One Step at a Time
Just Tell Me That You Still Believe
Ginny's scream effectively woke everyone in the house except the still potioned-up Slytherin, and within seconds both her parents, Snape and Lupin were crowded into the room.
All of the kids were staring at a box on the table with horror on their faces and Snape strode immediately to it. His own eyes widened, but his sharp sight picked out something no one else had yet. A note.
Ignoring the blood and thankful he was not squeamish, Snape reached past the head and pulled out the bloodied piece of parchment.
"Dear God," Molly Weasley gasped as she looked in the box.
Snape looked to Blaise. "I am assuming this was sent to you?"
He gave a silent nod. "Larna… she…" He waved his hand at the box, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. Larna had been his house elf. He didn't have the relationship Draco had had with Dobby, but she had cared for him growing up.
She had died because of him.
But Draco would have died without him.
Either way it appeared someone was going to die.
Blaise heaved back a sob, unwilling to cry in front of his head of house, but Molly came around and pulled him into a tight hug and he buried his face in her shoulder.
"There there," she said, patting his back. She shot a glare at Snape who was still holding the bloody note. He tucked it out of sight for the moment and she returned her attention to Blaise.
"The trunk doesn't have anything similar… does it?" Ron asked, face still slightly green. They were all familiar with house elf heads thanks to the Black Manor, but those ones had been mounted and cleaned. This had been an act of murder.
Lupin crossed over to it and flipped open the lid, wand at the ready. Fortunately the trunk did not contain any such surprises. In fact, It held an assortment of clothes, what appeared to be Blaise's school books, other personal belongings and a note on top.
"This is quite different," Lupin muttered, removing that note. One severed house elf head and a box neatly packed full of belongings. It made zero sense as to why both had arrived together.
Snape carefully sealed the box with Larna's head back up and Arthur took it from him to bring outside. The cold would keep it and they could deal with it a little later.
Blaise composed himself rather quickly, a somewhat disturbing blank mask sliding into place. Hermione wondered sadly if all Slytherins had somehow learned the trick so as to not let anyone see what they were really feeling.
Snape recognized it too and internally sighed. At least he knew though, firsthand, that Zabini was capable (more than capable) of feeling and wasn't as worried. Given all that had happened he was surprised the Slytherin's defenses hadn't already shot up. It showed just how comfortable he was with his friends though and that did make the Potions master have to suppress a small smile.
"Here," he said, handing the bloodied note to Blaise.
"This one too," said Lupin.
Hands relatively steady, Blaise opened up the one that had been sent with Larna and a newspaper clipping fell out too. After a few seconds, he held both out for the rest of the room. Arthur read the elegantly handwritten note aloud:
"Your treachery has been noticed and your actions have deemed you a blood traitor. Fortunately for you, your house elf has proven that other than saving a worthless life you have nothing else to show for your evening foray. This is a warning: do anything else and you will end up the same."
"It's Lucius' handwriting," Arthur said, having seen enough memos from the man come down through the Ministry.
"He doesn't know that I know about the prophecy," Blaise said softly. "Larna covered for me."
Her last words to him had been "be safe," he remembered. And Larna had likely known that Blaise would have been killed immediately had the Death Eaters discovered he knew the prophecy. She had done what she could to save him and it had cost her her life.
"The clipping is from this morning's paper," Arthur said. "It's about the Dark Mark appearing in the sky and the blood found at the scene, but no body. People are pretty badly shaken, but some are calling it a prank."
"Do wizards have the means to trace blood back to a person?" Harry asked. "Like DNA?"
"Muggles can do that?" Arthur gasped in amazement.
"They'll be able to tell by the blood if the person was magical or not," Snape said. "But wizards are very far behind muggles on this sort of forensic front, which is actually good for us in this incident. They will find that it was a person's blood though."
"Is the second one better news?" Hermione asked gently as Blaise was skimming it. She couldn't imagine it being worse, but who could tell at this rate.
He looked up, eyes slightly wet. "I've been disinherited," he said quietly. "My father though has left me my portion of the inheritance at Gringott's and enclosed the key in my trunk."
"That's very… generous ," Lupin said.
