Title: To Dream a Dream
Author: Sammymc
Feedback: [email protected]
Pairing: None
Summary: A nightmare wakens Harry to horrible news.
Disclaimer: Harry and his friends aren't mine, they're JK's. No money is made by this venture.
When Harry wakes up one morning in February he stifles his cry of pain by biting down on his tongue hard. Dead. They were dead. He curls up on his side and wishes for the briefest of moments that he was too..
He lays awake watching the sky lighten gradually. He wonders how he will look their murderer in the eyes. He's so tired. He forces himself to his feet. It's barely dawn and the school is only beginning to waken. He knows the rest of his year mates won't be up for sometime yet. Ron is still snoring loudly behind heavy red curtains.
Harry dresses in silence and goes down to breakfast. The hall is still mostly empty. Only Dumbledore, McGonagall and the newest boneheaded D.A.D.A. teacher are in attendance at the staff table, a few older students milling around doing some last minute homework assignments. Most still looked bleary eyed as they spread jam on toast and shoveled eggs into half open mouths.
Harry feels dazed as his breakfast appears before him. He stares blankly down at his empty plate and makes no move to fill it. His hands sit folded neatly in his lap. He glances briefly at the Headmaster who watched him with suitable concern and undeniable interest. Harry moves to take a sip of pumpkin juice and feels his stomach churn at the first taste. His hand retreats once more into his lap.
It's ten minutes and perhaps a dozen students later that HE arrives in the Great Hall for breakfast. Harry feels his guts tighten. Not in fear, but in anger. Before he can stop himself he is accross the hall and standing at Malfoy's back, trembling with his own fury. Draco looks at him with one pale raised eyebrow, and then smirks in his usual superior way.
"Death-Eater!" Harry spits. He sees Draco tense, before the paler boy turns on the bench and stands once more to his full height, a good two inches taller than Harry himself. The hall has grown silent. "Murderer!" Harry spits louder then before, his face flushed red with his anger.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Potter. Are you off your rocker?" It's the same snide drawl as always but today it makes Harry's skin crawl.
"I saw it!" Harry shouts. He barely registers Dumbledore and McGonagall standing from their seats and moving hastily closer. "You killed them. Three innocent people, Malfoy!" he shouts. He watches grey eyes widen in fear.
"I did no such thing, Potter." Draco replies, then leading closer, he lowered his voice. "And even if I did, I don't see why it's any business of yours." the voice is low and dangerous. "Besides, they were only Muggles.." Harry has him by the collar of his expensive black school robes and up against the wall in a matter of seconds.
"It IS my business! They weren't just muggles either. They were people. Human beings. They had lives and names. Would you like to hear them? Vernon Dursley. He was a husband and a father. He sold drills for a living. His wife was Petunia Evans Dursley. She was a homemaker and a good mother. Dudley Dursley was a boy, only two months older than you, Malfoy. They lived in a small little house at #4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. They were a family, and they were defenseless against magic, and scared out of their minds!" Harry growled. "They were my family! And you killed them!" he screamed, his voice hoarse. His magic kept a startled Dumbledore from advancing any closer. Harry's wand was suddenly at Malfoy's throat.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you right now! Two words Malfoy. That's all it would take. I won't even torture you first like you did them!" Harry held the larger teenager pinned to the wall with little visible effort. Yet Malfoy was barely able to breath let alone fight against him. Harry could feel Dumbledore's presence a few feet to his left.
Harry's grip on his wand tightened, the end pressing further into Draco's neck. "No. You aren't worth killing. And the killing curse is too humane for the likes of you. Maybe a nice little cell in Azkaban would suit you better. With your very own Dementor for a guard. Not a moment of peace until the day you finally die. Miserable and alone. Not a single moment of happiness until you cease to exist. Because lets be honest Malfoy, that nasty little dark mark on your thigh will be enough to earn you a life sentence, seventeen or no. You've already sold your soul." Harry finished. He let go abruptly, and watched as the blond slumped to the stone floor gasping for air violently, and rubbing his throat. Stepping away, Harry turned cold dead eyes on Dumbledore.
"You will not let this go unpunished, Dumbledore. Or so help me I will leave this school without a moments hesitation. And you and the rest of this god forsaken world can clean up your own mess!" he sneered before turning abruptly away.
The entire hall sat in a stony silence, as the doors closed behind him.