Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I do own the 14 journals I have to write sometime before Thursday because I have been procrastinating rather badly. Ooops.
Dbi626:
Thanks for the review, and yes, Bill is seeing the true evilness of
Death Eaters, which might be why he is about to react the way he does
in the chapter…
QuinkyDink:
Mmm, I love weekends too, and no, not Ginny, I really don't think I
could kill her off…anyways, thanks for the review and compliments!
Chicklepea:
I have been known as confusing before, so it's alright, and I'm
glad that the fire on the pitch was original, because it's so hard
to find new ways to attack Hogwarts because it's all been done
before, lol
Gremlin:
You're def. on the right track, Bill is seriously messed up having
to watch all of that, and so that must be taken into consideration
when you see how he acts in this chapter, so don't hate him too
much
--------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 20
Rule number seventeen: Trust no one.
Draco hadn't expected to see Bill in class. He had thought that the Professor would have been sitting at the bedside of his siblings, but then he had spotted the code on the board and he knew what had happened. Bill had been called and it was obvious that he was not doing well. There were dark circles under his red-rimmed eyes and his face was practically grey. He lacked energy in that class, becoming easily distracted and losing his train of thought.
No one held it against him as his two younger siblings were in a horrific accident, but Draco knew that wasn't the whole story. The code read 'R regained H from Nagini', meaning that Voldemort had just doubled his power by restoring a part of his soul.
Draco didn't know exactly how the restoration had been accomplished because no books in the school actually covered that topic, but he could make an educational guess. If the splitting of his soul meant that Voldemort had to murder, it probably meant that someone had to willingly die for Voldemort to reunite that piece of the soul within him. While a Death Eater probably would commit ritual suicide for Voldemort, Draco figured it had been an innocent.
He lingered after class, not really expecting Bill to stay for their after-school class session, but wondering if he should make sure the Professor was okay.
"Well, shut the door," said Bill irritably to him. "We do this every Thursday; surely you know the routine by now."
Draco shut the door, not bothered by the Professor's tone of voice. He'd seen Dark Rituals before and they weren't pretty, plus the Weasel and Weaselette were in the infirmary and while he never had a sibling injured before, he knew that losing one was painful, and no doubt Bill was worried. Besides, Narcissa was usually short-tempered with him and even Lucius, on occasion, could be extremely curt so it wasn't a new experience.
"You okay?" Draco asked hesitantly as Bill plopped the notes onto the table and tried to focus on the runes.
Bill inhaled deeply and let it out slowly, finally looking up at Draco.
"I'm sorry," he said. "It's been a rough day."
"And night from the looks of it," said Draco, walking over to the board and erasing the code that Bill had accidentally left on the board. Bill groaned and put his head down on the table. Draco figured he probably shouldn't ask, but he was curious, especially when it came to things that he couldn't find in any book, so he asked.
"How did the Horcrux get rejoined to the Dark Lord?"
There was silence after he spoke, and Draco began regretting his words, but Bill looked up at him.
"You can figure it out," he said. "If he had to murder to tear his soul into pieces, what do you think happened?"
"Someone had to willingly die for him so that the part of his soul would reunite with him," said Draco.
Bill snorted. "Define 'willingly'," he said, a cynical note coming into his voice. "They had to do a ritual too, one that was full of chanting. I couldn't quite catch what they were saying though." Bill returned to the notes, his jaw clenching and unclenching.
Draco joined him at the table and began flipping through pages, glancing up at Bill every now and then, figuring that he should say something reassuring, but not knowing how as comfort wasn't really his forte, genius or not.
"How uh, how are they doing?" he asked awkwardly, and then wincing as Bill's eyes, which were staring vacantly at the wall, darkened. Wrong thing to say, he told himself silently.
"Ron's got burn salve all over him and a broken leg and Ginny may not regain full use of her left hand," said Bill, his tone dark and that was slightly frightening because Draco had never heard him talk so.
"I'm sorry," he said, even more awkwardly.
Bill's fist clenched. "Damned Death Eaters," he muttered, and although Draco couldn't quite catch the rest, it sounded like 'kill the sons-of-bitches'.
