Enemies - Fred Weasley X OC

The Other Malfoy

~Draco~

I shut the door to the vanishing cabinet with a slam. It hadn't worked. Again. Every time the cabinet failed, I felt my nerves set on edge.

I picked up the books I'd left spilled out on the floor, shoving them into my bag churlishly.

I left the room of requirement and saw Crabbe and Goyle standing guard – although they were still disguised using Polyjuice potion as two fifth form girls.

"You can go," I snapped. They seemed incensed by my attitude, but I paid it little mind, their reception of me the least of my worries.

I stalked away, heading to the abandoned bathroom where I sometimes did research away from the prying eyes of other students – Potter mainly. He'd been watching me to a stalkerish degree recently, something I didn't need in addition to everything else. Having Dumbledore's pet Gryffindor on my back when I was trying to complete my mission wasn't likely to help anything.

"Hello Draco," Myrtle drawled, a tittering laugh leaving her translucent lips.

"Hi Myrtle."

"Oooh, sulking. What's happened to cause this?" She enquired.

It was pathetic really. That I had come to look forward to her conversation. No one came into the bathroom, so Myrtle never spoke to anyone. Everyone found her annoying but for me, she was the only one I could talk to.

"It's not working, the thing I'm fixing – or trying to," I huffed, pulling out the book from my bag 'Cursed Artifacts and Malison Working'. Even though she didn't speak to other people, I didn't tell her any specifics. I wouldn't put it past Potter to barge in and demand her to tell him what I did here.

"What are you going to do about it?"

"Keep trying. Find other ways to complete my task."

I flicked through the book, pausing when I saw something of use and transcribing it into my notebook. Cursing artifacts is a strenuous process for the caster. It requires an immense knowledge of magic and magical theory or else curses can backfire. Ancient Egyptian Pharos, Tutankhamun, although known for having many cursed objects created for his tomb, was killed by one when it backfired. Limited knowledge can make cursing an item deadly for the caster rather than the recipient.

I let out a perturbed sigh. It would take immense study to master whatever curse I tried to place; it would be better to find an already cursed object.

"You're stressed," the ghost stated.

"I'm worried. The Dar- someone bad is at my house, and with my father in Azkaban and my sister dea – well, gone, my mother is alone with him. Well, not alone. It would be better if she was alone. Instead, it's filled with horrible people who could kill you without a second thought. They'd be happy to do it with their bare hands." A hoarse chuckle filtered from my mouth.

I rubbed my face with my hand, trying to force the sleep from my eyes. I hadn't slept. I'd had too much to do. Even in the few hours I did rest, they were plagued by nightmares.

Fenrir Greyback and Bellatrix had festered in my mind. Bellatrix's forceful intrusions of my brain when she taught me Occlumency meant she'd mocked and belittled basically everything I'd done in my life – she knew every insecurity and weakness I had and more. "Little Draco misses his sister, does he? Aww poor little dear. You must be so upset I killed her – are you angry with me Draco?"

Sometimes I'd feel Greyback's eight-foot presence behind me even when he wasn't there. His foul breath creeping down my spine as he told me, "I could use a bitch like you in my pack. Yes, they'd love you." And then he'd laugh at my horror. Laugh as I choked and ran from the room.