The Only Thing Left is the Emptiness
By LadyDiablo
Pairing: Ron/Draco
Disclaimer: This is not mine. Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling.
This is my first fan fiction and I need a beta reader! If anyone feels up to it, please e-mail me.
Chapter 1
Potions were the first lesson of the day, and things already started out bad. Not only had Harry been paired with Draco Malfoy, but their potion looked more like oil then the light blue potion they were supposed to be brewing. Even Longbottom's potion looked acceptable. But on the other hand, Hermione's and Ron's potion didn't look spot on either. It was bright orange and bubbling ferociously.
Harry let out a sigh and flopped down on his chair in a boneless heap. Professor Snape was for sure going to fail him now, he was sure of it.
He looked over at Malfoy and saw that the boy had a nasty smile on his lips, wretched little ferret that he is.
"You did this, didn't you?" Draco looked at Harry, pretending to be surprised. The stunned look on his face looked real enough, but it was ruined by the unpleasant twinkle in his storm-grey eyes.
"Why, Potter, would I ever do something like this?" he said and swept with his hand at their ruined potion.
"Maybe you want to see me fail Potions, which I'm probably going to do anyway. I don't know your sick reasons." Harry whispered, trying not to shout.
"Yes, like this is good for MY grades! I wouldn't be surprised if you put too many frog legs in it. In the instructions it clearly says two and two only. Everybody knows that you have a hard time following directions." Harry glared at Malfoy. He started to get increasingly irritated.
"Oh, please! Like Snape's going to fail you, you suck up, spoiled little rich bra…"
"Harry, stop!" Harry was just getting warm, when Hermione stopped him.
He turned to her and glared at her. These days he rarely got very far in his insults towards the blonde-haired boy, seeing as Hermione always stepped in to prevent him in time. Therefore he settled on just glaring at Malfoy.
"So, I'm a spoiled little brat? Well, I wonder what your father did to professor Dumbledore that makes him like you so much. I bet they were seeing each other in some forgotten storeroom, or maybe the Astronomy tower. What else could it be?"
The whole classroom was noiseless by now. Harry's eyes was blazing and he was shaking with rage, and somewhere in the back of his wrath-filled mind he vaguely wondered why Professor Snape had not swept in on them yet.
If Malfoy knew what was good for him, which he obviously prided himself in knowing, he would have stopped right there. But alas, the mouth sometimes works faster then the mind.
"And your poor mother, I bet she didn't even kn…" SMACK!
Shocked gasps erupted in the room. The only one who had ever smacked Malfoy was Hermione, but this time to everyone's surprise, it was Ron. He stood in front of Malfoy, shaking almost as bad as Harry, fists clenched at his side.
"How dare you talk about Harry's parents like that? If someone's low it's you. I should probably ask you what your father did to Snape in their schooldays, to make him like YOU so much. You're probably the only one who is going to pass potions. And why might that be?"
Harry had now unclenched his fists and sat down in his chair to calm down. He was instead watching Malfoy and Ron glower at each other, each trying to surpass the other. He was kind of glad that it was Ron and not himself, he didn't know what he'd do if he would have been standing in front of Malfoy now. Hermione was standing behind him, her hand on his shoulder, both calming him and preventing him from flying at Malfoy. He decided to leave the flying to Ron.
Both Malfoy and Ron looked at each other with equal hate. Even though Ron was known for his temper, he managed to collect himself enough to take a deep breath, slowly go back to his and Hermione's worktable, pick up their cauldron with the orange potion, and go back to Malfoy.
"You scum." He said, before dumping their entire potion over Malfoy, who was too engrossed in snickering with Crabbe and Goyle to even react before it happened.
For a split second, the entire room was deadly quiet before the Gryffindor half of the class erupted in cheers and laughs.
It was at that exact time that Snape decided to walk in, but stopped abruptly in his tracks at the sight that welcomed him.
Malfoy was all covered in the orange sticky mass that was supposed to be Ron and Hermione's potion. It had already started to soak through his robes. He was glaring bloody daggers at Weasley, who just stared back at him with a calm appearance.
Now, what's wrong with that picture? Snape looked from an enraged Draco Malfoy to a strangely composed Ron Weasley.
Yes, that's it. Weasley was never calm in situations like these. Either they were fighting at this time, or they were by now on their way to the hospital wing.
Malfoy took a small step towards Ron, and was about to say something, when his eyes grew big and his mouth dropped open.
He was breathing hard and wrapped his arms around his stomach, when he suddenly he fell down to his knees shaking. Snape was instantly by his side and held him by the back to prevent him from falling further.
