Dead. They're dead. My parents. My mother.
Dead.
Draco had run straight to his room and locked the door. He couldn't deal with anyone right now. He stood in the room and stared at nothing in particular, but it was like he didn't see anything. His mother's face flashed in his mind. It was her face from the last time Draco had seen her face with any semblance of happiness on its features. From when he had returned home with Severus. He could practically feel her arms wrapped tightly around him.
You'll never see her again.
She's dead.
The word kept running through his mind. So many times that it almost lost its meaning.
Almost.
He was sitting on the edge of the bed he had taken with his head in his hands, his fingers tangled in his hair. His chest felt tight, constricted, like he was suffocating. He tried to draw in a breath but felt his throat tighten. He didn't register that his body was shaking.
Someone killed them. My parents.
Dead.
A sob wracked through his chest and he did nothing to stop it. He didn't consider that anyone might possibly hear him. He curled further in on himself, like he could hold his soul together if he held his body close enough. What was the point of anything if he couldn't save his parents?
Parents.
He killed them.
Instead of me.
Draco felt the guilt rise like burning venom through his entire being. He rolled onto his stomach and screamed into the pillow. It was his fault they were dead. If he hadn't been such a coward, such a disappointment, it wouldn't have happened.
He felt lightheaded. He felt sick. He felt an empty hole in himself that threatened to consume him.
He didn't feel the hot tears streaming from his eyes, down his face, onto the pillow.
My fault. It's my fault they're dead.
It should have been me.
Dead.
OooOooO
Harry was still staring at the spot where Malfoy had been a few moment before. The look in Malfoy's eyes before he left the room had shaken him to his core. Harry thought he had seen Malfoy in pain when he had cast sectumsempra on him. But that pain was nothing, nothing, compared to what Harry had just seen.
Someone at the table cleared their throat and it brought Harry's attention back to those around him. Charlie was the first to break the silence. Unlike everyone else, it seemed that he had continued to read the Prophet article.
"It says here that the initial report puts the date of…the date of death at roughly a week ago. They will know more once the…" He cleared his throat. "Once they have been examined by some Healers."
"A week ago?" Hermione said. "But that would mean-"
"They were killed the night Draco arrived here, yes." Lupin finished. He looked more tired than Harry had ever seen him. Tonks laid a hand on his arm and they shared a significant look that Harry didn't understand. "I'm sorry to leave so abruptly everyone but, given this new information, I need to speak with Kingsley at once." Without waiting for a response he and Tonks rose from the table and quickly exited the Burrow.
"Charlie, what else does the article have to say?" Mr. Weasley asked. Charlie considered his response for a minute before pointing his wand at the Prophet and muttering "Geminio" three times. Three duplicates of the paper appeared and he passed one to his parents and Bill, one to Fred and George, and the other to Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. "I think it would be best if you just read the article for yourselves" he explained.
It was cramped with all four of them huddled around the one paper. Harry scanned through the first few sentences to find where he left off.
Ministry officials say they are not certain who cast the killing curse on the Malfoys, but stated that they will be making every effort to find the culprit.
Pius Thicknesse, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, told reporters last night, "Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy have always been prominent and respected members of our society. We are going to make this investigation a top priority."
Preliminary examination of the bodies suggests that both had been deceased for approximately one week prior to being found. Furthermore, the Malfoy home appeared deserted when the aforementioned employee entered last night. Most rooms in the Manor appeared as though they had been unoccupied for months. The employee was quoted as saying, "Strange going in that house, it was. Eerie. Usually there's a house-elf or something to open the door and let you in but there weren't nothing there. I let myself in and never saw a soul 'til I found them."
Draco Malfoy, the only child of Lucius and Narcissa, was not found on the Malfoy property. While the consensus among Ministry professionals appears to be that he is also dead, he will henceforth be considered a missing person and a secondary investigation will be launched to determine his whereabouts. Anyone with information regarding Draco Malfoy should contact the Department of Magical Law Enforcement immediately.
"Thicknesse is full of shit." Bill said, just as Harry was finishing the paper. Mrs. Weasley looked at him sternly, but he shrugged her off. Harry found himself completely agreeing with Bill's sentiment.
"Remus reckons that he's working for You-Know-Who now." Charlie added. "Convenient that he's the one heading the investigation isn't it?"
