"No-one can help me," Draco whispered. He heaved a great sigh, his whole body shivering. "I can't do it… I can't… it won't work… and unless I do it soon… he says he'll kill me…"*
He heard a shuffle behind him, a slight creak from the hinges of the door. He wheeled round, drawing his wand like a sword, scraping energy and sense from the dark recesses of his nerves, where it had been forced to hide from the terrible helplessness now engulfing him.
He dodged one curse and deflected another, and suddenly the smashes of broken china and the rivers of water flooding the floor were over in a second when Potter cried "SECTUMSEMPRA!"
Draco toppled backwards, his head reeling. He could feel terrible streaks of pain running over him, could feel something hot and wet spilling from the front of his robes, though the source was numb. He hauled in a ragged breath, his limbs shaking violently. His vision blurred and his hearing faded, Potter's wild stammering sounding further and further away…
The door to the bathroom banged open, and someone else's feet came splashing through across the tiled floor.
"What's going on?" cried a girl's voice. "Harry - Harry, what have you done?"
"I d-didn't mean to!" Potter's voice shook as he stood up. "I swear, Hermione, I - I didn't know what that curse did -!"
"Go and fetch Madam Pomfrey!" Hermione ordered, fishing her own wand out from inside her robes. Potter hesitated. "Now!"
He ran out of the room, trailing blood and water in his wake. The girl took a few tentative steps forward, gaping at the crumpled form of Draco on the floor. The boy blinked at her, his vision fogged with exhaustion, and suddenly…
…he wasn't lying on the floor of the bathroom anymore. He was sitting, perched on the edge of a low, iron bed in a dark room with bars over the windows. There was a shape lying under the age-worn covers next to him, curly brown hair spilling over the white pillow. She turned over, and stared up at him.
"Malfoy…?"
"Hermione," he whispered, "…help me."
"What?!" He sat bolt upright, sweat glistening on his forehead in the semi-darkness, his bedclothes tangled around him like a straight-jacket. Weary sunlight was spilling through the gap in his curtains, throwing a pink glow across the carpet that shimmered and danced through the tree leaves outside like water. Like water.
He clutched instinctively at his chest - Potter! Potter did this to me, gave me these scars. Why am I dreaming about it now? But the dream was wrong… it was Snape who saved me, Snape who tried to heal the wounds… not Hermione. Why Hermione? Why was she there, and where was I just now? That wasn't what happened, that wasn't part of the dream… But it must have been! What else could it be -"
He jumped again as there were several loud knocks on the door.
"Malfoy," said a boy's voice, muffled by the wood. "Get up."
He sank back against the wall, breathing heavily. What just happened? The light continued to move incessantly across the carpet, gleaming, glaring at him. For the first time since he had left the hospital, his mind drifted to his wand - or rather, absence of one. A wave of helplessness washed over him and he suddenly felt flattened, crushed as though a heavy weight had been placed on his shoulders. Even if I could get out, what good would it do?
"I mean it," there was another set of bangs on the door. "Get up and come out here."
Draco pulled on some clothes and was over the threshold in a few seconds. He peered about the room, his eyes adjusting to the early morning light. The red-head sat on a wooden chair against the opposite wall, while Potter stood in the centre of the room, in conversation with a tall, age-lined woman with iron grey hair tied in a tight knot. She was wearing a tartan scarf, black cloak, and spoke with a brisk Scottish accent. McGonagall.
He blinked, and murmured "Where's Hermione?"
Ron glared at him, while Harry said "Why do you care?" and pointed to the sofa. "The cheek!" Harry thought, "After what he said to her!?"
"Now, now, Potter." McGonagall muttered. She eyed Malfoy in an interrogative manner, with something bordering on contempt in her expression. "Where's his wand?" she asked Harry.
"Don't know," the boy replied. "Oi, Malfoy - where's your wand?"
Draco looked up, his vision blurred slightly. "I- I don't know," he said, then shook his head a little and sat up straighter. "I mean - I think I lost it before I was in that hospital."
"You lost it?" The headmistress stared at him in disbelief. "You lost your wand? A wizard's most prized possession? What on earth happened to you, boy?"
Draco gave a bitter kind of smirk. "It's a long story," he drawled. But his cocky expression vanished as soon as he fully comprehended the sharp indignation in the woman's face. "I mean -" he said quickly "- a lot."
"Yes, well…" McGonagall was still looking at him with disdain, but had a tone in her voice which suggested she wanted to move things along. "A lot may have happened to you, Mr. Malfoy, but you should bear in mind that you are still wanted by the Ministry of Magic in connection with a murder."
"But I didn't -!" He sprang forwards, his eyes wide and staring. "I - I wasn't the one who did it! I couldn't…" He trailed off as he relaxed back onto the couch again.
"We know that." McGonagall said abruptly. "Potter was there, he saw it all. You've no idea where Snape is, by any chance?" she inquired.
"No," he said, somewhat vaguely. He was still marvelling at the fact that Potter had been there, on the tower (in his invisibility cloak, no doubt) when it had happened. Potter had seen Dumbledore killed, had seen him offer Draco protection and seen Draco refuse to kill him. And yet Potter still treated him like a murderer; had threatened to kill him when he when he first came into his house.
"Malfoy!" the headmistress snapped. "Pay attention!" Draco blinked up at her, then his eyes narrowed slightly. "Now - Miss Granger has informed me that she believes there may be a reason why He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is so interested in finding you. Are you aware of that reason?"
