Disclaimer: I own nothing of this.
Chapter 31: Realizations and Decisions
After he closed the door to the Slytherin dormitories, Draco leaned against it. He couldn't help the tiny smile that graced his face. He had noticed how flustered Ginny was when the two of them had been under the cloak. She had blushed particularly deeply when they'd reached the Slytherin House. That Draco could have that affect on Ginny was surprising considering the fact that they'd hated each other for years.
I've still got it, Draco thought smugly as he walked across the Slytherin common room towards the stair case to his room. As he walked up the stairs, he thought back to his mother. She was finally safe. To Draco, it felt as if a giant weight had just been lifted from his shoulders. He truly did believe that Narcissa was safe at Reina's. He had wondered when Ginny had said it was a tiny shop and nobody saw it, but now he knew what she meant. He had followed the directions Ginny had given him to find the shop, but even still he had almost missed it.
The best thing about it was that Lucius would never dream of looking there for Narcissa. He would think Draco would hide her somewhere grand, somewhere bigger and richer. Lucius's pride and arrogance would be the thing to hold him back from finding Narcissa.
As Draco walked into his room, he stopped in disgust. The floor to the room was hardly visible anymore. Four teenage boys, including Draco himself, did not tend to be neat. Crabbe, Goyle, and Zabini were all sleeping; only the left half of Blaise was on the bed. Crabbe was huddled in a ball under all the covers on his bed, and Goyle was snoring loudly.
Just as Draco was nearing his bed, he tripped over a thick book and he started falling. He tried to grab onto his bed curtains to break his fall, but he was out of reach. With a crash, Draco landed at the foot of his bed. He looked around to see if anybody had awoken, but his room-mates were still asleep. Draco sighed and sat up, leaning his back against his bed. He let his hands fall to the floor beside him and then stiffened when he realized what his right hand had fallen upon.
His mouth going dry, Draco looked down slowly. He swallowed as he picked up a yellowing newspaper that was wrinkled and creased, showing that it had been handled often. It was the paper that had come out a month earlier, the one about the family he had helped murder.
Draco looked at the paper he had become so familiar with over the past few weeks and his eyes immediately traveled to the boy's name. Aidan Grant. Draco sighed and shoved the paper back under the bed. He'd already read the article hundreds of times and had no wish to read it again.
Over the past month, Draco had been tormented by the memory of the boy, of the boy's last moments of life. No matter how hard Draco tried to get rid of the scene playing in his head, the one where Aidan fell backwards slowly into the mud, dead, he couldn't. It was as if Draco were stuck in limbo; at certain moments like this, Draco felt as he had the day he had killed Aidan. But just a few minutes earlier, he had been with Ginny Weasley and he'd actually been happy.
Well, rescuing his mother and finally doing something right should make him happy. Narcissa was safe and Draco welcomed the slight redemption it brought for him. Now he knew that he wasn't a complete failure. He could do some good in the world.
Draco just hoped that this new-found happiness wouldn't be overrun by the memory of what he had done on Christmas day.
Draco hoped his whole life wouldn't be haunted by it.
Ginny sped down the hallways towards the Gryffindor House. Her heart was pounding and she was glad that she had the Invisibility Cloak to hide herself under. She wasn't sure what she was running from, the feelings for Draco that had snuck upon her as she had walked him to his house, the fear of getting caught, or something else. All she knew is that she wanted to be hiding under the covers of her bed right at that moment.
Ginny was not to be so lucky, however. As the portrait door swung shut after she climbed into the Gryffindor common room, someone who was sitting by the fire put down a book and determinedly walked over to her. Ginny swallowed nervously and fiddled with Harry's cloak as she waited for the inquisition she knew was to come.
"Ginny," Hermione said sternly when she reached the younger girl, "where were you." Fighting off the feeling that she was being scolded by an angry mother for being out after curfew, Ginny opened her mouth to reply. Hermione interrupted her before she began. "And before you even think of saying you were in the library, which I know is where you said you were going to be and why you needed Harry's cloak, you should know that I went to the library and I know that you weren't there."
The young Gryffindor paled and stared at Hermione. She knew her friend wasn't trying to be nosy or in search of gossip; Hermione was only trying to protect Ginny and keep her from harm. However, Ginny wished at the moment that Hermione didn't care so much and would leave her alone. Ginny had already had quite a night. Battling wits with Hermione, who had no doubt been waiting up for her for hours and planning her approach and theories, would definitely not turn out in Ginny's favor right now.
