Chapter 2: The art of infiltration
The golden titles of the tomes gleamed under the effete light, the books in the Malfoy Library were unique and their owners wouldn't allow a fail in the illumination to deteriorate their ancient and priceless fountain of knowledge. The gorgeous blond stroked the spine of the maroon volume he had been looking for, the Family Library had been accumulating their wisdom for more than ten centuries: it was needless to say that, in spite of the wonderful organization, finding things took time and patience.
The art of infiltration by Annabelle Malfoy was exactly what he needed to plan how he would obtain the invaluable memories of Corbin Nott. Draco had taken advantage of his strengths and studied all there was to know about the human being ranging from social graces to manipulation to gain what he desired.
However, despite knowing the bases of subtly acquiring information from unsuspecting or suspicious and trained conversationalists or maybe because of the depth of his knowledge in those subjects, the Prince was aware he was a novice to espionage.
The Malfoy Heir already knew exactly how to harvest the memories but it was of the utmost importance that no one found him or discovered his actions ever. He was a master at blackmail and he wouldn't appreciate being a victim of it -conscious of what it fully entailed- and that would be the result of being detected in the best case. There were grimmer possibilities like ending up chained in their dungeons for Merlin knew how long for his daring.
Draconis carefully withdrew the publication making sure not to damage it, Father was a firm believer of enforcing discipline with violence and would surely have a painful punishment waiting for him if he ever did such thing and considering his profound inversion in the more harmful aspect of the Dark Arts it wasn't a wise move to anger him.
The pale wizard walked through the tall bookshelves that reached the far painted ceiling, thankfully he had spent many hours in his life there and knew how to find his way around. He arrived to a solid wood table that looked odd, there seemed to be no reason for a table in that spot but the fair-haired was used to the bizarre distribution of the oldest parts of the manor.
The Slytherin sat down on the comfy chair depositing the volume in front of him and next to Magical Signatures by Dara Malfoy, Magical wards by Sigmund Theirs, Under the radar by Fistblee, Undetected by Heirdem Hordwards and Detection by Selenus Malfoy. He had been investigating every possible detail that could reveal or even hint his illegal activities, he was intent on not letting any margin to error. He was a Malfoy and Malfoys didn't leave loose ties.
The Ice Prince opened the last book he had collected and mentally prepared himself to absorb the surely through text he was about to read. The calligraphy was the typical of the age, other wizards might find it difficult to read and maybe even dizzying. Draco was accustomed to them, having been reading them since he was barely a toddler. The style was old-fashioned and yet again other wizards would consider deciphering it an impossible task. Draco was so habituated to it, he scarcely saw any difference.
He immersed himself in the text trying to regard it as fascinating, fully cognisant that it would make actually remembering what it said and not falling sleep an easier chore. The hours passed with the striking blond engrossed with the antediluvian tome to such an extent that Poppy, his house-elf, had to call him twice to wake him from his stupor.
The house-elf had appeared to announce an unexpected visit a few moments before, it had, however, lacked the good grace of informing Draconis who was the visitor. A mistake the gorgeous blond vowed to make sure she never repeated again. Therefore, the stunning Malfoy was sitting regally keeping a perfect posture and studying the elegant tea room with disinterest.
He always favoured this room during spring and summer as he felt a weakness for the large windows that offered an amazing view of the scenic gardens. Some times, when the weather looked particularly enjoyable, he would even move to have tea in the terrace outside with his visitor. He adored the spot under the cherry trees particularly when they blossomed during spring, it was wonderful sitting under them sipping tea and admiring the view. The sound of heels brought him out of his reverie and he looked up with a polite smile on his lips.
"Brittany, what a lovely surprise", said sweetly the beautiful blond standing up to greet the new arrival.
