Can't Stop the Poison

Can't Stop the Poison

Chapter Three - The Sinner and the Saint

By Xenoia Karris

'Fear makes you fragile darling

Hate is too heavy when you're weak

Now we're both lost in anger

When we're alone

We'll find some peace' --- Goo Goo Dolls, What do you need?

January was cold, but not bitterly so like December had been. The snow had been washed away and replaced with rain, hammering down in torrents. Draco was sick. Since his father had left his condition had deteriorated, and he found sleep very difficult. This left him drained and often he would sit for hours staring vacantly into space, because his mind was too tired to do anything more. He knew he had to return to school today, and so stood in the porch of the Mansion, waiting. Though waiting was no good. She would never come. He sighed deeply and stepped out into the rain, before realising he didn't have to go outside at all. He could Apparate to the station in London right away. However, the hard, cool drops of rain splashing down on his head were refreshing. It made him feel liberated from the internal cage that kept him prisoner. So he walked. His trunks were in the carriage to be taken to King's Cross already, and the servant girl was waiting.

"I will make my own way to the station. See to it that my things are on the train when I arrive," he said to her before turning to the gates.

"But, Master Draco, you are sick!" she protested. Draco paused. Had he been his father, he would have slapped the girl around the face for daring to raise protest, even one of concern. He glanced back at her.

"It doesn't make any difference. Do as I tell you." He left without another word, or even a backwards glance, knowing that the servant knew her duty, and would follow his command. He was soon through the gates and walking blindly through the village. People knew he was the new owner of the Mansion, and took time to let him through; the Malfoy family was well respected in the wizarding world, and indeed feared by the residents of the village.

Draco didn't know where he was going until his feet had deposited him on the doorstep of a familiar building. He had made his way to the tiny café his mother used to take him to as a child, Café Demeter. He pushed the door open and went to his table in the corner. The tablecloths were the same green, blue and white squares he remembered, and the menu was enclosed in a black wallet, keeping it safe and clean from spillages. Years had not changed the places he knew best, only the people. A smiling waitress came over to him.

"Master Malfoy! What a pleasure it is to see you, may I get you anything?"

"Yes, a large hot chocolate please. With cream, and a flake."

"Of course," she wrote that on a pad and walked away, still smiling. Draco thought it must hurt to keep that smile on for so long. When she returned with his drink he paid her for it and leant back in the soft chair, staring out of the misty window at the people hurrying by. The cloudy image looked like a dream, and Draco was watching it all happen from outside. They were all so absorbed by their own pathec existence. Across the street there were three girls in the hairdressers, talking and reading magazines. So superficial, they all wanted to be the prettiest, the most popular; it was sickening. As he spooned the cream from his drink with the flake he remembered how he had once seen his mother exiting the hairdressers, her long blonde hair had been curled at the bottom, and she had had a makeover. Draco had told her she was the prettiest mother in the world. And she probably was, but that was all she had been to Lucius. A pretty face. As soon as she made a decision for herself, she had been removed. A free will was a dangerous thing to Lucius, and one as strong as Narcissa's had been too much of a threat. Or at least, that was how the Dark Lord had perceived it. Draco lay his head down on the table, staring ever out of the window as his mind raced through the memories this place gave him.

Draco woke suddenly. There was a crash, and as he opened his eyes he saw the flash that meant it was thundering again. He sat up straight realising he was still inside the café. There were very few people around him, and the waitress had let him sleep on. He looked at his watch. It was 3 o'clock. He'd missed the train back to Hogwarts and would have to Apparate to Hogsmeade, walking up to the castle. He sighed and got up, exiting without a word to the staff.

Half an hour later he was staring up at the cold grey castle walls again. This year he seemed destined to always be on the outside of this place. Probably outside of the only help he could get. He started to walk towards it, staring at the ground when he heard a click ahead. Someone had exited the castle and was coming towards him. Draco paused before realising it was Professor Snape. He didn't look very happy, but he never did. He stopped in front of Draco and surveyed him with a piercing look that made Draco feel uncomfortable.

"So," he said quietly, "you have decided to grace us with your presence Mr. Malfoy?"

"Er...sorry I'm late professor..."

"Save it. I do not wish to hear it. Come inside before you get completely soaked." He turned and hurried up the steps towards the castle, Draco following slowly, savouring the cool, revitalizing feeling of the rain. Snape led him through the entrance hall and past the Great Hall towards the dungeons; apparently he wasn't going to be allowed to rejoin the rest of the school. Once at the common room wall opening Snape turned left and beckoned Draco to follow him. He did so, and soon found himself sat in front of Snape's desk, staring into his hard, questioning eyes.

"Draco, tell me. How is it that Lucius came to be taken to Azkaban?" Draco stared. That was the last thing he had expected to hear.

***

Harry ascended the stairs, Ron and Hermione talking behind him.

"Jabberwocky," he said, and the portrait hole opened up. As soon as he swept through as owl dropped a small piece of parchment on his head and swooped off out of the window. He opened it, read it and strode firmly over to the fireplace, tossing the letter in as he sat down, head in hands to watch it burn. He sighed. Another damn letter. Usually he liked to get letters from people, but recently it had become a bit of dread. He saw Hermione sit down next to him, placing a hand on his knee. He looked at her and she stared worriedly back at him, brown eyes wide and hair a-frizz.

"Harry?" she said uncertainly. She didn't need to say anymore for him to know what she meant.

"Yes, another one," he said.

"What this time?" Ron asked, pulling up another chair. Harry stood up and walked to the window.

"The usual. Death, Die, Die, Die Harry! You know, standard threats, completely original." He smiled at them, trying to brush it off, but inside he couldn't. He tried to keep up the image that he wasn't concerned at all, and it was nothing, yet he felt in danger. Though he did not fear for himself, he feared more for Hermione and Ron. They looked so worried, a perpetual frown had found its way onto Hermione's brow, and Ron was ever pensive, wondering. Looking at them now, Harry knew if anything it would be he who destroyed them. He looked away, gazing resignedly out of the window and leaning gently on the sill when he felt a soft hand on his shoulder.

"Harry, tell someone!" Hermione said. "Please, someone, anyone." He whirled round to face her.

"I can't. Who can I tell? If I tell Dumbledore then he'll probably put more stupid restrictions on me, if I tell any other teacher then they won't do anything about it, McGonagall will just go to Dumbledore."

