Chapter 35
The Dark Lord was touching Draco's face, running a long grimy fingernail down his cheek. He made his face stone, determined to give away nothing. "You've done well, Draco. Harry Potter is here, with us. But I couldn't help but notice, you didn't bow."
"Malfoys never bow," Draco muttered. He hadn't meant to say it out loud, not to the Dark Lord of all people. It was just ingrained in him from an early age, a knee-jerk reaction. His eyes flicked over to Harry, standing a short distance away next to a pillar. He was only watching, with an odd smile on his face. Could he catch Potter's bravado?
Voldemort laughed. Draco stole a glance at his father only to find him white as a sheet. The other Death Eaters joined in uneasily. So far, this was not going well. But no one was dead. Yet. Voldemort stopped laughing suddenly.
"You know, Draco," The Dark Lord started to pace around the circle of his followers, "you remind me of me. You don't get along with your father, do you? Disappoint him at every turn, don't you? Yes, I thought so. You should've seen his face when I had a real mission for you. He couldn't believe it. He tried to talk me out of it. He was lucky he left with his life that night."
Draco swallowed hard. No, this was not going well at all. But at least the Dark Lord's attention was on him and not on Harry. Small victories.
"And," Voldemort continued in that bizarre lilting way, "you find yourself quite a bit more powerful than the average witch or wizard, don't you?"
Draco felt his fingers twitch of their own accord. He watched with horror as Voldemort's snake-like eyes followed his movements. He was giving too much away. He felt the back of his shirt start to stick to the sweat forming between his shoulder blades.
"Yes, I thought so. That is why I knew it must be you. You, who were so carefully groomed to follow in your father's footsteps." The Dark Lord's voice had dropped an octave, taking on an air of disdain on the word 'father'. "I have another purpose in mind, for you, Draco Malfoy. I need you to forsake your father's footsteps and follow in mine. I will make you into a leader. My general. The very first one. You should be honored. Your blood is so pure, anyone would follow you. In exchange, I can grant you whatever you wish, for the rest of your natural life."
Draco inhaled sharply, an icy feeling settling into his chest and throat. If there was one thing he knew, it was that the Dark Lord always got what he wanted. He glanced at Harry, who was staring at Voldemort with his mouth open. Well, almost always. His father was suddenly at his side, placing the top of his cane between his feet with a resounding clink.
"This is not what we discussed," his father said, his voice was strong and commanding, but Draco could see the fear in his pale eyes.
Voldemort waved a hand in the air as if swatting away a troublesome fly. "Things change, Lucius, it makes no matter."
"It matters to me," Lucius' voice was more forceful this time. "My Lord."
"Do you doubt me, Lucius? I know you have before, and you will again, I'm sure. Do you wish to leave my service?"
Draco watched as his father thought it over. He assumed the Dark Lord meant death; there was no other way out of this sort of contract. Draco's father made eye contact with him and Draco was so taken aback with the sincerity he saw there, he could only blink. There was something more going on here, in his home, with his family, but he couldn't see it. It had been hidden from him for so long.
"No, my Lord," Lucius bowed.
Draco couldn't stop the scoff that escaped his throat. He glanced at Harry, still smiling that weird smile. Was it possible he was projecting his emotions? He wished he would stop. Sometimes the fear is the only thing telling you what to do, how to survive. If he couldn't feel it, he was as good as dead.
"Wonderful," the Dark Lord said, giving Lucius a glare. "Now, Draco," Voldemort moved closer, putting an arm around Draco's shoulders, like they were about to be good friends. "You brought me the greatest gift of all, didn't you? The elusive Harry Potter."
Harry glared at them, his hands balled into fists. Draco could only let this play out and wait. Wait for what? Some opportunity to leave? To strike? He wasn't sure what Harry would do if something were to happen to him, but he was certain he wouldn't be able to control it. He wasn't sure if he and Harry could win a fight against five Death Eaters and Voldemort. There was no help coming. No one else knew they were here. They could both die today and hardly anyone would find out.
A silent death, fighting for someone you love. There were worse ways to go, he supposed.
