Chapter 2: Brother's Love

August 12th, 1996 – cont'd

Draco sat on the stone bench in the back of the garden behind the Manor. He stared at the side of his sister's face for a few long moments, admiring her ability to keep composure in every situation. She was always so put together—so ready for anything thrown at her. But then again, he supposed if he had damned with the curse of empath, he would be too.

He often wondered how she remained so stoic, though. She could sense emotions, feel them deeper than any person he had ever met. She could twist them around in her head and turn them into something different, but she never even flinched. She didn't seem bothered by the fact that someone else having a bad day could essentially cripple her mind.

"Why are you staring at me?" She asked, turning her head to catch his eyes.

"Just trying to make sure I get a good look at you before you go off and get yourself killed." He fired back, still angry.

She sighed and clicked her tongue, clearly annoyed. "Draco, I would really like know what choice you think I have?"

"You could—"

"I'm not finished." She said, scowling at him. "We have lied for many years to You-Know-Who. You and mother and father… You have all covered up what I'm capable of doing in order to make sure he doesn't torture answers out of me that I can't give. That I won't give. You have meticulously weaved a web that caused him to cast me aside as an ignorant and silly girl who would fail terribly at Hogwarts. If he stays here, if they all stay here, eventually he's going to figure it out. He's already punishing father by using you as his proxy. What will happen when he finds out the entire family has lied to him?"

Draco chewed over her words, trying to realistically answer her. She was right. Of course, she was. She had the infuriating ability to always be right. But he had to figure out a way to keep her out of it, to keep her away from anything that may harm her. Draco knew perfectly well what was on the line for him if he didn't complete this task, if he didn't do what the Dark Lord commanded. He would die. And, with their father wasting away in Azkaban, he could only assume that his mother would be killed or sent somewhere else for isolation and his sister… His beautiful, intelligent, placid sister would be raped and tortured and then married off to the highest bidder in order to produce spawn for the Dark Lord's regime.

He frowned, looking into her eyes. The color of course, mirrored his, but there was such wisdom and control behind hers now. She seemed so ready for what was coming, for the inevitable war that was going to ensue. He knew she didn't believe in the cause, she was far to undiluted for that. Hell, he didn't even know if he believed in it anymore. He was raised by his father to believe muggles were monsters, that mud-bloods had stolen their magic and that mixing of blood was completely unethical.

He knew to some extent, his mother believed it. At least she believed that the Sacred Twenty Eight and other pureblood families were superior somehow. But, no one could explain any of it to him thoroughly enough anymore. No one could answer his questions—they just wanted blind faith. Follow the cause and rise up against those resisting because they're allowing our blood, our magic to be taken from us.

He couldn't imagine how someone would be able to just take his magic. Magic was more than just waving a wand… Wasn't it?

He sighed, absently rubbing his left forearm. It was still so sore. It had been nearly two weeks since he took the mark, and it still burned just as terribly as it had the night it was scorched into his skin. He wondered if the feeling would ever subside or if this was a consequence of taking on the side of Dark Magic.

"What are my options?" She asked him, looking down at his arm as he rubbed it. "What were yours?"

"M-mine?" He asked, puzzled.

She nodded slowly. "I know you. I know you didn't want to take that… That disgusting thing on your arm."

"Father has it." He said, the response came automatically. "And Severus. And Theo's dad… Crabbe and Goyle and Pansy's too… I was… I am supposed to be the next generation. I'm the head of the house now. It made sense to take it."

"Did it?" She asked. "Because you don't believe in any of it. At least not anymore."

"Y-yes, I do." He said, but he hesitated, and he knew she heard it.

"You don't have to lie to me." She stated, tracing her fingers over the burning mark. "I'm not going to tell anyone."

He sighed. "If I don't tell the truth you'll just dig it out of my head anyway." He grumbled.

She smirked. "If you insist on being difficult about it, then yes."

He rolled his eyes. "I don't know what I believe anymore." He said. "I just know that I have a job to do now. And if it isn't completed, there will be consequences. I also know that I don't want you wrapping yourself up in those consequences and since you have an innate ability to insert yourself where you don't belong, it seems like it's going to be more difficult than I originally planned."

