Author's notes: Thank you again to my bestie Aleah and my wonderful betas Denarii and Mdman1. This chapter was sooo long and they all worked so hard on editing it.
Special thanks to stellaabigail1, Rixie96, Sakura19Haruno95, Malfoy Mouth James- MMJ, infinateconstellations, ImsebastianstanButter, Naruhina1519, SoapOpera, Lil Miss Sunshine14, Phoenix, Guest, trispectrum, AnnyJackson19, stonebreakerironhill, Guest, Mzfeebs, W0lf12, Guest, rsiles90, and charischen1995 for the reviews!
Chapter 88
Draco massaged the back of his neck and tried to break up the knot that had formed there. He was no closer to finishing that damn cabinet than he had been at the beginning of the year. Graham disagreed, he seemed to think that progress was being made each day, but Draco wondered if he was only saying such things to keep him from having a mental breakdown.
He pulled his thoughts away from Graham. They hadn't spoken since yesterday at breakfast, and Draco had a feeling they wouldn't be speaking for a while. He had let exhaustion and emotions overtake him and said too much. Graham Montague was the last person he should have spoken so honestly too.
Sometimes he forgot why Graham was helping them. Forgot that they had paid for his services and his loyalty. Even his genuine feelings of warmth towards them came from the fact that Graces had buried his sister. Draco had thought about it a lot last night and the more he thought of it the more he began to see that even Graham's friendliness towards him was to aid in a smooth marriage to his sister. Graces was far more likely to be fond of Montague if she knew him to have been close with Draco.
And that left Draco with the realization that he was truly alone. What he had feared was already his reality. He swallowed the emotions that truth brought and dragged his feet to the Slytherin common room, hoping that he could maybe get twenty minutes of comfortable sleep before having to go to breakfast and classes. He yawned the password to his common room and halted in its doorway as Professor Snape slowly stood from the from his seat beside the fire.
"Mr. Malfoy."
His heart pounded. Never had he seen Snape look so—gentle wasn't the word—non-severe.
"Please, sit."
"What's going on?"
"Mr. Ma—Draco," Snape corrected, doing his best not to flinch at using the given name and still not seeming irritated with Draco not obeying. "Sit."
A heat began to spread across his skin, prickling at the surface and causing his breaths to shorten. He wanted to move, but it took longer to actually make the action. Slowly, Draco made it to a seat across from his professor and then forgot the instruction to sit.
"Is it my mother?" he asked tightly, thinking of all the ways the Dark Lord may punish her for his incompetence. "Is—did our Lord—"
"Your mother has not been harmed. Now, sit."
He sat, aware that he could feel and hear the very blood coursing through his veins. He wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers and waited.
Snape looked at him for a moment, before calmly reaching into his robes. Draco flinched, thinking an attack was to happen, but Snape pulled out a vial of potion instead, his eyes darkening as he noticed Draco's fear.
"Why would you bring me a calming draught?"
"Because I need you calm."
"Are you about to tell me something upsetting?" Draco asked.
Snape's face revealed nothing. "Mr. Malfoy, I am trying to be patient with you, but my patience does not extend far. You are clearly already upset, and yes, what I have to say will be distressing. So take the potion. Because I cannot guarantee my restraint if you behave foolishly, which I suspect you will."
Draco looked away for a moment before reaching out for the vial. Snape handed it to him and waited.
Draco looked around, his mind and heart racing.
"Draco," Snape growled. "Take the draught." His throat dried. He couldn't even swallow his own spit. "Mr. Malfoy," Snape warned.
"Is everything alright?"
Draco turned to see Graham walking from the 7th year boys room, dressed and ready for his classes. Always an early riser. His eyes met with Draco's briefly before going to Professor Snape.
"Classes are canceled for the day, Mr. Montague. Now, go back to your room or leave the common room. I have a private matter to discuss with Mr. Malfoy."
Graham didn't move. He looked again at Draco, at the vial in his hand. Draco wasn't even able to try to look somewhat composed. It was taking all of his will to not cry and demand to know what was happening.
Graham's jaw tightened, and he moved to the spot beside Draco, lounging back into the chair.
"Mr. Montague, if—"
"Let him stay," Draco begged, closing his eyes and shaking despite himself.
Snape's nostrils flared, but he said no more of Graham leaving. "Take the potion."
Draco blinked and slowly brought the vial to his lips. It took him a while to finish it, his stomach turned with nerves and he gagged twice, encouraged by a shallow nod from Graham to continue.
Snape waited a few moments, giving the potion time to enter his system before he spoke.
"You're sister was attacked the night before last."
"What? What do you mean attacked? I saw her yesterday. I—"
"Draco, let him finish." Graham's hand had moved to Draco's shoulder and despite the turmoil growing in him, Draco obeyed.
"As I was saying," Snape continued. "She was attacked. We don't know much of the details, but she was tortured and assaulted."
"Assaulted." Draco repeated.
Snape was silent and suddenly the word and the meaning made sense. Draco's stomach dropped so violently he was sick, the calming potion the only thing in his stomach suddenly spilled onto the common room floor. There was a jumble of movements and words, that Draco couldn't process or hear. He was standing trying to get to the door. To go where he wasn't sure.
"Mr. Malfoy, sit down."
No. He couldn't sit down. He had to find Graces. Had to find who had hurt her. Had to get out of this room. Had to kill whoever had hurt her. It was Nott. It had to be Nott. He had been an idiot not to watch him more closely, not to have taken him out the moment he saw he was a predator stalking Graces like prey. He was going to kill him. Peel his skin off slowly and force him to eat it. He was going to make him pay. His chest ached with the need to hurt him. To end him. He felt inhuman. He was so lost in his rage that he didn't even realize that he wasn't upright, that Graham was on top of him pinning him down and demanding he get ahold of himself.
"Get off me! Get off me!"
"Draco," Graham's body was blanketing him. Holding him so tightly he could hardly breathe. "You need to calm down. You need to listen. We don't know everything. You need to listen."
