Bond of Circumstance
Warning(s): Draco's POV
Beta: CleopatraIsMyName
Bond One
A Look into Past Events
It hadn't just been that single epiphany of a life spent in virtual slavery, kissing the boots of the evilest man he'd ever get the chance to see. Draco had also been thinking over the mortifying degradation that he had been suffering over the past few years.
Although he would never readily admit to his failures, he did know power when he saw it. Being a Malfoy did have its perks, after all. He just hadn't been able to recognize it in Potter before... before that day at the tournament; when Potter had disappeared, and Draco's stomach had done a back-flip.
He was lucky that he was able to keep his customary mask on, at that moment, but he couldn't help but be just the slightest bit worried on what this turn of events would cause. The ripple effect, as it was.
Then, later confronting Potter, and insulting the Hufflepuff... he had felt that power. That immense aura of magic that caused the air to tremble, the leaves to shake, and Draco's heartbeat to quicken, adrenaline rushing through his veins.
The power that Potter had, somehow, tapped into; his fury, having brought it on. Draco was almost glad that he had ended up having taken a hit.
Almost.
Now, here he was... hesitating over whether or not to walk to the old codger's office. He did have a home to go to, but his future there was looking bleaker by every passing second.
Taking a deep breath, Draco did a bunk and sidled into the bathroom.
"Draco?" he heard being called. It was just his luck that his friends had noticed his absence. Usually, they just ignored him unless it was absolutely necessary. There was Pansy, who kept up her romantic front, clinging to him at every moment.
Crabbe and Goyle were full believers in the colossal power of the Dark Lord, agreeing with any of the shite he spouted about the mudbloods and Potter, especially.
Don't even get him started on Blaise. The teen may very well be loyal to an extent, but that wasn't the true nature of a Slytherin. Cunning... ambition... sneakiness... All just ways that spelt power-hungry. Because, face it, who didn't want a life of luxury? To be comfortable?
But all the Slytherins knew that they had to work hard, make connections, and use their wits. Otherwise, how does one acquire power?
Keeping an ear out, just in case his two mates came his way, Draco walked into a stall, concealing himself using a Charm.
A few moments later, the platinum blond cast a Tempus, checking the time. 'Great,' he thought. The time shown as half past ten. 'More than enough time to make my way towards Dumbledore's office.'
Checking he had all his belongings with him, and the extra Galleons he kept on-hand, he slowly lowered himself from the toilet seat he'd been standing on, still listening for his two friends.
When he felt that the coast was clear, he cast a quick Finite and walked out of the stall, staring into the mirror.
'Should I do this?' he asked himself, fixing his appearance. Nodding his head, he assured himself that this was the only way he would live through this bloody war. Because that's what this would be, soon enough: a war. Another Voldemort War based on politics and blood.
Then, he questioned how he should walk into the office. Should he use a particular mask, or should he offer something in return?
Taking a deep, slow breath, he exhaled just as steadily. Dumbledore was a Gryffindor, if the way he coddled that particular House was any sign. So, he would fight fire with fire; or, as the situation calls for, Gryffindor sympathy with Gryffindor recklessness.
Taking up his bag, and checking he still had everything, the blond wizard cast the Tempus, again. 'Fourteen past eleven,' he sighed, then straightened his shoulders, striding towards the door.
As he walked down the labyrinth, he noted that the halls felt strangely empty, as if the magic was saving its energy for the next term. And it didn't really make any sense, this odd observation. The portraits were still moving, the staircases were probably still switching around, and the house elves were still cleaning.
But the desolateness was just too much for the young Slytherin, so he hastened his pace, regarding everything with an inquisitive gaze. The raised ceiling, the gothic portrait frames, the wizards and witches from centuries before, situated in said portraits, and the clothing: kilts, dresses, armour, robes, et cetera.
He had never taken the time to properly admire the castle, its age, and the people that had trained here... and to think that a select group of dark wizards and witches may try and destroy such history... And the thought that Draco may have almost been a part of that madness, that chaos, the struggle. It made him sick with guilt. But, he also felt a small burst pride in his change.
