This edit of Lainey was made by https://www.quotev.com/Daryldixonlover (:
Throughout the coming weeks, a few more of the Weasley twins' love potions were distributed among various students that would leap at me in the middle of the Great Hall or in the corridors or even during classes, professing their undying love for me. The professors were piqued, and some even threatened detention if I slipped any more of these illegal love potions to my fellow students. No one really believed me when I said that it wasn't my fault. And there were certainly some very disappointed secret admirers that shot hateful glances at me after the incidents. Overall, I found it mostly just comical. Fred would have laughed. I would have told him about it if we were still on speaking terms. We were not.
On the first of April, I drafted about fifty letters to the twins for their birthday. Every time I began, I thought I knew what I wanted to say, but my worlds would crumble apart, and I ended up crumpling every piece of parchment before scratching down one coherent sentence. I wanted to tell Fred the whole truth, mostly, but it was too risky to send by owl. I'd tried the blackboard every day since the "Weasley incident" at the beginning of March, but he'd never responded. If I were him, I would have broken the blackboard or chucked it. If the roles were switched, if he'd dumped me, became a Death Eater, and gotten with another girl, I would probably hate him forever. And that was all that I really deserved now: hatred. A deep loathing that no apology could ever reverse. Still, though, I tried.
Even as the weather grew warmer throughout April, my spirit grew colder. Malfoy and I had made minor progress with the Vanishing Cabinet, but not enough to bring any Death Eaters through alive. I considered telling them to come through in order to kill them, but then I remembered that Voldemort knew where my brothers were. And that I'd Seen a vision of us succeeding. My fate was sealed.
Though my depression over Fred often fogged my mind, Hermione's revelation of my tattoo was at the forefront of my thoughts. I spent most of my free periods in the library, combing through what little information about slave marks there was. None of the ancient books could give me the answers that I sought, though. I wanted to know why Voldemort had chosen me as his slave. I wanted to know how my parents had let the entire thing happen. I wanted to know why Remus or Dumbledore or even Snape had never told me, because I knew that they knew. Many questions had been answered when Hermione told me what this triangular snake tattoo was, but with those answers, new inquiries arose. I was beginning to believe that there would never be a point when I would know it all, despite my Seeing abilities.
One Tuesday in late April, I entered Divination to find Ginny looking particularly glum. She never looked rightly pleased to be in this "rubbish" class, but something about the way she stared at the crystal ball today was odd.
"Ginny isn't doing well today," Luna Lovegood told me before I could make an inquiry. "Too many Nargles floating around in her head."
"Mm, I should have suspected." My eyes lingered warily in Ginny's direction. "Anything else, Gin?"
"I broke up with Dean," she mumbled as her gaze flickered back to where the Slytherin boys sat. "Don't tell Anderson."
"Oh... I'm...sorry," I managed to say, because I wasn't really sure what else there was to say. I'd known for a while that Ginny and Dean's relationship wasn't going well, but I didn't expect her to be so down about the break up. "What...happened?"
"He kept trying to help me through the portrait hole," she replied bitingly. "As if I couldn't do it myself. It was the worst."
I shot a glance in Luna's direction, but she was staring up at the ceiling. "Well...um...that's rough, Gin. Sorry to hear it."
"I shouldn't be complaining," she sighed, rubbing her forehead. "Things with you and Fred are much worse..."
"Thanks for the reminder."
"Sorry," she said hastily, avoiding my eyes. I'd told her about Fred's freak out in the closet the day after it happened. Though she tried to be sympathetic, I knew she was secretly relieved that Fred and I were no longer in contact. She hated watching me lead her brother on as much as I'd hated watching Melody do the same to Lyle.
"It's just...I don't think I'll ever be able to be with anyone other than...the person I'm stuck on," Ginny explained, wincing at me. With a furrowed brow, I glanced back at Anderson, and she quickly shook her head. "No, no, not him... Harry."
"Oh. Oh. Well... Harry's not into Cho anymore, is he? You probably have a chance with him, honestly, if you get to him before Romilda Vane."
Smirking, she rolled her eyes. "Harry would never actually date me. We're just friends, you know? And I'm just his best friend's little sister."
"I dunno, Gin. He looks at you different now. It might have been unrealistic years ago, but...I think you have a chance. You should take it. If I can never be happy, at least you can be."
"You'll be happy. If not with Fred then maybe with someone else, but...you'll just have to wait till You-Know-Who's dead."
"If You-Know-Who's ever dead," I added darkly. "Maybe I'll just always be alone."
"You'll never be alone," she assured me, resting her hand on my left forearm. "I'm with you no matter what."
She didn't mean that, though. Or at least she didn't know what "no matter what" meant. Because as soon as Malfoy and I got the Cabinet to work, as soon as Death Eaters flooded the school and we killed Albus Dumbledore, "no matter what" would crumble, and I would be alone.
I walked to the Great Hall for lunch with Ginny and Luna, but the three of us departed to our separate tables, leaving me to group up with Anderson, who demanded to know what was wrong with his Weasels. I told him she was on her period. He didn't ask any more questions after that.
