3 – Lessons

"Mother! This is not negotiable. You have to go!" Draco yanked on his own shirt collar, popping the top button off and loosening the tie clinging to his neck. There was a cool October breeze blowing through the Manor garden, but sweat ran down his face as he shouted at Narcissa's back.

She spun on the garden path to face him.

"Silencio!" She kept her wand raised at him, but he stepped back, mute and shocked. "Now – you will listen to me." Her voice was low and even. "I know that I could run, I could probably hide from him for a while, but what good would that do? We know now that you and your father can't run. As long as you have your Dark Marks he can always summon you, always pull you to where he is. The two of you are my whole world. How long do you think it would be until he found me and presented me with a box of your body parts? You know you'd both be dead as soon as I left."

Draco didn't argue. Of course, he'd been silenced, but he knew she was right. Narcissa's face softened. She went to him and reached up to take his face in her hands.

"You must turn me in. It's the only way that any of us can survive. I knew when I went to them that my own life was forfeit. All I've ever wanted was your happiness, and therefore, the Dark Lord has to be stopped."

He opened his mouth, then remembered her curse. With a flick of her wand she released him.

"You haven't done that to me for years," he said.

"I'm sorry. But you have to understand . . . ."

"I do." He closed his eyes, trying to block the pain of his thoughts. "Don't you see? He's ruined everything. There'll be no happy life for me." He looked like an old man, tired and resigned.

"I'd think so too, except . . . I know that you and your father put no stock in divination, but do you remember the gypsy seer I told you about?"

"The one who told you before I was born that I'd be blond, in Slytherin and love quidditch? Mother, none of that was exactly hard to predict."

"That's not actually what she said. Your father and I didn't want to burden you with her prophecy, but now you need to know. I haven't forgotten a word. She put her hands on my pregnant stomach and said, 'I see a boy - a strong and handsome boy. He will approach the Chosen One, but suffer rejection."

Draco's head jerked up. He'd never told his parents about Potter's rebuff.

"The Chosen One will always take the snitch from him, until he finds what he truly seeks. He will be chosen himself for a crime he will not commit. The Elder Wand will be his, but he will not wield it. He will give you a grandchild you shall never see – Scorpius Nicodemus Malfoy - and the line will survive."

Narcissa sat down on the cement garden bench, and gestured for Draco to join her. He did as he tried to absorb her incredible words.

"What is all of that? The Elder Wand? I thought that was just a story."

"I have no idea. Haven't some of those words already proven true?"

"Yes, but . . . it doesn't make any sense. You can't give up your life based on a riddle like that."

"It's not like we have any other choice. But her words give me hope that there's a way through this that we don't see. Now, let's get back to work. We have at most a couple of weeks before he can't be stalled any longer. You're making progress with the wandless spells. At least you have 'Accio' and that's the most important one. You can do things with portkeys that go far beyond my skills. But I want to show you one more thing. Try Convulsio on me again."

"Alright, but what good is causing convulsions anyway? How can that help against the dark spells the others use?"

"You won't like it. Have you been working on your non-verbal spells?"

"Yes, I'm getting much more consistent."

"Show me."

Draco flicked his wand at a nearby cherub statue and ropes appeared binding it, then disappeared.

"Good. Then have you practiced doing non-verbal spells while saying a different spell?"

He nodded and they both stood up. He pointed his wand at a topiary bush and said "Silencio" while causing the bush to levitate for a moment before he set it back down.

"Good. Now I need you to hit me with Convulsio while saying 'Crucio.'"

Draco's eyes widened with realization. "No, Mother. I won't."

"You know what he's going to make you do. This way I'll feel no pain."

"But Mother, what do I do when he says that I have to . . . ?"

"Don't worry about that part. I have a plan. You have to trust me. You do trust me, don't you?"

