Fight the Dark

Chapter 3 - Wake up

'Draco,' her voice was but a whisper in the cold night air. 'What did you make me drink? What was that potion?' She had been pacing on the balcony for two hours now, restless. The night was warm; stars hid behind flocks of clouds. She could see the shadow of the forest, dark and menacing. She shivered; the blue eyes in her nightmares were but a memory. She could not remember to whom they belonged, but she was certain that she had once known. Blue, cold eyes. She remembered them, watching her, cursing her, hurting her.

She could not sleep, and her whole body ached. Trying to tire herself enough to sleep, she had walked, desperately, and the walking hurt. She hadn't been outside for ages, and first she had enjoyed of the rush of energy the potion had given her. Now it hurt her; she found herself full of energy. She could not sleep.

She stopped and faced the sky. Moon came from hiding and lightened the lawn. She could see the topiary garden; some of the bushes seemed to be moving. For a while she kept looking at a duck shaped bush trying to run away from wolf shaped one. When the wolf caught the duck, she looked up at the sky. The moving clouds created shadows on the ground in the moonlight. The moon was bright even though it was starting to wane.

Her thoughts ran to her last years at school, and how they had sneaked out from the dormitories with her friends and looked at the stars in one of the towers.

How she had kissed under the stars. How she had kissed him that one time. The war had been on its way; the school had been a safe haven. He had been about to leave school and enter the battle. She smiled at the memory; it always calmed her. Even amongst the fear and terror they all had found their moments to be young. The memory of kissing Harry, it always made her smile. It had been then she had known that he wasn't the one for her. Oddly enough, she hadn't been hurt by his rejection. She had spent all her school years pining after him, and when she knew... but he had chosen another, as she knew he would.

She wondered what Harry was doing right now. Maybe he was with her... maybe they were with her brother. She hoped they were. Her brother was lonely. She could see it in his face; everyone in the family walked on eggshells when it came to the cause of her brother's loneliness. There was something that she did not know; she had accepted that long ago. The war had its victims, its casualties. Her brother had been one of them.

A sudden urge to see him filled her, and tears started to run down her face. She missed him; he had always comforted her in her pain. It had become so easy to let the tears come. She was broken; she could not stop them. She wept in silence; her brothers and parents - did they search for her? She doubted it, remembering the row they had had the last time she had seen them. She sobbed aloud, trying to stop the tears.

'Virginia?' She heard a voice calling her from the room. Wiping away the tears, she turned around. Draco was standing in the door way, in robes of blue and silver; his blond hair was wet. He must have just showered, she thought.

He gave her a weird look, which made her nervous - she started pacing again. He stood silent in the doorway studying her. His eyes were fixed on her, calculating. She was awake... Could she be...?

'What was that potion?' she snapped suddenly and turned to him. She saw his eyes flash, concealing whatever he had been thinking.

'What do you think?' Draco said slowly, stepping on the balcony. She looked down at the lawn in front of the balcony and suddenly turned, facing him. She stood but a foot from him.

'Poison,' she spat. He frowned, then raised one eyebrow.

'Your opinion in yours, milady' he bowed a little. 'And perhaps you're right.' He smirked at her. He saw her grow furious, colour flushed her cheeks, and her brown eyes came alive. Virginia raised her hand, trying to hit him. Draco caught it mid air.

'No,' he said to her. 'I was joking,' he paused, questioning her with his eyes. He did no know what to read from her eyes. Fear? Or was it something else? The lack of human contact in his life had never made him good at reading people's emotions. 'It was Wakefulness Potion, but it should give peaceful sleep to a Muggle,' he said severely. She let her hand drop dazed. Then she suddenly started laughing. He looked at her, dumbfounded.

'You thought I was a Muggle?' her voice was teasing and caught him by surprise. He had suspected she wasn't, after seeing her still awake - hours after taking the potion. Her delight made him frown. Perhaps the potion hadn't been that good idea... She was laughing openly at him now. No it certainly hadn't been that good idea, he thought as her laugh reached hysterics. But he had seriously thought that she could be... that she was a Muggle. The revelation made his heart jump. Who was she? The fact she was a witch explained why she hated him - she had a reason to hate him.

Sometimes he wished the world knew the truth. But it had been his choice.

She started pacing to and fro again, and he stood there, watching her and thinking. The past and the choices he had made still haunted him. He still heard the pleas of the innocent Muggles in his mind, knowing what horrid things he had done.

