The initial, momentary weakness. For the first time he knew the weakening of the knees, and icy cold washing over the heart, formerly so cold in and of itself. For a moment, he was knocked off his feet.
And for this moment, someone was going to pay.
"You always get yours, even if it takes years in the making. The stakes simply keep going up. Your move, Malfoy."
He crumpled the parchment, but did not throw it out, despite the initial impulse. Just stuffed the short message in his coat pocket.
He had allowed himself a moment, but now he was ready to think calmly and rationally, as though it wasn't his wife who had been kidnapped by his enemies. He suppressed the frantic beating of his heart and resolutely pulled Potter to his feet by his collar. Too bad he couldn't put the armour of logic and self-control around his friend's heart, as he'd done with his own. James was painful to look at.
Well, we'll play then. Yet, for each move, there'll be a countermove with its own price. For each moment of fear, for each tear drop.
"Let's go," he said coldly to Potter, already knowing what to do next.
"Do you know where the Zabinis live?" James' voice was firm, which was good news. Although for Malfoy to feel good about anything right now would take something even more extraordinary than a naked McGonagall dancing tango with Filtch.
Scorpius got quickly to the Fireplace Hall, noting to himself the grimace of rock-hard tension that seized his face. He felt like running, crushing and causing pain – all while reasoning and acting with icy calm and prudence.
"Potter," Scorpius pushed his friend into the big fireplace and under the surprised stares of the wizards around them, squeezed himself in next to him. Whatever. Even if it was not comfortable, it was faster, and they would not run the risk of Potter lagging behind or getting stuck somewhere half-way. And time was of more essence than ever right now.
"Are we going to Za…?" the rest got lost in fierce coughing, as Malfoy threw down the Floo powder and James choked up on smoke.
The past. Years. Revenge. Payback. The game. His move.
The portkey. A young man with black hair. Only Lily, not Xenia.
He ran through the known facts in his mind, trying to understand the logic of the perpetrator. Thoughts, like drops, rolled thickly in his mind, blocking out feelings. He knew how to do this; at one time that was all he'd known. Before Lily. And he could do it again. This was just a game.
Flying double through fireplaces was painful and close quarter, but Malfoy didn't give a damn.
"Khh-mm, where..?" they fell out onto the green rug in the high-windowed room, with the bed covered with a silvery-green comforter, and silvery window drapes. "Are we at the Zabinis'?"
"Forget the Zabinis. They ears are burning," Scorpius dropped, walking over to the wardrobe in his room at Malfoy Manor, and looking at his reflection in the mirror. No, no panic showing on his face; everything hidden inside. Just as it should be.
"Malfoy! The Zabinis! We need to rescue Lily and Xenia! They can be...!"
"Shut up," Scorpius growled, then stepped toward his friend and grabbed him by the shoulders. "We'll find them; you know that. But the game is on, and we do not have the luxury of a wrong move."
"The game? What do you mean?"
"I know neither with whom I am playing, nor the rules or the point behind this game," he pulled out of his coat pocket the scroll of parchment that an unfamiliar owl thrust at him with a mocking air, as he was speaking with the clerk from the Magic of Fashion, who had seen the portkey activate. The one who had handed the girls the portkey. "I know only one thing. This has something to do with my past."
"Is it Zabini?" Potter asked, calmer now, sitting down on the edge of the bed. As though his legs finally gave way.
"I'm not sure," Scorpius sat down next to him. "This is too obvious, but as a possibility…"
"With your past, such possibilities might be in the thousands," James smirked bitterly, not sure what to do with his hands. "What shall we do?"
"Play."
"What?!"
"He is waiting for our move. And, logically, he would expect us to be on our way to the Zabinis right this minute."
"Then why are we here?"
"We have to figure out some things first," Malfoy stood up. "And the fastest way to do this is to involve my parents."
"Are you sure?" Potter asked, skepticism and hope warring in his voice.
"They won't have a choice," Scorpius shrugged his shoulders. "Let's go."
"Malfoy."
"What?" he looked back at his friend impatiently. James was white as a sheet, despair in his eyes. "Potter, you…"
"Xenia is pregnant," James seemed to squeeze the words out, clenching his fists.
The curse Malfoy uttered seemed to perfectly sum up all other possible replies.
Boy, was someone in major trouble now! Did they think Malfoy was all fun and games?
"He will not touch them. For now," Scorpius added, for the sake of honesty. "Let's go."
They entered the fireplace in silence, once again together. The journey was quick: from Scorpius' room to the parlor, where they found only the house elves, clearing the tea things and dessert tray from the table.
"Who are we having?" Malfoy demanded.
"Sir Marcus," the elf maid squeaked, bowing.
"Like I would know who that is," Malfoy growled out. He headed straight from the parlor, not intending to wait until his father was done with Sir what's-his-name. There were more and more of those visiting lately: his father entered the public life once again and was strengthening his position by investing ever larger sums in various projects and enterprises, receiving important witches and wizards at his home, and visiting them in return, spending hours at the Ministry of Magic, schmoozing with officials or simply making himself visible in the hallways. Just can't get over the stain on the Malfoy family honour… On the other hand, one has to occupy his time somehow. And now his activism can come in quiet handy.