"I see my binding has worked perfectly. I'm beside myself, Draco, I really am." He favored Draco with a grin full of black and rotting teeth.
"You cast the binding?"
Voldemort glared at him with his uncanny eyes.
Draco cleared his throat and tried it out. "My Lord."
Voldemort smiled. "Well, not me, personally." Then his eyes fell to Draco's left hand. "But, I see you made an adjustment, didn't you? You didn't forget the plan, did you, boy? Tell me you didn't fall in love?"
"Love!" Aunt Bellatrix's crazy laugh filled the foyer once again. Draco glared at her and she stopped. Apparently being this close to the Dark Lord gave him a bit of power of his own. He wasn't sure he didn't like it.
"Of course I didn't." His throat was tight, but his voice was steady.
"Good. Now I want you to kill him."
"What?" He realized how stupid he sounded. He realized how much trouble one mistake could cause here. Insolence meant death, pure and simple. "I mean, I thought-"
"And now you also presume to know my plans? Maybe you are too much like your father."
"No." He knew it was meant to sting. He knew the Dark Lord was trying to get a reaction out of him. The sad part was that it was absolutely working. He had to think. He had to act. "I do not know how the binding will be affected with his death. I cannot be your general if I, myself am dead."
Voldemort made an expression that would've included his eyebrows rising, if he had had any. It was equally comical and scary. He turned and addressed the room. "And he's intelligent. Are there any here among you, that wouldn't follow young Draco Malfoy?"
He watched Harry's green eyes as he heard a slight shuffling of clothing and boots but mostly silence from the Death Eaters. Harry was anxious, he felt it, but trying to be brave. The other boy licked his lips, mouthed something at Draco. Draco scowled. He couldn't tell what Harry was trying to say. Maybe he should take the deal. Maybe if he was in charge, if he had some measure of power like Voldemort, he could protect Harry. Indefinitely.
Voldemort turned, whipping out his wand. "Crucio!"
Draco hit the floor, convulsing with pain. His vision was reduced to pinpricks of light, his skin felt like it was on fire, every nerve a symphony of pain. He thought it would never end. Then it was over.
"Draco, Draco, Draco," Voldemort tutted, standing over him. "You are intelligent. And ambitious. A true Slytherin, aren't you? But I sense your doubt. I sense your.." He twirled his wand in the air, as if he could find the word he was looking for there. "Love."
Draco got shakily to his feet, trying his best to stand tall despite the needly feeling all over his body. "I completed my mission," he grunted through clenched teeth.
"You did, you did. And for that, I am grateful. I do commend you. But you forgot one thing. Crucio!"
The pain returned, redoubled. Draco didn't remember falling this time. He heard his own voice, pealing out from his chest against his will in a ragged shout. Then it stopped. He was breathing hard, a cruel ache sounding behind his eyes.
"I am bound to Harry Potter, just as you are. You are closed, Draco, so closed, but I can feel your doubt, your anger, your need to destroy me, and your love, all through him!" He levelled his wand at Harry and Draco didn't know how he didn't realize it sooner. Harry said he shared dreams with the Dark Lord, just like they did. Wouldn't it follow that Voldemort could pick up on their emotions, as well? Draco felt stupid. This was it. It was over.
The aftershocks of pain wouldn't leave his body. He tasted blood in his mouth. He rolled onto all fours, taking his time getting up, in case Voldemort decided to curse him again. It'd be less of a fall, if he did. A general for the Dark Lord. The thought kept coming back to him, how easy it would be to acquiesce. How proud would it make his father? Would he be able to help his mother? With a power like that, he could save them all. Then he felt something like a warm breeze. He looked to the massive doors but they were shut.
"Stay where you are, Potter," Snape was suddenly next to Harry, a hand on his shoulder, his voice a quiet growl. The warmth subsided with a flash of anger. Harry. His reason to fight. His reason to be better than all of this. Doing the right thing, as Harry would say. He didn't expect it to be this difficult. But what was difficult if not a challenge? If Harry could do it, so could he. Draco felt a snide smirk spread across his face.
