Title: Names

Authoress: Lady Domino

Summary: Harry and his friends are trying desperately to rescue Mrs Malfoy, but they encounter some unexpected problems.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters; they belong to J. K. Rowling. Sigh. But I do own this plot.

A/N – Chapter 9! Finally! What's more, I've finally planned how this is going to end! Oh yes, we have direction! And too many exclamation marks… It's 23:20, I'm tired, I've finally finished this. And it took me thirty attempts to upload it...grumble grumble

Ruins

The Weasley girl knocked on my door half an hour later, bearing a steaming mug. Reluctantly I unlocked the door and admitted the arm which thrust the mug in my direction. I sensed that it had not been her idea to bring it, because her eyes dripped venom. We did not exchange a word as I glanced in the cup. Tea? I was damn near suicidal and Potter sent me tea. I suppose I could only be grateful that tatty old Lupin hadn't come up bearing chocolate.

Surprisingly enough it calmed me down immensely, sitting there on my bed, door locked, window open, sipping the tea. I was exhausted from my tantrums (the word makes me cringe, but that's what they were) and breathing deeply, holding my breath as I took a mouthful of tea. My neck ached from tension, and I ran one hand over it, massaging it gently. I missed Misty. Stroking him usually relieved all my stress, although I doubted whether even he would be up to the challenge this time. Poor Misty. I wondered what had happened to him. Perhaps he had sensed the mood of the Manor and fled. Unlikely; in the evenings he came in, instead of going out. I could imagine him now, curled up peacefully in front of the drawing room fire (yes we have fires, even in summer. My father had flat out refused to install central heating), wondering why there was so much shouting upstairs, wondering where his master was. Sadness lanced through me. I would not see him again for a long time, and over this summer I had grown even closer to him. I felt like I was missing an arm, not having him there to stroke and fuss over, and I missed his insistent mew desperately.

Focus on the cat, Draco. Forget everything else, just focus on the cat.

More time passed. I lay apathetically on my bed, physically drained. The cold dregs of the tea began to look appetising as the darkness outside grew more complete. My room faced onto a muggle street, and a streetlight cast its orange glow into my room. Through the half open door in the far wall I could see the room designated for my mother. I rolled over, turning my back on it, turning my back on accepting reality. I felt like I was stuck in limbo – suspended and safe, awaiting a blow that would never come as long as I willed it not to.

And then, like an echoing knell, another knock at my door. And I knew this wasn't about frivolous things like hot drinks. This was news. No, this was the truth. I rose slowly, for once unconcerned by my rumpled shirt, and eased the door open. Potter stood there, wearing a leather jacket. I raised an eyebrow involuntarily. Goodbye Wonder-boy, hello teen-rebel. He caught my glance and huffed.

"I was miserable, I saw it in a shop, I felt better." The look in his eyes made me stop asking questions. I walked back to the bed and sat on it, gesturing him in. Strangely enough, inside I felt a deep calm. The raging fear, the tides of uncertainty and the waves of aggression had drained away. Damn, I was even getting poetic. "Draco," Potter began nervously, and I knew that this was not how you started a conversation that was going to end with 'And your mother's fine, in fact she's downstairs'… He crossed his arms defensively. "There was a reason we couldn't get through to Erebos. And now that we've broken the Anti Apparating spells around the area, well, perhaps I'd better show you."

"Where's my mother?" I asked. He frowned.

"Draco, it would really be easier if you came and saw for yourself." I'd thought I was calm. I was wrong. Dread gripped me, icy fingers of fear sliding down my back. What was I going to see? A body? A Dark Mark emblazoned on the night sky? What was so terrible that words would not suffice?

Apprehensively I stood up.

"I will need help Apparating there. I've never been before except by Floo." He nodded.

"I'll give you my hand. Do you have a coat?" I shook my head, and realised suddenly how woeful my position was. I had only the clothes I stood in – a tee-shirt and a pair of jeans. Good grief! What if they started suggesting I borrow something from Weaselby? I made a firm resolution to kill myself should the occasion occur.

"Draco?" Huh? "I asked if you needed a coat," he repeated. I glanced out the window and considered. Clear, unclouded skies, and there was already a slight chill in the air.

"Yes, fine," I said softly.

"Give me a second." He vanished into his room, and reappeared with a non-descript black coat. "I notice you're in something a bit more interesting," I snorted, pulling the garment on. He shrugged.

"You want leather, you buy your own." He reached out for my hand, and I held onto his fingers. "Ready?"

"Yes." No.

