Clandestine Whispers

>>>>>12 Dark conspiracies

"Ginny!"

Ron looked up, as Ginny came rushing down the stairs from the girl's dormitory which had ran up to a few minutes ago. If she had looked sad upon running past Ron and Harry up to the Girl's dormitory, she looked more than sad upon running past them down from the Girl's dormitory, tears flowing, unchecked, spilling over her hands, which covered her face in distress.

Then, slowly, as if in a daze, Hermione slowly walked down the stairs to the Girl's dormitory, and at the stairway, slid down to slump against the wall. She whispered, "He's gone..."

Reality is betraying me...my friends dig into my private belongings...I never got to say goodbye to Draco, whom I was never supposed to feel anything for in the first place, and, even worse now...he is asleep now, forever. Gone.

And then putting her head in her hands, Hermione burst into quiet, almost inaudible sobbing. But her heaving shoulders told of how heart wracking and deep her sorrow ran.

~~*~~

Draco wandered, aimlessly, through the blizzard of snow. Why was he always stuck in snow? No matter what dream he had, it always had snow in it, and the dream always ended with him dying, somehow. He hated these dreams, these nightmares, and always dreaded falling to sleep every night.

Suddenly, the world stopped, and he found himself walled in on all sides by a hard, unbreakable transparent material similar to glass in all ways except that its hardness reminded him more of crystal. There was barely enough space to turn around in it, and the snow still fell steadily on his head. Although the glass was transparent, Draco could see nothing past his cage.

Suddenly, as if in his own mind, an image came to him of a key. A key that he wanted, greatly desired. It pulsated power, raw and unforgiving, able to bear the hand of person such as he, who had gone through much pain. In his eyes, the key seemed to glow.

Then, the image disappeared, and Draco banged his head against the wall, trying to break out.. Instead, blood began to pour from his forehead, and suddenly, his heart clenched, and he felt a great pain in his chest, like he was being split open from inside...

~~*~~

Unbeknown to him, looking down on his pale, close-eyed form, gently swirling her fingers through his silvery hair, was Draco's mother. She placed her hand against his cold cheek, and let a tear fall down, sliding from the smooth skin, a snake gliding across ice. Suddenly, there came a knock at the door, and she turned around, dreading who she knew it would be.

The dark man that had forever been the best ally to Lucius Malfoy. Fillspyn Darkel. She hated and simultaneously admired the man; he detested her son, yet he also had helped their family much over the years. But he still managed to frighten her, every time she saw him.

"Hello, Narcissa. I've come to help cure your," he spat the word out like it was the opposite of what he felt, which it probably was, "poor child." Ignoring the glare Narcissa shot at him, Darkel took out from his coat a box, which, upon being unfolded, turned into a chessboard, chess pieces magnetically stuck to the board's surface, already in perfect place.

Lucius walked in to the room, nodding curtly at his friend, if there was such a thing for any Malfoy, and then turned towards his wife. "Narcissa. Go do the other things you planned to do today. Keep the house elves out of the way, and knock on the door if you need to tell me anything urgent; otherwise, I'd prefer we are kept alone."

Nodding, she walked out the door.

~~*~~

Slowly, ever so slowly, the ebony bishop moved its way halfway across the board, to meet with the milky white Queen piece, and, with a violent shove, it pushed the outraged superior piece down with a clank, and smugly took her place. Smirking, the dark-haired man smugly gave his opponent, who knew he was losing, a haughty look.

Ignoring his obvious inevitable lose, Lucius Malfoy leaned across the bored, and giving his opponent a glare that would chill any man besides him to the bone, said, "So, Darkel, are you satisfied now? Tell me what is wrong with my son!" Taking hold of the front of the tall man's robes, Lucius Malfoy managed somehow, to lift the grizzly bearded Darkel out of his chair, and, ignoring the scattering of chess pieces all over the floor, he pulled the man close so that their foreheads almost touched. Nostrils flaring, eyes threatening, Lucius spat, "You know what's wrong with him, don't you? You won me in a game of chess, you won your money, won the bet, now do what I sent you here for!"

Looking over at the now calm, peaceful figure of the boy on the bed, Darkel pulled out of Lucius' grasp, and smiling, said, "He is fine. You have no control over this situation. It is part of the Dark Lord's plan. If you promise not to interfere, I will tell you. No, actually, I cannot. But I will tell you that your son's condition is not fatal--unless under certain circumstances, of course. It depends on the mind of the cursed one, Lucius."

"Don't try to intimidate me, Darkel! It won't work! You wouldn't like the consequences put on you if you anger me any more, Darkel. Now tell me how to cure my son; he is the only key to my cleansing my bloodline of shame, and the only key to fulfilling the wishes of the Dark Lord. You know more about dark influences than I do, Darkel. I'm for the dark objects, the dark arts. You, however, are the man who knows about darkness turning on the dark, and dark creatures surrendering to the bloodthirst, the hunger. Now tell me, Darkel. Why is he not dead? All signs of life are gone from him, yet you say he is alive as ever??"

Lucius stared, grimly, with curiosity, up at the bigger man. Darkel loomed over everyone like a troll, his big frame and dark countenance having caused multiple suspicions about him; most of which were true. With a hood almost forever remaining pulled over his head, yet a grizzly stub of a beard poking out from the darkness, his black cloak swept around him menacingly, gigantic boots adding all the more to the giant effect.

"The boy's body will remain in this state until the Dark Lord's plans begin their action. Once the Potter boy is in the Dark Lord's grasp, and the girl is given to you to deal with, than your son will begin the Auctorita process, in which he is imprisoned in the sandstone chamber, while the Anhelo-Creperum potion flows in his blood. When the Dark Lord says he is ready, we will unleash your boy upon all Mudbloods, and, eventually, Harry Potter himself. And meanwhile, you get to do what you want with the girl."

"What girl? Why would there be a girl, this is about the Potter boy, my son, and our Master, not some girl!"

"You will find that, in the end, she will prove to be the most helpful of all."

Meanwhile at Hogwarts, the chocolate, emotion-filled eyes of Hermione Granger looked out for once at the world through Draco's eyes, seeing the cruel, harsh world before her that absorbed and mixed pain with daily life like a sponge. At that very moment, these eyes of wisdom looked out from a tear-streaked face, framed by glistening, maple syrupy curls. Hermione's eyes represented every emotion she felt; these eyes, staring steadily out at the world, were above her tears, above the rain of sorrow that was their very substance, above the glitter of falling stars.