Chapter Seven: Mine
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Lucius Malfoy was angry.
No, more than angry in the eyes of the young girl before him. Of course Deirdre couldn't exactly see very much due to the fact she refused to look the elder man in the eyes. It was these tiny acts of rebellion that made her feel as if she had some control over her life. Not only was she staring at the dingy, grimy floor of the Potions Supply Closet, but she was rather uncomfortable as well. Digging into her back were the oddly shaped edges of the containers that held various potions ingredients, as well as some other things she cared not to look at. It was hard to tell which was easier to break at the moment – the glass containers, or Deirdre's fragile vertebrae? Large leather bound hands had placed themselves on either side of her and she could hear the ragged huffing that was Lucius' breathing. She was trapped and she was afraid. She of course knew what was coming: death. She had failed. He would kill her of course… oh, and what a bitter end she would have…
Yet she refused to shoot even a curious glance upwards into the pale, pointed face and unmerciful grey eyes of the man whom she seemed unable to escape from. She knew something had gone wrongfor he was far more livid than usual. In her mind the best thing to do right now was keep silent, she just knew something was about to happen.
"Nothing was accomplished." Three words spoken in frustration and malice; three words that made Deirdre's heart sink. " I Why /I was nothing done?" demanded the blonde. She could feel his gaze boring into her as he spoke. Weakly, she shook her head.
"I didn't have en-enough time to speak to him a-about it, Sir. It wasn't… well… er… it wasn't a good start." Was her soft response to his question. Her voice lacked any emotion save for the traces of fear left in her slightly squeaky tone of voice.
"And why not? I gave you a month! A month! Why didn't he come to you? Why didn't you make him? I thought for sure his greedy, little hands would be after you in a second –"
"Your son's not stupid, Sir."
At this Lucius spat, "Hardly a son any longer, pathetic waste of life." There was a pause then and a new idea seemed to appear to the wizard as he looked Deirdre over. Perhaps she was still useful to him, and by the look on his face it appeared he definitely thought so. A semblance of a smirk slithered its way across his face for a moment as Deirdre felt a gloved hand lifting her tapered chin and causing her to make direct eye contact with Lucius Malfoy.
Against her will, a chill ran down her spine.
"Never mind that blunder, Deirdre, my pet. I have something rather different in mind." While he kept the smirk, Deirdre bit her lip in an attempt to mask any sort of facial expression. However, under his sharp gaze doing so proved nearly impossible to her. Watching her for a moment, Lucius noted her feeble attempts but continued anyway.
"Draco still presumes you to be under the surname Ashcroft?" Faintly she nodded as his hand left her chin.
"He had no inclination of your real surname?"
Another nod. At least she thought so. There was that time in Charms class, but she figured that wasn't really anything to give herself away. This time Lucius nodded along with her. "Good, good. Now listen to me, I have a new role for you to play in my little game here. A much bigger, stronger role. You realize you cannot say no?" he started, a brow raised in question.
"Y-yes, sir, but I don't see how—"
"Hush. In event, you will be useful. You are to get close to Draco – Lure him in – so to speak. Find his resources, his secrets, weaknesses, friends, lovers – everything. You are to know absolutely every last detail. I want anything you learn to be reported to me. I of course will be keeping in touch by owl and visits here by passageway. This task shouldn't be too hard. Not for you, my pet, you're a pretty one; you're lucky you have those looks too. Otherwise I doubt you'd be of use to anyone," he finished.
Deirdre pretended to ignore the obvious blow to her character, and finally spoke up, her mind buzzing with questions. "But, sir, why –"
"Do I not /I !" she was cut off by the harsher tone of Lucius now. "Do not question me, Miss. Avery. Do not speak unless spoken to. You wouldn't enjoy what I could do to that sweet face of yours if you made me angry. You won't like me angry. Remember my dear, you're mine." He spoke sharply, obviously beginning to feel particularly vicious towards Deirdre now. As he spoke, his face was level and merely inches from hers. She found herself shivering once more at the look in his cold eyes. There was no emotion, and his low snarling voice reminded her of a wolf. "You're mine and you belong to me. I I own /I you," he repeated.
