Title: All That Glitters
Disclaimer: I don't own anything
Summary: Light and Dark must join forces to save McGonagall, and several deals are made.
Author's note: Re: Romulus: I am, actually, female. And yes, my worlds are pretty much always somewhat dark. I prefer bittersweet stories because they just seem so much more realistic. The real world isn't a happy and bright paradise, at least not all the time.
Chapter Thirteen: Trades of the Soul
The names Malfoy, Nott, and Zabini may not have carried the same weight since the war, but they were still dominant families. Money meant influence, and influence meant power. While news of Narcissa's arrest inflamed the masses and left people calling for her blood, another set of rumors began to make their was through certain sectors of society. It didn't take long before whispers filled the streets and began to instill some doubt in the older wizarding families who still remembered what the world had been like before the war.
"I heard Mrs. Malfoy was framed by Abbott. Shacklebolt didn't even approve the arrest."
"Can you really trust anything Nott says?"
"I don't know. They certainly didn't follow protocol arresting her, did they?"
Minister Diggory stared at the young man in front of him. The spy's nondescript face was schooled into a picture of nonchalance and indifference, but there was a strange glimmer in his eyes that revealed his interest. The news he had detailed to the Minister had been dismaying and troublesome.
Diggory closed his eyes for a moment, his fingers interlaced on the smooth surface of the desk. Behind him, the enchanted window looked out onto a sunlit plaza, sparkling and glistening in the early morning air.
"So… there are those who want Narcissa Malfoy to be released?" he said finally.
"Yes," the spy answered calmly. "But there are also those who would like to see her imprisoned for the rest of her life." When the Minister said nothing, the spy continued in a complacent tone, "You cannot appease both factions."
"I know,' Diggory agreed heavily. He rose to his feet and walked over to the window. Staring into the magically-created scene, he asked, "Who is behind this call for Mrs. Malfoy's release?"
"Well, her husband and son, of course," the spy answered, ticking the names off on his fingers. "Theodore Nott. Mrs. Zabini and her son. Hannigan."
"All relatively shady characters," Diggory mused quietly.
"Not quite," the spy interjected softly, almost reprehensively. "The Patils. They had children in Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. Zacharias Smith. He was in Hufflepuff. Lionel Hartung. He was a Gryffindor, too, graduated about twelve years ago, I believe. He owns…"
"Hartung Emporium," the Minister muttered. "One of the largest wizarding businesses in Britain."
"The list goes on, you know." The spy leaned back in his seat, watching the Minister carefully. "There are plenty of witches and wizards who have never had even the slightest bit of Dark associated with their name who still want Narcissa Malfoy released because they believe her arrest was a breach of justice."
"It was a breach of justice and protocol," Diggory replied emphatically, turning to face the spy. "I can't even begin to fathom what Abbott was thinking."
"He wanted revenge," the spy answered. "You know what happened to his wife."
Diggory swallowed uncomfortably. They'd all heard exactly how brutally his wife had been murdered during the war. And although his heart went out to the man, he had been skeptical about Abbott's appointment to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He was driven by passion, and since the death of his wife, all passion had been turned towards catching Death Eaters, no matter the methods used.
Finally, Diggory said, "Perhaps not a wise appointment."
The spy shrugged. "He isn't the only one who lost family during the war, and he certainly won't be the only one to cry out for revenge."
Diggory sat down once again, and rested his hands on the desk. "You can go," he said dismissively, and the spy slipped out of the room just an unobtrusively as he had appeared.
The use of spies was not uncommon. In fact, both Scrimgeour and Fudge had used their own staff to glean information about organizations and businesses, and sentiment from the general society. Their methods had been secretive and, for the most part, underhanded, but highly effective. Although Fudge's attempt to use Percy Weasley as a spy had failed, almost every other time he had arranged to do something like that, it had been met with great success. And perhaps Scrimgeour had been even more skillful in his dealings.
What was different now was that Diggory employed people to act as nothing but spies. They had no other job in his office save gathering information from people. It was a much more efficient system, and yet there was something cold about it, an impersonal and callous determination to discover every possible detail, no matter how personal or private.
The public would most likely not be pleased if they knew what he was doing and how he was doing it. But he kept his secrets well, and whenever he began to feel the first tendrils of doubt or disgust for his actions, he would simply remind himself that he was trying to hold a rapidly disintegrating society together, and this was necessary.
Narcissa waited until she was safely inside her house before wrenching her arm from Kingsley's grasp. She took a few steps away from the Auror and raised her head in a dignified manner. The other Aurors had not entered the house with her, and as she was alone with the head of Magical Law Enforcement, she found herself better able to speak with some impunity.