Blaise shrugged. "My father never really believed in what the Death Eaters stood for. His note says that due to my actions You-Know-Who demanded he disinherit me for being a blood traitor. I suppose the money and items were his way of bending the rules a bit."
"Do you think your father would ever consider helping us?" Lupin asked. It sounded to him that Nirav Zabini couldn't be as bad as the rest.
Blaise shook his head though. "He only cares about his own skin and the family name. He hates being told what to do though, so this is as far as he'll go to disobey. He would never assist. He's the one who just stood there while they tortured Draco." His fists clenched at the thought. He was glad his father hadn't actively participated, but he hadn't done anything to stop it either.
His father had known Draco since they had started Hogwarts and he'd never had anything but positive things to say (often telling both of his sons they should be more like the Malfoy heir). It made Blaise wonder that if it had been him in Draco's place if his father would have stood idly by.
He was grateful though for his belongings and more than surprised at the inheritance. At least he wouldn't be a burden to anyone else and he would even definitely share it with Draco. And as far as it looked like he should be safe from any retaliation in the future, so long as he didn't actively draw their attention.
That meant though keeping his head down in Slytherin and avoiding Nott and the court at all costs. They would for sure try to stir up trouble and that would not end well for him. He'd have to protect Draco somehow though. He highly doubted that his friend was off of their hit list as they'd wanted him to die.
He became aware that someone was talking to him and he shook his head to shake away his musings. "I missed that, sorry," he said.
Mrs. Weasley smiled sympathetically at him. "We have a lovely garden out back," she said. "If you would like, we can have a burial ceremony for your house elf."
"I would like that very much," he said softly.
Snape stayed behind to keep an eye on Draco, but everyone else bundled into coats and went to the Weasley's backyard. Blaise was used to seeing gardens like those at the manor; sweeping trails with many species of plants and flowers, but the Weasley's was a simple affair. A few trees and bushes, some beds where flowers would be if it weren't winter and a single stone bench.
It was perfect.
Mr. Weasley melted the snow at the base of one of the larger trees and Ron dug out a small grave with a shovel. Blaise held the box containing Larna's head in his hands. He'd opened it one last time to reach in and close her eyes, which were still wide open with fright.
"I'm sorry," he whispered as he knelt at the hole and placed it gently inside. "And thank you."
The others offered their sympathies as they each shoveled a clump of dirt back onto the top of the box.
"If it wasn't for you neither Draco nor Blaise would be here right now," Hermione said, transfiguring a piece of wood into a beautiful rose and placing it on the grave. "Thank you for being there for them."
They all stood silently over the grave as Lupin placed a small headstone; a smooth rock with Larna's name carved into it, at the top of the fresh mound.
"Thank you," Blaise said to the group. "Larna loved being outside in the gardens."
Mrs. Weasley put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You can visit any time you'd like," she said.
And with that the small group remained in quiet thought around the tiny grave of the most heroic house elf they knew.
Author's Notes:
Don't panic now, more story to follow below! But finally had a chapter with a good mid-break point, so 'we takes it!' Anyone? I actually do a pretty good impersonation of that character :D
I was blown away with how many of you stopped to leave a comment this past chapter. Thank you all so much! You are lovely people!
I've had a few repeating questions show up, so I'm going to do a quick Q&A below. If you ever have any be sure to leave them in a review and I will do my best to respond
Will you be doing more with Blaise's ability? I would be a poor author if I brought such an element into the story and then left you all with just that. So yes, there will be quite a bit more to do with Blaise's talents down the road!
Do you actually read every review? Yes! I've noticed that a few reviews don't seem to be showing up in my email (nor spam, it's very odd) so I do check the site on a regular basis to make sure I don't miss a single one. Each one, no matter how small, always encourages me to keeps writing and just makes me so happy that readers like you are enjoying the story!
Approximately how many chapters do you think this story will be? At this point I am estimating between 65-70 chapters. I know, quite a bit longer than Parenting Class! It's a very detailed story though with a plot that I constantly keep tweaking and adding to, so I'm not surprised it's that long. Hope you can all stick with me to the end!
