Here it is…much toiled after chapter 2. Strangely enough, the final seven pages took the least amount of time, and they are by far my favorite part of the story. Ron's character development, what little there is, took so much time to write! But here are necessary interactions for the rest of the story, so it was worth it in the end.
But I still love Lucius and Draco, they are my favorite…so stick around until the very end, I promise, its worth it.
Out of the Shadows 2: Shades of Malfoy
Draco squeezed his eyes shut, waiting until the spinning stopped. The tight pulling on his stomach loosened and he was pitched forward, slammed forcefully onto a rough stone path.
"Bloody Hell!" someone said beside him.
Draco frowned. He'd recognize that foul, foolish expression anywhere.
"Weasley…"
He pushed himself to his knees, and opened his eyes. Ron Weasley—that stupid excuse for a pureblood wizard—was wobbling unsteadily on his feet, and clutching his stomach.
Right on the front lawn of Malfoy Manor.
Draco rose to his feet, and marched over to Weasley, seizing the back of his robes. "Weasley, you bloody fool!"
Weasley shook himself from Malfoy's grip, " 'ger off, Malfoy."
"Love to…but as you're on my property I would suggest you 'ger off first."
"No PROBLEM," Weasley replied, catching sight of the discarded goblet and quickly picking it up.
He stood there stupidly for a moment, staring from the Goblet to his still whole form. Draco crossed his arms, smirking.
"It's a one way Portkey, you idiot."
Ron dropped the cup, a nasty snarl curling across his face. "Say one more thing to me, Malfoy, and I swear I'll…"
"You'll what? Attack me on my own front lawn? Don't think my Mum, who's back from Azkaban, would look to kindly upon that. I'm already going to have to sneak you into the Manor in the first place, though I don't know why I should even bother."
"Why bother? Your dungeons have already seen one Weasley, right? What difference will two make?"
Draco felt the blood rushing to his face. "Do you think I want to be caught with you? Having to explain your presence here means explaining why I was at your house in the first place, when I should have come directly home."
Weasley stared at him for a moment. "So...you're not going to turn me in?"
"Turn you into what?" Draco kicked the cup across the lawn, slamming it into the nearby trunk of the tree. "Believe me, there are hundred of things I'd love to turn you into, but Ginny would never forgive me. Not that she'd care, with Potter there to comfort her…" he paused, remembering Potter's hand on her shoulder.
PRAT!
He glanced over at Weasley. The red-head was staring at him in stony silence, one eyebrow arched. He looked almost—amused…
"Let's go," Draco snarled.
"What are you planning to do?" asked Weasley hesitantly.
"I'll take you in the Front Hall—Mother will more than likely be in her study. One of the House Elves can take you to a Floo outlet." He shuffled slowly along the path, hoping his Mother wasn't waiting for him to arrive.
Ron watched Malfoy walk up the large front path, towards the hulking doors of what he could only assume was Malfoy Manor. Despite the nauseous feeling in his stomach, he was slightly curious to see inside the Manor House of the most evil family in the wizarding world.
Not even Harry has been here…
Ginny had, though. He wouldn't have expected anything else—everyone beat him to something.
"Hey."
Malfoy was staring at him murderously, waiting on the huge stone causeway that marked the entrance to his home. "If you'd rather wait on the front lawn…this isn't a particularly Weasley friendly neighborhood."
"Neighborhood?" Ron said snidely, gazing around at the vast, empty land that surrounded the manor. There wasn't a light within miles of the Manor. "Bet they must really bother your nerves."
"No, but they wouldn't take pity on yours. Now come on."
Ron stared at the huge mansion, his heart pounding in his chest, and stepped towards the arcing doorway of the last place in the wizarding world he'd ever thought he'd be.
"This is not good. This is not good at all. Not good at all."
Harry sighed. "Hermione, would you please sit down? Wearing down the floorboards will not bring Ron back."
Hermione glared at him. "How can you just sit there when Ron might be in very serious trouble?"
"He's with Draco, Hermione. Ron will be fine. You need to relax," said Ginny from her position next to Harry.
"RELAX?" shrieked Hermione. "Have you forgotten what happened the last time you were at Malfoy Manor?"
"NO," said Ginny coldly. "Do you really think I could?"
Hermione puffed up for a moment, arms crossed, assuming a stance exactly like Ginny's mum. Ginny frowned at her, and she sighed, lowering her hands. "Of course not, Ginny. And that's why I'm worried."
"But since that time, Hermione," said Ginny harshly, "Bellatrix was killed and Draco became my…well, Draco is slightly more sympathetic to the Weasleys."
"Not to Ron."
"Ron can take care of himself," said Harry, looking slightly ruffled. "You shouldn't worry so much. Is this why Ron is always complaining about your being a worry wart?"
"She does it more when it's you," Ginny said with a small smile.
"I do NOT!" huffed Hermione. "What do you suggest we do, then? Sit here and study?"
"That isn't exactly—wait a moment—isn't that for you to suggest?"
"HARRY POTTER!"
"What on Earth is going on in here?" said Mrs. Weasley, walking into the kitchen with a bag full of groceries. "I could hear you out in the drive." She caught sight of the trio at the table. "Harry, why are you still here? I thought you'd left for London."
"Professor Dumbledore suggested I come back here—it's safest."
"Of course it is," she said with a smile, and turned to her groceries. "Now, why were you shouting, Hermione dear? You seem preoccupied."
"Mum, Ron's left," said Ginny quickly, before Hermione could answer.
"Left? Where to?"
"He…went to go visit…with Draco."
"What?" Mrs. Weasley cried. "Visit with Draco Malfoy? Why in the name of Albus Dumbledore would he do that?"
"He has something to speak about him with," Ginny said nonchalantly, leaning back in her chair. Harry and Hermione were staring at her.
"Is that…safe?" said Mrs. Weasley worriedly.
"Perfectly," said Ginny with a smile. "I already warned Draco not to be too harsh with him. I wouldn't worry…"
"Why were you shouting, then?"
"Ah…"
"I believe Hermione's a bit concerned about the location, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry quickly. "Doesn't believe Malfoy Manor's safe."
"MALFOY MANOR!"
Ginny shrank back in her chair as Mrs. Weasley whirled back towards them, her round face red.
"HE WENT TO MALFOY MANOR!"
"R-relax, Mum."
"RELAX? RELAX! Ron's gone all the way to Malfoy Manor—the night before the trial of Narcissa Malfoy—to talk to a boy he can't stand about—what… QUIDDITCH?"
"Er…Yes," said Harry quickly.
"What?" replied Mrs. Weasley rounding on him. "What sort of a fools…"
"Draco," he said with slight displeasure, "told Ron he might look at one of his old brooms."
"Draco Malfoy…agreed to let Ron have one of his old brooms. And decided that it would be best to do this the day his mother returns to her Manor home?"
"You know how boys are about Quidditch," said Hermione, wide-eyed, trying to sound convincing.
"But Malfoy Manor?"
"I'm sure it wasn't just about the broom," said Ginny. "You know how Ron is, always wanting to solve his problems without letting anyone know about them. He was rather suspicious about the whole thing—so who knows why he really went? Maybe he didn't want us to know that he was going to talk to Draco about something else, and covered it up by telling us it was about Quidditch."
Mrs. Weasley stared at her for a moment, a loaf of bread still in her hand, one eyebrow raised. "What could Ron possibly have to speak to Draco about at a time like this?"
"I don't know! Mrs. Malfoy's trial? Maybe he wanted to tell him about the Wizengamot, or something? Or maybe…me," she added quietly. "Draco and I did get into a fight before he left. Maybe Ron wanted to explain something?"
