Saving Draco

by

Isabella C Robertson

Chapter One

It is with contempt that I sit here, quill poised in my hand and the absolute urge to write to my hearts content. The room is formal, the occasion serious - the wooden chair they gave me creaks with each movement. I am hesitant to begin. Although I long to tell, with each beat of my heart a fresh wave of nostalgia strikes me; the room, the smell, the expression… the heartache, something holds me back. A force I know not of. Is it fear? Do I fear the aftermath of my actions? Do I long to conceal the beast that plagued and prayed on the innocent?

….

I, Professor Severus Alexander Snape, hereby declare to be completely honest and truthful in my statement and promise that my accounts are recollected as best to memory. I shall retell all that I know of from the date which I first rescued Mr Draco Malfoy from his residence at Malfoy Manor. I, Professor Severus Alexander Snape, do not fear the beast.

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I woke from my doze, the light pitter patter of rain that had lulled me to sleep had eased. It was July 4th, exactly one month since final term had commenced at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. My usual activities around this time were simple, more profound and less exuberant as those I had while at Hogwarts. I had resided to my summer cottage in Bearna Beith. It is an isolated area in south England, so isolated in fact that it didn't even exist on the maps.* A perfect misanthropists heaven! I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, drawing my attention vaguely to different areas of the small, yet homely living room. I had inherited this cottage. My grandfather, Alexander Prince had too been one for the peace and quiet that only a deserted village could give. After he had died, my mother, his only child, had left the place to ruin. I discovered it by chance, long past her death, when I had been clearing out storage space in the attic. Why not take advantage of something that would have some day probably been legally mine anyway?

I could see the dim lights of the main town from where I sat in my favourite armchair alongside the side window. By main town I mean just a single cobbled street with the obvious shops - butcher, baker, sweets, toys, book store, post office -the bare necessities for rural villagers. There were few lights shining from across the fields for it was a silent night, a dead night; the kind of night that made the hair on the back of your neck stand tall. It wasn't the distant rumbling of oncoming thunder that woke me, nor was it the hoot of the owls from the near by forest. It was a feeling. A feeling of urgency… and a voice. I thought I heard my name being called, I had felt a hand cease me by the shoulder, clawing my back. Running my fingers through my hair I tried to shake the feeling. It was the salt air getting to me, I never had built an immunity to the abilities of the sea.

I headed to the kitchen, grabbing a pile of letters on the table as I went. Flicking through them that familiar feeling of worry panged in my stomach. It was the usual bundle of subscriptions, bills, letters from Hogwarts, the usual summer greeting from Albus - I might as well admit here and now that sometimes I accidentally on purpose forget to reply to Albus - and as usual, there was not that single reply I had been anticipating. You see, for some time I had become closely acquainted with the Malfoy family, that is Lucius, Narcissa and their young son Draco. I had been an acquaintance of Lucius Malfoy during my school days at Hogwarts, though he was 5 years ahead of me, I caught his attention with my potion skills. From that point on, we shared a mutual trust. Though I never called him a friend, nor will I ever, and right now I struggle to note him as an acquaintance, I admit he had a likeable charm. Highly persuasive, absolutely Slytherin and horribly slimy. When his son Draco was brought into this world, I found myself being hired as a housing teacher for him at Malfoy Manor, preparing him for various task he would complete at Hogwarts, always keeping him one step ahead. Sometimes I wish I hadn't, sometimes I wish I had never met that boy. I wish I had never opened myself to him, never allowed him to entrust his deepest thoughts in my confidence. Not all Slytherin's are nasty, though they may seem so on the outside, on the inside they too share the deep desire to be wanted and needed and loved. I knew all to well of Draco's desires and hardships. I had seen the scars myself.

I finished washing the pots and pans I had left on the sink. I could have easily cleared them with a cleaning spell, but I found chores that Muggles found gruelling to be a source of great thinking time. My thoughts rooted on Draco. I couldn't help but wonder where he was, what he was doing, was he ok? I think it was then that I realised that somewhere deep within me, a father longed to surface. I felt over whelming compassion and I wanted to physically feel another being. I gave my plate a good scrub, bringing the shine out in it and mentally told myself to shut up. My thoughts again wondered to Draco and his last correspondence, it was a short letter, his writing was scrawled untidily across the parchment. He had said he was missing Hogwarts, was looking forward to rest and relaxation though and that "things were OK." I had fought with myself numerous times over the last 4 weeks to keep myself from apparating straight to Malfoy Manor. Each time I found myself coming closer and closer to doing it. I didn't trust my instinct, which told me meddling in Malfoy affairs would only cause me trouble, but my logic told me that something was wrong and I needed to meddle, and that I trusted.

I grabbed my cloak from the hall, fastening it with stiff fingers. I wasn't sure how exactly I was going to do this. I didn't know who was home, if anyone was home or if I would barge in on a crime scene or a completely innocent scene. I just knew though at that point that I needed to see Draco. I took the stairs briskly, trying to remain cool and collect, and grabbed a fistful of floo powder, tossing it into the flames of my bedroom fire. The emerald flames licked my knees as I stepped into it and announced "Malfoy Manor". A quick swirl and a few twirls later, I slipped out of the floo fire at Malfoy Manor. The room before me looked completely normal, large and decorative, as is Malfoy nature, with a few grand chairs , a piano and a large shrub in the corner. I looked for assistance, a bell, a house elf … a body. But there was nothing. My legs seemed to decide for me at that point though, and they led me from the room and down the hall way. I realise too that my actions are considered breaking and entering, also trespassing on private property, not to mention completely nosey, but you will come to understand.