The brunette witch stretched her wicked red lips into a warm smile as she brushed back her brown hair scandalously cut à la garçon, her conniving chocolate eyes studying the tastefully decorated tea room. The Malfoy Heir wondered for a brief second how he should acknowledge her, considering she was a dominant and it supposedly remained unknown what he would be. It wouldn't do to be regarded as presumptuous for believing to be a dominant without proof. So Draco graciously gestured her to sit down in a neutral gesture and she followed his instructions sitting down on the marine Italian Rococo sofa and folding her hands on her lap.
"Would you like some tea?" inquired the Slytherin courteously.
"I'd love some", answered the intriguing girl.
Her eyes were examining him, probably to discern what he would be: a dominant or a submissive. He knew his society was anxious to discover his true nature, it wasn't easy to distinguish as he had a tendency to display characteristics of both behaviours. He was charming and sociable but cold and intimidating with his enemies, he was kind and sweet but he was a master puppet, he formed strong relationships but he was protective of them…
Everyone was dying to know what he exactly was to be, especially considering the ramifications and consequences his nature would entail to their world. Only his family seemed to be sure that he was to be a dominant, there hadn't been a single submissive in the British Branch of the family since the twins' curse was brought upon them.
"Poppy", Draco called his personal elf.
A pop was heard and a house-elf dressed in a clean white sheet (since the Slytherin detested any sign of unkempt) appeared her huge green eyes looking respectfully to her junior Master and her long fingers fidgeting slightly. She was nervous, it seemed to be a state all house-elves shared to the fair-haired's nuisance. It was an annoyance that was shared by many purebloods, which wasn't particularly odd considering they spent years training themselves on proper behaviour and having their servants acting in such a disgraceful manner…
However, she was one of the only creatures Draco would trust, understandably so, taking into account she was magically tied to exclusively him. There was no way she would ever betray him be it knowingly or unknowingly as the Malfoy had made sure to cover all the possible ways that such event could happen.
"Bring a tea set", ordered the Prince firm but not harsh.
He had soon learnt that being both too strict with house-elves and too soft gained disdain and mocks from a considerable part of the society, respectively. As a result, he tended to be stern without bordering either extreme. Besides, he hardly needed to punish Poppy at all, she was a devoted house-elf who did everything she could to make his life easier. Maybe her utter devotion stemmed from his refusal to chastise her using violence seeing his Father's brutal ways with his house-elves, instead he always resorted to rebuking privileges.
"Yes, Master Draco", nodded Poppy dutifully.
Poppy was quick to reappear with a silver tray on which was the teapot, two fine china cups on its respective plates, a saucer, a creamer, sugar, two silver-plated tea-spoons and a plate of delicious biscuits. The house-elf levitated it to the table, set everything down and bowed before rapidly disappearing again to avoid disturbing the guest.
Draco had been taught how to serve tea properly; he was a bit hesitant to perform it because it was a task mostly reserved to submissives since in the old times they would show off their thin wrists and their grace this way. Something ludicrous nowadays, but tradition was tradition and purebloods prided in their ancestral traditions. After pondering on his dilemma for a few seconds, he concluded that seeing he wasn't even fifteen and therefore his transformation wasn't set on stone he could serve the tea without endangering his reputation.
The stunning blond took the teapot and looked to his companion, "How would you like your tea Brittany?"
"With some milk and two sugars, please", responded amiably the attractive witch.
The Malfoy started to gracefully serve the tea and when both cups were finished, he sipped on his tea enjoying its delicious savour. The Ice Prince analysed his company's shocking attire strategically made to be masculine, yet sexy and to convey her definitely dominant nature. Today, the outfit consisted on a robe with stiff shoulders that opened at the waist leaving on display the 'manly' by muggleborn standards trousers, both clothes tightened around her curves and were loose on the appropriate places to disguise her defects.
The witch started chatting and she quickly took the reins the conversation, the appealing host let her wondering what she planned to achieve doing so. She started talking about the scandals that summer had brought, Draco was careful to file in his head some useful information and made all the right intersections to allow the dominant to disclose her real purpose.
