding-ly loud in all rooms and corridors among the departing seventh years. Childhood was no more. They were adults now. It was time to go out into the world and show what they had learned. Joy was also ripping and roaring as the O.W.L.s were rated to have been a huge success with a bundle of students scoring brilliantly; not to mention that a whole year was between them and N.E.W.T.s. It felt to have been a normal and happy year at the most to how years were prior to Voldemort's death.

"Another year has passed," Dumbledore started, standing at the front of the Great Hall, "and another well-learned class has proven themselves quality witches and wizards. I cannot stand before you and say that troubles were not faced. Many will rest peacefully knowing they have reached healing outcomes. Others, are a few moments away, many have a long distance to be traveled.

"Before everyone loosens their belts and gorge themselves on another fantastic feast, I must award well-deserved additional points as well as the House Cup. First, to Greta Keaton, for exemplary show of dedication to schoolwork, above and beyond the requirements, twenty points. To Timothy Emerson, proof that you can be loyal to your house and not have to sacrifice morals under pressure, twenty-five points. To Holli Hælan, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley and Harry Potter, for shows of friendship, compassion, courage and bravery of the highest kind, fifty points. Miss Rachel Bartholomew, excellence for receiving perfect marks on both O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s; I award you sixty points. And to Draco Malfoy, a person that has shown through some of the toughest of circumstances that the will to live is strong; stereotypes are only set if you opt not to change them; for willingly facing death, and by doing so, proving that we all have the ability to love, and be loved truthfully in return against all odds. Love comes around for everyone, many only once. Grasp it, cherish it, and enhance it. Do all necessary to conquer all its boundaries pushing you away. Fight for it. Never give up. Seventy points.

"In fourth place for the cup is Hufflepuff with 365 points. Third place is awarded to Gryffindor with 402 points. Second place is honorably placed with Slytherin with 447 points. The House Cup is awarded to Ravenclaw with a brilliant 470 points. Congratulations, Ravenclaw. Enjoy!"

Cheers erupted, and students tossed up their hats in celebration. It had been ages since Ravenclaw had won the cup back; and for Ravenclaws, there was going to be a well-deserved after party in their common room. As they ate heartily, they planned out their keep of the cup for next term. And people thought Slytherins were the strategists for reigns and takeovers.

"Where's Joely?" Draco asked, pulling Hermione aside as the Hall emptied. "Surely you keep up with you friend?"

"I've had all I'm going to take off of you, Malfoy!" she razzed. "You know more about Joely than I do. She doesn't trust us, remember? If she did, she wouldn't have ignored me the other day when she was gathering some of her things and you were warring with Harry, and she would've come to the common room by now. She's been with you all this time. Surely you keep up with who sleeps in your bed?"

"Of course I do. I just recently moved my counter to my left bed post as my right is just riddled with notches."

"Pig," said Ron.

"She's in her dorm, packing," said Holli, passing by, her tone a sneer.

Draco nodded his thanks. "Not that I have to explain myself to you, but she's not been in my dorm in two days."

"What did you do?" Harry scolded.

"I simply commented on how she possibly thought she was going to pass the N.E.W.T.s when her end of term marks surely resembled Longbottom's. She's much too much like you, Granger."

Harry shook his head and made a filthy face. "Take note, Malfoy. Never call a woman a sour name, you git. Never bring up their weight, you fat-headed, muscle obsessed prat. And don't you ever remotely imply that they are without in any areas of intellect and superb marks, you bloody dunce."

"Been a while, Potter?"

"Go be an arse somewhere else, Malfoy," said Blaise.

"Tread lightly, Zabini," Draco cautioned.

The five stood alone. The corridors were empty; not even Filch was lurking about. It felt cold and frosty in their vicinity. It felt planned. The conditions of pin dropping silence brought about thoughts of an attack. Who was the attacker and who was to be attacked? Everyone was alone, on their own for protection. Draco turned about in circles; he had studied this before. It had been a painful three weeks of being lost, abandoned and wandless on Skye, eluding trackers out for the bounty Lucius had set on his son's head. It was meant to teach Draco to be cunning, wise, manipulative, and to survive on his own. Well, that it was Lucius told him, anyway; it wasn't believed.

"Am I supposed to be scared? She wanted it," he whispered into Draco's ear. "She was just afraid that she would enjoy me, and then sadly her erotic dreams of you and her would never be fulfilled. She couldn't bear thinking that she would never be blissfully satisfied, nor feel rightly pleasured without me. Pleasing her will always be a fantasy of yours, won't it, Draco?"

"Whoa, Malfoy!" Harry shouted, holding Draco back. "Easy!"

"All right!" he burst, ending his struggle against the surprisingly strong Potter. "Stay away from Joely, Blaise. If any harm comes to her, I will kill you. That is a promise."

"Is that a direct order from Grandma Kelly? I can use your thoughts against you, Draco. Didn't you love hearing that she was waiting for you in the common room, only to find yourself in a trap? Or, how were the dreams of my beautiful artwork up her back and down her arm?"

"Mr. Zabini, my office, now!" Snape shouted.

"You're close, Draco," Blaise teased, padding behind Severus. "Never give up. She's waiting for you. She needs you to save her," he wailed sarcastically.

............................................................

"Holli had said you were up here," said Hermione, entering the shared dorm.

The room was cold and dejected. The walls once doused with study guides and potions recipes taped to it were now boring cobblestone; grey and depressing. Clothes were folded in perfect piles, books stacked according to subject, wardrobe doors open displaying their emptiness. The smell that was a usual welcoming and uplifting aroma of vanilla and chamomile now reeked of a gut wrenching musk. Exiting quickly was much desired.

Leaving before her two cents were put in wasn't on the agenda.

"You missed the leaving feast; your first one."

"I didn't feel like going."

The finality in her voice suggested such a topic of the feast was to be abandoned. She had no interest.

"Ravenclaw won the House Cup."

"Lavender told me." She snapped her head up jaggedly. "She popped in just to give me the news."