Draco didn't respond and the silence became strained. He was thankful when the express owl came, tapping at the window with its beak. He practically jumped from his chair and went to answer the window, glad of the excuse to do something. He took the letter and the owl flew off. Draco turned the envelope over, surprised to see the return address on the front and his father's name marked as the sender. Why on earth would his father, escaped convict and on the run from the Ministry, include a return address? The answer came to him like a cold draft sending dread up his spine.
"What is it?" asked Bill, no doubt concerned at the silence. "Is it from the surgeon?"
Bill obviously thought it was a letter bearing bad news from the operation the Weaselette was undergoing, so he spoke up.
"It's for me," he said. "It's from Lucius."
"What?" asked Bill, and Draco couldn't quite read his Professor's tone of voice.
Draco opened the letter and scanned it. "He's been pardoned," he said. "The Ministry has dropped charges and has allowed him to return home."
"What."
It wasn't a question this time and this time Draco could pick up on the emotion in Bill's voice. It was cold fury.
"He's been pardoned," said Draco again, his own voice shifting a degree cooler at Bill's tone.
"Unbelievable," said Bill, his expression one of disbelief and shock. "Absolutely unbelievable." His expression grew harder, angry. "Those fools let the murdering bastard go! What else did he write?"
Draco's jaw tightened at that. "None of your damn business," he said with a spark of anger in his inflection. He sat back down, but Bill took the opportunity to snatch the letter from his hand.
"Give that back!" Draco demanded, jumping to his feet, but Bill was already scanning the contents, stopping as he reached the end of the letter. He stared up at Draco.
"'When you join me'?" he asked. "What does that mean 'when you join me'?" His voice was cold and disapproving and slightly incredulous. Draco bristled at that.
"It means that he wants me to be a Death Eater," he said obviously. "What do you think it means?"
He tried to reach over the table for it, but Bill stepped back.
"Well, what did you tell him?" he asked. "Are you going to go join Voldemort's little posse?"
"I don't know," said Draco. "Give me the letter."
"Don't know?" exclaimed Bill. "Do you want to be a murderer and a rapist and a torturer like Lucius?"
"Drop it, Bill," said Draco. Yes, he had memories of seeing his father murder, but he also had memories of Lucius holding him tightly as his body was racked with seizures as he went through withdrawal. Lucius was the only one, besides his brother, who had shown him kindness in his life and he didn't know how he could reconcile those contrasting views of his father; he doubted he ever would, and so he did everything possible not to think on it or mention it.
"No," said Bill. "You're supposed to be a genius. Shouldn't you know better than to believe in genocide?"
"Bill, stop," said Draco, his voice going frigid.
"I mean, what sort of father wants his son to be a Death Eater?" Bill asked, not heeding Draco's words. "What sort of father is a cold-blooded killer?"
Draco's self-restraint snapped. "Well at least my father can afford to feed his family," he spat. "And maybe it's a good thing if your brother and sister kick the bucket, because then at least the rest of you might have more to eat!" It was a low blow, he knew it, but he had never been one to pull his punches.
"You do not have the right to talk about them like that," said Bill hotly. "The only thing they are guilty of killing is spiders, can you say that about Lucius?"
"Shut up about him!" Draco shouted.
"Or what?" Bill asked. "Are you going to go blab about me to Voldemort?"
"Don't tempt me," said Draco, keeping his face completely composed so that Bill wouldn't read the lie in his eyes. There was no way he would ever turn him in.
"I'd like to see you try," said Bill, "because if I'm not mistaken, you're in Hogwarts, and Hogwarts is Dumbledore's territory."
"Like they can stop me?" asked Draco, scoffing at the notion.
"I think they could," said Bill. "Dumbledore's fought Voldemort before; I honestly doubt you could give him that much trouble."
"Yeah, but Potter's beat the Dark Lord as well, what does that say about him?"
"If he's so weak, why are you following him?"
"I'm not following him!"
"You don't know if you are," corrected Bill. "You're still deciding." His tone was mocking.
