That Split Second | D.M

Finally I pulled myself together, only made possible by the finding of cocaine. Dear mummy and daddy have quite the double life so it seems, which only adds to my growing unease and disregard for them both.

Do I really know these two people, at all? I mean, trawling every unmanned room of the Manor and casting out Accio whilst listing every drug and type of alcohol in existence helped a lot. It was like playing hide and seek, but cheating. No cannabis though. That certainly left me unsatisfied, especially since mother so casually drew in a spliff with precision right before my very eyes.

But father, oh, Lucius fucking Malfoy, what would your lovely wife have to say about the casual use of pure Colombian coca, hm?

And it had managed to make him dumb enough to not charm it into oblivion to keep it hidden. Adults these days are so naïve.

Rumours had always been rampant about the conduct and misconduct in the chambers of the Ministry, and more than a few articles put out to stir up gossip. Noble men are only noble men when they can indulge in such illegalities with no consequence.

And my father would have been rubbing shoulders with noble men quite a lot before his crashing fall back to earth. And Mr Turnapple must start monitoring his stores, because his lovely daughter, with her plump tits and an innocent disposition, is out running a muck and bringing his product to parties.

I should have taken the chance when it presented itself to me. She wanted me, and I could have had her. I could have fucked her without even looking at her, she'd have spread her legs anyway. Putting away that white powder like it was powdered gold. But no, I was stupid, I thought I was in love and now here I am, neck deep in addiction, readying myself to coordinate an attack, of my own free will. Or is it? Is it my free will? I honestly don't think I care.

I had shaved, pressed my clothes, eaten enough to put some colour back in my face and now I go in search of one last reason to try and convince me not to do this. Something to interfere with that free will. Dare me to be a good person.

I found Astoria in one of the halls, eyes completely glazed over as her sight pierced straight through a concrete wall. Almost to seem like gazing out of a window, but there was no window there, just several feet of concrete and mortar. She swayed on her feet a little, nails bitten right down to the flesh.

The lights were on, but nobody was home, Greengrass was blank. Dead behind the eyes.

"Tori?" I asked quietly, inching toward her with caution. No response. So a little closer again. "Astoria? What are you doing? You're meant to stay inside your room if you aren't summoned."

I at least had a little more free will than everyone else, still the normally unused guest rooms had more or less been relabeled as prison cells. Unless you were needed, that is where you must stay and rot.

But I wasn't rigidly held to the same standard, and if I was then there wasn't anyone who was actually making an effort to enforce it upon me.

"Tori, oi, look at me.." Greengrass was easy to guide and turn. Completely catatonic, it was as if she'd not felt a thing. Her skin was cold, it felt like touching ice. Her lips were dry and cracked, and small bruises trailed over her shoulders. What have they done to her?

"Astoria," I called more sharply, giving her a little jolt. Still nothing. "Astoria? Tori?!"

"Yeah?" She finally responded, quieter than a mouse. "Sorry, I was just taking myself to bed."

Still, she continued to sway and stare off into the distance. Candle flames reflected in her eyes, dancing away, creating an illusion of presence. I've been so outwardly horrid to Astoria Greengrass for quite some time now, and not to her own fault in a majority of the situations. I get so caught up in my own victim complex that I fail to see the suffering of others too, but now that it presented itself so loudly and clearly, I couldn't choose to ignore it.

I snatched Greengrass close, wrapping my arms around her and supporting her head against my shoulder without a word said. Human beings shouldn't shiver and tremble the way that she did.

I hugged her tightly because Merlin knows, I needed it too. And it was completely innocent, devoid of any romantic or questionable intent. I was being the mature space of safety that she needed me to be in that moment, and she was me, only just a year ago, wishing that somebody would find me in the dark and let me know that the sun will rise again, because it has to, it's simply the nature of stars; the ones that Lovegood believes in so deeply.

"Come on Greengrass, you're going to wind up on the wrong side of the Dark Lord if you continue meandering around out here." I guided her back through the door to her room. It was cold and bare, a world away from the opulence and grandeur of my room, or any of the function rooms in this maze house. Idly she flounced on the bed, her feet barely touching the floor. "What happened that spooked you?"

"What's spooked me?" She echoed with sarcasm. "What's fucking spooked me? Are you that deep into your trauma that you don't even notice it anymore?"

"I don't have trauma, don't be so stupid. And I'm trying to be nice to you here, Astoria. How and why the hell did you wind up here anyway?"

