DRACO
"Renervate."
"Draco—?"
His mother was stirring, lifting her head groggily. Draco lowered his wand, glaring at her fiercely.
"Do you mind explaining?" he asked, his tone harsh.
Narcissa's breath hitched, and she immediately began to sob. Draco was taken aback. Out of all the possible reactions, this was not one he imagined. He expected anger, or fright, or possibly even remorse, not tears.
"Mother, what—?"
"Draco, I'm sorry," she sniffed. "I didn't want this, I didn't want any of this! Why— "
He stared at her dumbly as she was overcome with another wave of fresh sobs. What was going on? What should he do?
"Mother!" he cried, and she stifled her cries. "Mother, what do you mean? What's going on?"
She looked down, hiding her face from him. For a long while, all he could hear was her deep, shaky breaths.
"Mother!"
She raised her head. She'd stopped crying. "Draco, I'm sorry. He came, and I—I didn't have a choice— "
"He?" Draco raised his voice, a mix of terror and anger clutching his heart. "Who's he?"
"Gedeon Albrecktsson!" she wailed.
"Who?"
"He's the leader," Narcissa said softly. "He came to me months ago. He asked for my help."
"And why did you help him?" Draco hissed between his teeth.
"Because he threatened me with you!"
He stared, opening and closing his mouth, but found he couldn't speak. A long silence fell, the only sounds their ragged breathing, until at last Narcissa broke it.
"Draco, you understand we cannot let them go," she told him seriously. "If we do, the Ministry will not listen to reason. We will both be locked in Azkaban."
He nodded, feeling detached.
"And you cannot whisper a word of this to anyone."
Again, he nodded.
"Not even Potter."
He started to nod, but then shook his head.
"What?" Narcissa barked. "Draco— "
"Mother, they could help," he insisted. "And Albrecktsson is important, I have to tell them about him!"
"Absolutely under no circumstances— "
He cut her off mid-sentence, the cogs in his brain turning. "Mother, I need you to tell me when Albrecktsson or Father or any of the Death Eaters return. Send a patronus. And treat the Patils well."
"I can't let them out, Draco— " Narcissa began, but he interrupted her again.
"I know," he said, truthfully. "But give them light, good food, blankets, whatever. Just make sure they aren't living in squalor."
Narcissa glared at him, but relented. "Fine. Now let me out of these bonds."
He did with a wave of his wand, and his mother stood, stretching her aching limbs and rubbing her wrists. "My wand," she demanded.
He handed it to her warily. She pocketed it and, after a moment of suspicious hesitation, he copied her.
"I cannot guarantee I will be able to contact you when they return, if they return," she told him.
His heart plummeted. For the Malfoys, the words I cannot guarantee usually meant it, whatever it was, would not happen.
"Mother, please— "
"Draco, I will not risk what is left of our reputation to be in ruins— "
"You're a blinded fool!" He snarled, his anger building up again until it was simmering at the surface. "You claim you have everything under control, and yet you hex your only son instead of explaining things to him!"
She stood to her full height. "You know nothing. You know nothing! Yet you act like you do, giving me orders! I am your mother! Treat me like it, like you did with your father!"
That was it. He exploded, all his rage for his mother and Harry Potter and for the stupid, stupid situation he was in crashing out in one, big tidal wave of white-hot wrath.
"TO HELL WITH FATHER!" he roared, so loud that his mother flinched. "I DID TREAT HIM THAT WAY, AND LOOK WHERE IT GOT ME! A MARK ON MY ARM AND A FUTURE IN SHAMBLES! AND NOW YOU, YOU'RE DOING THE SAME, YOU'RE JOINING THE DEATH EATERS JUST LIKE HE DID AND ARE PRANCING AROUND JUST LIKE HE DID AND— "
"Draco! Draco, I— "
"IF YOU'RE TOO COWARDLY TO SEND A SINGLE PATRONUS CHARM, THEN FINE! I'LL LET YOU ROT ALONG WITH THE REST OF THE DEATH EATERS! BUT I THOUGHT THAT WE'D AGREED NOT TO SUPPORT VOLDEMORT ANYMORE! OR HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN WHAT HE WAS LIKE?"
He stopped there, breathing heavily. Narcissa stared at him, looking as if she wanted to say something, but was slightly afraid to do so.
"What," he snapped at her.
She lifted her chin, regaining some of her pride. "I remember. What he was like, I remember."
Draco took a deep breath to calm himself. "Then please. Send it if they come."
Narcissa hesitated. Anxiously, he waited for her reply.
"Alright."
