Traitor [ON HOLD]

Chapter 12

Over the next few weeks, many many things happened. Draco had taken to spending most of his time between the Room of Requirement and the bathroom.

Moaning Myrtle had taken to coming to visit him regularly. At one point, she thought Harry and Ron had been Draco, and when they questioned her, she fiercely defended Draco and kept him her little secret.

On this particular day, Draco was particularly frustrated. Hermione had placed a charm in the seventh floor corridor, but it was rather subjective. It merely kept Gryffindors - Hermione herself could pass through only if her Dark Mark was not concealed by magic - from entering the room, and if they were going too fast - such as Harry when he decided to sprint - then it would create a force field that prevented one from even nearing the doors. Twice she'd forgotten about it, once when she tried to get in, and once when she was trying to get there before Harry saw the Map.

She'd run full force into the shield and has passed out from the sheer force of her own spell. Inside the Room, Draco had felt it and came to see what had happened. He knew that Potter had some way of knowing who was where, so he carried Hermione inside and left her to rest on one of the couches.

Sometimes she'd accompany him back to the Slytherin dorms, where he'd hand her a bottle of Firewhiskey and they'd listen to her talk about Muggles. They'd asked Theo how he'd known what to do wake Hermione that day. Grudgingly, he'd told them that he'd dabbled in Muggle technology before. Since then, they turned to Hermione for information.

One night, long after everyone else had fallen asleep, Hermione found herself in a game of chess against Draco. Neither was playing very well, but Hermione's could be attributed to her inebriated state. Draco was still thinking about Hermione's reactions. So far, Voldemort had thrice found people for Hermione to kill, and the boy had each taken one.

"Granger, why did you become a Death Eater if you can't handle seeing people die?"

Hermione slurred her reply. "I did it for my parents - and they don't even remember me. To be perfectly honest, Malfoy, should things come to it, I would bring myself to kill a person. I would do anything for my loved ones."

Draco thought about Hermione physically straining herself to keep up the mental shields for herself and the three of them.

"What you would do if Voldemort ever wanted to kill one of us three?" he suddenly asked.

Hermione paused, thinking. "I'll kill him with my bare hands," she said, an eerily Malfoy grin on her face, "No one, not even Smelldemort is allowed to mess with my loved ones."

Draco had laughed then, because of her expression when she'd used the nickname.

However, Hermione had not been with them for a while now, and the stress of completing his task was getting to him. Professor Snape was no help either.

He leaned against the filthy sink, not even wanting to look at his reflection.

"Don’t," crooned Moaning Myrtle from one of the cubicles. "Don't . . . tell me what’s wrong . . . I can help you . . ."

"No one can help me," Draco said. His whole body was shaking. "I can't do it. . . . I can't. . . . It won't work . . . and unless I do it soon . . . he says he'll kill me . . .”

Draco felt angry at the tears - the tears streaming down his pale face into the grimy basin. He gasped and gulped and then, with a great shudder, looked up into the cracked mirror and saw Harry staring at him over his shoulder.

Draco wheeled around, drawing his wand. Instinctively, Harry pulled out his own. Draco's hex missed Harry by inches, shattering the lamp on the wall beside him. Hermione would chastise him for the inability to aim properly.

Harry threw himself sideways, thought Levicorpus! and flicked his wand, but Malfoy blocked the jinx and raised his wand for another.

"No! No! Stop it!" squealed Moaning Myrtle, her voice echoing loudly around the tiled room. "Stop! STOP!"

There was a loud bang and the bin behind Harry exploded. Harry attempted a Leg-Locker Curse that backfired off the wall behind Draco’s ear and smashed the cistern beneath Moaning Myrtle, who screamed loudly as water poured everywhere and Harry slipped as Draco, his face contorted with rage and the knowledge that Hermione would never forgive him, cried, "Cruci -"

"SECTUMSEMPRA!" bellowed Harry from the floor, waving his wand wildly.

Blood spurted from Draco’s face and chest as though he had been slashed with an invisible sword. He staggered backward and collapsed onto the waterlogged floor with a great splash, his wand falling from his limp right hand. He couldn't feel anything, but he could feel himself slipping. At least like this he hadn't been subject to Lord Voldemort's torture of punishment before death.

He could just hear the voice. Moaning Myrtle let out a deafening scream: “MURDER! MURDER IN THE BATHROOM! MURDER!”

The door banged open behind Harry and he looked up, terrified - Snape had burst into the room, his face livid. Pushing Harry roughly aside, he knelt over Draco, drew his wand, and traced it over the deep wounds Harry’s curse had made, muttering an in-cantation that sounded almost like song. The flow of blood seemed to ease. Snape wiped the residue from Draco's face and repeated his spell. Now the wounds seemed to be knitting.

Harry was still watching, horrified by what he had done, barely aware that he too was soaked in blood and water. Moaning Myrtle was still sobbing and wailing overhead. When Snape had performed his countercurse for the third time, he half-lifted Draco into a standing position. Draco tried to pay attention to Snape's words, but he just felt so sleepy.

“You need the hospital wing. There may be a certain amount of scarring, but if you take dittany immediately we might avoid even that. . . . Come. . . .”

He supported Malfoy across the bathroom, turning at the door to say in a voice of cold fury, “And you, Potter . . . You wait here for me.”

Thankfully, Snape said nothing as he helped Draco through the castle. Draco couldn't help but wonder what Hermione would think of the encounter. Would she console Harry for the terrible punishment he was sure to get from Snape?

No, even if Hermione still felt a burning hatred for him, she'd never let Harry believe he was right. Perhaps she'd be worse than Snape.

Draco didn't have much more time to think, because he was soon resting upon a soft bed and fast asleep.