"It is as you say," Draco grunted as he got to his feet. "I am filled with doubt, and anger." He glanced at Harry and wished he had more time with the Boy Who Lived. There was so much he wanted to do and never had the chance. And now that chance would never come. But if Harry lived through this, well, that could be enough. "And love," he said quietly.
The room filled with gasps, jeers, and Aunt Bella's crazy laughter. His father wouldn't meet his eyes.
"I will be your general, I will fight for your cause," he started, fingers flexing, "but Harry Potter goes free."
"Draco, no!" Harry called out. Draco wished he wouldn't. This was hard enough as it was.
Voldemort gave him an appraising look. "And your protection spell?"
"It doesn't work, anyway. I'll take it off." He couldn't help the sadness that had crept into his voice. He played with his silver ring, spinning it around the base of his finger. Breaking the engagement in exchange for Harry's life. He could probably forget how happy he'd been a few moments ago in the library. Eventually.
"I don't think Harry agrees with you, Draco. I don't know if I agree with you. It might be more fun to see you both die."
Draco suddenly felt cold all over. Ice in the pit of his stomach. He glanced at Harry, who was now being held back by their Potions professor, an angry glare in his green eyes.
"Nope," the Dark Lord said, positively jovial. "I've decided. I will take away my binding, then you will kill him to prove yourself worthy of being my general. You will win only one life today Draco Malfoy; your own."
Draco opened his mouth to reply, to refuse, to stall for more time but Voldemort's wand was out and he was shouting a spell. Green light erupted from the end of his wand and Draco squinted to see through it, around it, who it was meant for but even his keen Seeker's eyes were too slow for the arcing spell.
Then it was gone.
Severus Snape crumpled in a greasy black heap on the floor next to Harry.
Harry thought there had been some sort of mistake. There had to be. Voldemort missed. The killing curse was meant for him, surely. Then he remembered Draco accusing Snape of performing the binding. Not just upstairs in his mother's bedroom, but before too, at school. It had been his only theory. But if his theory was right, if what they had read in that strange old book was right, the binding would be undone.
He bent down to see if his Potions instructor was indeed dead. It seemed like the thing to do. "Don't move, Potter," Voldemort's voice was deadly. Harry froze. He waited. For what he didn't know. To feel different. For his intense feelings for Draco to disappear into thin air. For him to be next. Anything.
Nothing happened.
He looked to Draco. Not even his stoic boyfriend could hide his emotions any longer. Harry saw disbelief and horror written all over his handsome face. But he couldn't feel it. He needed to be next to him, needed to touch him, needed to know everything was still the same.
"Now Draco, you may kill Harry Potter and save your life, your career, and your family."
"My family?" Draco muttered weakly.
"Yes, your family. I'm getting the distinct feeling that all of you Malfoys are more trouble than you're worth. If you were all dead, the manor would go to.."
Bellatrix Lestrange was hopping up and down with her hand in the air, like a giddy school-child. "Oh, I know this one, Master! It would be me!"
Voldemort touched his fingers together in front of his chest, his snake-like face smug. "Yes, you, Bellatrix. See?" He asked Draco. "Much more simple. Much more..loyal."
Harry tried to catch Draco's eye. He was able to feel him a little bit before, to read him emotionally even when he tried so hard to be closed. It wasn't much, just an inkling, really, but now there was nothing. A void. He had assumed Draco had a plan, that Draco might be able to be in control of this, but now..
He glanced at Snape's body on the floor. So much had changed so quickly. Even if the binding was no more, Draco wouldn't kill him, would he? Harry felt all of his old doubts bubble up inside of him. For the first time in a long time, he was afraid.
"No," Draco's voice was quiet and tight, his face determined. "I'll do it."
Now Draco turned to face him, their eyes slowly meeting. Draco's eyes were rimmed in red. They were stormy, but not dancing- they were tumultuous, sad, angry. He was opening and closing his fists, getting ready.
"Draco," Harry started.
He watched his boyfriend, his fiance, his only lover, as he raised his right hand, fingers splayed, all of them pointing right at his chest.
"I'm sorry Harry," Draco's voice cracked. "I'm so sorry."