Disclaimer: All things Harry Potter belong to J. K. Rowling, and those corporate entities which have paid her good money for the rights they hold. This is a work of fanfiction, written for personal enjoyment, as a tribute to the fantastic universe that Ms. Rowling has created, and for no monetary gain whatsoever.
A/N: This is an Alternate Universe Harry Potterverse story. It's a "Redeemed Draco" fic, and those who like their junior Malfoy's nasty had best read elsewhere. "Metamorphosis" is the ever-growing plot bunny that came out of the WIP journal-story "Letter to No One."
A/N UPDATE (Jan 2006): This story is being re-edited to clean up minor plotline glitches, punctuation and grammar errors prior to the posting of a new chapter. "Metamorphosis" does not take OOTP and HBP into account, although the author reserves the right to borrow various bits of background and minor characters to use for cosmetic purposes.
Metamorphosis: Chapter Ten
by RowanRhys
Monday, 23 December 1996
Snape turned away from the reunion and drew the Headmaster aside. "I'm expected to make an appearance at the house party around sundown. Lucius was bragging about a special guest for dinner, even though he and Narcissa are guests of honor at the Daily Prophet's ball tonight." His lip curled in a sneer. "If I show up early--well, Lucius generally doesn't mind my browsing through his library."
"And if you encounter young Master Malfoy--," Dumbledore trailed off with a raised eyebrow.
"I'll deal with things as appropriate. I thought I'd invite Draco to spend Boxing Day with me here. I'm sure Narcissa would agree that having him out of the way for a few days would make her house party more enjoyable for the adult guests." He sneered again at Mrs. Malfoy's social ambitions.
The clock on the mantle chimed the half hour. "Then you'd best get ready for it." The Headmaster turned to go back to Hermione and her mother. "Be sure to take that little box I gave you for your birthday--in case you need a quick escape."
Severus nodded and swept from the Wing, headed for his dungeons. Less than a half hour later, he'd arrived at the Apparition point at the Malfoy residence; house elves surrounded him and relieved him of the valise with his dress robes, and informed him that the master and mistress of the house hadn't yet arrived.
"I will await them in the library." He ignored the obsequious creatures' further babbling, and opened the door to the book-lined room.
He realized, too late, that someone else was already sitting before the fire. Before he could back out of the chamber, the other guest looked up, and he hurriedly bowed deeply, his blood running cold, averting his dark eyes as blood red orbs stared at him.
"My lord."
"Happy Christmasss, Severusss. Sssshall we wait for our host here, together?"
The clock struck two as Draco slid through the side door into the immense ballroom. He strode past the row of life-sized animated marble statues of Malfoy ancestors towards the grand piano that dominated the left side of the dais at the head of the towering chamber. He nodded in polite response to the greeting that Dominus Malfoy granted him, and wondered, not for the first time, what artist had come up with the idea of giving such statues a similar type of life as most of the family portraits had been given. At least the subjects of the portraits had the ability to move from image to image throughout the mansion, but the cool stone personages were trapped on their pedestals--able to change their poses but not to wander from their perches.
"Have you finished your new work?" Olivia Fiorenzia Malfoy batted her lashes coquettishly at him, and simpered behind her fan. "You mother should feel privileged to receive such an enchanting gift. I know that I would have!"
Draco resisted rolling his eyes. The plump statue had the most annoying way of gushing everything she said, but she was the only being in the household who had ever said anything positive about his music. "I'm just polishing it up, Lady Olivia. You'll hear the whole thing this afternoon."
"Oh, good!"
The teenager continued past the even fatter representation of Lady Olivia's husband, Maximus, who, as usual, ignored him like most of the other statues, and deigned not to attend to the conversations that she held with the boy.
The keys of the piano were cool under his fingers, and he quickly lost himself in the flow of melody and harmony, working out the tricky bit right before the close of the composition. There was something about the rhythm of the notes that didn't ring right and he kept returning to the measures, attempting to get it flow like it had in his mind.
Finally, after the magical candlesticks had flared to life with the falling darkness of one of the longest nights of the year, Draco was satisfied with the work. He cast a glance back over his shoulder to where Lady Olivia's statue posed, her hands clasped together under her chin. "It's done, my lady."
