It was cramped in the meeting room with this amount of people, and in any other situation Draco would've felt irritated by the close proximity. Here though even the thrashing rain was drowned out as he struggled to listen to what was being said through the pounding of his own heartbeat in his ears.
"… The advantage we have this time, is that we have someone with us who knows the Malfoy Manor like the back of his hand: an actual Malfoy," Henry was saying. Draco gave a small nod of acknowledgement as several heads turned towards him, with varying degrees of scepticism.
Soon after, Draco stood around the map of the Malfoy Manor he had drawn earlier, and explained each part of it to those all huddled around the small table. He could feel people occasionally side-glancing each other, but suspected that Henry and Harry had vouched for him and so no protest would be made. What other choice did they have?
In the room stood Henry, Harry, Draco, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Digby Jones (A Hufflepuff from the year below Draco at Hogwarts), and George Weasley. All looked tense, and a little nervous, but listened to every word spoken inside the tent. Draco had no choice but to believe that together they could successfully rescue Amelia.
Neville Longbottom poked his head through the opening; "we're all ready and in position, guys," he said, with militant reserve.
Harry nodded. "Great – we're about five minutes from leaving – standby for my signal."
"Right," Neville said with a nod, before retreating back outside.
Most of the other resistance members were staying back; a few of them at the ready in the small healing tent for anyone who might return injured, and the rest of them dotted around the perimeters of the shanty town, at the ready should there somehow be an ambush of Death Eaters in the fallout of the mission to Malfoy Manor.
For weeks, Draco had seen all these people in such a casual circumstance, going about their days with ease. And though a tension was always looming, and vigilance was required by all, he had come to see the resistance as merely a small village. It was unnerving to see the atmosphere change so suddenly, but Draco felt a newfound respect for every resistance member who were able to switch into a battle mode so suddenly.
"Okay – that is fifteen minutes to midnight – everyone ready?" Harry's voice sounded as he glanced his wristwatch.
There was a murmur of acknowledgement as everyone adjusted their clothing or grabbed their wands from their pockets. Draco saw Ron squeeze Hermione's hand with a small wink.
"Okay – let's get into the pairs then. Draco – ready?"
Draco nodded. He was to apparate two people at a time to the Malfoy Manor. Harry offered him a wand for a shelf behind him – different to the one Draco was usually given during supervised duelling practice.
"It should work well enough for you," Harry said as Draco rolled the foreign wand around his palm, feeling its weight.
"Let's go then," Henry said, stepping up next to Draco with George Weasley by his side.
Draco allowed both of them to link arms with him, before closing his eyes and conjuring a vivid image in his mind. He felt the odd but familiar sensation, and within a few seconds felt the beating of a strong wind against his face.
He opened his eyes – it was a dark night, and raining just as heavily here as it was at the resistance. About half a mile away stood the Malfoy Manor – dramatic and imposing against the vast grassy fields surrounding it. A few windows were illuminated with a flickering glow, but the Manor was mostly draped in darkness.
"That's the entrance down there," Draco said over the wind, pointing to a small grate half-covered in long weeds and grass by their feet.
Henry and George kept their eyes darting around, their wands at the ready, as Draco closed his eyes once more.
Amelia sat in her cell, her knees against her chest, her head resting on the damp wall. She guessed it had been at least two hours since her encounter with Voldemort, and she had started to feel a bit stronger, save for the shrill pain that throbbed in her head. The presence of at least one Dementor was all but confirmed though by the rapidly depleting energy Amelia felt.
The Dark Lord's words tossed around in her head and one thing was clear: they were using Amelia as bait to get Draco back to the Malfoy Manor. She thought back to her last encounter with Draco – running away from him at the Christmas party. Did this, her final moments before certain death, confirm what she had been fighting against for years? Did this prove that Draco had been telling her the truth for all these weeks?
She pressed her palms against her eyes and groaned loudly, a surge of profound defeat hitting her body. She'd never get to tell him that she knew it was all a lie, that he knew how brave he had been, that she loved him as much as he loved her.
Once again, footsteps echoed around the dungeons. These ones were lighter than Bellatrix's though. She shielded her eyes from the wandlight advancing on her as she tried to make herself smaller against the wall.
"Amelia Collins?"
It was an unfamiliar voice, stiff and clipped.
"Who's there?" Amelia asked, trying to put some sort of defiance or bravery into her voice.
The person got closer and Amelia saw them in the light. She gave a little gasp; though they had never met, she recognised the person straight away. Narcissa Malfoy.
"What are you –
"I needed to see you for myself," Narcissa said, crouching down on the other side of the bars in front of Amelia with a small, sad smile. She looked a lot older than when Amelia had glanced her on platform 9¾ during her time at school. She remembered Draco saying to her that he suspected his mum felt as disillusioned as he did with the Dark Arts all those years ago, but was far too trapped to escape. Still, she was a known Death Eater and Amelia kept herself pressed against the wall.