"I told you, I went looking for a scroll of runes in our basement. Daphne and I are forbidden from ever going down there but when I overheard them talking... I had to know for myself."

"What runes? Know what? Give me something to leverage with, if you don't tell me you can't expect me to just know!" Wiping away tears from her prickle rash cheeks, she leant into her palms out of frustration. Structuring the words in her head before allowing them to be spoken out loud. "My dad, Draco. He trades prophecies. Illegally."

"Okay, and?" So what?"

There isn't a pureblood witch or wizard out there that made their money in a completely honest way. 'Old money' only goes so far, with less and less filtering down through each generation. Millionaire's don't become millionaire's through hard work alone. You have to step on someone else in order to climb to the top, so illegal business is hardly something that would prompt concern from someone like me; it was in the nature of most purebloods. "I'm still failing to see what that could possibly have to do with any of this."

"Are you dumb?!" Her voice raised, tongue sharp. And she slammed down a palm against her bed side cabinet, before standing and walking right to me. "The scroll was a portkey, if you had listened to me to begin with then you'd remember me telling you. It's no coincidence is it? But why the fuck do my parents need a bloody portkey straight to this manor, aka headquarters, when I know for a fact that neither have the dark mark? So therefore have a much seedier hand in whatever business is being conducted right beneath everyone's noses. The Dark Lord doesn't enforce a mark upon them because he doesn't need to indoctrinate them with fear."

"So you think they might be trying to sell a prophecy? To us, well, to the Dark Lord?" Quickly things began to make sense. Voldemort would know if the prophecy is a genuine or a fake with ease, he would simply invade their mind and detect any dishonesty instantly. It would be a great bargaining tool too, if they were to say, give him the prophecy with no charge and no resistance. Maybe they would be spared from this war... but only for the time being. Astoria sensed my mind raging, and confirmed the first question without prompt. "He already has the prophecy. And Malfoy... it's a really, really, really bad prophecy. I think it's going to make sure that he wins."

Our eyes met again in a harrowing way, bone chilling anxiety pushing the statement on. "I heard what they were talking about, when the death eaters were in my house."

"Tori, please just tell me." My own voice had began to shake, as well as my hands as my body cried out for top up, something to stave off the withdrawals. "Please. Otherwise I can't do anything about it."

"There isn't much you can do about it, Malfoy. The Reaping has already begun, and unless it's stopped, this is going spill out of our world and into the Muggle world too. He will never be satisfied."

"The amount of sense you're making is starting to drop into the minus." Perhaps grabbing her wrist as firmly as I did was uncalled for, but something had to prompt her to start speaking in a language I can actually understand. Being a polyglot was proving to be useless. "If this is just another one of your weird games to get me to like you in that way, then honestly I might just hand you over to the death eaters for treason. I can't keep doing this. It's like you're tormenting me for fun."

"You," she replied. "The Reaping, it's because of something you do, or something that you've already done. And yeah maybe I am incurably stupid like you said I am, but I've enough sense to see that this prophecy is the reason The Dark Lord is suddenly keen on keeping you close. You're being groomed for something."

I stepped back, laughing, leaning against the closest surface I could find to try and contemplate; she's certifiably fucking nuts, and she truly believes whatever delusion she's chasing. Holy shit, everyone on this earth is completely bat shit crazy, no wonder we're all trying to kill each other.

"Why are you laughing? You have nothing to laugh about Draco, believe me."

"Yeah, sure," I laughed again. "And it just so happens that fate sent you to deliver a life changing piece of information. So what are you then, a martyr, an oracle, a soothsayer with a heavy conscience? You telling me this changes things how? I'm as trapped as you."

"Because you can keep your mind safe. You can keep it safe from him, and I can't. Voldemort can't crawl into your head and examine your every thought, conducting a survey on how best to use it against you."

Well yes, that is true. Legilemency and Occlumency comes naturally to my parents and I. It's a craft that I was born with, only becoming more steadfast as I grow and age.

It did give a little weight to what Greengrass was proposing. But Occlumency requires calm and nerve, something I've not had nor practiced in a while; but, that being said, I still stood a damn better chance than anyone else.

"And what is it exactly that I do that triggers this so called Reaping? And is it bad or is it good, depending on who you ask?" At this point, my tone conveyed apathy, identical to the expression on my face. I was knackered, and if whatever a reaping is happened, then it would just be another day in the life.