Draco choked on his tears and tried to push Graham off him, to escape the feeling of suffocation, but his efforts were all weak. He was weak. A sob escaped him and he didn't know which was worse, the fact that he was crumbling under Graham's watchful eye or Snape's. In the end he decided Snape's and hid his face in Graham's shoulder, unable to gain a hold of himself.
"Is she alive? I didn't even ask; is she alive?"
Graham looked up, before nodding. "She's alive." It didn't stop his tears and Graham sat up to kneel, supporting Draco awkwardly so he could still hide his face and cry. "She's alive," Graham repeated, pulling Draco up so they were standing. "Now, lets listen to Snape."
Draco let himself be guided to the couch, aware that Graham was allowing him to stay under his arm and holding him tightly. His eyes never leaving Snapes'. When they sat, it was Graham who handed him another calming draught. Draco hesitated.
Graham moved so he was no longer holding Draco, but nose to nose. The older boy knelt in front of where Draco sat, his hand on the back of Draco's neck painfully forcing him to meet his eyes.
"When you lose control you don't help her. Plans made in a rage fail. And failing endangers her life, your life and my life. Because I would not stand by and let you kill yourself. You haven't been stupid yet, Draco. Don't start now. Listen to Snape. Assess the situation. Make a plan. Between the two of us we will figure something out."
Draco could barely speak. He nodded and took the draught, aware of Graham's eyes on him. When the vial was empty, Graham stood, still slightly disheveled from their altercation, and gave Draco a warning glare, before sitting back down. This time he didn't repeat the action of putting his arm over Draco's shoulder. He did however, sit near enough for his side to be against Draco's.
Snape waited for a moment, clearly unimpressed with both boys' display.
"Obviously, she didn't report the assault and we don't know much of what happened because she chose not to tell anyone. We do know it happened the other night and it was in the barn. Professor Hagrid found her, but was unable to get her to tell him what occurred. She maintained that the thestrals trampled her. An Auror came to Hagrid's hut and she was unable to convince your sister to tell her the truth as well. She maintained it was the thestrals that trampled her. Your family healer was called to heal her, and she was also unsuccessful."
"Mr. Montague, I believe the Auror tried to question you yesterday regarding the attack. Before it was known to be Theodore Nott, she had suspicions it was you." Graham made a distasteful noise, but didn't say anything. "The Auror in question failed to report the incident, but was pursuing the case." You could hear the eyeroll in the professor's words. "She is under investigation now for her failure to report the incident, as well as Professor Hagrid. I doubt either will see any repercussions for their actions, however."
"Where is my sister now?" Draco blurted out, not caring for any of this information.
"I am getting to that," Snape drawled, giving Graham a pointed look as if to order him to keep Draco in line.
"Your sister, though she didn't allow the Auror to obtain her justice, sought it out herself. She brewed a potion, an old Haitian one using blood magic." Draco scowled. "The potion requires the blood of an attacker and of it's victim. It's very old, very dark and very temperamental magic. It's a justice ritual that has long been forgotten. Most of the time it's unattainable, since it requires the blood from both the victim and the attacker to be spilled from the very attack and it must be made by the victim. This potion is—" Snape paused "—a calling in many ways. It calls to magic that is more wild, and far darker than most people will ever use in their life. It judges and if it determines that the victim is deserving it will enter them, creating a bond that will tie the two people together."
"Tie them how?" Graham asked, leaning forward his mind clearly making more sense of the matter than Draco's.
"Any pain or harm that befalls Graces, for the rest of her life, Nott will have. His body will suffer in any way that hers does. His life force is now tied to hers. If your sister scrapes her knee, his knee will be scraped. If she burns her tongue, his will be burned. His body now mimics hers. And his life is now tied to hers. If Graces were to die, he would die."
"Is her life and body tied to his?" Graham asked, scowling.
"No. Any pain that Nott feels is his own. If he were to die, it would not affect Graces. If she did one thing right, it was to choose a potion that very clearly would protect her from any harm. So long as it chose to work to her benefit. If the justice ritual had sided with Nott she would be the one tied to him and she would feel everything three times as harshly."
"But it chose her."
"It did."
"How do you know?" Graham persisted.
Snape's eyes flicked to Draco, before he tersely continued. "She stabbed herself."
Before Draco could react, Graham's hand was painfully on his leg, an order to be still.
"Specifically, in her gut. We have a multitude of healers here at Hogwarts now working tirelessly to save her."
"Working to?" Draco breathed, his lips going white.
Snape took a breath, subsiding his irritation. "It's not something that can quickly be fixed. She has damaged one of her internal organs. All that was in her intestines has leaked into her body. They have stopped the bleeding, now they are working to prevent sepsis which is a very serious infection."
"How serious?" Graham asked.
Snape's dark eyes held Grahams. "Serious enough that from the moment she entered, unconscious and bleeding, sepsis was already being discussed, already trying to be prevented. Of all the things the healers feared would kill her this infection was the main one."
Graham's hand on his leg was the only thing tethering Draco to this world. He was trembling and didn't even notice that he was openly crying until the tears dripped down his chin into his folded hands.
"C-Can I—"
"When can we see her?" Graham asked, before Draco could finish asking.
"Draco may see her as soon as she is stable. Until then, I think it's best he and I wait in my private chambers."
Snape stood and Draco recognized he was to follow. He wanted to see Graces now, wanted to go to the hospital wing immediately, but his legs followed Snape.
"Mr. Montague, my invitation did not extend to you."
"Regardless, I go where Draco goes."
"You don't have to," Draco whispered, feeling nothing and everything at once.
Graham's eyes shifted to Draco for a brief moment, before ignoring him and waiting for Snape to come to the realization he would not be going anywhere but with Draco. Snape muttered under his breath and turned back down the hall, his cloak billowing out behind him. Draco took a seat as soon as they entered Snape's chambers and didn't bother with polite conversation as he sat helplessly waiting for news. A hot cup of tea was pushed into his hands, but he wasn't sure who had offered it to him. He just waited.
