In Love & Hatred - Dramione

Into the Night

Draco

Tresses of mangled and aged hair whipped and danced, slowing to a stagnant crawl as the being cascaded to the unbroken soil. Howling screams backed by malicious cackles faded into the blaze of emerald light.

No..

I didn't mean..

He'll kill me..

Please..

Flashes of the broken mirror darted into view, Moaning Myrtle's wailing pleas punctuated the searing tears streaming down his gaunt cheeks. Floods of water chilled his ankles as his torso shook violently.

I can help you, Draco.. It is of my mercy that you are here..

The tender but croaked voice taunted him. His body would never reach the earth. He hung, suspended, as the waltzing winds billowed his traveling cloak. Gentle twinkles of his faded irises berated his choices. Tormenting him, reminding him of the man he will never become.

Severus, please..

"Here we are!"

Draco's eyes sprang open, momentarily unaware of the unfamiliar room he occupied. Flint sashayed into the suite carrying plates of food and a hastily-corked bottle of sherry upon a tarnished, silver platter. Sitting upright on the knotty mattress, Draco acknowledged the rapid beats of his heart and the beads of sweat that had gathered at his hairline.

"Thank you, Flint. You didn't need to go through so much trouble." Potter pushed a heavily yellowed piece of parchment further into the confines of the writing desk.

"No trouble! No trouble at all!" he sang as he placed the serving platter at the foot of the opposite bed. "Say, are you alright Draco?"

"Uh, fine, thanks," Draco stammered, pulling himself to his feet. Faint, baritone chimes rang from down the hall. The short chiming of bells marked that twilight had fallen well into the early hours of the morning.

"Strange, innit?" Flint broke the silence, dreamily.

"Strange?" Potter mimicked.

"The time. It speeds with age.." Flint coughed awkwardly, "Well, uh, the loo is down the hall to the left of the old clock. I'll be by in the morning. If you need me for anything at all, I'll be down at the bar for a few more hours tonight to restock."

"Uh, thanks, Flint. I really appreciate your help."

Flint offered a welcoming smile and nod as he backed out of the frame, shutting the door after him. Draco rounded toward the platter. Odd assortments of food littered the plates for each contained corned beef sandwiches, smoked kippers, a short stack of jam and buttered toast, and a small bowl filled with a sort of hand-pie that he did not recognize.

"After you," Draco murmured hastily as he had just become aware Potter was also surveying the peculiar fare.

Potter coughed, "Uh, no, not hungry. You go."

Draco's hands slid from his trouser pockets as he reached for the bottle of sherry and twin crystal goblets from the platter. Nearly a quarter of the liquid had gone from the bottle. The golden-embossed label gave him the idea that their host had pulled from his personal stash. Flickering light from the candles danced in the shimmer of the wine as he poured into both of the goblets.

Potter resumed a post in a hard chair perched before the writing desk. His hand slipped into the crevice of where he hid his parchment and retrieved the creased paper. Draco lingered and placed a goblet at the top corner of the desk. Over his shoulder, he spotted the most curious set of phrases inked onto the foremost of the folds.