Life Is As Sweet As A Cinnamon Bun
2. Double Guilty Conscience
I looked around to make sure no-one was there. I scribbled a quick note on some parchment.
Beware - Death Eaters planning big raid in Diagon Alley. Killing Muggles on the way. Voldemort absent, but important people there.
It wasn't signed. Who would be crazy enough to sign something as important as that? Voldemort had been planning this for months. It was a major part of his take-over. I attached it to the owl's leg. It flew away. I knew that I might be in big trouble. If any of the Death Eaters ever learnt about this, I was going to die. Very, very painfully.
"Malfoy! Where were you?" yelled Lestrange at me.
"Just late," I mumbled.
"Late or not, you haven't been picked. The Master isn't very happy."
"Oh geez!" I forced myself to wear a furious look.
"So, not having a good day, Draco?" sneered Pansy, a few hours later. She'd become a Death eater too. Big surprise.
"Didn't get to go to Diagon Alley," I spat ruefully.
"Humpf," she said, and walked away.
I sat there alone. I'd sent the letter. I'd done something good. But I'd sent that letter momentarily blinded by the thirst to do something. Not to be evil, cruel. I'd taken huge risks. I knew that now my life was in danger. Someone could have seen me, suspect me. At any time Voldemort might find out the truth. I wouldn't be sending anything else right now, before I decided what to do. Apparently, I had three options: I could do nothing. But no. Sooner or later I'd do something stupid again, without planning it. I could also desert Voldemort. But who would believe me when the Ministry caught me? And I might find myself face to face with Voldemort again. Maybe disappear from the Magical world? The thought made me shudder. I'd always despised Muggles, and even though I was wrong, I still didn't like them. Or… I could work as a spy. A double agent. Like Snape once had. I thought about him. Had this happened to him too? Had he realised that what he was doing wasn't good? But Snape was a skilled actor. He'd made it like he loathed Potter, but in fact he'd sometimes been worried to death about his safety. Could I act as a double agent?
I picked up the copy of the Daily Prophet that someone had left. On there was a photo of Potter. Potter. Always famous. I remembered how, in my fourth year, some journalist had published dodgy articles about him. Stupid stuff like his private love life. Of course, I'd helped a bit. I laughed at loud at the thought.
"What are you laughing at, Malfoy?"
Jed Palentrip strode up to me.
"Oh, just remembering the good old school days, where humiliating Potter was my fave hobby."
I was careful to pronounce the word Potter with disgust and hate. Jed sneered.
"Yes, well, there's more important that that. The raid's already back."
"What?"
"It didn't go too well. Lestrange said there was a whole bunch of Ministry wizards waiting for them."
He paused.
"Your father's in a bad way."
I casually got up, then Apparated to the Death Eater's usual meeting site. My father was lying on the floor. He was breathing heavily. That's when I saw the huge pool of blood under him.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"Got several blasts right in the back. He was the first to get to Diagon Alley. We got ambushed by the Ministry," said another Death Eater, Harold Finn. "I'm afraid there's nothing we can do."
I stepped forward and kneeled down next to my father. I looked at him in his dim eyes. I arranged my face into a look of minor worry.
"Draco," he choked.
"Yes?" my voice quivered strangely. It was a mix of reverence and angry horror.
"You… Carry the fa… family's honour," he whispered so softly that only I could barely hear it.
I did not reply.
"You shall serve your Master…" he rasped, reminding me of Voldemort himself. Except that his voice was weak, faint. My own father, weak. My father, who'd taught me only to be strong, was weak.
"Till you die, like I have…"
In his eyes, there was no glint, no spark. No love of life. There had been no life for him. The life he'd been given, he gave it to Voldemort.
"Father, I…"
But his eyes rolled back, and his body slumped. Dead. I stood up. My father, who had been such a source of authority, whom I feared and respected. At my feet. Weak, dead. And I was alive, and strong. I had my life. It was my own, not Voldemort's. I never wanted to die like my father had. People would have said he'd died for his Master. Indeed he had. Because his Master was his life. I never, never want to die like that. Never.
"Hello, Draco," my mother opened the door and let me in. I walked through the great hallway, and sat in the living room. "Fogg, go and make me some coffee." The little house-elf bowed and whisked away.
"Coffee?" my mother asked, as she sat down next to me. "Did something bad happen?"
"Father's dead."
At that she let out a gasp and clapped her hands over her mouth.
"Did something go wrong?" she queried, her little voice trembling.
"Got ambushed at the raid. Blasted in the back by several Ministry wizards. He was bought back… He spoke to me before he died. He told me I should be proud to serve my Master, like he'd died for him."
"So he was faithful until the end…"
I put a face of worry.
"Is there something else?" she asked.
"Well, yes… I don't know how the raid could have failed, how the Ministry could have known… I suspect there have been some leaks. Someone might have been informing the Ministry… Of course, I couldn't accuse anyone, and my suspicions are too minor to be spoken of with the Master…"
"You should! If someone's been informing the Ministry, it could mean serious trouble for us. Have you got any suspects?"
"No, not really. I mean, it's hardly likely it's Finn or Lestrange, is it? It'll be in the minor Death Eaters, those who we don't fully know yet."
"It's amazing, though, the second betrayal since the Master rose again…"
"Snape was no big surprise. At least we made sure that he didn't know too much. Because of that slimy traitor though the beginning of the takeover was delayed for a few years, I remember."
"It was extremely annoying, with that Potter boy shouting around that he'd seen your father at the Master's call… We had numbers of raids here while you were at Hogwarts. Arthur Weasley conducting them, of course…" she said angrily.
I studied my mother carefully. Age hadn't ruined her at all. Her gray hair was bushy, still springy. She had a few wrinkles, but her face was still the one I'd know for so many years. Though she never was the one to tell me what to do, to order me around, I still respected her immensely. She'd cared for me, comforted me when I was a child. But these times were long gone now… Now, I was the one who was meant to care for her.
"I need to go to Diagon Alley, to Gringotts." I informed her. Then I Apparated to Diagon Alley.