Jeez. Chapter X. When I started this story I really didn't think it would be anywhere near this long.
Granger and Weasley both stared at me as though I'd sprouted another head.
"Wait. You want a favor from us?" said Weasley, apparently believing his ears had deceived him.
"No. Just from Granger. You are not required," I informed him coldly. He began to look offended, then stopped and shot me an unpleasant grin.
"Right. Never thought I'd see you asking a muggle-born for help, Malfoy. I guess you've finally realized Hermione's smarter than you are, huh?"
I stiffened, feeling my face grow hot. "If that's how you feel about it, I'll leave. I shouldn't have considered that you'd be mature enough to lay aside school grudges for a more important cause. Good day."
I turned and walked towards the door, furious that I'd managed to convince myself to do this. Of course Granger wouldn't help me, and I'd been a fool to assume otherwise. I conveniently ignored the fact that I hadn't exactly forgotten my old school grudges either.
"Wait!" I halted. Granger came up beside me. I sneered down at her.
"What do you want?"
"We really do want to hear what you have to say. I'm sorry Ron insulted you, and so is he, aren't you Ronald? What favor do you need?" Her eyes were gleaming with the manic curiosity I had previously seen her direct only at books.
I looked from her to Weasley before deigning to follow them into a comfortable sitting room. Once there, I told them about the developments which had occurred in my project since our ill-advised adventure in Siberia. Concluding with an explanation of Vincent Wulfgar's information about Unbreakable Vows, I sat back and gazed at them over steepled fingers.
"The problem is, the Vow is illegal. The Ministry won't let me use it to get Barty out of Azkaban, and if I decide to do it anyway, they'll put me in prison as well. My less than favored status in the current political state will ensure they won't let me off with a fine. Furthermore, I doubt they'll let Barty out either, and he doesn't have any relatives or similar who are willing to take up his case. I would, but as I'd be in Azkaban myself, that would have very little effect."
"He can't blame anyone else about not having any relatives," Weasley sniggered. I thought this comment was in bad taste, and ignored it.
"So what exactly do you want us to do?" inquired Granger.
I took a deep breath. "I was hoping you might consent to performing the spell for the Vow, and taking up Barty's case afterwards. Weasley, I hadn't thought of this, but you could be the second person he makes the vow to. Both of you are considered heroes after the war, so the Ministry will be lenient with you. They'll almost certainly do no more than fine you, and I can pay you back for that – the Malfoy fortune is still considerable, even after everything that's happened."
I half-expected them to immediately reject my proposal, but Granger at least looked thoughtful. Weasley might also have been thinking, but I had trouble discerning whether or not this was the case due to his typically puzzled-looking expression.
"Why should we do this?" asked Granger eventually, with a carefully neutral air.
"It's ethical," I replied, mentally crossing my fingers. I shared Barty's views about ethics, judging them to be ultimately the products of one's own imagination. From the shrewd look in Granger's eyes, I doubted she believed my explanation, but she made no comment. I was glad; I really had no valid excuse for them to help out with this, and being the noble Gryffindor personalities they were money was unlikely to sway them, but without their assistance my plan would almost certainly fail.
"I'm not sure I want to get mixed up in this," Weasley said uncertainly. "Why don't you get that Auror you know, Stevie, to be the second person?"
"She'd probably be fired. I'd rather not involve her." Weasley nodded in comprehension.
"I'd be willing to do what you ask," stated Granger decisively. "If only for the sake of research; I'd really like to ask Crouch a few questions." By her keen expression, I guessed that a few questions would likely turn out to be numerous hour-long interviews.
"I'm sure he'd be willing to oblige you," I said distractedly. Weasley's comment about Stevie had made me think of something – a far-fetched, possibly ridiculous idea, but one which, assuming it worked, would result in my not getting a life sentence in Azkaban. "Granger, do you think there's any chance Potter would be willing to give us some support? He wouldn't have to actually do anything, but I'm sure that if he publicly approved of our venture, the Ministry would react with considerably less severity."
"Harry's an Auror too, you know, I see you're not worried about him getting fired." Weasley sounded angry. I rolled my eyes.
"Honestly, Weasley, this is Harry Potter. They're not going to fire him."
Weasley grumbled a little but couldn't deny I had a point.
"I'll talk to Harry," agreed Granger. I nodded stiffly.
"Good. Well. When shall we do it?"
"Why not now? I'll call Harry immediately," Granger suggested, her eyes glinting with fevered academic enthusiasm.
"No, Hermione, we can't do it now. Remember, I have to pick up those tickets for the match."