"Look, Hermione, I know you asked me what I've been doing before, back around Christmas, but I can't tell you," Ginny pleaded. "Honestly, you don't have to be worried about it."
"How can you say that, Ginny!" Hermione said, worry plain on her face. "You've been sneaking out of here quite often now. Don't think I haven't noticed; I know you've left here before, always around midnight." Ginny's lip trembled. Just how much did Hermione know? Hopefully no more than she had already let on to. "Ginny, I know I'm your friend, and as a friend I should respect your decisions, but…sometimes as a friend I also have to protect you from them."
Her shoulders slumping, Ginny walked past Hermione and sat down on the couch. She put her forehead in her right hand and sat Harry's cloak on the plump red cushion beside her. Hermione took a seat in a chair across from Ginny.
"Hermione, I know you're only trying to help," Ginny said, looking up, "but please believe me when I say I can't tell you."
"Why?" Hermione asked, struggling to understand. "If there's nothing wrong, then why can't you tell me? Or Ron? Does anybody else know?"
Well, the answer to that question was yes. Quite a few people knew now, though only Draco knew the extent of their midnight excursions. Miss Reina and now Narcissa Malfoy knew of Draco's and Ginny's acquaintance.
"Yes," Ginny answered hesitantly. "Others know."
"But – I – who?" Hermione asked, her face a muddle of confusion. Ginny's sad eyes gave Hermione her answer. The Head Girl sighed. "I just don't see why I can't know about this," she shook her head.
"Hermione, trust me, if there was anything wrong with what I'm doing, you'd be the first person I'd come to," Ginny said truthfully. "I mean, you're like my sister; I'd never keep anything from you that you should know. But this isn't really dangerous and there's…nothing wrong with it."
Ginny turned away, sighing. What she said was only partly true. She had already been proven that it was dangerous, and she wasn't entirely sure what she and Draco were doing was right, at least when it came to the creature down under the tunnel, and helping rescue the wife of a Death Eater, while courageous and morally justifiable, was probably not very smart. In fact, if Lucius ever learned of where Narcissa was, Ginny would be in more trouble than she cared to think about. And Merlin, if her parents ever found out what she was up to…
Hermione was looking at Ginny sadly. Seeing her expression, Ginny said, "Hermione, if I could tell you, I would. It's just that…I don't know," Ginny sighed. "I suppose it would ruin everything."
"But Ginny, you can't just keep sneaking around," Hermione said. "I mean, I know I'm your friend and all, but it is against the rules."
"So put me in detention!" Ginny said, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "Do your Head Girl thing; I don't care. Just…I don't know," Ginny said, closing her eyes. Hermione was silent. When Ginny looked at her friend, she saw tears in Hermione's eyes.
"Oh, Hermione," Ginny started, suddenly realizing how incredibly rude she had just been, "I'm sorry!" Her eyes widened. "I – I don't know what came over me."
"No, it's alright, Ginny," Hermione sniffed, standing up. "I-I'll just go do my…my 'Head Girl thing'."
Ginny opened her mouth to protest but before she could say anything, Hermione rushed up the girls' staircase. Ginny's anger boiled at her own stupidity. What made her say that to Hermione? Her friend was only trying to make sure Ginny was alright. And what did she do? Push her away, insult her. Ginny stared at the couch. She had a strong, sudden desire to grab the fluffy red pillow sitting next to her and rip the stuffing out of it. She knew that it would accomplish nothing except to satisfy her anger, but still she fought hard to control herself.
Instead of ripping out the stuffing, however, Ginny simply knocked the pillow off the couch, grabbed Harry's cloak, and desolately walked up to her room.
That same night, miles away, tucked within the attic of an old house that was rotting in certain places, a man sat slumped over his desk, fidgeting with his latest invention. The silver contraption whizzed around his hand in circles. It whistled a few times and started vibrating. Then the invention suddenly stopped, hovered weakly in the air a moment longer, and then fell with a clatter to the wood floor. Sighing, the man brushed it aside with his foot, adding it to the pile of other failed products in the corner.
The room he was in was simple, in his opinion. There was a small cot in the corner, next to the pile he had just added another failed invention to, and on the opposite wall was the desk he sat in. Taking up the other two walls and almost all of the free space on the floor were metal tables that held various tubes, cauldrons, potion ingredients, books, and many different half-finished products, some of which were emitting puffs of colored smoke. One cauldron in particular had a bright purple substance in it that bubbled on occasion.