"Mr. Malfoy, are you alright?" he asked the boy.
"I…" he stopped as his body started trembling violently and he clenched his teeth.
Hermione watched with a worried expression on her face. She turned to Ron, who actually appeared a little guilty; even if he thought Malfoy deserved it. They looked at each other and then they turned to Harry.
"Oh God, it burns!" They suddenly heard Malfoy scream.
They whipped around at his scream of pain, and could do nothing besides stare as Professor Snape picked him up, holding his arms carefully behind Malfoy's back and under his knees, like a small child. Malfoy's head lolled against Snape's shoulder and his half-closed eyes were unseeing.
Professor Snape carried him easily, while ordering Pansy Parkinson to hurry to Headmaster Dumbledore and dismissing the rest of the class. Either he was a very strong man, or Malfoy didn't weigh very much, because he easily ran out the potions classroom and headed towards the hospital wing.
As soon as Snape and Malfoy were gone, the room exploded in hushed whispers that grew louder by the second. Nobody had left yet, but they had all begun to pack their potions ingredients.
"Did you see that?"
"What happened?"
Harry, Ron and Hermione looked silently at each other and agreed to follow to the hospital wing. They took their bags and made their way from the noisy classroom unnoticed. Even though they didn't like Malfoy, they had to know what happened. They couldn't feel smug about getting the best of Draco Malfoy if he was dead.
They arrived just in time to see Madame Pomfrey lean over the bed where Malfoy laid, trying to calm him down. Even though she didn't like the boy very much, she felt sorry for him.
He had a hard time trying not to scream, and a few tears had found their way from his eyes down his pale cheeks. Finally he gave in to the obvious pain, and screamed high. The bloodcurdling scream was high and agonized enough to make the glass in the windows vibrate.
"Oh, God…" Hermione had her hands over her mouth and she was staring in horror at Malfoy. Ron and Harry stood behind her in the doorway and their eyes were just as big as hers.
"What happened?" Madame Pomfrey asked Snape, as she walked over to a shelf and tried to find something to take Malfoy's pain away. Professor Snape was standing on the other side of the boy's bed, a tentative hand resting beside his head. The expression on his face was one as close to concern as the trio had seen on the sourly Potions Master.
"He got Miss Grangers and Mr. Weasley's potion over him. Something was wrong with it, but I didn't have the time to figure out what."
Snape conveniently left out the part where Ron actually poured the potion over him, even though Harry, Ron and Hermione couldn't fathom why he missed a chance to humiliate them. But he did send a glare in their direction.
Madame Pomfrey looked sadly at Malfoy, and decided to give him some powerful muggle painkillers until she knew the sedative-potion wouldn't mix badly with whatever was making Malfoy ill. She presented the pills to Malfoy, who without hesitation swallowed them with a glass of water.
He then sank down on the bed again, trying to take deep breaths while waiting for the pills to work. He closed his eyes, and his breathing slowly returned to normal.
Snape let out a big sigh, and Pomfrey promised to notify him if something changed. He then headed towards the door with a last glance at Malfoy, and a glare at The Trio as he passed them on his way out.
Madame Pomfrey checked over Malfoy one last time before she headed to her office. She did not even notice the three of them standing at the door.
They gave each other a nervous glance before they slowly walked over to Malfoy's bed. As they silently stood beside it, they couldn't help but notice how pained Malfoy still looked.
"I feel so awful." Ron said in a small voice. He looked up at Harry and Hermione. "If it was not for me, we could still be arguing as normal, and everything would still be as it should. "
Harry knew that Ron has a big heart that comes from having a large and loving family. He also knew that Ron would always stand by his side no matter what, but it was still surprising to hear Ron say that, especially about his enemy. It was even more astonishing to see Ron's next move.
Ron hesitantly laid his hand on Malfoy's. To his and the others surprise, Malfoy took the hand in his and squeezed it tight. He opened his light grey eyes sleepily and looked up into Ron's eyes.
"I'm so sorry." Ron said after a moment of silence.
And he really meant it. Malfoy smiled tiredly, but it was a true smile. That one true smile made him look different, not at all like the sneering and sarcastic smiles. He was actually pretty handsome. Maybe they had all misunderstood him. Maybe they had all made the classical mistake to not see behind the façade, behind the typical Slytherin behavior.
"Don't be. I'm too tired and in too much pain to be mad at you right now." He stopped and closed his eyes for a minute. The painkillers had obviously started to work, and he was getting sleepy. When he opened them again, they were a dark shade of grey, instead of the usual light silvery grey. "But you just wait until I get out of here!"
