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Shades of Green
Chapter Thirty Five: Hell Is Other People
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It was a Saturday morning in the Great Hall, one that was just like any other Saturday, really.
Owls were delivering post and prophets.
There was a wonderful spread of every delectable breakfast food imaginable and then some.
Students and teachers alike were in high spirits and hopes, despite the year end exams looming closer by the ticking second.
The clatter and carefree chatter among the Houses drowning out all other sounds in the vicinity.
However, there were some things that were a little different.
It was a Quidditch bi-week, meaning there were no games to look forward to, no competitive energy in the air, the environment a lot less hostile and a lot warmer.
And most peculiarly, there were a rather prominent vacancy at the Slytherin table that was usually reserved for an elite pair of seventh year boys and a captivating redhead.
"Have you seen this?" Daphne elbowed Adrian, flashing him the headline on the front page of the Prophet.
Adrian squinted down at it, fork in his mouth. "Ministry Deficit Hits Historic High—Gringotts declares state of emergency as it closes over five hundred bankrupt vaults." He read with a overly deep, dramatic voice. "So?" He raised a brow at the auburn-haired beauty.
Daphne let out a huff at the other expectant stares coming from all directions of the table. "So? So, this is bad. Gringott's has never closed so many vaults before, the next thing to go is going to be a serious cut back on jobs in the bank and at the Ministry—you know, the place where the majority of us want careers." She narrowed her eyes at her friends, who didn't seem nearly as phased as she was by this disturbing news.
"Oh come off it, Daph." Terence let out a laugh. "As if any of us were relying on fair methods of employment seeking anyway—what's nepotism for if not times like these." He grinned. "I'm pretty sure it's the rest of the graduating class that should be worried."
Daphne rolled her eyes, "Ever think that those connections may not be so secure so soon after the war?" She hissed in a low voice. "With the Death Eater trials still going on. If anyone should have no reason to worry, it's me considering I'm a Greengrass and my parents were entirely neutral during both wars." She emphasized.
"Well, since that is the case, Daph, what do you care?" Adrian asked with a cocked brow.
"The point is that I do care and so should the rest of you. In case you all haven't noticed, the political climate has shifted against purebloods—the same people aren't in charge anymore. Lucius Malfoy no longer has the Ministry in his pocket, things are changing and fast."
"So what are you saying, Daph? That we should spend the rest of our year worried about things out of our control?" Romilda sighed. "I mean, I get it but what can we do about any of it…" She shrugged.
Kennedy pushed her hair out of her face, "I'm sure hell is freezing over as I'm saying this but I'm on Daphne's side with this one." She was met with looks of incredulity and bewilderment. "To an extent." She amended. "We're probably going to be persona non grata for a while, at least here in Hogwarts we're in like this weird protective bubble. Out there in the real world, it's not going to be like that and we're likely going to be met with hostility and a lot of negativity. Half of us half immediate family members in Azkaban or worse because of heinous crimes, it's gonna take more than nepotism to overlook that." She surmised unhappily.
The mood at the table darkened considerably at the words of both girls.
"Yeah, but it's not like we're the ones that did anything. Zab and Malfoy are the only two out of us who were ever involved with the Dark Lord directly and you don't see them worrying." Terence pointed out.
"Narcissa saved the bloody boy who lived, do you think she won't lord that over everyone's head until the end of time?" Daphne rolled her eyes. "How do you think Draco got a unanimous acquittal with no Azkaban time."
"She's right." Kennedy sighed. "We should probably take our year end exams a little more seriously, Lord knows we'll need it."
"Oh relax, Rosie." Cassius waved her off. "This is madness. If my brother's recent exoneration can be proof of anything, it's that the officials aren't above being bought. Luckily for you fools, we've got enough money to buy out the ministry in spades." He smirked. "So, quit with all the paranoia, Daph. Let them eat cake." He said with a wink.
With a pointed glance at the Keeper, Daphne just resumed her perusing of the Prophet in sullen silence.
"Well, lucky for you guys anyway." Romilda mentioned, chin in her palm.
Kennedy put an arm around the raven haired girl, "You'll be fine, Rem. Besides, Zab will take care of you." She winked. "And if there's one thing I can vouch for for him, probably the only thing, it's that he knows how to woo a girl. He'll keep you really confortable."
Romilda blushed under the insinuation, a worried look crinkling at the edges of her eyes, but said nothing.
Silence followed the discussion, before it was obvious what everyone was thinking.
"Well speaking of Zabini, is anyone gonna address it?" Cassius muttered between bites. "The fucking elephant in the room."
Daphne shot him an unimpressed look over the paper, "Must you be the most crass human being on the planet?" She asked with unveiled displeasure.
Cassius sent a crude gesture her way just for sport.
Kennedy let out a small giggle behind her hand, while Adrian gave him a slight push. "Don't get her started again, mate. Spare us all." He said to Cassius.
"Cass is right though, where the hell are Malfoy and Zab and Red?" Terence seconded, taking a sip of his pumpkin juice.
"Having a threesome?" Cassius supplied lazily.
Causing Terence to spit out the sip with a loud guffaw.
"Terence!" Romilda screeched, who had been on the receiving end of the shower. "You're dead, you foul, decrepit—
"Chill out, Vane. What are you getting so bent out of shape for?" Terence rolled his eyes. "Sorry for that, here let me dry you up."
"I can manage on my own, thanks." She grabbed her books with a huff.
"Seriously, what's her problem?" Terence stage whispered to his girlfriend.
"Oh, the same problem everyone has with you Ter." She began sweetly. "You can be a real ass." She shoved his shoulder, before getting out of her seat.
Cassius and Adrian exchanged smirks, as Terence's mouth bobbed open and close like a fish out of water.
"I swear it's like their cycles are synced or something." He muttered once both girls were out of ear shot.
"You really are a dick, Ter." Daphne scowled, before getting up as well. "And if you three stooges ever finish eating, I think we should really figure out what the hell is up with the new golden trio in town." She instructed before following her roommates out.
