Author's note: Sorry that this has been up and down so many times but this
is the final product of all of that wavering. It is much better then the
first. Thanks to my beta Cassie and to Kat for helping me. So. enjoy. And
please review!
Warning: Slash in later chapters. If it makes you uncomfortable please do not read this or stop when the slash starts. I'll leave another note. If you ignore this, it is not my fault.
Disclaimer: The only things that do not belong to JK Rowling are some of the plot and the character of Gafeth so far. Everything else is her genius. Please don't sue me.
Wizard's Chess
Chapter 1: Summer Vacation and How Everything Began
Storms were raging outside of the house, number four on Privet Drive. Inspect closer and inside the house sitting in one of the darkened windows was a child staring aimlessly at the downpour, despite the late hour. The rain was trickling down the glass making tiny thuds when it landed on the awning beneath. Two arms were leaning on the windowpane, dressed in well worn blue striped pajamas. The face sitting on the arms was somber, framed in unruly raven hued hair, and the bottle green eyes that were peering dazedly through round glasses were dulled, lacking their natural gleam. He was dozing off slowly, face disappearing further into his arms with each breath, until a feathery white creature landed beside him and hooted softly. He awoke, jerking up abruptly, scanning the room with suspicion. There was an exhalation of air followed by a brief, annoyed word aimed warningly at the bird. An apologetic hoot followed, with more wing flapping and Hedwig, having completed her job, returned to her perch in the dark rafters. The flare of anger in Harry was quickly abated though, and shock soon took its place. He'd slept. Nightmares had plagued his nights for the past few months and were invading the daylight hours as well. Harry, trying to avoid the horrors displayed repeatedly in his overworked mind, had forced himself to a state of insomnia. Over and over, of all the venomous wraiths his brain clung to, from the revival ritual of the Dark Lord to the appearance of the shadows of his long deceased parents, it was the clean death of Cedric that wavered through his slumber most often. The half decayed hand outstretched, bones showing clearly through the taut skin performing the nauseatingly simple wand action, and the two words, avada kadavra. Amazing how just two words, seeming so innocent, could pluck the life out of your body, leaving the corpse whole and completely unscathed. He shuddered at the thought, at the memory, of that perfect murder. Better to think about something else while he had the option, anything. Think . Ron. Yes, Ron, and Hermione . standing on the front stairs of Hogwarts . waving to Hagrid . the temperature dropping . a flash of green light, and then a lone laugh of insanity penetrates the fresh scene of destruction .
Harry jerked his head, dark hair going everywhere and shuddered. There was no reprieve from the demons blurring on the edges of the outside of his vision. He covered his face with a damp palm as the other felt around instinctively for his pillow, the fingers searching the aging bedspread, brushing over the fraying edges where it had worn through. His hand was rewarded and he pulled the soft mass up to his chest and hugged both his arms around it. It was a place to bury his face for a while, when the tears he had been penning up threatened to erupt from his eyes, forcing chocked sobs out of an already weakened boy. The crash of electricity meeting electricity sounded again shining its sharp light on Harry as the first drop of salty water landed on his pillow.
~*~*~*~*~
Not too far away another boy was gazing thoughtfully into the pelting rain. Pale faced with waist length white hair and eyes dark green like the Forbidden Forest, he sat quietly in the back seat of a gray car wondering what his life was going to be like when the driver left him off.
~*~*~*~*~
Malfoy Manor was quiet despite the thunder roaring from the blue-black skies. Lucius and Narcissa were in their bedroom, Lucius sitting in front of a deep green desk writing fervently, Narcissa resting on a downy sofa situated in front of the only light source in the room, the fireplace. The light of the flames tinted everything an amiable shade of orange, transforming the area from unwelcoming to downright cozy. There was no noise made from the inside but the scribbling of a quill and the flip of pages from Narcissa reading a small leather-bound book. Their son Draco was sitting in his room trying on new robes bought from his earlier shopping excursion with his parents. They were a pale grey-blue, the exact color of his eyes. He smiled as he peered at his reflection. Striking, but he had expected nothing less, he was a Malfoy, and that meant one had to look their best no matter what the circumstance. He turned to the house elf that was cowering in a corner by his bed. "What do you think?" Draco spat.
"M-master is looking l-lovely as a-always," squeaked the terrified elf, wincing as though anticipating a blow. He stared at his servant, who had her small hands covering her head, large ears pressed against her skull. Merlin, she looks pathetic, he thought, annoyed at the open display of cowardice.