As I walked down a long corridor with countless portraits of stern and stiff looking witches and wizards, my brisk walk slowed to a cautious, territorial sort of prowl. The hairs on the back of my neck rose, the place suddenly seemed colder. I peered down the hall, a door stood ajar with a dim light creeping from between the cracks. I should have turned, left, never stepped any further. I should have done the sensible thing and left the matter in family hands, but I wasn't that cruel. I wasn't that cold hearted. As I neared I heard the familiar crackle of needle meeting vinyl, then a long note echoed from the room, followed by some sharper short ones. I paced forward, easing the door open slowly. The room within looked grey; a cloud of smoke silhouetted everything, the drawn curtains cast obscure shadows across the walls, it was empty except for a single chair facing a dead fire. The gramophone was perched an a rounded table crackling beautifully.

"Lucius?" I asked.

No reply. I pushed the door open with a creak, stepping over the thresh hold. A figure sat hunched in the arm chair. From where I stood, I could only make out a few wisps of golden hair.

"Lucius, I apologise for the abrupt call. I didn't intend on being informal, but my mind was with unrest." I took my wand from my inner pocket at this point. I don't now why, perhaps I felt subconsciously threatened or even frightened. "Lucius?"

The figure made a noise. It sounded like a cackle, a chirp of laughter. A feminine cackle. It slowly turned towards me, the blonde hair falling to conceal the identity.

"Lucius cannot acquaint you at this moment," the figure said, laughing slightly.

"Narcissa?"

Another cackle.

"Is Lucius available to speak, I have a matter of urgency to discuss with him. Could you call him to my assistance?"

She ignored me, turning back to the gramophone, dragging the needle carelessly through the vinyl. I flinched ever so slightly.

"Lucius cannot acquaint you at this moment," she repeated.

I made the mistake then, the brutal mistake of stepping toward her. Something made me want to look her in the eye. I wanted to be able to see what sparked in those orbs when she spoke. Her face shocked me. I took a step back. Although always pale, her complexion was now grey and murky, like a plant that had not seen sun light and had been left to wither meekly. Her hair hung in uneven tatters across her face and a murky stain had crusted on her cheek. I now make the assumption that it was blood.

"Narcissa?" I whispered, coming closer. "What happened?"

She made no movement. "Do you find me attractive, Severus? Do you think I'm pretty?"

I was taken aback by the questioning, yet worried by the sincerity in her voice. I heard not a strong, proud woman, but a broken lady with battered insecurities.

"Where is he?" I asked.

"I said he cannot acquaint you at the moment!" she snarled, pushing herself foreword in the chair, almost lurching at me. Her eyes were wild, she bore her teeth and her breath smelled wretchedly of spirits.

"Your son, Narcissa, where is your son? Where is Draco?" My voice shook for the first time since arriving to this house of horrors.

"Oh. Him." She spat at my feet then, snarling to herself, muttering words I could not hear.

"Tell me where he is!" I demanded, finally turning my wand on her. She looked up to me, her light blue eyes stared mockingly back. I dared not move, I dared not take my eyes from hers. She eased herself from the couch, slowly, painstakingly. My grip tightened around the slender source of protection, if I had to, I would. For the first time I noted that she wore a greying shawl around her head, it draped to her feet, enveloping her frail body.

"He is in the Seul." she said and she pointed a bony finger towards a door at the end of the room.

"Narcissa, you need to tell me what happened? Why is Draco down there? Where is Lucius? What happened to you both?"

"Lucius cannot acquaint with you at this moment." She then sat back into her chair, pulled the needle of the gramophone back to start and began humming and muttering in a whisper.

I hurried to the end of the room, ignoring the eerie musical behind me. My mind was now plagued with expectations. I pulled the door open and hurtled down a dark flight of stairs behind it. The stairs twirled, a few dim lights shone over head, but they didn't help. As I slipped and stumbled down the steps I could only think of taking him away, far away and running. I wasn't sure what to expect, I think all expectation had become limitless at this point and when I found myself outside a tall ebony door, I didn't hesitate, instead blasted it open, sending splinters flying and the hinges creaking.

I recoiled. There was a strong stench of urine. A musty familiar smell reached my nose. I had smelled this odour on more than one occasion in the past; helpless men and woman rattling on the floor, slowly, painfully dying - blood. He lay in the corner, curled into a feeble ball, his knees drawn to his pointed chin. His grey eyes bore into mine, staring unbelievably. He looked, dare I say it, pathetic.

"Draco?" I whispered, kneeling toward him. "It's me."

"It hurts." he whispered back, his voice cracking with dehydration.

I felt his bodily fluids soak against my cloak and trousers, did I care that I was being doused in urine, fouled with excrement? Could I care about anything else in the world at this point? No.

I touched his arm, he flinched, whimpering slightly. A thick silver shackle weighed his wrist down, attached to the floor with a large bolt. That monster. He couldn't have escaped if he tried.

"I'm going to take you from here, do you understand?" I tapped the chains, breaking the seal and gently removing the weight from his stiff limbs. He hissed in agony, curling away from my touch.

"Just breath." I told him as I hoisted him from the floor. Ignoring his low groans and the torturing sound of blood dripping to the floor, soaking my shoe, I ascended the stairs, in my mind gorily destroying that vile man who had dared defy a delicate boy such as Draco Malfoy.

* A line from Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights.

Thank you to all of you who subscribed for future updates. Also, thank you too 'I've Forgotten My Password' who reviewed the prologue. I hope you have retrieved your account and can come join us for future chapters.

- Isabella C Robertson