Oh my gosh, the ending of last chapter pulled at my heartstrings. We're starting to view Draco as a man instead of a boy and a person instead of an arch-nemesis. Remember – Draco is beginning to come to terms with his childhood and his pride is beginning to rebuild itself… slowly. Let's keep reviewing guys. If you read this, I want you to take 30 seconds and tell me what you think. It's awesome to hear what you guys think about this. This chapter is going to be a tad on the emotional side, and it will continue to pull at your heart strings. Please don't cry and if you do… I deeply apologize. Pgoodrichboggs – thanks again for your review! The Taboo will be activated soon, but thanks for pointing that out! I love blending Canon with my own ideas. Thanks so much! & Guest – Thank you, I hope it only gets better from here! I also had someone ask what kind of music I listen too while writing this. Star Wars.
Chapter 21:
It was a quarter to midnight when Draco left his room to go to the meeting. His nerves were racing and the stakes were high. He was wearing the same suit as he had been wearing the night before, his hair ever so perfectly in place, and his eyes locked on the hallway ahead of him. His jaw was clenched tightly, and his demeanor was set: the perfect Malfoy, the Slytherin Prince. His wand was concealed tightly in the pocket under his breast in his sportcoat, for the off chance of which he needed it. Narcissa was waiting for him outside the Dining Area's doors. Draco made bold strides over to her, and she brushed the top of his shoulders and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
The pair didn't speak a word as they entered the Parlor, seeing half of the chairs already filled with chattering men. For the first time since Draco had been back at the Manor, he saw his Aunt Bellatrix, who was sitting in place next to her husband. He had always thought something had been off about her, and the way she followed Voldemort around like a puppy proved it. The crowd of Death Eaters grew quiet as Draco entered the room with his mother. They had all stopped to stare at the boy they thought had passed on months before. Draco looked the situation over, deciding on how to proceed. His mother led him towards the chair that was meant for him: sitting between her and his father. As he sat down, he met his fathers eyes, and they had never been so proud. It sickened him that this was what it took to make his father proud of him.
Nevertheless, he took his seat between his parents, noticing Voldemort at the end of the table. He looked exactly the same as Draco remembered him, just as fearsome, and even more evil, if he was even capable of becoming it. He saw a few familiar faces in the Death Eaters around him, who had all grown quiet as the rest of the group came into the Parlor. As the room filled, Draco counted forty people sitting at the table. The second to last in was Snape, who was greeted by Voldemort, before bowing his head and taking his place beside Lucius. Draco and Snape met eyes, grey on black, and those eyes warned him not to step a toe out of line. Snape needn't worry about the young Malfoy, though, but on his fate, and Draco's mother's fate.
There were a few murmurs of the discussing of Ministry business, and a few compliments to Draco on a job well done to which he responded his thanks in a cool tone his father would have thrilled over. The entire time Draco sat at the table, he realized that he had grown more courage in the past year he had been rogue then he had ever had in his entire life. Narcissa's hand moved into his lap and grasped her son's as Voldemort called the meeting to a head.
"As you all know, young Draco has joined our ranks once again," he said to the group at large. Draco looked onto the man, if you even wanted to describe him as that, with a cool expression. "Welcome back, Draco." Draco nodded to the man, and didn't break his gaze. Voldemort looked to Snape. "I assume you bring news, Severus."
"Everything at Hogwarts is proceeding as planned," Snape's voice came from Draco's left.
"Good, good," Voldemort said as Nagini slithered around his shoulders. He stroked the snakes head absently. "Thicknesse, how is the Ministry?"
"Everything is in place, my Lord," replied the man across from Draco. He looked rather shaken, to say the least. Draco looked from Thicknesse to Voldemort, waiting for the next matter of business.
"Very well," Voldemort said. "Tonight is a very… special night. Tonight, we are welcoming a new member to our… society. Young Mr. Zabini, would you join us?"
