Dramione and the Half Blood Prince.

4. The Half Blood Prince

Draco laid in his bed, sleepless, staring at the sealing. He knew what he had to do. He cast a muffling charm around his bed and on the floor of the Slytherin dormitory – everyone in there was sound asleep, except him. He pulled on his cloths silently taking a moment to stare at the monstrosity that beaconed hatred, bold as day, on his left arm. He covered it swiftly and pulled his shoes on.

From the dungeons it was a long walk to the seventh floor, he had to cast a disillusionment charm on himself to stop peeves from noticing his presence. He walked along the corridors at the top of the school before finding the wall he was looking for. He stared at it, taking in his surroundings. Either side of the brownish wall were strong pillars looking as if they were standing guard, behind him in the distance he could hear a bird chirping merrily – it seemed so out of place given what he had come to do. He closed his eyes and concentrated. He exhaled and heard a sound like someone rubbing past the wall, his eyes shot open and there it stood – a huge, ornate set of double doors. He wasted no time in entering.

Once the doors shut behind him he was held completely aghast at the mountains of objects the room held. He was surrounded by piles of chairs scaling so high he couldn't see the top on his right, and mounds of junk traveling as far as the eye could see on his left. He shouldn't have been this surprised since he'd already seen its interior but it still shocked him none the less, the last time he saw it was just before he bumped into Hermione on the first day of term – but that had been weeks ago. He had read about the room of requirement in the books he'd studied in the years before he joined the school, the room was said to always to be equipped to the user's needs – regardless of the seriousness of the situation he couldn't help wondering why the room assumed he needed thousands upon thousands of chairs...

He walked through the maze of seemingly random objects before finding it. The vanishing cabinet. The dark-lord needed access to this, that was one of the reasons they had made him a death eater... The sight of it terrified Draco, it wasn't the object in particular that scared him... it was what it meant. It was the way that that object reiterated the fact that he was being forced into either be the murderer – or a victim. It was the group of people who one day would walk through the cabinet and watch Draco ruin his life forever. It was the fact Draco knew he didn't want to do this, he knew it wasn't him, but he had no choice. If he didn't, they would kill him and his mother. No, they would be put under the cruciatus curse so that he was begging for death for months – maybe even years, before they actually killed him.

Draco always knew he was a coward; it was a key trait of a Slytherin – self-preservation. It was at times like this when he wished he was brave and clever, like a hybrid of a Gryffindor and a Ravenclaw... like Hermione.

He pushed all thoughts of this to the back of his mind. Scanning the room, he caught sight of an apple, he walked slowly to retrieve it and placed it in the vanishing cabinet closing the doors slowly in front of it.

"Harmonia Nectere Passus." He whispered... Nothing happened. "Harmonia Nectere Passus" and there it was, the click. He opened the doors once again and the apple had gone. Fear crashed over him like a wave of destruction coursing through his body – his stomach knotted as he repeated the incantation. "Harmonia Nectere Passus" there was a second click. Draco raised a shaking hand to open the door again, and there it was. The apple laid there, unscathed, apart from a large bite taken out of one corner. This simple object struck his heart with cold, un-merciless revulsion as he caught the message the bite was sent to give. 'Get it done Malfoy, or we will send grayback'.

He couldn't help it; he couldn't do it – he knew he couldn't! He slid down the side of the vanishing cabinet as emotional pain flowed out of his every pore. From his mouth came a cry from so raw and so primal, one we are genetically programed not to ignore. His mouth was wide and warped, like a wound across his face that would never be healed – pain coursed through his body causing it to shake uncontrollably. He stared at his quaking hands as if they weren't even his anymore, like they were stained crimson by the act he was being forced to commit. His utter despair threatened his throat, like an uproar of a silent scream trying to escape his body. Pain was racking on his chest as if the more it hurt, the more he felt it, the less he was going to have to do it. Tears fell thick and fast but the hysteria was too strong to contain any longer.

He laid there, on the floor in the foetal position, sobbing silently. His hand tensed and relaxed repeatedly on the cold marble floor as he tried to grab onto something real, anything. But it was no good. Nothing could save him now, not after all that's happened. He was tainted, dangerous – and he could never be safe with anyone again.

                                                                                     *

Hermione sat on the floor in the Gryffindor common room reading her copy of the Daily Profit in front of the fire, Harry sat behind her flicking through his potions book again – he hardly put it down recently? Ron was sat on the sofa next to Harry and was staring absent-mindedly over at Cormac McLaggen who was playing wizard chess with Dean Thomas.

"You know Hermione," Ron pointed out "Cormac's got a bit of a thing for you."

She looked over at the boy in question who had just destroyed yet another piece of Dean's set, he jumped up quickly and lifted the bottom of his T-Shirt over his head waving his arms round wildly like the muggle football players when they have scored a goal.

"He's vial" she answered shortly, resuming her spot in the article about muggle enslavery in Russia that she was reading.

"Mmm, I see your point" Ron agreed "But you caught him at a bad moment. What do you think Harry? I mean, his family is in high places within the ministry."

"What?" Harry looked very confused over at Ron.

"You weren't even listening were you?" Ron sighed. "What is it with you and that book – we always used to have a nice little chat before bed and now all you do is read that bloody book?!"

"I don't!" Harry snapped.

"Give it here then?" Hermione held out her hand politely but Harry drew it in to his chest as if it were a child he was trying to protect - not a school book. "What?" she asked through knitted brows.

"It's... it's delicate" He retorted.

"It's' delicate?" She began "You realise you're talking to me right? I think I know a thing or two about caring for books" she laughed.

As harry drew the book even closer into his chest Ginny came up behind him and took the book from his grasp before he could do anything about it. He looked infuriated.

"The Half Blood Price?" she asked.

"The who?" Hermione started "I've never heard of him..."

"It says it right here look" Ginny showed her the inside cover and there it said in bold cursive writing 'This book is property of the Half Blood Prince'.

They both looked at him with astonishment.

"Where did you find this Harry?" Ginny asked him sternly.

"It's the book Slughorn gave us from the cupboard, I wish I'd taken it now actually – we were fighting over the new one, but his has annotations on the inside... look?" Ron pointed at one of the recipes. He was right, there were scribbles all over the pages.

Ginny chucked him back his book reluctantly.

"Thanks" he spat at them raising his eyebrows, resuming on the page he left off at.

Hermione sat back down again and looked over at McLaggen who was picking his noes while Deane took his go... 'Why do I always get the nutters?' Hermione asked herself with a sigh.

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Hello, thank you for all the reads - i really appreciate it! I'm sorry for any homophones being wrong or anything but I promise I do proof read twice before putting the chapters up 😂😂

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