He launched into the opening measures and closed his eyes as his fingers moved across the keys, first pianissimo and then moving in a rippling series of crescendos and decrescendos to fall once more into the soft complicated figures that he'd struggled with all afternoon.
Just as the notes dropped one by one into the otherwise silent air of the ballroom, Draco heard a door slam open and multiple footsteps approach him. He recognized Goyle's heavy tread, and felt his fingers go cold, although they did not stumble on the keys. The other bootsteps were Zabini's, and Crabbe's slight limp was clear as well. Twelve more measures to go. Aloud, he said, "Oh, you got here early." Eight more... "Just a minute, I want to finish this--"
The last word became a shriek of pain as Goyle stepped up to the left side of the piano and slammed the keyboard cover down on Draco's fingers followed immediately by the clear sound of breaking bones. Zabini appeared on Draco's right and leaned hard on the shining mahogany, pinning the damaged digits.
"Where were you this afternoon, Draco?" he asked in smooth, frighteningly pleasant voice. He nodded to Goyle and they both released the pressure and stepped back from the instrument, allowing Draco to yank his hands from between the pieces of polished wood, fingers already reddened and starting to swell. Crabbe's arm across his throat took him by surprise and he choked as Vincent dragged him backwards off of the piano bench. When his back hit the edge of the dais, jolting his body and increasing the agony from his fractured fingers, Draco was unable to repress the tears of pain that slid down his face.
A boot to his left side forced out most of the air in his lungs, and he clawed with broken fingers at the arm that almost prevented him from sucking in a desperately needed breath.
"Where were you, Draco?" Blaise drew back his foot to strike again.
"H-here." He gave a strangled howl as the boot made contact and he felt the crunch of his ribs giving way to the blow.
"We both know that isn't true. You went to visit the Mudblood."
Crabbe let go of his throat but dug his fingers into Draco's hair; the painful grip keeping the boy in place almost as effectively as the arm lock had. Draco sucked in a breath but the pain in his ribs flared and he jerked in reaction, his feet kicking out and hitting Goyle in the side of the knee. The massive youth dropped all of his weight on Draco's ankles and snarled at him wordlessly.
Zabini moved casually to his side and placed the toe of his dress boots over Draco's right hand, and leaned his weight slowly and steadily on the damaged fingers. "What were you doing down there, Draco?"
"Teasing her--Stop!" The last word was a sob as bones grated together. Darkness swirled closer but oblivion remained tantilizingly out of Draco's reach as the crushing pain nearly overwhelmed him. Blaise released the pressure and his vision cleared somewhat. "I wanted to--"
"Take a piece before our Master does?" Lucius Malfoy's voice was icily furious as his boot heels rang across the hardwood expanse of dance floor. Still wearing his outdoor cloak, he loomed over the pinned down youth, knuckles tightening to whiteness over the ebony shaft of his cane. The candlelight glimmered on the silver snakehead's sharp fangs and Draco froze. "Your foolish desires have ruined everything!"
With a move so swift that it surprised even Zabini and the other two boys, Lucius bent, dropped the cane, and seized Draco by the front of his shirt, hauling him up to shake him as if he were a disobedient House Elf. "She's gone! The recording wards show you kissing her. Were you so overcome by lust that you didn't even notice her hands inside your robe?" Each word was punctuated by a hard shake. "You were too busy thinking of your other wand to notice her stealing yours!"
Dizzied by pain and the abrupt motion that snapped his head violently back and forth, Draco found himself stunned that his father had actually laid hands on him instead of using magic to punish him. All the physical discipline had always come from wands or other hands--servants' hands--before.
"She's gone; broken the wards and escaped because of your stupidity!" The last word was a scream, and Lucius abruptly heaved his son away from him, sending him flying across the room, slamming into the pedestal that supported Maximus Malfoy's image.
Draco's scream of agony blended with Olivia Malfoy's shriek as the immensely fat reproduction of her husband tottered back and forth. Maximus cried out as he finally fell, breaking into several large chunks when he hit the floor. The main part of the huge torso smashed across Draco's hip and thighs, and the boy finally blacked out, just as a terrible voice snapped out, "Malfoy, jusssst what do you think you are doing?"
