"Wha-? Wha's going on?" Mr. Weasley murmured as he made his way down to the first landing.
A sudden shatter had jolted him up from the bed where he'd just been dosing off as he attempted to wait on his wife Molly in the chance she might want to talk to him over her conversation with Draco.
However, he could guess how the conversation was going based on the shattering.
On the first landing, joining in with the others who'd already gathered there, he looked around nervously at their wide-eyed faces.
Shouting could be heard from downstairs, but the exact words were echoing against the marble, making it impossible to understand fully what the commotion was about. A distinct voice, one he recognized as Malfoy's, shouted, "Read it!" and that's all he could make out from the frantic conversation.
Arthur looked down at the oldest of his son whose eyebrows were raised and eyes were darting about the room, watching Draco.
"Bill? What's happening?" Arthur asked, standing at his son's side in confusion, looking down at the foyer to see Draco, hands furiously pushing his hair back, his eyes blazing in panic as he paced the floor.
Molly was standing too, looking from the disregarded letter on the couch to Draco.
"I dunno...Something about that note Malfoy's mum left him."
Arthur gave a nod, placing his hand on his son's shoulder momentarily before he bustled down the stairs, "Molly?"
She had the letter in her hands by this point, scanning it with shaky hands. She blinked suddenly, her eyes stopping on a line and then re-read it two or three times.
'...was only protecting you...'
'...I don't expect you to forgive me...'
"What is it, dear?"
'...I had to kill him..for you...for us...'
'...never tell anyone about this letter...you need the inheritance...'
"What's it say?"
'...you'll never find me...'
'...don't try...'
'...my note...'
'...love, always love, your mother.'
"...She killed him, Arthur..." She whispered in a faint breath.
Arthur's eyebrows knitted together, opening his mouth, closing it, and then opened it again shaking his head in deep confusion. He felt as though he should be catching on, but found it impossible to grasp a single idea as to what she could be saying.
"She...killed...she killed...?...Wait. Who, now?"
Molly shook her head, looking to Draco who'd now resulted to sitting in an arm chair, head in his hands, and even at the coaxing of Ginny who pleaded him to say something, refused to speak a single word. Harry bent down, crouching on the balls of his feet.
"What's happened, Malfoy? C'mon."
"Don't act so concerned, Potter." Draco murmured defeated, "It doesn't change anything...Nothing for you anyway."
Draco looked up, releasing a breath of air, "This whole legacy is a joke is all. The Malfoy name. What a fucking joke this all is. I'd like nothing more than to watch this entire house burn."
He stood, apparently having regained himself enough to pull his sweater down correctly and correct his hair. "Birnbaums!" He shook with every syllable come from his throat, "Birnbaums, now, you filthy creature!"
A squawking noise could be heard and the beating of powerfully small wings as it descended slowly down the flight of stairs, moving towards his owners with noisy agitation. The eagle owl found himself suddenly on Malfoy's arm as Draco grabbed his talon quickly with a dexterous hand. The owl didn't oppose to the contact though, focusing in on Draco's destined goal which was apparently his father's study which was located just to the right of the stairs.
"Draco? What're you doing?" Ginny asked shakily, turning around and holding her hands together in front of her nervously.
"Liar. I knew Goyle couldn't be trusted." Draco murmured, "Either him or Voldemort..."
"What did the letter say, Mrs. Weasley?" Harry asked, turning to her who still had the letter in her hands.
Her anxious gaze had been focused on Malfoy, teary eyes slowly tore from him and went back down to letter.
"Mrs. Weasley?"
The sound barrier she'd created around herself broke, and she looked back up to Harry with a certain urgency.
"She killed him...and ran away..."
"Who?" Harry asked, "Who killed who, Mrs. Weasley?"
"...His mother. Mrs. Malfoy..."
"Killed who?"
"...Mr. Malfoy..."
Harry looked back in utter disbelief, turning from her to look at the others who were equally shocked at the sudden news.
