The Soul Keeper

Chapter 3: The Voice

That night, as Draco lay awake in bed, still fuming about the way Ginny had punched him, he heard it again in his memory.

The same voice that had called his name when he first found the pendant. It was the same voice that had spoken to him that day as well.

When Ginny had hit him, the voice of the pendant had instantly commanded him to hit her back. Hard. Somehow, whether from shock, or the urging of his more intelligent side, he had controlled the impulse and had ignored the voice. Somehow though, he knew that he would pay for it later. It was as obvious as night and day to him that the voice-whatever, whoever it was- did not like to be ignored. It wasn't that he hadn't wanted to hit her back of course, but he knew that it would be folly. As a Weasley, she would probably go running of to tell the first teacher she saw, landing him in detention. Again.

As he lay there, listening to the gentle breathing of his roommates, he found himself drifting towards the dream world.

Draco bolted upright in bed, hair and shirt soaked through with sweat, his hand clenched tightly around the necklace.

His senses returning to him, he yanked his hand away from the cursed object, staring down at it like the snakes would come alive and bite him. At that moment, he wanted more than anything to rip the object off his neck and hurl it so far that it would never be seen again. But something stayed his hand. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn´t bring himself to do it. Or am I not allowed to? He wondered. What did it all mean? And who was it that haunted his dreams, nightmares, and even haunted his waking life?

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

The rest of the week flew by fast for Ginny and Draco alike, except for the long, tense hour of detention they were forced to spend together every afternoon. After "the fight", as Ginny had taken to calling the argument they had had on the first day when she thought about it, they kept up a mutually beneficial truce.

Ginny still felt a little guilty about hitting him, though she would never admit it to anyone, and Draco seemed quite content to leave the subject buried. He's probably trying to forget it ever occurred, Ginny reasoned, and she really couldn´t blame him for it. It must have been quite a blow to his over-proportioned pride. Each day they would meet in the Potions classroom, neither one speaking to the other for the entire time. If Professor Snape noticed the strained silence, he didn´t comment, and so it went on.

Fortunately, Friday was the last day of detention they had together, and it couldn´t end nearly fast enough for them. They entered the classroom that day, exchanging the usual glares, and prepared for more boxes of jars and sorting to do. Snape, however, had a different chore in mind for them that day. He was there waiting for them when they entered, and instead of the normal piles of boxes ready to greet them, Snape had a broom in each hand. Dustpans were lying on the floor beside him, and a couple of rags and towels were set on a desk. A mop could also be seen leaning forlornly against a cold wall, while a scrubbing brush lay beside it.

Draco looked from Snape, to the cleaning items, and then back to Snape with raised eyebrows. Crossing his arms, he leaned casually against the stone wall.

"You don't expect me to fly on one of those do you?" he asked incredulously. "It´s old and... filthy." His face curled in contempt.

"Actually, Mister Malfoy, the brooms are to be used to sweep the floor. And the rest of these are cleaning tools as well," Snape stared coldly at him, daring him to protest.

Draco glanced around at the grime-covered floor and the smoke stained walls. It was impossible to tell exactly how many cauldrons of potions had been spilt on those floors over the years, but from the overwhelming evidence, it seemed to have been quite a lot. Probably the result of generations of Longbottoms, Draco thought nastily. There was no way he was cleaning this mess. However, when he informed Snape of this fact, he was promptly told that he would, indeed, be cleaning it. Without magic.

Draco could think of nothing to say to this, besides the usual, 'I'll tell my father' retort. Since he knew that the threat would not work on Snape, he opted to remain silent and said nothing. Inwardly, he willed himself to give in and resigned himself to his fate. Draco reached for a broom, pulling his hand back before he touched it. A grimace settled over his face. "Why can´t we use magic? I don´t know how to clean," he said disdainfully, motioning to the broom and actually looking a little worried.

Behind him, Ginny tried to stifle a laugh. Probably doesn´t like getting his precious hands dirty. It was obvious that Draco had never touched a broom before in his life. Nor had he ever had any experience with the rest of the items Snape had brought for them to use.

Draco jerked around at the sound of Ginny's laugh.

"I don´t find this funny in the least."

"Perhaps since Miss Weasley is so familiar with these items, she can show you how they´re used." Snape looked inquiringly at Ginny, whose cheeks were starting to burn at the insult.

She darted an venom-filled glance at Draco before nodding her consent.

