Chapter Seven: God in the Details—Sixth Year

WARNING: Character Death

Rachael frowned, looking up and down the Slytherin table. Draco was quite conspicuously nowhere to be seen, and she was getting worried. He had eaten a brief lunch—she remembered him passing and hugging her hello, sitting, and then leaving again, having wolfed something down somewhere in between. She had tried to speak to him, but he evaded her questions or managed to have his mouth full before she could open her mouth. And now, he wasn't here at all.

Suddenly, her eyes met with a distinctive green pair. Her lips curved in a barely perceptible smile. Potter had obviously been engaged in a similar pursuit to her own. Wouldn't Draco be pleased… if the git were here. Then Potter was getting up and she sighed. Surely he couldn't be so stupid as to—but he was, he was coming straight for the Slytherin table. She quickly rose and walked towards the door at a brusque pace, surreptitiously meeting his eyes. Follow me, Potter.

She walked sedately out of the Great Hall, thinking quickly. Where would he be… Hm. It's bloody foul outside, so he wouldn't have gone to our tree or anything, which means that he's either in the Room of Requirement or at the top of the Astronomy Tower, assuming he hasn't gone back to his rooms. And if it's too foul for outside, I imagine it's too foul for the top of the Astronomy Tower. She started to walk in the direction of the Room of Requirement.

She heard hurried, shallow breaths and running feet, and Potter fell into step with her. "Rachael! Hi. Um—did Draco come down to dinner?"

Rachael sighed. "He did not, and barely came down for lunch."

Potter's brow furrowed. "Is everything—"

"I don't know. I don't think so." She took a breath. "I'm going to find him." She paused, then asked, "Did you want him for anything in particular?"

Curiously, Potter just flushed lightly and said, "No, not exactly. Just—checking up on him, I guess. I mean, he was acting a bit strange yesterday."

Rachael frowned. "Strange how?" She had barely seen Draco yesterday, either.

"He was white as a sheet and in a foul temper. He even snapped at Parkinson."

"Did he?" Draco didn't much care for Pansy, but he was usually civil towards her. "Was there any indication of what he was upset about? Any griping along the lines of 'those bloody Gryffindors' or anything?"

Potter smiled at the example she used, but shook his head. "He was just really agitated. He seemed to be shaking a bit."

"Physically shaking?" Rachael's frown deepened.

"Yes. It was—worrying."

They started up a flight of stairs. Rachael curled a strand of dark hair around her finger absently, thinking. "He must have been pretty upset." She felt really uneasy. Draco was a master at hiding his true emotions. If he was this obviously upset, something really bad must have happened.

"Yeah, he looked it. Kept avoiding me, too, when I tried to ask him what was wrong." Potter growled slightly. "Difficult sod."

"More than you know, but he's got reason to be." She gave a slightly shuddering sigh. "I—I think it's got to have to do with the Dark Lord."

"Oh! That reminds me. I asked Dumbledore, and he said there's a way to subdue the Dark Mark—what do you mean? The Dark Lord doesn't know about this yet, does he?"

"You tell me, Potter. I've been exceedingly careful. Our having lunch the other day was a bit weird, but we haven't done much since then, so it ought not to have caught his attention." She remembered something Potter had said about trying to ask Draco what was wrong. "Did—did you talk to Draco in private? When you tried to get him to tell you what was with him?"

"Er—I sort of told him he looked terrible and I had something to discuss with him, and then I dragged him into a classroom—"

"Who saw you?"

"I don't know. The hall wasn't that crowded. I got a few weird looks—"

Rachael sucked in a breath. "I don't know whether he would have gotten that information that fast, let alone at all. But—" what would Voldemort have done to upset Draco so? Did he ask about the Dumbledore job or something? But I still can't quite believe that even that would elicit such a reaction… His father is busy bending to the Dark Lord's will and kissing his ass… What could Voldemort do to really hurt Draco, to ensure his obedience?

It hit her like a meteorite. "Narcissa!"

Potter blinked. "What?"

