Chapter Eleven
A Matter of Self-Preservation
ONE
He sat in his common room, wondering if the rumors flying around the school were true. He stared into the fireplace, thinking about the ramifications of his most recent actions. He was getting in far too deep, and if the rumors were true, then there was no turning back. The path he had chosen seemed to be set in stone.
'My family is torn asunder,' he thought. 'To whom would I turn if I changed my life now? I know no one who is worthy of my trust, nor are there any who would trust me in return. I must discover the truth, if only to make my decisions easier.' He stood from his seat and moved toward the bare strip of wall that was the exit.
"Draco, sweetie," a girl behind him said. She had blonde hair and a puggish face, though Draco would never tell her he thought that.
"What is it, Pansy?" he asked, turning back to look at the girl.
"Where are you going?" Pansy simpered. "It's late, you know."
"I'm going for a walk, Pansy," Draco replied calmly. "Alone." He turned and walked out without waiting for a reply. His father had arranged a very large bride price to buy Pansy for Draco. Draco did not wish to marry the simpering fool, but his decision depended on what results were yielded by his nighttime stroll.
He moved silently through the halls, a trick he had learned from Snape, and began his ascent from the bowels of the castle. As he pushed open the double doors, he glanced around the dark room. He walked to the third bed in the row against the inside wall and looked down at the dark figure in it.
Potter looked extremely thin and pale, his dark hair standing out in great relief against his now sallow skin. Draco's pale eyes widened slightly, his brain finding it difficult to wrap around this new information. The rumors were true; Potter was dying. Draco sank down into one of many chairs near Potter's bed and began to think.
'All right, this is not such a shock that you must completely shut down. Potter is dying. I knew it could be true when I came up here. I must consider my position carefully and logically. With Potter gone, the Dark Lord has a clear path to taking Britain. I am most protected where I am.' Draco got up again and went to the lavatory at the end of the row. He closed the door and the torches lit. He splashed cool water on his face from the tap and stared into the mirror.
"Shouldn't you be in bed?" the mirror asked.
"Couldn't sleep," Draco replied absently.
"The nurse could give you something for that," the mirror commented. "She's the best we've had in years."
"Yeah," Draco said coldly. "Well, her best isn't good enough." The mirror scoffed as Draco opened the door and stepped back into the ward. He found himself face to face with the bushy haired Mudblood, Hermione Granger.
"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" she asked angrily but quietly.
"I'm paying my respects to a dying classmate," Draco replied with the air of one commenting on the weather.
"You're not welcome here," Granger spat.
"Ah," Draco replied, walking passed her and back to Potter's bed. "But I was here first, if you'll recall."
"I don't care if you invented the bloody hospital wing!" Granger said with more venom than Draco thought possible. "He's my friend! You've caused him nothing but grief for four years, now get out!"
Draco stared at her for a moment. He'd never heard her curse before. "I'm not leaving," he said at last.
Granger began to flush with suppressed rage. "If you don't leave, I'm going to make you leave," she said in a dangerous whisper.
Draco did not doubt the viability of her statement. She was better at almost every branch of magic than he was. "I have as much right to be here as you do," he said with false calm. In truth, he was worrying about what spell she might hex him with. "I'm not leaving."
She looked like she too was considering what hex to use, but Potter chose that moment to wake up.
"Please stop fighting," he mumbled weakly. "I can't sleep."
Granger's face softened and she moved toward him. "I'm sorry, Harry," she said. "I'll be quiet."
"Who're you fighting with?" Potter asked.
"It doesn't matter, Harry," Granger said gently. "Go back to sleep."
"M'kay," Potter replied. After a moment, his deep breathing signified his return to sleep.
"Fine," Granger whispered. "We'll call a silent truce, for now, but only because it would be too noisy to hex you."
Draco smirked. "How very kind of you, Mudblood."
Granger tensed, flushed, closed her eyes, took a deep breath, appeared to count to ten, and then proceeded to ignore Draco completely.
Time seemed to go by in great clumps, and Draco found his mind wandering through his many options. All of his decisions rested on Potter's life or death. He didn't like feeling so out of control of his own destiny, but he had little choice. He looked across at Granger and saw that she was knitting something, though he couldn't tell what it was.
"Hermione?" Potter's voice questioned weakly
Granger lowered her knitting and picked up Potter's hand. "What is it, Harry?" she asked.
"Where's Ron?" Potter asked.