The man sitting at the desk stood and stretched, trying hard not to yawn. He desperately wanted to sleep, but Carl would be reporting soon; sleep would have to wait. Lately, Carl had been seeing more action than normal. Just recently there had been some disturbing news from Carl, whom had been so dubbed soon after being created.
Only a few days ago, Carl had caught one of the trespassers, the girl this time, down in his tunnel. Carl had chained her just at the end of the tunnel, but when they had returned, the girl was gone. He couldn't be really mad at Carl, who had tried, but still, he was disappointed that they hadn't been able to question her.
Just then, the door opened and in walked Carl. His eyes were green, a good sign. There must be no bad reports.
"What is the news this time, Carl?" the man asked with a sigh.
Nothing new.
"That's what I thought," came the reply, as the man sat back down. His eyes narrowed as he looked at the desk. "You've know idea how she got away, then?"
She had help, I think. The boy must've come after her and gotten her while I came for you.
"An unfortunate problem, yes, but one that was probably unavoidable," he replied. Frowning, he looked up at Carl. "Do you know who they are or how they know about the tunnel?"
They are students from the school; that is all I know.
"What do they look like?"
The girl has bright red hair and brown eyes. The boy has blonde hair and grey eyes.
The man's head shot up, interested. "Blonde hair and grey eyes, you say?"
Yes.
"There aren't many students with grey eyes. This will help. Yes," he drew out the last word in a whisper, standing up and pacing the room, all thoughts of sleep gone with this new bit of information. "You've done well, Carl, very well." Suddenly he stopped, turning to look at Carl who was still standing in the doorway.
"What House are they in?"
Carl said nothing.
The man frowned. "I mean, were they wearing the Hogwarts robes?"
Yes.
"What crest was on them? Did you see a crest? There are four of them. One with a lion, one with a badger, one with an eagle, and one with a snake."
I didn't notice.
The man sighed angrily and turned away again. "That is unfortunate. But again, not your fault, Carl. Next time, if there is a next time, be sure to get a good look at each of them."
I will.
They were silent for a while. Then Carl spoke again.
What of the boy we have?
The man sighed. "He's not working like I had hoped. The first two boys were of no good, too young, I think. Now that we have an older one, there's still not much change. It's a little better, but not much." He frowned. "Carl, I've just had an idea." When Carl offered no comment, the man continued. "Perhaps we've been going about this all the wrong way. Maybe instead of a boy, what we need is a girl."
Maybe.
"I think that is the way we need to go. Yes, I'll start making the necessary plans."
Then we'll be returning the boy?
"What? No," the man shook his head, brought out his thoughts by Carl. "No, we'll keep him. He may still be of some use to us. Besides, I'd hate to modify his memory. The other two I had no problem with, but this boy's thoughts are incredible. Did you know that his parents were tortured into insanity? It's fascinating," the man repeated, shaking his head in wonder. "No, there's still more I wish to know from him before we do it."
For a little while longer, as Carl stood by obediently, the man sat at his desk and made more plans. Just as the clock struck midnight, he looked up. A new thought struck him concerning the two intruders they had been having a problem with. He bit his lip in concern. Scratching his head, he looked up.
"Carl, how did those two students find out about us?"
I don't know.
"Well they must be getting down here using my key, the one we thought we'd lost," the man said. "It's just a good thing I made two." He looked up with a sudden grin. "We'd be in a real mess if I hadn't, huh?"
Carl only blinked.
On Monday morning, Ginny got up extra early. Even though she was ready to go down for breakfast, she waited in the common room. She wanted to wait up for Hermione and try to apologize for the other night. Ginny still couldn't believe what had made her talk the way she had to Hermione; it must've been because she was tired and confused about Draco, but still, Ginny had never gone off on her friend like that.
Yesterday, Ginny had tried talking to Hermione, but the latter kept avoiding Ginny. Ginny and Hermione had never had a real fight; they had disagreed over things many times, but the two girls were very close. Whenever Ron got annoyed with Ginny and tried shooing her away, Hermione was always the one to stick up for her, which usually ended up in a fight between Ron and Hermione. But no matter how hard Ginny tried to talk to Hermione, Hermione would never answer back. Ginny had ended up going to her room in frustration and working on a Herbology essay Professor Sprout had given them.
Ginny stood up when she saw Lavendar coming down the stairs. "Hey, Lavendar, is Hermione coming down soon?"
