Chapter 25: Remember
"You've memorized the words?" Lestat asks. Feeling lightheaded, Harry briskly nods. He flexes his right hand as he examines the two puncture wounds on his palm. They're smaller than he anticipated. Lestat hands him a small vial and says, "He must drink this."
Bringing the vial close to his eyes, he swirls the thin, clear liquid. Lestat explained to him that the ritual requires a strong and organic healing property, which is why Phoenix Tears works best. But Harry wonders why the vampire had this on hand to begin with. It's not like it he would ever need it. Although he pockets the vial gratefully, he can't help but turn over the question in his head. Why does he-?
Lestat shakes his head with a light smile, his light eyes unblinking. "That's a tale for another time." He stands up, looking down at Harry patiently. "I feel compelled to warn you - They have eyes on you."
Harry stands up too quickly as he looks around himself in alarm. Blood rushes to his head and he must wait a moment for the room to stop spinning. Lestat took much more than a taste, but it was still a small price to pay. Harry examines the crowd again, looking to spot the signature red of Ron's hair. He begins to feel anxious to not find him anywhere. "Can you help me-" but when Harry turns to towards the vampire, he's already gone.
Then from the corner of his eye, he sees them coming; white masks hidden beneath draping hoods.
Draco winces, holding in a groan. He's first aware of how stiff the muscles are around his neck, to the point that it hurts to even swallow. He doesn't open his eyes just yet, but he knows from the stale smell of unwashed coffee mugs, to the lumpy mattress that holds his weight, that he's lying on the same bed – still stuck in his personal hell.
Draco nearly escaped. He was so close - he was at the fucking door. But his own soul betrayed him.
"Malfoy," Granger calls out from the opposite end of the room, likely behind the safety of a new barrier. "How do you feel?"
He doesn't bother replying. He doesn't bother moving at all.
"We got it off before it did too much harm. Sorry it came to that," she says.
"You knew that would happen," he replies. He coughs, surprised how raw his voice sounds. When he sits up and faces her, absently feeling along the raw line where the Horcrux tried to squeeze the life out of him, he holds a steady glare. "Clever - I didn't even consider a Horcrux could do that."
She nods for his sake. "It has a will of its own. I had a feeling it wants you to stay."
"Evidently." If it wasn't for the fact that his Horcrux keeps him immortal, he would have destroyed it by now.
"I wasn't going to let anything drastic happen, if that's any consolation."
Draco smiles coldly at her. "When I get out of here I'm going to hurt you, you realize that, don't you?" He stands up, faintly smirking now. There's just something about her stance, her chin tucked out and her arms crossed defiantly, that makes him irrationally angry.
"All the more reason to help Harry succeeds," she replies coolly.
Draco scoffs here. "You let him to go that place- to meet a known vampire. You've sent Harry to his death." He looks away from her in disgust as he walks the few paces to his cluttered desk, loose parchments and dirty dishes toppled over its surface. He grips the back of the chair with both hands as he scowls down at the mess. He's so fucking sick of it all. "You were supposed to protect him-"
"Careful, Malfoy. That almost sounds like concern."
"Of course it is! I know what happens to me if the Saviour dies." Within these constraining walls it's easy to imagine: Azkaban. His soul, or what's left of it, kissed away. His hands twist over the chair, the wood almost warm on his cool skin.
"Harry is fine-"
"You don't know that!" he snaps, picking up the chair and swinging it across the room.
Granger moves out of the way, but it catches her leg and she topples over with a startled yelp. "Have you finally gone mad?" she yells, massaging her foot as she hobbles onto the other.
"Probably." His eyes stay trained on her as he picks up a random object from his desk and flings it across the room at her face. He watches with detached sense of amusement as a plate bounces off her quick, enchanted shield and smashes to pieces onto the floor.
"Stop. You're being ridiculous!"
He turns his attention to another fucking plate - fucking everywhere! They couldn't even give him a House Elf? He's in mid motion of picking one up when the door crashes open and Weasley stumbles through, red faced and panting.
The state of the room, from the chair on its side and the shards of glass at Granger's feet, barely seems to register with him as he rushes to Granger's side.
"Ron!" Granger cries. "What-?"
"They – took –him," he manages to say.
"They got Harry?" she asks in shock, her eyes wide. He nods fiercely and she clutches his arm. "Who? How?"
"It's like they were waiting for us!" he rushes to say. "The moment I turned my back-"
Draco laughs bitterly, ignoring the horrible twisting sensation in his gut. "You let him out of your sight? Even for a second? Did your mother drop you on your soft, ginger head?!"