Review that Made My Day: There were so many absolutely lovely ones this past chapter, but this week's shout out goes to PrettiInPink. Anyone that actually goes back to review a chapter they missed and then still pops in on the latest one is a beautiful individual that authors everywhere around the world rejoice! Also to your question about the prophecy: You are welcome to try and solve it, but I will say that this prophecy is particular to One Step at a Time and requires some insight that only this story has/will provide. It's not like my Black is Our World one where it was literally pieced together from the Harry Potter universe (that is still my favorite prophecy I have ever written and I doubt it will ever be replaced xD). The characters (coughHermionecough) will be solving it along the way though so if you have an "I thought that!" moment as they come to a conclusion, feel free to let me know!
And without further ado, the rest of the chapter!
Back inside Draco was still sound asleep and Snape was looking very deep in thought as he gazed at the fire.
In all of the events that had happened Snape had realized there was one thing that made no sense about it.
Why had he not been invited?
He'd recognized each and every Death Eater there as they'd taken no concerns with hiding their appearances. And he was just as high-ranking in the organization, if not higher, than many of them. Did Voldemort suspect something and had deliberately left him in the dark?
Word had likely gotten back to the Dark Lord regarding his behavior towards Draco as a result of the Parenting Class. They had drifted apart over the years and although Snape had always shown Draco high favor it wasn't out of the bond they had once shared. But seeing Draco as a child had reopened his eyes to what kind of boy his godson really was when he wasn't being poisoned by Lucius' thoughts.
So yes, he had gotten quite soft and perhaps been too open in his affections and he was certain that there was at least a rat or two reporting back from within his house, but if his allegiance had been in question Voldemort would have said or done something by now. He didn't tolerate failure.
He'd just sent a bogus report at the beginning of the week with updates on the Order as he fulfilled his role as spy, and nothing had been amiss in the confirmation response he'd gotten back.
So what was it? Was he suspect in his loyalties? Did Voldemort have concerns that Snape would hesitate because it was Draco? If that was the case though, the Dark Lord would delight in nothing more than forcing Snape to be the one to torture his godson.
He couldn't go and ask either, as he should have no knowledge at all regarding the prophecy. He would have to wait until Voldemort told him, assuming he did, and act like he knew nothing.
Snape loathed being called to meetings, but he dearly wish he had been asked to this one. He would have broken his cover, but that meant little to him if it meant saving Draco. He would never have allowed his godson to be put through that.
To be able to inflict that kind of pain on one's own flesh and blood disturbed Snape greatly. His father had been abusive to him and his mother, yes, but he had never actively wished him dead. He had never given the go-ahead to have someone else kill him.
Snape had never had a positive thing to name about his father, but at least in that one regard he bested Lucius. At least he had never tried to murder his own son.
A soft groan interrupted Snape's train of thought and he turned immediately to the couch, where Draco's eyes were beginning to flutter open.
"Draco," he called softly, kneeling down so he was more at Draco's level.
He was rewarded with the sight of two silver gray eyes blearily focusing on him, still heavy with sleep and potions.
"What…" Draco rasped, wincing at the movement. "What happened?"
"Drink this," Snape instructed instead, uncorking a bottle that was mostly water, but mixed with healing herbs to help soothe sore throats. He carefully lifted it to Draco's mouth and was pleased when Draco took a tentative sip and then another.
"Does your throat feel any better?" he asked, tucking the bottle away after Draco had about half.
"A little," Draco said, still hoarse but not wincing as much. "What happened? Why are you here?"
He recognized the room as the Weasleys and wondered if he'd fallen asleep downstairs. But he swore he went upstairs to bed after nearly kissing Hermione. He willed the blush threatening to show away in front of his godfather.
"You don't remember?" Snape asked, brows drawing down. He knew that seers did not remember their own prophecies, but surely Draco would remember the other events of the evening. Although if he had forgotten, maybe it was for the best.
Draco's own brow furrowed slightly. "I…" He shifted slightly, trying to sit up, and a sharp pain emanated from his stomach.
And then it all flooded back; the curses and torture, Voldemort, his father's words and the Death Eaters plans for him to recite a prophecy to help kill Harry.
Snape must have recognized the look on Draco's face, as within split seconds there was a cauldron in his lap and Draco was violently being sick into it. Snape distantly heard the back door open over the sounds of Draco's retching, but Molly wisely kept everyone from entering the room.
