Malfoy Manor looked the same as it always did to anyone who passed by- not that anyone did. There were several Muggle-repelling spells on the Manor, in order to keep the filth away. Even wizards didn't go near the place, unless they were of the same affiliation as the Malfoys. And everyone in the Wizarding World knew what affiliation that was.
However, if anyone had bothered to walk by on this particular day, they would have noticed four new people and one goblin walking in to the Manor. Or well, not so much walking as being dragged, carried and forced into the Manor. Unfortunately for those five, no one was watching. No one, that is, except Draco Malfoy.
Draco was standing in his bedroom, gazing out the giant picture window that looked out onto the drive. He used to hate this view; he'd always wanted his bedroom to look out onto the garden. Draco, as plebian as it might sound, loved nature. He supposed he might like to plant things, but his mother would never let him get his hands dirty, so he'd never tried. Instead he just admired plants from afar. But today, he was never happier than this moment that his window looked over the drive. Because, as he watched the snatchers approach with captives in hand, Draco knew exactly who was coming. The Golden Trio.
His palms began to sweat and he hastily rubbed them on his trousers. He wasn't quite sure why exactly he was so excited about the three of them being here. He knew that partially, it was because if they delivered Potter to the Dark Lord, his family would be alright. And family was everything. But… there was something else. Something he didn't even dare to acknowledge.
"Draco!" his mother called. "We need you! Hurry!"
Taking a deep breath, Draco crossed the room and opened the door. "Coming mother," he said as he headed downstairs. Entering the drawing room, his father approached him and put an arm around his shoulder. Touching wasn't something normally done in his family, so that was an immediate tip-off that something was desperately on the line.
"Draco," his father said. "We need you to identify this boy. Is it Potter?" His father pulled him over to the hearth. The boy was shaggy haired, dirty and in a bad need of a shave, but there was no mistaking that the face upon which he gazed was Harry Potter. Albeit a very puffy faced one. Who had done that, he wondered. Granger, possibly, hoping to save her friend. However, Draco would know that face anywhere, no matter how deformed. Especially those eyes. So bright, so green and right now, they were full of defiance and fear.
He gazed into those lovely emerald eyes, almost daring him to give him away. Potter had to know that he knew. No doubt he expected Draco to give him away- after all, their whole history would suggest that would be his course of action. After all, who would choose a most hated rival over family, fame, the Dark Lord? But… something stopped him. "I- I can't be sure."
"Come now Draco, look closer. Surely you must know…" Draco heard the weedling, subtle pleading tones in his father's voice.
"I don't know," he said, pulling away from his father and moving over to the other side of the room. He avoided looking at anyone, especially Weasley and Granger. He watched what happened next with dead, disinterested eyes. Those were the eyes he wore on a daily basis now. In fact… the only time he could remember feeling alive was when he looked into Potter's just a moment before. But that was silly, a fluke, not something worth considering.
So he watched with his usual eyes as the sword was discovered, as Aunt Bella went mental (as usual) and Granger was tortured. He watched this all with glass eyes, corpse eyes.
Yet, if anyone had been watching, they would have noticed the subtle difference in his eyes when Potter burst into the room. They went from cold ice to quicksilver, from dead to alive. Reanimation, although no one was looking at him.
Draco pulled out his wand, out of reflex. Watched his Aunt Bella threaten Granger, watched Potter and Weasley drop their wands. He walked over and picked up their wands, holding them gingerly and looked at them curiously. This wasn't Potter's wand. He'd seen it enough to know. But where was… The mystery of Potter's wand captivated him so much that he'd failed to notice the action going on around him. He looked up and caught those eyes, those beautiful, animated green eyes.
That look said a thousand words, a thousand feelings. It said all the fear that both of them felt in that moment, all the things they would never say out loud to anyone. And, from both of them, it was a plea. A plea from Potter- to give him back the wands, to save them. Draco didn't even know what his plea was and he didn't wish to think about it.
And then the fighting began again. Weasley and Granger were running together, falling into each other's arms. Potter was running for him. Draco's heart beat faster, but not from fear, from some unknown emotion.
Draco stumbled back, fist clenched around the wands. He didn't know what was going on, didn't know what was happening. Potter was upon him, wrestling with him for the wands. Draco's hands were too sweaty; the wands were slipping away… And then Potter had them.
He made a wild grasp for Potter and grabbed his arm. Potter turned to look at him, eyes almost quizzical. Draco knew what his plea was now. He whispered: "Take me with you. Please."
Potter looked even more confused but grabbed Draco's hand. And then they were running, colliding with his old house elf Dobby, the goblin and the other two. His Aunt threw something- he couldn't see what- and then they were gone in a flash, Draco's hand clasped safely inside Harry Potter's.