"She already left," Lavendar said. "She was walking out the door right when I was getting out of the shower. Why?" she asked, but Ginny was already heading out of the common room, her bag of books slung over her shoulder.
Ginny knew straight where to go. Whenever Hermione was mad at Ron, she went to the library to study her anger off. Ginny hoped that Hermione wasn't as mad at her as she usually got at Ron, but there was no telling.
When Ginny reached the library, she searched up and down the isles but they were empty. Madame Pince stared suspiciously after Ginny as she left; normally the only person in the library this early was Hermione, if even her, so Ginny could understand the librarian's attitude; but still, Ginny couldn't help but be annoyed. What was so wrong if she actually did want to go to the library that early?
The next place Ginny checked was the Great Hall. Sure enough, Hermione was sitting with her nose in a book, absentmindedly nibbling on a piece of toast. Ginny sat down on Hermione's right and Hermione looked up. When she saw it was Ginny, she started reading again without a word.
"Look, Hermione, I'm sorry," Ginny said sincerely. "I didn't mean what I said. I don't even know why I said it, honestly! I was just all high-strung because I was tired and stuff."
Hermione didn't say anything and Ginny sighed. She grabbed a plate and without really caring, put a piece of sausage on it. She set the plate down and thought about how to make Hermione forgive her.
"Hermione, I'm sorry," Ginny repeated, her voice a little higher than normal. "You can't stay mad at me forever. I mean, I said I was sorry!"
"Sorry for what?" her brother Ron asked as he took a seat on Hermione' left. Ginny looked up and saw Harry sit down next to her.
"Uh, nothing…" Ginny said uncomfortably. She didn't think Hermione would tell Harry and Ron about Ginny sneaking out no matter how mad Hermione was at her, but Ginny couldn't continue trying to apologize in front of the two boys. Come to think of it, Ginny didn't quite know why Harry was sitting next to her. That simple action would have just a few months ago caused Ginny to blush and stammer, but now, Ginny simply didn't even care.
For about ten minutes, the four of them ate in silence, with the occasional talk between Harry and Ron. During a lull, Ginny reached into her bag.
"Hey, Harry, I have your cloak," she said, handing the Invisibility Cloak to Harry, who pocketed it with a nod.
"Thanks," he said. "Did you get much studying done last night with it?"
"Yeah, lots," Ginny said. Hermione looked up pointedly at Ginny, who looked down at her plate. Ginny hated lying, but if Ron found out that Ginny was sneaking out at night, she'd be in a load of trouble. First she'd have her brother to deal with, and then Ron would probably owl their mother, and there's no telling what Molly Weasley would do. Then what Ginny was actually doing would eventually come out and their wrath would be so great that Ginny would probably never see daylight again.
Abruptly Hermione stood up and started walking out of the Great Hall.
"Where are you going?" Harry asked.
"I have an Arithmancy class to get to," Hermione called over her shoulder. Harry frowned and glanced back and forth between Ginny and Hermione.
"You two aren't fighting are you?" Harry asked.
Ginny shook her head. "No," she said, trying to sound convincing. Harry was still looking suspicious and Ginny decided now would be a good time for her to leave too.
"Well, I have class as well," she said, standing up. "So…yeah. I have to go."
Ginny quickly walked out of the Great Hall. She could hear Harry asking Ron "what all that was about" but all she heard from Ron's answer was something about "crazy females."
"Hey, Draco!" Draco turned around in the hallway, looking for whoever was calling his name. "Draco!" Draco cringed as he recognized the simpering voice of Pansy Parkinson. With his eyes searching through the crowd, he saw Pansy heading straight towards him, waving an envelope in the air. He was already a few minutes late for his Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson. He sighed. This had better not take too long.
"There you are, Draco," Pansy said, fluttering her eyelashes. "I've been looking for you everywhere."
"I'll bet you have," Draco muttered under his breath, but the girl didn't hear him."
"I have a letter for you," Pansy said in a sing-song voice, ending with her lips puckered towards him in an attempt at seduction.
"Who from?" Draco asked, not bothering to hide his annoyance.
"Professor Dumbledore," Pansy answered innocently. Draco reached for the letter but the girl held it behind her, out of reach. Pansy tsked. "Uh-uh," she said as if scolding a child. "I'll need a kiss before I give you the letter." She closed her eyes and pursed her lips for Draco expectantly.