He felt emptied, gutted as he sat there in silence waiting for news. He tried to focus on his breathing. On at least appearing somewhat collected. He knew he was in many ways failing, he could barely manage not to break down, and he wasn't sure his thoughts were even coherent, but he sat there quietly. And tried not to crawl out of his skin and think about what his life would be if Graces did not live.
Short, a dark voice in his head replied. Draco's nostrils flared, and he turned away from that thought as quickly as it had come.
"What is Nott's condition?" Graham asked blandly.
"Worse than Graces. He lost more blood and his wound is bigger than hers."
"Will he live?"
"They're unsure."
"What will all this mean for them?" Graham asked, nodding his head towards Draco. "I doubt our Lord will be happy at the loss of Nott. He has lately been very useful to him."
Snape stared at Graham for a long time, his statuesque stillness putting Draco on edge. For a moment he wondered if his professor was about to attack Graham.
"I will do my best to dissuade our Lord from any rash actions towards them."
"Will you?" Graham snorted.
"Do not think that I take what is happening lightly or that I condone Nott's actions towards Miss Malfoy. As far as I'm concerned, if Nott dies he will have gotten exactly what he deserves, and I will say that to our Lord."
"It's not enough," Graham said coldly. "Right now he values Nott more than he does Graces and Draco. He is going to see this as a cost to him, a cost he will want them to pay. You need to convince him that the twins are more valuable. That Graces is more valuable. That Draco is going to succeed and that what Nott did undermined one of the most important missions."
"Would you like to meet with our Lord, Mr. Montague, and tell him these things? You seem to believe you know exactly what needs to be done."
Graham was silent for a moment. "I would if I believed he would listen to me the same way he would listen to you. I'm sure you have an abundance of favors at your disposal, Professor. Use them."
Draco was sure Graham was about to regret his arrogance, but before Snape had the opportunity to put him in his place there was a knock at his door.
Healer Durand looked like she could collapse at any moment from exhaustion, but she moved with the same poise she always had. Draco couldn't breathe. He stood from his seat waiting on bated breath.
"She will live," the healer nodded, gesturing him to sit.
Graham stood and handed her a cup of tea, relinquishing his own seat for the woman. She nodded her thanks and took a long sip before turning back to Draco.
"Zere will be a series of potions she will take for a long while, and I want her to remain in ze hospital wing for a week, but I am expecting a full recovery."
"May I see her?" Draco asked, already taking a step forward to go to the door and stopping at the healer's stilling hand on his arm.
"She is recovering," Healer Durand promised quietly. "She will not wake for a long while. Please, Mr. Malfoy, I fink it would be best if we spoke before you see her." The healer looked around the room and then added. "Privately."
"Are you kicking me out of my own private chambers?" Snape asked, obviously disdaining the suggestion.
Healer Durand turned around to face him. "We are unable to reach Mrs. Malfoy. The firecall to her home is not working and ze wards on ze Manor prevent even ze finest Aurors from entering. An owl was sent, but it returned ze letter undelivered. Perhaps you would be able to assist us in zis, Severus. I have a feeling you are able to pass frough ze wards."
Snape's eyes narrowed.
"Severus, please," the healer begged, looking at him imploringly. "She should be here. And I believe you're ze only one zat can make zat possible. Please. Graces, when she wakes, will need her mozer."
"Nofing I can do, nofing you can do, can heal what has been done. But her mozer," Durand's voice broke. "She could. You have no idea what kind of power a mozer's love holds."
Snape stood quietly for a few moments, and Draco wondered what he was thinking of. The professor made a small nod and turned to leave.
"And while you are at the manor. Perhaps you can take that time to see to other matters," Graham suggested, his voice less arrogant and more submissive.
"Perhaps," Snape sneered, leaving the room.
There was a tension that left with him and Draco felt in a way released from chains he hadn't realized held him.
"Is Nott expected to live?" Graham asked, the moment he was sure Snape was gone.
A small nod.
"Where is he?"
"I don't fink zat—"
"I employ you," Draco interrupted. "Your loyalty is to me and my family. Not to anyone else. We pay for that."
"He is at St. Mungo's. He is heavily watched and when he left he still had not woken."
Graham was silent for a few moments. "I see." His eyes went to Draco for a brief moment, before declaring he had a few things to attend to. "I'll be back as soon as I am able," he added, already halfway out the door.
Draco wanted to beg him not to leave, but at the same time he saw too much value in Graham going to Nott. He wondered if he was going to kill him. He hoped he didn't. Draco wanted to claim that vengence.
He didn't know how long he stood there watching that door, contemplating what Snape would say, what Graham would do. It wasn't until he heard the gentle clinking of Durand placing her tea cup down on the dish that he realized she was still there, watching him.
Draco sat back down.
"I want to talk to you about your sister's mental state."
He frowned. "What of it."
"I have reason to believe zat Graces is not stable."
Draco was quiet for a few moments, slowly piecing together what the healer was saying. "She's not mad."
"No, but she's not well, is she?"
"No, but that's more to do with the fact that there was a dagger in her gut."
"A dagger she put zere herself."
Draco couldn't find words.
"Zat is not somefing a well mind would do. Your sister's first instinct was to harm herself. Her very first instinct. Draco, look at me, zat is not normal. Zat is not okay. Zis is a cry for help. A cry zat was very close to not being heard."
"What are you saying? That she wanted to die?"
"Maybe, maybe not. I do know zat your sister for the past few monfs has participated in some very self-destructive behavior." Draco remained silent as the woman took out a folder and peered into it. "Some of zis behavior you were not made aware of."
She held out the folder for Draco to take. Draco froze as he realized he was holding his sister's Hogwarts medical records.
"I know about her problems at the beginning of the year," Draco protested, handing the folder back, unwilling to invade his sister's privacy this much. "The exhaustion, the nightmares, the pepperup potion abuse."
