Blue-Eyed Angel
Chapter Twenty-seven
Explaining to Ron and Hermione all they wanted to know took the better of the evening given Ron's constant interruptions and Hermione's probing questions. Draco found it hard to protest his innocence while deceiving everyone at the same time. He was being honest about his feelings for Ginny, their relationship, and his past, but he could not mention his current endeavors, not even when he was directly asked `what are you up to?' by Ron quite frequently. It was a tricky balancing act but one he had mastered years ago.
Draco had to explain to them how he was a daddy but did not offer them quite as detailed a telling as he had Reamann. He explained to them quite simply that he had met his wife while in Azkaban, that they had wound up unexpectedly pregnant before he was even eighteen, got married in quite heist after the second unexpected conception, and that she had died only a few short years after that. It was the first time Ginny even learned as much, but she kept the surprise and wonderment off her face. She supposed Draco would have told her if she had but asked, but she had thought he would tell her about it on his own, when he was ready. She realized he would likely keep his secrets, and his privacy, unless asked to do otherwise. She hoped it was just a privacy issue, and not a trust. She wanted to believe he trusted her, but he played things so close to his chest, sometimes she just wasn't sure.
Ginny took the reigns at that point after Draco was finished and explained their relationship, Draco more than happy to let her take on that feat. They seemed to silently agree since it had been her idea, that she would be the one to try and defend it. Draco held her hand throughout, however, and she was glad for the support.
Hermione, who had been in on part of this, was left both uncomfortable, and a little shocked, shocked mostly because of Draco's part of the telling but also because this was no longer just a fling she was hearing about.
Draco and Ginny sat on the couch, side by side, holding hands, while Ron paced and Hermione sat in the armchair.
"This is mental," Ron finally exclaimed.
"Please, Ron, don't shout," Ginny pleaded, sounding tired.
"What am I supposed to tell Mum and Dad?"
"Nothing, I will talk to them, it's my responsibility."
"You expect to be able to bring him around?" he demanded, not even using Draco's name.
"I'm sitting right here," Draco reminded him blandly, Ron acting as though Draco could not hear him or something.
"He was received well enough at Christmas," Ginny attempted.
"That's before we knew you two were fucking," he fumed and Draco glared, warning Ron to back down some.
"Ron, I don't expect everything to be fine and dandy right away, but I'm hoping to find some support in this," Ginny sighed.
"I support you," Hermione mumbled. Ginny looked over at her with appreciative and relieved eyes.
"You are only thankful that this served as a major distraction so that nobody flipped out over yours and Harry's little announcement," Ron barked. He was not looking all that happy. His best mate and his ex-wife were having a secret affair and having a baby, and his baby sister and ex-arch-nemesis were now shagging. That and his head hurt something fierce thanks to the wrath of Mrs. Malfoy. He was just not in a consolable mood.
"You told them?" Ginny asked, leaning around Draco to speak to her friend.
"Yeah, we did, together, and it looked like it was going to be a little difficult, until it came on over the radio about you two," she said meekly. Ginny sighed and Draco squeezed her hand. He couldn't tell Ginny the feelings that just overwhelmed him at that moment, but knowing the nature of Granger and Potter's "little announcement," he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like if they were in such a situation and had to meet with "the family" and tell them they were expecting a baby.
He didn't know for sure, but he could make a pretty educated guess by looking up at Ron that such news would not be kindly received and happily welcomed.
Draco couldn't deny he really wanted a baby, however, that being what he couldn't reveal to Ginny. It was something he had longed for since getting out of Azkaban but had never a chance to even try for. Did men have a biological clock ticking away in them? He had missed out on experiencing pregnancy with his wife, and being a proper father to his babies, so maybe that was what was bothering him. Or maybe it was his life expectancy was so much shorter than a typical wizard's that he had a desperate desire to be a daddy again before he died. Despite everything, and the situation, and what had just happened in the other room between Ginny and him, he envied Potter and Granger….just a little.
"Ron," Ginny said, snapping Draco out of those thoughts. "I know you and Draco don't have a friendly past, but you know he is not a Death Eater, and you can't hate him for being a werewolf, and he is being far more accommodating and civil than you are so you can't even go off on him being a prat. I'm not asking you to like this, I don't want or need your blessing, but I need my space and I want some respect," she said firmly, face flushed red in anger like Ron's was.
Ron glared at Draco, the man that was sleeping with his sister and hurt his friend, Reamann. He remembered back to his conversation with Draco on Christmas and struggled not to punch him, trying to remember what was said, about how much Draco claimed to have changed. He was probably lying, surely he had been lying, he couldn't have been telling the truth. Could he?
"Gin…"
"Ron."
Ron sighed. "Reamann is really upset over all this," he said heavily, attacking this problem from another angle now.
"I know he is," Ginny said just as heavily, looking down.
"How could you do this to him?" he asked, not sounding as demanding as before, just disappointed.
"Please, I feel terrible enough as it is. I will talk to Reamann; I will explain to him what I told you-"
"I don't think being told that he was kept around only as a cover for yours and Malfoy's little forbidden romance will make him feel better, Ginny. It will just make him feel used and foolish."
Ginny let her face fall into her hands.
"I'll have a talk with him," Draco offered, or rather announced. Ron looked at him
"I gave you the one bad eye, I'm only guessing here, but I would say Reamann gave you the other?"
"I'm out of eyes to blacken." Draco flushed while looking down at Ginny. "I'll talk to him, so he won't blame this all on Ginny, or all on me. He needs to know we are both to blame, as well as him."
"He is not to blame."
"Oh, he knew about the bloody affair, he is just brassed off because it turned out it was me. He has been just as miserable as Ginny," he said and Ginny looked up at him. "Why do you think he has not popped the question to her? He knew deep down that Ginny was slipping away and he was feeling smothered by the family as much as she was. It isn't that Ginny moved on that upset him, it's who she chose to move on with," he said, grumbling at the last. "He feels like crap and he's angry, and I don't blame him, but he knew this was happening and chose not to acknowledge it, making him a guilty party in all this as well," he said firmly.
"No, he would have said something," Ron attempted to argue while Ginny just stared at Draco, completely unaware of this. Reamann had known, or been suspicious at least? She felt so scandalous now. Every night when she had given him a kiss and snuggled down beside him to sleep, he knew she was with another man? Every time she said she was going out for a few hours, he knew it was to meet with her other man? Ginny felt terrible, dirty, worse than even before, and she had felt pretty damn bad. She also had no idea that Reamann felt so trapped. She knew he had seemingly become distant and disinterested as of recent, but she had not truly believed that he had fallen out of love with her. Draco would know, wouldn't he, he could read people's feelings and emotions better than he could their thoughts. There was only one nagging doubt in her mind, though, and that was: had he fallen out of love with her before her affair, or only after he knew she was sleeping with another man?
Ginny held Draco's hand tight as her chest became thick with guilt. How big of a whore did Reamann believe her to be?
"Who would he have told?" Draco challenged, looking defiantly right up at Ron. "You, a Weasley, with those burly fists of yours and sense of honor towards your sister? I think not," he said, resisting the urge to touch his eye. "He just kept himself busy with other things so he didn't have to deal with it, with any of it, making Ginny feel abandoned and only intensifying the problem," he explained and Ginny felt her stomach contort in an uncomfortable way.
"You are just manipulating the situation, because we all know you are a Legilimens and we can't tell what you actually see or if you are just making shit up!" Ron accused.
"Ask Reamann then, and Ginny. Ask them what's going on. They haven't talked to each other, see if their stories line up, that they have both been looking for excuses to be apart, Ginny with me, Reamann with me…well…work," he snapped. Ginny just looked up at Ron for a long moment and then nodded.
"Okay, fine!" Ron growled. "You two," meaning Ginny and Reamann, "gave up a while ago on your relationship without ending it…but why Malfoy? Dear God," he said to his sister.