"Really?" Hermione was amazed, not to mention baffled. "When did you begin talking?"

"Oh we haven't. She wanted to remind me that Gryffindor would've won if I hadn't come and made so many problems. Such a lovely person," she said sardonically. "I wish so much that Lavender and I were best friends."

"Everything's a joke to you," Hermione fussed, slapping a stack of t-shirts out of Joely's hands.

"You want me to get mad?" Joely sighed, going about picking up her strewn shirts like a dutiful house-elf. "Getting aggravated doesn't do any good anymore. Why waste my time?"

"So, now, I see by the sound of scuttle in the corridors, you're throwing all your hard work at staying alive away, give in, and become a slave. Wonderful show of support to us, your friends, who risked our necks to save you from doing just that!"

Joely had had enough. True colors wanted to emblazon the room. Her temper unleashed.

She jumped to her feet screaming no. The windows and mirrors in the dorm and bathroom shattered. The bed posts creaked and splintered under the pressure of the rolling floor; dirt and dust littering on their belongings. Hermione stood unfazed against the wall as Joely dove into the ebony darkness of her wardrobe and withdrew a tourmaline vial of the same color guise. She tipped the bottle to her lips and after one gulp, she smashed the vial against the wall, falling to the floor, holding her chest.

A green, silver and black spore-like mist swept the dormitory with stringent sufficiency; leaving no niche unscathed. The vapor vanished, the rumbling floor stopped. Everything was calm and returned as it had been.

"Are you finished?" Joely snapped.

She had changed, mutated... whichever word best suited her alteration. It was familiar to Hermione. She had been this way a few times before. Her hair had lengthened out, falling from its binding ponytail and cascading in delicate waves, a hint of bushiness playing its part. She stood posed as if waiting for cameras bulbs to flash at some kind of brilliance she possessed. It was almost a revolting sight to see Joely resembling a style of person she and Hermione laughed about.

It was the potion. It had to be. Transformation at will was complicated magic that was restricted from curriculums until university. If Joely carried that skill of power, Hermione knew she would've seen it before now. Another question to chalk onto the list.

"I don't think I know you anymore," Hermione delivered. "I thought I had a handle when you told me about your mage birthright, which you have yet to mention to Harry and Ron. I thought I understood you best when you told us about Damon. I thought you were going to stop lying?"

"Just because I haven't told you everything doesn't mean I'm still lying. Can you stand there and honestly say you've no secrets from me?"

"I have my secrets," she chastised. "But I'm not the one on trial for theirs."

"Have you ever been on trial, a real trial, Granger? Let me give you a taste of what I got. I got to have my most secret of thoughts and intimate writings publicized. I got to listen to a jury that doesn't know me from a damn lamp post be read how I've bled from places I didn't know could bleed. I was asked to recall on how I watched Cody die and scrutinized through every detail on how it seemed as though I really didn't try to stop Damon; that Cody's death really was my fault. I so want the world to know that I found out that my father pushed me into befriending Damon so that he could have a fucking promotion that gave him more power than he had ever dreamed of. Did you know that my father kills people for a living? Hit Wizard. He loves having the authority of deciding who lives and dies. All these people are doing is their job to the best of their ability, they're also killers; yet they're not assassinating well enough by standards. Such an interesting trial, isn't it? Care to continue; I have so many more secrets to tell you that you think you deserve to know because you saved my life."

There was a knock on the door. Hermione permitted the knocker's owner entrance and pushed off the wall to stand. Ginny tossed in a befuddled Harry and Ron.

"They're boggy because they forgot about the sliding staircase," she laughed.

"Whoever came up with that idea is a bleeding prat," Harry gruffed.

"Rowena Ravenclaw," Hermione and Joely answered together.

The girls stood lulled as the boys collected themselves and claimed their feet. Harry wobbled about, still seeming to be without a bearing or two; Ron snorted in ripples at his mate's inconvenience.

"What do you want?" Joely spouted, rudely.

"We wanted to talk to you," said Ron. "We want you to come back. We know you thought we were going to end our friendship with you because of everything, but it's not true."

"We're friends," Harry murmured. "Aren't we?"

The loose curls in Joely's hair disintegrated; the locks now straggly, almost crunchy and fried to the touch. Her mouth dropped into a shameful frown. She ripped at her chest with claw-like ferocity as she sat on her bed. Her heart panged.

"You can't hide forever, Jo," Ron chimed in. "All we have to do to find you would be to call Hermione. Bloody hell, she could hunt down the bad egg out of a group a million people."

"All that time I spent locked in the prefect's common room and Malfoy's dorm; you didn't know I was there."

Hermione laughed. "I knew where you were. If someone goes to the bother of finding a way to abolish all the passwords designated to the prefect's common room except theirs, and hides in Malfoy's dormitory, it's obvious they want to left alone."

Humor out of Joely was welcoming.

"I wanted you to think about everything without me around. There're so many problems I've caused. Not to mention the lying and avoidance of honest questions. I thought it best if you decided your actions without my presence making it all appear just as bad as it is. And, well, if our friendship really was going to be over, I didn't want to be hanging around."

"And yet I'm told I think on the wrong side of the cauldron?" Ron questioned, amused.

"I'm sorry," said Joely.

"Everything is said and done. We want you back, Joely. We won't abandon you, if you don't abandon us," Harry told.

Hermione clapped her hands together. "Now that we got that sorted, bugger off with the packing. Tonight's our last night and Dean has some brilliant fireworks from Hogsmeade of Fred and George's in the common room. We celebrate."

"If I had known a good shag was what was needed to turn Hermione away from being so rigid," Harry whispered to Joely as they meandered down the stairs, "I wouldn't have waited so long."

"Harry!"

"Ouch!"

......................................................

She woke up with a start, bolting upright. She was sticky and moist with sweat, her hair plastered to her forehead and stuck like glue to the back of her neck. Blood was absent from the front of her shirt and the back; the scar on her forearm still sealed cleanly. Just a dream. She breathed out, her lips fluttering in blurble.

