A little, hopeless sobbing sound broke the silence. For a horrified moment, Draco thought it had come from him. Then he realized it had been Fleur. Twisting around, he saw her face — she was paper-white, and tears were flooding down her cheeks.
Slytherin let out an impatient sigh. 'Fleur, if you cannot control yourself, please go. Go, and lie down. You need to gather your strength.'
With a brief, miserable nod, Fleur raced out of the room.
'But she can?t, can she?' Draco demanded, raising his head.
'She can?t what?'
'Gather her strength. Shes dying.' It wasn?t a question. 'Isn?t she.'
'We are all dying.' Slytherin looked neither moved nor unmoved by this turn of conversation, nor by the fact that he was holding it with a boy sprawled out at his feet as if he might never get up again. 'She is just dying a little more rapidly than most. Rest assured she will live as long as she needs to do what I require of her.'
'And I think I know what that is,' said Draco. 'Both of us in one room, one bed…what are you trying to do? We?re not cocker spaniels, you know. You can?t just go around mating us.'
'But it would amuse me to do so,' said Slytherin. 'Of course, it would also amuse me to hang you both headfirst over a scorpion pit.'
'Mating it is,' said Draco hastily. His mind was only half on the conversation: the rest of it was mainly taken up with the immense effort it seemed to be taking to sit up, and the rather pressing thought, it hurts. 'I?ll just run along then, and see if Fleur — '
'You will stay right here.' Slytherins voice lashed at him like a whip. 'I have not finished with you. I have only just begun.'
Slytherin made a flicking gesture with his left hand, and Draco found himself propelled to his feet. His legs held him, just barely. He could feel cold sweat trickling down the back of his neck, stinging and icy.
'I need your loyalty,' said the Snake Lord, 'your obedience. I need you. But, just because I need you I will not allow you to rule me. I rule you. Mine is the greater power.'
'I was told you were weak,' said Draco. Concealing his knowledge no longer seemed of much importance. 'And if you are so strong, why did you need us to fight the manticore?'
'Clever question.' Slytherin looked not the least bit discomposed. 'I do not have my powers now, it is true. Which is why I have been using Fleur. But she is nearly drained, no longer of much use to me.
And when I open the Orb, all my powers will be returned to me.'
'Well, then what are you waiting for?' Draco snapped. He assumed that the Orb was the shining object that Slytherin had taken from the manticores body. 'Open it.'
'First,' said Slytherin, 'the Gryffindor boy must die.'
Harry. Draco felt as if someone had balled up all the misery and tension in the room, and jammed it hard into his solar plexus. Then he remembered the look on Harrys face when he had said, 'Do what you like with him, it doesn?t matter to me.' And the look on his face when he had told him about his parents. Harry hated him now. That was all there was to it.
'What does Harry dying have to do with anything?'
'As long as the Orb is not opened, I do not have my powers. As long as I do not have my powers, I am not really myself, and the demons cannot find me to extract the payment I cheated them of long ago.
They do not see as people do; they sense the essence of a person, their life-spark — and mine is in that Orb. First I must appease the demons with blood, the blood of an Heir of mine who is also a Magid. Then my powers can be returned to me, the sword retained.
And Hell will be satisfied.'
Hell is now satisfied. What the demons in Dracos dream had said to him, upon giving him the sword. The dream that was reality — not his own memory, but Slytherins, of making that deadly bargain.
'You can?t kill Harry,' he protested.
Slytherins smile narrowed. 'You defend him still?'
'I?m not defending him.' Draco straightened up. 'Don?t you know his history? He defeated the most powerful, immortal Dark wizard of our time when he was a baby. His life is charmed, literally. Theres some protection on him. I?m not sure it would be such a good idea for you to just Avada Kedavra him. The last guy who tried that spent thirteen years eking out life as a banana slug in Bulgaria before he got his body back.'
'Fleur told me,' said Slytherin, looking thoughtful. 'She also told me that your Dark Lord managed to return himself to power, and attack Harry. Therefore he must have evaded this charm somehow.'
'Well, you ought to know,' snapped Draco. 'Wormtail told Hermione you killed him. Voldemort, I mean.'
Slytherin snorted. 'Not at all. We have never met, in fact. I simply told Wormtail that to convince him to enter my service. Not,' he added, 'that I won?t kill him, when I have my powers back.'
'No honor among thieves?' inquired Draco.
'No use for a spare Dark wizard cluttering up the playing field,' said Slytherin. 'You?ll learn.' He smiled coldly. 'What you have just reminded me of is very interesting. I would simply have Fleur try the Killing Curse on your friend, but alas, for the purposes of the ritual it must be my hand that takes his life. A simple Sanguinus Charm should suffice to ensure that I can harm him without repercussions.'
Draco shut his eyes. There was a buzzing in his ears and his arm throbbed as if it had been torn at by savage wolves.
'You are in pain,' said Slytherin, sounding abstractly curious.
'Aren?t you?'
'Yes,' said Draco through clenched teeth. 'You know I am.'