"What about Sirius?" Ron said. He had stared to throw bits of paper and rubbish into the fire.

"I can't tell Sirius. He'll be worried."

"I still think you should, but it's up to you," Ron got up and went up to the dormitory stairs. "He'd want you to tell him." He turned and went up the stairs, leaving Harry and Hermione standing by the window. She sighed and sat down on a chair.

"Harry, you might pretend to think nothing of this, or maybe you really don't care. But we do. We want to stop it; we have to find out who is sending you these threats. And why don't you keep them, we could use them as evidence."

"No. People might be able to track them. Get to them somehow."

"Well it's obvious where you are Harry, but I guess you're right. Still, I reckon you should keep one. Just one. I'm going to bed, see you in the morning," she stood up, watching him with affection as she walked towards the stairs and disappeared to the girls' dormitories. Once he heard the door click shut Harry walked to the corner where his bag lay and grabbed his invisibility cloak that lay hidden in the bottom pocket. He threw it over his shoulders and stepped through the portrait hole. Harry had spent a lot of time wandering the castle at night recently. He needed the time to think, and often found himself drawn to the small room where he had first encountered the Mirror of Erised, and though it wasn't there anymore, he still felt the eerie presence of his family behind him. Hermione's words were fresh in his mind, and though he knew she was right, he couldn't tell her the reason he was burning the letters. When he first received one, it had been a threat yes, but against him. Since then they had progressed, and many of the most recent were suggesting that he was not the target this time, though the pain was meant for him. He sat down in the middle of the room and removed the cloak, before realising there was already someone here. He let out a little gasp of shock, and moved to put the cloak back.

"There's no point, Potter. I've already seen you," came the voice from the shadows. Harry could hardly believe it, but Draco Malfoy was sitting on the window ledge, staring up at the stars. He had a black cloak on but nothing to hide with; he was perfectly visible if anyone came along. Harry took a step closer.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" he said, hoping to sound a little hostile towards his enemy, though he knew his voice sounded curious instead. Malfoy turned away from the stars and jumped back to the floor, barely making a sound as he approached. Harry felt a tiny tingle of fear; he really didn't want to be caught alone in the middle of the night with Malfoy. Malfoy stopped in front of him and looked him in the eye briefly before whispering as he brushed past him, "I wasn't here if you weren't." With that he disappeared through the doorway and down the corridor out of sight. Harry stared after him for quite a while and took his place on the window ledge, waiting for nothing and thinking. Though he wasn't thinking about the letters as he had meant to, but about Malfoy's presence, what was he doing here so late? Harry yawned and settled himself by the window, and it was a long time before he finally decided to go back to bed.

Harry's body felt heavy. He was tired from getting little sleep, and though his mind was thinking about moving, he was still lying there twenty minutes later when Ron yelled through the curtains that it was time to get up. He rolled over and groped for his glasses, forcing his aching muscles to move. He pushed the glasses onto his nose and threw his robes on quickly, hurrying down to breakfast. Hermione was already there, sitting and talking to Seamus. So that's when they spoke to each other. He had begun to wonder if they actually saw each other at all. Harry and Ron sat a little further down the table and saw Hermione kiss Seamus on the cheek and come to sit beside them. Ron was already eating when she sat down and didn't speak for the whole of breakfast.

"Are you okay, Harry?" she said. "You look tired." Until then Harry had forgotten about his midnight walk, and accidental meeting with Malfoy, but he didn't want to tell Hermione as that would mean admitting to wandering the castle alone, at night. She would worry and probably scold him for doing so.

"Fine, I just didn't sleep very well," he said, trying not to look at her. She didn't seem to notice and continued to eat and read from her book. Potions. Melting potions. Oh no! Test! He thought. Snape was giving them a test. Crap.

"Hermione, we have a test today don't we?" he said, praying she'd say no.

"Yep. Hope you know what you're doing. It's not an easy one." Harry groaned.

"Don't say that!" he banged his head against the table twice and then lay there for a few moments before reaching for his cup. Coffee. Coffee would help.

Snape stopped outside the classroom and addressed the muttering class.

"Alright, settle down. You need time for this potion so don't waste it; and we will be testing it at the end of the lesson. Now, I have paired you all off with a member of the other house so to ensure no cheating." A nasty grin spread across Snape's face, and Harry felt his heart sink. His chances of success with this potion were almost nil, and the fact he'd have to work with a Slytherin, even lower than that. Oh well, detention again!

"Go in, and your names are on a list on my desk," Snape said quietly letting them into the room. Harry walked to the desk and scanned it for his name. There it was, and beside it Draco Malfoy. Harry's stomach churned. I hate you Snape he thought sending the Professor a glare. He saw to his dismay that Snape was smiling a nasty smile as he accepted the glare. He did it on purpose, the bastard. Harry walked to the table where Malfoy was already sitting, his potions notes and ingredients all out and ready and threw down his bag. Ron followed him, sitting on the table on his right with Pansy Parkinson, and Hermione on his left with Millicent Bulstrode. He sighed. He really didn't need Malfoy right now. But Malfoy sat in silence at his side staring straight ahead. His eyes looked vacant and he appeared slightly dishevelled. And tired. But he had been wandering the castle late, as had Harry. Malfoy must have sensed Harry's stare as he looked away from Snape to give Harry an irritated look that plainly said stop watching me, Potter.

"You may confer with your partner for the first twenty minutes, but not once the potion is stewing. You may begin." Snape watched as a quiet muttering broke out across the room and then, satisfied returned to his papers. Malfoy turned to face Harry, his cold grey eyes still vacant looking.

"Potter. Where are your notes?"

"Here," Harry said, straightening the crumpled parchment.

"Those are notes?" Malfoy said, eyeing the blots and scribbling outs with contempt. "Well, I can see now this is going to be a successful test. Do you have a clue what we should be doing? Did you revise at all?" Harry felt himself getting annoyed. What did Malfoy know? It wasn't his fault he hadn't had the time.

"I couldn't," he said shortly. Malfoy turned away and sighed. He then responded, but he didn't say what Harry had expected.

"No, me neither." Then he started to crush beetles with a pestle and mortar. Harry knew he looked stupid staring at Malfoy, but he continued to give him quizzical looks whilst cutting the Hemlock roots. Finally Malfoy spoke again.

