Reunion

Draco's raised his hand to his face and wearily rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. The dim light in the archive room and the tiny script combined to give him a headache. He was having a difficult time resisting the urge to slam the record book shut in his irritation.

When he had first arrived in London he had hoped that he could gain access to Azkaban's record books and discover if his mother had been incarcerated. He had gone directly to the Ministries's main office. He had spent the rest of the day, being sent from one office to another to find the one that could actually access the records he needed. He had finally been directed to an office in Diagon Alley that he was assured was the proper one. By the time he arrived they were closed for the day. Disappointed he returned home, that had been Friday, the office was closed for the weekend. Monday morning he arrived at the office on Diagon first thing, only to discover that he did not have the required authorization to view their records. It took another three days to secure that. He was finally directed to the vaults where the records were kept. In the Ministry's main office.

The record books contained a list of all the prisoners who had died during incarceration at Azkaban. There were a lot. Roughly three books per year, filled with tiny hard to read script. He had started with the year he had been interred. After two days of concerted effort he still had three years left to get through. So far there had been no Malfoys on the list, but he had wasted the better part of a week searching. The office would close in fifteen minutes for the weekend.

He wished there was a quicker way to handle his search. There were some things that no amount of magic made any easier.

He set the book aside, marking the page number in his head so he could pick up in the same place on Monday. He rose and strode towards the exit, bidding goodnight to the desk clerk, a young woman with dreamy eyes and wild hair.

"Goodbye Mr. Malfoy, will we see you on Monday?"

"I suspect you will," he replied with a sigh. He was not used to being addressed as Mr. Malfoy. It was taking some time to adjust.

Most of the ministry officials had looked down their noses at him, but had at least treated him fairly. The rest of the wizarding world was not so forgiving. The current style of robes left the forearms exposed. A good number of establishments refused him service after seeing the mark on his arm. He really could not blame them. He turned in his visitors badge at the front desk and apparated to Diagon Alley.

He popped into place outside of Madame Malkin's Robe shop and went inside to collect the robes he had ordered from her. He had toyed with the idea of having them cut with longer sleeves to conceal the Dark Mark, but in the end had decided against it. Not for a fickle reason like fashion, or the way others would stare, but because he felt that this too was part of his punishment for his crimes.

While Madame Malkin did not outright refuse him service like many others she did not seem terribly happy to have his business. He gathered his robes quickly and left, then grabbed dinner to go from a shop on Nocturne.

He had made a great deal of progress at cleaning the manor. He had had a weekend and several evenings to work on it, and nothing else to occupy his time. He worked every night until he was exhausted, then collapsed into a sleep so deep that he seldom managed to dream. It was just as well, he only ever had nightmares anymore. He had finished the foyer the previous evening and felt he could no longer put off the drawing room. He found him selfdreading it more and more.

He ate slowly and found himself making excuses not to work on it. Finally he decided to take the night off and just chill. He read one of the few books from the study that he had been able to recover from the mess.

His mother's golden hair was stained scarlet where it mixed with her blood on the floor. Her robe had been torn to shreds and lay beneath her in tattered rags. He wanted to turn his head or run to her, but his aunt's spell held him firmly in place. He could not even cry out to her, but the spell could not stop the tears from rolling down his face. She had stopped screaming now, she simply lay there with a blank expression on her face.

"This is your punishment. You should never have failed our great maser," Bellatrix purred into his ear, in her most condescending voice, as she ran her fingers through his hair. It was almost a caress. He was certain now that she was insane.

A man with blonde hair down to his waist stepped out of the circle and descended on Narcissa, she did not struggle when he forced her legs apart. She gave a tiny cry as he slammed himself into her, but otherwise made no objection. She had suffered so much pain that she was almost indifferent to it.

Lord Voldemort lounged in an easy chair, watching with a twisted smile, shifting his attention between Draco and Narcissa, as though not wishing to miss a moment of the torment the two were going through. Professor Snape stood next to him, watching with an indifferent expression as his best friend's wife was raped.

