THREE.
Draco nodded and wiped at his mouth. He cast a quick tooth-scrubbing charm and, checking himself one last moment in the glass, descended the stairs.
Draco refused to shake, ordered himself not to tremble - placed himself somewhere remote, gathering ingredients for Potions. Pictured Harry with him, and when that did not seem to help, Hermione and Ron - flanking him on either side. But the picture of the Dark Lord searing the Mark into his flesh kept intruding, shoving aside his attempts at calm.
He forced the trembling inward until he was clanging and vibrating, but only underneath his skin, until Draco felt he would shatter apart from the force of it. His mother met him at the base of the stairs, and he offered her his arm; they walked, sedately, to meet the Dark Lord.
Draco was proud of his mother in that moment. She walked with her chin hitched up, as though she smelled something rather foul in the house - just enough to indicate disapproval and not enough to give insult. The rest of her expression was remote but serene, as though she contemplated icy mountains in the distance. He loved her so much in that moment that the worst of the vibrations dissipated, and he found himself capable of leading her forward to the ballroom.
Of course, Voldemort would have chosen to hold court in the Manor's ballroom, with its intimidatingly high ceilings and the throne-like chairs in which he, his father and his mother sat when they threw a soiree. Every curve in the room led straight to those chairs, pulling the eye forward.
Draco squeezed his mother's arm tighter for one, brief instant and then entered.
Voldemort was seated just where he'd expected, but the other two chairs lay in ruins, and no one had bothered to sweep away the pieces. At Voldemort's side crouched Fenrir Greyback in bloodstained rags, and at his other side stood Draco's aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange.
His aunt was worth a moment's contemplation. Her dark hair was a rat's nest, and her fine dress was torn at the neck, though she had to have had lots of opportunities to 'borrow' from his mother, who was only slightly shorter than her sister and shared the same, pale grace. He wondered if she were attempting to emphasize her madness, or at least refusing to hide it. She smiled at him widely, wickedly, and licked her lips.
He was pretty sure he didn't want to know what she meant by it.
It was only then that he saw Severus, standing a bit back and to the side, closer to Bellatrix than to Greyback. Though that only made sense: between the choice of someone who might take it in her mind to curse you for no reason at all, and someone who might choose to eat you for no reason at all, he knew where he would stand.
"Mistress Malfoy," the Dark Lord intoned, "young Mister Malfoy. Welcome," which was rich, given that he had taken over their very own ballroom.
Narcissa inclined her head a fraction of an inch; Draco executed the bow of a young man introduced to an elder for the first time, trying to convince himself that he did not care whether he lived or died.
"Very pretty," Bellatrix whispered. "Pretty, pretty, pretty little boy."
Draco looked at her and inclined his own head a jot, as though his aunt's greeting had been perfectly proper, because he thought ignoring her would be worse trouble than not. When she giggled, delighted, he wasn't sure he'd made the right choice.
"Oh, he is lovely," Bellatrix added, leaning closer to the thing in Lucius's seat, as though imparting a confidence.
Greyback looked bored.
"I understand you are a compatriot of Harry Potter's," Voldemort observed.
Draco couldn't help the small flinch at that, and he felt his mother's arm convulse, drawing him a few centimeters closer to her. Snape, however, gave a quick, tight nod behind the Dark Lord.
Yes? Draco thought, bewildered. 'Yes', are you joking?
Another tight nod, this one over to Voldemort, whose snake-like mouth was twitched up in one direction.
Something was funny, apparently.
"Yes, my lord?" Draco squeaked.
The Dark Lord began to laugh, followed by Greyback's huffing guffaws, which sounded almost like the growling of a dog, and Bellatrix's hysterical high cackle.
The Dark Lord waved a hand, and the laughter died down. "You would give your life for him, is that right?"
Again, Snape silently urged him to agree.
