/
Draco's day had been nothing short of a nightmare.
He had spent the day locked up in McGonagall's Transfiguration classroom, struggling internally— restless, anxious, and fearful, all the while under Gryffindor's Head of House's watchful, yet equally oblivious, eye.
He knew everything had gone wrong the moment the brainless half-giant had appeared in the doorway of the classroom, sputtering about a student being cursed on the Hogsmeade trip.
McGonagall had hastily dismissed him, and he ran immediately for the nearest bathroom to promptly vomit. His heart had been racing out of control, and he'd gripped either side of the ancient porcelain sink in an attempt to brace himself. He looked up into the mirror and saw his ashen, tear-streaked face staring back at him.
Pathetic.
His saving grace had been that he'd been alone, or at least, there'd been no living soul present; he'd had to banish Moaning Myrtle, which, considering the delicate emotional state of the ghost, had been thankfully simple.
But that was about all he had to be thankful for; it was only a matter of time before Voldemort learned of his failure.
At least he can't summon me from Hogwarts, Draco reasoned. But he knew his mind was not safe, even though his private Occlumency lessons with Professor Tonks were going surprisingly well— he wasn't stupid enough to believe he was a match for Voldemort's Legilimency, even at this distance.
His Occlumency lessons were about the only thing that seemed to be going well, as he continued to make no headway with the mending of the Vanishing Cabinet, and it was clear his most recent endeavor— the cursed necklace— had failed.
He'd recalled seeing the cursed opal necklace in Borgin and Burkes with his father years ago, but he'd gotten the idea after his confrontation with Granger in the shop, after he'd clasped the thin platinum necklace around her.
He'd managed to communicate to with Borgin and Greyback (who was tasked with keeping an eye on the shady shopkeep, much to Draco's dismay) to send the necklace via owl to Hogsmeade. Draco had Imperiused Rosmerta, and used the Protean coins to communicate with the barmaid; she was to collect the package, then Imperius a Hogwarts' student to deliver it to its intended target.
He'd known the plan was more than a bit convoluted, with a few too many variables, and a risky plan at that, but it had seemed the most feasible, and quickest— Voldemort's ire, and impatience, always at the forefront of his mind. Draco knew Voldemort did not exactly look kindly upon inaction.
And he'll look so kindly upon my failure.
With what shred of composure Draco had left, he smoothed his hair and straightened his robes before making his way toward the Room of Hidden Things. Knowing Theo never went on the Hogsmeade trips, Draco had just begun to vaguely wonder what his fellow Slytherin had been up to all day when Professor Snape appeared, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him into an empty classroom.
The door swung and locked resoundingly behind the professor. Draco had remembered to fear Voldemort's retribution, but somehow, he'd forgotten about Snape's.
The professor wasted no time.
"Have you lost all sense? What were you thinking? A cursed necklace— that was your best idea?"
"I don't know what the hell you're—"
"You think you can lie to me, Draco? Perhaps I should have stopped giving you any credit long ago. I will not ask again— what— were— you— thinking?" The Professor's eyes were as dark as night, his expression stony and impatient.
Draco's fear transformed suddenly into indignant rage.
"Oh, I don't know, just looking for a bit of a laugh. I was taking bets on who would get cursed— I won't even tell you how many Galleons the other students put on Potter, odds were ten to one. Seems our Dark Lord—" Draco spat out the term, "—isn't the only one who wants the speckled git dead."
"You're hopelessness has extended far beyond the realm of what I ever imagined possible," Snape drawled without a shred of humor or sarcasm.
"Don't you think I know that?!" Draco yelled.
"If you'd—"
"Why the bloody hell do you think I did it?!" Draco interrupted angrily. "I had to do something—"
"But you did not have to do something so painfully foolish. A cursed necklace? Did you even consider—"
"Of course I considered— every way it might fail. It's all I can consider—he's going to kill me, or worse—"
Mother.
For an instant, Draco saw Snape's brow furrow, but the moment was gone as quickly as it had come.
"The girl is being sent to St. Mungo's. He will know soon, and he will be angry. You must be prepared."
"The girl?" Draco questioned. "Who was it? Who was cursed?" Draco suddenly wondered if the necklace had somehow fallen into Granger's hands.
Good, he tried to convince himself, she'll be out of the way now. But the voice in his head was feeble.