Draco could not remember the name of the blonde man, but the animalistic snarl on his face as he struck the unresisting woman in the face, he knew he would never forget. He continued to fuck Draco's mother like a rutting animal. Draco had lost all sense of time, just as he had lost count of how many men. The blonde satisfied himself and rose, returning to his place in the circle.

"There now, they've tamed all the fight out of her. Take her as you please," Voldemort said, pushing Snape forward. Draco's anguished cry never left his throat. Severus descended slowly to Narcissa, his face unreadable. He knelt over her, his hands running over her in an almost gentle caress.

"Severus," she whispered, "Severus, please no…"

An expression flashed across his face so fast Draco was not certain he had seen it. Regret…sorrow. Maybe he imagined it because he wanted to believe that this man who had been their friend still cared for them. Snape leaned over her, his hands playing over her breasts before he lowered his face and whispered in her ear. She stiffened visibly, and turned her face away. He bit viciously into her ear, causing her to spasm in pain. He raised his face to Draco, his expression was hard and captivated Draco's attention as he forced himself into her…

Draco woke with fresh tears running down his face. At least in Azkaban the Illithins had dulled the pain. The newly restored planetary clock chimed one in the morning. The book dropped from Draco's lap as he sat up and buried his face in his hands, broken sobs shaking his body. He had been helpless to save her, and now he could only fumble blindly about in his search for her. How many other people's lives had been destroyed because of him?

Draco lost track of how long he sat there mourning, but at some point he got up and roamed through the house, taking stock of the restoration he had done. Mostly he looked without seeing. Trying to work his grief stricken mind into a semblance of order again. Eventually he found himself at the door of the drawing room, and knew he could put it off no longer.

He stepped over the threshold and raised his wand, attacking the dirt in the room viciously, as if in cleansing it he could cleanse the memories from his mind. They came slowly at first, then stronger, as he slipped into a rhythm spell to spell restoring the room as it had been before.

Draco paced restlessly back and forth over the drawing room floor, angrier perhaps than he had ever been. His father was in Azkaban because of stupid Harry Potter.

"God, I wish there was something I could do. I swear I'll get revenge on that little ponce somehow."

"Draco, watch your language," his mother warned. "And for God's sake be more careful what you say. Don't you understand? The Dark Lord is coming here. You must watch yourself, please."

Draco rounded on her, "Father was following his orders, he should do something."

"Draco, your father failed," Narcissa rose from her seat and crossed the room to put a hand on his shoulder. Leaning close she whispered in his ear, "If he were free, the Dark Lord might punish him even more severely than what he suffers in Azkaban. As it is we shall be fortunate if his displeasure does not fall on us. For our safety you must guard your tongue and curb your anger. Remember that we serve him, not he us."

Draco stopped ranting and thought hard about what his mother was telling him. He had always thought that the Dark Lord would only hurt good wizards. It had never occurred to him that he would be just as vicious or more so with his own followers.

"But we have not failed."

"It may not matter son."

"Mother-" he never finished the sentence for at that moment there was the tramp of feet at the door and Aunt Bellatrix opened the door and led in several Deatheaters and the Dark Lord himself.

It was the first time Draco had ever been in the presence of the Dark Lord, and he stood tensely next to his mother, suddenly more nervous than he had thought he would be.

"Welcome Dark One to our humble home…" his mother started, stepping forward and bowing from the waist humbly.

"Silence woman!" the Dark Lord commanded striding across the threshold. "Your family has not served me well."

His mother straightened and stepped back so that she was next to him, but slightly forward. A tremor sped through her body. For the first time in his life his mother seemed small, and he felt the urge to step forward and place himself in front of her, but he stayed where she had bid him stay. Fear was beginning to etch itself deeply into his being.

"Your husband has failed me, not once but twice," the Dark Lord paced across the room as he spoke, circling around them, his red snake like eyes searing into them. Draco tried to stand tall and not look as afraid as he felt. "Both tasks were of phenomenal importance. It leads me to question the loyalty of your family."

