Refraction

Refraction: Round 2

The ancient stone walls sighed and groaned, as though they spoke of long-forgotten secrets. Moonlight cascaded across the hallway, and crept up the walls, meeting, greeting, embracing. No sconces flamed here, no armour rattled. Not even the wisp of a ghost disturbed the midnight coupling.

A flurry of dust rose out of the shadows, and glittered into the moon's rays. It swirled down the hallway, gathering momentum and creating iridescent whirlwinds behind it.

There was a muffled, indistinct noise. The dust paused its movement and began to settle.

A moment passed.

The noise came again, but clearer this time; it was a human voice, from inside the stone wall. The dust swirled again, shimmering across the wall, listening for something, anything the ancient wall could tell it.

A muttered word, a movement of dust, and a portion of the wall wavered and melted to reveal a darkened corridor; even the moonlight was reticent to venture entry. The walls were of a different stone here; they spoke of wars fought, dangers unseen, and the cold of the long dead. The floor was cobbled, unlike the large flagstones of the outside hallway, and so dust-covered they were black. Ingrained grime ensured that there was not even the evidence of a human's footprint. At the far end, there was a sliver of flickering light emanating from a partially opened door.

The wall behind wavered back into solidity, leaving the corridor in a deathly silence. Breathing was like inhaling cobwebs, cloying, musty and heavy. The darkness was almost tangible - the only relief being the glimmer from the doorway. Footfalls were muted; dust did not swirl and eddy here. It clung...to everything.

'Damn...damn, damn, damn,' the voice swore from behind the doorway, and the sound of shattering glass accompanied it. 'I'm never going to get this. Shit!'

A male figure could be seen through the crack in the doorway, crouching down, looking at shards of glass scattered over the floor.

'Reparo,' he said.

The pieces flew back together to form a large oval mirror. As he lifted the mirror to place it back on the wall, he glanced at his own reflection.

I wonder.

There was a movement in the reflection behind him. He spun around, wand at the ready. There was a loud crash as the mirror fell from his hands and shattered once again. His eyes narrowed as he watched the doorway for further movement. There was none.

He began to move towards the door, but stopped in pain - a fragment of the mirror had embedded itself into his leg, through his jeans. Blood was trickling over his shoes and onto the floor. He bent over, extracted the fragment from his leg, and watched the blood-flow, transfixed, detached.

Didn't feel that one? Odd.

He straightened up and put his wand in the back pocket of his jeans. For a moment, he stood there, then looked down at the mirror-piece still in his hand. He raised it to eye-level and gazed into it. Blood slid down the side of it, onto his fingers. He didn't notice - he was staring at the glinting reflection. A fraction of his face glared back at him, emotionless. He sighed and moved to turn around, but a stabbing pain shot up his leg. He looked down to see his jeans soaked with blood and a pool of red at his foot.

'Oh for...' he groaned, as he scanned the room for something to clean his leg with. He limped over to the shelf under the windows and began to shift things about.

Oh for...

He worked his way across the shelf, sweeping objects off it and muttering four-letter words under his breath as frustration set in. Bottles smashed, releasing liquids; papers fluttered to the floor; books crashed.

This is ridiculous.

He turned just as a white handkerchief landed on the shelf. He stared warily at it, walked over to it, and poked his wand at it. It didn't try to kill him or explode into flames, so he put his wand away and picked up the handkerchief. He sat down on the floor, rolled up his jeans and began to wipe away the blood. He removed his shoe and sock and threw them across the room. The sock landed a few feet away from him, but the shoe halted mid-air and thudded to the floor. A noise...not the shoe, but another noise.

Fuck!

He shot off the floor, ignoring his leg, and launched himself at the source of the noise. He closed his fist in the air, catching what felt like material, and pulled. A body tripped, fell, and swore. He grabbed it by the leg, dragged the Invisibility Cloak off it, and went to turn it over...but he already knew who it was.

'Shouldn't leave your things lying around the Astronomy Tower, Potter. You never know who might find them.'

'Obviously. What the fuck are you up to, Malfoy?' Harry flung the Invisibility Cloak out of reach with one hand, whilst holding Draco down with the other.

'If you let go of me, I might tell you.'

Amongst other things.

Draco glared down at Harry's hand that was firmly pushing into his chest. Harry pulled out his wand and held it to Draco's face. Draco's eyes snapped back up to see the cold look in Harry's eyes.

'And why exactly should I let you go?'

A slow smile crept across Draco's face.

So I can have a chance to...

'I don't know what you find so funny, Malfoy.' Harry pushed his wand into Draco's cheek. 'You're not really in a good position here.'

Oh, I think I am.

'So what are you going to do to me, Potter?'

'Don't tempt me,' Harry replied through clenched teeth.

Draco's smile widened, and he whispered, 'Do your worst, Potter. It might be fun.'

Harry closed his fist around Draco's shirt and pulled him up so they were face to face. Draco put his elbows on the floor to hold himself up, keeping his eyes on Harry.

'You want my worst, do you?' Harry growled. 'Think you can take it, do you?'

The smile left Draco's face; his eyes narrowed. He grabbed Harry's arm and snarled, 'Think you can do something to me that hasn't already been done?'

Harry hesitated.

'Well, Potter?'

Harry still made no movement.

Draco snorted. 'I didn't think so,' he sneered, and tried to pull Harry's arm away.

As Draco glanced down to see what he was doing, he heard the clatter of a wand dropping to the floor. His head exploded with pain, and he felt the crunch of his nose breaking.

Holy fuck...

He pulled harder on Harry's arm; Harry hit him again. He swung around with his other arm, and lost his balance. Harry took the chance to hit him again. Blood was pouring from his nose. He couldn't focus his eyes. His head was swimming. He tried to put his hand in front of his face. Harry knocked it away and hit him again. His jaw cracked. All he could taste was the steel of his blood. All he could see was a blur. He felt nothing but pain.

'Didn't think I had it in me, huh?' Harry taunted as he pulled Draco up by his collar again to face him.

'Keep going, Potter.' Draco mumbled as he spat the blood from his mouth. 'Make me feel it.'

It's not enough to make the nightmares go away.

'You're fucked, Malfoy.' Harry hit him again.

Draco lost consciousness for a moment, and his head hit the floor as Harry let him go.

Draco lay on the floor, trying to focus, trying to listen. Harry was breathing heavily, panting. There was the rustle of material, a groan of pain, and then footfalls, one almost silent. Draco turned his head to see...nothing, just blurs...and pain.

Footsteps. He listened to the footsteps. They moved around the room, stopping for a moment, then moving again. At each stop of the footsteps, there was the short sound of a puff of breath. At each puff of breath, the room grew darker. He heard Harry mutter 'Lumos'. The footsteps stopped again. A puff of breath, and the only light left was the blur that was Harry.

Footsteps. Harry stood over Draco for a moment silently, then sighed and turned away. Draco tried to open his mouth to speak. The only sound that came from him was a gasp of pain. He put his hand up to his face. It was wet, bloody.

Footsteps. Moving away from him. The room descended into darkness. He put his hand down and felt the silence surround him.

You can't run away forever