"It says so in that letter?" Hermione asked, "From Draco's mother?"
"Yes...yes it says so right..." Mrs. Weasley looked at it nervously, shook her head and then extended her arm, "Here. Take it..."
Hermione looked at it hesitantly, but curiosity got the better of her and she grabbed it carefully, "Should I...?" Hermione looked to Harry.
Harry looked at the mad dash Draco was in, knocking things over in his father's study in some sort of obsessive search for a quill as could be gathered from his broken mutterings.
"Malfoy. Malfoy, if you wont explain things, we'll read the letter."
"Read it then!" Draco yelled, still preoccupied with the desk, "You'll get your way in the end anyway, Potter, you always do."
"Yes, "Harry nodded to Hermione, "Read it aloud."
Hermione looked from the shakily scribed letters back to Harry who looked at it carefully, with gentle understanding eyes.
"This should be private..." Hermione whispered, "It doesn't feel right."
"But if it's relevant to what's happening..." Harry trailed, knowing that Hermione could fill in blanks as obvious as these.
She looked back to the page of calligraphic letters, written with a careful hand, but not a steady one. She swallowed.
"Dearest Draco," She begun softly, "Time is wearing thin, and I have much to say. When you get this letter, you'll have found out your father has died and probably, you'll presume I'm dead too with what's been happening lately. It's confusing times, and that's why I've had to take such extreme measures. Since I held you in my arms for the first time after you were born, I wanted nothing more than to protect you from the evil in this world, and living the life your father and I do, we've done nothing but introduce you to it. I went along with your father Lucius because I loved him. Foolishly. And foolishly, I accepted it when he convinced me so many years ago that being beside the Dark Lord was safer than being at the other end of his wand. I wanted to believe that. So desperately." Hermione paused, swallowing and looking up to Harry.
He nodded slightly for her to keep going and she took in a breath, looking back down to the letter.
"Voldemort doesn't have me. Nothing of the sort that you'll read in the papers. I know you're confused but I've kept this from you until now because I'm trying to protect you. When I saw what your father and I were doing to you, I couldn't allow this to go on. I don't expect you to forgive me, but understand me. Your father wasn't killed by Lord Voldemort like you would assume. I..." Hermione lost her breath at the following words and shakily brought a hand to her mouth, "...I killed him. I had to, for you, for us. It wasn't easy, but it was even harder watching you struggle like this. It'll be hard to overcome this, I know. And I'm sorry for the irreversible damage I've done to your life already, but this was the only way I could repair what I'd done wrong, because my first mistake in life was allowing a child to enter this world in the conditions I knew your life would be in. When I found out you were a boy, I wept. I hoped you would be a girl because I knew your father wouldn't have had anything to do with you, and life would've been so much different for you. It was in these unfortunate circumstances you were born into that your father and I also grew up in. Pomp, prestige...but murder was something I knew you could never do. Because I still remember the little boy who whispered his first crush in my ear and threw flour in my hair. A murderer was never something you were meant to be, and you know that in your heart."
Hermione stifled herself for a moment and then continued slower to maintain herself.
"Never tell anyone about this letter, Draco. You need your inheritance, and though this wouldn't prevent you from it, it would slow the process considerably. Trust me. I know the ministry and their functions. Promise me you'll never look for me. Don't try because you won't find me and it will only lead in worthless searching and end in wasted time. Because, Draco, this letter is not just a confession, but also, my note. Without me, you'll find life as a Malfoy easier. I assume the Dark Lord will forget about you with your father being gone, but if he doesn't, run, join the other side, something. But never give in to him. Never lie down without a fight."
Hermione's eyes dropped a little lower.
"Love, always love, your mother."
"Send this to Goyle, quickly." Malfoy said to Birnbaums, placing the note in his talon's pouch forcibly. The owl flew through the window's empty space, soaring into the night sky, quickly as Draco had instructed.
"Loathsome creature..." Draco murmured to himself.