Two young Hufflepuff boys stopped near them. One, a boy with blonde hair, pointed at Pansy. "Ha-ha," the boy laughed, "that girl's acting like my Auntie Josephine." Then the boy doubled over in laugher.
As they both walked away, the other boy said, "Didn't your mum say over the summer that your Aunt Josephine was a sacred woman?"
"No! She said she was a scarlet woman, John!" Then both boys started cackling with laughter. They looked over their shoulders and saw Pansy still waiting for a kiss and Draco watching them with an open mouth and they scurried away, still snickering.
That's it, thought Draco with disgust. I've seriously got to lose this girl.
Then, without a word at Pansy, Draco grabbed the letter out of her hand and stalked off. He heard the girl's indignant huff of annoyance but he was already busy opening his letter.
Dear Draco,
Please come to my office during your free period after lunch. The password is 'Ice Mice.'
Sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
Frowning, Draco folded the letter and put it in his pocket. He had no idea what it could be about. As far as he could tell, he hadn't done anything wrong. For a quick moment, he thought that perhaps the Headmaster knew of Draco's saving his mother and wanted to talk to him about it, but Draco pushed that ridiculous thought out of his mind, though uncertainty was still in his eyes. No, Dumbledore couldn't possibly know about that. It must be something else.
Well, Draco thought, I'll just have to wait until after lunch to find out.
That afternoon right after lunch, Draco left his friends and walked towards Professor Dumbledore's office. More than a few students stared at him when he stopped in front of the stone gargoyles, and Draco whispered the password so that nobody else would hear. He was glad when the gargoyles closed after him, shutting out the prying eyes.
When he reached the Headmaster's door, Draco knocked.
"Come in," came Dumbledore's voice, and Draco walked in. Professor Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk and he motioned for Draco to take a seat on the opposite side. Draco sat, anxiously wondering what Dumbledore might want. Some of the paintings on the wall muttered to each other when they saw Draco, and he heard his father mentioned with distaste.
"Would you like anything? Tea? Pumpkin juice?" Dumbledore asked with his wand ready to produce anything that Draco might ask for. Draco shook his head, hoping that Dumbledore didn't call him up here to offer him refreshments.
Seeing that Draco didn't need anything, Professor Dumbledore asked, "How are you?"
Draco shrugged. "Alright, I guess."
"And at home? I trust everything with your parents is fine?"
Draco swallowed and looked at his Headmaster. He couldn't possibly know, could he? "Yeah," Draco answered. "It's great."
"I see," Dumbledore sighed, folding his hands under his chin. "Well, Draco, I have asked you a question before and so far you have avoided giving me a real answer. If I ask it again, will you tell me your answer?"
Draco remained silent, staring at Dumbledore. He knew what the Headmaster was going to ask, and now Draco wished he were anywhere else.
"What is your greatest fear?" asked Dumbledore, intently looking at Draco. The boy's eyebrows creased in a mixture of annoyance and confusion.
"Why do you keep asking me this?" Draco countered.
Dumbledore sighed and sat forward. After a pause, he said, "A few months ago, I gave Professor Trelawney a set of questions for every student taking her class. She was to instruct the students to answer them and that the answers would then help determine another set of questions for each student. One of your first questions was 'What are you most afraid of?' but your answer was simply 'I don't fear anything.'" Dumbledore paused and looked hard at Draco. "I would like your answer. Everybody fears something," he finished quietly.
"Well I don't," Draco said, trying to hide his uncertainty. His answer, Draco knew, was completely false. There was plenty he feared, but as a Malfoy, he wasn't allowed to show any. He couldn't let Dumbledore even begin to suspect the depth of Draco's fear.
"What is your greatest fear, Draco Malfoy?" Professor Dumbledore asked once again.
"You already know my answer," Draco said. "Sir," he added, never breaking eye contact with the Headmaster.
Before Dumbledore could ask him anything else, Draco stood. He walked to the door and opened it. Draco looked back once to see if Professor Dumbledore was going to say something, but the man was merely staring back sadly at him.
Draco hoped that the turmoil in his eyes wasn't visible to Albus Dumbledore as he walked out of the Headmaster's office.