"You're the only one I trust." He closed his eyes as the thought of losing her hit him again. There was one thing he had to ask her, one thing he couldn't understand. "How can you forgive me so easily for what I've done, for how my thoughtless bragging brought this all on us?"

"There is nothing to forgive, Draco. What you did, you were doing for me. You had no way of knowing. I have more trouble forgiving myself. If I'd trusted you then none of this would have happened."

"But I played the heartless bastard so well that you couldn't . . . . "

"There's no point in regrets. None of us will ever be free as long as he lives. I always hoped that you were just playing along, that you didn't mean the things you said."

"And did."

"Yes. My greatest fear was that you were sincere, that you'd really bought into all of that nonsense. I can't help but rejoice that you are still my Draco, still your own man, not his slave."

"If hadn't been such a convincing jerk . . . ."

"I thank God that you are such an excellent actor. You have to be."

He looked over at her, staring intently into her eyes. "You still believe in God?"

"I do. That's another reason I can accept my fate. I know my death won't be the end."

"I wish I knew that." Draco turned from her and gripped his face in one hand. His head was pounding. "What will I do without you?"

"You'll find others that you can trust. I'm going to let them know that you'll be taking my place. Are you willing to do that?"

"I might as well."

"You'll be able to do much more than I could. You are already earning his trust. Once you turn me in, he'll trust you with anything. Are you okay?" She studied his face intently.

"Headache."

"Nappy!" Within seconds after she'd called a wizened house elf appeared. She was wearing a pink pillowcase, with intricate white embroidery along the bottom. Her white hair sat on top of her head in a neat bun.

"Master. Mistress." The elf bowed a greeting. She took one look at Draco, who was again holding his head in his hands and asked "Master needs a headache potion?"

"No, actually I'd like you to bring the blue bottle from the right end of the second shelf in the potions cabinet." Narcissa gestured, as she remembered where the right potion was.

"As Mistresses wishes."

Nappy disapparated, then reappeared with a cobalt blue bottle.

"The potion for Mistress."

"Thank you. And we'll take dinner on the veranda tonight."

"Yes, Mistress. The usual time?"

"Yes." Narcissa took a small glass out of one of her robe's pockets and poured a small amount of pearlescent liquid into it. "Here," she said, handing the glass to Draco. "Sit down and take this."

He sat back down on the bench and emptied the glass quickly, then raised his head, eyes closed, as he felt the potion flowing through him. His headache dissolved. All pain slipped away and his mind filled with his mother's affection.

"Better?" Narcissa asked.

"Yes," he sighed. He felt so relaxed he could hardly move. "I always feel like I could do anything when I drink that."

"I know." She stood behind him and rested her hands on his shoulders. They were both silent.

Draco gradually became aware of the twittering of chickadees in a nearby bush. He wished he could keep all thought out of his head, but it seeped back in.

"I've never learned to brew it." He opened his eyes and looked up at her, trying not to think of the many things he'd never get a chance to learn from her.

"I'm leaving you some memories. They're already at the summer cottage, in the kitchen with my potions jars. The day I learned "Amorita" is in there."

"You can't teach it to me now?" He already knew the answer to his question.

"We don't have time. By the way, there's a box in my room at the cottage. It's blood-sealed. I've left some things there for you – a list of what memories are there, our betrothal rings, some old photos, just some various heirlooms. If you have any questions about any of it, Nappy can help you."

He nodded. Nappy had been a gift from the Black family. She'd been with his mother since she was a girl.

"Some of those things might be . . . Oh – Lucius, darling! How are you?"

Draco turned to see his father coming up the walk, beaming in a way that he never had when his mind had been stable.

"Narcissa, Draco, lovely day for sitting in the gardens, isn't it?"

Draco's stomach turned. He closed his eyes. He hated his father for being so happy, for having no idea that they weren't just enjoying smelling the flowers. He had no idea what to say to him, and, as much as he loved his mother, the way she dealt with his father was just strange.

