Moonlight on Malfoy Manor

     Chapter 1 - A Train Ride; Of Common Rooms and Gossip; Musings; A Dead Body and Potions Class.

The Hogwarts Express was already well on its way. Harry and Ron had played a few games of exploding snap and bought stacks of cauldron cakes from the plump witch with the tea trolley. Harry was now chomping on one as he looked out of the window at the rapidly passing landscape with the faint feeling of excitement that always gripped him on the journey to Hogwarts.

“What do you think they are talking about, eh?” Ron whispered indicating the only other occupants of their compartment - Ginny and Hermione. “They’ve been talking non-stop since we met in Diagon Alley the day before yesterday.”

Harry smiled. ‘They’re girls - girls talk’, was his simple take on the situation but he knew that Ron was nervous. He probably would be too if his girlfriend and sister were best friends.

Harry turned his attention back to the window. He had the vague feeling that something was missing. He had packed everything, he had checked…well not exactly, but anything he had forgotten he could buy at Hogsmeade or Mrs. Weasley would send it on. He had met most of the other Gryffindors on the platform or on the train. So what was the nagging feeling that refused to go away? Something was missing…

“Malfoy.” Ron growled as the compartment door slid open to reveal the familiar blonde form of Draco Malfoy. Harry smiled inwardly as the missing piece of the puzzle fell into place.

****************************************

Draco Malfoy had arrived early at platform nine and three quarters. He had come alone since Lucius Malfoy had been too busy to see him off… too busy trying to put up the front that he was still in Azkaban, the wizard prison. As if a place that flimsy actually held death eaters any more. Since the Dark Lord had risen again, no one truly guilty of his crimes ever stayed in prison long. Any one important was bailed out sometime in their first week and it was all done quietly. So quietly that not even the ministry, knew what was happening. The uses of polyjuiced muggles under the imperius curse.

He was so early in fact that the platform was deserted. The familiar scarlet steam engine stood ready and waiting. He had dismissed the house-elves after they had stowed away his school trunk and had casually strolled around the platform till the other students began to arrive. Then, he had retreated to the window seat of one of the compartments and people-watched, it was amazing what people did in a crowd when they thought no one was really watching.

Draco was really in no mood to make polite conversation with his Slytherin housemates, but he put on a good show nevertheless. It was such a good performance that even Blaise Zabini had not seen through it - a fact that pleased him to no end.

‘Roll out the red carpet and hand over the little golden statuette,’ he thought dryly.

But after a while his attention began to wander and his patience began to wear thin. He had the vague feeling that he had forgotten to do something. He got up and walked out of the compartment not really sure of where he was headed. Juniors scuttled out of his way and conversations came to abrupt ends as he made his way down the train. Draco saw it all and a sense of satisfaction settled on him. Then he smiled as he remembered what it was he had forgotten to do.

*****************************************

“Nice to see you too, Weasel. Still alive Scarhead? Pity! I heard prolonged contact with mudbloods can be potentially lethal…easy there Weasel. Wouldn’t want to see you hurt yourself,” Draco drawled as Harry grabbed a fistful of Ron’s robes and pulled him back.

“Repeat performance of the ‘Amazing Bouncing Ferret’ anyone?” Hermione asked.

“Sure. Why not, considering the star of the show has so kindly decided to drop by,” replied Ginny.

Draco whirled around and studied Ginny, “Another Weasel? How much garbage did you have to go through to find this one, Potter?”

“Not half as much as you had to go through to find that excuse for a personality, Malfoy.”

Draco raised his eyebrows in surprise at Ginny’s retort, “Your sister seems to have gotten in the right line for a brain, Weasel. What happened to you?”

“I opted for a shred of moral decency instead,” Ron said through clenched teeth.

“You always did go for the useless things.”

“Don’t knock useless things, Malfoy - you’d have no way to rationalize your existence,” Harry retorted.

“Ooh! Nice comeback, Potter. Been taking lessons from your girlfriend?” Draco smirked.

“At least there’s hope for Harry,” Ginny said as Harry rose to his feet.

     “What’s that supposed to mean, Miss Weasel?”

“Can’t teach someone to have a heart, Malfoy.”

