A/n: A big thank you to Oldoverholt, my Beta Queen!
Trust
Chapter One Strange MeetingsIt came pretty close to genocide, really. A little misdirection, a few false hints, and the prospect of more information had led the troupe of aurors right into a trap.
At the first sign of trouble, the aurors had scattered off into different directions in the woods. The pouring rain and the night had not helped either side, but the aurors had been seriously outnumbered. Before they could gather their wits, the Death Eaters attacked.
The poor buggers had not stood a chance.
Most were dead; the less fortunate ones had been tortured and now were being systematically disposed off.
"Pathetic, so very pathetic," mumbled Draco, as he walked beside Bellatrix.
"I hope you mean the weather, Draco," drawled Bellatrix, as she shown her wand over the slushy ground.
He flushed at her words but then began to complain loudly,
"Of course, I mean the bloody weather. I am soaked to the skin, I got hit on my face and it's sure to leave a nasty bruise, and my dragon hide boots are utterly ruined," he did not add that he also thought that the aurors had been pathetic, to walk so stupidly, into an ambush. Bella would never understand.
She laughed sympathetically though and Draco took this as a good sign. She had not even given him one of her boring on-spot lectures of how nothing must deter us from serving the dark lord and so he pressed on.
"Aunt Bella, can't I go? We've won already. Now it just a matter of rounding up the numbers and you don't really need me for that, do you."
She glared at him so fiercely that, in the end, his charming smile was toned down to a weaker watery version of it. He could see that she was not going to let him off easily and braced himself for the speech that was sure to follow.
"Draco, when are you going to accept your responsibilities? This work that you do serves our lord. Don't you get any pleasure from killing these dirty aurors that stand in the way of our lord? The fact that you were chosen so young for this should fill you with pride." She gestured emphatically as she spoke.
Draco nodded gravely and after a moment's pause, asked again, "So, can I go?"
She curled her fingers into fists, suppressing the urge to shake him by his shoulders and scream at him. "No," she said stoically and stalked off.
But Draco was not going to give up that easily; after all, whinging, for Draco Malfoy, was truly an art form.
"But Aunt Bella," he shouted after her, in his best complaining voice.
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It had taken several more pleas and theatrical sighs before she had given in to his complaints. Of course, she would not let him off that easily. He had to scan a smaller area, close to the eastern boundary of the woods and send up red sparks if he found one of their own hurt or dead.
Though it was slightly creepy, Draco preferred attacks during the night. That way, there were less chances of anyone discovering that he did practically nothing during these attacks. He usually passed such nights with a good defensive shield and a number of random spells thrown at some inanimate objects, or like tonight at some unsuspecting tree. Draco Malfoy had come to the painful conclusion long ago; he was too much of a coward to actually kill anyone.
Tonight, however, the darkness was oppressive and the Lumos spell on his wand tip seemed to be fighting a losing battle with the overwhelming darkness. The rain had stopped by then and now it was deadly quite, and he could only hear the squelching mud under his boot. The trees sprang into his vision at odd angles as he made sweeping arcs with his wand, once in a while he would stumble over some undergrowth, and then the quiet would be disturbed by his own fluent cursing. He was reminded of the Forbidden Forest and was almost on the verge of apparating out of the woods for good, when the light suddenly shown on the dead body of Goyle senior.
He felt the bile rise up in his throat and his grip on his wand reflexively tightened. He was never going to really get used to this, how many ever times he saw the same kind of spectacle.
Goyle had never been a handsome man, and death had only rendered him more grotesque. Draco, despite his sense of sickening, could not help but peer closer at the hideous marks covering the death eater. Large deep gashes across his entire body, as if sharp deep claws of a dragon had been dragged across him. It had cut across his face as well and one of his eyes was destroyed. The other, in contrast, lay open and unseeing. His wand lay in his hand.
Draco sent the customary red sparks into the sky and cursed as he realized that he would now have to wait until one of the other Death Eaters arrived. He restarted the Lumos spell and focussed it farther away, more out of boredom than out of any thought of finding anything.
That's when he saw the other two.
The first turned out to be Amycus, and his condition was so identical to that of Goyle that it was obvious, that it was the same spell that had killed both of them. Amycus too had his wand and it looked like both had been taken by surprise.
A little away lay the third, and as Draco approached it cautiously, his first thought was that it was a ghost. The skin was hazy and his features almost translucent. Draco was almost tempted to prod it with his wand to see if it would go through.
It took him a while to realise what it was. A metamorphis charm; the guy had obviously cast it on himself to change his appearance, and with his death, the effects of the charm were fading too.
