Chapter Fourteen
AN INCOMPLETE LEGACY
"Father," said Draco hesitantly as the great wooden doors to the office swung open. Lucius Malfoy looked down at his son, disgusted. Draco was still wearing his Hogwarts robes, despite the fact that he'd been expelled from the school the day before. It already seemed like a lifetime ago.
"I'm guessing they've snapped your wand?" said the senior Malfoy sourly. He ushered his son into the office. The room was decorated with every extravagance of wealth, yet the sinister feeling in it was more noticeable than the riches. "Do you know what that means?"
"Another wand?" said Draco timidly. His father was pacing, which wasn't a good sign.
"ANOTHER WAND?" roared Lucius, withdrawing his own wand. "SENDROVUS!"
Draco felt an odd sensation in his stomach as he flew into the heavy wooden doors. His head started throbbing as soon as it hit with a sickening thud. He could feel the bruises forming on his back.
"I just..." said Draco, but he faltered. He knew better than to anger his father any more.
"That wand," spat Lucius, "was the same that I used as a boy at Hogwarts! Have you never understood its power? That wand is especially capable of magic in the name of our Lord!"
"You've been taking it all year," said Hermione weakly. Draco nodded.
"I've been taking it," he confirmed, "but I haven't been using it for what you might think. It's the only wand I've known."
"The wand chooses the wizard," agreed Harry, but Ron still didn't look convinced. He gave Malfoy yet another disapproving glance.
"Just go on," said Ron.
"Yes," agreed Draco weakly. He picked himself up, his motion earning him another disapproving glance from the senior Malfoy.
"You bring me shame, Draco," said Lucius coldly.
"She's only a Mudblood, father," said Draco lightly.
"ONLY A MUDBLOOD?" screamed Lucius again. "You are correct in your view that her life is not worth the space she occupies, but this is not just any Mudblood, Draco. Did you not see that, either? We needed you there! Master needed you there!"
Draco nodded numbly. "Wouldn't she just be killed, anyway?"
"SHE WILL BE KILLED ON OUR LORD'S ACCORD, NOT OUR OWN!" Another burst from Lucius's wand sent Draco pounding against the wall again. "Malfoys follow the order of power, Draco. We serve his word exactly. Is this clear?"
Malfoy stopped relaying his story, glancing at Hermione, almost sympathetically. She didn't meet his gaze; instead, she looked down at her hands. Harry sensed her fear, and he reached out gently and rested his hand on her arm. The gesture was not lost on Malfoy, but he made no snide comments.
"I didn't mean to kill you," muttered Malfoy to Hermione. "I didn't even know how bad that potion was. I just wanted to torment you."
"You succeeded," said Hermione softly. Ron was eyeing Malfoy angrily, and Harry couldn't help but do the same. Memories of Hermione's very painful recovery flashed repeatedly in his mind.
"Why don't you show him just what he did?" muttered Ron. Malfoy looked confused, and Ron just scowled. "Didn't think about that, did you? She still has the scars, you know. Always will."
"Ron, you don't have to defend me," insisted Hermione. "I'm perfectly capable of doing it myself."
Malfoy eyed her again, almost gratefully. "You're okay now," he said, his voice quivering between a question and a statement.
"Yes," said Hermione. She looked down again, and Harry pulled his arm away.
"Go on," Harry said.
"Clear as crystal," muttered Draco.
"Good," grumbled Lucius. "Tonight is the night."
"For what?" questioned Draco, but he already knew.
"You are of age," said Lucius simply. "Without Hogwarts, it is time you join us in our ranks. You shall receive the Mark tonight."
"Tonight," repeated Draco. Tonight would be the eve of the rest of his life. He had known, for as long as he could remember, that his purpose in life was to serve the Dark Lord. He had known, and he had always looked forward to his destiny. Now, he wasn't so sure.
"I didn't go through with it," said Malfoy. He didn't look at Ron, but he did focus on Harry. His eyes looked almost pleading. Finally, he said, defeated, "I know you don't believe me."
"Can you blame us?" said Harry. Ron didn't say anything, just grunted in disgust. Harry had a good feeling that his best friend wanted nothing more than to hex him right out of the castle.