"Get up," he ordered her, "now. You are embarrassing." He glowered at the lump on the cringing on the carpet. Disgusting. "I expect you can find a suitable punishment for this, yes?" the mass nodded quickly. "Good, and see that it does not happen again." He snarled before turning and storming over to his dresser where he began changing into his pajamas. On went a silvery silk nightshirt with forbidding black and green snakes around the cuffs, and matching pants, then hoping to send his serving elf off, he folded his dress robes neatly into a drawer.
"Y-yes sir. Tirry does only as master wishes," whispered the elf to Draco's back, before disappearing toward the kitchen, legs unstable.
Later on when evening had finally faded to pure night, the youngest Malfoy was sitting on the velvety edge of his circular window, illuminated only by the briefest of yellow flashes through the glass. The sky still seemed to be falling in sheets, pounding down on anything foolish enough to remain out in the elements. The harsh wind was tossing the braches of the willow trees in the garden around like they were paper ribbons. Smaller residents of the plot had drowned days ago, including Draco's favorite roses, which had been dark red, almost black, and thick with long briars. Heavy clouds made the humidity unbearable, despite the comfort enchantments on every room.
He brushed away a few strands of hair that were clinging to his moist forehead. What time is it, late most likely, he thought, but one look at his canopied bed demolished any notions he had of sleeping. It would be hotter and, if possible, more disgusting lying amongst the pillows that were there. Looks like I'll be spending the night here again. He leaned back, putting his weight onto the cool silk of an emerald square of padding, the nape of his neck appreciating its slight chill. Drowsiness was winning the battle with his wits when there was the crack of someone apparating nearby.
Before he could get him self off of the windowpane a bony clawed hand covered his mouth. "Where is your father?" whispered a foul hiss into his ear. He processed the owner of the voice and his body stiffened. The Dark Lord. And he sounded exceptionally displeased. Every word he had spoken was laced with poison in a manner that no man should ever have cause to hear. Draco swallowed loudly, and took in a deep breath. In the lord's presence there was no place for fear.
"I-in his room my lord," the small blond child answered with as much stability as he could muster in an attempt to keep up his well tended dignity,
"Honest. Good thing boy, staying honest with your master makes your life expectancy much longer. A lesson your dear father has apparently not learned yet." He bared his yellowed teeth in a travesty of a human smile.
What was he talking about? His father, Lucius Malfoy, was unreachable, and a model Death Eater. He did not worry about his orders, just followed through with them with a terrifying precision. But Draco had been taught better then to ask questions. There was no reason to be frightened, he told himself. Due to father, your entire family is under his protection, He Who Must Not Be Named won't harm you. He just needs to see father and perhaps mother too, probably about something of great importance for him to have come in person and here you are standing here like a prat, wasting time. He turned, bowing, to his master, and asked, "May I escort you my lord?"
The red eyes glinted in perverse humor at the youngest Malfoy. How quick were the young to give their trust, and how enjoyable it was to break it. He leered, playing along with the boy's charade, "You may have the pleasure. Let us go." He stood a little straighter with the Black Lord's acceptance, how quaint. I wonder how proud he'll be after I've . spoken . with his father.
Draco led them through the dark corridors to the large brass double doors that led to his parents' suite. He knocked, "Father, mother, master is here to see you." The snake faced man let pass another sadistic grin as the doors flew open. Lucius stood aghast in the doorway. He walked calmly over to Draco and held his son at arms length by his shoulders and shook him violently. Then Lucius looked straight into Draco's eyes.
"Are you not right, boy?" shot a disgusted question from his father. It confused Draco, what had he done now? He looked around nervously and spotted his mother hovering near the doorframe, horror radiating in her downcast eyes and Draco had a horrible feeling in the bottom of his stomach.
"I don't know sir." He suddenly found the stone floor very interesting as he let his brain catch up with circumstances; his father had inquired about his wellbeing, marking that something was amiss. He shook his head and things began to register, making him ill, humiliating tears of emotions burning at the corners of his eyes. Despite his façade, Draco had been kept oblivious to most of the inner workings of his family's affairs. He had been forcibly trained not to question his seniors, and that was ripping them apart. Lucius could see this realization in his son's expression when Draco looked up, far too late to be of any help.
"Come Lucius, how long did you think you could hide from the one who knows all? Your traitorous actions did not pass unnoticed." Lucius rose to his feet, and roughly shoved a disbelieving Draco towards his mother.
"I knew the risks when I took the job," he shrugged, startlingly calm.
"Proud words spoken from a dead man."
Lucius met Voldemort's eyes, "Really? It seems that I'm still breathing."