"Do I have to remind you that I'm sitting right here?" Draco vocalized again but Ginny spoke over him.
"We already explained that to you," Ginny fumed, having already told her brother about Draco's and hers interactions during the war, and how they had come together again in the recent weeks and how much they connected. She didn't get into intimate details, didn't mention the flutter she felt when around Draco, but did strongly dictate their mutual affection for one another. Draco and her were both mum on the "I love you"s they had shared as well. No need to get Ron all worked up again, Draco's face couldn't take another hit.
"But, Draco Malfoy…I mean…" Ron said, a very stubborn part of his mind refusing to accept that.
"I'm sorry that I offend you so," Draco drawled; face still bruised and right eye swollen shut.
"You were terrible to my whole family while in school."
"I grew up," Draco reminded.
"You supported the Dark Lord."
"I realized the mistake in that."
"You…you are completely mental."
"I am thoroughly offended by that," Draco replied, just a touch angrier, getting the feeling from Ron that that was more than just a matter of opinion.
"Ron, please," Hermione begged, wanting so desperately for Draco to not find out what she had done so foolishly a few years back, but because she was trying so hard to not think about it, it was all her mind would focus on, and Draco's discolored face grew very tight with anger.
"You slag," he growled.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled, looking down at her lap, sincerely meaning it and hoping Draco would sense that.
"How could you?" he nearly shouted, she knowing exactly what he was talking about, everyone else in the room clueless.
"I didn't see the harm in taking a peek, and then it just came up in conversation one night…it's not like I did it to make fun of you or anything..."
"What's going on?" Ginny asked, looking between Draco and Hermione, then up to Ron who was looking a little uncomfortable as he realized the repercussions of his remark. Clearly she was the only one not in on this.
"Nothing," Hermione muttered. Ron just shook his head and Draco looked unwilling to say a word to her on the matter or explain why he was suddenly so enraged.
"No, no it isn't. Tell me!" she demanded.
"It's just a mistake I made a few years back," Hermione muttered.
"You told Potter and Ron about information that is supposed to be protected under patient-Healer law!" Draco growled.
"Hermione!" Ginny gasped in shock, not wanting to believe her friend capable of such a thing. There were few things Hermione took more seriously than her job, and rules. Laws ands honor were two of them.
"I was not your Healer; I just saw the file and couldn't resist a glance. I only then mentioned it to Harry and Ron in passing…Ron shouldn't have just said what he did; it isn't fair, or…or true."
"You basically lifted my restricted file, and told them I am mental," he accused.
"What's going on?" Ginny asked again.
"I didn't say that, I just said Azkaban had clearly been hard on you-"
"No shit it had been hard on me!"
"What? What file. Damn it, someone tell me!" Ginny demanded, looking at Draco now, wanting to know the truth and grabbing his hand tight to show that she didn't want to be jerked around. She knew he hated being called "mental" in joking, and so she could understand why he was upset at Ron calling him it now as an insult, but she had a feeling there was more to this than that, that Draco had a real reason as to why he hated being called crazy. She feared what the reason was because she had a pretty good idea.
"After I got out of Azkaban, I quietly filed for custody of my children," Draco explained, glaring at Hermione as he spoke now. "My mother was their sole guardian at the time. I was ordered to undergo a psychiatric evaluation, to see if I was fit to be their guardian after spending so many years in Azkaban and certain…instances…in my past," he said, sounding bitter, foregoing mention that the `instances' were the times he had tried to kill himself. Ginny didn't need to know about that.
"And?" Ginny asked, looking between everyone.
"And Granger here got a hold of my file and apparently told people that I failed their damn evaluation," he accused.
"You can't fail the review, you just…didn't get a really fantastic score…I didn't know why you got the test in the first place or why it was marked so confidential…"
"It was marked as such because you had no damn right to look at it, let alone tell people…"
I didn't `tell people', I just mentioned it to my two best mates when you came up in conversation. I meant it in defense of you, saying it had all be very unfair to you and that the experience -of the war and of the trial, and of the prison- had left you…damaged."
"Damaged?" he fumed. "If you are trying to make me feel better about this, Granger, you are failing miserably with your choice of wording."
"I'm sorry," she assured.
"Wait, so the tests said, what, that you are crazy or something?" Ginny asked, looking at Draco, and then everyone else.
"Go ahead, Granger, tell her, you have told everyone else," Draco fumed, crossing his arms to leave Ginny's hand abandoned.
"I have not, I have only told Ron and Harry-"
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" he snapped.
"I'm sorry-"
"No you're not," he accused.
"What did the tests say?" Ginny asked again, speaking over Draco and Hermione's bickering, needing to know. Hermione looked away and Draco answered for her.
"They decided I was unfit to have sole custody of my children. I share it, with my mother, but she is still considered the primary caregiver. I was deemed `emotionally unstable'," he said bitterly.
"They?" she questioned but no one answered. `They' were Healers, probably, or the Ministry. "They said that? That's not true, or fair," she said, reaching up to unfold Draco's arms so she could hold his hand tight. She didn't think he was `emotionally unstable'…he was terribly angsty maybe, and he had a nasty temper, and he seemed awfully depressed and insecure…but that didn't mean he was crazy! She had seen him with his children, he was a wonderful dad! Draco was comforted by how Ginny felt on the matter, and squeezed her hand tight. Hermione didn't jump in to add her assurances that Draco was not crazy and Ginny turned to glare.
"You really do think he's crazy," Ginny barked.
"No, Gin…"
"Don't tell lies, Granger," Draco warned.
"Draco, I know what you went through-"
"Do you now?" he snapped.
"I was tortured too," she said, finally getting a little heated.
"Oh, right, you got to suffer the Cruciatus for, what, twenty minutes, once in your life? Poor you. Try suffering it for longer, try several times a day, for weeks…months! You were just made to talk; I was being punished, punished for things that were never my fault! I was tortured until I went temporarily blind from the stress, I was tortured until my muscles cramped up in the worst charley horse imaginable and I could not walk!" he shouted, well, not really shouted since Ginny had heard shouting before (her mother could shout), but the closest to shouting she had heard Draco get yet. She had known Draco was tortured during the war, but she had had no idea how much or when, or why. She knew you could go mad from it after a while, the mind only able to take so much. Is that what happened? Had Draco been tortured to…insanity? Or just to the brink of it?
"Draco…"
"Fuck you, Granger," Draco growled, the glasses on the coffee table at their knees all popping in small explosions of glass and water. Ron jumped in.
"None of us faired too well in the department of mental stability after the war…hey, look at me, I have been in therapy for years," Ron said, placing his hands on his chest for a moment as emphasis, "but it doesn't matter, one way or another," he said, talking fast as though to move over that point quickly. "The problem before us is, Mum and Dad are gonna kill you," he said, trying to move the conversation past that little hitch they just had, feeling responsible for how badly this had all turned. He may have hated Malfoy, but he kind of felt bad for bringing such a thing up when Ginny had clearly not known. That was a blow lower than he -despite how mad he was- would have gone intentionally.
"I'll talk to them," Ginny sighed.
"I should go with you," Draco said and everyone stared at him.
"No, no," Ginny said, shaking her head. "I wouldn't put you in that situation, not the first time I talked to them on it," she said squeezing his hand.
"You were here when I told my mother," he argued, implying that no one could be as scary as his mother.
"True, but your mother does not yell, there is only one of her, and she is not allowed to use magic," she reasoned and he nodded, seeing her point. As scary as his mother was, there was only one of her, she didn't scream, and she hadn't turned anyone into a ferret and bounced them around the room. Draco shuddered at the thought, well, memory.
Hermione and Ron left, and Ginny kissed Draco goodbye. Everyone was preparing for an all out explosion of furry of Molly-proportion. Ginny would have a talk with her mother, Ron and Hermione hiding a safe distance away, to only come in once the initial borage of shouts and hexes had subsided.