"Just because you decided to follow the old fool of a Headmaster in a snap, doesn't mean that others of us are stupid enough to do the same."
"The only stupid decision is to follow Voldemort," said Bill. "You know that!"
"Well maybe there are other factors to consider," said Draco, anger making his voice go harsher as he revealed his indecision, which wasn't something he did easily. "It's not just some cut and dried, black and white decision to be made, but you wouldn't know, would you? You've grown up your entire life believing one thing, well I haven't!"
"Oh, poor you," said Bill. "Getting everything you wanted in life but trying to pull the sympathy card. Get over yourself."
The words stung. Draco found that he was angrier at the fact that Bill's words actually hurt, than he was angry at the words themselves. He had trusted Bill not to bring up the subject of his father, he had trusted that Bill wouldn't press him to decide on the Voldemort issue, and he had trusted that Bill would never mock out his upbringing. He hated it when people tried to draw conclusions from his childhood.
If Draco had merely been angry at Bill, he would have internalized the emotion, bottling it up inside as he glared and stormed away, but he was also angry at himself, angry for feeling hurt at Bill's words, and so he struck back.
"Me?" asked Draco. "Look at you. This nice guy, befriending the enemy and all, but as soon as something bad happens you turn on everyone. Guess what Bill? I didn't do any of that so just shut the hell up and go cry over your sister."
Draco saw Bill flinch at the mentioning of his sister, and so went in for the kill, relishing in the fact that he could hurt his Professor like Bill had hurt him.
"Maybe if you were taking better care of her, she wouldn't be there right now, half-dead in the hospital. It was only dumb luck she isn't dead right now."
Bill visibly blanched and Draco was disgusted to find that he felt a prick of guilt at the teacher's reaction.
"Don't blame this on me," said Bill, recovering from the harsh words. "Blame it on your damn father and the rest of the mask-wearing bastards."
"Yes, the entire Death Eater regime was able to sneak past the wards and set the fire," said Draco sarcastically. "That's how it happened. You're a top notch spy, aren't you, Bill? It's no wonder your little siblings are in the hospital."
"If I were a top-notch spy I would have taken you straight to the Order and turned you over to Moody. I doubt you'd be as sarcastic with him."
Draco disregarded Bill's statement at first and opened his mouth to retort, but stopped when he caught sight of Bill's murderous glare. Bill was serious. The one person who knew his secret, the one person Draco actually allowed himself to trust did not only shout at him and insult him, but wanted to turn him in.
"You know," said Bill, pretending to be musing to himself. "That's not a half-bad idea. What do you say Draco? Shall we find out if you had anything to do with the fire on the field? Or maybe we can figure out a way to incriminate that 'father' of yours!"
Draco felt as if he had just taken a bludger to the gut and he actually took a step back. There was a horrible gasping feeling in his stomach and his mind seemed to be overwhelmed with a rush of disbelief, shock, and betrayal, but the next instant, he slammed the door shut, locking away the feelings and turning to Bill, his mind clear and his eyes completely frozen over.
"I'd like to see you try," he sneered. He grabbed his bag and stalked out of the room, breaking into a run as soon as he rounded the corner.
He pounded blindly down the halls, his breathing much more ragged than it should have been from a simple sprint. His mind was still spinning and he just made it to the dead tree by the lake before he collapsed on the cold ground.
He vaguely noted that although it was freezing outside, the snow had melted from a rainstorm earlier that week and now all that was left was a few random white piles by the lake or underneath the few pine trees. It looked like it was going to rain again, which was why there was no one else outside, and he gazed up at the grey clouds breathing in deep breaths through his nose and letting them slowly out through his mouth where his breath formed clouds of their own before dissipating in the sharp wind.
Once he felt his body calm, he replayed the scene from the Ancient Runes classroom in his head, remembering every word that was said and drawing one conclusion.
He was an idiot. A friggin', class A idiot. Rule number eleven in his code: Never get blindsided by kindness. Never. He had broken his own rule. The rule he had laid down to survive this god-forsaken mess of a war. The rule set up to protect him.