Granger rolled her eyes in a fond sort of way. "He's let his homework pile up, again, and I left him in the common room to finish it. He's probably asleep on the table by now."
Potter laughed weakly. "That sounds… just like Ron," he said.
"You've kept up better than he has, and you're not even going to classes!" Granger said, smiling softly.
"I have… more free time," Potter joked.
Granger swallowed as tears sprang to her eyes. "That's true," she whispered.
"Don't be sad… Hermione," Potter said. "Everything is as it … should be. Don't… cry for things… you can't… change."
The tears fell silently as Granger tried to control them. "Don't say that, Harry," she said. "You're not going anywhere. We all love you and we're not going to let you go."
"You don't… have much choice," Potter replied gravely. "I've finally… reached the time… to pay my penance."
"You don't owe any penance!" Granger exclaimed. "You've done nothing wrong!"
"But I have," Potter argued. "It was my fault… that Cedric died. I deserve… everything-"
"You don't deserve any of this!" Granger interrupted angrily. "You're a good person and you didn't hurt anyone!"
"I'm sorry… Hermione," Potter said. "I didn't mean… to upset you."
Granger snuffled and squeezed Potter's hand. "I'm sorry too, Harry. I just hate to see you this way."
"It's 'kay," Potter replied. " 'M tired."
"You go to sleep now, Harry," Granger replied.
Silence fell as Granger allowed Potter to fall back to sleep. She kept glancing at Draco as though expecting him to do something. After a while, he gave in and left the hospital wing.
He walked slowly back to his common room, his question answered, but new questions swirling around in his head. What penance was Potter talking about? Draco knew that Diggory had died, but the circumstances that had been relayed to him in no way indicated that the event had been Potter's doing.
TWO
November arrived to find Draco still watching and waiting, biding his time until he knew what was going to happen. He'd already played Gryffindor at Quidditch, but the game had lost its charm without Potter there to challenge his skill. The mini Weasley had taken Potter's place on the team, but she held nothing on Draco.
Potter was still in the hospital wing, though Draco wasn't certain how he was. Draco had visited again, but it was always so late that Potter was always asleep. He couldn't get in earlier because Granger always seemed to be there. She seemed to be waiting for Draco to try something. Perhaps she thought that Draco wanted to finish Potter off. Whatever the reason, she made it extremely difficult for Draco to make the necessary observations for him to decide whether he thought Potter would live.
Draco had seen Snape going up to the hospital wing on several occasions looking grave. The meeting with the Dark Lord had been cancelled due to Potter's poor health. The Dark Lord wanted Potter healthy, though Draco didn't know why. It was obvious that Potter couldn't be killed when he was feeling up to par.
As another week passed, the feeling of the castle changed. For the past month, the student body had been somber, waiting to see if the hero would live. Draco found their fickle nature amusing. Before all of them knew how seriously ill Potter was, they were all spouting about what a liar he was. Now they all seemed to think him worthy of praise once again because he was on his deathbed. Hypocrites, all of them.
Draco was currently standing outside of the hospital wing, listening to Snape and Potter converse. Potter sounded better today than he had when he'd spoken to Granger so many weeks ago.
"You haven't felt anything at all?" Snape asked.
"I felt a little tingle in my scar yesterday," Potter replied. "But it only lasted for a moment."
"So two weeks into the treatment and you've felt nothing else? No other pain?"
"No, sir."
There was a loud sigh and then someone sat heavily. "It's working," Snape said after a moment. "Fifty points to Gryffindor for out doing you Potions Master."
Potter chuckled. "Yes, but you gave me the premises, and we were talking about the beetle not long before I looked at the formula."
"I don't know any other fifth year students who would have figured it out," Snape replied lightly.
Draco decided that he didn't need to hear any more. His mind was whirring as he walked through the deserted halls of Hogwarts. All of the other students were outside, playing in the snow or skating on the frozen lake. Draco had important decisions to make and didn't have time for such frivolous activities.
It appeared that Potter was going to live to fight another day. It also appeared that Snape had grown fond of the boy. Draco was uncertain of whether Snape really enjoyed having Potter around, or if it was part of his plan to deliver Potter to the Dark Lord. Whatever it was, Snape seemed to have gained Potter's trust. Draco had made his decision. He needed to speak to Dumbledore…
Ten minutes later, Draco was standing in front of the stone gargoyle, staring at the thing blankly. He realized that he had no clue where to begin with guessing at passwords. The possibilities were endless and Draco didn't have time to waste going through the entire spectrum of words to find the right one.