With Hermione and Ron gone first Draco kissed Ginny deeply and at length before she left, somehow fearful that this would be their last opportunity to be together. Surely no one was going to die, and only tears (not blood) would be shed over this, but still, Draco knew, with all he was about to do with Sebastian, and Ginny's fallout with her family, combined with Reamann…they might not have an opportunity to be with each other for a while. His kissed her passionately and when she pulled away they held hands, their touch lingering for as long as possible as she backed up slowly before she Disapparated away once their fingertips parted.
Draco pressed his lips together, feeling a little incomplete now, and heaved a heavy sigh. He should get dressed and wrapped up and see Reamann, talk to him like he had offered, but he feared coming face to face with him again. His face couldn't take another encounter that night.
What made him think Reamann would listen to him? Nothing, but he didn't want Reamann yelling at Ginny, or fingering him in the case before he could go to the Ministry in the morning and deal with all that.
Draco was standing there, feeling conflicted, and the phone rang.
He blinked.
He limped over to it and picked it up slowly, uncertain of what to expect.
"Malfoy," he said.
"Go eat something, right now," Ginny scolded over the phone and Draco smiled, feeling light again. With all the distraction of Hermione and then Ron showing up, Ginny had forgotten that she had set out to make sure Draco ate something. Apparently, home now, she remembered, and her concern was forceful and though she sounded grumpy, it made him smile to know she cared that much.
"Yes dear," he laughed, actually flopping down on the couch to talk with Ginny for a bit, just glad to hear her voice, assuring her that he would get something to eat the moment he got off the phone with her.
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"Draco, this is not what you want," Snape argued.
"How do YOU know what I want?" Draco snapped, knowing he could block his feelings from being read, even by Snape.
They were standing in that dark alley, just after Snape had pulled Draco out of the Muggle pub where he had been dropped off by that kind Muggle man. It was late evening, full dark, and it was only hours since Draco had received the Dark Mark, and only a night after the events of the Astronomy tower. It seemed like weeks, months, had passed since he was last sitting in class at Hogwarts…not days.
"Draco, you were boastful at the start of the year, like you had something to prove. I saw that waver in you, I watched you become more and more desperate as time went by with each of your failed attempts at killing…Dumbledore," he said as Draco shook his head. "The Dark Lord had such a lack of faith in you as time pressed on that he went from offering this task to you like a reward and a chance to redeem your family name and prove your loyalties, to having to threaten your family to see to it that you got it done. In the end you did not deliver."
"He is going to kill my mother, he is…"
"Draco, no."
"He is! I took the Dark Mark to save her, but what good will that do? The Dark Lord doesn't trust me! He thinks I'm weak, he thinks…" he sobbed, feeling helpless, hopeless, weak. It was true; he had been boastful at first. Recovering from the initial shock and despair of learning of his condition, he had turned to proving himself a true and faithful follower of the Dark Lord to compensate. He had been more than willing to brag, and boast, and imply that he had already been allowed into the Dark Lord's followers, even though he had not -for security reasons- gotten the Mark. His task would have been foiled before its start if someone had discovered such a thing on him.
He had compensated for his feeling of nausea every time he realized he was a werewolf, not a Human, not anymore, by being more smug and confident than ever. No one saw through that, no one could tell what had happened…except Dumbledore. Even Harry Potter snooping around in his business all year hadn't uncovered his plans. Sure, Dumbledore had known he was sick from the moment he had entered the school, but that had served useful. He disregarded all of Potter's suspicions and accusations all year, thinking Harry would only discover him, Draco, trying to hide his illness rather than the Dark Lord's plot. The old fool had been unwilling to give Potter an honest listen and ended up helping keep the Dark Lord's plot secret and uninterrupted, and made it possible for Draco to kill him…except he hadn't killed him…
Draco had every intention of doing just as the Dark Lord asked of him, every intention of pleasing the Dark Lord and bringing him glory…until he realized just what the stakes were, and just what it was he was being asked of.
It had all fallen apart long before that confrontation on the Astronomy tower. What Snape said was true; the Dark Lord had resorted to threatening his family to see to it that his task was done. Voldemort couldn't offer him to Greyback, but he had used the werewolf as intimidation as well, that being why seeing him that night with the Death Eaters had startled him so.
Now the Dark Lord had him Marked, but he still didn't trust him.
He had trapped himself, with no way out but to do the Dark Lord's bidding to the best of his ability, hiding his true feelings of ambivalence.
Snape could sense Draco's uncertainty though, despite Draco's attempts to hide it as they stood there together, alone, and he proceeded to confide something quite revealing.
"You are NOT a spy for the Order," Draco barked, unwilling to allow the man another word on the matter.
"Draco," Snape attempted to explain.
"No, you killed Dumbledore, I…I watched you!"
"Dumbledore knew what he was doing. He knew he was dying that night, by someone's hand or that potion he drank," he explained his actions from the night before.
"What potion," Draco demanded. Dumbledore had looked ill, but he had had no idea it was because of a potion.
"Draco-"
"No! This is some kind of trick, a test devised by the Dark Lord to see where my loyalties lie. I will NOT be fooled into crossing him! I will not do anything that could bring harm to my mother."
"Draco-"
"No!" he shouted, turning to walk away, towards the Muggle street from which he had been dragged. He couldn't listen to this. He had just been Marked, he was a Death Eater now, whether he regretted it or not, and if this was a test he couldn't show weakness. But if what Snape was saying was somehow true, he was seriously screwed, but it was too late. Draco knew he had no options, he just had to do what he must from here on out to protect his mother and father and Butler Paul: those whom he loved.
"Dumbledore asked me to look out for you," Snape called after him.
"He did no such thing," Draco shouted over his shoulder as he walked.
"Dumbledore was a skilled Legilimens, like I, like you are becoming. In that moment before I did…what I had to do…he confided in me memories, thoughts, feelings, and orders. I HAD to kill him, on his orders, to maintain appearances," he said, holding a pleading hand out to the boy.
"This is just a clever lie!"
"He told me of the offer he made you; he sees GOOD in you Draco."
"He saw WEAKNESS that he could exploit!" Draco snapped bitterly, remembering the Dark Lord's words to him after being Marked, remembering how serious the man was about not wanting to be disappointed again.
"Don't let the Dark Lord's opinions of you dictate how you see yourself, Draco," Snape warned, knowing Draco had always drawn his self-worth from other's opinions of him, and the praise he received. The boy lacked confidence when alone, and that was why he had always kept "friends" around to boost his poise, that was why he had failed while on that rooftop, that rooftop where he had been alone. He knew this, and it hurt something in him to see Draco now, so broken up because he had no one to boast him up, because everyone was looking down on him for having failed at his task.
"Dumbledore cares not for me."
"Dumbledore saw something honorable in you. He asked me to take care of you, believing you vital to the Dark Lord's downfall."
"Vital to his downfall?" Draco repeated bitterly. "I just pledged myself to that man!" he argued in desperate frustration, turning back on Snape and limping towards him quickly to be up in his face, his left ankle still hurting. "I guess your senile old professor was wrong about me," he scathed and Snape glared.
"Don't you dare talk about Albus Dumbledore with such complete disrespect," he shouted and Draco recoiled a little. "And do not stand here, telling me you joined the Dark Lord's ranks out of any sort of free will or desire to serve."
"The Mark cannot be given to the unwilling," Draco tried to argue though it was weak and hardly convincing with his quivering voice and fretful hands.
"It can not be forced upon someone, but agreeing to it, and wanting it, are two very different things."
"You do not know how I feel!"
"You feel lost."
"Stay out of my mind!" Draco shouted, stepping back and no longer looking Snape in the eyes so Snape could not look into him any deeper.
"I did not have to force my way into your thoughts to know how you feel, Draco, it's apparent on your face, and in your eyes. It's why the Dark Lord doesn't trust you. As closed off as you are, as skilled an Occlumens you are, your eyes give you away completely. You look uncertain."
"I am not uncertain! I know EXACTLY what I want to do!" he shouted from feet away.