"Who the fuck's the new golden trio?" Adrian rubbed the side of his head in confusion. "One was more than enough to tolerate."
"Seriously, what the hell those witches going on about?" Terence seconded.
Cassius looked between his friends before letting out a laugh of disbelief. "Sometimes I wonder how you two passed your O.W.L's." He snorted.
"Paid of the administrators." Adrian shrugged.
"Figures."
-x-
Kennedy had only rounded the corner to the library hall when she felt a sharp tug on her elbow. She whirled around, blonde hair shimmering in the sunlight as she held her wand at the ready.
Of course, she hadn't really expected it to be pressed into Ron Weasley's Adam's apple, though perhaps, she should have.
A low gasp emitted from her lips, "Weasley, you scared the living hell out of me." She lowered her wand.
"I'm sorry." He apologized immediately, though she noticed he didn't remove his hand. "I know I'm not supposed to be talking to you but—
Kennedy shook her head, "Listen, if it's about Gin? I honestly don't know." She stopped him.
The crestfallen expression that followed confirmed her assumption. "If you don't know then…" A look of panic crossed his blue eyes. "I think I need to floo my parents. Should I tell McGonnagal?" He asked honestly.
Her eyes widened, "What?" She asked, a little shocked.
It had never even struck her as a possibility, to tell an authority figure that Ginny and Draco (and Blaise) were missing from breakfast.
It wasn't that she didn't care, or wasn't a little worried, but it was more that there was an unspoken code among their friends that they didn't get teachers involved in business such as cutting school or not showing up for breakfast.
And parents? Yeah right, that was laughable—most of their parents hardly remembered they had offspring to begin with.
But Ginny was different, she had a family that actually gave a shit about her. And maybe she should have given it more thought?
What if Ginny was in trouble?
She shook off the thought the second it settled in, wherever she was, Kennedy was certain the redhead was with Draco. And if there was anyone who could be trusted with Ginny's wellbeing, it was him.
The boy would rather die a thousand deaths before he'd let any harm come to her.
"What else is there to do?" He implored her. "If you don't even know where she is then there's a good chance something could be wrong, right?" He asked her, brows furrowed. "I noticed Malfoy was gone too…" He added with a mutter. "Ginny's my baby sister, we might not see eye to eye on everything but I love her all the same. I need to know that she's okay." He held a lot of regret for what happened to Ginny in the chamber and that entire year.
He had been too caught up with Harry and his problems to notice her, to even bother helping her get adjusted to her new life. He was too busy being surly over the fact that she had been the first Weasley in history to ever be sorted into Slytherin. That his friends could heckle him about his words the year before, about no witch or wizard ever going bad that wasn't in Slytherin. So preoccupied with his childish resentment that he didn't, even for a second, stop to think how unusual it was that his sweet, innocent, adorable baby sister—who hadn't a cunning bone in her body—ended up in Slytherin to begin with.
Maybe if he'd been there for her then, saw outside of himself, he might have been able to save her from what she had endured for almost a whole school year.
Kennedy tucked her hair behind an ear, "Listen, don't tell McGonnagal or anyone else just yet." She cautioned him. "If Ginny is with Draco, she's perfectly safe." She didn't fail to notice the look of disgust that befell Ron's face at the mention of that.
She rolled her eyes, "He isn't so bad, you know. The war is over, Ronald. You should really start giving people a chance." She said with a scowl.
She had expected him to fire off his a usual "he's a death eater" rebuttal, and that would be the end of it. But instead, he looked absolutely incensed.
Practically red with rage.
"You think you know him, but you really don't." His voice was surprisingly controlled from what his expression betrayed. "He's vile and a murderer and if my sister is with that son of a bitch, I will ring his neck with my bare hands." He growled.
She stared at him with wide blue eyes, "What the hell, Weasley." She demanded, backing out of his grip. "I get you don't like the guy but what did he do to inspire such hatred?"
His eyes darkened, "I have my reasons." He said. "Like I said, you don't really know him, Kennedy. You only think you do."
For the first time in along time, she really saw him—he was worn out. Looking as though he hadn't slept in days, his eyes blood shot and baggy. Frown lines creasing his forehead and mouth. His hair was mussed and unkempt.
"Weasley… is everything all right?" She asked, her tone softening at her observations.
Ron lifted a shoulder, "Fine." He murmured. "Look, I should get out of here. If you hear anything about Ginny, will you let me know?"
"I… of course." She nodded. "But—
"It's okay, Kennedy. Really." He cut her off. "Take care of yourself, okay?"
He moved to leave, but she couldn't help herself as her hand caught his, all her thin fingers wrapping around his thumb as she tugged him back. "You can talk to me, Ron." She said to his back.
He didn't move.
"I know how things have been between us, how they are." She started. "But…I'm always going to care about you." She had promised not rehash these emotions.
Had vowed to set him and all these useless feelings aside.
Swore that she would no longer think about what they had or could have had, and focus on her present with Terence.
Yet every time she was around him, there was no denying how she felt, and she could never quite control herself.
"Are you still with Terence, Kennedy?" He asked, in a low voice.
"Well, yes. But that doesn't mean that we can't—
He let out a frustrated sigh, "Of course it does, Kennedy. This whole us being 'friends' thing, it's never going to work. It was never meant to. You know that. And I understand that you don't feel like we could ever be together and whatever you feel for Terence right now is all consuming." He let out a snort. "But there's no way I can stand her and talk to you about my problems and everything that's been weighing so heavy on me and not have expectations, not want more with you."
With a hand still in his, she bridged the gap between them. "You said you wanted to be friends, that we could try to be friends if that's what I needed." She reminded him softly.
"I can't be 'friends' with you, you know that." He lightly dragged a finger down the length of her face. "You know how I feel about you."
She shook her head, "Actually, I don't." She said with a small, mirthless laugh. "From the moment I met you, Ron, I have felt everything for you. I still do." She told him despondently.
