Little Memories

After much grumbling and many glares sent in Draco’s direction, those who had not made the team left the field reluctantly. Blaise and Pansy hadn’t tried to approach or even argue with Draco about his decision, but they kept murmuring to each other and shooting him dirty looks as they took the longest possible time to get out of the way. Charlotte made sure to give them the biggest smirk as they left, causing Draco to give a few chuckles at her behavior.

“Are you seriously going to make us practice now?” Gregory asked, pulling Draco’s attention from Charlotte as a frown worked its way onto his features.

“Yeah, seriously,” Crabbe added, scowling at the blonde Quidditch Captain.

“Did you two technically have tryouts today?” Draco asked. They merely glanced at each other before looking back to Draco. “No, you didn’t,” he answered himself when he was met with a few moments of silence, “so I don’t want any complaining. We’ll be done before lunch. I just want to see how well you all work together.”

Draco kicked open the chest that held the Quaffle, Bludgers, and Golden Snitch. The team was moving around a bit, preparing themselves for flight. Charlotte was watching Draco with a slight smirk, letting her eyes slowly and discreetly roam over him as he leaned over the trunk to let the Bludgers and Snitch fly free. The Bludgers whizzed away from the group immediately but the Snitch flew around Draco in a taunting little circle before flying off. He then met Charlotte’s eyes, sparing her the tiniest bit of a smile before turning and speaking to the rest of the team.

“If I can find the Snitch or the Chasers can sore ten goals past Harper, we’ll call it a day. But then and only then,” Draco added before the team and himself took to the sky.

The day had warmed up nicely and the sun was now nearly directly above everything in the sky, bearing down on the players as they zoomed above the field. Harper immediately flew to his place in front of the hoops, watching the Chasers eagerly for their next moves. Crabbe and Gregory separated and watched for Bludgers and players, to make sure no one got hit. Beckett started with the Quaffle, so Nott and Charlotte followed him on either side as he advanced toward Harper. Draco merely hovered and watched the team move, heard the crack of a Bludger against a Beater’s club, and felt the whoosh of the wind as Crabbe flew behind him. It was as he had expected; the team seemed to fit naturally together and had an instinct for the sport.

Feeling an over-whelming amount of self-accomplishment and pride, Draco left the team to themselves and began to search for the Snitch just as Beckett made a goal past Harper. Charlotte quickly caught the Quaffle from Harper and tossed it to Nott, who flew away from the hoops to simulate having to fly back across the field. Charlotte took the moment where she was free of the Quaffle to glance over at Draco. Upon first glance, she seemed to be fairing well, until she realized that a muddy-red Bludger was speeding towards the back of his head.

“Draco, look out,” she cried, causing him to do the one thing she didn’t want him to do and he turned and looked at her in confusion before the Bludger collided, with a loud thud, against the back of his head. Charlotte gasped as the flurry of movement on the field stalled abruptly and Draco slipped unconsciously off the side of his broomstick. Pulling herself as close to her broom as possible, she sped toward him, mirroring his quick, broom-less descent. As soon as she got within reach, Charlotte reached out and deftly caught his arm, latching a vice-like grip around his wrist. Her broom dipped slightly with the added weight, but quickly leveled out.

She carefully and quickly lowered them to the ground. Charlotte hopped off her broom and gently lay Draco on the ground. As she inspected his head, she noticed there was no blood and felt a bit relieved, though she knew it had been broken. Still, she was very worried about him and took no notice of the team as they crowded around the two of them.

“Sorry I didn’t get to that one, Charlotte,” Gregory said softly behind her, as if he feared her reaction. She merely shook her head, knowing there was something very odd about the way she had seen the Bludger suddenly changed directions. She had seen something very similar to it in her first year when she had watched a match between Slytherin and Gryffindor.

Without another word, she pulled her wand from the side of her boot, conjured up one of the stretchers from the side of the field they were to use in case a player couldn’t walk themselves to the Hospital Wing, and levitated Draco onto it carefully as it steadily floated mid-air. Charlotte turned and looked at the team, trying to keep the concern from her features but failing.

“He’s going to be fine, guys,” she said in a hollow voice, “Gregory, make sure my broomstick gets back in my locker or you're dead.” Charlotte turned and quickly walked from the Pitch, levitating Draco carefully to the Hospital Wing. Forgetting his rift with his sister, Gregory leaned over and lifted both Draco and Charlotte’s broomstick from the field and turned, following the rest of the bewildered and shocked team into the locker room.

For the longest time, all Draco knew was a numb darkness. Then slowly, miniscule little pinpoints of flickering lights cut through the inky black and the sounds of chirruping crickets and wind rustling through the leafy trees met his ears. Blades of moderately tall grass tickled the bare skin on his arms and the back of his neck. He knew then he must have been outside, staring up at the night sky. The night was cool, damp, welcoming, and relaxing. He felt at ease where he was, and didn’t want to move regardless of the fact he didn’t remember how he got there.