"And what is that?" Snape asked, sounding a little patronizing.
"Protect my mother and father," he answered.
"I can help you, the Order can help you," Snape offered.
"No one can help me, no one."
"Draco, you have to trust me."
"Trust you? You? I don't even know whose bloody side you're on! Are you with the Order of the Phoenix? I don't know! Are you with the Death Eaters? I had thought so! Are you my friend and mentor, or are you a pawn of the Dark Lord sent to test me? I have no idea! I can't trust you, I can't trust ANYBODY!"
"Draco, the whole world isn't against you-"
"They are NOW! The Ministry will see me dead, the Order thinks I assisted in the murder of their beloved leader, I have pitted myself against Harry Potter since we were boys, I am sick, and now I am a Marked Death Eater! Who the hell would trust me, even if I did surrender to the Order and express some sort of repentance and desire to assist?" he demanded, voice cracking a little as he refused to cry, revealing like nothing in his eyes ever could, just how helpless he truly felt right then, and just how young he truly was.
"Draco, you can't give in and just accept things as hopeless. It is only hopeless if you are unwilling to expend hope. The second you hope for something better the situation is not hopeless, just difficult."
"Difficult? Difficult? This is NOT difficult, Severus, this is impossible and unbearable! I am trapped."
"The Dark Lord has made it so! He backed you into a corner and made it so you would have no options but to serve him. You fell right into his plans, doing exactly what he was expecting of you," Snape said, explaining why the Dark Lord had smiled and seemed so pleased when Draco had pledged himself to him and taken the Dark Mark. Draco had done just as he had predicted, just what he had wanted…no wonder he had been pleased and so amused. Little brought the Dark Lord so much pleasure than manipulating others and causing them to crumble. Oh how much amusement he had undoubtedly found in Draco.
Draco just looked away, his cut cheek and bloody clothing robbing him of his once so prideful appearance and dignity. In that dirty Muggle alley Draco looked piteous.
"I swore to your mother that I would protect you," Snape went on to say then.
"Well, you're swearing all sorts of things to everybody now aren't you?" Draco snapped but recoiled as Snape raised his hand as though to backhand him but didn't, just held his hand up as though in warning.
"I have always admired your sassiness, but there is a time and place for it," he barked and Draco backed down some. "Your mother had me perform an Unbreakable Vow over the summer of last. She had me promise to protect you to the best of my ability,"
"Bang-up job you have been doing too! I am just peachy with YOU looking after me!" he said sarcastically but his head snapped to the side with the slap from Snape.
"I will not warn you to watch you sass again," he said smoothly, knowing Draco was frustrated but knowing also that Draco could not let slip such brazenness with the Dark Lord, or any Death Eater for that matter, and expect to live long. He felt bad for striking the boy, but he had promised Narcissa he would protect Draco, and this was a harsh means of protecting him, from himself.
"I was to guide and look after you-"
"That why you were nosing in on me all year?" Draco interrupted, left hand cupping his pink cheek, eyes angry but tone under control now.
"And to complete your task for you should you fail," Snape finished. Draco blinked.
"I thought you said Dumbledore told you to…"
"He did, but I was also bound by your mother's wish. If I did anything less I would have died, if I did anything but look after you now, I will still die."
"Assuming what you tell me now is true, about you and my mother, then you are here to save your OWN arse, not because you care about me."
"Draco, no, you know that is not true. You are like family to me, you know this," Snape said, urging Draco to sense the truth in his words.
"How can I trust you?" Draco said, once again. "You are serving the Dark Lord, you are serving the Order, you are bound by my mother, you are doing as Dumbledore asked, you care about me, you don't want to die…" he shouted, frustrated, not sure what to believe.
"I know I seem rather ambiguous, but, Draco-"
"Ambiguous? Ambiguous doesn't even BEGIN to cover it!"
"Draco, listen to me-"
"No, this is a trick, and one I will not fall for!"
Snape sighed. Draco was clearly too upset to reason with at the moment, and he had to admit, his involvement with all sides and current and recent events was difficult to keep straight.
"I have orders from the Dark Lord," he said sadly and Draco looked up at him with frightened eyes. "I was sent to look for you, and if you will not accept my offer and aid, then I will simply pass on his message and be on my way," he said calmly.
"Wait, you were telling the truth?" Draco questioned, lost and scared.
"Your first assignment from the Dark Lord is recruiting."
"Recruiting?"
"You will be gathering followers."
"But, how, I…?"
"You don't have to do this…" Snape pressed one last time.
"I can't turn on him now, not now, not after I have tied myself to him. He would know, he would kill me, he would kill my family."
"Then you will be burning down the homes and threatening the lives of women and children to pressure others to join the Dark Lord and his ranks. You have fun with that," Snape said harshly.
"What do you WANT from me?" Draco demanded, this not being the first or last time he would mutter these words to someone before the war is over.
"For you to make a choice between what is easy, and what is right, to realize your life is in your OWN hands, not the hands of everyone else. You can control your own destiny and not be a pawn for the rest of your time here on earth," Snape said softly.
"I…I can't," Draco said, backing up. "I can't," he whispered, shaking his head, turning, and then fleeing from his onetime mentor and sort of father figure. He couldn't take his life into his own hands, he had never been in such control before, and too much was riding on it. This wasn't just growing up and gaining a little responsibility, his mother's life, his father's life, Butler Paul's life, they all hinged on him and the decisions he makes and his choices. What choices? Draco was not sure, but all he knew was he didn't have time to find himself, or learn what it is he wanted so badly, other than to hide.
Draco woke to find himself curled up on his couch. He had fallen asleep after getting off the phone with Ginny. They had talked for what seemed like hours, and she had yawned one last time, told him she loved him one last time, and finally gone to bed. Draco had been ready to get up, make himself something to eat like he had promised he would, and go to bed himself, but he got as far as tipping over on the couch so as to reach the phone base on the floor and hang up before sleep gripped him.
Shaking his head to rid himself of the memories he had woken to, he stood with a stiff groan. He leaned on his cane and started walking towards the kitchen, but it was so far. His bedroom was closer.
Draco whined to himself and looked between his two options. Ginny wanted him to eat; his body wanted him to sleep. True, probably, it wouldn't mind if he had a spot of nosh, and he really would have been more than willing to oblige, if moving didn't hurt so damn bad and if his head weren't pounding something nauseatingly fierce.
Draco took a deep breath and went to his bedroom. Clarissa was in her own bed, his mother in Michelangelo's, so he was able to just crouch down, tip onto his mattress, and fall asleep fully-dressed still. He was feeling too nauseous from his headache to keep anything down anyways, that's what he told himself. He would eat in the morning, that's what he promised himself.
The autumn months between the death of Dumbledore, and the final battle in December, Harry Potter spent traveling around and collecting and destroying Horcruxes while Draco spent them serving the Dark Lord who was growing more and more furious with the destruction of each of his soul's vessels. He was trying to stop Potter, of course, but he was taking that anger out on his followers, despite their faithful services. Draco was a recruiter, with several others, and he had done well, but the Dark Lord still punished him often, for things that could not in any way be perceived as his fault.
Draco, through great mental fortitude, remained pitiless and calm through all the trials he had endured and all the tasks he had performed, but he could sense this precipice forming in his mind, a fracture that grew each time he was abused or saw something terrible. He feared what he would find if he were to look over that edge in his mind, and clung to whatever sanity he had left. He felt like he was losing his mind, and it was scary.
How many people had he hurt in the name of the Dark Lord to protect his family? He just simply did not think about it.
That night, in late October, Draco sat atop his white horse, black cloak draped over him and the backend of his steed, ghostly pale mask in place as well as hood to conceal his identity as he called out to the occupants of the house before him.