"Have you heard about Veronica's demise? Apparently she got herself pregnant!" commented horrified the American girl.
"I know, I was in Theo's party when it was discovered! It was so unbecoming of her!" responded the Ice Prince letting his voice indicate how inappropriate he thought it was disclosing such secret in his friend's party, as though the red-head had tried to steal the Nott Heir's spotlight and hiding his glee for finally discovering what her aim was.
"I would have loved to attend his party and see it for myself, sadly I was occupied with previous affairs. However, I was told you had Theodore attending to you all the party", stated studying him with her chocolate eyes.
Draco hid his blanch at the direct statement; he knew sooner or later someone would mention the dark haired fawning over him but he hadn't expected it to be so soon. He had to treat this meticulously: a wrong word and he would suddenly become some kind of prostitute. He lowered his alluring Black eyes to his tea. It wouldn't do well that someone thought he was using the Nott Heir so he had to play the little lamb who didn't know how to act in this situation. On his favour, he had the fact that Brittany was close to him and didn't want to ruin him.
"We are close friends", he whispered timidly.
"Apparently he didn't act as though you were only friends", remarked the witch calmly.
A blush tinted his cheeks and he coyly raised his eyes from his cup, nibbling his lower lip as though he were nervous and didn't know how to behave regarding this matter.
"Do you like him?" inquired gently the dominant, her voice warm.
"I-I don't know… There hasn't been a British Malfoy submissive in more than a few hundred of years…" murmured the clever blond uncertainly.
"I sense a 'but' in that sentence", observed the brunette motherly, her entire being exuding understanding and kindness.
"He's so… he makes me feel… like I was all he cared for, like he wanted me for myself not for who I was… and I really like that, is this stupid?" wondered hesitantly the radiant fair-haired to his companion.
"No Draco, it's normal for you to want to feel loved especially with those distant parents of yours", the last part was only an angry murmur.
The Slytherin smirked to himself: mission accomplished. When he turned out to be a dominant, he wouldn't have been leading Theo on for fun or manipulation or whatever his enemies could have come up with, he would have led on the Nott Heir subconsciously because he desperately needed the assurance of feeling loved that his attentions provided. He was, after all, vulnerable to such attentions due to the coldness of his parents towards him.
The icy relationship between Malfoy parents-son was legendarily formal. Most purebloods parents feigned indifference or downplayed their emotions to mere pride in public, but the fact that it was truly that unfeeling in the Malfoys family was well-known in their society. How one of his great-uncles had died after hours of torture because his great-great grandfather had refused to concede to a single request to his kidnappers was a story that was whispered into the ears of many when they studied the Malfoy Family.
"I really enjoyed it with Theo, even after the discovery of Veronica's pregnancy", admitted the lovely blond.
"That silly girl, I found it completely unbelievable", responded judgmental the American deciding to stop intruding after gaining the response she wanted.
"I always thought she was a disgrace to our community but I didn't think she'd steep as low as that"
The cunning Slytherin smirked inwardly, he was going to have to point out a vital detail. It was a fundamental part of his plan to isolate his nearly rapist that everyone recognized that clue point. He was appalled at his peers' poor perception as no one had realised or at least disclosed it yet, alas, now he was in the perfect situation to change such thing.
"Getting herself pregnant and going in public in such condition!" exclaimed the dismayed foreigner, shaking her head lightly to express her disapproval.
The Slytherin blinked and bit his lip hesitantly asking, "If I ask you something, do you promise not to laugh?"
The ravishing blond had made it a point to establish the witch as someone who he would search for "comfort" in front of his insecurities (like with the Theo situation) or "knowledge" he supposedly didn't have (like Veronica's pregnancy).
His purpose was to make the American think he looked up to her and to use this belief in order to install himself as her protégé, making her protective of him was only positive. Thus, it meant she would defend his honour and his intentions regarding Theo and it was also a good method to set rumours running wild as he innocently and naively asked the right questions mixed with some useless ones to not make her suspicious.
