Chapter 9
Hermione fell...right into Draco Malfoy's arms.
For a moment, he was shocked. Ginny saw it flash across his face, for a spilt second. Then he regained his composure and looked disgusted.
"Here." He said, handing Hermione to Harry. Ginny noticed that although he was supposed to dislike her, he was handling her gently, like one would a small child. He was also avoiding looking at her.
Hermione looked from Malfoy to Harry, and Harry glared at Malfoy. Malfoy shrugged and stalked off into the muggle night. Everyone watched him go.
Then Pansy gave a little huff and went after him. Harry carried Hermione over to Gabrielle and Ginny, said "Look after her." and disappeared after the other two.
Ron started after them, but Ginny put a hand out and stopped him. "Don't." She said. "You'll only make it worse." Ron looked baffled.
"Worse?" He said, frowning. "Why, what's wrong? What?" He said as he realised all of the girls were looking at him sceptically. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
Ginny sighed. Boys could be so dense sometimes. "It's a girl thing." She said, getting appriciating nods from the other girls. She smiled. "Just trust me, Ron."
Ron harrumphed, crossed his arms, and started to sulk.
Brie yawned. "Ay em reely quaite tired." She said, in a sleepy voice. "Ay am going back to bed. Ginny?" She looked expectantly at Ginny. Ginny shrugged.
"Sure. They could be, and might be, out there for hours. Why waste good sleep on them?" Mumbling agreement, everyone started to head back inside the house. Ginny turned at the door. There was no sign of Harry, Pansy or Malfoy. A slight pressure on her arm made her turn around, and enter the house, closing, but not locking the door behind her.
Pansy half-ran to keep Draco in sight. He was striding haughtily along the streets, muttering and kicking random walls and fences as he went along.
Pansy had had experience of Draco's moods before. It was one of the hazards of dating him. Some days, you could say anything and he would laugh it off, act as if nothing had happened. Other days the tiniest thing would send him into a furious rage, or a horrible mood. Pansy had got quite expert at predicting when the next mood or rage would occur, and could usually dampen the effects. But sometimes she could do nothing about it. In second year Draco had had a towering rage, frightening almost everyone in the Slytherin dungeons at the time. He had shouted point blank at a first year for a whole quarter of an hour before four sixth years had dragged Draco off to his dormitory, which they locked him in, and he subsequently wrecked. In fifth year he had been in an absolutely foul mood for a whole two weeks, during which He would scowl at everyone and everything, mutter under his breath half the time and swear under his breath the other half.
Having dated Draco for four of his six years so far at Hogwarts, Pansy was able to foretell when Draco had a rage coming. She would at such times steer him outside as far away from the castle as possible, if it was day, or lock him in the broom cupboard for half an hour, if it was night. This usually dealt with the problem. However, during his rages, he sometimes lashed out at Pansy or himself, and often she was forced to Petrificus Totalus him until he calmed down. But Pansy hated hurting Draco. He and she were like brother and sister, or as close as you can get to brother and sister when your parents had practically arranged for you to marry before you were born.
The times after the rages were the worst. Draco would break down, shaking and limp on the floor. He never cried, this, she knew, having been a habit beaten out of Draco at a young age. But he would lie, inert and un-speaking, often for far longer than the rage had lasted. During these times it was up to Pansy to hold him, to comfort and cuddle him and hold him close. She really cared for Draco, and seeing him like this was often too much for her to bear. Many times she had cried over him, until her tears fell on his face and she could almost believe he was crying, that he was showing the most common emotion known to humankind; sadness. For Draco never cried. Even the things which troubled him most never made him cry, instead provoking anger, frustration, cold fury, or worst of all, guilt.
Draco believed he was the guilty one, that he deserved the punishments that Lucius gave to him, that was why he never fought back, never argued or disagreed. Pansy would never forget the first time she was invited to Malfoy Manor as a partner to Draco, not as the daughter of a friend of the family. She would never forget how Lucius talked to Draco, like he was unworthy, like he was scum, like he deserved to be working alongside the house elf. And she would never forget the way in which through all of the criticism Draco simply looked blank, not quite ignoring Lucius, but not paying attention either, as if these words had been spoken many time before.
