CHAPTER 19: DISCOVERY AND ANSWERS
Draco woke suddenly, mind wandering agitatedly. He struggled to open his eyes, a weariness he couldn't explain sinking into his body. He looked around, glad to be in control of himself again, and realized that he was in Dumbledore's office.
He had only been in there once or twice before, and had hardly had time to look around, seeing as he had been in trouble on all of his previous visits. There were a great many eccentricities in here, the clutter of paraphernalia that only a Headmaster of a large school would accumulate.
Dumbledore's famous phoenix, Fawkes, dozed on his perch, head snaking beneath his wing. The red feathers glowed slightly, a sign of vivacity, but the phoenix was small. Draco had seen this phoenix much larger, and its tail feathers were short and slender, not the long slightly gossamer feathers that he had seen before. Draco didn't know much about phoenixes but he did know that they went through a roughly monthly cycle of death and rebirth, and by looking at Fawkes he assumed that he had recently had his Burning Day.
Draco's eyes wandered for a few more moments before coming to rest on the proprietor of this office and all its contents. His brilliant blue eyes glinted as he watched Draco's movements, and the emotion they contained Draco was not familiar with. His hands were crossed and resting on the edge of the desk.
"Draco," Dumbledore said softly.
"Professor," Draco acknowledged, wondering vaguely if he would be punished for anything that he had said.
"Thank you," Dumbledore said, startling Draco.
"For what, sir?"
"For telling us everything last night. We hadn't expected you to yield to the Veritaserum as easily as you had. What remains to be discussed is what we should do now... I think I should discuss it with them before I give a decision."
As he said "them" Dumbledore's gaze floated down to the side of the desk where two sleeping forms could be easily identified. Snape was leaning against the desk, his hair dangling damply in his face as he breathed rhythmically in and out. Beside him Bailey slouched, her head tilted against Snape's shoulder. Draco noticed on Snape's exposed forearm the Dark Mark burning dully. His own Mark burned in sympathy, and he concealed a shudder that he was sure Dumbledore had seen anyway. He noticed that Bailey was wearing long sleeves, concealing her forearms so Draco couldn't see if she had the Dark Mark.
He wondered why they looked so defeated, so exhausted. He knew that they were both in excellent shape, by merely looking at them and remembering scattered images from the past, and that staying up most of one night would not leave them drained like this.
Dumbledore was watching him and had seen the flicker of confusion in his gaze. He guessed correctly what the confusion was about, and said, "They were fighting the fire for most of the day yesterday and had not gotten much sleep before you showed up."
"Did I cause that fire?" Draco asked, the words escaping his lips before he could censor them.
Dumbledore narrowed his eyes in anger directed elsewhere. "I believe so; I think that your father was controlling you into doing it."
"Then why don't I remember it?" Draco demanded. He knew fully well that when under the Imperious Curse, one could fight the demands that were placed upon himself. But he had no recollection of ever being placed under the spell, or of fighting it...
"Many reasons," Dumbledore stated, looking down at his hands for a long moment before continuing, "It may be that you just couldn't handle the thought of going under your father's hand once again; more of an uncontrolled paranoia of being controlled than a conscious effort. Or your father and Voldemort have created a stronger version of the Imperious Curse."
Draco sighed, putting his head in his hands and trying to will his brain into remembering...
"Is there anything else you would like to discuss?"
If it had been someone else in the same position asking him this, he would have laughed in their face; because of the Veritaserum, pretty much all that he knew had been exposed.
But Dumbledore's seriousness made him pause and reconsider.
Again, he found that he couldn't trust Dumbledore, despite the fact that he had listened to him tell everything under the Veritaserum.
Perhaps it was his Death Eater conditioning holding him back...
"No, there isn't anything, Professor..."
* * *
Harry was a fitful sleeper in the best of times, Erif decided, and these weren't the best of times. He was sleeping quietly enough at the moment, but his sleep was troubled by demonic dreams where past and future molded together. She knew that there was much in his past that could incur nightmares, just as there was much in her past.
She smoothed his hair across his forehead, watching as the midday sun glinted off the lake into the Common Room. He stirred, his eyebrows creasing slightly, and she wished she could see what dreams plagued him.
Someone had been considerate enough to leave food for them beside the couch, and she reached down to grasp a slightly green apple. The loud crunch as she bit into it startled Harry and his eyes flew open, blinded with panic for a moment before calming down. His eyes were so serious, so worried, so caring... She could go on with this list of adjectives for hours if she had a mind to, as long as they described Harry.
"Where did you get that?" He asked, staring at the fruit hungrily.
"Someone noticed us and decided that we might be hungry," she said, and brought another apple up for Harry. These were both quickly devoured, and they suddenly realized how hungry they were.
Erif pulled the tray up into her lap while Harry poured the orange juice into cups one-handed, and they finished off the entire plate of food in twenty minutes.
"What day is it?" Harry asked slowly, realizing belatedly that the Common Room was empty.
"I don't know," she said, looking around curiously. "I think it's lunchtime on Saturday..."
"Good. That means we're not missing any classes." Harry smirked sideways at her and continued, "And I think my legs have finally fallen asleep."
She stood up easily and held out her hand to Harry, who accepted it and staggered to his feet with only a grunt.
"I think Dumbledore hadn't intended you to stay away from the Infirmary this long..."
"Yeah, I think you're right." He rotated his shoulders and neck for a moment or two, and then locked eyes with her. She wrapped her arms around his waist then, needing to make sure this was real, that he had actually told her that he loved her...
She felt his arms wrap around her, and knew it was real.
"I thought I had lost you," he whispered, and she sighed, breathing his distinctive scent slowly, etching it into her brain.
"I thought I was insane," she responded, "But I'm afraid. What if I do hurt you with this?"
"Life would go on," he stated. "I'd still love you."
"Not if you're dead."
"You won't kill me."
"I wish I shared your confidence."
"I believe that you have more strength than you think you do." Harry tilted her head up so that their eyes were inches from each other. "I believe even if no one else does. And I can help you control it." His eyes glinted with sudden inspiration, as if he had just realized something. "That was what you were doing, all those times you went off with Bailey. You were practicing to control it."
She nodded and swept a stray bunch of hair behind her ear, her green eyes trying to meet his. He pulled her into his arms, and bent to kiss her when the portrait hole opened and several bodies came in.
Hermione and Ron just stood there staring at them for a moment, and Erif wondered what they were thinking, seeing them like this.
Ron's face exploded suddenly into a large grin, and he came closer, watching them as if from a whole new light. "You two really were made for each other. I'm surprised I hadn't seen it before now."
Harry smiled at Ron, and as Erif turned to face them, Harry pulled her tighter to him, putting his head on her shoulder, his hands wrapped around her stomach reassuringly. She leaned her head against his as Ron and Hermione continued to stare at them.
Hermione broke out her reverie first and walked over to their side, pulling them both into a light hug. She smiled shyly and explained, "I thought we had lost both of you."
She continued softly, "After you and Ron ran out of Transfiguration, I told Professor McGonogall that Ginny might have been in the Greenhouse. Erif went inside to rescue you two; but after Erif went inside, the ceiling collapsed entirely."
"Does Ron know?" Erif interrupted.
"Know that you're a fire-starter?" Ron answered, motioning to her left arm where her mark glowed softly. "Bailey told me after you went into the Greenhouse. She said that she was one as well."
"Yes, she is. She's actually training me in its use."
"The whole school is talking about it; the Slytherins especially." Ron shook his head, narrowing his eyes angrily. "They seem to think it's a great laugh; 'Potter rescued by his girlfriend...'" He said in a perfect imitation of Pansy Parkinson.
"Then its only a matter of time before You-Know-Who discovers who I am," Erif sighed.
"Perhaps Dumbledore will be able to salvage the situation," Harry offered, but Erif shook her head.
"What can he do?"
"More than we can," Harry pointed out.
"You should go see him anyway; he'll probably want to talk to you about it. He's not stupid; he probably knew that once something happened and you were revealed, he would need a backup plan to keep you safe," Hermione stated reasonably.
