It was like the world stopped moving. Everything suddenly made sense, but Draco felt lied to, cheated, and somehow even more alone.
"Aunt Bella is a Reaper?"
Hermione nodded slowly and Draco asked,
"That's good, right? If I can convince her to fight for our side, maybe we can stop Voldemort without a war."
Hermione looked exasperated.
"Bellatrix would rather torture you than disappoint Voldemort!"
"But why?" Draco asked, shouting the question at Hermione in desperation. "That was there, she could be different here. I am different here!"
"Bellatrix and Voldemort are …" Hermione trailed off. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair and nervously tapped her fingers on the table before settling on the word, "close."
"Close how?" Draco asked. Hermione continued to squirm.
"Close enough to put him over her family."
"You didn't answer the question," Draco observed. Then it hit him and he rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes to prevent those thoughts from progressing any further. "Oh! Oh, God. Is my aunt fucking Lord Voldemort?"
Hermione couldn't meet his eyes and that was a good enough answer.
"You have to Obliviate these images out of my head!"
.oOo.
Narcissa Malfoy came to visit in the middle of August. She placed several textbooks on the table and turned to face her son, looking fabulous as ever. Wearing her hair in an elaborate braid and a breezy summer dress, the only sign of anything amiss was a bruise on her right cheekbone. It appeared someone had backhanded her and Draco balled his hands into fists. Through gritted teeth he asked,
"What happened to you?"
"What do you—Oh! I forgot to cover it up this morning," she lamented after catching her reflection in the mirror above the fireplace. "So careless these days…"
"Mother," Draco asked again, "who hit you?"
"You know the answer," she scolded.
"Why?"
"I defended your father against accusations of incompetence. This is nothing, Draco. I am fine. Hermione needs to leave and I will tell you the rest," Mother insisted.
Hermione crossed her arms defiantly but Draco demanded she go. Hermione stalked away like they hadn't been at each other's sides the past two months. Though both of them secretly wanted to be rid of each other for awhile.
Mother took a seat at the dining room table and sighed. Her shoulders slumped and she let her face fall to her hands. Draco had never seen her vulnerable, like life finally caught up with Narcissa Malfoy. Gone was the fearsome witch who took on twelve Ministry raiders, who only two months ago lied to Lord Voldemort himself. Mother was simply trying to survive.
"Your father still believes we can make our way back into the Dark Lord's favour. Before He was defeated, the only people closer to the Dark Lord were Bella and Severus. We did great things with that power."
"You killed people," Draco accused.
"People who deserved to die, yes, we did. It was war, mon ange, it was brutal and it was hateful for ten long years. But we were right, and we are still right—"
"You are wrong!" Draco shouted at her. "You were wrong! You are still wrong! You and Father always told me that if I demand respect people will give it to me. Explain to me, Mother, why you are willing to follow a man who tried to kill me!"
"Because we have to survive!" Narcissa shouted back. She placed a hand over her mouth, stunned and disappointed to have lost her composed veneer. "The Dark Lord has returned, and everyone in his way will perish. That is not a question, Draco. Whether you believe we are right or wrong, if you get in his way you will die. I love you too much to watch that happen."
And I love you too much to let Voldemort treat you like a house-elf.
Are they trying to protect me from the inevitable? I have less than three years left. Perhaps it is time I start taking control of my future.
"You brought me into this war. You and Father and every other Death Eater who ever supported Voldemort. I promise you that Lord Voldemort will pay for laying a hand on you. He will pay for threatening innocent people! For killing innocent people!"
"You have been spending too much time with that Hannah girl," Mother chastised. "Astoria Greengrass is only a couple years below you, and her parents—"
"Mother, I am not in love with Hannah. I do not want her or Astoria or Pans! Can I just be a teenager for five minutes? I don't want to worry about you or Father or dying, which you have never allowed me to forget!" Draco sighed as all the fight left him. "I didn't ask for this. All of it, any of it."
