A/N: Now that I'm officially caught up with chapters updates will start coming more spaced out. I hope you continue to enjoy the story.
Chapter 8
Malfoy Manor
Draco braced his legs as the darkness began to recede from the edge of his vision and the uncomfortable squeezing sensation that accompanied Apparating slowly dissipated.
He felt his father's arm slip out from underneath his hand as soon as the ground was firm underfoot. He flinched at the sharp removal of contact and glanced at his father from the corner of his eye.
Lucius Malfoy had a hard face. It was almost as if every muscle and nerve were completely at odds with even the concept of smiling.
He hadn't always been like this, Draco thought. In fact, one of his fondest memories was the first time he'd done a side-along with his father. He must have been five, maybe six, years old. How different that experience had been compared to this most recent one.
"Now, Draco, you must hold on tightly," Lucius said. He smiled softly at his son as he squeezed his hand firmly.
Draco looked up eagerly at his father through the fringe of his hair, eyes wide, and nodded.
"This is going to be uncomfortable, but whatever you do, you must not let go of my hand, do you understand?"
Draco wiped the palm of his free hand against his slacks to rid it of the sweat that had accumulated. "Yes, daddy."
"Are you ready?"
Draco squeezed his father's hand tighter and nodded.
The darkness surrounded them almost immediately. And it wasn't the type of darkness like that of turning off the light. It felt as though the darkness was coming from inside him and reaching up to shroud his eyes. But what was worse than being plunged into utter darkness was the feeling of being squeezed. It was similar to when he overexerted himself trying to pick up a large rock in the garden; his eyes bulged and strained and a sharp pain pierced his ears. His ribs felt as though they were being crushed together. It was unbearable and Draco was tempted to curl up in a ball, arms wrapped around his legs until it ended. But that would require letting go of his father's hand and he had promised he wouldn't. His father trusted him to hold on. So, he did. He squeezed the invisible hand that he could still feel clasped around his own, urging the pain to end. Then, suddenly, they were in the alley outside the Leaky Cauldron and he fell to his knees gasping for air.
He immediately felt his father's arms wrap around his shoulders, supporting his torso.
"It's alright, Draco. You did so well my boy. I'm so proud of you."
Draco heaved and his breakfast splattered on the cobbles in front of him. He wiped the spit from around his mouth.
"I'm so sorry, dad."
His father held him, pressing his lips to the top of Draco's head. "It's alright, Draco, it's alright. There's nothing to be ashamed of."
They crouched there, in the dirty alley, while Draco recovered, and then Lucius helped him to his feet.
Draco brushed the dirt off his slacks and pulled a handkerchief from his right pocket. He dabbed at his mouth to remove any remaining vomit and then carefully folded it and put it back.
Lucius held his hand out for his son's, nodding in approval.
"Alright, now, remember what I said. Chin up, shoulders back. Walk with confidence. Why do we do that?"
Draco tilted his chin in the air and squared his shoulders. "Because we're Malfoys."
Draco dropped his gaze to the ground and followed a half step behind his father as they walked the few short feet to the manor's front steps.
That day seemed ages ago. Now, Draco rarely had a good word from his father, let alone genuine encouragement. And there was no doubt in his mind that he would feel the full brunt of his father's disappointment after the unprecedented events at Hogwarts.
His father, of course, had written him several letters concerning the sorting of the Muggle-born into Slytherin, but they had been vague and restrained. Only a fool would put compromising information in a letter, and Lucius Malfoy was no fool.
The front doors of the manor swung open as Lucius' foot touched the top step, and father and son swept into the large entry hall of Malfoy Manor.
"Draco!" His mother emerged from a door off the main entrance hall and swept forward, pulling him into an embrace that pressed the air from his lungs.
Lucius curled his lip in disdain, shrugging the coat off his shoulders as a man, previously hidden in the shadows, stepped forward to slide it down his arms. "Stop mollycoddling him, Narcissa."
