Where Will You Go

Chapter 5 - Sick of Speaking

By Celestial


I’m so sick of speaking words that no one understands
Is it clear enough that you can’t live your whole life all alone
I can hear you in a whisper
But you can’t even hear me screaming

Harry rolled over to face Draco. The boy was gazing intently at Harry’s body, as if he was about to sketch it. Harry grinned, knowing how stupid he must look, smiling like an overexcited child. Draco gave him a small smile, small, Harry noted, small, but genuine. He itched at his arm. A red mark was beginning to form. Draco suggested a salve he had for Muggle poison ivy that Harry might be able to use. Harry looked at it doubtfully. It seemed like a rash to him.

Harry and Draco agreed to meet up again sometime after breakfast, being that the growling in their stomachs threatened to wake up everyone in the common room, and the school at most. So the two boys bullied each other down the stairs once again, pulling hair, biting arms, and throwing light punches as not to destroy the other’s skin. It was agreed that Draco would win this fight, and lightly socked Harry in the rib. The students en route to breakfast watched as usual, as Harry made a fine false cry of pain, and a dramatic roll down seven stairs. Hannah Abbot and Susan Bones, two avid Harry fans, cried out in sorrow, and rushed to Harry’s side, cursing Draco. The blonde laughed lightly and sauntered in to scowl at the end of the Slytherin table.

"Ginny, have you seen Hermione?" Harry asked curiously. Breakfast was over already and she still hadn’t returned from the library. Harry became slightly worried, although he knew the only thing Hermione was prone to being attacked by was a thick book like Hogwarts, a History.

"Haven’t seen her since she passed this morning on the way to the library. Had a stack of papers with her. Did she forget to do an essay or something?" Ginny replied.

"No, no," Harry assured her, "She was just dropping some things to Madame Pince."

Ginny looked at Harry warily, searching his eyes for the truth. "Oh well," she said, "If you see her, tell her I have an essay she promised to look over and a good story about Lavender and Ernie."

Harry agreed and quickly left the Great Hall, only meeting Draco’s eyes for a moment before fleeing to the library.

Draco, meanwhile, sat amongst Pansy, Blaise and the others in his house. They had decided to take him back. ("As if they had a choice" he thought angrily.) They were all in good moods, and each had an owl sent to them that morning. The Slytherins talked briskly and excitedly about the letter, but low enough for Draco to be cut from the conversation.

He watched them, annoyed, as they laughed with pure delight. Pansy was talking breathlessly, and her face was contorted with a sick, malicious expression, much like Lucius’s looked after a meeting with…Voldemort. Draco thought. That’s why I’m allowed at the table. That’s why all the Death Eater’s kids got mail this morning. That’s why they’re ready to explode with joy. Something happened…

Draco looked around, bewildered, and leapt up from the table, overturning Millicent Bulstrode’s breakfast into her lap. He raced out of the room, and set off to find Potter.


Harry scratched viciously at his arm as he searched the halls desperately for Hermione. The library was full of second years finishing a paper due Monday, and his best friend was not helping among them, or reading Hogwarts, a History. The common room had also been hopeless, as well as her dormitory, which Harry had fought off Pavrati and Lavender to search. Harry ripped through the corridors, calling for Hermione, becoming more and more desperate by the moment. She was not the type to disappear. Hermione had three main places: Library, common room, and Hagrid’s Hut. Hagrid’s Hut! Harry turned in the direction, stopping only when he remembered that there was no Hagrid in Hagrid’s Hut.

Tears of frustration came to his eyes. He raised his arm to wipe his eyes and gasped at where his rash had formed. It was no longer a rash. Harry mouthed silently, stumbling back against the wall. A portrait of a girl watched him wide-eyed, and called her mother to come help, young Potter was in trouble. Harry stared at the reddened imprint of the Dark Mark on his forearm. He looked around the corridors for help.