She gave a low chuckle. "What did you originally plan for me then?"

He held her hands in his and looked at her face directly, furrowing his eyebrows together. "Les IIles du Frioul." He said, in perfect French.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You were going to send me to an island?!"

"We have the property… and you… you love Merseille! And it would have kept you safe and out of the way! You would be hidden and it's quiet there and-"

"Draco…" She said, putting her hand up to cut him off. "I'm not going to France. I'm going to Hogwarts, with you."

He searched her eyes, desperate for her to understand his fear. Fears he shared with no one else. She was the only person who knew him, truly knew him. She knew he was scared and worried. She was choosing to ignore him, to cast his fears aside.

"I just…." He sighed. "I love you, Ellie. And I… I can't be the reason you get captured or hurt… or worse."

"I know." She said. "I love you too. But we have to do this. Together."

He thought about it for a moment and then a selfish thought surfaced from his lips before he was able to reel it in. "I have a reputation."

Elara laughed a loud, nose crinkling laugh. "You're worried about me upending your reputation? I'm pretty sure you're perfectly capable of doing that yourself."

"I have an image." He said, puffing his chest out. "And you… soften me."

"Heaven forbid someone thinks you care about something other than yourself." She said, rolling her eyes.

"I'm not selfish." He spat. "I'm nice to you. I take care of you and look out for you because I'm your older brother and-"

"Older?" She laughed again. "Seven minutes hardly counts as older."

"And yet, I was still first."

He gave a small grin as she laughed and gave him a light shove. These moments were so rare now. Having a light conversation or sharing a joke were amenities they could no longer afford. His entire life revolved around the task, revolved around what was coming in the spring, revolved around the Dark Lord. There was no more time for childish banter and enjoying ones self. But when he managed to sneak in a moment or two—even when they lasted mere heart beats—he cherished them.

He didn't shrug away as Elara reached her hand to his temple and pressed her fingers against the side of his head. He sighed as the warmth of relaxation numbed his mind for a few blissful minutes. This was what he allowed her to do with her abilities now… He had never openly given permission for her to manipulate his feelings before, he quite hated when she did it of her own accord. But now, in times like these, with the pressure he was under… The few minutes of clarity served his mind well.

"You need to quiet your head, Coco." She whispered, a sad undertone noticeable in her voice. "Your doubts and anxieties are quite loud."

He leaned his face into her palm. "I don't know how anymore." He admitted, murmuring in a barely audible sigh.

As she removed her hand from his face, the electric buzz of magic tingled his skin and he instantly felt his shoulders tense back up. His short moments of worry-free paradise were gone and he was once again focusing on what he had to do. And now, with the added pressure of the only person he really cared about more than himself… With Elara at the school, watching him and trying to help… He could only imagine how much of an issue it was going to be. She was going to get in the way.

"Can you promise me something?" He asked.

"Depends on the promise." She replied just as he had expected.

"I want you to promise me that you won't waste all of your time with me at Hogwarts. Make friends, get interested in other things… Just, be a teenage girl for a while."

She gave a snort of laughter. "I have friends… I have Pansy, and Blaise… Theo's okay when he's not being a total tosser."

"Make other friends." Draco said. "Ones that aren't going to end up getting you killed."

"You want me to go perusing about the castle with some random Hufflepuffs then?" She smiled. "I'm sure I can arrange that."

"That's not what I said." Draco grumbled. "Just… do some things that are normal for a teenager to do. Worry about your studies and who you'll be going to the Yule Ball with. I don't want you to only be consumed by the task. I want you to be able to enjoy yourself. You're never allotted this freedom, to leave the Manor like this… I think you need it as much as I do."

"It will be nice to get to meet some new people and maybe experience a few things before we're killed." She said, thoughtfully.

"We aren't getting killed." He said, with a confidence he knew he didn't believe.

"Yes, Coco, we are." She sighed, standing up and walking further into the garden, lightly grazing the flowers with her-finger tips as she walked by.

