The authentic Alastor Moody watched in his night robes. He sat on the floor at the edge of the inside of the wooden chest. The man sat with his arms crossed over his chest. The only thing probably worse than being unwillingly locked inside of a trunk was being locked inside of a trunk with a teenager.
An angry one at that.
He then watched the student run against the wall with a rageful scream and tackle it down with her shoulder. She slid down the wall painfully heaving before rising, stumbling back, and trying again. He guessed her shoulder was probably wounded by now, if not a couple of strikes away from being dislocated.
"Give it up, kid," He called from his corner. "It's useless. The only way out is in," He said pessimistically.
"I'm not giving up!" She grunted with pain. "I'm not giving up. I'm getting out of here-" She heaved furiously, looking up at the unending darkness above the two. "There has to be another way out..." She said more to herself.
"Who-" Her dark eyes moved from a nonexistent exit back to the Auror's. "Who was that? If you're Moody then, who-?" she was frustrated at her loss of words.
"Barty Crouch Jr.," Alastor sat up and uncrossed his arms. He would've walked if he could, but Crouch had his leg. "Most unpleasant slimeball. Scum of the scum that walks this Earth. Death Eater and loyal to You-Know-Who until the end. Caught me slippin' in my retirement," Moody finished his sentence by cursing words Nel hadn't even heard before. The trunk was pitch black. She couldn't see just how filthy the man was with unkempt hair and a growing beard from being locked in here so long.
He also couldn't distinguish the features of the Slytherin.
If he could've been immediately able to distinguish just who he was in the room with.
"And what do they want with you?" He asked gruffly.
"The hell should I know. I'm just an orphan."
If he could've seen the constellation in her face in the shape of Ophiuchus, he would've immediately known just who was locked inside of the trunk with him.
Harry Potter sat in the office of Professor Alastor Moody, crying. He was alone processing the events of the Third Task of the Tournament.
Cedric was dead.
Voldemort was back.
Nel was missing.
Probably dead too.
He had seen Cedric's life flash before his eyes. The Dark Lord had touched him. Cursed his blood to be shared between the two. Everything had gone to hell. He pinched the bridge of his nose and remove his glasses to wipe his tears from his swollen eyes.
His head jolted up when Moody's door slammed behind him as he entered the room. Startled, he looked at the Professor.
In the same room, inside of the chest, the missing student attentively listened to the conversation that Harry and Barty Crouch Jr. were having. It sounded muffled and distant. Words were inaudible beyond recognition, but the voices were clear.
"That sounds..." Nel said, pressing her ear against the wall. "It's Moody-" She looked back at the miserable man slumped in the corner. His silhouette was barely recognizable in the darkness. "Well- not you- and that's- That's got to be Harry!" She exclaimed.
"HELP!" She shouted at the top of her lungs. "HELP!" She screamed at the top of her lungs. So loud her throat ached.
"It's useless," Moody grumbled.
"It's not," She croaked, keeping her eyes on the darkness above her. There had to be a way out. Most charmed objects have a way in or out in case their casters become trapped inside of them, but how would she get out without her wand?
"HELP!" She shouted desperately. Feeling the wall, she could feel the leather interior and, burying her nails into it attempted to climb it.
"Even if you do climb it, you'll never get out. There's a second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and Merlin knows how many more trunks." The retired Auror explained.
"I don't care," She spat, continuing to attempt her climb.
"I'll claw through the walls if I have to," She said determinedly.
Climbing two steps up, she lost her grip and collapsed on the floor.
"Told ya," Moody said snidely.
"I don't care!" She shouted angrily, removing one of her shoes and tossing it against the wall. "I won't let them get away with it!" She heaved, holding her other shoe in her hand. "I prefer death to whatever it is they'll do to us."
Holding the loafer in her hands, she looked at it intensely and focused. She needed something to climb to the top. She focused all of her energy on the old shoe. Closing her eyes, almost squashing it between her hands, moody looked at her oddly. Without a wand, it was harder to channel magic, but it wasn't impossible.