He made soothing sounds and rubbed Draco's back gently as he finished expelling whatever contents remained in his stomach, followed by a round of dry heaving as he shook. Once Draco finished he offered him a glass of water and then vanished everything.
"I don't feel very good," Draco said weakly as Snape tucked him back under the blankets. The pain, which had been rather dull, had intensified and he could feel a sharp stab with every breath he took where Bellatrix had impaled him.
"I'm not surprised," Snape said, smoothing back Draco's hair and placing a cold cloth he conjured on his forehead. "Myself and Madam Pomfrey have healed many of your wounds, but you suffered immensely, Draco. It will take time. I'll go get you another pain relieving draught to help right now."
"Don't go," Draco said, darting a shaking hand out from underneath the blankets to catch Snape's sleeve. "Please, Uncle Sev."
"I won't go anywhere," Snape said, placing his own hand on top of Draco's and squeezing it. "I am so sorry, Draco. If I had known of any of this I would never have allowed it to happen."
Draco gave him a ghost of a smile. "I know."
He was quiet then and Snape wondered if his body had given into exhaustion once more, but Draco spoke again after a few minutes. "How?"
"Your friend, Blaise, rescued you," Snape said.
Draco's eyes widened. "Is he…?"
"He is safe and sound. Here, actually." Draco practically wilted with relief. "He was also present during the recitation of the prophecy. So contrary to what Voldemort thinks, we too also have the prophecy."
"He wants to kill Harry with it," Draco said softly.
"We won't let that happen," Snape said firmly. "No one else is going to get hurt."
Draco did give a real smile at that, followed by a wince as another spasm ripped through him.
Snape dearly wanted to go fetch the pain reliever, but didn't want to leave Draco's side. He considered summoning it, but since the bottle was tucked into his potions kit the entire thing would come hurtling and he really didn't want it to smash into any Weasleys on its way.
So he was incredibly grateful when Molly appeared in the doorway, said potion kit in hand and a hopeful look on her face.
"Draco, honey," she said, pulling up a chair and sitting next to him as Snape busied himself with opening the trunk.
"Mrs. Weasley," he murmured, relaxing as her hand stroked his hair. He imagined this is what it would have been like to have a mother that cared.
"We're so glad you're here," she said, continuing the soothing gesture as Draco's eyes tiredly slipped closed.
Before the Weasley matriarch could put Draco to sleep, Snape snuck in with a spoonful of pain relieving potion and helped Draco to swallow it.
"Get some rest now," she said, "we'll all be here when you wake up."
He gave a soft hum and drifted off a few seconds later.
"How is he?" Molly asked, turning to Snape as he packed everything up.
"More stable than I'd expected," Snape said. "He remembers what happened as well. His symptoms are improving and by tomorrow the pain from most of the injuries will be non-existent. It's just the Cruciatus aftereffects and the stab wound that are going to cause him some trouble."
"Is there anything we can do?"
Snape shook his head. "Other than changing the bandages on his stomach wound and applying salves there isn't much left. It will heal on its own now that the poisons are gone, but it will take time."
She sighed heavily. "This isn't fair. Draco… Harry… they shouldn't have to have such things happen to them."
"The world isn't fair," Snape said quietly. "All we can do is struggle along and try our best to change it."
"I never took you for much of an optimist, Severus."
"I'm not," he said simply. "But if we continue simply as is there won't be any world left to return to. So I suppose that even someone like me has to have a little hope."
Molly stood up and rested a hand on his shoulder. "I think a little hope is something we could all use more of," she said. "Chin up, Severus. We'll all get through this."
"I hope so," Snape said as she left the room. "I really do."
xxx
Lucius was past the point of mad. He'd crossed furious a bit ago, livid a little later and perhaps the closest description might now be raging.
His study certainly showed it. Furniture had been smashed and tipped over, several ink pots painted a dripping portrait on the far wall and random scorch marks from his wand littered the remaining parts.
He could not believe that Draco continued to live. How was it that despite multiple attempts to now rid himself of his ex-heir that he kept finding ways to survive? Why did Lucius have to constantly be reminded of the utter failure he'd produced?
His Lord had been none too pleased to discover that not only had Draco lived, but he had been removed from the scene before any discovery could be made. The statement meant to strike fear into the heart of the wizarding community was being treated instead like a bad prank gone wrong.