Draco regarded Ginny through narrowed eyes, “How would you know Weasley - have you tried?”

“I wouldn’t bother Malfoy, it would be a waste of time.”

Ginny felt herself grow hot as Draco’s eyes traveled down her body before coming back to rest on her lips. “I think I could make it worth your while,” he said at last.

Ron sputtered indignantly; Harry made a move towards Draco as Ginny merely replied, “The only way you could make anything worth my while is if you drop dead, Malfoy.”

“I believe it's time for me to beat a tactical retreat,” Draco said as the train began pulling into the station.

“Running away, Malfoy?” Ginny raised her eyebrows.

“Those who fight and run away, live to fight another day,” Draco looked at Ginny and their eyes met for a fraction of a second. “This isn’t over Weasley.” With that Draco swept out of the compartment without a backward glance leaving Ron and Harry gaping at Ginny.

     ****************************************

Draco walked down the corridor towards the Slytherin common room where a group of lower years stood, waiting for a prefect to give them the password and let them in. Draco did not hurry; he walked in measured steps with his back straight and head up, arrogance and pride a palpable cloud around him.

The chattering died down and stopped as he came closer, the younger students silently parted to clear a way for him. The newly sorted first years sot him covert glances, too afraid to look openly. Draco Malfoy was something of a legend among the Slytherins. Stories about him abounded, stories that would have made him laugh if he had heard them. With each passing year they became more fantastic and more terrible. Each new batch of first years was told to stay out of his way if they wanted to graduate in one piece. Draco himself was unaware of these fables, accepting fear and respect as his birthright.

“Pureblood pride.” The door to the dungeon common room swung open and he walked in. Time was when he would have teased the newly sorted first years just for laughs, would have said nasty things and worked a few minor spells just to scare them and see which of them cried and which did not. Performed, so to say, his own sorting, separating the strong from the weak. But he was above that kind of play now. Instead he watched with amused eyes as juniors scurried out of his way or fell silent as he passed.

He walked to his favourite chair by the fireplace, a chair that no one else ever used - for good reason. Once in his fifth year, Draco had returned from a Transfiguration class and found a smug faced fourth year sitting in his chair. He had recognized the boy, the son of one his father’s friends. Draco had calmly told the boy to get the hell out of his chair but the boy had refused and pandemonium had ensued. Draco had grabbed his wand and begun shooting little sparks of green fire at the boy’s legs. Howling in pain the boy had leapt from the chair and run for cover but Draco’s anger had not quite abated and he continued to shoot sparks at the boy as he cowered behind various pieces of furniture. The other students had screamed and scattered as Draco had proceeded to set the whole common room ablaze with hot green smokeless flames. Calm had only returned when Professor Snape entered and quenched the flames. Draco had by this time put away his wand and seated himself in the only piece of furniture not on fire - his green leather chair.

Close questioning of the Slytherins had revealed nothing more than a spell gone wrong. The boy was sent to the infirmary to be treated for burns, as were a few other students. From that day on, no one had dared sit in Draco’s chair. Succeeding first years had been shown the scorch marks on the common room walls and been warned.

Draco now sat in front of the fireplace, his legs stretched out in front of him, the fire casting highlights in his silver hair, turning it gold. Most of the girls and a fair few boys gazed at him in silent adoration. Not even his worst enemies could deny that Draco Malfoy was beautiful - his reputation and behaviour, promising danger and excitement, only added to his appeal. Draco was well aware of the attention he attracted - he was powerful, rich, dangerous and good-looking - and he accepted it as his due.

Most nights Draco reveled in the attention and joked with the few other students who formed his inner circle. Today however, he ignored everyone and gazed into the fire, his brows knit in silent contemplation. It had been a long and unusually strenuous summer. His holidays had usually consisted of pleasant talks with his mother in the mornings during which they discussed everything from the History of Magic to Muggle literature. It was from Narcissa that Draco had inherited his love for Bach’s violin concertos and Byron’s poetry. The afternoons were usually spent lazing around or flying and the evenings were occupied by curt one-sided conversations with his father after dinner. On the evenings they had company, Draco was expected to act as the host, a part that he had played to perfection ever since he was ten. Weekends were devoted to ordering and trying on clothes sent from various shops - Malfoys never shopped. Draco loved clothes and was extremely fastidious in his tastes, which led to around eighty percent of the clothes being sent back. And so Draco had whiled away his holidays, rather pleasantly on the whole, - until Narcissa had died the previous year.