Snape's robes billowed behind him as he strode just behind Voldemort, hiding his horror at the scene he'd just witnessed from the door that Malfoy had left open behind him in his anger. The sibilant voice apparently shocked Lucius from his rage, and the platinum-haired man whirled and made a profound bow to the red-eyed figure that stalked towards him, and the three youths prostrated themselves before the Dark Lord.
"Master--."
"Crucio."
Snape kept his gaze facing the senior Malfoy, but he could still view a fair expanse of the room with his peripheral vision. From the corner of his eye he could see the sprawl of Draco's sleeve and the pale brightness of his hair, but the rest of the boy's body was obscured by the remains of the marble statue that keened almost as loudly as Lucius eventually screamed from the torture of the Cruciatus curse. The fat female figure wailed also, but Snape quickly realized that she was actually crying over Draco when he made out the words behind her weeping.
The Dark Lord released the curse and glared down at the elder Malfoy. "You have obvioussssly forgotten your bargain with me. Of what usssse can I make your sssson if you kill him? Ssseverussss, ssssee to the boy."
Snape was already moving, his wand drawn. "Petros leviosa." He guided the torso of the statue up and away from Draco, not caring that it broke into several smaller pieces when he let it fall several yards away. Maximus' head shouted abuse at him. "Silencio!" Repetition moved the rest of the rubble that obscured the fifteen year old, and he was grateful to see the boy's chest still rising and falling shallowly.
He was no mediwizard. But even he could see that even if the impact of hitting the marble plinth hadn't crushed bones, the weight of the statue had damaged the lower half of the boy's body, perhaps beyond repair. Blood stained the grey trousers where flesh had broken open, and the liquid was quickly pooling on the polished wooden floor. "Stasis totalis!" The air around Draco shimmered slightly, and he went completely still, not even breathing under the spell's influence--frozen temporarily in time.
Severus mentally inventoried the potions he carried in his robe pockets. The pair of pain relieving potions would help somewhat if he could get them into the boy. The Sanguinous elixer could help start replacing the blood that Draco was losing. Boneset was out of the question. It would fuse the fractures as they were, twisted and distorted, and he knew that he had not the skill necessary to reset them. It was quite possible that even Pomfrey wouldn't be able to deal with them, but she was the best hope the boy had, if he could figure out a way to get him back to Hogwarts.
He took a closer look at Draco's injuries and realized that the Slytherin would likely die before Severus could get any of the restoratives into him; the stasis would have to remain until he could obtain real medical care.
He straightened up and turned back to the Dark Lord, ignoring the prostrate men who still cowered before Voldemort. Tom Riddle was staring at the sheet music on the piano's rack, and Snape gave it a quick glance, recognizing Draco's handwriting on the scrawled words in the margin of the hand-annotated score.
"My lord," he bowed. "I can do nothing for him here. He needs to be in the care of a trained Healer. St. Mungo's--"
"--Will asssk a lot of awkward questionsss, Ssseverusss, if you bring young Master Malfoy to them. They would want to know where hisss father isss." The red eyes narrowed as the Dark Lord shot a harsh look at where Lucius Malfoy lay recovering from the Cruciatus.
Snape hesitated, as if he'd gotten a quick thought. "My lord, I have managed to set some controls in the school nurse--so that she will not ask inconvenient questions of me when I return from one of your missions requiring medical care. She'll believe anything I tell her--and she's skilled enough to keep the boy alive until specialists can be procured."
"Then take him there immediately. Make sssure the tale is believable. Report to me when you know if he will live or die. I'm sure that Luciusss will be eagerly awaiting word as well." His expression indicated that if the news was poor, the elder Malfoy would be suffering far more than the Cruciatus that had just been laid upon him.
"The boy isss in your charge henccceforth, Sssseverus. He'ssss now your responssssibility."
Severus nodded and bowed once more before turning back towards Draco. As an afterthought, he lifted the sheets of music from the piano and tucked them away in his robes before approaching the motionless figure. At the boy's side once more, he pulled a small box from his pocket that Dumbledore had turned into a Portkey. Unlike most, this one had a trigger phrase to activate it, and he placed it against one of the boy's damaged hands before he whispered the words that would carry them both back to Hogwarts.
TBC