The Sting Of Betrayal.
'Draco!' Alastor's voice echoed through the darkness. 'Draco! Where are you?'
Alastor waited. He'd been out there for hours now, calling, searching, desperate to find his missing charge... His missing lover.
'Draco!' He called again and then listened hard for any sound, any sign of where the boy could be. He heard nothing. The forest was more silent than ever.
It was gone 1am. Once he had fought off the werewolves, Alastor had gone directly to the hut, hoping that, by some miracle, Draco would have arrived there safely and would be waiting for him. However, he was not entirely surprised when the place was deserted. It had been too much to hope for really, that Draco might have arrived there on his own and that everything would have been alright so simply and easily. The best he could hope for now was that Draco was somewhere nearby, hiding in the woods. He hoped that he had found a place to shelter, had escaped the wolves and hidden himself away and waited for someone to find him...
Alastor's heart had frozen as the thought crossed his mind... 'for someone to find him...'
Suddenly Alastor had realised what had actually happened that evening. The werewolves, they had no intention of killing Draco! They hadn't really bothered to try to kill him! In fact, once Draco had been chased away, the pack had soon lost interest in attacking Alastor and had disappeared back into the trees. Then Alastor had another horrifying realisation... Draco hadn't simply been chased away, he had been herded away. It had been tactical. They had been separated purposefully. That had been the point of the attack, not to kill or injure them, simply to separate them.
Somebody had wanted to get Draco away from him, and what was worse, they had succeeded. Now, after hours of scouring the forest, Alastor could find no trace of the boy, which could only mean: Someone else had been looking for Draco too, and what was more, they must have found him. Found him, and taken him away.
Alastor felt sick. Sick, conflicted and powerless. He felt a bizarre instinct to scream, to shout, to call out for help. It was as if he wanted to beg out loud to nameless deities to help him in his hour of need. He resisted the urge, after all there was no point. There was no god he even believed in that he could pray to. Praying wasn't going to get Draco back. Only he could do that, and he had tried searching for him, for hours. In vain.
Praying wouldn't help find him, Alastor lamented as, defeated, he slowly made his way back towards the hut. He would return there, gather his things and go for help. Yes. That was what he would do.
The death eaters were certainly behind Draco's capture and if Alastor went for back up, they could work on finding out just where they might have taken Draco, and then they could free him.
Alastor's stomach twisted with nausea and fear as he pictured the danger that Draco might be in. What would those monsters be doing to him? Alastor knew what they were capable of. He quickened his pace, he started to run. He also started praying again. It might not help find Draco, but perhaps it would help keep him safe. Horrific visions flashed through Alastor's mind as he pictured, without wanting to, all of the dreadful things Voldemort and his death eaters could be doing to poor, innocent Draco. The torture, the cruelty they could subject him to! Alastor prayed harder. Please, by the time he found him, please Gods let it be the same Draco that had been taken away from him.
He ran back to the hut and scrabbled around to pull his things together, ready to take the risk of apparation back to the ministry to get help before it was too late.
What would Fudge say?
What would Fudge say? He would ask how it happened, that's for sure. He would want to know how the mission had been going up to the point when they were attacked. Alastor was not sure he could tell Fudge all the details about that! He would want to know how had they been attacked? How had Draco behaved in the run up to the attack? What did he do when the attack happened?
Alastor froze once again.
Fudge would want to know if Draco had given any sign that the attack was pre-planned, that is was known to him? He would ask Alastor if Draco had seemed complicit to being taken away. In short: He would ask, he would suggest, he would imply, that Draco may have been in league with the death eaters all this time! He would ask Alastor to consider whether he thought this could be the case.
No! Alastor thought to himself, throwing down his bags, cross as the very suggestion. Of course Draco hadn't known about it! That was ridiculous.
But Fudge would ask him to think about it. He would ask him to think back over the days they had spent together. He would ask Alastor to describe how Draco had behaved, how they had interacted. He would want to know all about any changes in Draco's behaviour that Alastor might have observed. Suddenly Alastor felt a deep, sinister chill sweep over him.
The ministry had known that Draco was dangerous. They had feared from the outset that Draco may have been a decoy, a double agent or a spy. That was why he had been placed with Alastor. That was the reason why Draco had been placed with the most vigilant and experienced Auror they had. The ministry wanted Draco watched, watched closely by someone who was in no danger of falling for any of his tricks. And what did they imagine Draco's tricks would be? He certainly made no effort to endear people to him from the off set, did he...? No, of course he didn't. He was far too clever for that! Draco Malfoy would play the long game, wouldn't he? Coming across too nice at first would have never been convincing, but giving the impression that trust and intimacy was building up gradually... That would be an excellent way to trick someone, wouldn't it?
Alastor felt his chest tighten. Was that what had happened? Had Draco tricked him? His behaviour had changed over time, hadn't it? On the first day he had planted the seed of the idea that he hated his parents and his upbringing; Later that evening he had set the table and tried to be civil over dinner... It was as if he had tried different tactics to win Alastor round... He had tried the massage too, and when Alastor over-reacted, that was when Draco had played his trump card. He started flirting. When Alastor was clearly embarrassed and flattered, Draco had known the way to play to win him over.
