A/N: Chapter warnings for; explicit language, depiction of injury, discussion of character death.
Next update on 22nd January, Friday.
Chapter twenty four: The Story Behind Your Story
...
"But there's a story behind everything. How a picture got on a wall. How a scar got on your face. Sometimes the stories are simple, and sometimes they are hard and heartbreaking. But behind all your stories is always your mother's story, because hers is where yours begin."
― Mitch Albom
…
Dear friend,
I am somewhat surprised by your attempts to contact me, specially regarding the whereabouts of a potion made by your own hand. Nevertheless, the name that you gave me sparked my inquiry.
I am quite certain that you are aware of the pink bitch's existence regardless of her identity. Few people, aside from our lord, are aware of the bitch's full name, but I'm sure you know that she holds a place in the ministry.
To confirm my suspicions I paid a visit to Rosier's charming cell and we 'conversed' until he gave up the name. You should be looking for a Dolores Umbridge, the minister's undersecretary. She is stationed in Hogwarts, as I'm sure you also know.
Your gift to me was quite lovely, I will be sure to make use of the locusta's horns. I know how rare they are to come by.
I hope your questions have been answered, if not, then do not write to me again, my dear.
My next mission is killing you.
Sincerely yours,
V.
He watches it burn as soon as he's finished reading, wrinkling his nose at the smell. The parchment crumples on itself and the remains fall down on his desk in a pile. Severus impassively brushes it off with a swipe of his hand.
Albus doesn't know about this correspondence, and Severus wants to keep it that way.
Innocuous as it may seem, the burned vestiges of a parchment, a wrong step in the wrong direction, even a simple tic could alert the old man, propel him into acting, high strung as he's been the last few days. Weeks.
Severus doesn't want that.
His eyes trail upwards from his worn desk and to the wall in front of him. A small circular frame gazes back at him, the black and white portrait of a man with high cheekbones and amused eyes. The hair is tied at the nape, and he is wearing a muggle suit.
It exudes smug knowledge. Severus sneers. He couldn't stomach the man even when he was alive, and now he's not particularly thrilled about sleeping in a dead man's bed.
But needs must, he knows that better than anyone, and Albus has been overly generous by offering him someone else's empty cottage.
He is not ungrateful. It's either a gruesome death, or this. And he's got his priorities straight.
The figure in the picture smirks at him, as if indulging him in an inner secret, and fixes his collar, and it's just that in a loop.
Dolores Umbridge was the pink bitch.
Of course.
It adds up, all the small dots are now connected together in his mind. She and Rosier cornered Potter and Draco, dragged them into her office and then took them to the Manor. It wasn't Rosier playing on a whim, and it wasn't Umbridge going a tad too far in serving Fudge.
He almost smacks himself for being so simple-minded. Had he paid adequate attention to Potter since the start of the year, he would have known. Would have noticed something.
It was too difficult a task for him, looking the boy in the eyes and ignoring the trauma, and now that he's been stained by Bella… it barely improved things.
Severus has always prided himself in being a level headed man.
Always discreet in his emotions, and not showing them, however much he may be harried. Constantly not letting external circumstances prick his nerves, affect his work.
He has prided himself in keeping a calm demeanour, and impassive nature.
When the breach in the wards had been followed by Potter and Draco being kidnapped, Albus had predicted that something big was coming. That the Dark Lord had been planning something. Even Severus had to admit that he had felt the undercurrents of something thrumming, before his 'betrayal', something the Dark Lord had been hiding even from him. It had made him uneasy, even though he'd known that Lord Voldemort was smart enough not to keep all his eggs in the same basket.
Perhaps Severus should have expected it, after all, Tom Riddle does have a certain flair for the dramatic, Severus thinks with a wry smile which bordered more on a grimace.
The drama that comes on whenever he's amused. And the Dark Lord's amusement almost always is fueled by smugness. Smugness means that they're missing something. Something huge.
They may have predicted something big, but they hadn't predicted four coordinated attacks of this magnitude. And if they thought Voldemort coming out to the public would work in their favour, it certainly did not.