The first ten minutes of lunch were fine. I actually forced some food down my throat while Astoria gabbed about her business, Ashley enthused about the upcoming Quidditch match, and Melody read. Malfoy was sitting among the sixth years, pretending to hate me even though the rumors that flew about us said otherwise. Pansy was clinging to his arm. He didn't fling her off until a group of giggling girls entered the Great Hall, and the Gryffindor table erupted in cheers. The half-chewed food in my mouth spilled out when I realized why: Katie Bell was back from St. Mungo's.
Malfoy had fled our table before I could even glance over to see his expression. Blaise Zabini was eyeing me suspiciously as I jumped up to leave without saying goodbye to anyone. Astoria and Ashley both called after me, but I didn't stop walking until I was out in the empty entrance hall, where Draco Malfoy was hyperventilating.
"I didn't think she would come back—not this soon," he spluttered, running a hand through his hair as his cheeks reddened.
"It's been six months since we cursed her," I reminded him, unsure how to react to his sudden panic attack. I'd seen him get angry on numerous occasions, but I'd never seen him overcome with anxiety like he was now. It was as unsettling as it was concerning.
"God—we should have killed her or something—"
"What? What are you talking about?" I blurted, apprehensive about the way his hands were clenching in and out of fists. He hadn't gone mad enough to burst in there and murder Katie Bell, had he?
"She's gonna tell everyone! She'll remember it was you, and then we'll both be sunk. We're both going to Azkaban—"
"We will if anyone comes out here and sees you like this!" I hissed as my eyes darted toward the opening to the Great Hall. He was talking loud enough that anyone would hear him if they stepped out into the corridor. "Just calm down, all right? If she remembers, she hasn't told anyone yet—"
"We're done—we're done. You-Know-Who's going to kill us—he's going to kill Mother and Father and you—"
"We poisoned Darrin too, and when he came back, he didn't remember," I told him calmly, but my heart was racing as I debated whether to grab his shoulders or slap some sense into him or maybe just gently console him. He was bordering hysteria, and his hand kept twitching toward his pocket, toward his wand. "Let's just...go up to the Room of Requirement, yeah? We can talk it out there, and maybe try to fix the Cabinet before anything bad happens—"
"No—"
I was quicker than him, whipping out my wand and sticking it in his face before he could pull out his own. His grey eyes were wide as they crossed, staring down at the piece of wood at the tip of his nose. I raised my eyebrows at him, and his heavy breaths slowly began to subside.
"Relax, will you? I'm supposed to be the one freaking out, losing my mind, and wondering why we're even doing any of this. You're the collected one, the one that's supposed to keep this whole operation together. This is going to blow up in our faces if you don't control yourself. You know I can't do this without you, and you know what happens if we don't do this."
He exhaled a deep breath, closing his eyes as he found himself again. When he finally looked at me again, his stoicism had returned, and with a shrewd little smirk, he said, "You can't do it without me, huh?"
I rolled my eyes, shaking my head as I kept my wand fixed on his face. "You're bloody mental, you know that? A complete psychopath—"
"Are you lovers having a duel down here without telling me? Anderson and I would have taken bets."
I dropped my wand at the sound of Ryan Harper's voice and then hastily retrieved it before spinning around to see that he was strolling down the staircase toward us.
"If you're not dueling, there's actually something both of you need to come see."
"I'm not coming to listen to one of your nonsensical songs," Malfoy snapped at him before stalking toward the dungeons.
"No, no, it's not a song this time," Harper assured him before looking to me and adding, "Last week I made him listen to my newest hit, 'Melody is Sweeter Than a Melody'. But right now you two need to come see what's going on with your owls."
"Our owls?" I repeated as Malfoy halted to turn back toward us. Harper nodded vigorously, and with a wary glance at each other, Malfoy and I complied in following him up to the Owlery.
"I was trying to send a letter to Mel's dad when I noticed it," Harper was telling us as we approached the tower.
"Why were you sending a letter to Melody's dad?"
"Oh, I send him letters all the time asking him if I can marry Mel," Harper replied proudly. "He never responds. I reckon they're not getting to him, because I can't see why he'd say no."
Malfoy snorted but chose not to make a snide comment. It would have been impossible for him to, really, since we were in the Owlery now, and the hooting of owls filled our ears. Harper guided us across the circular room to a stack of hay where Malfoy's eagle owl, Demy, was perched. She squawked at Harper when he approached, and Malfoy shoved him out of the way to get to her.
"Demy—" he cut himself short when he noticed what Demy was so viciously protective of: a nest of five eggs, four unhatched and one cracked open with a newborn eagle owl. "What the bloody..."
"Your owl's a mum, mate!" Harper exclaimed as he punched Malfoy lightly on the shoulder. Malfoy elbowed him back with enough force to make him cry out in pain. "And—and your owl, Lay," he began again, wincing, "he's a dad!"
Horror expanded my eyes as I stared at Demy's eggs. She was guarding them alone, but before I could make any kind of refute to Harper's claim, Dev came swooping into the Owlery and landed next to Malfoy's owl—his mate. I nearly gagged.