And I love Hermione, but something tells me I best leave that bit out. No one needs to know that.
"But you are older now, and given the current situation we need to be more practical."
"Practical?" Draco asked. "Hannah Abbot is my friend and you all know I am in love with Blaise. How can you expect me to fight for people who want to take both of them away from me?"
"We do what it takes to survive, Draco!" Narcissa said. She repeated it almost like a mantra.
"I rejected Blaise because he makes me weak, just as Father has done to you! I am practical. I am surviving. I am doing everything you asked of me."
"Yet Blaise gave you his father's ring," Mother said with curiosity. Draco raised an eyebrow and looked down at his hand, astonished.
"It was his father's?"
"Yes."
"Blaise never told me about him."
"Well it is not a point of pride. Mon destin, his mother really loved his father. Much like your father and I, that woman looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky. They were together for ten years. Eight of them during the war where he …." Narcissa trailed off.
"Where he what?" Draco asked, suddenly very curious.
"That is a question for Blaise, my son."
My son. Just like Father. Do this, my son. Not like that, my son. You failed, my son.
"May I just ask one more question?"
"Of course, Draco."
"Will you protect me when he tries to kill me again?" Draco asked. His mother looked hurt by the question.
"You and your father are the most important things in my life. I would give up all our houses, our money, and our status to keep you safe. If the Dark Lord tries to take either of you away from me, he becomes my enemy.
"We always though having a Reaper was a sign you would stand next to the Dark Lord as his top lieutenant and that you would die fighting for him. We were naively proud and perhaps we were wrong to focus on your fate as much as we did. I admit it, your father and I were wrong and I am so sorry, Draco if we ever made you feel like you did not have something to live for."
"I do," Draco said, "but you didn't give it to me. Hermione did."
Narcissa nodded, sullen.
"I am bending," she admitted, "but I know you never will. To prove it …"
Mother offered Draco a small white box. Draco unceremoniously flung the top off and stared. He'd forgotten it was that time. Somehow, when he wanted most to be rid of responsibility, more found its way to him. Inside the box was a small green badge lined in silver, with a snake wrapped around the stem of a capital 'P'.
"You are their leader now, and I am so proud of you."
.oOo.
Draco ducked back into their compartment on the Hogwarts Express after his Prefect patrol was finished. He looked around and asked,
"Where's Pans?"
"With Hannah," Blaise answered. "It's just been me and Hermione here, I assume," Blaise replied. "Quite nice, actually. Rarely have time to myself now that Theo's between girlfriends and Dean won't shut up about Ginny Weasley."
"Hermione is not here," Draco replied. "Two months we spent together! She is so overbearing sometimes. She is wicked smart, but there are times I want her to off me herself just so I would no longer have to listen to her lectures about the rights of house-elves."
"That's not funny," Blaise insisted. "It isn't funny because you still haven't told me how much time you have left."
"Technically, we don't know," Draco said, trying to dodge the question. He knew it wouldn't work.
"You have a guess. A good one."
When Draco refused to answer, Blaise put down his book and moved to the other side of the compartment to sit next to him. Draco hadn't told Blaise, but his feelings were exactly the same as they were this time last year. He supposed their boundaries had changed, but even that was a sort of fanciful notion. Draco still curled into Blaise's side and Blaise still wrapped his arm around Draco's shoulders.
"You said this war kills you and that it is more important than me. You owe it to me, Draco. You owe it to me to tell me so I can be …" Blaise swallowed thickly, "prepared."
"Really, Blaise?" Draco asked, acid in his tone. "What? Do you want to start some demented countdown? The 'Days 'Til My Best Friend Dies' clock?"
Blaise didn't reply. He had nothing to say in response to what Draco knew was a baseless accusation. He only thought it'd be easier to say if Blaise was angry at him. It wasn't.
"Less than three years."
The only sign Blaise heard was his arm tightening around Draco's shoulders, pulling him closer. Being with him was so easy. Conversely, Hermione was untamable and restless and determined. She was hard and strong, and made Draco want to be the same. How cruel of the universe to give him two proper friends, almost-lovers, only to take them away.
