Draco Malfoy and the Half-Blood Btch-Chapter Thirteen; Silencio

Huzzah! Another update! No music this time, though. Hope you liked the last one, this one's really more of a recap for those who didn't feel comfortable reading it, but you should still read it even if you did read the last one because it adds significantly to the plotline. Enjoy!
Swish and click!
The Dark Lord paced before the threadbare couch, his head bowed and his long, white fingers wrapped around his wand of yew. A pop sounded a quarter of a mile away, and Voldemort stopped mid-pace and sniffed the air, like a snake locating its prey. Their fear is apparent, he thought to himself, all is not proceeding according to plan. A soft hiss escaped him as a timid knock sounded on the front door and Wormtail rushed forward to admit Narcissa and Draco Malfoy into Snape's front room.
"My Lord," they said together, bowing to kiss the hem of his robes.
"That will do." Voldemort turned his back on his servants and took the great emerald armchair that sat before the fire. The Malfoys seated themselves on the couch, and Voldemort permitted his scarlet eyes to drink in their lesser forms. Narcissa sat rigid as though Petrified, her great, pale eyes staring hollowly into the brilliant flames of orange and gold that danced hypnotically behind the iron bars of the grate. Draco, whose skin was pale by nature, looked almost ghostly in the dim lighting. He fidgeted in his seat anxiously, his eyes darting around the room, looking anywhere but at his master.
"What is the latest news on the girl? She was moved without trouble, I presume?" Voldemort asked, though he knew by the Draco's trembling hands it was quite the contrary.
"My Lord," it was Narcissa who spoke, her cold voice falsely steady, "for reasons beyond our control, the girl fell severely ill on the eve of her departure." Rage began to climb and radiate from Voldemort; green sparks flew from the end of his wand involuntarily. "Of course-of course she resides at our Manor under pretense of the Vow, however she is weak. Our family Healer has attended to her and is certain she will make a full recovery within a week." Narcissa's voice shook as Voldemort raised his wand, but it was only to scare off Wormtail, who had been lurking behind a concealed doorway.
"And what caused this unprecedented illness?" Voldemort hissed, his tone dangerously low. He turned his gaze to Draco, who did not fully conceal a shudder. "I believe you may know the answer to this, Draco."
"I-I don't know, my Lord. Sh-she acted peculiar at P-Professor Slughorn's C-Christmas p-party. I-I thought I might've-might've seen Pansy P-Parkinson slip something in her d-drink." Draco sputtered, trying his best not to remember the unnatural, inhuman way Belle had twitched and shrieked the night before.
"My Lord," said Narcissa quickly, seizing her son's confession as an opportunity to pass blame, "Healer Jugson attributes the girl's infirmity to an allergic reaction to the love potion Amortentia."

