Hermosa/wtm/

5

I Play Pinhole With A Horse

"Draco!"

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I had weird dreams full of barnyard animals. Most of them wanted to kill me. The rest wanted food.

Some people laughed at that. The tension still high from the truth last chapter.

I must've woken up several times, but what I heard and saw made no sense, so I just passed out again. I remember lying in a soft bed, being spoon-fed something that tasted like buttered popcorn, only it was pudding. The boy who had slick blond hair hovered over me, smirking as he scraped drips off my chin with the spoon. His hair was messy now.

"Malfoy let his hair get messy?" Conovris laughed.

When he saw my eyes open, he asked, "What will happen at the summer solstice?" I managed to croak, "What?"

"What?"

He looked around, as if afraid someone would overhear. "What's going on? What was stolen? We've only got a few weeks!"

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, "I don't..."

Somebody knocked on the door, and the boy quickly filled my mouth with pudding. The next time I woke up, the boy was gone.

"DRACO!" Narcissa yelled at her son.

"Sorry mum..." The blonde felt bad about everything he put the girl he loved through.

While Narcissa looked slightly pleased, Naya looked pissed at the boy, "DRACO LUCIUS APOLLO MALFOY!"

Shit. Draco thought, getting yelled at by one of the 11 year old kids his girl basically adopted was bad.

"That is not how we take care of patients! I don't care if she has for given you, you are banned from helping past out patients for a month!" Naya yelled the blonde boy her mother figure fell for.

A husky blond dude, like a surfer, stood in the corner of the bedroom keeping watch over me. He had blue eyes- at least a dozen of them-on his cheeks, his forehead, the backs of his hands.

The "Light" side shuddered at the monster.

When I finally came around for good, there was nothing weird about my surroundings, except that they were nicer than I was used to. I was sitting in a deck chair on a huge porch, gazing across a meadow at green hills in the distance. The breeze smelled like strawberries. There was a blanket over my legs, a pillow behind my neck. All that was great, but my mouth felt like a scorpion had been using it for a nest. My tongue was dry and nasty and every one of my teeth hurt.

On the table next to me was a tall drink. It looked like iced apple juice, with a green straw and a paper parasol stuck through a maraschino cherry.

My hand was so weak I almost dropped the glass once I got my fingers around it. "Careful," a familiar voice said.

Grover was leaning against the porch railing, looking like he hadn't slept in a week. Under one arm, he cradled a shoe box. He was wearing blue jeans, Converse hi-tops and a bright orange T-shirt that said CAMP HALF-BLOOD. Just plain old Grover, Not the goat boy.

So maybe I'd had a nightmare. Maybe my mom was okay. We were still on vacation, and we'd stopped here at this big house for some reason. And ...

"You saved my life," Grover said. "I... well, the least I could do ... I went back to the hill. I thought you might want this."