"I am surprised to learn of your concern, after an act so thoughtless."
Draco glared.
"If you must know, it was Katie Bell, and she is lucky to be alive. She had a hole in her glove, and it appears only a small bit of her finger touched the necklace. If she not been transported to the castle rather quickly, and both Professor Tonks and I had been unavailable, she most certainly would have died…"
So it wasn't Granger.
Draco was't sure how he felt at the news— and now was certainly not the time to examine his feelings on the matter.
"How is your Mark coming along?"
Pitifully, Draco thought involuntarily, and, without speaking, pulled up his sleeve to reveal his left forearm. He watched as Snape's eyes narrowed.
Draco's Dark Mark was as inflamed and gnarled as ever, even purple in places where it seemed the black outline was twisting, snakelike in a desperate attempt to take hold.
"I must go to the Dark Lord."
"Don't intervene," Draco blurted. "He'll think I'm— I'm weak."
Snape gave him a long, pitying look that Draco was sure said, 'He already knows you're weak, and so do I.'
"I must attempt to assuage some of his— displeasure— with your performance… and speak to him about your Christmas holiday," Snape said dryly. "It would be unwise for him to be able to see you in person, not with your Mark so raw… and not until you've succeeded…"
Draco remained silent. The memory of the agony of Voldemort's Crucio traversed his spine, and he found he couldn't agree with Snape more.
"You continue to refuse my assistance, but I urge you to at the very least heed this advice— accept the Mark."
Draco rolled down his sleeve, doing his best not to wince at the throbbing pain, physical and otherwise.
"Perhaps the Dark Lord will allow you to remain in the castle— to give you time to— progress."
Draco hadn't even considered the holiday break. The idea of celebrating Christmas felt like a joke, and the thought of returning home— where he knew Voldemort would likely be waiting for him, where his mother's suffering only increased as his failures grew— made him feel like he was going to again be violently ill.
In painful silence, Snape gave Draco one last significant look before leaving him in the dark and silent classroom, his long cloak gliding ominously behind him.
Draco wished the blackness of the classroom would swallow him whole.
/
/
Draco sat alone in the Slytherin Common room, his ring shining even in the dim light, watching with deep curiosity as the inscription inside finally changed from 'Storeroom, 6th fl.' through various corridors until ending at last on 'Gryffindor Common Rm.'
What the hell has she been doing all night? Draco wondered.
Probably snogging Potter, his mind replied. He was sure he could taste bile; whether or not it was new or the remnants from earlier, he couldn't be sure.
And where the hell is Nott? Draco wondered, thinking his friend's simultaneous absence was at the very least highly suspicious.
He and Granger couldn't be…
Draco grimaced at the thought that perhaps there was something going on between Theo and Granger, and suddenly felt empty inside. If his heart decided to stop beating in that moment, he was sure he wouldn't care.
As if on cue, there was a commotion behind him, and Draco turned to find Professor Snape dragging Theo into the Common Room by the collar of his markedly disheveled robes.
Apparently, it was so late that Snape had had enough time to have audience with the Dark Lord and return to Hogwarts in time to complete Saturday evening patrol duty.
"Ah— of course," Snape announced joylessly upon spotting Draco. "Malfoy and Nott— it seems I've interrupted a meeting of the shame of Slytherin House—"
"Interrupting? Never! We couldn't start without you, professor— our fearless leader!" Theo announced loudly.
Snape released Theo's collar so forcefully he staggered forward, falling unceremoniously into the sofa adjacent Draco's high-backed chair.
"I would give you detention, Nott, if I could stand to see your face but for a moment longer. Muffliato—" Snape said, brandishing his wand, and Draco watched him with curiosity for using a verbal spell, let alone one he had never heard before.
Clearly noting Draco's surprise, Snape explained, "—so you two do not spread your ignorance to the rest of the students in your house. I highly suggest you learn it, and quickly. You should be unheard for about one hour, although I hardly think that will be enough time for Nott to sober himself."
Snape turned and left without another word, the stone wall re-materializing behind him.
"Why do we even have a fireplace in here?" Theo rambled. "It's always cold and damp— it's a bloody dungeon—"
"You're drunk."
"Stop trying to be my mum… she's dead. But yes, I might be— not dead, like my dead mum, but drunk. Let me check though…"
Theo pulled a bottle of Ogden's from his robes and held it up to the dim light. The bottle was nearing empty.