"Ah I grow weary of your obstinacy, Malfoy. I think it is time I ended this little chat." The blood tinged eyes shone in the dark hall as Voldemort drew his wand. He leisurely raised its point toward Lucius and with a fanged vulgarity of a laugh he said "avada kadavra." There was a green flash and Lucius who had been smirking to the last, fell to the ground in a heap.
"Will you still pledge your loyalty young Malfoy?" said Voldemort as his wicked laughter resonated the house, echoing down through every empty hall. "Will you still escort your lord?" His mocking filled Draco's chest with the most burning of loathing. Had it not been for his mother, broken, salty tears running down her elegant face, he would have rushed at Voldemort in a barrage of feet and fists, forget wandwork. Instead Draco avoided him with tending to his mother. He wasn't sure how to handle her so he simply stroked her hair and spoke quiet words to her slouching frame. "I think I have made my point indisputably clear. You may live by my grace now, for I have plans that will make you wish you, like poor Mr. Malfoy, had not lived through tonight." His tone was casual, mocking everything that he had brought to ruin. "And, as a good visitor I will see myself to the door," then with another crack, he was gone, leaving the empty remains of what had once been a family.
~*~*~*~*~
The summer passed slowly for Harry. It was monotonous, never-ending days blending together to the point of no distinction. Days and nights were spent by himself, the Dursley's choosing to ignore him, and Ron and Hermione somewhere that they couldn't tell him, doing things they couldn't write down, in case the owls should be intercepted. It was frustrating, the words of encouragement from his best friends and the tantalizing hints of what was happening. Both the lack of contact from the wizarding world, and the lack of sleep were grating on him. He spent his days wandering the neighborhood, picking up papers from the trash, looking for something, anything to give him an idea as to what Voldemort was doing. He was regretting his choice to cancel the Daily Prophet, but after the first few articles that described himself as an attention desperate wannabe hero, and Dumbledore as a senile old fool he decided it wasn't worth the occasional tidbits of truth buried so deep it took a few times through to get anything out of it at all.
After about ten minutes of sitting in the living room in an awkward silence as the news played on the television, Harry decided to go outside. He wasn't sure what was worse, being ordered around by his aunt and uncle or being completely ignored by them. They never spoke to him, or said anything about him; it was as if he didn't exist. They didn't set him out meals, nor did they complain if he got his own. No one came into his room, and he had had to learn to do his own laundry. While the reprieve from the constant insults was nice, the current situation was uncanny. Only a few weeks left he told himself as his feet automatically took him to his favorite places.
He came to a more observant state an hour later around dusk, when he, sitting on a swing at the park, heard his cousin Dudley and his friends making a ruckus on the other side of the playground. They were discussing loudly their recent bout of troublemaking, including beating up a group of littler kids early that day. Harry, who wasn't quite in his right mindset, began to hope the blond pig would notice him and try to use him as a punching bag. He thought about how nice it would be to vent all of his fury at being left in the muggle world, alone, on the person who had once been the bane of his existence. Look over here stupid. I'm right here; all by myself . He reached into the pocket of his shorts and felt for his wand. He hadn't left it off of his person since school let out. He was running through the list of hexes he'd use on Dudley when he heard Piers Polkiss saying bye to Dudley, "By Big D. See ya tomorrow!" The phrase was repeated a few more times from Dudder's other gang buddies as he started towards Privet Drive. Harry swore to himself. It meant he'd have to go too. It didn't matter when Dudley came home, that was fine with his aunt and uncle but anytime after was far too late. He ran to catch up with Dudley.
"Hey Big D." Dudley turned around then frowned.
"Oh its you."
"How long have you been Big D then?" Harry chuckled .
"Its really none of your business but if you must know it's a nickname, you know something your friends call you . but wait you wouldn't know you don't have any friends even at that weirdo school ." he trailed off because at that point Harry had pulled out his wand. "You aren't allowed that in public."
"How do you know the rules haven't changed?" Harry grinned wickedly.
"T-they haven't." Dudley didn't sound too sure.
It was at that point, Harry remembered, that the dementors attacked. Now I'm at Sirius' with Ron and Hermione, not sure if I'll be going back to school or not, but at least I finally know what has been going on all summer. And I don't like it. How does the Ministry intend to cover up what happened at the Malfoys?
~*~*~*~*~
"You want me to what?" came a horrified screech from Draco. His mother was sitting opposite him from behind a heavy wooden desk in a small library, explaining patiently what had been decided was the best course of action for her son. She and Dumbledore, currently her only contact outside of the many angry Death Eaters, had agreed that nothing was to change with him. He was to act like a full supporter of Voldemort in front of his peers, if questioned to say coldly that his father had acted foolishly and had gotten what he deserved for it, and for all she knew about her son he might well believe just that. This was solely for his safety, but Narcissa had an idea that after the disastrous results of their last attempt to keep him safe, she might have more then a few problems getting her furious and distraught son to see reason.