"Tulson!" Draco shouted, pulling his broom to a stop up in the air. "Pass the Quaffle to Zabini already! If you lot want to start winning games, you've got to play as a team!" Draco shook his head in frustration. So far, their Quidditch practice that night hadn't been going very well. All three of the Chasers hadn't been passing the Quaffle as they should, and their Keeper Warren Quinn hadn't even managed to block half of the shots the Chasers took at the goal posts. Also, Crabbe and Goyle hadn't done well with keeping the Bludgers trained on the Chasers either; Alan Howry had even grabbed Goyle's bat and threatened to hit him over the head with it, causing Draco to fly towards them and start yelling again. And to top it all off, it was raining.
The fact that it was raining this early in February was surprising everybody, but the temperature had started to rise over the last few days. The rain was turning the snow that remained on the ground into a slushy nightmare and everybody's spirits were low. The rain was cold and though it fell lightly, everybody was soaked within a few minutes.
"You're one to talk, Malfoy," Aidan Tulson retorted, flying towards Draco. "At least we've been playing Quidditch. You abandoned us! We're in last place because of you. Who are you to lecture us on being a team?"
"Because," Draco said, his fists balling in anger, "I'm the captain. I know I let you all down but now I'm here to turn this team around."
Tulson looked around and saw Crabbe and Goyle idly pretending to swordfight with their clubs, Zabini and Howry watching them with interest, and Quinn flying around in small circles near the goalposts, bored. Tulson turned back to Draco. "What team," he scoffed. He shook his head at Draco and started descending.
"Tulson!" Draco shouted after him, but the boy didn't stop. "Get back here!" Draco stared after him, anger coursing through him. A part of him understood where Tulson was coming from. Draco had abandoned the team right after Christmas, but now he was back. Draco wanted to help and he wanted to win.
"Team!" Draco shouted again, turning his broom around. "Over here!" He waited as the five other players flew over to him. They waited expectantly for whatever Draco had to say. "Practice is over for the night," Draco said exhaustedly. He thought he should probably say more, something to lift their spirits, but he couldn't think of anything.
As they started flying towards the ground, Draco called out. "Wait!" he said. They stopped and Draco flew down to them. He blinked the water out of his eyes and sighed. "I'm sorry," he said. The rest of the team was quiet so Draco continued. "I'm sorry I left you. I- I was just…I couldn't…" Draco sighed again. How was he to explain to them? What reason was he supposed to give for his absence? Just about all of them had parents who were Death Eaters and they knew how Lord Voldemort favored Lucius; that was one reason why they feared Draco so much. That, and the fact that many thought Draco was a Death Eater himself. Though their fear sometimes played to Draco's advantage, he didn't want anybody to be afraid of him because they thought him a Death Eater.
"Look," he continued, "I messed up. But I won't be doing it again. Now if we can get the team back in shape, or," he added as he watched Aidan Tulson walk off the field, "back together, we still have a shot. We're probably too far behind to actually win the Cup this year," he admitted grudgingly, "and I take the blame for that one. But four of us are leaving the team this year. Do we really want to be remembered as the team that finished last?" Crabbe shook his head heavily and Blaise listened on with a hard look on his face, but the rest of the team said and did nothing. "Our next game is against Gryffindor." A wry smile worked its way onto Draco's face and a small laugh escaped his lips. "Gryffindor," he repeated with a shake of his head. "We all know how much we like to beat them."
"Yeah," Blaise said, grinning suddenly. The rest of the team relaxed a bit on their brooms.
"We can still beat them," Draco said. "We can beat them all. I know you have it in you. But all I need is for you guys to forgive me. If we can't even talk to each other, there's no way in hell we're going to be able to win the next game, or the game after that, or the game after that. We'll keep losing. And I think we've all had enough of that."
"You got that right," mumbled Warren Quinn.
Draco grinned. "So what say you?" he asked. He brushed his hair out of his face and waited anxiously for the team's answer.
After a slight pause, Alan Howry, the youngest on the team, spoke up. "I say we get this show on the road and beat those bloody Gryffindors!"
"Yeah!" shouted Goyle, pumping his Beater's club in the air.
"We'll beat 'em all!" Crabbe added.
"We'll beat them so bad, they'll wonder how they ever beat us in the past," Quinn said with a laugh.
Draco watched the rest of the team with a grin on his face. "Good," he said quietly. He didn't think anybody heard them; they were all loudly starting to make their way off the field. Blaise flew up beside him. For a few moments they both watched the rest of the team in silence. Then Blaise spoke up.
"Looks like we got our captain back," he said.
"Yeah," Draco replied. "Looks like you did." They both descended.
"Good," said Blaise as both boys got off their brooms and started walking off the field and into the changing room. "Because I was starting to think that I'd have to take your place," he finished lightly.