Draco thought for a moment. "No," he said.
McGonagall nodded. "Sadly, Miss Granger is not feeling her best today, so she cannot be here to explain it to us, but she told me enough to be able to paraphrase it for you." She took in a deep breath through her nostrils, which were slightly flared. "She has reason to believe that you have some sort of psychic ability to astral-project. This means that -"
"I know what it means." Draco interrupted her.
McGonagall's eyes widened, but she said nothing. "Were you aware of this?" she asked.
For the third time, the boy replied "No."
The woman sniffed. "In that case, I feel it necessary that you accompany me to headquarters to have one of our experts -"
"I'd rather not," he said, some of his previous arrogance returning.
"Well that's too bad, Malfoy," Potter glared at him. "Because we don't want you to stay here." Weasley stared fiercely at him, but still said nothing.
"You may be surprised to learn, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall began, "that I don't care what you would rather. I will return this evening to collect you when I have a stronger guard." She turned round and marched to the door. "Good day, Potter, Weasley… Malfoy." She looked to each in turn, pausing for slightly longer on the last before leaving.
Draco glowered after her. There was a dull silence.
"I'm a little hungry," Draco said after a moment.
"Get something to eat, then." Potter snapped, and pointed to the kitchen door. "You've been treated like royalty here," he muttered. "Be glad when you've gone." And he left through another door leading to a darkened room.
Weasley said nothing, but stared at the ground. Draco threw him a look half irritable, half sympathetic. Despite what Potter might have thought, he had not forgotten Hermione's words of two days ago.
He wandered into the kitchen, and slammed the door behind him. Being shunted from place to place… having people whisper about me even while I'm in the room with them! In his anger he threw himself into a creaking chair by the dirty kitchen table, folded his arms, and laid his head down on the scratched surface. He closed his eyes, and snatches of the many strange dreams he had experienced since leaving Hogwarts flickered in his mind. Astral projection… she can't be serious… But despite his immediate mockery, a part of him wanted it to be true.
"Astral projection would make me worth something to them, to Him - give them a reason to keep me alive," he thought. "Both sides."
Someone pushed open the kitchen door and shuffled inside. A girl's voice whispered hoarsely, "Oh… I didn't know there was someone in here."
Draco looked up so fast he thought he had cricked his neck, but upon realising the rapidity of his movement he said nothing and slouched back into his chair, staring at the tabletop.
Hermione, in turn, remained quiet, but crossed to the cheap worktop and began preparing a hot drink. A heavy, gnawing silence hung in the air while the water boiled on the stove. It was interrupted briefly by the trickling of the drink into Hermione's mug, then resumed its intensity as she perched on the seat across from where Draco sat, refusing to look at her.
She held the mug just underneath her nose, breathing in the steam. There were heavy yellow bags under her eyes and her skin was much paler than usual. She sniffed, and looked as though she was about to say something, but didn't. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, then placed her wand on the table between them, and set the mug down just next to it.
Neither said anything.
"Hermione," came a voice through the gap where the kitchen door had not quite closed. "Can you come here for a minute."
The girl stood up, a slight look of anxiety on her fevered face. She shook her hair out of her eyes and coughed, then moved quickly towards the door. "What is it? Ron?" She crossed into the main room where Harry was standing, knocking on Ron's bedroom door.
"Come on, Ron," he was saying. "Please - look, we're in this together."
"What?" Hermione asked.
Harry sighed. "He just got an owl from the Ministry, but he won't let me see it. He just read it then ran into his room.
The girl shook her head, and began tapping on Ron's door too. "Ron? Look, even if you don't want us to see it at least tell us what's wrong. We've got enough going on at the moment without you shutting us out!"
There was a pause, then the door clicked open slightly. Harry and Hermione exchanged looks, then went inside. Ron was sitting on the edge of his bed, the room in total darkness aside from the red glow, flecked with bars, that was shining through his curtains. He was staring at the floor.
"I don't really want to talk about it," he muttered. "I just - I'm not shutting you out, not really. It's just - with Bill and Percy… and Dad…"
"We know, Ron," Hermione said very quietly. There was the sound of a slamming door from the main room. "What was that?"
Harry shrugged. "Probably Malfoy going back into his room because we wouldn't make him a five-course dinner. The cheek of it…"
"Oh, I forgot," Hermione moved towards the door. "I made a cup of tea, Ron, but I think you ought to have it." The boy on the bed looked up as though to object, but Hermione held up a hand and went out to the kitchen.
Ron looked back at the nylon carpet, while Harry rubbed his jaw nervously. Neither seemed to feel there was anything to say. Words of comfort trudged through Harry's mind, but all felt disingenuous at this point. There was another door slam in the background, and Harry frowned. He turned, and backed away just in time as Hermione burst through the door, her bloodshot eyes wild.
"Harry, Ron!" she cried. "My wand's gone!"
"What?" said Harry. "Are you sure? You haven't just misplaced it?"
"Positive!" she nodded. "But - there's something else."
Harry didn't like the expression on her stricken face. "You -" he began tentatively. "Your wand's gone… and -?"
Hermione took a deep, shuddering breath. "So has Malfoy."
*This, and much of the rest of the first section, has been paraphrased from Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince by J. K. Rowling.
Out of the Fire by LuckyRatTail
Chapter Notes: Anyone notice the pun in the title? Confidence and Conviction. No? Just me then...