Clause of ass-covering: JK Rowling still owns more souls than the devil.
Ch. 4: A Little Bit of Answer Mixed with Some Hard Questions
Professor McGonagall had the grace to look a little embarrassed, but quickly recovered. "Don't be silly, of course I'm thrilled that you're alive. I wouldn't be happy if any of my students met untimely deaths."
"Not even if they were Death Eaters?," Malfoy asked maliciously – and loudly. There was a collective gasp from the students avidly watching the scene unfold.
"I knew it!," Ron whispered triumphantly. Harry's eyes narrowed and he felt anger swell in him, partially directed at himself for always having been willing to give Malfoy the benefit of the doubt.
"MR. MALFOY!" Snape was now on his feet and pushing through the crowd to where McGonagall and Malfoy stood. "I hardly think this is the place to have this conversation!"
He tried to grab Malfoy's arm, presumably to lead him into the castle, but it had the opposite effect. Malfoy ripped away from him as though he had been burned and glared at Snape with unadulterated hate. "I'm not going anywhere with you," his voice dripped and faltered with the depth of feeling behind it. "I'd rather die. Again."
"Mr. Malfoy! Twenty points from Slytherin!," Professor McGonagall exclaimed, looking far more scandalized than Snape. Malfoy was briefly surprised by her words, as though they were unexpected, then smirked nastily. He threw a dirty and completely obvious look at the group of angry looking Slytherins who had only just managed to pick themselves up and dust themselves off. The grin faded instantly when he turned back to the professors.
He lowered his voice so that only McGonagall and Snape could hear, though he was only talking to the former. "I don't care. Take away as many points as you want. Just don't leave me alone with him. He's a Death Eater, I've seen him, and he will kill me if he gets the chance."
Snape's face took on a calculating look, while McGonagall's eyebrows arched in surprise. Still, McGonagall hadn't survived so long as a professor without learning how to deal with students, however out of sorts. "Just calm down. I will escort you to the Headmaster's office. Professor Snape, are you capable of supervising the moving in on your own?"
Snape's eyes narrowed at the slight dig, but he let it pass, as he was genuinely concerned for his star student (who was currently glaring at him with an intensity even he could not compete with). "I surely am," he said with sarcasm before turning to glare at the students – most of whom hadn't really progressed much beyond gaping at Malfoy's interaction with the professors.
Malfoy and McGonagall quickly left the premises, but not fast enough to miss the beginning of Snape's tirade. "What are you all gawking at like a bunch of halfwits? Anyone who has not managed to haul their belongings inside within the next five minutes will be losing fifty points from their house!"
Malfoy's absence from the Feast was highly noted, though unsurprising. His unexpected return, as well as the manner of the return, was by far the most common conversation topic in the Great Hall, followed distantly by stories of summer activities and the War. Harry and Hermione were both getting rather fed up with talking about Malfoy, and especially with Ron's ongoing diatribe against him (even though it was somewhat amusing), and instead tried to conceive of what implications this 'new' Malfoy (if he could even be called that) might have for the War. A crazy Death Eater was surely not a good thing.
In the headmaster's office they embarked on a somewhat related conversation. Malfoy glared alternately at Dumbledore and McGonagall, though it was more a look of general anger and hostility than a targeted one. After patiently enduring Malfoy's tense silence for a couple of minutes, Dumbledore began.
"Can I offer you some tea? A lemon drop perhaps?"
Malfoy's eyes narrowed in annoyance and slight offense. Surely the headmaster had more important questions? Still, he realized that a lot hinged on this conversation, and he was determined to keep himself in check.
"Very well. I suppose the first question I should ask is, where have you been for the last two months? It has obviously not escaped your attention that the wizarding word thinks you dead."
Malfoy snorted in a very untypical manner. "I was in hiding," he clipped.
One bushy eyebrow arched, though it hardly revealed any surprise. Smug bastard. "Is that so? May I ask why, Mr. Malfoy?"
"Don't call me that. Mr. Malfoy is dead. That's why I had to go into hiding," Malfoy ground out, with obvious effort to check his rage.
"What do you think you need to hide from?," Dumbledore asked calmly.
Malfoy sneered in distaste. "Don't play stupid with me. Now that Lucius is dead, I'm probably higher on his list of people to kill than Harry fucking Potter. I can't even begin to describe how pissed he will be that his favorite rising star has gone AWOL – not to mention the huge security risk."
Dumbledore's eyebrow inched up again, and Malfoy felt another wave of dislike seize him. "Can I assume then that this is why you have chosen to come out of hiding? You hope to find a sanctuary here?"