"And you were always the guy who could never make a decision, the guy who can't talk about his feelings. And I accepted that, it was hard, but I get it. You're closed off and you need to be that way because it's easier for you." She said with a small, sad smile. "And I know how you feel about Terence, and I won't say you aren't justified. But he's good to me and he's never afraid to tell me exactly how much he cares about me. And even though I honestly think that somewhere deep down he knows that I have feelings for you, he loves me in spite of that. I owe it to him to at least try."
He knew there wasn't anything he could say to change her mind, to make her see things differently, or rethink her commitments to Terence Higgs. So instead, he leaned forward to press a simple kiss into her forehead. "You should know, I love you, Kennedy Rosier. And I will wait for you." He whispered. "However long it takes."
And then he was gone.
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Moments of quiet solace were rare for the newly married Mr. and Mrs. Potter, so when they had the opportunity to spend a lazy Saturday afternoon cuddled in bed for a little while, they took it.
Of course, leisure for Hermione was easier said than done, as she was actively trying to shut her brain off which was constantly reminding her that she had NEWT's to study for and her internship in the DMLE office to finalize.
But even she could admit that having Harry's arms around her right now was a little bit more important than those things.
"Ron was in a mood." He said, fingertips trailing over her arm absently.
She nuzzled her cheek against his chest, "He's just worried about Ginny." She said.
"Well, he has a right to be—especially since she wasn't at breakfast and neither was Malfoy." He mentioned.
"I mean, is it such a surprise." She muttered.
Harry gave her a quizzical glance.
"Well, we aren't going to act like he kidnapped her or something, are we?" She raised a brow at him. "Clearly they're dating…or something, and at this point it's not as if we can very well talk her out of it." She shrugged.
"So that's it then? We let Ginny dance with the devil and pretend it's not happening?"
"Isn't that what we've been doing?" She said, eyebrows raised. "This has been going on for months, probably longer. I mean, the rumors, all the talk about the two of them, you can't tell me you haven't heard."
Harry let out a groan of disapproval. "I was ignoring it all. I didn't want it to be true." He sighed. "She's like a sister, you know? And Malfoy of all people." He shook his head with disappointment.
Hermione fingered the end of her curls. "As hard as this might be for you and Ron and the rest of the whole Weasley family to accept, Ginny is a grown woman. She is going to make her own decisions and news flash, some of them, you probably won't like. Actually, you might hate them—but you can't take that away from her. And you can disapprove of her choices, but you can't let that change how you feel about her." She counseled gently.
A lot of her words were out of guilt, because she was so judgmental of Ginny even having a friendship with Malfoy. But she shouldn't have alienated the redhead the way she did, she had known Ginny almost as long as she'd known Harry and Ron and if there was one thing she had always been—it was a friend.
She owed the girl a little bit more loyalty than she had been giving her.
"I understand that, and I'm the last person who would want to make decisions for someone else." He was especially sensitive to that, since his fate had basically been decided for him from the time he was a year old. "But she is young and I don't know if she knows how incredibly twisted Malfoy is. He was a death eater."
Hermione let out a long sigh, "I'm the last person to come to Malfoy's defense, you know that." She started.
"But let me guess? You're going to play devil's advocate?" He grinned down at her.
Hermione let out a small laugh, "Only for a second." She said. "I just think that the war was a nightmare for both sides, I don't know how much sympathy can be garnered for people like the Malfoys but I think there's something to be said about letting go of the past in order to move forward."
Harry gave her an unveiled look of disbelief. "Hermione, I love you, but if you think there will ever be water under the bridge between any of us and the Malfoys, you're being unrealistic." He told her as calmly as possible. "He's being investigated for Fred's murder—there are no bygones in this situation."
Hermione lowered her eyes, "I… you're right." She said softly. "It's just that this horrible time in our lives is finally over, the dark shadow that Voldemort had casted on our lives has been expunged and I just want peace." She admitted.
They had a chance at normal lives, the kind that they had always been meant for. They could have discussions about the future and about their careers and lives and it was actually possible.
Harry put a hand on her cheek, "This is peace, Hermione." He shifted her face gently to look at him. "You are my peace and I hope I'm yours." He said.
A small smile ghosted over her, "Always."
He pressed a sweet kiss into her lips.
"If the trial goes forward and it's proven that Malfoy didn't have anything to do with…" she couldn't finish it, she could barely accept it let alone say it out loud. "Um, would you be open to giving a truce a chance, for Ginny's sake?" She requested.
A look of annoyance crossed the chosen one's face then. "That's something that might be open for discussion once the time comes." He didn't want to ruin the moment.
He had plans for Hermione (and there was no way Malfoy was going to ruin that, even just vicariously.)
"Fine, I'll take that." Her face melted into a broad smile, before she was littered with kisses.
"Harry! I have to…Oh." All thoughts of NEWT's and internships swiftly left her brain when Harry did that thing with his tongue.
Everything else could wait.
-x-
Sweat was dripping from every orifice of his body, he felt drenched in filth and dust and failure. Because the further he got in this maze of darkness, the further he felt from the truth. And while he had been able to cast his guilt aside during the first few hours he had been in here, his adrenaline pumping in his veins like elixir, it was getting harder and harder to keep his feelings at bay.
He was a coward by nature, and suddenly dying in here seemed so much more stupid than it did noble.
He would never get to tell Ginny how much he loved her, how badly he wanted to change for her, how dearly he wished for a future with her in which she didn't have to give up her family and all she held dear.
And of course he had told her that this suicidal pursuit for justice was for himself—as some sort of restitution, atonement for his own soul and yet that wasn't the case at all. He had long ago resigned himself to his fate of being tormented by the sins of his past. He had made peace with it and learned to live with it.
What he couldn't live with was everyone in Ginny's life that she cared about believing he murdered her brother.
It was too heavy a burden to carry for the rest of time.
Yet, without the motivation of her beautiful face and her kind heart and her soothing voice, he was loosing steam.
The pit of snakes had been a cake walk compared to that horrible room with the foul smelling ghouls, that were more annoying and odious than they were harmful. Then came the chamber that held the skeletons of dead men and the dementors that had almost laid siege to his body and soul. He had narrowly escaped them without a patronus but it hadn't been easy, and during those moments when they were closing in on him, he relived some of his darkest, most excruciating nightmares.
