Clandestine Whispers

>>>>>23 Fighting a losing battle

Potions class.

It had seemed so long to Draco since he'd last been to this class. So long since he'd felt pleasure at hearing Potter and his friends bullied. So long since he'd sneered in satisfied greeting at seeing the Head of Slytherin, Snape.

Why, how, did it seem like so many years had passed by? He was out of control. He still hadn't chosen who he was to be, a black Chess piece, or white. Which did he favor more: love, or hatred? He cherished both emotions greatly.

He looked up from his daze as Crabbe elbowed him; something important was finally happening in class. He looked up, throwing his head back as Snape, staring directly at him, repeated the question. "What, Mister Malfoy, does the Auctorita-Creperum potion do?"

Draco thought for a few seconds before speaking. "It makes the drinker of the potion be consumed by a desire for power, the effects staying with that person according to his soul, whether it is dark or not."

Snape nodded, saying, "True, the potion makes the drinker desire power. Ten points for Slytherin. However," and here the Slytherin Professor gave Draco a look, curious and questioning, yet amused, saying, "why is that you say the effects stay with that person according to his soul, 'whether it is dark or not.' I've never heard that statement. What does darkness have to do with it, Mister Malfoy?"

Draco raised his head higher, gaze sharp, saying, "I only say that quoting a line from a Latin passage I once heard from a book, sir, 'Auctorita Illis Creperum.' Power is darkness. Thus those who have a dark soul have the Auctorita-Creperum, desire for power potion work on them easier and more effectively. This line also fits well with another passage I heard from the same book; 'Modo vulgus qualis anhelo creperum libenter ubi expletio competo bonae inddis,' which translates into 'Only people that desire darkness, will, in the end, be fit for greatness.' Meaning that since 'Auctorita Illis Creperum,' power is darkness, only those that desire darkness, and thus have power, have faith in their power and a strong enough will to succeed in gaining greatness."

He paused, and still feeling Snape's eye on him, continued, saying, "And the reason power is darkness is because ultimate power can turn a soul dark from too much feelings of pride and underestimation of enemies. When powerful, a person underestimates their enemy, eventually becoming dark in their hatred for and shame caused by the underestimated enemy that defeated them. Vice versa also works; ultimate darkness can give one power because those who are dark are feared and know that as long as there is darkness and they have faith in it than that darkness will give them power. That's why Voldemort is so famed, is because he has both ultimate power and ultimate darkness combined and enough brains to put use to them both. Those who didn't kneel and serve that power in greed for it opposed the darkness because there is one word that describes darkness, and that word is pain. Those who dislike pain and don't realize that pain encompasses this world defy and fight Voldemort. So the two sides divided, one serving Voldemort and hoping that some of his power would be given to them--which of course it wasn't, because he wouldn't allow it--and the side who defied Voldemort were those who disliked the pain part and the darkness that was His power."

Snape stared scrutinizingly, barely hiding his shock. Calmly looking back at his Professor, Draco finished, saying clippantly, "I answered all your questions, did I not, sir?" Snape stood frozen to the spot, rubbing his arm, and then nodded curtly, saying, his voice a bit out of character from his usual snappish, gloomy self, said, "yes, yes Malfoy, you did. Thank you."

It was not until long after that Draco stopped getting stares from his fellow classmates.

~~*~~

"Thank you Ms. Granger, this information you have given me is very important. Let's be thankful that you take notes in class always, even if it is another student speaking."

"Your welcome, Headmaster."

Hermione smiled, then, losing her smile, murmured quietly, "You promise not to hurt him, Dumbledore? His words were so harsh and he knowns pain better than any of us do."

"I promise to be gentle, Hermione. Lost souls do not thrive on unkindness, because they endure it enough as it is. His words were harsh, Hermione, but they were also true. You are dismissed now."

"Thank you professor."

Dumbledore smiled at Hermione as she left, and then turning to the other door he opened it, revealing a placid-looking Draco, his hair shining in the light that seemed to pulse like blood through veins in Dumbledore's peaceful atmosphered office. Backing up, Dumbledore let Draco walk inside, and then closing the door and going to sit at his desk, he pointed to a chair, eyes twinkling, saying, "Please sit down, Mister Malfoy."