"Dev—Dev!" I scolded, taking an aggressive step toward him. He puffed out his wings and squawked a defensive noise. "Devil Fitzroy! You are—you—you really had to bonk her? Malfoy's owl?"
"She's a good looking owl," Malfoy scoffed. "Can you blame him?"
"She is a whore," I corrected. "She wrongly seduced my innocent little baby and now look at him! He's only six—maybe—and he's already a father!"
Due to my yelling, Dev conjured another malicious hoot, and I recoiled.
"I'm not ready to be a grandmother!"
"Can I be the godfather to one of them?" Harper asked as he peered carefully at the baby owl. "Or, you know, all of them, if you want?"
"Well, Fitzroy," Malfoy drawled as he leaned against the wall, "looks like you and I are grandparents together. Who would have seen that coming?"
"I did," Harper said as he raised his hand. "Just thought you'd be married first—"
His voice abruptly stopped penetrating my ears. My vision went black, the Owlery and the sunlight and Malfoy and Harper completely gone. Initially, I assumed that I'd just passed out for no plausible reason, but then new voices materialized and a scene trickled into place before me.
"The time is soon coming, Augustus, when Draco and Lainey will complete their task," Voldemort's methodical tone sounded throughout the gloomy drawing room of Malfoy Manor, the room Draco and I had been initiated as Death Eaters in. The bald, unnaturally pale monster stood by the fireplace, staring down at the flames calmly, pensively. It was hard to believe that this placid man was capable of such atrocities. But then again, a snake seemed like an incompetent and harmless creature until it attacked.
"They sh-should complete it soon, my lord," Rookwood agreed, bowing his head at a respectful distance from his master. The man that my mother had Latched to had grown horribly gaunt, his face now uglier and more deathly than before. His hair was a clump of greasy strands atop his head, and his eyes seldom ventured anywhere beyond the floor. Whatever Voldemort had done to torture him last summer after discovering that my mother was alive had made him even more servile—in his master's presence, at least. I would have to see how far his psychological damage extended next time I encountered him outside of Voldemort's company.
"When they do, and you enter Hogwarts, your responsibility will lie in acquiring the two young Gaudiums for me," Voldemort went on as his snakelike eyes flickered back in Rookwood's direction. I could tell that Rookwood wanted to look up, but he did not.
"My-my Lord...the two young Gaudiums are...void, like Lisa. They possess no extraordinary powers—"
"For now," Voldemort replied vaguely. "The damage may be reversible. We may yet revive their power."
"It's...uh—unlikely, my Lord. Lisa—"
"Is old," Voldemort finished in a definite tone. "These two Gaudiums are young. They are malleable. They may not be as useless as your former lover."
Rookwood folded in on himself and said, "Yes—yes, my Lord."
"If you can capture them, Augustus, you may be restored to your former greatness in my eyes. Be wary, though. They may not retain Gaudium powers, but they are powerful in other ways."
Rookwood nodded and gave another "Yes, my Lord" response before my view of them began to haze. As my consciousness slipped back into my current reality, I couldn't help but curse myself for forgetting that the two young Gaudiums were void, like my mum. That meant that they could have been anyone. They didn't have to make everyone happy all the time. They didn't have to have special healing powers. They could be any student in Hogwarts. My mission of finding them just became much more difficult.
Rachel Harper was still a good candidate, despite what I'd just realized. Even if she didn't have the Gaudium powers anymore, she might still bring people joy simply because that was what she grew up doing. It wasn't a magical type of delight, but just a way of life for her. And, if the other Gaudium was also void...maybe it was Ryan Harper, and he just didn't know it because he no longer had the abilities. And...if the Harpers were the Gaudiums...that meant that Rookwood was going to abduct them when the Death Eaters entered Hogwarts. Rachel and Ryan would be kidnapped by Death Eaters—and Voldemort—and it would be my fault.
"You're—in—my—way! I should be holding her when she wakes up because she's my best friend—"
"Can you heal her just by touching her? She might not even wake up if I'm not the one holding her—"
"You just want to pretend you're her hero—"
"And what are you doing?"
"I'm just being a fine friend—"
When my eyes popped open, both of their bickering voices halted, and Harper and Malfoy, who were both holding my body up in the air, dropped me simultaneously, causing me to plummet into a bed of hay. Coughing and blinking, I finally managed to sit up straight, and when my eyes focused, I glared at both of them.
"You had to drop me? Really?"
"His fault," Harper accused as he jabbed his finger in Malfoy's direction.
"What did you See?" Malfoy demanded before I could even begin to roll my eyes.
"Nothing," I lied instantly, though, despite my consistent lying lessons with Darrin Hunt, neither of them believed me.
"Rubbish," Malfoy spat. "You never faint for no reason."
"Except for when you got attacked by dementors that one time," Harper said, but then he rethought his statement and added, "Well, that's a reason, so yeah, Mal's right."
"It was just a stupid vision," I dismissed as I started to stand. Harper extended his hand toward me and I took it. Malfoy continued to eye me with skepticism, but he didn't press the issue. He would badger me about it in the Room of Requirement later, no doubt.
