'A happy memory,' Draco thought.
How bloody hard could that be? After all, he didn't have many of those. Holding his wand out in front of him, he began to focus on a single happy memory. He imagined standing atop the Eiffel Tower when he was nine years old, the wind in his hair, and the sun shining gloriously over Paris. He felt on top of the world, much like a king might feel. The corner of his mouth curled into a smile.
"Expecto... Patronum," Draco enunciated.
Nothing happened. Then again, he hadn't really expected it to on his first try. Nervously, he glanced around the room and listened for a moment. He half-expected every death eater in the building to come running, but he had yet to hear any footprints.
'Conviction,' Draco recalled from his readings.
He decided to focus on another memory - the day his father bought Firebolts for the entire Slytherin Quidditch team. Everyone went on and on about how Draco had the coolest father in London, and it had given Draco such a fulfilling feeling. He was everyone's best friend that day, and for the remainder of the term.
"Expecto Patronum," Draco said, louder this time.
Again, nothing happened. Draco huffed. He had never had a problem with producing spells; If it wasn't for Mudblood Know-It-All Granger, he would have been at the top of the class. But for some reason, he was unable to produce a bloody patronus.
'Happy memory, conviction, noble intentions,' Draco thought, racking his brain for any information he might have left out.
He bit into a cauldron cake and continued to ponder his inabilities. It was then that another happy memory came to him, and he almost choked. The feeling he had gotten when he escaped Hogwarts with Granger... he had escaped. He was free. For all he knew, everyone would think he had died in the castle. An enormous weight had suddenly been lifted off his shoulders.
Draco smiled. The feeling of freedom had been such an elation. That was the memory he would use. He raised his wand once more.
"Expecto Patronum," he chanted, focusing more and more on the excitement, and relief, and happiness he had felt in that moment.
"Expecto Patronum... Expecto Patronum..."
And then, he saw it! A sliver of silver erupted from the end of his wand and his heart hammered hard in his chest. It was far from a corporeal patronus, or even a non-corporeal one for that matter, but Draco had seen it with his own two eyes.
'I can do this!' he thought optimistically.
However, more practice would have to wait. He was feeling very faint, as thought the spell had sucked the energy right out of him.
...x...x...x...
"What exactly are we looking for?" Ginny whispered.
They had been standing outside the entrance to the Ministry of Magic, the same entrance that Hermione, Harry, and Ron had used to break in the Ministry several months ago. They were both posed beneath the Cloak of Invisibility, and standing rather closely to the building so that no one accidentally knocked into them.
"Anything," Hermione replied in a hushed voice. "We just need an idea of what's going on. A copy of the Prophet will do."
They waited for nearly an hour outside the entrance, catching fragments of conversation, but nothing meaningful.
"...the kids are safe and out of the country..."
"...I forgot to feed the cat this morning..."
"...my wife packed a horrible lunch - says she's putting me on a diet..."
Finally, as they were about to give up scouting for the day, Hermione was able to nip a copy of the Daily Prophet from a woman's bag as she passed. The date was from two days ago, but it was better than anything they had.
"Let's go," Hermione said.
...x...x...x...
Draco's eyes shot open. A blood-curdling scream had echoed through the manor, jolting him awake. At first he thought he was dreaming until he heard it again.
Adrenaline pumping, he leaped from his bed, grabbing his wand off of the bedside table, and darted into the corridor. He ran in the direction of the screams, which he determined to be somewhere downstairs. What the bloody hell was going on to cause such a raucous, especially at this ungodly hour of the morning? But the more pressing question in Draco's mind was 'Who could be causing such a noise'?
Draco halted when he stepped into the entrance hall of the manor and saw Voldemort standing in its middle. Three forms lay sprawled on the floor at his feet, none of them moving. Bellatrix, accompanied by three snatchers, stood at the other side of the hall watching eagerly as Voldemort interrogated his victims. Bellatrix flashed her nephew a pleased smile, before turning her attention back to the scene before them.
Reluctantly, Draco looked away from the Dark Lord to the three individuals. They all appeared young, no older than himself, and it was obvious they had been tortured. Of the three, one of the individuals was female. She laid face down, her long brown hair covering her face, making it impossible for Draco to identify her. From his distance, he could barely hear her sobbing.
Draco swallowed hard; He recognized the two males, both of whom had attended Hogwarts with him. He could not recall what houses they belonged to, or their names at the moment, but he knew their faces. Had his focus not been on the girl, he might have been able to recall...
"I will ask you a final time," Voldemort hissed, his voice sending a chill down Draco's spine. "Where are the others?"
"Good will always conquer evil," one of the boys choked. "Dumbledore's Army forever!"
Draco watched as a most malicious smile formed on Voldemort's snakelike face.
"Crucio!" he spat.
Once again, a blood-curdling scream rang out. This time, it caused goose bumps to raise on Draco's arm. He could hardly watch as the girl writhed in pain, and continued to scream.