In her heart, and also much to her dismay, Deirdre knew this was true. She had let herself be reassured by false promises – let herself be thrown around like a rag doll. The poor girl had watched her own father pawn his only child off on Lucius Malfoy in exchange for the promise of his own safety. She of course blamed herself. Deidre cursed herself for being such a foolish child. She could have spoken up or herself, after all she had a voice. She just wasn't sure how to use it. She could have run away and found someone to help her. Still, one question lingered in her mind – who would believe her? Her answer? Well that was simple: no one. Hogwarts had started to change her, but she was still the scared little girl she seemed when she entered. She was still so naïve, so withdrawn… so pathetic.
Taking an odd delight in the girl's carefully calculating expression of misery, Lucius knew she had other thoughts and smirked once more. "Thinking otherwise, are you?" he drawled in a tone that seemed to show amusement, a laid-back chuckle leaving his lips. He looked down at Deidre and saw the smallest hint of rebellion behind her trembling gaze. She was so easy to read that he didn't even need legimency. "Let me put it this way, my dear." He answered and reached down to her arm, which was trembling at her side. Lifting the bony limb easily there was a ripping sound as he tore a good bit of fabric from her sleeve. Deirdre stared, confused.
"Let me see your hand."
One hand held tightly to the girl's dainty wrist and another quickly drew a small dagger from his boot. He almost laughed at Deirdre's expression of horror when she saw the weapon and tensed. Deftly he cut a small slit into her index finger to draw enough blood to drip onto the fabric held in his other hand. He shook his head at the girl's whimpering.
"Oh do be quiet, will you? I'm sure you've dealt with far worse." He spoke casually to her, like he would when speaking to one of his servants. All the while he held the slightly bloody cloth in front of him with the tip of his wand now touching it.
I "Speculum Ostendo" /I
There was a moment when Lucius' hand was hidden by a swirling mist of many different tones, all blending together around the cloth to form into something completely different. Deirdre watched in fascination – she was never one for transfiguration.
When it was your own image that could be seen through his clutches, the fascination was tenfold.. Lucius held a small china doll dressed in its own set of tiny Slytherin robes. The doll bore almost an exact resemblance to Deirdre herself. She looked the thing over in disbelief for a moment before a frown came to her face – as one did upon the doll's. At this she tensed. The facial expression of the toy unnerved her, particularly its eyes. They stared back at her with a most unfathomable gaze. Tiny hazel orbs that were so drastic against her pale face that she could spend all day lost in that precise, piercing gaze. They seemed to show that although the girl herself was lost, she had seen quite a bit beyond her age. Although she was wondering, she was wise, and however weak she was, she understood her flaw. The doll's eyes showed her vulnerability and helplessness. Her thoughts would have gone on forever – on to her delicate defined features, eyes too big, lips too pale, however she was interrupted by the voice of her companion once more.
"This, Miss. Avery, is you. I daresay it's a perfect likeness. Right down to your shivering." He held the doll aloft by its tiny porcelain wrist with the look of a merchant examining priceless goods. "Let's make this clear, shall we? You help me and comply with my requests, play the part I ask of you, and you stay taken well care of." There was a pause now. "But kitten, things can go both ways. You see here how easy it is for me to control you? Surely you know that if you displease me in anyway I can just as easily…let…you…slip?"
She watched as with each word he raised a finger from the doll's wrist at an antagonizing slow pace, his brow rose inquisitively. Deidre jumped as the thing plummeted to the stone ground, shattering into a hundred shards of porcelain. Just as she was staring back at her from Lucius' hand, she was now in broken on the floor. This was all too creepy for her, and her head was spinning as her temper and nerves finally took hold of her.
"Stop it!" she finally exclaimed in a sharp trill of a voice – surprised at hearing her own tone. Was that really her telling Lucius Malfoy to stop? From those two words she felt a tiny surge of power and dodged around him, taking advantage of the fact he was occupied with the doll.
"I beg your pardon?"
Deirdre looked over her shoulder now to see Lucius stepping back up to her, his expression having changed from his manipulating smirk into one of a calm anger. A volcano waiting to erupt – and Deidre, still too headstrong in her tiny triumph, let herself stand there and actually defend herself.