"Why have you released me?"
"It's temporary," Kingsley replied. He held his wand in his hands, twisting it back and forth and running his fingers along the smooth wood. "As you know, the Trace has been placed upon you once again, and you are forbidden from leaving the country."
Narcissa snorted. "I have no intention of running like a scared school girl."
Kingsley ignored the comment and continued, "If I were you, I would, however, be wary when I step outside. There are plenty who mean you harm."
"There are always plenty who mean me harm," Narcissa answered coolly. "Are you going to arrest me for any crime?"
"No," Kingsley answered. "Not yet."
"I see."
"Mrs. Malfoy," Kingsley said seriously, "I need for you to arrange a meeting with Snape. I need to speak to him again, as soon as possible."
The aristocratic blonde gave a humorless smile. "I'm afraid I can't do that. I'm not in touch with him, Auror Shacklebolt."
Kingsley stared at his own wand, before sliding it into his pocket and looking back up at Narcissa. "Yes, you are. And we both know that any defense you give is a lie. But I am offering you a choice. You can refuse to cooperate, and we can continue to look for evidence against you, which I assure you, we will find." He paused, waiting a beat, before continuing, "Or you can help me now, and I can ensure that all charges against you are dropped."
Narcissa folded her arms over her chest and replied with a defiant smirk, "With all due respect, Auror, I've been threatened by everyone from Mr. Runcorn to Mr. Abbott because of this alleged association with Severus Snape. If you are all so convinced that I am guilty, why should I believe that you aren't simply waiting for me to incriminate myself?"
It was a valid question, and Kingsley knew that he would be wary of trusting others had he been in her position. But he bit back his retort of frustration and replied in an even voice, "I am not making threats. I had nothing to do with Abbott's actions, nor with any interaction you might have had with Runcorn."
"Again," Narcissa said with that same complacent manner, "why should I trust you?"
There were two possible paths from this moment, two courses of action that could possibly yield the desired result. Kingsley knew he could stand there and argue, profess his honesty, and hope that she would believe him. And yet he knew, deep down, that this was not the case. She would laugh off his requests, ignore his pleas, and scorn his vows. And even more than that, Narcissa had shown in the past that she was infinitely more concerned with what was best for her family than what was best for the world, and engaging in any form of subterfuge with a department of the Ministry that could easily turn against her could not be considered beneficial for her husband or son.
No, that was clearly not an option. His other choice was to force her hand, and although he was loathe to sink to such levels, he knew the necessity of doing so. The Greater Good came first, and if he had to sacrifice the Malfoys' pride to stop this traitor in his dangerous and deadly plans… so be it.
He met her gaze and said in a steady voice, and with much more conviction than he actually felt, "I'm not giving you a choice in this matter, Mrs. Malfoy. I presented this as a request under the hopes that you might willingly agree to work with me. But if you refuse this favor, I can force you into it."
"How?"
Kingsley took a deep breath and said, "Mrs. Malfoy, your entirely family was proven to be Death Eaters. You were acquitted of such crimes because of your actions in saving the life of Harry Potter during the final battle. So, too, was your husband." He paused, letting his gaze slide past her to the far wall, where a portrait of Draco hung next to several other family paintings. "Your son was never charged with any crimes because you and your husband were cleared. But he could still be charged as a Death Eater." He looked back at Narcissa, who had gone extremely pale. "He bears the Dark Mark, doesn't he?"
"Are you threatening Draco?" Narcissa asked, her voice deathly quiet. She lifted her chin, eyeing him with supreme distaste, but underneath the brave façade, her eyes sparkled with a sudden wave of fear.
"Arrange this meeting with Snape, and I can assure you that your son will never be charged as a Death Eater. Not for his crimes in this past war."
Narcissa contemplated her choices in silence, knowing she did not have much of a choice at all. She'd been willing to sell her soul to the devil himself to protect Draco, and that was why she had once ended up on the doorstep of Snape's dingy little hut in direct violation to the Dark Lord's orders. There was nothing she wouldn't do now, but… It seemed that protecting Draco might necessarily come at the risk of betraying Snape. How could she turn on her friend?
How could she not do everything in her power to save her son?
Kingsley could see the brief internal battle playing across Narcissa's normally blank face, and felt another welling of guilt, hot and bubbling, in his stomach. But he had no choice in the matter, not really. Sometimes, in the name of what was right, people had to do things that were wrong. He'd killed before, and he'd lied and cheated… And he would continue to do so as long as his job required it.