All of Severus' meticulously perfected calm exterior had crumbled down from sheer shock. It wasn't a fast process, it didn't happen in one single blow, in one news that there had been three attacks and that Voldemort was addressing the wizarding world as a whole from the ministry.
No, the process had started very, very long ago.
Sometimes, he wonders if it started as long ago as that fateful day in his fifth year.
But right now, he only thinks as far back as the day Narcissa died.
Or Lily's demise.
Or the night he begged that bastard to spare a life in order to kill an infant and his father.
It's all a blur at times. He locks it all up.
Umbridge is going to be tricky. No one likes her. Absolutely no one. Except herself, probably. But she has, on the outside, done nothing wrong. Nothing wrong that anyone can see. Other than exist, that is.
She doesn't appear to bear the mark either. Which is the part that has been giving them the most trouble. They cannot prove a crime without evidence. The ministry is too busy mopping up the remains from the attacks and dealing with the compromised employees who had been under the Imperius Curse. No one had time to deal with Hogwarts, not with the leader of the board of governors dead.
It seemed like one blow after the other. The Dark Lord had disposed of Lucius' body by leaving it in Devon during one of the attacks, despite the body looking days older than the rest of the victims it was easily discernible from the rest, Lucius Malfoy, with his brains blown out, his son missing, and his wife presumed dead.
The only silver lining through it all has been that Potter's antidote is finally complete.
Severus had contacted his other informant last week, inquiring about the nature of his potions supply in the Dark Lord's possession. He hadn't received a reply as of yet, but he was more than sure that the poison must have come directly from those supplies.
He'd only made 'The Onyx Tear' three times since inventing it. Once a small batch for his own personal supply, currently locked in his potion closet behind the Veritaserum vials, the locks needed his blood in order to unlock and upon checking, they were still there. The second time was on the Dark Lord's request nearly sixteen years ago, and hadn't heard of it again.
The last time was four years ago upon one of his 'friend's' request. Severus was sure that the poison was used that same year and the results were successful, he got paid for it after all.
That only left the Dark Lord's supplies. Which means he had been supplying Umbridge, which further proves her involvement with the Death Eaters. Of course, Severus cannot bring that particular information under the spotlight. The poison isn't registered in the ministry, two of the ingredients have been banned from the British Isles since before Severus was born.
That was why the antidote took him this long to make, a pickled human liver wasn't exactly easy or cheap to come by.
But at last, it is finished. Severus is aware of how fast he needs to act now. He knows that the poison must have kicked in either the previous night or this morning, he just prays that it's not too late.
He packs the vials with care, in his old leather bag designed exactly for this purpose. He ties his wand holster on his wrist and swiftly slides his wand in place, and only then remembers about the Occlumency books he was supposed to give Potter.
Albus had been concerned about that as well, although this seemed to pose more of a secondary concern than a real one since Potter isn't privy to any sensitive information. Thankfully it seemed like the Order had done their jobs properly this time.
Severus picks up the books and his bag and heads for the floo. He needs to floo to the salamander's enclave and then apparate to the cottage. The floo powder sparks a deep green as Severus steps in, closes his eyes and says "Salamander's Enclave!"
Severus doesn't know what he's expecting when he enters the cottage. The Potter boy is important, not only to the Light side, Albus, to Lily, he is important to him because he was important to Lily. And for some reason, he is also important to Draco.
And about three fourth of Hogwarts.
And the boy's life depends on the antidote he is carrying, and if he is late…
Overthinking had always been one of his many faults. Despite being a master occlumens. The irony. At least he knows how to compartmentalise.
The cottage itself feels slightly removed from the air outside, too quiet. The air is stale, smelling of blood and vomit. Sweat and unwashed clothes. Sickness. Spending years as a potions masters, and living through a war, he moves through, unfazed, although his mind whirrs with possibilities.
Severus is concerned at first but he starts to grow alarmed when he can't find Potter or Draco in the living room or any of the bedrooms. He sends out a locator charm, and is ridiculously relieved to find that they're both in the bathroom. The fact that he didn't think of checking in there first shows just how tightly strung his nerves are.