"But why would he be spreading the rumor that Malfoy is dead?' Ron asked.
"Maybe he's supposed to be dead." Harry said. The gears in his brain were rapidly turning as he tried to make sense of everything, and fit in the new information he had just learned. He was just starting to form an idea when Hermione beat him to it.
"Oh." She said quietly. "Do you think that Voldemort killed his parents because they sent him here?"
"But then why would Thicknesse think he's dead?" George interjected. Again, Harry tried to come up with some reasonable explanation when Hermione got there first.
"Because Voldemort wouldn't want anyone to know that Malfoy got away." She said.
"Yes, Hermione, that does sound like a likely scenario." Mr. Weasley said. He looked completely exhausted. He turned to Mrs. Weasley and said quietly "Perhaps we underestimated them" and she nodded looking tearful. Harry knew that they were discovering a newfound respect for the Malfoys. Despite all personal differences, there was nothing the Weasley's would respect more than a parent sacrificing themselves for their child.
What had happened the night Malfoy appeared on the lawn? What had happened to put him in so much danger that his parents would send him to the Weasleys? Did Malfoy know who had sent him here? Was Malfoy following their same lines of reasoning as to why his parents were now dead?
Harry's mind was swimming with questions. He was aware of some more quiet discussion at the table but he was too lost in his thoughts to truly hear what they were saying. And then, suddenly, something clicked in his mind and it felt as though someone had punched him in the gut.
Malfoy's parents were dead. Both of them. He has no other real family. Malfoy was an orphan.
Just like he, Harry, was.
Harry sat there feeling numb from this realization, until Ginny gently laid a hand on his. He looked at her with unfocused eyes.
"Harry, are you alright?" She asked quietly, trying not to draw attention. He blinked twice until she came into clearer view.
"Yeah. It's just…a lot to process, you know?" He said. She nodded, but gave his eyes a searching look before turning away. She left her hand where it was. Harry didn't mind.
Fred, George, and Mr. Weasley had all left shortly for work, and the rest of the day passed in a blur. No one quite knew what to say, and everyone tried to carry on as if nothing had changed. Harry found himself retreating into his own thoughts frequently, but no one said anything as they were all doing the same.
Harry didn't sleep well that night and woke up frequently following nightmare in which Malfoy was sobbing at the feet of Voldemort begging for his parents while Voldemort laughed coldly and tortured him.
The next day passed slowly and in similar fashion. Malfoy had not, to anyone's knowledge, left his room. Mrs. Weasley became worried and brought him up a tray of food at every meal, knocking gently at the door and telling him that it was there should he want it. She did this three times, and three times the meal remained outside the door as it went cold. They didn't hear a sound come from the room.
The next night Harry slept just as badly, his slumber filled with dreams of Malfoy laying on the floor of the astronomy tower in a pool of his own blood while Harry stood above him, wand raised, and Voldemort congratulated him on a job well done. He woke drenched in a cold sweat, and went to take a shower before breakfast. When he glanced in the mirror he noticed that his eyes were bloodshot and had dark shadows underneath.
By the third morning, Mrs. Weasley was genuinely worried. Harry heard her over breakfast discussing with Mr. Weasley whether or not they should charm Malfoy's door open to ensure that he was alright. They agreed that, if he hadn't come out by mid-afternoon they would enter the room with or without his permission.
Harry spent the morning back up in Ron's room, thinking about what would happen if they went in to Malfoy's room using magic. He imagined it wouldn't go over well. He thought again about his revelation in the kitchen two days prior. Malfoy was an orphan; he had no family. Harry knew, of course, that everyone else was aware of this as well. But, Harry also knew that no one else understood what this meant as well as he did.
Mid-afternoon came and Malfoy hadn't come out of the room. Mr. Weasley, after conferring with his wife, was about to head there when Harry stopped him.
"Wait." Harry said, before he could talk himself out of it. Everyone looked at him. "Before you do that, let me try."
"Harry, I really don't think Ma-" Hermione started by Harry cut her off.
"Just, let me try and talk to him." Harry stated firmly. And, with everyone looking at him suspiciously, Harry headed to Malfoy's room.
