A/N: Every time I read over a chapter I already posted, I find a bunch of words joined together kindof likethis, and some words are just missing entirely. I assume everyone else has noticed things like this… It's incredibly annoying. But that's all I have to say about that. It's a short, mini-rant.
I realize that some readers are probably unhappy that I've left you for so long with that cliffhanger. However, I expect you to get over it now that I'm updating again, and I bet it helps that this chapter is almost 20 pages long.I wanted to be done with this story by the time I go back to Vermont – though it probably won't happen. It's getting very close to the end, believe it or not.
special note to readers: any questions you have about this story should probably be asked now. I think next chapter was going to have an extra-long author's note anyway, so it's a good chance for you.
The Negative Side
A Long-Awaited Triumph
The Portkey brought them to a fairly large, very dark room. Hermione was about to light her wand when at least fifteen lamps sprang to life. She looked around in alarm, expecting some lurking Death Eaters to come out of hiding. Instead, she saw Draco with his wand out, and relaxed slightly. "Everyone, keep your wands out," he told them. "We have to be careful if we don't want to be caught. And, believe me, we don't."
"Where are we?" Harry asked.
"My bedroom," Draco answered, gesturing toward the enormous four-poster on the other side of the room. "I've put countless spells on it to give me privacy and a way to get out and back quickly. Only one fireplace in the house is connected to the Floo network. I managed to lift the anti-Apparition ward from the room; it covers most of the house, except for Lucius's study."
"What about spells that detect entrance and exits?" Ron wondered. Hermione was surprised that he knew those existed. Draco did not answer at once. It seemed that everyone else was equally surprised. Ron noted their looks. "What? I was bored this year. I started doing Auror-type research. Also, Dad's been filling me in on certain things."
Ginny looked jealous. Blaise looked amused.
"I can't block the spell that Lucius uses that lets him see me leaving and coming in through the door." Draco pointed toward two high doors of polished black wood. "But since I'm not expected to leave any other way, I have a spell that obscures any other comings and goings from detection. Are we all caught up now?"
"We should be looking for the unicorns, anyway," Harry spoke up.
"How are we going to get through the mansion without being seen?" Hermione wondered.
"How about Disillusionment Charms?" Harry suggested. "I didn't think to bring the cloak. Even if I had there's no way we would all fit under it."
"Unfortunately, Disillusionment Charms don't work in the mansion. They sort of make you appear very bright instead. Also, there are detection spells for Disillusionment. There's no way it would work."
"Well then, Draco, what do you suggest?" asked Hermione, feeling an urge to cross her arms and tap her foot in annoyance. He clearly had not thought this through very well.
"I'm afraid we're going to have to do it the old-fashioned way." He gave them all an apologetic look. "We're going to have to be quiet and careful." Every single occupant of the room groaned. Immediately after, there was a round of suppressed chuckling.
"There's another problem," Blaise said. "You said that Lucius can sense when anyone uses your bedroom door. If that's true, forget searching the mansion. How are we going to get out of the room?"
Their faces all fell – except Draco's – and Hermione felt her heart sinking. They would be caught as soon as they moved. Draco did not seem upset. He smirked. "I've already thought of that," he told them, just as a small figure appeared in the room.
"Master Draco!"
"Stubby, please don't be so loud about it," Draco ordered. Hermione pursed her lips. She still could not stand the idea of slavery, even if most house-elves preferred it that way. "I need you to do something for me, Stubby. It will mean using your magic, which I know Lucius forbids. But I'll be giving you a direct order. Will you be able to do this?"
"Stubby thinks so, sir."
"Good. Stubby, I want you to block Lucius's sensor spells from seeing us leave the room. Got it?" The house-elf nodded. "Do it, then."
When they had emerged into the hallway, Stubby looked quite proud of himself. "Good work," Draco said to him. "I order you not to tell Lucius that you've seen us."
"Yes, master. Master, Stubby had to bring food to the unicorns earlier. Stubby can't say where they are, but Stubby knows that they are not planning for anything until at least tomorrow."
Hermione could see her own relief reflected in Draco's face. Stubby scampered off as soon as Draco had thanked him. Thoughtfully, Hermione realized that he did not treat his equivalent-of-a-slave as she would have expected. Then, guiltily, she remembered that she had used her impression of him from a few years ago to reach this conclusion. Concentration is supposed to be my strong suit, she berated herself.
"All right," Draco was saying, his voice hushed. "It's possible that you'll see things in the halls that attract you. Ignore them. Stick close together unless I say otherwise. I'm leading. Blaise, I want you in the back. Other than me, you're the only one here who could possibly find a way through this mansion. If we end up having to turn and run, you'll be able to lead the others out."
"You think we'll have to turn and run?" Ginny asked.