Draco fought hard to resist standing up and telling Voldemort to fuck off, or take the entire group of Death Eaters at large. First Theo, now Blaise? Narcissa's hand squeezed her son's tighter, making Draco wince. He watched as Blaise stepped onto the table, a cocky look on his face. He was followed by his step-father, but not his village-bicycle of a mother. Everyone at the table knew that Blaise's mother got around… she had most likely slept with ninety percent of the men at the table right now. Blaise's eyes met Draco's for a moment, and he saw the look of fear in his eyes.
Voldemort stepped onto the table as well, joining the step-father and son. Draco felt like hurling… he couldn't watch his friend go through this. Always the protector, he felt himself involuntarily began to twitch, and his mother squeezed his hand again, steadying his trembling. He certainly hoped his father didn't notice, but Lucius seemed too intrigued in their newest initiate to pay any attention to his son.
Draco knew what was going to happen before it did, only because he had been through it. Since his initiation into Voldemort's inner circle, he had seen two others receive the Mark. Both men hadn't been able to stomach the pain, not that Draco had either, and had passed out within a few minutes of the tattoo burning into their flesh. He didn't want to see that happen to Blaise, but knew in order to keep his cover, he had to watch…
Voldemort said a few words about how honored Blaise should be and how it was of the highest honor that he was able to join into the ranks. Draco continuously stared at his friend, sick to his stomach about the procedure he was about to watch. Blaise didn't look scared on the outside, but to anyone who knew him, knew that he was indeed frightful. Draco didn't know how his mother was able to endure Theo's induction without ripping someone's head off… he certainly would have.
When it was time for the Dark Mark to be applied to Blaise, his step-father snatched his arm and held it in front of Voldemort like a piece of meat. Voldemort looked down at Blaise's flesh hungrily, happily, and possessively as he reached for his wand. Draco took notice that the wand didn't appear to be any different than the one he had had a year ago and felt relieved that the Dark Bastard hadn't taken The Elder Wand yet. But, his relief disappeared when he saw Blaise's face. It was almost contorted as Voldemort pressed his wand into the flesh of his forearm.
Draco forced himself to watch his friend's face as he took the pain from the Mark burning itself into his skin. The air smelled of burnt flesh, and Voldemort himself was laughing with glee as Blaise struggled to hold himself up. Some of the Death Eaters at the table were also smiling at Blaise's pain, including both the young men's fathers. Narcissa was still holding Draco's hand tightly. He watched as Blaise's face became contorted and his friend began to cry out in terror as the black snake slithered its way down his arm.
When given the Mark, it doesn't just burn your flesh, but your soul as well. When Draco took the Mark, he had done overall well with the physical pain, but when the darkness reached your soul, it was not something to be reckoned with. He compared it to the loss of someone you loved dearly, or being in so much pain it was unimaginable. Blaise had fallen to his knees, and that's when Draco knew the dark magic had forced itself past the light magic and into his heart and soul. For a moment, the two men met eyes, and Draco had to force himself once again from not getting up and stopping the induction right then and there. How did his father watch this? How did any of them? Blaise kept his eyes on Draco for a few moments, still screaming as Voldemort's wand was pressed into his skin. Draco could see the smoke rising off of the skin on his forearm and the blackness surrounding it and clenched his jaw and bit his tongue.
Blaise couldn't take the pain anymore, and Draco watched as his friend's eyes fluttered. Draco silently begged him to stay awake and fight it, because when you lost consciousness is when Voldemort knew he had won: his magic had overpowered yours and you were his. But, Blaise couldn't resist it: he fell victim to the pain just as everyone (except for a very few people), had done. Draco watched in terror as his eyes drooped for the last time and he fell into a heap on the table. Voldemort looked at the boy's unconscious figure with pride and nudged him with his foot to make sure he was out cold. Draco inhaled and held his breath until his mother released his fingers from her grip.
