Oh boy. I've got some explaining to do.
First off, sugaroos, thank you for hanging in there! I can't believe I kept my place on your fav. lists and update alerts without updating for
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLLLLLLLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGG.
Your patience is oh so admirable - I heart you all! Warm fuzzy kudos to all my reviewers, especially BubblyFizz03, who gave me a much-needed wake up call.
I won't bore you with any long explanations, so you won't rip up your scroll bars to get to the good stuff. Suffice to say that I wrote this in a personally difficult period, and started relying on it for reviews more than the joy of writing. Boo for me. When I left this piece all those months ago, I wasn't sure if I would ever return mournful violin music in background. I decided not to rush it, and see if I could get back into the story at my own pace. And luckily, with the help of me pals (and the rapidly-oncoming release date for the ACTUAL book 6), it worked! So thanks again; and now sit back and relax, Dahlin's. Let the angst resume!
-the Late Miss Kitty.
Chapter 8
Father settles back, languidly, making the spindly prison chair look like the world's finest dragon hide sofa. I swallow hard, but my adam's apple suddenly seems to take up all the room in my throat.
"So, tell me. How are things at that, er, fine school of yours?"
"They're fine. I mean, they're insufferable - um - which is the same as ever, I guess." Why do I always feel like I've said just the wrong thing?
"And that half-arsed buzzard of a headmaster?"
"I couldn't say, sir. I don't see him much; even less since the Dark Lord's return. I guess he's fine."
"Hm."
And then he's silent, staring at me. I try to imagine that he's just studying me, because he missed me. But Azkaban - and my father - have a remarkable way of squeezing all the hope out of thoughts. I really shouldn't kid myself. He's looking at me, yes, but I know he's not seeing: I recognize that expression, after sixteen years. He's plotting something. Something big. I feel an invisible band of terror around my chest squeezing tighter and tighter, crushing muscles, cracking ribs...
Father opens his mouth, and the thing around my chest snaps. I realize I'm sweating like a chocolate frog in summer, but he doesn't notice. I think he takes it as his due. I don't want to know what he's about to say, I don't.
"Tell me something, Draco."
Okay, maybe it's not too bad. Maybe it's really nothing, he might have just missed me after all-
"Can I trust you?"
-it's bad.
"Yes, sir."
"Really, now?"
"Yes, really, sir. Yes."
"I certainly hope so. Because I have things to share with you that would create some very... unfortunate situations for me, were they leaked out." His whisper shifts into a hiss. "But I take comfort in the fact that however bad my punishment may be, the one who blurts such secrets will have it far, far worse, at the hand of the Dark Lord himself!"
By now I'm plastered against the back of my chair. My face feels cold. He leans back, swatting impatiently at his loose hair. It must be driving him crazy, having it down like that, not even slicked back like I usually keep mine. He always wore it in a ponytail. Mother once said that it was a shame, because she loved for him to wear it down. It was one of the few times I heard my Mother show her dislike of anything Father did. Mother... Without warning, my nerves get the best of me. I start babbling before Father can continue.
"But why me? Does Mother know any of this? Couldn't you tell her instead?" There. The damage is done. I watch for the anger to cloud over his face, but it doesn't come. He looks shocked, then... Thoughtful? Yes. My Father is seriously considering something I've said. I think I might faint. He starts again in the most gentle voice I've ever heard him use, the kind you would explain something to a child in.
"Your mother." He begins. "How can I say this? Your mother, Draco, is not a... complicated person. But she tends to complicate things for other people. Telling her any of what I'm about to tell you would do much more harm than good. Do you understand?"
I nod mutely. Something in me is offended, but another, bigger part, sees the logic in what he's saying. Since his arrest, Mother has been different. She's quieter, and drinks even more than usual. She's stopped going to so many parties. She cries too easily. I can just see her having a few sherries and spilling all kinds of things out for the whole world to hear. She was always bad about gossip.
"Very good. Now-"
"But what about Moon?" I blurt. I'm too amazed at my own boldness to stop myself. "Why can't he help you? He knows a lot more about everything than I do."
This time, he does look irritated. "HONESTLY, Draco, must you question everything I do?"
I mumble an apology, but my face must have been so curious that he answers me anyway.
"It's in Jeffrey's nature to brag. I'm amazed he's lasted this long, so far into Ministry security. He is growing more tiresome than useful. Our Master loses interest. I doubt Moon will survive the month."
"Oh." What else is there to say? Except that there must be SOMEONE else, anywhere, who could bear the burden he's asking of me. I can't, and I don't want to. Who else could-
"Stop thinking so much, Draco. It makes you look ill. And before you ask, no, there is no one who could take your place in this. So stop trying to undermine me, boy. I'm being FAR more patient than you deserve."
"Sorry."
He lifts an eyebrow.
"Sir."
"There. Really, I expected any son of mine to have more spine than you. I thought you'd be jumping at the chance to help me. You were always painfully eager. But perhaps..." He rises to his feet and towers over me once more. "PERHAPS you no longer care for our cause? I would think it impossible, given your breeding. But miracles do happen: look at that mutt Bellatrix rid us of last year; he was your mother's cousin. It may be you've inherited some traitor's gene. Most unfortunate. Shall I send someone down to dear Hogwarts one night? Perhaps weakness can be forced out of you... crucio?"
The blood freezes in my veins. There is no way out of this, after all. I bow my head.
"Forgive me, sir. Of course I'll do anything I can to help our cause."
"ANYTHING, Draco?"
I swallow again to keep my throat from closing in on itself. "Anything," I say.
"Excellent. We have not much time left, I'd best get to it. First look at me, Draco."
I obey, and he catches my gaze with his. "Now stay there." He says. "I am going to give you your instructions. If at any time you look away, or if your eyes betray even a glimpse of deceit towards me, I will see to it that you are dead within the week. Do you understand?"
I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
"Our Lord is gathering power. He has infiltrated all but the highest levels of Ministry security, has outposts of Death Eaters in every city and large town in the whole of western Europe, and is at work on extending His forces across the sea."
I have gone into shutdown. I am afraid of betraying my fear that I seem to have lost control of my body altogether. I couldn't show deceit if I wanted to. There is a roaring in my ears, but I catch every awful word.
"His strength is all but returned, His army is mobilizing. The time is ripe for a display of His power. Something... to start the new campaign off with a bang. And what better place than the one so many fools believe is untouchable, even for Him?"
For the first time, my father smiles. It's the worst thing I've ever seen.
"Nothing is impossible for our Master, Draco. Not anymore. He has learnt from His mistakes; if there was any weakness in Him, it is gone now. He has conquered death itself. After such a feat..." He leans in, grinning like a schoolboy, "...the overthrow of Hogwarts will be only a trifle."
