Left Behind 2: Illusions (A Dramione Romance)

Monsters

It couldn't be all that late, still well before midnight surely. Instead of searching for hours inside book after book he could just owl Goyle and ask him about the magic doors they had often played tag through as children and hide and go seek.

Draco half smiled. He had gotten along with Goyle well enough when they were both children, before all the politics of the world started settling in around them. 

It doesn't hurt to ask a friend for help, a faintly feminine voice said in his mind.

That was something Draco was not used to doing.

He had always just sort of ordered Crabbe and Goyle around.

Crabbe...

No, don't think about him now.

All he had to do was ask Goyle to ask parents if they knew what kind of magic was used in making them or if they were something that had been around for so long that everyone had just sort of forgotten the magic that had been employed in their making.

A small smile had the audacity to break across Draco's face as he felt the relief of having a solution to at least one problem. 

One down a million more to go...

Hermione was asleep when he returned to the room. He set the glass of water down by her palet and a little vial of tonic in case she had a headache when she woke.

Back in the oasis Fred was out cold. 

Draco checked his pulse. His breathing was even, but his skin was flushed and warm to the touch again. It wasn't a fever exactly. It just seemed-at least to Draco-as if Fred had worn himself out with all the talking and trying to deck him.

Draco cast another healing spell and left the porridge he had made for Fred by the bedside with a glass of orange juice. He cast a quick spell to keep it warm and retreated back to the real world.

-

Draco sat by the fireplace in the library with the door locked. 

He had sent an owl to Goyle over an hour ago saying he wanted to talk through the flames. Since they only lived about a twenty minute flight away from one another Draco couldn't help wondering why he hadn't heard back.

It wasn't exactly all that late, barely past eleven. Which for some would be well past the time for sleep. Goyle however was a night owl and known for partying. If anything he would be up for several more hours.

Time passed, Draco sent another owl.

No response.

He was debating just popping over to talk face to face and decided against it.

There was a part of him which felt strangely ill-at-ease having not heard back and on top of that Draco didn't want to leave Hermione alone in the manor at night. He doubted very much anyone would bother her at this hour...still he had no desire to tempt fate.

She had looked so peaceful when he had set the water by her. As if she were resting for the first time in a long time. 

Finally after half an hour of pacing Draco popped some Floo powder in the fire and called Goyle's fireplace.

There was a moment of waiting before Goyle's head appeared in the flames.

He didn't look happy.

"Why the fuck are you asking me for help?" Goyle demanded, his tone startlingly harsh.

Draco balked, caught off guard by the prickly greeting. 

"Because we're friends and typically that's what they do," said Draco. "Who pissed on your porridge?"

"Friends huh?" said Goyle. "Friends like you were with Vincent before you fucking squealed on him and handed him over to the Dark Lord."

Draco's throat suddenly felt thick.

"I didn't..." Draco started automatically

"Yeah, you fucking did. I heard all about it," Goyle cut off with a sneer, his face contorting in the flames. Even through the fire Draco could see the hate in Goyle's eyes.

A cold ball of led settled into Draco's stomach.

"From who?" he managed not even fully cognizant of asking the question aloud.

"A reliable source."

Deny it, his mind screamed.

Deny it.

"Greyback?" asked Draco scrambling for who had been in the room and would want to ruin anything in Draco's life. Greyback was the only one Draco could think of with motive who would dare risk pissing off a Malfoy. "He's a werewolf. He can't be trusted."

"No," Goyle shook his head.

"Then who on earth would be stupid enough to claim that I betrayed my own friend."

You did betray him, the darkest voice in Draco whispered.

You handed over your friend to the dark Lord to be killed in cold blood.

The clinking sound of chains echoed in Draco's ears.

"Your aunt," said Goyle, his voice cutting through the memory.

Draco's blood went cold and he froze.

His silence was all the confirmation Goyle needed.

"That's what I thought," said Goyle shaking his head, his expression one of utter disgust.

Draco opened his mouth to protest and no words came out.

"She was bragging about it," Goyle continued. "Saying how the Mudblood got away from Crabbe, but never from you."

Draco had nothing he could say.

There was nothing to say.

"I overheard her bragging about it," Goyle went on, his voice venomous. "How you, poor thing suffered under the Dark Lords wand until you gave up 'the worm' –Crabbe, as the real traitor."

"I didn't want to," Draco managed.

That was the truth.

He had tried not to think about it. He had been trying not to think about it for days.

"Well you did," snapped Goyle. "You turned on him and you'll turn on me. That's what people like you do. I can't believe you asking me for help. You're a monster. I've got nothing left to say to you."

The fire went out leaving Draco feeling cold in more ways than one.

Goyle had only said the truth.

He had lost two of his closest friends in a matter of a few days, one at the hands of the Dark Lord and one because he had turned over a friend.

"You're a monster"

The words echoed in Draco's head.

The slow clink of chains began again in Draco's ears.

He's right, a cold chill settled over Draco's skin as he relived that night in his head. Crabbe's screams..... He had handed over his friend to be killed.

It didn't matter the circumstances did it? When you boiled everything down in the end Draco had handed over his friend to be brutally murdered. 

And the smile on Voldemort's face with each link drawing Crabbe closer in...like he had been listening to music.

A symphony of terrors which now sounded off in Draco's mind and memories.

I should never have let him wander away.

I should have kept an eye then he wouldn't have gone up to Hermione...

Then she wouldn't have run...

Then they would have just caught her...

And I could have gone with them.

Goyle's voice echoed in his head: "You turned on him and you'll turn on me. That's what people like you do. I can't believe you asking me for help. You're a monster."

It's my fault.

Why didn't I see?

Why didn't I plan better. I should have thought of something else.

I should have figured out a better lie...

The room felt like it was spinning and Draco held his head in his hands covering his ears. Still the sounds inside his head kept screaming louder.

"You're a monster"

it's my fault...

And you thought you were becoming a better person, his darkest side sneered. You thought she was changing you. 

"Shut up," he answered back out loud.

Handed over your friend to be killed, turned your wand on her more times than you can count. Tortured her. Let her be tortured.

You tortured the woman you claim to love.

Your fault.

"You're a monster."

Draco trembled and in the dark his own lips answered back:

"I am a monster."