"Hold on tight."

"I'm not a child, Potter." But I want my mother. We Apparated away together.

We arrived on a blasted heath, swathed in the darkness that only comes when you are miles away from muggle cities and their lights. As my eyes adjusted I realised it was not truly dark; a warm glow came from behind us, illuminating the Dartmoor landscape and the dense bracken. A rustling sound, and my heart skipped a beat as a pair of eyes caught the light and moved towards us, but it was just an inquisitive pony. I ignored it as it pushed through the deep bracken towards us, snuggled deeper into my coat against the chill in the air, and turned around. Behind us was a large bonfire crackling merrily. Two shapes sat around it.

"Hiya Harry," one said tiredly, and I realised it was a woman. "Back already?"

"Tonks," he replied, gripping my arm. "I've brought Draco." The other figure coughed into the fire.

"Brought the Deatheater's son have you? Well by all means, Potter, show him the damage he's done." I bristled, recognising the voice. Mad Eyes. I did not dignify his words with a reply, but instead looked past them. I knew where we were, and my eyes searched in the gloom for a pair of iron gates, set in high stone walls. There! I stepped towards them, dragging my arm out of Potter's grip. The name plate on the wall beside them glimmered in the firelight. I couldn't read the inscription, but I knew that it would tell me that these gates belonged to Erebos. Beyond the gates I could dimly make out a great drive, rolling past lawns, up to…

"That's not possible!" I exclaimed. Potter came and stood beside me.

"Draco, the reason we couldn't get through to Erebos was because… Erebos no longer exists." And he was right. Where once had stood an immense mansion, built on a scale that rivalled Malfoy Manor, with turrets and gables and multiple chimneys and Aunt Bellatrix's stables which housed her precious horses, there was now rubble. And not much rubble either, considering the size of the house that had been demolished. I trembled in shock.

"How is this possible? The house, the house was here!"

"What's the betting your Lord didn't take kindly to you doing a runner, and vented his rage on an innocent house?" Moody growled from behind me. "What, you thought he'd just be fine with you scurrying away?"

"Leave him alone. Draco couldn't possibly have predicted that this would happen," the woman called Tonks countered. I ignored them both, and ran to the gates, wrapping my arms around them. They were solid. They were real. But the house… the house was gone.

"We'll go through the wreckage in the morning," Potter said quietly.

"Searching for bodies, you mean," I replied. I laughed bitterly. "Well, I can tell you who you won't find, no matter how much you may want to. My Aunt Bellatrix."

"You are mistaken if you believe Bellatrix means anything to me," Potter said coldly.

"Don't bother lying," I said tiredly. "You loathe her. You'd sell your soul for a chance to dance on her grave." He took my hand gently, and his fingers were cold.

"Draco? There's nothing here. Nothing until the morning comes. You need to sleep." I pulled away from him.

"I'll stay here." A snort behind me.

"You? The pampered prince? Sleeping rough?" Moody was seriously pissing me off now. I spun around and my voice rose.

"I said I will stay here tonight. I want to be here in case… in case…" In case by some miracle she's still alive and she calls for me. Potter nodded, his eyes gleaming in the firelight, his breath just beginning to mist.

"I'll stay with you."

"You don't need to," I protested.

"Harry, it could be dangerous if Voldemort returns," Tonks piped up.

"Why would he?" Potter asked. "He doesn't know we're here."

"He could guess." Moody held up his hand in the firelight and ticked points off on his fingers. "He could come back to survey his work, he could have placed spells on the area which alerted him the instant we came." He glanced at Harry, the flickering orange light reflecting grotesquely of his malformed face. "He could have a little look in your mind whilst you dream."

"Voldemort can no longer see in my mind," Potter replied in an icy tone. "I am an accomplished leglimans now, thanks to Lupin's help. We will sleep here tonight."

"You'll need guards," Tonks said quietly. "But if you insist, then I'll be happy to stay with you."

"I suppose I will too," Moody grumbled.

I conjured for myself a thick sleeping bag and a blanket to cover the ground beneath me, and Potter did the same. We lay down close enough together to speak, but far enough apart that I could not hear his breathing. I did not want to think what the continuance of that action of his had cost me.

"Is it true?" I asked quietly. "You are now a leglimans? Snape said you had no talent."

"Snape," he said bitterly. "Funnily enough I learnt far faster under a teacher who did not seize every opportunity to humiliate me." I probed his mind gently and was surprised to find iron hard defences. He had not been lying. "Don't do that," he hissed. I jerked guiltily.

