Chapter six: The Point of No Return
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It wasn't that Draco didn't like mornings, they just didn't bring out the best in him.
"Draco Lucius Malfoy, I've been talking your ear off all morning and I haven't heard a word come from your mouth!" chastised Pansy Parkinson, cutting away at her breakfast as she currently occupied the space to his left side at the Slytherin table. Draco flipped his attention back to her, clearly now just slipping out of his reverie.
"Perhaps I'd be able to speak if you'd shut your gob long enough," he drawled casually in response, reaching for a roll as he spoke. His other hand now rested in his pocket where slender fingers closed gently around warm silver. His index finger absentmindedly toyed with the grainy silver chain. Things were normal. Almost.
Normal if you could count the fact that over a third of the hall was empty. Normal if you could count the fact that the weather in the hall had not shown a dash of sunlight so far this term. Normal if you considered that Professor McGonagall now occupied the grand seat where a bold and powerful Headmaster had once sat. Normal if you didn't mind that your role model and favourite teacher was now on the run for murder. Normal if you weren't afraid of being murdered.
Well, at least it was normal to her.
Draco sighed as his eyes of ice veered from Pansy's pouty face to the secretive and silent looking girl near the end of the table. Luckily he'd stopped having those bloody dreams. She was so different, so oddly unbecoming of Slytherin house, and so oddly enveloping his mind with constant thoughts of her. It wasn't like she was something special or anything - she was undoubtedly quiet, and reserved, but there was something he couldn't lay his finger on. It angered him to the point of no end that she acted so innocent and silent. Yet there she had been, she'd haunted - no stalked him was more like it.
Her eyes met with his at that precise instant, and Draco scowled. Why was she even at Hogwarts, anyway? Who bloody well cared if her had aunt died - there was a war going on, wasn't there? In his opinion she was actually quite stupid. She had almost caused them to fail such a simple Charms task, so he figured that had to count for something.
Just as he was about to stand and shove the disgraceful hunk of silver she called a necklace in her face, the familiar screeching and hooting of owls was heard as they flew into the hall to deliver mail. A flurry of wing beats and a rush of wind blew his blonde locks askew as the birds flew over head. Nothing for him except for his copy of the morning's i Daily Prophet /I
"Oh, Draco, look at that!"
He looked down upon Pansy's request at the paper she had already opened for him; her voice sounded almost worried.
"Escaped Death Eaters Still Eluding Capture: Five Persons Found Dead Under Dark Mark."
Draco shook his head as he read the headlines. His father was no doubt among those doing the killing. Seating himself once more, he turned back to Pansy who was reading the article and searching for names of people they knew.
"Anyone we know?" he finally asked her, raising a brow curiously. She nodded.
"I suppose you might; Bill Weasley, Terrence Higgs, Melinda Sloper, Serena Spinnet, and James MacDonald. Ring a bell?" she enquired, passing Draco the Prophet. He nodded as he scanned the names.
"They've killed a Weasley, have they? Wasn't he the one who Greyback got last year?" he asked aloud, noting parents of others who had been or still were in Hogwarts. Pansy nodded as well in response to his question.
"Interesting," he noted, looking up and across the hall to the Gryffindor table, where he noticed a very red-eyed Ginny Weasley being consoled by her peers. Apparently one little red head was really taking her brother's death quite hard.
"Do you think…well…do you think your father was…er… involved with this?" she asked, somewhat cautiously in case he be angered by her statement. He shot her a sideways glare, steel coloured eyes narrowing in distaste. How dare she bring up such a topic when others were listening!
"I do believe that my father's business is none of your concern, Miss. Parkinson," he hissed. Hey, he may have hated the man - but his family was still his family, and his family business held no relevance to Pansy Parkinson. She shrunk back from him, her eyes focusing on the plate in front of her.
"Well." Was all she said, in a huffy voice and turned to chat with Daphne Greengrass. Looking away from her, he glanced up to watch the last of the owls fly in when his eye rested on a familiar one. It was large and black, and had a majestic yet demonic air about it as it casually beat its massive wings and dropped a letter at its recipient's place.
I know that Owl.
It was no ordinary owl and Draco had only seen the thing once, but it was in hi s memory for all time. That owl was Lucius Malfoy's private owl. The one he used only for the most important of matters, and it was to never be flown to Draco even in the most dire of circumstances. In fact, Draco was to never have seen that owl. Only once when Draco was around eight did he lay eyes on the beast delivering a mysteriously wrapped object to the drawing room. Now that owl was here at Hogwarts, delivering a letter to a fellow student of his.