Draco shrugged. "There's always the possibility. Harry, I want you to stay close to Hermione. No matter what happens, stick with her. I know you'll protect her."
Hermione felt like shaking him by the shoulders and screaming at him. He was treating her like a child. "I don't need Harry to protect me, Draco. I can take care of myself."
"Now is not the time for this, and you know it," Draco growled. He moved closer, putting his face mere inches from hers. He was nervous. She could see it, though she knew that the others couldn't. Even Blaise did not know him well enough to detect fear. "It's a good idea to have someone watching your back, Hermione. I won't take the risk that something will happen. We don't have any more time to stand around, here. Let's go."
He began to lead them through the mansion, one corridor at a time. All six of them had their wands out, and none made a sound. Each knew the consequences of being caught. Every time Draco stopped to look around a corner, she could feel four people hold their breath. She had to work for her own whenever he held out a hand to halt them, fearing that Lucius Malfoy would appear around a corner at any moment.
Their first destination was disappointing. As they walked down what must have been the fifth corridor of their journey, Draco began to feel underneath the frames of the paintings hanging on the wall. At last he stopped walking, telling them to wait for a moment as he worked the two bottom corners of a picture of a man who must have been Lucius' ancestor. He had the same long, white hair and cold silver eyes.
Just when Hermione thought that Draco was fooling with them, the painting slid down the wall and faded away. Draco pushed on the section of wall and it moved easily, leaving an opening about seven feet tall and wide enough for only one person to walk through at once. "None of you follow me unless I tell you, got it?" With that, he was in the secret room and out of sight.
They waited in silence for Draco's word. A few moments went by before he reappeared. With a tap of his wand he closed the door to the secret room, shaking his head. "It's completely empty. They must be in one of the others."
The second room offered little more than the first. Draco touched the tip of his wand to a specific spot on the door to what he first showed them to be a linen closet to reveal it. "Huh. I didn't think the Malfoy mansion would have a linen closet," Ron commented.
"Well, we've got to keep our linen somewhere," answered Draco quietly as he opened the door. This time, Hermione peeked into the room after Draco entered it. She looked around in shock at the many rows of life-sized human statues. They all seemed to be on the verge of movement. Draco turned to make his way back out, but froze when he spotted her. "You shouldn't be in here, Hermione. Get out."
"What?"
Appearing angry, Draco stalked in her direction and grabbed her by the arm to half-drag her from the room. "That room can do things to you. I don't want you to follow me anywhere in the mansion unless I tell you to."
More slowly than usual, comprehension dawned on her. "Are you saying that those statues were live people?"
"The choice word being 'were'," Draco said. He looked into her eyes apologetically. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
She shook her head. "It doesn't hurt," she lied. His grasp had been rather tight. She tried to recall the strange feeling she had gotten in that room when her gaze had locked on the statues. She found that it was impossible, though it made her shudder inwardly.
The next secret room they tried was located behind a tapestry. Draco enlisted Blaise to hold it aside. Hermione was surprised to see a doorknob in plain view. That could hardly be called secret. It fit more when Draco pulled the doorknob off of the wall and put it back in a spot that seemed entirely random before opening the door.
"Don't follow me in until I've said to," he warned with an extraordinarily wry smile.
Draco had barely been gone a minute when Hermione heard voices and footsteps. She glanced around at the others and knew that they heard it as well. There was no place in that hall to hide. "Draco!" Hermione called, as loudly as she dared. "Someone is coming!"
"Get in here, all of you!"
They all rushed inside; Draco shut the door soundlessly after they were safely hidden. "Everyone be quiet," he commanded. He put his ear to the door. Hermione worked on keeping her breathing silent while they waited. An agonizing moment passed. Abruptly, Draco straightened. "They're approaching the door. Hurry, move into the shadows!"
"Is there any danger?" Ginny wondered glancing into the darkness at the back of the room.
"Only outside," Draco pointed with his wand for emphasis, "this room's empty. Go!"
Two voices grew steadily more distinct. "You're sure that no one knows?" one voice asked.
"Of course," said the second – easily recognizable as Lucius Malfoy. "The unicorns are safely tucked away in one of my secret chambers on the second floor, and will be ready for transport in less than two days. No one will be the wiser that they've been here at all."
"But you said yourself that…"
They heard no more. Lucius and whoever he had been talking to had clearly walked away. Hermione's brain, which had seemed less willing to work than ever that day, now began speed calculations of equations of logic. "I don't understand. They stopped right in front of this room. They wouldn't have unless they had a reason."
"Fuck!" Draco exclaimed. He darted forward and started to feel around on the wall. Confused, the others took a few slow steps out of the depths of the room. All Hermone saw where the door should be was blank wall. "He moved the doorknob back. The room only shows the door on the inside when it's in the proper spot on the outside."
