Lumos

16| Blue Spells

I bumped into Blaise on the way, who called after me jokingly, "what's chasing after you, Steele? Is it Malfoy again?"

It was always Malfoy. I learned the hard way that it would never not be him.

Ignoring him, I sprinted towards the bathrooms. Angry Malfoy versus angry Harry was not a good thing. Sliding past the bathrooms, I caught myself, listening for any signs of trouble.

BOOM!

I cursed under my breath, throwing open the door, just in time to see Harry lunge at Malfoy and shout, "Sectumsempra!"

The blue spell hit Malfoy, throwing him backwards, out of my line of sight.

"Harry, no!" I shouted, wondering what kind of a spell that was. I'd never heard of it in my life.

The sinks had exploded from the rebounding spells. Water pooled on the floor, flooding the bathrooms. Harry stood frozen as I entered the bathroom, slowly.

"Where's Malfoy?" I asked, wondering why the pale boy hadn't retaliated yet. My skin crawled as I walked in, not knowing what I'd have to face inside. Rusted water seemed to be flowing out from under the stalls.

I bent down, staring at the tainted water.

It wasn't rust.

I ran, slipping on the wet tiles. "Harry, what have you done?" I gasped as I stood there, staring down at Malfoy's whimpering form. Scarlet stained the front of his white dress shirt, spreading across his chest. His face was losing all of its remaining color. I fell to my knees, fearing the worst. The red stained my pants, wetness soaking through my robes. I grabbed the crying boy's hand. "Go get some help!" I shouted. "He's still alive. Run, Harry!"

My voice seemed to wake him up from his shock. Harry turned, fleeing the scene, looking for someone to help.

I turned back to Draco Malfoy. It looked as if his chest had been slashed by a sword several times. I pressed my hands to his chest, trying to stop the blood from flowing. Dark blood seeped through my fingers.

"Sh. . . We're getting help," I soothed, trying to keep my voice from cracking with panic. I pulled out my wand, trying to mutter spells to stop the blood flow. He was soaked through. I looked down to see his fingers wrapped around my hand, squeezing with whatever strength he had left. My eyes traveled up his arm to see a dark stain of some . . . shape, on his sleeve. I squinted, looking closer.

Suddenly, I felt sick.

I raised his head off the ground, resting it on my lap. Dread swirled in my stomach as I reached out a shaky hand, unbuttoning his cuff. Slowly, I rolled the sleeve up. Then, closing my eyes, I pulled up the rest of it up.

I opened my eyes. There it was.

The Dark Mark formed on Draco Malfoy's forearm, prominent against his paper white skin. I did gasp, but there was no time for a dramatic reaction.

Snape burst in through the door. I yanked Draco's sleeve down as he sat down besides him, ignoring his cries of pain.

"Vulnera Sanentur," Snape recited, swishing his wand across Draco's body. The blood seemed to crawl back into his chest, clearing the water. Harry stood in the doorway, a look of nausea on his face. He hadn't known what the spell would do, that much was clear. "Go," Snape ordered. "Get out of here." Harry didn't need to be told twice. He left. Snape's bottomless eyes fell on my red hands. "Tergeo." The excess blood disappeared. "Leave," he said.

"I can't just leave him like this." I suppressed the sudden urge to pull Malfoy closer. For some reason unknown to me, I wanted to protect him, as if he were a helpless child.

I'm the teacher, you're the student," Snape said slowly. "I can handle it from here."

"You don't understand . . ." My eyes fell to Draco's arm. I removed my hand from his chest, pressing it to his forehead. "Alright." I slowly slid out from under his head, letting it rest gently on the floor. I stood up, weak-kneed. "Take care of him."

* * *

"It's time to get rid of it," Ginny said. Her long red hair fell over her shoulders, green eyes firm. "The book, Harry. Burn it. Hide it. I don't care, but it has to go."

And so Ginny and Harry left together to get rid of it, leaving Ron, Hermione, and I behind. I dismissed myself, returning to the Dungeon. I waited by the fire the whole night.

"Where have you been?" Tracey asked, yawning as she stood in front of me, stretching her arms. "I sent you about six letters over the break and you replied to none of them. Your parents said you stayed somewhere else?"

"Sorry."

"What do you mean, sorry? Ever since you started hanging around those three, you've been acting detached. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Tracey."

"Why are you sitting here all alone?"

"I'm waiting for someone," I waved her away. "Go to bed."

Tracey's eyes shone in the eerie green light coming from the lake that surrounded our Dungeon. "We made a promise. Don't you remember? We wouldn't get caught up in this stuff. You-Know-Who, the Boy Who Lived . . . As long as we stayed away, we would be safe."

"That was before," I muttered. She was right. I had promised. "I'm not one to keep promises."

"I learned that," she said, turning her back. "You're stuck between two sides. Everyone can see it except for you."

* * *

He came around two a.m. in the morning. I'd enchanted myself to stay awake, laying on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. When in heard Draco sneak inside, I sat up.

His hair was disheveled, face expressionless. Dark shadows fell under his eyes, cheeks sunken in. The only thing that seemed normal were his clothes; crisp and tidy as if they'd never been touched, thanks to magic.

"Are you okay?"

He wasn't. The pale boy stared at me for the longest time, and I stared back.

"You saw it, didn't you?" he whispered, silver eyes fixed on mine. Draco Malfoy walked towards me, taking and seat beside me. "I can remember you looking. Did you tell anyone?"

"No."

"Potter?"

"Would you still be here if I had?" I pointed out, and he nodded, silent, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees.

"Let me see it," I said quietly. It was a risk to ask, but by now, I might as well have changed my middle name to 'risk'.

He obliged. Unbuttoning his sleeve, he rolled it up. I held back an intake of breath.

The skull was dark and nearly glowing, a snake slithering out of its mouth, wrapping around itself.

"Who else knows?" I asked, looking up.

"Crabbe, Goyle . . . Zabini."

"Blaise knows?" I asked, surprised.

"Yeah." He looked up me, confused. "Why am I even telling you this?"

"I don't know." I reached out to feel the mark, wondering how it would feel. Flat, a part of his skin, or more raised.

But as soon as my finger even touched it he pulled his arm back, sucking air between his teeth.

"It's a painful thing," he said, rolling his sleeve back down.

"I understand." I leaned back. "What now?"

"You want to know what the Cabinet is used for?" he asked.

I nodded.

He got to his feet. "Come with me."