"You wish, Zabini," Draco laughed. "I'm irreplaceable."
"Sure you are," Blaise said, rolling his eyes."
"And what's that supposed to mean?" Draco asked, pretending to be offended.
"Oh, nothing," Blaise let out his breath, feigning innocence. He shrugged his shoulders, becoming serious again. "Hey, listen, I'll talk to Tulson. He's not planning on leaving the team. I know how much he loves it. It's just…" Blaise trailed off with a sigh. "I mean, you know his father's a Death Eater. I don't think things are going so great at his home, with his family and all. And then he's in danger of failing Transfiguration, so he's down about that. Things are just hard for him right now." Blaise looked at Draco. "I reckon they are for all of us nowadays."
"Yeah," Draco added quietly. "I suppose they are." He sat down on one of the benches and pulled out his regular clothes.
"I'll see you later," Blaise said, putting his broom away and walking out of the room, still in his Quidditch robes.
"See you," Draco said. He looked around the empty room with a sigh. Blaise had it right when he said times were tough. Draco wished that all he had to worry about was Quidditch and if he'd graduate from Hogwarts, but right now, those seemed trivial. He wondered if he'd even live to graduate. Some part of him told him that things were teetering on the edge of normalcy and that at any moment, the world as he knew it was going to crash about his shoulders. It was only a matter of time until his father came looking for Draco, and whether his mother would stay hidden forever was debatable. Then there was the whole matter of things with Voldemort. As soon as school was out, Draco would either be forced into becoming a Death Eater or he'd be killed. Maybe both.
Blaise definitely had it right when he said it was hard.
Draco was just about to open the door and step out into the rain when the door burst open and in stepped Lucius Malfoy. Draco jumped back, reaching for his wand. Instead of attacking Draco, though, Lucius shook the water off his head and stepped forward. He looked preoccupied, as if he didn't even realize his son was standing just in front of him.
Then Lucius turned and looked at Draco. The man's long hair, normally clean and kept, was all rough and knot-filled as if it hadn't been brushed in days. Draco kept his hand on his wand. He knew exactly what Lucius was here for; Draco had been prepared for this. His father had finally discovered that Narcissa was missing and now he was here to question Draco, perhaps even force him to find her. Draco knew he'd never give away his mother's location, but he was apprehensive about how far Lucius would go to obtain the information.
"Hello Father," Draco said warily. "What brings you here?" Best to act indifferent to it all, mused Draco.
Lucius looked at Draco, his mouth working furiously. He appeared as if he was ashamed to be coming to Draco. The boy wondered then just how long his father had been searching for Narcissa, and he felt a moment's bit of glory at how he had fooled Lucius.
"It seems," began Lucius carefully, "that your mother is gone."
"Gone?" Draco asked, raising his eyebrows. "When?"
"Sunday," Lucius replied bitterly. "She disappeared Sunday."
"Maybe she went to the summer home in Cornwall. It wouldn't be the first time she's gone there in winter," suggested Draco.
"She's not there," said Lucius roughly, looking intently at the ground. He ran his hands through his hair and frowned. "She's not there…"
"Well," Draco said, "perhaps she – uh…" Draco shrugged. "I don't know."
"Don't give me that, boy," Lucius suddenly said viciously. He walked up to Draco, who stood his ground even though he wanted to back away. "I know you know where she is."
"Father, I haven't the –"
"No!" screeched Lucius. Draco blinked at the bit of spittle that flew in his face. "No, no, no, no," Lucius laughed, his eyes wide. "Don't give me that. You were trying to sneak her out during Christmas; I know you were. You're the one who's got her. You're the one who's hiding her."
"And why would I want her?" asked Draco, letting his anger show. "What is she to me? She's never been a mother to me." Draco looked pointedly at his father. "She's never taken care of me. She's never wanted me. She's never loved me." Father and son were silent as they stared at each other, no more than three feet separating them. "So tell me, Father," Draco said, taking a step towards the man, "why would I take her from you?"
Lucius didn't answer him. Draco saw his mouth twitch, but he doubted it was in amusement. Lucius cleared his throat. "You know and I know that you are no match for me," Lucius said almost lazily. "Do not think that you can keep anything from me. And I mean anything. If I wish to know something from you, I will find it."
"There's nothing to find," Draco said. His father's eyes narrowed as he studied his son.