Morning had arrived with the awakening jolt of a nightmare. She shook it off. It was simple enough to understand without a need to panic or seek advice. Rolling her head she mumbled antagonistically about her packing having gone unfinished last night. Her anger cast off by smiles in remembrance of their celebration. It was unlike any other end of term party function. Salem now had competition. She glanced at the clock and its reading. She had time to finish packing and shower as well before breakfast, but not before one last chance to startle Hermione awake.

"Morning, sunshine!" she shouted in Hermione's ear. Joely was walloped with a pillow. "Rise and whine, Mya."

"Too loud! And it's rise and shine, you bint."

Joely chuckled. "You're not shining though, you're whining. Should've been more careful with Senor Ogden, silly girl."

"I only had one drink," Hermione complained.

"You British girls are lightweights. Stick with me and I'll have you able to drink the best drunk in London under the table."

"I forget," she rambled, grabbing the headboard and pulling her self up, "you Americans move right from the breast to the tankard."

"You certainly have us pegged, Hermione," Joely laughed. "That liquor is pouring out of your bones. God."

"I need a headache potion," Hermione bumbled, pulling Joely down to her level.

"No, you need a toothbrush. Don't breathe on me. Hermione, you okay? Ew, green does not become you." Hermione threw up all down Joely's front. "Glad to know I could be used as a toilet."

"My headache's gone."

.....................

Breakfast was peppy and very energetic. Even the few Slytherins notorious for never sporting a smile or an ounce of happy-like expressions seemed to don a different scowl that wasn't of the demeaning or fearsome nature. It almost made various students wonder what had been slipped into their food or drink this morning.

Hopefully the ride home would be just as pleasing.

"No, Hagrid, I want to hear about you giving Dudley a pig's tail."

"Joely, that's old," Harry complained, fork still in mouth.

"I've never heard it!"

"Hang on. Hagrid, you told us you'd tell about Malfoy crying for his mum when he was hurt by Buckbeak," Ron jumped in.

"I can't ya that now, Ron," the half-giant whispered.

"No pig tail stories either," Harry chided.

"I best be catching up with Beaky. See you lot at the platform."

"She looks happy, doesn't she?"

"Yes, she does."

"She's happy and laughing, and none of it is because of you being with her. She's there, you're over here; almost having been completely apart this entire year except for a few instances. You're separation doesn't seem to be affecting her, and yet, here you are, sulking, alone and one of the three unhappiest people in this room."

"One of four of the unhappiest people, if you count Snape."

"You can't be unhappy if you've never known what happy feels like."

It was a good point, though the mentioning of Snape's unhappiness was moot. Looking around, the knowledge that there really were only three unhappy people present brought about no discomfort. Who cared how happy or sad others were. That was their issue. Better things were to be done than concerning oneself with another's problems. Hypocrite.

"Why are you unhappy?"

"Truly? I've done horrible things to someone I care very much about. I, um... I gave away his safe house. I led the enemy right to him. You see, he wanted to remain neutral through everything, but, he decided that neutral was only doing himself good. He wanted to prove to himself that he did have the ability to care about others, so he chose to fight for equality over power, going against everything he was taught. He made a stand. I lied to him that I wanted to do the same and he trusted me enough to be his secret-keeper. I've never been as strong as him, though. I couldn't take the pain and torture like he could and I gave up his location; I betrayed him. I had lost the best thing I've ever had that day: his friendship.

"But, just when I thought I was making some progress, she came along, shattering it all. I didn't know how I was going to make it through all the tough times when his attention was occupied elsewhere. I hated knowing that I was completely out of his head except for the hate he still had for me because I deceived him. So, I began to do everything I could to destroy that bond and make sure that I returned to being number one in his life. I knew of this other person that had just as must dislike for her as I did, and we tried to turn everyone against her; telling them anything, filling them with lies about her being dangerous and wanting to kill. But, uh, if backfired. In the end, she had more protectors and friends than I had bargained for. She had people, including the one I hurt, willing to risk their lives to save her from a horrible fate she doesn't deserve.

"Now, I've realized that I can't win him back, no matter how hard I try, and I've also destroyed the friendship he once had with his best friend by allowing him to become controlled by the one person that stands in the way of their happiness; and I can't take back what I did. In spite of all that, I think I'll always love him. I think... I think that giving up the fight for his heart will show him that I do care very much for him, and that I know his happiness won't be because of me, but because of her."

"You did hurt him."

"Do you think me telling him this will show him how sorry I am?"

"Yes."

"I miss him very much," she said. "Do you think he'll forgive me?"

"Yes."

"I have one," Seamus shouted, knocking over his juice. "All right. There's this man who walks into a pub and orders up pint after pint; totally getting legless. He walks into the loo and standing at the jacks, he looks beside him and sees a little man with a willy like he's never seen. So, he keeps lookin' back and forth at the little guy until he's noticed. The pissed fella looks at the small guy and says, 'I didn't mean to stare and I'm not a poof, but for bein' so small, you've got some size on ya.' The little guy says, 'Well, I'm a leprechaun. All leprechauns are big. Tell ya what, just for bein' the givin' leprechaun that I am, I'll grant ya a wish to be my size if you let me take you into that cubicle and have my way with ya.' Naturally the guy is scared by this and turns it down. So the leprechaun promises him that he'll be pleasing the ladies day and night, they won't get enough of him and he gives in. The leprechaun takes him into the cubicle, they have it off and when they were cleaning themselves up, the leprechaun looks that the guy and says, 'How old did ya say ya were?' 'Thirty-two,' the man says. The leprechaun shakes his head sadly and says, 'Tisk, tisk, thirty-two and still believing in leprechauns.'"

"Oh!" the table erupted.

"The luck of the Irish."

"Ya damn right, Dean. Isn't that right, Joely? With a name like McGill, there's always something good in every shag, eh?"

Joely clicked her teeth. "Are you like your partial name," she chucked a kipper at him, "Seamus, and flop around like a fin-less fish, never getting anyone done?"

"She got you, mate," Ron laughed.

"I'll have to use that on me da sometime."