OooOooO
Draco was laying on the bed on his back staring at the ceiling, a position he had spent the majority of the past 3 days in. Once the initial shock wore off, he had done everything in his power to shut his body down. He cleared his mind, he didn't think, he didn't move. And he had stayed there.
A few times a day he heard Mrs. Weasley come to his door, claiming to be bringing him food. Despite him never taking it, she kept coming every day. Perhaps he would have taken it, but somehow he just couldn't find the will to move. At first he had felt somewhat hungry, but that feeling had passed.
He did move on the first night, though. When he was sure everyone was asleep he had quietly left the room and gone to the bathroom across the hall. He avoided looking at himself in the mirror, and he had filled a small glass with some water. Water he hadn't really consumed. And, since he hadn't eaten, he hadn't needed to do that again.
So, there he was, laying on his back on the bed. He heard some footsteps coming up the stairs, and assumed it would be Mrs. Weasley carrying up yet more food that he wasn't going to eat. The knock on the door, however, sounded different. Draco's attention focused in, preparing himself for something different. Nothing could have prepared him, though, for hearing Potter's voice on the other side of the door.
"Malfoy, would you open the door?"
Draco's sat up on the bed, which took more effort than he would like to admit. Still, he didn't move towards the door. Why Potter?
"Malfoy, stop moping and let me in."
Draco's blood started to summer. Moping? How dare Potter talk to him like that! His parents were…It's not like he…Draco felt his breath catch and realized something that hadn't occurred to him before. He found that an inability rather than an unwillingness to move kept him rooted to the spot.
"Fine Malfoy, whatever, but just know they're about to blast your door in if you won't open it."
Draco hardly knew what he was doing as he felt his body rise and slowly carry him to the door. He stood at it for only a moment before finally turning the handle and revealing Potter on the other side.
Potter was staring at him dead in the eyes with a curious expression, and Draco stared right back coldly. Finally, it was Potter who blinked, and looked beyond Draco to the room. Draco shifted just slightly to the side. Potter walked in, taking the bed that was obviously unoccupied, and Draco shut the door behind them.
He turned to look at Potter, who was sitting rather stiffly on the second bed in the room. Potter was looking at his knees, and he was holding something in his hands that Draco hadn't noticed before. Draco stood at the door for a moment longer in preparation for whatever was to come before walking slowly to his bed and sitting on the edge facing Potter. Practically mirroring his exact position. Neither of them were willing to be the first to break the silence. Draco considered multiple ways he could start…What the hell do you want? Tell me why you're here or get the fuck out. Why the bloody fuck would I want to talk to you? Ultimately, though, he decided on,
"What are you holding?"
Potter looked up and met his gaze. Draco noticed that Potter's hair was even more unkempt than usual, if that were possible, and it was starting to hang into his eyes. Speaking of his eyes, there were prominently dark shadows underneath them. Draco thought the combination made Potter look rather homeless. Potter's hands twitched and the movement drew Draco's eyes downward.
"I thought you might be hungry, so I grabbed it before I came in." Potter said, extending the muffin he was holding out to Draco. Draco simply started at it, but made no attempt to take it. Potter waited five seconds before retracting his hand and placing the muffin on the table between the beds. "I'll just leave it here, then, shall I? It's blueberry."
Draco made no reaction. He probably should be hungry, he probably should eat it, but he'd be damned to eat that muffin in front of Potter. He remained still, and flicked his eyes back up to stare straight into Potter's. Potter had a curious, confused, and cautious expression on his face. If he didn't just tell Draco why the fuck he had come banging on his door…
"So, er, Malfoy…" Potter started. He shifted and looked back down at his knees, obviously uncomfortable. "I, um, I…well…I guess first I just wanted to say that I'm…"
"Don't fucking tell me you're sorry, Potter." Draco snarled at him. He felt rage start to burn in his chest.
Potter seemed to gain some confidence from Draco's reaction. "What I mean is, I'm sorry you found out like that. We should've had Lupin or Kingsley tell you in private, or something."
That surprised Draco a little. He replied, "It wouldn't have made any difference. They're still d-dead." He hoped Potter didn't catch his slight falter.
