Until Death

Until Death

Part Four

"Now, I'm going to sleep, and stop complaining or they might hear you. You're wailing louder than a banshee," Draco said, as he gathered up the tails of his robes and used them as a blanket for his feet. Harry wanted nothing more than to punch him, like he did in the Quidditch game last year against Slytherin. God that felt good. Only he wouldn't stop at just one. Stupid git didn't have his body guards with him to protect him. But knowing Draco, he had some scheme up his sleeve, just waiting to slither out and bite him. Harry restrained himself from hitting Draco and went to the opposite end of the shack. He didn't want to be anywhere near that piece of poison. As he lay against the wall, he lazily looked out the window. Nothing but darkness and a shred of moonlight being filtered through the snowy trees. But something out there caught his eye. As he looked out the window, he saw a silvery figure, floating aimlessly across the ground. He crawled across the dusty floor to the window on Draco's side of the room. He looked out the window with intrigue. He discovered that the silvery figure was a ghost. A ghost of a young, beautiful witch with tattered clothes, and her hair hid by a hood. It looked solemnly at the ground and a grey tear fell down her cheek. The tear was not silver like the rest of her, though. Harry thought of this very peculiar, as he had never seen a ghost cry grey, solid tears, let alone shed actual tears. As she continued to cry, a pool of grey formed at her feet. As she cried, she spoke in French of something Harry did not understand:

"Comment je souhaite que je ne pourrais pas voir mon enfant mourir. Pourquoi doit-il être lui pour payer le prix ? Prenez l'aîné à la place, parce que je suis déjà mort," it said wearily, sorry. Harry was feeling sorry for it. As the last tear fell to the ground, she floated away, head still tilted to the ground. She floated to the depths of the forest, where the darkness was waiting to engulf her. She slowly disappeared into the forest, as Harry stared into the darkness, hoping she would come back anslate what she had just said. She did not turn back. Harry did not move for several moments, before he realized that the beautiful ghost was not coming back. He turned away from the window and sat under it. What was that ghost talking about? Why was it crying grey tears? Why was she crying at all? Harry was so confused. He decided that maybe what he just saw was a mirage and nothing more. He was obviously really tired. He decided to go back to his corner of the shack and sleep. But Harry didn't speak any French at all. So how could he have been dreaming? Forget it. It's probably nothing. He huddled in a corner and closed his eyes. He still could not get the ghost out of his mind. He had so many questions about it, the subject was unspeakable. He slowly fell asleep as the moon started to bend over the horizon, to shine its light to the other ends of the world.

Draco woke up before Harry did as a ray of the late morning sun shone through the window, right into his eyes. "Damn sun," he said to himself as he shielded his eyes. He stood up and was still tired from last night. He looked over to Harry as he slept. Typically, the voice of his father would be ringing like mad right now, but as he looked over to Harry, he just had to smile. His glasses were tilted to the side, and his mouth was slightly open. He was huddled into a little ball in the corner of the shack. Draco walked closer to the adorable-looking Harry, trying to resist him. He was right in front of the sleeping Harry and kneeled in front of him. He was smirking like an idiot, but he could not help it. Draco sighed. "If only there was a way to tell you...." Draco swept a bit of the black hair on Harry's face behind his ears and straightened his glasses. He looked outside through the window at the freshly fallen snow on the forest floor with his hands behind his back and frowned at the sight of the snow, which brought back the sad memories of his childhood.

Draco never got to have such pleasures as playing in the snow. His father was always too busy instructing Draco about honor and prestige. All the other children got to play outside in the snow, like all children should. Draco would always watch from the side, wishing he could play with the other children, but the voice told him he would stain the family name if he did. Unfortunatly, he believed it and would stay inside. At least he would have his honor, unlike all the silly other children out there, foolishly playing recklessly, without a care for anything, he would think.

But this time, his father wasn't there, Harry was asleep, and the other Slytherins weren't around to tease him. He smiled devilishly, and opened the door a crack. He looked around outside to see any movement. He did not see a thing move. He remembered this spell that he read about where you could "see" your enemies from miles away. If they were anywhere in proximity to one, they would receive a sound wave that would move their bodies, to warn them danger was close. Nobody knew about it, because it was unreliable, but every time Draco performed it, it did wonders for him. He stepped outside and closed the door behind him softly, making sure not to wake Harry. He closed his eyes and took out his wand. He put the wand to his forehead and tilted his head to the ground. "Procul Hostum," he whispered. His hair and robes were ruffled by the enormous wave put out by the wand. He stood in the open, steadfast in his place, waiting for a call back. All he did get back were little waves by his feet. Nothing he had to worry about. Only mice.