"Do it!"

"No! Let me alone!"

"Destroy her! She's mine and yours to take for my doing."

"Get out of my head!"

"What's wrong, Blaise, not enjoying having me in you? Is this not what you bargained for when you met Pansy and I in the forest? When you are done with Joely, your next target is my traitor of a sister. Draco... you will leave alone to suffer."

"You said that we'd both benefit from this. You said it would be quick and easy and I could do it my way."

"You will get what I promised to you, but after I'm finished with her."

"No! I want my part of the deal now or I'm calling it off. The agreement was I get Joely and you get her blood. I've got nothing as of yet!"

"If you're stupid enough to have agreed to this just so that she would become your piece of ass whenever you want, you deserve all the fine print you didn't read. This contract is only breakable by my death or its fulfillment. Learn to enjoy my presence. It's the closest you'll get to the highest powers of this world."

"Leave me the fuck alone, Damon. I don't want to do this anymore. I want out!"

"You'll do-- AH! --- as I say. Bring her to me!"

"Oi, Hermione, your joke now," Seamus squealed, fighting Dean with wedges of toast.

"Hermione wouldn't stoop to tell a dirty joke, would you, Mya?" Joely mocked.

Hermione threw a handful of grapes across the table at the unsuspecting girl. "That's for not only not having the faintest clue as to what kinds of jokes I know, but for the kipper you tossed at Seamus. Poor thing can't defend himself against such cruel antics."

"Right! Hermione, you scolded me for a derogatory remark about a carrot."

"There were first years around," she reasoned. "I won't have them tainted with such vulgarity if I'm around. They're very impressionable."

"I raise my white flag," Joely confessed, hand over heart. "Off with the joke."

"All right," she smirked. "This one will get you going. There's this school bus on its way to a museum; it crashes in a grisly accident, falling into a ravine and killing every single girl on board with their teacher, Sister Agatha. All of them are standing at the gates into heaven and St. Peter tells them that to pass into heaven, they must answer one question, truthfully. With the first girl in line he says, 'Now, Jennifer, in honesty, and God will know, have you ever touched a penis?'"

"Hermione Granger!" Parvati gasped.

"Jennifer replies, 'I have, St. Peter, but I promise that it was just my finger.' Peter says, 'All right, dip your finger into the Holy Water and you shall pass.' Doing as told, she's allowed entrance. The next girl steps forward and Peter repeats the question. 'Olivia, have you ever touched a penis?'"

"Granger?" said Draco, flabbergasted, standing behind Ginny.

Hermione waved Draco off. "Olivia stands in front of Peter, her head low in shame and says, 'Yes, St. Peter, I have, only in my hand, though.' He tells her to dip her entire hand in the water and then pass through. Suddenly, this raucous breaks loose, all the girls pushing to get to the front of the queue. Peter starts shouting, 'Girls, girls, you'll all have your chance. Settle please. Now, Sarah, what is the problem? Why is everyone so eager to pass?' Sarah says, 'If I'm going to have to gargle that water, I want to do so before Victoria sticks her arse in it.'"

Forks, spoons, bits of food were dropping all around the area. Scrambled eggs visible in Ron's gaping mouth; Joely spat her mouthful of apple juice across the table, spraying Hermione and Parvati. That was the most unexpected thing to have ever come out of Hermione Granger's mouth, many thought.

"Oi!" Parvati shouted, pelting Joely with a sausage link.

Ginny looked to her left at Joely, nodding slightly, then to her right at Harry, winking with a signal. Reaching behind her, she grabbed the hem of Draco's jumper and pulled him down below the tabletop.

"Unless you enjoy the bugger of time it is removing eggs from jumpers, I suggest you duck."

"What are you on about, Weasley?"

Eggs, bacon, fruit, yogurt, and various other breakfast foods began landing all around him; his mouth scowling as his hair dripped with pumpkin juice. It was a food fight at the Gryffindor table.

"Children, students," Dumbledore reprimanded, firmly, but with a just visible lazy grin dancing on his wise wrinkles, "I apologize for my having to bring extinction to your fun before Professor McGonagall, who is rushing here presently, but Miss Parkinson would like to discuss a few things with you Miss Granger and you Mr. Malfoy. In my office, please."

"What have you done?" Minerva admonished.

Upon Dumbledore's departure, the food-armed soldiers gazed at their devastation. Food was everywhere, to say the least. Harry had his sausage links sprout arms and legs, fighting atop his head, Dean had buns magically sealed to his ears and Ginny's hair donned a jellied crumpet, and was "gifted" with an orange enhanced bust. The eight involved suffered war wounds in various degrees, the surrounding innocents had their scars as well. It was all a tragic ending.

................................................

"Come along, students, the Hogwarts express waits for no one. Everyone into a carriage. Miss Kohler, you may not dictate who accompanies you in your carriage," said Flitwick, austerely.

Draco looked at the school, staring at the owl tower, and then catching one last glimpse of the pitch before they began to leave. Though the day was bright, warm and cloudless, an aura of somber hung over the institution. It was uneasy and screamed of dark times to come. The black sphere Draco sensed spoke to him in a voice that accompanied a noxious rattle like that of an annoying, tinny bell; the tone that he heard in his dreams. It warned him that torture was close at hand; sooner than expected; torture of every kind. He heard distressed screams and vicious shouts of curses, cries and pleads for help, mercy, and begs for forgiveness; someone gasping for air and praying that they be bestowed with the gift to be set free and granted their wish of going home.

Visions of a gathering of men, women and children, dressed in black, passing him by, shaking his hand and giving condolences for his loss, blurred his eyes. The ground beneath his feet was moist and his shoes squished in its wetness. A tombstone stood at the front. To its side, a portrait told of who had been laid to rest in eternal peace. He was alone, entirely, on his knees at the grave, pounding the ground with his fists and shouting angry words, cursing the dead for their having abandoned him. On the headstone was carved a quote, "I would rather live and love where death is king, than where love is not."