What he does not expect upon entering the bathroom is to duck a vial of his own potion thrown his way.
"WHERE THE FUCK WERE YOU?"
Severus almost stumbles right back out of the bathroom at the sheer rage in Draco's voice, twisting it into something unrecognisable. He's only heard it that… distraught when Narcissa was being murdered in front of him. He almost whips his wand out, eyes darting around for signs of danger, his mind going to the possibility that the wards may be breached, which shouldn't be possible but-
Then the words register.
He doesn't have time to react further when another vial comes flying his way. He lunges away from the vial as it goes crashing sideways and out of the door, shattering somewhere in the corridor.
"Do you have any idea? ANY FUCKING IDEA ABOUT HOW SCARED I WAS?" Draco is on his knees, one hand clenched around his mother's wand, surrounded by vials of his potions.
Before Severus can take stock of anything else of the situation, the mirror on the wall explodes in a shower of sparks. Severus couldn't remember the last time Draco had reacted with accidental magic.
Discreetly, he takes out his wand, trying not to frighten Draco further. He doesn't move an inch from his position.
"HE COULD HAVE DIED!"
Severus winces but is a little relieved because that sentence means Potter is still alive, and alive means savable. He opens his mouth, "Draco-"
"NO, NO! YOU DON'T GET TO SPEAK! Do you hear me? I don't even KNOW where we are, WHAT do you think I was supposed to do? WHAT?!" This time it's the windows that explode outwards, and Severus almost flinches back. He notices the Potter boy on the floor for the first time, and only because he did flinch at the shattering of the windows.
Draco's breathing is harsh and loud in the room, and the lights are flickering, looking like they're about to go out any moment. The room smells strongly of rotting flesh, and blood.
"I would have been left alone with a fucking dead body. Living with a goddamned dead body," Draco's face twists into an ugly expression and he grabs a couple of vials off of the ground and hurls them in his direction so quickly that Severus almost isn't able to get out of the way fast enough, "Because of YOUR STUPID FUCKING POTIONS!"
"Draco, just listen-" Severus starts but then Draco points his wand at him and lets out another scream, "SHUT UP!"
Severus deflects the spell coming his way and quickly disarms the boy. He understands, he really does. But every second they waste is another second Potter slips away. They will deal with Draco's anger when Potter isn't knocking on death's door.
He regrets it, but he sends a stunning spell towards Draco before lowering him to the floor gently. He spares a glance over him to see if he is injured or not, and deeming him alright, turns his attention to Harry.
Potter is laying down on the floor beside a bathtub filled with stale smelling pink-tinged water. Surrounded by mounds of bloodied towels and a… vomit filled bucket. Grimacing a little, he sees that the vomit is bloody too. There are also broken potion vials surrounding the boy. He sincerely hopes that Draco was smart enough not to give Potter any potions in accordance with his express instructions not to.
The boy is currently twitching and jerking, his eyes moving rapidly beneath lids, and murmuring feverishly under his breath. His cheeks are flushed a bright red, but the rest of his body looks ashen.
Taking Potter's hand by the wrist elicits a loud cry, loud enough to make Severus think for a moment that Potter has awoken. He carefully unwraps the soaked through, hastily wrapped looking bandages, and has to wrinkle his nose at what he finds underneath.
It… doesn't look good. He's seen a lot of gruesome things in his lifetime as a potions master, and as a Death Eater. But Potter's hand really doesn't look good. He glances back at Draco, still lying on the cold bathroom floor, his face lined with tension even in unconsciousness, and his mouth tightens in sympathy.
Harry's hand has swollen to twice its size, purple, and red. The blood poisoning lines are extending from his now barely visible cuts to above his wrist, and are bleeding instead of the cuts, raised and pulsing.
What could possibly cause it to accelerate this rapidly? It baffles Severus. The wound was variably stable when he left it. He stashes the thought away for later.
The boy's barely breathing and he's too cold. Which means he's moved past the fever stage. Which means they have very very little time.