The dementors had been a prelude because he came upon a nest—rather lake—of inferi, that had been spelled to devour anything that moved, they had latched on to him like he was the first meal they had gotten in a thousand years. And somehow, he was able to escape that city of the dead without becoming one of them in the process.
He came upon a dead end, a rocky wall in front of him etched with drawing that seemed centuries old. "Well, old Voldy did have a flare for the dramatic." He snorted, tracing the carvings with a finger.
He recognized some of the symbols as an ancient runic dialect that was rooted in the first forms of the Scandinavian dialect. It wasn't a dialect he was familiar with, by any means, but there were a few symbols here and there he could recognize.
The one for serpent was obvious, the pictures that surrounded it looked as though they were conveying a warning of some sort.
At least, that's what he assumed was meant by the eerie skull beside it.
Another one he recognized was the symbol for blood.
Draco sighed, well he didn't need to be a genius in ancient runes to surmise what he was supposed to do next.
Pulling out an old pocket knife, one that had belonged to his grandfather Cygnus himself, hoping that the symmetry would earn him some points with the old crypt. He cut open his palm and allowed the blood generously drip over the rocks.
Everything around him began to shake and the suddenness of the motility caused him to lose his balance, falling to his knees before he steadied himself. Once the world stopped shifting, he noticed the wall had moved yet every time he tried to walk through the empty space, an invisible force pushed him backwards.
"Aaargh." He let out a frustrated cry, what the hell else did they want from him.
"Lumos." Draco muttered, now surveying he runes with actual interest as oppose to the half-hearted attention he had paid them previously.
Skull, serpent, circular motion.
Skull…serpent…a circular motion…
He bent closer to the symbols,
There was a skull and it was succeeded by a serpent and the direction given was a circle.
"There is a particular spell that Bella had placed upon the threshold to the astronomy tower." Lucius' silky voice threaded through his ears.
Like a whisper in the wind.
So clear, so real, he whirled around to scan the room, practically expecting his deceased father to be standing behind him.
But there was no one there and he knew he must have been down here for far too long if he was beginning to think that this place could raise the dead.
Perhaps the ultimate goal behind this long winded charade was to leave the intruder incapacitated in their own insanity.
He shook his head vigorously, trying to recall the conversation.
"I was wondering why Potter's pals didn't immediately send word to the Order that Hogwarts had been compromised." A young Draco had smirked at his father, looking triumphant outwardly.
Yet inwardly he was moments from being sick all over the study floor.
A ghostly smile snaked it's way onto Lucius' face. "It's called Cursed Barrier. It's the same one we have placed at the entrance of the Manor. It works as a powerful reductor curse, violently throwing back anyone who does not have the Mark."
"Genius…" Draco had breathed out through wide eyes, because as scared as he was of all this, he was impressed and intrigued nonetheless.
"Yes well, you know what they say about genius and madness…"
Draco wrenched up the sleeve of his tattered shirt, where the faint white outline of a skull and serpent were etched into his skin. With a deep sigh of hatred, he put the tip of his wand against his forearm. The faded mark began to wriggle and writhe slowly under its touch.
With his wand still pressed to his arm, Draco hazarded to put a foot through the barrier, when he wasn't immediately thrown back he knew it worked.
As soon as he was through, he pulled down the sleeve of his shirt feeling his stomach wretch violently at the display.
He didn't have a moment to be sick though, because the second he looked up he was met with the statuesque eyes of a great big Sphinx, Its human head baring inhuman fangs down at the blonde.
"I have been spelled to kill you upon entrance, intruder." Its voice boomed through the sandy ruins.
Draco took a conscious step backwards, "But I will give you a chance, answer my riddle and perhaps you shall escape a gruesome end."
Draco squared his shoulders, he had endured far too much to die now.
What is that which in the morning goes upon four feet
upon two feet in the afternoon,
and in the evening upon three?
The riddle felt familiar, as if he had heard it somewhere before. The answer was there, it was in front of him, on the tip of his tongue and yet he couldn't remember it.
"There are times where muggle knowledge can be useful, Ronald."
A conversation he had overheard between the two thirds of the golden trio, one that had taken place during the third task of the Triwizard tournament.
Granger had been on her high horse again about how being a wizard did not make them supreme to all other creatures that roamed the earth. It was a bunch of farce, of course, because in all her righteousness she had yet to devote much time to helping out her beloved muggles.
"Right, whatever you say Hermione. But nothing muggle has helped Harry in these tasks. Gillyweed certainly isn't a muggle concoction, and I don't think it was muggles that enchanted the broom. But by all means, continue to give me some grand, impromptu, unnecessary and untimely lecture about the usefulness of a rubber duck while Harry is battling for his life in the most dangerous wizarding competition of history."
He remembered laughing, because for once Weasley had bested her, if even for a second. And it had been hilarious to see Granger's face had contorted into such rage, she was practically smoking at the ears.
"You're so thick." She bit out. "There is a whole world outside of all this that you refuse to acknowledge and it will bite you in the arse one day."
"Enlighten me then, how would having muggle knowledge help Harry during this tournament? Do you think there's a task about how to tie your shoelaces?"
"No, you wanker. But here's an example. I heard there's an actual sphinx in that maze, you have to solve its riddle before you can get to the cup." She explained off handedly.
"No way, that's wicked." Ron said in amazement and horror alike. "Ludo Bagman and the rest of those Magical Games employees are stark mad—sadistic even. But I still don't get how it'll help Harry get through, even if—
"Have you ever read Oedipus Rex, Ronald?" She interrupted impatiently.
He looked at her as if she had lost her mind, "No, why would I? You can be such a—
"One of the most famous riddles in muggle history comes from that play. 'What is that which in the morning goes upon four feet, upon two feet in the afternoon, and in the evening upon three?'" She said proudly. "I bet knowing the answer to that would help Harry a lot." She shrugged.
Ron just rolled his eyes, "It won't." He maintained. "But are you going to tell me the answer or are you going to leave me in suspense." He muttered.