"You've never failed to show your support to him before," said Hermione softly. She finally looked up, her hands clasped in her lap. "It just seems a bit odd that you keep appearing out of nowhere, suddenly trying to help us instead of Voldemort."
"Very well," said Malfoy, gritting his teeth.
"You sicken me," said Lucius suddenly. He was studying Draco intently. "Do you hear me, boy? I cannot bear the thought that you are my son!"
"What... what are you talking about, father?" said Draco respectively.
"I see doubt!" screamed Lucius, pounding his hand against his heavy desk. "I see regret! You are weak, and it disgusts me!"
"I'm not weak," protested Draco, straightening.
"You are not to argue with me!" said Lucius, still screaming. "You are to listen to me, obediently, for I am your father. If you will not serve me, how will we know you will be faithful to our Lord?"
"I will be faithful," insisted Draco, but it was too later. Lucius Malfoy was shaking his head.
"A lesson first," he muttered. "Yes, a lesson. It is time you learned, Draco, about power. It is time you learned against remorse. I will not be made a fool of tonight."
In the prefects' bathroom, six hundred miles away and six months later, Malfoy's stomach turned with the thoughts of that night. He had tried so hard to forget them that he would have even settled for the ability to ignore them. He didn't look up this time, and the silence was a long one.
"What was the lesson?" asked Hermione, choosing her words carefully.
Draco stood perfectly still. He knew the lesson about power by heart; his father had used the same one since he was a toddler. If Draco stepped out of line, Lucius beat him back onto it. If Draco questioned anything, Lucius beat the wonderment from him. If Draco spoke out, Lucius beat him so severely he wouldn't speak for days.
The Malfoy bloodline contained nothing but the purest of wizard blood, but the physical punishments had always been an intricate part of each son's upbringing. Draco had taught himself long ago to ignore the pain, just as his father and his father's father had done during their youth.
"You will continue the family legacy," said Lucius as calmly as if he was making dinner conversation. Draco's head was turned at enough of an angle that his father couldn't see his face, and he flinched freely with each blow. "You will not disappoint me..."
Draco had closed his eyes without realizing it. He opened them with a start; Harry, Ron, and Hermione were still waiting for him to continue, but he couldn't. He had revealed so much about his life as it was. He shook his head. They didn't need to know about the abuse.
"Malfoy?" prompted Harry, staring at him. Ron was doing the same, and Hermione bordered on looking concerned.
Suddenly, the door swung open. "I've been knocking for hours!" exclaimed a distinctly female voice. "The cook has finished dinner, and I request that we take our evening meal together-LUCIUS, WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO OUR SON?"
"I'm teaching him a lesson," said Lucius, barely looking up to acknowledge Draco's mother. For as long as Draco could remember, she had always been his mother, never his father's wife. His father had explained it to him long enough. Witches were useless. Their only purpose was to carry more wizards.
Malfoy stopped, looking up. He had started to wring his hands. Judging by the looks of their faces, they realized he had omitted some details.
"Father was getting a bit rough with me," he mumbled quickly. There. That would suffice.
"You take your hands off MY son!" screamed Narcissa, rushing across the room to Draco. He didn't dare speak, but he pleaded with his mother to back away. He would take his punishment, and no harm would come to anyone else.
"You will not meddle in my affairs," said Lucius coldly, straightening his son's posture and hitting him violently in the side of the head. "Now go. We will take our supper at a later hour."
"I'm taking Draco in there this instant! You will not touch him-"
"AVADA KEDAVRA!"
Malfoy's eyes closed again. Months later, he was having trouble accepting that his father had really killed his mother. He had always known his father did not love her, and, in a way, he had always known that she was just bidding her time. His father had always threatened, dryly, that he would take care of the now unattractive witch someday.
He had all this in his mind, and he was having trouble forming words. He wasn't sure how to put his mother's murder into words. It still seemed surreal.
"She's dead," he said finally. He looked at them with a blank expression. Hermione actually looked concerned, and Ron didn't look ready to strangle him anymore. They seemed to understand. Harry, on the other hand, looked as blank as Malfoy himself. After a few moments of silence, it dawned on Malfoy that Harry's mother would have died in the same manner, just at two different hands that were much the same.