Draco exited his carriage and stepped onto the platform, looking down the train's length to its caboose. There Tyler stood, hazy and in pixilated pieces like a mirage. He blinked and strained his eyes for clarity.

"Go," Hagrid said quietly.

"She doesn't know I'm here," Tyler told Draco as he reached him. "Only you can see me."

"If I miss my train, it's your head."

"You won't, look."

With a vile jerk to his body, the scene around them solidified. The leaves of the trees were dead still, the smoke above the train's chimney stood, poised and stiff like cardboard. Nothing moved so much as a nanometer; children were sculpted like ice in mid-air jumping out of the coaches.

"Time has been frozen. When this is over, you'll return to the platform and time will begin again from there. No one will have known the difference."

"What do you want?" Draco spat, his cheeks blistered with red.

"To give you some excellent advice; though it is against how I normally treat people crushing the life out of Joely, I felt obligated." Draco turned his back on Tyler. "Your ears are going to hear what I have to say, so the childish act of facing away is worthless. Are you going to cross your arms and let out a big puff of your just punctured ego next? Why pretend I'm not here?"

Draco shrugged. "Wishful thinking, perhaps?"

"We have to talk," Tyler spoke, calmly.

"Is this useful or are you going to blubber?"

"I see how you look at her," Tyler offered, empathically.

"When did it become your business how I look at people? I don't know if I should be flattered or disgusted and beat you to a bloody pulp. I just might've given you the opportunity to watch me change into my pajamas and tuck myself into bed, but killing you sounds so much more desirable."

Tyler clenched his fists inside his trouser pockets, his face unfeeling and enigmatic. Those who knew Tyler were aware that he wasn't one to hold back his feelings and thoughts. Well, that wasn't true. He did hide, but, his shielding was reserved for when outcomes were worse than being in the shadows of emotions, which, fortunately, he had only forced himself into once. He didn't regret it for he was granted with the love that can't be broken or tarnished, but still had a gap missing within himself that had once been filled.

"This is none of your business, Greene."

"It is my business, Malfoy. This is my friend, my best friend, not some random Joe in the crowd. This is someone I'd risk my life for."

"I did risk my life for her! I fucking stuck my neck right onto the execution block, you bastard!" Draco snapped. He wasn't going to let someone who only knew one side of the story, and having been told it from a dim recollection at that, be the absolute truth. He rushed in two steps, coming face-to-face with Tyler, the hair on the back of his neck singeing. "You know what I wanted in return for saving her?"

"The one thing she can't give you."

"You think you're so cheeky. I wanted a promise that she'd never lie to me again. She promised me that from this point on, she would either answer me truthfully or not at all. I deserve that! I know she can't tell me everything, if anything, but at least give me the dignity to know that I'm not twiddling my thumbs and so many years from now will be no further than I am presently. Like it or not, if she's just blowing smoke up my arse so that I'll fight for her, I'll see her die in Damon's hand before I put up with that."

"You should already know the answers to all that. Joely's always talked in code. Always. She and I have our own little language, and gods help anyone who can decipher it for their jaws will drop. If you could read between the lines, and they're very fine lines at that, you'd see that chances are good that she's telling you everything you want to know, and it be the gos-ass-pel truth. She talks around the subject, filling the blanks with something equivalent that most people can relate to. The way she talks is so that she won't feel pain should she say the wrong thing. Learn to speak her way. You won't be disappointed. But, if you think she's just keeping you at her side so you'll save her neck again, you're nothing short of the biggest living idiot. I could make a fortune showcasing you to freak show lovers. I know you though, despite never seeing you, I have been filled in by higher sources. You want the words."

"You're damn right I do!" Draco fussed.

"People in hell want ice water," Tyler raved, laughing. "She couldn't say it to Cody until he was dead. Though, he could say it to her."

"Why waste my breath and speak when there won't be an answer?" Draco spat back, his eyes glazed with malice. The scene looked to be becoming a pissing contest. Any minute, shirts were going to be ripped off and there would be a skin-on-skin brawl or rulers were going to drawn, measuring whose was bigger.

"Fuck hearing things, Malfoy! See it in her eyes! Feel it in her touch! Be grateful you have that much! It's nice to hear, believe me, but it's not the only way to make a clear statement. Actions speak louder than words! Stop thinking about what you want. You'll have time to brood on that later, believe me."

"What do you know? You're dying inside because this is about me and not you," Draco cackled, shrewdly.

"Shut up. You know nothing of how this makes me feel."

"If the feelings were really there, she'd tell me."

"You want her to go through all the pain that can be inflicted upon her so that you can hear three little words that are often overused and never meant?"

"Yes!" Draco screamed. "She would go through any amount of pain because if it was there, she would want me to know!" Draco paced about in a huff, stomping on the ankle-high grass, carving his worry circle.

Was it so damn hard for Tyler to understand? If you love someone, you want them to know, right? That was how things worked. You be honest with someone no matter what the cost. Why were there exceptions for Joely? She had to follow the rules just like everyone else. It made room for doubt and fear that affections weren't breathing in her. But, on another note, not to be hypocritical as Malfoys just weren't that way, he had made exceptions for himself that he wasn't speaking his longings for her. It was all so damn confusing!

Tyler watched his adversary glide about in the grass. What in the hell does she see in him? What makes him so god damn special? It wasn't hard for him to see why Joely made such a fuss over Draco in trying all the ways she could to show him how she felt without hurting her. These days, things seemed unattainable unless physical proof was evident that wants and wishes could be reached. Draco really was the kind that didn't understand something unless it was right in front of his face, or in this case, being screamed into his ears. It was now or never to bring the truth out of Draco.

"It's scary at first, isn't it?"

"What?" Draco asked, his eyes wide with curiosity.

"Being in love."

Draco laughed rudely. "Get off my case, Greene, and find someone to tell your pathetic love stories to. Love doesn't exist. It's all over-commercialized nonsense."

"If you don't believe in love, then why are you so desperate to hear it from Joely, and how to do you explain how pathetically obvious you are in how you feel about her? It can't be only sexual attraction because we both know that hasn't happened and won't anytime soon because that will kill her. You remember what I told you about her "headaches," right? He still has that much control over her so you better mind yourself this summer! Is it just physical because you can touch?"