"Potter, will you stop watching me! It's very annoying." Harry shook himself out of his thoughts and looked away quickly, when he realised he didn't know what he was doing.

"Er...Malfoy, do you know what order to put the ingredients in?"

"No. I'm going to make it up as I go."

"What? Are you kidding?"

"No. I don't know for sure. We'll have to see what happens." As Harry stared, looking quite gormless as Malfoy started to put ingredients into the cauldron there was a crash from somewhere else, and Snape was up in seconds. It turned out Pansy had thrown the glass scales against the wall, and Ron had thrown his beaker away. Both walked away from each other to sit at a different table, as Snape yelled at them both separately. When Harry turned back he heard a muffled swear word from Malfoy, before he was pushed aside. They both fell into the table next to them, as the cauldron exploded and splattered them all with the potion. Harry felt the burning on his skin, it was melting, when suddenly a flask of blue liquid was emptied over his head and the melting stopped, but the burning did not.

"Imbeciles! Get to the hospital wing now, all three of you!" Snape yelled as he cleared the mess with a flick of his wand. His skin was tingling unpleasantly, and he felt so hot he could burst into flame any second, but he followed Malfoy out of the room and heard someone else behind him. Turning he saw it was Hermione, cradling her right arm.

"Are you okay?" Harry said, out of habit.

"I'll be fine, it only splashed me, are you okay?" she glanced at Harry, then at Malfoy's retreating back.

"I'll be okay, I think Malfoy took the worst of it," Harry said, fixing his eyes on Malfoy, who disappeared around the corner ahead. Indeed that was true; Malfoy had shoved Harry out of the way, allowing most of the potion to go over himself. This new show of compassion from Malfoy was disturbing, and he felt like something in the world was distorting, something was wrong but he couldn't quite figure it out.

"I'm sure we'll all be fine, Madam Pomfrey will clean us up in about a second," she said as they hurried towards the infirmary.

***

"Foolish! I don't know why Professor Dumbledore allows that man! Really, a melting potion..." Madam Pomfrey disappeared, muttering furiously to herself as she locked the door to the infirmary. Unfortunately, a salve was needed to heal such burns, and that meant staying in the infirmary overnight. Pomfrey was angry that Snape had even let students use such dangerous potions and had gone away to speak to Dumbledore about it. Draco lay very still, it hurt to move too much as the potion had burned a lot of his right side. He stared at the dull grey ceiling, thinking vaguely about getting up when he heard Granger and Potter whispering again. He turned to face them, to tell them to shut up, and jumped up. Granger was at his side. He leant back slightly and stared.

"Malfoy?" she said, uncertainly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you...I just..."

"You didn't wake me then, although your idle chatter with Potter here, woke me some time ago." He sat straight and leant against the pillows, pushing his hair out of his eyes before folding his arms across his chest and fixing her with a glare. He didn't like the look Granger was giving him. He sighed.

"Granger, did you want something? Because if you didn't, could you leave me alone?"

"I just...felt obliged to thank you." He raised an eyebrow.

"For covering you in a melting potion? You like some strange stuff..."

"Don't be an idiot. For getting us out of the way."

"I can't help it, I was born an idiot. Anyway. It was my fault, so sorry. Hope you're both okay." Draco turned away to lie down again, flinching as the stretching made his skin sting. He then realised perhaps apologising was taking things too far; it was his fault, but to admit it to Granger and Potter. A mistake. Big, nasty mistake. He could feel their eyes on his back now, wondering what was wrong with him, why he was being nice. Idiot Gryffindors, he really wished he'd stop getting stuck in this place with them. They were driving him crazy he was sure. Suddenly there was a crash, and Draco whirled round so fast he felt the skin tense and the burning sting spread across his whole side. He let out a slight gasp at the pain. Looking at what had happened though, turned out to be worth the pain. Potter had thrown something across the room, and scrunched in his hand was a small piece of parchment and a red ribbon that had tied it. Granger was at his side in seconds and a tiny owl fluttered out of the open window. Draco lay down so they didn't realise he was watching them.

"What...a letter? Harry, let me see."

"No. I can't."

"Harry. I want to know what this person is telling you! You're so tense lately, if you don't tell me, then I'm going to Dumbledore." Draco couldn't see her face, but was sure she was serious; her voice plainly stated that. Potter stared at her for a moment, as if trying to weigh up whether or not she was lying, and then dropped the paper into her hand, getting up to stand by the window between his and Draco's bed. He reached up and slammed it shut, fiercely and determinedly he turned back to Granger and held his hand out for the letter.

"I won't let them, Hermione. I won't let them win!"

"There's nothing you can do!"

"Yes there is." To Draco's astonishment Potter turned to face him, throwing him the parchment. Draco sat up slightly, ignoring his throbbing burns.

"What?" he said, looking at them. Both were watching him.

"Who wrote that, Malfoy, you must know?"

"What are you talking about? Why would I know anything about who writes to you?"

"Just read it." Draco looked from Potter, to the piece of parchment, and slowly unfolded it. The words spanned the page evenly, but weren't written in a neat hand, the curls stretched into each other and the lines weaved across the paper, 'Potter, it's your fault they're dead you know, how many more will it take? Remember, I'm always coming for you, Potter, but MUDBLOODS die first!' Draco looked up. Who would threaten Harry Potter? Except for the obvious, but he wouldn't bother with lame threats. Something stirred in the back of his mind, but he couldn't be sure.

"Well? Whose writing is that?" Potter asked again, coming closer.

"What makes you think I know?"

"Come on Malfoy, we all know your dad is a Death Eater. And we all know Voldemort is trying to kill me, there's no point denying it. I want to know what you know! Whoever wrote it has something against me, and against non-purebloods. Oh yes, who can we think of who hates Muggle-borns around here? You! So tell me!"

"I told you, who says I know anything..."

"Damn it Malfoy, TELL ME!" Potter grabbed Draco before he could move, wrenching him into an almost sitting position. Draco winced again as a fresh surge of pain stabbed at his right side. Potter was breathing unevenly now, his angry eyes boring into Draco's cold stare, his hair was wild and he looked manic. Draco had never seen him look like this before, even when they had fought previously; nothing he had said could make Potter this angry. Draco knew very well that this kind of desperate rage came from deeper inner turmoil. Mostly, from guilt. Clearly Potter couldn't handle that.

