CHAPTER 4

Easter 1998

After Draco had transported the stupefied Snatchers to the courtyard, he didn't dare return to the drawing room for a few minutes. The screaming had started. He wanted to press his hands on his ears and hide somewhere, tune out the terrible screams that seemed to rip his insides apart, but he couldn't. He knew he had to go back in. Even if it felt like rusty knives had been stabbed into his gut. So Draco mentally prepared himself, summoned his inner Slytherin, and entered with an expressionless face.

Granger – the girl, just any girl, Draco – lay on the floor, twitching and screaming in pain. At once, he focused his eyes on his mother, reciting the recipe for a complicated potion in his head. But the screams were still there, echoing from the walls, sounding barely human. Nausea rolled over him, and if he hadn't been ordered to get the goblin, he might have been sick on the floor. Finally, the girl stopped screaming.

His help would be too late for her anyway. There was nothing he could do, he had no power over her fate, except … Draco's eyes wandered to the wolfishly grinning werewolf. He knew what would happen to Granger if she were to become his plaything. But he shouldn't care about that, he mentally chastised himself. He had seen it happening many times before. So why did it bother him now?

Wrong, a little voice inside Draco's head hissed, it has always been bothering you, but normally, you simply accepted that this should be their fate. So, why not with her? Why is she different?

Why, indeed? Draco wondered.

Bellatrix interrupted Draco's pondering, announcing the arrival of the Dark Lord in an excited voice. The logical part of Draco's mind reminded him that maybe now, since they had captured Potter, he wouldn't die, he wouldn't be punished. Still, panic washed through his veins, paralysing him. In a few seconds, the monster would be back and bodies would litter the floor.

It was only a question of chance whose bodies it would be. Draco understood that the Dark Lord would stop at nothing to get what he wanted, would kill any of his most trusted followers in his reach for more power, for dominion over the whole world. Because that was what he craved. But Draco wanted no part in that. He had no desire to see the world burn, didn't wish for power over Muggleborns and half-bloods anymore, and didn't want people to bow to him. He just wanted out!

Just a heartbeat later, before Voldemort could appear, the prisoners stormed the room, apparently having escaped from the dungeon. Red jets of light zoomed in every direction as curses started to fly. Draco's fight-or-flight reflexes finally kicked in, and he drew his wand. He couldn't let them escape now. The Dark Lord knew about Potter, knew the Malfoys' part in their capture … and their escape. If the Golden Trio managed to flee, the punishment for his family would be severe. And, much as Draco wished for things to be different, he was too much of a coward to act on that.

But Draco's efforts at stopping the prisoners were in vain. Potter disarmed him with an ease that left him shocked. Things were happening too quickly all of a sudden. Before he could seek shelter, the beautiful chandelier crashed down on Granger and the goblin, sharp slivers of glass cascading over the room, ricocheting from the floor and walls and slicing every piece of skin they could find. This managed to effectively scatter the fighters, who tried to find protection from the deadly rain of glass. Draco quickly covered his eyes, but he could feel the crystals slashing his face. Blinded by tears and blood, he stumbled forward, attempting to hide behind one of the armchairs, but he tripped and crashed to the floor only a few metres away from Granger. Their eyes met for half a second and Draco could read the pain in them, wishing he could undo the past. Bellatrix, in her strive to serve the Dark Lord, crossed every line there was. She enjoyed the torturing, the fear, the power she had over others, so unlike Draco himself.

Before anyone could react, Dobby suddenly emerged from the shadows to save Potter, and since all their opponents were either unconscious or disarmed, nobody could stop them. They would make it out, Draco realised. They would make it to freedom. From then onwards, it was an easy calculation for Draco. Stay and get to feel Voldemort's wrath or escape with them.

"No!" he screamed and launched himself at the prisoners, the same second they all took Dobby's hand. He dug his nails into someone's ankle, desperately trying to hold on to them. The room around him dematerialised. And then, everything went black.


Present

Even though Draco was dead tired, sleep had decided to evade him. His head on a cushion and his shoe-less feet dangling over the armrest of the settee in his mother's dressing room, he tried find rest, but all he could think about was Hermione. He'd hoped the Dark Lord would be detained for longer, checking on his remaining Horcruxes. In Draco's mind, this would have given Harry the chance to spot them.

Oh, Merlin. Would they manage to warn Harry in time? Hopefully, the Gryffindor wouldn't waste his time preparing a rescue mission for Hermione tomorrow. He had to know that the ministry was a trap.

Bellatrix's words echoed through his mind: I need to prepare some things for the questioning later. The Dark Lord will honour us with his presence in the afternoon.