"Right, well, yes." Potter said. He looked uncomfortable again. Silence grew between them again. Eventually, Potter continued. "But, Malfoy, I am sorry. And, er, I know I didn't exactly get along with your dad or anything, but…"
"Shut up!" Draco shouted, suddenly on his feet. "Shut up about my father! You don't know anything about him!" Draco could feel tears stinging at the corners of his eyes and he turned to walk the length of the room, fists shaking at his sides. "My parents would have done anything for me." Draco said more softly, trying to keep his voice steady. He didn't look up, but he could feel Potter watching him intently.
Potter abruptly changed the topic, eyes narrowed. "Malfoy, what happened the night you came here?"
"The fuck does it matter, Potter?" Draco spat at him. But the question worried him. Why was Potter asking? What did he know? He wasn't ready to talk about it yet. He wasn't ready to talk about any of this yet, least of all with Potter.
"The Prophet said…" Potter began but Draco cut him off.
"I don't care what the bloody Prophet said!" He shouted, turning again. But, this time it was to hide the concern on his face. He tried to think of something to say to steer the conversation elsewhere, but Potter continued in a rush.
"It said they had been dead for a week. Since the night you came here."
Draco froze. So he had been right? The Dark Lord had killed his parents as punishment for his failure. Before he had speculated, he had been almost certain, but there had still been even the smallest reason for doubt. Something he could hold on to, to try and convince himself that maybe it wasn't all his fault. But now, what else could he think? He felt the grief creeping back over him slowly. His chest tightened, his eyes blurred, his body weakened. He didn't think he would be able to remain standing, but he couldn't move.
"I think what your parents did was very brave." Potter said. His voice sounded far away. At first, Draco didn't register the meaning of his words, but gradually they began to cement themselves more firmly in his mind. Did they know? Draco regained his faculties, but noticed that Potter was leaving the room.
Potter stopped at the door and turned halfway back to Draco. "Would you like to read the article for yourself?" He asked. Draco wasn't sure if he was ready, but he also knew that he shouldn't be keeping himself in the dark. When he didn't answer, Potter said, "I'll ask Mrs. Weasley to bring it up with your dinner." And he walked out of the room closing the door behind him.
Draco went to the door right after he left and locked it.
OooOooO
Following his conversation with Malfoy, Harry was all but ambushed by the Weasleys and Hermione. He told them as best he could that Malfoy was very upset about his parents and that he was unwilling to talk about it.
"But, why did he even open the door for you?" Ron asked, thoroughly confused.
"Well, I told him that his door was about to be blasted open, so maybe that's why?" Harry answered. To be honest, he himself couldn't figure out why Malfoy let him in.
He summarized majority of their conversation for his audience, but found himself omitting the very end. It felt too personal, almost intimate, and he didn't want anyone else to know how Malfoy had looked after finding out the date of his parents' death. Harry had been almost positive Malfoy was going to faint in the middle of the floor. He had looked so vulnerable. It didn't feel right to share that with anyone else.
"Oh, and, Mrs. Weasley?" Harry said, walking over to her. He made sure no one could hear him. "Can you take a copy of the Prophet from three days ago up with his dinner tonight?"
Mrs. Weasley raised her eyebrows, but agreed.
Later that night, as Harry and Ron were walking up the stairs for bed, Harry glanced at the tray outside Malfoy's door. He noticed that the Prophet had been taken off the tray, and that a fair amount food appeared to have been eaten. He also noticed an empty muffin liner crumpled on top of a plate. And he almost smiled.
The next day, Malfoy still didn't come out of his room. Or at least, no one ever saw him come out of his room. However, each time Mrs. Weasley left a tray of food outside his door, it would disappear and then reappear a few hours later devoid of most of its contents.
Lupin came by again to see if Malfoy would be willing to meet with him. The lack of response when Lupin knocked on Malfoy's door indicated that he was not, in fact, willing. Harry tried to ask Lupin if there was any new information, but Lupin left in a hurry without so much as a backwards glance at Harry's attempts for discourse. Harry considered making his own attempt to talk to Malfoy again, but decided that even if Malfoy did let him in he didn't have anything to say. Maybe tomorrow.
The following day, the Daily Prophet ran another article regarding the Malfoys. There was no new information pertaining to the investigation, but there was information about the funeral, which would be held the following day on the Manor grounds. When Harry was sure everyone had finished the Prophet for the day he grabbed it and started to exit he kitchen, heading for the stairs.