With a twist of his face, Ron starts to lumber towards him, his steps heavy and resolute, but reason holds him back with a quick touch on his arm. "Ron, don't let him distract you. Please, focus!" She looks at him steadily, even as her next words sound shrill. "What happened?"
Weasley stares hard at Draco with clenched fists and a stubborn jaw. He bites down hard before looking away and exhaling loudly. "They took him," he repeats.
"Who did?" she insists.
The shadows on Weasley's face lengthen when he glances at Draco again. "His lot."
"You mean - Lucius Malfoy?" Granger gasps. "What does he want with Harry? Unless he means to ..." She looks faintly at Draco. "- Make a trade?"
Weasley shrugs and Draco unconsciously approaches the barrier. "How did you get away?" he asks Weasley curtly.
"Why should it concern you?" Granger asks pointedly, at the same time Weasley crosses his arms and stonily glares at him.
"They came out of nowhere, but you still had time to escape?" he hisses, walking straight up to the wretched barrier now, its aura almost stinging his skin.
Weasley ignores the question. "Malfoy, you have to take us to the Lestrange's summer house."
Shock momentarily makes Draco quiet. Not many people know about that place. Draco knows it well because not only was it a safehouse for Death Eaters during the war, but before his fourth year it was where his family used to spend several weeks every summer. Not many people know this place exists, and fewer people know it's linked to Lestrange property. "How do you know about that place?"
"It's where they took him! And if you don't help us, I'll take you to the Ministry myself."
Draco shakes his head impatiently. "Weasley, help me connect the dots. How do you know all this? How did you really escape?"
Granger turns to look at Ron with a questioning frown and he quickly averts his gaze. "I have a source-"
"Why didn't you say anything?" Granger cuts in.
"Who is it?" Draco asks. "Someone who has access to this information can't possibly be trusted."
"Like you?" Weasley asks.
"Exactly," he replies.
Weasley sighs. "He wasn't one of yours, okay? But he saved my life - That's how I got out. He told me that they've taken Harry to Lestrange's old property – that we must hurry. He said that you know the way there-"
"This doesn't sound like an obvious trap." Draco rolls his eyes.
"He said you would say that." Weasley retorts.
Granger shakes her head, in anger or exasperation, Draco cannot tell. "Well - what choice do we have? We're wasting time!" Without further comment, she begins to remove the barrier once more.
Harry tightens his abdomen muscles when the next blow hits, but it's no use. He feels the full impact of a fist crushing into his diaphragm, knocking the breath out of him. He tries to stagger forward with a groan, but one of the Death Eaters is holding his arms behind his back, forcing him to stand.
The last thing Harry remembers is looking for Ron and his panic when he couldn't find him. The moments between then and now are completely wiped from his memory. He has no idea how he got here. Did he even leave Cruor's? Were they on his trail the entire time? With sinking dread, Harry wonders how long he's been held captive here.
Looking around the room, he can't recognize anything worth noting. Not that he would trust his sight right now - the bastards took his glasses.
Harry squints, trying to make out any details that could help him figure out where he is, but everything's a blur. All he can make out is the dark, polished furniture and hardwood floors, to the hazy, maroon pattern on the wallpaper that's only interrupted by a white door.
It stands behind the Death Eater who's repeating the same questions. Harry tries to look past the masked man to see if door's ajar, but he leers menacingly close to him. "It's simple. All we want to know is what you did with the pendant," the Death Eater says.
Harry lets his eyes wander to a point past his face, refusing to acknowledge him as he stares at the ugly shade of maroon. He forces himself not to cry out when a blow lands on his side, leaving him weary and breathless. When the white door opens and a third Death Eater walks in, his face obscured in the shadow of his hood, Harry tries not to feel hopeless.
He notices the subtle way the other two Death Eaters stand up straighter when this person enters the room. From the air of superiority that he carries, he seems to be the one in charge. He walks towards Harry in even strides, his boots unnaturally light against the hardwood floor. He doesn't speak, waiting for someone else to break the silence.
"At this rate, he'll never talk. If I can try the Cruciatus Curse again-" the one who was beating him begins to say.
