Weakness Guides The Heart

Chapter twelve

The Great Hall was gleaming, innocent exuberance illuminating the room, candles shimmering, fluttering elegantly throughout the painted night sky. Stars twinkled within the ceiling, waving an excited hello to the students filling the room.

The four, wooden rows were filled with delightful treats, pies coated with sugary glee; treacle tart delicately gliding along the length of the table, smiling at everyone they passed; pumpkin seeds embellishing the sweets glistening, gleaming under the pearly grins of the students.

Pumpkins, some tall; others tiny, barley ripe, clustered within every corner of the room; Hagrid's secret ingredient causing a honeyed glow to radiate; a syrupy beam bouncing around the room, igniting the overjoyed delight of teacher's chatter.

Harry's eyes traced the delicate stems of each and every pumpkin he saw; the elegant twirl playful, radiating, pure greens beautifully exuberayting the wild curiosity of nature.

"You've barely touched your pie, mate." Ron's fiery hair mirrored the crisp exterior of the pumpkins; his blue eyes bright, excited by the sugar rushing through his blood.

"I can't believe it's Halloween already." Harry spoke, ignoring Ron's statement; a wonder filled expression teasing his green eyes. "Two months gone already."

"Only two more till Christmas!" Hermione beamed, her brunette locks bouncing, dancing joyfully against her shoulders. Harry's eyes fell upon the Slytherin table; the empty chair sinking his stomach, the weight of worry slumping his shoulder's; eyes troubled, anxious sparks trembling from his fingertips.

Hermione noticed the sudden slouch in Harry's demeanour; her eyes trailing helplessly towards the vacant seat.

"Harry, stop obsessing-"

"There's something wrong-with Draco, I mean."

"I wouldn't worry, mate. I think I heard someone say he was heading home for Halloween..." Ron scoffed, flakes of treacle tart spilling across the table. "They celebrate it like it's bloody Christmas." He grunted, a sudden anger flaring within him. He threw the tart onto the table; the action startling both Hermione and Harry, a disgusted flame flickering in the former's eyes.

"How is Lucius allowed to walk free, after all he did! He should-should be burning in Azkaban!"

"Ron-"

"It's not fair! How do they always seem to escape the consequences? They're like bloody vermin, you know, the ones that live in your kitchen, but regardless of how many gallons of poison you lay, they just won't die."

I'm dead.

The words echoed around Harry's mind, tangling his thoughts; distorting his mind.

A sweltering fire blazed around his heart, burning the vessel; smoke clouding his vision, ash pushing his stomach to the bottom of his body; a deathly hold constricting his breathing. The thought of Draco, his internal torment; his grief, sent an agonising shiver throughout his body, bending his spine; weakening his arms, dropping them remorselessly onto the table, oak trembling; confusion staring back at him.

"Harry?"

The name ricocheted around Draco's mind, the dreaded tremor encasing his body; his father's eyes boring into his defeated eyes.

"Harry?!" He repeated loudly, the sound piercing the sills of the windows, cracking their spines; their wooden bodies crumbling, collapsing into futile dust.

"How could you be so stupid!" Lucius seethed, malice soaking the icy skin of Draco's cheek; fair skin disintegrating under the intense weight of the droplets. Poisonous fury destroyed the flaked snowflakes hugging his quivered nose; consumed the wavy stems of his once radiant hair.

"You-how could you-"

"So that I didn't die." Lucius kneeled before him, his knees sharp, shards awaiting to strike the poisonous words at the tip of Draco's tongue.

"It's better to die a hero." He began, snarling teeth taunting the teen with every hateful word. "Than to live a coward."

"I wasn't a hero-"

"You were fighting for a cause, Draco! That makes you a hero-"

"No, a hero is-is someone with courage, who fights for the greater good; a worthy reason-"

"Am I not a hero, Draco?" He paused, eyes dropping to the floor; his father's words heavy on his shoulders, yet weak; worthless, seeping with arrogant ignorance.

"Not to me." He spoke bravely, courage restrained against the ropes tying his body to the chair; a stern glare wavering in his eyes, regret twinkling, twisting; churning.

"How dare you speak to me like that, Draco!" The boy recoiled, shrinking underneath his father's glare. "You do not disrespect your father!"

Lucius sighed, the sound gentle; gliding softly along the air, twisting around Draco's waist, like a poisonous hug restraining his comprehension. He couldn't think clearly, his mind battered; images flashing relentlessly, striking the weakest parts of his brain, and destroying them.

"I don't know what's more pathetic..." The older Malfoy began, his steady strides resuming; a balanced beat bending the bricks on which he walked upon; an icy dust trailing behind his dark boots, circling the defenceless boy.

"...your words, or the blood staining the lovely white shirt I brought you." Widened eyes raced towards the oozing crimson, fear filling his form, forcing more blood to pour from the opened wound. Lucius grasped the sleeve, pulling it at once, exposing the horrid gash gracing Draco's skin.

"It's a tight race, I must say-"

"You don't understand-"

"I believe I do." His long hair was gently pushed behind his shoulder; a steady hand brushing the evening dust from his shoulder. "But, please-do continue."

"It-It helps-"

"Indeed-"

"No, it helps me-it stops me from feeling-it-it makes all the thoughts...go away." An intrigued tug quirked Lucius' eyebrow, his movements stopping; eyes flooded with inquisitiveness.

"How very interesting." He spoke, a faint whisper of disbelief falsely tracing his words.

He stopped before the boy, eyes wide; curios, mirroring the hesitant spheres of his son.

"Shall we test your theory?" Before Draco could comprehend his words, Lucius's foot plummeted downwards, penetrating his sons' foot; pain streaming up Draco's body; an intense cry echoing, anguish piercing the walls; windows blown open, desperate to escape the sorrowful agony wrenching the boy.

"You seem to be feeling something, Draco-"

"Pain insist a feeling." Draco bit. "It's weakness!" Lucius released his stomp; a disgusted scowl scorning his lips; a twisted smirk desperate to singe his cheeks.

"Well then, Draco." He spoke smoothly, his stance strong; eyes glaring at the boy he'd raised. "You must be very weak."