"Bollocks."

"Look, Malfoy," said Tyler sharply. "You want to wallow in guilt of not hearing or saying it, go ahead. Knock your designer socks off. I'm all for it. But," he hissed, stopping Draco by the bend of his retreating arm, pulling them together until their foreheads nearly touched, "I'm not going to put up with her crying to me because you screwed up. I will not stand for her to think that your inability to also be truthful is her fault because she can't speak those words, and you can't suck it up and tell her how you feel. Be a man! Face the music that you're in love with her. You tell her and I guarantee you that she'll find a way to say it back in a better way than measly words. You're human! Humans love!"

"Get stuffed, Tyler. What do you know about love? That girl you're chasing at Salem won't even so much as spit on your shoes. Quite a knowledge of affection you have."

"I've been in love all my life, you self-absorbed punk. I faced the music at Christmas. Christmas, I told Joely I was in love with her and she denied me; I lost her. I lost her to you! Of all people, you! You hurt her anymore than you already have and I will feed you to Damon, alive."

With another yank to his body, Draco was back on the platform, next to Hagrid. The crowd was moving again.

.............................................

Draco sat alone in his compartment, gazing out the window and miserably counting the trees the train zipped past. The scenery reflected his insides despite the bright and glorious sun shining behind the downcast façade of a woeful veil he saw. He cursed the burning star's glowing aura that he couldn't see. The grass' and tree's usual vivid green appearance was muddy brown; thick, sticky and revolting. The flowers were dull and unappealing, bent over in mournful bows as if left for dead in an unnourished vase. Looking out the glass windows of the door, the passers-by buzzed along, heads high, their faces alight with dreams of summer fun. Though he heard giggles and saw lower-aged girls skipping about with the dead flowers, praising them for their beauty, all he saw was depression.

Draping the glass windows, he changed out of his uniform, spitting on it vehemently and pondering burning the misery, and again shook the legs of his trousers straight; his cherished picture flittered through the air. Snatching it up, he held it to his chest over his heart, doing as before and recalling the day it had been taken. He wanted memories like that, but, he wanted them in excess that he couldn't count how many he had, nor be able to remember the last day he was sad.

He opened the compartment door and everything flourished with colors. Out the outside window, the setting was brilliant and perfect; the epitome of the Scottish countryside. The corridor was lustrous in leaking-in sunshine; the carpets were soaked with burnished radiance. Even he himself had color. He stepped back into his compartment; it was a film noir all over again; the outside dank and dismal. He ran out the door, panting and scratching his tongue against his teeth. The room left a nasty taste in his mouth.

"Now do you see the torment you will endure unless you release her to me?"

Draco tilted his head, cracking his neck. He tried to ignore the comment and visualized the wanker next to him suffering as he had and exiled to a place with no escape.

"You may think you're keen, Zabini, but I am wise to who is dancing about like a queen in your head. Do you hear me, Damon?" Blaise's eyes covered with a black shield. "Oh yes, you hear me clearly. She will never be yours, and mind who you come near; I will kill your vessel if you overstep. Joely is mine and you will cede your control of her."

"Correction," Blaise spoke in Damon's tone, "she will always be mine. I have something of her that she will never be given back. Soon, I will make her an offer she can't refuse. I will have my way, Draco Xavier Malfoy, and when I do, you will forever feel the pain I did when she leaves you behind. You will be resting in heart-wrenching pieces for the rest of your life." Blaise disappeared in a black haze.

"Kelly!" Draco growled, pulling at his hair.

"Draco, sweetheart, you're much too handsome to appear so vicious when you're mad."

"Any illuminating ideas?"

"You're about three hours from King's Cross... I always find that reading helps the time to pass."

"You want me to read?" he attacked. "How is reading a bloody book going to help me execute Da - Um..."

Draco stumbled about with excuses as Joely stepped up beside him. Though she stood tall and strong, her eyes told of weakness and desperation for love. Standing on her tiptoes, she brought his head down and kissed his lips. Hugging him tightly and kissing him again, she stepped away.

"No more, Draco. Move on and live the life we can't."

"She's just as pushy as her bedeviled father. What do you say we dig about in this for a while?" Kelly chimed.

At Draco's feet, nearly crushing his toes, dropped a tome that rumbled the ground beneath with seismic measurements. He laughed under his breath.

.........

Studying his compartment, he sunk to a low and cast a pepping charm to bring doom to the gloom that reigned over his space; the outcome worse than its predecessor. The smiley face wallpaper was toxic to his retinas; the music of high-pitched creatures bounced off walls, little music notes floating about with a noxious flair. Rainbows! He had rainbows streaking the sky outside his windows! He blasted the illnesses before him away, being left with a sane and typical compartment.

He draped the windows and switched on the light; sprawling out onto the bench with his recommended read for the remainder of the ride. He booed at the Malfoy crest on the inside cover. He wasn't surprised that his father had kept these books secret. They were powerful weapons no doubt; ones he surely had perchance used. He did, surprisingly, feel a bit of gratitude toward Lucius. The continuous battle with everyone to find out what he could, and finding out most on his own, stroked his ego and gave him a sense of not only accomplishment, but a thirst to continue his crusade. But, after the head swelling died down, his heart plunged into his stomach. What if even after all his suffering, he still couldn't have all of Joely, the way he wanted her? He couldn't put up with losing. He was grateful for the little that he had, but he wasn't going to get what Damon had no use for.

"Knock off the pessimism," Kelly scolded. "Tell the book what you request."

Glowering with narrow eyes, Draco took hold of Ancient Ones to Zealous Types: Curses for Your Everyday Activities, Volume II, Blood Magic, and spoke to it firmly. "I want love curses cast via athamés."

The book closed itself then opened right back to the page that Draco demanded to see. Skimming the rest of the book, all the pages were blank.

"One? One measly curse?"

"This world is bitter enough as is. It doesn't need more than one to destroy," Kelly told.