"You mean we're trapped in here?" Harry said.
"Looks like it," said Draco. Lashing out, he hexed the wall. It had no effect. Draco faced them with a resigned face. "Protected by magic."
Ginny grasped at a futile hope. "Maybe he was just checking the door, you think?"
"No." Draco slumped against the wall and slid to the floor. Hermione had never seen him so defeated. "He knows we're here. And now he has us closed in a room to come back for us when the time comes."
"And when do you think that will be?" Ron asked.
"No idea," Draco responded. "Take a guess."
"If we're stuck here, can we at least turn on another light?" Blaise finally spoke up. He had not said a word since leaving Draco's bedroom. Without waiting for an answer, he waved his wand and a musty lantern flared to life above them, giving the room a gloomy light.
"Hey, there's another door," Harry said, pointing.
"Don't get too excited," Draco told them, his voice dead. "It's just a closet."
Hermione took stock of the room. A few unsteady chairs sat against the opposite wall, into which an aperture was cut. It appeared empty. Several piles of boxes were strewn about the room. Otherwise it was unadorned.
"Not much in the way of amenities in here," she said. "Would anyone like a cushion? They're simple enough to conjure."
In a short while, they were all settling onto cushions of various sizes and colors – all except Draco. He was still propped against the wall, not having moved. Sighing, Hermione set her cushion down next to him and settled there. She took his hand, but did not speak.
Suddenly, Draco raised her hand to his cheek and held it there. "This is why I didn't want you to come along."
"Why?"
"If Lucius does anything to harm you – any of you, really – it will be my fault. Right now, I don't see how I can do anything to stop it. He's won, and you're caught in the middle of it because of me."
"No, Draco. Don't think that. You have no bearing on what your father chooses to do. Or what Voldemort demands of him. I'm here because of me. I was never going to let you get into this alone."
"We're both stubborn, aren't we?" Draco laughed.
"Yes, we are." Hermione pushed herself off of her cushion and knelt on the floor in front of Draco. "I want you to promise me that no matter what happens, you will not blame yourself. You can't be responsible for everything. Just ask Harry, he's tried more times than I could count."
Draco stroked her hair, watching his hand instead of her eyes. "I promise."
"Draco-"
"That's all you're going to get from me," he said. "And that's the end of it."
Hermione huffed in irritation. As a Slytherin, he was practiced at lying, but he could not look her in the eyes and tell a falsehood. His promise was as empty as the head of Gregory Goyle.
"Hermione." She looked up at Draco's voice. "Can I have one of those cushions?"
"Look at them," Blaise prompted. Ginny, assuming that he meant Hermione and Draco, looked. They were laughing over something that had just occurred. In a flash, Hermione had conjured another exquisite cushion. "Even now, without any hope left, they both seem so strong."
"Blaise." Ginny twisted in her position between Blaise's legs to meet his eyes. "You shouldn't say things like that. We always manage to survive."
"This is different. We're trapped in the home of a Dark wizard who just might bring Voldemort down on us at any moment, and no one who could help us even knows that we're here. Tell me, how do you get hope from that?"
"It's never as bad as you think," Ginny said. "Unless Lucius does bring us to Voldemort. Do you think that's what will happen?"
"If Lucius knows that Harry is among our party, there's no other option."
"What if he just takes Harry and leaves the rest of us here to starve?"
Blaise shook his head. "It's unlikely. They'll want us to see Harry die."
Ginny could not bring herself to answer. Blaise must have sensed her discomfort. "I'm not saying without a doubt that Harry's going to die…"
"It's too late. You already said it. There's no way to take it back." Ginny turned herself to make it easier to look at Blaise. "Back when I was younger, I always feared that something would happen to Harry. I had the largest schoolgirl crush I could imagine. I still worry about him sometimes, but do you know who I most fear for?"
"Who?"
"You, Blaise. I fell in love with you. I don't know what that means to you, but for me it means that I spend hours thinking about what my life would be like without you. More than anything, I wish I could stop. Even thinking about it is painful. I need you with me to be happy."
"Please don't say that," he whispered. His left hand stroked Ginny's hair. "No one should rely on me. I couldn't even keep Bianca safe."
"That wasn't your fault." Ginny gasped suddenly. "Bianca!"
"What?" Blaise looked and sounded alarmed.
"She saw when Hermione was in trouble yesterday. You're her brother, she has to know that something's wrong. She's a real seer, a very powerful one. She probably will figure out what is happening, if she hasn't already, and go to Dumbledore for help. We're not totally alone."
"Even if she's already told them, it may be too late by now. Even for Dumbledore it will take a while to get into this mansion. Lucius Malfoy happens to be paranoid enough to have put in place excessive precautions. We might all be dead by the time anyone comes to help."