"I must know – how is my son?"
Amelia frowned, unsure of whether to trust Narcissa.
"I don't know," Amelia said.
"He made it to you? In the resistance?" Her voice sounded urgent and Amelia could see that her eyes looked glassy.
Amelia said nothing.
A wave of dark realisation came over Narcissa's face; "this is what I feared…. That the tricks they used against you both would work too well."
Amelia felt like retorting this, but still said nothing, willing her face not to give anything away.
"In this case - we don't have much time. There are things you have to know."
Narcissa stood, effortlessly tapped the lock with her wand, and started out of the dungeons. She looked back and saw that Amelia hadn't moved. The two women held each other's gaze as Amelia sighed and stood up cautiously, allowing Narcissa to lead the way out of the dungeons.
Amelia was led in a different direction than earlier, and once again she tried her best to memorise the details around her. Narcissa walked fast, her midnight blue robes billowing behind her and as she tried to keep up Amelia registered the weariness in her own bones. She tried to blink away the light-headedness.
The corridors were still and silent, with even the portraits sleeping in their frames.
"In here, quickly," Narcissa whispered, ushering Amelia through a narrow door.
The room was small, and filled with shelves of sinister looking trinkets and gadgets. Amelia was reminded of a time when she and Henry had explored Knockturn Alley as curious and naïve teenagers. In the centre of the room was a large stone basin, with something silvery inside that Amelia couldn't distinguish between liquid or some sort of cloudy mist.
Narcissa stood by the basin and beckoned Amelia to do the same. "You know what this is, I presume?"
Amelia shook her head. Narcissa gave a small tut.
"A pensieve: a way to explore one's memories."
Understanding washed over Amelia.
Silently, Narcissa lifted her wand to her temple, closed her eyes, and elegantly withdrew a long silvery strand of what looked like very thin silk. Opening her eyes, she directed this strand to the pensieve, which immediately changed colour.
"After you, Amelia," Narcissa said, a slight warmth to her thin voice.
Amelia hesitated – this woman hadn't really done much to gain any trust. Still though, Amelia was consumed by curiosity, and with a fairly hopeless situation laid before her, she had little choice but to trust the only person offering it to her at this point. She bent over the pensieve, and felt a cooling sensation against her face, before she leapt gently off the ground to fall into Narcissa's memory. As she weightlessly landed on the ground in an uncharacteristic display of grace, Narcissa appeared beside her, giving her a small smile. The two women stood side by side.
Amelia looked around – they were inside the Malfoy Manor, in the very same library room Amelia had been in earlier that day. Her and Narcissa stood in a corner, surveying the scene before them.
Amelia saw a slightly younger looking Narcissa standing next to Bellatrix Lestrange. In front of the two women stood Lord Voldemort, looking exactly the same as he did when Amelia had seen him mere hours ago.
The large oak doors swung open and two people walked in: Draco and Luscious. Luscious was nudging a reluctant looking Draco forward with his wand in between his son's shoulder blades. Luscious pushed Draco to the centre of the room, then obediently stood back, his head bowed.
At all of this, Amelia gave a small gasp, but stifled herself.
"You know of course, that we cannot be seen or heard. We are merely observing the memory. Nothing can be altered," Narcissa said to Amelia.
"Oh - right, yeah," Amelia mumbled, feeling a bit silly for trying to be inconspicuous as if she could have been seen by the others.
"I only say this as you might find some of these memories distressing," Narcissa continued, kindness leaking into her voice. "But all we can do is watch." Amelia noted a hint of sorrow in her voice.
Amelia didn't need to ask when this memory was from. The clothes Draco wore, the exact way that he held himself, the way his hair fell around his face, everything about him was all that she had saved captured in her mind for years. She knew that this was the day she woke up alone in the woods. He was exactly as she had remembered him from that day.
"Ah, welcome back, Draco," Voldemort said, grinning with malice. "I feel we have a lot to catch up on."
Draco straightened his shoulders slightly, but Amelia saw his lip twitch as the Dark Lord took a few steps towards him.
"We've been most concerned about you this year. After your disappearing act in the Battle of Hogwarts," he continued. "I hope you haven't been hiding from us."
Draco averted his gaze, and stared past Voldemort, shoulders still squared and firm.
"He won't be causing any more trouble, my lord," Luscious piped up from behind Draco, with a small bow. Amelia noticed that he sounded scared.
"You've done quite enough, Luscious!" Voldemort snapped. He turned his attention back to Draco, his voice restored to its cool and silky dangerous tone. "On the run, it would seem. Openly denying your heritage, your blood, and most importantly – the place within our ranks I most generously gave you. You have been trying to make a fool of me, Draco."
Still, Draco did nothing but stay determined unmoving, staring straight ahead.