"Absolutely lovely, dear. I've always found this fountain so enchanting." She walked over and apparently gave his father a kiss. Draco wouldn't know. He was looking away.

"Draco, I was hoping to find you here." Draco had been hoping that his father wouldn't see him. Nowadays anything was possible, although luck apparently wasn't with him today. He turned slowly towards him. There was no way he could just ignore him.

"Father." He nodded his head toward him.

"I was speaking with Mr. Parkinson the other day. He was wondering why he hasn't seen more of you lately." Lucius raised his eyebrows.

"I'm sorry. I've been very busy."

"You haven't had a falling out with Miss Parkinson, have you?"

"No, Father. I just . . . ." He actually hoped that Mr. Parkinson had sent Pansy to stay with her mother in Majorca. Even if it would never work out between them, she was still his oldest friend.

"I understand. It's difficult to shift from friendship to courtship now that you're both of age. You and Miss Parkinson know each other so well. I'm sure you'll work things out."

"We'll see."

Why couldn't his father have been like this when it was real? Why did he have to be insane to finally be reasonable to talk to? Draco let out a sharp scoffing laugh at that thought.

His mother frowned at him, misinterpreting his laugh, then turned back to Lucius.

"Dinner will be on the veranda."

"Of course, I'll see you then." He gave her a quick peck on the check, and headed back down the path.

"Come Draco. We need to get you ready for what you'll have to do."

He nodded, sitting up as she walked over and sat next to him.

She put her hand over his. "The Dark Lord is so careful now. You know the Potter boy will never be able to get to him. But you - you are going to be his right hand man and from there, you'll be in the perfect position to destroy him forever."

He looked up at her. "I couldn't kill Dumbledore. What makes you think I can kill the Dark Lord?"

"The problem was that you didn't really want to kill Dumbledore. I think you feel quite differently about the Dark Lord. Am I right?"

"Absolutely, but . . . you know Aunt Bella says he can block Avada Kedavra. What if that's true?"

"We both know my sister is insane. However, even if Avada Kedavra won't work, there'll be another way. You have to study his weaknesses and you know that he has them. Your magic has always been strong, especially when you put your mind to something. Now you're growing more disciplined by the day. And you've learned so much about what's important."

"What's important to me is you. If you're gone, there's no point to it, to anything."

Narcissa put both hands behind herself and leaned back on her arms, looking at the fountain without seeing it. "I used to think that there was nothing more important in this world to me than you. But then I realized that we were all becoming enslaved by the Dark Lord. And you – the real you – I was afraid that you were becoming his pawn. And then I knew that just being alive, just surviving was not enough."

Draco was looking up at her now, as though seeing her anew, one adult to another.

"Enough about all that," she said, sitting upright again, shifting her shoulders back into her usual perfect posture. "We need to go over how you managed to find out there was a spy, then how you managed to catch me. Whatever mistakes I made, we need to make sure that you won't be making them."

"Then using an owl is out - as is prowling around the family plot in the middle of the night."

"I know. You've got to find something more secure. Is that how you knew there was a spy? Did you intercept one of my messages from Mercurius?"

"Yes, but later. After I knew someone was passing information."

She quirked her eyebrows at him in a silent question.

"You know how Greyback has his obsession with Granger, Potter's friend?"

"The muggleborn girl? Yes, I've heard."

"He's not exactly subtle. Everyone knows. That's why he's hardly ever called to go on raids. He's too . . . unpredictable, won't focus on anything but finding her. But one night - the raid at the Muggle theatre - the Dark Lord sent him with us. And I noticed . . . it was the first raid I could remember when I didn't see her. She's always one of the first ones there."

"So you thought she'd been tipped off that Greyback would be there?"

"I suspected. I set up a test. The next two raids - she was there again."

"Is she that easy to spot?"

"Yeah. All the ones I was at school with, I know them well. She's short and her wand motions are very distinctive – precise, efficient, often uses new spells. Plus she has a head-full of bushy hair, even pulled back, she's easy to spot."