"You sound so pessimistic."
"I think it's more realistic, Gin. Come on, I know who I'm talking about here, and so do you. Death Eaters, Voldemort. They've got Harry Potter in their grasp and aren't likely to let him go. Voldemort's been getting angrier and more determined every time Harry foils him. Opportunities like this one … he's not likely to pass it up."
"So," Ginny said slowly, "you really think there is no hope."
"Hope," repeated Blaise. "What is that but denial? When you live in my world, hope is only a bedtime story."
Ginny closed her eyes in concentration, but she could not think of anything that would make Blaise feel better. Instead, she made a decision. "Help me up, Blaise. We're going into that closet."
Blaise stood and pulled her to her feet. "What for?"
"We'll probably need the cushions too," said Ginny, gathering hers into her arms.
"Ginny, what is going on?"
"Remember what we did last week?"
"Four times in a row? Yes."
"I want this to be more memorable than that was."
Blaise was stunned. "Ginny, here? Now? You have to be joking."
"It's no joke, my lover. You're right. There's a chance that even Bianca's vision won't help us in time. If this really is the end, I want to make one good thing come out of it. I don't have any doubts about you, and I certainly don't care what the others think. Of course, since we know where I stand, it's your decision."
Blaise picked up his black-and-red striped cushion, courtesy of Hermione, clasped her hand, and tugged her to the closet door. Once they were inside, they threw down the pillows and set on each other. Ginny had his shirt off in mere seconds. He was just starting on hers when he pulled his face away from her neck and spoke.
"You're sure you want to do this?"
"Yes," Ginny breathed. The moment the word was out of her mouth, Blaise laid her down on the cushions. They had a goal and there was no time to waste.
Bianca was in the middle of a potions text when she looked up. It was just after two in the afternoon. Her lunch had settled by then, and she and Pansy were continuing with their work. The Slytherin common room appeared the same as always. But there was a problem.
She had been reading about a potion that would make everything the person who took it ate taste like chocolate. The picture in her mind had switched momentarily from a chocolate feast in every shape and color to a vision of her brother and his friends, trapped in the Malfoy mansion, at the mercy of Voldemort and his followers. Bianca quietly closed the book, stood, and left the common room.
At the end of the hall, Pansy caught up with her. "Bianca, where are you going?" she asked. "You were supposed to stay with me until Blaise came back."
"He won't be back anytime soon," Bianca answered. "Do you know where Dumbledore's office is?"
"Yes, I can show you where. Why do you want-?"
Bianca glanced up at Pansy briefly, noting her look of realization. "I need to see Dumbledore."
"Did you have a vision, Bianca?" Pansy inquired. "Blaise told me about your ability. I know you're a seer. You don't usually give prophecy, you see visions, right? And that happened just now."
Bianca nodded. "I have to tell Dumbledore what I saw."
"Okay. This way, hurry."
Bianca had been in the headmaster's office before, but all she had seen on the way was her father, coming toward her. She could not see what was in his hand, but she had known that it was bad. Instead of waiting, she had shut her eyes and clung to Blaise. She could not possibly remember how to reach his office from that experience.
They were rushing toward a gargoyle. Pansy told it, "Exploding Sugar Quill," and it began to turn. A moment later, Bianca and Pansy approached the door to the headmaster's office. Pansy knocked. The door fell open, and they stepped inside to Dumbledore's gentle voice.
"Miss Parkinson. Miss Zabini. Is there anything you would like to tell me?"
"My brother is not here, Professor," Bianca began. "He's not in the castle."
"He might be out on the grounds with his friends."
"He's with all of them," said Bianca. "Draco, Harry, Ginny, Hermione, and Ron. All of them are together. But they're not on the grounds."
"Where do you believe they are, Miss Zabini?" Dumbledore asked patiently.
"I don't believe," Bianca answered, less patiently. "I saw it."
"Very well. Where are they?"
Bianca looked at the perch near Dumbledore's desk, where a very old-looking bird sat. It looked as though it were about to die, actually. "Malfoy Manor."
No sooner had the words escaped her lips than Dumbledore set to work.
For a whole hour, the entire room was silent. As strange as it was, as heart-wracking, to be trapped in his own house, the peace of it was incredible. With his eyes closed, the only thing Draco sensed was Hermione, sitting beside him with her hand grasping his. He could imagine that they were in one of their dorm rooms at Hogwarts, far away from the danger of Lucius. He could imagine that the two of them were alone and safe.
"How long has it been now since Ginny and Blaise disappeared?" Harry asked. He had chosen a spot near them a while before. His voice came from the right. Draco shifted his head slightly and opened one eye. "I mean, what do you think they're doing in there?"
