Clandestine Whispers

>>>>>8 Shadows Stretching in Every Corner

"Master, it is soon time. He is going to go search for it. He will find it."

"Of course he will. It will fill in the part of him that was empty, and it will confuse him about the other part. Make sure that he also finds the pendant. That is the real jewel the resides in the well. Once he finds it, you need only to find a way to transport him back to his father's house, and there, we will all meet."

"Yes, yes master, it will be done. And the key is being sent to Harry Potter! And then...then, master, once both boys have their own precious objects..."

"The Malfoy boy will lose control, and all will be lost for the muggle-born, and fools like Dumbledore!"

The evil, hissing, shaky laughter echoed around the room; all those who had heard it before would never forget it.

~~*~~

"Isn't it great that nothing's happened to you for so long, Harry? No crazy people out to kill you, no sign of You-Know-Who, no-"

"Ron! Don't say it. Just don't. I know something will happen before the end of this year. I know it will. Don't raise our hopes."

"Hey Harry, guess who you got a letter from?"

"Who, Hermione?"

"Sirius."

Handing him the letter, Hermione watched as Harry quickly opened it.

"Letter, you say? This is no letter. It's...a...key? What the...?"

"Now why on earth would your godfather give you a key, Harry? Do you have any idea?"

"Nope. And look at it...it looks..."

None of them wanted to voice it. The key was an old fashioned one, very long, and atop the part that did not slide into a lock, was a strange symbol. Twining all around the part of the key that went into a lock were strange, squiggly grooves. The key was an almost-brown, sickly grayish-green, turquoise color.

The key looked evil.

"Is there any note from Sirius saying why he sent you the key?"

"Nope. Nothing. How can I use this if I don't even know what lock it opens?"

~~*~~

Fingers raw, hard, and dusty with the effort of digging, digging, scraping fingernails and skin against tough, cracked earth, for what seemed like eternity. Where was it? If only he could find the mark on the ground, it would lead him to his destination, where he would retrieve what he had abandoned.

His sharp, hoarse shout of frustration rushed into the wind, being carried off into the dark bushes and trees of the forest. He was all alone. Behind him, the dark expanse of the forest, trees looming from the darkness, almost invisible. In front of him, was just more stretches of forest growth, below him, the ground he scraped at, and to the left and right, old, crumbling walls of some ancient fortress.

Suddenly, the hands motion stopped. He froze, all senses alert. There was a noise coming from behind him... He momentarily glimpsed, from the corner of his eye, a shadow going behind him, but wasn't sure if it was real, or an illusion. Or was it his shadow?

Whirling around quickly, his eyes darted here and there, searching flickeringly for the source of the noise. Nothing. It was empty and bleak, the trees made not a whisper. Suddenly, his foot scraped against an old piece of stone from the crumbling fortress walls, and he fell, hard. He lay there for a few minutes, dazed. The world spun. Nothing seemed right. He wished he could lie there forever, sinking into a deep sleep from which he would never awaken. Then, slowly, with effort, he got up, hands burning from their labor.

His eyes widened, irises sparkling with fear, surprise, and desire.

There it was! The mark he had made on the ground. Laughter almost escaped his lips, before he choked it down. No, he must keep the silence. Noise could attract creatures to where he was, and he didn't want that. Getting up, he followed where the mark pointed, and eventually came once again upon the hole which he had thrown the ring into.

The deep depths of the well seemed to whisper back at him, telling him how hopeless it was to try and retrieve the object.

He cursed, letting the vicious hiss of the word spit into the air, lashing like a whip. The wind seemed to shudder in disgust that a word of the snake language would dare to be spoken so openly, and a curse word, at that. Swinging himself over the wall, he took a deep breath, and allowed the thought that yes, these could be his last moments on earth alive. Then he let go, his body hurtling down into the dark abyss.

~~*~~

I am enveloped by a shadow.

A shadow that has been hovering over me ever since these new feelings for Draco Malfoy arose inside me. I can't even describe these feelings. They are...lovely. Yet they are also horrid. It seems impossible, to feel this way about Draco. But...he intrigues me, somehow.

I feel like I need to know even more about him.

Although I now know so much, I want to be able to know what he thinks daily, as he walks around Hogwarts, in classes, at lunch. But he avoids me. Our bond we gained when he saved my life disappeared so quickly.

And now we're back to Granger and Malfoy.

I hate it.

Yet I fear my hatred of it.

Because if I hate that we have gone back to what should be considered normal...than that means that I don't hate Malfoy anymore.

And if I don't hate him...what do I feel for him?

The shadow is what looms over Malfoy, as well as the blood. Draco is the victim.

All I know is this: I am beneath the shadow, with its victim.