To change the subject, Draco pulled the ring off his finger and asked, "Is this your father's?"
"Yeah," Blaise sighed. He closed his book, sensing a long conversation ahead. "My mother gave it to me before third year. She said I should have something of his. She explained things to me."
When Blaise didn't expound upon that, Draco asked, "What things?"
"She loved him. It is strange to think of my mother loving anyone. She tries to care for me but isn't very good at it. Politics forced my parents apart. They were together through most of the war, even though they fought on opposite sides. They finally called it off in early 1978. He never remarried and she's on husband #7."
Blaise said it impartially, but Draco could tell he was a little resentful. Almost as though he wondered why they couldn't make it last just a few more years. Perhaps then Blaise would be sitting there with a happy mother, a present father, and … well maybe he wouldn't need Draco as much. Draco, selfishly, did not take well to that notion. Draco didn't want to ask the question, and Blaise knew him so well that he didn't have to.
"He doesn't know about me."
Draco was silent for several moments.
"His name is Kingsley," Blaise finally admitted. "My mum thought people would overlook what my father did. Now that the Dark Lord has returned, however, she doesn't know how much longer I will be able to stay."
"You-you know about him?!" Draco sputtered. Blaise laughed.
"I know, and Pans was staying with me so she knows. Your mother cannot keep a secret from mine. Plus, it's hard not to figure it out when a bunch of Death Eaters start heading to Malfoy Manor like it's Madam Malkin's and someone told them black cloaks were on sale."
"Well what does it matter? Why wouldn't you be here with us?"
Blaise looked at Draco like he had gone 'round the bend.
"I'm gay and my father's a blood traitor. How long do you think the Dark Lord will let me stay around?"
.oOo.
Draco had to tell Hannah. Draco never kept a secret from her, outside of Hermione, and it was killing him. He lasted two weeks at the beginning of the year before it became unbearable. One day in the Slytherin common room, Hannah continued what seemed like her constant Potter-bashing diatribe.
"Dad is relocating because of Potter's lies. Mum convinced my dad to move back to America while she stays here to work at the Ministry. So stupid," Hannah snapped.
Draco put down his quill, though Hannah's scribbling only intensified.
"He is not lying."
"How would you know?"
"I just know."
Draco stared at her until she looked up. He raised his eyebrows and repeated,
"I know."
"Whatever," Hannah muttered. She continued to colour something until the end broke off her pencil. "Dammit!" she shouted and angrily threw it on the table. Hermione, perched on one arm of Draco's chair, said,
"She is looking for someone to blame."
"It is not Potter's fault," Draco said to the both of them.
"Why not?!" Hannah shouted. Some of the other Slytherins turned to look as she continued.
"Say He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back, say it's all true, what did Harry Potter do about it? Nothing! He did nothing! Dumbledore made all of us praise him for bringing the body back but how about keeping Cedric alive, huh? Why didn't he do that?
"Sure, 'The Chosen One' escapes like he always does, but everyone around him dies!"
"Hang on, that's not fair!" Hermione interjected, but Hannah couldn't hear her.
"We were so proud of Cedric. Nobody expected a Hufflepuff champion and he did so well! He won! Gryffindors are always so brave when it comes to themselves, but protecting others is always second to the greater good."
"Hear, hear!" Theo shouted from across the room.
"That is not fair," Hermione said, standing up. She looked at Draco and demanded he defend her House. Draco ignored her. Hermione put her hands on her hips and got that look on her face Draco had come to understand meant, "I am so disappointed in you." He asked Hannah,
"What would you have done differently?"
"How do you mean?"
"If you were there, wherever Potter was ambushed by the Dark Lord, what would you have done to save Cedric?"
"Well I don't … I … I …" Hannah was at a loss for words.
