Fic: Shadowed Lives (24 of 29, HP)

[bookishwench]

Draco Malfoy stared up at the Forbidden Forest, flanked by Potter, Granger, Longbottom, and Hagrid, and shuddered. The chill going through him had nothing to do with the wind. It was already pitch black outside, and the more he stared into the dark recesses between the trees, the more certain he was that he could just barely make out the light of eyes of various sizes and shapes staring back at him. None of them looked friendly. He had heard stories about the forest, of course, some of which were most likely lies. However, some of them were also most likely true, and if even a tenth of them was even the slightest bit accurate, he knew this was a place he had no desire to explore.

He actually admitted it to himself: he was terrified. A cold sweat broke out on his neck as he noted the full moon, perfect for werewolves, and in the distance he heard something that sounded horribly like a howl.

Potter, predictably, looked too dim to realize he was about to enter a death trap. On the other hand, for once Longbottom’s customary expression of abject terror was entirely justified. Hagrid didn’t seem to see anything particularly wrong in sending a group of first years smack into the middle of a haunted forest, including two who had gotten into this predicament entirely because they were saving his oversized posterior from a completely merited sacking for trying to raise an illegal dragon. Had he seriously thought no one would ever notice a full-grown Norwegian Ridgeback parked behind his hut? The last member of their group, Granger, was unreadable. She was looking into the forest too as they walked towards it, mostly ignoring Filch’s babblings—a good habit to embrace, Draco told himself, as the bitter old man seemed delighted by the prospect of one of them winding up dead by the night’s end. Her eyes scanned the trees rapidly as though she were calculating something. He wondered what.

Hagrid broke them into groups, and Draco wound up with Neville Longbottom and the dog, Fang. There didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to this. Potter got to have both Hermione and Hagrid as he trudged into the forest, which seemed like a fairly competent team. He got a terrified dog and an even more terrified Neville.

Well, Draco thought as he took the path, this is how I die. I hope whatever it is that kills me leaves something to ship home to Mother and Father.

Longbottom had grasped the dog’s leash immediately, leaving Draco with nothing to depend on but himself. He rather liked dogs, really. Mother and Father would never have allowed one in the manor, of course. They shed and knocked things over and smelled and drooled and caused a mess, so they were obviously forbidden. But secretly, Draco had always wanted a dog, a big one that would make things feel a bit less lonesome in the enormous house. Fang was a decent representation of what Draco felt a proper dog was, and he was disappointed that he didn’t even have the option of a moment of bonding with him. Probably the dog would have hated him anyway, he thought. Most people did now that he’d lost his house a whole fifty points for being out of bed and wandering the school at night.

He, Longbottom, and Fang trod the bumpy path in relative silence, looking for the injured unicorn Hagrid had mentioned. Draco knew they preferred girls, but he was still too young for unicorns to want to avoid him. That was probably why the job had been given to first years, he supposed, though it still seemed daft. Longbottom was every bit as careful as he was about staying on the path, something Draco currently appreciated.

Longbottom held a lantern aloft. While Draco realized they could have just used their wands, he wasn’t complaining. Any extra bit of light was very welcome. Tree roots stuck up at odd angles in the darkness, and in places the path became difficult to find. He remembered Hagrid’s firm warning not to step off the path, and he didn’t like to think what might lie just a few paces from him, possibly kept at bay by some flimsy protection spell on their route cast by that oaf.

“Did you hear something?” Neville asked suddenly, stopping.

Draco nearly ran into him but managed to narrowly avoid him.

“What kind of something?” he asked, his eyes swiveling left and right rapidly but seeing only odd shadows.

“A sort of crunching noise, like something going over the dead leaves,” Neville whispered.

“No, I di—”

Then he heard it.

Unmistakably, it wasn’t footsteps. It was an odd, brushing sort of noise, like something was gliding over the ground, just skimming the dried-up leaves from last year.

Neville and Draco exchanged horrified looks, then, in one accord, screamed.

Draco kept trying to remember how to send up red sparks, but the only thing he could think of was that he was probably about to be eaten by some indescribably horrible creature. Neville, to his credit, was the one who managed to signal the others, the scarlet embers glittering over the treetops with surprising accuracy. Draco was so relieved he very nearly thanked him. Almost.

A minute or two that felt like an eternity passed in terrified silence before they heard something crashing through the trees, and for a moment Draco thought they were done for until Hagrid’s bearded face lurched into view between two enormous oaks.

