Readers in DEE, or who follow my FB page, have noticed I've stopped posting sneak-peeks for this fic. That's because I'm writing the chapters at this speed, and usually in a single sitting late at night, so any week would too close to the completed chapter being posted. Also, with the chapter lengths being kept short, any peeks might give away too much. However, writing & posting daily chapters was not a planned thing, it's just what's happening with this story. There may be days when I can't post a chapter, and in those instances I will share a sneak peek, along with a notation about when that chapter can be expected. 😊

Chapter Six

"Patience," Lucius said, his voice stern and booming as it cut across the room.

Utter silence fell in the wake of that single word, and he felt oddly satisfied by the immediate obedience. He had so much more control over the rabble under Greyback's thumb than he'd had under Voldemort's. How very odd that a creature he still considered beneath him had established a much clearer and more stable hierarchy in a matter of days than the Dark Lord had managed over years and a considerably noteworthy return from the dead.

Perhaps it was some wolf thing. That was how packs functioned, after all, wasn't it? Some established pecking order?

Not much time had passed since Greyback had gone to infiltrate the Hogwarts grounds, but the Death Eaters were edgy without clear parameters on what to do with their time until they were to enact their orders. The werewolves were edgier, still, without their leaders' presence. It all made for a combined air of agitation that was likely to make them a more potent force when they were finally unleashed to do their work.

Lucius couldn't say if Fenrir Greyback was a surprisingly brilliant strategist who'd planned for that, or if it was no more than a happy accident.

"I know you all grow restless, but Greyback's orders are clear." Sitting back in his chair, he looked out at the assembly. "The full moon is only two nights away. Remember, we are simply to create a diversion. I do not care what you must do to keep yourselves in check until then, or what you must do to not cause too many casualties, but his orders are to be followed to the letter."

When another rumble of restless murmur began to bubble up, he tacked on, "Under pain of death." He didn't feel it needed to be clarified that 'pain of death' was a threat which only applied to the werewolves. Death Eaters who disobeyed their new leader faced the bite, which only carried the possibility of death.

It was the possibility of ending up with an unshakable instinctive drive to follow their leader's every whim that frightened them more.

"This seems like an awful lot of effort to retrieve one God forsaken werewolf," Draco said quietly with a shake of his head.

Narcissa nearly choked on her tea. This was not quite the afternoon discussion she'd been hoping to have with her son. Setting her cup down against its saucer with a delicate clinking sound, she sighed.

The young man had barely touched his own tea, nor the dish of biscuits the elves had set out. Not as though such behavior had been uncommon for him over this last year, but she'd been striving to keep things in the Manor as normal as was within her power for his sake. He might no longer be a child, but she would not stop trying her damnedest to protect him as though he was.

She also didn't particularly enjoy discussing battle plans or strategies, in general, as she ran the risk of anyone outside the family realizing Lucius hadn't married her for her looks or her bloodline, after all. A witch of her status and privilege who also had a brain? She'd have had no end of suitors pestering her day and night. If some ill end were to befall Lucius, she'd find herself running that risk, again, as a widow.

But Draco needed reassurance that the Dark's new leader was not sending them on some fool's errand.

Selecting one of the biscuits, she picked at it with delicate pinches, flaking off the edges a bit, but not seeming very interested in actually eating it. "It is not about one werewolf, Draco. Retrieving Mulciber is the objective, but that is not all that he means this force he's combined to accomplish."

"Then tell me, Mother, what is it meant to accomplish?" Draco's nostrils flared as he sneered at no one in particular. "I must've missed your presence at the wartable talks."

Narcissa's blue eyes narrowed in a chilling expression as she met her son's gaze. "Is that snark I hear, Draco?"

Aware he'd crossed a line—not just from her look, but from the tone of her voice, the one for which Father always found reasons to excuse himself from a room after hearing—he cleared his throat. Shaking his head as he dropped his gaze to the floor, he said, "I'm sorry, Mother, no. I just don't understand what's going on and it's frustrating me."

She picked up her tea for another sip before answering, intentionally giving herself a moment to let her irritation with him settle. "I know, Draco. You're a clever young man, unaccustomed to not grasping a situation. It can't be comfortable, feeling that some simple beast has plotted out a course with reasoning that eludes you."

Once more lifting his gaze to his mother's, he frowned in thought. "You do understand how I feel."