He doesn't have time to move him to a more comfortable spot. Taking out his knife, he carefully makes a series of very small, shallow cuts over the black veins extending on Potter's hand. Dark blood starts oozing out of his hand at an alarming speed, as expected. Severus uncorks his vial of the antidote and opens the boy's mouth. Making him drink half of the bottle takes no effort and he starts massaging his throat to make him swallow.
To his credit, Potter only sputters and coughs a little before he drinks it. The swelling has gone down a little with the intentional blood letting, along with the poison, but Severus can't risk too much or he might start drawing out blood instead of poison. He vanishes the mess in the bathtub and the bucket, before filling the bathtub again, this time with hot water. He has to start getting the boy's temperature up.
Levitating Potter into it, he sets him down gently and angles his head out of it. Putting in a spell to keep his head above the water, he starts towards Draco, lips pursed.
There's a lot to be done.
Draco's heartbeat is in his throat.
His eyes are wide open and he can hear shuffling far away, everything else is muffled, and the couch's afghan is pulled over him.
He scrambles out of the couch with lightning speed, even though he's tangled up with the afghan and runs to the kitchen, Severus has his back to him, calmly fiddling with the kettle Draco had washed out last night.
The kettle Harry adores because of the bee patterns.
The thought of Harry jostles him into action again, Draco turns, wrapped up like a homeless wizard and all, and scans the first floor with his heartbeat still pounding in his ears.
He's not here. Two possibilities. Either he's dead or he's upstairs.
The thought of the first weakens his knees into noodles, so he grapples onto the second hunch and runs to the stairs. He almost trips and breaks his fucking neck twice in his haste.
Their room is closer than the bathroom so he checks it first, and as he sees Harry on the bed all the adrenaline rushes out of his body in a blur. He slowly approaches the bed and sinks down by the edge.
"Fuck," he breathes, and then resumes staring at Harry's face. A lot less flushed, cleaned by his godfather obviously. Even his clothes have been changed, his hand laid in a bulk of clean, pristine bandages. Draco has never been relieved by such a sight in his life.
The relief he feels is so overwhelming that he can tell his eyes are glazing, and his heart slowing down. Without quite thinking about what he's doing, Draco runs a shaking hand through Harry's hair, and of course, they're soft and messy as always.
Draco might be overstepping a boundary but he doesn't care, the adrenaline crash is acute enough that even as he leans down and quickly grazes Harry's forehead, nothing feels wrong or illicit. Just relieving.
His lips linger on the warm skin, and he exhales. "Okay," he tells them both.
"It's going to be okay."
"Why don't you join me?" he says without looking up from his cup, his ears straining as Draco shuffles into the kitchen, his clothes rumpled and his hair blood-tinged and unkempt. Unusual for him.
He doesn't answer.
"This has been overdue, Draco." Severus sighs, "We need to talk."
"About what?"
"Your mother." Draco doesn't flinch, only twitches a little, and Severus doesn't know if that's a good sign or not. "She would have wanted you to know this." Truth is, Severus isn't sure what Narcissa would have wanted for Draco in this situation, they didn't have any contingency plans for this. They should have, they did, but not about the emotional aspect of it all.
"Harry was dying," Draco says instead. Severus frowns. He knows for a fact that Draco just came down after checking up on Potter.
"He's fine now. Resting upstairs, I have vitals on him. We need to talk about you now."
There's a pause where Draco stares at him.
"Alright," Draco pushes away the teacup Severus had pushed in his direction, making the tea slosh a little, "Talk away."
"I'm sorry she had to be taken from you-" Severus holds up a hand when Draco opens his mouth, cutting off whatever he'd been about to say, "Let me finish, Draco."
When he's sure Draco is going to listen, he continues, "I'm sorry, but she… your parents were aware of the risks. Your mother in particular. Her death didn't just come about out of nowhere," he clears his throat, "She knew how it might end long ago."
"What are you saying?" Draco finally looks up from where he's picking splinters at the table.
"I work for Dumbledore, in case you haven't figured it out for yourself. I…" he clears his throat again, feeling rather silly afterwards, but then shakes his head and continues, "I had to repent for my former sins in a way, and gathering information for the other side kept my conscience… clearer." Severus keeps steady eye contact with Draco as he continues, "Your mother felt the same way when she had you."