"Forgive me, sir, but I am in no way a doll nor obliged to your service. I hardly think I should be forced to pay for my father's mistakes. And so, sir, I refuse to let you ridicule me in this way, when you are simply angry that…that…that I you /I failed the Dark Lord!" The words flew out of Deirdre's mouth now as if she were the volcano. It shocked her, and made her excited and scared at the same time. Had she really just done that? The rush that had gone to her head made her feel bright and bold, someone entirely different and cocky. A girl who knew her way around, and who knew what she wanted and just how she could get it. Glimpses of the witch she wanted to be.
" I What! /I " It was a hiss, as deadly and venomous as the snake about to strike and Deirdre hardly had time to look up before the sound of leather hitting skin reached her eardrums. Her cheek stung from the impact of his gloved hand, her neck snapped back for a moment as she staggered slightly.
Upon instinct her eyes shut tight for she knew what was coming next. Threats and insults and offers all blended furiously into a drone that blocked out all sounds. Fervently Deirdre tried to imagine she was that girl again, that powerful and know-it-all witch who wouldn't let men like Lucius control her. She struggled against the pain of his stinging gloves to try to grasp onto that heady rush that had engulfed her a moment earlier. She wanted that feeling again – she needed it. She needed to know that she could make things better. But the blows kept coming though and finally she succumbed to Lucius Malfoy's anger, imagining herself the shattered doll version of Deirdre Elizabeth Avery.
She awoke in the hospital wing.
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Draco awoke in the hospital wing.
An unfocused and blurry gaze greeted a throbbing head as he stared straight ahead towards the high ceilings of the infirmary. Merlin, it was too fucking sunny to be awake. What time was it anyway? Why on earth was he lying on such a ratty cot? He shifted and tried to sit but fell back with a groan, every inch of his body stung when he moved.
I "Feels like I'm bloody laying on broken glass," /I he mused silently, blinking a few times. His foggy vision started to clear as he remembered.
The unpleasant memories that flooded back to his brain made him groan again and throw his arm over his eyes, shaking his head. What had he done this time? Another choice of course – but was it really the right one? To deny the Dark Lord and his father a second time? What of the next time? If there was a fourth? With a grunt he realized there might not even be a third time if Lucius was set in keeping his promise.
"Merlin," he muttered, since he was unable to really process much more thought.
Yet he found that a weight had finally begun to lift from his chest. There was to be no more pretending, no longer did he have to lie to his family. There would be no more long hours of standing in front of the mirror, wondering what he was getting himself into. It felt like finally he was paving his own way and wasn't bound by his father's rule. He was breaking free.
But as that weight was lifted another took its place. This one was something entirely different, more threatening. For with this weight Draco realized he wouldn't be worrying about displeasing his father – he would be fearing for his life. His future now was to die for his freedom unless a miracle happened.
Some people say you can't change your fate – that it's set in stone from the moment of your birth. Draco let a small smirk waver on his pointed face, for he had just proved them wrong. After all, he was a Malfoy. Draco had known where he was headed from he beginning and it had taken seventeen years to realize that that life of a Death Eater – a murderer – was not the one he wanted. Draco didn't want his father's life. This time, he knew he had beaten his destiny and strayed from the path of the Malfoys. Couldn't he do it a third time? Lucius had made it more than clear how Draco was no longer fit to be his son. He couldn't have this easy could he? No, instead of simply disowning the boy he had to develop some elaborate scheme to torture him. I "Always for show," /I he noted. The cocky attitude that Draco held while in the halls of Hogwarts was beginning to settle again as he felt stronger. Hell, he could elude his father. Lucius could hardly do anything while being one of the Wizarding World's most wanted fugitives. It wasn't like he could be acquitted so easily. Draco was sure that he could beat his father at his own game, now.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a body next to his. Turning his head a brow rose in curiously. What could I she /I possibly be doing here? The potions along her bed were identical to the ones he was taking for his own bruises and pain. As he recognized this, a small chuckle escaped his lips. Did she trip in those "fashionable" new shoes? Or was someone finally so fed up that they pushed her down a moving staircase? Whoever – whatever – it was, he applauded them. Finally managing to sit up he gave the sleeping girl an once-over. Deidre seemed to be sleeping peacefully, lips parted with russet hair covering one side of her face, small frame rising and falling steadily. He paused, something about the sleeping girl before him made him look closer at her. Something about the simplicity of it, the raw beauty – she reminded him slightly of Narcissa. Deidre shifted and then moved in her sleep, the curtain of hair falling back to the pillow to reveal a rather large angry mottled spot on her cheek. A very nasty bruise.
