This work is complete at 31 chapters and ~127,000 words. I'll be submitting a chapter a day through March until it's all up.


Chapter 24: Alone

Dagmar followed Mr. Malfoy back toward the manor. Mrs. Malfoy no longer sat outside and Dagmar wasn't sure if that should worry her or not. Was she about to get into trouble? Mr. Malfoy hardly seemed the type to check in with Dagmar about how she was doing after everything that happened in Nice.

He led her toward the drawing room. Dagmar's stomach flopped unpleasantly when instead they went into the library. Mr. Malfoy held the door open for her, then rested it against the frame when Dagmar had passed him by.

Of all things to be concerned about in the moment, Dagmar couldn't figure out what to do with her hands. She ended up holding them together in front of her. Mr. Malfoy studied her in turn with narrowed eyes and a high chin.

"Which book in here contained the Heafonfýr Curse?" he asked.

Dagmar had no idea off the top of her head. Rather than tell Mr. Malfoy that, she took a look around the room at all the shelves. She still drew a blank.

"I'm not sure," she admitted.

"Which books did you read while you were here?"

"Plenty." Dagmar hesitantly half-shrugged.

Given that she stood in front of her future father-in-law, Dagmar didn't want to displease him. She also hadn't quite decided her opinion of him either in this new paradigm. Mr. Malfoy only really ever made Dagmar feel nervous and vaguely unwelcome. He did it again now, and Dagmar couldn't even really say that he was wrong for it. If Mr. Malfoy asked about the Heafonfýr Curse, then that meant Dagmar's parents had told him everything about their visit to the French Ministry. Dagmar wasn't ignorant enough about the Death Eaters' business that she couldn't tell she'd compromised it.

Mr. Malfoy's nostrils flared, a show of annoyance. "Then I suppose we should begin narrowing them down. I'll require your help for that."

Dagmar nodded and gravitated toward the closest shelf. Especially with Mr. Malfoy hovering over her shoulder, she couldn't think enough to remember where exactly she'd read about that curse. A month had nearly passed now since the last time Dagmar was in here, and even when she had been she'd pulled a lot of books off the shelf before committing to any one that she would take back up to her room.

A title stuck out to her: A Brief History of the Dark Arts. Dagmar had barely removed it from the shelf before Mr. Malfoy took it out of her hands. He headed over to the centre table, opened it, and began flipping through the pages.

"Keep looking," he told Dagmar.

With the sound of aged, turning pages in the background, Dagmar kept searching the shelves. She set a handful of books on the table that stuck out to her because she had enjoyed them. Dagmar had trouble keeping titles in her mind that hadn't. She ran into this problem frequently at the Hogwarts library. She would sign out a book that sounded interesting, only to slog halfway through and then realize she'd read it the previous year. Dagmar couldn't remember if she'd read about the Heafonfýr Curse in an interesting one or not, but she felt like if it was anywhere it was in one of the titles on the table beside Mr. Malfoy.

Dagmar still kept looking, just to be sure. She set another few on top of the pile she'd started beside Mr. Malfoy. He still worked on the first one she'd picked.

"I think this is all of them," Dagmar said.

"Perfect," Mr. Malfoy replied. He still sounded annoyed, or maybe stressed. Dagmar couldn't tell. "Start searching, then."

Dagmar had hoped she could leave after that. No doubt Draco was wondering what had happened to her, and if he came looking she had no idea what to tell him. He would ask anyway what his father wanted to see her about. The longer Dagmar was away, the more suspicious it would seem.

She took Glossary of Forbidden Hexes - 16th Century from the pile. It seemed promising. Dagmar remembered Marigot mentioning something about the Heafonfýr Curse being from the 1500s. She flipped ahead to the H section, being careful not to tear any of the pages.

"Mr. Malfoy," she hesitantly addressed him.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry for any trouble I've caused," Dagmar said. "For what it's worth, I never told that French Auror where I read that book."

"That's what your parents said," Mr. Malfoy replied, gaze still scanning the book he checked. "I appreciate that, but there's a trail that the British Ministry could logically follow to lead them here. While I don't think there would be any outright repercussions for you to have learned it under my roof and for the source material to be hence discovered in this library, it is best to fly under the radar as often as possible. Too many coincidences add up over time."

"Right."

"I'm not angry with you." Mr. Malfoy's tone implied otherwise, but he would at least look at her when he said that. "You didn't do anything wrong. If you chose to use the Heafonfýr Curse on that Muggle, then he clearly deserved it. The French Ministry of course had to respond, but pay no mind to it. I'm sure they were just excited to feel some form of capability. Why else would they put so much pressure on an underaged practitioner?"

