Into the Vanishing Cabinet
Halfmoons
It was a Tuesday morning.
It was a Tuesday morning on the fourteenth of June.
It was a Tuesday morning on the fourteenth of June, and in Draco's opinion it was still too early for any serious Death Eater business. Really, it was barely nine. An ungodly hour to be sure. He should have been blissfully asleep, dreaming of the nice hot plate of eggs and kippers he would be tucking into come breakfast. It was Sunday, and seeing as Draco wasn't getting much rest as it were, this was beginning to cut into mealtime too.
"Are you sure it works?" The gruff voice startled Draco from his daydreaming.
"Of course I'm sure," Malfoy snapped, empty stomach only heightening his irritability. "I am standing here, aren't I?" he narrowed his eyes at the large figure of Fenrir Greyback, who was standing near the door.
The werewolf growled at him, barring his teeth. "Careful with your words little Malfoy, or I'll bite that shinny blonde head of."
"Let's not fight boys," came a crooning, pursed-lipped reply before Draco could really get going. Malfoy glanced at his aunt, who was lounging on what looked disturbingly similar to one of the poufs in Professor Trelawney's classroom. Why such an ugly item was being sold at Borgin and Burke was a mystery.
Currently, the woman was bouncing one foot over the other, using her crooked wand to clean underneath her too-long fingernails. Every so often she would look over her shoulder, through the stacks of morally questionable items that filled up the shop, to the window.
Draco turned back around to the cabinet. He'd only just stepped through it minutes before. Examining it closer, he noticed that it was uglier then the one in Hogwarts; more like a sarcophagus then an unassuming cabinet really. Probably use to be stuck up in some poor old chap's entry hall, looking ominous until they had gotten a hold of it.
They? Malfoy thought bitterly, running a hand over the bumpy inlayed metal. You're hardly one of them, aren't you? Don't even have the Mark yet. You've got to prove yourself. Got to off someone first.
He flexed his wand hand instinctively, thinking about exactly who he was suppose to be offing.
"Something wrong? You look peaky."
"He always looks peaky, Bells."
"Bugger off." Malfoy dropped his hand from the cupboard's handle. "I cut my arm fixing this one's mate in Hogwarts. Still twinges a bit."
But that admission reminded him of Granger, and he didn't want to be thinking about that insufferable know-it-all at the moment. Because when he thought about her, there was a slow rolling uneasiness that settled into his stomach. If he had been unsure about attacking a castle full of sleeping children before, seeing Hermione Granger's stupid face looking up at him with actual care while she fixed him almost had Draco wishing he was at home, in bed. He didn't need her sympathy, but she had offered her help. It was hard for him to say truthfully that he would have helped her in return.
Actually, he wouldn't have, and that was very frustrating.
After the girl had left him in the bathroom, it was hard for Draco to clear the image of her before she took off his cloak. That weary, "Does he have the Mark?" look. Like he was poised to transform into You Know Who right there in the bloody tub.
The only thing that was beneficial about her being there that Friday night was that he had got a good look at her. He'd been following the Trio for years to torment them, but it had been a long time since he'd had a close up viewing of Scarhead's in-house librarian.
She looked the same, except for the teeth, which were smaller. Thanks to him, actually. If he hadn't got her cursed she would still look like a great bushy beaver. That and her bending over his arm gave him quite a good view of her chest.
Now Malfoy was the first to admit that he was particularly picky about who he set his sights on. Not that Granger was one of them. But it wasn't to say he couldn't admire something that was say, up to par.
Besides, he was more discreet then Weasley, who seemed to be prone to talking to girl's chests, rather than the girls themselves.
That boy had no tact.
But perhaps Granger was Hogwart's best-kept secret. Large, bright eyes… perfectly proportionate breasts…
And then the Slytherin actually caught up with his brain and realized what he was thinking. Draco made a face, blanched, and banished Hermione Granger from his thoughts.
From the back room, behind Mr. Borgin's front counter, Thorfinn Rowle was coming around with a teacup clutched his massive fist. Blonde hair, dull squinty eyes… and a brain to match. Malfoy wasn't sure the man even knew how to brew tea. "Who else are we waiting for?" Rowle breathed heavily.