Before he knew it, he stood before the Gargoyles, and the office. Thinking back to what he had heard, Draco took a list out of his bag. 'Hmm...' he thought to himself. 'What have I seen the Headmaster eating, recently?'
Casting a quick spell on the piece of parchment, Draco looked over the entire list of candy sold in Honeydukes, along with his little check marks, denoting the ones he'd seen the Headmaster happily munching on during this term.
After all, every Slytherin needed a back-up for times such as these.
Acid Pops ✘
Bat's Blood Soup ✘
Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans ✓
Blood-flavoured lollipops ✓ (off his rocker)
Cauldron Cakes ✓
Charm Choc ✘
Chocoballs ✓
Chocolate Cauldrons (Severus, ironically, hates them)
Chocolate Frogs ✓
Chocolate Skeletons ✘
Chocolate Wands ✘
Choco-Loco ✘
Crystallised pineapple ✓
Drooble's Best Blowing Gum (maybe in private?)
Exploding bonbons ✘
Fizzing Whizzbees ✓
Fudge Flies ✘
Glacial Snow Flakes ✓
Honeydukes Best Chocolate ✓
Honeydukes Mice Pops ✓
Ice Mice ✘
Jelly Slugs ✓
Liquorice Wands ✓
No-Melt Ice cream ✘
Nougat Chunks (never seen these before)
Pepper Imps (what is this?)
Peppermint Toad (sounds revoltingly refreshing)
Pink Coconut Ice ✘ (good riddance; looks weird)
Pixie Puffs ✘
Pumpkin fizz ✘
Pumpkin Pasties ✓
Salt Water Taffy ✓
Shock-o-Choc ✘
Skeletal Sweets ✘
Spindle's Lick'O'Rish Spiders ✘ (be funny to give these to the Weasel, one day)
Sugar Quills ✓
Sugared Butterfly Wings ✓
Toffees ✓
Toothflossing Stringmints ✓
Tooth-Splintering Strongmints ✘
Treacle fudge ✓
Wizochoc ✘
Squinting at his list, Draco stated, "Peppermint Toad." The entrance opened, with a groan, revealing a winding staircase, and Draco grunted in distaste at the thought of walking up those steps. Muttering darkly under his breath, Draco calmly dropped most of his shields, except a few guarding his feelings and secrets, and marched up the steps.
When he got close to the door, he could sense the wards, and the Headmaster's magic rising up to meet his eyes. Not flinching, and acting as if he hadn't just felt that, he hesitated. Did he really want to sacrifice his home? The only family he'd ever known? What if he still lost?
'Then I'll have been a fool, but I don't believe this to be the case. Every failure these past few years has been of my own making - and, I daresay, well-deserving - making the past me a failure. However, I am making the right decision, now.'
Taking a deep breath, he raised his hand to knock on the huge door, but was intercepted by a, "Come in, Mister Malfoy." He opened up the door, and took a long look around. The entire office was a complete mess, knick-knacks and precious artefacts scattered throughout.
Trying to keep his thoughts centred on the task at hand, Draco tried not to look too "at awe" concerning the office, itself. Looking at Dumbledore, he noted the pensive expression, the surprise on his face. He hadn't been expecting him, Draco Malfoy, to come to his office.
Acting his part, Draco fidgeted restlessly, allowing his nervous to shine through. Taking a seat in front of the man's desk, Draco wiped his suddenly sweaty palms on the front of his trousers, looking up at the man. Locking eyes, he felt a presence push at his mind, and allowed his thoughts to be brought to the fore-front.
Taking a deep breath, he slumped into the chair, allowing himself to become comfortable, for the mean time. Dumbledore threaded his fingers together, and then motioned toward his jar of hard sweets.
"Lemon drop?" he offered, smiling kindly at Draco. The Slytherin nodded, recalling one of his father's old lessons, and odd pieces of advice.
'If that scheming, old man offers you one of his Lemon Drops, graciously turn it down. He has them laced with a small Calming Drought; just enough to make you relax in his presence, and sacrifice your secrets.'