He smiled that one true smile again and closed his eyes, still holding Ron's hand.
He must have gone crazy. Definitely too many bludgers to the head at practice. That has got to be the only explanation. Why would he otherwise of his own free will apologize to his enemy and HOLD HIS HAND?
Yes, he had been shocked when he had seen Malfoy in the hospital wing, crying in pain, but that was certainly not enough reason to comfort him and ask for forgiveness. And forgiveness for what exactly? It was Malfoy that started by insulting Harry and his parents. He only got what was coming to him.
Ron was sitting in his bed in the boy's dormitory. It was a quarter to twelve and the rest of them were already asleep. He and Harry had stayed up with Hermione in the common room, talking about both all and nothing. They completely ignored the subject of one Draco Malfoy.
He had put his wand in a holder at the headboard with a lumos-charm lighting up the insides of his drawn curtains. If Hermione knew that he actually had the transfigurations book open she would pass out cold in astonish. But he was not truly reading. He was using the conveniently heavy book to smack his head with regular intervals.
How in the Wizarding World could he be so utterly stupid? They were supposed to be enemies. Sure, he knew that Malfoy was good looking; otherwise, he would not be a Malfoy. But looks were not all. There had to be something inside the good looking shell also. And the Malfoy family's cold and egocentric ways of thinking were not enough. It certainly did not make up for the handsome face.
Two years ago, in his fourth year, he had discovered that he was as attracted to the male anatomy as much as the female. He knew this when he and Seamus Finnegan had shared a few heated kisses in detention one night in the cold dungeons. They did not go further then, instead they agreed to remain good friends and they thought nothing of it. Of course there had been shock and a little self-doubt, but eventually he overcame it. After all, Bill had a steady boyfriend since three years back, and none in the family had reacted bad to them, so how wrong could it be?
He had also had a brief crush on his best mate. That's right, Harry Potter. But that had soon disappeared. He would admit in a heartbeat that Harry was extremely good-looking with his remarkable green eyes, unruly black hair and lopsided smile. However, after a few months of desire and pining he discovered that it did not go further than just that. One didn't have to be in love to enjoy beauty after all. He had quickly overcome his infatuation and for the last year he had not actually thought of anyone special.
So why was he thinking of Draco -bloody- Malfoy?
He was beginning to get dizzy from banging his head, and his transfigurations book now had a brand new tear right over 'How to transfigure a stick into a broom'.
When he woke up he could see through his parted curtains that it was dark outside. The moon left an extensive strip of light on the left side of the hospital wing, right by his bed, slashing majestically through the chilling dark. He could see the outlines of the other empty beds lined up in the room, four beds on his side of the room and eight beds on the right side of the room. He lay awake for some time, and could unmistakably hear the creaking of the castle walls and the rats running around inside the floor and ceiling, making an irritating gnawing noise whenever they found something they deemed edible.
He did not feel anything, just emptiness. It was the kind of emptiness that comes after a dire nightmare in which you just can't remember what happened. You can feel your heart racing and your pulse beat as fast a rabbit's, but you can't remember why you're afraid. When this has passed, the only thing left is the emptiness.
It was this kind of feeling that haunted Draco Malfoy when he woke up in the middle of the night, alone, in the hospital wing.
It was Friday, the day after The Incident. It was a quarter to eight and Ron, Harry and Hermione sat down at the breakfast table in the Great Hall. They were later then normal, because they had slept in that morning. After the events on Thursday and their long talk in the common room in the evening, they had all without intention slept longer that normal. Therefore they only had about fifteen minutes before their first class of the day.
"Oh my God, now I don't have time to rehearse the charms-homework!" Hermione was in a state of grave panic. Not only had she been made to eat as speedy as she possible could, but she had not had any time to study at breakfast. Normally one could not keep up a normal conversation with her in breakfast time, because she was usually involved in something very large and thick. She would be sitting with a cup of hot chocolate or a glass of pumpkin-juice and the only answers you could get from her was a preoccupied "hmm" or a distant "yes, that's right". But sometimes she could actually surprise everybody in hearing range by sticking in small comments between sentences.
One time, in fifth year, a few of the boys had been engrossed in a discussion about girls – they should know better that talk about girls when the subjects of discussion are at the table and most likely to listen in. But do they ever learn? No.
"Girls are impossible when it comes to sports. They don't know anything, they don't even care who wins the Quidditch World Cup!" The unfortunate boys who had said that were no other than their own redheaded Ron Weasley.