A large weight was lifted from his chest, and some of his anger dissipated.
HARRY
He ignored Draco Malfoy when he spotted him in the halls of Hogwarts after the holidays, and he still ignored him when the blond called out his name over the mass of students hurrying to class. He tried to ignore him when Malfoy caught hold of his bag, but he couldn't continue ignoring him when the bag was ripped from his hands. He whipped around.
"Give it back, Malfoy," he hissed, trying to snatch it from his arms. Malfoy held it out reach.
"Harry, we need to talk," he told him.
Harry laughed shortly. "Really? I don't think we do, actually. Give me back my bag."
Instead of doing that, Malfoy reared back and chucked it across the corridor. It flew over the student body, making a graceful arc over their heads. Several students paused to watch as it tumbled through the air, over a banister, and out of sight.
Harry gaped at the place where his bag had disappeared with shock. Soon, his disbelief was replaced by white-hot anger.
"Dammit, Malfoy, my potions essay was in there!"
He rounded on the blond, expecting to see a smug smirk, not panic.
"Draco—?"
"Harry, Parvati Patil and her parents are being kept in my family's cellar," Draco told him urgently.
Harry stared. "What?!"
"Like I said, we need to talk."
Classes forgotten, he, Ron, and Hermione clung to Draco's every word as he explained what had happened at the Manor. When he was finished, there was a stunned silence that lasted for a full minute. It was broken only by Ron, who, at loss for words, only said, "Bloody hell."
"That was a little cold, wasn't it?" said Hermione, addressing Draco. "Leaving the Patils there."
"What was I supposed to do, be sent to Azkaban?" he retorted.
"You could've at least told them that, or something," said Ron.
Draco sent him a withering glare. "Well, next time I go there, you'll be sure to let them know, Weasley."
"Me? Why would I— "
"Alright!" Harry interrupted. "What's done is done. Right now, we have to concentrate on what we can do."
"Right," said Draco. "And speaking of what we can do— " He rounded on Ron. "Weasel, do you mind telling us what you were doing, meeting with Blaise Zabini secretly in the forbidden forest?"
Ron opened his mouth to defend himself, but Hermione cut in.
"Actually," she said, "he told us while you were gone." Quickly, she explained Blaise's letter and request.
Draco listened to her with rapt attention. When she finished, he gave her a slow smile. "Well, it's obvious what to do now, isn't it?"
Harry stared at him in horror. "You're not suggesting— "
Draco's smile, if possible, got wider. "Yes. We're going to have to talk to Zabini."
Blaise's reply came the very next day during breakfast, agreeing to meet at the edge of the forest at their allotted time. Hermione passed the message on to Draco at the Slytherin table with a discreet nod.
The day went by at a snail's pace. Harry anxiously tapped his foot all throughout Transfiguration. When classes were finally over, he did his homework much faster than was wise, and spent the rest of the time leading up to midnight surreptitiously sitting on his Invisibility Cloak.
When it was fifteen minutes to Midnight, he, Ron, and Hermione ducked under the cloak and exited through the portrait hole. They had to stoop to keep their feet hidden.
None of them noticed the mane of fiery red hair that followed them.
They crept down the corridors, dodging a few teachers, but found the castle mostly empty. When they arrived in the entrance hall, they found Draco hidden behind the suit of armor they'd previously agreed would give him plenty of cover before they arrived. Then, with a quick glance around, Harry pulled the cloak off, and together they left the castle.
They strode across the grounds to the forest near Hagrid's hut. Once in the safety of the trees, they proceeded slowly, wands drawn and illuminated, and ears straining for any sound.
At last, they reached the clearing to find Blaise there, as promised. He, too, had his wand out, but he held it loosely by his side and he leaned leisurely against a tree. At the sight of the four of them, he raised his brows.
"I was under the impression that I would be meeting with only Granger, not the whole lot of you," he said, his tone slightly annoyed.
"Tough shit," Ron snapped, but Hermione gestured for him to calm down.
"We thought it best to come as a group, so that we need only tell the story once," she said smoothly.
Blaise regarded her with a thoughtful expression. Eventually, he said, "All right. What did you want to ask?"
Draco stepped forward, a knowledgable glint in his eye. "You want to leave the Death Eaters, yes?"
Blaise nodded once. "Yes."
"And you must know that's no easy task."
"Hence why I'm here," he agreed.
"Exactly. But you must be very desperate to come to us, of all people, for help. Surely there are others who would help you, others whom you trust more than us?"