It wasn't long after Blaise's induction that Voldemort dismissed the meeting after discussing something irrelevant pertaining to Potter. Draco tuned out every word Snake Eyes said and only focused on his unconscious friend who was only a few inches away from him. When the meeting adjured, Voldemort requested that they got rid of "the mess", referring to Blaise. Narcissa called for Spark, who hovered Blaise out of the Parlor. Without a word, and like the good obedient son he was, Draco followed his parents out of the room as well, ignoring the fact that all he wanted to do was barf. Ever since Blaise had been given the Mark, Draco found his Mark burning and itching ever so slightly. He hated it, hated that he was tainted with such an evil symbol. Narcissa led her son to his wing of the Manor, and walked into his bedroom, closing the door behind them and whispering a silencing charm to keep them from being overheard.
Draco sat on his bed, his head in his hands. "You knew, didn't you, Mum?"
Narcissa held her gaze at her son. "I did. I chose not to tell you."
"I would've been more prepared to witness that if you had," Draco argued angrily.
"No, Draco. You would have done everything in your power to prevent it, just like you were fighting doing the entire time Blaise was upon the table," Narcissa countered, and laced her fingers together in front of her dress.
"First Theo, now Blaise…" Draco muttered and ran his hands along his face.
"They all did not have a choice," Narcissa assured her son, knowing that he was blaming himself. He always had blamed himself for any trouble the boys ever got in, from the time he was a young boy.
"They should have, they are of age!" Draco said and angrily began to pace, but knew that for every point he brought up, his mother would counter it. "This needs to stop."
"We are trying to stop it," his mother told him gently. "I will inform our friends of what has happened." She turned to leave, but her wit got the best of her, and she looked over her shoulder. "And Draco, if you are attempting to contact Hermione, I would stop immediately. I was able to cover for your Patronus once; I won't be able to do so again."
Draco sighed as his mother shut the door to his room. He slunk down to his bed, his head in his hands once more, and just breathed. He wouldn't be able to contact Hermione through Patronus now, so he would have to figure out another way. There had to be; he had to make sure that she was safe. With ease, he shrugged his sport coat to the floor and loosened his tie. For the first time in his life, he felt more trapped in his own home than he did being locked in a dormitory at Hogwarts. The young man fell back against the soft sheets of his bed and stared up at the ceiling until Sparky brought him some tea spiked with Dreamless Sleep (all of which Narcissa had requested her to do), and bid him to drink it. It took Draco all of five minutes to realize the tea was spiked and five minutes and thirty seconds to fall asleep. He cursed his mother for being so damn resourceful, but chose to take the few hours of uninterrupted sleep instead of watching his friends get tortured.
Hermione sat against the trunk of the tree, reading Dumbledore's biography for what seemed like the thousandth time. Their beloved Headmaster was not who he claimed to be, that much was clear. It was more than just Rita Seekter who had said so as well. Harry may have believed undoubtedly that the wizard was capable of no evil, but this was the same man who had sent Harry on a wild-goose chase to destroy all of the Horcruxes with not so much as a letter to guide him. Harry called it blind faith and luck, but Hermione called it stupidity. She understood the importance of destroying the Horcruxes – of course – but there was only so far as she was willing to go before the boys' ignorance clouded their reason.
In the biography, it had noted that Dumbledore may have been responsible for his sister's death at the hands of Dark Magic. It explained why he carried such a burden, and wanted to defeat Voldemort so badly. Why were things in their lives always becoming so damn complicated? Hermione laid her head back against the trunk of the tree, watching the snow fall around her. It was so peaceful… it seemed as though Voldemort hadn't reached the Forest of Dean yet. She sighed to herself and her mind wandered to thoughts of Draco, and his deliriously wonderful kisses. How he had peppered them along her collarbone and held her so gently after they were finished… How he had indirectly confessed his love for her, and how it made her heart soar with happiness until they were ripped away from one another. She remembered just six months ago, she couldn't wait for the Slytherin to leave her side. Now, she was falling into a depression because he had.
She wondered where he was now… He said he was safe. He must have been with someone in the Order… Or maybe his mother, providing that she had turned onto their side. That situation still bothered her something fierce. His mother sent Hermione a Patronus to warn her. She just wondered who Narcissa and Hermione knew in connection to one another besides Draco. She thought long and hard about it, but decided that she had more important things to worry about. The boys weren't making any progress on finding the sword, and that was their main priority.