Hermione just smirked and said…
Draco blinked his eyes open, the Sphinx's jaws were millimeters from his body when it hit him. "Man—who crawls on all fours as an infant, walks on two feet as an adult, and then must use a cane in old age." He recited back from his memory, verbatim.
The sphinx let out a howl of rage and despair, one that shook his entire world again, but it moved out of the way nonetheless.
And as the dust settled, a portrait slowly became visible.
"Draco, you shouldn't be down here." His grandfather's likeness spoke from the portrait, his eyes still closed.
Draco pushed his limp hair out of his eyes, "I know, Grandfather." He said hurriedly.
"There are things you don't want to see back there, son." His voice sounded disgusted and tired all the same.
He nodded, "I know, I understand. I need to go nonetheless." He said.
Cygnus sighed, "You've witnessed horrors, son. I know that. But you've gotten away from all that, you should keep it that way. Bella—we never knew she would take a turn as drastic as she had and the company of him. It was atrocious." He disparaged.
"Of course, now if you would kindly let me through, grandfather. I was hoping to put an end to all this."
"It's your funeral, boy. For the record, I had always hoped Narcissa would bare the heir—not Bella or that abomination of a marriage that Andromeda decided to shame us with. And the fact that she procreated with that muggle—give me a thousand bloody deaths but a halfblood heir to the Black family, I'd rather rot in hell."
"You probably are." Draco muttered with impatience.
"What was that?"
"Nothing, just wondering if you would allow me entrance to your tomb, grandfather. I'd never ask if it wasn't important." He repeated for what felt like the hundredth time.
"Right, right of course. You know, when Cissa married the Malfoy boy—it was our saving grace. She always had been the docile one, the one who was least confrontational, always was able to take instruction. I was so proud of her for never fighting us on her betrothal to Aleksander, for always being the dutiful daughter Druella and I had deserved." He continued, without making any motion to move and Draco felt like ripping the painting off and throwing it in the mouth of the sphinx.
"Grandfather, I am imploring you…"
"Hm, oh right, right. Of course." He nodded. "But let me just tell you something about those girls. Now Bella, she had been wild, enthralled with dark magic and half mad from the day she was born. And Andromeda, she was so rebellious, taken with muggles and muggleborns as if they were a fascinating species and not something to be scoffed at and abhorred. To think, when we found out Cissa might be barren and the only heir to the Black family lineage might be that half-bred little girl Andromeda gave birth to and Walburga's pair of idiot sons, I almost wanted to died out of sheer humiliation. The once great Black name, the most ancient and noble house, crumbling into shambles before my very eyes!" He cried out in anger and dread.
Draco was beginning to think even this portrait was a trap set by his mad Aunt and the Dark Lord. It seemed that there was no getting this man to shut up.
"Please. Move." He reiterated, this time more harshly and authoritative because his legs were half a second away from giving out.
"Right, right. Not often I get visitors, that's all." He said slowly. "You never really got to meet me, Draco. What with this house burning down and all but I will tell you one thing, I don't recall ever being prouder of anything than I was the day you were born—finally, the rightful heir to the family, I had thought. And if you've gotten in here, if you were able to get past the barriers…I was right." He finished silkily. "I can find solace in knowing that my line was not extant with a muggle born child, instead a pureblooded young man in my own likeness." He finished haughtily.
Draco waited until the portrait swung open before he spoke, "It is endearing to hear you speak of my birth with so much fondness, if only as a way to stroke your own ego. But I think you should know something." He put one leg through the tiny portrait hole, that would take all the contortionist ability he had to get into.
"Hm, and what's that, son?"
"I wasn't the heir." He said with a satisfied smirk. "My blood didn't do anything to get through the barriers. It was Teddy's."
The portrait of Cygnus Black let out a surprised gag of disgust, "That filthy, haggard, lowlife muggle! That isn't possible, I had him murdered in cold blood..." He continued to rage profanities but Draco didn't hear past anything except that fact that Cygnus had just admitted to having Ted Tonks killed.
He wondered if that was something he should share with his mother, or bury it in this tomb forever.
"Not him. Nyphadora's son, actually. The one she had with Remus Lupin—a werewolf." Draco said with a dry laugh, before disappearing down the rabbit hole that would surely lead him to something much darker and sinister than this.
-x-
He'd slid down a thinly enclosed tunnel, long and winding as it twisted and turned around until he was dizzy. When he fell out, it was rather gracelessly onto his behind, a puff of dust rising from the ground and suddenly the crypt had lit up with torches.
There were coffins, everywhere. So many he lost count, disappearing into the shadows that even the torches couldn't reach.
When he turned around, he let out a large yelp at the sight of someone else in the room. Instead, it was just a mirror and staring back at him was his own reflection.
Then suddenly, without any sort of warning, the reflection of Lucius Malfoy peered back at him through stony silver eyes.
Draco's own eyes widened, his trembling fingers tracing the cold mirror, his palm pressed
against it to examine its solidity.
He had heard of a mirror, called Erised. It had been rumored to be housed at Hogwarts, somewhere on the seventh floor in some hidden corridor of the old castle where no student could access it.
The folklore around the mirror was that it showed the person looking into it their greatest desires, they would see themselves achieving those desires.
According to legends, many men had wasted away in front of it, just staring at the life they wished for.
Yet, of all the things his heart desired, he wasn't sure seeing his father again was one of them.
Sure, there were times he missed Lucius—however few and far between. The boy inside him that was desperately seeking his father's approval, the same boy who had branded himself and marked his skin just to see a glimmer of pride in his father's eyes. The same boy who had wanted nothing more than the affection of a man who had never known how to love him, how to praise him, or how to raise him. Instead, what he got was a man who was cruel and angry and constantly disappointed. A man who had never been capable of forming a bond with the offspring he had so deeply coveted once upon a time.
No, Draco decided resolutely, this could not be the Mirror he had heard of. Because even if seeing his father again was part of his perfect future, it couldn't have been complete. Not with out his mother.
Not without Ginny.