"I said I don't know, Potter." He tried to prise the fingers from his robes, but Potter held on tightly, still staring at him as though he had the answers. "Potter! I do not know who sent you the stupid fucking letter! Now let go of me."

"I know you know, Malfoy! You think it's funny not to tell me don't you? To see me angry, it makes you happy, doesn't it? You are quite happy to sit there and watch me lose more of the people I care about! Well I won't fucking let it happen!" he yelled, throwing Draco back against the headboard and looking at him with disgust. Stupid bastard! What the fuck do you know? Draco swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up as straight as he could manage, so he could look Potter in the eye.

"Potter, do you have a serious problem with English or have you forgotten how to listen? I said I don't know! Don't you think if I were in on some plan to rid the world of Harry Potter I'd have done something about it by now? You think I like seeing suffering? You presume to judge that because I bear the name Malfoy I am like my father? I could have melted you to death today but I didn't! And do you know why? Because I am sick of seeing people getting hurt. In case you'd forgotten, Potter, my mother was murdered in the summer!" He stepped closer so their noses were inches apart. "I know what it's like, exactly what it's like." Potter's angry gaze faltered and Draco looked away, leaning on and looking down at his bedside table as his hair spilled over his face. "And I know how you feel," he whispered so quietly he wasn't sure anyone would have heard him. There was silence for several moments after, in which Draco reflected he and Potter were both bitter, both angry, and they only took it out on each other because no one had any of the answers. Harry only wanted to save his friends; they were the only family he had. Draco understood the desire to make things right again; after all he had tried. He had gone to extreme lengths to make things better but it hadn't helped at all.

"Sorry Malfoy," came a quiet voice from behind him. Potter had obviously understood. Draco hoped he would go away now; he didn't want to talk anymore. "I...never thought you could understand." Draco laughed and sat back on his bed. His arm was throbbing now, dull and painful ebbing away at his concentration and he almost forgot he was speaking with his enemy.

"No, I'm just an evil Slytherin, aren't I? Or worse, an evil Malfoy. Well, I never thought I'd understand you either. And, to be honest I never wanted to. But situations change Potter, and circumstances change people. Maybe you think I deserve everything I get, and maybe I do, but before this year I never did anything without thinking about what the consequences would be, you probably don't believe that, but it's true. Now I realise it doesn't really matter anyway," he rolled his sleeve up and sighed. They were both looking at him as though he'd just told them he was God. He folded his arms and stared back at their gormless faces.

"You two realise you look very stupid, stood there staring?"

"I think I'm in shock," Potter finally said. He reached backwards and sat on the chair. To be honest, Draco did think he looked quite ashen and shocked. He frowned. It wasn't that stunning to find out that a Malfoy had a conscience. He couldn't expect them to accept he felt differently about things now, and was about to turn and get back into bed when he felt a warm hand pulling on his left arm. Granger was looking at him...with concern? No, surely not. It was confusion.

"Malfoy, your arm..."

"Yes, it's burned, I know; remember the thing with the potion before? Yes, still not better, let go..."

"No. Not the burns." He followed her gaze to the fresh cuts on his left arm that traced right from one side to the other, and then onto the white scars that laced across the angry red skin. He had rolled his sleeves up and the marks he had made in the sleepless nights were clearly visible against his pale skin. For some reason he felt a strange tingle of paranoia, and yanked his arm from her grasp.

"It's nothing, an accident," he muttered quickly. "I'm going to sleep."

"Malfoy, did you do..." she nodded towards his arm, "that? To yourself?" He pulled his sleeve back down and glared at her. She was far too perceptive and nosy for his liking.

"What's it to you, Granger?" He couldn't think of anything to say, nothing to explain himself, but to them he didn't need to.

"Why do you do it?"

"I said what does it matter? Leave it alone."

"Hurting yourself won't help, Malfoy." She glanced at Harry, who was looking out of the window again. "I remember telling other people this," she turned back to him. "It won't make you happy; it won't solve all your problems you know..."

"Oh, fuck off Granger! I don't care what you think. You are just a nosy little know-it-all, so back off! I just want to be left alone. That's all," he fell back onto his bed and pulled the covers forwards. "I don't want your pity or your concern, or your stupid psychoanalytical lectures. I just want to be left alone!" He pulled the curtain shut in front of him and turned over rather more quickly than was advisable, for he felt the pull on his burn but he didn't care. He frowned at the curtain on the other side of the bed, his thoughts thrashing about inside his mind. Ignore them his logical self told him. His voice of reason told him to stay away from them all, then he couldn't care. But in the back of his mind, and much against his will, part of him wanted to tell them about Dr. Pickering. He was a Death Eater; he could be the originator of the letters. Didn't matter though, they were his enemies, they hated him and he hated them. And they in no way would have wanted his help. He rolled back over to stare at the ceiling again until he fell asleep. He didn't hear another word from the Gryffindors just beyond the curtain, though they did continue to talk for some time.

***

The curtain swished shut in front of him, and the pale, blonde haired boy disappeared behind them. Harry stared blankly at them as silence fell across the room. Hermione was looking distraught. She was constantly telling people that beating themselves up about things wasn't worth it.

"Harry, are you okay?" she whispered as she came over to sit by him. He tore his eyes away from the curtain to look at her.

"I'm fine. But I'm guessing Malfoy's not."

"I told you he'd been acting funny this year, remember?"

"Yeah, he is. Perhaps he's finally cracked up. What with his mum dying, and then his dad was taken to Azkaban the other week, did you hear?" She laughed and he suddenly realised why. How could she not know, with Ron going on about it all the time. It was his father who had caught Lucius Malfoy in possession of some illegal artefact. Harry knew what having no family was like. He'd lived almost his whole life not knowing love, now he had friends who cared about him very much, as he did them. Malfoy, he had supposed didn't understand this, but obviously he did, if the death of his mother and arrest of his father was affecting him this much. He was pulled from his musings again by Hermione's whisper, this time so quiet he barely heard her.

"Did you see what he was wearing?" she said. He failed to see how that was relevant.

"What? His robes?"

"No, around his neck, he had a time-turner."

"Don't be ridiculous! They're illegal."

