Creep

Chapter 3: The Meeting in the Dark

It was half past ten when Draco finally arrived at the Quidditch Pitch. The golden stars sparkled in the sky. The moon was nowhere to be seen.

That's why it is so dark tonight.

Draco pulled his eyes away from the sky and desperately tried to distinguish anything in the darkness surrounding him, but there was no one there. Only the tall goalposts of the Quidditch pitch silhouetted against the star-spangled sky, like giant Gods from long forgotten days. A rustling murmur went through the trees of the Forbidden Forest as if they were laughing about the destiny of men. Draco was not surprised to find nobody out here yet; Death Eaters were always on time. He sat down on a trunk and tried to calm himself down. He had to represent the pride and honour of the Malfoy family. Lestrange should not see him in this vulnerable state of mind.

Draco closed his eyes and concentrated on who he was.

Pull yourself together, Draco!

This place was strange at night. There was no cheering laughter from the students that could have distracted him from what he was soon to face. No girls sat on the green -- now shimmering -- black grass, waiting for the next Quidditch match. Nobody was crying or complaining about a lost book or a bleeding wound to the teachers. Nothing, in fact, indicated that this place was crowded with people in the daytime. Draco seemed to be alone with the elemental forces. It was as if he had stepped back in time and entered a world in which the Gods actually still ruled the world; a time in which men had still looked up to powers beyond them; a time in which they had not committed the fatal hubris yet.

A cold breeze blew through Draco's hair and he started to shiver slightly. He did not know how long he had been sitting there motionless, when a rustle of robes pulled him out of his thoughts.

Draco sprang up and turned around. A few feet away stood a hooded and cloaked figure with a broom in his hand. Lestrange was only slightly taller than the blond boy. Draco swallowed nervously and could feel his pulse running at a mile a minute -- he had not even noticed Lestrange's arrival.

You're Draco Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy's son! Now act like it! He told himself fiercely.

The cloaked figure lifted his hand to his head and pulled the hood from his face. Draco stared at him.

Rodolphus Lestrange was a thin and pale man with long, dark brown hair. His big, green eyes had a mad flickering light in them as a consequence from his years in Azkaban. An ugly scar ran from his forehead down to his brow. Draco thought Lestrange could have been beautiful, had he not looked so thin and worn out.

Rodolphus Lestrange stepped towards Draco and nodded politely. "Lucius' son!" he drawled.

Draco tried to smile and nodded in acknowledgement. He felt sick and had the temporary longing to turn on his heel and flee into the Forbidden Forest.

Lestrange put his hand into the pocket of his cloak, obviously searching for something, his eyes glittering in his mask-like face.

"Well, your father has sent me to inform you about his present situation and about your duties."

Lestrange stared into Draco's eyes without blinking, making the Death Eater's son feel very uncomfortable.

"Furthermore, he wanted me to hand this to you!" With that Rodolphus Lestrange pulled out a small package, which was wrapped in grey fabric. He passed it over to Draco, and the blond boy took it from his hand, stuffing it quickly into the pocket of his robes. He already knew what it was and was more than relieved to have finally received it.

"Take only one each day, not more!"

"I know!"

Draco shivered. He felt the chill of the night air creep into his robes.

"What are father's instructions concerning me then?"

He wanted to get this 'appealing' conversation over with as soon as possible.

Lestrange's eyes flickered.

"Slowly boy! I'll inform you about everything you need to know, don't worry!"

Draco felt worse by the minute. It was as if the darkness was closing down on him, just like a noose tightening around his throat. He brushed the hair out of his face with a cold, yet sweaty hand, and tried to keep his composure. His eyes were fixed on the wet ground.

"Yea, right." croaked Draco.

An ugly smile crept onto Lestrange's face. He must have sensed how nervous the young son of Lucius Malfoy really was and probably remembered how Draco had acted some years ago when his father had been at his side to protect him.

"Well." Lestrange paused for effect and Draco looked up. "As I already mentioned earlier, your father has sent me to inform you about his unfortunate present situation. He is still locked up in Azkaban prison, and he does not see any chance to get out of there soon."

The frosty wind hurt Draco's eyes and made them water.

Looking lazily at Draco, Lestrange continued, "He and my other locked-up-companions will get out of there one day, though. The Dark Lord will see to that personally. They are of too much use to rot behind locked doors."

Yeah, right, they are useful murderers ... I forgot.