"Have you come for the memories." The reflection spoke, but it wasn't Lucius Malfoy's voice that was brought forth.
No silky drawl, no haughty tone.
Instead, it was a slimy voice—high pitched and demonic.
Draco felt his wand hand shake, the voice sounded so much like the one that had haunted his dreams. That made up his nightmares. The voice that infiltrated his memories and wandered around his mind, laughing at his insecurities and fears. Preying on his vulnerability and his desperation.
The voice of Lord Voldemort.
"Yes." Draco spoke with a clear voice, though his insides were quaking.
"Drink from the goblet and then you shall receive, Draco Malfoy."
His name coming from such a ghastly voice sent a shiver down his spine and for the hundredth time today he hated how cowardly he was in the face of danger. Though he wondered how many could go toe to toe with the memory of the darkest Wizard in history and not break a sweat.
Aside from Potter, of course.
He was, evidently, unshakeable.
His eyes wandered around the room, spotting something silver and shimmering in the far corner.
His gaze went back to the man in the mirror, who even in death, was staring at him through cold and disapproving eyes.
With a defiant glare at the man who could had been so many things to him throughout his life, other than a father, he started off down the cobbled floor, avoiding the dead and hoping for the end of this horrible, unending journey as he walked.
He had seen pensieves before, but this one was different. The liquid inside was not a swirly, opaque, milky substance but instead it looked thick and murky and there was something sinister about it.
He remembered Blaise had done a lot of research into dark artifacts and one of the instructions he had given Draco was that he might have to drink from the pensieve in order to gain access to the memories.
"There is an object known as the dark pensieve, it's only sold on the black market and ordinary dark witches and wizards still wouldn't be able to get their hands on it it's so rare and outlawed. But knowing the Dark Lord, he probably procured one the moment he had regained physicality." Blaise had explained hastily. "It's a lot more dangerous than a regular pensieve and the effects of it are still unknown and I can be almost certain that it's something the Dark Lord used as oppose to a regular one."
"Well, what does it do? How does it work?"
Blaise sighed, "Blood magic, obviously. It's enchanted to only allow the access of the memories tied to that blood. So you may never know who actually killed Fred, but you may be able to prove that it wasn't you. Assuming that memory made its way into the pensieve."
Beside the pensieve was a goblet and he realized this was what he had to drink out of first.
With a quick cut to his palm, he squeezed his hand into a fist, letting his blood drip into the pensieve, with his free hand he lifted the goblet to his lips and swallowed its contents with one sip.
It tasted foul, but he'd had worse.
He took the goblet and went to dip it into the liquid in the pensieve, that was probably the next step. Before he was able to fill the goblet with the mystical liquid, his surroundings began to change so rapidly he lost grip on the goblet. It fell to the floor with a clank and rolled away from his feet.
He clamped his eyes shut as he felt he was being pulled through a portkey, his body squeezing and contorting in different angles.
Then, just as quick as it started everything stilled.
And he was back at the Manor.
Face to face with Dark Lord's snakelike face, Nagini slithering around his feet, eyeing Draco hungrily.
The first thought that came to mind was that the goblet had been a portkey.
But how was any of this possible even if it had, portkeys were not able to take you back in time.
"This is a dream. This isn't real." He told himself desperately, hoping to shake off whatever this was.
But the Dark Lord looked as real as he ever had.
"Ah Draco, so good of you to join us!" He cackled in his high-pitched tenor and turned to face a table full of Death Eaters, all masked and hooded.
"What's going on, what are you doing. You're dead!" Draco shouted, a trembling finger pointing at the face of Voldemort.
"Lucius, do teach this boy some manners, won't you?" Voldemort requested silkily. "he should know it's indecent to speak to his betters in such an undignified way." He said reproachfully, gliding towards the table.
Draco remained rooted in his spot, his heart stammering out of his chest as his feet felt the soft, familiar carpet of the dining hall.
Voldemort threw a glance over his shoulder, before he waved a careless finger behind him, jerking Draco forward until he came to a stop in front of the long table.
From here he could see the greasy hair of Severus Snape poking out from under his hood, the wild curls of his Aunt Bella, the animalistic, claw-like nails of Fenrir Greyback. And dozens more, watching the Dark Lord as though they were entranced.
"What is all this, why am I here! Why is this happening, you're not real." Draco said manically again, because none of this made sense.
It had to be an illusion.
The Dark Lord was gone—Harry Potter had killed him.
His father was dead.
Severus Snape was dead.
Bellatrix was in Azkaban, awaiting sentencing.
There were no more hoods, no more masks, no more Death Eaters.
His home was no longer a prison or a stronghold or anything but his home.
"Draco, Draco, Draco." The Dark Lord said in a low hiss. "You mustn't be so paranoid, tell him, Lucius."
"Stop embarrassing me, Draco, for once." His father's hard admonishment silenced him into shock.
It had been nearly a year since he had heard his father's voice.
And it sounded exactly as it always had.
"You're dead!" Draco shouted.
"Draco darling, is that any way to speak to your father?" His mother materialized in front of him, house elves carrying tea trays following behind her. "Please apologize to him and to the Dark Lord as well—he is our honored guest after all." She said with a tight, rehearsed smile.
Draco's eyes nearly fell out of his head as she took a seat beside Bellatrix.
"This is an illusion, none of you are real." He repeated over and over.
"Oh dear, I do think he's gone a bit barmy wouldn't you say?" Bellatrix whispered to her sister through cupped hand.
Narcissa just shook her head, "I don't think you can be the judge of that, Bella." She sniggered.
Draco searched listlessly for his wand, needing to put an end to all this as quickly as possible.
Only, he didn't have it.
"Looking for something?" Voldemort slithered beside him, twirling his wand between his long, bony fingers. "You won't be needing this." And then he snapped the wand in two.
"NO!" Draco heard himself crying out, as he tried to snatch the pieces away from the Voldemort.
The dark wizard chuckled loudly, his haunting laugh resounding around the Dining hall making it sound as if he were everywhere.
Bellatrix joined him in his hysteria, a hyena like screech coming from her. Soon, they were all laughing at him, watching as Lord Voldemort tossed the remnants of his broken wand into the fireplace.