Draco bowed his head in thought. Severus had told him to play along, but this was ridiculous. Yes, my lord, and I'd kill you without a second thought, if I could. I'd stab my sweet and loving aunt in the eye, I'd cast the Killing Curse on that bag of fleas over there. I'd end this now, if I only had the power. So please, feel free to cast the Killing Curse at any time; I am a turncoat, a betrayer; I am an ex-Death Eater.
But then there was Severus, whom he trusted implicitly - had trusted - and to whom he still owed his life. Merlin. He looked into the eyes of Voldemort, Lord of Death and nodded. "Yes," he hissed, between clenched teeth.
"Severus, but this is truly impressive," Voldemort said, addressing the Potions Master for the first time. "How on earth did you manage?"
Severus came forward, head bent and entire posture subservient. "Through a sister technique to Occlumency and Legilimency; I have not yet given it name, my lord."
One of the pieces suddenly clicked into place. Snape was pretending that it was he who had cursed Draco to be on Harry's side, though Draco could not yet fathom how this would be of help to them.
"Incredible," Voldemort murmured, staring at Draco as though he were some sort of experiment under the glass - which he supposed, according to Severus's lies, he was. "Now, Severus, you must understand, I cannot simply take your word for it. What if the boy were lying to protect you?"
Severus did not shake his head or look up, or even move from his supremely submissive position, as though he were not worthy enough to look the Dark Lord in the face; but Draco saw him stiffen. "I assure you, my lord, he is not. The boy harbors warm feelings towards me - he must, in order to ensure that he will return to me, once his mission at Hogwarts is complete - but when he says that he loves Harry Potter, he is entirely in earnest."
"We shall see," Voldemort said. "Approach."
Draco pried his mother's fingers from his arm, where they left white marks that would bruise.
Voldemort noted her fear and laughed. "Be easy, Mistress Malfoy. You shall have him returned to you undamaged - more or less - and, I daresay, much as you remember him, once all is said and done."
Draco reached his father's chair and stood, untrembling, at its foot. Harry had been tortured by Voldemort; Severus had. It's only fair; it's my turn, after all. Draco was laughing at death, and he knew it. He supposed it was what one did when there was nothing else to be done.
Voldemort leaned forward in his chair until his face was mere inches from Draco's. His breath was foetid with the faint scent of decay, his skin unnaturally shiny and pale, his hands like claws. The only thing that held Draco there, the only thing that could, was Severus ahead of him and his mother behind him, their lives standing on his absolute obedience.
Draco swallowed when the Dark Lord's red eyes met his, but he held. He thought he felt something very strange: a slimy, oily presence moving throughout his mind, leaving something slick behind, like a slug leaving its trail. He found events unspooling from his mind the way they had when Severus cut his connections to Harry, but there was no doubt that Voldemort's Legilimency was subtler and cleverer than Snape's.
After an endless, painless moment, Voldemort drew back, his expression registering surprise. For a moment, he whispered to Bellatrix, who frowned fretfully, like a child deprived of a sweet. Then her features lit up in a bright grin, and she nodded. There was some more careful whispering, and Voldemort turned to face Draco once more.
"Severus, you have done well."
"Thank you, my lord. I live only to serve you."
"And while normally I frown on initiative, you are clever enough and skilled enough that I tend to... enjoy it... when you do."
"You flatter me, my lord."
"Hardly. Needless to say, we shall return him to Hogwarts as soon as it can be arranged."
Narcissa let off a ragged gasp behind him.
Keep it together, mother, Draco thought to her, with all his might, as though wishing would make it so. We are, inexplicably, almost clear of him.
"Nevertheless... such a... friend to Harry Potter couldn't escape unscathed."
"It would look suspicious," Fenrir commented idly, cleaning something unmentionable out from underneath his nails. He looked up and his yellow eyes flashed. "Perhaps if he were to return with... a limb missing."