This summer had been different. His father had been agitated and irritable, he had been repeatedly brushed off with a curt “Not now, Draco.” Draco soon learnt the reason for his father’s agitation - the Dark Lord was planning something. What or where the plan was to be executed, Draco did not know. But within a week of his return, Draco had gathered enough to know that it was a complicated plan involving a certain degree of danger

It was then that his nightmares had begun. At first it had been a vague feeling of having dreamt bad things - things he could not remember when he woke up, more tired than when he had gone to bed. Then he began waking up at night gasping for breath, drenched in sweat and feeling fear - a vague unfocussed feeling that intensified as the weeks had passed. Then he started waking up to clear images and horrific screams echoing in his mind. Draco had not been able to sleep for days and there was no one he could go to for help.

All too soon it had been time for him to return to school. Draco had welcomed the idea thinking that maybe the oppressive atmosphere of the Manor was causing the nightmares and, once back in the somewhat calmer environs of Hogwarts, his sleep would resume it’s normal pattern and the nightmares that so plagued him would vanish. He sat now gazing into the fire, hoping fervently that this would be the case, yet knowing that the solution to his problem was not quite that simple. He resolved to put a soundproofing spell around his bed; should he wake up screaming in the night no one would know about it. It would not do for people to think that he, a Malfoy, was afraid of the dark. Potty and the Weasel would have a field day if they were to find out.

Draco’s thoughts wandered to the Potter club. Harry was almost as tall as Draco with the same seeker’s build. Ron had shot up beyond everyone’s expectations and now towered over them all. ‘And has about as much grace as a pregnant hippogriff,’ Draco thought. And he was not far wrong - Ron was as awkward as he had always been and to add to his misery, he simply did not know what to do with his long limbs. Hermione was not totally unfortunate looking, ‘For a Mudblood,’ he thought dourly. But of all the people in the compartment the one who had caught his attention the most had been Ginny with her sparkling eyes and whiplash tongue. Draco wondered why he had never noticed Virginia Weasley before.

     ****************************************

Ginny sat in the room she shared with Ashley and Elizabeth at the top of the Gryffindor tower. ‘Another year,’ she thought looking around, ‘another year and all this will be over.’ Ginny remembered her first day in Hogwarts as a scared first year waiting to be sorted. She had heard such dreadful stories about the sorting from Fred and George that she had been terrified.

She had fervently hoped to be in Gryffindor - her whole family had been in Gryffindor, how could she break with tradition? If only she got sorted into Gryffindor, then all the pieces of her life would fall into place, and they had. She was in the house she had wanted to be in; with two best friends she would not trade for the world. Ginny sighed contentedly - life was perfect!

“Did you see the size of the ring Pansy Parkinson was wearing? I hear she’s going out Gregory Goyle. Wonder what happened between her and Draco Malfoy?” Ashley said out aloud.

“Blaise Zabini happened,” came the dry reply from Elizabeth’s bed.

“But Goyle!” came Ginny’s choked response. “How could anyone possibly go out with that troll?”

“Now, now Ginny, be fair. He may be a troll, but he’s a rich troll.”

“But what happened between Pansy and Draco? They were pretty okay till about the beginning of last term.”

“Well. Let’s see, Draco Malfoy decided he did not want to go out with Pansy Parkinson who happened to be cramping his style by her loud mouth and dress sense and so he dumped her. Blaise on the other hand is a good dresser and probably knows a good many ways of using her mouth in and on private without straining her vocal chords in public.”

“But I still don’t understand why Pansy would go out with Goyle,” said Ginny with a frown.

“Ginny, have you seen Goyle since you’ve been here?” Ashley asked in response.

“No, I saw Malfoy when he came to taunt Harry and the others on the train, but he came alone. Why?”

