Swan Song
"…a final gesture, effort or performance given just before death or retirement. The phrase refers to an ancient belief that the Mute Swan is completely silent during its lifetime until the moment just before death, when it sings one beautiful song."
Chapter One
One thing was absolutely certain: Draco Malfoy hated Harry Potter. What was uncertain, however, was if the Slytherin had the courage—or the stomach—to murder him.
It all began at the beginning of the summer holiday. Draco had just returned home from his sixth year at Hogwarts and was prepared to be doted upon by his mother and ignored by his father for much of the time. Lucius had surprised him, however, by meeting his son in the foyer of their manor with an impatient air about him. "Draco," he had drawled, narrowing his eyes slightly. "Do not disappoint me tonight. You shall be attending the Meeting with me, although it is left to be seen if you shall attend any thereafter." Not having to ask what meeting his father was talking about, and completely unprepared for the announcement, Draco simply shook his head silently and retreated to his room.
Before that night the Slytherin had only met Voldemort once, when he was fourteen. Amidst the chaos of Cedric Diggory's death and Harry Potter's chilling announcement that Tom had risen again, Lucius managed to sneak Draco out of the grounds of Hogwarts to introduce him to their Master. It was perhaps the most traumatic night of Draco's life; he had heard of Voldemort's power from the moment he could understand such things, but had only been exposed to his father's brand of evil. The Dark Lord was on an entirely different plane of existence and Draco feared him immensely—an extremely hard admission to make, but nevertheless one which had to be acknowledged. To put it simply, Draco was left with nothing but confusion and coldness gripping his mind like a vice and, unsure of what to make of his life, remained silent for much of the time.
Not quite aware as to what would be expected for his second meeting, Draco had remained hidden away for the remainder of the day until he was called upon by his father. "Speak only when spoken to," Lucius had hissed before their departure. "And never look directly at Him. He also prefers that when He stands before you, you kneel. Never address him as 'Voldemort' or 'Dark Lord,' but simply 'Lord' or 'Master.' Do you understand, boy?"
"Yes," Draco had replied, although he really didn't understand at all.
The field was dark when father and son arrived, and they were the first. Before long, however, more men clothed in black robes with masks hiding their faces began to apparate with a faint 'pop.' Draco had been given his own mask and robes, although they were only temporary because he was technically not allowed to wear them until branded with the Dark Mark. Voldemort had made a concession simply because Lucius made it clear that this night was to be the beginning of his son's trial.
It was obvious when the Dark Lord arrived in the midst of the Death Eaters for Nagini the Snake was wrapped loosely about his shoulders and Peter Pettigrew, who never left his Master's side, hovered about awkwardly with the ghost of his former hand glowing eerily in the moonlight.
"My dear followers," Voldemort hissed, his voice coming out in barely but a whisper. "I have a surprise for you tonight. It seems that a witch," he spat out the word as if it were poison, "has been offering up potions to cure the ailments of her Muggle neighbors. It is an abomination," he said calmly, and with a flick of his wand, a petrified woman suddenly appeared, hovering in the middle of the circle of Death Eaters. She was clearly terrified and although her limbs were stuck resolutely to her body, her eyes were rolling back and forth with madness.
"Crucio," Voldemort said evenly.
She couldn't scream out loud, but it was clear that in her mind she was doing nothing else. Eventually Voldemort lifted the curse and, with a horrifying smile playing on his face, sought out the eyes of Draco Malfoy.
"Ah," he slithered. "Your father wishes ever so much that tonight begins your trial… let's just see how dedicated the Malfoys are to the cause, shall we? Draco," Voldemort's hate-red eyes narrowed dangerously. "Kill her."
And Draco had.
Afterwards, when the woman's body was disposed of, the Dark Lord once more turned his attention on Draco. Seemingly satisfied with something, he began speaking harshly to the Slytherin about Harry Potter. "He is becoming too much of a nuisance and I cannot be bothered by him anymore. That is where you come in."
Complying with his father's wishes, Draco was kneeling before his Master, eyes fixed stoically on the ground. He listened with growing terror as the Dark Lord laid out a plan—a plan for Draco to murder his greatest enemy under the very nose of Albus Dumbledore.
"Failure is not an option," he finally spat. "You will do this, or you will die."
When the meeting was concluded and Draco and Lucius had apparated safely back to Malfoy Manor, Lucius invited his son into the library. "Sit," he had commanded, while pouring two glasses of brandy.
Draco gulped his greedily after it was handed to him, while Lucius watched with calculating eyes. He then said something that Draco would never forget.
"I'm proud of you for the way in which you handled the disposal of that magical taint. Now go—get out of my sight."
It was the first and only time that Lucius was ever to tell Draco he was proud.
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Frowning in concentration, Harry Potter hesitated and then rapt his knuckles three times against the worn door.
"Just a minute!" came a muffled cry and then, "Ron if that's you I swear on Merlin's Beard that—oh!"
Ginny, the youngest Weasley opened her bedroom door with a look of surprise on her face. "Sorry Harry," she said grinning and beckoned him inside. "I thought you were that git Ron coming to give me more excuses as to why he hasn't paid me back yet. Anyway, what's up?"