"Was-" said Hermione, swallowing. "Was it a curse?"
"What else?" said Malfoy grimly. He wished that the three of them weren't so intelligent.
The blows stopped, and the room filled with a burst of green light. Draco had to turn his eyes from his mother's crumpled body. The thoughts streaming through his head were nearly foreign. He didn't agree with this senseless killing. He wouldn't marry someone to murder her. He couldn't meet his father's eye. Lucius Malfoy was chuckling.
"What a prime opportunity," he said, "to teach you about remorse, Draco. It is a simple concept to learn-show none, have none. Do you understand?"
Draco nodded silently. As gruesome as it was, he couldn't draw his eyes away from his dead mother. Lucius Malfoy stopped his laughing abruptly.
"Do you understand the power of those superior?"
Again, Draco nodded.
"Good. They will be here tonight. Clean yourself up, boy. I don't want blood-even pureblood-soiling our home."
"I went to my room. I cleaned myself up. I dressed in a new set of dress robes brought up by a servant. I was about to go back to my father and do what was expected of me," he said flatly, "but I couldn't. It wasn't the life I wanted. So I put my Hogwarts robes back on and slipped out as my father rested for the evening ceremony, and I've been here ever since."
"But how did you get back here?" Ron wanted to know.
"Hogwarts Express," said Malfoy. "It runs continuously, you know. It's the only real way to get to and from school. The minister was on his way back, and I sneaked on for the trip back."
"Surely someone would have seen you," said Hermione. "Surely you couldn't have been in the castle all this time without someone noticing."
"People have seen me," responded Malfoy, "primarily the three of you. I knew from the beginning I could confide in you if I took the right approach. It's you they want." His gaze settled on Harry.
"Me?" said Harry, shaking his head. "Why is it always me?" he mumbled.
Malfoy almost chuckled. "What, you don't like the attention, Potter?" His tone grew serious. "It's not just you. Voldemort wants Weasley and Granger, too."
"Why?" pressed Ron. He was looking a bit pale, and Hermione had reached for Harry.
"Beats me," said Malfoy. "I didn't stick around."
"You've been here the whole time," repeated Hermione. "How could you be here without people noticing?"
"Great care," replied Malfoy, tapping his injured leg lightly, "and I wasn't in the castle. I stayed in the Forbidden Forest, living on whatever I could."
"It was the coldest winter in Hogwarts history," protested Ron. "You should have frozen to death."
"Life Circle," said Malfoy simply. He looked pointedly at Hermione. At his words, she seemed to be turning over ideas in her heads. Again, he asked, "Are you okay, Hermione?"
Suddenly, the pieces clicked into place for Harry, too. Ron was still looking at Malfoy blankly, but Hermione had paled considerably. She was looking at Malfoy with an expression that resembled both awe and fright. Suddenly, Harry's stomach turned. Maybe he had this theory backward...
"I didn't hurt her, Potter," said Malfoy, almost like he could read his mind. "I'm not like that. Granger... do you remember anything?
"There was someone," whispered Hermione, "that helped me."
"Someone pulled you into the Life Circle," said Malfoy. He shook his head. "You were in bad shape, Granger. I didn't think you'd make it."
Pansy's crude remarks at dinner had long since been forgotten. Hogwarts and the rest of the world had ceased to exist. Harry, Ron, and Hermione simply sat in the prefects' bathroom, nearly transfixed by Malfoy's story.
"I don't want to be thanked," said Malfoy when Hermione's mouth started to open. "I only did what any rational wizard would, and it still doesn't make up for what happened in Potions."
Harry and Ron exchanged yet another look. If Malfoy was telling the truth, than he had saved Hermione's life. They would have never found her alive if she hadn't been taken into the Life Circle. Harry bit his lip. He didn't trust Malfoy, but he believed him. Hermione hadn't told anyone what happened in the forest but him, and he had only told Ron. There would have been no way for Malfoy to know what had happened without being there. Ron cleared his throat.
"So you've really been here the whole time?" said Ron.
"I've been in the forest," said Malfoy, looking down, "but I've actually been in here a few times. I was here on Halloween night and again that day McGonagall caught us in your room, Granger."