She ran a hand through her hair, eyes wide, chest suddenly tight. "Potter, we may have forgotten something very, very important." She said, quickening her pace.

"What? For Merlin's sake, spit it out!"

"Draco's mother!" She was practically running. "He hates Lucius—couldn't give a rat's ass about him if he tried—but Draco and his mother are really close. And she's probably in his clutches right now—oh god."

"Wha—Rachael, you're not making any sense!" Potter was even with her, matching her speed with ease. His green eyes were anxious and wide.

"Potter, you can be extremely bloody dense sometimes, you know that? The point is that if Voldemort can get at Narcissa, he can get at Draco! He can control Draco by hurting his mother!"

"Oh. Oh. And you think—"

"That he's sent Draco an ultimatum. Or that he's reminded Draco who's in charge by doing something to Narcissa."

"Merlin! Will we have to rescue her?"

Rachael rolled her eyes at Potter's word choice, skidding around a corner. "Probably. Draco would kill himself before he caused Narcissa's death, even indirectly."

"Oh shit!"

Rachael was running now, as was Potter beside her. "I'd have to concur with that statement. We need to get to him before he does something really stupid—" she stopped in front of the tapestry that led to the Room of Requirement. At the last moment, she turned to look at Potter and realized that bringing him in if Draco was indeed in there was probably a singularly stupid idea. "Erm, Potter—I think it's best if I tend to him alone," she said carefully.

Potter blinked, his mouth forming the word why, but then he blinked again and sighed. "Oh. Yes. Good idea. Just—let me know how everything turns out," he said lamely, well aware of the seeming futility of that statement.

Rachael smiled. "Sure. Be seeing you, Potter."

He smiled back, and although it was a bit strained, it was genuine. "See you, Rachael." He walked off, and Rachael entered the Room of Requirement, praying that Draco was okay.

The room she entered into was lit only by a faint blue luminescence suffused throughout the room. The floor appeared to be made of a pale wood, and the room was entirely unfurnished except for a large window directly across from the door. "Draco?" she asked, her eyes sweeping across the room. She had to look twice before she saw him huddled in the corner, knees drawn to his chest, his face hidden in them. "Draco," she said tenderly, walking over and putting a tentative hand on his back.

"I never should have listened to you," he said, voice drenched with tears. Rachael's eyebrows rose. "I never should have listened to a damn thing you said!"

"Why?" she asked, not allowing herself to feel hurt just yet. He was in a state, clearly, and probably didn't mean it.

"Because it gave me hope! Fuck hope. There's no salvation for a fucking coward like me." He sobbed. "I—I dared to hope! Is that such a crime?" Rachael opened her mouth to answer no, but he said, "Yes. For me, yes." He lifted his face, and the pain Rachael saw in the contorted features tore at her heart. "Well, I've paid! I'm sorry! I've fucking paid." His body was wracked with new sobs.

Rachael rubbed calming circles on his back. "Draco, what happened?" she asked quietly, fearing the worst.

She was utterly unprepared for what he said next. The apprehension and worry she had felt before did not at all cushion her fall into the pit of Draco's hopelessness that, being his sister in all but blood, she could not help but share for a minute. Her heart had shed gallons of blood for Draco, but now she was just—drained.

"They killed my mother," he said.

Chill horror began flowing into her veins. "Wh-what?"

"They just fucking—they sent me a picture of her corpse. They told me—he told me—that I was next, if I didn't do what I was told. But I don't care. Let them kill me! I don't care anymore!"

"They—they just killed her? No warning, no ultimatum…?" She felt horrible asking him questions after his mother had just been murdered by the Dark Lord, but her mind was numb, her mouth moving without her consent.

"Her death was the warning." He said bitterly, voice raw with grief. "Well fuck them and their warning! I don't care! I want to die! There's no point in living in this world if the people I love die when I try to be good!"

"Draco, Draco, don't…" But Rachael couldn't finish. She just pulled his limp form to her, stroking his pale hair, for once mussed and dirty instead of impeccably neat and clean. He cried in the silence, clinging tightly to her as she clung to him.