The dominant's whole stance lightened up, "Of course, Draco!"
She was just as delighted to having the sweet Malfoy as her charge, she was even more satisfied with the idea that he revealed his true self to her. The witch thought him to be adorable and it made her an influence to a powerful man both magically and socially. It also nurtured her dominant instincts to protect and aid someone who behaved so submissively. Their relationship was a bit complicated but Draco found it to be mutually beneficial.
"It's just…"
"Yes?" asked excited the brunette witch, pleased with the evident trust he was showing.
Although Draco tried to play the naïve little wizard with her, he usually didn't make such grand confessions as his desire for Theo's attention. Habitually, he would drop subtle hints that she effortlessly translated but he had never been quite as open as right now.
"I know this will probably sound ridiculous to you but…" started shyly the angelic blond.
"OH, don't worry!" incited him the pureblood girl, brown eyes gleaming with emotion.
"How can a dominant get pregnant? I thought only submissives could get pregnant", wondered uncertainly the Malfoy, lowering his eyes trying to appeal to the dominant nature of the other.
"That's easy! They can if they have relations with a mudblood or a muggle", explained brightly the American before realising what that meant, her eyes widened astonished.
Draco hid his smirk behind the priceless porcelain cup: Veronica's reputation was officially ruined.
His visit stayed for a while after the astonishing revelation and the blond kept his lovely façade until she had left and his house-elf did the routinely examination of his wing of the Manor to make sure no spying devices or spells had been set in the brief stopover. After receiving the news no such thing had been found, he sighed for a reason not even known to himself and walked outside.
The fresh breeze caressed his skin and stroked his silky blonde hair, he strolled leisurely around the garden, coming to a stop under a cherry tree. He let himself fall graciously to a sitting position and wrapped his arms around himself while silently observing the beauty of his surroundings. The striking Slytherin could still remember when he met Brittany.
Adorable, seven year old Draco was hiding his pout from his father. He detested being shown off as though he were some sort of trophy but the little Malfoy had already been punished last Monday –he hid a shudder in remembrance- and he didn't need to encourage such response again. After all, Draco may be vain but he was certainly not stupid. Father was displaying all signs of not having had a good day, meaning his temper would be shorter than usual which translated into his being the perfect pureblood heir.
"Malcolm Chambers is one of the most widely loved Ambassadors in our society, he's charismatic and powerful, his sway is awe-inspiring. Don't embarrass me, Draconis and I won't have to punish you", was the short explanation his Father had given him before leading to the room where he would meet the famous personality.
Upon entering he realized his Father would be furious, their guests had arrived earlier than expected and only elegant Narcissa had been there to greet them and graciously offer them canapés from the silver trays the house-elves carried diligently.
The captivating wizardling studied with his Black eyes the Chambers Family, their Patriarch, a grey wizard with brown hair and caramel eyes, stood proudly exchanging pleasantries with Father. Lynette, his adequately pleasingly to the eye spouse, was chatting with Mother, the breathtaking flower wife, always polite but not too entertaining. A girl older than him was sitting on an antique French couch looking by all means bored, the brunette possessed chocolate eyes and no restrain: her legs were swinging.
The Patriarch looked briefly at his child, utter love and devotion crossing fleetingly his face and something within Draco snapped. Brittany was obviously favoured by her Father, if he were close to her… if he ever needed to abandon the country, he would have a wonderful contact. The odds of being forced to forsake his nation were higher than they should have been, alas, from what he read on Father's face when he heard the word Scorpius, his twin was more of a Malfoy than he.
The blond approached the other child, his carefully crafted mask hiding his determination. He was even better than Father at controlling social situations probably because no one expected it from a young child, not that he allowed his progenitor such knowledge he would only demand more and it wouldn't work on his favour. The charming English sat next to her and said hi timidly effectively gaining a smile from the brunette.
