Sorry for that delay! Just a few chapters left!
Of course I lied.
I made the whole thing up.
You don't really expect me to just walk in and admit that I staged everything just so that Lucius could be free of charges. Of course not. He needed to be taught a lesson, and oh did he learn. As soon as we're found, the Aurors take Draco and I away to St. Mungo's to be treated for our wounds and illness. Reporters from The Daily Prophet are already stationed outside waiting for photographs the moment we arrive. The Aurors pull cloaks over our faces so that nothing gets leaked prematurely. I'm not really injured—I just have to pretend like I am. I did a pretty good job making it convincing. Except Draco honestly is sick. Which of course I didn't plan for.
But I'm sure you're wondering how I did it. How I once again managed to use my inner Slytherin to turn the blame on someone else and end up looking innocent. It wasn't easy, but it will be worth it when we finally go home and Lucius treats me the way he should—just like he promised to in the paper. But anyway, first of all, I had to get rid of every shred of evidence out there in our little cabin we were staying in. Not a single hair could be left anywhere that if anyone searched or just happened to pick it up, it could be linked back to us. We paid an extra month's rent, then I told the neighbors that I'd received an owl from my uncle Atticus telling me that he was going to allow for us to stay with him. We said tearful farewells (all fake, of course) and Draco and I left the very next day. Although as much as it pained me to do this to him, I had us sleep out in the woods for several nights so that we'd appear dirty (and also so our disappearance from the cabin wouldn't look planned). Draco was delirious. His fever was completely making his whole head swoon. I knew I had to come up with a consistent story, so I transfigured a stick into a wine bottle. I gave him the last of the medicine that I'd previously made; while he was a little more alive, I instructed him what to do with it to make our case. I'm so ashamed. How on earth could I ask Draco to do this to himself? I must really want Lucius to be the man I married again. If Draco wasn't so sick and out of his mind already, I probably wouldn't have told him to do this.
No mother should have to listen to her son cry as he abuses himself with a wine bottle.
It's almost as bad as the "rape" he went through. I'm so ashamed. But it had to be done—he needed consistent wounds to go along with the story. I'd have him do that to himself for a while, rest for an hour, do it again, so on and so forth. When the crying in pain got less, I knew he was properly prepared. While he was doing that, I beat myself with branches and scratched myself with twigs. We needed wounds. We needed a story. Within that week, we then Apparated to where Yaxley lived (I only knew because I sat in on the Death Eater meetings, and listened to everyone's conversations before the Dark Lord entered). I made sure I put on an innocent face—I told Yaxley that Lucius beat us, and that the scene in the manor was caused by him; we just fled the minute he was gone. Yaxley—despite him being a greasy, unhygienic man—had a little bit of sympathy in him. Or maybe it was because he too was a man in hiding. He didn't want to be one of those ones sent to Azkaban for being associated with the Dark Lord. We stayed in his house for tea, had to listen to some gruesome stories to make him sound tough, and finally, I took action. While Yaxley was standing up to get another tray of crusty old biscuits, I hit him with a Full-Body Bind curse from behind. Draco collapsed on the couch. His illness left him unconscious. Thankfully, he wasn't awake to see me drag Yaxley into the bedroom; he wasn't awake to feel me bring him in too, to lay him down on the bed; he wasn't awake to see me grab a kitchen knife and run it down Yaxley's back, sending blood everywhere.
Yes, maybe it was good Draco was so sick.
I made sure we were covered in blood. I took the tray of biscuits and threw it all on the floor. I rolled Draco around in the sheets to get his scent on it, his DNA. I tied and bound him to the bed, tightening the twine around his wrists so there were marks. And then, I grabbed my sleeping little boy and made away yet again, leaving a second crime scene that never actually occurred.
Sure enough, the Healers at St. Mungo's release an official document saying that my wounds are consistent with battery, and Draco's are consistent with rape. They raise the question as to why there wasn't any of Yaxley's DNA inside Draco, so I have to elaborate on my story. "He ordered me to go get tea set up," I tearfully whisper, making my voice hoarse on purpose. "And I heard him going into the bedroom again. I tried to block it out, I really did….but the sounds that Draco was making only caused my heart to ache once more. This happened to him every day, all the time. I couldn't stand it anymore. So I grabbed a knife, I walked to the bedroom, and when I saw that…that monster on top of my baby again….I-I…I'm sorry, this is painful to recall…." The Aurors nod with pity, handing me a tissue and telling me to take my time. "…I-I just lost control of myself. He hadn't actually begun the assault on Draco yet—he was still…still forcing him into sex acts. But I knew it was coming. It always did. He m-made…me…watch sometimes…." The Aurors all gasp and whisper amongst themselves. There. That got them. The most convincing thing.
They treat my "wounds" and ask if I want to see Draco. I step into his room timidly, gingerly, and immediately burst into tears. I have to scream and cry. I have to pretend like I saw him being violated several times against my control. "My baby!" I sob out, reaching for him and stumbling in. "I-I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, Draco!" The Aurors again take pity. They surround me, telling me that nothing is my fault, that everything will be alright. They tell me I'm brave. Of course I am. I put up with what Lucius became all those years ago. But now I'll finally have him back.
They bring Lucius into my room a little bit later. We sit huddled together, close, just as we always used to when we were younger. Yes. Finally. This is how it's going to be now. Just like way back then. He'll be a better father, a better husband. We're going to be a happy family again. The reporters are just incredibly enthralled with this image—with our return. And I know for a fact that none of the Aurors will raise questions because right now they look like judgmental bastards that arrested the wrong man and assumed us dead without double-checking. They say I'll have to go in and tell my whole side of the story so that it can be released to the rest of the world. I don't need to plan for it, I already have everything in mind. All I need right now is my Lucius, the old Lucius. And as we sit on Draco's bed together, watching our poor little baby sleep, my husband leans over to whisper in my ear. "If you can fake a kidnapping," he breathes. "I can fake loving you."
I know exactly what he means.