Chapter 4: Memories

Thaxton had made it clear that he wanted me around the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as least as possible, so I owled a vague report to him, leaving out even the fact that I had found Malfoy's ring. I couldn't say why, but part of me simply didn't trust Thaxton.

I debated heavily with myself about what to do. I was fairly certain that Draco had left the memory in case of something like this, but there was always to niggling doubt. The last thing I wanted was to walk into one of Draco Malfoy's romantic trysts or some such nonsense.

Deliberating between the ring and the memory, I remembered the Muggle travel guide that had shocked me to the core. This book was much less used than Hogwarts: A History. Of all of the American states, Idaho was the last one I would have brought to mind, but maybe that was the point.

The guidebook did indeed mention potatoes, but other than a few other facts about Idaho, there wasn't a ton. This didn't seem like a place for much tourism aside from those who enjoyed winter sports like skiing and snowboarding. I couldn't picture Malfoy deigning to try either of those activities.

I found a few places where Malfoy had underlined some of the less rural areas, and I made a special note of each of them. I flipped carefully through each page one more time. I was ready to give up when I noticed an odd indentation on one of the last pages.

It was too specifically formed; that indentation felt just like the letter "d" written by a quill pressed down slightly too hard. It was too coincidental. After pondering a moment, I fetched my wand, hoping that it would actually be this easy.

I muttered the spell that George had infused into the invisible ink that he sold, and sure enough the silvery light revealed a page covered in Draco Malfoy's handwriting. The portion that I had noticed read: I hate to admit this, but I'm scared.

Draco Malfoy had been an annoyance in my life since we had been eleven years old. We had fought on seperate sides of a war. I had seen many sides of Malfoy, arguably the worst sides. But I couldn't picture Draco Malfoy admitting he was scared. His infuriating arrogance was something I assumed was a large portion of his identity Could it really have been at least partially an act?

Starting at the beginning, I found Malfoy's writing on every page, layered over the print of the travel guide. AFter a few pages I had to put the book down; it was too personal.

My hand found the bottle containing the memory. When I'd first found the memory, part of me had felt a little apprehensive of entering Draco Malfoy's mind, any part of it, but the image of offensive words inked into nonexistence comforted me. People could change, and I just needed to acknowledge that Draco Malfoy was one of those people.

My hands found my Pensieve without a second thought. I watched, somewhat detached as the silver memory melded with the liquid.

Taking a deep breath out of habit, I submerged my face into the liquid, wet but not at the same time.

It took me a moment to gain my footing as I surveyed my surroundings as they swirled into being. I was in Diagon Alley as Draco was stalking through. It looked darker than usual, but I had read that memories were tainted by the perspective of the viewer. I had to guess that Draco was scared as he rushed through the grim, foreboding Diagon Alley.

Malfoy himself didn't give any sign of his fear. It was then that I got my first good look at Draco Malfoy for years. Sure, I had seen the occasional photograph in The Daily Prophet, and there was even the occasional glimpse here or there at various charity balls, but now he was my sole focus.

Malfoy had always been a lean individual, but now he had a more toned musculature, not bulky, but he carried an aura of controlled power. His appearance was flawless as usual, from his perfectly arranged hair to his impeccable clothing, which was surprisingly enough a muggle business suit. Striding alongside him, I found him even taller than I remembered, towering over me.

There was clear tension in his silver eyes, and they flared when another set of footsteps joined him. He refused to look behind him until a deep voice growled, "Malfoy."

His eyes deadly, Malfoy paused. Slowly turning around. "Nott," he said in a silky voice deeper than I remembered.

Theodore Nott stood there, looking remarkably menacing in black robes. "Surely you've heard?"

I barely caught the flash of fear in Malfoy's eyes. Swallowing, he scoffed, "Crabbe and Goyle already tried to talk me into this. I'm not that person anymore."

Malfoy attempted to walk past Nott, but Nott grabbed his arm with an iron grip. "We have no choice, Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle joined willingly, but when I initially refused they took my wife."

I could see Malfoy swallow, but he said with false bravado, "There's no one in my life."

Nott ran his hands through his hair. "That just means they'll kill you."

"I'm sorry about your wife, Nott, but I'm not going back. I'm not a Death Eater anymore. If they kill me, they kill me, and you can tell them I said so."

Draco started walking away, but Nott called, "I don't want to kill you Malfoy, but if it comes down to you or my wife, I won't pick you."

Malfoy's blond head bobbed in acceptance. "I expect nothing less. One question though, who's in charge?"

"No one knows. He comes to us in a mask. His voice is cold, impossibly so. For your sake I hope they give up on you, Draco."


A/N: Thanks for the responses so far, it motivates me to keep writing! I'm a sophomore in college, and midterms are crazy. Hopefully I'll be able to update a little more regularly.