"Good," Snape replied, "Now I have work to do. You'd best get started." Handing the brooms to Ginny, he exited the same way he had entered, dark cloak billowing out behind him.

Silently, they watched him leave. Then Draco turned back to Ginny.

"Really, Weasley, I never expected to learn anything from you, but the sooner we get this finished, the better. I should have guessed that this particular area would be your specialty." The nasty smirk never left his face as he held his hand outstretched, ready to take the broom from her.

She handed it to him, becoming increasingly frustrated every second, but then grinning as she noted the look of disgust that came over his normally blank features.

"Honestly, Draco, it´s not that bad," she taunted, eyebrows quirked in amusement. All her anger had dissipated the moment she realized she had a chance to irritate him for once.

For a moment, Draco just stared at her, and then the corners of his mouth turned slightly upwards. He knew he should be angry with her, but at that moment, he couldn't help it. It was the first time Ginny had actually ever seen him attempt a smile.

"No, I guess it´s not," he said glancing at the broom, "But I think I like the flying kind better."

Ginny felt a rising chuckle, but was to surprised to hold it back. Even as she laughed, she was kind of shocked. Draco Malfoy had made a joke whether he knew it or not. It was amazing.

Draco's laughter died suddenly, and he reached up and grabbed the pendant that had been hanging around his neck for the past week. A sudden, sharp pain sliced through him like a jagged piece of glass. He felt an overwhelming burning sensation pass through him, and his chest heaved as he tried to get enough air into his lungs and calm his shuddering.

Ginny, concern etched on her features, reached out and lowered him gently to the floor as he started to fall. She might not like him very much and she might tell herself that she wouldn't care if he dropped down dead, but she couldn´t stand to see anyone hurting like he was.

"Draco?" she called softly to him as she hovered over him, trying desperately to figure out what was happening.

As she cushioned his head in her lap, she noticed the dark rings under his eyes that she had overlooked earlier. He obviously had not been sleeping well.

"What's going on?" she asked, not sure whether he would respond or not.

His face had already turned a shade paler and his breathing was shallow. She thought she saw his lips twitch slightly in response to her question, but other than that he gave no sign of having heard her.

He was back in that dark room. And the presence -that other being- was there again too.

"I told you not to disappoint me," it whispered cruelly, "You failed."

That was the last thing Draco heard before the excruciating pain hit him full-force again, knocking the air out of his lungs. His sweaty palm gripped tightly the polished silver pendant that Ginny had never noticed. Before, it had been hidden under his robes. She watched helplessly as Draco twisted and squirmed in pain.

Not knowing what else to do, Ginny was about to call out for help when his eyes suddenly flew open and he sat straight up. His hand dropped loosely from the necklace, seemingly too heavy for him to hold up. He sat that way for a long minute, supported by nothing but his own scarce remaining strength and Ginny´s comforting hand on his back. The room was silent, except for the harsh sound of Draco´s breathing, mingled with the gentle intake of hers.

"Are you alright?" Ginny asked timidly.

Draco seemed to have recovered his breath now.

"Yes," he said, his voice faintly hoarse. He pushed away from her and climbed shakily to his feet.

Ginny tried to help him up, but he shoved her away firmly.

"Don´t touch me,"

Feeling like she'd been slapped, Ginny stepped back hastily,

" Sorry."

Draco heard the hurt note underlying the sarcastic comment and glanced up at her. He actually felt a little bad that he'd hurt her feelings, but only for a moment. It was then that he remembered what the voice had said. Draco had disappointed him, and the only thing Draco could think of that might have caused such a display of bad temper in the voice was when he had laughed with Ginny. This was all her fault. He would have to stay away from her. He'd never paid any heed to the rumors about her smile, but when she had smiled at him then, laughing at his attempt at humor, he had felt something stir within him.

In that one moment-that split second of time-something had changed between them. Irrevocably, completely, eternally changed. The pain from the necklace was a warning. Stay away from her. And that's exactly what Draco planned on doing. He wasn´t sure what had happened, but he knew it was dangerous. And he knew if he ever headed down that path, he could never turn back.

Mind made up, he glared at her coldly.

"Don´t act so upset about it, Weasley. Surely you didn´t like touching me?"

Ginny bristled. She had kind of hoped that maybe things would be a little better between them now, but obviously Draco had merely acted the way he had because he was ill. And not just physically, she thought darkly.

"You´re right," she threw back at him, " I didn´t like touching you." She paused, causing Draco to raise an eyebrow.