She couldn't tell him it would be okay. How plebeian, how insensitive and dry and insincere it would be to tell him that. It already wasn't. Draco had just lost his mother. But finally she started to murmur, "We will get you out alive, and we will avenge this. We will get you out alive, and we will avenge this." Apparently it was the right thing to say, because he didn't move away.

Eventually, his breathing slowed. She shifted him lightly, and confirmed that he was asleep. The Room of Requirement responded to her realization forthwith, a bed materializing in the center of the room. With difficulty and a few muttered charms, she was able to haul him onto it, tucking him in gently and kissing his forehead. "Goodnight, Draco. We'll survive," she murmured, knowing he couldn't hear but not caring.

She sat on the edge of his bed, deep in thought. What had happened with Narcissa was terrible, and it got her worrying about her own mother. Of course, she was not as close to the Dark Lord as Narcissa had been, but it was still possible that she could be attacked if or (as was more probable) when the Dark Lord found out her involvement in stealing Draco away from him. She decided to write her the next chance she…

Rachael smiled as a writing desk appeared in front of her, along with a quill, some ink, and a piece of paper. She set to work, scribbling out her letter as quickly as possible, then charming and cursing it so that no one but her mother would be able to open it. Apparently the Room of Requirement couldn't conjure animals, because no owl came, but Rachael was fine with that. She could send it tomorrow. She pocketed the letter and asked the room for another bed. She collapsed into it and fell instantly into a deep sleep.

Miraculously, she woke early the next morning. She roused a very tired Draco as well and accompanied him to his room despite its being against the rules (she tried to be law-abiding when she could). Then she went to Slughorn and got Draco excused from classes.

She sighed, staring at the Fat Lady, who was still asleep. This was not a familiar area of the school, although she could navigate Hogwarts as a whole much more efficiently than in Fifth Year, but she had picked up a few pointers on sneaking around from Draco and had exhibited a natural talent for the popular practice in the first place. It was doubtful that she would be let in, although she had changed out of her uniform for this purpose, but she wanted to speak to Harry and tell him about Draco's situation, and about her mother, and about all the other things buzzing through her mind regarding her decision to save Draco Malfoy and Harry's involvement in it.

Rachael wondered what to say for another five minutes, then decided to just wing it and that the truth would probably work better on the Gryffindor portrait. She cleared her throat. "Er, hello?"

The Fat Lady opened one eye. "Mr. Potter, is that y—oh, hello there. I don't recognize you."

Rachael smiled slightly. "My name is Rachael Coy, and I was wondering if I could speak to Harry Potter?"

The Fat Lady blinked at her for a moment. "I don't believe Mr. Potter is awake, and if he is, he's not here."

Rachael nodded. "I don't suppose I could go in and—?"

"You seem like a trustworthy girl, Ms. Coy, but I'm afraid that is against school rules."

Rachael nodded again, smiling at the "trustworthy girl." Oh, if only she knew… "Thank you anyway. Good morning."

"Goodbye. Hope you find Mr. Potter later on."

"Thank you." Rachael sighed and returned to the dungeons. She took her time; she liked Hogwarts when it was empty. She could feel the life centuries of magic had given the castle, and it was surprisingly more comforting than being in an average house. She was just about to descend the steps to the door to the Slytherin common room when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She frowned, looking behind her, and saw no one. She shook her head and started down the steps, but then she was tapped again. "Who's the—"

"Sorry. Can't take off the cloak, since I'm not supposed to be here."

She blinked. "Potter? Is that you? How the—why can't I see you?"

"Difficult to explain. The Fat Lady said you were looking for me?"

"Yes. Um—what I have to say probably shouldn't be said here. There shouldn't be anyone in the common room at this hour… Speaking of which, why are you up?"

There was a silence and a slight shimmer in the air which Rachael conjectured was a shrug, and Potter said, "I—I don't sleep very well. Get up sometimes, wander the school a bit."

"I see." She paused. "Draco does that a bit too, although usually closer to night than morning."