Dagmar just nodded. She wasn't sure what to say.

"Although, might I recommend," Mr. Malfoy continued, "if you wish to practice these kinds of curses, certainly wait until you're of-age later this week. That shouldn't be hard. And if you require a target at all, find one that won't be noticed—"

Dagmar looked up again. She blinked, but Mr. Malfoy didn't notice her reaction.

"—I daresay don't use this curse again, at least not in a duelling capacity," Mr. Malfoy said. "The Ministry might watch you for a little while, as well as that curse. If you happen to be anywhere near another incident of its use, I don't think it would go over well."

"Erm. . .right."

"It was an impressive bit of magic. Don't let bureaucracy make you think otherwise." Mr. Malfoy raised his gaze again. "Just be more careful next time."

Dagmar exhaled in relief when she found the right page in the book she looked through. "It's here, Mr. Malfoy."

"Excellent." He swept around the table. "Was that the only mention of it you saw?"

Dagmar nodded.

"Very well." He offered her a smirk in lieu of a smile. "Run along, then."

Dagmar exited through the door that she and Mr. Malfoy had entered. She half-expected to find Draco with his ear pressed against it, but the hallway outside the drawing room was empty. So was the great room, where Dagmar next anticipated she would find Draco waiting for her.

What was she going to tell him? She wasn't ready yet to come clean about Paris, and Dagmar wasn't even sure if she should. It was her idea that their pending marriage relied on distancing themselves from the Death Eaters, and in Dagmar's mind that included the use of dark magic. She didn't want to look like a hypocrite this early on. Of course she could use the excuse that it was in self-defence, but Marc was an ordinary Muggle. Look at what Dagmar had done to his mate with a stunning spell. She could've put Marc off her tail just as easily with another one of those.

She'd chosen the Heafonfýr Curse. She wanted Marc to suffer for the petty crime of annoying her. Since she couldn't actually be harmed, that was the worst he ever would've done to her. It could be argued that Marc had more sinister things in mind for Dagmar. That didn't matter, though. He could've come at her with a knife or something, and she still would've had the upper hand. A disarming spell would've put an end to that.

Dagmar headed back out into the garden. She wasn't sure if Draco would still be there, but if he wasn't that gave her a little extra time while finding him to come up with a plausible story that didn't involve the Heafonfýr Curse or any of the fallout of its use. Unfortunately, he sat exactly where Dagmar had left him.

He looked her over. Dagmar hadn't realized it before, but he scrutinized someone the same way that his father did. "What was that about?"

"Nothing really," Dagmar lamely replied with a shrug. "He was looking for a certain book in the library, couldn't find it, and thought it might have been one that I borrowed earlier this summer. I'd put it back on the wrong shelf."

"Which one?"

"That one with the forbidden hexes." Dagmar sat down beside him. "The sixteenth century one."

Draco's eyes crinkled with amusement. "If I remember correctly, that was the first one you borrowed. I was quite unhappy with you that day."

Grateful for the distraction and endeared anyway, Dagmar smiled. "And I with you."

Draco put his arm around Dagmar's shoulders. As lovely of a day it was, Dagmar couldn't enjoy it as much as she would've liked. She hated keeping something from Draco. How would she ever explain to him why she thought the Heafonfýr Curse suitable for that situation, though? It made Dagmar sick to think about acknowledging that barbaric void she attributed to pureblooded wizards. Draco had come so far in only a short time. Beliefs generally took longer than that to change for good, so he was in a vulnerable place with it. If Dagmar brought up that this was something they as purebloods couldn't help, then he might think there was no point in aiming for better since it was as natural to them as a thestral drawn to the smell of flesh.

"While you were with my father, I was thinking," Draco said. "Do you have plans yet for your birthday?"

Dagmar shook her head. "None other than I'd rather spend it with you than my parents. Oh—I have my Apparation test booked the morning of. I just about forgot."

They send you a reminder owl a few days ahead," Draco replied.

"That's the only thing I have planned, anyway." Dagmar sighed. "I hope I pass. It's been some time since I could practice. You were lucky to do yours during the school year, for that."

"True enough." Draco squeezed her. "You'll do just fine."

"We'll see."

At least if Draco thought Dagmar was just nervous about a test she couldn't study for, he wouldn't attribute her anxiety to anything else. In a way, Dagmar hated just how readily Draco took what she said at face value. If he contested her mood out of suspicion, it might compel Dagmar to be more honest with him.