"No, I swear, he did!" She paused, the infirmary door clicked as Madam Pomfrey twisted the key. Hermione leapt over to her bed whispering, "You look tomorrow morning!" and in another blink she was behind her curtains, as Harry lay flat on his bed to pretend to be asleep.

Then morning light flooded through the window, and Harry woke slowly as the curtains around his bed were yanked open.

"Get up. You can go now," Madam Pomfrey said, throwing Harry some of his robes. She then proceeded to Hermione's bed to do the same before returning to her dingy little office. Hermione was looking sleepy as she sat up. Her hair was wild, and there were dark circles under her eyes as though she hadn't slept very well. Malfoy however, was looking even worse. His eyes look blank and his hair was sticking up untidily, not only that but he look so tired. Almost drained of any energy he should have gained in sleep, and he was so pale Harry was sure if he got any whiter he'd start to become transparent. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, pulling a jumper over his head, completely unaware of Harry's eyes searching him for the time turner. Indeed, when he pulled the sweater straight, he tucked a small pendant inside his clothes. Hermione was right. When Harry turned back to her, she was dressed, robes on and standing waiting. Harry quickly pulled on his robes and gathered his things together. He and Hermione walked towards the door, when she stopped, Malfoy was gone, but he'd left some of his things behind.

"Harry, look," she said, pointing at the floor. There was a small pocketknife sitting almost under the bed. Harry went back to pick it up. It looked very like the one Sirius had given to him...in fact, it was the one he had given him

"Bastard! He tried to nick it!" Harry said. Hermione came over and looked at it, she took it from Harry and pulled it open apparently checking it for something when a folded piece of parchment fell out, hitting Harry on the head. He picked it up and opened it. It was a leaflet from the conference they had attended last term.

"I bet he didn't Harry, he probably borrowed it. Or perhaps you knocked it under there in your anger yesterday." She gave him a pointed look. Harry felt slightly stupid about that. He had lost it a bit and was being unreasonable. He screwed the leaflet up and tossed it into the bin, pocketing the knife.

"Yeah well, let's go." He heard he sigh behind him and they left the room quickly.

***

Draco hurried out of the infirmary, wanting very much to be back in his Slytherin common room. After the lengthy conversation with Potter and Granger the night before, he really needed to talk to someone horrible, and plot something evil. He had placed a conference leaflet with Harry's pocket knife in the hope they would see the underlined name, and work out what he was trying to get across. Unfortunately he seemed to have misplaced his, so he had to steal Granger's while she was sleeping, which led him to come across her diary in her bag. The urge to read it was almost irresistible. Almost. He wasn't used to doing such things, and if anyone found out that he'd tried to help Harry Potter, he'd never live it down. Never. So he rushed away as quickly as possible, not wanting to have to talk to them anymore.

"What's the hurry, Draco?" he heard someone say from a door he had just passed. He turned and took three short steps backwards to see Dr. Pickering sitting at his desk, his hands lying on some paper work, looking very much like a businessman.

"Professor?"

"Come in, Draco. I wanted a word with you." Draco entered the room and stood in front of the desk. Pickering stood and closed the door before resuming his position at the desk.

"Sit down," he said. Draco did not move, but stared suspiciously at the teacher. "Draco Malfoy," he said shaking his head, and grinning an unpleasant, forced smile; one of those smiles that said, 'you're fired!' A smile that made Draco feel slightly uncomfortable.

"Draco, do you know what you have done?" His brown eyes stared almost through Draco, as his own eyes looked blankly into them.

"Eh? What have I done? I don't understand Professor." His mind began to mentally visualise his homework pile. No, there was no Defence homework.

"No, I don't think you do. Well let me explain." He opened a drawer and pulled out a piece of worn parchment, laying it on the desk in front of Draco. Draco didn't like the fact that it was stained a blackish colour, like long dried blood. He picked it up and through the smears he could make out part of the title. 'Ancient Magic, Learn the History of what...' For a moment he stared impassively thinking if this was supposed to be an explanation, then it was a really crap one. Until it all fell into place in his mind. Obviously it showed on his face, because he saw Pickering lean back in his chair and fold his arms, looking rather smug. The smug look made Draco want to punch him. The leaflet was his, Draco's and he'd left it in Borgin and Burkes, four years ago. When he emptied his pocket he must have left the leaflet, thinking it one of the ones from the shop. Pickering had entered just after he had left.

"So you knew it was me then?" Draco said, tossing the parchment back. Dr. Pickering caught it and leant forward, his face serious.

"Not then, no. I hardly knew you. But as you can imagine, I was confused to see a leaflet, covered in blood sitting in the corner of the shop, and to see the dates on it were four years in the future, well. I'm sure you can imagine I was surprised."

"Vividly," Draco said, looking bored. He knew this matter was in fact, very serious, but he played it cool so Pickering wouldn't be able to tell he was concerned.

"I know you know what I am Draco, so your father asked me to give you a message..."

"My father is in prison," he said, quite aware that his voice had lost some of its confidence.

"Yes. Well, you should never meddle in time, boy. Never..."

"Just tell me what he wanted."

"Oh, are you bored by our conversation? I have more you know, about Potter, and that Granger Mudblood. Had a nice cosy chat with them yesterday didn't you? Nearly told them about me."

"I didn't though, did I? How do you think you know what I was thinking?"

"Draco, you may not show it, but if you stand back and read between the lines of what you say, you can quite clearly read what you don't say."

"Right then, solve that by saying nothing at all." Pickering leant forward, standing up and leaning on his desk. He placed a photograph on the desk and waited for Draco to look at it. When he did, his heart dived.

"Who...who..." he began, but Pickering interrupted.

"Malacia. A friend of yours I believe."

"No."

"Yes!" Pickering pocketed the picture and walked around the table so he was standing right in front of Draco. "I have something very important to accomplish at Hogwarts young Malfoy..."

"Oh really, starting a Death Eater Youth perhaps?" Pickering continued as if he hadn't heard.

"So I trust you will keep this our little secret. If you don't, then something very unfortunate may happen. And I believe you have known the girl a long time, have you not? Do we understand each other?"

"Well since I wasn't speaking, I'm sure..." he was cut off as Pickering grabbed him by the front of his robes, almost lifting him off the floor.

"I said do you understand!" he hissed. Draco frowned.

"Of course I do. I do speak blackmail." Pickering let go, a sly grin crossing his lips as he walked back to the seat at his desk.