"Do what, Potter?"

"Don't do what you were just trying," Potter replied. "Or I might return the favour." Immediately I threw up my defences to their maximum, and turned away from him. Eye contact makes Occulmency far easier.

My ears strained, listening for the thin wailing of my mother's voice. Let me hear her, I begged whoever was listening. Let her be alive and let her call out to me. There was no reply; just the sound of the fire spitting and crackling as more dry bracken was added to it. Eventually I dropped off into a fitful sleep, still wrapped in the dark coat he had lent me.

The morning dawned clear, with skies a light periwinkle blue and dotted with clouds. The sun had barely risen and started spreading its warming rays when I woke up. My back ached from the hard ground, and my neck was even stiffer than the evening before, but determination fired me up. I would find my mother today.

The woman named Tonks was sitting next to the glowing embers of the fire, wrapped in a thick blanket, her head nodding. I wondered why she had hair a lurid shade of magenta. Odd. On the other side of the fire Lupin curled up under another blanket, with a pillow under his head. I supposed that he and Mad Eyes had exchanged guard duty during the night. Only two guards. They couldn't have seriously believed that the Dark Lord was going to return. Potter lay asleep in his bag, a slightly worried expression on his face, head resting on his arm, still wearing the leather jacket. In the light I admired the quality of it, although it did surprise me that he had gone comfort shopping. Retail therapy; wasn't that a female thing? Still, the result was entirely to my liking, so obviously Potter's idols should be killed off more often.

I left him sleeping on, and walked up to the gates of Erebos. Seeing the destruction beyond them in the daylight took my breath away. Nothing had been left standing. The entire house had been levelled, and then the debris dumped in individual pieces. I could see splintered beams of timber, panels of fractured glass and bricks. So many bricks, covered in a mantle of dust. I pushed the gates, but they remained locked, still guarding the property, guarding that sad pile of rubble.

"All is dust," I whispered to them, feeling the bitter, bitter irony of the password my Aunt had set on them, and they swung open silently. I glanced back to check that the others slept on, then ran up the paved drive. The immaculate lawns and the clear skies mocked the mess that I drew up to. Close to, one could see remnants of furnishings; here a sofa poked out from under the bricks, there a ripped painting lay discarded. The pile was small compared to the mighty house that had stood here, but still it towered higher than I was tall. My stomach clenched. How was I ever going to find her in it? I couldn't summon her, not without the possibility of damaging her. I pulled out my wand and searched for a suitable spell. I could shrink the material, I supposed, but that would take a tedious long time. It would be impractical trying to move it piece by piece, and likewise impractical trying to sift through it. An idea popped into my head and I pointed my wand at the sofa.

"Evanesco." It vanished. Heartened I pointed again and again, at sheets of glass, at tattered curtains, at wooden beams. "Evanesco. Evanesco." It was desperately slow, but I was making a hole in the mountain. Determinedly I burrowed deeper in, always making sure that what I vanished couldn't possibly contain a body. "Evanesco. Evanesco."

"Evanesco," a voice other than mine said, and I turned to see Potter standing there. He directed his next spell at a pipe. "Evanesco." I didn't acknowledge him beyond a brief glance where our eyes met, but continued my work.

By midday I had uncovered several dead House Elves (probably killed when the house was destroyed, judging by their crushed appearance), but no sign of my mother. I surveyed the chunk we had bitten out of the rubble in despair. Even with Potter's help, and the two aurors joining in later in the morning, we still had more than three qurters of the heap to go. She could be dying. She could be suffocating, and I'll get there too late. Potter wiped his brow and joined me in considering the fruit of our labours.

"At this rate we'll need a bloody army to get through it all," I complained bitterly. He started.

"Of course!" And vanished.

"Where have you gone?" I demanded of thin air. "What the hell are you doing?" Grumpily I conjured a bottle of water up and drank it all in one. My fourth that day. Shifting the debris rose clouds of dust, and it was thirsty work. My eyes were irritated; dry and scratchy, but I ignored that. I still couldn't believe that the Dark Lord had simply razed this house to the ground; and in such little time too! His power beggared belief.

Crack! Crack! Crack! I dropped the empty water bottle in surprise as wizards Apparated all around me. A bloody contingent of Weasleys! I counted six of them (including the two parents), as well as Mad Eyes, and Potter standing in the middle, looking so pleased with himself I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd started purring. He gestured expansively at the ruins.

"There's the house! Ladies and gentlemen, shall we?" And they went to it.