"Well." His voice boomed, the laughter ceased immediately. "Now that all that unpleasantness is out of the way, shall we proceed?" His face twisting into the most hideous grin Draco had ever seen.
He felt tears of helplessness pricking behind his eyes, there was no way out this time.
Voldemort glided around the table, each Death Eater stiffening noticeably as he passed their chair. He finally sat down at the throne-like seat at the head of the table, his arms on either rest with a regality that was only missing a crown. "Nott, if you would please." He looked to a person on the right side of the table.
Nott rose from his seat. "Draconis Lucius Malfoy, you have been called in front of the Wizengamot—
"Wizengamot!?" Draco sputtered. "This is barking—
"Crucio." The Dark Lord muttered easily.
And he was writhing in agony not even a second later.
The torture felt like it went on for hours, his body twisting and turning as his insides felt as though they were being liquefied and remolded and then torched.
When it stopped, he barely noticed, his muscles twitching and his limbs trembling.
"I didn't want to have to do that." Voldemort said with obvious boredom. "Now rise, you cowardly, weak, pathetic boy." He commanded, his voice laced with disgust.
Draco raised himself up on shaking legs, his head pounding from the assault on his body.
Whatever this was, it was definitely real.
He felt a trickle of blood sliding down his upper lip, he wiped it away with a thumb, before raising his broken eyes to the man who sat in a silver throne as if he were God himself.
"Excuse the rude interruption, Nott. Please continue." Lucius requested politely.
Draco let out a short scoff.
"You have been called before the Wizengamot today under the charges listed herewith." Nott continued as if nothing had happened. "One count of aiding and abetting the mudblood Hermione Granger—
"But I didn't do that—
"Draco." His mother whispered harshly. "Please, let Mister Nott finish, you're only going to make this harder on yourself." Through her harsh tone was something imploring.
For her sake, he clamped his lips shut.
"One count of allowing Harry Potter to escape after capture. And finally, the crime that has been deemed inexcusable by this council of esteemed and dignified Witches and wizards—Consorting and laying with an acknowledged muggle sympathizer, the blood traitor known as Ginevra Molly Weasley." He finished. "Draconis Lucius Malfoy, how do you plead?"
Draco searched the room, wide eyed and speechless. "This, this isn't. How could this—
"Draco Malfoy." Voldemort's voice rang out in warning. "How do you plead?"
He stared into those red slits, swallowing down the lump in his throat that was making it harder and harder to breath. "N-not guilty." He cursed himself for stuttering.
"On all counts?" Nott resumed.
"On…" He breathed out, feeling as if he could vomit at any second.
"Answer the question, Draco." Narcissa said hardly. "Of course he pleads not guilty on all counts, Draco would never bed a blood traitor. Would you, sweetheart?" She asked sharply.
"I…"
"Haven't you shamed me enough, boy?" Lucius spat hatefully. "Perhaps, you don't care what I think of you, but must you humiliate your mother to tears every chance you get?"
"My lord, if I could say something." Bellatrix's sickeningly doting voice requested from behind her mask.
"Of course, Bella." The Dark Lord said with fake fondness.
A sigh of contentment escaped Bellatrix before she spoke. "I know Draco has his flaws but he would never stoop so low as to sleep with a Weasley." She said, her lip curling in disgust. "He would never…"
"Draco Malfoy, before of the entirety of the Wizengamot and Chief Warlock Lord Voldemort, how do you plead?" Nott repeated again.
"I…I plead…" His eyes darted around the table, catching sight of his father's usual sneer, his mother's hopeful eyes, Bellatrix's crazed gaze.
He could see her growing more and more restless, before she finally cried out. "I have a wonderful idea, my Lord!" She clapped her hands together. "Bring her here! The blood traitor! Oh please? Can we!" She begged with childish excitement. "The fun we would all have! And even Draco will play, won't you?"
"No!" Draco's voice called out with mounting fear. "No, please. Don't bring her here. I plead not guilty, I'm not guilty of any of it. Just—just leave Ginny out of this." He was ready to grovel, he would supplicate before the Dark Lord's feet, pledge eternal allegiance, give his life, anything, if it meant keeping Ginny out of this house.
"What a wonderful idea, my dear Bella." Voldemort ignored his plights with callous ease. "How could is it fair that one woman has been gifted with such remarkable beauty and intelligence."
Bellatrix practically wet her robes at the compliment. "My lord." She let out a breathy whisper.
And before he could say anything else, he heard it.
Her voice.
She was here.
His heart fell into his stomach.
"Draco? What am I doing here?" She asked him, in that sweet, beautiful, angelic voice.
His heart broke into pieces.
"Ginny, please. You have to get out of here." He stumbled towards her. "You can't be here, you have to go." His eyes welled up at the sight of her.
Fiery hair and porcelain skin and sun kissed freckles dusting her nose.
Her tourmaline eyes filling with horror at the sight of the table full of the most terrifying and dangerous wizards known to man.
His heart shattered.
"Draco… what's going on?"
"Ginny." He reached a hand out to cup her face, when suddenly there were ropes around both his wrists and he was being tugged back.
"Ginny!" He roared, thrashing against the ropes as they continued to pull him backwards. "Ginny get out of here!" He screamed over and over again, as he clawed at the carpet in an attempt to stop himself from being pulled away from her.
Her fright stricken face stared at him defenselessly.
"Silence him, would you?" Voldemort said with revulsion.
And then he was tied to a chair, his limbs bound and his voice gagged as he continued to scream relentlessly.
"As for you…" Voldemort smiled toothily at Draco, before turning back to Ginny. "How have you been, Ginny? Recognize me?"
"T-tom."
A sneer of repugnance at the casual use of his name caused Voldemort to curse her before he was intending to.
"Crucio."
The room was filled with the sound of Ginny Weasley's bloodcurdling screams.
Tears flowed freely from Draco's eyes, as he fell to his knees with the chair still wrapped against his back, fists pounding the floor.