“Well because, Gregory Goyle has turned into quite a treat for the eyes,” Elizabeth replied and then continued at Ginny’s horrified expression. “He’s still a troll for all that he has to say, but as long as he keeps his mouth closed, he’s quite pleasant to look at. I hear he went to ‘Madam Katrina’s Magical Salon for the Perfect You’ during the summer. Flab has now turned to muscle. He even looks qualified to be Malfoy’s henchman now. Besides which, his family is rolling in ‘it’ and he’s the only Slytherin, apart from Crabbe, who is dumber than Pansy.”

“Plus I always thought that Malfoy's good looks were wasted on Pansy. He could have done much better than her, as he apparently has.”

“Ashley Joanna James!” Ginny’s horrified shriek rang out in the room. “How can you say that about Malfoy?! He’s Malfoy, he’s a Slytherin - he’s the amalgamation of all that is slimy and creepy and crawly!”

“Aw! C’mon Ginny, be fair. All that you just said notwithstanding, Draco Malfoy is gorgeous. He and Blaise make the perfect couple,” Ashley remarked.

“Him with his cold icy looks and she with her fiery hair and blazing green eyes,” Elizabeth said theatrically. “No offence Ginny, but I always thought Blaise had what it takes to thaw Malfoy in more ways than one.”

Ashley nodded in assent; “I overheard Lavender telling Parvati that she’d seen Draco and Blaise sneak into one of the empty Charms classrooms after dinner.”

“I hope they get caught,” Ginny snorted.

“Virginia Weasley! Are you telling me that you do not find Draco Malfoy's porcelain looks to be the least bit attractive?”

“But he’s not a nice guy.”

“Yes, but he’s the only seventh year who can single handedly make all the female hearts in Hogwarts beat faster and some male ones as well,” quipped Elizabeth.

“But what about Seamus, Dean, Harry, Justin? I know he’s my brother and all that, but even Ron’s not a bad proposition.”

“Ah! But he’s taken, by the Head girl no less. We wouldn’t want Hermione to take points off Gryffindor for insubordination. Besides we like Hermione too much to even consider prying Ron away from her. They look so sweet together, and they’ve been best friends forever which makes it even more perfect.”

Elizabeth jumped up at that last word, “I saw Hermione wearing the most beautiful silver ring on her finger. Did Ron give it to her?”

“Yes,” Ginny relied, “Hermione had shown him the ring in a Celtic jewellery catalogue last term. He’d been saving up money to buy her a birthday present, so he bought the ring for her this time.”

“How sweet!” Ashley and Elizabeth chorused.

“Anyway, what about Seamus, Dean and Harry? What’s wrong with them?”

“Well, you were going out with Dean last year, so we assumed he’s off limits. Why did you guys break up?” Elizabeth asked.

“It’s not easy dating a guy when all six of your brothers decide to take your hydrophobic boyfriend swimming. Apart from which we weren’t doing so good as a couple. It was easy talking to him, especially when Fred and George were not using their extendable ears, but he was a little too boring for fun. So feel free to sink your hooks into him whenever you wish. What about Seamus?”

“Seamus? Ginny? How long have you been away that you’ve forgotten he’s not into girls?” Ashley asked.

“Sorry, slipped my mind,” Ginny replied. Looking at Elizabeth she asked, “What about Justin?”

For a second Elizabeth was silent as she concentrated on a speck of dirt on the floor. Then she looked up and said, “I don’t know guys. I really like him, but I’m not sure there’s much of a future in this relationship, so I keep stalling. What do you think I should do?” she asked with a frown.

“It’s okay Liz, everything will be fine. Just go with the flow and if it doesn’t work out, remember, your best friend has six very annoyingly good looking brothers she can fix you up with.” Elizabeth smiled at Ginny as Ashley winked conspiratorially at them.

“How are the brothers, Gin? Any of them single yet?”

“Yeah, Percy!” Ginny laughed as the other two rolled their eyes.

“No offence Ginny, but other than him anyone?” Ashley asked hopefully.

“Well, Bill is seeing Fleur, though Mom grumbles every time he owls to say he’s bringing her home. I don’t think she’s gotten over the time she caught them snogging on the breakfast table,” Ginny laughed.