Draco felt as if he was standing in front of a void. A deep, black void that seemed to steadily grow around him. He felt as though someone was pulling him down. Or was Draco pushing? Quickly, Draco snapped out of his thoughts.

Lestrange had stopped speaking and looked at Draco with interest. Draco suddenly had the distinct impression that Lestrange had been reading his thoughts.

"Umm, how do you keep contact with Lucius anyway?" he hurried to ask.

Lestrange cocked up an eyebrow sceptically.

"That is of no worry to you. I have my ways of communicating with certain people."

Draco wanted to interrupt Lestrange, but the brown-haired man gestured for him to be quiet.

"I am not here to tell you about the information system of us, servants of Lord Voldemort!"

"Then why are you here?" snapped Draco, unable to control his temper.

Lestrange's eyes flickered dangerously. "I am here to inform you that your services will be asked for soon."

Draco drew in a deep breath. His heart was pumping very fast now. He felt like he was falling. Cold sweat was covering his face.

"What kind of services?" he asked anxiously.

"Services that will prove whether or not you are worthy of staying within our midst. You'll know when it is time for you to make use of what you have been trained for."

"But how will I know?" Draco felt very vulnerable. What would they want him to do? And when?

Lestrange laughed wearily.

"Don't be so keen to find out, boy. You might regret it!"

Lestrange pulled the hood of his cloak back up over his head. Draco watched him. He did not dare to speak up again. He knew that this man would only tell him what he was supposed to know; it was not exactly in the nature of a Death Eater to disobey his orders. Draco swallowed heavily. Lestrange looked at Lucius' young son for the last time.

"Farewell," he muttered, and then he mounted his broomstick.

Lestrange vanished into the cold night air within seconds. Draco stared into the darkness after the Death Eater. He was relieved that the meeting was finally over and became aware of how cold his body felt. He turned around slowly and started to walk towards the castle. His legs felt limp and his head was dizzy.

Geez, Draco. Are you really that afraid? He asked himself angrily. Malfoys aren't afraid! Stop it you idiot!

Draco wondered what his future had in store for him while he was crossing the castle grounds. He had the strange and distinct feeling that it would not be him pulling the strings of his fate. It would not be him deciding whether his soul was awaiting salvation or doom. Draco felt helpless. The dragon on his chest burned and Draco knew the dragon's eyes were flaming red now.

Slowly the main entrance of the castle came back into view. The slender boy stopped and his keen eyes scanned the scenery. There was nobody there. He should make his move now. Draco started to run to the main entrance. He was careful not to make any sound while his body moved cat-like and soon he vanished into the castle.

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

Draco arrived at his dormitory at a quarter to twelve. He had slipped through the corridors and the Slytherin Common Rooms undetected. Everybody seemed to be asleep already. Draco silently pulled open the door, stepped in and turned around to close it again. A faint light was still flickering inside the room and Draco could see that Blaise was sitting on his bed writing something into his diary. His rather long, black hair fell over his eyes, and his full lips muttered the words he was writing under his breath. He lazily looked up when he realised that Draco was watching him.

"Where have you been?" Blaise's big, black eyes scanned Draco's cloaked body.

Draco hesitated momentarily, wondering whether his friend deserved to know the truth. He stroked his soft hair back and then made eye contact with Blaise.

"I was meeting Rodolphus Lestrange!"

Blaise looked surprised. Or was it a worried expression? He closed his diary and put it under his blue satin pillow. His long fingers started to stroke up and down his arm.

Stupid habit, Draco thought.

Moments passed before Blaise finally raised his voice. Out came only one simple, but still sharp word. "Why?"

Draco lowered his eyes at once. He walked over to his bed and stepped out of his cloak.

"My mother told me so!"

Draco heard his voice as though it was someone else who was speaking. So weak and powerless. He was turning his back on Blaise now. He did not want to look at his friend. Draco lifted his jumper over his head and unbuckled his belt. He opened his trousers and then pushed his clothes under his bed carelessly. The house-elves would tidy this up the other day.

"What did Lestrange say?"

Draco wanted this conversation to end, regretting that he had started it in the first place. None of this was Blaise's business anyway, was it?

"Nothing you should know!" he snapped as he lay down on his bed looking up at the ceiling. His hand felt for his dragon tattoo. It was burning again.

"Come on Malfoy! Don't be so secretive!"