His mother nodded, encouraging him to go on.

"So I asked for Greyback to come with us again, the night we attacked the docks. Sure enough, she wasn't there. Someone was letting them know."

"You're right. That was one of the things I was always to watch for. When you talk to your contact you'll need to tell them to keep her off of all of the raids. Don't tip anyone else off."

"But there'll be other things. As long as they're using my information, there'll be patterns."

"Watch for them. Make sure there are exceptions to every rule. Don't give them everything."

Draco nodded and his face hardened with resolve. "What I need to do, is find a way to kill him soon. Before anyone has time to catch me out."

"The sooner the better."

Two weeks later – it was time. As Draco walked through the torchlit halls of the Manor the light seemed to be already fading. He could already smell the ash. His breath began to quicken, but long years of habit made him notice, made him pull it back, back to normal, back to unafraid, back to calm.

Think of something else, something easy. "Nicodemus." He'd been searching for that name – first in the portraits that populated the Manor, then in the pureblood lineage books in the library. Who had time to write such books anyway? He'd been mildly surprised when the name hadn't shown up in the Parkinson line, then again when it wasn't there in the Greengrass chapter. He'd told him mother none of them would be for him, but apparently he hadn't fully believed himself. He'd gone through the whole book. The name wasn't there.

He shouldn't have been surprised. It didn't feel right. It didn't sound familiar. He was almost certain he'd never heard of anyone with that name. Maybe it was a Muggle name. He smiled at the thought. Even if his father was beyond scandalizing now, others wouldn't be. Then he caught himself and sighed. Not something he could do now, maybe in a later life.

He went into the garden, then stood in the moonlit shadows of a hedge, waiting for his mother. It was time to set their plan in motion. He'd capture her tonight, then turn her over to the Dark Lord. It had to be now. No more stalling. His mother had told him, and she was right – damn her – that he couldn't wait for the Dark Lord to summon him. He needed to go to him. Their time was up.

And they would play the whole thing out. If the house elves were questioned, even questioned by his father who they couldn't lie to, they'd say the right things. And if, no, when the Dark Lord barged into his mind there would be the right memories there, it would all be as real as possible. The emotion wouldn't be right, but the Dark Lord was never very good at reading emotion. As long as fear was there, the Dark Lord wouldn't be able to discern the exact nature of the fear.

Draco was afraid, more afraid than he'd ever been. Afraid of losing her, afraid of being alone. There had to be another way. Maybe they could fake her death? He knew now that they could fake Crucio, so there was that, but they knew the Dark Lord wouldn't let her off with just Crucio. No – she'd be executed and Draco was going to have to do it to prove that he renounced the traitor. There was no way he could. Not only he didn't want to, but he wouldn't be able to. Avada Kedavra only worked with sufficient hatred behind it. He'd managed to use it on some Muggles by concentrating on his hatred for the Dark Lord. But that only worked because he felt nothing for the Muggles. He'd killed Katie Bell during a raid, but that'd actually been an accident. He loved his mother, loved her more than anything, more than anyone. He could never kill her and then what would happen?

She kept telling him not to worry, that she had that part covered. Had she found a way to fake her own death? Or was it a way to ensure her death? She seemed untroubled by her own impending demise. Or was it just pureblood training keeping her poised to the end?

Damn her. She was so stubborn and she was right. Turning her in, exposing his own mother as a spy would make the Dark Lord trust him completely. But then – the Dark Lord was powerful. He'd have to make sure that he wouldn't fail when he got the chance to kill him. He would only get one chance and he'd have to do it all alone. His mother wouldn't be there to help him. But no matter how he moved the pieces he couldn't come up with another way.

"Draco? Are you ready?" She was here. It was time.

"No, Mother. I'll never be ready for this." Just a few more minutes when he could really talk to her, he wasn't going to waste them with lies.