“Fred, Angelina, George and Katie keep having two a side Quidditch matches on and off. They claim old habits are hard to break. Besides that they are very busy with the joke shop. They’re even thinking of setting up a chain of shops called ‘Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes’. That just leaves Charlie and the only thing that can keep his attention for more than twenty seconds at a stretch is a dragon. So unless he finds a woman who can change into one, I don’t think he’ll ever get hitched. Sorry guys, but I’ll let you know as soon as there is a vacancy. Till then, I guess you’ll simply have to make do with Harry.”

“Now there’s a problem ’coz as for Harry, it’s bloody hard to tell where the girls hovering around him end and he begins. I didn’t even know there were so many girls in Hogwarts before they started crawling out of the woodwork and all over him,” Elizabeth said. “Besides which I thought Harry was already spoken for.”

“What do you mean?” Ginny asked confusedly.

“Well I did hear Moaning Myrtle singing something to the tune of -

     He’s got black hair and green eyes

     I can’t wait for when he dies…

     For then we can share

     the toilet over there…

or something like that. Catchy isn’t it?” Ashley chortled as Elizabeth burst out laughing at the look on Ginny’s face.

“Kidding apart,” Ashley continued a little more seriously then before, “are you sure you won’t mind Harry being taken?”

“Ashley,” Ginny moaned, chucking a pillow at her friend, “I got over Harry Potter a long time ago, as you very well know. Besides which…”

“Besides which Ginny is busy being courted by Gareth,” Elizabeth finished for her.

“I am not,” Ginny blushed hotly as her fingers grasped protectively at the crystal pendant she wore afraid it might give away something. Both Ashley and Elizabeth saw her furtive gesture.

“Hey Gin, I’ve been meaning to ask you - what are you wearing around your neck?”

“Yeah! Who gave that to you? Gareth?”

Ginny rolled her eyes heavenward - sixth year would be a lot harder to get by if Ashley and Elizabeth kept up their teasing.

“No, Gareth did not give me the pendant. My brother Charlie did,” Ginny gave a disgusted grunt as Elizabeth and Ashley made appreciative noises at the mention of Ginny’s favourite brother. “He got it from Romania over the summer as a belated birthday present. It grows cold when someone near me intends to harm me, or wishes me ill.”

“And what happens when someone wishes you a different kind of harm?” Ashley sniggered.

“Nothing,” Ginny lied. Actually the pendant grew warm or cold depending upon the intentions of the person she was in immediate contact with, but if she told them this, Ginny would never hear the end of their teasing every time they saw Gareth.

Ginny looked wistfully at the photographs on her bedside table. One of them had her whole family waving at her from the backyard of the Burrow; the others were of the vacations spent with Harry, Ron and Hermione at the Burrow. But the one photograph that caught her attention was of Gareth, Colin, Ashley and herself at Hogsmeade. Colin was trying his hardest to keep a hold on a squirming Ashley and Gareth was looking at Ginny as though he had no other occupation in life. Ginny smiled to herself and wished for the umpteenth time she knew how she felt about Gareth. He was nice - probably the nicest guy in her class - smart, witty, intelligent and definitely good-looking. Ginny liked him - a lot - but there was something missing. He was too safe and sold. Ginny had nothing against that except that when you are the youngest sister of six brothers with a penchant for adventure - well, five, she conceded, as an image of Percy trying to bungee jump came to her mind - you tend to develop a taste for danger yourself.

“Earth to Virginia Weasley,” Elizabeth smiled as Ginny snapped out of her reverie.

“Sorry,” she grinned sheepishly at them.

“So, Ashley, enough yanking my leg. What’s going on between you and Colin?”

Ashley blushed as the good natured ribbing that goes on between people who have been friends for more years than it matters was now directed at her.

“He gave me a pin last term, but it’s still hush-hush, so for Merlin's sake don’t say anything to him.

“You sneak! Why didn’t you say anything before?” Ginny yelled as the pillow she had hurled at Ashley earlier hit her.

     ****************************************

Ginny stifled a yawn as she went down for breakfast the next morning.

“Rough night Ginny?” Colin asked with a twinkle in his eyes. “Must be something in the air. Gareth’s been yawning ever since he got up.” The twinkle in his eyes had now changed into a cheeky grin.