Sighing, Draco turned to shield his eyes from the gleaming sunlight. Voldemort would be angry, so angry, when he returned, and Hermione would be the one to feel it. He'd torture her until her voice would be raw from screaming, her mind unfocused and weak, her body as lifeless as a puppet's, and he'd enjoy it. Voldemort knew that she was partly responsible for the destruction of the Horcruxes, not that he needed much of a reason anyway. The information she could give only came second.

Draco wished he could be there for her, but he also wished to be far, far away, somewhere, where her screams wouldn't reach him. Merlin, he'd never wanted to hear her scream again. But he would. And it would be his fault alone.

Knowing that nearly ripped him apart.

Suddenly, a sharp knock echoed through the room and Draco jumped to his feet.

"Draco. An owl has come for you." His mother's voice sounded muffled through the door, and Draco hastily unlocked it, so she could enter. Her gaze scrutinised him, but she didn't remark on his dishevelled appearance.

"It's from Severus. He wishes to see you at Hogwarts," Narcissa announced expressionlessly. She had changed into a different robe, dark purple with silver stitches, and her hair was up, as if she planned to go out anytime soon. "I've already informed Bella of your absence at the Mudblood's questioning. She's not pleased." At that, a small smile curved her lips. "Lunch is ready, by the way."

"Thank you, mother." He nodded, slipped into his shoes and followed her downstairs, where his father sat waiting in the breakfast room. A steaming dish stood on the table, and Draco's stomach grumbled as the delicious smell reached him.

"Draco, I'll accompany you to Hogwarts after we've eaten. The Dark Lord will arrive shortly," Lucius informed him casually.

Draco nodded slightly, scanning the room for the presence of his aunt, but she wasn't there.

"Bella's downstairs," his mother whispered and Draco tensed at once. There was only one place she could be downstairs, and that was the dungeons. For a second, he contemplated following her, but his mother interrupted his silly thoughts.

"Draco. Sit."

He swallowed, but followed her stern demand.

"Potatoes?" Narcissa suddenly handed him a plate with boiled potatoes on it, and he took it automatically. He felt the familiar roughness of parchment under it. Discreetly, he pushed it into his sleeve, put some food on his plate, and handed it back.

Lunch was a quiet affair. Draco had no possibility to check the parchment because they might be watched this very moment. And other than Could you hand me the salt? and The steak is delicious! they didn't really make conversation. There was nothing to be said.

Draco finished his plate quickly and disappeared into his room to change. He tried to listen out for sounds from the dungeon, but he heard nothing. It was a little too silent for his taste, as if no living thing was inside the house, just silence and death.

In the dim light of his wand, Draco finally unfolded the parchment in his walk-in wardrobe, after he had checked it for surveillance spells. In the neat handwriting of his mother were the following words:

Don't worry. Nobody'll hurt her until the DL arrives. I'll do what I can for her. I promise.

Draco frowned. If he hadn't been so sure that this was his mother's writing, he wouldn't believe a word. Since when had his parents formed an alliance to protect Hermione and why? He understood that they'd protect him, but some random Muggle-born? (Okay, Hermione wasn't random, but still.) A lot seemed to have changed since his absence.

With a tab of his wand, the parchment vanished. Rapidly, he changed his shirt and dashed out of the room. His father already awaited him in his office. Without another word, Lucius handed him the Floo Powder, which Draco promptly took.

"The headmaster's office, Hogwarts," Draco cried and stepped into the emerald flames.

A moment later, the familiar room appeared. Sunlight filtered through the high windows, giving the room a comfortable, light atmosphere. Lighter than Malfoy Manor in any case. Draco felt like he could breathe freely for the first time since he'd been back.

His godfather sat behind his desk, calmly waiting for Draco and his father to approach, his dark robes not half as impressive as Dumbledore's. Nevertheless, an aura of calm authority surrounded him. He only nodded curtly as greeting. "Draco, Lucius. Pray sit down."

Silently, they took their seats in front of the large oak desk. Draco's eyes automatically searched the paintings for an old wizard with twinkling blue eyes, but he seemed to be asleep. Draco guessed that Dumbledore only feigned it, so he wouldn't have to face him, and was kind of thankful for it.

"Tea?" Severus offered and Draco's gaze snapped back towards him. He couldn't help feeling relieved to see his godfather again, now that he knew that Severus was on the right side of the war.

"The rain's dreadful, isn't it?" Lucius suddenly asked.

What? Draco frowned. It was hot and sunny outside, like it should be at the start of July.

A smile curled Snape's lips. "Positively awful. I think there'll be a thunderstorm tonight."

Lucius visibly relaxed. "I think so, too."

"What are you talking about?" Draco interjected.