Draco's mother made a fretful noise, which drew Greyback's attention. "Not an important one," he consoled, eyes wide. "A hand. Anyone can do without a hand. Peter's done just fine without a hand."
Draco didn't move or say a word, mostly because he was terrified, but also because he had the firm and rather unfounded belief that Snape would stop him from losing a hand.
"Nothing so vulgar," Voldemort replied out of the corner of his mouth, red eyes still trained on Draco. "Bella?"
Bellatrix Lestrange looked up, eyes hooded. "This will be such fun," she growled.
"No! Sister!" Narcissa explained. "Please, don't do anything you'll regret. He's your own flesh and blood."
Severus pressed his eyes shut, but Voldemort appeared to be in a cheery frame of mind. "She's only protecting her son," he said kindly. Then, he turned to Narcissa. "I've told you already he will not be greatly harmed. If he's to grow to become a man in my service, he must learn hardship. All great men have experienced terrible things."
"I - forgive me, my lord," Narcissa recanted, with a deep obeisance. "You are right, of course. You are always right, if I only pause to consider your words. I spoke without thinking."
"Very well said," he replied, and Draco was struck with the odd impression that Narcissa had somehow endeared herself to Voldemort, that he liked her and often felt inclined to be indulgent with her. "If you do not wish to witness it, I do understand."
His mother gave him one last, desperate look and stepped back. "Nevertheless, my lord, I shall stay, if it pleases you."
Voldemort inclined his head and Draco got the impression he was impressed with her. He gestured Bellatrix forward and Draco retreated until he was on level ground. If he were to fall, he wanted to fall at least on even ground.
The madwoman's eyes lit with delight as she drew her wand, a twisted walnut monstrosity. "Prepare yourself, little one," she whispered. "CRUCIO!"
The pain was incredible. Draco dropped immediately to his knees, curving his body as though he could curl around the hurt.
"Very good," Bellatrix intoned, circling him with her wand raised. "You barely cried out, but..." She leaned close to him, close enough so that her mad eyes filled his vision, and through the tear in the neck of her dress he glimpsed a flash of gold. "...that was also, my dear, barely a taste. CRUCIO!"
By Merlin, it was worse, she was building up a head of steam. Draco could see Voldemort looking on proudly, as though Bellatrix were a favored child displaying her most precocious talent. Greyback continued to look mostly bored.
Draco found Snape's eyes and latched on.
"CRUCIO!"
He squeezed them shut, but when he opened his eyes again, Severus was still looking at him, and even though his expression remained blank, there was a tightness around his eyes, as though he were the one in pain.
"CRUCIO!"
Merlin, he couldn't stop twitching after that one. He remembered something in his Defense textbook about permanent nerve damage - when you didn't go mad, that was. Between this and the Veritaserum he might very well -
"CRUCIO!"
He only needed to get through this to get to Hogwarts. He just needed to get there, because then there would be Ron and Hermione and of course Harry, though it wasn't funny the way his name used to come first in that list and now always followed last.
"CRUCIO!"
But what was really happening? He hadn't had much time to think about it, because everything was happening so fast, but what if Severus was right and the whole thing was a curse? But Ron - no, Ron'd been with him, they'd - they'd seen the other Malfoy, at least for an instant. But maybe it'd just been some other boy with pale hair, maybe when he got back to Hogwarts, Harry'd look at him with blank eyes, and Hermione's hair would still be long, and -
"CRUCIO!"
- and - what'd he been thinking? Something about hair. Hermione'd cut her hair because he was wearing Muggle clothes, but that didn't make any sense, really. He didn't wear Muggle clothing, because it was - it was common. But - he was so tired, he wanted to go to sleep, why did his aunt keep bothering him? "Are you done?" he whispered, but probably not loud enough for anyone to hear.
"CRUCIO!"