He put his wand back in his pocket and opened his eyes to the white spectacle under his feet. He could not believe that all this was happening. The sense of freedom he was having was in ecstasy. He picked up the white substance and felt the chill of the ice. Despite that it was freezing his hand off, he could not let go of it. The snow, so pure, so clean, it was unimaginable. He closed his eyes as he grasped the snow tightly into his palms and felt a further chill. He smiled like never before. This was not a feeling he had ever experienced before, the feeling of goodness and purity. For once, he felt he did not have to obey to anyone. He was alone and free from everything. He wished that nobody would ever find him and Harry. He through down the melting snow and leaped into a huge pile that had freshly fallen from a tree. As his face contacted the snow, he felt the chill, but it felt so good. He picked up piles of snow and threw them over his head. The snow floated softly back down into the pile. The snow covered his blonde head and pale skin which had never been able to feel the sensation of snow before now. He laughed at everything that was going on. The feeling of the snow, the freedom, just everything that was happening. He sighed and laid in the snow as he looked up at the trees, covered in snow, with what little sunlight filtered through. He had never had this feeling of happiness, captivation, and bliss. All he needed now was Harry by his side and he'd be the happiest man in the world.

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

Harry woke to the sound of Draco's laughs. He wondered what the hell he was laughing at. He probably played a trick on him and now has a tail. I knew I couldn't trust that bloody git. He looked out the window and saw Draco laying in the snow, smiling brighter than the sun throwing snow into the air. Idiot's gone mad! He watched Draco for the time he was out there, acting like a five-year-old. So...the haughty Draco Malfoy is not as mature as he looks.... He figured he could blackmail Draco so bad when they got back to Hogwarts. Oh, the sweet taste of revenge for all he did to him. But as he watched Draco, he realized that when the Slytherins and Gryffindors often had snowball fights, Draco would not even bother to go outside. But now, he was romping around in it like a little child. He was more confused than anything.

But his period of confusion was interrupted by his stomach. He remembered he hadn't eaten at all last night or during the day after breakfast. He decided to look for food in the dilapidated shack. As he searched the cupboards for anything to eat. He found little jars of herbs used for spells and such and found an old book along side of the herbs. He took out the book and started looking through it. He saw Truth spells, Fortune spells, and Foretelling spells. But as he looked through the Love spells, it was written in a strange language that Harry had never seen before. It looked like Old English, extremely Old English. As he tried to read it, Draco stumbled in, giggling madly. Harry closed the book immediately and put it back in the cupboard. Draco did not realize that Harry was awake and just continued giggling. He rolled onto the floor, still giggling, holding his stomach. What is his problem? He then burst into laughter. Harry just stood there and looked at him. As Draco slowly calmed down, he stared at the ceiling, paying no attention to Harry. Harry slowly walked over to the smiling-bearing-teeth Draco. "Good morning!" Harry said as he stood over him. Draco jumped.

"Your-your awake?" Draco stumbled.

"What does it look like I am? Dead?" Harry said. Harry was expecting a death-wish/threat from Draco like he did last night to him.

"No, and thank God, or I would have lost a lot of money."

"Is that all you care about?" Draco stared at him, not knowing whether to answer or not, because the truth was that he cared about a lot about something else far more important than money.

"And what if it is? Are you going to sue me for it?"

"Don't be so preposterous. I wouldn't waste money on you." God, when are these insults going to stop? Draco was really getting tired of all this. He'd been trying to make peace, but Harry just kept making it worse. He got up off of the ground and stood up. He brushed off his robes, which were covered in snow. "Why are you covered in snow? I thought we weren't allowed to go outside." Harry couldn't wait to hear what stupid response Draco had for him. Harry crossed his arms and waited for a reply. Draco wouldn't in his right mind tell Harry about his lost childhood...at least not yet.