"Hopefully he has one ready," Erif responded.
"Knowing what little I do about him, he most definitely does." Harry closed his eyes for a moment as he said it, and she could see his pain in the way his mouth pressed into a line.
"You two should go talk to him," Hermione said, "But only after you get changed up." She cast an admonishing look at Harry's pajamas, and then at Arlé's burnt clothes.
"Aren't you two coming with us?" Harry asked, blushing a little at the state of his clothes.
"If you want us to," Ron answered wryly.
"Of course we do," Harry assured him, and Ron's tight face broke into a smile.
The four stepped out of the Common Room five minutes later and walked down the hallway toward Dumbledore's office.
* * *
Harry held her hand on the way to Dumbledore's office, and watched as several emotions played across her face, chasing themselves around in circles.
He knew she was still worried about his brush with death, but he hadn't realized until now how much she had worried. Her brows pushed towards each other slightly, and her eyes were narrowed just as slightly.
He squeezed her hand and she looked up at him, startled out of her reverie. "I love you," he whispered to her, leaning toward her ear so she could hear him.
"I love you too," she said back, and smiled, and Harry felt his heart beat out an erratic measure for a moment at the warmth he felt rush through his body.
Before he could ask what she was thinking, they were at the gargoyle statue, which woke up with a start as they approached. It glared down at them and its eyes glinted coolly at the quartet. "Harry Potter," it addressed him, and continued, "Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, and Arlé Reed." Ron and Hermione shot befuddled glances toward Arlé; she responded coolly with a shrug. Harry could tell that she was startled by what the gargoyle had said, but she held it back from reaching her gaze.
The gargoyle's roving gaze came back upon Harry and it sniffed the air once before asking, "Password?"
"Snickers," Harry supplied, and it jumped aside, rustling its stone wings irritably at being awoken. Its glowing red eyes followed them unblinkingly into the staircase. "Is it me or was it a little more... er, alive?" He asked as they stepped up onto the stairs and steadily rose. As they did, Harry's scar began to tingle.
"Yes, he did appear a little more alive. Perhaps Dumbledore put extra enchantments on it to keep strangers from entering," Hermione said, rising a step in anticipation. He reached up casually and rubbed at the scar, but for all of his concealing moves, they noticed. He felt a spark of indignation at this lack of privacy, but pushed it down, knowing that they only cared for his well being. When his scar hurt him, they worried, and for that he was grateful.
"Welcome," Dumbledore said as they entered the door. He was standing behind his desk and motioned for them to come inside.
Snape and Bailey were leaning up against the desk, watching as the four of them stepped in. In one of the chairs in front of the desk sat a young man with blonde hair; he did not turn, but was instead gazing intently at the floor before him.
Arlé recognized him first, and moved beside him. She placed a hand upon his shoulder as if to make sure he was real. He started, and his grey gaze caught hers as he turned in his chair. "Ardesco," he murmured, narrowing his eyes, and Harry realized who it was by the cold tone in his voice.
Harry pulled Arlé back behind him suddenly, feeling her shallow breath against his neck as he imposed himself between her and Draco. He reached within his pocket and felt the smooth wood reassuring to his fingertips.
"Harry," Draco Malfoy said, standing wearily. Harry looked him over and realized that he looked ragged, and incredibly tired. But what Harry was really worried about was that Draco was under Voldemort's control, having no mind of his own.
"Malfoy," Harry spat back, glaring green knives at the Slytherin boy. Hermione gasped, and Harry could hear Ron fumbling with his wand behind him. Harry felt a surge of guilt at not having told his friends about the Dementor's Kiss, but put his feelings aside in the heat of the moment.
"Now, now, no need for wands here," Dumbledore admonished slowly. "Put them away and let me explain."
Ron looked at Harry and tucked his wand away. Harry drew Arlé beside him and she clasped his arms warmly, seeking as much comfort as she was giving.
"Draco was placed under the Imperius curse at the beginning of this term. You may find that he is a very different person from how he came across to you before; his father was not kind to him. That night he was taken and Patil murdered was all staged; a ploy to make us think that Draco had been himself, and was just now being taken to Voldemort as one of his own."
Harry looked to Bailey for confirmation and she nodded once before casting her eyes elsewhere. Harry had seen much fear in her eyes; fear for Draco, for Arlé, for Severus...
Dumbledore continued, "Sometime between that staged night and the ball, Draco was given the Dementor's Kiss... unable to control his actions, he has no memories of anything that happened during that time. From there, what I gather is that his father and Voldemort had been working on a potion or a certain spell that would rescind the Kiss. They tested it on Draco and luckily for him it succeeded. They then sent him here, where a certain 'power,' as Draco calls it, gave him enough strength to take control of his own mind." Arlé shuddered at the mention of 'power,' as if she knew firsthand what Dumbledore meant, and Harry pulled her in closer, and then ingested what Dumbledore had just insinuated.
"Professor, that isn't possible," Harry interrupted. "He can't be here of his own free will..." Harry spread his hands as if to wish for an explanation that he could produce himself, but could find no such answer. He noticed out of the corner of his eyes Malfoy leaning forward as if listening intently to Dumbledore's response, despite the fact that Dumbledore had probably gotten his answer directly from the Slytherin.
"Harry," the wise old Headmaster said, and conjured up four chairs for them. Snape and Bailey took the remaining chairs, the Potions Master with a scowl and Summer with a slight smile. "I had not thought it possible, but he is. I have spent most of the night questioning him with Veritaserum, and I have no reason to doubt his word."
Harry looked in the Slytherin boy's direction and was surprised to meet an inquisitive stare back at him. Malfoy's calm grey gaze reflected more than a little fear, a trait that Harry found disconcerting. More than fear, though, was an overall thought of uncertainty, which seemed foreign when discussed in the same sentence as Malfoy.
His appearance, which had made him appear a different person at first, was haggard and malnourished. His face looked thinner than normal, and as a result his cheekbones appeared dominant in his face. His hair, which was in dire need of a trim, was almost past his chin, and Harry noticed that a faint stubble was growing there. It gave Harry the faint impression of Snape, with his cheekbones and stringy hair...
He found the comparison too unnerving to think about.
Dumbledore looked around at the four Gryffindors as if waiting for questions, and when none came, he nodded once and asked, "Did you have something you wish to discuss?"
Harry turned to Arlé, who gazed at him with gentle eyes... It was like looking into a mirror only he knew that he could never look that way at her; it made his heart melt...
"Professor, I'd rather certain ears didn't hear this..." she said, tilting her head at Draco.
Harry watched as Draco sighed and scowled, protesting loudly, "What's this? More secrets, Potter? The whole school will know this one by tomorrow, I can promise you that."
"The whole school already knows, Malfoy. Get with the times," Harry pointed out angrily.
Dumbledore held up his hand to forestall Draco's arguement (although the Slytherin looked about ready to fry eggs with his eyes) and said, "Anything you wish to discuss can be discussed before Draco."
"He may bring this information back to You-Know-Who," she protested.
"Only if he is put back under the Imperius curse." Dumbledore seemed satisfied that Malfoy would not go off and tell the Dark Lord anything, but Harry could tell by the glint in Arlé's eyes that she wasn't.
Dumbledore directly to Arlé, "Remember the prophesy."
She widened her eyes and fought down the urge to cut a glance in Malfoy's direction. "Neither of us can prove that it's him," she argued.
"Nor can you prove that it is you and Harry it speaks of, either." She shook her head slowly, looking away from Dumbledore. "He has a right to hear this, as much as Summer, Severus, and I do."
Harry shot a look at Malfoy and was rather angered to see the almost-smile on his face, but the Draco's sharp eyes flicked onto Harry's, and he stopped smiling. Something about Malfoy's eyes was different, but Harry couldn't place it immediately. Perhaps it was how his smile didn't touch his eyes at all...