"Draco, I'm so sorry." Ginny whispered, "About..."
"Forget it. Evidently I'm just lied to left and right so-" Draco stopped himself quickly with fury in his eyes, " I'm tired of hearing pity."
"What'd you send him?" Harry asked, "Goyle, I mean."
"I told him to come over tomorrow morning." Draco replied, "I'll confront him on his letter. He told me Voldemort killed them."
"Don't tell him about your mother's note. What if Goyle told Voldemort?"
"So be it."
"But, " Ginny begun hurriedly, "If Voldemort did say the things Goyle's said he has, he wants you to believe he's killed your parents. You want Voldemort's full trust at the moment and he wants you to believe he's powerful."
Draco was silent at these words.
"Tell him he's a liar, but don't provide proof." Bill suggested slowly, "If what he says is true, he won't suspect you're talking about your parents. At least, not right away. considering Goyle isn't the brightest, he'll think you're just in denial."
"Denial. Goyle would love to see that, wouldn't he?" Draco whispered, pushing his hands into his pockets, "Disgusting rat. I'd sooner have my head on his wall than him assume I've gone mad."
"Then blow it, Malfoy. Open your fat mouth. But in the end, you'll pay for it." Ron said.
"And what'd you know, Weasley?" Draco asked, "Do you know how frustrating it is to be on top and fall to rock bottom? To lose everything you had in the manner of days? No, because you've never been at the top to know."
Ron grit his teeth in anger, "Everytime, Malfoy, we bloody try to help and you come back with these snobby remarks and I'm bleeding well done with it! I'm sorry this happened. I'm sorry your mother killed your own father and killed herself in the end, leaving nothing else but a sodding note. I'm sorry you're a death eater and can't escape it. You're right, I'll never know what it feels like but when we do nothing but try and...and help you and all you do is step on us? You can fuck off."
Malfoy swallowed hard, looking from him to the floor and releasing a few pent up breaths in harsh labored gasps. He wanted to yell back, scream at the top of his lungs at that freckle faced bastard, but as hard as he balled his fists in rage and grit his teeth in frustration, the words couldn't come to his mouth.
Because everything he'd said was true. Painstakingly true.
He looked around in blinding red at the mess he'd made of the windows and released one last breath of air, allowing his shoulders to fall back down to his sides.
"...You're right. I lost my temper." Draco said finally, in a voice glossed with forced apology, because if not, he'd scream, "...Excuse me."
With that, he made his way towards the stairs again, snatching the note from Hermione's hands, and made his way towards his bedroom.
"What he said was wrong, Ron. You had every right to yell." Hermione said carefully, "But don't let it get to you. He's just...frustrated, I suppose. He's said worse after all."
Ron lowered his eyebrows, squinting his eyes and clenching his fists. He swallowed back a few words and gave a breath.
"Yeah."
Because in the end...what she said was true.
Painstakingly true.
Song Bird Sacrifice
Chapter 7
There was a courteous knock, a rapt that came three times from the foyer.
"Stay here." Malfoy instructed, standing from the dining table, at the worried look he garnered from Ginny, he paused, "Goyle wouldn't dare touch you. He's breaking death eater law enough being here. I'm surprised he even showed." Draco trailed as he stood from his seat, moving towards the foyer. He looked at the half repaired windows which he'd started on earlier that morning with some help from Mrs. Weasley. He'd remained mostly silent.
She'd given him some advice for the most of the time.
He thanked her for forgiving him one last time. He reminded her she'd have to forgive him multiple times more, more than likely. He explained he couldn't control his mouth sometimes.
He went silent.
She said she already knew. A mother's always prepared to forgive.
...a mother...
Draco released his anger in the form of a breath, felt his palms turn warm and drip with sweat as he opened the door, slitted eyes looking back into the eyes of Greg Goyle who gave him a smug smile.
"Hiding out here then? I see you read my letter, Malfoy."
"Going against death eater law, Goyle? Funny. Took you for a suck arse."