Bubble bubble toil and PANTS!
"Perhaps young Parkinson was playing a trick on the girl?" Voldemort mused to himself, his anger mounting. "The offspring of my own servants, almost destroying one of our most precious resources. This will not do." Draco sank further into the upholstery, longing for a pleasant scene. Absurdly he thought for a moment of his first week of term, when he had seen Belle fly against the sunset, her luscious curls whipping behind her and her eyes sparkling with a palpable yearning for freedom. "Draco," the Dark Lord spoke sharply, bringing Draco from his brief moment of contentment, "how goes the task I bestowed upon you?"
The slight glimmer of happiness that had risen in Draco's heart was immediately turned to lead at his master's question. "It-it is proceeding, my Lord." No sooner had the words left his lips than an unspeakable pain collided with him; his bones were on fire, his mind was being torn to bits, red-hot knives were piercing each and every pore of his skin and he was screaming, certain that he was about to die. And then, as quickly as it had come, the pain ceased, and Draco found himself lying on the stone floor, a cold sweat rolling down his temples. Though his father had begun using the Cruciatus Curse on Draco at age ten for any disobedience, he had never become accustomed to the pain it ensued.
"Do not lie to your master, Draco," Voldemort said, watching Draco peel himself off the floor and resume his seat with an unmatched coldness. "Lord Voldemort always knows. Now, as you will be unable to adequately continue your mission while you are away from Hogwarts, I set you a new task; it is your duty to charm the girl, bring her over to our side. I accept that she is not unintelligent, and therefore you must be careful. If she begins to suspect her true powers, our use of her will be thrown into jeopardy. I believe that, in order to convince her without arising mistrust, you must very subtly become more pleasant towards her. Do not fail me again." And with that, the Malfoys understood themselves to be dismissed, and they stood to leave.
As they reached the door, however, Voldemort gave them one last assignment. "Please send word to the Parkinsons I wish to see them immediately." Draco really did shudder this time as he thought of what punishment Pansy's parents were to endure for their daughter's malice.
***
Soft grey light filled the lavish, elegant white-marble palace where the princess lay perfectly at ease, not a care in the word daring to cross her graceful features. Beside her, her prince waited patiently upon his throne, his handsome, chiseled face filled with compassion for the sleeping princess whom he had daringly rescued from certain death.
Hark; it was not a palace where she lay, but rather a vast, posh room with white walls and silver-blue furnishings. She was not a princess, she realized as she stirred slightly against soft sheets, but a witch. And the pearl lighting cast from the silently falling snow showed her the outline, not of an adoring, handsome prince, but of Draco Malfoy, who was staring at her with curiosity as she looked back through her long lashes.
Suddenly everything that had happened on her last night at Hogwarts hit her like a stampeding Hippogriff; the party, Pansy tricking her, throwing herself at Malfoy....

Click
"HOLY SH*T!" Belle screamed, plucking from her hazy memories of the last few days the image of herself basically naked, kissing Malfoy feverishly, letting her hands explore every inch of him she could reach- "MALFOY!! WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO ME?!" She screeched sitting up and pulling the sheets over her chest as she realized she was only wearing a tight white cami and boy shorts.
"As I recall," Malfoy snickered, "I didn't have to do much of anything, if you catch my drift." His smirk was knocked off his face as Belle slapped him as viciously as she could.
"How-dare-you-you-little-FERRET!" With each word she punched him in the stomach. "Oh, where's my wand?!" But before she could snatch it from the bedside table and jinx the pants off him, he jabbed his own wand at her mouth and shouted, "Silencio! Belle clutched her throat, her eyes bulging and her lips still working furiously, though they would produce no noise. She thrashed about on the king-sized bed on which she had been sleeping, her silent fury imitated by the swelling blizzard pounding against the French doors that led out to a balcony.
"Now that I can hear myself think, are you going to listen or do I have to tie you up as well? Not that I would have any objections if you wanted me to rope you to the bed frame." Malfoy smirked yet again and though Belle gave him a look that suggested she would like to jinx him into a ferret permanently, she sat back on her pillows and waited for him to begin nonetheless.
"That's better." Draco said, stowing his wand back in his pocket. Belle observed her surroundings carefully; the room could've easily fit her dormitory at Hogwarts in it, though its twenty-foot ceiling and stark white walls gave it a much stonier feel than her beloved dorm. A crystal chandelier held ice-blue candles that burned blue, and to the left of her bed was a sapphire velvet loveseat and assorted silk-cushioned chairs clustered on a white fur rung around a dark mahogany coffee table the same color as the floor. To the right were an impressive mahogany wardrobe and an elegant white vanity. The bed itself was huge, its frame dark wood and its pillows cerulean. Overall, a cold but stunning creation; Belle found it appealing and repulsive at the same time.
"Now, the Healer said you might not remember everything, so I'll tell you what happened, okay?" Malfoy said slowly. Belle studied him suspiciously, but allowed him to continue. "Alright, so let's see. Do you remember actually getting to Slughorn's party?" Draco asked. Belle shut her eyes and tried to remember. Yes, yes I got there and had a couple Fire whiskeys, and then I saw Potter and Luna, and that idiot Pansy was talking to me.... Belle nodded in response to Draco's question. "Good then. Do you remember talking to Pansy?" She nodded again, and then tried to recall what had happened next. "Did she give you anything? Something to eat or anything like that?" Belle shook her head. Malfoy looked stricken for a moment, but then Belle's mind drifted back to what Pansy had said to her.