He lowered his wand slowly towards Narcissa.

"No!" Draco stepped in front of his mother, pushing her behind him.

"Draco!" his mother grabbed his shoulder and tried to pull him back but he stood his ground.

"No," he said again, more calmly now, partly to calm his mother, partly to reassure himself, but mostly to assure the Dark Lord. "We are loyal."

"Are you now," the Dark Lord asked, standing over them, his pale lips pulled up in a victorious smile.

"Father's failures are his own. We bore no part in them."

"Did you not, his family, his offspring, those he trusted most?"

"They were his own," Draco insisted.

The Dark Lord reached out and grasped his left hand in an iron grip and baring his forearm.

"Bah, you say you are loyal, yet you don't even bear a mark."

"I have never been offered the opportunity to swear my loyalty."

"And if I took your oath, would you be a better servant than your father?" the Dark Lord asked with a wicked grin.

"Draco," his mother whispered, trembling against him.

He shrugged her off, "Yes," her replied squaring his shoulders. "Yes, I would."

"Then I shall allow you to give your oath. But be forewarned, failure will not be tolerated."

Before Draco could move he whipped his wand out and a spell flashed from it and hit his mother. She dropped to the floor, writhing in pain.

"No!" he knelt next to her, holding her close until her convulsions stopped.

"Don't fail. Now come."

Draco followed his instructions, kneeling on the floor, the hasp of the trap door digging into his knee through the carpet, and swore the oath of service to the Dark Lord. He too writhed on the floor in pain, as the Dark Mark was placed on his skin, the spell burning slowly into the flesh of his arm.

It was the first night of a nightmare that lasted over a year, ending on the night that Dumbledore was murdered.

Draco sat wearily on the trapdoor, and breathed a sigh of relief. It was done.

He tried to gather his thoughts, to organize what he needed to do next, but nothing came to him.

A sudden knock at the door caused him to jump. He brushed a stray strand of hair back into place as he went to answer it. Who in the world would be on his doorstep?

He opened the door to a complete stranger. The woman on his doorstep looked several years older than him, with wide set violet eyes and long hair the color of honey.

"Can I help you?"

She smiled and held out a hand to him, "I don't think we've ever been introduced, my name is Nymphadora Lupis, but please, call me Tonks, it's my maiden name and everyone does. Anyway, I know we never met, but we're cousins."

"Cousins?"

"Yeah, hey can I come in, this vine keeps trying to eat my purse!"

"Uh, yeah," he stepped back and let her in.

"Oh, wow, you've really cleaned up the place. My husband and I came in and covered everything up, when well, everything happened. And I came to check on things once in a while, but you know, things were still getting really messy."

"Ok, how am I related to you? And what happened?"

"Ok, well, my mom and your mom are sisters right. Only my mom up and decides to marry a muggle and well you know."

"She got ostracized."

"Yep, blown off all the family bloodlines and everything."

"Sorry."

"Ah, it never bothered me much, but that's how come we never met. I was several years ahead of you in school, and I never got to come to family stuff."

Draco noticed that once inside her hair seemed darker, maybe red.

"Anyway, I heard about your release and I figured there were some things you might need to know."

"Do you know where my mother is?"

"Yes," there was hesitance in her voice. "Yes, that's part of it."

"Is she alright, she's not dead?"

"No, Draco, she's not dead, but she isn't well either."

"Well, where is she?"

"She's been staying with my husband and I. This is the first time I've had a chance to come see you, and there's just too much to tell in a letter. After you, turned yourself in, Voldemort took out his anger on her. Snape tried to protect her, but he couldn't do much without compromising his position, and we know the price he paid to get there. He kept them from killing her, but she was tortured so much that well…"

"She's brain dead."

"Maybe, the healers say there's a chance she'll recover, and sometimes she has days where she seems almost like she knows who she is, and then she has real bad days. Maybe seeing you will help, I don't know. Normally, the healers would have kept her in the hospital, but with her being a Death Eater and all, we were not sure she would be cared for properly in the long term, so my husband and I brought her to live with us."