"Bloody Hell," he said disparagingly.
"Language, Mr. Malfoy," said a sickly sweet voice behind him. He turned to see Umbridge looking at him with a fake smile.
"My apologies, Professor Umbridge," Draco said, smiling brightly. "It's just that I really must speak with the headmaster and I've no idea what the password might be."
"Oh, I see," Umbridge said. "Well, you're such a nice young man. The password is cotton candy."
"Thank you, Professor Umbridge," Draco replied. He waited for her to turn the far corner before going up to Dumbledore's office.
"Come in," Dumbledore called as Draco lifted his hand to knock. Draco stared at the door for a moment before opening it and going into the office.
"Ah, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said as Draco closed the door. "Sit down. Would you like some tea?"
Draco sat elegantly. "No, thank you, sir," he said. "I have something to discuss with you."
Dumbledore put down the quill he had been writing with and looked directly at Draco. "What about?" he asked, folding his hands on top of the desk.
Draco unconsciously ran a hand through his hair. "Well, I'm not certain how to start."
"Perhaps the best place to start would be at the beginning," Dumbledore suggested.
"Very well," Draco said, running his hand through his hair again. "I assume that you are aware of my father's affiliation with the Dark Lord?"
Dumbledore nodded.
"Are you also aware of how the Death Eater's organization works?"
"I am."
Draco cleared his throat and shifted slightly in his seat. "To become a Death Eater one must first become what is called a 'Vent'."
"I am aware of the Vent system," Dumbledore said gently.
Draco nodded and took a moment to gather his thoughts.
"I am my father's Vent," he said after a moment. "I suppose you know the… implications of that."
Dumbledore nodded.
"I'm aware that most of the Death Eaters believe that I… enjoy the arrangement. Needless to say, I am a very accomplished actor. I've been watching the people around me, including the… thing they serve and I've decided that I want no part of their vision."
"And what brought you to this decision?" Dumbledore asked.
"If you're asking whether I had some kind of moral dilemma, then no, that wasn't it."
"Then what was it?"
"I'm a Slytherin, Professor Dumbledore. What do you think?"
"What's there for you if you betray your father?" Dumbledore asked, leaning forward a bit.
"It's a matter of self-preservation," Draco said, shrugging. "Look at it from my point of view. If the Dark Lord wins this war, and right now that seems likely, I get to spend the rest of my life kissing his robes and suffering at the end of his wand. It does not sound appealing to me."
"I'm glad that you've realized that, Mr. Malfoy, but what would you have me do?"
"Let me tell you a story. There's this Dark Lord who really wants to take over the world. He enjoys killing people and humiliating his followers. At the same time there's a boy with black hair and stupid looking black-framed glasses. This boy is only person to have been targeted by the Dark Lord and lived. He's met the Dark Lord at least four times and always lived to tell the tale. Now, in this story there is also another boy. This boy has watched everything from the sidelines and seen the boy with the horrible glasses exhibit true power. Suddenly, the powerful boy gets sick. So sick, in fact, that a rumor started circulating that he was going to die. The light haired boy wanted to know what could damage someone with so much power, so he went for a visit. Does any of that sound familiar to you?"
"Some of it."
"I'll tell you what I've… deduced from my little visit to the hospital wing. Potter looked very ill to me. He was pale and when he spoke, he had trouble breathing."
"He spoke to you?"
"No."
"Then who?"
"Granger stopped by. I don't think Potter even knew I was there. Actually, I went back a few times and I've come to a conclusion. Potter's illness is somehow connected to the Dark Lord."
Dumbledore watched Draco silently for a moment before speaking. "What brought you to that conclusion?"
"The epilepsy claim, actually," Draco replied. "One does not just contract epilepsy as though it were a cold. Epilepsy comes from damage caused by a severe and prolonged lack of oxygen circulating through the brain tissue, usually caused by delayed breathing at birth. I couldn't help but wonder what Potter could have been up to during the summer to cause such an affliction."
"That's a very astute observation, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said stoically.
Draco smirked.
"I still don't see the connection to Voldemort," Dumbledore went on.
Draco flinched at the forbidden name. "I'm getting there. I served a detention with Potter in our first year."
"I remember."