Within a few minutes, the American witch was entranced hearing her companion's giggles, her eyes constantly following his movements with not well hidden admiration tingled with protectiveness. Malcolm peeped to his child for a second only to find that surprising situation.
The sweet façade of Draco Malfoy with Brittany Chambers started that day, with a shy smile and a lovely tingling laugh. And the Malfoy Heir had his first escape plan in case everything went wrong: Plan A, gaining Brittany's affection so she'd offer a safe gate away to the States.
-x-
The blond aristocrat sipped his tea and munched his toast absent-mindedly while he read The Seer, it was a newspaper that marketed the high wizarding class and that dated back to a few hundred of years. Draco preferred it to the more known vulgar imitation that was The Prophet, since it targeted the common population and its information was faulty at best and downright lies at worse.
The pureblood frowned worriedly as he encountered a strange article. Apparently a witch had been found dead in the middle of nowhere, the cause of death was the Avada Kedavra. Despite what the populace thought, that curse was incredibly difficult to master and only good dark wizards could throw it around without becoming tired quickly.
That is why the Death Eaters, from his research, had used it commonly. It was a sign of their power and prowess in the Dark Arts, showing-off basically. Even the weak Death Eaters had spent months trying to master it simply to show their power. After the Dark Lord's fall it hadn't been used much, though, as it was associated with the servants of the Dark.
Which was why the cause of the death was quite intriguing, she had been missing for four days and her death had been a few hours before they found her. There were no apparent signs of torture which meant that the curses they had used to torture her were quite high level. Probably psychological curses which were rather hard to do.
Besides the Aurors weren't complete morons so their inability to capture a suspect that should be nearby only spoke in favour of such suspect. The only possibilities were that the murderer: had an Auror accomplice, he was really powerful and could apparate out of the Aurors reach or he mastered the illusion arts and was hiding right in front of them.
In any case, it seemed like he followed the Death Eater modus operandi except for the lack of use of the dark mark. He should look more into the Death Eaters organization. If he recalled well, hadn't Potter claimed that the Dark Lord wasn't dead and that he was gaining strength?
At the time, his first year, he had thought the Boy-Who-Lived only wanted more attention but over the years he had acknowledged that the Golden Gryffindor hated attention and was quite honest. And hadn't Potter been injured in that year spending a whole week in the Infirmary? There had been wild rumours running around, something about Quirrell having been possessed by Lord Voldemort…
During his schooling, there had been an unbelievable amount of rumours of near-death adventures the Golden Trio had gone through. He had logically found the gossip faulty, especially when Potter had come back the next year. Because who in their right mind would return year after year to a death trap?
Although, Potter did have a hero complex and he was extremely ignorant of the Magic World to the point where he might not even know of other schools. Plus, the Gryffindor was an orphan who desperately searched for a link to his dead parents so leaving the school they had attended may have not crossed his mind…
Could it be that there was some truth to all the crazy rumours that had been spread around the castle periodically about Harry Potter? That would mean that the Dark Lord was awaiting somewhere, plotting his enemies' and traitors' demise. A shudder ran through Draco's spine at the thought and he put down the new toast he was preparing.
Never mind, he was probably over thinking. He should prepare for his duelling lesson before his teacher lost patience and decided to attack him while he was calmly having breakfast. He put down The Seer with a sigh, not really wishing to leave for his lesson; he had an extremely bad feeling about it.
The training room was almost unrecognisable: there were holes in the ceiling and the walls caused by explosions and hexes, consequently there were also chunks of rocks scattered around the room; there were also stains in the floor of nondescript substances Draco suspected half of them had been produced by an acidic liquid so he had to mind his step; there were also traps around the room just waiting to be set up by him.