A popping sound inside the barrel and an identical copy of the shoe appeared out of thin air.
Then another.
And another.
Followed by several more.
"What did you do?" Moody pressed his back against the wall as he heard the popping sound in the room and the thud the shoes would make when dropping to the ground.
"Uh-," Nel stepped back, almost tripping over one of the hundreds of shoes on the ground. "I-I think I messed up," She said, struggling as the shoes reached up to her knees.
"What did you do?!" Moody screamed in horror as he prepared to drown in a sea of multiplying shoes.
"I wanted to turn the shoe into a ladder, but I think I-" She stumbled, trying to reach for the older man.
"Gemino Curse? You stupid girl!" He clung to her shoulder and hoisted himself up. "We will suffocate!"
Meanwhile outside.
"Harry, get away from there!" Dumbledore said, pushing Harry behind him and the other Hogwarts professors.
Moody and Nel were pressed up against the ceiling, slowly being crushed by the mountains of shoes.
"Out of all things you could multiply- you chose a pair of smelly shoes?" Moody grimaced at the way he was going out. Out of all the ways to die, this was probably the most undignified one.
"I thought I could climb the laced up!"
Just then, a bright light spilled into the inside of the trunk. Dozens of shoes spilled out of it, followed by a brown-haired teenager and the real and the Alastor Moody.
"Ms. Saintday! Alastor! Are you alright?" Dumbledore asked, stepping back.
Professor Snape stepped forward and picked up his student by the upper arm, pushing her behind him. With one quick look, the Slytherin determined she was shaken but otherwise looked unharmed. His glare was scolding, but there was some relief in his brown eyes.
"I'm sorry, Albus," Mad-Eye lamented, dropping his head. "I'm just glad to be out of that hellish place."
"Ms. Saintday," McGonagall rushed to the student and took her face in her hold hands. "Are you alright?" She asked kindly.
Dumbledore kept his eye on Moody. Snape held his wand raised and pointed at the impostor.
The young Slytherin nodded weakly and, looking past the Gryffindor professor, seethed when looking at the disfigured man that was once again morphing into somebody else across the room. Crouch twitched relentlessly, making strange noises as he did. Nel didn't even hear what Harry said to her when he stood beside her.
The impostor's eyepiece fell to the wooden floor and continued to twitch in every direction as Barty Crouch Junior revealed himself.
"Seems like we now know who's been raiding your pantry for Polyjuice potion, Severus," Dumbledore said.
"Son of a bitch," Moody coughed. "Caught me off-guard." The man pressed his back against the chest as he sat on the edge of the room.
Crouch reminded Elowen of a snake. A slithering creature with a darting tongue who hissed when threatened.
"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," He said, rolling up his sleeve to reveal a skull and snake marking on his arm. The man began cackling. The mark on his arm danced, and its dark pigment shined in the dim light.
"The Dark Mark."
'What was that horrible thing?'
Harry flinched, bringing a hand to his forehead at the immediate pain he felt. He didn't need to have this explained. It was his mark. He felt the same pain he had as when Voldemort had laid his hand on him.
"Your arm Harry," Dumbledore reached for the Chosen One's arm. Looking down at her arm. Elowen felt the need to hide it. Crouch had sliced her arm in the same place where he had the mark. She didn't want to know what type of ill omen this was.
"You know what this means don't you?" Crouch began. His lip curled into a malicious sneer. "He's back," He flipped a hair from his forehead. "Lord Voldemort has returned."
His words rang loudly, and the air in the room suddenly felt heavy at the horrid revelation. Crouch's beady eyes focused on the girl's.
"And he's come back for what's rightful his," he threatened.
Nel flinched, shrinking slightly. Without a second thought, Snape stood between the two, blocking sight of his student. From behind, Moody looked at the girl's dirty face. He thought he could recognize a peculiar curse mark on her features.