"You don't have to call me-" Hermione trailed off, and she gasped. "Someone tried to enter Slytherin on Halloween night!"
"Guilty," said Malfoy with his chuckle, but his eyes suddenly clouded with what resembled sadness. "I obviously didn't get in, and it didn't matter. It was too late."
"For what?" asked Harry.
"For Crabbe and Goyle," said Malfoy slowly. "They might not have been the brightest, but they were the best friends I had here. I'd known the whole time, but that night was the first time I managed to get into the castle."
"What had you known?" questioned Hermione.
"Their fathers were in a bit of trouble," replied Malfoy hesitantly, "for neglecting their duties this summer, for failing to complete a task. Their sons were the price they had to pay for letting down their lord."
"Voldemort," said Harry slowly. "What were they trying to do this summer?"
"The task itself isn't as important as the outcome," said Malfoy quickly. He leaned forward, touching his leg lightly with a grimace. "The Dark Lord felt they were too stupid to become Death Eaters, so he felt it was the perfect punishment."
"How do you know all this?" Ron wanted to know, and at the same time, Harry also had a question for Malfoy.
"So Voldemort is back?" said Harry, swallowing hard.
"Another factor in my leaving, Weasley," answered Malfoy. "I knew the plan because I witnessed part of the meeting as I exited, before they realized I had done so. Those were my friends they were talking about-I couldn't just let it happen."
"What about Voldemort?" pressed Harry, feeling inconsiderate. Malfoy had said it himself that while Crabbe and Goyle weren't anything brilliant, they were his friends. Harry didn't want to think about how he would feel if he had lost both Hermione and Ron in one swoop.
"You know," said Malfoy, "that he's back. He's been giving the Death Eaters orders through my father. They have been acting on his words, but he has also been acting on his own. I heard what happened to Durmstrang. I think that was Voldemort acting alone, and I know Beauxbatons was Voldemort acting alone. My father was upset for weeks that he hadn't been able to serve his lord with assistance."
"Why not Hogwarts, then?" said Ron. "You-Know-Who wants Harry! He's always wanted Harry!"
"Voldemort," corrected Hermione. Harry looked at her, confused. She usually referred to the Dark Lord as You-Know-Who, and he didn't know what had brought about the change.
"He's probably still scared of Dumbledore," reasoned Malfoy, "or maybe he wants to wait and have his fun when he tries to kill you. I don't know."
"Well, he's missing out on an excellent opportunity," grumbled Harry. Three sets of surprised eyes focused on him. "Dumbledore isn't doing anything! He's just sitting back, waiting for something to happen-last year he was rallying up this `old crowd' when he merely heard Voldemort had come back. Now, Voldemort's acting, and he does nothing!"
"Dumbledore must have a good reason, Harry," said Ron. "He'd never put us in danger-"
"He wouldn't put us in danger, but he's certainly not doing anything to protect us, either," said Harry.
"Maybe he's doing something in secret," suggested Hermione. "Perhaps-"
"Perhaps he's solved his share of problems already," interrupted Malfoy. "You know, he is a hundred and fifty years old. There's only so much one wizard can do to save the world. Besides, Lord Voldemort wants you, not him."
"Don't remind me," groaned Harry. He shook his head, and the room was silent again. Malfoy groaned suddenly, rubbing his leg again.
"Paireviela Instanus," said Hermione instantly, "if you're doing it yourself. Tap your wand twice."
"Paireviela Instanus," repeated Malfoy, tapping his wand per her instructions. He nodded his thanks.
"You know, when I broke my wand," grumbled Ron, "it backfired every time."
"Better materials, Weasley," replied Malfoy, the beginning of a smirk playing on his face. Some things never changed. "I was here at other times, too. I watched the snowball fight at Christmas, and I was prowling around the building during the dance."
Suddenly, Ron's face scrunched up. "You were there every time something went wrong!"
"What're you saying, Ron?" questioned Harry.
"He was there!" exclaimed Ron again. "He was there at Halloween, and he had his wand during the Quidditch match that nearly killed me! The day after the Christmas dance, that Mandy girl disappeared, and he just happened to find Hermione after she'd been-"
Ron's mouth clamped shut as Hermione looked down. She hadn't been fast enough for Harry; he had seen the look on her face. She looked ashamed. Still, Ron had a valid point. Harry met Malfoy's gaze.