He still remembered Halloween five years ago. He had nightmares about it. The night when he had got his Mark. The Mark he still bore. His father had been there, standing in front of the crowd, watching his son's skin burn. Smiling as the black ink marred his son's pale skin. His father had been proud. Draco had been able to see him in the corner of his eye; he was holding his head up, silvery hair flowing to his shoulders. He had cast away his mask, showing his pride towards his son taking the Mark willingly.

Willingly? Yes, but his father had not known the ulterior motive.

Severus had been there too, silent and watchful. His face had been masked, and Draco hadn't been able to read any emotion on it. Later, he had come to Draco and washed the blood oozing from the edges of the Mark. They had not spoken and when a tear had run down Draco's cheek, Severus had wiped it away. Later Draco had understood: Severus had been more like a father to him than his own father was.

That had been the last time he had cried.

An angry voice snapped him back from the memories.

'What?' he asked, grateful for the disruption. He didn't want to dwell in the past.

'I asked you a simple question, but apparently you're deaf.'

'Did you?' he snapped back. 'I'm sorry, you must have spoken too quietly,' he continued in a more even tone. He could tell that he was making her furious again. Good. She needed to feel things - perhaps it would help her get rid of the nightmares.

'How long will it take to wear off?' Virginia snapped the question, stopping now in front of him. She looked beautiful in the moonlight, her red hair flowing down to the small of her back in big waves. She was wearing an over-sized shirt and trousers - his old clothes.

'Did you hear me, Malfoy?' she spat the name like it was the greatest scum on earth. He was swept completely out of the trace and was about to answer her angrily, when she screamed, 'I can't take this anymore!' She fell down on the floor and started to sob hysterically. Without thinking Draco went to her and sat down next to her. For a moment she didn't seem to notice, then she leaned her head against him, still sobbing.

'Take it off. Please, Draco, take if off.' He put his arm around her and stroked gently her back. Staring in the space he spoke,

'I can't.'

She was quiet for a moment, then she looked up to him from his chest, tears still tracing her face.

'You can't?' her voice was silent, full of plea and disappointment. She must be in pain, he realised. But the potion wasn't supposed to hurt - or cause such mood changes, he was sure. Sadly he shook his head.

'No, no one can. You cannot affect the influence of a potion, unless there's an antidote to it. Wakefulness Potion has no antidote as it's not a poison. You have to wait for it to wear off.' She was silent for some time, so long that when she spoke, it surprised him.

'Talk to me...'

'What do you want me to talk about?'

'Anything. It's too silent. Tell... tell me about your childhood.' Silence. Finally Draco started, his voice coming afar.

'I grew up here, in the Malfoy Manor. My mother disliked this place; it was too dark and big for her. I had no siblings and my mother used to take me everywhere with her, so I was never alone, always in her company. My father... my father was always busy. I hardly saw him as a child.' He paused. His arm was still around her, and she leaned her back against him, relaxing. He continued, 'My mother taught me how to fly a broomstick.' Silence, then he spoke again. 'It was a sunny day, I was about four years old - this is the first memory I have from my childhood - flying together with my mother. She took me on her broomstick, and we flew above the forest. I remember screaming when she did little dives and rises. She was a great flier, my mother.' She could feel him tensing, falling silent and then relaxing again.

'Come, sit here,' he spoke suddenly - as if wanting to change the subject. Spreading his legs, he made room for her to sit between them. Cautiously she moved to sit there, between his legs on the expensive looking blue cloth of his robes. He started to massage her shoulders; she tensed at his touch.

'Your turn,' he said softly, his fingers on her skin. She sighed; his touch felt so good. She let herself relax.

'I grew up with a bunch of siblings - I was the only girl. There were many of us and I was the youngest. Even if everything we got was second-hand, we were loved. Sometimes we were loved too much.' She smiled at the memory, relaxing completely. God, his touch was amazing... she pushed the thought away.

'My brothers feel that they have to protect me; it was kind of sweet when you were younger... when you think about it now.' She smiled again and continued 'I shared room with my brother who was year older than me. I must have been five, and he was six, when I found a boggart under my bed. We were both terrified. I didn't dare to go and get our parents and I didn't want to stay alone in a room with a boggart. I think I was probably stuck on my bed and crying. My brother was... He was acting bravely. He... he gave me his torn teddy bear, saying it would protect me from the boggart and I believed him. Then he left me and got Dad to throw the boggart out.' She smiled again. 'I loved home as child, but now it pains me every time I go there... My brothers are way too over protective and my parents...' She sighed, 'They just don't let me live my own life.' They fell silent after that. Draco continued massaging her shoulders.