"You took me!" Elowen sidestepped around Snape. "You locked me up!" Boldly or very foolishly, the girl stepped towards the man. Professor McGonagall held her back, failing as the girl slipped from her gentle grip. Harry's reach and grasp was stronger as he held her back with his hands on her shoulders. "Both you and Ellar Lestrange!" She shook Harry's grip off. Dumbledore observed the scene. His twinkling eyes were waiting for something unexpected to happen anything. Regardless the Headmaster did not move.
"The two of you assaulted, attacked and... then you," She grew silent. Unaware of the vile intentions the two men held.
Crouch cackled madly, and the Slytherin felt her anger begin to boil. She wanted to hurt Crouch. She wanted to hurt him as much as he had hurt her. Tie him to a chair, stand above him and terrify him until he pissed himself. Maybe set him on fire.
The feeling of being powerless. Elowen felt as if she'd hit a wall. She was powerless against him, against the Lestranges, and against Cordelia Wool.
It was humiliating. Harry's grip loosened around his friend, and he gave her an odd look.
"Lestrange?" McGonagall asked.
"Bastard," Mad-Eye cough. It didn't matter which one she was referring to. All the Lestranges were equally rotten in his eyes. Pureblood scum.
"Yes," Nel answered quickly. "Ellar Lestrange," She wanted them to know his name. "Former student. He killed Simon Kominsky. He's been in on the plan with Crouch the whole time."
Dumbledore didn't question her this time.
"Send an owl to Azkaban," He said to McGonagall. "I think they'll find they're missing a prisoner or two."
Instead of looking intimidated, Crouch beamed with pride. "I'll be welcomed back like a hero." He grinned, cherishing the moment.
"Pucker up, Barty. Dementors will be thrilled to see you," Moody called.
Crouch seemed unfazed at Moody's threat, and this filled Nel with rage. The son of a bitch even though he was above the law and death. Perhaps she didn't have her magic, but she would always have her muscle.
"Not if I can help it!" She lunched forward, ready to bite, claw and strike Crouch. However, McGonagall pulled her back from the arm, scolding her. "Ms. Saintday!" She said, horrified. "Come along with me, Elowen," She said to the barefoot teen. "We've got to take you to Madame Pomfrey at once," She said, trying to usher her out of the room.
Crouch laughed loudly. "Ah! Go on, dead girl, strike me," He cried out.
The Slytherin protested, looking over her shoulder. "I'm fine!" She raised her voice. "Completely and utterly fine!"
"Dead girl?" Moody said to himself, turning. He looked at Dumbledore oddly as the pieces all aligned in his head. Moody instantly knew just what was happening and who this child was. The only thing he couldn't figure out was just what in the world was Albus planning...
Nel wanted to meet Snape's eyes, but instead, the Professor lingered behind, stabbing his wand into Crouch's twisted face. Hatred was reflected on the Slytherin's eyes as he looked down at the vermin he was threading on. Moody remained behind.
Outside McGonagall wrapped an arm around the student's shoulders as she led her away. She didn't take her rudeness personally. The girl was clearly in a state of shock. Minerva was just relieved the situation hadn't escalated. Losing one student in one day was one thing, but two?
Dumbledore exited the room with Harry. The Gryffindor looked over his shoulder, hoping that his friend would be looking back at him instead, her eyes were glued to the floor, and she walked in small steps as Professor McGonagall guided her to the Hospital Room.
Nel hadn't thought of how long she had been gone. McGonagall looked overly concerned. Her eyebrows were turned up in worry. The Professor let out a small breath of relief as they made their way downstairs.
"Oh, Elowen. We were all so worried," She spoke as she picked up her pace. "After what happened to that poor boy, we all thought you..." The Professor went silent.
"Thought what?" Nel asked sharply, looking at her concerned expression. She still couldn't believe they had allowed this to happen. She had been missing for a day, or who knows how many hours, and nobody had come looking for her. Oh, but Harry. She thought bitterly. Looking back, the only reason they had found her, and Moody was probably because Harry was in a room and in danger. If he hadn't been there... Only the stars know what would've happened. Looking over her shoulder, she realized Harry and Dumbledore were gone.
'Fuck, if Harry went missing for a minute, the world would probably end.'