"If I find," said Lucius dangerously, "that you had anything to do with Narcissa's disappearance –and believe me, I have no reason to believe you didn't have anything to do with it– then you'll wish you were never born, boy."
"I'm not a boy," Draco said angrily.
"And what are you?" laughed Lucius. "A man?" he asked, roughly pushing Draco backwards. "You think you're a man, Draco? No, you are and always will be a boy. You are too immature to be anything else. Remember that."
Lucius then turned around and swiftly walked back out into the rain. Draco watched his father's abrupt leave with a thumping heart. He had no doubt that his father was lying when he said he'd find out what Draco knew. Lucius wouldn't hesitate to use Veritaserum on him. If he did, not only Draco was in deep trouble, but so would a bunch of other people.
For one, his mother would be dragged back to Malfoy Manor and if she wasn't killed point-blank, she'd be locked up for good. Then there was Reina, whom Lucius wouldn't hesitate to kill for sheltering Narcissa.
And then there was Ginny. Draco's heart jumped into his throat when he thought of what Lucius would do when he found out how much Ginny Weasley had been helping Draco. She'd be dead before she knew what was happening.
Draco sat down and put his head in his hands. No matter what Lucius did, Draco would always have to live in fear of the ones he cared for. That was why over the years, Draco made sure to never get too close to anybody. It would save them for becoming Lucius's targets, and it would also save Draco from feeling too bad if anything happened to them.
But Draco knew that if Reina was harmed because she helped Draco, he didn't know what he'd do. He knew that if his mother or Ginny were killed, he'd never be able to forgive himself. In the past five months, he had let people into his life and into his heart. He was responsible for what happened to them. He cared about them now.
Draco blinked. The blunt realization that he did care for Ginny finally hit Draco. He loved his mother. Deep down, Draco knew that he always did. Now he knew that she loved him back, and he was ecstatic about that. But Ginny was a different story. He was supposed to hate her, and she him. Draco couldn't bring himself to do that anymore. Instead, he found himself caught up in her life, wondering about her during the day, and thinking about her, wishing he could see her.
Earlier, thoughts like that would've had Draco punching himself and shivering in horror, but now Draco just blinked. His face hardened as his thoughts were drawn back to Lucius. The man would stop at nothing to find Narcissa. He would destroy as many lives as possible to find her, and those lives would belong to Draco, Ginny, Reina, and anybody else who got in Lucius's way.
Draco couldn't let it happen. He couldn't let Lucius use Veritaserum or any other means to find out where Narcissa was. But what could Draco do to stop it? Only one option presented itself to Draco and it didn't lift his spirits any. The only thing he could think to do was to erase his memory starting at the beginning of the year. He'd have to tell Ginny and she'd probably try to figure out a different way, but it's what Draco knew he had to do. If his memory was erased and reconstructed, it'd be like he had never befriended Ginny, never met Reina, and never rescued his mother. That way when Lucius slipped Draco some Veritaserum –and Draco had no doubt that that was what his father would do– there was no way that Draco could give away any information.
Draco sighed. He wished there was another way, but deep down he knew this was the only one. His eyes started to fill with tears but he blinked them away. He would never get the chance to get to know his mother better. He'd go to say goodbye, but that would be it. Narcissa Malfoy would never see her son grow up or be happy.
And Draco would never get to see if his friendship with Ginny would evolve into anything more. He laughed bitterly. Even if he were able to keep his memory, there was no way he could be anything more than friends with Ginny. If his father were to learn of it, Ginny would be dead anyway. Hell, Draco thought, being just friends with Ginny is still too dangerous.
Draco felt a well of anger boil up inside him, but it died away just as soon as it came, replaced now by a satisfied feeling. If he did this, then maybe he'd right some of the wrong he'd done by killing Aidan Grant. Even if he didn't know it in the future, he'd have fixed some of the damage he'd created. At least he'd be able to save the ones he cared about.
Because that's what love did.
And that's what Draco would do.
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A/N: Just so you know, I'm not very happy with this chapter. I definitely don't count it as one of my best, though I kind of like the scene between Draco and his Quidditch team. And I apologize for the typos that are probably in this chapter. I'm pretty sick right now and have been spending most of my time writing, (which may be part of the reason that this chapter isn't as good as past ones, because I wrote it when I'm sick) but because I amsick, I didn't do so well proof-reading it. So please forgive me for that. And you know what I'm sure would make me feel better? You got it…reviews.
Lauren