The sound of footsteps on the stairway to their left caused both Narcissa and Kingsley to swing sharply around and watch in surprise as Draco's head peeked around the corner. He froze at the sight of Kingsley, but ill-concealed relief washed over his features as he saw his mother standing there.
"Hello, Mother," he said formally.
"Hello, Draco," she replied.
Kingsley looked from mother to son, then said, "Mrs. Malfoy… your answer, please?"
She looked at him, then looked away. "The Forbidden Forest at nightfall. I will endeavor to ensure that he will be there."
Draco looked back and forth between the two, obviously confused and intrigued by the conversation. But Kingsley simply nodded and strode from the house, leaving the two Malfoys standing alone in the silence.
When Harry appeared outside the Malfoy Manor, he was slightly surprised to see Draco Malfoy already standing in the front yard next to the oak gate, staring back at the house with a slightly concerned expression on his face. The younger Malfoy turned at the audible crack of Harry's appearance. His gray eyes narrowed slightly, and one hand moved to the pocket of his robes, prepared to draw his wand if need be.
"Malfoy," Harry greeted with a nod and a barely concealed sneer of disdain.
Malfoy met Harry's gaze with a sneer of his own. "Potter," he replied, matching Harry's tone of formality.
"I need to talk to you," Harry said firmly. He looked around for a moment, and wondered if there was anyone else on the property. "In private. I don't want to be overheard."
Malfoy raised an eyebrow at that. "My mother is in the house." He glanced over his shoulder for a moment, then said, "There's no one in the garden."
He beckoned with one hand, and Harry followed him around the corner of the house and into a luscious garden. The ground beneath their feet was covered in white and pink flowers, a cascading rush of delicate petals. The occasional blood red flowering plant punctuated the meticulously tended garden, and the almost over-powering scent of flowers lingered in the air.
Harry watched Malfoy with a wary stare, more than a little surprised that the other boy had so readily agreed to speak to him. He had envisioned that this meeting would begin with the usual mocking threats and derisive remarks. But to his perplexed chagrin, Malfoy merely gestured for him to start speaking.
"I'm here to offer you a deal," Harry said finally. "One better than any of you actually deserve."
"And what's that?" Malfoy asked coolly.
"You lead me to Snape, and I'll make sure no Auror ever bothers you or your mother. Ever again."
Malfoy paused, eyes widening ever so slightly as he listened to the other wizard's words. He seemed to be contemplating a response, and then a moment later suspicion and distrust flickered through his features, and he said bitingly, "You don't have the power to make that type of deal. And I don't know where Snape is anyway."
Harry set his features into a hard line as he answered, "That's a crock, and we both know it. You know exactly where Snape is, and the fact that your mother has managed to evade justice for so long has nothing to do with her actual innocence."
"Leave my mother out of this," Malfoy snarled instantly, eyes flashing dangerously. "Don't you dare talk about her."
Harry allowed himself a thin smile of triumph as he replied, "I am trying to leave your mother out of this, Malfoy. That is exactly what I am offering you."
Malfoy shook his head. "You can't. You don't have that ability."
Harry shrugged, unconcerned. "I can turn your mother into a saint, Malfoy. I can tell the world that she was so brave, so courageous, when she lied to Voldemort to protect me. I can make them think her such a hero that she would be completely untouchable, and the world would cry with rage if the Aurors so much as looked cross-eyed at her. I may not have the legal power to offer her sanctuary, but I can give it to her nonetheless."
Malfoy hesitated once again, then looked over his shoulder at the house. Something was passing through his eyes, an undecipherable look that Harry could not read. He seemed to be weighing his options, trying to come up with a solution to the current predicament. Harry wondered vaguely why Malfoy was waiting, why he hadn't taken the offer instantly. Was it because he did not trust Harry to keep his word, or was it because he was uncomfortable with the idea of betraying the man who had been his favorite teacher for so long?
Either way, it did not matter. All that mattered to Harry was finding Snape and bringing him to justice, and let Malfoy stew in his own self-doubts.
"Why?" Malfoy said finally. "Why...?"
"Why what?" Harry snapped irritably.
"Why would you offer this deal?" Malfoy elaborated, expression pinching into a look of complete distrust. "You'll forgive me if I don't jump to the conclusion that anything you say is trustworthy," he drawled bitterly. "Why would you ever agree to something that lets my family go free? We both know you want so desperately to see my mother in Azkaban for the rest of her life."