He was mistaken; the charm was not fading. It was hazy, as if low on magic, which would mean the guy was…
Draco brought his wand to the figure's forehead as he muttered the counter spell. It was obvious it was some auror and the thought of saving his life did not cross Draco's mind. It would be of no use one-way or the other; Aunt Bella was sure to kill him. But he was curious…curious to know who it was…
He peered closer as the spell took effect, and the odd translucent features changed back into the recognizable face of …
Draco scrambled backwards, with a cry of surprise, as he recognized the detestable face.
Harry sodding Potter…
A while later Bellatrix came crashing through the woods, in response to the signal. She found the dead bodies of Goyle and Amycus.
As she later told Narcissa, she could not believe how unapologetic the boy was…apparating out alone when she had clearly told him to wait.
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Severus Snape was making more money out of his potion making skills now, when he was a proclaimed Death Eater, than when he used to serve as a potion master at England's premier wizarding institution.
The aurors, up until recently, had St Mungo's and its army of healers to treat their sick and wounded; not so, with Death Eaters. They were reduced to their own amateur healing spells and relied heavily on Severus' potions.
His potions were, therefore, in great demand and he was business minded enough to make an excellent profit.
So much for selflessness among the brotherhood of Death Eaters that Lestrange was always raving about.
It was therefore not surprising that Severus Snape was in no mood to be disturbed that morning. He had just finished the groundwork for his blood replenishing potion and now had it would take another hour of painstakingly accurate procedure to see the potion to its completion.
"What is it, Minky?" he asked dismissively, even as he spelled the potion to self stir. He'd seen the creature tiptoe across the entrance of his workroom several times now and he knew she wanted something bothersome of him.
The young inexperienced creature had been a gift, for Christmas, from Narcissa. He had not been particularly keen to have the elf, but it was a better alternative to Wormtail. Snape was the creature's first master and it went to ridiculous levels to please him.
"Minky is sorry, but is telling him that master is not wanting disturbing, but he is not listening," stammered Minky reverentially.
"Well, who is it?"
"Minky is not asking," she replied and then bit out tremulously, "should Minky run into a wall as punishment,"
"I'd prefer, if you went and asked him," he answered dryly.
It could not be for anything important, he reasoned, as he opened a book. The dark lord had better ways to summon him and he wanted to get rid of whoever it was, quickly.
The elf was back and it made another one of its sweeping bows before it answered, "Draco Malfoy is wanting to see you."
It was only when the elf repeated it that the fact finally register. Draco Malfoy? Come looking for him? It was a surprise; for the boy had hardly spoken to him, since the time, he had whisked him away from Hogwarts. Polite answers, short greetings, and an uncanny habit to never meet his eyes, the boy had picked up these traits since last year. And now, Malfoy had come looking for him?
"Show him in," said Snape, his curiosity aroused. Once Minky had left, he put the potion in a slow time warp and waited for the boy. He knew that it must be better than some old gossip that would cause Draco to reach out for him.
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Draco looked like an awkward schoolboy, standing at the doorway of the lab, his fingers clasped, and his face set in a tight-lipped smile.
"Hello Professor," he said softly.
Snape nodded in response, and waved him in.
"Give me moment, Draco while I put these away," he said, indicating to the ingredients.
He could easily have done it with a sweep of his wand, but he set about doing it manually in hopes of giving the boy enough time to start a conversation, without his prodding.
Draco, on the other hand, ambled off to stand before his shelf of books. He fingers traced the spine of the books and he looked particularly interested in one of them. He was just about to pull it out but left it alone when he saw that Snape seemed finished with his work.
"I…I just came, because mother asked me to. She was wondering whether you would have a fresh batch of bruise healing paste. Aunt Bellatrix is rather bruised up from last night's attack. He said stiffly.
It was typical of Narcissa to ask for potions on her cousin's behalf, as she was well aware of the animosity between Bellatrix and him. What he found hard to believe, was that she could have persuaded Draco to come and ask. Narcissa had even lamented to him at her son's behaviour…
'I cannot believe how ungrateful Draco is acting. He refuses to have anything to do with you. I wish you would persuade him to talk.'
"Of course," he said smoothly. He came over, towards the cupboard near the shelf of books, and pulled out a tube of the yellow salve. His eyes caught the book that Draco had seemed keen about…'Magical Maladies and Wounds Volume Xlll'.
He took the salve with muttered thanks, and Snape used the half-minute of eye contact to prod invisibly inside Draco's head, but he might as well have hit a granite wall. Occlumency had strangely enough been one of Draco's natural gifts.
"I hear that you were the one who discovered Goyle and Amycus's bodies. There was a strange curse on both of them, correct?" Severus needed to get the boy talking and this was a stab in the dark. The boy had looked interested in the book and perhaps if he got him talking about the incident last night, he could presently be persuaded to talk about other things.