The air between their stares immediately filled with tension, and to Harry's surprise Malfoy broke the glare first. His eyes flickered up to Snape for a moment, and Harry realized that his irises nearly looked transparent; more of a silvery white than anything else.
"Is there any way to keep the fact that I'm a pyr-psychic away from You-Know-Who?" Arlé asked slowly, her syllables a little tight.
He sighed, leaning back in his chair, and for just a moment he appeared so much older, so much more afraid... And then he opened his crystal blue eyes and Harry could practically read what he was thinking; "She's too young to bear this burden..."
But before he could say anything Malfoy spat, "You're a pyr-psyche? An Elemental?"
Arlé fixed him with a pointed stare and said coldly, "Yes, I am. Is there a problem with that?"
Harry could only guess that a variety of responses were flying through Malfoy's mind at that point but to Harry's surprise, he just shook his head. "No problem," he muttered, tossing his head to get some of his hair out of his eyes.
Fawkes flapped over to perch on Arlé's shoulder; he looked small, ungrown, but lively enough that she did not shrink away. Harry guessed that her unease around the phoenix was because of their similarities; perhaps she feared that she too would go through a cycle of death and rebirth...
She turned back to Dumbledore and he said, "I assume that you have heard that it is sweeping across the school?" She nodded, and he continued, "There is nothing I can do about that."
"So he will find out..." She looked around restlessly and continued after a moment of silence, "And Eric will know that he didn't destroy all of us."
"If this 'Eric' betrayed the Reeds, then he was the one I mentioned earlier," Summer said to Dumbledore, confusing the students, but the Headmaster understood.
"Indeed, this turn of events is unfortunate. It appears that Eric was the one who put Black into the state that he is in now." Dumbledore was shaking his head as he said this.
"Who's Eric?" Ron demanded, and from the look on Hermione's face she was thinking the same thing. "What does he have to do with any of us?"
"Eric was my brother," Arlé responded hotly, emphasizing the word "was."
"So he's dead?" Ron asked, misinterpreting her emphasis.
"No, he's alive." Arlé looked up to Dumbledore for confirmation of this.
"Yes, he is, and apparently he has risen in the ranks of Death Eaters in the wake of Voldemort's return. From Draco's interrogation we were able to discern that Eric is considered the highest Death Eater, and also one of the youngest ones. He is a recent addition to Voldemort's flock, and he is eager to prove his worth in his Master's eyes." Dumbledore turned to Summer and muttered something beneath his breath, and she shook her head. Dumbledore continued, "He was sent off to destroy his own family and met resistance: Black, whom we had sent out there to discreetly protect the Reeds, was waiting for him. Unfortunately, Eric had more Death Eaters with him than we had anticipated and Black was captured; most probably tortured and then administered the Dementor's Kiss."
Harry refused to meet his friends eyes, knowing that he would find sympathy that he didn't want. They didn't know what it felt like to know that everyone close to him was being destroyed or was already dead... He felt hot tears come to his eyes and closed them for a moment. Arlé slid her hand into his own and squeezed, offering him comfort, and he looked over at her. Her face was mildly concerned, but her eyes were offering him sympathy if he wanted to accept it.
Instead of turning from her as he had the last time she had offered sympathy, he leaned into her shoulder, tears flowing freely this time, and she wrapped her arms around him slowly, tenderly.
He could feel tears streaking down his own face and very distantly, could feel a slight tremor as if she too were crying.
It was the safest he'd ever felt in a long time; just the two of them, rocking slightly in a gesture of intimacy... And he realized that all he had ever wanted was someone to care for him this way, to be like a mother to him, only much more, and as much as he had convinced himself that Sirius was the answer to this need, he wasn't. She was.
* * *
Draco looked away as the two lovebirds shared a private moment, trying not to roll his eyes at their antics. He wasn't used to being ignored, as the quartet of Gryffindors were doing, but he felt that he'd rather be ignored than frowned down upon. His eyes raked across Snape, who was standing next to the door, and noted that Snape was not in the least startled by the idea that Arlé was a Fire Elemental.
It frightened Draco a bit, knowing that she had the power within her mind to set the entire office on fire if she felt the urge. His father had never believed in the idea of Elementals, declaring that they were just using their wands to great effect, but his mother had taught him a great deal about Elementals. Apparently Narcissa had gone to school with one, and knew just how much power these people contained in their minds. For some of the Elementals, it was in their blood, while others were flukes of nature, a powerful Elemental born into a "normal" wizarding family. There had never been an Elemental from a Muggle family, however, so magic within a person's family line had something to do with becoming one.
He had dreamed about becoming one when he was little; when he had turned ten he had almost convinced his mother that he was a Water Elemental by carrying around a never-empty pail of water. That episode had ended unhappily, however, when he had made the mistake of pouring the never-empty pail onto his father's desk and ruining quite a fair bit of paperwork. His father had been furious, and his trick had been revealed. His father had beat him quite thoroughly for that one, of course, but after time he had grown used to pain, and he could still look back upon it and laugh.
His eyes snagged on something on Arlé's lower arm, and oddly enough he realized that he recognized it. It was curiously familiar, a nagging presence in the back of his mind, and suddenly, with a snap that was almost audible, something in his mind clicked and he remembered...
[i]"Stay here," a voice muttered softly into his ear, and he complied, but could not help but notice the familiarity of the scene.
A man stood before the Dark Lord--it was more like groveling since the figure was on his knees. This man had no cloak and was wearing a short-sleeved shirt, but he did not look in the least bit cold although his breath was creating puffs of air. He raised his hands to plead with his Master, who sneered down on him and turned his grotesque face away. On his left forearm were two symbols, one superimposed upon the other. The effect was much more dominant than the Dark Mark alone; it appeared that the Dark Mark was to be found in a field of hot fire, and as the figure moved his arms up and down, the fire flickered much like a real fire, making the effect all the more striking.
"Master I can destroy all of them--I can," the figure insisted, throwing his eyes upward to glance at his Master imploringly. His brilliant green eyes sparked with some sinister desire, and then another hooded figure walked into the scene, his hood obscuring his face.
His voice was the same voice that had told Draco to stay there.
"Master," he said with a low bow, and did not get up until the Dark Lord said, "Yes, Malfoy."
"I believe that he can do it; but not alone."
At this the first man snapped his head around to glare at Lucius. "I can do it alone. I must..."
"You could get yourself killed, Eric."
The kneeling man laughed, a dark sound to Draco's ears. "I will not; they still think of me as family."
"But you have four brothers and sisters."
"I do."
"And some of them are old enough to fight back," Lucius asked, again knowing the answer but wanting Eric to say it.
Eric's eyes dimmed a bit and he looked down, as if seeing what Lucius was getting at. "Yes there are two of them that are old enough..."
"Master," and Lucius brought his head around, pointing it at his master, "I would like to go along with him. I could hold down the house while he kills them."
"And what is in it for you?" The Dark Lord asked, speaking for the first time. His voice was gravely yet smooth, and his eyes sparked with some amusement.
"I have never been fond of Eric's father. To see him get what is coming to him would please me greatly."
"Not just that, Malfoy. You want the entire family gone. Their blood rivals yours in purity, and you want the prestige." The Dark Lord laughed, again not a pleasant sound, and twirled his wand in his long fingers. "Do it," he said softly, and dismissed the two Death Eaters.
Eric glared at Lucius with a dark stare but Lucius laughed at him in response.
"Draco..." [/i]
Someone grabbed him by the shoulders and began shaking him slightly; his eyes refocused slowly as if from a great distance. The vision of the Death Eaters disappeared and was slowly replaced by Snape's concerned features.
"Are you all right?" Bailey asked, watching him carefully as though he might faint.
"Yeah, I'm fine," he muttered, swatting Snape's hands away and putting his head into his hands.
"What just happened, Draco?" Dumbledore prompted, and Draco shook his head.
"I don't know," he answered as honestly as he could, although he had a suspicion of what it might be. He lifted his head, catching and holding Dumbledore's eyes. "Do you think that certain things might trigger memories of my time under the curse?"