...what was He-Who-Must-Be-Ashamed doing up there, anyway? "I killed you," he thought, or - well - said, actually, was the proper word. So he couldn't be Voldemort, because he'd killed Voldemort, and so Voldemort was dead. Because he'd killed him. For Hermione, who was a Muggleborn and also common. Also very uncommon, though he'd never tell her so. So maybe it was someone playing at being Voldemort, like Smythe and Ralston, who'd shown up at the end-of-year Slytherin party dressed as Death Eaters. "In terribly poor taste," he commented, to no-one.
"CRUCIO!"
He was back home, for some reason, but he'd never wanted to come back, not since his mother wasn't around. The only reason he would've ever returned would have been to please her, after Lucius'd died, after he'd bloody well left and then his mum had too, of course, because no one wanted him. He was valued but not wanted, he was an important heir - back to hair again, inexplicably.
"Enough," Voldemort said, with a lazy wave of his wand.
Bellatrix paused, lips parted to emit another Cruciatus, and slumped, pouting, her fingers worrying at a chain around her neck.
"There will be plenty of games later, my dear," Voldemort soothed her. "We wouldn't want to drive the boy entirely mad. You can tell from the look in his eye, he barely knows where he is."
Draco found that insulting, because he knew perfectly well where he was: home, only not, and he was pretty proud of the fact that he was still capable of abstract thought by this point.
"My lord?"
Voldemort nodded to Severus, who swept Draco's arm over his shoulder and the next thing he knew, he, his mother and Severus were in the Blue Room. Severus waved his wand and a cart containing several potions bottles appeared. He waved his wand again and a burner and three cauldrons of various sizes appeared, and a table appeared an instant later below them, so that they rattled. He waved his wand a third time and what looked like the Manor's entire potions stores appeared in a cabinet against the wall. He had to have planned all that out beforehand, Draco thought hazily.
"That's... very... thoughtful," he stammered, and Severus and Narcissa turned to him in an instant.
He got the sudden impression he'd been talking before, and that not all of it had made sense.
Suddenly, he was in his mother's arms, and she was crying in a way he hadn't ever heard anyone weep - deep, gut-wrenching sobs. "Oh Merlin!" she wailed, over and over, and her body shook fiercely. It was so unlike her that he was afraid it was she who'd lost her mind. And then Severus was there too, and the three of them clung, all shaking from Draco's shaking, with all of the elated and incredulous feeling of three people having very nearly escaped death.
Eventually, they moved to the bed and Draco trembled beneath the covers. Narcissa curled atop the covers beside him, stroking his hair. "My brave, brave boy!" she exclaimed proudly, which was the first she'd said since "oh, Merlin!", and which Draco liked to think of as a good sign.
"You did very well," Severus added, which was as good as an Order of Merlin, First Class, from anyone else. "Now open up."
Draco opened his mouth obediently, but his trembling mouth clacked his teeth against the spoon.
Immediately, he started to feel a bit more settled. "I'm all right," he proclaimed.
"Very well, we'll leave you to your own devices, then!" Severus shouted, and Draco suddenly realized that Severus was white and trembling, too. Without another sign or any explanation, the wizard's legs gave out and he fell back into a chair, pulling a hand down his face. "I apologize," he muttered. "It's the first of my students that - not that it really should matter - they were all young, once."
Narcissa rose and wrapped him in her arms again, but he pushed her gently away. "Thank you, Narcissa," he said, and looked like he really meant it, "but we've got to get some more potions into your son, or he may suffer permanent damage."
"Then tell me what to do," she ordered, chin lifting again into that stubborn set Draco knew so well from looking in the mirror. "I'm feeling well, now."
When Severus looked up at her, his features went slack with exhaustion and gratitude. "The green bottle, there," he said, pointing, and she fetched it, measured out the amount he dictated and held Draco's trembling jaw steady to administer it. "Check to see if he's bitten his tongue."
Draco winced as he accidentally bit his mother's fingers when she held his jaw open - he was still almost convulsing, and couldn't help it. When she removed them, "s-sorry!" he murmured. She shook her head and raked her fingers through his hair.