Yes, after a brief questioning, Draco had heard the entire story from his mother a few days later; of how his father decided it was most profitable to play both sides of the fight between Hogwart's headmaster and the Dark Lord. It had been explained how he, the youngest Malfoy was kept in the dark so that he couldn't say or do anything that would puncture the carefully built wall around his father's deception. It was also supposedly to allow him a normal childhood, able to go to school without being afraid for the welfare of everyone at home. Draco understood the logic, although it didn't mean he liked it. He wondered if his parents realized what they had actually done.
His cheeks flushed in anger as he thought about it. I acted as I thought would please them, proving myself respectable. Most of my attitude and way of thinking was based off their forgeries. Why couldn't they have just told me to begin with? If they had I wouldn't . the painful thought forced blood into his cheeks, reddening them, which served to incite him further ... If they had told me I wouldn't have led father to his death. There was no use denying that that was exactly what he had done despite Narcissa's attempts to convince him otherwise. She had told him "Draco I'm glad you're here. It wouldn't due to have no gentleman in the house. Your father . " at that point some inanimate object tended to become fascinating until she regained her Malfoy composure.
She amazed Draco with her ability to keep things up. After that first night she hadn't cried, she simply continued her business, which was as remote to Draco as ever. In fact very little about her had changed. Home was as identical as it could be without Mr. Malfoy, with the simple adjustments that his parents' old room had been locked up, and Mrs. Malfoy had taken up residence in one of the guest bedrooms, this one significantly closer to her son's then the previous one.
At least, thought the blond boy as he fiddled with the tassels on the cushion next to him, it hadn't been an obvious deception. There had been nothing to suggest that what he had believed wasn't the truth. He had gone through everything time after time in his head during the long nights he spent staring at the top of his bed, and in the end had come to accept that at least his failure to see through the lies was more then simple inattention. Narcissa's annoyed, slightly pleading voice cut through his brooding.
"Draco will you listen to reason? You have to go back out in public someday and if you think you hate this idea you're going to injure me when I tell you the next one."
"There isn't anything that can make this much worse," was the sulky, angered reply, along with a further slouch in his posture.
"Sit up would you? I am not going to let all of those years of teaching you to be a proper gentleman fall to pieces because of some personal problems. The name Malfoy still commands respect."
Reflexively he sat straighter and glared, "That's news to me."
"Do you think that one man's folly means you change from the wealthiest pureblood family in Britain to the Weasleys? Are you so willing to toss aside your wand and join the mudbloods and muggle lovers?" she growled.
Her word resonated though him, embarrassing him further yet again, and a familiar look took over his features for the first time in days. "What an absurd idea, seeing as I am the only male Malfoy currently residing here. What would the rest of the family say?"
She retained her no nonsense look and narrowed her eyes but inside she was relieved that she wouldn't need to figure out how to smooth over her angered fifteen year old. It gave her more freedom as she continued, "They would be mortified of course, but on to business, I have found a safe place for you to stay until the school year begins."
"Where?" that suspicious look was now mingled with his schooled arrogant expression.
"Our cousin Sirius Black has agreed to let you stay with him. Don't you give me that look," she reprehended in response to his look of protest. "He is respectable enough despite the rumors." Knowing your version of respectable, that isn't convincing interjected Draco's mind, causing him to frown with disapproval. Unnoticing she kept speaking "I'm not sending you to someplace dangerous; that would completely defeat the purpose. His house is also the headquarters of the Order, although I doubt with your act many people will be willing to tell you much about it. I don't think you'll be welcome, so anticipate the tension."
"I understand," said Draco. Maybe the time away from here will let me get myself back together before the term begins. And if everyone there hates me I'll go sit in the library. The Order will stay away from those books, I know that the Blacks were proper purebloods. And who knows what I'll find there. In fact . "Will Tirry be going with me?"
"Yes, oh yes. Sirius said the only one of the whole serving group of servants left is a crazed old house elf, Kreacher. I can't leave you without your servant, and she is of no use to me here. I advise keeping her away from Kreacher though."
. I may not even need to look at all. "I'll see to her. When do I leave?"
Narcissa eyed her son with suspicion at his compliance. She spoke a tiny bit slower, observing him. "Tomorrow morning, so go start packing. I believe Tirry is already in there." Unconsciously Draco ran his hand through his hair, his ego at least partially rebuilt. He called back as he sauntered gracefully out into the torch lit hall.
"Goodnight mother."