Delivering a letter to that damned Deirdre Ashcroft.
Suspicion shot through Draco like wildfire and his eyes narrowed once more in what seemed to be frustration. It angered him and yet it sparked a curiosity within Draco all at once. Why on bloody earth was she getting a letter from his father - and through the use of Lucius Malfoy's private owl! Warily Draco watched the girl as she shooed the owl away from her with a somewhat frightened countenance. The oddball. Terrified of an owl, he thought, shaking his head before leaning forward slightly to watch her. It just didn't make sense. Why would she, of all people, get a letter from none other than Lucius Malfoy and then be frightened of the owl that brought the letter? He focused in on her shaking hands, unfolding the parchment with such a delicacy as if the parchment was made of silk. She twitched slightly with a cough, causing the letter to tilt into view. It was most definitely his father's elegant sprawling handwriting. He also caught the flourish signature of the elder Malfoy as well, before the girl quickly began to read.
His gaze now flicked upwards, resting where the necklace he held should have resided, before settling on Deirdre's face. The slightly gaunt contours of her face (which he did not think to be any at all attractive on anyone but his own personal self) were tense with what he noted as anxiety, or perhaps fear. When he noticed her flesh pale as she read, he judged it to be the latter. Draco couldn't help but watch with slight infatuation at how stark her dark hazel coloured eyes were against the pallid visage that beheld the features of a starved china doll with a soft dusting of hardly visible freckles. It was then with morbid fascination that he took into account the fact that she seemed to have devoured this disgusting Hogwarts food at a rather sickening pace, recalling how thin the girl had seemed when he had been partners with her.
The clatter of silver hitting the stone floor of The Great Hall aroused him from his ever-increasing moments of deep thought. It was then he smirked, letting out a snigger as Deirdre quickly picked up her knocked over goblet of pumpkin juice. Draco could no longer see the mysterious letter and presumed she had stuffed it into the pocket of her robes. He and Pansy couldn't help but make a few snide remarks as she fumbled with her wand for a few moments uttering a weak attempt at "Scourgify!" It was worse than a fourth year.
It was with a sharp jolt of indignation that he remembered the reason she was bolting out of the hall so quickly; she held a letter that he should know of. Excusing himself from a pouting Pansy Parkinson and rather expectant Crabbe and Goyle, Draco used the excuse that the House Elves weren't cooking things right again and that he and his sensitive stomach needed to visit Madame Pomfrey before class.
Stealthily slipping from the Hall he zeroed in on the presence of Miss. Ashcroft not too far ahead of him and followed her almost silently. She was leading him towards the dungeons at a quickening pace. Keeping to the darker side of the hall he was making rather good time, swearing under his breath however when a voice interrupted him.
"Draco, m'boy! Just the bloke I was hoping to see! Now now, how are you?"
Draco turned around to see a rather rotund waistcoat wearing Horace Slughorn standing there. The streak off of the man's baldhead caused Draco to smirk slightly, it was so bright.
"Yes. Sir?" The Malfoy responded in a respectful tone. After all, Professor Slughorn was the new head of Slytherin House.
"Headmistress McGonagall would just like me to inform you that on a special occasion and rather jovial news, your Mother has come to pay a visit. My dear boy, I congratulate you!" He boomed vivaciously, a subtle shadow of a proud smile out from under his annoyingly large moustache. In return Draco nodded with a "thank you" as Professor Slughorn continued, "I've told her she may talk to you in my office. It's quite empty right about now as I'm off to catch a late breakfast. Narcissa Black was an I exceptional /I girl when it came to Potions and Herbology. That girl could whip up a brew of anything I asked - and she grew the herbs herself!" he boasted, and Draco nodded once more, slightly puzzled at what his Professor was trying to get across.
"Yes well, thank you, Sir," he ended abruptly, before turning now. Deirdre was gone. He swore once more under his breath before begrudgingly setting off down the hall to Slughorn's office. Draco had to admit, he wondered why his mother was here and what 'good news' she had to share. Narcissa was never a woman to give good news without the bad, and she was never one to tell Draco in person. For her to come to Hogwarts, this must have been something extremely important. At the same time, this made Draco feel oddly elated. His mother was someone he was closely related to. Someone who lavishly heaped affection into his lap when he was a small child. In a way, she was his saving grace - the one who always calmed him down and looked out for him. He respected her over everyone else and admired her dignity, her icy and graceful goddess like beauty.
"Hello, Draco."
The hopes that had crested within him plummeted suddenly when he gazed upon the figure before him. For it was not his wonderful mother, but his father.