On the other hand, Dagmar and Draco had promised to be brutally honest when they had to be. That was easier said than done, especially now that feelings were very much involved, but if Draco found out another way that Dagmar had lied to him, this early on it would be very disruptive. Did Dagmar really want that to be an issue on top of the issue she omitted? It would all come out, eventually. Even now, thanks to Mr. Malfoy, Dagmar started stacking lies of omission.

"Do you want to go for a walk?" Dagmar asked.

"Yeah, sure," Draco answered. "I should just put on some Sunshield Potion."

"Me too."

They headed up to Draco's room for that. While Dagmar waited by the door for him to finish up, Heimdall rubbed up against her legs. As cute as it was, Dagmar shied away so that Heimdall's long hairs wouldn't stick to her slightly damp calves. He stood expectantly at the door.

"You want to come too, little boy?" Dagmar asked him in Norwegian.

Draco caught up to Dagmar and Heimdall, and Heimdall darted out of the bedroom when Dagmar opened the door. He stopped outside of it, unsure anew of his surroundings, and flicked his tail in curiosity. With a meow, he skipped on after Dagmar and Draco down the foyer stairs and slipped through the front doors after them again. He stuck to the side of the road, his head low in attentiveness. Dagmar doubted he would go much further than this out of uncertainty to the territory.

With the manor shrinking behind them, Draco slipped a hand into Dagmar's. She squeezed, still unsure, but pretty certain she'd made the right decision to be transparent.

"There's something I should tell you," Dagmar said.

Draco scrutinized her the same way he had in the garden, although with his eyes more squinted thanks to the sunshine. "Oh?"

"Ja. . ." Dagmar sighed. "Honestly, I wasn't sure if I was going to or not. There was a whole mess in Nice apart from the thing with the Muggles. Or—I should say in Paris. I had to go to the French Ministry of Magic after it happened."

"Because you were underaged?"

"To start." Dagmar nodded. "One of the officials that enforces that part of the law grabbed me in Nice and apparated us to Paris. When I was sitting in his office, an Auror came by."

Draco frowned. "Why would an Auror care about underaged magic? Didn't you just stun the one Muggle?"

"The one, ja. The other. . ." Here was where it got tricky. "I was going to use a different charm—a curse. He just wouldn't quit following me. That was the one that I'd seen earlier in the day. I'd had enough. The curse I used didn't hit him—someone else arrived in time from the Ministry to deflect it—but it caught the attention of this particular Auror."

"The way you say that. . ." Draco narrowed his eyes. "What was so special about this Auror? Is it someone we know, or something?"

"Well, the head of the department."

"What curse did you use to get into that kind of trouble?"

"It was from a book in your manor's library. Just a bad one."

"Hold on." Draco brought them to a stop. He jerked his thumb back toward the manor, which had vanished around a corner in the lane. "What was that then, with my father back there? Were you actually helping him look for a book, or was that a lie?"

"Not entirely." Dagmar toed the road. "He wanted to know what book it came from. I helped him find it because I couldn't remember. I don't know what he wanted with it, I think just to remove it in case our Ministry showed up trying to fill in the holes, or something.

"It was a really bad night anyway, one I hoped I could just forget about," Dagmar said. "My parents had to be there with me because I'm underaged, and the Auror wouldn't let me go until the Muggles corroborated my story. She didn't want to believe that that was the first time I'd used that curse, which I guess is a backwards compliment. She also didn't think I'd just picked it up from a book, but she got enough corroborating evidence by morning to let me go. Professor Snape even came."

"Snape?" Draco repeated. "Why?"

"I suppose on Dumbledore's behalf." Dagmar shrugged. "He vouched for how much I study, and all that. It was very likely, given my Os in Defence Against the Dark Arts and access to the Forbidden Section in Hogwarts library, that I could've picked it up anywhere. She believed me when I said it was just the first curse that came to mind in the situation."

"Believed you, as in you were lying?"

Dagmar hadn't meant to put it quite like that. She would've rathered eased into that part of the conversation, but Draco was sharper than that.

"Kind of, I guess?" she answered. "I was completely over the entire situation and just wanted to get away. This Muggle wasn't getting it. I was tired of feeling helpless. I was ready to send the point home."

Draco shrugged. "I don't really blame you. You feel bad? It didn't hit him, didn't you say?"

"No, but. . ." Dagmar wasn't sure how to make him understand. Mr. Malfoy seemed to, but for all the wrong reasons. Dagmar had higher hopes that Draco wouldn't see things the same way as him. "I don't know, ja, I feel bad. I could've really hurt him. I could've just used another stunning spell. He was a Muggle. He couldn't deflect anything, so he would've taken the full hit."

"You were upset. No one blames you for that."