"He's right, you know," said Harry quietly to Malfoy. "Why should we believe you?"
Malfoy's face clouded. "Would I have made such an effort if I wasn't genuine?"
"You would if you were a spy for You-Voldemort!" Ron accused.
"Veritaserum would have its uses at the moment," muttered Harry. Ron looked close to cursing.
"It's not necessary," said Hermione suddenly. She lifted her head, looking rattled, but she also seemed to know what she was talking about. "If he was following Voldemort, he would have the Dark Mark burned into his arm. Don't you remember how it burned on Snape and Karkaroff's arms last year? If he was doing Voldemort's work, it would be burning at the moment."
"Yeah, so he's got his arm all taped up," muttered Ron. "Why didn't we see this?"
"I broke my arm," said Malfoy suddenly. He had been watching their conversation; his eyes were alight with interest.
"Likely story," said Ron, still looking angry. Harry stood up quickly, hoping Malfoy wouldn't say anything till he was closer to Ron. One more word, and Ron would be on Malfoy.
"Then can we see your arm?" said Hermione. She glanced at her two friends. Of course she would be the one to remain levelheaded in such a situation. Much to all their surprise, Malfoy nodded.
Harry gave a warning look to Ron as he crossed to Hermione's side, and Ron whispered, "I'm hexing him into tomorrow if he's got it, Harry."
Malfoy managed to pull his arm, in its makeshift sling, from his robes. He held his other arm up, too, letting the sleeve fall back. There was no burnt mark, just a faint scratch. He winced and squirmed as he helped Harry and Hermione take his injured arm out of the sling.
And it was no more then that-injured. It was obviously broken, starting to heal back together at an awkward slant. Ron started to pale, but it changed into a blush.
"Er, that looks painful," he muttered.
"You learn to live with it," muttered Malfoy in response. "Same fall in the ravine that broke my leg."
"You can't keep going around like that," said Hermione sternly. "You need more than a simple healing charm."
"Spare me the lecture, Granger," said Malfoy, closing his eyes as he shrugged his arm back in the ratty sling. "If I knew any healing charms, I'd use them."
Hermione bit her lip, stepping back on Harry again. He smiled at her as his hand gripped her upper arm gently. Harry cleared his throat.
"Er," he said, "is there anything you need?"
"I don't need your charity," declared Malfoy. He started to stand up, limping heavily. Now, Ron was out of his chair, and he cut him off. Harry looked at him, and he nodded. So did Hermione.
"I'm going to the kitchen," said Ron, heading for the door. "Anything in particular you want?"
"I don't need anything," insisted Malfoy, but Harry had to wonder how long it had been since he'd eaten anything, let alone a real meal. Ron shook his head, and he slipped out the door. Hermione grabbed Harry's wrist and glanced as his watch.
"I have to feed Crookshanks," she said, "and I know a seventh year in the house that's been studying advanced healing spells. I might be able to borrow her book if I come up with a convincing enough excuse. Are you two okay here together?"
"We're fine, `Mione," said Harry, accepting her hug and a kiss on the cheek. She smiled at him before exiting the room, too. Malfoy was watching the two of them with interest.
"Did I miss something between the two of you?" smirked Malfoy.
"We're friends," said Harry, agitated. Malfoy raised his eyebrow, but he didn't say anything else. It was Harry that studied him this time. "What I don't get, is why you came back to tell us. You've always hated us. Why not let Voldemort do what he wants?"
"I'm on the same side as you now, Potter," said Malfoy. Harry nodded.
"Didn't ever think I'd hear you say that," he said finally. "Do you-er, want to clean up? We are in a bathroom."
"I noticed," said Malfoy dryly. He looked both amused and agitated. "I should have just left."
"Why don't you just go to Dumbledore?" asked Harry, taking a seat again. "He would know if you were telling the truth. He would have had you back in school in minutes."
"I got expelled, Potter," said Malfoy. He shrugged. "I deserved it."
"Do you want to clean up?" asked Harry again. He still wasn't sure what to say to Malfoy or even what to consider him. He certainly wasn't an enemy anymore, and he'd revealed too much to be a simple acquaintance, but Harry wasn't ready to call his enemy of four years a friend yet.
