The Dark Promise// Theodore Nott

CH 51

///Draco Malfoy///

He didn't want to sleep, but it was taking over him. He fought it as hard as he could, but after that healing potion he was given, it was inevitable. After feeling immense pain for over an hour, your body tended to shut down when not feeling it anymore. His mother was squeaking and moaning in front of him, still as stiff as a board. "Just relax and take a nap. When I wake up, I'll have enough strength to undo it." He said lazily, fluttering his eyes. It probably wasn't a good idea to fall asleep after losing so much blood, but what else was he going to do? He had done his job. Olivia was safe for now. All he had to do was wait out the rest of the night.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, listening to the shouts and crashes that were outside the quite library. It was like he was in a bomb shelter, protected from whatever was outside. His mother let out another squeak. It was her way of saying she was extremely mad at him still. He opened his eyes and leaned forward, struggling to do so. He waved his hand over the back of her head and then quietness fell. He gave her a boring one. One that wouldn't excite her too much so she could stay asleep. A dinner party where she had to schmooze with high brow guests. Tedious if you asked him. He went back to his spot, legs laid out in front of him and hands resting on his lap. He closed his eyes once more, quickly falling into a deep calming sleep.

He had a peculiar dream. He was back in Malfoy Manor and he was a small boy playing in the garden. A fat round niffler was scurrying around in his mothers flower beds, searching for something. When he got closer to the creature it panicked and ran off. He chased it through the hedge maze, quickly getting lost himself. He wondered around for a while, wondering when he would find an exit or the niffler. Then the rodent like creature reappeared, his father's Malfoy ring held in its tiny paws. "Hey! Where did you get that?! Give it here!" He yelled at the niffler, half expecting him to run away again. He was close enough to snatch the ring from it when it stuffed the silver treasure in it's pouch. For a mere second, he thought the niffler made a face at him. One that said. 'You will never get this back.'

Then a loud crash awoke him. No, not a crash. It was the sound of a large door being swung open. He could hear heavy breathing, as if the person who entered the library had been running for quite some time. "Bloody fucking hell! That was close." The person exclaimed. He recognized that voice. It was Goyle. On instinct, Draco was about to call after him, but kept his mouth shut. Goyle was a dedicated death eater now, a blind servant to the dark lord. If he saw him in this state, he would have to explain himself. He held his breath and stayed silent, hoping he would only stay in the library for a few minutes before going back to the fight.

That's not what happened though. Goyle lingered in the library, walking down the aisles of books, and leisurely looking at titles. Draco rolled his eyes. Of course, the only time Goyle would be interested in books was when a war was going on. Finally Goyle made his way to the back of the library, stopping dead in his tracks when he saw his friend sitting on the floor. He had already removed his mask, it now tucked underneath his arm. His face was sweaty, and pimples lined his forehead. It was evident that all this talk of war had been stressing him out. "Draco. What are you doing here?" He said in a low confused voice.

"Oh, you know. Taking a little nap. The screams of the fallen really put me in the mood for a good snooze." He said sarcastically. Goyle didn't respond. He looked over to the destroyed horcrux, then to Narcissa. His face went from confusion to anger. "You destroyed the painting and killed your mother? What the fuck is wrong with you?" Draco wanted to laugh at him, he was about to, but Goyle's face was dead serious. His hand moved to his wand holster. "I didn't kill my fucking mother you idiot. She was stunned and I gave her a dream so she wouldn't struggle so much." Goyle looked at Mrs. Malfoy, trying to see if he was lying or not. "If you don't believe me, touch her. She's still alive you brainless twat." He spat, not wanting to deal with this. Goyle walked up apprehensively, crouching down and touching Narcissa's stocking clad calf. The woman was warm to the touch, still very much alive. He took his hand off her, pointing to the painting. "W-what happened with the painting? We were supposed to protect it. Now everything is g-going to go to shit." He stammered. There was a deep seeded fear in his voice. A fear Draco knew all too well.