Severus noticed a remarkable change in the boy during the course of the question. The stiff, indifferent expression gave way to a second of pure panic, fear, and strangely enough guilt. He schooled his face almost instantly and began to reply, but to Severus, for whom reading a person's thoughts and expressions was almost reflexive, the change was noticeable.
" Perhaps a sectumiaria," Snape said finally.
"Yes, but that wouldn't cause this much damage."
" Another version of it, then; they must have been killed instantly."
Uncomfortable silence filled the wake of the statement, but to Snape's relief it was Draco, who spoke up.
"What would happen if you used Crucio on a deep wound?" At Snape's surprised expression he added dismissively, "I've just heard about them, if I knew it did something worse than a normal Crucio, I could use it on the aurors."
He said it with such gravity that it was difficult for Snape not to laugh outright. He agreed with Narcissa on the matter, the boy had been too ridiculously young to be a Death Eater. Unlike his father, death and physical torture of muggle-borns raised no cries of enjoyment or perverse pleasure from Draco. In fact, he shied away from it. He just was not hardened enough for it. The dark lord had sensed it long ago and used it effectively against him. The lord called him his weak, cowardly little Death Eater.
To hear him talking about worse forms of Crucio, as if he used them regularly…it was absurd.
He did not, however, point this out to Draco and instead asked, "As in to channel the curse right into his veins."
"Yes, I think that's what…yeah that," he said hurriedly.
"It could cause death, or at least bring the person close to it. Blood loss, partial or complete paralysis, loss of vision, hearing, speech …" he answered.
"That's it," Draco asked weakly. He looked almost sick now.
"Oh, much more; there are chances of irreparable brain damage. But it all depends, on where the spell was targeted, the magical levels of the castor…"
"But this…all this is curable right, if the person survives death," cut in Draco; he seemed to have heard enough about the effects.
"Perhaps, with extreme care, the right potions…the right spells. Not easy but not impossible, either. Nerve healing spells, re'em elixirs, blood replenishing spells…"
Draco seemed extremely flustered by the list. "So many; the potions aren't even easily available; with St Mungo's burnt down; the bloody aurors don't stand a chance." He laughed as if he found this extremely funny.
"You will also need to have most of the potions made specifically, depending on the type of injuries," pointed out Snape, softly. So it would be better if you told me what the hell all this is about, thought the former potions master to himself.
"I better be going then," said Draco, in a half whisper. He seemed dazed by what he had heard and he walked off slowly towards the door.
"Draco," called Snape, quietly.
He stopped and turned around and Snape could sense behind the thin shield of Occlumency, the boy's thoughts were in turmoil. This was the best time, if he planned to attack.
"If you are still interested in the effects of the curse, I think this would be useful. He had pulled out the book that Draco had been keen about before."
There was in fact nothing about dark curses in the book, but he wanted to see Draco's expression and sure enough…
He came forward and took the proffered book willingly. He met Snape's eye to thank him; but he never did get the words across. Snape had used the moment to whip his concealed wand out, and pointing it at Draco at point blank range he drawled, "Legilimens."
Draco, for all his natural skill was still a novice, and though he tried to occlude at once, Snape had found the gap, the glimmer of hope that had crossed the boy's face when Snape had offered the book. He followed that thread of hope in the boy's thoughts and finally found the source and images exploded in Draco's head… the pitch blackness of the previous night, the looming trees in the light of Lumos, the near death figure of Harry Potter lying in the soft wet soil, apparating out of there to…"
But Draco would not let him see anymore. He was pushing Severus out, the magic swelling inside him and he used such force that a shocked Snape found himself staring at the pale, sweaty face of Draco Malfoy.
The boy stumbled back from him, and he would have toppled over had Snape not yanked him up by his shoulders. The boy was babbling now, his eyes wide with fear.
"Severus, believe me, I was not planning to betray the lord. I…I saw him there and I knew...he'd die…aunt Bella would have killed…the lord wants him alive…I knew …that's why…I swear Professor…I swear on my honour…I'd planned to bring him to the lord when…"
"Shut up," said Snape, knowing quite well that the boy was lying.
He did not dare let go of Draco, not only was the boy too exhausted, but he also knew that he might try something stupid like apparating.
Draco had thankfully fallen quiet, letting Snape think. Snape's lips almost quirked as he realized what the boy had tried to do; such foolhardy courage seemed alien in the boy.
Not that it had lasted long,
"Professor, you…you won't tell, will you?" he asked hesitantly, his face drawn in despair.
Resigned to the fact that he would just have to plunge headlong into it, Snape said finally, "Take me to where he is."