"Well, that I don't know. But I know that you wind up dead at the end of it all, it could be for the wrong reasons, or for all of the right reasons. Either way it broke my heart the moment I figured that out, because regardless of any biases, protecting myself and not telling you was never an option. I just didn't imagine that I'd wind up here seeing children being slaughtered, muggles being mutilated and my friends moulded into monsters, but if you make the purchase then you pay the price I suppose."

Astoria had calmed now, taking a seat on her bed and breathing deeply; like she'd taken the weight off of her shoulders. Like she was sort of at peace now. It was weird, but believable.

I joined her, and we sort of stared at a wall together whilst she skittishly played with her long brunette hair. "Wow, so it's all hopeless then. No matter what I do, I'm destined for death at some point."

"No, not hopeless," she said. "Fate can always be changed, we learnt about in divination class. It's called parallel paradox, and we've been learning about it for two years but you never pay attention. Always off smoking, drinking, fucking girls and whatever else happens in your own little bubble."

"So I can change it, then? Or no, because you keep going back and forth. Either I can or I can't." Astoria sighed in a haunting way, unable to give me a definitive answer. "Maybe some of the circumstances, yeah, but to do that you'd have to know what to do differently, and that's the impossible part of it. Especially now that prophecy is in the wrong hands."

If the prophecy is here then surely that already works in my favour. Each square inch of this place is burned into my brain, no less my DNA. "Okay, well I'll just go and find it?"

"Again, your ego is drowning your sense. It's heavily guarded, Malfoy, it won't just be rolling around at the bottom of someone's handbag. If it was that simple then I'd have done it myself by now. But it seems I only have one option now to keep Daph out of this, and keep my mind off limits to that sick freak and his gang of killers."

"How?" I urged, pressing my hand on top of her ice cold hand again, with no other intention than to provide some cordial comfort. "I'll just make it happen. Don't worry, I have a plan."

Something about the inflection in her voice was wistful and unengaged with whatever the so called plan was. Greengrass was certain of it's efficiency however. And for that reason alone, stupid fucking me just took it at face value and let the warning signs fly right on by.

"Anyway, your parents are back. Luckily they missed the sacrificial ceremony. But now I know what a humans large intestine looks like as it unravels, Nagini cleaned up rather quickly though. It was a young boy, around my age, he made the mistake of vomiting at the dark lords feet, messing his robe."

"The kids that they brought yesterday?" I asked solemnly. "What about the deaf kid? How many did he kill?!"

"Nah, she's okay, probably not for long though. Some of the henchmen made some pretty disturbing remarks about her figure."

I wasn't sure whether to be relieved or even more panicked. "Excuse me? Are you trying to tell me that some of those fuckers are not only serial killers but quite possibly paedophiles too? Is there a bunch of nonces in my house?!"

"Well, they're definitely something," she replied. "And I'm not even shocked."

"Which one was it?" I asked, a sense of justice beginning to burn in my gut. I'm not sure what I thought I would do about it, but that sinister part of me began to crawl out of the walls, like a black smoke that contained my manic episodes, it stirred whatever mental illness I was suffering from. In the worst way.

"The one with the warts all over his face, and the crooked wand, enormous ears and-"

"Yeah, I know which one. Pig."

She curled up on the bed, atop the sheets with only a pillow to clutch to soothe herself.

"Do you miss it?"

"Miss what?" I replied. "Hogwarts, I didn't realise how much that place meant to me. Do you miss it too?"

"Yes, every minute of every day. Everything was so colourful, and now the world is just.. stale."

An awkward silence prompted me to curb the frivolous nostalgia, that version of Hogwarts was unlikely to ever exist again.

"Okay, well, I need to go and talk to my parents. Thanks for telling me about this prophecy or whatever, I realise that I haven't been that kind to you. Just lay low and try and minimise the risk to yourself. Okay, Greengrass?"

"Yeah," she sighed again. Barely making eye contact as I waded out of the room. Instead her attention focused solely on a collection of crystal vials that lay within a bedside drawer; of what I assumed to be related to female specific health needs. But I was wrong about that too. "Bye, Malfoy. You look better by the way, a prickly chin and uncombed hair really didn't suit you."

Merlin forbid she finds out about the curls. Mentally noted, keep up appearances.

And never meet your heroes, no less be raised by them, because half a smile followed by a curt nod, I absorbed the last words Astoria Greengrass offered me before explosively confronting my parents; and finding out some shit that raised the stakes higher than ever.