Draco winced, his previously intrigued expression turning into one of disgust. So this was the girl he had been dreaming about. What I had /I she been doing to earn that? Surely her belongings might give something away? But the bedside table that held a mixture of both Draco's and Deidre's things held nothing out of the ordinary. His eye caught on a small maroon book however, and he quickly lifted it from the table. Clearly he wasn't one to respect another's privacy. Opening to the last marked page, he noticed her neat bubbly cursive and began to read.
I "November 18th, 1997:
Sometimes I wish I was really more of a poet. Or just good at something really. Maybe if I had better writing skills I could find the word to describe the feeling – that cold, sick one – when you know something will change you forever. Something drastic. Something will change you and you're not sure if you want it to – but you can't stop it. And you know for the first time that you will never be quite the same person you were before... " /I
Draco paused in his reading for the entry was dated today. That meant she had been awake before him – and she hadn't left? But then again, with a bruise like that he figured she'd be in here for a while. Needless to say he was interested and wanted to know what all this nonsense was about.
I "…I'm in the hospital wing while I write this and I know that things are never going to go back to how they were. Yet somehow I keep thinking that if I was a little smarter, a little bolder, a little prettier – a little like the girl I've always wanted to be – maybe he would have changed his mind. I guess I've gotten good at telling myself lies then. I can see him right now and know that I have to help ruin his life to preserve mine.
I think I can remember when all I cared about was that the sun shined when I went walking between lessons with Auntie. I don't really know what I've gotten myself into. All I'm stuck with is the pain, and the lies, the curses, and the words that were spoken. I can't stand it – it makes me see how weak I am. I mean you can't remember how to think or even breathe because there is nothing but the pain and all you want is your sunshine back. I think that's all I really want anyway. Sunshine and freedom." /I
Draco found himself almost disappointed when there was no more writing. If he hadn't seen this was Deidre's journal he would have been completely infatuated with its author. Yet however he agreed with her writing, and however similar they might seem, Draco sneered to think that she had written this. And who were these nameless people?
"What are you doing!"
Draco jumped as he looked up, still holding the book in his hand. Deidre stared over at him, sitting now and looking furious. Draco slowly arched a brow and smirked.
"Playing with hippogriffs," he drawled sarcastically, "What does it look like I'm doing, I'm bloody reading."
"You have absolutely no right to touch my things!" she snapped, stumbling out the bed ungracefully and hurrying to collect her things. Impulsively, Draco's hand shot out to protect his own possessions when his finger caught on something.
"What in the name of…" He heard Deirdre muse, and he glanced over at her before back down to his finger. Draco's Celtic serpent ring had locked into the claws of the raven on Deidre's necklace. Upon closer inspection the eternity knots lined up perfectly to form one interwoven 3D maze. The girl in front of him shook her head, tugging the chain of the necklace. For a while it wouldn't budge until she applied great force and twisted it away from the snake, fastening it about her neck in a hurry. Snatching the journal from Draco's hands, she snapped it shut.
"Haven't you ever heard of privacy? Sweet Circe, you're such a jerk!" she snarled, anger and embarrassment flashing through her eyes. Draco couldn't help but smirk. I Jerk? /I What was she, four?
"Ouch. That was a killer, are you going to call me a butthead now too?"
Deidre stood there a moment, staring at Draco as a thousand biting remarks that she could shoot back at him came to mind. She paused however, remembering Lucius' words and instead just pursed her lips. "Parkinson was in here earlier," she responded curtly, before striding out of the Hospital wing a right mess, bruises still intact. Hell, the girl could hardly walk. Draco actually laughed at this. Once more, it seemed he had won.
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b A/n: /b This chapter wouldn't have been finished had it not been for the ceaseless s whining /s I mean, coaxing of my friends and beta – whom really does not get the credit she deserves for putting up with this. (:
b Translation: /b " I speculum ostendo" /I translates directly to "mirror reveals"