"Thank you."

"It's no problem."

"My family never would have done something like that for yours in the old days. I wish I could say we would, but we both know it's a lie. I can compensate you for finances while you cared for her if you need them."

"Thanks, but money isn't really a problem right now. I'm an auror you know, it pays pretty well."

Draco jumped, startled.

"I haven't met an auror since my release who hasn't watched me as if expecting me to try resurrecting the Dark Lord right under their noses. Not that I would," he added quickly, shuddering at the thought.

"Well, I figure everybody deserves a second chance, and you were just a kid. Besides, Harry figures you were forced into it to protect your mum, so I'm not too worried."

"Potter!"

"Yeah, he even testified at your trial. It's part of why the Scrimgour honored his deal with you. Otherwise you'd have been sentenced to a full term."

"I never knew. But what could Potter have possibly said, we were enemies?"

"He was on the tower that night."

"He was, oh."

"What about Snape? I know enough to know that he's considered a war hero now, but I don't know how on earth. Dumbledore thought he was a spy, but he killed Dumbledore!"

"He was a spy. Dumbledore was smart Draco, whatever else anyone can say, he was a genius, and mad to boot. He knew that he was an obstacle to Voldemort, as long as he was alive Voldemort would attack him, and that would leave his students vulnerable. He also knew that for Harry to have a chance of success, he would need an ally close to Voldemort. The only way to get a spy that close to him would be for the spy to do something drastically horrendous. He called it hitting two birds with one stone.

"Your mother was not the only person who had Snape under and Unbreakable Vow. He had also vowed to Dumbledore that if Deatheaters ever made it into the school, he would finish Dumbledore and get close to Voldemort."

"Huh, sounds like something he'd come up with."

"When the time came, Snape was able to let Harry and his army get within range of Voldemort, which gave them time to strike the final blow.

"He still would have been executed as a war criminal, because he wasn't going to tell anyone, he hadn't wanted to kill Dumbledore you know. He thought there was no way Deatheaters could ever get into Hogwarts.

"But Dumbledore had left his memories of the vow in the hands of an official, who turned it up in the trial. He was pardoned."

"That sounds like exactly the sort of thing my dad hated about Dumbledore. So what is Snape up to these days."

"He tries to stay out of the public eye as much as possible. He and Harry don't get along, despite it being Dumbledore's will and all, Harry will never be able to fully forgive him for what he did. And Snape can't really forgive himself either, so he just tries to stay out of things. Actually, he's been paying for a lot of the care your mother needs too."

"I'm not sure if that surprises me or not."

"Did you know?"

"All of that, no. But looking back now, I think he may have helped me escape."

They sat in silence for a while.

"Are you ready to see your mom?"

"Yeah."

They left the house together and aparated to Tonks house. He was startled to learn that her husband was his old professor, who had been fired for being a werewolf. Looking at their modest but nice home, he guessed that he no longer suffered the same prejudices.

They exchanged greetings and Tonks led him to a back room where his mother stayed. She let him in, and stepped respectfully back into the hall.

She was as beautiful as he remembered, but she did not recognize him when she looked at him.

She sat on the bed dressed in elegant blue robes that brought out the color in her eyes. She looked up as he entered, and for a moment his heart fluttered with hope that she might know him, but then she turned away and stared out at the sunfilled garden outside.

"Mother," he crossed the room and knelt in front of her, taking her hand in his. "Mother, Mother it's Draco. I've come home Mother."

She continued to stare out the window.

He kissed her hand gently and found that hot tears were trickling down his cheek. She should not have to be like this. She who had always been so proud and noble, first always in the defense of her family. His mother had always been vivacious and full of life, and now she seemed so broken.

He stayed there in her room for a long time, kneeling in front of her and holding her hand, hot tears pouring down his cheeks at the injustice of it all. He hoped someday he could set things right.

Absently she raised her hand and stroked his hair, the same way she had done when he was a child. He looked up to meet her eyes, but her stare was still vacant, her eyes fixed on the window, and the garden beyond.