"It wouldn't matter," said Malfoy quickly. "Nothing to change into."
Harry eyed him critically. "I have some robes from last year that would fit you. They're too short on me."
"I don't need your hand-me-downs, Potter," said Malfoy. "I don't need any of your charity."
"Do you even just shut up and suck in your pride?" said Harry. "I don't know what you think of us, Ron and Hermione and I, but you had to know we wouldn't just send you on your way after all you told us."
"I don't like do-gooders," retorted Malfoy. He looked a bit sullen.
"You'll get over it," said Harry as the door swung open. It was Ron. He was carrying a bottle of pumpkin juice, a half a loaf of bread, and some roast beef from dinner.
"The house-elves were about to stop for the day, but Dobby," said Ron, staring pointedly at Malfoy when he said the name of the Malfoy's former house-elf, "was kind enough to put this together." He passed the food in the direction of Malfoy, ignoring Harry's scolding look. "Where'd Hermione go?"
"Something about a seventh year in Gryffindor that's studying healing," said Harry with a shrug. He stopped, looking at Malfoy. Finally, he picked up the bread, tore off a chunk, and popped it in his mouth. Harry continued. "She thought she might be able to get a book of advanced spells. That, and she had to feed Crookshanks."
Harry was unaware that the door had opened, and he nearly fell off his chair when a ginger ball of fur brushed against his legs. Hermione was staring disapprovingly at her cat as she shut the door behind her. She was carrying a large brown book.
"Sorry," she said, walking briskly towards them. "I couldn't keep him from following me... oh, your brothers are looking for you, Ron. Something about visiting Percy over Easter?"
"Oh," said Ron, standing. He looked at Harry and Hermione.
"Go see what they wanted," said Harry. "Since you'll be in Gryffindor, would you get an old set of my robes from my trunk?"
"Sure thing," said Ron, slipping out the door again. The room was quiet; Hermione was engrossed in finding the correct healing charm for Malfoy's arm and leg, and Malfoy was making quick work of his dinner. Suddenly, Malfoy flinched as Crookshanks rubbed against his legs.
"What? Scared of a cat?" said Harry, a bit amused.
"No," said Malfoy, "just allergic."
"Crookshanks!" said Hermione, stepping back. However, instead of leaping into her arms, the cat jumped onto Malfoy, causing him to nearly spill his pumpkin juice. Crookshanks simply curled up in his lap, his tail whipping against Malfoy's arm. He purred discontentedly as Hermione lifted him into her arms. "Bad! You don't want to make someone sick, do you?"
Crookshanks didn't look happy with her, either, and he leapt from her arms. Harry hadn't angered him that day, so he curled up beneath his chair. Harry stood.
"Come on, Malfoy," said Harry, standing. Hermione's attention had returned to the book of healing spells. Judging by the look on her face, she hadn't found what she was looking for yet. "No excuse not to get cleaned up now."
"Fine," grumbled Malfoy, rising. The motion seemed to be getting more difficult every time he did it. Harry had to steady him, and Malfoy looked at him resentfully. "I like privacy when I bathe, just like everyone else."
"Trust me, I'll give it to you," said Harry, "but I have a feeling you're going to need a bit of help."
"I'll be fine!" hissed Malfoy as Harry half-led, half-drug him to the showers and changing stalls within the prefect bathroom. "I don't need your help!"
They stopped just past the door to the shower room. Harry looked at Malfoy calmly. "I don't know what you're afraid of," said Harry. "Get over it. You're short the use of two of your limbs-you need some help, and you've got about three options. Either you let me help you, you ask Hermione, or you wait for Ron to come back. What's it going to be?"
Malfoy glared at him. His gray eyes were as cold as always. Harry wanted to shake his head, but he refrained. He didn't like this any more than Malfoy did, but it was also obvious that he'd need some help.
"You can leave in about five seconds," said Malfoy as he shrugged out of his robe and started to struggle out of his shirts. Harry sighed and reached over to help him.
"I wasn't planning on staying a moment longer," Harry shot back. "I'd hope you could get out of your own pants."