Draco pushed away from his mother, straightening his sweater vest and slicking his hair back into place.
"You're probably the reason he's turned out so soft. Letting mudbloods walk all over him."
Draco flushed at his father's criticism.
Narcissa playfully swatted Lucious' chest. "Don't be ridiculous, Lucius. You're no weaker for me loving you."
Lucius caught her hand in his, bowing his head and pressing it gently to his lips. "I'm not so sure about that."
Draco watched his parents, always fascinated by the softness his father exhibited toward his mother.
"Master Draco? Your coat, sir."
Draco jumped, looking away from his parents guiltily. "Don't do that Bates," he hissed at the man-servant.
"Yes, sir. I'm so sorry for walking in plain view of you," Bates drawled, rolling his eyes for good measure.
Draco narrowed his eyes. "I don't appreciate the sarcasm, Squib. Remember, you work for me."
Bates cocked an eyebrow, unperturbed by the slur. "On the contrary, Master Draco, I serve your father."
Draco scowled. "Just do your job."
Bates removed Draco's jacket then moved to leave.
"Bates." Lucius held up a hand.
Bates stopped and turned on his heel. "Sir?"
"We'll be expecting guests shortly. Please have Dobby prepare the dining hall."
Bates inclined his head. "Of course, sir."
"I don't know why you keep him on, father," Draco said as soon as Bates had left the room. "He's no better than a mudblood."
Lucius caught his wife's eye before replying. "We live with what we must, Draco. Bates serves his purpose and I'd be loath to part with him."
Draco opened his mouth to argue.
"That's enough on the matter. Now, go and freshen up. Our guests will be arriving within the hour and I need to speak with you before then."
Lucius had a study on the second floor at the back of the house. Draco knocked tentatively at the door.
The door swung open of its own accord and Draco stepped in. The room was very familiar to him. When he was younger, he'd been in and out of this room as he'd run around the manor playing. Nothing in it had changed. The large desk that he'd hidden under, playing hide and seek, still dominated the center of the room. The books that he'd pulled out and pretended to read still filled the shelves that lined the room. His father had used to hold him on his lap as he sat in the high-backed chair that towered over the desk. But now, it sat empty. His father stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows at the back of the room.
"Come here, Draco."
Draco crossed the room, footsteps quiet against the carpet. He came to stand beside his father.
His father didn't look at him; he just continued to stare out of the windows at the surrounding grounds. "Do you know how long the Malfoy's have lived on this land, Draco?"
"Over one thousand years, sir."
"One. Thousand. Years." His father carefully enunciated each word. "Generations of Malfoy's have lived on this land-in this house. We've added to it, cared for it, and fought for it." Lucius tore his gaze away from the window and looked down at his son. "I never thought I'd raise a son that will eventually lose it all."
"Father," Draco shook his head, "I-."
"I'm disappointed in you." His voice wasn't raised; he wasn't even angry. The words were said with a sense of sadness, almost a finality.
Draco looked up into his father's eyes, searching them for something, anything but the disappointment he professed.
"Accepting a Muggle-born as a Slytherin. I would never have thought you capable."
"I didn't, father! I don't!" Draco protested, hands raised, palms facing up.
"Then why have I heard stories of you becoming friendly with this girl?"
His hands dropped and he couldn't meet his father's gaze. He knew exactly what his father had heard. She had, after all, kissed him in front of an entire table of Slytherins. She had teased and mocked him and he had said nothing.
Draco clasped his hands in front of him, pulling at his fingers, eyes still to the ground. "I...put myself in a bad position and she took advantage of it."
"She blackmailed you?" His father's voice was thick with disbelief.
Draco squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a deep breath, the words choking him as he forced them out. "Yes, sir."
His father snorted. "I'm not sure what's worse. Siding with a Muggle-born or being weaker than one. Weakness will lose you this home, Draco. Siding with our enemy will lose you your life."