Hadn't he learned his lesson? Hadn't he seen what affection and trust could do to someone? Draco had seen the secret looks Lucius sent Narcissa's way when he thought he wasn't being watched, looks of longing, was that how Draco was going to turn out? Always searching for friendship and never finding it? He should have kept to his original plan: never having friends or people to care about so he wouldn't know what he was missing.
He pulled his knees up to his chin and encircled his legs with his arms, only allowing himself the comfort of that position because no one was there to see it. He had been stupid. He had allowed himself to open up and now he was paying the price, it was only fitting.
But why had he allowed himself to reveal so much? He had gone his entire Hogwarts career without needing anyone, so what had happened to him? Yes, he was confused and had no one to talk to about getting the Dark Mark, but that was no excuse because it had always been that way.
He knew why he had opened up. Bill reminded him of his brother. Not only that, but Bill had been different. He had looked past Draco's flaws and ignored the fact that his father was a Death Eater and that he was a Slytherin and the arch-nemesis of Potter, or he had until today that is, which just went to show that no one could really be that nice, that it is impossible for a Malfoy and a Weasley to get along, and that Draco had been right all along to distance himself from everyone. If they didn't die, they found another way to hurt you.
Draco sighed, feeling much more alone than he had ever felt in his life. Or maybe because he knew what companionship felt like, it was even harder to go back.
His throat felt funny suddenly, and it stung when he tried to swallow. His breathing came in gasps and his body shook, but his eyes remained dry. He rocked back and forth, trying to get rid of that tight feeling in the back of his throat, but it wouldn't go away. A raindrop splattered the ground, then another and another until a steady stream of water was falling from the sky, running down his face like the tears that he would never cry.
Rule number seventeen: Trust no one.
He stayed outside until his body had passed the stage of shivering and his limbs had gone numb. He stumbled to his dorm room, changing into dry clothes and crawling underneath his covers, but even then, he still felt cold.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Bill did not feel guilty for making the kid run. He was generally a good-natured person, but no one touched his family, and no one said anything about Ginny in front of him. Ginny was his baby sister and after she had been born, Bill had been the one to care for her because Mrs. Weasley had been so ill and Mr. Weasley was swamped trying to care for his wife and work. Yes, Bill had practically raised his sister, and he was fiercely protective.
There was also the fact that he had just seen Lucius Malfoy kill a girl Ginny's age his son was wondering how the ritual was performed and talking about joining and degrading his family, so no, Bill didn't feel guilty when the kid had taken a step back as if Bill had just hit him, and he didn't feel guilty when the kid finally ran off.
He was angry. So angry that he didn't go up to visit Ginny after the surgery, but went straight to his room where he collapsed on the bed and, without meaning to, fell asleep, and this time he didn't dream.
He slept straight through dinner and the rest of the night as well, finally waking up when he felt a hand on his shoulder shake him gently.
"Bill?"
He froze; he knew that voice. He opened his eyes to see Fleur leaning over him with a welcoming smile but concern in her eyes.
"Fleur, what are you doing here?" he asked, sitting up and trying to bring his mind into focus.
"Well, then," said Fleur with a teasing smile, "I suppose I could just leave." She went to get up, but he reached out and stopped her.
"No," he said. "I'm glad you're here, just what, why are you here?"
"Your mother told me what happened," she said. "So I decided to come see how you were doing."
Bill grinned at her, and gave a gentle tug on her hand so that she smiled and snuggled up next to him on the bed.
"So, how are you?" she asked.
"I'm doing better now," he said, kissing the top of her head. "I think I was just overtired."
"Well you should be rested now," said Fleur. "It's almost noon."
"What?" Bill exclaimed, starting to jump up, but Fleur stopped him.
"Your class for today is cancelled," she said. "Dumbledore thought it would be best to give you a day off."
Bill relaxed back onto the bed. "I should get him a very large thank you card," he said.
"You should still get up though," said Fleur. "The surgeon's coming in to see how well the surgery went on Ginny's hand."