"Severus," Draco says, his fingers frozen where he's about to pick off another piece of splinter from the table with his nails. Severus barely holds in a grimace.
Severus cannot hear him over the sound of his own thoughts. "She and Lucius were ecstatic. They never realized they would have children at that age, your mother had a few pregnancy scares before you-"
"Severus."
"-health concerns that Lucius was willing to live with." He knows he started this conversation, but he wants to end it as soon as possible. Draco has already suffered enough. Both his parents dead in such a short span of time, and now to find out half of your life was a lie?
"Severus."
"But then you came along." He's sort of rambling now, but best to get it over with, "It changed everything-"
"SEVERUS!" Draco shouts, his eyes blaze a molten silver as he slams his hand rather forcefully on the table.
"What?!" Severus shoots Draco an irritated look before noting the expression on his face.
"You were a spy?" he asks.
"Yes, yes I am." Severus frowns. Is that all Draco took away from everything he'd been speaking? Did Draco truly not know this whole time? "That's what I was trying to say. Why do you think I rescued you?"
Draco shrugs, looking away for the first time, "Sudden spike in paternal love?"
Severus snorts, "I have been working for him for a long time," he waves a hand dismissively, "Although now my cover has been blown. I wasn't the only one."
"I don't understand," Draco says softly, and meets his eyes again. He does, though. Draco is smarter than that. Severus sighs. Time to drop the bombshell then.
"Your mother was also a colleague of mine. An operative agent, she worked under the codename 'Argent'-"
"Silver," Draco's voice sounds a little strangled, and Severus considers stopping. But this conversation has been long due, and Draco may be a Slytherin, he may not be the textbook, foolish, stupid, 'Gryffindor' definition of 'brave', but he's not, by any means, weak.
"Her favourite colour, yes. The colour of your father's eyes," And yours, he doesn't add, "She was an informant, more heavily involved these past few years than she was when you were a child. She knew of the risks, but she also knew that she needed to keep you safe." The lengths a mother would go to save her child really shouldn't surprise Severus any more, but it never fails to amaze him.
Draco wets his lips. "Did father…"
"Your parents had a very strange dynamic, Draco." Severus cuts in, "Lucius knew things that he needed to know, Narcissa knew things that she needed to. Whatever they did, they did to protect you,"
"They're dead now… I…" Draco is looking a little dazed, as if he hasn't really comprehended the full implications of what Severus is saying, and perhaps that is the only reason he isn't reacting more strongly.
"She was very adamant that you be safe, under all circumstances. They had many measures in place. She didn't expect to be exposed by her own sister," Severus did. He expected a lot of things, usually the worst. Although the last few weeks had still come as a nasty surprise to him.
"Bella, she…" Draco makes a strangled noise, "How could she?"
"I'm sorry, Draco. I don't think your father knew before Bella did, but they had divulged safety measures with me, shortly after Cissa suspected… Lucius knew then. You know your father wasn't a very emotional man."
He does, Severus can see the bitterness seep out of the boy by the way his lip curls down, the same way Narcissa's did. "My father detested sentiment," he says.
Severus tries his hardest to keep any shred of pity out of his eyes. He doesn't need Draco to think he's being pitied. He knows that Lucius and Narcissa weren't the most expressive couple, but Draco must have known how much they cared for each other. "Your father loved her more than anything else in this world. I could see how this destroyed him." Severus silently mourns the man he once knew as a friend. "But he had to think of you first,"
Draco's eyes narrow, his face hardens. "Was he a fucking spy too?" He snarls.
"No." Severus takes a sip of his cold tea.
"Was anything they ever said to me the truth?"
"They loved you," Severus says steadily. It's not exactly supposed to help, it's just a reason. For everything.
"Well," Draco slams his hands on the table, and his own forgotten cup rattles precariously before settling, "Love won't bring them back!"
"She wanted you to know, Draco," he says and it's the most half true, white lie, dragon dung that he has ever spoken aloud.