“If you knew the things I know that you don’t know I know, Colin, you wouldn’t talk about things you know I know you know nothing whatsoever about.” Ginny walked past a very confused Colin and sat down next to Ashley at the Gryffindor table.

“Where’s Elizabeth?”

“Talking to Justin,” Ashley replied.

Ginny looked over to where Ashley had indicated and saw Justin hurriedly kiss Elizabeth on the cheek before she walked back to their table. Elizabeth was glowing, so Ginny assumed that things had gone well between her and Justin.

“Hi!” Elizabeth greeted them as she sat down next to Ginny. “I’m starving,” and with that she heaped her plate with sandwiches and scrambled eggs. For someone who hogged so much, Elizabeth was amazingly thin, Ginny remarked inwardly. She saw her brother, Ron, Harry and Hermione walk in and waved to them. They waved back as they went to join Neville, Dean and Seamus at their end of the table.

Ginny had taken her first sip of pumpkin juice when Ashley let out a gasp. Ginny looked up from her breakfast to follow Ashley's line of vision. Draco Malfoy stood in the doorway to the Great Hall with Blaise Zabini. Ginny watched as he sauntered in with Blaise on his arm and sat down at the head of the Slytherin table after pulling out a chair for Blaise.

“He’s such a gentleman,” Ashley sighed.

“You forgot to add slimy toad to the description,” Ginny hissed.

“C’mon Gin, just look at him and tell me what you see…”

Ginny contemplated Draco covertly. She watched as he sat at the head of the table, silent and brooding, and for the first time admitted to herself that there was something very attractive about Draco Malfoy. Something that was more than just his looks, ‘which are as perfect as they come,’ she thought wryly. His pale colouring, offset by the platinum blonde hair reminded her of ice. As he turned to look at Blaise, Ginny caught sight of his eyes. ‘Grey’ she thought instantly, but then shook her head. ‘Grey’ was such a restricting word when it came to describing the intensity in Malfoy's eyes. They were not just grey, they glowed and when he smiled, as he was doing now, Ginny realized you could see the silver glints in them. She shivered involuntarily as she remembered the assessing look he had given her on the train.

Malfoy’s face was perfect, as was the rest of him - but there was more to him than just that. There was a sense of the forbidden about him, an aura of danger that seemed to emanate from him so as to be a part of him. Ginny knew from experience as well as instinct that Draco Malfoy was hard as nails. She wondered inwardly what exactly it would take to thaw the ice in him. Ginny did not want to break him, she disliked weak whimpering men. But she did want to see what could push Malfoy out of the control he so rigidly held on to. Smiling she shook her head as an image of Draco transforming into a fire-breathing dragon flitted before her eyes.

“Well?” Ashley asked. “What do you see?”

“A bleached slimy toad,” she replied.

     ****************************************

Draco sighed and rolled over - try as he might he just could not get comfortable. Finally he lay flat on his back and opened his eyes, staring at the dark canopy of his four-poster bed. It was no use; he just could not seem to fall asleep. It was not as if he was not tired - he was, extremely so. A grueling Quidditch practice session coupled with several sleepless nights had left him exhausted. He considered reading but decided he didn’t have the energy. He simply lay there, the soundproofing spell around his bed blocking Crabbe and Goyle’s snores. It was deadly quiet and almost pitch black in the room.

Draco blinked as he felt pressure building up just behind his eyeballs. It did not hurt yet, but if it continued it would. He squeezed his eyes shut and immediately felt as though he was falling. He was falling and everything had gone blank. Draco opened his eyes and looked around - the world was blurry, as though he needed glasses. He was in what appeared to be a passageway; a door on his right stood out bold and clear against the hazy stonewalls. He walked to it; his hands stretched out before him and pushed it open. The room looked like an unused classroom in Hogwarts, but he couldn’t be sure, since it still seemed as though he was looking through a haze.

He entered the room and gasped as the putrid smell of decaying flesh hit him in an overwhelming wave. His stomach churned as he fought off his nausea and continued to look around, knowing that he was there to see something. Then his eyes picked out something in the farthest corner of the room, clearly defined amidst the blurry walls. As he walked towards it the smell of rotting flesh grew stronger and he resorted to breathing through his mouth. It was uncomfortable but he was not planning on being there long.