"Did you know she is blind in one eye? The attack in October left her blind in one eye. She has refused a magical one. Instead she has chosen to live wif no depf perception. She chose to keep a useless eye zat made it more difficult to live zan to accept what happened to her and get a new one."
"Why are you telling me this now?"
"At first I fought it was pride—or vanity—and I wanted to give her time to adjust. To realize zat she needed ze new eye. I fought after a few weeks or monfs of living like zat, of her wand work failing and missing Quidditch, she would change her mind. She never did. She seems content to live like zis. I see it as anozer way for her to self harm."
Draco ran his hand through his hair and then quickly placed it back in his lap so no one would notice its tremble.
"She is participating in other self harming behavior as well. Did you know she was on ze potion?"
Draco opened his mouth and closed it then opened it again. "There's nothing wrong with—with sex."
"No, zere isn't. And if she were seeing a boy and happy I would not be talking to you about zis. But she's not. She's not any of zose fings. And ze fing is, I fink zat she isn't finking about her actions. I believe she is just acting, chasing anyfing to make whatever pain she is feeling go away. And I also believe zat any boy sleeping wif her right now does not have her best interests at heart. And zat in ze end will make fings even worse zan zey are."
It was all crashing down. His world was slowly just turning to ash. Each second brought only more pain.
"She—she would have told me if she was sleeping with someone. Taking the potion doesn't mean she's sexually active. Lots of girls take it so they don't have periods. She's wanted that potion for a long time and father disapproved of it. She just probably didn't want a cycle."
"Draco—"
"She would have told me! Something that important, she would have told me!"
"Like she told you about the attack? Like she told you about her eye?" Draco—" she paused searching for words. "—I want to take your sister. I fink she could do wif rest and medical attention."
"What?"
"She's not well, Draco. Let me take her to people zat can make her well."
"She's not mad," Draco whispered, more to himself. "She's not."
"Draco."
"SHE'S NOT MAD! You're not taking her. I won't let you lock her up. I won't."
"Please fink about it." Draco gave her a sideways glance. "Just fink about it." She swallowed. "And regarding her eye. I would like to begin ze procedures to replace it. Now—"
"When she wakes I will discuss it with her."
"And if she does not want to replace it?"
"I will not rip my sister's eye out of her skull without discussing it with her."
"You're not listening. She is not going to make a healfy decision. I am sorry zis falls on you. I am sorry you can't be a child. I'm sorry zat our system honors you ze way it does, forcing you to make such decisions, but it does. So unless you want to give over the title to your mozer, who is being held captive, you have to make zis decision. And you need to make it fast. Your sister sh—"
"If you say one more word, you will no longer have a job!"
"If I don't say a word you may not have a sister for much longer. You may lose her by her own hand."
Draco turned and stared at the woman before him.
Healer Durand shook her head. "If I don't say zis I'm not doing my job."
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She knew to be still as she sat there in front of the door waiting for Snape to be finished with his conversation with the Dark Lord. She had no idea of what was happening, but she knew it had to do with her children, and she knew that Snape was in there now imploring the Dark Lord to allow her to go to them. Still, poise was always important. It was poise that still maintained her respect in her house even though she was a prisoner. If you don't act like a prisoner people are intimidated to treat you like one.
"Cissy!" Narcissa looked up at Bellatrix's hiss. "What's going on?"
"I'm unsure," Narcissa said simply.
"I was told Severus was speaking with our Lord and that—"
"Bella," Narcissa sighed patiently, "we shall find out shortly. It makes no sense to speculate. If you wish you can sit with me."
Bellatrix looked at the door, her wild eyes searching for a way in as she ground her teeth in thought. Narcissa held back the urge to scold her and waited.
"Why is Severus talking for you anyways," Bellatrix went on, pacing in front of the door like a lioness locked in a cage. "He's always whispering, always gaining someone's ear. I don't trust him, Cissy. You shouldn't either. You should go in there. We should go in there."
"Bella," Narcissa cooed, reaching out and taking her sister's hand, aware that the woman may lash out and strike her. She was careful. She knew her sister's madness and was ready for any attack. None came. "Sit with me, Bella. We can't go in. We don't even know what's happening."
Bellatrix bared her teeth at the door, but Narcissa gently pulled her to sit beside her, the hairs on the back of her neck going up from the proximity.
"You can't trust him, Cissy. You can't. Promise me you won't."
"Bella," Narcissa breathed. "Please."
"PROMISE ME!" Narcissa winced as her sister's fingers dug into her hand.
"You need to calm down, Bella."
"It's not right. It's not right that you trust him over me, your sister, your blood. You and that husband of yours—"
"Do not speak a word against my husband." Narcissa let her cool eyes meet her sister's crazed. "Not one word against him, Bellatrix. A word against my husband is a word against me. Remember that."
Bellatrix ripped her hands away and Narcissa knew that she intentionally took some of her skin with her. She pretended not to notice the deep scratches along her palms, even as her sister stood and tapped her long fingernails against the door.
She was mad, Narcissa was not blind to that. Bellatrix had always been unstable as a child, always had a touch of the Black madness, but Azkaban had broken her. Cracked her in a way that made it so she couldn't hold long to sanity. But she was her sister. Her only one, really. The last link to her family. To her life before marriage.
"Things would be better for you if you just took the Mark, Cissy."
Narcissa looked up from her chair allowing silence to be her answer.
"You would have more freedom, the Mark would prove your loyalty."
Narcissa bit her tongue about it being another form of shackles and hummed thoughtfully. As if it were an entertaining idea. Sometimes it was best to humor Bella. She had no qualms about fighting her, she had many times, but peace was easier. And she was not naive to the fact that her comfort was probably a combination of her new last name and her sister being so close with the Dark Lord.
"Did Severus say anything to you before going in?"
"Just to sit and wait."
Bella snorted. "And like a trained bitch you did as you were told." Narcissa watched her sister's hand go to the door knob.