Harry grinned back at the redhead and then began to fidget, his face reddening noticeably. Ginny frowned a bit and then cleared her throat uncomfortably.
"Was there something you needed?" she asked, watching the older boy.
"Er… yeah… just—your mum said you had better start packing." Giving her a quick wave, Harry strode quickly out of the redhead's bedroom, the back of his neck tinged pink.
Well that was weird, Ginny reflected as she closed her bedroom door after her long-time friend disappeared down the hallway. I'll have to corner Hermione later and ask what that was all about. Biting her bottom lip, Ginny turned back to her writing desk where she had been busy trying to finish up an essay for Potions.
"I'll never get this done now," she groaned miserably. Sighing, she began to gather all of her school supplies together as her mum requested. Intent on her work, she wondered idly again what Harry had wanted.
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"Stupid, stupid, stupid," Harry muttered to himself as he walked down the rickety stairs and into the Weasley living room. It was empty save for his two best friends, Ron and Hermione, who both looked up from their conversation with a hopeful look on each of their faces.
"Well?" Hermione prompted eagerly. "How'd it go?"
"You chickened out, didn't you mate?" Ron said with a hint of laughter in his voice. "Serves you right, that's my sister you git!"
Grinning sheepishly, Harry pushed his hair out of his eyes and sat down on the floor next to Ron. "I got all tongue-tied," he said. "She was just standing there with those big, brown eyes looking at me and—"
"Eugh!" Ron blanched. "Older brother, remember?"
Laughing, Hermione shushed Ron and turned to Harry. "Really, there's no reason to be afraid. Now go up and ask her already or… I won't help you with your homework at all. Not even that Transfiguration essay due in two days which I know you haven't started."
"Ah, sucks for you mate," Ron grinned.
"I won't help you either," Hermione said pointedly.
Going pale, Ron sprang up from his spot on the floor and pulled Harry with him. "Go," he urged, and pushed his best friend through the doorway. "Get up there, and don't come down until you've snogged my sister senseless. Now there's something I never thought I'd say," the redhead muttered as he watched Harry trudge back up the stairs.
Just as Ginny had put all of her schoolbooks into her trunk, another knock sounded at the door. Rolling her eyes she crossed her room and opened it—completely nonplussed to see Harry Potter standing before her. Again.
"Harry," she said, the ghost of a smile playing on her lips. "Did mum send you with more instructions?"
"Erm… well no not really," the boy was squirming visibly and Ginny was thoroughly enjoying how uncomfortable he was.
"I lied before," he said in a rush. "I mean—your mum never sent me up here in the first place… actually, well—"
"Oh Harry, just spit it out!" the redhead was beginning to get impatient—she did have a Potion's essay to finish, after all. But what he did next surprised them both: one moment Harry was standing before her looking awkward and uncomfortable and the next, his lips were on hers.
And all too soon it was over—Ginny's small had was pushing firmly against Harry's chest and Harry was looking dazed and then horrified. "Oh, Ginny I'm so sorry!" he began worriedly. "This wasn't how the conversation was supposed to go and I honestly didn't mean—"
"Harry," Ginny put her finger to his mouth and smiled. "What took you so long?"
The raven-haired boy looked confused, then shocked, and eventually he smiled. "Dunno," he said sheepishly. "Guess it's true what they say, though—it's always hardest to see what's right in front of your face."
"Mmm," Ginny said, and then her lips found his.
After a while, footsteps were heard coming up the stairs and toward Ginny's room. She and Harry were both sitting on her floor, fingers entwined, talking lightly about their return trip to Hogwarts in two days' time. A throat cleared and Ginny looked up, her sparkling eyes noting the grin slowly creeping onto Ron's face as he stood in her doorway watching her and Harry.
Shooting Harry an 'I-told-you-so' sort of look, he said, "well I see you two have finally come to your senses then, eh?"
Harry rolled his eyes and stood up, tugging Ginny with him. "C'mon then, I 'spect Hermione will want to know all about this," he said grinning.
"And," Ron looked smug, "she'll be thrilled to hear she has to help us with our homework after all."
Ginny ran her fingers through her thick, red hair and tried to quell the butterflies that were fluttering in her stomach. "I'll catch up with the two of you," she said smiling. "I ought to finish packing."
With a final wave, Harry followed Ron out of Ginny's bedroom, closing her door behind him. With both of them gone, Ginny stuck her arms out and began spinning wildly, her hair flying out behind her. She could barely contain her excitement that a wish she had held onto since she was eleven years old was finally coming true.
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Draco Malfoy frowned deeply and rested his forehead against the cool glass of his bedroom window. He knew that his father was expecting some sort of game plan but Draco had no idea where to start. It wasn't as if he could simply walk up to Potter, casually say Avada Kedavra and be done with the whole mess—he'd be caught for sure and then sentenced to a life imprisonment in Azkaban. Shuddering, Draco knew that wouldn't do. He needed something else—something that his father and the Dark Lord would both approve of which could stave off the murdering bit for a couple of months. Because if Draco was honest with himself, he wasn't sure he could actually do it.