"Anything that concerns us?" Harper asked.
"Well, it involved the Transfiguration exam tomorrow," I replied breezily as I brushed strands of hay off my school uniform. "It's going to be hard, apparently."
"Hard for you, maybe," Harper scoffed with arched eyebrows. "I'm a whiz in that class, Lay."
"Of course," I said with a chuckle. There was no humor on Malfoy's face.
"We'd better get going, Lay," Harper prompted as he strolled toward the Owlery's exit. "Can't be late for History of Magic. Don't want to miss all the excitement."
"'Course not..." I muttered before glancing back at Malfoy. "See you later."
"See you later," he repeated, but given by the brooding look in his eyes and the dark tone of his voice, he really meant, "I see right through you." And he almost always did.
∆
All fifth years will be required to attend a short meeting with their Head of House during the first week of May, in which they will be given the opportunity to discuss their future careers. Times of individual appointments are listed below.
"Ready?" a voice asked to my right. I jolted away from the sign on the Slytherin common room's wall and looked over to see that Ryan Harper had popped up next to me.
"Oh—yeah," I replied as I began to pull my hair up into a ponytail. I glanced back at the announcement I'd just read before we walked away from it. "I have my meeting with Snape today about career advice."
"Oh, I had mine yesterday," Harper informed me as we exited the common room. Except for Carl Vaisey, who was waiting for us out in the dungeon corridor, our whole Quidditch team had already departed for the locker room while the rest of Slytherin House was slowly trickling out toward the pitch. Today Slytherin would play Hufflepuff for our final match of the season, and, as usual, Draco Malfoy was nowhere in sight. According to Blaise, who I'd spoken with in the common room a few moments earlier, Malfoy had disappeared before the rest of them even woke up, but I had a good idea of where he might have gone.
"Did you have career advice yet?" I asked Vaisey as we met up with him. Mindlessly, he was twirling a yellow potion vial in his hands.
"Wednesday, yeah. Told him I wanted to be an illegal potions dealer and he told me to leave."
"That was it? He didn't give you any advice? He just said 'leave'?"
Vaisey shrugged nonchalantly. "Basically."
"How about you?" I questioned Harper as we began to climb the stairs. "What advice did he give you?"
"Oh, well, I told him that I want to be Minister of Magic, because I do." Vaisey and I exchanged a humorous glance that Harper didn't notice. "And, well, he thought I was joking. When I told him I wasn't, he said, 'Pick a new career', so I told him that I have no other aspirations, but if Mel becomes a big time assassin, I'll just be a stay-at-home dad with our kids."
"Hm, that actually sounds realistic to me," I commented with a sincere nod.
"More realistic than you being Minister of Magic," Vaisey agreed. "What are you going to do if Flemming gets thrown into Azkaban, though?"
"You think Melody Flemming is going to get thrown into Azkaban?" Harper countered, raising his eyebrows in disbelief and then shaking his head. "Some people, Lay, they just have no common sense."
My lips smirked over at Vaisey, but he simply downed his potion instead of responding.
"Did you check that for love potions?"
"Nah, but I think that girl learned her lesson," he assured me as he began to blink rapidly. "If not, I have an antidote this time."
With only a mild breeze, the air outside was warm and the sun was high in the sky, brightening the moods of the students who trekked toward the stadium. Urquhart, Crabbe, Goyle, and Ashley were all ready when we arrived in the locker room, so we changed hastily before joining the other four on the field. Our uniforms were as green as the spring grass, and my hair, unfortunately, still matched. Urquhart was standing beside Ashley, his Air Wave Gold glittering in the sunlight, and his face actually displayed some form of positive emotion at the sight of us.
"Fitzroy, surprising to see you here," our Captain commented as his eyes roved my small body.
"Why is that?" I questioned, leaning on my Air Wave Silver as my eyebrows perked.
He shrugged. "Just thought you'd be too ashamed to show yourself at a match after the last one."
"We've gone over the rule book enough times that I don't think I'll make a fool of myself again," I reminded him with a sly smirk.
"Vaisey," he addressed while turning to the blinking boy to my right. "I hope you haven't taken any potions and you're just blinking like a freak for no reason?"
"Oh, no, I took an Eye Enhancer," he replied carelessly as he began to squint over at the Hufflepuff team, which was huddled on the opposite side of the pitch. "They're an ugly bunch, aren't they?"
Urquhart ignored him as his vision settled on Harper. "Glad to see you're here instead of Malfoy."
Harper's face lit up with childish elation. "Really?"
"Yeah, actually. Malfoy would find a way to screw this up. With you...maybe we've got a shot. Vaisey, you remember the plays, right?"
"Do you know who I am?" was the Slytherin boy's arrogant response.
"Yes, which is why we think you forgot them!" Ashley shrilled. "You are d-u-m, dumb!"
Urquhart opened his mouth to say something but then just shook his head and mounted his broom. "Let's get this disaster started, shall we?"