"Bella," she cautioned.
Bella lunged, snapping her teeth a nail's width from Narcissa's nose, like a wild dog, before cackling, licking the tip of her nose, and throwing open the door. Narcissa didn't move, not even to wipe the spit on her away. Snape stood in the doorway, clearly about to leave. He raised a brow at Bellatrix, before pushing past her to where Narcissa sat.
"You are leaving for Hogwarts. The Dark Lord is opening the floo network for you. You will be taken to Hogsmeade and from there you may go to the school."
Narcissa waited for a moment, calming herself before she asked. "Why am I going to the school?"
Snape's eyes went to Bella for a moment, before they settled back on her. "Your daughter stabbed herself."
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Narcissa hurried through the halls of the castle to the hospital wing, her mind reeling with everything she had been told. Snape kept pace at her side. He had answered every question she had and even at times reassured her that her daughter was going to live. It didn't change the helplessness that she felt though, the disgust that was so strong it felt as though it coated her skin. She had lost her children. She could no longer protect them, no longer even make decisions on their behalf. They had been in a way ripped away from her.
"I want to remind you that it was not an easy task to get our Lord to agree to letting you come. If I had not convinced him you not coming would be seen as strange and raise suspicion he would not have relented on keeping you in the manor. Do not make me regret this."
"I understand," she acknowledged hollowly.
"Narcissa." Snape halted her, his hand gripping her arm tight enough to stop the circulation. "I need you to trust me. Do not do anything foolish."
"Of course." She tried to pull her arm away, but Snape held firm.
"Graces and Draco will not be harmed for this. I am going to leave and go back to our Lord and do my best to ensure that, but if you do something, Narcissa, I cannot help you. Do. Not. Run."
She ground her teeth slightly, but pressed forward. "I will take the Mark, and Nott's place among the Dark Lord's followers, if it means my children will be spared."
Snape was silent for a long while. "I don't think that will be necessary."
"Just tell him. Also remind him that I am much more capable than a boy of seventeen is."
"Focus on your children for the time being, we will discuss this after."
Narcissa frowned. "You don't want me to take the Mark," she said slowly, making note of Snape's attempts to push the suggestion aside. "Why is that?"
Snape moved closer to her, his height all the more intimidating. "Because it's not sincere," he said darkly. Narcissa checked her walls, and they were up, he could not have seen what she thought, this was merely a guess to her thoughts.
"It is not for you to decide. Give the Dark Lord my offer."
Snape sneered, and then his gaze shifted behind her. "We shall discuss it later, for now you have company and I must leave."
Narcissa turned, expecting to see Draco, and felt as though the wind had been kicked out of her as her sister stood before her.
Andromeda maintained her distance, her hands fidgeting close to her body as she stared at her from afar. Her heart pounded as she stared at Andromeda, as she took in how the years had aged her, how differently she dressed now. There was nothing lavish about her clothes, no stones—aside from the one on her wedding ring—that adorned her. And yet, she was the same.
She took a nervous step forward. "Cissy?"
"You don't get to call me that," Narcissa hissed, taking a step back and composing herself.
Andromeda had to audacity to look hurt. "I've always called you that."
"You lost that privilege when you ran off in the middle of the night with that mudblood and left our family in shambles."
Andromeda closed her eyes and held back her tears. "What was I supposed to do? I was in love; I'm still in love."
"What right did your love have to destroy us?"
"You weren't destroyed," Andromeda said quietly, her eyes scanning Narcissa's fine robes.
"No, because a boy loved me more than my own flesh and blood did. And risked everything he had to save me and my family from the snake that had crawled into our midst." Andromeda opened her mouth to say something, but Narcissa pushed past her. She needed to be with her daughter, she didn't have time for what was already done.
"Cissy, wait!"
Narcissa continued on as though she had not heard the other woman's pleas. She had buried her feelings for her sister. The feeling of deep betrayal and anger mixed with mourning had been one of the hardest things for her to work past. There was even a time she could not get out of bed, not because she was embarrassed for her stature in the world, but because she knew she had lost her sister in a way worse than death. She couldn't even say her name or acknowledge her existence.
Lucius had saved her in more ways than one. He had given her a new life, new people to love. He had demanded her attention and affection and taken her mind away from the hurt deep inside of her. And he had talked to her about it. Raged about it for her benefit and understood when she asked him to ensure her traitorous sister's safety.
She knew she was out of line to so much as ask. Her sister was to be nothing to her and what befell her after her marriage was on her, but she did. She was married to one of the most influential men of their time. He was right hand man to a Dark Lord steadily rising in power and if she could sleep at night knowing her sister would live through it she had to at least ask. He had stared at her for a long time when she made the request. And she remembered how hard it was to be still standing there, a newly married girl in her new bedroom wearing a nightgown and ring that felt far too sophisticated for her young body. And when he asked why the only reply she dared to give was "because she's my sister."
She didn't have to say more. He agreed, the only condition being that she never acknowledge her as blood again. "For your own safety," he had explained, kissing her softly and letting that be the end of it.
Narcissa jumped at the hand on her arm.
"I know that Lucius put you on a dark road and that you don't feel like you can turn back, but you can. Cissy, please. If you need help, let me help you. I have connections, I can take you and your children somewhere safe. I can—"
"I don't need anything from you."
"That boy—the one that attacked Graces—he has the mark. He's a Death Eater, don't tell me you—"
"Let me make something clear," Narcissa hissed, yanking her arm away. "You lost the right to ever so much as look at me the day you ran off in the middle of the night. I am not your sister. We are not family. And you have no business pretending to know my situation."
"You're in danger. Cissy, your children are in danger. I beg you, to listen to me. To let me try to—"
Andromeda took a step back as Narcissa held her wand out against her.
"I ignored your letters for a reason. I want nothing to do with you. I would rather die than ever accept anything from you. I loved you and you chose some boy over me. You chose a boy who you knew for a few years, over me your sister who you were raised with. And I will never forgive you for that. For making me feel so—" she took a moment to regather herself, to stop the tears and the old wounds from reopening. "When you chose him, you chose to live without me. You threw me away."
