Slow Grenade

Chapter Forty-One

Draco sat by the lake with his head in his hands, it was freezing cold and he was chilled to the bone. Katie Bell had been transferred to St Mungo's and, although she was still alive, he had come incredibly close to killing her. That hadn't been part of the plan.

Theo had sought him out only a few days into term, realising that something was wrong. Lucius had repeatedly told Draco how weak he was, and he supposed it must be true because he had told Theo everything, and hated himself for it.

They had come up with the cursed necklace plan together, fully aware of how flawed it was, but Draco knew he needed to prove to the Dark Lord that he had begun attempting his task.

Theo had practiced the Imperius Curse on Draco, over and over again, until he could cast it perfectly. It was easy enough then for Theo to go into Hogsmeade as usual and cast the Unforgivable upon Madam Rosmerta, whilst Draco stayed in the castle for detention. They weren't sure whether the landlady would be able to Imperius someone else, but it had worked and Katie Bell left the Three Broomsticks with the necklace.

Draco received an owl a few days later, the Dark Lord had expected better. His mother was punished for his indiscretion.

When he had visited Borgin and Burkes before the start of term, Draco hoped that fixing the twin Vanishing Cabinets would be a back-up plan but it was becoming clearer that he would have to start work on the one in the Room of Hidden Things immediately.

It had been a challenge figuring out how he could spend hours at a time in the room without being noticed, particularly by Hermione. However, by stealing some Polyjuice Potion from Slughorn, he had been able to set Crabbe and Goyle up as lookouts.

Every step Draco took towards completing the task he'd been assigned, another wave of darkness washed over his insides. It was taking its toll on him. He felt anger and rage like he hadn't experienced in a long time, he wanted to lash out, wanted to scream about how unfair it all was. But he couldn't and he didn't.

Hermione was the only thing keeping him afloat. When all he felt was pain and fear, he would lose himself in memories of her; he had relived their first time more often than he would ever admit. Draco never imagined he would be capable of loving someone so deeply, despite wondering how much time they would have left together.

Christmas was approaching fast, snow swirling against the icy windows once more. Hagrid had already single-handedly delivered the usual twelve Christmas trees for the Great Hall; garlands of holly and tinsel had been twisted around the banisters of the stairs; everlasting candles glowed from inside the helmets of suits of armour; and great bunches of mistletoe had been hung at intervals along the corridors.

Hermione had become increasingly concerned about Draco. He sat alone at the Slytherin table most days, tired and pale, staring at his food rather than eating it. The boy who could usually be relied upon for some sort of dramatic entertainment or sarcastic comment had disappeared. The spark in him had been extinguished and she longed for it back.

They'd been meeting infrequently as he was usually busy with his task. Despite promising to keep her involved, Draco wouldn't give any details about what he was actually doing. She hadn't spoken to him about the cursed necklace, for fear of breaking him further than he already was, but it scared her that it appeared he really was trying to accomplish Voldemort's ultimate goal.

Loud singing broke Hermione's reverie as she remembered where she was: Slughorn's Christmas party. His office was much larger than the usual teacher's study; the ceiling and walls had been draped with emerald, crimson, and gold hangings, so that it looked as though they were all inside a vast tent. The room was crowded and stuffy and bathed in red light cast by an ornate golden lamp dangling from the centre of the ceiling in which real fairies were fluttering, each a brilliant speck of light.

She leant against the wall, observing the other guests. Slughorn was wearing a tasseled velvet hat to match his smoking jacket and paraded Harry around the room like a show pony.

Suddenly noticing Cormac McLaggen making his way towards her, licking his lips every now and then, Hermione shuddered and made to hide in the crowd.

"Harry! There you are, thank goodness!"

"Are you okay?" he asked.

She linked her arm with his and pulled him in the direction of the drinks table. "Fine now you're here."

Picking up two goblets of mead, they turned to survey the room. Harry nudged her and said, "Look who it is!"

Draco was being dragged by the ear towards them by Argus Filch. "Professor Slughorn," wheezed Filch, his jowls aquiver and the maniacal light of mischief-detection in his bulging eyes. "I discovered this boy lurking in an upstairs corridor. He claims to have been invited to your party and to have been delayed in setting out. Did you issue him with an invitation?"

Pulling himself free of Filch's grip, Draco looked furious. "All right, I wasn't invited!" he said angrily. "I was trying to gatecrash, happy?"

Filch continued babbling with glee until Slughorn cut him off, waving a hand. "It's quite alright Argus! It's Christmas, and it's not a crime to want to come to a party. Just this once, we'll forget any punishment, you may stay, Draco."

His face had a grey-ish tinge to it and Hermione took a step towards him. It was only when he shook his head imperceptibly that she remembered herself.

"I'd like a word with you, Draco," said Snape suddenly.

"Oh, now, Severus," Slughorn cried. "Don't be too hard on the boy!"

"I am his Head of House," Snape replied curtly. "Follow me, Draco."

They left, Snape leading the way. Harry stood frozen to the spot for a moment before hurrying off into the crowd. Hermione tried to follow but he must have pulled his Invisibility Cloak out as he was nowhere to be found.