Curious, she thought, he'll need watching. She exhaled slowly and answered dimly, "Goodnight Draco."
Warning: Slash in later chapters. If it makes you uncomfortable please do not read this or stop when the slash starts. I'll leave another note. If you ignore this, it is not my fault.
Disclaimer: The only things that do not belong to JK Rowling are some of the plot and the character of Gafeth so far. Everything else is her genius. Please don't sue me.
Wizard's Chess
Chapter 1: Summer Vacation and How Everything Began
Storms were raging outside of the house, number four on Privet Drive. Inspect closer and inside the house sitting in one of the darkened windows was a child staring aimlessly at the downpour, despite the late hour. The rain was trickling down the glass making tiny thuds when it landed on the awning beneath. Two arms were leaning on the windowpane, dressed in well worn blue striped pajamas. The face sitting on the arms was somber, framed in unruly raven hued hair, and the bottle green eyes that were peering dazedly through round glasses were dulled, lacking their natural gleam. He was dozing off slowly, face disappearing further into his arms with each breath, until a feathery white creature landed beside him and hooted softly. He awoke, jerking up abruptly, scanning the room with suspicion. There was an exhalation of air followed by a brief, annoyed word aimed warningly at the bird. An apologetic hoot followed, with more wing flapping and Hedwig, having completed her job, returned to her perch in the dark rafters. The flare of anger in Harry was quickly abated though, and shock soon took its place. He'd slept. Nightmares had plagued his nights for the past few months and were invading the daylight hours as well. Harry, trying to avoid the horrors displayed repeatedly in his overworked mind, had forced himself to a state of insomnia. Over and over, of all the venomous wraiths his brain clung to, from the revival ritual of the Dark Lord to the appearance of the shadows of his long deceased parents, it was the clean death of Cedric that wavered through his slumber most often. The half decayed hand outstretched, bones showing clearly through the taut skin performing the nauseatingly simple wand action, and the two words, avada kadavra. Amazing how just two words, seeming so innocent, could pluck the life out of your body, leaving the corpse whole and completely unscathed. He shuddered at the thought, at the memory, of that perfect murder. Better to think about something else while he had the option, anything. Think . Ron. Yes, Ron, and Hermione . standing on the front stairs of Hogwarts . waving to Hagrid . the temperature dropping . a flash of green light, and then a lone laugh of insanity penetrates the fresh scene of destruction .
Harry jerked his head, dark hair going everywhere and shuddered. There was no reprieve from the demons blurring on the edges of the outside of his vision. He covered his face with a damp palm as the other felt around instinctively for his pillow, the fingers searching the aging bedspread, brushing over the fraying edges where it had worn through. His hand was rewarded and he pulled the soft mass up to his chest and hugged both his arms around it. It was a place to bury his face for a while, when the tears he had been penning up threatened to erupt from his eyes, forcing chocked sobs out of an already weakened boy. The crash of electricity meeting electricity sounded again shining its sharp light on Harry as the first drop of salty water landed on his pillow.
~*~*~*~*~
Not too far away another boy was gazing thoughtfully into the pelting rain. Pale faced with waist length white hair and eyes dark green like the Forbidden Forest, he sat quietly in the back seat of a gray car wondering what his life was going to be like when the driver left him off.
~*~*~*~*~
Malfoy Manor was quiet despite the thunder roaring from the blue-black skies. Lucius and Narcissa were in their bedroom, Lucius sitting in front of a deep green desk writing fervently, Narcissa resting on a downy sofa situated in front of the only light source in the room, the fireplace. The light of the flames tinted everything an amiable shade of orange, transforming the area from unwelcoming to downright cozy. There was no noise made from the inside but the scribbling of a quill and the flip of pages from Narcissa reading a small leather-bound book. Their son Draco was sitting in his room trying on new robes bought from his earlier shopping excursion with his parents. They were a pale grey-blue, the exact color of his eyes. He smiled as he peered at his reflection. Striking, but he had expected nothing less, he was a Malfoy, and that meant one had to look their best no matter what the circumstance. He turned to the house elf that was cowering in a corner by his bed. "What do you think?" Draco spat.
"M-master is looking l-lovely as a-always," squeaked the terrified elf, wincing as though anticipating a blow. He stared at his servant, who had her small hands covering her head, large ears pressed against her skull. Merlin, she looks pathetic, he thought, annoyed at the open display of cowardice.