"You're ready. You can do this. But . . . ."

He looked up at her. She'd been so certain. Was she having doubts too?

"There's something I need to say to you." He looked into her eyes. In this light she looked so frail, so sad, so old. "I'm sorry, Draco."

"What? No, Mother, you have nothing to . . . ."

"Shh." She put her palm against his cheek. "Listen, I am sorry. I've put you in a horrible position. I've been as bad as your father, giving you no choice, no real voice in what you have to do. I'm sorry. And if you don't want to do this, you don't have to. I'll do whatever you want to do. If you want me to run away, I will."

"We know what would happen."

"Yes."

One last time he tried to think of another way, another path to take. She was offering him an out. It wasn't much of one. He'd be killed, probably slowly, but she would live. And then he saw, that dying and physical torment, that was the easy part. Going on and living alone, that was the real torture. She didn't want to do that and he couldn't ask her to.

"It's not your fault, Mother. It's him. He's left us no good choices." He knew that she thought he was speaking of Voldemort, but in his mind he meant both of them, Voldemort, yes, but also his father. "Mother, if you run, if I die, he'll go on. They may never bring him down and all of England, maybe the whole world, will fall into darkness. If we do this, if I stay, I can kill him. There may be no happy ending for us, but at least this nightmare will end. Others will be able to live freely. We have a chance to end it. We have to do it."

"You are so brave." Of course she thought so. She was his mother. Was it brave when there were no other real choices? "I sent one last message to my contact in the Order. I told him about the new procedures we've discussed, well most of them."

Draco had to smile at the devious smirk on his mother's face. Of course, she wouldn't tell the Order that he was going to be much more careful with information now.

"When you're ready, go to the summer cottage. Everything is in order there."

He nodded, not trusting his voice. The world was about to end, his world, and she was so calm, so composed. Then she grasped his hand. She looked into his face and saw the emotion behind her eyes.

"Make me a promise." Her voice was soft but insistent.

He frowned at her. What could he promise?

"Promise me that if you find a chance to be happy, you'll take it."

"Of course I would." He knew there would be no such chance.

She shook her head. "Not of course. You don't think it will happen."

He had to smile. She knew him so well.

"Someday, there will be someone - someone you could love. Don't run away."

"No there won't, Mother. There's no one left I could love." All of the girls he'd met, all the lovely prospects he'd had, they had died or run away. Any who were still here would soon fear him, soon hate him. Even Pansy, he knew he'd never love her. She had been his friend though. Soon she wouldn't be.

"You don't know. Maybe there's someone you've never met, someone you'll find when this is all over. You don't know. But when you do, don't punish yourself. I know you. I know you'll think that you don't deserve happiness. Don't feel guilty about me. You do deserve to be happy, so promise me that you'll try."

He sighed. How could he lie to her now? What she was asking wasn't possible. He already hated himself and it was going to get worse. He was going to have to do so many horrible things.

"I'm waiting."

She was unbelievable. He looked into her eyes, her beautiful sky blue eyes. She had so much hope there. He could see her as a young girl, still happy, still hoping for a happy ending, so he did what he had to do.

"I promise."

"You know, I believe in an afterlife. I don't know what it is, but I'm going to wait for you there and I'll be watching. When he makes you do the things you'll have to do, I'll understand. When you have the chance, when the moment comes to kill him, I'll be there with you. I'll feel your triumph and when love comes, I'll be watching." She smiled. "I'll be pushing you to forgive yourself, to take the love you can find."

"You just want to see little Scorpius Nicodemus."

"And when he is born I will even forgive you for giving my dear grandson that horrible name."

He couldn't say anything. He pulled her into a hug, felt her soft hair against his cheek, and wished that he could hold this memory forever.

AN – I hope you're enjoying the story so far. I'd love some more feedback, so leave me a review. How do you like it? Any concrit? I'd love to hear from you.