He watched Elara as she walked through the flowers, graceful steps as if she were dancing. She paid no mind to the bees buzzing around her head, or the carnivorous fanged geraniums that were lightly snipping at her ankles and fingers. She seemed perfectly content. She always seemed perfectly content. He often thought it was unsettling how oblivious she acted toward serious situations; as if they didn't matter. He shuddered as he realized her glazed expression reminded him of that insane Ravenclaw that was always prancing about the castle without shoes. He made a mental note to tell Elara to stay away from Loony Lovegood, and to make sure she's always wearing shoes.

Elara loved the tingle of the soft petals under her fingers. Her hands always seemed to buzz, as if there were pins and needles in them. The feel of something soft, the petals of the flowers, the blankets on her bed… It seemed to calm it. She would be lying if she said she deeply hoped that getting a wand would alleviate some of the feeling. She knew she should be worried, scared even, of going to Hogwarts for the first time. Of being new and the only sixth year to be getting sorted. She knew she would have to take her O.W.L.'s soon, to see if she was able to place in any N.E.W.T classes—and that should be worrisome. She should feel anxiety of being around a hundred new people, none of them knowing that she even existed until now.

But she was ecstatic.

When her mother approached her 9 days ago, the night that Draco took the mark, she explained what was happening… What had been demanded of Draco. The fear in her voice and the terror on her face haunted Elara's dreams.

"They'll kill him, Ellie." She cried. "They'll kill him when he doesn't succeed, and then they'll sell us off. He has to do this now, he has no other choice. But you could help him."

"Me?"

"You're so intelligent. You're talented… And you're the only person who can talk sense into him. You'll be able to keep him focused… If there was any other way, Elara… I've exhausted all my other resources. I've begged for help. I don't… I don't know what else to do." She sobbed, fat tears rolling down her chin. Desperation in her voice, the kind that only a mother fearing for her children could muster up.

She had never seen her mother beg for anything. Narcissa was a formidable woman. She wasn't particularly large or off putting, but she had an air about her that people just respected. That Elara respected. She was poised and calculated, she was so well spoken and diplomatic, so when she came to her door that night, in tears and pleading—it rocked Elara's assessments of where her mother's loyalties lie. She realized her mother was no longer loyal to The Dark Lord. She just wanted them to be safe, protected, to do what was necessary to survive. It seemed that for once, without her father there to tell them all what they were allowed to believe in, her mother had the decision to believe in her children.

Initially, Elara was angry. She could not believe that this all powerful dark wizard would put a child into the mix of such a daunting task. A task that seemed as if it were being set up for failure. And then she remembered the conversations she had overheard about her father, when they would speak, thinking she was not listening, or not awake, or not in the house… Her father had failed them. He had been the lead on the inner circle for years and not once had he produced results. He finally had a moment to prove his worth to the Dark Lord, and he failed. And you-know-who was furious.

This wasn't a mission given to a young boy for redemption or glory. This was a suicide mission given to the son of the disappointing failure, in hopes that he too, would fail. This was a mission to tie up loose ends, get the Malfoys out of the way and then seize their assets. For who else in all of wizarding Britain had ties that stretched back as far as the Malfoy name did? Who else had the wealth and the power that the Malfoys had?

This mission was not supposed to succeed.

And that lit a fire in Elara's docile and tame belly. Elara was not one to stir the cauldron, unless of course you count picking at her brother… Even then, Draco usually deserved it. No, she was obedient. She did what she was told, listened to her parents and stayed quiet. She was always in full control of her emotions; she was the perfect daughter for a pureblood family. Quiet, submissive, and understanding. She never flinched when her father or brother had violent outbursts about things far from their control. She never faltered when guests would ask questions, often prying into their personal lives. She kept family matters private and kept her posture perfect.

But the night that Draco came home with the Dark Mark branded on his arm, she lost control. She slipped and felt it rip her soul in half. She felt betrayed. So often they had talked about getting out, about leaving after they were of age and skipping out to travel—to get away from the impending war. Now, that would be impossible. Draco was forced into making a decision, and he had no better options. It was her turn to step up and protect her family, to do the right thing for them. To keep her mother and her brother safe. She had no idea where to start, but she knew she had to figure out a plan. She would assist her brother in his mission, and when they were killed for their failure, at least he wouldn't die alone.