"Exactly," Draco shot a pointed glance at Hermione before telling Hannah, "If you want someone to blame, look at who killed him. I've seen Voldemort," Draco confided. Hannah's mouth fell open. "He … He …" Draco trailed off. "Violent and powerful, that is what he is. Hell if I know how Potter escaped. Barely managed it myself."
"You mean it?" Hannah whispered. "You really saw him?"
"He tried to kill me," Draco confirmed. He touched his neck again as he remembered the feeling of silk ribbons tightening around his throat.
Hannah clutched her sketchbook to her chest and stared intently at the table. She shifted a bit, suddenly very uncomfortable. When she finally spoke again her voice was very small.
"So I almost lost you, too?"
.oOo.
Draco heard about the manor raid at dinner in late October. Theo heard from Daphne who heard from Gupta who heard from someone who heard from someone who heard from their parents. Theo lowered his voice to deliver the news.
"Later this week, the Ministry is planning a raid on the manor."
Draco turned to him, concerned.
"They cannot be serious. They have to know who is there."
"Is it Him?" Theo asked. Draco leveled him with a glare that all but confirmed it. Theo shifted awkwardly and continued.
"The Ministry is losing staff by the dozens, most of them transferring to positions abroad. They are scooping the bottom of the barrel for employees, but they are determined. Minister Fudge is in denial, but his ranks aren't. What are your parents going to do?"
"Watch as he kills them, I expect," Draco admitted. "Wait! You said they're scraping the bottom of the barrel?"
"I think so, yeah," Theo admitted. "It's hard trying to piece it all together. But that's what I think."
Draco nodded.
"Cover for me," he insisted as he stood up and walked rather quickly over to the Gryffindor dining table. The closer he got, the more eyes he could feel on his back. Even the professors were staring by the time he stood behind Ron Weasley.
"What do you want, Malfoy?" Potter asked disdainfully.
"I need to speak with Weasley."
"Fat chance of that, you son of a—" Ron began, but Draco cut him off.
"Oh, God, you great prat, will you get your head out of your arse for two minutes?!"
"Forget it," Ron said with a wave of his hand.
A blood traitor does not get to dismiss me like that.
Draco balled his hands into fists and clenched his teeth. He took a deep breath and said,
"If you do not follow me outside, I will take fifty points from Gryffindor."
"You wouldn't!" Weasley sneered. Draco gave just as good as he got.
"Try me," he dared.
…
Weasley blinked first. He followed Draco into the castle entryway and rounded on him.
"What are you playing at?"
"do you believe Potter?"
Ron was thrown off by the question so Draco repeated it.
"Do you believe Voldemort has returned?"
"Of course I do. I trust him."
"Good," Draco breathed a sigh of relief. "You must go to the Owlery straightaway and tell your father not to go on the Ministry raid at the manor. Tell him to fake an illness or blame it on paperwork, but he cannot go to the manor."
Ron looked at him, if possible, with even more contempt.
"You won't get my father fired from his job, Malfoy."
Draco almost laughed. It was almost funny. There he was trying to save Ron's father from death, and Ron would send it all to hell just to have the last word. He decided to spell it out delicately.
"Where do you believe the Dark Lord is hiding?" Draco asked.
"Out in the woods or in some Death Eater house, I expect."
So stupid! Someone with that much power, who desires that much wealth, does not slum in the woods or the homes of lesser men.
"You think the Dark Lord would hid out in a Death Eater house? Which Death Eater has the best home, Weasley?"
"I wouldn't know, Malfoy. 'Blood traitors' don't get invited to your parties."
"For Merlin's sake, put the pieces together, Weasley!" Draco shouted, exasperated. "I am telling you if your father goes into my home that there is someone there who will make sure he does not get out alive!"
"Why should I believe you?!" Weasley shouted back.
"Because while I may hate you, I do not hate him. He … He never raised his wand to me. I think he is a decent person and would very much like to not see him perish at the hands of the person currently in my house!"
Ron was at the Owlery in minutes. When his classmates asked what that was about, he simply said,
"Choosing a side."