"Harry, why are you taking the paper with you?" Hermione asked, eyeing him curiously. He inwardly cursed her, just a little, for drawing attention to him.
"Oh, I just, er, well, I thought Malfoy would want to read it." He replied. He left the room quickly before anyone could respond.
Harry knocked on the door and waited for any sign of recognition. After 10 seconds, when he received none, he knocked again.
"Malfoy, it's me. I brought something you might want to see." Harry said, and listened again. It only took five seconds this time; the lock on the door was turned, and the door was opening.
"What is it, Potter?" Malfoy sneered. Harry noticed that he looked considerably better than he had a few days before. His skin, which had almost taken an ashen hue, was returning to its normal level of pallor.
When he tried to speak, though, he found himself unsure exactly how to begin. "Well, er, there was something printed in the Prophet today about your, um, your parents, and I…er…well it's about…"
"Can you even string a coherent sentence together without stammering, Potter?" Malfoy asked, agitated. Still, he stepped aside to allow Harry to enter. Harry felt heat rise in his face and he glared at Malfoy as he walked past to the same bed from a few days before. He waited until Malfoy had sat on his own bed, like two days ago, before continuing. He held the Prophet out to Malfoy.
"It's about your parents' funeral. It's going to be on the Manor grounds tomorrow." Harry said, and waited to see Malfoy's reaction.
Malfoy slowly reached for the paper and read the short article. His face remained expressionless, but Harry could see a slight tremor in his hands. When Harry was sure Malfoy had finished he said, "If you wanted to go I could talk to Mr. Weasley and see…"
"I can't go." Malfoy said. He didn't look up from the paper.
"I'm sure we could figure something out, they could disillusion you or…"
"I said I can't go!" Malfoy said loudly. He finally looked up to meet Harry's eyes, and Harry could tell he was carefully guarding his emotions. "Thank you for telling me." He said stiffly, sitting further up on the bed, stretching his legs out, and opening the Prophet to the second page. Harry could tell Malfoy wanted him to leave. Part of him felt like he should stay anyway, but after a minute of watching Malfoy pretend to read the paper, Harry got up and exited the room.
He stood in the hallway, leaning against the wall next to Malfoy's door. That had been his second almost civil conversation with Malfoy in less than three days. It was strange, though, like the person in that room wasn't Malfoy at all, or perhaps just a vague shadow of who Harry thought Malfoy had been. He was trying to figure out what had happened to Malfoy. And he was trying to figure out why he had such a compulsion to keep talking to him. Why had he felt the need to take Malfoy the paper? Why had he been unwilling to leave? Harry couldn't figure it out. He could almost pass it off as pity, but he knew to say that would be a lie. It wasn't pity, exactly. He just couldn't place what it was.
OooOooO
Draco couldn't decide if he wished Potter would stop bothering him or if he wished Potter would bother him more. He had passed the point of grieving where he wanted to stay in isolation, but he wasn't excited that his only other option for company was the Weasley family. And Potter had been acting very differently around him. Draco had almost been disappointed when Potter left so quickly earlier.
He stayed in the room for the rest of the day. Mrs. Weasley brought him up dinner, but he found that he didn't have an appetite. The knowledge that his parents' funeral would be the next day, and that he couldn't possibly attend, was weighing on him heavily.
He was lying in the bed staring at the ceiling in a position that had become all too familiar to him. The rest of the house had turned in for the night hours before, but sleep had been lost on him. Around 3 in the morning, or so he assumed, his lack of dinner finally caught up with him, and he decided to go down to the kitchen, noting that his legs were exceptionally stiff. He cursed the Weasley's for having taken his wand as he made his way down the stairs of the dark house, trying to make out faint outlines, and thinking that this venture had perhaps been a very bad idea.
This thought was confirmed when he opened the kitchen door and found, "Potter."
Potter looked up from his seat at the table and started at Draco with a look kin to disbelief. He took no measures to hide his expression as he replied, "Malfoy" with a slight incline of his head. They stared at each other silently and Draco stepped forward letting the door shut behind him.
"Why are you down here?" Draco asked, feeling foolish. He was curious though, and annoyed that Potter had managed to come downstairs without him hearing. He looked at him more closely and noticed that, even in the dim light of Potter's wand on the table, the shadows under his eyes were still easily visible. He wondered if this was how he spent every night.