"His tongue suffered no damage," Narcissa reported.
"...more's the pity," Severus tacked on, then laughed.
The two Malfoys stared.
"I apologize," Severus repeated, and expressing regret was so out of character for him that Draco, trembling and all, frowned with worry. "Then we must do our best to repair the nerve damage. The - yellow vial, there."
Narcissa ducked around him and withdrew a bottle containing a sunflower-yellow potion. She uncorked it and her shoulders unhitched a breath; Draco realized it smelled of summer.
"Give him the entire bottle, and it may yet be too little," Snape told her.
Once Draco had coughed and sputtered the entire thing down and there was nothing left to do but wait to see if they needed to brew more, the three fell into an exhausted, numb silence. Tippy or Pliny came and went several times, but Draco couldn't keep track of what tasks his mother was asking them to perform; he kept drifting in and out of a light, restless slumber.
"...why they would come so close to damaging him, if they didn't wish it," Narcissa was saying, matin light just falling across her face. She and Snape were perched in two chairs that they had pointed towards the bed. Narcissa's hair had come completely undone, falling down her back, with numerous wisps out of place. The collar of her robes was unbuttoned, and her stockings had come off at some point; she was slumped in her chair, curled up with her bare feet just clear of her robes.
He thought: my mother is the most beautiful woman ever born, and closed his eyes.
He heard Snape's answer, though: "...wanted to make it look as though he is really an enemy of our side and was found out."
"...need to be disingenuous," Narcissa was saying, and Draco's eyes fluttered open at her change in tone. "You needn't call it 'our' side."
"Narcissa, it is dangerous to even -"
"What's more dangerous?" she inquired, and her voice was weary. "I'm no fool, Severus. One misstep and he would have murdered the three of us. He might have regretted it, but he would not have for very long."
"Watch how you speak, Narcissa."
"Do you think he's got a listening charm on Draco's room?"
"...I warded the door. I thought, even if he noticed, he'd understand a mother's need to be alone with her son after such an ordeal."
"You'd charm him too, if you could manage it."
"I daresay I would. If I could manage it."
"Not blond enough."
Severus choked.
"You're rather the opposite of blond," she added, contemplatively, taking a lock of his hair and letting it slip through long, slender fingers.
"I -"
"Hush, now," she ordered, and kissed him.
Draco had a feeling he really should've slipped off to sleep while he still could. As it was - "...urg, what time is it?"
Narcissa rose so gracefully, he was forced to question if he'd dreamed it. If she'd truly been kissing Snape, shouldn't she have been ashamed? Shouldn't she have leapt guiltily away?
As it was, she turned to him with an incandescent smile. "Oh, Draco! You're awake!"
"And aware," Severus tacked on, rising to take Draco's pulse.
"You saved me," Draco added. "Again, even if you do think I've lost my mind. I keep hoping to repay you, someday."
Severus frowned. "I'm in this dreamworld of yours?" he queried, obviously only half-listening as he counted Draco's heartbeats.
"Of course you are," Draco said. "The entire thing took place at Hogwarts, didn't it? Where else would you be? You mentored Harry."
Snape rolled his eyes. "I shall be surprised at nothing, after this," he commented to Narcissa.
"You taught him Obscura," Draco added.
Snape froze, then shook his head. "Then you are doubly mistaken," he went on as he cast a generalized diagnostic charm. "I would never teach anyone such a dangerous spell."
"He needed it after Black fell through the Veil, you couldn't work together and you needed to teach him to guard his mind. He was too angry and uncontrolled without it."
Snape repeated the first part of the diagnostic spell, but added a specificity tag that Draco hadn't heard before; he assumed Snape meant to scan his nervous system in more depth.
"Did it work?" Snape inquired, after a moment.
"Yes, but then events conspired to make you forget you taught it to him, but he kept doing it without – without – without thinking. He didn't even know what he was doing, at the time."