"Fools," he said, pointing his wand down at them. "May you die knowing that your precious Dumbledore and your Chosen One could not defeat me. Join them."
Streams of green light shot from Voldemort's wand and the three students on the floor were dead. Draco bit his bottom lip.
Voldemort did not acknowledge Draco's presence, but disappeared with Bellatrix into the drawing room. Rather, Bellatrix followed at his heels like a lost dog as he exited the entrance hall. As soon as the door closed, Draco crossed the room to where the dead bodies laid and crouched beside them.
He took a nervous breath and reached to move the hair away from the girl's face. She had thin brows, full lips, and freckles. He exhaled deeply and almost laughed with relief. It wasn't Granger.
"Draco?" Lucius Malfoy's unmistakeable voice came from behind him.
Draco's heart leaped in his chest and he spun quickly on his heel. His father was eying him curiously, clearly expecting an explanation as to what he was doing bothering with a dead body. After all, there had been countless dead bodies in the mansion over the last few months. He himself had even killed a few at Voldemort's orders; He should have been immune to the sight by now.
"What are you doing?" he asked when his son did not offer an immediate explanation.
Draco swallowed hard. "Erm- I was just..."
Lucius Malfoy joined his son next to the three bodies and nudged one with his foot.
"I was just wondering who was going to dispose of these," Draco said as dryly as he could manage.
Lucius scrunched up his nose. "The elves will get them. Now, run along Draco."
Draco did not have to be told twice. He turned on his heel and walked as quickly toward his bedchamber as he could without raising his father's suspicion. The moment his bedchamber door closed behind him, he exhaled a deep breath and buried his face in his hands. What the bloody hell was going on with him?
He felt sick.
Despite trying, he could could not forget that which he had just seen: three of Voldemort's newest victims. Something irked him about them, and he could not shake his uneasiness.
How could he have ever seen killing as a just form of punishment? To end someone's life, to end their existence. No one, except in possibly extreme cases, deserved to suffer such a cruel fate. None of those people laying dead downstairs would ever grow old, get married, or have children. They would never see their parents, or their families, again. They would never have another meal. They would never do anything ever again.
Draco tasted bile.
What would his father think if he knew the things running through Draco's mind at this moment? Draco Malfoy, son of one of the most feared death eaters in the world; He had everything he could ever want: money, the finest clothing, a mansion, and more power in his name than most of the wizarding world. He lived a life of luxury, and was never troubled by trivial things, yet here he was troubled by the execution of three strangers.
What in the name of Merlin's left saggy ball was wrong with him?
Draco squeezed his eyes shut. His head pounded. His palms were sweaty. He backed against the wall and slumped to the floor, fighting the urge to faint.
Why had it taken him so long to realize that Voldemort was a sick fuck who murdered like it was a sport? Hell, if anyone deserved to suffer such a horrible fate, it was the Dark Lord himself.
And that was when it finally clicked for Draco. He had to leave; There was no way he could possible spend another godforsaken night in this mansion knowing that Voldemort was only a short step away from where he slept. If Voldemort so much as suspected that Draco was experiencing the blasphemous thoughts that were going through his mind, he would be dead. Dead, like the victims downstairs. Dead, like Harry.
No. He had to escape.
But where to? he thought. The only safe place he knew of was with Granger, and he couldn't even manage to conjure a bloody patronus!
He opened his eyes; An idea had suddenly occurred to him, and he had nervous butterflies. It was such a simple idea, that he feared it would not work. But he had to try. He drew his wand, allowing a single, happy thought to overcome and engulf him like a tide. It was such an incredible thought, that he couldn't fathom why it had never occurred to him before. He waited until the happy feeling had spread from his chest, to the tips of his toes, to his hand that was currently outstretched and gripping his wand.
"Expecto Patronum," Draco chanted focusing all his might on the excitement swelling in his chest.
"Expecto Patronum," he said, moving his wand in a circular motion because it felt like the right thing to do.
Silver light burst forth from the end of the wand. Upon seeing his success, Draco clambered to his feet and continued to speak the incantation.
"Expecto Patronum!" he said, this time much louder than he had intended.
He watched in disbelief and excitement as a white figure emerged from the end of his wand, first its head, followed quickly by a body. It grew in size, taking shape before Draco's very eyes until it rose to its full height. With pearly white eyes, the animal gazed at Draco and waited for his instructions.
Draco sank to his knees before the patronus, feeling weak but he had never been more proud of himself.
"Bloody hell," he whispered and took a deep breath. Let's hope this works.
He thought hard for a moment. In the days he had spent studying patronuses, he had never imagined what he might say to Granger in the event that he managed to conjure one. It had to be simple, but specific. Encoded, but decipherable.
"Meet me tonight where we ditched our brooms. Come alone."
As soon as he ended his message, the patronus stalked across the room and disappeared through the wall. Exhausted, Draco stumbled to the window in time to see the animal squeeze its way through the hedges and disappear.
"Gods, I hope this works."