The six of us hopped on our own brooms and shot off after him into the cloudless sky. Vaisey's blinking had ceased, and he now wore an expression of determination. Ashley was glaring venomously at Hufflepuff's team, sticking her tongue out at any one of them that dared glance her way. They hovered on the other end of the pitch now, like a horde of buzzing bees in their yellow and black uniforms. Urquhart looked like he was ready to devour them. Crabbe and Goyle, who were usually dull, actually appeared menacing today. Harper, floating above me, shot me a wary look before inhaling and assuming a face of fierceness.
Urquhart caught the Quaffle as soon as the whistle blew, starting the game off right for Slytherin. Our Housemates in the stands were clamorously cheering as our three Chasers shot through the air, weaving and passing in synchronicity. When Ashley scored the first goal, the green crowd roared with approval, and I felt a bubble of hope blossoming in my chest. We could beat Hufflepuff. I felt like a smug Slytherin just for thinking so, but Goyle had already pelted a Bludger at one of Hufflepuff's Chasers, dazing him, and Vaisey had claimed the Quaffle from the kid before anyone could figure out what had happened. We had a chance.
Just as hope entered my consciousness, it was quickly quenched when Ashley shot at Hufflepuff's Keeper and he caught the Quaffle. After passing it to one of the other team's Chasers, two nimble Hufflepuffs came zipping toward me, the girl small and skilled in maneuvering while the boy held the Quaffle and was barreling through Urquhart and Ashley who fought to restrain him. It was only when the racing Chasers passed midfield that I realized who the Hufflepuff Chaser with the Quaffle was: Zacharias Smith.
That slimeball. The sight of him should have enraged me and fueled me, making my defense of the hoops more powerful. But instead, as the haughty Hufflepuff zoomed toward me, I felt a debilitating wave of nostalgia. Memories flooded my mind, like the day that the D.A. had first met at the Hog's Head, when Zacharias was a downright git but Fred stuck up for me. Fred always stuck up for me. Fred was always there for me, even when I wasn't there for him. Even when I didn't deserve his affection or protection. But now he was gone. Physically, yes, but also emotionally, and so there was no one left to defend me. No one left to lift me when I fell or pick up the pieces when I crumbled. I was so alone. And that was all my brain could seem to comprehend as Zacharias closed in and whipped the ball toward the posts. It swooshed through the hoop before I could even think to move.
"FITZROY!" Urquhart bellowed while Ashley cried, "LAINEY! NOT AGAIN!"
"You okay, Lay?" Harper called down to me, taking a break from scanning for the Snitch to look at me.
"Um—yeah, I'm fine," I lied, because I wasn't fine. I wanted to be fine, and I'd thought that I was fine until now, but Smith had reminded me of everything that was wrong with my life. He was a strong reminder of the fact that anyone could find a reason not to like me. When everyone else had loathed me for my blood status, he had scorned me for my House, and he would most certainly oppose me now if he knew of the Mark that stained my arm. Just like Fred was my enemy now. There was always a reason to hate me, no matter what House or side or blood status one was affiliated with. They could always find a reason.
Smith scored again.
"All right!" Urquhart exclaimed furiously. "Time out—"
"No, it's fine," I started to say, though the word "fine" barely left my lips before I was suddenly slammed in the face by a dense, bone shattering object. Pain seared every bone and muscle in my face as warm blood pooled out of my nostrils. I could barely think straight enough to realize that it had been a Bludger. When I opened my eyes, they were hazed by a dizzying fog.
"CRABBEY!" I distantly heard Ashley wailing. "HOW COULD YOU DO THAT TO LAINEY?"
"Fitzroy," a voice prompted in my ear. Too gruff to be Harper's. "Lainey. Are you conscious?"
"Hmm?" was all I could manage to hum.
"Lay? Lay? Can you hear me?" That was Harper. Someone was gripping my body, maybe two people, trying to keep me upright on my broom. I tried to blink, to see, but every movement of my face sent a pang of agony through my nose.
"Lainey, we're bringing you down to the ground." It was Urquhart, I realized, but his use of my first name threw me off. "We'll call in a reserve for you. PUCEY! Go punch your boyfriend for me! Not too hard, though. We don't want two reserves—"
"Reserves? No, no," I insisted, shaking my head only once but feeling nauseatingly dizzy from it. I forced myself to blink a few times and then slowly my vision focused on the two brown-haired boys hovering above my face. We were in the air still, the blue sky looming above us. I could hear the whispering of the crowd and Ashley's infuriated grunts as she punched Crabbe. I doubted that he felt a thing with his protective gear—and his thick layer of blubber.
"We'll have someone take you to the hospital wing," Urquhart was saying as I tried to hone in on his facial features. "Which Slytherins do you think won't purposely hurt her on the way to the hospital wing?"
"Oh, Melody will take her," Harper assured our Captain. "She'd never hurt anyone—"
"Okay, no," I blurted, wincing immediately at the pain that talking produced. "I'm not going to the hospital wing. The hospital wing won't help me. The only one who can help me isn't here, so I'm playing."
"You're—what?"