Draco momentarily glanced around the Headmaster's office before sitting down, posture once again languid, eyes, emotionless as empty tunnels, staring dully back at Dumbledore. For a few moments, both Headmaster and student sat, staring at each other intently, gazes intense. Then Dumbledore leaned forward, now relaxed, and began brightly, "Well, Mister Malfoy, it appears that the audience you had in Potions class today was quite enraptured by your 'golden words,' as you have put it before, Draco. How did you like that, hm? Now the Slytherin's admire you even more, and as for the rest...surely you amazed them."

Draco's posture remained the same, but his eyes shone fiercely, as, glaring at Dumbledore, he spat, "Look, I don't know how you came to know about what I said in Potions, but I refuse to let you dare and throw my words back in my face. Don't try and intimidate me either, it never works with Malfoys, you shouldn't have even dared to sarcastically repeat my words to reflect an ironic situation such as my speaking in class. As for what the Slytherins think, sure they admire me, although I doubt any of them understood a word I said. As for the other three Houses, and especially Gryffindor, I don't give a billygoat's ass what they think!"

"Language, Malfoy," Dumbledore said clippingly, still managing to smile, eyes ever twinkling. Then, sliding his hand across the desk, he put his frail, thin hand over Draco's pale one, and looking so deeply into the silvery gaze before him that Draco couldn't look away, he said, "I do not try to intimidate you. And I respect your family; just as you should be more respectful towards you fellow House students. I did not mean to hurt you by my words."

Draco flinched, pulled his hand away as if burned, and then murmured quietly, "Whatever you did or didn't try to do, I don't like being spoken to that way. I'm not stupid; of course a fo-person like you who can manage to love a Muggle respects everyone, especially a family such as mine. I'm not fond of the Hogwarts motto of trying to connect the Houses so that everyone is in harmony, sympathetic to other's pain, compassionate to the unfortunate, loving all fellow wizards, all that fucking shit. I don't like that, and you can't make me."

Then, leaning in slightly towards Dumbledore, Draco glared at him, eyes full of menace and hatred. Then, eyes still locked with Dumbledore's, he slammed his hand hard against the desk so that things either did a little jump into the air (such as books, folders, large jars of candy) or clattered violently to the floor (such as a Kleenex box, small boxes of candy, the inkwell). Voice slightly cracking as he spoke, Draco roared, "I'VE DEALT WITH ENOUGH PAIN IN MY LIFE TO BE ABLE TO ENDURE YOUR FOOLISH WORDS! Your words don't hurt me. Your words don't cause pain, you are too insignificant and unexperienced in the harsh reality of this world for your words to cause pain. You don't know what pain is, never have, never will, and they're all JUST LIKE YOU! No one understands! Not you, not any professor, not any of them, no one in Hogwarts! You expect me to love them all when they don't understand half of the hell I go through daily!" Draco was now standing, hands flying wildly in gestures, wand fallen to the floor. His once-controlled hair now flew about like chaotic silver tinsel, his face twisted in gruesome emotions.

Then, leaning forward in a quick move, sharp and angry like everything else he currently did, Draco yanked the sleeve of his robe back, pointing at a familiar vicious black tattoo on his right arm. Gesturing at it angrily, Draco, voice now hoarse from yelling, said, "This is what I knew would come, this is what I knew followed after all the pain inflicted upon me! They say power is darkness, and before darkness must exist pain. That pain existed for me, it rushed through me against my every whim! And my life, filled with darkness, fire in Hell, to think that I foolishly thought the pain could leave me someday! One hint of happiness, I took the bait and was deceived. Now, now this-this-this despicable horrendous mark is forever emblazoned on my skin, a symbol of what they call power! Power, power that is darkness, darkness that came after pain, all of them combine to torture me constantly! Bloody hell, look at me, Headmaster! The very mark of death, stamped on the skin of one already pained and full of darkness to the brim!"

Draco stood there in all his fury and pain, the Dark Mark on his arm blazing out against his pale skin like a flag, Dumbledore, his surprise not masked, looking. Suddenly, the door slammed open, revealing Hermione in all her huffing, puffing, disarrayed glory. Marching up to Dumbledore, she was about to open her mouth to speak, when she looked at Draco, and her gaze flew down to stay, unblinkingly, glued to the image of the Dark Mark pasted on his arm.

~~*~~

Hermione lay in her bed, still very much awake, mulling. Over and over again she replayed the scene in the Potions classroom, and then the scenes in Dumbledore's office. In Office Scene One, after talking to Dumbledore about the notes she'd taken, she'd walked out the door, satisfied with her deed yet nervous that she'd given her notes that she'd scribbled down of Draco's speech to Dumbledore himself. She had just plopped down into a chair in the Gryffindor commonroom to write in her diary and wait for lunch when she'd realized that in fact her diary was where she'd taken the notes on Draco's speech. Burning hot with panic that Dumbledore now had her diary, she ran as quick as she could back to his office.