Malfoy hated that he had to confess his weakness. "Yes," he whispered bitterly. "That, and I..." He paused while he grasped for the words that wouldn't reveal too much. "I don't think I could stand living like... that ... anymore. "
"Understandable," the headmaster replied. "I'll have Professor Snape-"
"No!," Malfoy couldn't restrain himself anymore (he had been doing a remarkable job so far) and he jumped to his feet. "How stupid do you think I am? Just kick me out if you don't want me here! Snape will kill me or take me to Voldemort, and you know it! I know you know what he is! In fact, I refuse to stay in Slytherin, I'm not safe-"
"Mr. Malfoy." Malfoy was really beginning to work himself up, pacing erratically, and hearing his name only aggravated him further. Dumbledore and McGonagall watched him continue with dawning awareness of the situation – Malfoy almost seemed to be talking more to himself than anyone else.
"This was a mistake, I shouldn't have come. I'm not safe here. I should go back to the woods... No, madness lies down that road, I can't go back. Not by myself. Alone I am nothing." Malfoy gasped. "I am nothing! Oh fuckfuckfuck- "
"Mr. Malfoy!"
Malfoy whipped to attention and glowered fiercely at the old man. "I SAID DON'T CALL ME THAT! Malfoy is dead! Dead, dead, dead! I am just a vessel!"
"Fine, Draco-"
"Don't call me that either! Draco's been dead even longer than Malfoy!" Malfoy was gripping his head, his eyes shut tightly, in a futile attempt to still the emotions and confusion that was spinning wildly and loudly through him. He stumbled back and fell into a chair, upon which he promptly lowered his head between his legs and began breath heavily. McGonagall watched the disheveled boy with a slightly horrified expression, while even Dumbledore looked concerned.
"He's gone mad!," she whispered urgently.
Dumbledore's frown deepened. "Perhaps."
"Don't talk like I'm not here!" Malfoy's head jerked up and his irises flashed black; for a moment he seemed even more insane, but then it was abruptly gone, and he just looked exhausted. "But you're right. I'm out of sorts. But you can't send me to St. Mungo's, I'll certainly be found and killed there! Just... just give me a bit of time to pull myself together in safety, then I'll leave. I swear. You can even lock me away from the students, I don't care. Maybe that would be for the best..."
Dumbledore interrupted before Malfoy could start rambling again, beginning to get a relatively good impression of Malfoy's state, if not how he had gotten that way. He did, however, have to make a conscious effort not to address Malfoy by his name. "Don't be silly, young man. You are, of course, welcome here – in case you have been unaware, Hogwarts has become a sanctuary to quite a few students. However, you will have to attend classes and sleep in the dormitories like everyone else."
"But I-," Malfoy attempted doubtfully.
"Will learn to get along. Now, you are obviously tired and distressed. I think you should get cleaned up, have something to eat, then go to sleep. Tomorrow I want you to visit Mme Pomfrey, then Mme Pince to pick up the necessary books. Is there anything else you need?"
Malfoy was simultaneously shocked and relieved, and looked so. It took him a moment to think clearly enough to answer the question. "A wand," he croaked.
McGonagall's thin eyebrows rose in surprise, "How did you-"
"I don't know," Malfoy pre-empted, the edginess quickly returning.
"Do you know at least how you lost it?," Dumbledore asked gently.
Malfoy shook his head, then began rubbing his dirty temples. The headache that had been his constant companion for months was really beginning to act up, and he really didn't know how much longer he would be able to continue this conversation – something that the old headmaster seemed to realize. "Well then, I'll let you go now. We'll sort something out regarding your wand."
Malfoy quickly stood and made for the door, but was stopped again by the intentional use of his name.
"Oh, and Draco..." Malfoy turned around, an exceedingly strained and pained expression on his face.
"This conversation is not over."
As soon as the door closed behind him, Malfoy felt as though he was going to pass out. He felt like he had been running on empty for ages, and the exhaustion was suddenly overwhelming. He only got a few steps before another debilitation made itself known – a sickening agony was felt in his shrunken stomach. Using the wall as the support, he slowly made his way to the dungeons, grateful that the rest of the students were all still at the Feast, giving him the time and berth he needed to accommodate his weakness.
He made it all the way to the dungeons, almost through the Slytherin dorms, before encountering anyone. When he finally did, they just eyed each other for a long moment.
Malfoy felt defeated – his body was failing him, and he had made it to Hogwarts only to be killed on his first day back. He laughed bitterly, brokenly, and spoke hoarsely. "Go ahead. Kill me."
Snape shook his head thoughtfully. "I'm not going to kill you, Draco. Especially not under Dumbledore's nose. Besides, you seem to be doing a pretty good job of that yourself."