Goyle snorted, pushing his way inside with a smile on his face and shook his head, "When'll you learn, Malfoy? Talk to your superiors with some respect. I always did..." his voice turned dangerously low, his eyes sparkling with something menacing and dark. "What'd you want, anyway? Last time you asked me to come over-"
"Never mind that. I wanted to call you out, Greg. For being a liar. A filthy traitor."
Goyle gave a sneaky grin, "A liar now? That's what I am? You don't believe me then, is that it? Why would I lie? You're home is forbidden grounds. You are expected to go through with your mission,...is there something I'm missing?"
Draco swallowed.
Then those had been Voldemort's words?
'..sperm and egg donors..'
Goyle laughed a little, sniffing the air, "Oh. What's that smell, Malfoy? Smells like breakfast. Mind I drop in for a bite?" Goyle started towards the living area, "Don't worry, I've been here so many times...I know where the dining room is."
Draco narrowed his eyes.
Did that statement have some significance? He'd been there for meetings, but never had he been on some grand tour of the house. He'd only ever been over to his home twice before Voldemort had resurrected, neither times had he stayed for more than an hour.
He followed him in closely.
"I didn't invite you over to feed your fat face, Goyle." Malfoy said hurriedly as he made his way through the living area, Draco followed him close behind.
"Oh, what do we have here?" He said with a jovial uplift in his voice, "A happy little family, eh?...Oh, and look...Potter, Granger...Everyone's here."
Goyle looked around, fixing his stiff dress shirt collar and suit jacket. He looked upon Ginny Weasley with mild interest and situated his dark red tie.
"Adorable." He mocked, "Adorable little Weasley girl, is she a pet of yours, Draco?"
"Leave them out of this, Goyle," Draco begun through gritted teeth, "this has nothing to do with them."
"It has everything to do with them!" He yelled, jolting around to face Draco with a drained complexion, catching his breath in small gasps of air
Draco watched his expression then slowly transform. Recollecting his thoughts, Goyle turned his lips into a half erected smile to form a psychologically disturbing picture across his face, beady black eyes opened, boring into Draco's fiery gaze.
"Well? Aren't you going to ask?"
"Ask what?" Draco replied quickly, "Why you lied to me?"
"Lied about what?" He laughed again, shaking his head, "God, this is getting old. No. I meant. Are you going to ask why I've been here so many times? Weren't you listening to me, Malfoy?"
"I heard what you said. I choose to ignore almost everything you say and have so since the day we met and realized half of what comes out of your mouth is worth the price of shat."
Goyle's eyes intensified, angered obviously. "I came over when you were gone. All those times I couldn't be reached? I came here."
Draco snorted, "And for what reason would that be?"
Goyle remained silent for a moment, "Look at you. Have you grown thinner? God, anymore and you'll be a little girl, Malfoy." Goyle joked darkly, "Do you think you're the only one whose had something taken from them? When Voldemort killed your mother, you weren't the only one mourning."
"What'd you...What're you saying?" Draco asked rockily, he felt like a bird against California shores, fighting against the mountainous waves and the winds on a fall morning. Shivering in an inevitable breeze, unable to take cover now that he was in his position.
"You're so dense anymore, Draco!" Goyle laughed, coming closer to him with every step, "Narcissa hated your father. And I could appreciate her far more than he ever could- his only love was his wine bottle. I fucked your mother, Draco. She liked it too."
Malfoy balled his hands up again, feeling his heart skip a beat. He did remember those times. When Goyle was unavailable, or simply didn't respond to his letters over holidays. Never did he think a single thought about it. Goyle was always so stupid..so ignorantly naïve...-No. No, he was lying. Attempting to play a mind game, he was getting at something.
"Liar. Fucking liar." Draco stuck to his senses. Goyle was simply attempting to rub salt in new wounds...and rub it in with his fingernails.
"Oh well. Don't believe me." Goyle shrugged, walking behind Ginny, his hand reaching out to touch her hair softly.