"Hermione," Ron's voice came from behind her. Hermione involuntarily jumped, but relaxed when Ron sat down beside her. "I want to say sorry for Harry and I just up and leaving."
"You should be sorry," replied Hermione, not aggressively or crossly, just softly. "I understand you had a job to do, but did leaving me behind really constitute that?"
"No, we just thought it was best to do it that way," Ron told her and pulled his knees to his chest. "I missed you, Hermione… and we never really did define our relationship…"
Hermione had known this was coming, and she had been fighting the past few weeks to avoid it. She couldn't tell Ron that she was in love with their enemy, and she didn't feel the same way about him as he did her. She loved him like a brother, not a husband.
"Ron," she said gently and turned to face him. His blue eyes that she loved so much looked back into her own encouragingly. It made her heart sink. "With all of this going on, we don't have time for such juvenile things."
"You consider our relationship juvenile?" Ron asked with crossed brows.
"No, I consider labels juvenile," Hermione answered and opened her book again, dismissing the conversation. Ron only sighed at how stubborn the witch in front of him could be. "We need to find the sword. This isn't a pleasure trip."
"Would it kill you to be a little more relaxed?" Ron asked.
"Is that why you two didn't make any progress? Because you're relaxed?" Hermione shot a dark look at Ron from behind her book. "That sure explains a lot, Ron. It's not like we have the entire fate of the wizarding world on our shoulders."
Ron only sighed and retreated back into the tent. It wasn't long before Harry came out and Hermione only rolled her eyes. Of course Ron would tell Harry about her attitude towards him. But, Harry always understood why she was acting the way she was. He locked eyes with her and sat down in front of her, gloved hands in his pockets with a no-nonsense look on his face. She could only dread what was going to come out of his mouth.
"You don't have to treat him like rubbish because you're in love with someone else," Harry told her sternly.
"What would you have me do, Harry? I have a feeling that he's the reason why you two haven't made very much progress in the eight months you've been out here," Hermione said just as cross, slamming her book shut. "Then all of a sudden, Hogwarts gets attacked and I'm here, and he thinks that everything is back to normal?"
"He loves you, Hermione. He just wants the best for you," Harry explained. "Did you even try talking to him about Malfoy?"
"No, and I don't plan too," Hermione snapped. "And you shouldn't either, because if I find out you tell him, I will hex you to next Tuesday. Don't look at me like that, Harry James Potter, you know that I will."
Harry only sighed in defeat under Hermione's dark gaze. "Fine, but you're going to have to do something soon. He thinks that you two are an item, and if you're serious about Malfoy, it's something you need to address."
"We are in the middle of a war," Hermione told her friend, gesturing around her. "There isn't time for relationships or loving or any of that."
"You can't win a war without love, Hermione," Harry told her, stood up, and pushed a stray curl behind her left ear. "Love brings unity, and defeats all."
With a blank look that Hermione couldn't read, Harry turned around and headed for the tent, leaving Hermione back on watch duty. She growled to herself. For six months, she had felt so left behind and so forgotten that all she wanted to do was find Harry and Ron and help them, thinking it would be more beneficial for her to be with them. But, for the first time in her life since being friends with the boys, she felt more trapped with them than she had with Draco at Hogwarts.
It was early evening a few nights later when Draco overheard Voldemort talking to his father in the sitting area. A few Death Eaters were still in the Manor, as their meeting had just adjured. Luckily for Draco, no one had been inducted this time, and it was only about ways to progress Voldemort's cause. From what Draco had gathered, the Ministry had almost fallen and there were a great many people either dead or doing Voldemort's bidding. Draco hadn't been given any tasks as of yet; his father told him that it was because everyone was still under the impression Draco was dead and he would reveal him when the time was right. Blaise had been at this meeting, the last before he returned to Hogwarts for the second semester. Voldemort had given him strict orders to memorize their defenses or his mother and Narcissa would pay for his lack of responsibility. That was the second time Draco had almost got up and yelled bloody murder at everyone in the room, but the look from his mother made him stop and remember his place.