Lucius Malfoy was here at Hogwarts undetected.
Draco gulped and turned to look behind him, only to realize he was trapped and that the door had been locked. With a sigh he turned back to the man lounging in the chair before him.
"Father… I had not expected you. Professor Slughorn told me that Mother was here… with good news…" he drawled carefully, wanting Lucius to get to the point of his visit- and to just leave. Lucius Malfoy stood; plain black and genderless Wizarding robes scraping the ground as he did so. As he moved around from behind Slughorn's desk, Draco knew enough not to even think of sitting in any of the nearby seats while in the presence of his father - lest it be deemed inappropriate and disrespectful. Towering over his son with his hands behind his back, snakehead cane in one, Lucius looked at Draco with an unfeeling and blank look. Draco then realized that this was the first time he'd seen his father in at least two years.
Azkaban had drained him of his youth, and sleep it seemed. Oddly however, Draco could see no difference in his father's appearance. Well, if you didn't count the slightly unshaven and haggard look he had.
"Draco," Lucius acknowledged in a clear crisp voice once more. A tone that usually meant Draco was in trouble.
So much for a warm reunion.
"Yes, Father?" he replied, deciding it would be better to hold off on the questioning about his mother, and how the elder Malfoy had gotten here.
"Do you know why I am here?" he drawled with lips curling into a sneer.
"No, Sir."
"I see," Lucius stated, turning around to pace to another end of the murky room. He returned with a roll of parchment that had been extracted from quite a large coat pocket, now looking rather livid. "Do you know what this is?" he snapped, the roll of parchment inches from Draco's pointed face.
"No, Sir."
The elder man's unfeeling and apathetic grey eyes narrowed into what could be considered slits as he stepped back a few paces, snapping open the parchment with a force that almost tore the thin material.
"Dear Father,
In response to your previous (and only) contact, my answer is a regretful no. With all due respect to the Malfoy line and our heritage, I simply cannot do it. I never asked for the life of a Death Eater, you simply threw it upon my plate. I accepted my mission eagerly a year ago, in hopes that it could be my last. That you would either leave me alone - or that I would die in the process of trying to kill the one and only, Albus Dumbledore. This choice on the contrary does not show weakness. It shows strength. The thing is, father, that you have failed to notice that I am not you. My name happens to be Draco. Not Lucius …"
Lucius stared down at his son as he trailed off. "That is what you reply to me? That feeble attempt to leave the Dark Lord?" he hissed, his voice full of a horrid vehemence, one that Draco only heard on the worst of occasions.
Draco's gaze back at his father was stony. It was, of course, true that Draco had written such things to his father. He had made his choice, and as a Malfoy, he was not turning back. He had taken a jump off that cliff and now he was going to fall with nothing to stop him.
He had nothing left to lose.
"Well. Is this not what you wrote me?"
"Yes, Father."
"And do you have anything to say for yourself?"
"No, Father."
Lucius Malfoy's pupils dilated in anger, as did the entire countenance of his face. Draco could just see he was seething in anger - an expression he knew all too well. He felt his limbs trembling slightly. He debated reaching for his wand, but thought better of it - his father would surely snap if he did. Instead he felt it was safer to be honest and use one or two word answers. Suddenly Draco lost his balance from impact of his father's cane colliding with his head. He groaned slightly, having been taken aback by the sudden force in which he had been hit. His ears were ringing now as his father's voice grew louder.
"How dare you!"
Draco, disoriented, could not respond to this in a manner that would prove suitable and instead just groaned again, his hand going to the side of his head where the cane had hit. It was definitely going to leave a bump.
"Always showing weakness, aren't you, boy?" Lucius snarled, hitting him hard upside the head once more. This time, Draco knew enough not to flinch nor move - yet it was obvious he was in pain. "You are a despicable excuse for a son, a shame to the Malfoy family, and a pathetic, snivelling little brat!"
Despite the fear that was tugging at his mind, warning him to just run, Draco Malfoy rolled his eyes at his father. Actually daring to say what he had thought for the past six years.
"You've told me that already, father, isn't it getting just a touch old? Tsk tsk, lets get back to the drawing board, shall we?"
Lucius Malfoy leaned in, so his eyes were about level with Draco's. "I could kill you right now if I wanted to, Draco, and don't you for a second believe I wouldn't," he growled, his threatening tone sending a slight shiver down his son's spine. Swiftly, Lucius reached down, drawing his wand out of the cane in a quick motion.
"Crucio!"