Dumbledore seemed stunned by his acceptance of the proffered candy, but; nevertheless, pleased by it. It showed the Slytherin's willingness for vulnerability, in such a special situation.
The bearded wizard stood up slowly, on account of his old age, and walked around the desk, then leaned forward towards Draco. "What do you need, Mister Malfoy?"
Draco took a deep, shaky breath, and answered, "Sanctuary."
Dumbledore seemed to be gauging Draco's honesty, moving his eyes from one part of his face to the other. With a bob of his head, a motion of ascent, the older man picked up his wand, and cast a Patronus. The silver-mist image of his familiar blew out of his wand, and he ordered it to bring up Professor McGonagall, Snape – with a vial of Veritaserum – and Sirius Black.
Blanching at the last name, Draco looked up at the old coot as if he was off his trolley. The man smiled, and then said, "He was innocent."
Recalling the tale of his betrayal of the Potters, the blond teen decided he would take the older wizard's word on it. Not everything he had heard was true, after all.
Dumbledore looked at Draco soberly, and then said, "You do understand what you will have to do, Mister Malfoy?"
Bobbing his head, Draco chewed on the fragile Lemon Drop in his mouth, swallowing reflexively. "Yes, you will give me Veritaserum and I will have to tell you anything regarding my position in the up-coming war, about my family, why I am here, and how trustworthy I will be."
Dumbledore nodded his head, face expressing his sadness and sympathy at the state of affairs the youth had been placed in.
Several moments passed, and a knock was heard at the door. "Come in Severus, Minerva." Draco raised his head from the finger nails he was currently inspecting, and met the gaze of his godfather. The man's eyes held a flicker of pride, before he turned away towards the Headmaster, holding the vial of liquid.
Professor McGonagall's face was soft, although it still held her trademark sternness, lips still pursed. She placed a hand on the young heir's shoulder, a sign of comfort.
The last, Sirius Black, came in through the Floo. After seeing his visage everywhere, during third-year, Draco could still identify him. He looked at Draco, and then pierced Dumbledore with a gaze of anger. "How can you be sure that the Malfoy brat won't turn us in, the moment the chance arises?"
Flinching, Draco didn't say anything to his defence. He had tormented Potter for the past few years; that, coupled with the other teen's temper, was enough for Draco to know that he probably deserved a bit of his outrage. Okay, maybe a lot. Most of it, really.
Dumbledore just said, "I believe Mister Malfoy can speak for himself, don't you agree?"
Black harrumphed, the turned his head towards Draco. "So, what're you doing here?"
"Joining the winning side," Draco calmly stated, hands folded in his lap.
The man scoffed at Draco's reply.
Stepping forward, Snape looked at Dumbledore, but not before glaring daggers at Black. "I have the Veritaserum you requested, Headmaster," he said.
Dumbledore nodded his head, "Administer two drops." Bobbing his head at the order, Snape walked towards Draco, and then leaned forward, uncorking the bottle.
The teen opened his mouth obligingly, feeling the man's cold hands tilt his chin up. Two drops carefully landed on his tongue, and Draco swallowed. The effects were near-instantaneous. He felt detached from entire scene, a lightness of head he'd never experienced before.
"What is your name?"
"Draco Lucius Malfoy."
"When is your birthday?"
"The fifth of June, 1980." Nodding his head, Snape stepped aside for McGonagall, who would be doing the questioning.
Draco felt like he was witnessing the interrogation outside, not the one being questioned. It was a strange experience, and he hoped to never be subjected to it again. The questions were all standard, asking about his home life, his parents, and their role in the war.
Draco answered, in a monotone voice, about how he had been spoiled by his parents. About how, when he was about eight, his mother and father had taken him aside, and told him about the First Voldemort War, and how they had been on the Dark Lord's side. About their hopes of a clean, pure future; one where the Muggle-born were non-existent and the pure-bloods ruled with an iron fist.
As the questions got to the more recent events, Draco told them about his father telling him to simply 'lie low', in second-year. About the lessons he'd learned about the Dark Arts, and torture, over the years. And about how he'd finally realised he needn't learn such meaningless things, when he was probably going to end up dead, on the wrong side of the war.