He drew closer, his apprehension growing as he recognized what the something was - it was a body, a body in a black robe hanging from the ceiling by a rope. He stopped some distance away and regarded the back of the body. He could see the hands, blue with death, the fingernails darkened to indigo - it had been there awhile. He pulled all his courage together and walked around the figure to face it.

He stiffened, his silver eyes widened in shock as he stumbled back against the wall, desperately looking for the door through which he had come. Nothing but unbroken stonewalls met his gaze. The face once more caught his eyes and try as Draco might, he couldn’t look away. He was trapped, trapped with a decaying body with no means of escape. He felt the panic building in his body till finally it erupted in an incoherent scream. Draco closed his eyes against the face but he could still see it, etched on the inside of his eyelids - the head at an unnatural angle tilted down by the broken neck; tongue large and discoloured protruding from blue bloodless lips; black shaggy hair framing the blue hued face; the lightening bolt scar barely visible on dead skin; forest green eyes blotted open, blank and cold, still covered by the familiar glasses.

Draco screamed till he could not scream anymore. His eyes opened and he stared up at the dark canopy of his four-poster bed; sweat-drenched clothes clinging to his skin, blood pounding through his body, drinking air in great gulps and screams echoing in his ears. His screams.

     ****************************************

“What are the ingredients used in Polyjuice Potion?” Professor Snape’s voice filtered into Draco's dazed consciousness.

“Mr. Longbottom?” he continued with a smirk, ignoring the hand Hermione was frantically waving in the air.

Neville gulped several times, as Snape pierced him with his gaze. It was a well-known fact that Neville was terrified of the professor, and could never sit through a single potions class without turning into a nervous wreck. Many students attributed this curious relationship between professor and student to the fact that in his third year, in an encounter with a boggart that had assumed Professor Snape’s from, Neville had dressed him in his grandmother’s clothes - something that Snape had not forgiven him for to this day.

“Leeches,” he croaked in reply to Snape’s question. “Lacewing flies, fluxweed, knotgrass and powdered horn of a Bicorn.” Neville swallowed nervously as Snape regarded him with narrowed eyes.

“Is that all, Mr. Longbottom?” Snape asked, a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes.

“Ye…um…no, Professor.”

     “I suggest you make up your mind, Mr. Longbottom, fast.”

“Shredded skin of a Boomslang and …and a bit of the person you want to change into,” he finished breathlessly.

Snape looked at Neville in silent fury and then said, “Five points off Gryffindor. Next time you decide to help Mr. Longbottom with his answers, Miss Granger, I suggest you do so in some other class.” Harry and Ron saw Hermione turn a brilliant pink as she shoved the paper she had been scribbling the answers on out of sight.

Draco watched all this with tired disinterest. The image of Potter hanging from the ceiling of a mysterious room in the castle still refused to go away. Draco kept turning back to see of Harry was still in class - a fact that gave Harry a most severe case of goose-bumps.

“Hermione -” he whispered as Snape turned his back on the class, “is it my imagination or is Malfoy actually turning, for the fifth time, to look at me?”

“Hate to disappoint you Harry, but you aren’t imagining anything,” she replied.

“But ’Mione, why is he doing that? Do I have a blue coloured horn sticking out of my forehead or red pixies hanging from my ears?” Harry wailed.

Hermione stifled a laugh. “Maybe he fancies you, Harry. Maybe he’s decided to come out of the closet and tell you that the sarcasm he’s been directing towards you all these years was just frustration at not being able to have you.”

“Hermione Granger!” Harry hissed.

“Shh, you two.” Ron looked at them in exasperation.

Draco wondered what Potter and his precious Mudblood were talking about, but as there was no way of finding out, he decided to let it go. Besides which, he was far too exhausted to care deeply enough. Last night made the fourth night in a row when he had not slept. As he stared at the wall in front, he wondered when he would be able to get a good night’s sleep. He had never thought that sleep would be such a priority in his life, yet now all he wanted was to close his eyes and drift into dreamless sleep…like so…

“Mr. Malfoy?”

Draco heard a voice calling out to him through the haze that had enveloped him.

“Mr. Malfoy!”