"Come out, in the name of the Dark Lord," he shouted firmly as his horse stepped fretfully to the right some on the manicured front lawn. Death Eaters stood around him, mostly those recently recruited, holding torches. It turned out there were plenty willing the serve the Dark Lord…the second a wand was pointed at their child's head and a torch was held to their belongings. The Ministry had fallen months ago, internally overrun by Death Eaters, supporters of blood purity, and those possessed to do the Dark Lord's bidding. The Dark Lord now ruled by controlling all those in power, promising relief, and to those caught in such precarious situations at the hands of the Death Eaters, his offers seemed fair enough.
Now they gathered outside the home of yet another family, calling them out to join them or face certain death, just like others had done to them at some point. It was desperate times, and though they felt dirty, they lacked any faith in the Order to protect their families. They had to do it themselves, and they had to do what they must.
Draco sat atop his horse, above the caped and masked men and women around him, feeling much the same way when it came to protecting his family, but no one would have known that by how he held and conducted himself. He had moved up in the ranks since summer and his initiation into the Dark Lord's followers and he was the picture of faithfulness and fortitude. He was in command that night, and those in the house feared him despite their firm stand.
"We will not be intimidated by that foul Lord of yours!" a man declared, his voice drifting from inside the house. An unnatural fog billowed around the knees of those out on the street. Muggles and all those not intimately part of the scene were unaware of what was happening. The Dark Lord's ability to cast such powerful Influence Charms was fastly becoming legend.
"Join us, or die," Draco called smoothly, almost taunting.
"We support the Order of the Phoenix, Muggleborns, and Harry Potter!" the family within the home shouted out to them.
Draco looked very intently at the parted curtains where the family was shouting from. He stared unmoving at them with his pitiless grey eyes through his mask as he drew his wand from his inner-robe pocket and the man and woman gasped, pulling their son of no more than eight or nine back to protect him, them both knowing what was to come.
Draco pointed his wand into the sky and called out "Morsmordre" as a violent orb of green light erupted from the tip of his wand and shot up into the sky above the house, it exploding like a firecracker, the dust and smoke and sparkles forming the dreaded Dark Mark.
"Bring them out," Draco ordered the Death Eaters that surrounded him. The masked witches and wizards rushed past Draco, their torches held aloft, when suddenly, whistling objects cut through the air, into them, around them, causing the Death Eaters to all duck and look around and take cover. The family apparently had magical defenses around their home that were likely triggered by the dark spell.
Draco's horse reared back in a neigh of fright as arrows landed all around them, sticking in the ground with dull thuds, and the tree beside him with harsh whacks, and that sudden rearing jerk caused Draco to catch one in his left shoulder. He was thrown from his horse to land on the grass, his eyes wide at the pain he could not quite register yet. He looked down at the arrow that was protruding from his upper chest where it met his left shoulder, and just stared for a moment. Reaching up with a shaking right hand, Draco gripped it firmly at the base and pulled it out, causing pain to erupt from the wound more than before but him remaining silent in his shock still that he was hurt. He scrambled backwards up onto his feet, throwing the arrow down as though it burned him, still staring at it, his shoulder bleeding freely, his mask on the ground amongst the orange leaves where it had dropped when he fell.
"Are you alright, Malfoy?" a still masked Death Eater asked, looking concerned as Draco attempted to recover his composure.
"Drag them out here," Draco ordered, voice not as firm as he would have liked it as he hoisted himself up onto his horse. He sat there, having left bloody handprints on his steed's white neck.
The family was removed from their home, the Dark Mark looming in the night sky above the burning shell of a home. The family, clearly in support of the Order, was led off to be "dealt with" by others that were higher than Draco and more practiced in getting information out of the disinclined and reluctant. Draco was thankful such a task did not fall onto him because he did not want to deal with them himself, no matter how wounded his body, and pride, were. He just did not have a stomach for torture and had been forced to perform that curse too many times, just too many times.
"A true Death Eater would have killed that family on the spot for having wounded them," Snape said coolly as he leaned against the tree, Draco's horse turning in surprise so that Draco had to swivel his head around to look at the man as he spoke.
"I am a true Death Eater," he said, angry at the implied accusation as his horse came around in full turn.
"Oh, you have been behaving, truly, like your father's son, and we have all been impressed, but I am not as easily fooled as everyone else, and neither is the Dark Lord. You have yet to kill anyone," he said, still leaning so calmly.
"You both know how utterly useless I am when it comes to such a thing," Draco retorted, though not proud of the admission like most people would be.
"That hasn't changed at all in these long, violent months?" Snape mocked and Draco's eyes fell away.
Snape looked at Draco's lost face as Draco tried to look anywhere but at him and felt such pity. He could see Draco closing things off, hushing up what feelings that were eating away at him so as to deal, or more accurately not deal, with all that was happening.
"A part of you on the inside is crying out for something meaningful, Draco. If you continue to repress it, it will consume and destroy you," he warned, his prediction ominous.
"You don't know-"
"I have seen it before," he said, cutting the boy off firmly but not elaborating on that either. "Don't lock parts of yourself away so that you cannot fully appreciate the horrors of your actions. It may make it easier to deal with them at the present, but they will devour you and tear apart your soul in time. You will be no better than Lord Voldemort in the end, his soul in taters, you left as something less than human."
"I am less than human," Draco replied flatly, bitter, trying to hide the shudder that had swept through his body with the utterance of the Dark Lord's name.
"You are buying into Greyback's teachings now, Draco. You are suppressing your conscience, your sense of right and wrong, because thinking like a beast doesn't leave you with guilt or questions. You have no sense of responsibility if you just follow orders of another, but this will all catch up with you in the end," he said cryptically.
"I do not intend of living long enough for that to become an issue," Draco confessed but hollowly, almost as though accepting and unbothered by it. Snape's eyes widened just a touch and Draco nodded and turned away. The leaves were falling, and even in the darkness of night, their beautiful color burned alive for a moment while caught in the streetlamp's light. It contrasted the conversation set among them dramatically.
"Draco, listen to me…"
"Can't you just leave me alone?" Draco snapped.
"Sorry, I really can't. Remember, should I fail in protecting you to the best of my ability, I will die."
"I'm sorry I'm such a burden," Draco said bitterly.
"I care for you more than this, more than the mandate of the Unbreakable Vow that I made with-"
"Save it. What do you want from me?" Draco demanded, cutting Snape off, his horse turning again, slowly this time as Draco continued to bleed.
"The Dark Lord would like a word with you," he said.
"A word, with me? Why?"
"I cannot tell you what I do not know."
"Did he sound displeased?" Draco himself sounding panicked as he asked.
"Does he ever sound pleased?"
"Oh god," Draco breathed, holding his shoulder, fearing the Dark Lord more than his wound at the moment. Was it mortal? Would he die? The blood was rushing so quickly with every beat of his frantic heart.
"Need me to look at that?" Snape offered.
"Stay back," Draco nearly shouted, pulling his horse backwards in the fog. His blood was a curse; he wouldn't let anyone touch him, not even Snape whom he did not fully trust.
"Draco-"
"He is angry with me, isn't he," Draco fretted, nervous, scared. Anyone would be scared in his position.
"I don't know."
"What do you THINK?" Draco demanded.
"I think he will not like having to wait for you as you sit here and ask me impossible questions," Snape retorted. Draco looked at him with wide eyes but nodded, agreeing. "You shouldn't present yourself to the Dark Lord wounded, it will not impress him," Snape warned, throwing Draco something before Disapparating from the spot. Draco caught the object reflexively from years of playing Quidditch. He looked down at his hand to see what he held and saw a small vial. A potion…to heal him no doubt…if Draco could trust Snape not to poison him that is.
Everything in him told Draco not to take it, he couldn't trust that man, yet he threw it back with his eyes crushed closed. If he died, what would it matter?
He needed to get to the Dark Lord as soon as possible, and he knew where to find the man. Draco turned his horse and left it with a remaining Death Eater to be minded to while Draco gathered up his fallen mask and Disapparated away from that Muggle street, far, far away, to a hollow where a tall, dark castle stood and the Dark Lord resided through all these months of fighting and Horcrux searching.