Hermione sighed heavily. "Because he'd be the first person to try and smooth things over," she hissed quietly.
Harry shot her a pleading look.
"I'm sure he'll be back soon, Mum."
Mrs. Weasley continued to stare at Ginny, who lowered her head, allowing her thick curtain of red hair to hide her face. Ginny's mum sighed, softening slightly at her daughter's down turned shoulders.
"Perhaps…but why today, of all days? That seems rather irrational on Ron's part. Harry, what do you think about this?" she asked, turning to him..
"He didn't say anything to me about needing to talk to Malfoy," said Harry cautiously.
Ginny raised her head, glaring at him.
"—but perhaps he didn't want to say what he really needed to do—like Ginny says. Ron has been much quieter these days. And you know, history with Malfoy and all…"
"Well…he does have a great deal of good sense about him now…"
"I'm sure he'll be back soon, Mrs. Weasley, like Ginny says," said Hermione suddenly, her face calm. "He said he'd only be gone for a moment."
Mrs. Weasley glanced at her, a puzzled expression on her face. Hermione was looking calmly at Ron and Ginny's mum, her hands folded upon the table. All signs of agitation were quite gone.
"Very well," Mrs. Weasley said slowly. "But if he's not back by dinner I'm going to send Errol to the Manor to call for him."
As she walked back into the kitchen, Hermione leaned in towards them. "What are you doing?" she whispered. "Why would you lie about Ron's 'visiting' the Manor? We have absolutely no idea when he'll return!"
"If she finds out Ron left by accident, she'll panic. Narcissa Malfoy is back at the Manor. Malfoy will want to hide Ron until he can open a Floo and send him back. That will be as soon as possible, I'm certain."
"You really believe Draco is going to hide Ron so he can get back home?"
"After what happened with Ginny? I don't think Malfoy wants any part of Ginny's family anywhere near his Mum," said Harry, leaning over to pat her hand. "I'm absolutely certain he's going to find a way to get Ron back safely and as soon as possible."
"Let's hope so," said Hermione softly. "For Ron's sake."
They sat in silence for a few moments, Harry pensively staring at the fire, Ginny with her hands on her chin, lost in thought. Hermione thumbed through the pages of one of Mrs. Weasley's cookbooks absentmindedly. Ginny's Mum hummed in the background.
"Bloody Hell," cried Harry suddenly.
Mrs. Weasley stopped humming and popped her head in the kitchen. "Is something the matter dear?"
"N-no, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry, his eyes still on the fireplace. "I scratched my arm."
"Be careful of that table, dear," said Ginny's Mum, returning to the kitchen. "It needs to be polished again."
"What's wrong, Harry?" asked Ginny quietly.
"The Floo," he said quickly, leaning in towards them and keeping an eye on Mrs. Weasley, who was still bustling about by the stove. "We've been saying all this time we'll be waiting for him by Floo…but…are we so certain Ron will be able to get back here by Floo?"
"What do you mean?"
Hermione's eyes widened. "Of course…with Mrs. Malfoy at home…"
"What?"
"Ginny," said Harry worriedly, "with Narcissa Malfoy at her Manor, the Ministry will want to monitor her—make sure she can't escape."
"Meaning…they'll have shut all the Floo down around her house," Ginny finished, eyes widening. "I didn't think of that!"
"What do we do?" asked Hermione, wide-eyed. Her lower lip was trembling.
"Nothing," said Harry gravely. "We can't go jaunting off to Malfoy Manor ourselves. There's nothing we can do. I hate to say it, but our only hope lies with Malfoy."
The halls of Malfoy Manor had never appeared colder, since his visit to the warm comfort of The Burrow.
But it was still home, and Draco was glad to be there.
The halls were lit dimly, as he expected they would be after such a long vacancy by the family.
The mantelpieces were dusted, however, and the brass fixtures shone—nothing less for his Mother. She would most certainly notice if even one part of the house was out of place.
"Stay back," he whispered to Weasley. If he remembered correctly, he only had about twenty seconds or so.
He received no response. Draco turned. The Weasel was casting about the room, his mouth open—and not paying attention at all.
Figures…how he can be related to Ginny, I'll never know.
"Weasley!" he hissed.
Weasley snapped to attention. "What?"
"The curtain!" Draco motioned to one of the heavy tapestries that lined the foyer. "Over there!"
Weasley glared at him. "You want me to hide behind the curtain? A bit foolish, that, isn't it?"
"Foolish?"
"Yes, foolish. Or do you really think no one will notice the large, tall bump standing against the perfectly straight wall."
Draco motioned upwards, glaring at him. "They're suspended from the ceiling, you prat. There's a good foot of space between them and the wall. Just make sure you hide those yardsticks you call feet."
"Can't I just go to your room or something?"
"Later—there isn't time now!"
"But…"
"JUST DO WHAT I SAY!"
"Master Draco?"
"NOW!"
Weasley didn't argue; though his face was bright red. After a moment he darted behind one of the tall tapestries.
"Master Draco?"
"Archibald?" Draco hurriedly unfurled his cloak, brushing off the dirt. "Archibald, I am here!"
There was a loud crack, and a stately looking House Elf emerged, his ears pulled back, his pillowcase neatly pressed.
"Master Draco. Welcome home, sir. We've been expecting you for quite some time. I am glad to see you have arrived safely."
"Thank you. When did Mother arrive?"
"Early this afternoon, Sir. She's awaiting your arrival in the Dining Hall."
"Thank you...Archibald, can you prepare the Floo in my room, please?"
"Sir?"
"I have a message to send to…a friend's house. I'll direct the location, I just need you to start the fire."
"I'm terribly sorry sir…the Floo is inaccessible at the moment."
"WHAT!"
Archibald jumped. "What was that?"
Draco flinched, glancing furiously at the curtain. "I said 'WHAT!' Is something wrong with that?"
"N-no, Sir."
"Why aren't the Floo working, Archibald?"
"Sir…I would have thought you would expect…with your Mother returned but not yet cleared…the Ministry…"
"…has sealed up the Floo," finished Draco, rubbing his forehead with his fingertips. "Smashing. Thank you, Archibald. Please tell Mother I will join her in a moment."
"Yes Sir," said Archibald, casting one last suspicious look at the tapestry.
"Archibald, I said to go."
"Archibald goes, sir," said the stately House Elf, slipping into self-address as was his custom when he was agitated. "Archibald will inform your Mother you have finally returned."
With a small pop, he was gone.
"Bloody Brilliant. Now what do we do?" Weasley shoved the tapestry aside roughly.
"Watch it, Weasley. That piece of fabric is worth ten of you and your home."
"Which I'd very much like to get back to, Malfoy. How am I bloody going to do that without a Floo?"
"Shut up for a moment, will you? I'll think of something."
"Draco?"
Draco turned as a high voice echoed down the hall. "Brilliant. Archibald's already told her."
He turned to Weasley. "My Mother is coming. If she sees you, we'll both be in a great deal more trouble than I'd care to deal with."
"What am I supposed to do…jump behind the curtain again? Something tells me your Mum won't be as absentminded as a House Elf."
"TENNY!" Draco hissed suddenly. "TENNY! Emerge!"
In a matter of seconds, a sharp crack announced the arrival of another House Elf—this time, a small withered female. Tenny, the nursemaid, stared up at him gleefully. "Master Draco! You is back, Sir!"
"Take him to my room, Tenny. NOW!"
Tenny turned around, wide eyed. Weasley had his arms crossed and was staring at the House Elf tenuously.
"Who is this, Sir?"
"No time!" He grabbed her by her crisp pillow sheet and shoved her into Weasley. "NOW!"