Her perfectly arched brows pinched together as she nodded. Narcissa returned her attention to the biscuit she was crumbling in her fingers. "It will be away to show what an absolute grip he has on those he now commands. I have no idea how he does it, but supposedly Greyback has such complete control over his wolves that he can even command them under the full moon."

Draco's eyes widened. "That's why he's so certain his orders about limited causalities will be followed?"

She shrugged. "One would have to assume so. Greyback has no plans for an all-out assault, not yet. By both escaping the castle with Mulciber, and proving that he has a stronger pull on his wolves than even the full moon, what he is doing is sending them a message."

"He wants . . . ." He swallowed hard, shaking his head. "He wants to show them he's just as dangerous a foe as the Dark Lord was, if not . . . ."

"If not?"

Darting his gaze about the room, he sat back heavily in his chair. "If not more dangerous. One thing that could always be counted on with the Dark Lord was that his forces were controlled through fear. Greyback makes threats, but his treatment of his subordinates is wholly different."

Mother nodded. "And what do the werewolves get if one of their own rises to power—true power—in Wizarding Britain? What do the Death Eaters who fall in line and help them get?"

Draco felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. It was so simple. Something Voldemort had never promised, because even had he won, he never would've let a single one of them off their metaphorical chains.

"Freedom. Greyback's controlling everyone with the promise of freedom."

"And because of that, I actually believe he can win."

Sniffling, the young man forced a gulp down his throat. "I'm not sure I do."

Narcissa set down what precious little was left of that poor, victimized biscuit and dusted off her hands on a napkin. Standing, she rounded the table to rest her hands on her son's shoulders. The moment they'd returned home, she had considered that she might have to do this. Her heart ached, but it was what must be done.

"My darling son, I know you fear what will become of you, or of your father and I, should we have chosen the wrong side in this. I need you to understand whatever decisions I have made, I have always made them with your safety in mind. I put my faith in your father, because I believed he knew what was best. Then I put my faith in the Dark Lord, because I believed it was the only way to protect our family. And, then, I put my faith in Harry Potter, because I knew it was the only way to reunite us with you."

"And now you're putting your faith in Greyback is what you're saying?"

"What I'm saying is that I know there were times I had placed my faith in the wrong side of things. But whatever I have done, I have always done it for your sake, Draco." Dropping one hand from his shoulders, Narcissa withdrew her wand. "What I'm saying is . . . . If you were to slip away from the Manor when no one is paying you any mind . . . if you were to defect to the other side, I don't think anyone would blame you."

"What?"

"In their eyes, you're still a child. Still someone prone to whimsical decisions. If you changed sides, believing ours has no hope of winning, it would be understood. Perhaps you think to bargain for your parents safety in the event that Greyback's plans fail. Any number of sympathetic reasons could be offered, in fact."

Draco lowered his head, understanding his mother's insistence. "You want me to—"

"I want you to be safe, always, which is why you'll leave me for the safety of Hogwarts." Swallowing hard, she raised her wand behind his head before going on in a whisper, "And which is why you must forget everything that's happened here."

Hermione and Harry hurried down the stairs and across the main floor. She'd barely had time to process her returned memories when a burst of light from somewhere near the courtyard burnt through the early evening sky and flickered in through the windows. Wands drawn, they dashed out the castle's front gates and made a bee-line for the direction of Neville's flare.

As they rounded the grounds, the pair stopped short, nearly tripping over each other. The sight that greeted them had them exchanging a surprised glance before they both continued forward.

Neville was trudging toward the castle, visibly unharmed and perhaps even looking a bit irritated. He dragged a very dazed-seeming Draco Malfoy along side him.

"What happened?" Harry asked as he moved to Draco's other side and pulled the pale-haired wizard's free arm around his shoulders.

"No idea," Neville said with a frown. "He just stumbled out of the Dark Forest and collapsed."

Hermione watched Draco's face as the bumbling trio drew nearer. She pivoted on her heel to walk with them as she asked, "What happened to you? What are you doing here?"

Meeting her gaze, he blinked a few times, seemingly scrambling to collect his thoughts. "Granger?"

Her brows shot up at his questioning tone. Whatever'd happened to him, it'd been a doozy. "Yeah, o' course it's me, Malfoy."

Strangely, he actually appeared relieved. Glancing about as they continued to move, he said, "I don't know. Last thing I remember is the Dark Lord falling."