Suddenly, pain ripped through his body, and a searing white light blinded him. He felt the floor only slightly as he slammed against it. A cold, raspy voice echoed in his head.

"Potter…come to me…I have what you want…come…"

Harry writhed in pain against the hard stone floor. He felt as if he was falling, spinning madly into a deep abyss of white light. Suddenly, a firm grip wrenched him upwards. The light grew dimmer, and the voice laughed its maniacal screaming laugh. Harry gasped in breath as the corridor returned, and the abyss faded to nothing. He collapsed limply in Draco’s arms.

Draco cried out upon seeing the burning red Mark on Harry’s arm. The raven haired boy moaned, his face twisted in pain. Draco lifted him from the floor and took off in the direction of Dumbledore’s office, trying his hardest to keep Harry’s head upright.

Students from every house stared in awe at the scene that was beginning to unfold. Draco Malfoy, running full-speed towards Professor Dumbledore’s office, yelling something about Dark Marks, collapsing, and Hermione Granger. The Slytherins whispered anxiously among themselves, and the Gryffindors chased after Draco, trying to pry information as to why their best friend and Quidditch captain was laying half dead in his enemy’s arms.

But Draco continued on. Gryffindors pulled at his robes, but he denied their attempts until he reached the large gargoyle that lead to Dumbledore’s office. Professor McGonagall, who had been following in his wake, shouted the password ("Ton-Tongue Toffee!") and a panting Draco hauled Harry up the stairs to the Headmaster’s office.

Professor Dumbledore stood behind the desk. Tired blue eyes met Draco’s livid grey ones. The boy dumped Harry’s unconscious body across the Headmaster’s desk, and collapsed, exhausted, into one of the large chairs. Dumbledore watched him quietly, before rounding to the front of his desk and slipping a vial to Harry’s quivering lips.

"This should revive him shortly." Dumbledore forced a small smile. "He will have a lot to say, and it will be very hard for him, for this is undoubtedly Voldemort’s work."

Draco’s brow furrowed with worry. He reached for Harry’s hand, only to be deflected by Dumbledore. They awaited Harry’s awakening.

Harry’s body shot into an upright position. He quivered and shook as if a charge was running down his backbone. Draco gave a small cry. Harry’s eyes were rolled back into his head, and he yelled fragments and noises that caused chills down the Slytherin’s back. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the fit ended, and Harry stared breathlessly at his surroundings.

Dumbledore took his hand, and tears ran down Harry’s cheeks. "Her-Hermione…they have Hermione. He called me. There was bright light, a long tunnel. I was falling and that voice…and that terrible laugh! My arm…the Dark Mark…Voldemort wants me to come to him. He wants me to get Hermione or else…or else…"

Exasperated, Harry choked for breath. Dumbledore smoothed his hair and let the boy close his eyes. Draco stood, his arms crossed as if he were cold, in a very un-Malfoy manner.

"Draco, let me explain this to you. I feared this from the moment I knew about your new-found friendship with Harry. Inside sources confirmed my suspicions only this morning. Voldemort discovered a way to get to Harry without his direct involvement, but it was too dangerous for he and the Death Eaters to attempt. He found a way of using the tattoo of the Dark Mark, which you yourself bear on your forearm, to enter Harry’s mind and ultimately control and overpower him. He could only do so by having a Death Eater, or a bearer of the Dark Mark, to get close to Harry. But even friendship was not enough. Harry would not be affected for months, even years by friendship. What Voldemort needed was love. Someone had to love, or be loved by Harry, so deeply that the vile curse of the Dark Mark could make its way into him. And that is where you come in. I am fully aware of your relationship with Mr. Potter, and so is Voldemort. I worry that Voldemort will decide to destroy Harry not by death, but by much crueler means."

"This is my fault." Tears pricked at the corners of Draco’s eyes as he watched Harry roll in his troubled sleep. Draco turned and tore out of the Headmaster’s office, tears rolling down his cheeks, deaf to Dumbledore’s pleading calls.

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