"That's right!," Malfoy shouted with nonexistent energy. "I don't need your help! Go tell that to fucking Voldemort! Let me be in peace!"
Snape flinched slightly at the use of You-Know-Who's name, but his voice was almost gentle. "What happened to you?"
"Ha! He didn't tell you?," Malfoy sneered hatefully. Snape just shook his head. Malfoy laughed maliciously before continuing almost conversationally. "Of course, you're only a minion. My father thought you a pathetic excuse for a human being, you know, and he degraded you and made jokes at your expense constantly. About how Narcissa chose him over you, how your feelings for her were pitiable and laughable. But... I... always thought you quite shrewd, much more so than you let on. So lets see if you can solve the riddle, Death Eater scum. You knew Narcissa when she was younger – what do think happened to her?"
Snape's puzzled look was the last thing Malfoy saw before he hunger and fatigue overcame him and he slumped against the wall, before falling to the floor.
When Malfoy woke up thirty three hours later, he was in the Infirmary. He had been cleaned up, and the debilitating hunger had somehow been sated. His mind felt fuzzy, and his body warm – the best he had felt in months, and he allowed himself to doze a little longer.
He was woken again a couple of hours later by the unmistakable sound of brisk footsteps, which stopped at the foot of his bed. Malfoy's eyes fluttered open to see Snape's unreadable face. "Let me guess, you need me in good health so that Voldemort can do what he wants with me when he gets me back?"
A flicker of grief passed across Snape's face, then was gone. He shook his head slowly, deliberately. "You will never understand how painful my feelings for your mother have been for me over the years, though I have not loved her for a long time. But I think I have figured out what you were hinting at. It would explain a lot."
Malfoy nodded, trying to shake away the morning fuzziness. "Another point for the Death Eaters. You are smarted than Lucius ever gave you credit for."
Snape looked down at Malfoy for a long moment before coming to a decision, then he pulled up a chair and sat in it. "I think we need to have a talk."
Please review! I know some of Draco's behavior seems OOC, but I promise that there are reasons, though you will have to stick with the story to find out what they are. I don't believe in give readers the answers – you will either have to figure them out on your own (there are hints!) or will have to wait until I reveal them in my own good time! That said, please show some love, give me some sugar, and write a review! I hope you guys are as excited as I am about this story!
Ch. 4: A Little Bit of Answer Mixed with Some Hard Questions
Professor McGonagall had the grace to look a little embarrassed, but quickly recovered. "Don't be silly, of course I'm thrilled that you're alive. I wouldn't be happy if any of my students met untimely deaths."
"Not even if they were Death Eaters?," Malfoy asked maliciously – and loudly. There was a collective gasp from the students avidly watching the scene unfold.
"I knew it!," Ron whispered triumphantly. Harry's eyes narrowed and he felt anger swell in him, partially directed at himself for always having been willing to give Malfoy the benefit of the doubt.
"MR. MALFOY!" Snape was now on his feet and pushing through the crowd to where McGonagall and Malfoy stood. "I hardly think this is the place to have this conversation!"
He tried to grab Malfoy's arm, presumably to lead him into the castle, but it had the opposite effect. Malfoy ripped away from him as though he had been burned and glared at Snape with unadulterated hate. "I'm not going anywhere with you," his voice dripped and faltered with the depth of feeling behind it. "I'd rather die. Again."
"Mr. Malfoy! Twenty points from Slytherin!," Professor McGonagall exclaimed, looking far more scandalized than Snape. Malfoy was briefly surprised by her words, as though they were unexpected, then smirked nastily. He threw a dirty and completely obvious look at the group of angry looking Slytherins who had only just managed to pick themselves up and dust themselves off. The grin faded instantly when he turned back to the professors.
He lowered his voice so that only McGonagall and Snape could hear, though he was only talking to the former. "I don't care. Take away as many points as you want. Just don't leave me alone with him. He's a Death Eater, I've seen him, and he will kill me if he gets the chance."
Snape's face took on a calculating look, while McGonagall's eyebrows arched in surprise. Still, McGonagall hadn't survived so long as a professor without learning how to deal with students, however out of sorts. "Just calm down. I will escort you to the Headmaster's office. Professor Snape, are you capable of supervising the moving in on your own?"
Snape's eyes narrowed at the slight dig, but he let it pass, as he was genuinely concerned for his star student (who was currently glaring at him with an intensity even he could not compete with). "I surely am," he said with sarcasm before turning to glare at the students – most of whom hadn't really progressed much beyond gaping at Malfoy's interaction with the professors.