"Y-y-yes Sir!" Tenny seized the Gryffindor's hand sharply and disappeared, taking an open-mouthed Weasley with her.
"Draco? Are you there?"
Draco straightened, smoothing his hair quickly. "M-mother?"
Narcissa Malfoy appeared in the Foyer. "Draco! What is taking you? Why haven't you…" she surveyed his rumpled clothing, and dirty cloak. "What have you been doing?"
"Sorry I'm late, Mother," he said quickly, moving over to her. She embraced him softly. To his surprise he now stood taller than she—and his mother was not a short woman."
I've been away from her too long…
"I'm sorry, Mother. I should have been here sooner," he said, hugging her back.
"Quite alright, Draco, though your reasons for being detained are less than pleasing. However, Alluise has prepared a wonderful dinner and I expect you're quite hungry."
"Yes, I just have to place a few things in my room…change…"
"That does not matter. We have been too long apart to stand on formality. And certainly you experienced none on your recent visit to the country."
"Of course not, Mother."
"Then…shall we?"
Draco followed behind her, as she turned. I hope The Weasel can manage an hour without me.
Ron coughed, waving his hand about to clear the air. The House Elf had been a bit over-anxious, and the result was a near explosion as she apparated into what he could only assume was Malfoy's room.
Or rather, Malfoy's suite of rooms.
As the smoke drifted away, he found himself in a richly textured sitting area—dark green, with lush embellishments of silver and black. Handsome tapestries hung on the wall, along with a variety of ancient hangings. Above a rich, chestnut desk hung a series of brooms—a set used by a child, as he was growing up.
Must be nice to have all these luxuries…
"Are you a Weezy?"
Ron jumped. "I'm sorry?"
"Are you a Mr. Weezy?"
The voice was coming down by his feet.
A tiny old house elf—older than he'd ever seen—was standing beside him, her arms behind her back, and grinning. It was the one Malfoy had shoved at him.
Hermione would be angry with that.
"You look like a Weezy."
"My name is Ron Weasley, if that's what you mean…" Dobby had always referred to him as Weezy—something to do with their pronunciation.
"You have a sister, yes? Or a cousin, yes?"
"I have a sister…may I ask who you are? And why you are so interested in my family name?"
"Tenny has met your sister, the Miss Weezy," the little Elf said, very nearly bouncing in excitement. "Tenny is honored to meet you, sir. Tenny is very grateful to the Weezy. Tenny is caretaker to Master Draco, sir."
"I'm sorry."
"No, no, sir. Tenny is honored. Tenny is very honored indeed, especially as she is meeting another Weezy."
Ron smiled. "You can call me Ron. So you…met Ginny, when she was here?"
"Yes!" Tenny clapped her hands for a moment, then stopped, her face drooping. "Tenny is sorry she couldn't prevent Miss Weezy from pain."
Ron's mouth twisted. "You saw her get attacked?"
"Yes sir. The Mistress's sister…she was very cruel to Miss Weezy. To use unforgiving curses…Tenny was so sorry they happened to Miss Weezy."
"Unforgiving…you mean unforgivable curses?" said Ron. "You saw her use the Cruciatus Curse?"
"Curses, sir. Yes, sir."
Ron felt the blood drain from his face. "Ginny didn't tell me she'd been struck more than once—just that she'd been knocked out and thrown in the dungeons."
"Well…" Tenny placed a hand to her leathery cheek. "Tenny is sorry, sir. But she was protected by Master Draco, sir. He risked himself to save the Miss Weezy, sir."
"What?" said Ron, barely hearing her. Waves of heat were coursing through body.
"Master Draco—he placed himself between Miss Weezy and his Aunt. The Mistress then stopped the Miss Bella from the attacks."
"Malfoy did that?" said Ron. The rushing sound in his head—along with the sudden urge to strangle Malfoy—started to fade.
"Yes sir," Tenny's grin grew wide. "Miss Weezy has been very good for Master Draco. He is not so like Master Lucius now. Tenny is very, very glad for her."
Ron stared at her confusedly. He really had no idea what to say.
"Ah! Tenny is being summoned. Please to wait here in Master Draco's rooms, sir, and Tenny will return shortly."
"Wait…Tenny!"
The small House Elf snapped her fingers, and was gone in a flash.
"Wonderful." Ron cast about the room. "Waiting…for Malfoy. In Malfoy's Room. In Malfoy Manor. Exactly the last thing I want to do."
"Barrister Murray believes that I have quite a strong case." Draco's mother said as she sipped calmly on her tea, smiling at him. "He says they may be able to argue that I was trying to save my own life as well as the lives of those around me. The Wizengamot will be willing to listen."
Draco stared at her for a moment. She looked extremely pale, and much slimmer than she had before she left. There were deep shadows under her eyes, and her smile was wan, and cold.
Azkaban Prison tended to have that affect on people.
"How…how
did you fare, Mother?"
His mother's eyes tightened ever so
slightly on the sides. "It was not so terribly difficult."
"Are the…guards still there?"
She set down her cup. "Thankfully, they are limited. I suppose I have Bellatrix, ironically enough, to thank for that. More human wizards than Dementors are now in charge of the prison—although, as far as Dementors—there are enough."
He placed a hand on the one wrapped around her teacup. "I'm glad you've returned, Mother."
"Are you really, Draco?"
Ginny's voice flooded through his head.
Have you killed anybody yet? You are not your father…
I guess now I'm not like my mother either…
"Draco?"
He removed his hand. "Did you see Father there?"
Narcissa's face grew pinched. "I'm afraid I did not. I might have had that option, but I believe, as does Mr. Murray, that associating with anyone connected to Bellatrix would look extremely bad to the Council. I understand that he is surviving, however."
Draco glanced aside. His mother sounded so cold…would his Father have made the same choice?
Mrs. Weasley would never have allowed HER husband to be left alone. She would have sacrificed her chance at life just for one moment with him…
"Draco?"
"I believe he will be all right. Father, I mean."
"Your father can take care of himself," Narcissa said cautiously. "Nobody, not even the guards of Azkaban, would dare to cross him. You understand why I was forced to avoid him, right, Draco?"
Draco didn't answer for a moment. His Mother's eyes tightened.
"Draco…"
"Of course," he said softly. "I'm glad you've been careful—and I'm certain Barrister Murray will be able to convince the Wizengamot of your innocence."
"Draco, you are most certainly out of character right now," his Mother commented. "So inattentive and doubtful. What is the matter with you?"
Draco blushed. "Nothing…"
Narcissa stared at him, her mouth drawing into a thin line. "Never mind. By that expression on your face I can guess what you're thinking about. Or rather, who. In fact, I should have known from the beginning."
"You're wrong, Mother. I wasn't thinking of her."
"Draco, you're always thinking of her, whether you mean to or not."
He sighed. "Mother…"
"How did you visit to little…where is it? Catch raft Otter?
"Ottery St. Catchpole."
"You were not seen, I hope," she said darkly.
"By no one but the Crumholtzes, and they made sure I exercised caution. I stayed with them the entire time, Mother, never at The…their house. I wouldn't have risked it," he mumbled.
"Were they…cordial? The Weasleys, I mean."
"Generally."
"Hmph. I suppose I should expect as much out of Molly Prewitt, she always was such a sniveling goody-goody in school, although she and Weasley did get into their fair share of trouble."
"Not much has changed."
Narcissa harrumphed. "I'm not surprised at that either. Either way…I'm just glad your father doesn't know. I cannot even imagine what he might say."
"I appreciate your…understanding. Thank you for allowing me to go."
"I did not allow you to go—you would have left whether or not I approved. I simply didn't stand against it. I supposed its the least I can do, considering what they did for you last year. Just…lets not have her at the trial, shall we?"