"Well," McGonagall began with discomfort. "We thought you'd been killed dear," she said gravely.
Elowen had no reaction to this. Yes, Ellar had killed people before. She had gotten really lucky this time. However, Simon hadn't been that lucky...
"Maybe Simon can find some peace now," She muttered absentmindedly thinking the older witch had been referring to the ghost in the Quidditch field.
She felt great relief after having confessed about Ellar's abuse. It was as if a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders. This was grave enough, and she had heard what Dumbledore had said about Azkaban. This time consequences would be severe. There was no way the rat-faced git would be able to lawyer his way out of this one.
The two were walking by the Great Hall, nearing the Hospital room at this point. Who knew what time it was. It was night. The castle was dark except for the few torches that lit the school corridors.
"Nel," The Professor began slowly, acknowledging her preferred name. She slowed down the pace to a halt. The Slytherin looked at her with confusion. She had never seen the Professor look so hesitant before speaking. Minerva measured her words with scrutiny and care. "There has been an accident," She wanted to say. However, Cedric Diggory's death had been no accident. McGonagall didn't think the two had a relationship. Still, these things had to be handled carefully.
She placed a soft touch on the girl's shoulder before delivering the hard news. "Cedric Diggory has passed," she spoke in a gentle tone.
Nel's dark eyes narrowed with further confusion. She then let out a small laugh. "Passed what?" She asked, perplexed, eyes lighting with excitement. She had even forgotten about the Triwizard Tournament. "Did he pass the final task? Did he win the Tournament?"
Or did Harry win? He hadn't looked very elated when she saw him only a few moments ago. What had he even been doing in Moody's office?
"No." This time Professor McGonagall reached for both of her hands. She held them in hers and patted one lightly, "Dear, Cedric is dead."
Nel was in denial. The news didn't sink. Maybe she didn't want them to. She pretended not to see the defeated look on McGonagall's eyes or the somber edge to her voice. "Yeah, dead tired, I bet," She smiled a little, hoping the Professor would return the gesture.
She didn't.
Instead, the Professor continued. Nel's face began breaking, her chin quivering, nostrils beginning to flare. Her stomach dropped, and she suddenly felt cold.
It wasn't true.
It couldn't be true.
"Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort."
It was the last day of school.
Startled, twitching awake, Nel sat up, her vision still blurry as everything that happened the previous day came rushing back to her.
"You're awake," She ignored the voice.
She was in the hospital room. She could still remember the conversation she had had with Professor McGonagall just a few hours ago. Fragments and pieces of memories from the night before in which the Professor consoled her about Cedric's death. Nel cried until the point where she couldn't speak anymore, and Madame Pomfrey gave her a sleeping draught.
She let out a whimper and brought both of her hands up to bury her face into. Her eyes felt crusty. They were swollen and dry, and her nostrils were scratchy.
"I'm sorry," The voice spoke again. Lowering her hands after a moment, she turned to face Harry, who was sitting at the foot of her bed in the Hospital Room. His head was lowered, tone was low with sorrow.
The Slytherin climbed on her knees and hugged them, shrinking to the opposite side of the bed. She noticed she had been changed into a pair of her old striped pajamas. They were worn and old, with tattered holes on the sleeves. Not that any of that mattered at the moment.
"I can't believe he's gone," She let out a dry sob.
Professor McGonagall had explained to her what had happened in the Third Task of the Tournament. She had also explained that Harry had been the only witness to the crime. "I can't believe-" Her voice faded again, breaking into a high pitch.
"Please tell me he didn't suffer Harry," She looked at her hands. Harry looked at her heartbroken expression. "Please!" She cried out to him.
"He didn't," Harry was quick to answer. It was almost rehearsed. It was something he couldn't possibly know. No matter how many people asked him, Harry wouldn't go into detail. He wouldn't talk about Voldemort or about what had transpired in the graveyard. Even the room looked darker, grayer with the foul weather of the day.
"Is there..." Nel cleared her raspy throat. "Do you know if there's a spell to bring people back from the dead?"