"Ginny!" Bill gasped. "I haven't seen her since yesterday morning. How is she? And how's Ron?"
Fleur laughed as she watched him scramble around trying to find clean clothes and running into the adjoining bathroom to change.
"Ron will be released tomorrow," she called through the shut door. "And he'll only have a slight scar on his arm. Ginny, besides the hand, is awake and lucid."
"Tomorrow?" Bill asked, coming out while still buttoning his scarlet shirt.
"Yes," said Fleur, smiling at him and then coming over to re-do his buttons as he had missed one, setting the whole shirt askew. "There."
"What would I do without you?" Bill asked.
"Besides walking around with your shirt half-buttoned?" asked Fleur. "Oh, I doubt anything too terrible. Let's go."
She grabbed his hand and they headed off for the infirmary.
The entire Weasley family was there, even Percy. Bill immediately sought out Charlie as the family huddled around the curtain that separated them from the surgeon and Ginny.
"What's going on?" he whispered.
"The Doc's checking her hand to see how it's healing from the surgery and then giving her strength tests to see how much function she has left," Charlie whispered back. "But we don't know anything yet."
Bill nodded and then looked around at the red-headed family who were all holding hands or conversing in whispers. There were a few exceptions on the hair color, as Fleur was blond, and Harry and Hermione, who were waiting anxiously as well, had darker hair.
The curtain was whisked open and then shut again though Bill got a glimpse of red-hair on the bed when the surgeon exited.
"Well," the doctor began, "I have some good news and some even better news. The surgery was a complete success and it turns out that her tendon was not severed as we thought but merely nicked. Right now the only loss of function in her hand is due to the fact that she was in surgery yesterday. She will make a complete and full recovery."
The infirmary burst into cheers and the surgeon allowed them to see Ginny, who although looked a little pale, was still grinning madly, especially when Harry approached her awkwardly and told her that he was extremely glad she was feeling better. Because two of their members were unable to leave the hospital wing, Ron was still confined to the bed as well, Fred and George went out and brought back a hamper full of food from the Three Broomsticks and they held an impromptu party.
The family had to leave later that afternoon, including Fleur, but Bill walked them all down to Hogsmeade and then he went back up to the castle for supper. It was there that he spotted a certain blond Slytherin.
He hadn't forgotten about Draco, the knowledge of their fight had always been on the back of his mind, but actually seeing him made him consciously remember the Ancient Runes session.
Bill watched Draco as he sat with the teachers at the Head Table. At first, he thought that Draco was completely unaffected by the row, he was eating and talking with his friends, but then Bill caught onto the inconsistencies. The food on Draco's plate never made it to his mouth, though he was doing an excellent job of rearranging it, and although he was conversing with a few other Slytherins, his lips were locked into their sneer.
Bill felt the smallest twinges of guilt, but he brushed it off. Right then he couldn't deal with Draco on top of everything else that was going on.
Saturday, however, he came face to face with the Slytherin. He had gone down to the infirmary to see Ron released, but Pomfrey had let him out early so Bill visited with Ginny for a while. He was heading towards the library to see if the collection had Smith's works on the Roman dialect so he wouldn't have to order it when he heard his brother's voice.
"Well, you look like a drowned ferret, Malfoy. What happened? Decided to take a jump in the lake?"
Bill remembered what had happened last time Ron and Draco had a confrontation, and there was no way he was letting Ron get hurt again, and so he hurriedly rounded the corner, ducking behind a pillar to see Ron, Harry, and Hermione in the hall with Draco glaring coldly at the lot of them, though the fear that Draco usually inspired was somewhat dampened from the fact that he was soaking wet and forming quite a large puddle on the floor. It was raining rather heavily outside. He had obviously just come in from training Orion because his riding gloves were in his hands, though his school robes were on and clinging to his thin frame. That was not what made Bill concerned.
Draco looked pale, paler than normal that is, and there were circles under his eyes like he hadn't slept well the past few nights, and seeing as he was an insomniac, that probably meant he hadn't slept at all. His eyes were completely clouded over and icy with no trace of emotion whatsoever. It was frightening.