Snape and Narcissa were staring at him, so he stopped talking.
"It's not all that odd."
"Darling, you – stammered," Narcissa informed him.
"Stammered? I don't stammer, mother."
Severus shook his head and frowned when the spell exploded in a red-orange haze over Draco's head. "He'll need another batch of the Hypericum Draught," he pronounced. "The damage is too extensive."
"I'll help," Narcissa informed him. "I was always good in Potions."
"Nonsense. I insist you have a shower, change your clothes, and eat something. Your son and I will be just fine for a moment or two alone."
Narcissa's cool blue gaze slipped from Severus, to Draco, and back again. Draco got the feeling she really didn't want to leave their presence at all. She leaned over to kiss Draco on the cheek, though, and disappeared.
"So," Draco said, as casually as he could manage it. "You fancy my mother."
Severus jumped, then turned on his most furious glare. "Little boys who eavesdrop get their ears hexed off," he swore.
"Never mind me, I'm fine with it. Mother should be happy."
"And your father?"
Draco frowned. "She can't be his wife if he's - gone."
"Very enlightened of you. Nonetheless, you are mistaken."
"You seemed pretty taken to me."
"Narcissa is merely attempting to - secure her assets. She is a very clever woman."
It wasn't cleverness he saw in his mother's eyes when she looked at Severus, but Draco was too clever himself to say so. "So she's just making sure you stay on her - on her - on her side," Draco confirmed, rolling his eyes.
"Of course," Severus hissed. "Why else would she - ?" he broke off mid-sentence, whirling to brew.
Oh, this was hilarious. Hermione would have a field day. She'd charm Severus's hair blond in honor of his undying love.
He immediately changed the subject, however, knowing not to risk Wrath of Snape. "I don't understand. Neville's parents went mad."
"They did," Severus confirmed, furiously chopping some green, leafy potions ingredient that let off a sharp, lemony scent. "And you were mad yourself there for awhile. But Bellatrix kept at the Longbottoms for hours, and they did not have the benefit of an on-site Potions Master waiting for her to give up."
"...how long...?"
"Twenty, maybe thirty minutes," Severus replied. "And she let you rest in between bouts."
"Kind of her," Draco deadpanned. "I seem rather cheery for the recently Crucio'd," he added.
"That'll be the Hypericum," Snape agreed. "A potion for damaged nerves, one of the best potions to rid the body of magical taint, and also, coincidentally, an antidepressant."
"Ah."
"You'll be off to Hogwarts the moment you find your feet," Severus went on, gathering up the leafy greens with both hands and dropping them into a cold cauldron.
Draco felt a rush of fear. "You and Mother -?"
" - will stay here," Snape finished.
"But you can't!" Draco shouted. "You can't, he'll -"
"He will do nothing," Snape growled, stalking to the potions cabinet and withdrawing a dark jar of bright yellow flowers. "We are both too valuable to him."
"I'm valuable to him! He thinks you're sending me back - back - back to Hogwarts as a spy and he nearly killed me!"
"Nearly being the operative word," Snape added, shaking the bright flowers into the cauldron. "And so: you figured that out, did you?"
"He supposes they'll see me injured, and I'll pledge my undying whatever to the Light and they'll let me into their confidence, being the Gryffindor fools that they are."
"And when the time is ripe, you can be plucked like a hanging fruit," Severus continued. "I will remove the spell, and you will tell us everything."
"That's diabolical," Draco commented.
"Ingenious, rather," Snape corrected. "Especially for such short notice."
Narcissa returned then, with porridge and fruit. Draco had thought that he was starving, but on seeing the porridge, his stomach gave an uncomfortable flip.
Snape shoveled the food in as though it were fuel, and then resumed work on the potion, while Narcissa seated herself on the edge of Draco's bed. "Soon, you will be leaving us," she said.
"How soon?"
"The moment the last potion is finished."