She saw ahead that Draco had stopped, he was sitting on one of the stone benches in the park. He had his face in his hands and his back was shaking. Pansy stopped too and gazed at him for a while. She knew that if he took his face out of his hands, his eyes would be dry. No tears ever fell from him. These times, when he let himself shake, or had no control over the shakings, were the only time he ever showed weakness. He had told Pansy before that he hated himself for these times, that he hated showing weakness, because he could not get to do the things he had to do by showing weakness, he could not serve his father and the Dark Lord by being weak.
Pansy was the only one he willingly let see his weak times. And so she went forwards and put her arms around him. He sagged under her, but then jumped up and spun around.
"Don't touch me!" He spat. "You keep away from me!" His eyes were wild and bloodshot, his hair ash coloured from the smoke of the fire, blood coloured from his wound, framing his face.
"Draco... what's wrong?" Pansy said. "You never had a problem with me hugging you before." She stepped forward, but he stepped back.
"That was then." He said, voice wobbling. "This is now." He took a deep breath. "Pansy I can't see you any more."
The world span. Something far away yowled. The trees rustled overhead. But all Pansy could think of was what Draco had said.
"I'm sorry Pansy." He whispered, and turned away, walking back the way he had come. Pansy watched his retreating back.
Wait... She thought. Wait...did he just DUMP me?
Draco Malfoy!" She screeched. Draco halted in his tracks and turned around, slowly. "Come back here and tell me what you mean!" She yelled.
Draco turned around again and folded his arms. "I said I can't see you any more. If you have problems understanding that Pansy then you're not as smart as I took you for."
"I know what you meant!" Pansy said scornfully. "I wanted to know why! There has to be a reason, you don't just break a four year relationship because of nothing. What is it? Have you met someone else? Is that it? Tell me!" She finished, and stood glaring at him. To her annoyance he simply laughed.
"Think of it as that if you like Pansy." His voice took on a more serious note. "I can't tell you exact details, but lets just say that I don't need you anymore." He smirked, and Pansy felt like hitting him.
"Yes you do! You do need me! Who else will let you hit them when you're in one of your rages? Huh? Who else is willing to sit with you when you go all stiff and unspeaking? Who? And..." She paused for effect. "Who else would stick by you in your darkest hour?"
Draco's face twitched. She knew he was thinking back to that fateful night, when she had proved to him that she valued him above everything else, even life itself.
Slowly, his shoulders sagged. She could see the fizz and determination seep out of him as he wilted.
"You...You're right Pansy. I do need you." His eyes met hers, and she saw those frozen rings of mercury filled with emotion. And yet those eyes were dry. "I'm sorry." Draco said, voice cracked with raw emotion, unable to show it. "I'm sorry." He repeated, and fell forward into her arms.
As they embraced, Pansy felt Draco's cold fingers snake up into her hair. He stroked her hair, and she put her mouth to his. They kissed, passionate and forgiving and loving. But Pansy could taste things that were not Draco in his mouth. She tasted blood and Firewhiskey and ash. She broke the kiss and stared up at Draco.
"Draco." She asked. "How did you get out of the room? The door was locked."
He sighed. "A chunk of the ceiling fell down, almost on top of Potter. It made a hole in the ceiling, and through it was the living room. I stood on the chunk of ceiling and hoisted Potter, then he pulled me up. And by the way, the fire will be out by the time we get back. It was running out of things to burn as we left it."
"Oh good. Are you hurt at all?"
"Potter punched me in the face because I broke his camera, thats where the blood is from. Apart from that, my pyjamas are just a little bit singed." He smiled down at her. She smiled back.
"I love you." She said, and kissed him again.
"I love you too." She heard him mumble into her mouth.
---
Harry watched from the shadow of one of the trees as the two Slytherins kissed.