"Amycus, didn't you tell me you'd practiced the Cruciatus on these students? Why is she bleeding already?" Voldemort asked over her screams.
"I apologize, my Lord. I should have been much more thorough in my efforts."
"Well, yes. What was the use of placing you in that school if not to teach children the virtue of discipline." He chastised. "No matter, she's getting a feel for—oh, nevermind, looks like she's lost consciousness." Voldemort pushed against her cheek with his foot, watching her head loll to the other side.
"No matter, she will wake again. Bella, you can resume her torture once she does, I know how much you enjoy it."
Bellatrix's eyes lit up as though she had been told there were going to be Dementors at the party. "My Lord, you are so gracious. So kind. So benevolent. We are undeserving." She dropped to her knees, crawling over to his feet.
She littered the hem of his robes with kisses, before Voldemort brought her up to her feet. "Now, now Bella. Your place is not on the floor, your blood is too noble for that."
Before she could go on another tirade, Voldemort walked to Draco.
With a motion of his hand, the ropes were gone. The next thing was getting rid of the gagging spell and as soon as Draco could move he lunged for Voldemort.
"I will kill you for hurting her." He was black with rage, he saw nothing around him or in front of him or behind him.
He no longer saw his mother or his father all he felt was this white-hot hatred and the overwhelming desire to murder the man before him.
Voldemort laughed, side stepping Draco easily.
"Take this, foolish boy. And fight me like a man." A wand materialized in Draco's hand.
His wand.
He stared at it, "But how did—you burned this?" His confusion was short-lived by the expulsion of a curse from the tip of Voldemort's wand.
"Protego!" He shot off at the last minute, the spell bouncing of the shield but only narrowly.
Voldemort laughed again, moving so quickly Draco had no idea where he was, all he could see was a wisp of black like smoke surrounding him.
"Crucio."
Draco was prepared this time. "Expelliarmus!"
There was taunting laughter from the far side of the room, "Who do you think you are, Harry Potter!" A voice jeered.
The spell practically bounced off of Voldemort, who tittered gleefully.
Voldemort made a complex slashing movement with his wand, purple flames emitted from it and threw Draco backwards, littering his body with hundreds of cuts.
Blood began to drip from his skin, "Expulso!" He shouted haphazardly, ducking behind a bookshelf.
Voldemort sent another complex curse his way, which Draco barely avoided as it singed off some of his hair.
"Confringo!" He fired off, watching his expensive dining table get reduced to a pile of wood and ashes.
Something hit the bookshelf, and the entire thing erupted into flames.
Draco put out the fire that had caught onto his robes, before shouting. "Sectumsempra!"
Through disbelieving eyes, he saw it hit the Dark Lord. "Sectum—
"Draco! Stop!" Ginny's voice caught him mid spell. "Draco please!"
Draco watched as dark red, deep, slashes appeared on Voldemort's body.
In an almost trancelike state, he rose from the ground and pointed his wand steadily at the still amused Dark Lord. "Avada—
"Draco!" Ginny shouted, suddenly she appeared before him, hands on his cheeks.
"Get out of my way." He growled impatiently, half ready to stun her into compliance again.
"Draco, stop. Please. You don't want to do this." She begged.
"I have to kill him, he will kill us both Ginevra. Move or I will force you to—
"Draco, no. He's your friend, please. Look at me, this isn't you." She forced his gaze. "You are not a monster." She pleaded him with honest eyes. "I love you, I love you so much. Please, please come back to me." She fell against his chest, her tears soaking into his skin, mingling with his blood.
"It's the Dark Lord. He's getting back up, Ginny, if you don't move now—
"That's not Voldemort!" She shook him. "It's Blaise!" She managed to cry out through gargled sobs. "You're going to kill Blaise."
Draco blinked his eyes, the scene before him crumbling to pieces.
In front of him was Blaise Zabini and he was bleeding out all over the cavern floor.
"B-blaise." He whispered, falling to the ground beside him. "Blaise, no." His blood was pooling around him, sticky and dark.
"No, no, no, no!" He raised his hands, they were coated in his best friend's blood. "Do something! Do something Ginevra!" Draco barked madly. "Heal him, stop this!"
"Find a way out of here." She hissed, shoving him to the side. "Vulnera Sanentur." She recited in a melodic tone. "Vulnera Sanentur."
Draco searched frantically for the goblet, the dark pensieve still glistening against the dewy torch light. Finally, he spotted it beside a gravestone and he ran for it.
There was no way he had done all this only to stop now.
He cut his hand open once more, his blood flowing into the pensieve before he gathered a generous amount into the goblet. He had only just forced the murky liquid down when the place began to rumble, rocks falling from the ceiling and the walls.
It was caving in on itself, the way the house had when it was breached.
Memories came flooding back to him on a fast forward reel, as he stumbled towards Ginny and Blaise.
He could hear Ginny shouting at him, saying something, but he couldn't make out her words as everything began to blur together.
Then he was stricken on the head by something heavy and blunt.
And it all went black.
-x-
A/N: TWENTY SEVEN EFFING PAGES, THAT'S HOW LONG THIS CHAPTER IS.
-yes I know, it probably doesn't make up for the time between updates but COME ON. I really poured like blood sweat and tears into this one.
Ive edited this chapter like fifty times and its probably still got mistakes but it's 4am where I am and I can't stay up any longer.
Before I say anymore though, I need to thank you all for your amazing reviews. YOU'RE ALL SO GREAT AND I DON'T DESERVE ALL THE POSITIVITY AND LOVE (a thousand crying emojis) I'm so sorry I'm so shit at updating, but the good news is we're nearing the end. I have a few loose ends to tie up, but the majority of this story has been told. IT'S ALL HAPPENING!
So, how'd you like the chapter? I tried to make the Manor scene as realistic as possible (but it was meant to be humorous in some parts, so if you laughed that's great)
Overall, let me know how I did. I've never posted a chapter so long before, I hope I didn't drag it.
I'm anxiously awaiting all your feedback!
Thank you for keeping up with me and for being so supportive. As always, I can't wait to hear from all of you guys!