"Come now, Harry. We all know what they're doing in there," Draco said with a smirk.
"There's no need to be crude, Draco."
"Hermione, that's not crude. It's logic." All the others were staring at him in utter lack of comprehension. "I shouldn't even have to explain this, but what the hell. I hate to say it, but there is a high probability of death in our situation. No matter what we're capable of or who might be coming to help us. I know exactly where we are. Lucius has this place set up for Voldemort's type. Ginny and Blaise might never get another chance to be together. What else would you expect?"
Hermione was leaning toward him. "Maybe we should take a turn after they're out," she whispered.
Draco snickered. "You've become such a minx, my love."
"What kind of answer is that?"
"Hermione, just being next to you is enough. At the end of all this, we can do anything we want. For now, I don't want that kind of distraction. I…I tend to get lost in you."
"If Katie was here-" Harry muttered.
"Don't finish that sentence, Potter," Draco grumbled. "It's bad enough that you beat me to the bed. No need to hash out the details."
"Why, Draco, I thought you were over that," said Harry, adopting an innocent tone.
Draco resolved to ignore him from that point. Hermione, he could tell without looking, was rolling her eyes. They might have returned to the previous quiet, but Ron chose that moment to approach the three of them from his spot across the room. "I know we're essentially prisoners right now," he said, after lowering himself in front of them, "but don't you think we should be making some kind of plan? We're just waiting for someone to come for us. It's not proactive behavior, really."
"You sound so scholarly all of a sudden, Ron," Hermione said.
"Let's put aside the fact that I have a vocabulary." Ron sighed. "We really should have a plan."
"What plan?" Draco cut in, his voice more scathing than he intended. "I would genuinely like to hear what you have in mind."
"Nothing whatsoever," replied Ron. He crossed his arms defensively.
"Exactly. How can we possibly make a plan when we can't guess what is going to happen?" Draco shook his head. "Lucius might intend to kill us in this room, without ever opening the door. He might be keeping us here until it is time to transport us to South Africa. Who knows? Voldemort will want you dead, Harry, we all know this. What about the rest of us? None of us are Death Eaters, and therefore we are not in on their evil schemes. I would love to escape, personally. There's no way to do that from this room."
"He's right," added Harry. "We aren't sure what to fight against. Most of the time we never had a plan, remember? We did what we had to do, and usually went in unprepared. That's how Sirius and Dennis died. We rushed into things – I mean, I did."
"We all act without thinking at times, Harry," Hermione said in a murmur, reaching out a placating hand to Harry's shoulder.
"The way we get through these things is always by whatever skill we have and an unholy amount of luck." He laughed mirthlessly. He did not seem aware of Hermione's hand. "Maybe this time I'll be the one who pays the price, instead of someone who never deserved it."
"You don't either, Harry," Ron told him.
Harry ignored him as well. "It would be better. I've watched enough people die. I saw my parents murdered in front of me when I was one year old. I can't really remember it, but even that was my fault. It would be right if this is finally my turn."
What can we possibly say to him? thought Draco. He was no good at comforting; it seemed that Harry was beyond their words, anyway. It was pointless. And if his suspicions were correct, they would all come face to face with Voldemort soon enough. He tightened his grip on Hermione's hand. She returned the squeeze.
Without warning, the closet door opened. Blaise and Ginny stumbled out, looking quite disoriented. "Sorry," Blaise said sheepishly. Draco knew that he would be blushing if he ever did. "We fell asleep a while ago."
"I forgot where we were for a moment," Ginny admitted. "Remembering was not pleasant."
"Harry decided to tell us just now that he's hoping to die by the end of this," Ron deadpanned.
"That's not what I said."
"Isn't it?" shot back Draco. It was not his habit to get involved in the arguments of Gryffindors, but many things seemed to be changing.
"No," insisted Harry. "I was only saying that I'd rather it were me than any one of you."
Ginny shushed them suddenly. She pulled something that looked like flesh-colored string out of her ear, and tugged on the other end. It retreated from under the rather non-existent doorway. She stuffed it back into her pocket.
"You have an Extendable Ear with you?" Ron exclaimed.
"What's an Extendable Ear?" asked Draco.
"An invention of Fred and George, our brothers."
"The twins. Right."
"Will you please be quiet?"
"Ginny, what is it?"
"Someone is coming."
Those who had been sitting quickly pushed themselves to their feet. In seconds, the door opened. The presence that they had all been expecting stood blocking the route to the hall. His wand hung by his side, held in his right hand. His smile was even colder than his eyes. He took a few steps into the room.
Lucius's eyes settled on Draco. "I wasn't expecting you back until the end of the school year," he said with false surprise.
Draco scowled. "Lucius."