Malfoy and McGonagall quickly left the premises, but not fast enough to miss the beginning of Snape's tirade. "What are you all gawking at like a bunch of halfwits? Anyone who has not managed to haul their belongings inside within the next five minutes will be losing fifty points from their house!"
Malfoy's absence from the Feast was highly noted, though unsurprising. His unexpected return, as well as the manner of the return, was by far the most common conversation topic in the Great Hall, followed distantly by stories of summer activities and the War. Harry and Hermione were both getting rather fed up with talking about Malfoy, and especially with Ron's ongoing diatribe against him (even though it was somewhat amusing), and instead tried to conceive of what implications this 'new' Malfoy (if he could even be called that) might have for the War. A crazy Death Eater was surely not a good thing.
In the headmaster's office they embarked on a somewhat related conversation. Malfoy glared alternately at Dumbledore and McGonagall, though it was more a look of general anger and hostility than a targeted one. After patiently enduring Malfoy's tense silence for a couple of minutes, Dumbledore began.
"Can I offer you some tea? A lemon drop perhaps?"
Malfoy's eyes narrowed in annoyance and slight offense. Surely the headmaster had more important questions? Still, he realized that a lot hinged on this conversation, and he was determined to keep himself in check.
"Very well. I suppose the first question I should ask is, where have you been for the last two months? It has obviously not escaped your attention that the wizarding word thinks you dead."
Malfoy snorted in a very untypical manner. "I was in hiding," he clipped.
One bushy eyebrow arched, though it hardly revealed any surprise. Smug bastard. "Is that so? May I ask why, Mr. Malfoy?"
"Don't call me that. Mr. Malfoy is dead. That's why I had to go into hiding," Malfoy ground out, with obvious effort to check his rage.
"What do you think you need to hide from?," Dumbledore asked calmly.
Malfoy sneered in distaste. "Don't play stupid with me. Now that Lucius is dead, I'm probably higher on his list of people to kill than Harry fucking Potter. I can't even begin to describe how pissed he will be that his favorite rising star has gone AWOL – not to mention the huge security risk."
Dumbledore's eyebrow inched up again, and Malfoy felt another wave of dislike seize him. "Can I assume then that this is why you have chosen to come out of hiding? You hope to find a sanctuary here?"
Malfoy hated that he had to confess his weakness. "Yes," he whispered bitterly. "That, and I..." He paused while he grasped for the words that wouldn't reveal too much. "I don't think I could stand living like... that ... anymore. "
"Understandable," the headmaster replied. "I'll have Professor Snape-"
"No!," Malfoy couldn't restrain himself anymore (he had been doing a remarkable job so far) and he jumped to his feet. "How stupid do you think I am? Just kick me out if you don't want me here! Snape will kill me or take me to Voldemort, and you know it! I know you know what he is! In fact, I refuse to stay in Slytherin, I'm not safe-"
"Mr. Malfoy." Malfoy was really beginning to work himself up, pacing erratically, and hearing his name only aggravated him further. Dumbledore and McGonagall watched him continue with dawning awareness of the situation – Malfoy almost seemed to be talking more to himself than anyone else.
"This was a mistake, I shouldn't have come. I'm not safe here. I should go back to the woods... No, madness lies down that road, I can't go back. Not by myself. Alone I am nothing." Malfoy gasped. "I am nothing! Oh fuckfuckfuck- "
"Mr. Malfoy!"
Malfoy whipped to attention and glowered fiercely at the old man. "I SAID DON'T CALL ME THAT! Malfoy is dead! Dead, dead, dead! I am just a vessel!"
"Fine, Draco-"
"Don't call me that either! Draco's been dead even longer than Malfoy!" Malfoy was gripping his head, his eyes shut tightly, in a futile attempt to still the emotions and confusion that was spinning wildly and loudly through him. He stumbled back and fell into a chair, upon which he promptly lowered his head between his legs and began breath heavily. McGonagall watched the disheveled boy with a slightly horrified expression, while even Dumbledore looked concerned.
"He's gone mad!," she whispered urgently.
Dumbledore's frown deepened. "Perhaps."
"Don't talk like I'm not here!" Malfoy's head jerked up and his irises flashed black; for a moment he seemed even more insane, but then it was abruptly gone, and he just looked exhausted. "But you're right. I'm out of sorts. But you can't send me to St. Mungo's, I'll certainly be found and killed there! Just... just give me a bit of time to pull myself together in safety, then I'll leave. I swear. You can even lock me away from the students, I don't care. Maybe that would be for the best..."