Draco's brow furrowed as he pictured Hermione Granger in his mind. Her large bushy hair and that know it all attitude she always had. If he hadn't known she was a Muggle-born, would he have ever been able to guess it just by looking at her? She was smart and ambitious and always looked out for Slytherin. Probably more than any other Slytherin due to her constant need to prove herself. If he hadn't known she was a Muggle-born, would they even be enemies?
He scuffed his foot against the carpet. "But what if she's not the enemy? She's been loyal to Slytherin."
Draco didn't see it coming, as his father backhanded him across the face, knuckles smashing against his cheekbone. Draco's head jerked to the side, the blow nearly knocking him to his knees, but he stayed upright. He bit his lip to hold back a cry of pain, tears springing to his eyes.
"You're a fool, Draco," his father said, his voice hard, every word feeling like it had been run against a razor before being uttered. "She's a Muggle-born. If it comes down to wizards against Muggles, who do you think she'll side with? With those of whose existence she's known of for less than a year? Or with her Muggle parents she's known and loved her whole life?"
Draco scrunched his forehead.
His father rested his hand on his shoulder, the former sharpness gone from his voice. "Make no mistake, Draco. She may be loyal now when there are no sides to choose. But when that day comes, she will not choose us."
Draco kept his head bowed in submission, hiding the confusion and anger that warred within him. "Yes, father."
The dining hall at Malfoy Manor was massive. The dining table spanned the length of the hall, chairs placed around it to seat thirty. The dinner had finished some time ago and the children had been dismissed as the drinks were served.
The adults were talking amongst each other in groups of two to three when Lucius began to speak.
"I'm sure you are all aware why we're here," his voice fluid and commanding his attention. The voices broke off as everyone turned to look at him.
"Of course we are." A man sitting at Lucius' right hand replied. "This bad business of the mudblood in Slytherin."
Murmurs went up around the table. Although they all had heard the news the night it had happened, the event still had them all confused and riled up.
"Yes, Avery, thank you. It's most certainly troubling and I've started to reach out to members of the board to investigate this farce. But while I work that angle we need to address a situation that is equally, if not more, important."
"More important than a Muggle-born in Slytherin?" A man farther down the table looked incredulous.
Lucius blinked slowly. "Yes, Nott, more important than that. It's about our children. And yours happens to be one of the worst."
Nott's voice raised in pitch. "Mine?"
"Yes. Your son apparently finds the mudblood attractive. He's been seen flirting with her."
Nott scratched the back of his neck, trying to keep a smile off his face. "Yeah, well, my boy's a little bit of a ladies' man. Can't help himself. Runs in the family."
The woman sitting next to him, presumably his wife, elbowed him sharply.
"What?" Nott whined, rubbing his sore ribs. "You knew that when you married me. That's what attracted you in the first place after all."
Lucius ignored the byplay between the couple. "Is that so? So maybe we need to question the purity of your family line, Nott."
The smile disappeared from his face. "Of course not. Don't be absurd."
"Yes, don't be absurd, Malfoy." A man farthest down the table, who'd been lying slumped over sat up, propping himself up with his elbow. "Everyone knows that in our world a child not born of two wizards from a pureblood lineage are considered illegitimate and abandoned." He raised a finger. "Although, have you heard of this Muggle discovery called DNA testing? Fascinating stuff. You can test to see if a child is really yours. Could you imagine how screwed we would all be if the magical community ever adopted that little discovery?"
Everyone turned to stare at the disheveled man. He looked back at them all. "What?"
Avery was the first to speak. "I noticed your son wasn't here, Pucey."
Pucey grabbed his glass from the table and leaned back in his chair, draining the rest of the amber liquid. "He's studying for his OWLs."
"A little early to be cramming his nose into books?"
Pucey shrugged, staring disconcertedly into his now empty glass, "The boy's ambitious. He's determined to get top marks."