This turned his thoughts back to the witch (her name what was her name) that he had murdered and felt suddenly weak in the knees. He had only done it to preserve his life and felt only too well that the nightmares which accompanied him every night were deserved.
And then—suddenly—another thought hit him. Information.
I could spy on Potter; see what he actually knows about this whole business and what his plans are. Feed the information to father, who in turn will tell the Dark Lord and maybe there will be no need for murder at all. Brilliant. But how?
A knock at his door and then, "Draco, your father would like a moment, please."
Turning from the window was an effort, but Draco managed. He crossed his room and then opened the door to see his mother standing there with her usual wineglass in hand. "Yes mother," Draco intoned. "Library?"
Nodding, Narcissa Malfoy turned and walked slowly and deliberately toward her sitting room, trying desperately not to show how much the wine was affecting her. Draco watched after his mother a moment, feeling a swell of pity in his chest that he abruptly pushed away. In facing his father, one did not have any feelings to show.
When Draco reached the library doors, he breathed in deeply and then pushed them open. Lucius was sitting behind a mahogany desk looking bored and unconcerned. His steely eyes barely registered that his son had entered the room; although Draco was approaching the desk slowly, Lucius continued to ignore him in favor of examining his cup of brandy instead.
Finally, after nearly a minute of making Draco wait in silence, Lucius turned to him and said, "sit."
Draco did as he was told, sitting stiffly with his back hardly touching the chair. "You wanted to see me sir?"
"Yes. If you are caught this term, do not expect any help from me. The Dark Lord has made it perfectly clear that this is to be your test—if you succeed, you will be the youngest Death Eater ever to be accepted into the ranks—a high honor for the Malfoy family. However," Lucius's face clouded darkly, "if you fail… I will kill you myself. Is that understood?"
Draco was silent for a moment and then, "yes sir."
"Now, have you any idea of what you're going to do?"
"I've thought about it all summer, father, and have come to the conclusion that the actual… act… must wait until very near the end of the year. If it is any sooner I will more than likely be caught and I cannot let that happen." Draco watched his father's impassive face as he spoke, hoping for some sort of reaction. He was disappointed, but continued anyway.
"Until then, I have decided to play spy." Lucius raised an eyebrow to which Draco was grateful. It was something, at least.
"What I mean is that since nothing can be done for quite some time, I do not want to be seen as idle; rather, I will watch and listen and report to you anything of consequence that Potter does. Is this acceptable?"
After a moment, Lucius nodded. "Yes, I believe the Dark Lord will be satisfied with this. Remember, Draco," Lucius said coldly. "If you fail, I will not hesitate."
Draco nodded and understood that he was dismissed.
"Just one more thing," Lucius said to his son's retreating back. Draco paused, listening. "I will contact you, do you understand? Do not send me letters containing this information—we will meet once a month by floo."
"Yes sir. I will see you then."
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Platform 9 ¾ was teeming with excited Hogwarts' students, screeching owls and mothers who couldn't bear to let their children go. There were shouts of recognition, excitement, exclamations of surprise and the steady, vibrating thrum of the train idling by and waiting for its passengers to board. The Weasley's were only just making it—as usual—and Ginny was being dragged along by her mum listening to the typical beginning of the year speech.
"—forget that if you need anything to write. Last year I didn't receive nearly enough letters from either you or Ron so I expect them regularly. Ginevra, are you listening to me?"
Molly Weasley had her daughter by the hand (an irritation for Ginny, but it couldn't be helped—there was no denying her mum what she wanted) and was impatiently waiting for a reply.
"Oh, huh? Sorry mum, I was just running through a mental checklist is all! And yes I will make sure that Ron writes frequently. Promise."
The redhead was just as tall as the woman before her, so she was able to look her mother directly in the eyes. "Love you," she said softly and Mrs. Weasley drew her only daughter into a crushing hug.
With one last affectionate pat, Ginny waved goodbye and went off in search of her brother, Hermione and Harry. Her stomach gave a little trill of excitement as she thought of the green-eyed boy happily. He was her boyfriend—and with a grin, the redhead boarded the all too familiar train, head in the clouds.
"Where's Hermione?" Ginny asked after seating herself next to (her boyfriend) Harry. She had only searched a few minutes before finding them at the very end of the train.
"Head compartment," Ron answered with a mouth full of Chocolate Frog. "Meeting with the Head Boy, I guess," he shrugged noncommittally.
"Wonder who it is," Harry mused, putting his arm gently around Ginny. "Ravenclaw, probably."
"Mmm," Ginny hummed in agreement. "Not surprised about Hermione though, remember when she received her badge? I thought You-Know-Who had apparated into the backyard, or something."
Harry and Ron both laughed – Hermione's shriek had been both loud and terrifying and had every Weasley in the vicinity running to the kitchen.
After about fifteen minutes of companionable silence, Hermione startled the passengers of the train car as she slammed open the compartment door, her bushy hair looking more disheveled than usual. Before any of them could say a word, she held up her hand for silence.
"Malfoy," she ground out. "I'm to be sharing quarters with Malfoy."