The war was not really a war, not yet. There were no battles and little fighting. The Death Eaters were gathering followers and their hostilities had been little more than brief bursts of chaotic mayhem, meant to intimidate and cause maximum destruction while keeping the wizarding world on edge and the Order of the Phoenix preoccupied while the Ministry fell. It was working, and the Order was left guessing as to what to expect next, but even without much fighting and dueling, Draco was already warn out and tired. He had grown numb to the violence, but it was a humming numbness, a feeling that gave him the impression that it was merely containing something else, a much larger and crippling emotion. Draco feared what the Dark Lord would see within him should he present himself to him in this state of…uncertainty, as Snape so eloquently put it.
Apparating on the spot, Draco rushed down the narrow stone corridors, not quite running but his quickened pace causing his robes to billow out behind him as he moved. He did not have to knock, he was expected, so Draco just heaved the door open with a firm push that made his still healing shoulder ache. He hurried into the room, not taking in anything around him, just reaching the center of the stone throne room quickly and falling to his knees submissively, head bowed.
"Ah, littlest of Malfoys," Lord Voldemort's voice hissed at him in a taunting way.
"My Lord," Draco groveled, hiding away all fear, all nervousness.
"You come quickly," he praised and Draco almost wanted to look up at the man, knowing no praise came without heavy mocking. "You have served me well these last few months."
"I only wish to please you," Draco assured.
"Yet you lie and lie…I grow tired of it, boy," he sighed and Draco dared a very brief glance up.
"My Lord?"
"You have so many things you would like to do above pleasing me, so do not lie to me. Though I sense no dishonesty in you, I can see it in those beautiful little eyes of yours, so save your breath," he warned, not sounding angry and Draco knowing that in of itself was warning enough of the Dark Lord's temper.
"Have I not pleased you, my Lord? Have I not done what you have asked of me?"
"Oh, no, you have done all that I have asked, followed my orders without question," he said. Draco knew not to ask "then what's wrong?" and so he waited, hoping the Dark Lord would explain himself, though knowing he rarely did. Draco feared he would be beaten and tortured without knowing the true reason why. It had happened so many times in the past, he almost expected it now, but that did not mean he did not fear and dread it. The Dark Lord's punishments were terrible, and his mind could not take much more.
"You took the Dark Mark out of fear, with the desire to protect that lovely mother of yours," he went on to say and Draco dared not deny or interrupt the Dark Lord. "You have since proven yourself steadfast and loyal, and your mother has become scarce to find," he said.
"I wish to please you and protect my mother-"
"I think you wish to protect you mother by pleasing me."
"This troubles you, my Lord?"
"You serve me out of fear, not loyalty."
"As do all who we have recruited for you, my Lord," Draco pointed out and the Dark Lord froze for a second. He looked down at Draco and Draco remained tense, waiting for the torturing curse to strike him for having let slip such a retort. After a moment and it didn't, he looked up. He saw the Dark Lord throw his pale, bald head back and laugh, laugh loud and abruptly and Draco was confused.
"Stand, stand my boy," he laughed, waving his hand at Draco in a welcoming way. "Come here. You dare speak back to me, and yet, you are right! You fear me, as do all my servants," he laughed. Draco was standing slowly, not sure he wanted to take the Dark Lord's offer to come closer, given his past experiences in being is such proximity of the man.
"Come here, come here, I will not bite," he laughed in his hissing way, holding his hand out to Draco. Draco stepped over to him, carefully, and for the first time looked around the room and took in all else who were in there with him. There were several other masked Death Eaters in the room, the Dark Lord preferring that all his servants be masked while in his presence unless being addressed specifically, like Draco was now. He seemed to enjoy the ambiance, or something, like a court befitting the castle they were in now. Draco could see Thestrals tethered in the corner, from the once "empty" black iron chains. Draco knew they had never been empty, only that he had been far too innocent once to see what was truly there. Not anymore.
"I am not angry with you because you have in any way served me poorly," he assured, though now sounding considerably less amused.
"But you are angry with me," Draco said, not making it a question.
"Oh yes," the Dark Lord answered solemnly, nodding slowly as he snaked a thin arm around Draco to hold him to his left side tight, in a gesture that would have been fatherly, if his hand did not rub up and down Draco's upper arm slowly, making Draco nearly cringe and shiver a little. The Dark Lord was not accustomed to friendly gestures, and his attempts always came across too mechanical, and too eager. Draco didn't want the man touching him but dared not pull away and insult the man's efforts.
"You see," he went on to explain, a little, "It's not that you have served me poorly, but too well. I can sense no deception or lies in you, but you advanced so quickly in your Occlumency that even I don't feel that I can extend complete trust to you," he said.
"My Lord, I assure you, my loyalties are with you! I have proven this time and time again. You know where I am of every minute of every day, I have brought you countless servants and followers, I have helped the Ministry to fall, I have guarded your secrets and your body, I have never questioned your orders, I-"
"I know, I know, you have been wonderful, a perfect servant," he smiled. Draco looked up at him, still hugged so the much taller man's side, Voldemort's hand still stroking his arm. Draco had endured a lot to prove his loyalties to the Dark Lord, things that made him fight not to puke while standing in the Dark Lord's embrace, and yet the Dark Lord was angry? Draco would have been angry himself over this if he could manage to not be so terrified. "But, see, I do not believe in perfection, certainly not from the likes of you…and you did not come to me, join my ranks, so willingly, eager to serve so sincerely."
"My Lord," Draco tried to cut in but Voldemort just gripped his arm bruising tight and Draco said not another word.
"I can't help but feel that, with your Occlumency protecting you, that you are serving me only as a means to buy time, to find a way out of my ranks," he said, sounding wounded and sad. Draco knew this display of emotion not to be true. The Dark Lord was only teasing, leading up to the moment when he would start torturing him, all the while mocking that it all hurt him more to have to do it. Draco's heart was pounding in his chest as he silently and urgently shook his head no, futilely trying to assure the Dark Lord otherwise.
"I know my followers serve me, my servants follow me, out of fear…just like you said, and I like that, I like that you so clearly fear me boy," he said and Draco swallowed hard. "But I can't trust you, and since I do not understand your motives…I do not understand this love you have for your mother…I cannot trust your intentions of following me so completely."
"My Lord, please," Draco begged. He looked from the Dark Lord that held him so close, to the Death Eaters that moved and caught his eye. He watched them as they parted and revealed a man, a man who was elderly but not old, kneeling on the floor, bleeding and bruises, gagged and bound. Draco recognized him and immediately tried to run to him, but the Dark Lord held him tight, now standing behind Draco and holding both his upper arms before yanking him back against his chest.
"Paul!" Draco called out to the man, Butler Paul unable to make a sound.
"Your mother, like I said, is scarce at the moment, but you love more than just her. I do not understand this love to which you adhere, I have used it time and time again to exploit and manipulate so many, you are no acceptation. It is a powerful thing, I'll give you that, but such a clear and defined weakness, I just…I don't know why anyone would succumb to it."
"What are you going to do? I have served you, it is what you WANTED!" Draco said in near hysterics as he struggled against the Dark Lord's grip from behind him. He was pulled against the Dark Lord's chest and held tight, one of the man's cold hands holding Draco's chin firmly so that Draco would be unable to look away.
"I want you to serve me, and not just because you fear what I will do to you, or that dear, sweet, mummy of yours. I want you to serve me knowing that you have so much more in your life to lose than just her, and I want you to know that there is no way you could protect it all, protect them all, if you should try and run."
"I don't want to run, please, don't do this," Draco begged, knowing he did not want to see whatever it was the Dark Lord had is store for him, or for Butler Paul. He had denied Snape time and time again. He thought it had been a test, he thought the Dark Lord was seeing if he would try to escape if given the chance. He hadn't tried, not once! He had told Snape off and refused him! He thought the Dark Lord wanted that! Maybe, just maybe, what Snape had said is the truth. The Dark Lord didn't trust him, but it all hadn't been a test? Snape had been telling the truth and he, Draco, had passed up his only opportunity to get away from the Dark Lord and protect his family!