Malfoy muttered something incomprehensible, and Harry took a step back. If Malfoy was going to be so stubborn, he might as well leave him on his own. Harry was about to go back to Hermione when Malfoy finally managed to get his shirt off, and Harry understood at once. His stomach turned, trying to imagine what kind of abuse Lucius Malfoy had put his son through that hadn't healed in seven months. Malfoy just glared at him. Harry would have said his former enemy looked ashamed if he didn't know better.
"There, you've had your peek. A spell to keep them from ever really healing, not until father wanted them to. I reckon he's still angry," sneered Malfoy. "Why don't you go back out there with Granger now? I can take care of myself."
"Don't be ignorant, Malfoy," advised Harry. "That's infected-"
"Oh, what would you know?" said Malfoy, angrily. Harry looked away. It wasn't time to go into his own experiences with abusive family members. Instead, he shoved his hands in his pockets and started to walk out of the shower room.
"Take as long as you want!" called Harry over his shoulder. He sat down on the marble step behind Hermione, and the water started to run a few seconds later.
"Everything okay?" said Hermione, looking up. "I've found the spells."
"Everything's just fine," said Harry a bit absently. Hermione set the book down on the ground in front of her, and she walked over him. He put his arm around her, and she leaned her head against his shoulder.
"Tonight has been... odd," said Hermione softly.
"If that's what you call it," muttered Harry. "Are you okay?"
"Do you know how many times I've been asked that, now?"
"I'm concerned about you, `Mione," said Harry. He leaned over, kissing her head. His chin rested on her head.
"You needn't," said Hermione. "I'm fine. I'll be just fine as long as I have-"
"As long as you have what?" questioned Harry
"Nothing," said Hermione quickly. She tilted her head and looked away. Harry couldn't see her face, but he could only imagine what she was thinking. He slipped into his own thoughts.
Voldemort had returned, and he had come closer to Hogwarts than anyone had realized. Harry began to feel anger concentrating at the pit of his stomach. Voldemort-or his work, at least-had been here at Hogwarts, and nothing had been done about it. Ron had nearly been killed, and nothing had been done about it. Students had disappeared for days and weeks and even months, and nothing had been done about it.
And Hermione had been kidnapped, violated, and nearly killed, and nothing had been done about it. That last thought impacted Harry the most. He knew what had to be done, and he knew Dumbledore was not doing it. It was about time that he took the charge
* * *
"Where'd the rat go?"
Harry snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of Ron's voice. Hermione shook her head slightly, as if she were surprised to see him. He was carrying some of Harry's old things, and his eyes were sweeping around the bathroom.
"Malfoy's in the showers," said Harry, jerking a thumb in that direction and scooting away from Hermione. He reached a hand up to adjust his glasses.
"We have to be nice to him," said Ron glumly, sitting down on Hermione's other side.
"What other choice do we have?" replied Harry. He rested his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands.
"It'd still be nice to kick him around a bit," grumbled Ron. "I don't want to trust him."
"But you have to, so you might as well stop complaining about it," said Hermione matter-of-factly, "and maybe he won't be so horrible now that's his not on Voldemort's side."
"He's still pretty fond of that smirk of his," said Harry, tracing the groves between each block of marble.
"Why do we have to be good people?" questioned Ron.
"Because we might need his help," quipped Hermione. She seemed to be thinking on the same lines of Harry. Sure enough, she continued, "What are we going to do? Should we tell Dumbledore?"
"Why is it always our problem?" said Ron. "Is there even anything we can do?"
"There always has been before," said Harry. He paused, hearing the running water slow and then stop. He stood, picking up the stack Ron had brought down. "Just a second," he said, scooting into the room and setting it down next to Malfoy's clothing.
"We don't even know for sure what's going on," said Ron when Harry returned.
"Well, we do know that, whatever it is, it isn't right. Isn't that enough?" said Hermione. Harry bit his lip. She was thinking exactly as he was. Slowly, Ron began nodding.
"But what are we supposed to do about it?" questioned Ron again. Harry was lost in his own thoughts once more.
"You've always figured out something in the past."
The three looked up to see Malfoy limping out of the bathroom. Without the layers of dirt and grime, he certainly looked like his old self. He hobbled towards them, and the three friends scooted together to make room for him on the ledge. Harry eyed him critically and spoke hesitantly.