She did not understand. How could she lay totally comfortable in the arms of Draco Malfoy? But he was not like the Draco Malfoy she had known in their youth. The war had changed him too, she realised. But what side had he been on? She could not believe that this was the same Draco Malfoy, who had said to have tortured several Muggles to death. Who had wanted the Dark Mark on his skin at the age of seventeen. No. He had changed. The boy she had once known was now a man who had seen it all. She did not know what made her trust him, she didn't know if she trusted him at all. And she didn't want to question her thoughts. He had brought her from the forest, away from the pain; she could not be anything but thankful. And in his company the pain grew less. He made her forget the pain, the wounds and the blue eyes. And now he was causing her body to react to his. She leaned back against him, making it impossible for him to continue the massaging.

Draco let his hands fall off her shoulders and rested his back against the wall. His hands searched for hers now, at their own willing. You're not supposed to do this, his mind kept telling him. But he enjoyed the moment and let his hands find hers. So small and delicate under his touch. She linked her fingers with his.

Neither had any idea how long they sat there, comfortable with each other, not wanting to question anything. The moment was peaceful, letting the tomorrow come when it would. It would come, eventually. Finally, at the crack of dawn, when the birds had started singing again, Virginia rose, leaning to the wall for support - her legs were numb.

Draco stood up and followed her inside.

She stood in the doorway, waiting for him. He took a step and stood a few inches from her. She could feel the warmth coming from him; he placed his hand on her chin. Softly he pressed his lips on hers and she closed her eyes, enjoying on the feel of him. They did not question the kiss.

Images of blue eyes started to flood in her mind. Blue eyes, his eyes. He hurting her. His lips. The pain. She struggled to break the kiss - memories flooding her mind. The kiss broke, but not fast enough. She screamed; her fingers clawed the skin on his cheeks, pressing hard. With a fast motion he took a hold of her hands, but she continued fighting. He shook her, but got no reaction from her - she kept fighting in panic.

'Let me go!' she cried when he tried to shake her again. He dropped her right hand, but before she had any chance to hit him or to do anything, he slapped her hard on her cheek.

'Calm down.'

She stopped fighting, gasping for air.

He took a step backwards. There was a red mark on her cheek. He flinched.

'Sorry,' he said, meaning it. She shook her head, looking up. Her fingers had made red cuts on his both cheeks.

'No. I'm sorry,' she breathed and looked down.

She could feel herself breaking again. She trembled and the tears started to flood down her cheeks. She looked up at him.

'I'm sorry,' she muttered again. He spread his arms. Hesitating for a moment, she took the step to him and he closed his arms around her.

Rocking her in his arms, like his mother had done to him in his childhood he spoke,

'Shh... It'll be all right.' She did not see the look on his face as she laid her head against his chest; dark shadows dwelled in his eyes.

'It'll be all right.'

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

He was in the dungeons again, in the dark long corridors that run under the Manor. The walls were carved of stone; no one knew them in full - there were passage ways which hadn't been trotted on for centuries. Some of his ancestors had disappeared for good in them. Draco knew where he was going; he knew what he would find. The dream returned him every night.

The dull, foul air hurt his lungs as he ran. He ran - but he knew he was late. Too late. He ran across the corner and came to a room, or rather to a vast chamber in middle of the shadowy dungeons. Three stone pillars stood in the middle of the open space - Draco knew what they were for - torturing. He could see his mother tied to the furthest pillar; her head lay in weird angle.

She can't be dead, she can't be dead, he kept chanting to himself as he crossed the room. He had come to the body, touched her brow. It was still warm. Her eyes were open - a look of horror was tattooed on her face. The Killing Curse - Avada Kedavra.

'Mother?' There was no answer. In his dream he returned to the afternoon before the horrid evening. He had pleaded her...

'Mother...' She had gazed into space and had not spoke to him.

'I will not take the Mark,' she had said suddenly.

In the end they had made her. In the end her resistance had killed her.

He could see the blood oozing under her sleeve. Carefully lifting up the sleeve - as if he didn't want to hurt her - he wanted to see the wound. On her mothers arm was tattooed a black skull with a serpent coming out of its mouth. The edges of the mark were still bleeding.

In the cold, damp dungeon Draco Malfoy cried next to his mother's dead body.

********

Draco woke from the dream, knowing there was nothing he could do to help his mother. He had avenged her in the end. Like Potter had done.

His thoughts returned to Virginia. Who was she? He had feeling that he had met her before. She definitely knew him.

He remembered trying to ask her, few days ago, what she remembered about her 'accident'. She hadn't said a word, but fallen in to a horrified daze. He remembered the look in her eyes. It was an expression beyond pain and horror.

He clenched his fists; tossing on his bed, dark thoughts filled his mind. I could kill again.