"I'm playing," I repeated as Urquhart stared down at me in bewilderment. I forced myself upright, suppressing a groan, and tried to blink away the dizziness as I looked out on the field. All of the players were suspended in the air, staring at me uneasily. Blood dripped over my lips, bringing a metallic taste to my mouth, before slipping down my chin and coating my neck in balminess. I probably looked completely mental, and maybe I was completely mental, but I wasn't going to let a broken nose stop me from continuing this match. I was the only one who could save me, and I was going to save this match, too. For Urquhart, for Ashley, for Harper—but not for Crabbe because he was a blithering buffoon and I wanted to physically assault him for the pain he'd produced.
"Leave me," I snapped at Harper and Urquhart. "I can..." I paused, grimacing as I inhaled. "I can do this."
"It's best not to question her when she's like this," I heard Harper mutter to Urquhart, who warily departed to fly back to the center of the pitch.
Hooch was hesitant to allow me to play, but ultimately, she blew the whistle again, and the shrill sound brought a spike to my headache.
Zacharias was the one to catch the Quaffle, and I could vaguely see the reluctance on his face as he surged toward me. I was seething and growling through my teeth like a rabid animal. I would physically attack Smith before I allowed him to score another goal. Luckily, my Keeper skills were sufficient enough that I didn't have to. Despite the dazing pain that radiated from my nose, I managed to hurl myself in front of the Quaffle and catch it before it could swoop through the hoop. Zacharias was baffled. Ashley was ecstatic.
"Maybe we should break your nose more often, Fitzroy!" Urquhart called to me as I passed the ball to him. His grin was evident even though my faltering vision. I didn't return the positive expression. I was all determination, all rage.
Perhaps Urquhart was right, though. Somehow, even through my pounding headache and the boiling pain, I managed to stop every Quaffle that zoomed toward Slytherin's posts, and some of my moves even impressed myself. One time I swirled around in a circle and deflected the ball with the tail end of my broom. Another time I punched the ball with my raw fist and it landed directly in Vaisey's hands. It took him a moment to start flying away with it because he was so astonished. I didn't feel my broken fingers presently, but I knew I would later. The adrenaline was a pain-hindering drug, better than any of Bletchley's potions. Maybe I should break my nose more often.
Vaisey scored twice, Ashley scored three more times, and Urquhart scored five. Zacharias and the bumblebee Hufflepuffs scored none, leaving the score to be one hundred and ten to twenty. I was on fire. Even though my body was falling apart, I felt good for the first time in ages. I screamed so loud that my lungs ached when Harper whisked the Snitch out of the sky. I hugged Harper until we both nearly fell off of our brooms. I squeezed Urquhart, and he didn't even care that I'd smeared his uniform with my nose blood. I let Ashley kiss my nose even though it sent sparks of pain through my nerves. It was one of the best wins Slytherin had had in years. It was also one of the only wins that Slytherin had had in years.
"Party in the common room tonight!" Urquhart shouted, his voice echoing through the stadium. The green section erupted in even louder applause.
By the time we retreated back to the locker room, my boost of adrenaline was beginning to wear off, and my injuries were impeding my ability to function. I only managed to peel off my gear before collapsing on one of the benches.
"You okay, Lay?" Harper asked, peering down at me with concern. He was shirtless, so I kept my blurry vision focused on the floor.
"Yeah, I should just...get this fixed," I said as I stood and wobbled toward the exit.
"Come back to the common room once you've got that mended, Fitzroy," Urquhart called after me. "We'll have butterbeer waiting for you."
I mumbled something and gave him an awkward wave before hobbling out of the locker room and trudging toward the castle. Ascending the stairs to the Room of Requirement was a struggle, and by the time I'd reached the seventh floor, huffing and disorientated, I was cursing myself for not simply flying my broom up here. It would have drawn attention and probably earned me a detention, but at least I'd be able to walk through the corridors without hugging the wall.
Sweating and bleeding, I almost fell face first on the floor when I entered the magical room, but Malfoy's voice kept me pushing on. I wouldn't have even come to find him if my nose wasn't broken, because, unlike other times, I was relieved that he hadn't gone to the match. If he had, we probably would have lost. He would have healed my nose, and I would have continued to be distracted by thoughts of Fred rather than the pain that had pushed me forward. And, also, there was no doubt that Harper's Quidditch skills now far surpassed Malfoy's. I wondered if the little git could even ride a broom still.
He was muttering a spell, almost desperately, when I approached him. Unaware of my presence, he opened the Cabinet and let out an aggravated groan before kicking the leg of it. I watched in mild shock as he reached into the Cabinet and pulled out a small blue bird that was stained with crimson blood. This was how many of the creatures had been coming back to us, but what horrified me was not the state that the animal was in, but the fact that Malfoy ruthlessly chucked it onto the floor and stomped on its head. The crunch of its skull made me forget how to stand. I crumbled to my knees and stared at the crushed bird, realizing that I'd just witnessed a murder. Malfoy could have saved the creature but he killed it. After seeing my father murdered and my brother murdered, it shouldn't have fazed me, but something about life being needlessly ended still wilted my insides.
"What are you doing?" I finally asked, my voice sounding like a sob.
He stumbled back at the sight of me, nearly falling into the Cabinet. "What—what are you doing here?"