"You made your choice, Mrs. Tonks," she spat the name. "Don't come decades later and try to reclaim me. You knew what marrying that boy meant. Now you must live with it, because I will not be around someone who didn't treasure me or my love. I will not allow my children to be around someone who could turn their backs on family. Who could throw away sisterly love. A mother's love. A father's love." Narcissa laughed, or cried, she didn't know which. "For a boy."
Something close to devastation was visible on Andromeda's face. She opened her mouth and closed it, biting her trembling lips.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to be with my daughter."
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It was pain. Pain surrounded him, drowned him. He didn't want to move, didn't want to continue. He wanted to escape, but there was none. He cursed Graces' and Neville's names. The first stabbing was bad enough, but the second... that was worse. He could still hear Graces' words as she loomed over him and told him what potion she brewed and yanked the dagger out of his gut. "If you so much as whisper his name I will make you pay." He had believed, foolishly, that she was going to get him help, that she just didn't want him to tell the teachers who came that Neville had stabbed him, until he felt the next stabbing in his gut. He groaned and opened his eyes to the blazing white room he was in.
"Well, well, look who's finally awake."
Nott looked over to the healer sitting in the corner of his room, a proud smirk on his lips.
"Are you going to help me? Or sit there while I'm in pain?" Nott spat, glaring at the scrawny man and wondering if he had a family and what ways he could make him pay for allowing him to continue to suffer.
"Sorry, not qualified to help you there," the healer shrugged, leaning back in the chair and chuckling softly as Nott hurt himself trying to sit up.
After a few moments Nott laid back down, panting from the efforts.
"You're making a mistake," he said darkly.
"I believe you are the one who made a mistake," the healer countered, stretching his arms above his head and arching his back.
Nott had enough and opened his mouth to call out, but before he could the healer silenced him with a flick of his wand.
"It's funny how well guarded you are. Obviously the Auror department was worried you would somehow escape, or some Death Eater would come to your aid. They have all these people guarding your door but no one watching the healers and mediwitches surrounding you. It's like they forgot how easy it would be for someone like me to knock the healer out and use polyjuice to get in here."
Nott stared at the man in front of him unsure if he should feel relieved because he was about to be rescued and returned to the Dark Lord, or terrified because the Malfoys had come for their pound of flesh. He had his answer when he looked at the wand still in the hea—no, Graham's hand.
"Now, now, Theo, let's not make this an unpleasant visit," Montague mocked. " I'm just here to find out all that happened for our Lord. I will take the silencing charm off and you will not do anything to draw the attention of the healers or Aurors outside the door. You will tell me what happened and I will give the memory of your testimony to our Lord."
Nott swallowed and closed his eyes against the burning sensation in his side. He had no doubt that Graham acting as his healer had done nothing for his injuries. He took the silencing spell off, and Nott was just about to tell Graham about everything starting first with Graces' relationship to Neville Longbottom, when Graham cut him off.
"Before you speak, I want to make something clear," Graham continued, clearly not caring for how he had neglected him. "You are tied to Graces Malfoy with a justice ritual. There is no dissolving it. You are bonded to her pain and her life. What she feels you feel. Whatever harm her body undergoes, your body shall bear the same wounds. And when she dies, you too shall pass."
"That being said, it is in your best interest that Graces Malfoy lives a very long life, with as little pain or suffering in it as possible. I would also recognize that she is clearly—" he paused, thinking of a polite word. "—unstable," he settled delicately. "I wouldn't harm anyone she cares for either. She apparently has no qualms with self harm."
Rage raised under Nott's skin, hotter than the fever that had overtaken his body. Graham gave him a cool smile and reclaimed his seat. "The Dark Lord didn't send you. You came on your own. You came so you could get a confession that would protect her, that would ensure I came out looking like—"
"Like what you are," Graham finished, leaning forward in his chair.
"Are you always going to be Graces Malfoy's knight in shining armor, riding gallantly around into battle to save her?"
Montague frowned, and absently touched where his mark was as he seemed to be thinking. "I am many things," Graham said quietly. "But I am no knight."
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Graces looked around the ballroom of her home. The light blue walls, adorned with gold and marble paneling, intricately designed and connecting around the dance floor, it was breathtaking. She walked to the middle of the ballroom floor, her gown floating around her as though she were an angel walking among the clouds. She didn't see anyone at the grand piano in the corner, but she didn't question it when music began to play softly.
Nor did she question it when Draco appeared in the empty room, slowly stepping forward, his eyes never leaving her face as he came across the ballroom floor towards her, proud and handsome in his formal wear. Graces took the hand he held out to her and they soon fell into step. It was easy, second nature, she didn't need to think about what she was doing. Draco would lead, as he always had, as he always would. He smiled lazily and muttered some comment that made her smirk. They were perfect, each move synchronized perfectly to the other. Just him and her in a perfect waltz, one they had danced so often that it was second nature for their bodies to move to it. Draco manipulated her, showcasing their talent for dancing, their ability to make each complicated movement seem simple.
And then it wasn't just them, there were now others. A mixture of masked faces around them, watching them, the music became faster and she began to feel overwhelmed.
"Just watch me," Draco whispered, his voice drawing her eyes back to his matching ones. They had been so distant, so disconnected for so long, but right now she didn't feel that. Everything was as it was. She swallowed and fell back into step, letting Draco lead them among the Death Eaters around them. She watched as he wove through them, dancing intricately around the others, holding her safely to him, his eyes aware of everything and everyone around them.
She tried to keep up, to not stumble, but she continued to falter. Between the ominous music and masks she could barely breathe. She turned, but Draco wasn't before her when she came back around. She stepped back, her gown falling quietly around her as Neville stood in front of her in her home as though it were the most obvious place for him to be.