There was a heavy sigh beside him and he looked to the black form that sat, hunch-backed, just inches from him. They were a darker silhouette than the rest of the night-blackened field around him and he couldn’t find any sort of distinctive attribute or features as to place who it was. However, a sadness suddenly come over him that was unexplainable. Draco slowly sat up, staring intently at the sad being beside him. A glowing, ghostly white hand slowly uncovered itself from thick, black fabric and Draco’s heart gave an uneasy jolt as he realized who was sitting beside him. The hand slowly reached out and wound it’s fingers through his, holding it tightly within it’s bony grasp. The skin, however perfect it may have appeared, was rough, calloused, and flaking beneath his grasp.

“I bet you thought I was gone for good once she had been carted away to Azkaban,” a raspy, breathy voice mused as pleasantly as it could. Draco merely gaped wordlessly at the cloaked figure beside him. “Well, if that is what you thought,” the voice continued on, causing goose-bumps to rise on his skin at how chilling the voice was, “you though very, very wrong.” Draco barely took notice of the environment around him until now, but he realized things had gone completely still. The form beside him drew in a slow, crackling, raspy breath of air.

“Why are you back?” Draco asked breathlessly, finally finding it within himself to speak.

“The answer is simple,” she replied in a soft voice, “something terrible is going to happen again.” He stared at the hooded figure beside him in horror. “Now, my question for you is; are you going to try and save her, completely ignore my warnings, or run like the coward that you are,” the eerie voice continued on and Draco could hear her lungs rattle and pop with every word. It came as no surprise to Draco when her head bowed forward and the figure began coughing roughly. It was a horrible, sickly sound that harshly cut through the sudden silence around them. Blonde, lackluster ringlets tumbled from their hooded containment and they were splotched and smudged with what appeared to be ashes and soot. When she stopped coughing, her breathing seemed erratic and labored.

Draco, while frightened by the figure beside him, was suddenly struck with a strong inclination and curiosity to look at her face. Her head was still bowed and her body was trembling slightly. Gathering what little courage was left in him, he said as bravely as possible(which didn’t sound very brave at all), “Let me see your face.”

“That won’t be necessary,” the figure replied in an instant, her tone low, dark, and foreboding.

“What’s wrong with your face then?” He asked, tilting his head to try and get a peek at what she was hiding. Her hand tightened to the point it became painful for him and he drew in a hiss through his teeth as she answered,

“Nothing has happened to my face,” the figure growled. “Now, drop it.” Draco merely stared at the silhouette as his hand continued to throb and ache as her grip did not relax on it. “Look,” she said in a much softer, almost happier, and breathier voice as she raised and pointed her bony finger to something in front of them, in the distance. Billowing smoke was being illuminated with yellow and orange swirls of light just beyond the treetops. It was then Draco realized they were on a small island as water gently lapped at the rocky shores. “It’s started,” she whispered and he did not have to see her face to know the smirk in her tone.

Draco jolted awake and was immediately met by the ceiling of the Hospital Wing, the setting sun tinting the room orange as it beamed from the windows above him. In a moment, he was suddenly aware of a throbbing, not in his hand as he expected, but in his head. He blinked groggily, letting out a short, sharp sigh.

“Good, you’re awake,” a relieved voice breathed from beside him. Slowly, he turned his head toward the gently smiling, beautiful blonde girl that sat beside him in a still-looking wooden chair.

“What happened?” He asked in a voice thick with sleep, or unconsciousness, since he hadn’t really made a choice to sleep. Charlotte lifted her hand and caringly brushed back the hair from his forehead, her smile slowly falling.

“You took a Bludger to the back of the head,” she said in a voice rife with disdain, but also a hint of anger. “I tried to warn you,” Charlotte continued as she sat back into chair, causing Draco to notice she was still wearing the Slytherin Practice Uniform, “but it was too late. Thankfully, I got to you before you hit the ground, but…the back of your skull had been shattered.” Draco’s sleepy mind focused on one thing.

“Why didn’t Crabbe or Goyle get to the Bludger?” He asked, failing to keep the anger out of his tone. Charlotte pursed her lips slightly and drew in a deep breath of air through her nose. She knew why they hadn’t been able to get it, but she wasn’t going to bother with Draco with it, not when she could take care of the issue herself.

“They were keeping the other one away from Harper,” she explained simply with a small shrug, looking the injured boy dead the eyes. Draco let out a short hum of disapproval, shaking his head slowly as he brought his hand up to the back of his head. It didn’t seem fractured in the least and wasn’t tender.

“I’ll get them for that one,” he murmured, shooting Charlotte a glance and noticed that her expression remained passive. He drew in a deep breath of air, letting his head fall back fully against the pillow as he looked over Charlotte for a moment. As beautiful as she was, she looked weary and her eyes did not seem as wide as they normally were. “How long have I been in here?” He asked.

“A day and a half,” Charlotte replied softly, almost timidly. Draco shot her a look almost immediately; he knew, just from her appearance, that she hadn’t left his side once. “What?” She asked, shooting him a look in return. “I just wanted to be here to explain things. It’s been an all too familiar experience for me that I’ve woken up, confused and alone, in either St. Mungo’s or here,” she said, reached out and taking Draco’s hand in hers. She managed a small, tired yet radiant smile for him. “I didn’t want that happening to you.” Draco merely smiled to her in return and the opposite hand to the one Charlotte was holding, the one the ghostly shrouded figure had crushed, gave a sharp throb as if reminding him of the dream. He glanced down to it curiously and to his surprise, white perfectly-formed imprints of fingers were wrapped around the back of his hand.