When they were all satisfied, including Black, Draco was given the antidote. "So," Draco said, still recovering from the effects of the administered truth serum. "What's going to happen to me?"
"We will be settling you at a place where no one would suspect your presence, Mister Malfoy." Dumbledore responded, a twinkle bright in his eyes. Draco had almost forgotten how aggravatingly vague the wizard could be.
Almost.
Nodding, Draco stood up, stretching his arms over his head. Following the older man to the Floo fireplace, he was given a handful of the black powder from a small sack placed strategically atop of the mantle. "Just call out, 'Wisteria Walk'."
Draco breathed deeply, shrugged his bag onto his shoulder, and did as the wizard said, throwing in the Floo powder, and calling out the address. He walked out in a burst of smoke, looking around the small drawing room. Dumbledore came in a beat later, humming a song under his breath.
Draco ignored him, and asked, "Where are we?"
"Near where you will be staying. This is just a short stop."
Rolling his eyes in disbelief, Draco followed Dumbledore out to the living room.
'The house,' Draco decided, 'smells like old cabbage and cats.' Massaging the bridge of his nose, Draco focused on breathing through his mouth. He was led outside, and saw dozens of other similarly designed house lining the road and walkways.
He rubbed his face with a hand; now realising he was in a Muggle neighbourhood. 'He better know what he's doing.' Draco sneered, quickening his pace. Dumbledore was already halfway down the street, walking towards another house.
Though they all looked the same, they also had some distinct differences. This one, for example, had a vegetable and flower garden out front. As they neared the door, upon closer inspection, the plaque read, "Number 4 Privet Drive." As the blond memorised the address, the older wizard raised his fist and knocked on the door.
A few seconds later, a deep male voice called, "I'll get it, Mum!" The brown-painted door opened up swiftly, and a rather pudgy, older teen stood in the entrance. Draco ground his teeth together at his expression of disgust, fingers itching to wipe the look off of his pig-face.
A clearing of Dumbledore's throat, along with a pointed look at Draco's carefully blank face, ruined those plans. "Hello, Dudley. May I speak with your parents?"
The brunet looked back and yelled, "Mum, there's two oddly dressed men here for you! I think it may have something to do with the freak!"
Blinking, Draco simply thought, 'Freak?'
The teen walked away when a slim woman took his place in front of the two wizards. "What is it?" she rudely questioned, a brow arched up in incredulousness.
"Well," Dumbledore began, "Along with your current charge, Mister Potter, I have Mister Draco Malfoy here, needing a place to say for part of the summer."
Draco and the woman looked at the man in outrage. "I have to stay with Potter's Muggle family?" he cried out, as the woman yelled, "You want me to house another freak?"
Dumbledore just smiled brightly in response, making Draco's eye twitch in irritation. Weren't there rumours that the man had gone completely gormless years ago? Well, it looked like they had a basis in fact.
The woman huffed in irritation, and then beckoned Draco inside of her home. "You owe me, you old codger." Dumbledore just twinkled in reply, leaving without a single glance back. Not that Draco had turned to look and see if he had, not at all.
She looked him over, and asked, "Who are you?"
"Draco Malfoy," he sneered, arms crossed in front of his chest.
"And you're friends with Potter?"
Draco just shook his head, looking at her quizzically. "Why do you c-"
His question was cut off when he heard a grunt upstairs. "What are you doing sitting on the stairs, Potter?"
"None of your business, Dudders!" a voice mocked. Draco bristled in agitation, wishing he hadn't needed to hear it again, after just leaving the school.
Of course, beggars couldn't be choosers. He sighed and uncrossed his arms, "You may as well come down, Potter," the blond called, boredom lacing his tone.
And that's when Potter descended down the stairs, with an expression of pure anger that had taken over his features.
Of course, that was probably Draco's fault.
Author's Note:
I hoped you all enjoyed thisreally long chapter. Urgh. xD I think I may have switched a few events around, but I think this story is going alright xD
Oh, and I got the complete Honeydukes sweets list from Harry Potter wikia. Meow!