Click
"Oooh, isn't that Gwenog Jones, of the Holyhead Harpies?" Pansy shrieked, pointing to the left corner of the room. Belle looked around eagerly, but did not see the famed Quidditch Captain.
"I don't see her." Belle said, slumping against the table and snatching her drink, swallowing the rest of it in one gulp.
She'd downed her drink and after that...after that she felt really funny and..."MOTHER OF MERLIN!" Belle mouthed, sitting up and turning to face Malfoy.
"What? Do you remember something?" He asked eagerly. She nodded and tried to mime her qualms. Quickly she pushed her nose back and made a face of disgust. "I don't get it." Malfoy said. Belle forced her chin onto her neck so she looked much chubbier. "OH! Pansy, right?" He asked, laughing at her not-too-far fetched impression. She allowed herself a sheepish grin before continuing. Belle thought for a moment, and then started waving her arms and nodding her head as though dancing. "Music? The party!" Malfoy guessed, starting to laugh again. Belle nodded and clapped her hands, trying to keep him focused, though a smile flitted across her own face momentarily. She made a C-shape with her hand, as though holding a glass, and mimed drinking it, and then setting it down. Then she made her Pansy face again (Malfoy sniggered) and pretended to pour something in the imaginary drink. She pointed to herself, picked the glass up again, and drank it, and then she fell down on the bed. Propping herself up on her elbows, she pointed to her eyes, and then to Malfoy's, and then moved her hand over her face and shrugged.
"Alright, so let me get this right," Malfoy said, still amused. "You were at the party and you saw Pansy," Belle nodded, "and you had a drink, and you set it down, and you think Pansy put something in it." She nodded again. "So then you drank the rest of it, and then you fell down and saw me. And then what?"
Belle shook her head, trying to remember clearly. After her eyes met Malfoy's, she could think of nothing else but him, and had the uncontrollable urge to throw herself at him and never let go. From that point she only possessed snippets of memories, most of them involving her pressing herself against his hips. Color rose in her cheeks as she tried to recollect more, but her last image was of her in Malfoy's room on top of him, and then all she could remember was being very weak and afraid.
"I-" She began to speak but then realized his spell was still upon her. Slowly she let her gaze meet his, then gestured to herself, traced a heart in the air, and then nodded at him. Belle shrugged again, and hoped he understood that she'd meant she had wanted him, but did not know why and could not control it.
"Hm. Well, it seems to me there are two possibilities," Malfoy said, "one, you finally came to your senses and realized your burning passion for me," Belle hit him over the head with her pillow, "OR, or two, Pansy slipped you some sort of love potion at the party that made you obsessed with the first person you saw. Does the latter sound about right?" He raised an eyebrow, and after a moment's hesitation she nodded.

Rest in the results!
"Good. Right well now that we've got that sorted out," he flicked his wand and Belle felt an odd tingling in her throat, and then realized she could speak again. "Oh, this is the Manor, by the way. Your things have already been put away for you. If you need anything, just ring this bell," he pointed to the small instrument on her nightstand, "and tell the house elves what you want. Dinner's at six, but Mother says you can eat in your room seeing as your helpless and all." He teased, ducking to avoid being smacked by her pillow again. He stood and began to exit the grand room.
"Wait," she said just as he'd reached the double doors. She looked uncertainly down at her lap, her cheeks turning steadily peppermint. "We didn't, I mean, you know," she shut her eyes so she would not have to see his smirk, "didn't go all the way, did we?" She could feel her cheeks burning. Though she had tried to sound indifferent, she knew Malfoy could see her dread and mortification. She cautiously lifted an eyelid to see Malfoy studying her carefully.
"No." He said at last. "Is that all?" Belle nodded, and with one last glance back at her, Malfoy left her in her bitterly beautiful room.
***
Yay for another chapter! Now, in regards to Deathly Hallows, I will not be giving any spoilers in my story, because HBB follows Half-Blood Prince and will end close to where HBP did. If I do write a sequel, however, I will stay true to what happened in Deathly Hallows, which actually leaves quite a bit of wiggle room because Malfoy isn't in it a huge amount. Thanks for reading, please rate and message!