"No," the one in charge replies with impatience bordering on dullness. "He's resistant to that as well - I have a better way." He leans close to Harry and takes his face between two gloved fingers, forcing Harry to look at him. Harry regards the mask beneath the hood scornfully, trying to lean away from the sudden scent of leather, but the Death Eater holds his face firmly in his hand and brings up a vial up to his lips. Harry resists, struggling to turn his face away or loosen the binds on his wrists. When that fails, he clenches his jaw stubbornly, refusing to open his mouth. "Potum," the Death Eater whispers and Harry finds he can no longer keep his jaw clenched. He tries to angle his face away, but the Death Eater holds on tightly.
The Death Eater forces a few drops from the vial into his mouth, and Harry has no choice but to swallow. Harry's face gets hot with anger and he spits at him, his saliva red on the porcelain mask. But the damage is done. All it takes is a few drops of Veritaserum for it to be effective.
The Death Eater behind him nudges him hard for his insolence, but his leader is unfazed. He chuckles quietly before he steps away with a handkerchief – wiping the spot like some tosser. "Give it a minute and he'll tell us everything."
A moment passes in silence, with Harry's unease uncoiling in his chest like a snake. He doesn't see a way out of this. He'll tell them everything and nothing can be done.
"What is your name?" the Death Eater who gave him Veritaseum begins.
Harry opens his mouth to reply, but he's surprised he doesn't feel compelled to answer. He closes his mouth shut and clenches his jaw, staring at the Death Eater.
"He's fighting the effects," the Death Eater states to the other two who are watching intently. "In a moment… he won't be able to keep quiet and he'll tell us where to find it." Turning his attention back to Harry, the Death Eater repeats his question. "What is your name?"
"Harry James Potter," Harry responds quickly, quietly, as if it's against his will. He knows the Veritaserum is faulty because he still can lie. But he must make them think otherwise. If he plays his cards right - he might get out of this alive.
He can almost hear the Death Eater smirks behind the mask. "See? No one can fight this - So, Potter, where's the pendant?"
Harry feigns hesitation before he replies through his teeth. "12 Grimmauld Place."
The other two Death Eater hoot in excitement. "The old Phoenix headquarters!"
"Lucius will definitely reward us for this-"
The leader quiets the other two with a raised hand. In their silence, he continues, "Potter - would they-" he gestures in the direction of the other two, "-be able to get in?"
Of course they would. The House of Black was abandoned after the war and Harry didn't even think to lock it up. He should have fixed it up by now, as it'll be his home after Hogwarts, but he hasn't had the will to go back. So yes - they can bloody get in - but should he tell them that?
He nods stiffly, knowing his chances of escape will improve if one or two of them leave. Hopefully the prick in charge will leave as well.
The prick in charge chuckles. "Where exactly did you hide the pendant?"
"Top drawer in the desk in the drawing room," he impulsively lies, remembering that Regulus Black had hid a Horcrux there once.
The Death Eater holding his arms back laughs the other one turns to his superior in excitement. "It's just there- waiting-"
"We could get it before Lucius arrives," the one behind him says, his tone pinched with eagerness.
"To have both Potter and the Horcrux? Lucius's be quite pleased," the third Death Eater agrees. Harry suspects his is the only opinion that counts. "Alright, I'll stay here and watch him while you two fetch the pendant. Be here before Lucius arrives."
The other two nod and rush to leave, their wands already in their hands. When their footsteps can be heard clambering down a staircase, Harry realizes they can't apparate within the house. He'll have to remember that if he gets the chance to escape.
Harry frowns at the remaining Death Eater, who begins to pace the room. If Harry didn't know any better, he'd say he looks nervous. When the front door closes downstairs, signalling that the other two have left, he sighs and turns to Harry.
"Just you and me," Harry says.
The Death Eater stills at that, before regaining his composure and saying quietly, "You catch on quick - Clever to make them leave. It's a bit of a walk before they can apparate, which buys us some time." Harry watches in astonishment as he unties his hands with a flick of his wand and pulls out Harry's glasses from within his cloak. He hands them over to Harry in an outstretched hand.
"What?" Harry asks, confused, even as he takes the glasses from him and shoves them onto his face.
"Who do you think brewed that batch of Veritaserum?" the stranger asks in a low voice.
"So you-" Harry blinks around at the room, everything coming into focus too quickly. He watches the figure step away carefully, approaching the door. "Wait - Who are you?"
"Don't waste time asking stupid questions. Your friends will be here soon. Go downstairs and use the kitchen door. Head towards the trees," the Death Eater says this before tossing his wand to Harry. Harry catches it instinctively, even as he stares in confusion as the Death Eater walks out of the room. He leaves with a swish of his cloak as he turns into the corridor.