His heart pounded as he watched his father fix each of his friends with an emotionless stare. He could only guess what Lucius had in store for them, but he preferred not to. Especially in Hermione's case. Though Harry would probably suffer a worse fate, Draco had a slightly different relationship with Hermione.
Draco would have expected Lucius to begin taunting them all immediately. Instead, aside from the dread-inspiring gaze, he ignored all but Draco. He pasted on a smile as he approached his son. "Let's talk, Draco," he said, placing his arm around Draco's shoulders.
That touch, the first physical contact he had ever experienced with his father, froze his blood. From most the gesture would have been friendly enough, but Lucius made sure to add a threat to it somehow. Draco could not help stiffening, despite his wish not to reveal any fear to Lucius. "It was not your best decision, bringing your friends here with you. You may very well have killed them all."
"It was their decision to come," he hissed back. "And if any of them are killed it won't be by my hand."
"No?" The question was clear, as though Lucius was surprised to hear Draco's certainty. A voice in Draco's head whispered Imperius Curse. Draco met his father's eyes with a look of pure hate. Strangely, this caused Lucius to grin. "We will see what you will or will not do by the end of this."
"We're not going to abandon our reason for being here so easily."
"Ah, yes. The unicorns. Let me tell you something, Draco. I knew that the great Harry Potter would lose no time in coming after those poor creatures. I made sure that the house-elf you seem so attached to would tell you all he knew. I tracked your every move when you left your bedroom, and I waited until you had entered this room to come near you. I had not been quite sure, until you showed up this morning, that you would be among the unicorns' rescue party. I am glad you were; now you can stand helplessly by while your wand tortures and kills your friends."
Lucius shook something next to Draco's eye – it was his wand, which Lucius had somehow taken without him seeing. The next instant, it was gone. "One of these days, everything you have done will seek to repay you," Draco said in a low growl.
"Threats mean nothing when you are cornered," Lucius returned, releasing him. Draco unconsciously stumbled back a few feet. Standing so close to his father had given him the coldest feeling of his life.
"What did he say?" Harry asked, deliberately avoiding Lucius.
Draco narrowed his eyes as he continued to stare at Lucius. He wanted a hint of a slip, an accidental twitch. Anything that he could use against Lucius would have been welcome. The hard, handsome face was unyielding. Draco simply told Harry, "Nothing we didn't already know."
"Draco." Lucius's voice had changed again, now just barely approaching the kind patience of Dumbledore. "My guests need better accommodations than this horrid room. Lead them to the main ballroom, won't you? You know the way. My colleagues will escort you."
Draco locked his jaw to keep from retorting with a damning comment. He nodded to his friends to follow him and stepped into the corridor. Someone was right on his heels, closely trailed by a light touch on his arm. He reached down and took Hermione's hand, but only for a moment. He did not want their closeness to appear too evident to Lucius.
The colleagues he had referred to were, of course, Death Eaters. Each was fully robed and masked. The first Draco passed held a bundle of wands in one hand. Six, to be exact. He saw the man slip the wands into his robe pocket and took special note of him. The masks were worn for anonymity, but Draco guessed from the man's build and carriage that he was Blaise's father. He glanced over his shoulder at Blaise, who set his lips in a tight line in response. His guess had been correct.
So all our wands have been confiscated and we're surrounded by the bad guys with no help in sight. That's not so bad. A different line of thought interrupted. His father had been ambiguous about Draco's role in his plan. Was he going to force Draco to perform spells against his friends, or simply use Draco's wand to do it himself?
Draco very much hated Lucius at that point.
The ballroom had been recently cleaned. The black marble of the floor and enormous staircase gleamed under the menacing light of the twelve chandeliers. He recalled a description of this very ballroom that he had once read, and a miniscule, breathy laugh escaped him. Marcus Malfoy's version had long been replaced with this lavish but dark decoration. Black velvet curtains covered the numerous tall, narrow windows, blocking out all outside light. It occurred to Draco that he had no idea what time it was. He looked briefly at the grand clock against the wall opposite the huge hearth, which was the only spot of white in the room. The clock's hands revealed almost five o'clock in the evening. Unless anyone there had missed them, the population of Hogwarts would soon be at dinner.
"That is the perfect place. Stop, Draco." He estimated about twenty feet to the staircase. He turned to survey the rest of the group, whom he had been leading. Lucius waved a hand toward the Death Eaters. Before Draco had time to be alarmed, the others had been surrounded by Voldemort's followers with their wands at the ready. Draco was seized and dragged closer to the staircase. He knew better than to fight so many without a wand. There was no need, anyhow; they released him once he was in the desired position. Three Eaters stayed close to him, acting as a guard.
"I feel so honored," muttered Draco. "Special treatment."