He had reached the clearing just as he heard Pansy say "Who else would stick by you in your darkest hour." And had still been puzzling over this when Pansy and Malfoy kissed. The shock of seeing two of his worst enemies show such passion towards each other was considerable.
When Harry thought about it, he realised that until recently he had believed Slytherins unable to show any kind of passion for another person, not friendship, nor love. When Pansy and Malfoy exchanged declerations of love, Harry had almost gasped, and had sat down with a bump. Thankfully the two were too engrossed in each other to hear.
Harry willed for the two to stop the public displays of affection. But then he remembered that they weren't actually in public, that if he hadn't sneaked after them to, to what, spy on them? Then they would be completely alone, and obviously believed themselves to be as such.
He tried to turn his head away, to not look at this sight which disturbed him and angered him. But his eyes stayed fixed upon the kissing Slytherins, he could not look away, and although it was deeply disturbing and traumatising, it was also mezmerizing.
With a gasp they broke apart. Pansy was glowing with happiness and love, Malfoy smiling fondly at her.
"We should head back." Malfoy said. "We've got an inspection by Professor Snape tomorrow and I need to fix our room."
Pansy sighed and rested her head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her.
"If you must go, then I suppose you must." Pansy said, ruefully. "I think I'm gonna stay and look at the moon for a while, okay?"
"Okay." Malfoy said, and Pansy lifted her head up and gave him a kiss.
"'Night Draco." She said.
"Goodnight Pansy." Malfoy said. "If you're not back in ten minutes I'm going to come and get you, okay?"
"Okay." Pansy replied and Malfoy, with one last hug, let her go and walked back away from the clearing towards the houses. Pansy sat on the bench and looked up.
Harry stepped out from behind the bushes.
"Hey Pansy." He said.
Pansy spun round. "Oh! It's...you." She said, surprised. "What are you...how long have you been there?"
"Long enough." Harry replied grimly. Pansy had the grace to look embarrassed.
"I'm sorry you had to see that. But it's true. I do love him." She looked pleadingly into Harry's eyes. "Please don't be angry."
"Angry?" Harry snorted. "I just saw the girl who...I don't know...did something stupid with not four days ago kissing another guy, telling him she loved him. Why on earth would I be angry?"
Pansy's eyes filled with tears at his sarcasm. "Please Potter...Harry! Please Harry, I do care about you, but he's...he's Draco! You don't understand. We were meant for each other, we belong together. Its like we've had an arranged marriage, in every sense of the phrase except the writing on paper. We grew up together. Our parents always assumed we'd be together. We can see things in each other no-one else can. You don't understand!"
Harry felt himself in turmoil inside. He couldnt tell what he felt for Pansy, he had never had such a mixture of emotions surrounding one person before. In disgust he turned away, and felt her hand on his arm.
Her slim fingers had more power over him that a herd of wild horses. With gentle pressure, Pansy turned him around. "Harry. Please try to at least accept that what we had was...nothing. Like you said, something stupid. A mistake. In everyone else's eyes, it never happened. And though we must face in our hearts that it did, we must also understand that it shouldn't have."
Wrenching himself away from her was as hard as tearing Harry's heart out, and yet it did so. "I don't care what happened, Pansy. You think I'm coming to you because I want you back? Rubbish! I came here because I was...worried about...about Malfoy. he was unconscious earlier and I was wondering if he was alright yet. And Pansy..." He leaned in close to Pansy's ear, so that she could fell his hot breath on her skin.
"...I will cut off my hand before I reach for you again." He whispered it lightly, and yet felt Pansy tense and then sag next to him, felt her collapse onto the bench.
And though every step was a stamp with spiked boots on his heart, he walked away.
---
Draco lay in bed, thinking. Potter snored next to him. Merlin, that boy snored loud. He had come in a few minutes after Draco, flushed and angry. He had helped Draco set their destroyed room straight in complete and utter silence. Draco had been deep in thought himself, and had hardly noticed, only occuring to him when they had each lain down to bed on the floor of the sitting room.