"I prefer to call it a...mutual agreement, don't you?" he said innocently as Draco slammed the door of his office. His mind whirled. He didn't know what to do now. On the one hand, Pickering was Death Eater spy, and therefore a danger to the school. On the other, Malacia happened to be a good friend of his, and had been for a long time. He didn't want to drag anyone else into this. He sighed, wondering what he had done to deserve such horrible choices in life. Maybe he had bad karma or something. Suddenly, he felt a tingling pain in his right arm. He promptly ignored it thinking, yes, must be bad karma, as he strolled towards the common room.

Before he got the chance to speak the password, someone came tumbling out of the wall, knocking him sideways. It was Pansy Parkinson. She grinned as she saw who she'd fallen into.

"Draco, I was just looking for you."

"Isn't everyone today," he said miserably, looking to face her. Her malicious pig eyes glinted with amusement. She had some wonderful gossip, he could tell.

"Look," she said, pushing a paper into his hand. It was a copy of the Daily Prophet. He unfolded it quickly to read the headline.

"Oh god..." he said looking away. Pansy put a hand on his shoulder.

"It's great isn't it! We all knew he could get out," she said as she turned to go back into the common room.

"I just wanted to tell you first," she added with a horrible little grin. "Coming in?"

"No, go away." She frowned as the wall closed behind her, and Draco banged his head against the wall. Perhaps it wasn't real. He looked again, but the same headline was there, 'Mad Malfoy Fugitive, looking for You-Know-Who?' He could have cried. He screwed the paper up again and leant on the wall for support. Suddenly he became aware of footsteps in the corridor, and turned to see...Weasley's sister?

"Are...oh, it's you," she said, giving him a contemptuous glare. He sighed. He really couldn't be doing with this right now. She put her hands on her hips.

"I was told to come and find the Slytherins who were going on the trip. Just you is it?"

"No," he said shortly, hoping she'd go away.

"Well, where are they then?"

"I don't know or care, Weasley. Now go away."

"No, you don't own this corridor, Malfoy. I'm here for a reason,; you, apparently, are not." At that moment, several Slytherins emerged from the gap in the wall. They paused to look at Draco, leaning on the wall, and Weasley looking frustrated. Pansy looked ecstatic.

"Draco, were you waiting there for Virginia Weasley?" He glanced at her.

"Me...for her? Of course not, you stupid bint."

"Ooh..." she was going to continue, but Draco just walked away, hearing Ginny muttering something about Belgium to the Slytherin students. A few moments later he heard and irritated shout. They weren't co-operating with the Gryffindor retard. Draco paused to smile. He'd have liked to see the stupid girl getting all riled up. He stopped, a horrible thought crossing his mind as his arm started to burn painfully again. However, it wasn't the melting potion after effects, they were healed. It was the Dark Mark. Voldemort was calling him.

No...no...not now he thought desperately. He couldn't apparate to the Dark Lord, he didn't want to for a start. But it was no good. The magic of the Dark Mark was stronger than he had the will to resist. He dropped his bag and Disapparated from the castle. Something that was supposedly impossible, yet he had just done it. He heard the rustling of leaves around him, and the wind blew in his hair. He was outside. It smelled musty, dank, and was filled with a cold and eerie silence. He didn't want to move, or open his eyes, for he knew what he would see. He could feel the presence of others around him, not many, but they were there. Eventually he opened his eyes slightly, jumping backwards when he did and almost falling over some fallen stone. Lucius Malfoy was standing directly in front of him, smiling like a crazed idiot. Draco froze. This was far worse than seeing Voldemort standing in front of him. His eyes quickly took in the surroundings, a graveyard, how quaint, and his mind began furiously working on a way out. However, this must have been apparent in his expression.

"There is no where for you to go, Draco," Lucius said. At that, Draco's eyes blanked, his face became expressionless, and his mind became resigned to the fact that he was going to die. His own father was going to kill him. Lucius smacked him hard across the face. It was almost a punch, and he tasted blood as his lip split against his teeth. Draco brought his eyes back up to his father's.

"Go ahead then," he said flatly. "Kill me. I don't care." Lucius took out his wand and stepped as close to Draco as he could without actually touching him. Draco could feel his heart racing, he was afraid to die though his stubbornness was stronger than his fear, so he did not move or try to escape. Lucius raised his wand and put the tip of it to Draco's forehead, between his eyes, and whispered, "Crucio!"

Draco screamed and crumpled to the floor. His skin was burning, every single bone in his body was burning. He felt like someone was scraping his skin off very slowly with a none too sharp knife, raking metal nails through him, cracking his bones and grinding them together and ripping his veins out of his flesh...and it was gone. He ached, like toothache but all over his body. He opened a blurry eye to see Lucius standing over him, pleased that his son was in pain. Bastard, he thought weakly. He meant to get up and stand defiantly to piss his father off, but he just didn't have the energy at that moment, his body felt numb.

"Oh dear," Lucius said, his voice full of malicious glee. "Did I hurt you Draco?"

"No, I feel like I'm on holiday," he said, barely aware he was speaking.

"Well, let me assure you, it didn't hurt enough, boy. But we have a gift for you. Get up."

"Yes, right. As soon as I regain feeling in my legs, perhaps I will," Draco said irritably. Lucius bent down and pulled him to his feet, pushing him forwards towards Voldemort, who had been watching all along from a small, broken headstone as though he were at a show. Now he stood up though, and came to stand in front of Draco. Draco didn't look at him, he didn't want to see that hideous, serpentine face again.

"Draco, didn't you pledge your service to me?"

"Maybe."

"If you defy me as you have done, it will require something to make me believe in you again. I was very disappointed, son of Lucius Malfoy, my most loyal..." he began to pace around Draco, who wasn't sure how much longer he could remain standing. "But also very impressed. You managed to outwit your father, and we don't yet know how you did it. Perhaps you'd like to share that with us."

"Not really. Magicians' secrets and all..."

"No. Fine then," Voldemort stepped aside and Draco saw three Death Eaters approaching carrying a limp form. They tossed her at Draco's feet, and he saw that it was Malacia. He felt a sudden stab of panic, and wanted to run away as fast as he could in the opposite direction. Voldemort returned to sitting on the crumbling headstone.