"Where's the girl he was with?" Voldemort demanded, looking now to Luscious.
"Ah – yes, my lord…" Luscious stood forward. His uncharacteristic bumbling could've been comical in another circumstance. "We, uh, we had to let her go."
Voldemort's eyes became slits. "Let her go?" He repeated slowly.
Luscious nodded. "It was the only way… to have him cooperate."
"They did an Unbreakable Vow, my lord," another Death Eater said. Amelia recognised his voice from that day in the woods. "Vowed that he wouldn't leave the ranks of the Death Eaters again, so long as no one harms the girl." He had the air of a child telling a teacher about another disobedient child.
"Is that so?" Voldemort said to Draco with apparent amusement, coming almost nose to nose with him.
Draco gave a stiff nod.
"You haven't heard of other ways to convince, Luscious?" Voldemort said with his eyes on Luscious.
Voldemort took a step to consider Draco and put out his hand, as if expecting something from Draco. "Your Mark, Draco."
It took a moment for Draco to react, but he eventually conceded and slowly raised his left arm. Voldemort slowly and carefully pushed up his sleeve to reveal Draco's Dark Mark. Amelia remembered how self-conscious he was of the tattoo all those years ago, always trying to hide it from her.
"You do not deserve this on your arm, boy," Voldemort hissed quietly, admiring the mark and tracing it delicately with his fingers. Amelia watched as Draco's lip twitched again as he flinched against the Dark Lord's touch. "Let me be clear: if you were not of the purest blood the wizarding world has to offer, if we did not need your bloodline to continue to help our cause, you would be lying dead in that forest. In fact, you would've been disposed of like the useless commodity you are a long, long time ago."
Amelia realised she had been chewing on her lip. She glanced at Narcissa; it seemed this was a painful memory for her to witness as well.
"You belong to me now. You are not a Death Eater, you are a prisoner." With this, Voldemort raised his wand and slashed it twice through the air, making a cross pattern. Amelia jumped as Draco let out an agonising scream and clamped his hand onto his left arm - his Dark Mark - as he dropped to his knees in pain. Voldemort watched on with satisfaction, looking at the reactions of those in the room. Bellatrix was cackling and dancing behind him; Luscious and past Narcissa stood stoic and still, both averting their eyes from their son.
"Stand up," Voldemort demanded.
Draco didn't move.
"Stand up, boy!"
Slowly, with shaking legs, Draco managed to stand, stumbling on his unsteady feet as he rose. He was cradling his left arm against his stomach.
"You must be the luckiest boy in the world," Voldemort started, coming very close once again. "You are lucky that your master is gracious, and willing to give so many chances. Well?"
With gritted teeth, Draco said: "thank you… my lord."
It broke Amelia's heart to watch it.
"You will serve the Death Eaters for the rest of your days. You will live a hollow and empty existence, until you are no longer required and I finally have the pleasure of eliminating you like the pest that you are. One hint that you are being anything less than loyal and I find the girl, and have her killed in front of you. Do you understand?"
Draco nodded.
"You will do well to forget she exists. Soon, she will know that you are a coward, spineless… she will know that you belonged to your family, with the Death Eaters, after all."
He laughed, and the others in the room joined him. Amelia felt tears sliding down her face as she watched the defeat glaze over Draco's eyes. As Voldemort strode out of the room Amelia watched Draco slowly extend his shaking left arm to examine the damage. Amelia couldn't suppress a small gasp; on top of his Dark Mark was a large X, deep and blackened and raw, as if it had been burned directly into his skin. She remembered seeing this – the branding – when he had showed the resistance his Dark Mark only weeks ago. The memory started to dissolve around them…
…A blue sky, and green garden materialised around Amelia and Narcissa. Perfectly clipped hedges lined the perimeter, and though there were flowers in bloom all around, the garden had a distinct coldness to it. In a corner on a bench sat Draco, his head bowed. Narcissa, from the past, was walking down the path towards him.
"They're ready for you. Quick, quick," she was saying in an impatient tone.
Draco raised his head, but didn't stand.
Narcissa tutted loudly. "There's no use stalling now. Pansy's already waiting for you."
Draco raked a hand through his hair. "Is all this really necessary?"
Narcissa rolled her eyes. "Pansy deserves a nice wedding. It's the least you could give her seeing as you can't seem to stand the sight of her."
"I can't. That's exactly the problem."
"Draco – this is part of the deal, the Vow you made with your father. You must do what is needed. Not just for your safety but for… hers."
Draco gave his mother a reproachful look. "Amelia," he corrected, "you know her name. What if she finds out about this? Sees that I'm married to someone else – and to Pansy bloody Parkinson of all people."
Narcissa's face softened a bit and she put a hand on Draco's arm. "Draco – there is no way around this. It does not matter what she finds out, or does not find out. It won't change anything. I know you don't wish it, and it brings me no joy in seeing you like this, but your place is here."