"Yeah, well there was something in the forest that night, which I found out later was You-Know-Who. When Potter and I got close to it, Potter started clutching at that scar of his. I've also seen him rub at it half a dozen times since. It's logical to assume that there's some kind of bond there."
"Why is that a logical assumption?" Dumbledore asked.
Draco felt a mild prickle of irritation but pushed it aside. "Potter is the only person to have ever survived the killing curse. Further more, the curse rebounded upon its originator, but did not kill him. An amateur spell caster could see the beginnings of a magical bonding, however unwilling the affected parties. I believe that Potter's affliction is directly related to his link with the Dark Lord and has nothing to do with epilepsy."
Dumbledore regarded Draco quietly with an almost calculating expression on his face. "You should consider a career in law, Mr. Malfoy," he said at last.
The statement threw Draco off of his thread and he stared at Dumbledore incredulously.
"My question is what are you planning to do with this information," Dumbledore said after a moment.
"I want out," Draco replied. "I'm not very useful as a spy or anything of the sort, but if I stay where I am, I won't live to see my graduation. Potter is going to kill the Dark Lord one day, and I plan to be on the winning team. My father told me what happened last June, and quite frankly, I don't want to ever find myself on the receiving end of one of Potter's curses."
"You're making a very dangerous decision by doing this, Mr. Malfoy. Are you prepared to face the possible consequences of you actions?"
"Do you think I would have come up here without taking the consequences into consideration? I'm not a stupid little boy with no thoughts about the future. A world ruled over by You-Know-Who is not a world I want to live in. If you win, the worse that could happen is that Potter becomes Minister of Magic one day. I think I could live with that. At least then I'd know that I wouldn't be kissing anyone's robes."
"How can I trust you? If things don't go the way you're expecting, what's to stop you from going back on your word?"
Draco laughed a bit. "The Dark Lord may have a lot in common with you, but forgiveness is not one of them. If he finds out about this, and he will, then I'm a dead man. He'll lecture me about loyalty, torture me and then rip me apart with the dismemberment curse. Maybe he'll have my father kill me to prove his loyalty."
"What do you expect from me?"
"Protection."
"From what?"
"Them."
"That covers a lot of people, Mr. Malfoy. I can't protect you from your housemates should they find out."
"You protect Potter."
"Harry has the benefit of blood magic. His mother protects him more than I do."
"So what then?"
"I will do what I can for you. I'll have to speak to a few trusted colleagues about your living arrangements during the summer, but it can be done."
"What about while I'm at school?"
"I'm not certain. You'll have to keep this a secret until I find a solution."
"That's it? I wait?"
"That's the best I can do right now."
Draco stood up. "Thank you for your time." He turned and started to walk away.
"One more thing, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said.
Draco turned and looked at the old man.
"I suggest you try to get along with your new allies."
The Gryffindor Trio. Draco hadn't thought of them. He nodded once and walked away. Dumbledore seemed to know a lot about Death Eaters and Vents. Draco wondered where the old coot got his information.
Author's Note: Thanks goes to Victoria Ennis for her help on this chapter. Thanks also to…
Medicated Drama Queen: I will remember my oath, not to worry. As for Dëlîgo Sanguis, I don't have most of that story. It was a vamp fic as well as my own take on Severitus. We'll see how much Ktoddhim has saved before I decide to go on with it.
Sliver of Melody: Well, I tried. I'd do more to him, but I need him later on. Sorry.
Chibi-Kaisie: The fic is a total of 32 chapters, so just over twenty to go. As for Jason, we'll see more with him later on.
Shiemi Shimabukuro: Hehehehe I did that because I want to show that even though Snape is capable of being loving and caring, he didn't become a Death Eater without a sadistic side. Hehehehehehhehehehe
Ktoddhim: That all depends on how much of Dëlîgo Sanguis you have saved, because I only have the first two chapters. If you have most of it, I may consider reposting and completing it, but right now that's just on this side of impossible.
Sword of Magic
Sh'arra Rie: I tried to email you the chapter, but it said 'ausitn' is an unknown server. Could you send your email addy again please?
LeeLeePotter: Snape wouldn't be Snape without his snarkiness.
Fire Tempest
CogniDi: Snape will be very OOC in regards to Harry by the end of this, but we all get to see the process he goes through to get there, so hopefully it won't be too shocking.
Nicky12330
Starangel2106
Jujube15
LiLy MaLfOy13