"Get up," he ordered her, "now. You are embarrassing." He glowered at the lump on the cringing on the carpet. Disgusting. "I expect you can find a suitable punishment for this, yes?" the mass nodded quickly. "Good, and see that it does not happen again." He snarled before turning and storming over to his dresser where he began changing into his pajamas. On went a silvery silk nightshirt with forbidding black and green snakes around the cuffs, and matching pants, then hoping to send his serving elf off, he folded his dress robes neatly into a drawer.
"Y-yes sir. Tirry does only as master wishes," whispered the elf to Draco's back, before disappearing toward the kitchen, legs unstable.
Later on when evening had finally faded to pure night, the youngest Malfoy was sitting on the velvety edge of his circular window, illuminated only by the briefest of yellow flashes through the glass. The sky still seemed to be falling in sheets, pounding down on anything foolish enough to remain out in the elements. The harsh wind was tossing the braches of the willow trees in the garden around like they were paper ribbons. Smaller residents of the plot had drowned days ago, including Draco's favorite roses, which had been dark red, almost black, and thick with long briars. Heavy clouds made the humidity unbearable, despite the comfort enchantments on every room.
He brushed away a few strands of hair that were clinging to his moist forehead. What time is it, late most likely, he thought, but one look at his canopied bed demolished any notions he had of sleeping. It would be hotter and, if possible, more disgusting lying amongst the pillows that were there. Looks like I'll be spending the night here again. He leaned back, putting his weight onto the cool silk of an emerald square of padding, the nape of his neck appreciating its slight chill. Drowsiness was winning the battle with his wits when there was the crack of someone apparating nearby.
Before he could get him self off of the windowpane a bony clawed hand covered his mouth. "Where is your father?" whispered a foul hiss into his ear. He processed the owner of the voice and his body stiffened. The Dark Lord. And he sounded exceptionally displeased. Every word he had spoken was laced with poison in a manner that no man should ever have cause to hear. Draco swallowed loudly, and took in a deep breath. In the lord's presence there was no place for fear.
"I-in his room my lord," the small blond child answered with as much stability as he could muster in an attempt to keep up his well tended dignity,
"Honest. Good thing boy, staying honest with your master makes your life expectancy much longer. A lesson your dear father has apparently not learned yet." He bared his yellowed teeth in a travesty of a human smile.
What was he talking about? His father, Lucius Malfoy, was unreachable, and a model Death Eater. He did not worry about his orders, just followed through with them with a terrifying precision. But Draco had been taught better then to ask questions. There was no reason to be frightened, he told himself. Due to father, your entire family is under his protection, He Who Must Not Be Named won't harm you. He just needs to see father and perhaps mother too, probably about something of great importance for him to have come in person and here you are standing here like a prat, wasting time. He turned, bowing, to his master, and asked, "May I escort you my lord?"
The red eyes glinted in perverse humor at the youngest Malfoy. How quick were the young to give their trust, and how enjoyable it was to break it. He leered, playing along with the boy's charade, "You may have the pleasure. Let us go." He stood a little straighter with the Black Lord's acceptance, how quaint. I wonder how proud he'll be after I've . spoken . with his father.
Draco led them through the dark corridors to the large brass double doors that led to his parents' suite. He knocked, "Father, mother, master is here to see you." The snake faced man let pass another sadistic grin as the doors flew open. Lucius stood aghast in the doorway. He walked calmly over to Draco and held his son at arms length by his shoulders and shook him violently. Then Lucius looked straight into Draco's eyes.
"Are you not right, boy?" shot a disgusted question from his father. It confused Draco, what had he done now? He looked around nervously and spotted his mother hovering near the doorframe, horror radiating in her downcast eyes and Draco had a horrible feeling in the bottom of his stomach.
"I don't know sir." He suddenly found the stone floor very interesting as he let his brain catch up with circumstances; his father had inquired about his wellbeing, marking that something was amiss. He shook his head and things began to register, making him ill, humiliating tears of emotions burning at the corners of his eyes. Despite his façade, Draco had been kept oblivious to most of the inner workings of his family's affairs. He had been forcibly trained not to question his seniors, and that was ripping them apart. Lucius could see this realization in his son's expression when Draco looked up, far too late to be of any help.
"Come Lucius, how long did you think you could hide from the one who knows all? Your traitorous actions did not pass unnoticed." Lucius rose to his feet, and roughly shoved a disbelieving Draco towards his mother.
"I knew the risks when I took the job," he shrugged, startlingly calm.
"Proud words spoken from a dead man."
Lucius met Voldemort's eyes, "Really? It seems that I'm still breathing."
"Ah I grow weary of your obstinacy, Malfoy. I think it is time I ended this little chat." The blood tinged eyes shone in the dark hall as Voldemort drew his wand. He leisurely raised its point toward Lucius and with a fanged vulgarity of a laugh he said "avada kadavra." There was a green flash and Lucius who had been smirking to the last, fell to the ground in a heap.