Neville held out his hand, his kind eyes patient as he waited for her. Her heart was fluttering in her chest, not from fear, but from elation at him being there standing in front of her. Before she could think, she took his hand, falling into a new dance, one not nearly as perfect, as practiced, but one she felt just as comfortable in. She moved closer, hiding from the eyes around her. The world blurred around her as they moved, turning and spinning in a way that dizzied and freed her all at once. She was unbound, alive and in the arms of a boy that made some hidden part of her heart come alive. She suddenly forgot where she was, who she was and that there was a war going on. She was just a girl, smiling and dancing with a boy at a ball.
And then the world stopped spinning and Draco was there, watching her with Neville, his lips tight with disapproval, holding out his hand, waiting for her to come back. She looked up at Neville, his kind eyes nervous for her decision. But in the end there was only one choice. She closed her eyes and removed herself from Neville's arms and took Draco's hand.
Suddenly, they were running or dancing, she wasn't sure. But they were moving down a tight hall with glass coming out of the walls, scratching and tearing at their skin and clothes. Draco held her, dancing through the danger in a way that was tearing him apart. She screamed, wanting to stop, to go back, but he continued, the hall getting narrower and narrower and the cuts deeper and deeper. She begged, begged them to stop but he persisted, never even looking down. It was like he didn't hear her.
She looked down the hall and saw Neville coming towards them, pushing through the dangers and gritting his teeth at the pain that the shards caused. There was no stopping him either. He burrowed through it all, desperate to get to her. She stopped moving, hoping her dead weight would stop her brother from going further, but he picked her up and they continued on.
"Go back, Neville! Go!"
But he didn't go back, only forward.
"Draco, stop! Draco, stop!" And she was fighting him, fighting her brother with all of her might. Screaming for him to listen to her. Because she couldn't go further, she couldn't let them tear themselves apart for her. Not him, not Draco.
When they finally did stop, it was not because of her efforts. They were surrounded. There was no more hall, only a room filled with sharp edges. They couldn't even move. Anything they did could kill them. There was one way out and it was pitch black. Too dark to see if there was more shards waiting. She moved closer to Draco, terrified as he seemed on the edge of panic looking down into that dark abyss.
And then Neville was there, standing outside of the room in a hall similar to what was in front of her and Draco and holding his hand out to her to come with him. Draco looked down at her, his eyes begging her not to leave. To stay. To continue on with him.
She felt sick. She couldn't leave Draco. No, not for anyone, not for anything. But she wanted to go with Neville. She wanted Draco to come with them. She didn't know what was in either hall, but she wanted to go down the one with Neville, regardless of the danger. The hurt in her brother's eyes showed that he knew this, and she was crying she was crying, wanting to explain but unable to. She stepped back, ashamed of her own traitorous heart, and screamed as a shard pierced deep into her stomach.
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Graces awoke to moonlight, moonlight and pain. She was so focused on the pain she almost didn't notice the hands wrapped tightly around both of hers. Draco and Thomas were both fast asleep at her bedside, each holding onto a hand as their tear splotched faces rested against the soft blankets. Graham was there too, sleeping in a corner of the room, his arms crossed over his chest and a permanent frown lining his forehead as he slept.
Then her heart stopped as she saw her mother. Her mother was here, in this room, sleeping in the chair next to Graham. She hadn't realized how much she missed her mother, how badly she yearned for her until she saw her. She couldn't stop the hot tears from coming and she knew it was childish, but she wanted her mother to wake up and she wanted to tell her everything and apologize for their last encounter being hurtful and spiteful. She wanted to tell her she loved her and she was sorry. Sorry for everything, sorry she wasn't the daughter she should be.
"Graces?"
Graces jolted as Neville appeared beside her. Well, half of him appeared. He pulled off the rest of the invisibility cloak and moved closer to her. Concern edged in every part of his face.
"Are you in pain? I can—"
"You can't be here. You-you—" Graces looked around at all the people in the room. Draco, Graham, Thomas, her mother. He couldn't be here. He couldn't. She tried to sit up, but flinched as pain raked down her side.
"It's fine. It's fine, really. Your mother, uh, slipped the three of them a sleeping potion when they weren't looking and I, uh, slipped her one when she wasn't."
"She—you—"Graces tried and failed to process everything at once. "Why were any of you slipping sleeping potions to one another?"
Neville stared at her for a few moments. "Graces," his voice broke at her name. "You haven't woken up in two days."
She didn't need Neville to explain further. She laid back in the bed, letting everything sink in.
"What were you thinking?" Neville asked, his voice thick with emotion. "Why-why would you do this? How could you do this?"
Graces turned away, unable to answer. Not wanting to answer.
"Answer me!" Neville demanded, grabbing hold of her shoulders and refocusing her on him.
"Neville, please."
"You almost died," Neville rasped. "You almost died. They barely saved you. Barely. You've been asleep for almost two days. Why would you do this? Why? Why?!"
"Neville."
"Why!" His hands had now wrapped in her hair and he was forcing her to look at him. She looked at the dark bags under his eyes, the raw skin from salted tears.
Her lip trembled. "I couldn't let you. I couldn't." It hurt to move, but she moved to kiss him. "Not you. Not you. How was I to go on? How? After that? After letting you do that? I couldn't. I couldn't let you do it."
"It was my choice. Mine. I—"
"You couldn't have possibly understood what you chose."
Neville's mouth twisted and his head fell. "I knew exactly what I was choosing. I understood it all. Tell me how you could choose to stab yourself in the gut. No, tell me how you could physically bring yourself to do it?"
Graces could barely breathe.
"Most people—" Neville paused and she watched as his adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed his emotion. "—wouldn't be able to bring themselves to do what you did, Graces… There's something in us that prevents us from-from harming ourselves in such a way. But you did it."
The silence that followed was so heavy she felt as though she were choking on it. "Did you want to die?" Neville asked fearfully, he looked at her like he didn't know her. Like they didn't spend night after night together.