Dumbledore interrupted before Malfoy could start rambling again, beginning to get a relatively good impression of Malfoy's state, if not how he had gotten that way. He did, however, have to make a conscious effort not to address Malfoy by his name. "Don't be silly, young man. You are, of course, welcome here – in case you have been unaware, Hogwarts has become a sanctuary to quite a few students. However, you will have to attend classes and sleep in the dormitories like everyone else."
"But I-," Malfoy attempted doubtfully.
"Will learn to get along. Now, you are obviously tired and distressed. I think you should get cleaned up, have something to eat, then go to sleep. Tomorrow I want you to visit Mme Pomfrey, then Mme Pince to pick up the necessary books. Is there anything else you need?"
Malfoy was simultaneously shocked and relieved, and looked so. It took him a moment to think clearly enough to answer the question. "A wand," he croaked.
McGonagall's thin eyebrows rose in surprise, "How did you-"
"I don't know," Malfoy pre-empted, the edginess quickly returning.
"Do you know at least how you lost it?," Dumbledore asked gently.
Malfoy shook his head, then began rubbing his dirty temples. The headache that had been his constant companion for months was really beginning to act up, and he really didn't know how much longer he would be able to continue this conversation – something that the old headmaster seemed to realize. "Well then, I'll let you go now. We'll sort something out regarding your wand."
Malfoy quickly stood and made for the door, but was stopped again by the intentional use of his name.
"Oh, and Draco..." Malfoy turned around, an exceedingly strained and pained expression on his face.
"This conversation is not over."
As soon as the door closed behind him, Malfoy felt as though he was going to pass out. He felt like he had been running on empty for ages, and the exhaustion was suddenly overwhelming. He only got a few steps before another debilitation made itself known – a sickening agony was felt in his shrunken stomach. Using the wall as the support, he slowly made his way to the dungeons, grateful that the rest of the students were all still at the Feast, giving him the time and berth he needed to accommodate his weakness.
He made it all the way to the dungeons, almost through the Slytherin dorms, before encountering anyone. When he finally did, they just eyed each other for a long moment.
Malfoy felt defeated – his body was failing him, and he had made it to Hogwarts only to be killed on his first day back. He laughed bitterly, brokenly, and spoke hoarsely. "Go ahead. Kill me."
Snape shook his head thoughtfully. "I'm not going to kill you, Draco. Especially not under Dumbledore's nose. Besides, you seem to be doing a pretty good job of that yourself."
"That's right!," Malfoy shouted with nonexistent energy. "I don't need your help! Go tell that to fucking Voldemort! Let me be in peace!"
Snape flinched slightly at the use of You-Know-Who's name, but his voice was almost gentle. "What happened to you?"
"Ha! He didn't tell you?," Malfoy sneered hatefully. Snape just shook his head. Malfoy laughed maliciously before continuing almost conversationally. "Of course, you're only a minion. My father thought you a pathetic excuse for a human being, you know, and he degraded you and made jokes at your expense constantly. About how Narcissa chose him over you, how your feelings for her were pitiable and laughable. But... I... always thought you quite shrewd, much more so than you let on. So lets see if you can solve the riddle, Death Eater scum. You knew Narcissa when she was younger – what do think happened to her?"
Snape's puzzled look was the last thing Malfoy saw before he hunger and fatigue overcame him and he slumped against the wall, before falling to the floor.
When Malfoy woke up thirty three hours later, he was in the Infirmary. He had been cleaned up, and the debilitating hunger had somehow been sated. His mind felt fuzzy, and his body warm – the best he had felt in months, and he allowed himself to doze a little longer.
He was woken again a couple of hours later by the unmistakable sound of brisk footsteps, which stopped at the foot of his bed. Malfoy's eyes fluttered open to see Snape's unreadable face. "Let me guess, you need me in good health so that Voldemort can do what he wants with me when he gets me back?"
A flicker of grief passed across Snape's face, then was gone. He shook his head slowly, deliberately. "You will never understand how painful my feelings for your mother have been for me over the years, though I have not loved her for a long time. But I think I have figured out what you were hinting at. It would explain a lot."
Malfoy nodded, trying to shake away the morning fuzziness. "Another point for the Death Eaters. You are smarted than Lucius ever gave you credit for."
Snape looked down at Malfoy for a long moment before coming to a decision, then he pulled up a chair and sat in it. "I think we need to have a talk."
Please review! I know some of Draco's behavior seems OOC, but I promise that there are reasons, though you will have to stick with the story to find out what they are. I don't believe in give readers the answers – you will either have to figure them out on your own (there are hints!) or will have to wait until I reveal them in my own good time! That said, please show some love, give me some sugar, and write a review! I hope you guys are as excited as I am about this story!