Harry rubs his wrists and follows him with a frown. Standing under the doorframe, he peers out into the dark hallway and sees the stranger walk into another room on his left. But on his right, he sees the winding stairs that leads to his freedom. He should leave - he shouldn't question his fortune.
Harry turns left, his hand tightly gripping his wand. Although Harry can't possibly know him, something about this person seems awfully familiar. He's older than Harry, by the sureness in his step, but he's somehow quieter than he ought to be.
When he steps into the room, his eyes widen with shock at the sight before him.
The light that spills into the room through the large, paned windows makes the space glow in pale amber. He sees Narcissa Malfoy lying on a bed, her blonde hair spilling over the pillow under her back. She looks to be asleep. The Death Eater sits next to her on the bed, his mask gone but his face hidden by the angle of his hood. He's holding one of her hands.
Harry edges closer, the floorboards creaking under his feet. The Death Eater almost turns to him, but stops in mid motion, his face still obscured by his hood. His head is slightly bowed and shoulders hunched in a way that almost feels like dejavu. "I thought I could save her too," he says. Harry watches the man place her hand over her stomach. With shaking fingers, he covers her face with a white sheet.
He rises now, discreetly enchanting a mask onto his face before he turns towards Harry and walks past him to the door. Harry shakes his head and walks to Narcissa's side. "She - she can't be..."
"There's nothing we can do for her now - but you're still in danger," he says over his shoulder, not looking back. Harry watches him disappear and he can hear his light footsteps as they travel down the corridor. They pause by the stairs, waiting for Harry to follow. Harry turns to look back at the still form hiding under the linen sheets. He can make out the peak of her fine nose from under the covers, and hair nearly as fair as Draco's poking out from the side. He takes a step back, willing himself to walk away.
The trail that leads to the summer house is winding and unkempt. Draco ducks between the trees, keeping his feet on the path. If he ignores the fact that Weasley has his wand pointed at his back and every so often he sends a stinging curse his way, he can almost pretend he's the old Draco Malfoy - the one before the war.
Draco knows this trail well. For as long as he can remember he and his family stayed at this place in the summer. The property was hidden from the Ministry, handed down to the Malfoys after the Lestranges were sent to Azkaban.
Every summer, the three of them would spend a week or so away from the Manor. It was the time he looked forward to the most – those weeks away from the rest of the world. He remembers how the days were long and hot, and how a cool, welcoming breeze swept from the lake. He remembers how he felt when they stayed here, like they were a normal family. His father wasn't a criminal. His mother didn't carry the burden of family secrets. And Draco was innocent, unmarked and unaware.
Draco remembers wondering about his convicted Aunt and Uncle staying here. Did they ever spend their summer days here, pretending they're normal? Or did they only come here when their mark burned - when they were called to wear a mask?
After Draco was marked it became clear to him that those weeks in the summer were forever gone. The place of his innocence was tainted, used to shield the acts of terrible men. Each time he was called here, he buried the memories of his childhood further away. Forget the patio where his mother read a book – that became his guarding post. Forget the kitchen where his father used to cook – someone was just tortured there. Forget the lake where he learned how to swim because that's where someone drowned. Forget the swing that hung from the oak tree, where his feet used to kick and swing for higher. If he wore the mask just right, his could avoid kicking and swinging from that same tree.
"Move along, Malfoy," Ron states flatly, a stinging hex lazily hitting Draco in the arm.
He grimaces, but refused to rub the spot. He won't give him the satisfaction. "Only if you say please."
Weasley marches up to him and aims his wand at his throat. "Fucking move, Malfoy," he repeats.
Draco smirks. "Where did you learn such manners, Weasley? I imagine your mother, with the whole litter of you, just didn't have the time to teach you how to say-" Weasley catches his collar with one fist and Draco laughs, "-please." Weasley rolls his fist back into the air but freezes in mid motion when he hears Granger's indignant sigh.
"Really, Ronald," she says as she trots pass them, her nose in a map. "We don't have time for that." She folds it up, moving more quickly past them.
Weasley drops his raised fist, almost embarrassed, but he glares at Draco's next expression. "What?" he snaps.
Draco spitefully smiles. "You're so whipped."
Weasley rolls his eyes and roughly shoves him to move again, which only makes Draco snigger under his breath and make an audible whipping sound.
They reach the edge of the trees, close enough to see a large, Victorian house beyond the gate. Behind it a lake shimmers as the first rays of sunrise hit.
The three of them stay within the thickness of the trees, blending into the wilderness as they examine the perimeters of the house. There doesn't seem to be anyone around.