"Looks that way," Theo gestured in gratitude at the bottle.
"Give me that—" Draco said sharply, reaching for the bottle. Theo's reflexes being significantly impaired, Draco easily took possession of the libation.
"Where'd you get this?" Draco asked in earnest, brining the bottle to his lips, the idea of drunkenness incredibly tempting after the absolute failure of the opal necklace and his impromptu meetings with Snape.
He grimaced, but it had nothing to do with the welcome burn of firewhisky; he knew he and Theo were bound to pay for their impertinence in Snape's Defense class come Monday.
"And where were you all night?" Draco asked, taking another gulp, wincing only slightly.
Theo smiled diabolically.
"Ah, my dear fellow 'Shame of Slytherin House' club member… you have asked me two questions that may or may not have the same answer."
Draco glared at Theo through narrowed eyes, again recalling the inscription he'd seen inside his ring: 'Storeroom, 6th fl.'
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"I've been interrogated quite enough this evening! It's my turn to ask the questions… questions like, 'do you know anything about a cursed opal necklace?' And, 'did you know there was an owlry in Hogsmeade—?'"
Draco tried to employ his newly learned methods of Occlumency to hide his surprise at Theo's knowledge, but the Ogden's now coursing through his veins was already making it difficult. He vaguely wondered if he'd remembered to eat anything all day.
"—although, I don't know why I'm wasting my time asking. I already know the answer to those questions is 'yes.' You've got quite a thing for cursed jewelry, eh? You know, most girls have better taste than Parkinson, I think they'd prefer if their jewelry wasn't cursed— although… Granger does seem to like hers…"
Draco sighed. He hated to admit it, but it was becoming more and more difficult to hide from Theo, especially after his most recent failure. His desperation nagged at him.
'It doesn't hurt to have an ally.'
His mother was right. Draco took another swig from the nearly empty bottle of Ogden's before speaking.
"I've been trying to— to fix something."
Theo suddenly sat up as straight as an arrow, as if Draco's words had a sobering effect.
"A Vanishing Cabinet, to be exact… but you'll be pleased to know I'm failing miserably. Now— where were you tonight?"
Theo blinked at him in silence for a moment before leaning back into the couch, spreading his legs long and lacing his fingers behind his head, a smug expression gracing his features.
Draco rolled his eyes.
"Draco, Draco… you think you can just toss me some vague scrap of information and I'll just spill my guts?"
"You could start by telling me where you were."
"You suddenly seem to care an awful lot about my whereabouts… and I bet I know why, although it pains me to admit it. You're traveling down the road not taken, my friend, and it's a dark, tangled one."
"What—?"
"I bet you've been sitting here for the past three hours, just staring at that little ring of yours. And let me guess what it said— 'storeroom, sixth floor,' or something like that?"
Draco tried not to stare open-mouthed. So he had been with Granger.
"You haven't realized it, but you've made quite a habit of looking at that ring when you think no one's looking— and I thought your little Occlumency lessons with auntie were going well?"
Draco glared at Theo, thankful Snape had cast a silencing spell.
"You know what I think, Draco? I think you wouldn't give a dragon's tit where I was all night if you didn't think I'd been somewhere with Granger."
"So what're you saying? Are you— are you fucking her or something?"
Theo threw his hands into the air in marked exasperation.
"You can't be serious, Malfoy! You nearly killed someone today, Merlin knows exactly why, you've got a disgusting tattoo on your arm that looks more like Voldemort's vomit than his Dark Mark— which, by the way, doesn't really say 'Death Eater and proud' to me— apparently you're failing at whatever you've been trying to fix for weeks now, you've got Snape harassing you and Voldemort breathing down your neck— Sissy's life is hanging in the balance… and all you can worry about is if I'm fucking Hermione Granger?!"
"Well— are you?"
"Yes."
Draco finished the last bit of firewhiskey without a word, then, without hesitation, he unceremoniously chucked the empty bottle at the wall. Theo threw his hands up to shield his face as the glass shattered into a thousand blackened pieces.
Theo couldn't believe his eyes. Voldemort be damned— there was a new threat to his friend's survival… and her name was Hermione freaking Granger.
"Of course I'm not bloody hooking up with Granger— but you're definitely as mad as she is!"
