The Dark Lord's Playbook of Nefarious Misdeeds

The Bones Inside Me Are Singing Out For You

THE BONES INSIDE ME ARE SINGING OUT FOR YOU

Harry POV

This was getting utterly ridiculous.

Hermione just can't run off like that...what if...what if...fuck.

Hearing her stating bluntly that she is in love with Voldemort feels like a massive punch to the gut. But a small part of Harry is not surprised. They were too close, those intimate smiles too obvious. Part of Dumbledore's behaviour makes sense now that that small nugget of information has fallen into place.

"Come on dipshit, Hermione won't let you follow she's too smart for that" Draco pushed Harry's shoulder making Harry fold a little into himself because he wasn't expecting it.

"Blonde git" Harry jabbed half-heartedly, without much heat.

"I am positively wounded Potter by that remark", Harry watched Draco make a dramatic display of getting shot in the chest. He didn't understand how the Malfoy heir could be so flippant at letting Hermione run off by herself into god knows what.

"How can you just let her go like that?" Harry let everything show on his face without meaning too; he wasn't someone that could blank their features like most Slytherins. He was someone who wore everything on his sleeve- unfiltered. Perhaps that was too his detriment, allowing people to read him like that- a weakness. He sucked at lying.

Draco scrutinised him, and suddenly he felt self-conscious, which was stupid. He wasn't looking for or needing Malfoy's approval. He just wasn't sure where he stood amongst everything now, that he wasn't required as the saviour anymore. Now there was possibility, which he hadn't had before since he expected to perish in the war. He tried to wipe the expression of his face but probably looked like he had a horrible facial tic if Draco's expression was anything to go by.

"Salazar Potter you Gryffindork's are really bad at hiding any emotion, such bleeding hearts the lot of you. As for your question Potter, Tom would sooner burn civilisation down to the ground than allow someone to harm a hair on her head", Draco turned abruptly to keep this shit show moving down the hallway. Harry reluctantly followed, not knowing what else he was supposed to do. But he did think about the way Draco had looked at Hermione in the forest earlier.

"And you?" He asked after a short awkward silence, startling himself because he didn't mean to verbalise his thoughts. The sharp look Draco gave him made him wish for a split second that he could take them back.

"We are not having this conversation Potter in the same hemisphere as the topic you're trying to needle information out of me" Harry secretly revelled in the fact that he had ruffled Draco's feathers and didn't flinch at the positively homicidal glare the blonde shot him.

Harry aimlessly followed on Draco's heels trying to keep up with the quick pace he was setting, the hallways made no sense, it really was like a maze. He wondered if there was magic that shifted the walls to keep it mind-boggling.

Draco suddenly stopped outside a doorway that was incredibly ornate and gilded, just like everything else was in this house. He had to stick an arm out to stop himself from colliding with Malfoy.

"What the bloody fuck?" he mumbled under his breath he couldn't seem to get his head on straight, and that worried him because it could mean a simple mistake between life and death. He watched Malfoy knock on the door and listened for signs of life behind it.

The door creaked open, revealing a stoic looking Snape, however, what Harry was grappling with was the deep-rooted sadness lurking behind his eyes that were usually well shielded. Not to mention the increasing pale pallor, that makes the bruised purple smudges underneath his eyes stand out like reflectors catching the light.