As far as Harry knew, there wasn't. It was one of the first rules of magic. Once you're dead, well, you're dead. Unless you become a ghost. He never had entirely understood how that worked. Then again, he reasoned not many wizards did either. "Not that I know of," he answered, sniffling and wiping the tip of his nose. If he did, bet his parents would be with him today.
Both shared a long silence. Harry in mourning. Nel wondering if she could contact the dead with a Ouija Board.
"He spoke of you," Harry said, breaking the silence.
"What?" She froze, stopping her dead crying.
"He said he was expecting his most loyal servant to deliver you to him," Harry wanted to say. "I think something went wrong with their plan," he reasoned, alluding to Crouch and Lestrange's plan. 'Oh, he meant Voldemort. Not Cedric.'
"Ellar was trying to get me to follow him into the maze," Nel sighed. The worst part was that if he had played his cards right. If he had dedicated himself to wooing her and keeping her tightly wrapped around her finger from the beginning, she would've followed him to the ends of the world. She hated herself for that.
"That's where the portkey was," Harry explained. "The one that took us to the graveyard."
Everything was making sense now. That's what the Lestrange's had been planning all year long. However, the question still lingered. Why would the Lord of Death care for a nobody like Nel?
However, there was one person who knew the answer and would tell.
"Harry, I need to see him," She squeaked, leaning forward. Reaching out to him and holding on to his sleeve tightly. Up this close, she could some of the wounds from the previous day.
"Who?" Harry asked, confused.
"Sirius," She clarified. Nel had a feeling Snape knew more than he was letting on, but for some reason, the old bat was withholding information from her, and there was no way he was cracking any time soon. "Please," She pleaded with Harry. She could've begged him to let her see and or speak to Sirius Black.
Harry could see the desperation in her eyes.
"I've been trying not to think about it, but I can't stop thinking about it," her voice broke as her eyes began to water once again. "I need to know why that man wants me. I need to know who I am," She let out a shaky breath. "I need to know what they did to me. Why they did it. Why?" Her grip tightened.
Harry was supposed to deny the whereabouts or even the fact he had any communication with his godfather. "I'll see what I can do," he agreed.
She didn't hesitate in lunging her arms around him, holding him in a thankful embrace. She buried her face on his shoulder. As per usual, Harry couldn't help but feel embarrassed by the gesture.
Unknowing to the two, a pair of silver eyes watched bitterly from the Hospital Wing entrance. The Slytherin's hands balled into fists at what he considered to be the horrifying scene he was witnessing. Of course, it had to be Potter.
Nel's eyes turned to Draco, who remained composed despite his wild jealousy churning and internally nagging at him.
However, his composure was short-lived.
"You're a dead man, Potter!" Draco stormed in, whipping his wand out.
Harry raised his in defense. Nel pulled away from Harry unbothered. Malfoy was the least of her problems right now. Harry cleared his throat, his face a little red at the girl's gesture.
"Malfoy!" Nel exclaimed, shooting deathly daggers at the boy. She spoke to him the way you would speak to a dog when you want him to behave.
Draco was angry. Of course, Potter gets to show off and win the Tournament, Potter catches Barty Crouch Jr. in the act and has him sent to Azkaban, and then he makes a move on his girl?
It wasn't going to happen. Not on his watch.
Harry then remembered he had seen Mr. Malfoy at the graveyard. Groveling as one of Voldemort's most loyal servants. He couldn't stand the sight of Malfoy. Who knew just how much Draco knew about the incident.
"I have to go," Harry said and shot a menacing look in Malfoy's direction. Harry's green eyes had turned into slits. That slimy weasel and his cowardly father, both would be troublesome. Draco was involved in all of this. Harry had to be careful with whatever he trusted Elowen with, considering how close the two Slytherins were. Did she know his family was on Voldemort's side?
"You better watch it, Malfoy," Harry spat. It was a threat. This time Harry didn't stand back awkwardly. He seethed in newfound anger, not removing his eyes from Draco's silver ones.