Draco made no attempt to clean the broken shards of glass, nor to breathe.
"We're just brewing a potion for that arsehole Slughorn."
Draco stared.
"Look— Draco— I know you think she's fit and everything—"
"The Mudblood? No— I don't." In truth, Draco wasn't sure what he thought or felt about Granger.
And I sure as hell don't want to find out, he thought.
"Right," Theo said sarcastically, scrutinizing his friend, more seriously worried for Draco's well-being than he'd ever been before.
"What potion?" Draco asked.
"Excuse me?"
"What potion are you and Granger making?" Draco asked again, impatiently.
"Draught of Living Death," replied Theo without hesitation. "Slughorn's idea. We couldn't say no, what with his little club—"
Draco didn't believe him, but Theo had said it so convincingly, even in his less-than-sober state, he couldn't be sure.
"Tomorrow you'll show me the cabinet," Theo interjected, clearing the shattered bottle of Ogden's with an uncoordinated flick of his wand.
Draco neither cared nor had the energy to argue.
'It doesn't hurt to have an ally.' His mother's words were the last thing he remembered before a sudden, blinding pain split his skull in two.
/
Rage. Voldemort was enraged… with him, his failure. Draco could feel the emotion coursing through him, as if it were his own.
"I know you have failed me, Draco," Voldemort whispered icily, from inside Draco's own mind. The room was dark, but Voldemort's eyes flashed red.
"Please, My Lord— the boy, he works diligently to serve you," Draco heard his aunt Bellatrix grovel.
"Quiet, Bellatrix! Narcissa, my dear… what do you think of your only child's performance, or glaring lack thereof?"
"It seems his plan did not go as expected, My Lord, but Bellatrix is right, he fights for you, to serve you. My son will not not give up until he has succeeded."
"The words of a desperate mother, I think. You have both vouched for him, and Severus, too insists the boy is capable… but I am beginning to doubt Draco's— abilities. I do hope he doesn't take after his father."
"He will do as he is tasked, My Lord. As Severus said—he just requires time—" his mother said evenly.
"Time!" Voldemort seethed. "I have waited long enough! The time is now."
Through the vision, Draco saw with pride that his mother's resolute expression did not waver.
"How might I impress upon young Draco the urgency of his task? the seriousness of my command?"
The question was rhetorical.
"You must do as you see fit, my Lord."
Voldemort grinned maniacally.
"Sissy!" Bellatrix whispered frantically.
"Silence!"
Bellatrix cowered as his mother stood before Voldemort, undaunted.
"A mother's love," Voldemort said with disdain. "A woman's greatest weakness… Crucio."
Draco watched in horror, immobilized, unable to wake from this nightmare— this reality— Voldemort was projecting into his mind— as his mother writhed and screamed in agony upon the stone floor of her own home.
"NO!" He screamed, his lungs aching, but there was no sound.
"Do not fail me again, Draco. Next time, I will not be as forgiving. Crucio!"
"Draco—!" He heard his mother called his name…
Draco's eyes snapped open, and he jumped to his feet, wand in hand, ignoring the horrible agony in his arm, his body pulsating with a combination of rage and adrenaline and desperation. He was not a man with nothing to lose— he had to save her. He headed straight for the Common Room's exit.
"I have to go—!" Draco shouted, but Theo held him back.
"Draco— what— what happened?"
"Voldemort— he— he's torturing her!"
Theo's eyes widened in alarm, but he did not relent.
"How do you—?"
"Legilimency— or the Mark— I don't know, and I don't care— get out of my way, Nott!" Draco pushed against Theo's hold.
"There's nothing you can—"
"He's at the Manor again, Theo—" Draco felt his energy rapidly depleting. He took a step back.
Theo was better at hiding his shock this time, even as the cold grip of anger and undeniable fear chilled his spine. He sighed heavily.
"There's nothing we can do— not right now."
Draco blinked at the stone wall separating the Common Room from the dungeon hallway beyond. He wasn't sure how long he'd been on the floor paralyzed by Voldemort, but he was sure Snape's muffling spell must be wearing off by now, if it hadn't already.
He ran his hand through his hair and found his forehead was covered in sweat.
"Tomorrow— er, today," Theo said, realizing it must be nearly dawn. "The cabinet."
/
A/N: Thank you for reading!