“What’s ‘appenin’?” he yelled, looking annoyed. “Where’s th’ emergency? Who sent up them sparks?”

Draco pointed at Neville, who tried to explain what had happened but seemed unable to speak. Hagrid squinted at the pair of them, then scowled at Draco.

“Yeh scared ‘im on purpose, din’t yeh?” Hagrid said, looking absolutely terrifying. “Wha’ did yeh do? Grab him from behind?”

“I didn’t!” Draco yelled, finally finding his voice because whatever he’d heard before was nowhere near as terrifying as Hagrid right now. “There’s something out there! We both heard it!”

Neville nodded emphatically, and Draco felt relief that the other boy wasn’t going to leave him without a witness. Hagrid had to believe him now. Except he didn’t.

“Tha’s alrigh’,” Hagrid said gently to Neville. “Yeh don’ need teh be embarrassed because o’ what this lunkhead done.”

“No, really, it was right here!” Neville insisted in a very high voice.

“No, it wasn’,” Hagrid said firmly. “Yeh got fooled is all. An’ it ruddy well won’ happen again, will it Malfoy? Come wit’ me, both of yeh.”

Draco thought for one wild moment that running into the forest might be better than following Hagrid, but in the end, he came along, feeling miserable. Fang, giving him a surprisingly sympathetic look, walked close beside him, and Draco buried the fingers of one hand into his fur. The warmth made him feel a little better.

Hagrid led them back down the path they’d taken and then took the turn where Harry and Hermione had been sent. It didn’t take long to catch up with them. Draco felt his insides squirm as he realized what was about to happen: Neville would become Harry’s partner, and Hermione and he would have to go back toward that nameless thing together to look for whatever had killed the unicorn.

He didn’t like that a part of him was glad Hermione would at least no longer be walking through this waking nightmare with that deranged lunatic Potter. The woods were frightening enough without him in the mix.

But when Hagrid divided them, Draco’s jaw dropped to learn he was the one paired with Potter. Hagrid matched Hermione with Neville, and Draco heard Hagrid whisper quite plainly the idea that Harry would be harder to frighten than Hermione. So, apparently, did Hermione, who rolled her eyes at the suggestion that she wasn’t made of sterner stuff than that.

The one bright spot in the matter was Fang, who butted his enormous head into Draco’s hand and walked alongside him as he and Potter went down one path and Hagrid, Neville, and Hermione disappeared into the forest. Draco felt a little sick at how badly this was going. Really, how were some first years supposed to find and stop something strong enough to kill a unicorn? Were they supposed to try to Transfigure whatever it was into a teacup? For one moment he felt a blast of pity for Neville, who hadn’t really done anything and was liable to be killed at the first sign of danger. This school, Draco decided, was mad.

At that point, Draco realized that Potter had noticed something he hadn’t. The other boy was staring at the ground with a look of mixed curiosity and disgust. Unicorn blood was streaked on almost everything along the path, a lot of it, gleaming silver in the moonlight. Draco suddenly realized Potter had stupidly been silently leading them in that direction for a while without mentioning it. Shouldn’t they shoot up sparks? The unicorn, and he really did feel a gut-wrenching pain he would later realize must be pity when he thought of it suffering like this, had to be nearby, and so most likely was whatever had wounded it.

Before he could open his mouth, though, Potter stuck his arm in front of Draco to stop him and pointed.

“Look,” he said.

If Draco had felt sick before, it was nothing to how he felt now. The unicorn was lying there just a short way up the path, obviously dead. Its legs were tangled up, its mane streaked with mud, and yet it was still unutterably beautiful. He tried to tell himself it was only an animal, and at least now it wasn’t suffering, but his heart still broke so badly that he found himself fighting back the urge to cry.

That was when Draco heard it again; the sound of something being dragged over leaves came back, the same sound he had heard before. Whatever it was, it was here. Then, he saw it.

A man, or something that looked like one, came into view from the trees, moving in a way he shouldn’t have been able to, as though his joints were on backward. He was wearing a hooded cloak, and as he approached the unicorn, he knelt down beside it. For a wild moment, Draco hoped that this was all a misunderstanding, that it was a teacher from the school who had come to help them, that the unicorn wasn’t really dead and could somehow be helped.

He was disabused of that idea when the figure started drinking the unicorn’s blood.