"Will you still pledge your loyalty young Malfoy?" said Voldemort as his wicked laughter resonated the house, echoing down through every empty hall. "Will you still escort your lord?" His mocking filled Draco's chest with the most burning of loathing. Had it not been for his mother, broken, salty tears running down her elegant face, he would have rushed at Voldemort in a barrage of feet and fists, forget wandwork. Instead Draco avoided him with tending to his mother. He wasn't sure how to handle her so he simply stroked her hair and spoke quiet words to her slouching frame. "I think I have made my point indisputably clear. You may live by my grace now, for I have plans that will make you wish you, like poor Mr. Malfoy, had not lived through tonight." His tone was casual, mocking everything that he had brought to ruin. "And, as a good visitor I will see myself to the door," then with another crack, he was gone, leaving the empty remains of what had once been a family.
~*~*~*~*~
The summer passed slowly for Harry. It was monotonous, never-ending days blending together to the point of no distinction. Days and nights were spent by himself, the Dursley's choosing to ignore him, and Ron and Hermione somewhere that they couldn't tell him, doing things they couldn't write down, in case the owls should be intercepted. It was frustrating, the words of encouragement from his best friends and the tantalizing hints of what was happening. Both the lack of contact from the wizarding world, and the lack of sleep were grating on him. He spent his days wandering the neighborhood, picking up papers from the trash, looking for something, anything to give him an idea as to what Voldemort was doing. He was regretting his choice to cancel the Daily Prophet, but after the first few articles that described himself as an attention desperate wannabe hero, and Dumbledore as a senile old fool he decided it wasn't worth the occasional tidbits of truth buried so deep it took a few times through to get anything out of it at all.
After about ten minutes of sitting in the living room in an awkward silence as the news played on the television, Harry decided to go outside. He wasn't sure what was worse, being ordered around by his aunt and uncle or being completely ignored by them. They never spoke to him, or said anything about him; it was as if he didn't exist. They didn't set him out meals, nor did they complain if he got his own. No one came into his room, and he had had to learn to do his own laundry. While the reprieve from the constant insults was nice, the current situation was uncanny. Only a few weeks left he told himself as his feet automatically took him to his favorite places.
He came to a more observant state an hour later around dusk, when he, sitting on a swing at the park, heard his cousin Dudley and his friends making a ruckus on the other side of the playground. They were discussing loudly their recent bout of troublemaking, including beating up a group of littler kids early that day. Harry, who wasn't quite in his right mindset, began to hope the blond pig would notice him and try to use him as a punching bag. He thought about how nice it would be to vent all of his fury at being left in the muggle world, alone, on the person who had once been the bane of his existence. Look over here stupid. I'm right here; all by myself . He reached into the pocket of his shorts and felt for his wand. He hadn't left it off of his person since school let out. He was running through the list of hexes he'd use on Dudley when he heard Piers Polkiss saying bye to Dudley, "By Big D. See ya tomorrow!" The phrase was repeated a few more times from Dudder's other gang buddies as he started towards Privet Drive. Harry swore to himself. It meant he'd have to go too. It didn't matter when Dudley came home, that was fine with his aunt and uncle but anytime after was far too late. He ran to catch up with Dudley.
"Hey Big D." Dudley turned around then frowned.
"Oh its you."
"How long have you been Big D then?" Harry chuckled .
"Its really none of your business but if you must know it's a nickname, you know something your friends call you . but wait you wouldn't know you don't have any friends even at that weirdo school ." he trailed off because at that point Harry had pulled out his wand. "You aren't allowed that in public."
"How do you know the rules haven't changed?" Harry grinned wickedly.
"T-they haven't." Dudley didn't sound too sure.
It was at that point, Harry remembered, that the dementors attacked. Now I'm at Sirius' with Ron and Hermione, not sure if I'll be going back to school or not, but at least I finally know what has been going on all summer. And I don't like it. How does the Ministry intend to cover up what happened at the Malfoys?
~*~*~*~*~
"You want me to what?" came a horrified screech from Draco. His mother was sitting opposite him from behind a heavy wooden desk in a small library, explaining patiently what had been decided was the best course of action for her son. She and Dumbledore, currently her only contact outside of the many angry Death Eaters, had agreed that nothing was to change with him. He was to act like a full supporter of Voldemort in front of his peers, if questioned to say coldly that his father had acted foolishly and had gotten what he deserved for it, and for all she knew about her son he might well believe just that. This was solely for his safety, but Narcissa had an idea that after the disastrous results of their last attempt to keep him safe, she might have more then a few problems getting her furious and distraught son to see reason.