"Severus thought we were impostors," his father explained. "And I had to make sure this office was safe and nobody listens in."

Draco's frown deepened. What was he talking about?

"We have a code," the headmaster drawled, reading Draco's confused expression correctly. "We need to come up with one too."

"About that – I need your help," Draco said, looking his godfather squarely in the eye. "I know a way how we could communicate, but I can't do it. My wand's being monitored."

Severus cocked one eyebrow. "You do?"

Draco crossed his arms. "Don't sound so surprised. I've always been a bright student," he snapped. "I want you to charm a parchment to only be readable with a password. And not even the mightiest magic should be able to break the charm. Then a Proteus charm that allows us to read what the other persons have written. It could be charmed to look like a newspaper," he glanced at his father, "a textbook, or any kind of book or magazine or letter, or just an empty parchment. This way we can send messages, warnings, and codes. Everything we write should disappear as soon as everyone has read it, for protection. We need another password to empty the paper again. And we need code words and codenames to make sure that, if somebody gets a hold of it, our anonymity is ensured."

It was silent for a few seconds. Draco eyed the adults nervously. He knew it was dangerous to carry signs of their treason with them, but he hadn't really come up with another solution. Too many meetings or owls would arouse suspicion – and the Malfoys really couldn't afford that.

"May I ask how you came up with this?" his godfather finally asked, and his tone told Draco that he already knew.

"The map," Draco answered anyway.

Seversu narrowed his eyes for the fraction of a second but raised no further objections. "What do you think, Lucius?"

"Dangerous," his father replied quietly. "But brilliant."

Draco couldn't help smiling. Had his father just praised him? Strange times, indeed. "Can you do it?" he asked, his voice quivering with excitement.

"We teachers are rather good at magic, you know," the headmaster deadpanned.

Lucius chuckled lightly, very unlike his usual self. "We need to decide on a password and names."

"Easy," Draco said. "Headmaster, you are the Half-blood Prince. Father," he paused, tilting his head, "do you favour Archangel or Devil?"

Lucius smiled sourly. "I take the Fallen Archangel, thank you very much."

Draco's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You've heard of Lucifer?"

"Don't sound so surprised," his father threw back Draco's own words, his lips curling. "And who will you be? The lovesick puppy?"

Severus chuckled lowly. "I think he wants to be the dragon."

Draco shrugged. "It's too obvious, isn't it? Leviathan, Lindworm, Fafnir …" he listed, trying to decide which would be most likely unknown to the Death Eaters. "But, what about the Jabberwock? None of those idiots will catch that. Or we stay with 'Smart'. You decide."

"Smart?" his godfather snorted. "Jabberwock, it is."

"Fine," Draco said with a slightly amused expression. "The password is –"

"Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus," Severus interrupted him. "It's –"

"The school's motto. We know," Draco drawled, as if it had been blatantly obvious.

"Agreed," Lucius said coolly. "And to wipe it?"

Severus' expression turned serious. His dark eyes seemed to bore into Draco. "Omnia Vincit Amor."

Draco winced. He knew enough Latin to understand that, but he wasn't sure if he agreed. Love conquers all. He wished.

Lucius eyes wandered between them. "How inconspicuous." It seemed his family had figured it out in under a day. Draco knew his mother was perceptive, but that perceptive? He tried to think back what it was that he said, but he couldn't come up with anything that would have betrayed his feelings. Still, he probably needed to explain a few things.

Draco took a deep breath and focused on the tall, blond man beside him. "Father, I… I don't know how to explain…"

Lucius held up his hand. "You don't need to. I failed you so many times, son. I won't do it again. You are the most important thing in our lives, and to you, the most important person seems to be the girl in the dungeons. So there isn't any choice really."

Draco's mouth fell open. His father wasn't prone to outbursts of fatherly love or love in general, so it showed how much it meant to him.

"You've changed," Draco remarked, fighting hard to keep the emotions out of his voice.

"So have you, son, so have you."

That was true. Draco could barely remember the person he had been.

Suddenly, his father changed the topic. "To come to our second reason to visit you, we need to warn Potter to not break into the ministry tomorrow."

Severus, who had watched the exchange quietly, now nodded curtly. "Any other brilliant ideas, Draco?" he asked with only a hint of sarcasm.

The young Slytherin pulled a face. "Well…"

The rest of the afternoon went by in a flash, effectively distracting Draco from what was probably happening to Hermione right now, although it didn't give him the relief of forgetting her completely. The sharp, nagging pain of guilt remained.


A/N: This is the end of part I (part II starts with the next chapter). Some feedback would really make me happy. Do you like the story or should I just stop posting?