"I know." She could hear the slight smile in his voice and wondered about its cause. Come on, Matchmaker, not now.

"So—let's go, then." Belatedly she added, "You'll put your fingers in your ears for the password?"

Potter laughed quietly. "Sure."

"Really?"

"Yes! I'm a bloody Gryffindor, you can take my word for it."

Rachael laughed. She came to the portrait and said rather loudly, "Potter stinks."

"What? That's not the password," said the portrait, confused.

Rachael smirked and muttered, "Oh, sorry. Eyes on the prize." The portrait door swung open, and she felt a hand latch onto her arm. She settled in one of the green chairs, then frowned and said, "Wait here." She dashed up to her room, slipped in as quietly as possible so as not to wake her roommates, grabbed a book, and went back downstairs. Potter was no longer wearing his cloak and was giving her a weird look.

"Put it back on, Potter," she murmured. "And if you're wondering why I did that, it's obviously because if someone came down and saw me just sitting here, it'd look rather funny, wouldn't it?"

Potter snorted, now invisible once more, and said, "You know, for a while I wasn't sure you were really Slytherin, but now it's obvious you are."

She smiled. "The genuine article, Potter. And that better not have been an insult." She sighed. "I'd best get on with what I have to tell you. The less time you're in here, the less likely it is that we'll be caught." They were cutting it quite close; breakfast began at seven-thirty, and though it was six now, quite a few students rose earlier.

"Well? Go on."

Rachael closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. "The Dark Lord has killed Draco's mother."

Potter sucked in a breath. "So we're too late."

Rachael nodded soberly. "I think Draco will be all right eventually."

Potter was quiet for another long minute. "You talked to him last night?" Then, hesitantly, "Was it bad?"

Rachael sighed. "Yes. It was bad. But he knows that whatever happens, he has me."

Potter laughed softly. "There you go being sweet about the git again. I don't get it."

"No. But then, you don't know him like I do. And you weren't exactly indifferent when you saw he was upset. Perhaps you don't hate him quite so much as you think." Rachael smirked.

Potter sat stunned.

"I'm not done with you, either, Potter, despite the fact that someone appears to have cast Evanesco on your tongue. I'm sending my mother a letter telling her to get somewhere safe. I know your people are probably busy, but if it's at all possible that you could help…" She closed her eyes, fighting frightened tears. "It would be greatly appreciated. Which brings me to my next subject. I assume you haven't yet spoken to Dumbledore."

Potter found his voice. "Er, we—I'll ask about your mother. And about the other thing. Today."

The air was shimmering. "Potter, are you—twitching?"

The shimmering stopped. "I don't twitch. What are you talking about?"

Rachael sighed. "All right. Also ask him what we're going to do about Draco, and how this thing's actually going to go."

"Sure. See you around, Rachael."

"And Potter?"

He realized that she couldn't see he hadn't left, so he said, "Yes?"

"Thank you. For what you've done thus far and for what you'll do in the future."

"Er—you're welcome. See you."

Once she'd heard his footsteps fade, Rachael smiled to herself. She had made Harry Potter, who had faced the Dark Lord numerous times, besides no end of other Dark creatures, uncomfortable. In spite of herself and her situation, she laughed.

Author's Note: Sorry, sorry, sorry, this has taken so long, but I hope you find it worth it. Anyway, I wanted to explain the Narcissa Malfoy thing. About a paragraph or two into the chapter, I realized that I was going to kill off Draco's mother. I'm not really sure how it happened; ask the story. I also realized that Voldemort's defeat was going to have to be at least a little different than the way JK wrote it, although I was vaguely aware that that was so once I'd determined that Draco was going to be rescued (to use Harry's words) from being a Death Eater. So I don't know, it might get very weird and very different from the books, but I just hope you enjoy it as much as I do. And for those who are reading this more for the pairing than for the story, I'm terribly sorry and will hopefully begin to deliver soon ;)

And the chapter titles may continue to be weirdly formatted so that I can fit the whole thing :)