Congratulations on choosing to forever bind your victim to you with eternal love. Use this spell correctly and you will reap all the benefits that unwilling love has to offer. Be sure to have the ingredients listed below before beginning.

Draco cocked an eyebrow and scowled. It read like pathetic infomercials spoke. He could even see the low-grade host smiling and holding the product high as though it should be idolized. Then again, there were many out there who would perhaps kill for this book, desperate enough to have love, even if it was unwillingly.

Ingredients:

Dagger, athamés, or knife of choosing. Personal creations or those made specifically for controlling curses (recommended store for purchase: Vlad's Vehements, Romania) are best. Ordinary kitchen knives are too weak for the control that it will exude.

A liquid of any kind that is sentimental or favored by your victim. Fragrances are a hassle and can burn the skin and open flesh. Natural materials are preferred.

Well, that cut out the idea of Damon using a perfume. He was a picky bugger; he didn't want visible flesh marred on Joely. That was especially clear when he would go to so much trouble to hide the obscene bruises he created.

Blood of the unwilling... Must be removed from forearm.

Blood of the castor... Again, must be removed from forearm.

Marble bowl, large enough to accommodate blood, liquid and cursing element.

She or he who is to love and cherish you for all eternity.

Astrological and lunar perfection according to castor's birth.

Night of the day prior, soak the casting element in an amalgam of three parts liquid to one part castor blood in your marble vessel. Blood is much more potent than water; precise measurements are pivotal. These liquids will be your mirror link. The necessity for the mirroring is that you must be connected to your victim through life essences, bringing the two together, and then invoking the powers of the union in the bowl. The union of the two bloods before the coupling of the liquid and castor's blood will cancel each other. Special attention must be made to this merging if mage ancestry is involved within your victim. Amalgamation of the two bloods will cause mage blood to swallow the lesser of the two, the castor becoming the controlled and cursed. All hopes will die and you will have failed. Too, mixture of cherished liquid and soon-to-be-cursed blood will also overpower the blood of the castor; again, they becoming the controlled and cursed.

Draco's heart skipped a beat; thumping painfully against his chest. The note of the mage ancestry twisted his insides. Joely was of mage descent.

"Joely's part mage," Draco spoke to Kelly.

"More than part, sweetheart."

"She's not whole mage, that much I know about her."

"Ask her about it. She'll tell you."

Draco continued to read. Day or night of, immobilizing your victim, invoke the union in the bowl.

Using casting element only, retrieve the blood of your victim from their forearm. Here, the bloods combine, the blade swallowing your victim's life essence, and the favorite liquid and the blood of the castor envelope the newly harnessed addition to its union. The bond within the blade and mirror is set.

Using element again, create a slash to the back of the neck and shout the name of this curse as you do so only once. The combined bloods will seep into the wound, the power of the curse taking root in the heart. There will be pain in them with all impureness that is not of your doing. Thoughts will bring thumping pain to the head and lower abdominal area, illing them. Touches or embraces will cause the body to sear and singe; kisses will burn the lips and throat; coitus will be death, slow and painful.

If alterations are wanted to surpass the fundamentals of this curse, perform them solely on the back, just as with done to the neck, stating one restriction with each mar, taking mind not to act upon the same wound twice as this will cancel the alteration. When the wounds are touched by one of attraction, each will open and bleed. Only time and phoenix tears can close the mutilations. Enjoy the wonder that is Amor Blasphemorum Aeternus is.

Draco smirked wide and laughed manically. He had Damon now. Oh did he ever.

Just as he closed the book, the train jolted to a stop; they were at King's Cross.

He didn't exit the train immediately, but instead watched out the window to catch site of her. One by one her friends and schoolmates jumped off the locomotive for a well deserved summer holiday of fun, but Joely was absent from the frenzy. Finally, he had waited long enough and disembarked himself, shrinking his book and pushing it deep down into his trouser pocket.

He stood poised like a statue, still scanning what was left of the Hogwarts crowd. She hadn't left, that he knew, they were returning to Malfoy Manor together. She was quite capable of taking care of herself, she didn't really need him to be her bodyguard, but Blaise was on the warpath with Damon living inside his head, and he needed to clear the air of some things with her. Peeking her head around a column, she signaled to him to come over and read the letter she held.

"They're going to be late," she said, tossing the parchment at him, slumping down the column. "They're stuck in Perth. All magical forms of departure are on hold until they sort out some mishaps with some splinched travelers."

Draco's eyes twinkled as he read the notice. Possibly late in upwards of two hours at least, it said. It did mention that they could return to the manor by themselves if they desired, but that they, their mothers, wanted them to pick one place and stay until they arrived home. Draco liked the concept of the staying at the station, this would give him a chance to sit Joely down and let all his realizations out in the open, while being at the manor would give her plenty of places to hide from him.

"Do you want to stay and wait, or do you want to grab a carriage in Diagon Alley back to the manor?" Draco asked, crumpling the letter.

"I guess we could wait. I don't really have anything else to do. What about you?"

"I do have something to do, but it's between you and me."

"Draco, what I said on the train I meant," she barked, throwing her hands up in defense.

"I don't really give a rat's arse what you said on the train because you didn't mean it. Am I right?"

Joely bowed her head then bent over and sunk her face into her jeans. Up and down her back fell in short bursts; Draco watched her shirt rise and fall, showing glimpses of the skin on her lower back, one scar poking its silvery shimmer out from under the black material to be noticed by his eyes. She jumped up and shoved Draco hard. He followed her as close as he could, his long strides giving him an edge to her short running sprints. He bumped people right and left into the people Joely wiggled past like slime between fingers, knocking them down harshly, almost tripping head over heels over an old woman's snail-slow trolley.

At the back of the station where the trains exited, she jumped off the platform and ran across the tracks, her pant leg ripped on a track stake, bringing her to an abrupt and painful halt. Draco picked her up around her middle and held her against him as she kicked and screamed.

"No!"

"Do you want people to think I'm attacking you?" he whispered softly. He had to calm her down before attention was attracted.