Arthur, Bill, Harry and the twins stood, giving Goyle glares of unwavering hatred, Goyle responded with a daring eyebrow raise to each of them.
"Get away from her.." Arthur whispered.
"Since," Goyle begun, turning his attention back to Draco, "our Dark Lord killed your mum...She could do." Goyle motioned towards Ginny, "I'll take her off your hands."
Draco produced his wand, "Get away from her or I swear I'll yell Avada Kedavra faster than you can beg for your life."
"What?" Goyle asked, showing his hands in defeat, then whispered, "Is this your new family, Malfoy? Oh, how precious. Let me take a photograph! No, no wait. That's not it...Course it's not! You fuck her like you did Pansy." He grinned grandly as though the entire thing was a comedy, "That's why you keep her around, isn't it?"
Draco had his hands around Goyle's neck within seconds, and Goyle, stunned, found himself choking against a wall.
"You bastard!"
"Protect...them...and...it'll be...your death!" Goyle crowed, "They're...fucking...Weasley's...Malfoy!...Wo-...Worthless as...a fly."
Draco's hand tightened around his neck, feeling every vein, feeling his carotid artery just beneath his hand. His lifeline, right beneath his fingertips.
"I should kill you, you insufferable git."
"Do it! Do it...then. You...don't have...the nerve!"
Draco squeezed even tighter, Goyle closed his eyes and took in a gurgling breath of air as his blood pressure sky rocketed. His head was pounding as his head begun to turn a purplish-red, a color Draco had never seen before, but instantly liked.
His mother was wrong.
Murder, when in the right situation, was certainly something he was capable of.
"Draco!" Harry yelled, moving around the table.
Everyone was standing at this point, and though Harry kept his distance, he was standing close enough to throw himself upon Draco should he take it too far. Or at least, that was Potter's plan. Draco chose to ignore his warning, but released his death grip on him just enough to allow Goyle to breathe.
Goyle choked taking in some air, but after a moment or two, took a breath and settled again.
Malfoy looked over for a split second at the table of faces, one in particular stuck out to him- that of Ginny Weasley, teary eyed, swallowing over and over- no doubt holding back her cries of relief and shame.
Draco turned back to Goyle who gave him a smirk- undoubtedly, he saw it too. Draco slammed his fist across his face, then brought himself close enough so Goyle could feel the slightest breath against his cheek.
"You'll never touch a hair on any of their heads again.."
He slammed his fist against his cheekbone this time.
"...and you'll never talk like that about my mother, ever again."
"Traitor! I'd do it...again if given...the chance!" Goyle said through choking breaths.
Draco reared him back, slamming his head against the arched doorway.
"This had nothing to do with them, Goyle, why'd you bring them into it? Why'd you even show if you were going to do this?" Draco asked through vicious biting tones, breath shaking and labored.
"I had to...see if my suspicions...were true. And they...are. You're a...traitor."
Draco's face fell, his voice falling somewhere below a whisper.
"Never."
"Yes...you are."
"And what do you think you are? Voldemort's spy? Working on our power play are we? Voldemort'll love to hear this from the man who went against his rules and walked on forbidden grounds."
"I won't...be telling him..." Goyle swallowed roughly, his voice falling to a quiet rasp, "I'll let him figure it out...on his own. And watch you panic and squirm...and watch you die at his feet...begging for your...pathetic life, Malfoy."
Draco pulled him from the wall, throwing him against the ground, holding his wand on him.
"One move and you die." Draco warned as Goyle moved his hand towards his neck, feeling the phantom pain with his finger tips as though to make sure Draco wasn't still choking him, "When's the next meeting, Goyle?"
"...This week. Friday. You'll get your letter soon enough."
Draco watched him cautiously for a moment then pointed towards the living room.
"Leave and never come back."
"I'd sooner die than meet with you again." Goyle whispered, "You always were a terrible host."