Blaise was facing Draco, now. He looked annoyed. He was after all Draco's best friend and they told each other everything.

Almost everything, thought Draco, or maybe, not that much, after all?

It was true. Blaise was Draco's best friend. This, as a matter of fact, did not characterise their relationship, though. There was one very good and simple reason as to why Blaise was the person closest to Draco. There were no other people he could have a decent relationship with. Crabbe and Goyle? They had no more IQ than a slice of bread. Draco was positive about that. Pansy Parkinson? Draco could not stand her. She was like some horrible music that one just could not switch off, no matter how hard one tried. Overall there were not many people that Draco found acceptable in Slytherin house. Besides that the other houses were far below him, of course. Thus he had made friends with Blaise.

Draco did not regret his decision, even if Lucius would rather have seen him being best friends with sons of other Death Eaters, such as Crabbe and Goyle. Blaise's father had never been a Death Eater, but his family was still rich and pure-blooded. The Zabinis had never been part of the inner circle of the Dark Lord, but they had always supported his ideas. Draco was not sure what opinion Blaise had concerning Lord Voldemort. He knew that Blaise, indeed, detested Mudbloods just like he did and that Blaise also cared a lot about power and money and he would rarely snog a girl that was not one-hundred per cent Pureblood, but the two boys had never spoken about their positions regarding Lord Voldemort; not really anyway. Draco did not think it would be wise to further talk about his meeting with Lestrange to Blaise. No, this is something that only concerns yourself!

"I'm not being secretive", snarled Draco, dangerously. "Don't stick your nose into other people's business!"

Draco turned his back to Blaise. "And turn the lights off; I am trying to get some sleep!"

Draco was relieved when Blaise did not speak up again. He heard his friend lying back down and only seconds later the lights were out. Draco lay in the dark, eyes wide open.

He did not like the dark. He could not stand the silence that nightfall usually brought. Darkness had the strange ability to disconnect one from the world. It gave way too much room for over-thinking and over-analysing one's own life. And what was Draco Malfoy in this world? Small and meaningless he was. A shadow of his former self. A restless ghost striving through eternity to find peace. A lost soul tumbling towards its own damnation. The dark was a reminder of how short and unimportant people's lifetimes were compared to eternity. What did humanity mean to the fate of the universe?

Draco felt sick. He desperately tried not to listen to the silent, but persistent voice inside his head. A quote by William Shakespeare popped into his mind. Indeed, Shakespeare had been a Muggle, but when Draco had secretly read his works as a little child, that old, dead Muggle had seemed much more than that. He had been a soul mate when all others had faded.

"Like flies to wanton boys are we to the gods, they kill us for their play," Draco whispered.

A smile crept over his face as he took in the full meaning of this sentence.

"Pure cynicism," Draco snorted.

And pure cynicism is what Draco Malfoy really was. He felt lost and lonely, but went out to snog every girl that would pass his way, as long as they had nice tits and a beautiful bum. This, of course, only made him feel more lonely and it sickened him. It was not like he did not like or want what he was doing, but whether it was good, or whether it would keep his soul alive, Draco could not tell. He was not nice, nor did he care much about other people. He was not innocent and he was the one that made his own choices, but who was he after all? And what did his decisions lead to? Was he happy with what he had in his life? Draco closed his eyes. He fell asleep with one final and desperate thought.

I don't want to be lonely. I just want to be alone.

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

Draco had a strange dream that night. He dreamt that he was at some mysterious wizards' meeting. Everybody wore black cloaks, including Draco himself. Uneasily, he realised that he was a Death Eater and that the man in the centre of the circle was the Dark Lord himself. Voldemort was asking Draco to come forth and hand to him the information that Draco had received from Dumbledore. He tried to walk over to the hooded creature, but his feet would not move. He was fixed to the place and every time he tried to move forward something else seemed to pull him back. Draco turned his head around and found bloody Hermione Granger hanging onto his robes. She was pulling him back. Strange as it was she was wearing a violently pink rabbit costume and she was smiling at Draco happily.

What the heck is she so cheery about? This is a meeting of Death Eaters! Draco thought angrily as he tried to push her away. She would not let loose, though, and Draco was shocked to find out that he was wearing a rabbit costume as well.

