Papillon

16 - l'oiseau

C H A P T E R 1 6

Draco

My beloved Harry,

I need to tell you something, even though I'm not supposed to. After this letter is written I might be dead; I might be hurt — but it can't wait. I must tell you what is on my mind; must tell you to stop him and his plans, as he has given me the task of completing one of them. Soon I will have to—

Draco's hand trembled more with every sentence he wrote; the pain in his hand increasing to a point where he dropped his quill and spilled his tiny jar of ink all over the parchment. Iron; the taste of blood as it drifted on his tongue, mixed with salvia. His eyes were feeling strange and itchy — a blurry view. Had those few words already been enough to end his life? A cough followed; a hand brought up to his mouth. Stars of blood on his palm; a sign of near death.

But Draco wasn't going to die, and he knew that for certain. The Dark Lord wouldn't let him die so quickly over a few sentences that hadn't even exposed the full plan. No, Draco would die when he would spill every single detail of it out on paper or with his tongue; the specks of blood probably mixing itself with the ink then or with every word that escaped his lips.

With a sigh Draco leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. The smell of wood, old books and the flickering of candles behind the darkness of his eyelids. He was at the library; trying to write Harry a letter while studying for a class he had already revised six times before. It was October already; the leaves falling from the trees one by one and winter approaching sooner than later. Memories of Harry's first task flashed in front of his eyes as he thought about October two years ago; a dragon chasing him on his broom and a golden egg sparkling at him from afar.

Why couldn't he go back to that time? Let's go back.

'Still studying?' A voice suddenly asked. Draco quickly opened his eyes and looked up in Harry's greens that had started it all.

A smile was visible on the boy's face and Harry leaned a little closer to give Draco a kiss before the blond hurriedly hid his letter away underneath his Potions book. 'O-oui,' he mumbled as Harry sat himself down next to him; unaware of the secret letter Draco had just hidden away. 'Are you here to study as well?'

Harry shook his head, then placed his old copy of his Potions book next to Draco's. 'I'm here for this,' he admitted.

'For an old potions book? Pourquoi?'

A shrug followed as Harry started flipping through it. 'It belonged to someone very intelligent, I believe. It has a lot of notes in the sidelines and self-made spells as well. Some don't even have an explanation written by them at all,' he explained as he pointed out an endless amount of scribbles that were made beside the actual text of the Potions book.

With his curiosity triggered, Draco moved a little closer to Harry to be able to read the small script that Harry now pointed out. 'Property of the Half-Blood Prince?' Draco read out loud.

'Have you perhaps heard of him?' Draco shook his head and flipped through the book himself now as well. 'I thought you might as you know so much more than I do; or that he was perhaps someone French.'

'If he was French,' Draco started. 'He would've written all these scribbles in French as well — not in English. Mais merci pour le compliment.'

A smile on Harry's lips followed as the boy realized the stupidity of his question. 'Anyway; maybe we can find something about him in one of the books here?'

'Is that why you came to the library?' Draco asked, glancing at Harry with a little grin on his face.

The boy nodded his head before standing up again and drifting off to the rows of bookshelves. Draco staying behind with the old Potions book in his hands. At least there now was something which would take his attention away from his task; perhaps he would even be able to forget about it for a while.