Blaise paused, and Harry could've grinned at the complete genius behind Draco's statement. If Blaise denied it, he would be exposing himself as a liar, likely sent from the Death Eaters. But if he confirmed it, he would be giving them the upper hand, admitting that they were his last hope. Draco had weaved a simple spiderweb, and Blaise was the insect.
At last, Blaise gritted his teeth. "Yes, there were. But they are all either unavailable, unreliable, or refuse to help."
Draco smirked. "Pity."
Blaise only glared.
"Well!" cried Hermione, clapping her hands together. "We only have a few questions for you, Blaise, if you don't mind."
He swiveled his gaze to her. "Well?"
"First, we wanted to ask you about a certain Lavender Brown. What are the Death Eaters using to keep her in line?"
"Parvati Patil and her family," said Blaise blandly. "They're keeping them locked up somewhere. I've got no idea where."
Hermione nodded. "And Lavender, she's not under the Imperious Curse, is she?"
Blaise shook his head. "No."
"What about the Elder Wand, Blaise?" said Ron. "What do the Death Eaters want with it?"
"The power, of course," Blaise responded. He rolled his eyes at their dumbfounded expressions. "What? There's not always an elaborate plot behind every move. Our new Master just wanted that extra boost of magic."
"And who is that Master?" Draco asked.
"His name's Gedeon Albrecktsson. He's a mean one."
Harry glanced at Draco, who was carefully schooling his emotions. But he knew he was thinking the same thing that was running through Harry's mind: whoever this Gedeon Albrecktsson was, he seemed to be at the middle of everything.
"What are Albrecktsson's ideals, Zabini?" Ron asked, his expression hard.
Blaise shrugged. "Basically everything the Dark Lord wanted. Servitude, power, world domination—you get the idea."
"And how does he plan to get this?" said Harry, his stomach doing backflips.
Blaise smirked. "Now, that is the interesting bit. I was wondering how long it would take you to ask. You always were a slow bunch— "
"Just answer the question, Zabini," Draco barked, an unspoken threat in his words.
He glared at him before continuing. "Albrecktsson believes that, while the Dark Lord had the right idea, he didn't have the right approach to it. The Dark Lord always went for head-on confrontations, duels and war. Albrecktsson believes that this is why he fell. He thinks a more subtle way of creating chaos is the key to taking down the Ministry and all rebels. So, instead of targeting Wizards, he's been targeting the Muggles."
"But why?" questioned Hermione. "The Ministry has hardly noticed the Muggle attacks. What's the end goal?"
"This is just the beginning," Blaise told her. "The attacks will just become more and more frequent, confusing the Muggles. Then, just when they are on their tipping points, the Death Eaters will lay waste to a city, and they won't bother to hide magic. In fact, they'll make sure the Muggles see it. Because, if Muggles found out about Wizards— "
"The Ministry would be frantic," Harry realized, everything clicking together. "They would be so spread out, they wouldn't be able to defend themselves against even a small raid of Death Eaters."
Silence followed his statement as the other three digested it. Harry's mind was racing. If Alebrecktsson planned to raid the Ministry, there was little they could do. Besides, they didn't even know when it was going to happen. And what could they do when it did?
"So!" Blaise clapped his hands together. "This is all very terrible and all, but I just can't allow you to get off for free— "
"You're charging us?!" Hermione gasped. "That's completely barbaric!"
"No, he isn't," Draco said with a glare. "He's told us everything we need. There's no reason for us to stay."
"Perhaps you won't," Blaise amended, tilting his head with respect.
"None of us will," Draco snapped. Then, turning on his heel, he called, "See you, Blaise!"
He marched from the clearing, obvious that every intention of his was to head back to the castle, but suddenly stopped; none of the rest had moved an inch.
"Draco... " Harry began hesitantly.
Draco sneered. "Oh, don't tell me you're going to be noble, Potter."
Harry ignored him. "Name your price," he said to Blaise.
His eyes flickered to him. "When the Ministry comes after the Death Eaters, which they will, you tell them I was a double agent for you."
Harry raised a brow. "And?"
"And nothing. That's all."
Ron's jaw fell open in shock. "That's all?!"
They stared at Blaise in astonishment. Could it be possible? Could his price really be so little?
"Stop gaping like idiots," Blaise sneered. "Is that a yes?"
"Yes," Hermione breathed.
"Good. Well, it's been a pleasure!" He turned away.
"Wait," Draco growled. "That can't possibly be all. What do you really want, Zabini?"
Blaise turned back. "Did you want more than to get out, Malfoy?"
He was silent. Blaise smirked.
"I think we're done here," he said.
He stalked off and, with a swish of his cloak, disappeared into the shadows.