The Dark Mark was only supposed to rise into the sky to announce the death of someone at the hands of the Death Eaters. No body meant that no one knew if the Death Eaters had actually killed someone or if someone else had cast the mark as a joke.
Sure, there was blood and tests would show that it did belong to a magical person. But there was not near enough of it to determine if someone had died from a mortal wound.
Not only had Draco magically escaped, Nirav's son was found to be missing shortly after. They'd found the house elf responsible for freeing Blaise from his room and despite the creature's pleas, he'd enjoyed torturing it until finally killing it. Nirav hadn't been happy at the loss of one of his elves, but Lucius thought the price was small to pay for what his son had done.
Before he'd ended the elf's miserable life though, he'd found through its crying that Blaise had not heard anything of import. He'd discovered something was wrong thanks to the actions of the house elf and had left his room shortly after the prophecy had concluded in time to hear where they would be leaving Draco.
It was a shame though. Despite the fact that the Zabini boy had befriended Draco it wouldn't have been too late to break that bond and bring the boy to their side. He did display remarkable intelligence at not only escaping the blood wards, but flying all the way to Diagon Alley and somehow spiriting Draco away before anyone saw.
Lucius hoped that somehow Draco had still perished, but he could feel that it wasn't true. His flesh and blood was surely still alive out there and he would just have to make sure that was corrected in the near future.
Due to Blaise's actions, Voldemort had ordered Nirav to disinherit his son and cut off all ties with him. Lucius had helpfully volunteered to send along the elf's head in case the boy needed any further reminding to stay out of their way. He knew though that Nirav had sent his son his belongings, but it mattered little to him. So long as Nirav didn't disrupt their plans and his son stayed out of the way all would be well.
But he was still so angry. What should have been a perfect night had ended in disaster and to top it off he was feeling rather ill from his use of blood magic. He'd pushed the symptoms away last night, but come morning he felt rather awful. It only added to his foul mood.
"Sheesh, someone is grumpy," Bellatrix said, stepping into the destroyed study. "And you look absolutely awful," she added as she spotted Lucius, pale and sweating at his half-destroyed desk.
"Shut up, witch," he muttered, aiming a glare at her but he was more exhausted than anything now and it wouldn't even make a niffler scamper away.
"No rest for the wicked," she said, throwing a roll of parchment on his desk. "We have a new assignment."
Lucius dragged tired eyes over to it and scowled when he realized it was the new prophecy. "You cannot be serious."
"Our Lord was so pleased with our results last time we've been elected to do so again," Bellatrix said. "Pettigrew will be scampering on over too, although I daresay there's no place for us to sit."
Lucius debated whether it'd be easier to just kill Bellatrix and Pettigrew and pretend they had never arrived, but decided it'd be too much effort to hide the bodies. So he did the next best thing and ignored her, placing his head on his ruined desk and trying to go to sleep.
"I am talking to you!" she hissed, but made no move to touch him. Smart witch.
"I am more than happy to assist my Lord," Lucius said, voice obscured by the mahogany, "but I will not be doing so until tomorrow. You try working ancient blood magic and see how you feel after."
Bella sniffed, but knew what Lucius said was right. He would be of no use to her right now anyway.
"Fine. We'll be back tomorrow and you had better be on your feet."
Without waiting for a reply Bellatrix took her leave, vanishing with a pop outside the study doors.
Lucius apparated himself a second later to his bedroom and summoned a house elf to bring him an assortment of potions.
This was all Draco's fault, he thought as he took a draught to lower his fever. Damn him.
He drifted off into fevered dreams, all the while imagining wringing Draco's neck.
At her own home, Bellatrix poured over the prophecy herself, determined to get a head start and gain more favor with her lord.
And in his small home, Pettigrew scowled in disappointment and wished they could have just killed the whelp when they had the chance.
Author's Notes:
Enjoyed the chapter? Leave your comments below! Favorite scene, line, questions, overall feelings, etc. I love reading it all!
Also, anyone here watching the Superbowl? Watching it for the actual game, commercials or both? Who are you rooting for? I'm cheering for Matt Ryan and the Falcons since they've never won yet, but mostly hoping for a good game.
Updated: February 5, 2017