"You're giving me a lecture about being trustworthy?" Harry spat, enraged. "You've broken your word and switched sides so many times, it's a miracle anyone ever believes a single thing that comes out of your mouth."
"You didn't answer my question," Malfoy answered in his tone of infuriating calmness, still regarding Harry with the same expression of suspicion.
"I don't have to justify myself to you," Harry answered finally, forcing his words to remain calm and evenly measured. "I'm telling you now that I will keep this deal. Why do you care what my reasons are?"
Malfoy turned away and walked through the garden. He stepped carelessly on the plants, straying from the path of grass and dirt. The petals crumpled under his feet, tiny, delicate, and pale, leaving footprints marred into the crushed flowers. Behind them both, the windows of the house overlooked the path, and Harry caught sight of Narcissa Malfoy staring down at them from the second floor, watching her son with a scrutinizing stare. She turned and met hsi gaze for a moment, then looked back at her son, before disappearing into the interior of the house.
Harry wondered idly if she was on her way down the stairs and out to the garden.
"Malfoy!" he called after the retreating wizard.
Malfoy spun around and looked at him, then sighed, as though making up his mind. "I can't tell you where he is, Potter," he said finally. "I'm not the secret keeper."
Harry digested this for a moment, knowing it would be useless to press the issue. If Malfoy couldn't tell him Snape's location, then he would have to find a different way. But as he watched the pale man standing before him, he knew he would never get a better option than the deal he was offering now. "What can you tell me?" he asked quietly.
"Auror Shacklebolt has made a deal with my mother. She's going to set up a meeting for him and Snape."
"Why? When? Where?" Harry asked instantly, excitedly. Was Narcissa Malfoy already laying the trap for Snape? Had she already agreed to bring the traitor to justice, to turn on her own friend to save her life and the life of her son and husband?
Malfoy didn't answer. Instead, he looked over at the house again. Narcissa Malfoy was standing on the porch.
Harry waited for the reply, contemplating his choices. If Malfoy's mother had already agreed to betray Snape to Kingsley, then she must have made some form of deal. She wouldn't be doing this for nothing. In which case, there was little that Harry could offer that she wouldn't have already received. In fact, there was little Harry could offer that she would want, having already ensured that she, her husband, and her son would escape the justice system.
Unless the trap was not for Snape. What if the trap was for Kingsley? What if Snape was planning on removing yet another threat from his list? Could he be planning to kill the Head of Magical Law Enforcement?
"When and where?" Harry asked again, a little harshly. He'd go, just to make sure...
Snape would not escape this time.
"The Forbidden Forrest," Malfoy answered finally. "Nightfall."
As Harry walked away, he heard a tiny voice in his mind, one that sounded quite a bit like Hermione, reprimanding him for what he had done.
You would absolve the Malfoys of their crimes just to fit your own needs? If they have been hiding Snape for the past few years, they are guilty as well. How can you just let them go?
But he ignored the voice. Hermione was not there, not standing in front of him, not able to argue with his actions and point out his flaws. Without her constant nagging, he was free to make his own choices about what was wrong and what was right. And even if the little voice would not completely disapear, even if it kept whispering to him...
...this isn't about right and wrong. This is about your need for revenge, not justice...
...he could ignore it.
He had a traitor to catch.
Draco watched as Potter walked away, then turned towards his mother. She'd come down the few steps into the garden, and was staring at him with a mixture of concern and distrust in her pale eyes.
"Draco? What was Potter doing here?"
"Same as usual," Draco replied dismissively, shaking away any guilt he felt at the lies that so easily fell from his tongue. "Threats."
She nodded, but looked less than convinced.
Draco swallowed uneasily, but walked past his mother into the house. Once upon a time, he would never have dreamed of betraying Snape. But he'd heard enough of the conversation between his mother and Shacklebolt to know that his family was not going to walk out this in one piece. Shacklebolt was using his mother, blackmailing her, threatening her, just to achieve his own ends. And Draco knew he would go to hell and back before he let anyone destroy his family.
He knew many people who had joined the Dark Lord's ranks and turned their backs on everything that ever mattered. And he knew his mother had defied everyone and everything just to make sure he stayed safe from the Dark Lord's wrath. Snape had protected him, watched over him, guided him away from making some of the worst mistakes he could have made with his life, and selling out the potions Master was a betrayal that would eat away at him forever.
But he would not let anything happen to his mother. He would protect her, the way she had protected him, no matter the cost, no matter what he had to give up, no matter who he had to betray.
He'd sell his soul if he had to.
And he had the sinking feeling that, by the time this was all over, he'd have been forced to do just that.