The Distance to Here
Chapter 2
For once, Hermione Granger was at a loss for words. In the final year of their time at Hogwarts, Draco and Harry's boiling enmity, often displayed by harsh words and violence, had reduced to a simmering silence. She had always wondered if he had decided to follow in dear old Lucius' footsteps, and always hoped he hadn't. Lucius Malfoy was forever causing trouble at the Ministry. Murders they knew he committed, but just couldn't pin on him, and the ever-present mystery of Cornelius Fudge's disappearance. If Draco was now a Death Eater… but no, he was a Death Eater. Her senses told her that he was the only other wizard in the room. And yet- she couldn't picture him a Death Eater. She had once called him a "twitchy little ferret", but all the same, ferrets didn't kill Muggles. She had found him annoying, rude, a complete bloody moron, but she never considered him evil. She turned to look at Harry.
He was white, skin contrasting sharply to the dark shock of hair, still untameable. His bright green eyes, usually squinted with the charming smile that made witches all over the world swoon, were wide-open and staring, emotionless, where the tall blond, unconscious form of Draco Malfoy slumped over the bar. He swallowed loudly.
"Let's go," he said hoarsely.
"Well, at least he can't resist arrest," Hermione added with a wry smile, looking up at her friend. He returned it hesitantly, but at least it reached his eyes. The colour was coming back into his face now. He was putting his emotions in check. They had learned a long time ago that emotions had no place in the field. They distorted your judgement and made you question events that were straightforward. An image flashed in Hermione's mind. She and Harry had been relatively new to the Ministry and had been sent out to intercept a suspected Voldemort supporter. They had done their job, but it had its consequences. The supporter had been Roger Davies, the former Ravenclaw captain, and an old school friend of Harry and Hermione's. They had almost let him get away, due to their slow action and general shock. From that moment on, they had kept their emotions under control and had learned to go about their business without interacting too much with their captives.
Draco was slumped over the bar, hand still clutching his Bourbon. Harry gave Hermione a dryly amused look. She smiled in return. The tall blond looked like a scarecrow, taken from his place and thrust into a busy life he wasn't ready for. He had grown emaciated, almost, relying on no food and a lot of drinks, except for the odd bar peanut. His features relaxed, he looked quite innocent, quite harmless. He was dishevelled and dirty; his clothes stained with travel and spilled drinks, almost pitiable. His eyes were closed; he breathed softly, his mouth slightly open. Hermione saw innocence in that face.
Harry walked over to Malfoy and prodded him to make sure he was unconscious. Satisfied that he was, Harry did not relish the idea of dealing with a conscious Draco, he slung one of Draco's arms over his broad shoulder. Hermione hurried over and caught Malfoy's other arm. His breath smelled of Bourbon and raspberry wine cooler. Harry nodded to the bartended, tossed some money on the bar to pay for Draco's drinks, and walked out to loud protestations form the redhead, still bent on dancing with the unconscious man with his head on Hermione's shoulder. Sighing with dissent, she focused on holding up his body weight. She was strong, a few years in the field causing her muscles to tone up, but it was too hard to hold up the lithe frame dragging itself along the ground.
"Will you do the honours, or shall I?" Harry asked as they stepped into the alley alongside the Fox in the Henhouse. Criminals, especially suspected Death Eaters, were taken to an anonymous safe-house in Fulham where they were questioned and then either released or taken to Azkaban to await trial.
"You'd better do it. He's so bloody heavy, I'll probably lose him along the way." She grimaced at the blond head resting tranquilly on her shoulder.
It was dark out now, Harry could hear the faint howling of dogs and hissing of cats. Somehow, this made him think of Cho. He wondered if she was as torn as he was. He had been so happy during the first few years of their relationship. His disappointment at it not having worked out was bordering on depression. Only one thing could draw him back into the person he had once been.
***
"I am most displeased." A voice full of malice and disappointment filled the darkness. An uneasy stir rippled around the room. "He knows too much. His removal would mean no further… disruptions."
"My Lord," an oily voice with more than a hint of fear in it broke the silence. "We have been searching, My Lord, we have-," his cry shattered the air. A blinding white light flashed, exposing an expression of terror on a young lady's face. She quickly realized her mistake and a mask of indifference replaced the unmistakable disgust. Anyone who looked at her in that moment would have seen her exposed, but as it was, with red hair masked in a black, hooded cloak, blue eyes a wall of anonymity, no one would look at her. Her greatest asset had proved useful for this task, her ability converse easily, probe for secrets, and then fade from memory.
From the cold stone floor, Lucius Malfoy was rising slowly to his feet, wincing. "Thank you, My Lord. We will find him. And he will die in pain, the punishment of his cowardice."
"There must be no mercy, Lucius. He may be your son, but only by blood. We are your true family, Lucius. Be mindful of that."
Lucius bowed and returned to his place in the circle, backing up slowly. His countenance, usually cool and austere, was now twisted with vengeance, his normally pristine hair, greying at the roots, was askew.
Ginny observed him with detached shrewdness. She had spent her whole life trying to uncover the psyche of the Death Eaters. Ever since her brief encounter with Tom Riddle in her first year, she had pondered the inner workings of their minds. Now she watched Lucius' face contort with fury, and could see his thoughts displayed clearly there. She knew that he blamed his humiliation on his son and that he would go to any lengths to restore his standing in Voldemort's estimation. There was a saying: "hell hath no fury like a woman scorned"; a Death Eater scorned was much worse.
Lord Voldemort silently rose from his seat at the head of the room and glided toward various Death Eaters before he stopped in front of Ginny. His red, cat-like eyes looked her over intently, seeming to want to uncover all of her secrets. This disconcerted her slightly. She had always striven to be anonymous, not liking to be in the limelight, lest she attract suspicion. Ginny realized she was losing her indifferent façade and quickly resumed her usual apathetic air. As much as she had studied the mind of Death Eaters, the mind of Lord Voldemort was ever a mystery. Intelligent, cunning, ruthless, and persuasive, he always seemed to be a step ahead of everyone else.