"A flashback?" Dumbledore paused and then nodded. "It would be more than just coincidence; it would be expected. The mind closes off to painful memories if one has too many of them, and gradually lets them back in one at a time to keep from overloading. Do you think that is what happened?"
"I don't know what else it could be."
"Did something trigger this memory?" Dumbledore looked almost menacing as he leaned forward as if this was of vital importance to him and he would get this out of him by using Veritaserum if he had to.
"Yes." Draco turned toward Arlé who was watching with some confusion in her green eyes. So much like Potter's, and yet so different... "It was that mark on her arm."
"That's the mark that shows that Arlé is a Fire Elemental," Summer explained, and Arlé held it out grudgingly for him to look at. It was gleaming oddly orange, as if it were made up of dying embers instead of true flame.
"Are there any other questions?" Dumbledore asked after a long moment. Silence answered his question; a silence that seemed to expand and weigh down on the small group within the office. "Then you may go back to your dormitories. Draco, please stay here; there is something more I wish to discuss with you."
The Gryffindors stood, watching Draco or Dumbledore for a moment, and then left, obviously going back to their Common Room to discuss what they had just heard.
Dumbledore then turned to Draco and asked, "Would you like to return to your common room? Unfortunately, many of your classmates are off in Hogsmeade right now."
"At least they're enjoying their weekend," Draco muttered sarcastically.
"Are you going to tell them the truth of what happened this weekend?" Snape demanded, watching Draco as intently as Draco was watching him.
"Definitely not, Draco responded coolly. "Half of them would never speak to me again, and the other half would treat me like some sort of god. Which wouldn't be a bad thing," he added as an afterthought.
Bailey rolled her eyes at his self-absorbed notion. "What are you going to tell them, then?"
"I'm assuming you have an idea as to what I should say anyway, so why does my opinion matter?" He said, not quite being able to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. That sarcasm had been inherited from his father, in their verbal sparring matches. There had been many of these spats, testing Draco's wit and intelligence at odd points during the day. He had never known when to expect one; on the day when he had gotten his letter of acceptance to Hogwarts, he had had four such arguments. At first, when he had started at age seven, his father had always won, but as he grew older he found new ways to be sarcastic and throw double-edged comments, and had stalemated his father on several occasions.
"You know your peers better," she pointed out.
"No I think it would be more correct to say that my father knows my peers better."
Snape crossed his arms and then said, "That's true. Should we create an alibi for him to offer to the rest of his Housemates?"
A sudden blazing pain screamed through his arm and he jerked his right hand down onto his left forearm. Blinking away tears that should never have sprung to his eyes in the first place, he turned around and sought Snape's gaze, hoping that he didn't look too desperate for an explanation.
"The Dark Mark," Snape hissed, rubbing his hand back and forth over it as if all he wanted to do was scratch it.
"What should I do?" demanded Draco in a louder than normal tone.
The Potions Master's mind worked frantically for a moment and then he said, "Of course, Lucius wouldn't have instructed you in what to do when it burns..." He trailed off and turned to Dumbledore, "He cannot go to Voldemort, but it will continue calling him until he does."
"What about your potion? Will it work?"
"Yes," he replied, "But I do not know if I have a fresh batch prepared."
"You do," Bailey replied smoothly, although a hint of blush was rising to her cheeks, "I went looking for it yesterday." She gave no explanation as to why she had gone looking, and Snape seemed to understand.
"I must go," Snape said to Dumbledore, who nodded, and he strode out of the room, pulling his sleeves down as he went. The female professor followed him presently, off to retrieve the potion, and Draco turned to face Dumbledore.
Silence stretched across the distance between the Headmaster and the student, but it was the silence generated by minds thinking, and neither person felt uncomfortable in maintaining it. Dumbledore spoke first, "You should tell them that you were taken as a Death Eater, and warn them to secrecy. Since none of them have the Dark Mark, they will not know when you are being summoned, and will think that your excuse is true. Give no explanation to the other three houses."
Draco nodded agreement and tried his best to ignore the burning sensation crawling up and down his arm.
Bailey returned promptly, holding a goblet of some strange clear liquid. He accepted it from her and sniffed at before tasting it; although he knew that Snape had made it so there wouldn't be anything wrong with it, he had been bred to smell everything before tasting it. He tipped it back in one gulp, and swayed a little as it took hold of his body. He closed his eyes, suddenly dizzy, and put a hand on the edge of the chair to steady himself. In a moment or two the pain from the Dark Mark decreased, and he realized that his mind had cleared. Cleared of what, he wasn't sure, but he was positive it had something to do with the Dark Mark.
Bailey turned from watching Draco and said to Dumbledore, "If you don't need me anymore, I'll be heading to my quarters." At his consent, she left. Dumbledore stood and with a wave of his wand the extra chairs disappeared. He held out his hand and Fawkes floated over to it, a note of phoenixsong quivering in the air about him.
Draco reached out to touch him and to his surprise the large bird ducked its head beneath his fingers, much as a cat would do when it wanted to be petted. "Not many phoenixes like young students," Dumbledore stated amiably. "Obviously Fawkes is the exception, but a few months ago he would not have come near you. Do you know why?"
Fawkes cocked one eye in his direction and Draco ran his hand along his slender neck, being careful not to ruffle feathers. "Would it have something to do with the Imperious curse?" he asked carefully.
"Partly. It would have to do with the Dark Magic surrounding the curse... and the Dark Magic surrounding you. Because of who you are, you will always have a Darker aura than many around you." He said this cryptically, almost as if he expected that Draco wouldn't understand.
"Because of how I was brought up or because of my heritage?" He asked.
"Both. Your father may have put several charms on you when you were younger; I have reason to suspect that he wished that Voldemort would take you as his own at a young age, not realizing that Harry Potter would be Voldemort's downfall. You were marked for a dark life, Draco, but this does not mean that you need to follow one." Dumbledore placed Fawkes gently onto Draco's arm and stepped back; Draco was surprised at how light the bird was.
"Do you believe in destiny, Professor?" He asked, still stroking the bird. "That everyone has their path set out before them, and that they will follow that path to their death?" He hadn't intended to get into a philosophical debate with the Headmaster, but now that he was here...
"I believe that everyone has paths set out before them, yes." He stroked his beard thoughtfully and continued, "But I do not believe that everyone will choose the correct path, or that no matter how hard they try to escape it, they cannot leave their path. Your path is yours alone to decide."
Draco looked away for a moment, from both the phoenix and from Dumbledore, and muttered, "Sometimes I feel that I'm being shuttled down this path, whether it is the right one or not. It is the only one I can find."
"I would rather be lost in the woods than be on a dangerous path," Dumbledore argued.
"I would rather return to civilization via the dangerous path than remain lost," Draco countered. "There's always a chance that I will find my life out there in civilization, rather than create a new life with the squirrels." He set Fawkes on his perch and, turning back to Dumbledore, said simply, "May I go now?"
Odd how he had managed to turn that harmless statement into an insult.
"Are you returning to your common room?"
"Yes."
"Very well. Go then." Dumbledore's sharp eyes followed Draco as he stepped onto the moving stairs. Those eyes reminded him vaguely of another time and place, when a pair of red eyes were watching and seeing directly into his mind and soul... He brushed that thought away and headed for the Slytherin common room. Memories would have to wait until he had immersed himself in the Slytherin lifestyle again.
* * *
A/N: This was an extremely long and unwieldy chapter, being more than five pages longer than the previous chapters. There was a lot of information in this chapter, sorry if your minds are reeling from all the info buildup. I'm sure that all of the characters seem a bit out of character, and I'm trying to find this perfect balance between my perspective on them and JKR's previously set ideas. I'll be changing Malfoy a lot, but hopefully I'll still have enough sarcasm in him that e seems real.