The Malfoy Heir rolled to his side avoiding a hex he wasn't familiar with which undeniably meant it was bad news for him, his leg was stinging, his arm was tired and his hip was aching unpleasantly from a burn. He stood up just in time to jump to the left to dodge a colourful hex that he identified as one that would make his bones painfully disappear, he almost groaned at the thought. He transformed a fallen rock caused by their vivid duel into an enormous and poisonous snake, trying to make enough time to heal -at least- his leg as it was considerably reducing his speed.
His teacher, Master Fullern, murdered his snake with a swift wave of his wand and the blond resigned himself to not being able to heal the deep gash in his thigh, thankfully he had had enough time to actually send another curse to his mentor in the Dark Arts. The tall brunette wagged his wand in a gesture the Slytherin didn't recall ever seeing before, making his curse disappear in the thin air.
The Prince sighed and closed his eyes to stop his tears of frustration, he simply wasn't good enough and surprisingly he showed no aptitude in curses and hexes for a Malfoy (that was taking into consideration the high standards of a Malfoy). He tried to counteract it by employing charms and transfigurations in the duels but, even though he was imaginative, his method was no challenge to his teacher.
Draco transformed the floor on which his teacher was into arenas and, in a rapid sequence, he sent a curse to the right, the most probable direction his teacher would leap to. But his mentor levitated himself and quickly shot him an obscure dark course. The Slytherin hastily cast a shield and started running and throwing hexes over his shoulder foreboding his demise and trying desperately to postpone it.
However, Master Fullern sent a powerful magical wave knocking the Malfoy off his feet and making him stumble to the ground. The blond fell to his side, panting and completely exhausted. He raised his enticing eyes to see his teacher in the Dark Arts shake his head disapprovingly. So weak. Draco barely controlled the urge to cry.
"You can stand up now", ordered the old wizard coolly, "And know your Father will be informed of your progress"
The Ice Prince forced his weak body to rise gracefully and without betraying his many wounds and nodded stiffly to his teacher. He knew what informing his Father of his 'progress' would bring upon him, so he mentally prepared himself for the harsh punishment tonight would bring.
"Yes, Master Fullern, thank you", responded aloofly the stunning blond, before exiting the practising room.
He walked directly to his chambers passing all the corridors without listening or acknowledging the portraits who –seeing his appearance- immediately started to gossip. The fair-haired knew he was being compared with his brother when he couldn't understand what they were saying yet another 'gift' of his ancestors who obviously realised one twin could spy the other using the portraits.
Once he was in his enormous bathroom, the Slytherin stripped his clothing carefully to preclude further damage to his wounds and let his training outfit fall on the cool white marble floor. He searched through the cabinet and took the appropriate potions to apply to his burns, to heal his bones and to mend his wounds.
He wasn't afraid of the scarring since he knew part of his punishment would be going through a painful Dark healing spell that would make it disappear, the reason that spell wasn't commonly used was that it caused so much pain that untrained feeble minds were lost to insanity.
Nothing should blemish the perfect Malfoy beauty. Draco opened the golden tap of the basin and put the edge of a fluffy towel under the spring to moisten it. Afterwards, he mixed it with a green potion that would prevent infection and cautiously cleaned his wounds using it.
A gasp escaped his swollen lips (from biting them to stop his grunts of pain during the duel- never let an enemy know it hurts-) when he stroked his most profound wound, the gash in his leg. He cleaned it gently, wincing occasionally, and was glad to have finished the cleaning treatment as he put down the bloody towel with a disgusted grimace. With a sigh, he started applying the potions that would heal each wound and set himself to wait for their effects to take hold. He wouldn't be able to have a wonderfully relaxing warm bath to aid his sore muscles until his wounds were healed.
The pale boy closed his eyes tightly as if that would guard him from the pain. He abhorred the duel lessons, they were probably some of the most useful but he always ended up like this and knowing his Father would appear the next morning to punish him wasn't something he looked forward to. However, they were a requisite for Master Fullern and the Prince Charming hadn't devoted so many hours to gain the world-wide known Master in the Dark Arts as a teacher to just abandon when things got tough. Besides, it was a matter of survival.