Draco screamed. Fang howled. Potter… stood there like a stump, but at the moment Draco couldn’t blame him for that because what was happening was the most unhinged, disturbing, freakish thing he had ever seen. He thought of his wand, but he could no more remember how to summon red sparks than he could fly without a broom. Terrified, he ran, realizing he was leaving Potter there on his own but fully intending to send help. There was a limit to what an eleven-year-old boy could be expected to face, even if he was a Malfoy.

Fang crashed alongside him through the trees, ignoring the path in an effort to get to the others as fast as they could. For a brief moment, Draco thought he saw a monstrously large spider hanging from a tree, but he kept moving, hoping it was only a shadow. He hadn’t known his lungs could hold so much air, especially when he was running at full tilt, but he kept screaming like a banshee, partly hoping Hagrid would hear him, and partly because he just couldn’t help it.

Suddenly a massive shape loomed in front of him, and he was thrilled to realize it was Hagrid.

“Back there!” he yelled. “Potter! It’s got Potter! It’s drinking the unicorn’s blood!”

“Wha’?” Hagrid said. “Wha’ ‘re yeh sayin’? Tha’s foolishness, drinkin’ its—”

“RUN, YOU OAF! HE’S GOING TO DIE!”

Hagrid shot him a look of loathing, pausing only to say, “Yeh’ll be expelled by mornin’ an’ no mistake for tha’ sor’ of tall tale.”

Draco’s eyes widened as he realized Hagrid wasn’t going to do anything because nothing he said would make the man believe him. Desperately, he spun to face Hermione, who was looking at him with her features distorted by terror.

“Hermione, I’m not lying, I swear it! Please, believe me! I don’t know what it is, but it’s real, and it’s going to kill Potter unless someone does something!”

There was no pause. Hermione immediately took off down the path at top speed, her wand drawn, looking like she was charging into a war. Draco was reminded of his nickname for her: Jeanne d’Arc, in all her glory, heading into battle alone.

Hagrid’s mouth dropped open, but he sprinted after her, yelling, “Wait! Yeh can’ go out there alone! I’m jus’ behind yeh!”

“That’s exactly why she did it,” Draco muttered to himself. “She knew throwing herself to the wolves was the fastest way to get you to follow.”

Draco glanced over at Neville and Fang, who both looked rather awkward.

“So… what do we do now?” Neville asked. “Follow?”

“I… guess?” Draco said. “I’m not even sure which way is out of this damnable forest, so it’s not like we’ve got much choice.”

The two boys started walking cautiously, keeping to the path, wands out. Eventually, they heard the sound of galloping hooves ahead. They looked at one another, not sure whether to run, hide, or fight, but then Draco heard Hagrid’s voice yelling, “Yer alive!”

“No thanks to you, you pathetic idiot,” Malfoy mumbled.

Just then, a huge creature crashed through the underbrush, and Draco and Neville yelled in unison. The centaur, for that’s what it was, passed by them without a word as though they were a pair of very large squirrels, utterly beneath his interest. Frankly, Draco was glad of it. While a centaur wasn’t the worst thing he’d seen tonight, he still knew enough to give them a wide berth. Then, a sudden realization hit him.

“Potter wasn’t… wasn’t actually riding that centaur, was he?” Draco said in disbelief.

“I dunno,” Neville said. “Maybe?”

“Daft as a daisy,” Draco said, though there was a tiny bit of admiration present. “I’m getting out of here before something else comes out of the woods around here.”

He headed towards Hagrid’s voice. The gamekeeper was standing next to Potter, carefully examining him for any wounds. Hermione stood to one side, her wand still in her hand but lowered. She kept scanning the surrounding trees for anything unusual, but Draco thought whatever that thing had been, it probably wouldn’t stay around with five wizards, one of them big enough to count as three, a dog, and at least one centaur running about. Still, he thought, gripping his own wand tighter, caution was smart.

“We’re goin’ back up t’the castle,” Hagrid said. “I don’ know wha’ yeh saw, but yeh’ve all been punished plenty. Tha’s enough fer one night.”

“Morning, you mean,” Draco said. “It’s well past midnight.”

Hagrid looked up as though he’d completely forgotten anyone else was there.

“Oh, yeh’re here,” he said. “Right. The safes’ way out, which isn’ the fastes’ is this way.”

Hagrid put a hand on Potter’s shoulder and almost propelled him through the forest, Fang following close behind but at least looking back occasionally to make sure the other three weren’t lost. Neville, who it turned out could run surprisingly fast even in the dark forest, was right behind them. Hermione, though, made no attempt to keep up. Instead, she slowed down slightly, forcing Draco, who was bringing up the rear, to walk next to her.