If you have questions, post them or Email me and I'll get back to you. The next few chapters will cover a span of almost a month (if things go according to plan) and pretty soon Christmas will be upon the characters! *Starts wracking brain over gifts that characters can give each other…*
Draco woke suddenly, mind wandering agitatedly. He struggled to open his eyes, a weariness he couldn't explain sinking into his body. He looked around, glad to be in control of himself again, and realized that he was in Dumbledore's office.
He had only been in there once or twice before, and had hardly had time to look around, seeing as he had been in trouble on all of his previous visits. There were a great many eccentricities in here, the clutter of paraphernalia that only a Headmaster of a large school would accumulate.
Dumbledore's famous phoenix, Fawkes, dozed on his perch, head snaking beneath his wing. The red feathers glowed slightly, a sign of vivacity, but the phoenix was small. Draco had seen this phoenix much larger, and its tail feathers were short and slender, not the long slightly gossamer feathers that he had seen before. Draco didn't know much about phoenixes but he did know that they went through a roughly monthly cycle of death and rebirth, and by looking at Fawkes he assumed that he had recently had his Burning Day.
Draco's eyes wandered for a few more moments before coming to rest on the proprietor of this office and all its contents. His brilliant blue eyes glinted as he watched Draco's movements, and the emotion they contained Draco was not familiar with. His hands were crossed and resting on the edge of the desk.
"Draco," Dumbledore said softly.
"Professor," Draco acknowledged, wondering vaguely if he would be punished for anything that he had said.
"Thank you," Dumbledore said, startling Draco.
"For what, sir?"
"For telling us everything last night. We hadn't expected you to yield to the Veritaserum as easily as you had. What remains to be discussed is what we should do now... I think I should discuss it with them before I give a decision."
As he said "them" Dumbledore's gaze floated down to the side of the desk where two sleeping forms could be easily identified. Snape was leaning against the desk, his hair dangling damply in his face as he breathed rhythmically in and out. Beside him Bailey slouched, her head tilted against Snape's shoulder. Draco noticed on Snape's exposed forearm the Dark Mark burning dully. His own Mark burned in sympathy, and he concealed a shudder that he was sure Dumbledore had seen anyway. He noticed that Bailey was wearing long sleeves, concealing her forearms so Draco couldn't see if she had the Dark Mark.
He wondered why they looked so defeated, so exhausted. He knew that they were both in excellent shape, by merely looking at them and remembering scattered images from the past, and that staying up most of one night would not leave them drained like this.
Dumbledore was watching him and had seen the flicker of confusion in his gaze. He guessed correctly what the confusion was about, and said, "They were fighting the fire for most of the day yesterday and had not gotten much sleep before you showed up."
"Did I cause that fire?" Draco asked, the words escaping his lips before he could censor them.
Dumbledore narrowed his eyes in anger directed elsewhere. "I believe so; I think that your father was controlling you into doing it."
"Then why don't I remember it?" Draco demanded. He knew fully well that when under the Imperious Curse, one could fight the demands that were placed upon himself. But he had no recollection of ever being placed under the spell, or of fighting it...
"Many reasons," Dumbledore stated, looking down at his hands for a long moment before continuing, "It may be that you just couldn't handle the thought of going under your father's hand once again; more of an uncontrolled paranoia of being controlled than a conscious effort. Or your father and Voldemort have created a stronger version of the Imperious Curse."
Draco sighed, putting his head in his hands and trying to will his brain into remembering...
"Is there anything else you would like to discuss?"
If it had been someone else in the same position asking him this, he would have laughed in their face; because of the Veritaserum, pretty much all that he knew had been exposed.
But Dumbledore's seriousness made him pause and reconsider.
Again, he found that he couldn't trust Dumbledore, despite the fact that he had listened to him tell everything under the Veritaserum.
Perhaps it was his Death Eater conditioning holding him back...
"No, there isn't anything, Professor..."
* * *
Harry was a fitful sleeper in the best of times, Erif decided, and these weren't the best of times. He was sleeping quietly enough at the moment, but his sleep was troubled by demonic dreams where past and future molded together. She knew that there was much in his past that could incur nightmares, just as there was much in her past.
She smoothed his hair across his forehead, watching as the midday sun glinted off the lake into the Common Room. He stirred, his eyebrows creasing slightly, and she wished she could see what dreams plagued him.
Someone had been considerate enough to leave food for them beside the couch, and she reached down to grasp a slightly green apple. The loud crunch as she bit into it startled Harry and his eyes flew open, blinded with panic for a moment before calming down. His eyes were so serious, so worried, so caring... She could go on with this list of adjectives for hours if she had a mind to, as long as they described Harry.
"Where did you get that?" He asked, staring at the fruit hungrily.
"Someone noticed us and decided that we might be hungry," she said, and brought another apple up for Harry. These were both quickly devoured, and they suddenly realized how hungry they were.
Erif pulled the tray up into her lap while Harry poured the orange juice into cups one-handed, and they finished off the entire plate of food in twenty minutes.
"What day is it?" Harry asked slowly, realizing belatedly that the Common Room was empty.
"I don't know," she said, looking around curiously. "I think it's lunchtime on Saturday..."
"Good. That means we're not missing any classes." Harry smirked sideways at her and continued, "And I think my legs have finally fallen asleep."
She stood up easily and held out her hand to Harry, who accepted it and staggered to his feet with only a grunt.
"I think Dumbledore hadn't intended you to stay away from the Infirmary this long..."
"Yeah, I think you're right." He rotated his shoulders and neck for a moment or two, and then locked eyes with her. She wrapped her arms around his waist then, needing to make sure this was real, that he had actually told her that he loved her...
She felt his arms wrap around her, and knew it was real.
"I thought I had lost you," he whispered, and she sighed, breathing his distinctive scent slowly, etching it into her brain.
"I thought I was insane," she responded, "But I'm afraid. What if I do hurt you with this?"
"Life would go on," he stated. "I'd still love you."
"Not if you're dead."
"You won't kill me."
"I wish I shared your confidence."
"I believe that you have more strength than you think you do." Harry tilted her head up so that their eyes were inches from each other. "I believe even if no one else does. And I can help you control it." His eyes glinted with sudden inspiration, as if he had just realized something. "That was what you were doing, all those times you went off with Bailey. You were practicing to control it."
She nodded and swept a stray bunch of hair behind her ear, her green eyes trying to meet his. He pulled her into his arms, and bent to kiss her when the portrait hole opened and several bodies came in.
Hermione and Ron just stood there staring at them for a moment, and Erif wondered what they were thinking, seeing them like this.
Ron's face exploded suddenly into a large grin, and he came closer, watching them as if from a whole new light. "You two really were made for each other. I'm surprised I hadn't seen it before now."
Harry smiled at Ron, and as Erif turned to face them, Harry pulled her tighter to him, putting his head on her shoulder, his hands wrapped around her stomach reassuringly. She leaned her head against his as Ron and Hermione continued to stare at them.
Hermione broke out her reverie first and walked over to their side, pulling them both into a light hug. She smiled shyly and explained, "I thought we had lost both of you."
She continued softly, "After you and Ron ran out of Transfiguration, I told Professor McGonogall that Ginny might have been in the Greenhouse. Erif went inside to rescue you two; but after Erif went inside, the ceiling collapsed entirely."
"Does Ron know?" Erif interrupted.
"Know that you're a fire-starter?" Ron answered, motioning to her left arm where her mark glowed softly. "Bailey told me after you went into the Greenhouse. She said that she was one as well."
"Yes, she is. She's actually training me in its use."
"The whole school is talking about it; the Slytherins especially." Ron shook his head, narrowing his eyes angrily. "They seem to think it's a great laugh; 'Potter rescued by his girlfriend...'" He said in a perfect imitation of Pansy Parkinson.
"Then its only a matter of time before You-Know-Who discovers who I am," Erif sighed.
"Perhaps Dumbledore will be able to salvage the situation," Harry offered, but Erif shook her head.
"What can he do?"
"More than we can," Harry pointed out.
"You should go see him anyway; he'll probably want to talk to you about it. He's not stupid; he probably knew that once something happened and you were revealed, he would need a backup plan to keep you safe," Hermione stated reasonably.