Draco felt sick.
His pride had done this, and Butler Paul was now the one paying for it.
"I'm sorry, Master Draco, I'm sorry…" Butler Paul started to sob upon having his gagged removed, the corners of his mouth bloody from the rope burn. He was still bounded and on his knees.
"Please, please," Draco begged, knowing it was no good, knowing he was actually probably fuelling the Dark Lord's desire to do this as he proved how much the older man meant to him, but Draco could not help it, could not restrain himself as his heart pounded in his throat and the Dark Lord held him there.
Draco was forced to watch, and listen, and endure, as Butler Paul was blinded before him, eyes ruined and seared shut, all the while the Dark Lord reminded Draco that he could not fight him. Draco felt his mind as well as heart and spirit breaking. This was too much.. His mind bent like a sapling but then go beyond its point of resistance and it snapped rather uncleanly.
Draco stared with wide, shocked, tear-filled eyes as he felt all his emotion drain out of him rapidly like the split in him was literal, like a crack in the bottom of a basin of water. Draco was left standing there, damaged, for the first time feeling like he couldn't just push this all aside and not deal with it.
Draco woke with a gasping start, instantly sitting up from his bed, causing his vision to swim in and out and his sore body to ache from the overly fast and sudden movement. He was panting, and sweating, and crying, as he flung his arms out as though to fight off the hold the Dark Lord had had on him and to rush towards Paul. It took Draco a few terrifying and confused moments to realize that he was just sitting alone in his bed, not in the hands of the Dark Lord, not in the presence of his screaming and blinded mentor, not at that point in his life where he would never again be the same or whole.
Draco felt the need to puke, or more accurately, he felt like he was going to puke and there was not a thing he could do to stop it. Draco curled his knees up to his chest where he buried his face in them, arms hugging his head there, and cried. He cried big heavy warm tears that made his face instantly sopping, the sweat contributing some. Draco rocked and cried, and moaned with his tears, that memory being one that he never wanted to visit again. It was because of Ron that he remembered it. Ron calling him mental had been what brought about that specific memory, the time when Draco -if he were in fact crazy- would have surely gone over the brink. He knew something in him had broken that night, and he had never been the same after that, but he wasn't crazy…he wasn't!
It was four-thirty in the morning, and he had only gotten about two hours of sleep, and though he was exhausted still, sleep had been chased far from him.
"Fuck," he gasped, putting to words so eloquently how he felt.
He needed to get up anyways, for work, so Draco suppressed as a means of moving past his rough arousal. He whipped his lower face forcefully, as though angry with his tears for having surfaced, and sniffed back all his distress to be as calm as ever if not a touch moody, angry with himself, and Ron, and Granger, and himself…definitely himself.
Draco's head ached something fierce. He felt like he had smacked it hard, but in reality, he had only been punched twice…really hard. Reamann's had been harsh, Ron's had been devastating. Hermione, as a means of possibly making herself feel better, had offered to heal him, but Draco had refused. She had attempted to heal his right eye some, so that it was not still busted and red, and swollen nearly shut, but after getting one or two very dog-like -and thusly embarrassing- yips of pain to escape him in her efforts, he told her, quite simply, to fuck off. She had removed the swelling and some of the horror of his right eye, but he was still bruised, and incredibly sore.
Black sunglasses would distract from the purple skin, but the bruises far exceeded the reach of the lenses, so Draco left his hair down and hood up, hoping that no stray photographers would be waiting to pounce and snap a picture of him looking roughed up. It would only go too perfectly with their on-going coverage and commentary of his personal life.
He didn't eat either; he was just not feeling up to it.
He stopped by Clarissa's room, to scoop her up into a hug as she slept and gave her a kiss on the forehead. He needed her closeness and assurance her warmth gave him. It was going to be a long day.
The Muggle street entrance for visitors was vacant, as was typical, and he rode down on the lift alone. Upon entering the Atrium at nearly five AM sharp, it was nearly empty, like always. Draco felt relieved by that. He could limp down to the Hall of Records unbothered, but unfortunately, he wouldn't be able to linger down there all day like he would have preferred. He needed to talk to Reamann, about Ginny, about the case, about getting him to not turn him in on his suspicion…and that meant he would have to go up to see Reamann, at his office, where other people would see him. Draco doubted his Legilimency would be able to shield him from their wondering eyes today. Surely people would be thinking about him, and not just in passing. His mushy and bruised brain did not help either.
Sebastian and he had an agreement, but that did not mean Sebastian would go out of his way to undo the damage he had already caused for Draco. It was basically left up to Draco to do damage control and keep the case from busting wide-open over him and have the Ministry do a full-on investigation. He would have to get to Reamann, the only one at the moment who knew about the files, and talk to him…that is, unless Reamann had run his mouth to anyone in his anger, then Draco was thoroughly screwed.
Draco wanted to believe that Reamann, no matter how angry or hurt, wouldn't use the case as a means of getting him back for what he had done. Draco wanted to believe Reamann better than that, but he was still nervous and unconvinced. He hadn't had a whole lot of positive experience in regards to people's `goodness' in the past to now rely on and draw strength from.
It was walking on eggshells until he secured the unable to be duplicated file from Reamann, by coercion of the friendly or non-friendly means.
"Draco, dear-me, you look a fright," Coderdale exclaimed upon seeing Draco limp heavily on his cane into the hall. The elderly man, as always (no matter how early Draco arrived) was already there.
"Morning," Draco replied blandly, disregarding the man's concerns at first but knowing damn well that the man would pursue this.
"What happened to you?" he asked, Draco sitting, sunglasses still in place despite how dark it was even without them. He was mentally cursing up a storm because he couldn't read without his glasses, but could not put his glasses on (let alone see much) with his sunglasses on, but he did not want to take them off, even though Coderdale could already see -and was taking notice of- the bruises. He was a little annoyed with himself for having not allowed Granger to heal him all the way at that point.
It was his pride then that had refused her, and his pride now that kept him from removing the dark lenses.
Pride cometh before a fall. He knew this, but he seemed to only recognize the problems his wounded pride brought upon him in hindsight. One would think he would have learned after Butler Paul…Draco shook his head, but regretted the movement when his head throbbed. He was not going to think about that, even with the memory still so fresh in his mind.
Draco pulled off his sunglasses and tossed them on his desk before him with a sigh.
"It was a long night," he muttered, knowing Coderdale was gaping and Draco really hating it when people stared at him.
"God, you look awful. Reamann gave you the one shiner, but who…?"
"Ron Weasley," Draco answered him dully.
"Oh," Coderdale breathed, understanding Ron Weasley's desire to hit Draco, but still sympathetic. "Are you alright?" he asked.
"I don't know, how do I look?" he asked, sounding a touch bitter.
"Things that bad? Have you talked to Ginny?"
"Yes."
"Before Reamann did?"
"Yes, they still haven't spoken, well, as of two in the morning they hadn't, and I got the impression that she was going to avoid him and allow him to collect himself."
"That was rather harsh what he said yesterday."
"It was entirely called for," Draco sighed.
"Well, he had every right to be angry with you, but threatening to turn Ginny against you? Pin the case on you? Go back on your deal? That was very much unlike him, well, of what I have seen of him at least."
"He's full of piss and wind, but he's got me nervous. I think he just needed to rant and rave and punch, and I hope he'll be willing to listen today."
"You are not going to try and talk to him, are you? Draco-"
"I have to."
"Are you crazy?"
"Don't call me crazy, Coderdale…ever," Draco snapped with a glare, Coderdale looking instantly apologetic. "Everyone that has ever claimed to know me has called me crazy since the moment I got out of Azkaban," he said, still glaring with his bruised eyes shadowed by his hood. His pale eyes almost looked luminous with all the darkness around them as contrast.