Draco narrowed his eyes as Goyle brushed himself off and gave him a squinted look in return, two boys, nothing more than boys, ready to strike and kill if necessary.
Sick cruel world.
Draco followed him to the door closely, wand pointed at his back with the words 'Avada Kedavra' resting on his lips. Just before Draco closed the door behind him, Goyle turned.
"I'll see you Friday, Weasley."
And with that, Goyle quickly threw his floo powder, and Draco slammed the door in his disappearing face.
A presence, Draco could feel, resided behind himself. Turning slightly, looking at the figure out of the corner of his eye, he could make out that the figure was Potter.
"That's the difference between you and I, "Draco begun, "...If you hadn't been there, I would've done it. But someone has to be the hero, don't they?"
"Not all the time." Harry said plainly, "...Sometimes I wish I wasn't the hero." Harry paused for one thoughtful second, then looked at Draco's turned back.
"Like right now." Harry continued, "Honestly, I wish I hadn't said a word."
Three days passed by, intermittently in silence by Draco Malfoy, when anxiety got the best of him and he needed time to think out his plan for the death eater's meeting. Other times, he sat with the others. Albeit quietly, he passed the time with a fake smile at the appropriate times, looking out a newly repaired window with a sense of worry in his heart. But he'd answer any question or comment that might pass his way.
Such an instance, one morning, came from Granger who'd decided to ask him polite questions about the house- inquiring as to something she'd read in a book once that mentioned manors with secret passageways or storage rooms.
Draco answered in a typical fashion, 'If it was a family secret, do you think I would really know? Look for yourself, I don't care.'
She spent the rest of the day searching.
He caught her in the library once, where he'd gone himself on a sort of treasure hunt, but this expedition had the goal of something more valuable- his mother's wand. He figured that she would've taken hers, but he supposed it didn't hurt to look. As well as hers, he still hadn't found his father's cane.
She'd given him a curious look.
'What? It's my own house, isn't it?'
'I suppose.' Hermione had replied.
'It is.' He corrected, 'If you see my father's cane while you're on this fruitless journey, tell me.'
She complied, and then after a moment, looked up from her position against a wall, tapping against boardings to unearth some hollow noise, 'Are you searching for it for a reason?'
'Why?'
'Just curious.'
'You're curious often.'
'Yes, that's why I'm smarter than you.'
Draco awarded her a sarcastic smile, 'It had his wand in it, you know.'
'That only supports my theory on a secret passageway.'
Draco only shrugged in response.
"Draco?"
Draco looked up, having been lost in thought.
"What's it say?"
He blinked, looking up to meet eyes with Ginny Weasley who nervously looked upon the envelope in his hands he was staring so intently at.
He looked about the room for just a split second, regaining himself. He'd gotten lost in his own mental ramblings and recollections as he'd been thinking back on the last three worrisome days, full of questions that were being left to fester like deep infected wounds.
"Hm? Oh."
He worked at opening it.
And before thinking back on those dark days, he'd been half-conscious in another meeting called upon by Harry who'd, once again, been wasting through the days thinking through every scenario possible in that death eater meeting.
Draco had only one question, one he hadn't had the chance to ask yet. If he could ask one question, it'd be to Potter. He'd ask him why he'd go through the trouble, why he'd worry so much, over a guy like him? The person he'd bullied since year one? The person that had only wished the worst for him? They'd hated each other. His own hate for Potter had slowly diminished over the course of the year, starting it with more of a burning hatred than ever. And now?
He just wanted an answer from him. But certainly, he could call him his enemy any more. Maybe when the war was over, such petty arguments could rise again. He'd look forward to a time simple enough to restart a small rivalry. But for now, he was his ally and he had a respect for him he'd never had before, not a single moment in his life when all he'd had was burning hatred and a deep rooted sense of jealousy he pretended was disgust.
But now here he was, sitting beside Ginny who held his hand nervously- Oh. He hadn't noticed that before.