"What match?" I inquired.
"The Tornadoes versus the Cannons," said Weasley happily. "I said it all along; the Chudley Cannons will be back! You can't keep a team with talent like that on the sidelines forever!"
I suppressed a sneer, not wishing to antagonize Weasley now that he had agreed to assist me with my plan. Still, it was difficult. 'Talented' was not a word which came to mind when I thought of the Chudley Cannons.
"Alright, what about tomorrow morning, then?" said Granger, looking slightly exasperated at her boyfriend's obsession with his favorite sport.
"Tomorrow morning is fine. Perhaps eight thirty?" I proposed.
"That's fine. See you there," Granger replied, showing me to the door. Weasley waved vaguely at me, his eyes distant. He was probably contemplating his orange-robed Quidditch heroes. I apparated back to the manor, where I set my possessions in order in preparation for the eventuality that Potter would not be willing to give his support to my project, and I would end up in Azkaban. Once this was done, I called Andromeda Tonks over the Floo network and asked if I could visit her and my mother. She was not particularly welcoming, but she agreed I could.
I disapparated from the manor and appeared in Andromeda's kitchen. My aunt was standing next to a long counter, her hand drumming in six over eight time on the granite. "Where's Mother?" I asked her.
"In bed," she replied tersely. I felt a jolt of alarm.
"Is she alright?"
"She's not well. I'm not sure exactly what's wrong; my friend who works at St. Mungo's says it's post traumatic stress and she'll get over it on her own, but he admits he can't make a positive diagnosis without making a proper examination."
"Oh," I said weakly, slumping down in a chair beside the counter. I'd come here intending to tell Mother my plans for tomorrow, and prepare her for the possibility that I'd end up in Azkaban, but considering her condition, it seemed that might not be wise. Suddenly, my plan seemed very selfish.
"Why are you here?" asked my aunt. I told her. She seemed surprised, but didn't comment until I finished the account. "I don't think you should tell Narcissa," she said at last. "She's already too fragile."
"Yeah, I know, but what if I do end up being imprisoned? I don't know if she could take the shock."
"We'll deal with that when and if it occurs," Andromeda stated firmly. "Don't give up on this, Draco." It was the first time she'd used my name. "I care about my sister, and I know you do too, but you shouldn't sacrifice your own ambitions for her. Don't forget that your friend Crouch is involved in this, too."
"I won't," I replied, my voice sounding a little funny past the lump in my throat. "I'll just go tell Mother that I… I'll just go talk to her." Andromeda nodded and directed me to the door of my mother's room, then left. I took a deep breath and knocked on the door.
Mother's voice, sounding weak and shaky, informed me I could enter. I did so, and barely suppressed a dismayed cry when I saw how bad she looked. There were dark shadows under her eyes, and her pale skin looked waxy. Her thin hands twitched neurotically as they lay on the sheets.
"H-Hello, Mother."
"Hello, Draco. I'm glad to see you. What are you doing here?"
"I'm here to see you."
"That's nice of you." Her unnaturally bright eyes looked huge in her thin, almost emaciated face. "Is Lucius well?"
"He's fine. And you?"
"I'm alright. I'm just a little tired, that's why I'm still in bed at this hour. How are the renovations on the manor going?"
"They're going well." I paused. My eyes were beginning to sting, and I knew I had to get out of the room soon or I'd break down. "Mother – you know I love you, right?"
"Of course I do, Draco," she said, looking at me with amusement. "You're acting rather oddly today. Is everything alright?"
"Yes. Yes, perfectly. I have to go, Mother, I'll see you later, okay?"
"You have to leave already? What a shame. Very well, remember to visit again soon."
I left the room, closing the door behind me and leaning against the wall, breathing deeply and steadily until I felt ready to speak to my aunt. She was in the kitchen when I entered, polishing a picture of her dead daughter and son-in-law.
"Look after her, will you?" I asked. Andromeda turned around and nodded, looking at me in a way which made me guess I hadn't managed to entirely erase the traces of my distress at Mother's condition.
She nodded slowly. "Take care of yourself, Draco." I nodded and disapparated. Back in the manor, I collapsed on a chair in the drawing room and rested my face in my hands. I couldn't remove the picture of Mother's bright, fevered eyes and shaking hands from my mind. Without looking up, I waved my wand, and Renie's Esquisse began playing quietly. I didn't get up until late at night, and even then it was only to move to my bed.
Oh the sap. I don't even like Narcissa. Chapter XI should be up within the next few days; just that and one or two more chapters and I'll be done. Huzzah! Oh, and please review. Go on. You know you want to.