Draco stared. He thought he'd at least have a few days to recover. He wasn't even sure he could stand unaided.
"I will help you," Narcissa continued. "We will Portkey to the edge of the Forbidden Forest and make our way to Hogwarts. There I will beg entrance, and I beg of you, my dearest, not to pay any heed to the words I say when I do."
Draco nodded, but his mother was not satisfied. Her cool blue eyes fastened onto his. "What I say may be hurtful. You must let it pass, and understand that I love you with all my heart."
Draco blushed. "Yes, mother."
"Good boy. Severus, how close are we to ready?"
"It will take another twenty minutes for this to finish brewing, and a few to cool to drinking temperature."
"Then I shall go prepare. Tippy! Pliny!"
The two House Elves popped into existence and bowed low.
"Pack an overnight bag for the Young Master. It should contain several changes of clothes, his toiletries - but," she added, with a quick glance Draco's way, "just his toothbrush, paste, and hairbrush, none of his hair things. Oh, Draco dear, do not look at me so - it must appear as though we were in a hurry - and nightclothes, and whatever Potion he shall have left over. Also, nut-bread and a flagon of water, I fear we shall have a long walk ahead of us."
"Yes, Mistress!" they exclaimed, ears twitching with the impetus of her words. They disappeared immediately.
"I shall return. Eat that," she ordered, and strode out of the room.
Severus didn't look after her, but Draco could practically feel him wanting to.
"Thank you," Draco said, after a long moment filled only with the sounds of chopping and stirring.
"I have made an Unbreakable Vow to protect your life with my own," Severus said without turning from his potion. "I have had little choice in the matter, since."
"But why did you make the Vow in the first - first - first place?" Severus Snape was too brilliant a man not to know what it would take to keep Draco alive in the age of Voldemort. He had to have been aware what a monumental task it was that he had taken on. When Severus didn't respond, he realized: "...my mother asked you."
"Yes, blast her!" Severus shouted, whirling in place to glare at Draco. "She asked me, practically on bended knee; she begged for your miserable little life!"
Draco nodded and didn't say anything else. The vision of his mother's obeisance to Voldemort still made him a little nauseated. He didn't want to contemplate the lengths she'd gone to in order to get Snape to make the Unbreakable Vow.
Snape turned back to his ingredients, but the slope of his shoulders was trembling, whether with anger, fear or fatigue Draco couldn't guess. He'd never been very good at reading people even when he was at his best. But he knew that while he'd slept, fitfully, Severus and Narcissa hadn't; and the night before that, they hadn't, either. Severus claimed to have killed Dumbledore; if that were the case, he might not have slept that evening, either - and if he'd planned it, perhaps not for several evenings in a row before that. It would certainly go a long way towards explaining his erratic behavior, his sharper than usual mood swings.
Draco chose to keep this to himself, however, and merely wriggled more snugly into the blankets, enjoying being taken care of (even if he did have the world's surliest nursemaid), and basking in the glow of his mother's care. He drifted off to sleep again, and woke to Snape's hand pressing into his shoulder what seemed like mere seconds later.
"About half," Severus advised, handing him a still-warm bottle of potion. "The rest in six hours."
Draco downed it, capped the bottle, and handed it off to Pliny, who packed it in Draco's trunk at the House Elf's feet and immediately closed it up.
Narcissa arrived, clad in a black velvet cloak, heavy, tasseled hood trailing behind her, looking for all the world like the witch on the cover of the latest romance novel, tragic and betrayed. Draco sat up in bed and raised his eyebrows.
"It's best to look the part," Narcissa informed him, catching a last look in the glass and poking a bit at her artfully disheveled hair. "Come along, now."
Draco pushed himself to his feet. "Shouldn't I get changed?"
"Not a bit of it; the more authentic the better."
"You aren't forgetting that I was Crucio'd?" Draco challenged.