"Hopefully he has one ready," Erif responded.
"Knowing what little I do about him, he most definitely does." Harry closed his eyes for a moment as he said it, and she could see his pain in the way his mouth pressed into a line.
"You two should go talk to him," Hermione said, "But only after you get changed up." She cast an admonishing look at Harry's pajamas, and then at Arlé's burnt clothes.
"Aren't you two coming with us?" Harry asked, blushing a little at the state of his clothes.
"If you want us to," Ron answered wryly.
"Of course we do," Harry assured him, and Ron's tight face broke into a smile.
The four stepped out of the Common Room five minutes later and walked down the hallway toward Dumbledore's office.
* * *
Harry held her hand on the way to Dumbledore's office, and watched as several emotions played across her face, chasing themselves around in circles.
He knew she was still worried about his brush with death, but he hadn't realized until now how much she had worried. Her brows pushed towards each other slightly, and her eyes were narrowed just as slightly.
He squeezed her hand and she looked up at him, startled out of her reverie. "I love you," he whispered to her, leaning toward her ear so she could hear him.
"I love you too," she said back, and smiled, and Harry felt his heart beat out an erratic measure for a moment at the warmth he felt rush through his body.
Before he could ask what she was thinking, they were at the gargoyle statue, which woke up with a start as they approached. It glared down at them and its eyes glinted coolly at the quartet. "Harry Potter," it addressed him, and continued, "Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, and Arlé Reed." Ron and Hermione shot befuddled glances toward Arlé; she responded coolly with a shrug. Harry could tell that she was startled by what the gargoyle had said, but she held it back from reaching her gaze.
The gargoyle's roving gaze came back upon Harry and it sniffed the air once before asking, "Password?"
"Snickers," Harry supplied, and it jumped aside, rustling its stone wings irritably at being awoken. Its glowing red eyes followed them unblinkingly into the staircase. "Is it me or was it a little more... er, alive?" He asked as they stepped up onto the stairs and steadily rose. As they did, Harry's scar began to tingle.
"Yes, he did appear a little more alive. Perhaps Dumbledore put extra enchantments on it to keep strangers from entering," Hermione said, rising a step in anticipation. He reached up casually and rubbed at the scar, but for all of his concealing moves, they noticed. He felt a spark of indignation at this lack of privacy, but pushed it down, knowing that they only cared for his well being. When his scar hurt him, they worried, and for that he was grateful.
"Welcome," Dumbledore said as they entered the door. He was standing behind his desk and motioned for them to come inside.
Snape and Bailey were leaning up against the desk, watching as the four of them stepped in. In one of the chairs in front of the desk sat a young man with blonde hair; he did not turn, but was instead gazing intently at the floor before him.
Arlé recognized him first, and moved beside him. She placed a hand upon his shoulder as if to make sure he was real. He started, and his grey gaze caught hers as he turned in his chair. "Ardesco," he murmured, narrowing his eyes, and Harry realized who it was by the cold tone in his voice.
Harry pulled Arlé back behind him suddenly, feeling her shallow breath against his neck as he imposed himself between her and Draco. He reached within his pocket and felt the smooth wood reassuring to his fingertips.
"Harry," Draco Malfoy said, standing wearily. Harry looked him over and realized that he looked ragged, and incredibly tired. But what Harry was really worried about was that Draco was under Voldemort's control, having no mind of his own.
"Malfoy," Harry spat back, glaring green knives at the Slytherin boy. Hermione gasped, and Harry could hear Ron fumbling with his wand behind him. Harry felt a surge of guilt at not having told his friends about the Dementor's Kiss, but put his feelings aside in the heat of the moment.
"Now, now, no need for wands here," Dumbledore admonished slowly. "Put them away and let me explain."
Ron looked at Harry and tucked his wand away. Harry drew Arlé beside him and she clasped his arms warmly, seeking as much comfort as she was giving.
"Draco was placed under the Imperius curse at the beginning of this term. You may find that he is a very different person from how he came across to you before; his father was not kind to him. That night he was taken and Patil murdered was all staged; a ploy to make us think that Draco had been himself, and was just now being taken to Voldemort as one of his own."
Harry looked to Bailey for confirmation and she nodded once before casting her eyes elsewhere. Harry had seen much fear in her eyes; fear for Draco, for Arlé, for Severus...
Dumbledore continued, "Sometime between that staged night and the ball, Draco was given the Dementor's Kiss... unable to control his actions, he has no memories of anything that happened during that time. From there, what I gather is that his father and Voldemort had been working on a potion or a certain spell that would rescind the Kiss. They tested it on Draco and luckily for him it succeeded. They then sent him here, where a certain 'power,' as Draco calls it, gave him enough strength to take control of his own mind." Arlé shuddered at the mention of 'power,' as if she knew firsthand what Dumbledore meant, and Harry pulled her in closer, and then ingested what Dumbledore had just insinuated.
"Professor, that isn't possible," Harry interrupted. "He can't be here of his own free will..." Harry spread his hands as if to wish for an explanation that he could produce himself, but could find no such answer. He noticed out of the corner of his eyes Malfoy leaning forward as if listening intently to Dumbledore's response, despite the fact that Dumbledore had probably gotten his answer directly from the Slytherin.
"Harry," the wise old Headmaster said, and conjured up four chairs for them. Snape and Bailey took the remaining chairs, the Potions Master with a scowl and Summer with a slight smile. "I had not thought it possible, but he is. I have spent most of the night questioning him with Veritaserum, and I have no reason to doubt his word."
Harry looked in the Slytherin boy's direction and was surprised to meet an inquisitive stare back at him. Malfoy's calm grey gaze reflected more than a little fear, a trait that Harry found disconcerting. More than fear, though, was an overall thought of uncertainty, which seemed foreign when discussed in the same sentence as Malfoy.
His appearance, which had made him appear a different person at first, was haggard and malnourished. His face looked thinner than normal, and as a result his cheekbones appeared dominant in his face. His hair, which was in dire need of a trim, was almost past his chin, and Harry noticed that a faint stubble was growing there. It gave Harry the faint impression of Snape, with his cheekbones and stringy hair...
He found the comparison too unnerving to think about.
Dumbledore looked around at the four Gryffindors as if waiting for questions, and when none came, he nodded once and asked, "Did you have something you wish to discuss?"
Harry turned to Arlé, who gazed at him with gentle eyes... It was like looking into a mirror only he knew that he could never look that way at her; it made his heart melt...
"Professor, I'd rather certain ears didn't hear this..." she said, tilting her head at Draco.
Harry watched as Draco sighed and scowled, protesting loudly, "What's this? More secrets, Potter? The whole school will know this one by tomorrow, I can promise you that."
"The whole school already knows, Malfoy. Get with the times," Harry pointed out angrily.
Dumbledore held up his hand to forestall Draco's arguement (although the Slytherin looked about ready to fry eggs with his eyes) and said, "Anything you wish to discuss can be discussed before Draco."
"He may bring this information back to You-Know-Who," she protested.
"Only if he is put back under the Imperius curse." Dumbledore seemed satisfied that Malfoy would not go off and tell the Dark Lord anything, but Harry could tell by the glint in Arlé's eyes that she wasn't.
Dumbledore directly to Arlé, "Remember the prophesy."
She widened her eyes and fought down the urge to cut a glance in Malfoy's direction. "Neither of us can prove that it's him," she argued.
"Nor can you prove that it is you and Harry it speaks of, either." She shook her head slowly, looking away from Dumbledore. "He has a right to hear this, as much as Summer, Severus, and I do."
Harry shot a look at Malfoy and was rather angered to see the almost-smile on his face, but the Draco's sharp eyes flicked onto Harry's, and he stopped smiling. Something about Malfoy's eyes was different, but Harry couldn't place it immediately. Perhaps it was how his smile didn't touch his eyes at all...