"What is your problem, Draco?" She confronted angrily once Harry left.
This was the last thing she needed at the moment. Another useless fight. It was a waste of time.
Harry looked back at his friend, and she nodded that it was okay to leave, so he left, but not before shooting Draco one last glare. Nel looked in between the two, confused.
Had she missed something?
Harry looked back to see Malfoy walking stiffly to stand beside the girl's hospital bed.
He was dressed in a black suit and straight black pants. Neatly groomed. His cologne announced his arrival before his presence. It looked more like he was going to a business meeting than to visit a friend at the hospital.
Draco was silent. He was still angry. He gave her a stern look and couldn't bring himself to open his mouth and speak to her.
He wasn't the person she wanted to see right now. Especially not after the tantrum he had just thrown. The only thing she cared about was seeing Sirius Black, talking to him, getting to the bottom of this horrible nightmare, and maybe finding a way to see Cedric again.
Draco remained quiet. Little did Nel know about the raging storm that was happening in his head and about everything he had done for her before coming here.
Trying to control her emotions, she wiped her face, took a deep breath, and brushed all of her brown hair out of her swollen face with her fingers.
"Came to mooch off my gifts?" She offered sarcastically, barely looking back at the little flowers and candies next to her bed.
He didn't say a word.
This was uncharacteristic of him. You usually hated Malfoy for opening his mouth, not for remaining so oddly silent. "You can have some if you like," She motioned towards them, hoping he would crack. Had he just come here to stare at her? He almost looked sick. What was his problem? Why was he acting so weird?
"Not the lemon pastries, but anything else really. I mean, I'm not going to eat-" She babbled nervously at his loud silence not bearing his quietness. Anxiety got the best of her as she toyed with the bedsheets, suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious. She was in her most disgusting pajamas. Draco slept in fresh silk while she slept in something even a moth wouldn't chew on. It was something that made her feel ashamed and embarrassed.
Draco opened his mouth to speak, and the silence in the room felt more remarkable after he spoke. The fact the two were alone in the suffocating room with the palpable tension was painful.
She really wished he had given her some sort of warning before opening his mouth.
"I fancy you," he admitted boldly.
His hands inside his pockets. Eyes steady as he kept his fixed gaze on her shocked one. She remained silent at his confession. Her expression was unreadable.
Now it was her turn to grow silent.
She lowered her head in embarrassment and continued to anxiously fidget with the sheets on the bed, suddenly wanting to hide under them and vanish. In a cleverer state, she would've pretended to faint just to avoid the awkwardness that was to follow.
God, this was so awkward, so painful. She flashbacked to what Daphne had suggested. She had been right. She flashbacked to the Yule Ball to all of the years of torture she had endured just so that he could have her attention. She also thought about those rare moments the two shared together. Draco could be nice, he could be a friend, he was sort of handsome, but then again-
She looked at the childish way he had just stormed in and threatened Harry.
The way he could be so demanding and selfish was a turn off. Besides, it would never work out between the two. His parents would never approve of her or her socioeconomic status.
Even less when they were most likely planning on delivering her to the Dark Lord like Ellar had been.
"As in, I like you." He elaborated on his emotion. "As more than friends."
What if this is what it was all about?
Since Ellar had failed in his task of delivering her to Lord Voldemort, it had fallen on Draco to do so. Could that be it?
But how did she feel about him? She turned away from him, her dry eyes beginning to sting. She hoped he wouldn't notice.
Draco was in turmoil. Malfoy Sr. Had always taught his son 'Nobody says no to a Malfoy,' and if someone did, he had insisted never to take no for an answer. Here, Draco had a feeling he had met somebody that would say no to a Malfoy.
"I don't like you" she avoided his stung expression.
Despite her rejection, he remained standing tall, unwavering. Either he didn't believe her, or as he had been taught, he wouldn't take no for an answer.
"So," he began appearing calm. "What are we going to do about it?" He attempted to negotiate.
"We?" She looked at him in horrific surprise. In his head they were already together. We, as in collective, as in us. As in Us vs. Them. A fat tear slid down her face. Why was he saying this to her? Was he toying with her?