"Well, go on," he encouraged.

Ginny didn´t miss the wince that went with the quirked eyebrow though. Even that small movement hurt him.

"But," she continued, "that doesn't mean I'm going to let you out of this room without an explanation as to what on earth just happened." She met his hard gaze directly, not flinching for an instant.

Silence, and then,

"I don´t have to tell you anything."

"Yes, you do." Ginny said equally soft, "Or I will march right out of here and tell Headmaster Dumbledore exactly what just occurred in this room," She stopped to let that sink in. "Is that what you want?"

Draco sighed. She had him, and they both knew it.

"You know that´s not what I want," he said flatly.

His anger had seeped out of him, leaving him feeling tired and drained.

"Then tell me." Her voice was quieter now as well, less angry.

"Alright," he conceded. "But not here, not now."

" When?"

Draco thought for a moment. He couldn´t tell her tonight, being gone that late would call attention to himself. "Tomorrow," he decided finally.

"Meet me in the trophy room at three o'clock. I know somewhere secret we can go from there."

Ginny looked at him questioningly, but when he didn´t say anything more, she nodded, hoping silently that his "secret" place wouldn´t be anywhere near the lower dungeons. Ever since her unfortunate, not-so-adventurous adventure down there she had hated every place that even remotely resembled the chamber. Even the Potions classroom had made her uneasy for a while.

Draco glanced around at the yet-to-be-cleaned classroom.

"I think we had better get started." He reached for a broom, the revolted look reappearing on his face, but was immediately overcome by a wave of dizziness so strong it took almost every ounce of willpower and strength he had left to remain upright.

Ginny caught the woozy look on his face before he could hide it, and was instantly by his side. For some reason, she felt responsible for him. As if he were an overgrown child that needed looking after. She remembered that one, genuine smile he´d given her and she felt her heart go out to him at his pained expression.

Trying to be firm, she took his arm.

"You are going straight to the hospital wing." When he tried to protest, she added, "Just tell Madame Pomfrey that you´re not feeling well." She reached up to feel his forehead.

"You´re probably running a fever, so she won't protest."

Draco thought about resisting, but realized he probably didn´t have enough energy.

Besides, Ginny was determined. The last time he´d seen that look on her face was when she had stood up to him, boldly stepping between himself and that oh-so-famous Harry Potter. Come to think of it, he´d backed off then too, telling himself that it was improper and that he didn´t want to fight in front of a girl. Maybe it was Ginny that he hadn´t wanted to fight in front of. He´d never seemed to mind having a row in front of that Mudblood Hermione before.

Shaking the disturbing thought from his mind, he gathered enough energy to ask,

"What about cleaning the classroom?"

"I'll take care of it," came the immediate reply.

Draco nodded, unashamedly relieved. He didn´t envy her if Snape came back to find the place still dirty.

They reached the door, and as he saw the long hallway and the set of stairs at the other end, he wondered how-if- he would even be able to make it to the hospital wing. The Voice-as he´d come to call it- had really drained him this time. Especially since he was already weak from lack of sleep. He had barely done more than rest his eyes since the nightmare he´d had. He was afraid to go back to sleep, afraid that he´d hear the voice again, and feel the pain. Obviously that didn´t matter now, since he´d been struck in the middle of the day this time.

Ginny saw the problem as well when she peered out the door after him. She bit her lip, deep in thought. Ginny was training to be a healer, and was already taking extra classes with Madame Pomfrey, spending her spare time volunteering at the hospital. One of the first spells she´d learned was how to make a floating stretcher. Bringing out her wand, she recited the spell, then helped Draco onto the stretcher.

"Are you sure this thing's safe?" he asked, looking dubiously at the stretcher floating in mid-air.

"Do you have a choice?" Ginny returned.

" No..."

" Well then." Once Draco was onto it, Ginny quickly chanted another spell and pointing her wand, set the stretcher moving.

Draco just caught a glimpse of Ginny over his shoulder as he began rising up the stairs. Her brilliant red hair had tumbled free of its restraint, and now lay spread across her shoulders, slightly damp with sweat. She had almost had to pick him up to get him on the stretcher. The last glimpse Draco had of her was when she turned away, heading back into the classroom, her attention focused solely on the job ahead of her. With a great sigh, Draco finally allowed himself to relax. Certain of the fact that Ginny would take care of everything, he drifted off into a dreamless slumber.