Restless Nights

And I'd like to extend a special thanks to my WONDERFUL beta, TeaThyme! Thanks bunches!!


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Restless Nights

Chapter 1

Into the Darkness

"Lumos."

Out of the darkness a faint glow emanated from the tip of his wand, illuminating only a small portion of the large room. As his eyes adjusted to the sudden light, he could just make out the familiar serpentine crack in the ceiling; his eyes traced it languidly in the harsh shadows.

With difficulty, he tore his gaze from the ceiling and laboriously, he pushed himself up into sitting position. Thinking hard, Harry Potter searched his memory, trying to remember the last time that he wasn't in impending danger. He tried to remember the last time he'd had undisturbed thoughts; the last time he'd just had some peace. Even now he was having trouble sleeping. Every time he shut his eyes he'd see the image of Professor Trelawney telling of his fate: kill or be... well, he didn't want to think about it. The prophecy had been haunting him, distracting him during the day and keeping him wide awake at night.

What if he failed? What if he were to die at the hands of the Dark Lord? Would there be no other way to stop him? Harry could picture Voldemort going after his loved ones, once he was out of the way. He could see them, Ron and Hermione, laying on a cold floor somewhere, their thick, red blood everywhere.

He shuddered.

Lying back down in his four poster bed, Harry tried his hardest to relax. Instead, he listened to the wind whispering quietly through the trees outside, and the rain that tapped out a somber rhythm on the window sill. He laid a slightly trembling hand on his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath. He sighed, feeling the cool sheets around him, the soft pillow supporting his gently aching head, and the springy mattress beneath his tense muscles.

He took a deep, cleansing breath, feeling the cool air fill his mouth and chest, and then exhaled slow and long. He extinguished the light from his wand, letting it fall to the floor, and he let the blackness, cold and hard as steel, press in around, wrapping him in an eerie comfort which he couldn't find anywhere else.

Another restless night...

"Harry!"

Ron had been up for an hour already, and he was hungry. For the past five minutes he'd been attempting to wake Harry so that they could go get some breakfast.

"Oh, Harry!"

Nothing.

"Wake uuuuuupp, Harryyyyyyy!"

Still nothing.

Realizing this approach was getting him nowhere, Ron pointed his wand at the prone form in the bed in front of him. A quick blast of icy water sprayed Harry directly in the face, evaporating as it touched his skin.

"Aacck...wha...Ron, I mean...what's going on?" Harry sputtered, feeling more groggy than startled "What!?" Harry yelled, scrambling to his feet.

"Sorry mate," Ron began, though he looked more amused than sorry, "I'd been trying to wake, you know, yelling at you and all, but you were out cold. Did you take a sleeping draught or something?"

"No," Harry replied shortly, feeling his oddly dry face and hair. He looked back up at Ron once he'd gained back some of his composure.

"Did it ever occur to you to try shaking me instead of dousing me with ice water?"

"Well, yeah, I just thought that this way would be more fun." Ron tried to suppress his grin but failed miserably.

Harry would have argued the point but he had to admit that Ron's spell had been pretty cool. Besides, he thought to himself, now I don't have to take a shower. He gave a short laugh.

"You're gonna have to teach me that spell, you know."

"I don't know...it's pretty tricky. I don't think you'd be able to handle it." Ron grinned and ducked the pillow that Harry flung at his head. "Come on," he said, throwing the pillow back to Harry, "I'm starved. Hermione will be waiting for us in the Great Hall."

Once Harry had quickly changed, he and Ron went down to breakfast. Upon entering the Great Hall, he spotted Hermione speed reading the Daily Prophet. Ginny was reading over her friend's shoulder, looking frustrated.

"Good morning," Hermione said, folding the paper with a satisfied look as the two boys sat down. Ginny snatched it up, reading it as she walked out of the Great Hall; apparently she hadn't been able to keep up with Hermione.

"You'll both be very happy to know," she continued with a smile, "that there's been no mention of Harry as a disillusioned, misguided, raving lunatic in the paper today! Of course, that one article did call you an... umm... well, let's just say it was rather uncalled for." Her smile faded only slightly at this.

Ron rolled his eyes. Hermione threw a biscuit at him.

"Anyway, Harry," she went on, picking up a new biscuit, "did you sleep any better tonight?"

"Somewhat," he responded not untruthfully. The fact was, he had slept relatively well, for the whole twenty minutes that he had actually slept.

Toward the end of the previous summer, Harry had told Hermione and Ron about the prophecy, and about how it was robbing him of his sleep. However, he was beginning to regret having told them; he could still vividly recall their reactions whenever he closed his eyes. Hermione's eyes had widened like saucers, her hand covering her mouth so quickly she seemed to have slapped herself in the face, and Ron had blanched so violently that even his vibrant red hair seemed to dim. An onlooker might have though it was funny. Harry didn't.

Kill or be killed, he thought savagely. Just my luck.

Coming out of his reverie Harry heard Ron talking energetically.

"...his stupid smirk faded and I watched him fall over the cliff. I started laughing, but then I fell over the cliff, too! I tried to grab a branch on my way down, but it was covered with spiders." He shuddered. "That's when I woke up on the floor."

"Oh, so that's why I heard a loud noise last night!" Harry laughed as the others joined in. He was happy for the distraction, fleeting as it may have been.

Ron rubbed the lump on his head.

He was kneeling on the hard stone floor, head bowed so low that he could feel the icy coldness radiating from the ground. A grimace--or was it a grin?--had spread across his mouth as his excitement and longing mingled with fear in the pit of his stomach. The Dark Lord was reciting an eerie incantation somewhere above him, but he could hardly hear it over the blood pounding loudly in his ears. He tensed ever so slightly as he sensed the Lord Voldemort's slow, deliberate approach.

"Well, Malfoy," the boy shivered as the Dark Lord addressed him, though not from the cold, "You are ready to serve me directly, are you?" He looked at the kneeling form discerningly, with those piercing red eyes; eyes that could kill. "Stand up."

The elegant blonde nearly tripped on his robes in his haste to obey the Master-- his Master. He dared not look up at that pale, imposing face; instead, he looked down at his own arm, which the Dark Lord had raised so that it extended out in front of him, palm up. All the Death Eaters' eyes were upon him. He felt naked.

"You give me your life freely."

Unsure whether it was a question or a command, he nodded.

"And I accept it." The Dark Lord raised his wand and pointed it directly at the boy's rigid arm. "This will hurt quite a bit," Voldemort smiled, savoring the words. He could not mask his enjoyment, nor did he intend to.

The boy tried not to scream as the image burned, white hot, into his once unblemished flesh but he found that this was impossible. He could feel the shriek force its way through his clenched mouth and it resounded off the walls. The Dark Lord began laughing high and loud and the two sounds seemed to merge into a deafening noise, making all the Death Eater double over in pain, hands over their ears.

With a look of regret, the Dark Lord pulled his wand away. The screaming stopped.

The deadly silence that now filled the room was interrupted only by the boy's heavy, labored breathing, which he found he couldn't stifle. He looked down, wide eyed, at the mark which still seemed to burn black on his white skin. Ice filled his stomach; he knew he wouldn't sleep tonight.

"Very well, Draco," He felt a chill go up his spine at the commanding way the Dark Lord used his given name. Gazing hungrily into the Dark Lord's face, into those menacing eyes, a familiar, voracious desire rose up inside of him. He could already hear the words that he'd been waiting to hear his Master say since that first, wretched meeting six years ago. He knew that those words would mean end to those haunting green eyes that had tormented him for these six long years; now it was going to be his turn.

"I have a task for you..."