Pansy had come in a few minutes after Potter. She had been red-eyed, tired and grouchy. With a small smile, she had told him she was asleep on her feet, and he had carried her bridal-style up to her room.
Thinking of Pansy got him thinking about what she had said to him in the forest. Now, he couldnt believe he had been about to break up with her. What had he been thinking. He had forgotten all about the incident in the summer holidays.
The incident...
Draco sat in bed, arms round his knees. His head ached, his back sent sharp stabbing needles of pain into him every time he moved and his whole arm felt like it was on fire. He gritted his teeth against the pain, and put his head on his knees.
So. Now he was truly a follower of the Dark Lord. The mark on his forearm proved that. It was the night after he had been taken to the Dark Lord's keep, to become a Death Eater. It had been an interesting trip.
They had traveled there on a thestral. Draco could see thestrals, thanks to being forced to watch a muggle die shortly before the trip. Being able to see thestrals seemed to be important to being a follower of the Dark Lord.
When they had reached the keep Draco had been shocked at the size of it. It wasn't big. Not at all. In fact, it was simply a small fort with two stories and a high wall round that, with a moat. What had been impressive was the darkness of the castle. It emanated a sickly, slimy feel that made the air damp and horrible on the skin.
But what had impressed Draco the most had been what he saw once he had landed in front of the gates. There, riding on massive thestrals with huge black manes, feet the size of dinner plates, were two dementors. They were scary enough. If that was not enough then just inside the gates was a giant. He had been lying across the entrance to the fort but at the sight of Lucius and Drcao he had gotten up and done a kind of half-hearted salute. Draco had tripped after his father, into the fort.
Surprisingly, when they reached a staircase, they went down instead of up. When they reached the bottom of the long flight of stairs Draco caught sight of a tapestry of a map on the wall. It showed the castle, and below it a set of what could have been rabbit warrens, there were so many tunnels. Then Draco realised that the main bulk of the keep was in fact below ground.
Lucius had led Draco to a long low room, with blood red walls and a ceiling painted with a seething mass of black shapes. After watching them for a while Draco had realised it was a surprisingly realistic picture of dementors. With a jolt he felt low in his stomach he realised that there were hundreds. Thousands even.
He had torn his gaze away from the ceiling when he had realised there was someone else in the room. They were sitting in the end of the room, in a swivel chair, which had a high back. It was one of those chairs that people with fluffy white cats sit in, one of those chairs that from which world conquering plans were made and executed.
Sitting in in was the Dark Lord. He looked just as Draco had imagined him too, from the description given by Potter at the end of fourth year. Pale, face like a snake, red gleaming eyes. Eyes that were fixed on him.
Lucius nudged Draco forwards, and he staggered right up to the Dark Lord. He was tall, taller that Draco. Red eyes with slits as pupils examined every inch of Draco's body, then came to rest on his eyes. Unable to stand the gaze, Draco looked down.
But a burning cold on his chin forced his face upwards. He was looking directly into the Dark Lord's face, into his eyes. How long they stayed like that Draco didnt know, becaus every second was agony. Not physical pain, he could handle that. This agony was mental, like having his thoughts and feelings put through a sieve. Every small inclination, every vague thought was laid bare and transfered to the Dark Lord.
When the Dark Lord took his hand away from Draco's face, the icy pressure finally receeding, Draco slumped to the ground. He felt empty, drained. He could not muster a single thought or feeling. The Dark Lord had taken them all. All he knew were the flagstones beneath his back, and the cold, hissing voice of the Drak Lord conversing with his father.
"Well Lucius, what an interesting son you have. Mind as sharp as a sword. Not just knowleadgeable, intelligent too."
"Do you approve, my Lord?"
"He is weak. I sense weaknesses in him. Thoughts, feelings that do not belong there. Well now, I wonder where he knew that from."
"Might I see, my Lord?"
"Very well, Lucius. Here, I have a Pensieve. Wait...there."
"Merlin's beard! My Lord, I had no idea...please forgive my son. I will endeavour to quash these thoughts, however they got there."