Yes, after a brief questioning, Draco had heard the entire story from his mother a few days later; of how his father decided it was most profitable to play both sides of the fight between Hogwart's headmaster and the Dark Lord. It had been explained how he, the youngest Malfoy was kept in the dark so that he couldn't say or do anything that would puncture the carefully built wall around his father's deception. It was also supposedly to allow him a normal childhood, able to go to school without being afraid for the welfare of everyone at home. Draco understood the logic, although it didn't mean he liked it. He wondered if his parents realized what they had actually done.
His cheeks flushed in anger as he thought about it. I acted as I thought would please them, proving myself respectable. Most of my attitude and way of thinking was based off their forgeries. Why couldn't they have just told me to begin with? If they had I wouldn't . the painful thought forced blood into his cheeks, reddening them, which served to incite him further ... If they had told me I wouldn't have led father to his death. There was no use denying that that was exactly what he had done despite Narcissa's attempts to convince him otherwise. She had told him "Draco I'm glad you're here. It wouldn't due to have no gentleman in the house. Your father . " at that point some inanimate object tended to become fascinating until she regained her Malfoy composure.
She amazed Draco with her ability to keep things up. After that first night she hadn't cried, she simply continued her business, which was as remote to Draco as ever. In fact very little about her had changed. Home was as identical as it could be without Mr. Malfoy, with the simple adjustments that his parents' old room had been locked up, and Mrs. Malfoy had taken up residence in one of the guest bedrooms, this one significantly closer to her son's then the previous one.
At least, thought the blond boy as he fiddled with the tassels on the cushion next to him, it hadn't been an obvious deception. There had been nothing to suggest that what he had believed wasn't the truth. He had gone through everything time after time in his head during the long nights he spent staring at the top of his bed, and in the end had come to accept that at least his failure to see through the lies was more then simple inattention. Narcissa's annoyed, slightly pleading voice cut through his brooding.
"Draco will you listen to reason? You have to go back out in public someday and if you think you hate this idea you're going to injure me when I tell you the next one."
"There isn't anything that can make this much worse," was the sulky, angered reply, along with a further slouch in his posture.
"Sit up would you? I am not going to let all of those years of teaching you to be a proper gentleman fall to pieces because of some personal problems. The name Malfoy still commands respect."
Reflexively he sat straighter and glared, "That's news to me."
"Do you think that one man's folly means you change from the wealthiest pureblood family in Britain to the Weasleys? Are you so willing to toss aside your wand and join the mudbloods and muggle lovers?" she growled.
Her word resonated though him, embarrassing him further yet again, and a familiar look took over his features for the first time in days. "What an absurd idea, seeing as I am the only male Malfoy currently residing here. What would the rest of the family say?"
She retained her no nonsense look and narrowed her eyes but inside she was relieved that she wouldn't need to figure out how to smooth over her angered fifteen year old. It gave her more freedom as she continued, "They would be mortified of course, but on to business, I have found a safe place for you to stay until the school year begins."
"Where?" that suspicious look was now mingled with his schooled arrogant expression.
"Our cousin Sirius Black has agreed to let you stay with him. Don't you give me that look," she reprehended in response to his look of protest. "He is respectable enough despite the rumors." Knowing your version of respectable, that isn't convincing interjected Draco's mind, causing him to frown with disapproval. Unnoticing she kept speaking "I'm not sending you to someplace dangerous; that would completely defeat the purpose. His house is also the headquarters of the Order, although I doubt with your act many people will be willing to tell you much about it. I don't think you'll be welcome, so anticipate the tension."
"I understand," said Draco. Maybe the time away from here will let me get myself back together before the term begins. And if everyone there hates me I'll go sit in the library. The Order will stay away from those books, I know that the Blacks were proper purebloods. And who knows what I'll find there. In fact . "Will Tirry be going with me?"
"Yes, oh yes. Sirius said the only one of the whole serving group of servants left is a crazed old house elf, Kreacher. I can't leave you without your servant, and she is of no use to me here. I advise keeping her away from Kreacher though."
. I may not even need to look at all. "I'll see to her. When do I leave?"
Narcissa eyed her son with suspicion at his compliance. She spoke a tiny bit slower, observing him. "Tomorrow morning, so go start packing. I believe Tirry is already in there." Unconsciously Draco ran his hand through his hair, his ego at least partially rebuilt. He called back as he sauntered gracefully out into the torch lit hall.
"Goodnight mother."
Curious, she thought, he'll need watching. She exhaled slowly and answered dimly, "Goodnight Draco."