"No!"

"No what?"

"No," she panted, giving up her struggle, "I didn't mean it."

"Then why say it? You promised me no more lies. You promised, Joely. I'm not going to waste my time trying to help you if you're going to keep lying to me, damn it." She fell to the ground, and he picked her up and carried her to the platform's edge, tenderly setting her down. "I have to use my own two feet to carry me, use yours."

"Leave me alone and let me feel sorry for myself in peace."

Draco gave one hard sarcastic laugh. "You mean leave you alone to walk in front of one of these moving trains. You're a funny one."

"Are you stupid? I don't have the guts to kill myself. Despite all this trash I've got to handle, I actually want to live."

"That's good news for me. Now I don't have to worry about taking precious time out of my self-loving schedule. It takes up most of my day. Standing in the mirror and adoring my self really takes a lot out of you. Especially when you're as dashing as I am." Joely snorted under her breath making Draco grin. "But all humor aside, there are more important issues we need to talk about."

"Like what Pansy was so eager to tell you and Hermione?" she pressed, chewing on her tongue.

"No, you nosy bint. I'm more interested in discussing us." Joely slapped the concrete platform, faking amusement. "Tell me about Amor Blasphemorum Aeternus."

Joely's chest collapsed in, tiny tears streaking down her cheeks, glinting in the overhead lights. She didn't bumble with mumbled words mixed with whimpers; no cries, no sighs. Her face remained deadpan. She stared at Draco as he smirked devilishly, hoping that what parts of Joely Damon still controlled heard his declaration that he knew exactly what had been done to her. Her head shook violently and her eyes flashed black just has Blaise's had, but the lavender was now covered with ruby. She pushed him away again, only to have him grab her by the arms and push her against the front of the engine, pinning her against it, her arms bolted above her, her wrists locked in his hands.

He crushed his lips to hers, letting a fire roar before removing himself. He opened his mouth and bit as much of her neck as he possible. He scraped his teeth along her hairline, down her collarbone, then back up again to rest his teeth where her neck and shoulder fused before biting down like a predator to its dinner. The quake that escaped her as she tugged at his hair betrayed her ardent position of firmness against him. Draco growled and grinned in absolute male intoxication. Her knees wanted to give way to the feelings of rapture and sincerity in his caresses and touches. Draco braced her with his knee placed between her legs, never letting her fall. She ground against him as she grabbed at his sides right under his ribcage, digging her barely there but sharp nails into his dark linen shirt and indenting his skin. A lumped formed in his throat as she suckled his ear; an ache, strong enough that he knew he hadn't felt in ages filled every region of his lower body. Her palms itched to touch more of him. She pulled him roughly against her; her body trembled with the effort she tried to exude to prohibit her from doing such. He bit her lower lip, their lips welded together, hearts pounded in unison as he picked her up and wrapped her legs around him, wanting them tight as though typing him under a bow; hair ruffled, hips ground furiously against each other. They broke.

"Why do you keep coming back?" she panted, holding tightly to his hips.

"For the same reasons you do. I'm in too deep and it's not painless to walk away so I refuse myself the chance to." He put one finger to her lips, silencing her sputtering words. "Say one thoughtless remark to that and you'll be in tiny pieces." Joely winked.

"I was going to say that I think you bit me too hard."

"A Malfoy loves wisely, only falling in love, real love, just once, and when they do, they make sure to mark what's theirs," he firmly stated.

Joely's eyes popped. "Run that by me again."

"You'll never know love unless you surrender to it. You told me once that I'm something worth fighting for and you fought for me. Putting your self through hell no matter how hard I pushed you away saying that I didn't need you, when I needed you more than air. I never asked you for any of that because you knew it needed to be done so you willingly took the pain and heartache and suffering for me, knowing then that the chances of something more between us being slight. You're at the end of your rope, Joely. You need me now though you won't say so. It's my turn to go through hell for you so that you'll see that you're something to me if not to anyone else. Through it all, I'm going to stand by you and do whatever it takes to prove that what's between us will be more than just a very naughty dream." Joely chuckled. "I'm a fantastic erotic dream, aren't I?"

"You really shouldn't be saying things like that to me. I can't think about those things right now, Draco. It would be so wrong of me to let you put your life on the line. I have to be smarter than before. A smart girl kisses but never falls in love, listens by never believes, and leaves before she is left." She squeezed her legs tighter.

"Oh yeah, tempting me with your tight legs is so ingenious of you."

"I'm smart enough to have everyone believing my lies."

"That's not something to be proud of, love."

"There are two types of lies in this world, Mr. Malfoy. There are lies that cover your life, and then there are lies that help you make it through your life."

"And you've got both weighing you down because you think people can't handle the truth about you," he said, twirling a few strands of hair between his fingers, massaging her scalp; her eyes fluttering at the euphoria. He crawled his fingers behind her neck, pushing her head down to rest on his chest, feeling the scar there; the scar that his book told would be there.

It wasn't hard to take notice that the two were there for the other. They hurt because of the other. They lived, breathed and existed solely for the other. Everything about them made sense. They were two beings destined to be one in this world or another.

"I don't think I have the strength to go through another Cody ordeal with you, Draco. You have no idea of everything that happened before or during that time. There's things about my dad and Damon's father that you would have to know. All of this isn't because of jealousy. It shouldn't have to be that way, but it is."

"You'll never know you're strength until you test it. Before you say it, yes, I heard that from your grandmother. I'm a new addition to your list of things that make you strong and I haven't even begun to get you fighting. Besides," he whispered, bringing her head up to look at him, kissing her softly, "nothing is the way it should be. That's why there's so few of us champions."

"I feel like breaking out into song," she harassed.

"Don't you dare," he smirked, grinding against her with a surge of urgency. With his hand embracing her cheek and the other splayed across her back, he kissed her again; the space around them frozen. He felt the few remaining scars on her back. "It begins here, Joely. From here on out, it's all about you and me."

"Make me believe it, Draco. Please, please make me believe it."

"I love you."