Perhaps, Ellar was right, and he really was just playing with her. Draco's family was well known for fraternizing with You-Know-Who, and after what had happened with that psychopath— what if he was just the same? Could she really trust him?
What if all of this time, he had also been trying to manipulate her. Open wounds from Ellar's emotional abuse suddenly stung as fear made her act out aggressively.
"There is no we, there is no us. You have tortured me for the last four almost five years, and you expect me to fancy you-" She spat at him livid before letting out a rueful laugh. Nel didn't know what came over her - perhaps it had been all of these years of pent-up rage. Maybe it was the fear, stress, and loss of the last twenty-four hours.
"How- " She demanded to know where his emotions stemmed from, "Why?"
Why on Earth would somebody like him look at someone like her?
He had so much to lose with this attraction – she, on the other hand, had nothing.
Malfoy visibly flinched at the harshness of her tone. His hostile walls slowly beginning to build up once again.
"You know why," he said quietly, almost with remorse.
"No. I can't for the life of me figure that one out."
She couldn't trust him.
"I know you. I see you," he insisted.
"No, you don't," She retorted, eyes welling with angry tears for what seemed to be like the hundred time in the day. If there was one thing Malfoy was good at was making her cry. He seemed to be an expert at it, not even struggling to manage to drain canals of tears from her sorrowful eyes.
Malfoy started to become just as frustrated. Leaning forward, he grabbed both of her arms, and she inched backward, away from him; instead, he pulled her towards him and held her tightly, dropping his body on the bed sitting next to her.
"I know you better than anybody else. Don't deny it. I've seen parts of you they haven't seen. The good, the bad, and especially the ugly," He said, shooting her a look. She avoided meeting his eyes. Nel knew that if she looked at him, she would cave, and she can't. She refuses to.
Reaching for her face, he turned her hoping she'd look at him, but her gaze remained lowered. Nel looked hurt, wounded, with tears welled in her glassy eyes.
He leaned forward and placed a kiss on her face.
"I can't trust you," She admitted weakly in an icy tone that made her own heart twist. She wanted to trust him, but couldn't find herself willing to do it.
Despite everything, he had been told and taught. Draco accepted the rejection. He let go of her and leaned back, sitting at the edge of the bed at the foot with wounded pride.
He didn't even move when he heard the loud screaming and rushed footsteps entering the hospital wing.
"Nel!" It was Tracey and Daphne both didn't seem to care that Draco was there. Both were too concerned with their friend to acknowledge that she did not look pleased to see them. The two Slytherins were crying. The tension between the blonde and the brunette could be cut and sliced with a dull knife.
The girls immediately tackled their friend into a hug, one from each side, cradling her body and stroking her hair.
"We're so glad' you're okay!"
"God, we were worried sick!"
Draco inconspicuously stood up and lingered by the end of the bed. He scratched the tip of his nose. Still taking in her rejection before walking away without a word of goodbye.
"Merlin. After what happened to Cedric- we didn't know if you- if you!" Tracey's voice broke as she hugged her best friend tightly, burying her tears into her shoulder.
"We're just glad you're okay," Daphne said, genuinely sounding relieved.
Tracey and Daphne pulled away and exchanged eye contact. Both wondered why their friend remained silent. Still shocked by Malfoy's confession.
"We're also really sorry for what we did," Tracey was the first to apologize.
"For what I did," Daphne stressed. "I shouldn't have told. I'm really sorry. We really are knob heads." Daphne bombarded as she profusely apologized. "I'm just glad the Lestranges are all going to be locked away in Azkaban now."
Boom. Another bomb dropped.
"What?" She didn't realize her voice was so dry. It cracked when she opened her mouth, crying out like a rusty squeezebox.
"After everything he did to you and Crouch's confession, the Ministry, the Ministry of Magic, is investigated and trying Ellar Lestrange for the possible murder of Sulk- of Simon—- they took him to Azkaban that same day where he waits for trial," Daphne explained. "And his mother-" Tracey arched her eyebrows.