"Of course not."
Mrs. Malfoy had cleaned his suite of rooms; Tenny, who'd tended to him since he was a boy, was waiting eagerly inside.
"Master Draco!"
"Hullo, Tenny. Sorry for earlier."
"Master Draco apologizes!" Tenny smiled at him slyly. "Such a nice-nice thing."
Draco's face hardened, his eyes narrowing into slits. "Watch yourself, Teneesia. Impudence means clothes, you know that very well. You haven't done so very much that you have reign to speak to your Masters as though they were family."
The smile faded from the House Elf's face, and Draco felt a slight pang of guilt.
She moved over to his bed, smoothing it with a wrinkled hand. "How does the Young Miss, Master Draco?"
Draco rolled his eyes. Ever since the events of last year, when Tenny had helped to save Ginny's life, she'd been relentless in inquiring after Ginny. Certainly stepping out of the normal bounds of a House Elf.
Unlike the other Elves, though, Draco didn't have the heart to chastise her about Ginny. He owed her too much.
"She's doing well, Tenny, she says to say hello. And speaking of her—where is her brother?"
"Brother, sir?"
"Yes…the tall red-head you apparated in here with? The other Weasley?"
"Ah, yes! The Mr. Weezy! He is in Master Draco's study."
"Has he been giving you trouble?"
"Tenny is not certain, sir."
"You haven't been to check on him?"
"Tenny has no time," she said nervously, her ears folding back
"Never mind," said Draco, unable to bear her pitiable expression. "Can you please watch the Dark Room, and make sure no one—especially my Mother—passes by?"
"Master Draco? What's should Tenny say if the Mistress is by?"
"Tell her that I'm to visit the rooftop and I wished the hall and stairs to be lit."
"Yes, sir," she disappeared.
He moved through his bedroom to his study, where the fireplace was softly flickering. In the far corner, the Weasel was curled into a corner, intently studying a large, aged volume.
"Hogwarts, a History? Honestly, Weasley."
Weasley dropped the book with a thump, wincing as the weight of it fell upon his foot. "It happened to be here…I just wanted to find out what Hermione is always talking…why am I even bothering to explain myself to you?" he snarled suddenly.
"Why indeed." Draco sneered. "You really ARE as clueless as they come."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You mean after three years of moping about you still haven't figured out what you're about with that…"
Weasley narrowed his eyes. "About with that what? What are you talking about?"
"Never mind. I have a few…arrangements to make. Wait here, I'll return momentarily."
"With a few armed trolls, no doubt."
"Of course…since it'd be so much easier that way than to just throw you out the door."
"Or to the family basilisk."
"This is utterly exhausting. Look," Draco said, turning away from him, "obviously, I'm not going to do anything to you, or I'd risk the wrath of Ginny. Believe me, I'd much rather run the risk of upsetting my mother, if Ginny's temper is anything like your mother's."
"It's worse," said Weasley snidely.
"There you are," sighed Draco. "So for the moment, can we stop the blithering and just talk business?"
"Fine by me," said Weasley, picking the book back up.
"I'm going to post an owl. After that, we'll make our way up through the back halls to the roof. Hopefully someone will be waiting to take you."
"Take me where?"
"Anywhere…so long as its away from here."
"Fine by me," Weasley repeated.
Draco shook his head, and walked from the room.
The walk to the Owlery wasn't far; thankfully, his great gray Eagle owl was perched on the nearest roost, and immediately flew over to him. He stroked the owl's feathers. Normally, he would do, but this required speed—and only one owl would do.
Draco sketched out a quick note on the writing stand. A beautiful, sleek tawny bird was perched closest to the window—the fastest owl at Malfoy Manor.
"Take this to Henrietta," he whispered, stroking the bird's back. "And be quick. Come through to my room when you can."
He hoped the wizards monitoring the Manor wouldn't be able to understand the note he'd sent—or stop it on its way.
He made his way slowly back to his set of rooms, uneager to get back. The idea of even attempting a civilized conversation with the Weasel turned his stomach.
He fingered his shirt absentmindedly, his hands rubbing over the small silver pin clipped there.
A prefects badge. It appeared to be a normal badge, with a small "P" engraved, to signify prefect. If one looked closer, however, they could see the small crest behind the P was actually the crest of Gryffindor.
Ginny had given him her badge, in exchange for his own. Only those who looked closely would be able to tell the difference.
Draco surveyed walls around him, taking in the comfortable surroundings which, only last year, had beheld one of the most frightening moments of his life—Ginny, injured and relying on him for protection, taken prisoner by his Aunt Bellatrix and dragged down to the Malfoy dungeons in front of his eyes. He'd given her his badge to assure her he wouldn't let her get hurt.
He'd broken that promise.
But Ginny hadn't given up on him. She'd clutched his badge through all his Aunt had done to her, clutching it so tightly that the seal of Slytherin had cut into her hand.
She'd trusted him. So much so, she'd endured his Aunt's tortures to make sure she'd see him again. When she offered her Prefect's badge for his, he'd taken it without hesitation—and had been proud to wear it.
He never believed he would wear anything that signified Gryffindor. But then, he never imagined he would fall in love with someone from Gryffindor.
Especially a Weasley.
And especially a friend of Harry Potter.
Ginny had given him a photo for his mantelpiece as well, but he dare not place it upon the shelf. His mother had been very accepting, so long as she didn't have anything to remind her of the relationship. His Slytherin friends had been the same; so long as no one acknowledged anything was going on, they said nothing. Ginny didn't seem to mind the secrecy; though the residents of Gryffindor were supposed to be "noble," they were about as accepting of the idea as the Slytherins.
So the picture resided in his pocket. He pulled it out, a picture of Ginny waving gleefully at him. She looked much younger; she hadn't had a photo made for a few years, save the family photos at Christmas (which featured all the Weasleys, and Ginny hadn't wanted to press that on him). He stared at it fondly. He'd given her a small portrait his mother had painted and placed into a locket.
Perfect, Ginny had said, this way I can keep it with me. I don't trust it on my bedside table, you know, with my brothers…
He chucked at that thought of what that portrait might have to go through.
"Draco?"
One of the doors behind him swung open, and he quickly stuffed the picture back into the lapel pocket of his robes. "Mother?"
She watched him from the doorway. He hadn't even realized he'd passed by her suite of rooms.
"What are you doing wandering about the Manor?"
She was staring at him in confusion. He realized he was still grinning stupidly. His smile faded.
"I…had to go to the Owlery…"
"I see…" A look of extreme displeasure had crossed over her face. "I hope the letter you sent didn't contain anything too revealing, the Ministry will be screening them."
She thinks I'm writing Ginny…
"Of course not."
"Well…we'll be leaving for the Ministry early in the morning."
"Yes, Mother."
"Get some sleep, darling."
He nodded. Narcissa stared at him suspiciously, pausing for a moment to watch him, then shut the door.
A feeling of disgust washed through him. Thoughts of Ginny had the ability to give him peace, if only for a short while, but the moment the rest of his life intruded, the peace was gone.
But she'd placed her trust in him—in the badge he kept with him always. He would not fail her. He couldn't.
He moved towards the Night Wing, and started lighting the candles, hoping everything would be set for a smooth departure for The Weasel. There was a writing desk in the room at the far end of the corridor—his Mother had actually given him an idea.
Two forces were swirling inside him. If he didn't release something, a part of him was going to go mad. He just hoped when the time came, he could choose properly.
Ginny laughed, placing one hand on Harry's shoulder. Her Mum smiled sweetly at her. "I'm going to pull the pie from the oven. Would anyone like a piece?"