"See that you do. A Death Eater cannot have these feelings. They are weaknesses. Destroy them."
"Yes, yes my Lord. I can do it now, if you wish?"
"No. I must mark him now, before your efforts to remove these thoughts affect his mind. Stand him up.
Draco felt the strong but cold hands of his father lift him up and place him on his feet. His head lolled, but Lucius forced it upright. Through swimming eyes he saw the Dark Lord's face just inches away from his own, but he was too weak to do anything about it.
"Turn his arm over, Lucius."
Draco felt his arm being turned over, so that the forearm was facing upwards
The Dark Lord placed his hand on Draco's forearm, and then gripped it tightly.
There were no words to describe it. The pain was so complete, so utter, so profound, that it blew Draco's mind away. The previous thought removal meant that the whole of Draco's mind was empty, waiting to be filled. And so the Dark Lord filled it with pain. It felt to Draco like pain was the only thing he'd ever known. His memories were eaten up by the pain. His hair stood on end. His eyes bulged, his voice had a mind of its own, spewing out long strings of words in unintelligible languages. The world was simple white light, blinding his eyes. Now the light was fading, becoming darker and darker, greying, then running through all the shades of black until it reached a black so black that it sucked in light. And in the middle of that blackness was a pair of black eyes. They had fire and brimstone in them. Those eyes contained hell.
"Repeat, son of darkness. I am a Death Eater." The eyes said, without actually making a sound. The words simply arrived in his head without bothering to go through the ears.
"I am a Death Eater." Draco droned.
"Repeat, heir of power. I obey Lord Voldemort."
"I obey Lord Voldemort."
"Repeat, child of purest blood. My sole aim is to serve the Dark Lord."
"My sole aim is to serve the Dark Lord."
"Repeat, man of fate. The Dark Lord's enemies are my enemies and I must destroy them."
"The Dark Lord's enemies are my enemies and I must destroy them."
"Repeat, prince of ice. I and my destiny belong to the Dark Lord, to do with as he pleases."
"I and my destiny belong to the Dark Lord, to do with as he pleases."
The eyes held his gaze for a few more moments, then blinked.
Suddenly the world came back into focus. Draco was lying on his bed at Malfoy Manor. He was still in his travelling robes. Sitting in his armchair by the fire was his father. Lucius had a drink in one hand and his wand in the other.
"Hello Draco." He said. His voice was soft, but held a unspoken threat.
"Hello Father." Draco said warily. He tried to sit up on his bed but his head spasmed and he lay back down, gritting his teeth against the pain.
"Yes Draco, your head will hurt. The Dark Lord replaced all your memories, and all your thoughts and feelings. Your head may feel a little full." It was true, Draco felt like his head might burst with pressure from the inside.
"But you see Draco, some of the thoughts and feelings do not belong in there. They are weak, creating weaknesses which the Dark Lord cannot allow. Do you wish to be weak Draco?"
"No Father, but..."
"No. I must remove them. But, as you proved yourself strongly resistent to memory charms, we shall have to try an alternative method." With a flick of his wand, Draco was lying on a stretcher. Lucius manourvered his wand and floated Draco down the stairs, through the long corridors, down to the dungeons. Draco thought he saw his mother out of the corner of his eye on the way down, but he was propelled on and he lost sight of her.
They arrived at a small, oblong room with a shelf of nasty looking potions at one end and a marble rectangle set into the wall at the other end. The marble slab was roughly man-sized and had emerald studded handcuffs hanging either side of it. There was an iron ring set in the floor below it.
Lucius set his drink down on a table and then, using his wand Lucius positioned Draco on the marble slab, handcuffing him and tying his feet to the iron ring with light, strong chains. Any movement from Draco was accompanied by a searing bout of pain across his forehead, so he was forced to just stand there and let Lucius tie him up.
When Draco was secure Lucius went to the other end of the room and selected one of the bottles. He opened it, took a sniff and recoiled. Then he smiled.
"Now then." He said. "We can start removing the impurities in your mind."