The air between their stares immediately filled with tension, and to Harry's surprise Malfoy broke the glare first. His eyes flickered up to Snape for a moment, and Harry realized that his irises nearly looked transparent; more of a silvery white than anything else.
"Is there any way to keep the fact that I'm a pyr-psychic away from You-Know-Who?" Arlé asked slowly, her syllables a little tight.
He sighed, leaning back in his chair, and for just a moment he appeared so much older, so much more afraid... And then he opened his crystal blue eyes and Harry could practically read what he was thinking; "She's too young to bear this burden..."
But before he could say anything Malfoy spat, "You're a pyr-psyche? An Elemental?"
Arlé fixed him with a pointed stare and said coldly, "Yes, I am. Is there a problem with that?"
Harry could only guess that a variety of responses were flying through Malfoy's mind at that point but to Harry's surprise, he just shook his head. "No problem," he muttered, tossing his head to get some of his hair out of his eyes.
Fawkes flapped over to perch on Arlé's shoulder; he looked small, ungrown, but lively enough that she did not shrink away. Harry guessed that her unease around the phoenix was because of their similarities; perhaps she feared that she too would go through a cycle of death and rebirth...
She turned back to Dumbledore and he said, "I assume that you have heard that it is sweeping across the school?" She nodded, and he continued, "There is nothing I can do about that."
"So he will find out..." She looked around restlessly and continued after a moment of silence, "And Eric will know that he didn't destroy all of us."
"If this 'Eric' betrayed the Reeds, then he was the one I mentioned earlier," Summer said to Dumbledore, confusing the students, but the Headmaster understood.
"Indeed, this turn of events is unfortunate. It appears that Eric was the one who put Black into the state that he is in now." Dumbledore was shaking his head as he said this.
"Who's Eric?" Ron demanded, and from the look on Hermione's face she was thinking the same thing. "What does he have to do with any of us?"
"Eric was my brother," Arlé responded hotly, emphasizing the word "was."
"So he's dead?" Ron asked, misinterpreting her emphasis.
"No, he's alive." Arlé looked up to Dumbledore for confirmation of this.
"Yes, he is, and apparently he has risen in the ranks of Death Eaters in the wake of Voldemort's return. From Draco's interrogation we were able to discern that Eric is considered the highest Death Eater, and also one of the youngest ones. He is a recent addition to Voldemort's flock, and he is eager to prove his worth in his Master's eyes." Dumbledore turned to Summer and muttered something beneath his breath, and she shook her head. Dumbledore continued, "He was sent off to destroy his own family and met resistance: Black, whom we had sent out there to discreetly protect the Reeds, was waiting for him. Unfortunately, Eric had more Death Eaters with him than we had anticipated and Black was captured; most probably tortured and then administered the Dementor's Kiss."
Harry refused to meet his friends eyes, knowing that he would find sympathy that he didn't want. They didn't know what it felt like to know that everyone close to him was being destroyed or was already dead... He felt hot tears come to his eyes and closed them for a moment. Arlé slid her hand into his own and squeezed, offering him comfort, and he looked over at her. Her face was mildly concerned, but her eyes were offering him sympathy if he wanted to accept it.
Instead of turning from her as he had the last time she had offered sympathy, he leaned into her shoulder, tears flowing freely this time, and she wrapped her arms around him slowly, tenderly.
He could feel tears streaking down his own face and very distantly, could feel a slight tremor as if she too were crying.
It was the safest he'd ever felt in a long time; just the two of them, rocking slightly in a gesture of intimacy... And he realized that all he had ever wanted was someone to care for him this way, to be like a mother to him, only much more, and as much as he had convinced himself that Sirius was the answer to this need, he wasn't. She was.
* * *
Draco looked away as the two lovebirds shared a private moment, trying not to roll his eyes at their antics. He wasn't used to being ignored, as the quartet of Gryffindors were doing, but he felt that he'd rather be ignored than frowned down upon. His eyes raked across Snape, who was standing next to the door, and noted that Snape was not in the least startled by the idea that Arlé was a Fire Elemental.
It frightened Draco a bit, knowing that she had the power within her mind to set the entire office on fire if she felt the urge. His father had never believed in the idea of Elementals, declaring that they were just using their wands to great effect, but his mother had taught him a great deal about Elementals. Apparently Narcissa had gone to school with one, and knew just how much power these people contained in their minds. For some of the Elementals, it was in their blood, while others were flukes of nature, a powerful Elemental born into a "normal" wizarding family. There had never been an Elemental from a Muggle family, however, so magic within a person's family line had something to do with becoming one.
He had dreamed about becoming one when he was little; when he had turned ten he had almost convinced his mother that he was a Water Elemental by carrying around a never-empty pail of water. That episode had ended unhappily, however, when he had made the mistake of pouring the never-empty pail onto his father's desk and ruining quite a fair bit of paperwork. His father had been furious, and his trick had been revealed. His father had beat him quite thoroughly for that one, of course, but after time he had grown used to pain, and he could still look back upon it and laugh.
His eyes snagged on something on Arlé's lower arm, and oddly enough he realized that he recognized it. It was curiously familiar, a nagging presence in the back of his mind, and suddenly, with a snap that was almost audible, something in his mind clicked and he remembered...
[i]"Stay here," a voice muttered softly into his ear, and he complied, but could not help but notice the familiarity of the scene.
A man stood before the Dark Lord--it was more like groveling since the figure was on his knees. This man had no cloak and was wearing a short-sleeved shirt, but he did not look in the least bit cold although his breath was creating puffs of air. He raised his hands to plead with his Master, who sneered down on him and turned his grotesque face away. On his left forearm were two symbols, one superimposed upon the other. The effect was much more dominant than the Dark Mark alone; it appeared that the Dark Mark was to be found in a field of hot fire, and as the figure moved his arms up and down, the fire flickered much like a real fire, making the effect all the more striking.
"Master I can destroy all of them--I can," the figure insisted, throwing his eyes upward to glance at his Master imploringly. His brilliant green eyes sparked with some sinister desire, and then another hooded figure walked into the scene, his hood obscuring his face.
His voice was the same voice that had told Draco to stay there.
"Master," he said with a low bow, and did not get up until the Dark Lord said, "Yes, Malfoy."
"I believe that he can do it; but not alone."
At this the first man snapped his head around to glare at Lucius. "I can do it alone. I must..."
"You could get yourself killed, Eric."
The kneeling man laughed, a dark sound to Draco's ears. "I will not; they still think of me as family."
"But you have four brothers and sisters."
"I do."
"And some of them are old enough to fight back," Lucius asked, again knowing the answer but wanting Eric to say it.
Eric's eyes dimmed a bit and he looked down, as if seeing what Lucius was getting at. "Yes there are two of them that are old enough..."
"Master," and Lucius brought his head around, pointing it at his master, "I would like to go along with him. I could hold down the house while he kills them."
"And what is in it for you?" The Dark Lord asked, speaking for the first time. His voice was gravely yet smooth, and his eyes sparked with some amusement.
"I have never been fond of Eric's father. To see him get what is coming to him would please me greatly."
"Not just that, Malfoy. You want the entire family gone. Their blood rivals yours in purity, and you want the prestige." The Dark Lord laughed, again not a pleasant sound, and twirled his wand in his long fingers. "Do it," he said softly, and dismissed the two Death Eaters.
Eric glared at Lucius with a dark stare but Lucius laughed at him in response.
"Draco..." [/i]
Someone grabbed him by the shoulders and began shaking him slightly; his eyes refocused slowly as if from a great distance. The vision of the Death Eaters disappeared and was slowly replaced by Snape's concerned features.
"Are you all right?" Bailey asked, watching him carefully as though he might faint.
"Yeah, I'm fine," he muttered, swatting Snape's hands away and putting his head into his hands.
"What just happened, Draco?" Dumbledore prompted, and Draco shook his head.
"I don't know," he answered as honestly as he could, although he had a suspicion of what it might be. He lifted his head, catching and holding Dumbledore's eyes. "Do you think that certain things might trigger memories of my time under the curse?"