"I'd love one Mrs. Weasley, thank you," said Harry politely. Hermione nodded as well.
"None for me, Mum," said Ginny. I'm not too hungry."
"Very well, I'll be right back."
Ginny sat back in her chair, sighing as her mother left the room. Harry buried his face in his hands, removing his glasses to rub his eyes, and Hermione's forced grin faded.
"What are we going to do?" she said worriedly. "We haven't heard a thing! Your mother will grow terribly suspicious if we don't hear something soon."
"And do something," added Harry. His eyes were tight. "I hope Ron's alright."
"What can we do but wait? And keep up conversation?"
"Pretend conversation. If I have to force one more joke, I'll scream."
"I'll do the same with any more food," said Hermione, holding her stomach.
"Just for a little while longer. Hopefully, Ron will be back soon," said Ginny, a grin spreading across her face as her Mother re-entered the room.
Hermione glanced at her, swallowed, then picked up her fork. "Pie looks wonderful, Mrs. Weasley."
"Thank you, dear. I'll make sure to cut you the biggest slice."
Draco returned to his room a few moments later. As he turned the door handle, he was surprised to find it felt slightly weighted.
He pushed against it; with a sound like air leaving a sealed coffin it slid open.
The loudest racket he'd ever heard in the halls of the Manor filtered out. He quickly slammed the door shut—both of which closed behind him with a sickening squelch—and turned towards the set of double doors, normally kept open, but closed now, where his bed chamber was.
Tenny was huddled up against the wall next to the doors, her ears completely flattened on the back of her head. She'd obviously placed some kind of House Elf sound-proofing charm on the walls and doors of his room to prevent the shouting from coming out. She jumped as he approached her.
"Tenny, what in the name of the Manor is going on here?"
"M…master Draco, sir! Tenny is sorry she could not do more but the Mister Weezy…"
"What's he doing in there?"
"He's being attacked, sir!"
"Attacked? By what?"
"By Magnus, sir!"
Draco pushed past her, throwing the doors open.
Weasley was standing atop his massive bed, a brocaded pillow raised in one hand, fending off a great tawny blur. There was a swirl of owl and down feathers flying all over the place, along with a few well placed drops of blood and a great lot of red hair.
What the bloody hell…Weasley was shrieking up a racket, bumping into bedposts and against the wall. Magnus was screaming bloody murder, his talons slashing at the Gryffindor menacingly. Ron struck out with a fist, barely clipping the owl. Magnus shrieked even louder, diving in for another attack.
A fresh wave of feathers rose from his pillow as a third one was ripped to shreds.
Weasley reached for the velvet canopy.
"Magnus!"
The owl paused in mid-air, letting out a half-cry, half-guttural caw. It flew towards him, soaring above his head before darting forward and alighting on the mantelpiece beside him, calmly plucking and settling its ruffled feathers.
Weasley lowered his shredded pillow, looking at him exhaustedly through the swirl of brown and white feathers that filled the room almost as thickly as snow. He was scratched in a few places, and his robes were torn.
"ABOUT--BLOODY--TIME. What the hell are you doing with a bird like that? I let him in and he started attacking me."
Draco was having a rather difficult time maintaining a straight face. Something told him, however, that no matter how much the sight of Weasley tattered and cut from head to toe by owl talons pleased him, he probably should not laugh. "Magnus is rather protective, he doesn't particularly care for strangers.."
Weasley tossed the pillow aside, stepping down from the bed and sending up another shower of down feathers.. Draco glanced about the wreck that was his room, his face flushing.
"I hope that monster has brought your answer," Weasley said.
"Magnus isn't a monster. He's a loyal servant, much like your ghoul."
"My ghoul didn't try and rip you to pieces."
Draco reached for the small barrel tied to Magnus's leg, examining the bird as he went along. He stroked the owls feathers—it appeared Magnus had done more damage to Weasley than Weasley had done to him.
He scanned the note quickly, and grinned as he read the note.
Weasley blew a strand of disheveled hair out of his face. "Please…tell me that's good news."
Draco raised an eyebrow. "Let's go, Weaselbeak. We have twenty minutes."
Twenty minutes…don't know what bloody clock HE'S going by…
Ron had twisted and turned through so many corridors, he was certain no one would be able to find him. Malfoy could be taking him to the darkest dungeons of Malfoy Manor, and no one would ever know.
"Are we going to walk to The Burrow?"
"Just shut up and follow me, Weasley," Malfoy muttered.
They were moving through what Malfoy had referred to as "the Night Wing"—at least, that's where he'd told the little House Elf they were going. She'd simply shrugged, disappearing (to keep watch for Draco's Mum) with a final wink for Ron.
The hall in front of them slowly opened wider into a large galley sized foyer nearly three stories high. A dark set of doors appeared at the end of the hall. They were massive, stretching almost as high as the ceiling.
He raised an eyebrow.
The corridor split, running to the right and left of the monstrous set of doorways. The handle of the jet black doors were two twisted snakes, swallowing each others' tails. Ruby red eyes glimmered in the dim light.
Malfoy was turning down a smaller corridor to the left. Ron watched as he disappeared into the dark.
He couldn't help himself. This had to be important—nothing that strange and menacing in appearance wouldn't be—and he'd finally know something about the Malfoys no one else did.
He moved over to the doors.
They gave him an eerie feeling. There was a dried, crusty substance running down the wood, almost like…
That can't be…blood…
Ron shuddered again, placing a hand on one of the handles. The last time he'd seen such menacing snakes, they lead to a lair with a gigantic, seventy foot serpent king.
Or so Harry had told him.
"Don't touch it."
Ron jumped.
Malfoy moved out of the shadows, his eyes narrowed. "What do you think you are doing?"
"Finding out the great secret of Malfoy Manor."
"There IS no great secret of Malfoy Manor, you stupid idiot. Malfoy Manor is like any other home."
"With hidden dungeons and great black doors with twisted snake handles? Sorry, don't seem to recall anything like that at The Burrow."
"That's because you couldn't afford them. Those door handles cost more than that whole sorry house put together. Those doors lead to nothing but another suite of room."
"With great streams of crusty blood streaking down the side of them?"
Draco started; he glanced closer at the doors and examined the wood. "That's dried paint, you fool. Look, whatever supposed family 'secrets' we have are none of your business—just like whatever goes on in The Burrow isn't ours."
"My family doesn't have secrets."
"Oh, no?"
"No. Everyone can know our business—everyone does know our business, it would appear."
"Just…let's go, Weasley, we don't have time for this!"
What's wrong…afraid I'm going to spoil the secret of your sacrificial chamber?"
"DO YOU WANT TO GET HOME OR NOT?"
Ron paused, nostrils flaring.
"If my mother finds you, I can assure you, you WILL find out what's in that room…the hard way. Now come on."
Ron crossed his arms. "Where are we going?"
"Follow me, and you'll find out."
Draco led him back towards the small corridor; Ron followed him, glancing at the dark walls that lined the way. The hall was strange—abnormally crooked. Tinted oil portraits sneered at him as he passed by; a few slid into the shadows of their dark canvases as though unable to be within his presence.
"The Hall of Shadows," Draco muttered suddenly.
"What?"
"You wanted to know about it, right? The great secrets to Malfoy Manor? The corridor--it'scalled The Hall of Shadows."
Ron peered down the crookedly winding path. "Why?"
"Because it's a hall and has a lot of shadows."
Ron stopped for a moment, and did something he never thought he'd do in the presence of a Malfoy.
He laughed.
"Honestly…you named it that because it's a shadowy hall?"
"I didn't. One of my ancestors did." He couldn't see his face, but he almost felt like Malfoy might be…smiling.