"What else did you 'source' say?" Draco asks.
"To watch the gate - that Harry will be there," Weasley replies.
"What? How could he know-?" just as the question leaves his mouth, two figures emerge from the back of the house. Draco crouches low and is grateful when the other two do the same. He squints at the pair of them, unable to tell from this distance… but he thinks the one limping could be Harry.
"That has to be him-" Granger says.
"But who's that next to him?" Weasley replies.
Draco peers at the figure next to him, cloaked in black and hooded. There's something familiar about him he can't place, but one thing is certain: "He's a Death Eater."
Weaselby begins to stand up quickly, but thankfully Granger catches his arm and keeps him low. "Careful, Ron!"
"Harry needs our help!" he says to her.
Draco refrains from rolling his eyes. "There could be others - and it'd be very unwise to be seen by a Death Eater, you dumb fuck."
"We can't just sit here and wait for your father to show up - this may be our best shot. I'm going in-" He begins to get up again but Draco forces him to stay down by roughly pulling the back of his cloak.
"Here me out, Ronald." He stresses the name to get his attention, to stall. "What if you're just walking into a bloody trap? Your source could be one of them-"
"I'll take my chances, Malfoy." Weasley yanks himself free from Draco and stands up.
"Fucking idiot," he mutters.
"Fucking coward," Weasley retorts.
"Shh!" Granger shushes them, vaguely gesturing for them to shut up. "Look, I think… Harry's armed."
Draco looks more closely and notices the way Harry's walking alongside the Death Eater. The way he's favouring one side means he's injured. But he's moving quickly with his wand arm raised in ready. It's not aimed anywhere near the hooded stranger. Draco sits up a little straighter when he catches them exchange a few words.
"What the hell?" he whispers.
"Wait - that's him - my source!" Weasley stands up and walks quickly towards the gates, completely forgetting about Granger and him.
Draco, crouched low with Granger next to him, glances at her in confusion. She shrugs and aims her wand at him. "Come on, let's go say hi to Harry."
He doesn't even blink when he reaches blindly behind him for something solid and comes across a large stone. He picks it up and smashes it against Granger's head, watching her fall without a care.
Harry can't get the image out of his head. The motion of black leathered gloves moving the sheet over her rested face – as if she's merely sleeping. He swallows hard, at a loss of how he's going to face Draco.
How can she be dead? How does the stranger know her? None of it makes sense. He doesn't even know where he is or why this person is helping him. Glancing at him now, he tries his best to figure out what's so familiar, but the answers evade him. He frowns, unable to stop staring even as he moves quickly towards the gates.
"Why did you obliviate me?" Harry asks when the silence becomes too much.
The Death Eater who isn't one continues walking silently beside him, his eyes trained ahead. "Why does it matter?" he replies.
Harry glares at him. "There's something you don't want me to remember. I want my memories back."
He's silent for a moment, before he says, "It doesn't concern you."
"Bullshit," Harry mutters, peering at the mask. "Why are you hiding? Who are you?"
His questions remain ignored. Instead the spy peers past the gate towards the forest. "I see your friends," he says.
Harry turns to see Ron emerging quickly from within the trees. His face is split into a grin and his hair's flying away from his face as he sprints towards the gates.
Harry runs to meet him, relieved that this is nearly over, but something behind Ron catches his attention. A short distance away, within the shaded wilderness of the trees, he sees Hermione turn her wand onto Draco. Harry blinks and the next moment Draco is swinging a large rock against Hermione's temple.
"No!" he screams as Hermione crumbles to the ground. Draco raises the stone up high but Harry shouts his name. "Draco!"
Draco looks up at him, his chest tight with an inhale and the large stone balanced over his head. He offers Harry a chilling smile as he drops the stone to the ground. He takes something from Hermione before he sprints towards the thickening trees.
Harry doesn't even remember opening the gate. The distance between him and Hermione is a blur, barely registered. When he stands over her, his heart racing, Ron's already there checking her pulse. "She's okay -" he says gruffly. "Just out."
"Fuck - I can't believe-" his hands flying to his hair.
"I can! He's dangerous!" Ron yells before he checks her pockets. "He took her wand and the pendant!" He looks up at Harry with red-rimmed eyes, his freckles standing out starkly against his pale face. "You can't let him get away."
Harry stands up straighter, nodding. He shakes off the image of Hermione lying on the ground, blood matting in her hair, and turns to the direction where Draco disappeared.