Bellatrix twirled her wand. "Yaxly and Gibbon are around here somewhere."
"Went off to look at the pair of Bucy Racing Goggles Borgins' got for sale in the back room," the werewolf grinned at Malfoy's disgusted look. "Great for your Quidditch enemies. Makes the snitch disappear. Drives them batty."
"So that leaves the Carrows. But then they're always late."
Malfoy threw up his hands as Yaxly and Gibbon appeared on their way back through the stacks of Unmentionable Books, "Is no one on time in this blasted organization?"
"Bells, this is getting to be a bit… trying," Greyback ground out, ignoring Draco's outburst. "And we're suppose to wait untiltonight?" A slow moving grin twisted the wolf's features and the hair on the back of Draco's neck stood on end. "What if we… surprised them a bit?"
At this, Bellatrix uncrossed her legs, eyes having taken on a smoldering, devilish droop. "Whatever do you mean?"
"Think about it. If we go now, during breakfast, they'll all be in one little corral," he clenched his hand as if catching something in mid-air. "Easy pickings."
Blood thundered in Draco's head. That was not part of the plan. He had to stall them. "But we've got to wait. He said to wait until dark. Besides, they'll be teachers. They'll-"
His aunt gave a sharp cackle, like she hadn't heard him at all. "Oh that's diabolical." Draco saw Rowle glanced despairingly at his untouched cup of tea, but the other two men seemed excited.
This was not how it was suppose to go. They were supposed to leave at night. When no one would see them. When the teachers would be in bed. When the casualties would be lowest.
Not that Malfoy had anything against terrorizing those boring little students in that boring little school. Taunt them; tease them, that was all well and good. But attack them? In broad daylight? They wouldn't even have masks on!
Malfoy ran a hand through his hair, trying to think. "He'll be mad. Furious."
"Ah, Draco," Bellatrix smiled sweetly at him, too sweetly. "That's where you're wrong. The Dark Lord always encourages a bit on… creativity... on his subject's part."
Malfoy must have looked stupid. There he was standing in his perfectly pressed suit, mouth hanging open. "But…" he tried.
His aunt uncurled herself from where she sat, arching her back like a cat now ready for the hunt. She clicked her teeth together. "My dear Greyback, we might just have to promote you for this wonderful idea." The werewolf's hand came into contact with Draco's shoulder as he was pushed out of the way.
Malfoy couldn't believe his eyes as the five Death Eaters crowded forward, eagerness plastered all over their stupid faces. Weren't they supposed to stick to the plan? To wait for the signal?
A weight dropped into his stomach.
"No." Malfoy stuck out his arm and grabbed the cabinet's handle just before Bellatrix' long nailed fingers could reach it. "We're going to do this right," he hissed through gritted teeth.
His aunt looked perplexed for a moment, as if she couldn't understand what he was talking about. Just as quickly the moment passed, and she pouted at him. "Now Draco," she purred, placing a hand on either of his shoulders. He tried to resist, but her claws dug in and held him tight as she steered him towards the pouf near the window.
The action reminded him briefly of his mother, although it was not a happy memory. When he was a young boy, very young, and had done something undesirable in public, his mother use to take hold of his arm very discreetly, and squeeze a bit in warning. Not too hard mind, but he'd always been left with little half-moon dents in his perfectly pale flesh for a minute or two after.
A fresh wave of unease rose like bile in the back of his throat.
Oh God how he missed his mother. He wanted to see her so badly.
"Now, you be a good little boy and wait here for the Carrows." The other four were already stepping into the cabinet.
Draco was about to open his mouth, but he was pushed down roughly onto the chair. He sneered, pulling out his wand, but stopped. He doubted the Dark Lord would take kindly to his senior member being jinxed.
A harsh laugh spilled from Bella's lips as Draco wilted, knowing he could do nothing.
"Hurry along, Draco dear, don't want all the fun for ourselves!" She was still cackling when the cabinet door closed with a click, cutting her off.
