Cheryl Dyson

Bad Medicine

Chapter One

            Draco was bored.  After listening to the dimwitted bickering of Crabbe and Goyle all morning, he considered turning them into something spineless and slimy in order to silence them.  They were great for backup in a confrontation, but as conversationalists they left much to be desired.  Rather than hex them, he yelled at them to bugger off for the afternoon and stalked off to be alone.  Hogwarts was rife with places for solitary reflection, but today most of the prime spots were taken, largely due to the dreadful pouring rain outside.

            The dungeon was even darker and gloomier than usual and Draco was already in a bad mood, so he took to the ever-changing stairs and headed for higher climes.  A half hour of aimless wandering led him to a long, deserted corridor lined with huge gothic windows.  He peered out of one and discovered a marvelous view of the lake, or it would have been if he could have seen more than a quarter of it due to the misty rain.  Water poured down the glass in rivulets.  He rested his forehead against the glass, feeling more than bored.  He couldn’t quite put a name to what he was feeling, but it wasn’t good.

            He pushed himself away from the window and noted several dark alcoves arranged along the opposite wall, interspersed with dark wooden doors that led who-knew-where?  The alcoves had potential, as they were stuffed with large stone statues of various creatures.  Directly across from him reared a huge lion, nearly triple life size.  Draco sneered.  No Gryffindor lions for him today, thank you very much.  He walked to the next alcove.  A hippogriff.  Screw that.  Stupid beasts.  The third statue was more promising.  A manticore.  Its human face growled from a lion-like mane and the stinger poised over its head looked ready to strike.  Draco could relate.  He gripped a leonine paw and hoisted himself up into the alcove.  He slipped behind the creature and searched briefly for concealed doors, which were quite often hidden in alcoves around Hogwarts.  If one existed here, it was too well concealed for a casual search and a quick Alohomora.

            The scorpion-like tail was perfectly curled to provide a relaxing perch.  Draco sat down and leaned his head and shoulders back against the curve of the tail.  He twirled his wand and wondered if he should practice his transfiguration spells for class tomorrow, but the required spells were ridiculously easy.  His mother had been teaching him transfiguration since he was five.

            He tapped his wand idly against a thigh and looked beyond the statue’s head to the long windows.  He wished the bloody depressing rain would stop.  He’d much rather be outside on his broom practicing Quidditch than moping here in an abandoned hallway.

            Quick footsteps approached.  Perhaps not so abandoned.  Draco sat up and flattened himself against the manticore’s back.  He peered out after making sure he was fully hidden in the shadows of the alcove.

            The footsteps belonged to Hermione Granger.  Draco sneered.  Granger!  What did she want up here?  A square wooden box locomotored behind her, floating easily in her wake.  He wondered what she was up to.  Probably sneaking around on some errand or another for Potter or Weasley.  He was actually surprised to see her alone.  Normally the three of them clung together for protection like baby lemurs.  The only time Granger was ever alone was when she was in the library with her face buried in a book.  Likely her little trunk was full of books and she was looking for a private place to read.

            She strode purposefully past Draco’s hiding place without pausing and continued to a door two alcoves beyond his.  She entered with her box and shut the door firmly.  Draco waited to see if Potter and the Weasel would show up, but finally climbed out of his alcove.  He briefly regretted not hexing her when she walked by.  She could have done with the tail of a jackass or ears of a fruit bat.  He grinned and then grimaced; realizing if he’d hexed her she likely would have turned him into a sea slug or something worse.  The little mudblood was good with a wand, more’s the pity.