"Well, if it isn't Weasel," Draco said softly, his smirk changing into a menacing leer. Bill pulled out his wand, ready to step in if need be, though why he was hiding in the first place wasn't quite clear to him.
"I hear you have a scar now," Draco continued. "Congratulations, you have always wanted to be just like Potter, haven't you?"
"You're the one that's jealous of him!" Ron shot back.
"Jealous?" Draco scoffed lightly, his eyes glinting in a way that reminded Bill of Voldemort, which meant that whatever Draco was going to say would be more than cruel.
"Yes, jealous," said Hermione, jumping in as well to get back at the boy who insulted her for so long. "He's better than you in Quidditch, he's more powerful than you'll ever be, and people like him. Admit it Malfoy, you're nothing more than a spoiled, arrogant snot who's mad with jealousy!"
"Please," said Draco, disdain dripping from every word. "Who would be jealous of the boy who sent his own godfather to his death?"
Harry pulled his wand out of his pocket with a speed that impressed Bill; Draco didn't even flinch.
"Take it back, Malfoy!" Harry shouted, his wand pointed unwaveringly at the Slytherin.
"Why?" asked Draco. "Does the truth really hurt? Funny, I thought it was just a saying."
"Go to hell, Malfoy!" Harry snapped.
"Completely unoriginal, Potter," said Draco, shaking his head as if disappointed. "But then again, so is the story of your life, constantly surviving through one impossible situation after another, it's getting quite predictable. How about you break the trend, do us all a favor, and die in the next one."
He brushed past them, but stopped when Harry spoke up.
"It's about as unoriginal as your father escaping Azkaban. Why don't you do us a favor and have him kissed already?"
Draco's eyes flickered once and his hand slipped inside his pocket, no doubt grasping his wand but he did not draw it.
"Wasn't your godfather going to be kissed, Potter? Perhaps you killed him out of mercy, awfully nice of you, Potter."
Harry shouted out a spell, but he wasn't the only one. Ron as well called out a hex and Bill watched as the flashes of light streak towards Draco. The blond whirled around, his wand drawn. Bill noticed two flicks of the wand, one following right after the other in an incredible display of speed and deadly precision. The two flicks meant two spells though the Slytherin did not speak. The hexes sent at him dissipated in a rush of noise and, almost simultaneously, the three Gryffindors were picked up and thrown backwards by a shockwave of wind.
"What is the meaning of this!" demanded a sharp voice. "Mr. Malfoy put your wand away this instant and explain yourself!"
McGonagall came into view, pounding down the hall with the most terribly stern expression on her face.
"I was walking away," said Draco, anger and malice giving his words a strained feel. "Potter and Weasley drew on me and I protected myself."
He glared at the three Gryffindors who were getting up with outraged expressions on their faces then turned back to McGonagall.
"If you need proof, ask Professor Weasley behind the pillar. He's been there the entire time."
With that Draco strode down the hall, passing Bill. Bill made sure to stare at him as the kid passed, knowing that Draco wouldn't be able to prevent himself from risking a glance in his direction, so when Draco finally looked his way, he was forced to look him in the eye.
The grey eyes were clouded over in anger, and Bill had no doubt that if looks could kill, he would be dead that instant. Draco averted his gaze, and Bill watched as Draco swallowed, his jaw clenching while his body was super-tensed, causing his hand to tremble as his fingers attempted to tap out their usual pattern. Bill stared after him after the boy had rounded the corner. For a moment there, those eyes had reflected pain. It had been more than pain though; there was betrayal, hurt, and Bill knew from the blundered 1-3-2-4 pattern, there was also a large dose of loathing, though from the look in Draco's eyes, it was mostly self-directed.
He stepped out to join McGonagall as she took points from Gryffindor and sent the Golden Trio on their way. She turned to Bill, who decided to explain his actions before she had a chance to ask.
"I was seeing if they would get into a fight or if they could just walk away," he said, lamely. "And then when it did, it happened too fast to prevent it."