Hermione had instantly looked up from her large book and gave Ron The Look.
"What did you just say?" she had said with a false silky voice. Ron looked at her with a bewildered and a tiny hint of fright.
"I said that girls are impos…"
"I HEARD WHAT YOU SAID!"
"Then why did you ask- "
"RON WEASLEY! How dare you say something like that? All of you! Or have you forgotten that there are and have been many great girls on the house team? Or maybe you think they are in on it because the color of the quaffle match with the Quidditch robes?" In her tirade her voice had become steadily higher and higher until every eye in the Great Hall was fixed on the Gryffindor table.
"But Hermione… We didn't –"
But Hermione was not finished yet, she was just getting started. She had been in a bad mood all day, and now was the perfect moment to take it out on someone. Her light brown eyes had gone dark with rage and even her hair was standing on edge. She rounded on Seamus who had had the nerve to utter the last statement, as quick as lightning.
"Just because I'm not on the team and don't fantasize about becoming a famous Quidditch star legend, you assume that I'm not interested in sports?"
The boys had had the decency to look ashamed. Even Harry, who had in fact been sitting a few seats down the table with Fred and George and the rest of the Quidditch team discussing tactics, had looked berated. Angelina and Katie looked furious beyond words. Even Fred and George looked at their little brother with disapproval. They knew better.
Hermione stopped her tirade that had been going on for quite a while and took several large breaths. Then, without a word, she had picked up her book and put it in her bag and left the Great Hall, eyes following her.
Even the professors had paused in their dinner to see what was going on this time, though most of them looked amused. Even one Draco Malfoy had looked at Hermione with a small ounce of respect that time. One tiny small ounce of respect.
After this incident, there had been no more spoken mistakes in the company of women. Not yet anyway, though knowing teenage boys, there definitely would be.
The day passed without any strange things happening. At History of Magic Professor Binns droned on about the theory behind wands and their making. Even though this subject should be one of the more interesting subjects, especially for one as boring as Binns, he managed to put half of the students in a coma-like state. The ones that was not staring ahead of them and seeing nothing were idly doodling or, like Ron and Seamus for instance, asleep with their heads propped upon their arms on the table. Ron had even gone so far as to bring a small cushion for a more comfortable rest. It's not as if Professor Binns would notice anyway.
Hermione looked at him with her usual look of disapproval. Not that that was anything new. Harry had been staring unblinking at the top frame of a painting of Hermes the Hideous behind Professor Binns desk for the past fifteen minutes. Everything was pleasantly fussed and the colors were blending together in a big blob on the grey stonewall. That was all fine with him anyway, because he really did not want to see Hermes the Hideous in clear view. He certainly did earn his name fair and square.
Nothing more interesting happened that day if you don't count the small swarm of Cornish pixies that jumped up from under the Gryffindor table at lunch, tearing through the mashed potatoes and tossing green-peas and broccoli at everyone within reach. The little blue creatures created great havoc before Professor McGonagall, with the help of a sullen Filch, finally managed to capture them. Nobody had the faintest idea where they came from, even though the Slytherins' were having quite a laugh.
When Draco woke up again in the Hospital wing he was alone. He sighed and turned his head to the left, where the bedside table was. There was no get well card or candy. Well, that was not anything new. Nobody ever gave him anything when he was ill.
In second year, he came down with magical chickenpox, as he hadn't had the luck to get it when he was little, so it was so much worse then. He had aching rashes everywhere, he did not want to lie down because it hurt and he did not want to sit up because he was too tired, cause of the fever that was up about 40 degrees Celsius. Nobody cared enough to send him a card or candy then and nobody cares now. The only one that showed that he cared was Professor Snape, but that did not really count. Sure, he was great, he was his godfather after all, but it just was not the same as a real friend.
When he was little ha was never allowed to be out and play, his father always said that it would tarnish the Malfoy name if anyone ever saw him playing in the woods like a common child. The only friends he had were Pansy Parkinson, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle and they were brought up just like him; no playing and no getting dirty.
His body still ached after what had happened with the potion. Nobody had explained anything, seeing as he had fallen asleep from the muggle painkillers rather quickly and no one had been there to explain when he had awoken in the night.
Carefully he checked his body and found that he could move everything relatively well, although the aching in his body had not diminished. He was relieved to discover that he did not have any extra limbs or anything of that sort.
As he lay down and prepared to go back to sleep again, he failed to notice the silver-shimmering fish-like scales growing on the inside of his wrists and on the base of his throat.