"A flashback?" Dumbledore paused and then nodded. "It would be more than just coincidence; it would be expected. The mind closes off to painful memories if one has too many of them, and gradually lets them back in one at a time to keep from overloading. Do you think that is what happened?"
"I don't know what else it could be."
"Did something trigger this memory?" Dumbledore looked almost menacing as he leaned forward as if this was of vital importance to him and he would get this out of him by using Veritaserum if he had to.
"Yes." Draco turned toward Arlé who was watching with some confusion in her green eyes. So much like Potter's, and yet so different... "It was that mark on her arm."
"That's the mark that shows that Arlé is a Fire Elemental," Summer explained, and Arlé held it out grudgingly for him to look at. It was gleaming oddly orange, as if it were made up of dying embers instead of true flame.
"Are there any other questions?" Dumbledore asked after a long moment. Silence answered his question; a silence that seemed to expand and weigh down on the small group within the office. "Then you may go back to your dormitories. Draco, please stay here; there is something more I wish to discuss with you."
The Gryffindors stood, watching Draco or Dumbledore for a moment, and then left, obviously going back to their Common Room to discuss what they had just heard.
Dumbledore then turned to Draco and asked, "Would you like to return to your common room? Unfortunately, many of your classmates are off in Hogsmeade right now."
"At least they're enjoying their weekend," Draco muttered sarcastically.
"Are you going to tell them the truth of what happened this weekend?" Snape demanded, watching Draco as intently as Draco was watching him.
"Definitely not, Draco responded coolly. "Half of them would never speak to me again, and the other half would treat me like some sort of god. Which wouldn't be a bad thing," he added as an afterthought.
Bailey rolled her eyes at his self-absorbed notion. "What are you going to tell them, then?"
"I'm assuming you have an idea as to what I should say anyway, so why does my opinion matter?" He said, not quite being able to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. That sarcasm had been inherited from his father, in their verbal sparring matches. There had been many of these spats, testing Draco's wit and intelligence at odd points during the day. He had never known when to expect one; on the day when he had gotten his letter of acceptance to Hogwarts, he had had four such arguments. At first, when he had started at age seven, his father had always won, but as he grew older he found new ways to be sarcastic and throw double-edged comments, and had stalemated his father on several occasions.
"You know your peers better," she pointed out.
"No I think it would be more correct to say that my father knows my peers better."
Snape crossed his arms and then said, "That's true. Should we create an alibi for him to offer to the rest of his Housemates?"
A sudden blazing pain screamed through his arm and he jerked his right hand down onto his left forearm. Blinking away tears that should never have sprung to his eyes in the first place, he turned around and sought Snape's gaze, hoping that he didn't look too desperate for an explanation.
"The Dark Mark," Snape hissed, rubbing his hand back and forth over it as if all he wanted to do was scratch it.
"What should I do?" demanded Draco in a louder than normal tone.
The Potions Master's mind worked frantically for a moment and then he said, "Of course, Lucius wouldn't have instructed you in what to do when it burns..." He trailed off and turned to Dumbledore, "He cannot go to Voldemort, but it will continue calling him until he does."
"What about your potion? Will it work?"
"Yes," he replied, "But I do not know if I have a fresh batch prepared."
"You do," Bailey replied smoothly, although a hint of blush was rising to her cheeks, "I went looking for it yesterday." She gave no explanation as to why she had gone looking, and Snape seemed to understand.
"I must go," Snape said to Dumbledore, who nodded, and he strode out of the room, pulling his sleeves down as he went. The female professor followed him presently, off to retrieve the potion, and Draco turned to face Dumbledore.
Silence stretched across the distance between the Headmaster and the student, but it was the silence generated by minds thinking, and neither person felt uncomfortable in maintaining it. Dumbledore spoke first, "You should tell them that you were taken as a Death Eater, and warn them to secrecy. Since none of them have the Dark Mark, they will not know when you are being summoned, and will think that your excuse is true. Give no explanation to the other three houses."
Draco nodded agreement and tried his best to ignore the burning sensation crawling up and down his arm.
Bailey returned promptly, holding a goblet of some strange clear liquid. He accepted it from her and sniffed at before tasting it; although he knew that Snape had made it so there wouldn't be anything wrong with it, he had been bred to smell everything before tasting it. He tipped it back in one gulp, and swayed a little as it took hold of his body. He closed his eyes, suddenly dizzy, and put a hand on the edge of the chair to steady himself. In a moment or two the pain from the Dark Mark decreased, and he realized that his mind had cleared. Cleared of what, he wasn't sure, but he was positive it had something to do with the Dark Mark.
Bailey turned from watching Draco and said to Dumbledore, "If you don't need me anymore, I'll be heading to my quarters." At his consent, she left. Dumbledore stood and with a wave of his wand the extra chairs disappeared. He held out his hand and Fawkes floated over to it, a note of phoenixsong quivering in the air about him.
Draco reached out to touch him and to his surprise the large bird ducked its head beneath his fingers, much as a cat would do when it wanted to be petted. "Not many phoenixes like young students," Dumbledore stated amiably. "Obviously Fawkes is the exception, but a few months ago he would not have come near you. Do you know why?"
Fawkes cocked one eye in his direction and Draco ran his hand along his slender neck, being careful not to ruffle feathers. "Would it have something to do with the Imperious curse?" he asked carefully.
"Partly. It would have to do with the Dark Magic surrounding the curse... and the Dark Magic surrounding you. Because of who you are, you will always have a Darker aura than many around you." He said this cryptically, almost as if he expected that Draco wouldn't understand.
"Because of how I was brought up or because of my heritage?" He asked.
"Both. Your father may have put several charms on you when you were younger; I have reason to suspect that he wished that Voldemort would take you as his own at a young age, not realizing that Harry Potter would be Voldemort's downfall. You were marked for a dark life, Draco, but this does not mean that you need to follow one." Dumbledore placed Fawkes gently onto Draco's arm and stepped back; Draco was surprised at how light the bird was.
"Do you believe in destiny, Professor?" He asked, still stroking the bird. "That everyone has their path set out before them, and that they will follow that path to their death?" He hadn't intended to get into a philosophical debate with the Headmaster, but now that he was here...
"I believe that everyone has paths set out before them, yes." He stroked his beard thoughtfully and continued, "But I do not believe that everyone will choose the correct path, or that no matter how hard they try to escape it, they cannot leave their path. Your path is yours alone to decide."
Draco looked away for a moment, from both the phoenix and from Dumbledore, and muttered, "Sometimes I feel that I'm being shuttled down this path, whether it is the right one or not. It is the only one I can find."
"I would rather be lost in the woods than be on a dangerous path," Dumbledore argued.
"I would rather return to civilization via the dangerous path than remain lost," Draco countered. "There's always a chance that I will find my life out there in civilization, rather than create a new life with the squirrels." He set Fawkes on his perch and, turning back to Dumbledore, said simply, "May I go now?"
Odd how he had managed to turn that harmless statement into an insult.
"Are you returning to your common room?"
"Yes."
"Very well. Go then." Dumbledore's sharp eyes followed Draco as he stepped onto the moving stairs. Those eyes reminded him vaguely of another time and place, when a pair of red eyes were watching and seeing directly into his mind and soul... He brushed that thought away and headed for the Slytherin common room. Memories would have to wait until he had immersed himself in the Slytherin lifestyle again.
* * *
A/N: This was an extremely long and unwieldy chapter, being more than five pages longer than the previous chapters. There was a lot of information in this chapter, sorry if your minds are reeling from all the info buildup. I'm sure that all of the characters seem a bit out of character, and I'm trying to find this perfect balance between my perspective on them and JKR's previously set ideas. I'll be changing Malfoy a lot, but hopefully I'll still have enough sarcasm in him that e seems real.
If you have questions, post them or Email me and I'll get back to you. The next few chapters will cover a span of almost a month (if things go according to plan) and pretty soon Christmas will be upon the characters! *Starts wracking brain over gifts that characters can give each other…*