"This is your friend, isn't it?" Lucius said, tapping his wand in his left hand. "She helped you, didn't she? We have seen you with her on several occasions. And I know of your visits to Diagon Alley. I can only assume she lives in Knockturn Alley, or Rippon Walk, so we have decided...you are going to kill her."

"What?" Draco said, his eyes wide with the shock of what he was hearing. He stumbled backwards in an attempt to get away, but Lucius raised his wand.

"Imperio!" A feeling of calm descended on Draco, he could hear his voice saying, 'No, I won't I can't...' But inside him a stronger voice was telling him, 'Get out your wand' and he did, 'point it at the girl' and he did. He saw Malacia looking at him; tears were flowing freely down her pretty face as she pleaded with him. Pleas that he could, in reality, barely hear, but were louder than screaming in his mind. He closed his eyes, trying to fight it, but Lucius was far more powerful than he was, and he couldn't hope to fight it. He heard the last rasping whisper echo inside his mind, 'KILL HER!' and felt himself move his arm, and heard his own voice speak the words.

"Avada Kedavra!" he said. There was a flash of green light, he saw it through his closed eyes, and heard a scream of pain before silence. His father removed the curse on him, and Draco felt the dull aching return to his body as he collapsed to the floor. He wouldn't open his eyes; it was all a hideous nightmare. He could feel his breath becoming uneven, as he gasped for air. His lungs seemed to have stopped working. He couldn't think, his thoughts scattered into disarray as he kneeled in total shock on the wet grass.

"Well, Lucius. Perhaps you feel he has learnt," Voldemort said. "Send him back to school. He might be able to get some information there for us."

"Yes master," Lucius replied. There were three faint pops as several of the Death Eaters and Voldemort Disapparated, and Draco heard the crunching of the grass as his father approached him. Draco didn't look up, he still had his eyes screwed shut, but felt Lucius pull his chin up, making him look at him.

"Open your eyes boy, you can't hide from it. I hope this has been a lesson to you. What you did accomplished nothing. Do you see that now?" Draco opened his eyes, staring into his father's icy grey ones. Icy grey, that mirrored his own cold expression, but felt nothing.

"Yes Father."

"Good. You know the only reason you are alive, is because I asked that the Dark Lord spare you! I hope you are grateful."

"Grateful? Grateful! I would rather have died!" Lucius stood up.

"There are things far worse than death Draco. You will do the Dark Lord's bidding, or he will make you suffer more than you can imagine. He doesn't take acts of treachery lightly. Now, go back to school and wait for my instructions." With that he Disapparated away, leaving Draco to face the horrible truth that he was a murderer, on his own. He glanced down at Malacia for a moment, her head was tilted to the side and her eyes shut as though she was in a peaceful sleep. He reached out a trembling hand to touch her forehead. It was cold. Cold, as the blood had stopped flowing through her veins. The moment was so serene it couldn't possibly seem bad to an onlooker. Draco felt very ill suddenly. His vision blurred and he was violently sick. His mind couldn't accept what he had done, and he felt an inner torment greater than any physical pain he could imagine. It was his fault. He moved closer to her and reached out again, to touch the dress she was wearing. It was there, it was all real. He collapsed and lay flat on the floor, face buried in the grass for some time. The emotions of anger and misery mixed dizzyingly in his head, he couldn't think about anything for more than a second, couldn't sort it all out into some kind of order. Though it was simple, and made perfect sense, he could not believe it. As he lay there in silent lament a small fragment of something stronger formed inside him. His hate for his father, and what he had put him through had made him stronger. It was his hate that gave him some other inner strength to resist. He didn't know it yet, but he would be thankful later for that glimmer of power his own father had planted within him.

***

Harry pulled himself up slowly. Ron and Hermione were waiting expectantly at the portrait hole. They had to wish Ginny good luck and goodbye. Secretly, Harry suspected he and Ron were going to have to hold Hermione back from getting on the coach. This was the school's first trip abroad. They were going to a small academy in Belgium, where advanced Medical magic, and advanced Potions were taught. Hermione really had wanted to go, but the trip was only open to sixth years, and particular seventh year classes.

"Come on, Harry!" Hermione said, pulling him through the hole. "We don't want to miss them." She practically dragged Harry down the corridors and stairs towards the main entrance hall when they saw Ginny coming towards them from the other direction. Harry thought she looked a bit upset, but when she got closer, he saw she was angry.

"I hate them!" he heard her mutter as she swept down the stairs in front of them. "I hate them all."

"Oh dear," Ron said, chasing after his little sister. Harry glanced at Hermione for answers, and saw she was looking past him. He turned to see several Slytherins laughing nastily and slowly making their way towards them.

"So, I guess she was taking about them," Hermione said, starting down the stairs.

When they reached the coaches outside Harry could see Ron helping Ginny carry her things into one. She was talking quite normally to him now; perhaps she'd gotten it out of her system. He could also see Seamus gathering his things together in the next coach. Dean was with him, and they looked round when they saw Harry and Hermione coming across the lawn.

"Hi Ginny, you okay?" Harry said. Ginny stopped and smiled at him.

"Fine thanks."

"I bet you're looking forward to this! You're going to have so much fun!" Hermione said. "I wish I could come with you." Harry could see a tear forming in Hermione's eyes. He put his arm around her.

"Come on, Hermione. It's not the end of the world! You'd probably already know everything anyway," he said. He heard her sniff and laugh. Ginny and Seamus came over.

"Hermione," Seamus began, but she simply grabbed him and gave him a massive hug. They walked slightly away and left Ginny to say goodbye.

"Well, we're going now," she said. She hugged Harry and Ron, and climbed into the coach with her friends and as they pulled off to go to Hogsmeade Harry saw her wave at them all, grinning madly. Hermione was pushing Seamus into his coach and kissed him goodbye. She ran back to Harry and Ron waving enthusiastically as Ginny and Seamus both disappeared out of the gates. Then burst into floods of tears, as Harry and Ron steered her back up to the castle. She decided to go to the bathroom before going back to Gryffindor tower, and disappeared off down a corridor, leaving Harry and Ron to make their own way back.

"She is completely mad," Ron said, staring after her in disbelief. "I don't know how she can keep so interested in everything, all the time. Amazing."

"Yeah. You know, if we hurry, we might be able to copy her notes without her knowing." Ron grinned. "Excellent!" he said, setting off at a brisk walk.