Voldemort was talking low to his father, and Draco looked down the corridors quickly before casting a disillusionment chair and creeping to the sitting room door. He pressed his ear against it, straining to hear what he was saying.
"The boy is onto me, Lucius, but we have what he desperately needs," Voldemort said. Draco could tell that he was pacing, and heard the low hiss of Nagini as well.
"He will soon come for it," his father replied. "I think it best we hide it somewhere he has absolutely no access too."
Voldemort passed the door closely, and Draco saw the shadow of his robes and the body of Nagini close to him. He pressed himself against the door so he wouldn't be seen, and to his luck, it worked. As soon as Snake Eyes and his pet were on the other side of the room, Draco pressed his ear against the door again.
"I agree, Lucius. You are redeeming yourself as useful."
"Thank you, Lord," Lucius said proudly. Draco bit his tongue at the way his father acted around Voldemort. It was the epitome of disgrace.
"I'm sure Bella would be up for the task," Voldemort said. "Have the sword moved to the LeStrange vault immediately. Have Severus do it, as not to draw attention. He has good relations with the Goblins at Gringotts."
"Yes, Lord," Lucius' voice grew closer to the door and Draco knew it was time to go.
The young Malfoy quickly stood up and removed his charm before walking briskly down the hallway, a look of business on his face. At the end of the dimly lit corridor, he straightened his shoulders and rolled them forward, then turned left to where he knew the man he was looking for would be.
Hermione had mentioned that Potter had killed The Basilisk with the Sword of Gryffindor. He could've rolled his eyes at Gryffindor's and their bravery, but restrained from doing so. One of the things that could destroy Horcruxes was Basilisk venom. That being said, Potter had unknowingly incased Basilisk venom into the sword, meaning that Voldemort did indeed have all the cards. Potter needed to get his hands on that sword in order to destroy that damn locket… and the other three objects as well. Draco cursed himself for helping Potter, as he swore he never would, but convinced himself it was for Hermione, and everything would turn out just fine.
He rounded the corner into his mother's wing of the Manor and knocked twice on the sitting room door, knowing what he would find inside. His mother beckoned for him to come in, and he opened the door, seeing Snape and his mother sitting in the chairs, apparently deep in conversation. Draco nodded once to his godfather in greeting and closed the door behind him before casting a silencing charm on the room and taking a seat beside his mother.
"What is it, Draco?" Narcissa asked, looking at her son with concern.
"I overheard You-Know-Who talking to father," he replied. "The Sword of Gryffindor is to be moved to the LeStrange vault in order to keep Potter from getting it."
"This is an interesting turn," Snape said softly. "Potter would need that sword to destroy the Horcruxes… it appears the Dark Lord is onto his task."
Draco nodded. "He did mention that. He also mentioned that you would be moving it."
"Of course," Snape said absently and looked at Narcissa. "We should intercept it."
"You have access to the fake in the Headmaster's office," Narcissa offered her input.
"Indeed," Snape replied thoughtfully. "But, just in case The Dark Lord decides to come to Hogwarts, it does need to stay in the castle."
"What if you transfigure something to look like it?" Draco suggested.
Snape looked at his godson and shook his head. "No, the LeStrange vault is deep within the caverns of Gringotts. The waterfall itself will wash away any enchantments."
"What if the transaction never took place?" Narcissa tapped her chin with her pointer finger. "You could just take the sword, Severus, and tell them that it is in the vault. They would believe you."
"It is risky," Snape replied.
"All of this is risky, Severus, where's your sense of fun?" Narcissa teased him.
"I apparently have lost it, Cissy," Snape said and stood. "I should pay the Dark Lord a visit then, since I will apparently be paying the Goblins a visit."
"You will make sure Potter gets it?" Draco asked his godfather.
"I never knew you to be a supporter," Snape's eyebrows raised at Draco as he stood. Draco felt his face grow warm and he looked down to the black carpet. "He will get it. Goodnight, Narcissa."