"That attitude of yours is what gets you in trouble, son."
Draco thought it was more that his father was the worst kind of git, but he decided to hold his tongue. The thought amused him, though, and he knew it showed on his face when he chanced a look at his friends. Hermione reacted badly to his mirth, so he schooled it from his face. He inwardly berated himself. He knew better than to let his emotions be so obvious.
Lucius did not speak for several minutes. Draco would have expected this to be a relief, but the silence that resulted made his spine itch. They were clearly there to wait, and he had a good idea of what was coming.
He was proven correct when footsteps sounded on the landing above them. Every face – the Death Eaters, Draco, Harry, Lucius – watched as Voldemort descended the stairs, followed by four masked and robed figures. He stopped on the fifth step and surveyed the captives with a triumphant grin. Lucius moved closer and bowed.
"My Lord Voldemort," he greeted his master.
"Good evening, Lucius. You have done well." Strangely enough, the sentence seemed unfinished. Draco could feel unexpected apprehension from Lucius as he moved to stand next to his son.
"And here is the Magnificent Harry Potter," Voldemort rasped. He beckoned with two long fingers. Two of the Death Eaters took Harry by the arms and propelled him toward the base of the stairs. Draco tried to catch Harry's gaze, but his eyes were locked on Voldemort. He guessed that Harry did not want to be caught off guard.
"How have you been, Voldemort?" Harry asked, nearly spitting.
Voldemort laughed hoarsely, a spine-chilling sound. "Quite well."
"Pity," Harry responded.
"Harry Potter." Voldemort did not move from his lofty perch on the fifth step, but he looked to be considering it. "I do not enjoy counting how many times I have had you in my grasp and not had the satisfaction of killing you. Be sure that I will remedy this problem. You will not leave this room alive."
"Someone should teach you not to make promises you can't keep," Harry told him, and this time he did spit. The glob of saliva landed just beyond the hem of Voldemort's robe.
The pale, evil face grew solemn. "I am not taught," he proclaimed. "No one would presume so much. Perhaps I should teach you a few things before I … but no. I will not make the mistake of giving you the chance to escape."
Voldemort then turned his face to Draco. "And you, the son of Lucius Malfoy, who has served me…faithfully. You had the chance to be a part of the greatest movement the world has ever seen. It would not have taken you long to rise through the ranks of my servants. You have made some unfortunate choices recently, but if you were to renounce your new friends," he said the word as though it left a bad taste on his tongue, "these decisions would not be held against you. You may still serve me. This will be your last opportunity to do so."
Draco kept his disdain carefully out of his expression. "Save your breath," he told Voldemort flatly.
"You disappoint me, Draco Malfoy, as well as your father. Ah, well. By the end of today, neither of us will think on you any longer." Voldemort gestured to Lucius, who turned to take care of some task. Draco missed it; he had noticed Harry casting glances his way. He was undoubtedly asking a question, and Draco thought that he knew what it was.
As carefully as he could, in as small a gesture, he shook his head and mouthed, "Wait." He wanted Voldemort or Lucius to make a move before they took action. He hoped that Harry understood. It seemed that he did. He nodded slightly and looked to Voldemort. The Death Eaters that had attached themselves to his arms had not noticed their communication.
Whatever they were planning, it was bound to happen within a few moments. Before anyone could strike, however, the sound of a door opening came from the far wall, followed by a pleasant, surprised voice asking, "Lucius, what is going on here?"
Draco saw what happened next in slow motion. His mother, having just entered, halted with the door standing wide open behind her. Lucius spotted her and sneering, "Narcissa," he raised his wand. The strange dream Draco had experienced so many months before flashed through his mind. In his head he saw the flash of green light and Narcissa falling to the ground, overlaid on the flickering image of dead bodies strewn about the ballroom. Lucius remained locked in the process of raising his wand as Draco scanned a list of possible reactions. He made his decision without realizing it.
Never in his life had Draco wanted anything more. He did not need to know how; he simply needed to need it, and Lucius' wand was ripped from his grasp into Draco's outstretched, waiting hand.
The room seemed to freeze, the Death Eaters' plans interrupted by this unexpected act of resistance. They were eyeing him strangely, plainly expecting him to take drastic measures. Draco stared at Lucius from the moment he gained the wand, not daring to be caught off guard. "Draco – son, return my-"
"Shut up, father," Draco told him, leaving no room for questions. Still watching Lucius intently, he instructed, "Mother, I need you to go to Dumbledore. Tell him what is happening, where we are. The Order of the Phoenix must be alerted."
"Draco, I'm not sure about this. I don't want to leave you here."
"Please, Mother. If you don't go now, it may be too late."