“Thank you,” she said.

“For what? Leaving Potter to be eaten alive by a monster? My pleasure,” he said.

“No,” Hermione said. “I don’t know what you saw, but at least you tried to get help back to him.”

Draco could hear his father giving him a stern talking to in his head, but he couldn’t decide whether it was for cowardice, not letting Potter get finished off, or talking to a Mudblood.

“What did you see?” Hermione asked quietly.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Draco shot at her, but even to his own ears he sounded more like a petulant child than anything else.

“Yes, I would. That’s why I asked,” she said.

He had absolutely no desire to recall anything at all about what had just happened, but he also noticed Hagrid hadn’t asked him about it, and he felt sure no one else was going to, either. Somebody should check into that thing.

“I don’t know, but it was gruesome,” he finally said. “It had the shape of a man draped in a long black cloak and hood. That’s what made that awful rustling noise we heard when we first went into this pit. It put its head down and put back the hood and—”

A wave of nausea hit him all at once and he barely had time to grab the trunk of a tree to keep from falling over as he retched up everything in his stomach. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead, and he shuddered, one hand clutching his middle while he shook uncontrollably. The image seared itself into his mind’s eye, and he gritted his teeth, willing himself to calm down.

When he was finally back to normal again, he became aware that a hand was gently patting his back. He relaxed at the simple human touch, then, realizing it must be Hermione, he pulled back ferociously.

“Get your paws off me, you filth,” he said, but the effect was somewhat lessened by the weakened voice he said it in. “If you must know, it was lapping at the unicorn’s neck where its blood was pouring out all over the ground. I don’t know if it was some kind of vampire or ghoul or what, but it was… it was horrible. Wrong in every way.”

Hermione nodded, then looked back down the path.

“Something is really wrong, you’re right about that,” she said. “The centaurs were talking to us before, and one of them said something I don’t think Hagrid understood.”

“Well, that’s no shock,” Draco said. “Most everything goes over that one’s head.”

“No, it’s—” she stopped and looked directly up through the sparse spring leaves on the trees. “There. Just there.”

She pointed, and he followed the direction of her finger.

“That’s Mars,” he said. “What has that got to do with anything?”

He had been tutored in the constellations and planets since childhood, and he rather liked them, though of course he liked his namesake constellation, the Dragon, best of all. Draco could find nearly all the major stars on a clear night, but tonight, something did look odd.

“It’s bright,” Hermione said. “That’s what the centaurs said. ‘Mars is bright tonight.’”

A chill went through him as he realized what that meant.

“Mars is the god of war, isn’t he,” Hermione said.

“Yeah,” Draco said, not taking his eyes off the reddish light that was indeed much too bright.

“And centaurs are known for talking in riddles and knowing the future,” Hermione said.

He lowered his gaze from the sky to her. Hermione was still staring up at the sky intensely, her brow furrowed. It wasn’t that she didn’t understand something; it was that she did. And so did he.

“War is coming,” Draco said quietly. “That’s what they meant.”

Hermione stayed silent for a long moment, then said, “I think it has something to do with what you saw.”

“I bloody well hope not,” Draco said, “but maybe.”

They had come to the edge of the forest. Potter was being whisked off to the castle by Hagrid, and if he squinted, Draco could just make out the shadows of Neville and Fang not far from them.

“I’m sorry you got caught,” Hermione said. “It wasn’t my intention.”

“Wasn’t mine either,” he said. “I still can’t believe that idiot gave you lot a detention like this for saving his bum after he tried to raise a dragon right on school grounds. This school is bonkers.”

“Yes,” she said, “but I still wouldn’t be anywhere else. Would you?”

He snorted a laugh in spite of himself, then said, “I’d rather not be in there Merlin-forsaken forest again, but no, neither would I.”

He stood there with her for a moment, wishing she wasn’t what she was, even almost wishing he wasn’t a Malfoy, though his father would have beaten him within an inch of his life if he had even suspected that thought of lingering in his only son’s mind. But things were as they were and couldn’t be changed. That door was shut.

“Watch yourself, Granger,” he said, and if he had meant it to sound menacing, it had come out wrong. Even to his own ears, he sounded concerned. “If there is a war coming, your kind are the sort who’ll have targets on their backs.”

With that, he ran towards the castle, leaving Hermione to walk the rest of the way on her own, as she should, he told himself firmly.

And if he stopped for just one moment at the door to glance behind to see if she was alright before he returned to the dank, fetid dungeons, well, there was no one else there to see it.