"There had to be some reason why you came to us," said Harry. "What are we supposed to do about something we don't even understand?"
"I came because there was a lot I needed to get off my chest," said Malfoy. He glanced up, almost hopefully, and then it faded into a smirk. "Besides, I'd feel a tad guilty if the world imploded because you didn't know enough to save it again, Potter."
"So you came because you didn't want to have a guilty conscience," said Hermione flatly. Malfoy just smirked.
"You never cease to amaze me with your consistency, Malfoy," said Harry. He wasn't nearly as surprised as Ron and Hermione looked. It wasn't like Malfoy to do something if it wouldn't benefit him in the end. His change of heart about the Dark side was more than any of them could have asked for. They would have been disappointed if they had expected a complete turnaround in personality.
"I certainly appreciate your help," said Malfoy sincerely, "but I had my reasons for not wanting it. I hadn't any intention of giving you mine in return."
"Of course," said Ron. His usual look of disgust toward Malfoy was back. Hermione shifted uncomfortably.
"I found the spells," she said at last, and she stood to retrieve the book.
"Maybe she'll pull a Lockhart," whispered Ron snidely to Harry. "I'd like to see his arm turn to rubber."
"He's already helped us," whispered Harry in response. "He might not realize it, but he helped us realize we were stupid to think nothing was going on."
"We knew something was going on," insisted Ron. "We were just choosing to ignore it-like everyone else."
"Right," muttered Harry. He watched Hermione intently as she reread the spells and withdrew her wand. Her expression was enough to let him know that she was torn between helping Malfoy and hating him for leading them into this, then backing out himself.
But what had he led them into? Harry didn't have an answer. Malfoy really hadn't told them much that they didn't already know. The only thing he had done was confirming the suspicions that they already had. Voldemort had been at Hogwarts with his work. Even then, they were just deducing from his story. He shook his head, watching Hermione. She had obviously decided to go through with helping him.
"Thanks," said Malfoy when she finished. Hermione still looked a bit angry with him, but she also looked satisfied. Harry knew that she'd just preformed some difficult magic; he had trouble with anything but the most basic healing charm.
"So you just came here to taunt us with some story about Voldemort and leave again?" said Ron finally. Malfoy shrugged.
"Somewhat. I figured you could use the knowledge of his activity," he said. "It's not up to me to figure out what it all means. It's you he's after."
"Thanks for that vote of confidence," mumbled Ron. Harry stood up abruptly.
"Thank you, Malfoy," he said, quickly. He'd been hoping that they could count on their former enemy for some help, but he had obviously been wrong. Now, Harry just wanted Malfoy to go on his way, so he could talk to Hermione and Ron. Malfoy seemed to sense this.
"I really appreciate all your help. I'll be on my way now," said Malfoy, almost cheerfully. Harry suddenly had a feeling that, despite his worlds, this wouldn't be the last time they saw Malfoy.
"Good luck!" he called, backing away from them. He smirked, and he was gone before they could practically blink. A long time passed with Ron and Harry still sitting on the marble ledge and Hermione standing a few feet away.
"Who does he think he is?" said Ron angrily. "He waltzes in, tells us some kind of sob story, says he's on our side, lets us help him, and then leaves us more confused than we were to begin with!"
"Now wait a minute," said Hermione suddenly. "Malfoy might have proved he wasn't all bad, but did you expect him to stick around and help us? Maybe something he said will help us understand what is going on!"
"Why are we suddenly so concerned with what's going on?" said Ron. "Why is it suddenly up to us to figure it all out? Why have we suddenly decided to listen to Malfoy?"
"Ron," said Harry slowly, "if we don't care about what's going on, then who will? Maybe Malfoy's off track about assuming Voldemort is behind everything. Maybe we all are, but what if we're not? Then what happens? I don't know about you, but I don't want to not wake up one morning, Hogwarts lying in ruins."
"I don't, either," said Hermione softly.
"Same," said Ron. "So what do you do when you don't know what's being done?"
"You try to find out," said Harry. He glanced at Hermione. "Should we start in the library tomorrow?"
"Bright and early," she replied.
"Books," grumbled Ron.
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