The Second Office Incident: she'd just turned the doorknob, opening the office door, palms sweaty, when she heard a voice yelling, and immediately recognized it. Before she could stop the door from continuing to open fully, and being unable to not listen to his words, the door flung open violently, resulting in her almost falling. But then the thought crossed through her mind that perhaps Draco was yelling in anger at Dumbledore because the Headmaster had told him Hermione had written down what he'd said during Potions. So desperate had she been to get back the diary and run from Draco's fury that she'd barely realized what he'd been saying before her thoughts wandered back to the words she remembered having heard him yell moments ago. She had only meant to glance curiously at Draco; she'd only meant to have a glance at a furious Draco, whom she was sure would be very gorgeous, frightening, and intense in all his angry glory. But her eyes had alighted upon the Dark Mark.

The Dark Mark.

However long she'd known Lucius Malfoy was a Death Eater, that there were dark objects in the Malfoy Manor, and that Draco, before their relationship started, had given every intention of wanting to follow alongside Voldemort, she'd never really suspected he had any true connection and significance to Voldemort. And to think...the person she'd spent so much time with trusting...who she'd confided in...who she'd snogged with...who she'd, there was no not admitting it now, loved...was a DEATH EATER!

Hermione turned and buried her head in her pillow, sobs tearing through her violently, tears moistening the soft yet now uncomforting cushioning beneath her head.

~~*~~

Draco sat, hotly sipping a cup of cocoa. He shivered; it was downright freezing tonight. He was lucky some house elves had still been around when he'd become thirsty for something warm. Nothing was hotter than his anger just now, though. The cocoa seemed almost cold, having come in contact with his lips; these lips burned with harsh, whispered curses every once in a while.

He had not been able to sleep at all so far tonight. The insomnia always came to him when he wanted it least. He replayed the potions speech and the scene in Dumbledore's office. The Potions scene had made him slightly more comfortable, letting it all out. However, the office scene had done quite the contrary. Just remembering it pricked his anger even more, and he felt further in turmoil that, of all people, Hermione had seen...it.

The Dark Mark.

The evening he had gotten the letter, with no return address, he'd been delighted, not having known what it was, attempting to open the envelope the same lovely way Hermione had. But he'd been unable to. The letter itself, however, had encapsuled him in depression:

Draco,

You have angered me. I did all I could to help the Plan, even though that spell you attempted, the Auctorita-Creperum spell, was not part of the plan. That potion in your blood was the Auctorita-Creperum potion, that made you desire power. We planned that you would go mad with that desire and kill Potter and co. When they arrived. But you found that spell in that book I gave you, and used it. I accepted it, deciding it could be to our advantage. But you foolishly got yourself killled; and by the hands of that slimy Harry Potter, no less. I am very displeased. I almost wish that the potion had worn it's effect out on you so that you had stayed dead!

Perhaps that would have been unfortunate though, for since I trained you so well in the Dark Arts, that made the potion powerful enough once consumed by you to bring you back alive when you died. And now that you're alive, you can truly become a faithful follower of our Lord Voldemort. You will be graced with his presence tonight at midnight. Meet me in the Quidditch field at eleven. Do not refuse, boy, or else that mudblood girl you're attached to will die, I swear it. Do not let this plan be thwarted, and be proud: tonight you will get your Dark Mark!

--Lucius

And so he had went, fearing for Hermione's life.

He couldn't even describe how much it had hurt; worse than anything he'd ever felt before--which said something significant, that was for sure! It had hurt more than the Cruciatus Curse; much more. It had been like a thousand Cruciatus Curses being cast all at once, like the Avada Kedavra curse being cast but not fully killing the person, leaving them to slowly die. It had felt like all of this, but doubled.

He had survived, however, and had relievedly made his way back through the Forbidden Forest and on to Hogwarts again, tightly clutching his arm. He had climbed the tree, and had been about to climb up the Hogwarts wall to the Astronomy Tower, where he'd then go back to the Slytherin commonroom. However, Hermione had found him out.

Draco sighed, and threw the empty cup of cocoa to the floor, shattering it.

Everything was wrong now. He grit his teeth as his arm throbbed violently, the Dark Mark blazing pain against his skin.

He was fighting a losing battle, and he knew it.