"No, of course not," she breathed, looking away despite the truth in her words. She focused on her breathing, on her heart beating inside her chest, on the pain that was radiating in her torso and steadily becoming worse. She wanted to live. She did. She had taken every precaution to ensure she lived. She went to Tonks instead of Hagrid because she knew that Tonks would have knowledge of first aid. An Auror would know what to do for a stabbing.
Neville gently took her wrists and carefully pulled her hands away from Thomas and Draco's so he could hold them in his palms.
"Your healer thinks otherwise. She thinks—she thinks this was a cry for help. That you—"
"I did this for you," Graces hissed wincing at the pain in her side and closing her eyes as she tried to move past it. "You know me. You should know better than to think that. How could you think I would be so weak? So—" Graces grunted and turned slightly, feeling nausea as a wave of pain swept over her.
Neville gently held her hands tighter, holding her to the world in a way, before releasing her hands and going to a table at the other side of the room.
"It's for your pain," he said quietly, coming over and handing her the vile. "They told your mother she could give you some when you woke. It will also let you sleep some more."
Graces nodded, but didn't bring the potion to her lips. "I know you have something to say."
"It can be said later. You need rest and I don't want you to suffer."
"The pain is still mostly quiet. I want to hear what you have to say."
Neville's face twisted. "Please take the potion," he begged. "I don't want you in pain."
"Neville," Graces whispered, reaching her hand up to his face. She had slept for two days, and it was clear Neville had stayed awake for them. "Don't cry."
"Please, don't cry," she hushed, pulling him down and kissing him softly. Feeling his warm lips on hers and not minding the least that his mouth tasted stale and dry. He hesitated at first, before kissing her back. She could feel him holding back, too frightened of her fragile state to kiss her the way she wanted to be kissed. To let himself kiss her the way he wanted to.
"I almost lost you. I-I almost lost you." Graces could barely catch her breath as Neville looked down at her with such brokenness. "I came in here and watched people run around desperately trying to keep you alive. I saw you ghost white from your veins being emptied. I—" Neville paused and choked on a sob. "You were lifeless, Graces. You looked as though you were gone. Limp and bloodsoaked on a table, with your stomach open and two healers' hands buried deep inside you muttering spell after spell. And all I could do was stand there watching." Tears were streaming down her face as she listened. "I know why you did this," Neville whispered, his own tears rolling down his chin. "You said in the woods that if I killed Nott it would be the death of me." Neville shook his head. "You were wrong. Losing you, Graces, would be the death of me. I felt myself dying with you on that table."
Neville was kissing her so desperately now. For a moment she lost herself in it, in him. She had thought of him, she remembered thinking of him as she drifted off. She remembered thinking of Draco, her mother, her father, Thomas and Octavian and then when she didn't expect it she thought of him. Draco stirred and she pushed Neville away, her heart in her throat, but gods be thanked he didn't wake.
"You have to go."
"No."
"Neville, please. If they wake up. If—"
"They won't," Neville swore. "Your mother gave them enough to knock out an erumpent and I gave her the same. They may not even wake up until afternoon tomorrow."
Graces bit her lip. "It's not safe, Neville. It's—"
"I can't leave you. I can't."
"Have you slept? Ate? Drunk some water? Showered?" she added, letting her eyes trail to his greasy hair and stubble.
Neville was quiet for a few moments. "Classes have been canceled. I go to some meals and-and appear here and there so it doesn't seem like I've disappeared."
"You need rest."
"I—"
"And my family will wake soon," Graces murmured, looking down at Draco. "You can't be here for that, Neville. My family and I will need privacy. We're lucky that no healer or mediwitch has heard us and come in."
"They're all in the headmaster's office, discussing everything."
"Neville," Graces sighed. "I want you to stay. I do, but you can't. Please. It's just for a small time."
Neville shook his head. "You're going to be here for a week. They have to monitor you for a week, to ensure you don't get an infection." Neville closed his eyes. "I can't be away from you for that long. I can't. Just leaving for a few minutes at a time each day kills me."
"I can't lose my family, Neville," Graces whimpered. "I can't. And if they find you here, I will lose them. I am begging you, Neville. Please, you have to leave."
They argued like that for a long while, and it wasn't until the hospital wing doors opened and Neville had to hurry and hide under the cloak while Graces' healer came in and checked on her. She pretended to sleep and almost broke her act when she felt the healer open her mouth and give her the pain potion, gently rubbing her throat to make her swallow, before turning to leave.
When Neville emerged after making sure the healer's footsteps were far away Graces' head was already beginning to feel heavier, her thoughts less solid. She tried to keep her eyes open as Neville gently kissed her forehead. There was one more thing to say, possibly the most important thing.
"I'll leave for a time, but I won't stay away. Just rest." He headed towards the door, and began to put the cloak on.
"Neville," she mumbled, her eyes already feeling too heavy. He paused and looked back at her, not moving from where he stood. "I believe you. I believe you love me."
He was silent for a moment, before sniffling and looking down at his shoes. "I-I know you don't feel the same. It's okay I don't need you to feel—"
"I don't know how I feel about you," she sobbed, her voice broken like a vase thrown against the wall. "I thought I did. I thought—" She swallowed. "I thought love was everything. It was no right, no wrong. I thought that if you loved someone you would do anything. And when you wouldn't take the Mark—" She let her voice trail off. "But I was wrong. I was so wrong. And I realized when I stabbed myself that if I was wrong about what love is maybe… maybe I already do feel that for you."
She met his eyes and realized that he looked as terrified as she felt.
"I don't know if I love you, Neville Longbottom, but I want to find out." Graces swallowed, unsure if she should say this next part. "And it brings me such joy to know you love me. The moment you said it I—" she shook her head unable to put into words all that she felt in that moment. It was too much. "I'm sorry that I'm such a mess I don't know how I feel, I am. But I want to find out."
"And if you do?" he asked, his face hopeful.
She closed her eyes and forced them open again. "Then it would change everything."