"Seriously, Malfoy," he said after a moment. "How are you going to get me out?"
Malfoy nodded at a small door in one of corner of the hall. "A stair case to the roof."
"The roof?"
"The Manor has a few turrets at the top. I've arranged for a friend of mine to take you to Diagon Alley. You can use of the Floo there."
"A friend of yours?" Ron raised an eyebrow.
"Don't worry, Weasley, she won't bite."
"She?"
"Surprisingly enough, I actually do have friends who might not want to kill you."
They reached the doorway, a small niche in the wall that opened to a dark, twisted wooden staircase. Ron made his way up carefully, following Malfoy through the uneven path. The stair extended upwards and upwards; even with his Quidditch training his legs began to cramp up.
Malfoy didn't bother to pause; Ron gritted his teeth and followed without complaint. Can't let him see me as weaker than him—the Quidditch would be unbearable next year.
They reached a platform; Ron heard the wrenching of a metal lock. Malfoy's silhouette became shadowed in the dim light of the evening. Ron followed him out the stone turret.
"How did you manage to fool your mother?" asked Ron, leaning to glance down at the ground. They stood at least four stories up; the House had turrets at the top, similar to those of Hogwarts.
"She didn't ask many questions. She typically doesn't."
"Must be nice."
"Nice?"
"To have a Mum that don't bother with you except when you need her to."
"I suppose," said Malfoy, leaning on the edge of the wall. "Except…"
"Except what?"
"There is some merit to having a Mum who's so concerned she meddles in everything you do."
"I suppose."
"The last time my Mother meddled in anything, I was in primary and the result was my being transferred to another institution. At which point my Father kindly requested she not meddle again."
"Sounds…well…"
"Exactly."
"Well," said Ron, leaning back against the parapet, "get used to meddling, because Ginny is just like Mum. You'll never be free to do what you want again."
Malfoy glanced up, his eyes wide.
Ron cleared his throat. "Not that that means anything even close to acceptance, so don't get any ideas, Malfoy."
"Of course not," Malfoy sneered. "I wouldn't expect anything from you, Weasel."
"Right."
"Right."
"Draco," called a soft voice from above them. Both turned. A small girl with platinum hair set down atop the turret. "Is that you, Draco?"
"Henrietta." Malfoy nodded. The girl nodded in return. Ron had a feeling he was witnessing the warmest greeting the Malfoy family shared.
"This is my cousin, Henrietta," said Malfoy.
"This…is what you want me to take to Diagon Alley?" said the little girl, turning up her nose.
Ron frowned. "She's definitely related to you."
"Sorry, but this is an emergency."
The girl frowned. "Fine, but this pays back all favors, Draco. And I'm expecting that I won't hear from you about anything, is that clear?"
"Fine. And that means not a word about this from you either, Henrietta, do you understand? Not to your Mother. Or I tell her everything."
Henrietta's face twisted in a very impish sneer. "Fine. Have it your way, Drakee."
Malfoy ignored her. "Henrietta will fly you to Diagon Alley. She knows everything…thanks to a bit of overzealous snooping she's done—much of which could get her into trouble with her mother. She won't tell—will you, Etty?"
The little girl grimaced at him, but after a moment's thought lay her broom out sideways. Ron stared at it. She shoved it towards him ruefully. He clambered on, sitting himself towards the back, near the straws. She seated herself in front of him, edging as close to the front of the broom as possible.
He turned towards Malfoy. "Thanks…" he muttered inaudibly.
Malfoy shrugged, his face twisting into a indiscernible expression.
"Are we done here?" asked Henrietta shrilly.
"Let's go then," said Ron. The little girl turned.
"You stay quiet. I don't want to have to hear you speak until we land—and not even then."
"Definitely related to you," he said through gritted teeth.
Malfoy looked around for a moment, the reached into his cloak. "Can you…give this to…you know…"
Ron eyed him for a moment. Malfoy turned red, his mouth curling into a snarl. Henrietta scoffed.
Ron snatched the letter out of his hand refusing to look at him. "She'll get it."
Malfoy backed away as Henrietta pushed off the ground. Ron turned away, his face bent against the rising wind. For a moment, he thought he saw Malfoy nod.
Ron tucked the letter into his cloak.
In an instant, Draco, the rooftop, and the dim lights of the Manor were nothing but a blur.
Draco watched as Henrietta rose up, disappearing into the murky night sky. Ironic, that his only hope of reaching Ginny now lay in the hands of the one person he hated most.
Well, hated second most.
Thought he hated second most.
But Weasley hadn't put up much of a fight. In fact, he'd been almost…cordial. Almost…thanked him.
Almost.
"Draco?"
Draco jumped; his mother emerged onto the walkway, her thin arms clasped around her. "I've been searching for hours. Archibald told me he thought he saw you come this way. What are you doing out here?"
"Thinking," he responded quickly. "I thought you were going to bed."
Narcissa raised an eyebrow. "I am afraid I cannot sleep. What are you thinking about?"
"Everything, I suppose…the trial tomorrow…"
"I told you, you don't have to worry. I have a strong case, and everyone will understand, particularly because we saved their children."
"I know…but…"
"The Malfoy name will remain intact, Draco. Our honor will not suffer."
Weasley was gone. Henrietta was a blur in the distance. They'd gotten away. He'd be at his home in a matter of hours, his Mother happy to see him.
"What about our family?"
"Our family?" Narcissa turned to him, puzzled. "What about our family?"
Draco lowered his head. "Has our family suffered?"
His Mother smiled at him. "Draco…you haven't been concerned about 'our family' since you were five. What's brought this about?"
He lowered his head, his hair swirling about his face.
"Never mind," he heard her say softly when he didn't respond. "I shouldn't have even had to ask that."
They stood in silence for a few moments.
"A part of me is glad you're concerned," she said a few moments later. "And a part of me is concerned about why you are. Draco…" she placed a finger under his chin, turning his head towards her. "I would have hoped that by now you would realize that what you want won't work."
He stiffened.
"It isn't as though I resent what you…well, to be honest, I suppose I dislike the idea in general. But the problem isn't so much the family as what the family represents."
"Mother."
"Not that they love mudbloods…though that is, of course, everything we are against…but that they would have absolutely no place in the future of this world. Draco, there are great things in store for you—you have no idea just how great—and what you have now just won't do it any honor."
"How can I know that, if I don't know what it is I'm destined for?"
"In your soul, Draco, you know. You also know that what I'm saying is the truth. It is your heart that tells you differently. In this case, however, your heart can't win."
"Why not?" he whispered.
"Because it would mean the end of us all," she said softly.
The air around them hung dead, and silent.
"I'm going inside," she said, after a few minutes. "We'll be leaving early in the morning, so make sure you get some rest."
"Yes Mother."
Draco heard the door close behind her.
His eyes were burning. Something wet was rolling down his face.
The wind is making my eyes sting.
Weasley must be halfway to Diagon Alley, by now.
The nauseous feeling had returned to the pit of his stomach. He wished, above all things, he'd never given him that letter.
"Where is he?" said Mrs. Weasley, tapping her fingers on the small end table. "He's taken far too long. I'm going to send Errol to Malfoy Manor right now."
Harry glanced at Hermione, who stared back at him from her place near the fire with a panicked expression.
"Mrs. Weasley…I'm sure he's just taking longer than he expected. Perhaps an owl is being a bit rash…"
"No, no, I don't think so Harry dear. This is all just a bit too odd. He's stayed too long…"
"Maybe he and Malfoy really ended up having something to talk about," said Ginny hopefully.
Mrs. Weasley raised an eyebrow, "Ginny, I know you want them to get along, but there is just something about…well, I just don't think that is a possibility…"
"And you would be right," echoed a hollow voice.