***

Ginny stared off into nowhere as the coach rolled on towards Hogsmeade. It was icy outside, but in here it was warm. She was excited, she'd never been anywhere before without another member of her family being with her. This time, she was with her friends. Yvonne and Sarina were sat with her, both chatting calmly to each other. Ginny sighed happily. This was going to be great. She'd learn loads, and have an amazing time. Though, she did wish Hermione was coming too, she always got on well with her, and they could study together. Yvonne and Sarina were great friends, but not such good studying companions, as they just got onto talking about their personal lives, and who the hottest guy in the school was.

The coach jerked to a halt, and Ginny was jerked out of her thoughts.

"Ginny!" Yvonne called as she tumbled out of the coach, "Hurry! The other schools are already here!" Ginny hopped out of the coach, her feet feeling the cold immediately as she hit the floor. The station was all iced up, and the steam from the trains was lingering in the air, creating an eerie misty effect. It was all very loud and busy, as people shouted across the station, and hurried to catch various trains. She followed her friends through the crowds to a corner of the station, where the school groups were gathered, waiting for their Portkeys to arrive. Ginny glanced left as she spotted a cloaked figure creeping along the edge of the station. There was something familiar about that person. As she watched she saw them turn, and caught a glimpse of the face under the hood. She let out a slight gasp. It was Draco Malfoy. But how could he be here now? And how could he look like that? He looked sick. He was pale, his hair unkempt and his lip was bleeding, or had been. It looked like someone had beaten him up. As she stared, she realised she was staring right into his icicle eyes.

"Ginny?" He held her gaze for a moment, then turned away and stalked off.

"Ginny?" She tore her eyes from his retreating back to face her friend.

"What?" she said, her voice quiet.

"We have the Portkey, we're leaving now," Sarina said, and she held out the key for Ginny and Yvonne to touch. Before she knew what was happening, Ginny felt the world around her dissolving, as she was whisked off to London, where the group would meet with another two schools and Floo out to Belgium. But just before the colours merged into nothing, she saw Malfoy look back, briefly, as though he was looking for someone, and then he disappeared along with the rest of Hogsmeade.

***

Draco looked up. Hogsmeade was very busy today. Or perhaps it was just busy at this time, he had no idea what the time was now. Suddenly, he realised someone was looking at him. He stared back for a moment until he realised it was that Ginny Weasley girl. She was watching him from the corner of the station. A large group of students were gathered there, waiting for something. He turned quickly and hurried away. They must not see or question why he was here. He should have been up at the castle. The girl wouldn't have recognised him; if she did she wouldn't care. He glanced back at the group. She can't be leaving he thought, quickly scanning the group as they disappeared. No, didn't see her. He turned back to the castle and rushed towards it.

As he wandered through the passages, sticking his head through gaps in the doorways, his mind was bent on one thing. Must find her. That bastard Pickering had told Lucius about Malacia, and the whole revenge thing. Or at least, he'd told him what he knew. He had threatened Draco, and then carried out that threat anyway, despite their 'agreement'. He sighed. He'd been wandering for about half an hour now, she must be in the common room he thought, and was about to give up, when he saw the door at the end of the corridor open, and Hermione Granger come through it. He leant against the wall, relieved. She was coming towards him. As she drew level with him, she paused and gave him a funny look. She would have carried on walking, but he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into the empty classroom, closing the door behind him.

"Hey! What are you doing?" she said indignantly, crossing her arms. Draco thought she wasn't sure who he was, as his hood covered his face almost entirely when he looked down. He took the hood off, and saw her irritation disappear in a second.

"Malfoy?" she said uncertainly, as though she didn't believe it.

"I have something to tell you," he whispered. He glanced behind him at the door. Still firmly closed. She came a little closer.

"What happened to you?"

"Doesn't matter. I had to tell you about Dr. Pickering..."

"What? Of course it matters..."

"Shut up, Granger! This is important." His voice had a tone of urgency he had never before heard there. It startled him slightly that he could sound like he cared so much, about people who hated him. Obviously Granger was thinking the same thing.

"I know you hated us, Malfoy, but what has changed this year? You're...different. I don't know what to think of you anymore," she said, taking another step closer. Draco took a deep breath; he was feeling sick again and so, so tired. He looked her in the eye.

"Dr. Pickering is a Death Eater. He told me not to tell anyone."

"What? Don't be preposterous..."

"You think I'm lying! Do I look like I would be lying!" He advanced on her, a manic glint in his eyes. She quailed slightly, stepping behind a table.

"Malfoy! What the hell is wrong with you! You're starting to scare me. I don't understand."

"No. You don't. But I am telling you, he is a Death Eater, and probably the one who has been threatening Harry. Potter." He shook his head. "Potter. Potter wanted help. There you have it. If you don't believe me, then so be it, that's your choice. All I can say is I tried." A tiny ghost of a smile crept onto her lips.

"You want to help Harry? Why did you come to me?"

"Because if I went to Potter, he'd probably yell at me, and smack me over the head with something for not telling him earlier. I thought you might at least give me the time of day to explain." She nodded. He was right, and she knew it.

"You can call him Harry, you know. So, explain to me now. What happened to you? You look like someone beat you up!"

"I..." he paused. He couldn't tell her this. She was still someone who he did not want to associate with.

"Tell me, Malfoy. I know what you're thinking now. Mudblood, what does she know. Maybe I can help you."

"Granger, I haven't changed that much. I do not want to be your friend. I just...don't want to be your enemy anymore."

"Oh. I get it, give us cryptic clues and hope we can work it all out, so you don't actually have to help us? How novel. And how perfectly cowardly!" He stepped closer to her and she looked slightly afraid.

"I am not a coward, Granger! If you knew what has just happened to me..." he stopped. Stupid girl, she was trying to make him angry so he would tell her. Manipulative bitch. He turned tail and skulked away, leaving her standing, very confused in a dark classroom.

A/N ~ Ahh, pain. *tears in eyes* beautiful angst! I'm a really horrible author. Anyway, Next chapter: Sirius gets a part, Ron gets a part other than yelling at Hermione, something goes horribly wrong for Ginny, Pickering proves what a miserable git he is, and Draco gives Hermione a gift. There are punch-ups, general angry moments and tears coming up, as well as some information on why Harry and Voldemort are enemies. Also known as...plot! (I hope).