"There was an anonymous tip to the Ministry of Dark Artifacts found in the Lestrange household and of her unwavering support to You-Know-Who. Their home was raided some time ago. Since the Ministry is on edge because of what happened yesterday, and his mother was taken to Azkaban. There she also waits for trial."
Nel was paralyzed by the news. Her eyes looked in between her friends and focused on Malfoy's back as he walked out of the room.
It had been him.
She had no evidence. No way of proving it, but she knew he had done this.
Draco exited out of it the room.
Daphne looked back at him. "Didn't - didn't Draco mention it?" She asked, just as confused, also turning to look at his retreating back.
"He was so worried," Tracey added. "I don't think I had ever seen him like that," Daphne admitted. "He even went as far as getting his father involved. Hogwarts almost shut down!" Tracey exclaimed.
"I don't think I saw him eat either," Daphne said. "Theodore said he didn't return to the dormitory last night."
"Hogwarts would've probably shut down if we hadn't found you. One student in the Tournament - well, there are risks involved, but another taken and disappeared?" She reasoned.
Draco had done all that? She couldn't believe it. "Even gave us quite a mouthful-"
Nel had stopped listening at this point. He even tried to fix things between her and her friends? It was then that she remembered. Yesterday at the Quidditch arena. That's exactly what he had been doing. He did everything he promised he would do. He got rid of Cloelia, he took care of Lestrange, he even mended her friendship with the other Slytherins. Maybe he really did care about her.
Both Tracey and Daphne looked confused as the barefoot girl leaped out of her bed and ran outside of the hospital room. She was so focused on finding the blond she didn't even acknowledge Theodore who was walking in holding a bouquet of flowers.
Several gasps could be heard as she crossed the school. Whispering too. It was the girl that had been taking. The girl that could talk to snakes. Slytherin's heir. The girl that did school favor's for pay. She probably looked ridiculous running around the school in her pajamas. She was heaving by the time she turned down the corridor and spotted him in the distance headed towards the Slytherin Common Room. She saw his blonde head descend down the stairs. Without warning with remorseful tears, she ran towards him, her feet patting against the floor before she threw her arms and embraced him from behind.
He remained still, unmoving, and could feel her face burrow into his back. She held him tightly, tighter than she had probably ever held anyone in her life, as she cried. Her hands squeezed his torso tightly.
"I'm so sorry," she apologized. Her voice sounded weak, almost like a squeak.
She took in his scent, the way his jacket felt, the way he stood so stiffly.
His hand reached for hers and curled around her fingers. Despite it, he did not turn for her. She held his hand back, and their fingers intertwined.
"I know."
She hadn't even considered his feelings. After everything, he had done for her.
Maybe she could trust him.
Maybe they could make things work.
Maybe she liked the way he smelled.
Maybe she thought he was more than sort of handsome.
Maybe she liked spending time with him.
Maybe she genuinely liked him when he wasn't being a royal prick.
Maybe, just maybe she could fancy the Slytherin back as much as he fancied her.
"Draco," She said his name.
Letting go of him, he turned around still standing in the stairs with an intrigued expression and looked at her. He hadn't let go of her hand. She had been more than clear with her rejection. Draco was close to snapping and harshly demanding if she had returned to further humiliate him. However, the dazed look on her face told him otherwise. Stepping up a stair, grabbing the lapel of his black suit jacket, she pulled him in and kissed him.
END of YEAR 4
AN: Woooooo this year was so long. I can't believe we are through The Goblet of Fire.
Funfact this was actually the first scene I imagined.
Thank you so much for everybody that takes the time to message me. It means a lot. I'm glad you're enjoying the story. I know it's a very – erm – different story than the others. I can't remember if I've mentioned it before, but I always found it very interesting how Harry, despite all of his abuse and suffering, always chose kindness. I wanted to play with a character that did the opposite and was the antithesis of that.
Thank you, Happy Valentine's Day <3
Much Love, - G
Any predictions or theories for Year 5? ;)