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

Draco awoke panting. He looked around and was relieved to find out that neither the Dark Lord nor Hermione Granger was anywhere to be seen. What had that been all about? Draco shook his head. Was he going mad? Why did he dream about Granger and Voldemort in one and the same dream? Draco brought his hand to his face and rubbed his forehead. He did not feel well and reached out for his nightstand, rummaging in one of the drawers. Where are they? Need them ... need them now! Draco calmed down when he found what he had been searching for and went back to sleep soon afterwards.

The next morning came soon; too soon for Draco's taste. He had difficulty in getting out of bed and was late for breakfast. Even his hair did not look as perfect as it usually did. Draco only managed to stuff a piece of toast into his mouth before hurrying off to his Ancient Runes classes. He did not even have time to greet Crabbe and Goyle, who were grunting about some joke that Montague had apparently been telling them.

Thus Draco Malfoy sat down in the last row of the Ancient Runes classroom only ten minutes after he had left his dormitory. It was a very small room, since there was usually not more than ten people in a class. There were big windows on the left side of the room through which faint daylight filtered and on the right side the wall was plastered with posters. Posters written in Ancient Runes explaining how to read Ancient Runes.

Stupid really, snorted Draco as the classroom started to fill with students.

There were no other Slytherins taking this subject in Draco's year, but that had never been an argument for Lucius Malfoy to let his son enter another subject. Draco had given in to his father's wishes after a nasty discussion as he always did, and went to his Ancient Runes' classes ever since third year. He was surprised to find he liked it too. Draco had found some kind of fascination for the ancient myths of the old Germans over the years. He loved their idea of Yggdrasill, the world tree, in which the worlds of the humans, the giants, the elves and the gods were united. He loved to read about Jormungand, the Midgard Serpent and he loved to read of Ragnarok. The ancient Germans had believed that Ragnarok was the time in which the world would face its doom. The sun would stop shining, the stars would fall from the sky and the world would sink into the depths of the ocean. The world would simply burn. Draco did not know why he was so into the stories about Ragnarok. Maybe it was some dark longing to see his own world shatter until nothing was left standing besides the walls of its foundation.

Draco snapped out of his thoughts when a girl with bushy, brown hair rushed past him and seated herself in the front row. Draco's eyes fixed on her. It was strange to see Hermione Granger after dreaming about her only last night. She looked arrogant and stubborn.

Just like always, Draco thought.

He hated her and her perfect little Gryffindor friends with a passion he could not seem to muster for anybody else. Draco's eyes had narrowed to slits whilst watching Hermione, like a madman that was about to kill, and he did not even realise that Professor Monde had started the lesson.

"Mr Malfoy! Mr Malfoy? Would you be so kind as to present your translation of the part of the Hyndlasong that we have not yet discussed in class?"

Does that old weirdo really think I am going to pay more attention to his classes when he makes me read out my homework? Snorted Draco inwardly.

The voice of the old and somehow confused looking professor sounded stern. He wore shabby wizards' robes with pink flowers on them. He looked stupid really. His light, grey hair was unkempt and fitted into his appearance perfectly.

Draco looked up at him. "Uhm?" He cocked an eyebrow, paused, and then said confidently, "Fine Professor!"

Draco fetched the Ancient Runes parchment out of his bag, cleared his voice, and started to read out loud:

"The ocean rises to the heavens in the storm.

The lands are swallowed, the air is cold.

Masses of snow come with the dead-icy winds.

But rain shatters the council of fate.

Brothers are fighting and falling in war.

The bands of blood break the sons of the sisters,

The world faces doom, indecency there is -

Axetime, Swordtime, the shields are breaking,

Windtime, Wolftime, ere the final end comes

No men will spare his brother and

From the heights the Almighty one descends.

Come forth Ruler to the highest of courts.

Thou one God, thou greatest in might

Never dare I utter your name and

Only few will be seeing what further will come:

When the One and the Wolf finally fight." ¹

Draco finished his reading by smirking at Hermione Granger whose mouth had fallen open wide while listening to his almost perfect speech. She looked away immediately when their eyes locked.

Professor Monde observed Draco with a definite expression of surprise, hesitated, and then clapped his hands frantically. "Very, very well done Mr Malfoy! That was, indeed, very good!"

Draco smiled at the man widely and said in an arrogant tone, "Thank you Professor!"

God, I am such a snob! He thought to himself, sneering.

"You indeed have a talent with languages, boy!"