"Why did you kill it? We could have saved it—"
"We're not saviors, Fitzroy. We're Death Eaters, we're killers! We have to kill Dumbledore; how do you plan to do that if you can't even watch me kill a stupid bird?"
I was shaking, but I couldn't tell if it was because of the pain that radiated from my nose or the sense of doom that was consuming me. "We should have saved it..."
"It was going to die anyway—and it doesn't even matter! What matters is fixing this Cabinet and it's not working!"
He kicked the wooden structure again, not even flinching even though I knew it must have hurt his toes. I sucked in a breath to try to compose myself.
"It's—it's okay. It's fine. We'll just...keep trying—"
"Keep trying?" he repeated, his volume portraying his incredulity. "We've tried everything! We'll never get them through uninjured! We've never tried having a person come through—what if they die? You-Know-Who will kill us if we kill one of his Death Eaters—"
"We are his Death Eaters," I insisted forcefully as I struggled to get to my feet. If Malfoy had noticed my bloody face, he didn't show it, or he didn't care. We were standing face to face now, and he was still glaring at me with malice.
"You know that means nothing. He's just using us. Even if we do this, even if we get the rest of them through and kill Dumbledore, he'll probably just kill us anyway. He doesn't care about us. We're disposable. We're done no matter what."
"He won't kill us," I reassured the both of us. "I'll...I'll talk us out if it if the time comes. We'll work it out."
"No, no!" he barked, spinning around to slam the Vanishing Cabinet shut. "You just need to stay out this. Go back to the common room and leave me alone."
A humorless laugh escaped my throat as I shook my head. "I don't get what you want me to do! One minute you want me to help, and then the next you want me to go away? Why can't you just make up your mind on...on anything?"
Malfoy refused to look at me, and his voice was quiet this time when he spoke. "I want your help, but not if you don't want to help me."
My face scrunched in a painful grimace. "What?"
"You clearly don't care about this—or me!" he exclaimed, whirling around to glare at me with reddened eyes. "All you care about is your dumb Weasley, but he's not here, Fitzroy! He hates you now! He couldn't accept you for what you are!"
"Oh—oh—and you've always been accepting of who I am?" I questioned in disbelief. His eyes were brimming with tears, and yet I felt no sympathy. "You hated me for years when you thought I was a 'Mudblood'! This isn't any different—in fact, Fred's reason for hating me is more valid than yours has ever been. Death Eaters kill and destroy and they deserve to be loathed. Mudbloods are just—they're just Muggle-borns! They're just people who were born and had no choice in being what they are. Death Eaters had a choice. And he thinks I chose to be a monster. You just hated me because I was 'unfortunate' enough to be born to a Muggle family, but I'll have you know that I loved my Muggle family more than I'll ever love my fellow Death Eaters, because I don't love them. I hate them all."
Though he attempted to keep his face in a hard scowl, my words penetrated deep, crushing his heart like he'd crushed that bird's head. I'd just implied that I hated him. And years ago it would have been true. And years ago he wouldn't have cared. But now...
"I—I didn't mean you," I stammered. "I don't—"
"Save it," he snarled so lowly that I almost didn't hear him as he slipped past me and stormed out of the room.
I stared at the dead bird for a few minutes once I was alone, wondering how much blood we would have to shed before this whole thing was over—or before we were dead. It didn't seem worth it. None of it seemed worth it. Since when did some lives become more important than others?
Woozy and unbalanced, I finally exited the Room of Requirement, not to chase after Malfoy or demand that he heal my nose or my fingers, even though I wished he would, but because I was already late for my career advice with Snape.
The dungeon corridor, as always, was dank and cold, and as I banged my fist on the door to Snape's office, I couldn't decide if I was shivering from lack of heat, shaking because of the amount of blood that still oozed from my nose, or trembling with the frustration of my argument with Malfoy. Maybe all three.
Snape's initial expression when I opened the door was one of boredom, but upon seeing the wreck that was my face, his contorted in confusion.
"First off, you should know that you're twenty minutes late for your appointment," he began slowly, eyeing me with his soulless eyes. "Secondly, you should explain to me why you have come here with a face covered in blood."
"Quidditch," I sighed through my mouth since breathing through my nose stung.
"We'll go to the hospital wing, then," he concluded dryly. Before I could protest, he closed his office door and swept toward the staircase. I followed closely behind, glad to be leaving the gloomy dungeons but dreading how Madam Pomfrey would react to my nose and the fact that she wouldn't be able to fix it.
"So, Miss Fitzroy," he started rather formally as we hurried up the steps, "what are you aspirations in life?"
"Oh, we're doing this advice thing now?" I questioned. He ignored me, staring ahead impatiently. "Oh...well...you know, I don't think I really have a choice in what I want. You should really be asking the Dark Lord what he aspires for me."
Snape's dark eyes glanced sideways at me, and he probably would have commanded me to leave his office if we were in it. Unfortunately for him, we were only walking through the first floor corridor, with still two more staircases to climb until the hospital wing.
"What do you think you will do for a career?" he finally prompted, more out of obligation than interest.