They did have a plan. Always had a plan because of course, a Slytherin without a plan wasn't worth dead or alive. Severus has nearly every key, to every single ward around the Malfoy properties for contingencies.
He doesn't have the key to his own godson's mind. She never told him how to tell Draco. She just assumed that he will.
The most important thing in her life was her son and husband, nothing else counted.
"Her loss was a great one indeed," he continues before he can dwell, "A lot of people relied on her."
"How could she be so selfish?" Draco's nails scrape against the table as he grips at it, his face twisting, "How could she… I'm her son! I deserved her more! She just threw her life away, for a bunch of mudblood lovers-"
Severus' fingers curl a little in his lap as he cuts Draco off, "She sacrificed herself because she wanted you to live in a better world."
Draco knocks his cup away, sending it hurling into the air. "I don't want to live in a better world!" he yells as the cup cracks, "I wanted to live with my fucking family!"
Severus scowls. "If that's what you truly believe then why are you so attached to Potter? He's the cause of all of this, you know-"
Draco's eyes widen. He wasn't expecting Severus to do that. Severus takes grim satisfaction in watching Draco sputter, "He isn't-"
He is. In Severus' mind, he always will be, because it was easier to blame an infant for the death of his best friend, and because his existence was what put her in danger in the first place.
It feels less pathetic to be petty in the privacy of his own mind.
"He is. And you know it," he grits out. "You are not a stupid boy, we have raised you right, use your intellectual skills for one single moment, assert your logic, look past those pesky feelings you have regarding the boy, and answer me; is he not the cause of this war?"
A small voice murmurs in his head, 'Who relayed the prophecy to the Dark Lord?' He doesn't know if the voice sounds more like Lily or Albus. He knows it's an argument he'd never win if Draco knew all the points. He knows he's cheating, but Slytherins aren't known to play fair, Slytherins are known to win.
Draco just looks at him for a bit before leaning back into his chair. "You're a bastard."
Severus' eyebrow flick upwards. "You're not refuting me."
Draco is thinking, Severus sees the mental process, of his eyes narrowing, his brows furrowing, Severus knows that look, he also has a kindling of what the boy is about to say.
"If we're going to play the blame game, you're picking the wrong player,'' The blonde starts with a grim smirk," Harry cannot be responsible for a madman's actions. Riddle is who started this, he's the one who's responsible for this war. Every bit of it. Harry is innocent." He says with absolute conviction. He might as well have said, "The sky is blue,".
"Then why do you think your mother had any choice in order to do what she did? We have responsibilities, Draco. She knew hers. Harry Potter knows his. Everyone is supposed to be here for a reason."
"What's mine?" Draco gives a bitter laugh, slightly hysterical, sounding a little too close to a sob, "War victim?"
"Choose yours," Severus says flatly, "Everyone would be a war victim otherwise, everyone is a war victim, don't let them pick a role out for you. I didn't let them, your mother didn't, even your father had the sense not to do so. I know what goes in your head, Draco." He lowers his voice just so, before continuing, "You'd forgotten that I helped raise you too. I know you think that being mad at them for getting you involved is the easiest route. But is it the logical one?"
"Fuck logic." He says with the resentment so out of tune with his face.
It was the Malfoy gene, Severus supposes. They're not meant to express pain.
"You cannot," Severus shrugs, "You have to pick a side instead," he looks at Draco from his head to chest, notes the small details, the bloodstains, the hard crinkle around his eyes, his rumpled clothes. "I don't think you'll need to think too hard about it either. Judging by your physical state." It pains him, saying this. Pains him to see how attached Draco's gotten to Potter already, and to what lengths he goes in order to save his life, "I'm going to say you already made that choice."
"I can't pick a side in this war." But Severus can hear it in his voice, and it contradicts what he says.
He lets his gaze wander upwards to the ceiling, where Potter is resting in the bedroom. "I think you already have."
A/N: As always, thanks a bunch to our wonderful, one-of-a-kind beta, Amar! He always makes our chapters so much better, and making us write our best. He's one of our most invested readers and we love him! XD