Professor Monde stopped praising Draco for his extraordinary homework when the blond boy announced self-confidently that he just was a natural talent and unbelievably bright too.

Hermione snorted disbelieving, obviously disgusted with the extent of Draco's narcissism and Professor Monde carried on with his lesson without mentioning Draco again. Everything went extremely well until Professor Monde started to put the students into pairs. All blood left Draco's face when he heard whom he was going to be paired with.

"Mr Malfoy, you are going to work with Miss Granger," declared their teacher without even looking up from his list once.

Hermione stared at Draco wide eyed. She was blushing, horrified. Her hand sprung into the air at once.

"Professor Monde? Professor Monde? Would it be possible to pair me with somebody else? Padma Patil maybe?" her voice sounded pleading, though determined.

The grey haired man looked up from his papers and observed Hermione.

"Miss Granger, Miss Patil is already paired with Miss Turpin, thus you will have to work with Mr Malfoy. I doubt that there will be any problem!"

Ohh, I do, snorted Draco to himself.

When Hermione looked as if she was about to tell her Professor exactly which problems she saw in working with Draco, the old man put on a stern expression and ended the discussion.

"Period!"

Hermione threw Draco an annoyed glare. Then she gathered her things and walked over to his table, on which she placed her books. She sat down next to him without looking into his eyes once. Draco watched her partly amused, partly annoyed himself, twitched his eyebrows and leaned back.

"Well, let's get started then!" Hermione said while she opened a book, searching for the right passage. She pretended that she did not notice Draco staring at her, and he observed that her ears had turned a funny shade of pink.

Draco leaned forward. There was one thing he was determined to find out before he was getting on professional terms with her.

His mouth was close to her ear so that nobody else could hear him when he sneered, "Why were you spying on me, last night?"

Hermione gasped. Draco saw her back stiffening. She hesitated and then whispered without turning to look back at him.

"Erm, I wasn't spying on you!"

"Ha!" Draco said out loud, but he hushed his voice quickly when he realised that everybody in the room was looking at him as if he was mentally retarded. "Then you admit that you were outside on the school grounds after curfew last night?"

Hermione's face turned a violent scarlet when she recognised that Draco had tricked her.

"I was not spying on you Malfoy!" she snapped. "Believe it or not, you are not someone ..."

She obviously thought about it and corrected, "... something I'd waste my free time on!"

Draco clasped his heart with his hand melodramatically.

"Ahh. That hurt, Granger."

Hermione looked at Draco for the first time while sitting next to him. Her hazel eyes were on fire.

"Shut up Malfoy, you spoiled git!" she hissed and then turned back to her books.

Draco's face froze. What did hat Mudblood just call me?

He tightly clasped her wrist under the table and pulled her toward him. Hermione whimpered.

"Don't you dare spy on me again. If I should ever find you close to me on the school grounds after curfew from now on, I promise that you'll live to regret your decision to be out there!" Draco's voice sounded deadly.

Hermione fought to free her wrist, but Draco was much stronger than her.

"Do you understand me, Granger?" he hissed leaning yet closer to her.

"Sod off, Malfoy!" Hermione said firmly, but quietly.

Draco's grasp tightened at once and he heard Hermione taking in a breath from the pain he was causing her.

However, in the next second Draco himself felt a stinging pain souring through his leg. He let go of Hermione's wrist and held his leg.

"Fuck!"

Hermione had kicked him, witty as she was and he had screamed out loud.

The attention of the whole class was drawn to the two students at once. It was really a miracle that nobody had noticed their little fight until now, but then again Draco and Hermione were seated in the last row and everybody else had their backs towards them.

Everybody was expectantly looking at Draco, whose usually white cheeks had turned into a light shade of pink.

Professor Monde studied the blond boy from under his thick glasses and asked, "What was that Mr Malfoy?"

"Uhh. Nothing professor! I just hit my leg on the table!" Draco hurried to say.

Then he turned to Hermione and shot her an icy glare. She smirked at him self-satisfied and went back to study the open pages in front of her.

Draco could have sworn that he heard her mumble, "serves you right," under her breath, but he did not dare to start another argument.

He tried hard to keep his composure during the last twenty minutes of the lesson, but was very relieved when he was finally released from Hermione Granger's insufferable presence.

Totally fucking full of herself! He thought while striding back to his dormitory.

¹ This is my free translation of the German version of the "Hyndlalied".