It took Draco a couple of minutes to focus on the blurry face in front of him and realize that the face and the voice both belonged to the Potions Master, a very annoyed Potions Master.

“Yes, Professor?” Draco asked.

“I would appreciate it, Mr. Malfoy, if you would take some time out of your busy day-dreaming schedule and tell the class the procedure involved in preparing the potion under discussion.”

“Potion?” Draco queried with knitted eyebrows.

“Are you quite alright, Mr. Malfoy? You seem to be looking rather pale.”

“I’m fine Professor,” Draco said, and then as Snape’s black eyes narrowed, he resignedly added, “I did not sleep very well last night”

“In that case, I suggest you take yourself to Madam Pomfrey and tell her to give you some Pepper-Up potion. I will not have students fall asleep in my class, no matter how sleep depriving their nocturnal activities may be.”

“But Professor, I’m fine. Honestly,” Draco protested even as Snape regarded him with a frosty stare.

“I am not accustomed to being disobeyed by my students, Mr. Malfoy, especially not those in my house. Now please remove yourself from my class and go to the infirmary.” Snape’s tone left no room for argument.

Draco got up from his seat, grumbling under his breath and stalked out of the Potions classroom. ‘Enough is decidedly enough,’ he thought to himself. First he had that disgusting yet on some level exceptionally satisfying dream about Potter dying; then Potty and his Mudblood were whispering at him in class; and to top it all he got thrown out of Potions class by his own house-master and sent to the old dingbat for some incredibly foul tasting potion.

‘Enough - is - decidedly - ENOUGH!’

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Harry sat and contemplated the fire, ignoring the blank parchment in front of him.

“He’s probably ill. It’s the only explanation,” Hermione said. The three of them were sitting in their favourite place by the common room fire.

“Why not just go to Madam Pomfrey then?” Harry pondered still gazing into the fire.

“Maybe its something really nasty that doesn’t have a cure. Maybe he’ll die of it.” Ron said, sounding hopeful.

“Ron!” Hermione shot him a glare.

“What?! Honestly. I can’t believe we are having this conversation. Why are we so concerned about Malfoy of all people? So he’s been nice and ignored us for a while. I think we should just be grateful for a small favour. Besides which, who cares about Malfoy?” Ron was exasperated.

It had been several weeks since the start of term and Malfoy had been acting very strangely, for Malfoy that is. Harry could not understand it. It unnerved him - some things were supposed to be constant and Malfoy being nasty was a constant. The fact that Malfoy had been stolidly ignoring them ever since school started made Harry nervous.

It seemed too much like the calm before the storm. True, there had been the usual confrontation on the Hogwarts Express, but that had been minor. More over it was not just ignoring Harry, Ron and Hermione - he was ignoring almost everyone. Even Hagrid. The Care of Magical Creatures classes had gone smoothly without a single disruption despite the fact that Ron had tripped and fallen face first in dung and that Neville had almost been gored by an angry male unicorn. All this had gone completely unnoticed by the Slytherins. They themselves seemed rather surprised by Malfoy’s reticence. After a few incidents it had become clear to the Gryffindors that Malfoy was the Slytherin leader - the others looked to him for guidance, and right now they were studiously ignoring the rest of the school.

But that was not what worried Harry. It was Malfoy's behaviour - he seemed preoccupied, and had turned up late for class not once but several times. He had even looked dazed in their last Potions class. It was this more than anything else that had caught Harry’s attention. It was then that he had looked at Malfoy and noticed the heavy lidded eyes and the dark circles. Harry couldn’t tell if Malfoy was paler than usual. Malfoy was always pale - but he had seen enough to know that something was wrong. A fact he had mentioned to Ron and Hermione, which was what had led to the present conversation.

Hermione was trying to be helpful but Ron hated Malfoy too much to care. And who could blame him. Harry did not want to tell his friends that he had a bad feeling about all this. He shrugged his shoulders and returned to his parchment which should have been well on its way to becoming his Potion’s essay. Even if there was something wrong with Malfoy there was nothing he could do about it. Besides which, with the Quidditch season coming up, Harry needed to focus all his attention on winning the Quidditch Cup; this being his last year as Quidditch Captain.

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