Harry leapt from his armchair, yanking Hermione from her overstuffed cushion as a great burst of green flame exploded from the fireplace. A swirl of red and black slowly spun into Ron's tall, lanky form. He stumbled from the fireplace, coughing.
"RON!" Hermione screamed, rushing towards him and nearly knocking him over with a hug. "Where have you been? We've been so worried!"
Harry, waving the smoke away with his hand, was grinning. "Next time you decided to go visiting mate, give us a little advanced warning."
"Right," said Ron, separating himself from Hermione. "Sorry I worried you, Mum. It's not like I…"
Harry shook his head frantically, gesturing to the Floo.
"I…uh…had a lot of time to send notes as to when I'd be back. Malfoy, that twit, kept me busy the entire time."
"Doing what?"
"Helping him with his…Quidditch stuff," said Ron helplessly.
Mrs. Weasley smiled, winking conspiratorially at Harry and Hermione. "Right…well then, you must be hungry. Can I get you something to eat?"
Ron's mouth dropped open. "Uh…thanks, Mum."
Harry heaved a huge sigh of relief as Mrs. Weasley headed to the kitchen. "'S good thing you and I think alike on Quidditch."
Ron continued to stare at them; Hermione giggled. "We told her you went to Malfoy Manor to talk about Quidditch."
"And she believed you?"
"Barely!" hissed Ginny. "What took you so long?"
"Narcissa Malfoy was back," said Ron, collapsing in an chair. "So none of the Floo were working at the Manor. And then we had to wait for Malfoy's crazy cousin to pick me up off the roof, and fly me to Diagon Alley—I'll never fly duo on a Hertford 2525 again, I'll tell you that—then I had to beg Madam Guidry to let me into the boots and bats store—and she dumped an entire pot of Floo Powder on my head!"
"They didn't…do anything to you, did then?" asked Ginny tentatively.
"No-o-o…" Ron said slowly. "Save their bloody crazy owl. But being any amount of time in Malfoy Manor is punishment enough."
Ginny crossed her arms.
"I'm sorry…I didn't mean that," sighed Ron. "It was just…being with Mal…never mind. Ginny, Tensy—Tebby—Ten…"
"Tenny?"
"Yes! Tenny says hello."
Ginny smiled.
"Oh," Ron said, his tone becoming wan. "And I promised Malfoy I'd give you this." He extended a letter in his hand.
Ginny grabbed it eagerly. "Wow! You two must really have reached a…"
Ron was glaring at her. "Reached a what?"
Harry and Hermione grinned.
"Nothing. Thanks, Ron."
"You're welcome…and don't ever, EVER ask me to do anything like that again."
"Fine…then don't go grabbing Portkeys you're not supposed to. G'night!" she chirped before he could respond, and darted up the stairs, leaving him to his friends.
She reached her room, lighting the candle quickly and tearing open the letter. It was sealed with the impression of her own Prefect pin—a certain sign it was from Draco.
"What do you have to say to me," she wondered softly. Draco's neat, concise writing spread across the page:
Dear Ginny,
Hopefully when you get this, your brother will be back with your family. You don't have to worry, my Mother didn't see him, though he WAS being a prat the entire time. I'm sure you can believe that.
I'm sorry about the way we left (before your brother grabbed the Portkey). I promise, it wasn't my intention to part the way we did. I just…with my mother's trial…and your family being the way they are…what else could I do?
"You could have been civilized," Ginny muttered.
Ginny…you know how I feel about you. Things end up so confused at times…but know that I care about you more than I can measure, and in the end, it is YOU who makes the difference.
You are the only good I hold within me. Without you, my life has no light. I hope you will remember that, no matter what happens.
Love,
Draco
Tears clouded her eyes, making the words on the page fuzzy.
Life IS difficult for him. I should be more understanding. If I'm not, I won't just lose him—he'll lose his own soul.
She pulled the letter to her chest. I'll work harder, Draco, I promise.
The door slammed downstairs; the familiar sounds of her father greeting his family. She pulled herself off her bed, stuffing the letter in her pocket.
She had to ask her father something rather important.
Travel to the Ministry took less time than he expected; they had arranged for a special Portkey, so the family wouldn't have to wait.
Dawn had barely broken, but the Halls outside the trial chambers were filled with wizards bustling in and out. Barrister Murray was waiting outside one of the large rooms, his thick moustache trimmed neatly and turned up at the ends, making his raised nose seem even more pointed.
"Narcissa. Right on time. Hello, young Master Malfoy."
"Good Day, Barrister Murray. I understand that my Mother will be released from Azkaban today."
The Barrister raised his nose even more, but cleared his throat. "Yes, well, I believe she has a very strong case."
"I hope that you live up to your word. For your sake."
"Now, now, Draco. Let's not be melodramatic," said his Mother. She looked her finest, in beautiful, neat green robes. "After all, this was no ordinary attack—we must contend with what Albus Dumbledore must attest to—and there is no telling what the Headmaster will say on my behalf."
"Or against it," mumbled Murray.
"Wait here, Draco. Murray and I have a few things to discuss," she moved with the Barrister down the hall. Draco watched them go, an unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach.
He'd never imagined the possibility that his Mother might be sent back to Azkaban. She'd only been gone a few weeks, but it had seemed an eternity, even with his visit to The Burrow.
She was just saving my life. That's all. Who's to say that wasn't justified?
But someone had died.
No…her sister died—or rather, was murdered. She killed her own sister.
What if his mother didn't return? He'd be alone, sent to school with the knowledge that both his parents were convicted of crimes against the Ministry. No one would understand, not even Ginny. That name of Malfoy would mean nothing.
At least my Mother can be seen as a kind of hero. She tried to kill someone working against Dumbledore—she didn't try to take the life of that blasted Potter, like my Father!
"Hello…Draco."
Draco turned, and nearly dropped his cloak. He hadn't expected that chilling voice, at least not at this particular moment. Certainly not when he'd been thinking of it.
But the figure of Lucius Malfoy, thin, with dark circles beneath his eyes—was standing over him, smiling.
He appeared anything but happy.
"F-Father."
"Are you not glad to see me?"
"Of course, Father. But…Azkaban. How did you manage it?"
"The name of Malfoy still commands respect, whatever Dumbledore and his Order might try and argue. As a matter of fact, the guards of Azkaban have been preoccupied as of late—with what occurred, of course, this past term. They found it in their hearts to release me long enough to allow me to stand beside my wife in her time of need."
"Of course," Draco murmured.
There was silence for a moment. Draco's father shifted his position, staring at Draco through lidded eyes.
"You appear taller."
"I am taller."
"And slightly more—poised."
"Poised?
"Of course, turning into a hero would make one so. Even Potter appears to be physically formidable these days."
"Please don't compare me to him."
"Why wouldn't I? Are not you and he allies now?"
Draco sighed; he'd hoped this explanation would come later, when he had time to prepare for it. "I had no choice, FatherThey tried to kill all of us, not just the Gryffindors. Had we not done anything, we would be dead—including the Slytherins."
His father raised an eyebrow. "Very well. So you worked to save yourself—is that all?"
"Of course," Draco replied, his voice shaking.
"You seem nervous."
"What do you mean?"
"There is no need to conceal from me your secrets. I have ways of discovering… everything."
Draco's eyes widened. "Father, I…"
"For example, I know perfectly well that you did a bit more than just defend yourself. I understand you managed to conjured a Patronus. How did you handle such a powerful spell?"
Draco paused, his mind reeling. "A Patronus?"
"Quite a powerful Patronus, so my sources inform me."
"You…you don't think I am capable of the Patronus charm?" He felt the sweat beading on his forehead. Is he toying with me?