"Hm, I think I'll serve the Dark Lord, probably," I replied with enough sass that his long nose twitched. "Don't think I have a choi—"
My voice was halted by the sound of my foot splashing into a puddle. Befuddled, I glanced down to see that a small stream was flooding out of a nearby door, the door to the deserted girls' bathroom. Before Snape or I could come to any conclusions, Moaning Myrtle's shrill voice screamed from within: "MURDER! MURDER IN THE BATHROOM! MURDER!"
Without words, Snape slammed through the door and I followed swiftly behind him. My mind was swirling with thoughts of how Voldemort might have snuck in through the Chamber of Secrets to murder some Muggle-born, or maybe Harry, but while Harry Potter was in the bathroom, he wasn't the one lying dead in the pool of bloody water: instead, Harry was kneeling in the puddle beside the pale, slashed up boy that, according to Myrtle, had been murdered. Life hadn't left the boy yet, though. He was convulsing in the water, bright scarlet blood seeping out of various cut wounds that marred his face and chest. I expected Harry to be holding a dagger, but only his wand was in his hand as his wide, horror-filled eyes stared down at the injured boy. I couldn't believe that Harry would have done this to someone—surely he was trying to protect this boy from whoever had attacked him—but then, through the shimmering bloody and disfiguring wounds, I realized who the dying boy was, and I was instantly certain that Harry had been the assailant.
"Malfoy," I breathed, barely loud enough even for myself to hear, as I stood paralyzed by the door. Snape was barely fazed by the amount of blood coating the floor; he swept through the bathroom and shoved Harry out of the way to kneel beside Draco Malfoy. While trailing his wand over the gashes that Harry had inflicted, he murmured a soft, songlike incantation that was meant to heal the life-sucking wounds. To his dismay, and to everyone's dismay, really, the spell wasn't working; Malfoy's paling body continued to excrete red fluids, simultaneously excreting his life source. Finally, after a long moment without success, Snape snapped his head back to me with crazed eyes.
"Come here."
I was in such a daze that I almost didn't realize what he was saying. They were such simple words: Come here. Yet I didn't know if I could do them. My legs couldn't move, my brain couldn't function. Draco Malfoy was dying. He was going to be gone—erased from my life—and I needed him. Not just for the stupid task, but for my mental sanity. He'd been such an important figure in my life for the past five years, and I'd never really told him how much I cared about him. He was going to die right after we'd gotten into a huge and unnecessary argument—an argument that had probably led to this very moment. It made sense, now: he'd come here because he'd been crying over our altercation and he wanted to talk to Myrtle. Then Harry came, they fought, and...and now he was dying, and it was my fault.
But...I could save him.
It took me longer than it should have, but the spark finally ignited within me, alerting me as to why Snape had insisted that I come here. His counter-curse wasn't working because I was the only one that could heal Draco Malfoy.
Without delaying any further, I hurried toward the bloody scene, slipping in the crimson water and landing directly beside Malfoy's jolting body. The smell of blood was poignant, and his face was gaunt and white around the lacerations. His eyes were closed but his facial muscles twitched in pain, an even more excruciating pain than I felt in my swollen nose. With my heart on the verge of exploding with emotion and his on the verge of stopping with death, I placed my hand on a gaping crevice in his cheek.
A shudder coursed through me immediately, one that his body mimicked at the exact same moment. I was unable to tell if my touch began the healing process in his wounds because my body went limp and I fell beside him, my hand still resting on his skin but my nerves experiencing such agony that I was unable to pry my eyes open. Every spot that harbored a cut on his body seemed to pang on my own, and the level of pain that my nose now endured was blindingly nauseating. Maybe we were healing, or maybe we were dying—and maybe it was better if we were dying. Dumbledore would live, Voldemort's plans would be thwarted, and Harry might stand a chance of beating him. Fred would live on, and without me to interfere with his life, maybe he could actually find happiness.
I was actually beginning to accept the sting of death when the incessant throbbing came to an abrupt halt.
"Lainey? Lainey, are you all right?"
It was Harry's voice, and though I knew he loomed above me, he was not the one I chose to look at when I finally opened my eyes. Instead, my sight went right to Malfoy, who now lay stilly and peacefully beside me. The blinding red that had surrounded us before had disappeared, leaving us in a puddle of clear water. He was soaked, and I was soaked, but we were both alive, even if I could only tell he was by the faint rise and fall of his chest. His eyes remained closed, unconscious, but his face was pristine, without one scar or blemish. I wouldn't have cared, though, even if his face were mutilated with ugly scars. Despite his inherent personality flaws, my attraction for him had grown beyond the physical. It was wrong, perhaps, that it had taken his near death experience for me to realize it, but as I stared at his serene face, I became acutely aware of the fact that I loved him. How or in what way that love was rooted was still unclear, but I knew that if he had died just now, I would feel as lost without him as I had when Lyle died or when Ginny and I weren't speaking or even as much as I did now that Fred hated me. It was an unexplainable love, and maybe undeserved, but it was authentic, and so I accepted it; I just didn't know what to do with it yet...
The events in this chapter correlate with The Half-Blood Prince Chapter Twenty-Four, "Sectumsempra".