"Miss Weasley," said an icy voice, "the foolish little girl who unwittingly almost brought me back all those years ago. Well, I'm glad to see you've returned to finish the job." He turned to the rest of the Death Eaters and said, "Odd, isn't it? That a small girl with little magical talent could almost have succeeded in doing what none of you could? And in a fraction of the time!" The circle of wizards and witches garbed in black stood quiet for a moment and then began to rumble with uncertain laughter. Ginny too, laughed, although only too aware of the insults condescendingly directed at her. She reminded herself that Ginny the Death Eater would have been wildly overjoyed that Voldemort had addressed her, and so began to laugh quite loudly.
Voldemort slowly turned to face her again and the laughter in the room stopped abruptly. "But, my dear, you've actually turned into quite a fine witch. I confess myself to have been observing you for quite some time." He smiled his lipless smile and ceased speaking, allowing this remark to sink into Ginny's mind.
Oh God, she thought. He knows. He knows what I've been doing. Great, they're going to kill me right here. Just dandy. Ginny's mind roved crazily from outrageous thought to outrageous thought. Strangely enough, she felt resigned. If they were going to kill her, then, that's what they would do. She knew enough about Death Eaters to know that if they enjoyed torturing Muggles for the simple fact that they were Muggles, they would do much worse to a snitch. An informant. A Ministry mole.
"I have an assignment for you, Miss Weasley." Voldemort's cold voice penetrated her thoughts. He was still staring at her intently. The rest of the room began to stir, the rest of the Death Eaters murmuring to each other, wondering what would happen.
An assignment? Ginny pondered. He's not going to make me kill myself, is he? No, that's silly, she thought outrageously.
"You, my dear, have the much coveted job of disposing of a certain person who could trouble us greatly." Voldemort's unfeeling eyes flicked for a second to Lucius. Lucius' own eyes blazed with anger. He had wanted that job. If he had been chosen to kill Draco, he would have been able to wipe out the humiliation he had suffered and also have become Voldemort's most trusted ally again. Hatred coursed through his veins. This upstart young girl would have to pay for getting in his way.
Ginny felt the eyes of every Death Eater present on her. Of course she would have to comply with Voldemort's wishes. It would be folly, and probably death, not to. Voldemort turned and swept soundlessly out of the room. Ginny slowly summoned up the courage to look at everyone else in the room. Jealousy, suspicion and abhorrence were the looks in their eyes.
Well, so much for not being in the limelight, Ginny, that one sensible corner of her mind said. Wonder what you're in for now.
***
The non-descript black car pulled into a parking lot behind the Ministry's London safe-house. Hermione and Harry got out of the car, pulled Malfoy's still prone body out after them, and quickly walked into the building. Inside, it was cold and dreary. The Ministry, always quite thrifty, had sparsely decorated the interior of the safe-house. The room in which Malfoy was installed had a bed with a thin mattress, lumpy pillow, burned-out lamp, a desk and two chairs. Hermione and Harry, exhausted, collapsed on the chairs, letting the events of the night sink in.
Harry was the first to speak. "Hermione, you know what I want to do, right? I think we should just toss him into Azkaban and let him rot there. He deserves it. You know he does."
"Harry," Hermione replied, "you know we can't do that. What he deserves, my friend, is none of our concern. Our job was to bring him in. He gets a trial. Everyone gets a trial, Harry. You can't just go throwing people into prison, its inhumane! Not to mention horribly unfair." Hermione was still unconvinced that Malfoy was capable of such malicious acts of violence that she knew Death Eaters got up to.
Harry had been pacing the floor and suddenly spun on his heel and glared at Hermione. "No, 'Mione. You know what's unfair? Malfoy getting away with murders I know he's committed! That's what's unfair! I'm sure you wouldn't feel so forgiving if we hadn't gone to school with him," Harry spat angrily. He whirled and punched his fist into the wall, leaving a small dent.
"Stop it, Harry! You're letting your emotions get the better of you. Now get yourself under control because we don't have time for squabbles. Besides, if we keep yelling, he'll wake up," Hermione stated matter-of-factly.
Actually, they'd already woken 'him' up. Malfoy had been awake since he'd first been laid on the bed. He'd learned early on that if you wanted to find out inside information pretending you weren't there, or in his case, unconscious, was one of the best ways of getting it. He quickly deduced where he was and why he was there. The events that had led him to be where he was were a little blurry, however. The biggest shock was realizing in whose company he was. Harry Potter, who evidently still harboured some ill-will toward him, and Hermione Granger, who had evidently become an equal rights activist on top of an Auror. Malfoy thought that Hermione would have agreed to Harry's suggestion of tossing him in jail posthaste. Apparently she took her job and all its rules very seriously. Well, why should that surprise me, wondered Malfoy.
"Excuse me. I hate to interrupt this little lovers quarrel, but do you think it would be possible to tell me what I'm doing here," Malfoy drawled. Better feign ignorance, he decided. Harry and Hermione jumped. They'd thought he was still out cold. Hermione wondered how much he'd heard. Bloody lucky they hadn't been discussing classified information.
Harry stared directly into Malfoy's eyes. "I think you know perfectly well why you're here, although you were completely smashed when we found you. Daddy not around anymore," he asked viciously. Malfoy's face betrayed nothing, save for a split second when his eyes clouded over, as if trying to block out painful memories.
Hermione noticed it, but decided not to say anything about it at present. Instead she turned to Harry and quipped, "Way to keep your emotions in check."