She nodded. "Let's alert the other teachers," she said, heading off in the direction of the teacher's lounge.
"Alert them of what?" asked Bill, following her curiously.
"Every so often Draco Malfoy gets in a rage. Something sets him off and for a few days he is completely unbearable with the insults and the rebellion and he gets into fights all he time. He's uncontrollable so the staff has just learned not to deal with him during his bouts of temper."
They reached the lounge doors and McGonagall pushed them open to announce to the gathered teachers, "The dragon is raging."
She was met with a chorus of groans and a few expletives.
"What set him off?" asked Sprout. "We've been tantrum free for over half a year. I was almost hoping that he outgrew it."
"No such luck," said McGonagall. "He was practically spitting sparks at Harry right now. You'll want to steer clear of him definitely."
"How often does he have a tantrum?" asked Bill.
"At first, four maybe five times a year," said McGonagall, "but they've been coming on more and more often. Last year we had seven or eight I think."
"Nine," said Sprout. "He managed to get my greenhouse trashed though it was a localized incident."
"Prepare yourselves for a bad one then," said Flitwick. "Because he's been so mild these past few months, we're in for a rather large storm."
"He has been almost bearable," said Sprout. "I wonder if the fact that his father was in Azkaban might have put him on more cautious footing, but now that Lucius was released, maybe he's making up for missed time."
Bill felt guilt wrap around his chest and he excused himself and walked quickly to his room, sinking into his armchair by the fire. He had set Draco off like that; he was the cause for Draco's sudden reversal.
Bill had grown fond of the blond Slytherin. Yes, the kid was arrogant and prejudiced and cruel when he wanted to be, but considering what the kid had grown up with and who his parents were, it was a miracle he hadn't turned out worse. Draco could have become the next Dark Lord, instead he had been helping Bill with a series of runes that may or may not be translatable.
Bill could not say that he loved Draco as a brother, the kid was too cruel on occasion, too calculating and too…cold, but he still felt affection for the boy. Draco was sharp, intelligent. He noticed things most people missed which gave him an interesting outlook. He could also be quite the wit when he loosened up enough for his sarcastic comments to slip out although he was usually quite reserved. Bill remembered the first time he had gotten Draco to smile. He had felt as if he had just won the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and then he had gone and verbally attacked the kid.
Bill winced when he remembered how Draco had looked when he had suggested turning him in. The grey eyes had widened fractionally and he had taken a step back like he had just been slapped. Draco had scanned his face, his cloudy eyes clearing in shock, confusion, and fear for an instant before the storm had returned to hide the emotions and then turning icy. He had run, too. Draco had waited until he was away from the door to actually run from him, but he had heard the pounding footsteps in a dead-out sprint.
Bill was an open person. That was usually a good thing, but it meant that when he was angry and when every little action or word turned into a mountain, like it did when he was upset, he often made horrible accusations and jumped to conclusions he wouldn't even think of when he was calm. He often said the worst things possible to say, which was perfectly apparent in his row with Draco.
He had known that Draco's relationship with his father wasn't the best. He knew that while Draco didn't necessarily like his father, deep down there was something that tied him to Lucius, something that might actually cause love for his father. Bill should never have brought the subject of Lucius up. Draco tensed every time his father's name was mentioned and Bill had told Draco that if he was uncomfortable with a subject Bill was talking about, Bill would drop it if Draco told him to. Well, Draco had told him to shut up, and what did he do? Continued pressing the subject and then threatened to reveal his secret to the Order.
Bill had most likely destroyed any of the trust Draco might have held towards him. He may have even swayed the kid closer to siding with Voldemort, and that would be hell for the Order, but he was more worried at the thought of Draco joining Voldemort, than he was worried about the repercussions of having a genius on the opposing side. Yes, he was fond of the kid and he had to apologize. The only question was: would Draco even listen to him?
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Soooo, that's sort of a cliff-hanger ending. Well, not a real cliff-hanger, else I would have ended it with the fight, but still, that's sorta mean of me for stopping it there. Huh. Well, if you want to know what happens, you'll just have to review! (Muwhahaha!)