Alastor sat down. In fact, there was no chair there, so it was more of a fall, on to the hard wooden floor. He felt like he couldn't breathe.
Had Draco tricked him? Had he? Had Alastor been so stupid as to let himself fall into the trap he was purposefully set to avoid? How could he ever face the Minister or his colleagues again?
It hurt. It hurt so much it wasn't unlike a torture curse. Alastor's head was swimming and his eyes were blurry with tears of anger, frustration, confusion and rage. He didn't know how he was supposed to feel. He was, on one hand, terrified for the danger that Draco might be in, unable to stand the thought of the boy being hurt. On the other hand, if his doubts, if his fears were correct... If Draco had betrayed him... If this were the case, there really was no pain like it.
It hadn't made sense, getting involved with Draco like he had done. Draco was wrong for him in almost every way. Too young, too spoilt, too bratty, too fussy. A bad kid from a bad family, and nothing like Alastor at all. Yet somehow, in spite of all of this, Alastor had let it happen. He had let himself fall for Draco Malfoy, let himself get close to him, physically and inevitably emotionally too. He should have known better. He should have listened to his logical thoughts, but instead he was seduced by the thrill of it all and by the eternal yearning that everyone feels to be close with another human being.
Alastor had trained himself well to resist that yearning, which was why it was so unusual for him to find himself in a situation where he was at risk of being hurt by a loved one. The pain he now felt made sense of the years of loneliness he had endured in his life. Loneliness was unpleasant, but there was no pain like the pain of betrayal by someone who you trusted with your heart.
Draco had whispered sweetly to Alastor, honey dripping from his lips, and Alastor like a fool, had let himself be deceived. He had handed Draco his finest emotions, his fragile trust, his good reputation and all he had built up over the years. And Draco, with a smile painted on his beautiful face had accepted all that Alastor gave him. He had nurtured it, pretended he cared, and then at the last minute had destroyed everything with his betrayal.
Alastor writhed with the emotional pain of it all. How could he ever hold his head up again? How could he have allowed himself to be so humiliated? He of all people, he should have known the signs of deception, he should have kept his wits about him and not allowed himself to be pulled into a little bubble of happy lies! He was a fool! A blind and deluded fool!
He was furious. With Draco, but mostly with himself. In truth it was hard to be furious with Draco, because emotions it seemed didn't switch on and off like that. Only moments ago, Draco Malfoy was the person with whom Alastor had been the closest with in all the world. He was someone whom Alastor had been desperate to find, to save from danger. Every instinct in Alastor's being wanted to simply find Draco and whisk him away to safety. Somewhere where it was just the two of them. If it were just the two of them everything would be alright, wouldn't it? If he could talk to Draco, he could make it all alright again. Draco wasn't all bad, he couldn't be! He couldn't have faked every moment of intimacy between them, could he? It couldn't all have been lies, every moment, surely? If there was a grain of truth in any of it, if there was a tiny spark of goodness in Draco, then, if they were alone, away from everyone else's influence... Maybe Alastor could save him?
Alastor howled in pain and fury as he thought these things. How could he have become so pathetic? How could he even consider trying to save someone who had treated him this way? Had Draco Malfoy stolen his self respect as well as his heart? He should hate Draco, he knew he should... But his emotions didn't seem to switch on and off like that.
Alastor cursed out loud. He cursed at himself for being so stupid. How would he ever face anyone again? What would they think of him? He was old enough to be Draco's father, for the Gods sake! How could he have allowed himself to behave so foolishly? He had made himself ridiculous, he had made himself into that cautionary tale of a foolish old man, desperately chasing youth and beauty. And he found it had lead him into his downfall. He should have known better. He would be a laughing stock, and what's more, he deserved to be.
Alastor wasn't sure how long he remained there on the floor, only that is was for quite some time. He simply couldn't think straight. He hadn't eaten since he and Draco had stopped for lunch that afternoon. He knew he needed food in order to function, but the thought of eating anything made him feel sicker than he felt already. He needed to sleep, but the idea of relaxing seemed impossible too. What if Draco hadn't betrayed him? What if Draco was being tortured by the death eaters right now? But... even if Alastor went for help, he had no idea where they would have taken Draco. If anyone knew where the death eaters took people, where their hide out was, the Ministry would have attacked long ago before they got so powerful!
They say in cases of panic and trauma a person's response will either be fight, flight or freeze. Fight was Alastor's default setting, but right now there was no one there to fight. There was nowhere to run to either and so the only reaction left was to freeze. Fear, shame and indecision froze Alastor Moody right where he was, feeling like a broken man. Eventually he pulled a blanket around himself, but he remained on the floor. Eventually he drifted into an unpleasant and disturbed sleep.
It was unlike Alastor to not know what to do. In all of his years as an Auror he had been known and respected for his quick and decisive action. He should have been well experienced at making decisions and acting fast, but in this situation there was something he was not used to:
His own emotions.
Emotions have to be practiced, learned and used in order for a person to control them. Alastor had left his emotions locked away for so long that now it was almost impossible for him to cope now that they had been unleashed.