They were all sitting there, waiting for him to open up this letter.
He unfolded it quicker, putting one hand over his upper lip, rubbing the bottom of his nose in thought with the side of pointer finger. His eyes scanned down the letter, it was simple and to the point. No emotion could be gathered.
Draco Malfoy,
Goyle Mansion
Tonight
11:15
Don't reply.
No signature, as usual.
"Goyle Mansion tonight at eleven fifteen." Draco replied, looking it back over just once. He was now attempting to distract his anxious mind with meaningless tasks such as deciphering if who'd wrote this had been male or female.
He'd settled on female.
No one said a word.
The room was silent.
"What're you planning to do when-" Hermione begun, though her words were swiftly cut off by Malfoy who folded the letter and set it back onto an end table beside him.
"There's nothing to plan." Draco replied shortly.
"You're...going to go in there without a plan at all?" Hermione replied, attempting to ensure that he was indeed, being this daft.
"I'll act normal. Listen. And we'll go from there when I get back."
Hermione settled back into her chair, wordless. What else could she say to someone so affirmed in their ways?
Draco checked his watch.
"What if.." Harry begun with an intense look in his eyes, as though a premonition had hit him just then and he was attempting to keep control of telling them that he knew this omen was God's prophecy sent to him by the angel Gabriel, "...Goyle says something? Or Voldemort says something? And it pisses you off."
"I can control myself." Draco replied flatly.
"Really? Haven't seen a very good example." Harry replied, no humor in his voice by then.
"How do you think I survived all this time?" Draco replied coldly, "You think I raised my voice to my father once? If I had, I would've been dead or disowned, Potter. I'll control myself when need be."
Harry went quiet again as he looked out a distant window into a darkening skyline.
The time was coming faster than he'd thought. He didn't want to fail. He finally nodded.
"Harry, dear, you've done all you can."
Harry released a breath and offered Molly a smile but it was in this chair he stayed up until Mrs. Weasley had called for dinner two hours later and everyone rose from the living room area to file into the dining room.
In the scramble, Harry watched silently as Draco went the other direction, out into the foyer slowly.
He followed quietly, coming behind him by a few feet.
"You shouldn't sneak up on people." Draco said suddenly, arms folded across himself as he stared blankly into inky darkness, "I'll kill you one of these times."
"Are you nervous?"
The question caught him off guard and he almost flinched at the concern, he went still.
"I've been nervous for a year. If I die, it'd be best."
"If you die, he wins."
"Who?"
"Goyle, Voldemort, name any of them."
Draco turned around.
"It doesn't matter if I'm nervous so you're question...isn't a very good question." He replied, leaning against the windowpane. "Even if I was crying on my hands and knees, this is still something I have to do." He pushed himself off the glass, "Tell Ron my apology was sincere, and Ginny should know I never thought Goyle would touch her." He paused at this, thinking back on them holding hands.
He looked to Potter in the eyes, sincerity in his eyes for the first time since he'd asked for his friendship in their first year.
"I am sorry about that."
"I know."
"Also..." He trailed slightly, "...tell Granger she's the only mudblood I've ever respected."
"I'll tell her you're very sorry then, shall I? And you value her as a person?"
"Whatever way makes me out better, I suppose." Draco shrugged with a smile playing on his lips, faint and almost gone the instant it arrived, "And Potter?"
"You're not dying, Malfoy. I'll follow along with it, but you could tell all this yourself when you get back. I-"
"I was about to say that I look forward to our rivalry when this is all over."
Harry pushed his lips together for a moment and then gave a smile back to him and a single nod, "Right. Yeah. I will too."
Draco, hands in pockets, checked for his wand, and opened up the door to a frozen gust of wind, it hit him like solid ice and stung against his warm skin.
"See you in the morning."
A/N: Thank you again for such beautiful reviews. I love all of you.
Reviews are WELL APPRECIATED.
Criticism is well-received and accepted as long as it's not rude or arrogant.