"I was merely checking to see if any of the Death Eaters were around so that we might be able to get ourselves out of here," Draco said. Part of it was true. He was checking for Death Eaters, but not so they could get out.

"And you were looking for them by throwing yourself in a pile of snow and laughing like Peeves had just pulled a trick on someone?"

"For your information, Potter, I was performing a spell which involved the snow in the first place."

"Oh really, and what spell would that be?"

"I read about a spell in the library that would be able to detect enemies from miles away. It's a little unreliable, but it always works for me."

"Well aren't you just clever!" For God sakes, Potter, stop with all the insults and sarcasm already. I understand how much I hurt you, but I want to change all that. Why can't you understand that I don't hate you? If there was an easy way to say that I was sorry, God knows I would say it. Just come off it for a moment, just so I can say it? Draco sighed.

"Well, I guess you wouldn't understand, even if I told you," Draco thought aloud.

"What was that?" Harry inquired. Draco turned his back to him and shook his head. Harry would never understand what feelings Draco had for him.

"Nothing. Nothing at all." He then walked to his end of the shack and sat there for long moments, while Harry put up his search again for food. That book was enticing him to read it so badly. It was like a snitch that was an inch away from Harry's nose. He could not stop looking at it. To distract himself, he thought of the ghost he saw last night. The grey tears. What if they were still out there? Harry immediately got off the counter and stood next to the window. "What in God's name are you doing, Potter?"

"This is going to sound weird, and don't insult me about it, alright?" Harry said. When have I insulted you this entire time I've been here?

"Just tell me," Draco said.

"Well, did you at all, when you were out there 'checking for Death Eaters', see a little pool of grey liquid?"

"I wasn't looking for something so trifle."

"Oh."

"Why do you ask, though?"

"Why should I tell you? You'll just make fun of me."

"Notice how I haven't made one insult to you the entire time we have been here, Potter. What makes you think I'm going to start now? I don't want anymore fights or we're good as dead." Harry could not believe what he had just heard. He reviewed it over in his head several times to make sure it was truly possible...and Draco was right. He hadn't made any advancement towards him the entire time they had been there. He didn't wake up with anything on his body that wasn't there before he went to sleep, and didn't hear a word out of Draco that sounded a little like an insult. Draco sat down on the floor after the statement he made.

"Are you saying this, just so you can get money?"

"Whatever suits your fancy, Potter." Draco said, as he put his back to the wall and placed his arms behind his neck.

"Fine..." Harry sighed as he was about to do something he had never done before: actually talk to him, like a real person. "Last night, after you went to sleep, I saw something catch my eye out the window."

"Was it a Death Eater?"

"Fortunately, no."

"Then we have nothing to worry about."

"That's not the end of it, though. Anyways, as I crawled over to see what was out there, I saw a ghost. It was like a beautiful, young witch-ghost, and she was crying."

"What was she blubbering about? She's a ghost. What do they have to worry about?"

"I don't know. She was speaking in French. I didn't understand a word she said." This suddenly caught Draco's attention, as his eyes snapped open to look at Harry. The silver eyes penetrated Harry's soul, as his sharp stare having desperate questions.

"French?"

"Yes."

"And she was young?"

"Yes..."

"How young?"

"I don't know. Somewhere in her twenties, I guess." Draco stared at Harry for long moments, not making a move, afraid to remember a horrendous memory that he had locked away in the back of his mind, not wishing to let it out.

"Is something wrong?" Harry asked. Draco blinked himself out of even dreaming of releasing that memory.

"No. Nothing." He gazed at the floor, hoping not to free that memory...that dark memory of his mother....No...Don't...Push it back...No! Stop haunting me! NO! NO! NO! "NO!!!" he yelled as he grabbed his loose, shoulder-length silver hair for comfort. Harry jumped at Draco's cry. What could have gotten him so panicked? Draco seethed with the painful memory coming back to him. He did not want to remember it. He told it to go away, but it kept stabbing his heart and soul, killing them slowly. Harry fell to the floor and asked Draco what was wrong. Draco would not answer. He started to weep slowly. Harry had no idea what to do. Draco was his enemy. Why should he help him? Because he helped you. Great, his conscience was kicking in, at exactly the right time, too. He bent down, and what he did next, was beyond unspeakable of which enemies would present their selves to be.