Without seeing, he knew that Narcissa had given him a wistful look of agreement before turning on her heel and sprinting back through the door whence she had come. Draco was on the verge of breathing a sigh of relief when the same cold laugh issued from the stairs. A quick glance showed amusement on Voldemort's countenance before he resumed the careful watching of Lucius.
"Master, do you intend to let this ungrateful miscreant disrupt your plans?" Lucius asked. The question sounded more like a plea. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Harry jerk in the hold of Voldemort's servants. He, too, was itching to use the wand in his hand, but he prayed that Harry had the patience to wait for the opportune moment.
"I would never wish to interrupt a family argument, Lucius," Voldemort said. A few of the Death Eaters cackled.
Lucius faced Draco determinedly. "Now, son. I know you don't want to do anything in haste. Your actions can cause regret and pain later on, you know."
"You'd know all about that wouldn't you?" said Draco scathingly. "Of course, any pain you cause has always been intentional. And why are you addressing me now, Lucius? You've never called me 'son' in my life. You barely ever use my name. What is it, Lucius, that you're afraid of? You didn't want to grow too used to it, in case Voldemort demanded that you hand me over to him, sacrifice me. I'm right, eh? You've seen the kind of thing he demands, and you decided to remain as far from me as possible."
"He is much quicker than you always said, Lucius," Voldemort interjected. "You underestimated his skill. Or else you never wanted me to know." This last sentence held an ominous, harsh tone.
"If Voldemort had commanded it, you would have given him my life without hesitation. You know… I never have thanked you properly for everything you've done, Lucius. I'm glad I have the chance now." He had been holding Lucius' wand pointed directly and steadily at his father. When he finished speaking, he advanced, taking slow steps closer to the man he loathed more than anyone in the world.
Behind him, a desperate whisper escaped in the form of his name. Hermione was there, she was begging him not to do something that he would regret – but he knew what he was doing. Draco had imagined this moment hundreds of times since being trapped in the secret chamber. Each time he pictured it, the act had grown more appealing to him. Now that he was this close, he could only carry it out.
Lucius' eyes followed the wand in Draco's left hand closely. The fist that was Draco's right hand collided with his face, connecting just under his eye. Several gasps sounded between the punch and the moment that Draco tackled Lucius to the ground, lashing out with every limb. Lucius, after the shock of the first hit had worn off, began to fight back. They struggled on the ballroom floor.
A shout echoed in his ears in a voice that he dimly recognized as Hermione's. Everything but Lucius was hazy, a blur of chaos. The others had begun fighting as well. Flashes of light and explosions occurred at the edge of Draco's awareness, but he ignored them – even when the lights flashed in an unmistakable green.
Lucius' knee found Draco's stomach, driving the wind from him, but Draco responded with an elbow to Lucius' throat, which hit its mark with surprising power. Draco got in several more hard blows before Lucius knelt on his right arm, pinning him for the moment.
Draco would have expected his father to use the opportunity to break his concentration with taunting, but instead he attempted to separate Draco's arm from his body by pure force. Draco had no other choice. He reached up, tangled his fingers in Lucius' long white hair, and tugged as hard as he could. With a grunt, Lucius toppled over, releasing Draco.
Their primitive version of a duel continued for quite some time. In the most vague manner, Draco noted the arrival of a surprising number of witches and wizards just as he landed another hit to Lucius' chin. Seconds later, Lucius ceased attacking. He squirmed to extricate himself from Draco's offensive instead. It took him not long to succeed, and he bolted up the ballroom stairs. Though the urge to follow him and continue pummeling was great, Draco resisted.
As though in a dream, his eyesight swam back into focus just in time to see Voldemort and several of the Death Eaters disappearing into the mansion. Numerous wizards and three witches (all of whom may or may not have been from the Ministry) rushed after them. All of these had disappeared before it occurred to Draco to take stock of the room.
There were a number of people in the ballroom who had not been present earlier. He recognized some of them: Professor McGonagall, Remus Lupin, his cousin Nymphadora Tonks. Others were utter strangers.
A collection of incapacitated Death Eaters lay in stillness on the floor. Draco suspected that more than one of them were dead, but he knew that he may be thinking wishfully.
Hermione, who seemed to have been searching the room for him as well, was approaching him when he spotted her, wand in hand. She must have gotten it back while he was fighting Lucius.
They were in the midst of a hug of relief when Ginny screamed in agony. Hermione and Draco both turned toward the sound with dread. The knowledge of what had happened struck him like lightning made of solid steel. Hermione covered her mouth with her hand. Draco felt an expression with which he was utterly unfamiliar, though he guessed (correctly so) that it was grief.
"No," he whispered. "No."
Ginny was now sobbing, and Hermione was quickly catching up, as they all stared at the lifeless, dark-haired form with its eyes fixed on the ceiling.
…TBC…