In an instant, Draco was on his knees. The pain was unbearable. In his case, he felt as if a hundred knives were digging into his flesh, a stinging sensation pulsing through him that got stronger with each second the curse lasted. Before him he couldn't see anything but black, and couldn't hear anything but his own gasps and whimpers. He refused to scream however. No, he would take the pain and prove to his father he wouldn't back down. His entire body was trembling and contorting in pain, feeling a pressure on his chest as if someone was piling heavy stones upon him. His body was on fire and his head would explode. Had he not been so used to this type of torture, it would be far worse.
"You see, Draco, the power the Dark Lord can give you. The thrill of having complete control, being well respected and followed. Ridding the Wizarding world of filth. It won't be long, Draco, before the Dark Lord has complete power again," Lucius stated passionately, enjoying his son's pained cries and dry sobs. "Now, I give you one last chance," he added, voice dropping dangerously low and threatening, but he relinquished his hold on the curse to give Draco enough time to answer.
Heaving for air as if it was the first time he had ever breathed, Draco stared up at his father from his knees with his hands out in front of him on the cold stone, supporting him. He'd have to choose again wouldn't he?
"I'm not going back now," he thought.
"N-No," he replied to his father, his voice shaky and barely there but firm in his decision. The sudden silence that followed was excruciating. Draco could hear his ragged breath in his ears like the pounding of a drum. Suddenly, a kick from his father's boot was dealt into his side, knocking the air out of Draco's lungs and causing him to topple over. Before he could speak, his father beat him to it.
"Crucio! "
Draco was now curled into a ball on the ground, writhing in agony once more; the feeling that he was being burned alive growing more intense. He could practically feel his eyes being pushed out of their sockets against his eyelids, limbs being torn one by one from his body. Someone was pulling his hair out in large patches, and another was stabbing him repeatedly. Somehow over this pain, he could just barely make out his father's words.
"Oh believe me, Draco, I could kill you now and not have one guilty thought about it," Lucius hissed. "You are a disgrace to this family. You don't deserve to be a Malfoy, nor do you even deserve the second chance I just gave you. Why, I should kill you now. No one turns their back on the Dark Lord and gets away with it." He paused, letting his words sink in for a moment and staring at struggling son.
"Ah…but that would just be too easy, wouldn't it? You see, killing you now would be a mercy blow compared to what I'm capable of." Draco was now aware that his father had bent down so the tip of his wand was pressing into Draco's side, causing even more pain.
"I'm going to take away anything and everything close to you, I'm going to kill anyone who stands in my way. Your going to be bled dry from the inside out, and by the time I even get to disowning you, I'm going to torture you to such extremities that you are going to be begging me to die." His words mixed with Draco's whimpering, and adding an extra effect. He stood them, abruptly lowering his wand and watching his son struggle to breath. There was a dribble of blood running down his chin; Draco had bitten his lip quite hard to keep from screaming.
"Look at you. All snivelling and useless on the floor. Get up!" Lucius snapped, and when Draco did not comply he kicked him in the side again. Draco's head hit the stone floor and he couldn't tell if the cracking noise that responded was the break of the stone or his skull. The metallic taste of blood was prominent in his mouth, and he saw spots dancing in front of his eyes as he gasped like a madman for breath. He wished he would just black out, he wouldn't have to listen to Lucius much longer than.
"Useless." His father remarked once more, removing a flask from his robes and taking a swing. Before his son's eyes Lucius had become Narcissa Malfoy - the woman that Draco absolutely had adored. Despite the fact that Draco was struggling to just remain conscious he felt a twinge of anger shoot through him. How dare he! How dare his father use his mother as a guise to get into Hogwarts! The thought of his father wreaking havoc amongst whomever he felt while under the disguise of Narcissa made him furious as well as slightly disgusted. He didn't have time to react however, as he heard his father curse at him in his low voice still.
Lucius spat on his son, before transfiguring the cane in his hands into a necklace, fastening that around his neck, and then placing the wand into the pocket of the cloak. He left the room as Narcissa, leaving Draco sputtering and gasping in a ball on the floor with a splitting headache.
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A/n: Despite the fact that I scared my friend to death while letting her read this, I like the way this turned out.
"Now I give you one last chance" - Phantom of the Opera of course! As is the chapter title.
Thank you to: Orlaith (Robyn), for being ever so awesome as always. Like literally guys, if you haven't already - go check out her fics. One word: amazing. Tijana, for making yourself bleed because you were in suspense. P and Viki, who read this...well…because I made her. (and had a hard time with the words. D)