They were in the study, discussing something or other. When Scorpius burst in without so much as by your leave, Draco's expression turned stony. Not that the chap gave two spits about it from the beloved Hogwarts' Astronomy tower. Of course, James Potter was there, which always put his father on edge, but hey, it has been long enough for him to get used to it.
Mother moved away from the window, looking concerned. She knew perfectly well that her son would never invade like this without serious cause.
"Is there a fire somewhere?" she smiled, walking over, as her husband and their visitor, a young, well-dressed blond man who eyed them curiously, rose from their seats.
"Good day, Scorpius," Father said coolly, with a barest of nods at James. Fine. No ceremony then. "Allow me to introduce to you our guest, Marcus De…"
"I have something urgent to discuss with you," Malfoy broke in.
"… the advisor to the Minister on magical transportation development," Draco stubbornly concluded, glaring. The veritable lighthouse at Cape Finisterre.
"I believe I should go," the guest interjected, setting down his wine glass. "We can discussed everything else at a dinner at my house…"
What followed were the long departure ritual, during which Malfoy Jr. stood by the fireplace, drumming his fingers on the mantle and Potter stood frozen by the window, staring off into space. A good spot for a new Potter statue; need to remember to mention it to Father.
Rabid hyppogrif, he is still capable of sneering, despite the icy void within that arrested both love and fear – the other emotions he turned out to be capable of in the last few years. This is no time for feelings. Yet, oh how blood surges in the veins…
"What's happened now?" his parents re-entered the study and shut the doors.
"Who has the authority to create portkey without oversight?" Scorpius looked his still-livid father in the face.
"And for the sake of that, you..?" Drake glared at his son before remembering James Potters' presence and lowering his voice. "Explain what happened."
"The portkeys first, Father," Scorpius insisted, glancing heavily at his mother.
"Many people can," Asteria sat in the chair, her eyes on her son. "The top echelons at the Ministry, the Minister's security detail, the Magical Department of Law Enforcement, international relations departments…"
"And those who obtains a permit to create one," Draco finished, his fingers drumming on the table next to him. "So..?"
"Do those who create a portkey have to register it?" Scorpius once again ignored his father's question.
"Well, yes, especially those with a permit: the place, the time, the object, the purpose, etc.," Draco shrugged his shoulders, resigned. "Although I don't think that the Aurors would bother with that, what with their special hero status…"
Everyone in the room knew at whom the remark was aimed, yet both Malfoy and James ignored the Malfoy Sr.'s jibe at Harry Potter: firstly, James' father was no longer an Auror; and secondly, their feud was old news in the newly united family. Speaking of unions…
"So, what happened?" Scorpius' mother looked at him expectantly.
"My wife, Lily Malfoy, was kidnapped. Xenia was taken, too."
"Your…?" Father seemed about to expire, but Scorpius would not focus on that. "Your…?"
"Mother, who gives out permits and keeps track of portkeys? Is it possible to obtain information on a specific portkey?"
"Of course, it is: at the Service of Magical Transportation, at the Ministry. Why would you need it?" Asteria calmly handed her husband his whiskey glass. "The person who kidnapped… them would have hardly registered there."
Scorpius nodded.
"You are probably right. But this is our only lead right now. Can one of the Zabinis create a portkey without registering it?"
"No," Father finally seemed to be coming around to the joyful news of his new kinship with Harry Potter. "When did you..? How did you dare?"
"Mother?" Scorpious shifted his gaze to Asteria, realizing that he could not have a productive discourse with his father today.
"Draco is correct. The Zabinis would not be likely to have done this. Especially now that Priscilla is home, and they are under constant observation. And Blaise's post at the Ministry is too insignificant to warrant that kind of access. And they are unlikely to obtain a permit legitimately…"
"All right," he turned to leave.
"Scorpius."
"Yes, Mother?"
"Can we be of help?"
"Not yet," he suddenly felt a disturbing tickle in his throat, and turned abruptly toward the doors. "Other than make peace with my marriage to Lily Potter."
"We must let Xenia's parents know," Asteria spoke, looking at James at he followed after his friend.
"Hold off on that for now," Scorpius responded. "First, we need to find out exactly what happened. Potter, let's go."
They left the study in dead silence – Father never said another word.
"I will not say anything to Dad…" James said quietly, looking wistfully at Scorpius. "Not yet. Where are we off to now?"
"To see Zabini. Time to start playing," Malfoy checked his wand, and stepped into the fireplace.
The first move, the one he was expected to make. What next? And if not Zabini, then who? Who?
He didn't feel like delving into the past. Not yet. Let's make the first move. After that, something should become clear.
Malfoy sighed heavily and threw the Floo powder.
"Diagon Alley!"
Please let them be alright.