A tall, broad-shouldered man with broad features leaned forward across the table. "The question is, where do his ambitions lie?"
Pucey chortled. "Where do most boys his age ambition lie? To be a great wizard. I know you don't have a lot of experience in that area, Goyle. Your son being who he is of course. A little slow I've heard."
A rather ugly woman sitting next to Goyle slapped her hand against the table. "You better watch the way you talk about my son, Pucey," she said, nostrils flaring.
Lucius held up a hand, waving Goyle back into his seat- as the man looked as if he were going to leap across the table- and silencing his wife. "I think we are all a little curious about your son's loyalties. After all, he seems to be an ardent supporter of this Muggle-born girl that tricked her way into Slytherin."
"Come off it, Lucius. You really think an eleven-year-old girl with no magical experience can somehow trick a very powerful magical artifact?" He snorted, "I think you're being daft."
Lucius hissed through clenched teeth, "And I think you're an idiot. I never said any such thing." He drummed his fingers against the table. "It was most likely Dumbledore behind it." His nose scrunched in disgust. "The doddering old fool has been pushing Muggle equality on us for decades; no care in the world for wizards whatsoever. It would be just like him to finagle it so a mudblood was sorted into Slytherin. Fits his agenda perfectly. What else stands in the breach if Slytherin falls?"
Pucey scoffed. "Are you serious right now? Do you hear yourself? You act as if we're at war and the school is the front lines." He waved his glass in the air. "Can I get another of these?"
His glass was magically refilled. "And if you're really so worried about maintaining the pure bloodlines, Lucius, then why don't you stop fucking your man-servant and nut off in your wife for once, yeah? Have her pop a few more out."
Lucius' face reddened and his fist clenched around his walking stick.
Pucey grinned like a fool, his words slurring. "Or, if you're not up to it, let me have a go. My blood's as pure as yours after all." He rested his head in his hand, raising an eyebrow. "Or, as pure as it can be," he muttered as an aside.
Lucius stood, whipping his wand from its sheath and causing his chair to topple backward. His hand trembled as he pointed his wand at Pucey, a single strand of blonde hair stuck to his lips. "Keep talking, Pucey. Try me. I dare you."
Pucey waved him away. "Oh, come off it. You know I was just having a little fun with you, Lucius. No harm done, eh?"
Lucius slowly lowered his wand. "You may find this all a big joke, Pucey, but it's about more than blood purity. Look at us all," he held his arms up to indicate those around the table, "All of us, even the weakest of us, can kill a man with the flick of the wrist; a muttered word. Yet, here we cower in our homes and designated places. We hide in the darkness because of Muggles. We should hold places of prominence without fear of being discovered. We should be free to do what we wish, where we wish. And now, Dumbledore wants to give Muggles even more power than they already have; not just in their world but in ours as well. How can you stand by and allow your son's future to be restrained merely because he's of magical blood?"
Pucey's glass had been filled once again and he swirled the liquid around, watching it touch the top edges of the glass and falling back down again. "Honestly, I really don't even care anymore. Purebloods. Muggle-born. Squibs. The Dark Lord is gone and the world has moved on. What was accomplished? Nothing." He drained the glass in one go. "My wife is dead because of the last bloody war. I have no interest in fighting another and losing my son. Forgive me for my sentimentality, but I'd rather my son live a restrained life than none at all."
The room had grown silent. None of them had any false notions about their former master returning, but they still held his name in reverence and they were uncomfortable with hearing Pucey speak so flippantly about him. Lucius looked at the broken man in front of him, eyes sunken and glazed over. Would his attitude be any different if he had endured what this man had? He still had his wife and his son.
Lucius leaned forward in his chair, his voice low, but in the silence still carrying across the table. "But does your son feel the same way?"
Pucey's eyes flicked over the face of the head of the Malfoy family but said nothing. He simply raised his glass again to be refilled.