Her expression suddenly froze, and Draco realized it was far too soon to attempt to make light of the situation, at least with his mother; he had a feeling Snape was used to laughing at shadows. "I could hardly have missed it," she replied tartly, but then visibly squared her shoulders and resumed her cheery demeanor. "Reducio!" she spelled the trunk of Draco's things, and passed it off to Draco to put into his pocket. Tippy handed her a smaller bag, from which the smell of nutbread emerged; Narcissa did not bother to shrink that. She moved to Draco's side and offered him her other arm.
"I'll be fine on my own," Draco replied, then slumped sideways; his mother had already braced herself, and caught him on her right side. He turned to glare at Snape. "I thought you said I'd be fine!"
"I believe that, if you take the rest of that potion tonight, you will not suffer any permanent nerve damage," Severus corrected. "That does not mean that you did not damage muscles you did not know you had, straining against the pain. You will find it difficult to walk for some days, yet."
"And we're choosing today to go why?" Draco demanded, an aftershock of pain dancing down his nerves.
"The more authentic, the better," Narcissa repeated. "The Light may decide it's feasible for us to have stolen some of Severus's potions and escaped. But the longer we linger, the less believable that story will become."
"We won't be able to say that Professor Snape helped us?"
Narcissa and Severus exchanged a glance over his head.
"Oi!" he exclaimed. "Down here!"
Then he blushed. "Okay, sometimes I do sound a tiny small bit like Ronald Weasley, but if so it's because his expressions seem more appropriate sometimes. For shouting."
Narcissa cast a lightening charm to better bear his weight. "Dearest, Severus has to stay here. And for him to stay here - safely - there cannot be the slightest doubt that he is entirely..."
"Say it outright," Draco replied. "None of the three of us are for the Dark Lord, if any of the three of us ever really were."
Narcissa stared at him a moment, eyes suspiciously shiny. "I could've sworn you were so proud – but yes, of course, you're your mother's son, aren't you, Draco?"
Draco told her he was not sure how he could manage to be anyone else's.
"Here is the Portkey," Snape said, grim-faced. "It will take you to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. It's as close as I could get you."
"Thank you, Severus," Narcissa exclaimed. She moved forward, as if she wanted to embrace him or kiss him, but she was hampered by Draco at her right side, who could barely support even his greatly reduced weight on his own.
"You needn't thank me," he said tiredly. "You've gotten what you came for."
Draco wanted to tell Snape that of course Narcissa cared for him, but even he wasn't sure. His mother was clearly a consummate actress, capable of charming anyone – Voldemort! – in order to get what she wanted. Even Draco himself would doubt her, except that her actions of late had been so clearly and so unselfishly on his behalf.
Narcissa looked torn. "Severus, I –"
And of course the Portkey activated. And while most people would have considered Narcissa's cut-off confession to be romantically tragic, Draco Malfoy was not most people.
Instead, he thought it was quite convenient how the Portkey had dragged them away before she had to declare herself one way, or the other.
A/N: Okay, so it feels odd to post this chapter directly after the whole thing with Meant to Say; Voldemort confronting Draco was not meant to be this week's theme or anything. Actually, I wrote this chapter ages ago, so it is complete coincidence.
In other news, 'matin' is my favorite new word.
In other other news, I think this is the longest I've written without a section break. This was all one, long jangled frightening experience for me as I wrote...
Finally, in the tradition of including recs in the author's notes: this week's is Ain't No Friend of Mine by tkp, hosted over at hd_inspired. Draco is turned into a dog by a new breed of Dementor, and after much trial and error, he is adopted by Harry. The story goes on to explore both young men in some depth; it has perhaps the best characterization of both Harry and Malfoy, revealing an unexpected strength in Draco and a mirror-weakness in Harry. Brilliant. :)
Hope you're liking it so far, folks! Lots of hits but not so many reviews... perhaps that's because I instruct people to go read the prequel first. Still... :(
-K