"You are capable of many things, Draco. But happy thoughts are not your forte—particularly when you allow a mudblood girl to supercede you in half of the lessons you should know. None of…ourkind…has ever managed the Patronus easily."
"I had no choice. The other Slytherins were in danger. Pansy was in danger," he added quickly.
"Pansy…of the Parkinson family?"
"Yes, Father," Draco shrugged, trying to appear concerned. "Pansy was my date to the Yule Ball last year, and the other Slytherin chosen to be a prefect. She is quite a good friend of mine."
His father's eyes flashed, but the doubtful look etched on his face faded slightly. "Well then…but was forcing your Mother into it absolutely necessary?"
"I didn't force her into anything. I wasn't even allowed to speak with her—every form of communication was shut off. It was she, when she discovered what was happening, who made the decision to…to…"
"To kill my sister." Mrs. Malfoy said firmly, coming up behind them. "Hello, Lucius."
"Narcissa." Lucius leaned over, placing a kiss upon her thin cheek. "You look…well."
"As well as can be expected. I am sorry I did not see you while I was visiting."
"As am I. But we must do what we must."
"Yes, we must."
An uneasy silence settled around them. Draco surveyed his parents. Both looked worn and weary, especially his father.
My family…
Shadows of the conversation last night arose in his mind…
I didn't think you cared about such things…
Could he?
This was his family.
No…my family disappeared a long time ago. This isn't my family. This is my name…
Was that all they were?
Only a few months ago, they had held a handsome place in wizarding society, admired and respected wherever they went. Now, they were chastised, imprisoned, spoken ill of—and, by many, completely disrespected. No matter where he went, whispers and stares followed.
Draco closed his eyes. My name means nothing, now…
You are not like your father…not yet…
Ginny's voice filtered through the tumble of vindictive thoughts rolling through his mind. His parents were standing next to him, waiting. The holders of the Malfoy name. Both had committed crimes against the Ministry. One was a traitor, the other, a murderer. Both were planning to kill more people, if they had their way.
Could he really carry the name of Malfoy now, without becoming embroiled in his parents' cause? Did he believe in them because of who they were—or because they were his family?
How can I not?
He believed in them. Not too long ago, he had believed utterly and completely that what they sought was right. But the person he loved more than anyone else in the world stood completely against what they held to be the ultimate truth of the wizarding world. And yet, here, between his parents, he felt safe, and strong…and that all they held true should be valued. But he was missing her, and her ideals, at the same time.
She was what a family should be. But this was who he was.
"It's impossible…" he murmured.
"What's impossible?" asked Lucius suddenly.
Draco glanced up, eyes widening. "The…situation we're in. We're so far apart…"
"We will always be together, Draco," said his mother, brushing his hair softly with her hand, "your family is everything, remember? We will not let you go, I promise."
Your family is everything…
"Unless you try to kill another family member," Lucius returned rather snidely. "then she might take issue with you."
"That is not meant to be a joke, Lucius," replied Narcissa frigidly. "That was the choice I had before me, and it was a difficult one. But Bellatrix had lost her mind. She gave no credence to anyone—blood or family. She would have murdered Draco had I not intervened. She would have killed our only son."
"Of course," Lucius remarked, his sneer fading. "You did what you had to, Narcissa."
"And I would do it again, to whomever threatened my son—certain people would do well to remember that."
"Certain people."
Draco closed his eyes, a lump in his throat. My family…
Narcissa placed a light hand on Draco's shoulder.
"Mrs. Malfoy," called a voice from the hall. The doors to the Wizengamot had finally swung open. A redhead—a Weasley? Draco recognized.
Ah yes…Percy—that twit of a Head Boy we had during my third year.
Ginny never spoke much of him. Something to do with a falling out.
Imagine that—a traitorous Weasley—so even Ginny's family's not perfect..
"Mrs. Malfoy, we are about to begin," Weasley called out, adjusting the pince-nez on his face.
"Thank you," Narcissa turned to them. "This won't take long, I guarantee. I expect to find you both here when the doors are opened."
"Of course, Mother,"
"We will be waiting, Narcissa."
She smiled at them both, and followed Percy into the large chamber which the Wizengamot used during trials.
Draco moved away from the doors, towards the corner to lean against a pillar. Lucius followed him, staying in the shadow of the column. An uncomfortable silence settled between them.
"When do you return to Azkaban?" Draco asked as casually as he could.
"My, my, we are quick to get rid of me, aren't we?" said Lucius coldly.
"Of course not," Draco snapped. "I just wondered how much time you would get to spend with Mother."
"That is of no concern to you, Draco. Enjoy my being here while you can, and do not worry about Azkaban. I will not be there much longer anyway."
"Have they figured out how to free you?" Draco asked quietly. "I thought Dumbledore had…"
"I will be getting out…one way or another."
Draco turned, eyeing him suspiciously. "Are you planning to escape from underneath Dumbledore's nose?"
Lucius narrowed his eyes. "Why are you questioning me? This sort of behavior is unusual for you, Draco. Do not meddle in affairs that are not of your concern."
"I thought all affairs regarding the Death Eaters were of my concern."
Lucius snatched Draco suddenly by his robes, slamming him roughly against the column. Some of the wizards around them ceased their conversations. Lucius moved them back behind the pillar. "You DO NOT mention that name here or anywhere else in public, do you understand!" he hissed quietly.
Draco raised his chin, his eyes widening slightly, and nodded.
His Father drew closer to him, sliding a thin hand upwards, around Draco's throat. "Your behavior as of late has been bordering on rebellion, so I have heard. The son I knew was proud of his family name—and his father. Even if you did not always fulfill your position or your potential, I saw a boy growing into a man I would be pleased to call my son. But I have heard things, Draco. I have heard things that have made me very…troubled.
"You are important for a number of reasons; reasons you will discover in the very near future. But you are not so important you cannot be replaced. I will not have my son shaming everything I have worked to uphold because he is weak."
Lucius moved closer to Draco, until they were inches apart, his fingers still wrapped uncomfortably around Draco's neck.
"Do not betray me," he hissed softly.
"Yes, Father," Draco managed to choke out.
Lucius released him, settling back into the shadow of the column. "I dislike speaking to you in such a manner, Draco. But you must learn to be proud of who you are and what you were born into. You are too indecisive—too concerned about what the majority thinks as of late. Too wrapped up in your own thoughts, your own feelings. Feelings do not matter. Blood does. Those of us who forget the truth are no longer worth the blood that courses through our veins."
"Yes, Father," he whispered, massaging his throat and moving to the far side of the column.
"We become worthless—nothing. Just like the Weasleys," Lucius said softly, his eyes burning.
Draco swallowed slowly. So he DOES know…or is he testing me!
"Of course, Father."
I have to convince him, somehow…or she'll be killed…"DRACO!"
Draco's eyes widened, and he turned, slowly, to gaze down the hall, his heart pounding.
It can't be…Oh, please…not now!
Ginny was racing towards him. With her father employed at the Ministry, he should have expected she would show up, but after their goodbye yesterday, he'd though he was the last person she'd want to see…
THAT BLASTED LETTER!How he wished he'd never sent it!
Please, Ginny, no, NOT NOW!
His father turned, slowly moving out of the shadows towards the young woman barreling towards them.
Draco closed his eyes as his father stared incredulously at Ginny, turning to greet the one person Draco had hoped he would never have to meet.
Hmmm...Lucius meets Ginny? Something tells me its not as nice as Molly meets Draco...thanks to a great chunk of editing I had to do, chapter 3 is nearly done. And, perhaps we'll find out a bit more about what lies in store for Draco...