"I, er, I've been having some trouble sleeping. And Ron snores pretty loudly so I thought I'd come down here for some quiet." Potter said. Draco thought that he sounded as tired as he looked.
"Yes, well, I'll just get what I need and be out of your way then." Draco replied. Potter nodded and looked down at his hands on the table. Draco crossed the room quickly to a tray on the counter bearing an assortment of pastries and pies, but before he could take one and exit Potter spoke again.
"Look Malfoy, I've been wondering, and I guess you don't have to tell me, but, um, are you really on our side now?"
Draco stopped. Was he? Now that his parents were gone, was there any point in keeping his word? The Order hadn't been able to fulfill their end of the bargain. And he didn't want to fight, he didn't want to be a part of anyone's war. It didn't matter which side he was on or what he believed, he had seen enough. He just wanted to be done. Draco realized that Potter was still sitting there, waiting for a response, but he didn't have one to give. When Potter realized he wasn't going to get an answer, he tried something different.
"Why are you here?"
"I'm here because I'm hungry, Potter, so if you don't mind…" Draco said shortly as he reached for a pastry, hoping to make a quick exit. Potter wasn't having it.
"Don't be a git, Malfoy, you know that's not what I meant." He looked angry. He sat back in his chair and eyes Draco suspiciously.
"I'm here because I was sent here." Draco responded.
"Why?" Potter shot back at him. Draco was starting to get angry. Why was he even participating in this discussion? He could just grab his food and leave, simple as that.
"Your guess is as good as mine." Draco said sarcastically. Potter stood from his seat.
"By who?"
Draco swallowed hard. My parents. And now they're dead. Because of me. He didn't want to be doing this. "I don't know."
"I think you're lying." Potter said. Draco's hands were starting to shake again. He sneered at Potter and made an attempt to leave sans food but Potter blocked him, stepping closer.
"Whose side are you on Malfoy?" Potter asked harshly, now standing less than a meter away.
"I DON'T KNOW POTTER!" Draco finally exploded. "I don't fucking know. The only reason I even said I you lot is because that stupid fucking werewolf said you could keep my parents safe!" Draco shouted. "He said they would be protected and now they're dead!" Draco glared at Potter, who looked stunned. Draco assumed the werewolf must not have told them anything about their meetings.
"They died before the Order could do anything to protect them." Potter countered quietly. "There wasn't anything that they could have done!"
"DON'T YOU THINK I KNOW THAT?!" Draco nearly screamed. He paused, and continued in a quieter voice. "I know. I know they couldn't have done anything. But that doesn't change anything. I was in this for my parents." He said, his voice getting louder again. "I was in it for them, to protect them, and now they're dead, and it's my fault! I don't know what I'm doing or what I'm supposed to do."
"What do you mean it's your fault? Malfoy, what happened…" Potter asked, looking almost scared. Still, he didn't back away from Draco, and held his gaze steadily.
Draco was stunned silent. He hadn't meant to say that. But then, for some reason, words were pouring from his mouth before he could think about what he was doing.
"I disappointed him. I couldn't do something he asked me to do, so in return he killed my parents! I acted like a complete coward. If I had only been able to ki-…complete my task then my parents would still be alive. It's completely my fault! And, I can't even go to their fucking funeral because, apparently, I'm supposed to be dead too!" He was pacing the floor, looking down at his feet. "I don't remember much of what happened. I was…He used cruciatus on me and I heard my mother screaming, and then I was here. That's all I remember. And I don't know who sent me here, or why, I really just don't know."
Draco finished his rant and leaned against the wall. He ran his fingers through his hair, in complete disbelief that he had just bared his soul to Potter, of all people. He tried to summon the courage to look up, but before he could he felt a warm hand rest on his arm. He flinched.
"Malfoy." Potter said seriously. "You didn't kill your parents. Voldemort killed your parents." Draco flinched again. "It doesn't matter what you did. You are not responsible. If they died trying to save you…" Draco heard Potter's voice catch and finally looked up. Potter was standing closer than he realized, and his green eyes were bright and burning into his own. "That was their choice too. It's no one's fault but Voldemort's." Potter took his arm away and looked at Draco for a second more before turning and leaving Draco alone in the kitchen.