I'll say one thing for having hoards of children. They halved the time it took to clear the debris several times over. For them it became a sort of game – the twins were racing each other and seeing who could clear the biggest hole, Weasley R. was attacking the rubble like it had done him a personal grievance, the Weasley girl was amusing herself by clearing a spherical tunnel and burrowing deep inside the rubble, and the parents were joking whilst helping each other out. I wanted to Crucio every last one of them. I was terrified they'd miss her, or maybe accidentally harm her in their high spirits. Did they not realise what was at stake? My Mother. Helpless. Witless. Alive? All through the morning I had denied myself the answer to that question, but as the afternoon wore on I began to despair. We worked on into the evening, the others breaking off for a brief picnic dinner whilst I ploughed doggedly on, the cool air a blessed relief after the baking sun at midday. Between the eleven of us we had cleared the entire pile of rubble by the time the light began to fade. I was exhausted, having allowed myself barely five minutes rest every hour, and the truth was bitter to the taste. She was not here. No sign of her, dead or alive. No body. No sign of Aunt Bellatrix either. And then, just as the last few mounds of rubble were cleared, I heard a shout from Weasley R.'s direction.

"Bloody hell!" My heart missed a beat as I ran over to him, and the others joined me. My breath caught. A hand. A hand poking out of the heap. A human hand. No! NO!

Gently they excavated the body, carefully vanishing the bricks one by one. He was so covered by dust that I could barely make out his features, but his figure told me he was a male, and I guessed it was Uncle Rudolphus. They splashed water on his face and confirmed his identity, and all I felt was relief. This was not the hour, not the dreaded hour when I was to find her. But still, a part of me died every minute I waited in apprehension. The not-knowing was killing me. Should I hope or should I grieve? Black despair wrapped me in its dark cloak. Uncle Rudolphus had gone to Azkaban for Voldemort. He was one of the Dark Lord's most trusted Deatheaters. If he had not escaped the storm of anger, then what hope was there for my poor confused mother? I turn and ran back down the driveway. We had finished, vanished the ruins of the entire house, and she was not there. She is dead, I told myself. Accept it, Draco. She is dead. I couldn't. I couldn't believe it. A part of me kept hoping, kept torturing myself. She is dead and it is your fault. No! Please no. Please, please no. Behind me I heard the whoosh of flames, and I turned to see that they had piled the last few timbers together, and were burning Rudolphus' body on the makeshift pyre. An ignominious end for a faithful Deatheater. I'm sorry Father. I know he was your friend. I could hear Aunt Bellatrix's voice on the breeze if I strained my ears, or so I fancied. Her whisper caressed my ear. 'All is dust, Draco.' Not my mother, I pleaded with her phantom. Not my mother. She gave no reply.

Potter walked towards me, and I loathed him. I loathed him because he still stood and walked. I loathed him because he was strong and he could fight on when he had lost people his loved, whereas I felt like dying. I wanted to cry, and I hated him because if he saw me with tears in my eyes it would only make me cry harder at the humiliation. And I hated him as he opened his mouth, because what good would his platitudes and mewlings be? Would they bring her back? Would they make it 'all right'? But what he said surprised me.

"It's up to you where you go now, Draco. But a wise man once told me that it is not wise to dwell on 'what ifs'"

"Let me guess," I sneered. "Those pearls of wisdom came from St. Dumbledore." He didn't rise to my bait, but instead shrugged.

"It's your life, Draco. Do what you want with it." I looked into my future and a black abyss yawned before me. I didn't have a future! What could I do? Where could I go? Perhaps he sensed my feelings because he continued. "Personally I'm working on destroying Voldemort's hocruxes. If you want to join me…" He left the sentence hanging. I leapt at his words.

"Hocruxes? I've read about those. But…the Dark Lord has more than one?"

"Not for much longer, if I have any say in it," Potter replied, with a slightly smug smile. And gratitude filled me. Gratitude because I could just follow. No more decisions; someone else would lay the path and all I had to do was follow. Someone had taken the choice, someone else was planning this future, someone else saw the line. All I had to do was follow. I made the one decision needed of me.

"You'll be needing help on this quest of yours then." A statement, not a question. He frowned.

"I will?" I laughed, the Malfoy mocking tone ringing true.

"You, on your own, Potter? You couldn't open a locked door if you didn't have Granger at your side. You'll be needing someone with brains. Someone with experience."

"And you as well?" he teased. I actually managed a smile.

So… Did you see that coming? Hehe. Don't forget to leave me a review.