"Draco, I'm sorry, but I think it would be unwise to try and talk to Reamann so soon."
"Prudent avoidance is not an option for me at the moment. I have to deal with him, and what he accused me of yesterday, before he turns me in and causes me more problems."
Coderdale frowned at Draco and did something he usually tried to avoid, as a means of maintaining a level of professionalism. He rounded Draco's desk and leaned over him from behind to give Draco a hug as Draco remained sitting. He felt his boy seriously needed a hug.
Draco slinked up from the Hall of Records at around nine, missing the seven and eight o'clock rush but still early enough to undoubtedly catch Reamann in his office and a lot of looks on his way.
The lifts were not as bad as he had anticipated; all he got were stares and whispers. He had actually thought there would be people that would confront him or at the very least ask him about Ginny and the article. They didn't, but Draco could hear their thoughts whispering in the back of his mind, them all talking about him, thinking about him. It was enough to make anyone a little insecure. Draco just hid under his hood and behind his sunglasses and hair, praying that the lift reached his floor quickly, before he snapped at the next person that was staring and thinking nasty things about him. He would undoubtedly only add fuel to yet another story, reporting on his temper because he un-provokingly caned a complete stranger in a Ministry lift.
Draco pushed his way off the lifts, no one willing to move for him, so he only just got off him time before the gates closed and the lift abandoned him there. Draco limped, head down and hunched shouldered towards Reamann's office. He could feel the eyes on him, the whispers that followed in his wake, and he felt his chest tighten in annoyance and anger. Reading people's thoughts in passing was habitual, but he needed to stop if he wanted to make it though his day without flipping out on someone.
Reamann was just stepping out of his office when Draco rounded the corner so they nearly collided, coming face to face and remaining inches apart. Reamann's natural reaction was to apologize for nearly running into someone in the crowded hallway, but upon realizing who it was his face darkened and he moved to step around him. Draco shifted to remain in front of him and Reamann stepped the other way to only find Draco still in his way and silent as the moment he had appeared.
"Move out of the way, Malfoy. This is not your floor and these are not your offices. You do not belong up here. Don't make me call security and have you removed," he barked, not caring if the name "Malfoy" carried. He was having a bad day himself. While Draco could hide with only Coderdale to bother him since the article broke, Reamann was in a large gossipy office, and he was already tired of the stares and whispers.
"We need to talk…"
"No, I need to work. Go away," Reamann said, attempting to step around him but Draco right there in front of him again. "I will not ask you again," he growled, shoving Draco backwards, Draco hitting a metal filing cabinet that stood against the wall and only congested the hallway further. The cabinet rocked a little and Draco hissed softly at the pain in his side, but he otherwise did not react. He did not speak, or defend himself. Reamann passed him without a backward glance. It did not seem to bother him, or he didn't let it show at least, that he had just firmly shoved a crippled man with a cane.
He was apparently still angry.
Draco straightened and watched Reamann walk away. He looked angry as he pulled his sunglasses off, but then a smirk broke across his face showing he was rather satisfied as he held his hand up and twirled a set of keys around his long, thin finger before he grasped them in his palm with a flick. Of privileged birth or not, he was still a first-class pickpocket. He could have picked the lock to Reamann's office, but not without everyone noticing him do it. He could pick a lock in a minute flat, which is impressive, but a minute is a relatively long time to be crouched down and fiddling with a lock while an entire office floor is staring.
He slipped the key into the door and unlocked it, letting himself in and locking the door again behind him. The doors were resistant the locking and unlocking charms. That was sort of a standard in the wizarding world since every first year worth their wand could "Alohomora" it open otherwise. Locks were pointless if everyone had the key.
Draco looked around Reamann's small, cluttered office with darting silver eyes. Reamann had had no files with him and Draco knew from their brief contact that Reamann had not yet taken the file to anyone, so it had to be in his office.
Draco moved over to the desk, leaned his cane up against it, and started riffling through the paperwork and files there. He moved this and that and eventually settled in the chair to save his back the strain. He moved a few folders and came face to face with his own face. Witch Weekly was open there, and Draco saw that now infamous article on him and Ginny. The pages looked crumpled, almost like Reamann had been holding it open with both hands and they had clenched. Draco felt a familiar odd sensation of guilt at seeing that which was only intensified when he righted a photo frame to see a moving picture of Reamann and Ginny together, smiling and laughing and snuggling.
Draco looked at it and sighed.
He looked away from the photo, not wanting to see it but the image permanently burned into his memory, and his eyes fell on a filing cabinet. Draco set the photo frame back on the desk, face down like he had found it, and shook the keys out, making a guess that the key needed was the smallest one of the set on the ring.
Pulling the top drawer open Draco filed through the papers and dividers there with his fingers quickly, his glasses perched a little lower on his nose than usual to avoid the bruises. It was the third of four drawers he checked that had the file he needed. He pulled it triumphantly and smiled. Now all he needed to do was get out of the office and off the floor without being stopped or questioned.
Easier said than done.
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Reamann was walking with one of the head field Aurors, on his way to meet with Sebastian and others to go over, once again, the case and discuss their recent breakthroughs. Reamann had been tempted to bring his file on Draco, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it, no matter how mad he was at the guy. Some part of him saw it as obvious now that Draco had been leading him on, and yet, still, another part of him didn't want to believe it. He needed to know for sure before he dragged Draco's name into the case with Draco's cousin, Tonks, heading the investigation.
While talking to the two men, Reamann had reached into his front breast pocket of his open robes to grab a pen and realized something, something that caused him to stop.
"Reamann?" the Auror asked.
"That son-of-a-bitch," he muttered, looking over his shoulder, back the direction he had come.
"What?" he asked, but Reamann was already turned and running back towards his office where Malfoy was. Draco had taken his keys. He was after the file for sure. That double-crosser was going to destroy the only file!
How could he have been so stupid as to trust him, how could he have given Draco the benefit of the doubt? The man was obviously guilty.
Reamann reached his door and it was locked, like he had left it, but he was now without his keys. He backed up and kicked, getting more attention from those around him that he had with his running alone. Reamann kicked the door three times, finally breaking it open and pushing it out of his way to rush in and look around, fuming.
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Draco hurried down the stairs, file under the front of his sweatshirt. He was nearly to the hall when he stopped at one of the torches on the wall and pulled the thick file out. He tilted it into the flames and watched as the fire spread from the corner to the other, and burn. He held it up for as long as he could, allowing it to burn until there was nothing he could safely hold on to. He dropped it onto the stone and let it burn to curling ash. He stomped it out and kicked it around with his boots, destroying it further and erasing any evidence of what he had done by splashing some water from a nearby puddle over the stone so as to wash away the smeared ash.
"Draco? Where did you go? You talk to Reamann?" Coderdale asked, looking at Draco stroll into the hall looking rather contented while still leaning heavily on his cane.
"He didn't want to chat," Draco replied nonchalantly.
"I told you he wouldn't, but you seem so unbothered by it. I thought it was important to you that you get him to listen, that you wanted him to not go to the Ministry…?"
"It's taken care of," Draco said simply, falling into his seat, relying on Sebastian to do his part now.
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Author's Note:
I like Snape's words to Draco in this chapter.
I wrote this BEFORE DH, I swear, and it was only wishful thinking on my part that Granger would get tortured. Imagine my delight to read that that actually DID happen in the book. One of the few highlights of that otherwise ghastly book.
I referenced Robin Hood Prince of Thieves again in this chapter, in the second flashback. I was just going to have Draco standing there, and I had another scene where he is on horseback in the hollow where the woods border and he is shot with an arrow by a centaur, but I just combined the scenes because I'm running out of chapters to have flashbacks in, and thus why there are two flashbacks in one chapter. When I write the flashbacks into their own fic I will set the scenes right as I imagined them.
You have questions, I have answers.
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