"Goodnight Severus," Narcissa said and looked at her son. The moment Snape had closed the door and left them, she spoke. "That was brave of you, Draco. Thank you for telling us this information. This could drastically change the outcome of things."
"Everyone keeps telling me that I'm brave, Mum," Draco said and slumped back in his chair. "Father told me I'm brave because I survived the Order's 'torture' and 'escaped', Hermione tells me I'm brave because I survived being a Death Eater for this long, and you tell me I'm brave for bringing you this information. But, I don't feel brave. Bravery is for Gryffindor's and Hufflepuff's."
Narcissa smiled at her son. "Draco, sometimes being brave won't feel like being brave until it pays off. Regardless of how you feel, son, you are the bravest man I know."
Snape sat in the Headmasters office, staring at the portrait of Dumbledore and having an intense conversation about the Sword of Gryffindor. The man was fiddling with his wand in his hands, staring between the portrait and the Headmistress on his other side. She stood relaxed around Snape when they were alone together but rigid when she was seen in the hallways with him. She listened intently to the conversation, running her fingers along her chin.
"The sword is to be moved into the vault of Bellatrix LeStrange," Snape said and crossed his fingers in front of his face.
"We need to get the real sword to Harry," the portrait of Dumbledore said to the two colleagues.
"I don't suppose you have any idea where he is?" McGonagall asked Snape.
"I do not," Snape replied. "The Order would have informed me if they had known and The Dark Lord would've already killed the boy if he knew."
"Use your head, Severus," the Portrait said snippily.
"No, you use yours, you old fruitcake," another voice rang out as the portrait of Phineas Nigellus came into view from the black backdrop.
"Phineas, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Snape said coolly as he stared at the old Headmaster.
"I may have a tad it of information that you require to complete your task," Phineas said to the man, and crossed his arms, his black eyes staring into Snape's.
"You do?" McGonagall asked curtly with her chin pointed straight forward. The woman was in no mood for nonsense. Especially a Slytherin's.
Phineas side glanced the portrait of Dumbledore across from him, who was staring him down. The older Headmaster's eyes seemed to sparkle with delight, even in painted form. "They are camping in the Forest of Dean."
"I assume you got this information from the portrait I placed in Granger's bag before she left the castle?" Snape asked. Phineas only smiled.
"Very good!" cried Dumbledore's portrait, causing the Headmistress and new Headmaster to turn and face his portrait again. "Now, Severus, the sword! You needn't know that it must only appear under the true conditions of need and valor and do not let Harry know that you have given it to him! If Voldemort was to read your or Harry's mind –"
"I know," Snape said curtly and rose from his chair.
"Severus, would you like an escort?" McGonagall asked her friend as he moved towards the door of the office to take his leave. She watched her friend, and only hoped for the best.
"No need, Minerva. If anyone should ask, tell them I had business to attend too," Snape said and exited the office.
The Headmistress turned to the portrait of Phineas and crossed her arms. "Have you heard any word on the young Mr. Malfoy from Miss Granger?"
Phineas took a seat in his chair. "Maybe a few things, but it tarnishes my family name. We both know that I can't allow that to happen."
"The Black family name has regained its integrity, Phineas. I would very much like to know," she pressed.
He looked as though he was debating with himself for a quick moment before he finally spoke. "She told Potter about their relationship, and she mentioned a few things I would very much wish to forget regarding their… intimate life."
"Just as I expected," McGonagall turned to the portrait of Dumbledore. "This complicates things greatly, Albus."
Dumbledore looked as though he was deep in thought. "It was a risk that we took. I don't think anything will come of it, however."
"I'm surprised it happened at all," McGonagall replied and ran her fingers over her chin. "It will make the ending of this war that much harder."
"If everything goes according to plan, Minerva, you will have nothing to worry about," Dumbledore assured her and popped a lemon drop into his mouth. She should've scolded him; even in portrait form, he was addicted to the candies. "Lemon drop?"