Dagmar exhaled heavily through her nose, hands on her hips and lips pursed. She looked back down the lane toward the manor, unsure how to get her point across. She seemed to lack the words to describe what she was trying to explain.

Draco folded his arms. "What am I missing? I don't know what you want me to tell you. You were under pressure, of course you're going to do something you might regret later when you have a chance to think about it."

"It's not like I was really in danger, is the thing," Dagmar said. "They were Muggles. The one that I stunned, he fell down some stairs and his head was bleeding where he hit it. It doesn't take much to defend yourself against them. I could've stunned the other one that kept following me. Then I could've just gone back to the condo after I sorted everything out with the Ministry. I chose to curse him instead, though. I picked the nastiest one I knew shy of the Unforgivable Curses, and I didn't even think of the consequences. I don't even know what the consequences of that would've been, if that Auror had any evidence of the truth. I made a bunch of trouble for our parents, drawing attention to them again."

"Maybe I'd get it more if you told me what curse you used?"

"It's called Heafonfýr," Dagmar replied. "It was one of the five curses that came together over time to become the Cruciatus Curse."

"What would it have done to him?"

"I'm not really sure." Dagmar pressed her lips together. "I guess it depends how strong it was? I cast it wandless, so maybe it. . .well, I think it would've burned him, for sure. Maybe like being struck by weak lightning. Not fatal, but painful. I can still feel it, myself."

"Oh really?"

Draco came closer when Dagmar lifted her right forearm to show him. The dark pitch was best visible in this kind of light. While Draco looked, he seemed to start understanding the seriousness of it.

"I still feel like I'm missing something," Draco told her. "Why are you beating yourself up for something you did in self-defence?"

"It wasn't self-defence." Dagmar took her arm back. "I wanted to hurt him. I wanted him to suffer, and not for any real reason. Sure, he was annoying me and he'd scared me, but it was so out of proportion. It was an excuse."

Draco frowned. "Okay, but I still don't get it. Why would you want an excuse to hurt someone for?"

Dagmar was on the verge of throwing her hands up and telling Draco just to forget it. She couldn't tell if he was being intentionally thick about the whole thing, or if this was like trying to explain to any living thing that breathing was important.

"You never feel like that?" Dagmar asked. That. . ." she paused, gesturing at her chest, "like you just want to do that to somebody, to see what would happen? To take some of the edge off?"

While she talked, Draco's frown deepened. "Take the edge off what?"

Dagmar touched her chest again. She didn't know what to call it, only knew that she felt it.

"I still don't really know what you're talking about," Draco said. "No, I can't say I've ever felt something like that. Maybe petty stuff when I was younger, especially when I was just learning how to cast things like Tickling Charms and stuff. Never anything serious."

If anyone was going to understand what Dagmar meant, Draco would've been her first guess. He'd been a relentless bully for the last six years, and it was pretty apparent to Dagmar that he took great joy from the suffering of others. It helped ease his own suffering to invoke it in the people around him. So how could he say he had no idea what she meant? It wasn't as if Draco lied. Dagmar could tell just by looking at him. Rather than cagey, he was just growing more confused as this conversation wore on.

"Never mind then, I guess," Dagmar said. Her voice shrunk under the weight of growing shame.

"I don't mean to sound thick," Draco told her, "I just don't get it. Like actually hurting somebody for the sake of it? Why would you want to do that?"

"I don't know."

More than that, Dagmar didn't know how she could continue standing here under Draco's scrutiny. Mortification to have discovered that she was most likely alone dealing with this burned Dagmar's throat. She wished now that she hadn't asked to go for a walk because there was that much more distance between her and Malfoy Manor's fireplace. Dagmar wanted nothing more right now than to be by herself. She even shrunk in when Draco rested his hands on her upper arms.

He let them fall away. "I'd ask if you were taking the piss, but. . ."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore." Dagmar took a step back toward the manor. "I think I should maybe go home."

"What?" Draco fell into step beside her. "Why? Look, I don't even get why you're really all that upset. You're not the type to do that sort of thing. Well, I see why you're upset you acted like that in self-defence, if it's the sort of thing you'd feel bad about—"

"It wasn't self-defence!" Dagmar replied, exasperated. "It's fine if you don't get it. I don't want to talk about it anymore. I don't even know how to explain it, so what's the point in trying?"

"I wouldn't mind understanding, since it's clearly important to you."

Dagmar put up a hand and quickened her pace. "Just leave me alone."

That did the trick in getting Dagmar some space, but she didn't like the cost. Draco stopped walking, silent behind her except to call her name in exasperation as she rounded a corner in the lane.