"It does matter what she thinks," Draco said spitefully. "She's the only person in the whole world who knows there's a little bit more to me than being a Death Eater or a coward…"
"I don't think you're a –
Draco abruptly stood and pushed past his mother. "Let's just get this day over with."
As Narcissa sighed and followed her son, the scene around them dissolved once more, to a darkened starry sky, in the same garden.
Draco sat on the same bench, a cigarette in between his limp hand as he stared at the ground. Amelia watched as Narcissa entered the scene, walking tentatively towards her son. Although it was dark, they both looked older than they had done in the previous memory, and Amelia wondered how much time had passed.
As Narcissa sat beside Draco, Amelia saw how haggard his appearance was. His shoulders, though broader than they had seemed in the last memory, were slumped
His eyes had the bleariness of someone who did not sleep, and there was no life in his face. She wanted desperately to take his face in her hands or take his body into hers and squeeze him until he knew how much she cared.
"You are so desperately unhappy," Narcissa was saying to her son. "I never wanted you to grow up as a prisoner to a pretend life."
Amelia watched as Draco looked at his mother with confusion.
"You think about her, still? Amelia Collins?" Narcissa asked. Amelia's breath caught in her throat at the sound of her name. Never did she think that she would have been being discussed at the Malfoy Manor.
Draco looked sceptically at her. "How do you… yes, I do. All of the time."
A mixture of intense feeling and anxious nausea filled Amelia at this.
"Do you know anything of her whereabouts?" Narcissa pressed.
"She's with the Resistance – that's the last I heard, about a year ago." There was no other way to describe his voice, other than utter defeat. As I'd he had lived with the constant presence of a Dementor for years. If there was any doubt left in Amelia's mind, it vanished as she watched Draco talk about her, like he had lost a limb. She felt hot tears roll down her face.
Narcissa was slowly nodding. Amelia watched as Draco stamped out his cigarette, and Narcissa scooped his hands into hers.
"I want you to find her," Narcissa said. Her voice sounded raw with a quiet desperation.
"That's not possible. Mother, it's an unbreakable-
"Vow," she finished, "I know."
Amelia listened, her mouth half-open as she listened to Narcissa divulge a plan to the equally shocked Draco.
Amelia turned to the Narcissa beside her. "It really was you who killed Luscious?"
Narcissa gave a stiff nod. "I couldn't bear to watch my son become a shell of a person any longer."
Amelia wasn't sure what to say.
"That's everything," Narcissa said beside her, as the scene began to disintegrate around them like ash into the wind.
Suddenly, with a strange pulling sensation, Amelia and Narcissa stood in the same small room, the penseive beside them.
Amelia hastily wiped at her face, suddenly embarrassed at her emotion.
"Why are you showing me all of this?" She asked the older lady.
"Because my son loves you. And many people have tried very hard to keep you apart, and turn him into something he is not – someone who you could not love. But you need to know that he was never part of that decision, not for a moment." Although her words were powerful, her tone was short.
"I had no idea…" Amelia said, her voice small. "Obviously, I hoped… but when I saw that him and Pansy…"
"Rightly so," Narcissa said. "Well, now you know. He was trapped here, bound by a Vow he made to protect you. When faced with the threat of your life, on the day you were ambushed together, he made the decision to sign his own life away to set you free. He did this while risking what you might eventually think of him, that you could believe him deceitful and cowardly; a Death Eater after all."
As Narcissa spoke of her son, she looked proud of him.
Amelia had no words, but she wanted to show Narcissa her appreciation somehow. She had the urge to hug her, but held back.
"It is late. This is risky…" Narcissa said, and gestured towards the door. "I wish there was something more I could do for you now, but it would not be successful. Still, I imagine there are people coming for you and I will do what I can from the shadows to help them - and you."
Once back in the dungeons, Narcissa took Amelia's hand, squeezing it tightly.
"Helping Draco get back to you is the only decent thing I've done with my life. When all of this is over, and you are Draco are finally free to be happy… will you tell my grandchildren?"
Amelia smiled and returned the small squeeze of Narcissa's hand. "Of course. Thank you for tonight… for everything," she said.
Narcissa bowed her head and swept away back into the darkness, her heels knocking rhythmically against the stone, until silence washed over once more, and Amelia was alone again.
It had all been true – every word of what Draco had said. She thought back to the day she first saw him in the resistance, tied to a chair, a completely different man to the one she had known… she had been so cruel that day and every day since, barely even allowing him an opportunity to speak his side. She couldn't quite believe the amount that he must love her – all the sacrifice and tribulation he had gone through, not even just to be with her, but to protect her from afar. She clutched at her chest and let tears freely roll down her face and wished beyond anything for the chance to see him again.
