The Malfoy Manor ballroom hummed with life. Nearly fifty people had congregated together here to celebrate the winter holidays as part of the Dark Lord's court - his loyal Death Eaters and their wives, all dressed in fine attire and sipping goblin-made wine like this was the event of the season. For many of them, Draco supposed, it was. Tonight was the first time since the Dark Lord's return that he had summoned not only his Death Eaters but their spouses as well. His father said that it was the Dark Lord's way of showing his power - that even though they were hiding away from the Ministry for now, they would not be made to skulk in the shadows. Draco didn't much care what the reason for the festivities was. All he knew was that he would have to give his report in front of the full crowd, something he had not anticipated.
Why I assumed I would have a private audience, I have no idea. Is it better to be potentially publicly humiliated or be alone with the Dark Lord? Bit of a toss up, really.
He tugged at his collar, self-conscious, as he watched his Aunt Bellatrix hold court on the other side of the room. She had half a dozen Death Eaters gathered around her as she regaled them with an animated story that Draco couldn't quite make out. They weren't wearing their masks tonight, so he could see the mix of rapt attention and uneasiness she provoked in her audience. It was still strange to see her here. She had been in Azkaban almost his entire life, and his mother hadn't exactly volunteered to take him to go visit. He had never quite dared to ask whether she had always been as unhinged as she was now, though her fearsome reputation preceded her. He had largely managed to escape her notice, for which he was profoundly grateful. She was one of the only other accomplished Occlumens within the Dark Lord's ranks and he could only imagine what lessons with her might have been like.
He jumped and instantly stiffened as he felt a hand on his shoulder before realizing it was his father.
"Are you all ready for tonight?" Lucius asked. Draco regarded him for a moment before nodding. His father had aged significantly in the last few months. His platinum hair was streaked with silver, and his forehead was marred by wrinkles that certainly hadn't been there this time last year.
The sea was flat, the sky a dull gray above it. No movement, no life. All was still.
"Yes, Father," he said. "The Dark Lord will be pleased."
Lucius patted his shoulder. "Of course he will be. I am very proud of you, Draco. Your mother and I-"
A bell sounded at that moment, cutting Lucius off. As one, the crowd turned toward the front of the ballroom, where the double doors slid open and the Dark Lord walked in. The crowd parted for his arrival, bowing as he passed and murmuring their greetings. Draco averted his eyes as the Dark Lord passed him, keeping his gaze directed at the floor. Too much contact now and he would lose his nerve. Despite himself, he began mentally repeating his findings for what must be the hundredth time. The Dark Lord would be pleased...right?
The Dark Lord turned to face the crowd and smiled at them - a truly unnerving sight- before sitting down in the throne-like chair that had been prepared for him. The room was lit with dozens of floating candles, not unlike the Hogwarts Great Hall. They cast the Dark Lord's face into stark relief, the edges of the room hidden in shadows.
"Welcome, my friends," he said in his cold, peculiar voice. "Gather round, for we have much to celebrate and discuss."
The crowd shuffled forward obediently, forming a loose semi-circle around the throne. Draco moved to stand next to his mother before thinking better of it. He did not want to appear like a child tonight. Holding his breath, he took a step closer to his aunt, who beamed at him and put her hand on his shoulder. Her long nails felt jagged against his robes and set Draco's teeth on edge.
"Ah, but we're missing our guest of honor," the Dark Lord said, regarding each of his followers in turn. "Severus, fetch Sybill for us, if you please."
Snape bowed before leaving the room. Draco held his breath as the Dark Lord called Dolohov forward to make some report. He had never imagined Trelawney being here. He had assumed she had died - she had looked dreadful before the fall term started. Would she somehow be called to testify on the veracity of his findings about the Hallows? Draco had no reason to believe his information was incorrect, but it was a lot of lucky guesswork. Or worse yet - what if Trelawney was called to prophesize again? He wasn't sure how much more investigative work he could take.
Dolohov issued his report but Draco was barely listening - something about the Ministry and the Aurors' office. Dolohov was followed by Macnair, who talked at length about the intricacies of the Imperius Curse. Draco felt his eyes starting to glaze over, along with the rest of the crowd. Macnair's monotone voice lulled the crowd into a stupor. The Dark Lord rested his chin in one hand, absently twirling his wand in the other.
While Macnair was speaking, Snape returned, his grip vice-like on Professor Trelawney's arm. Draco suppressed a shudder as he watched her stumble in, forcing his mind to the sea. He could tell instantly by her glazed expression that she wasn't consciously present. Snape had said that the cocktail of potions he had given her was experimental, and it looked like Trelawney's brain was collateral damage. She looked like she belonged in St. Mungo's.
"Ah, Sybill! There you are," the Dark Lord interrupted, causing Macnair to stumble over his words. Instantly the energy of the crowd shifted. A low murmur went through the group; several of the wives had their hands over their mouths at Trelawney's condition, which filled Draco with a dull irony. Didn't they know what their husbands were up to on the Dark Lord's orders?
The Dark Lord conjured a chair next to him and gestured for Snape to bring Trelawney forward. It was probably a wise decision considering that she barely looked able to stand upright. Snape remained standing just behind and to the left of Trelawney's chair. She stared ahead, unseeing.
"That will be all, Macnair," the Dark Lord said in a bored tone. "Continue your efforts with the Imperius, and I will expect a full report at our next gathering." Macnair bowed obsequiously before slinking back into the crowd.
"Now, for the man of the hour," the Dark Lord continued with a smirk. "Draco, step forward."
The gull cried out, its wings spread wide as it soared out over the water. Waves washed against the shore in a predictable rhythm. The depths were silent and empty.
Draco did as his master bade, stepping forward and offering a deep bow.
This is my moment, he thought as he stood up straight and made eye contact with the Dark Lord.
"Severus tells me you've been busy these last few months, Draco."
"Yes, my Lord."
"Tell us of your progress on bringing my Death Eaters to Hogwarts."
Deciding not to take a page out of Macnair's book, Draco kept his explanation short and to the point. He described the Vanishing Cabinet, how he had discovered its connection to the one in Borgin and Burkes based on Montague's accident the previous year, and he gave a brief overview of the work he had done on it so far as well as the work that still remained.
"Based on my progress thus far," he concluded, "I have no doubt that the Vanishing Cabinet will be fully operational by May at the latest."
Well, no doubt is stretching it a bit, but got to show confidence, right?
The Dark Lord surveyed him for a moment, and Draco allowed the waves to lap at his ankles, the cold shock of the water keeping his thoughts from wandering. The tide brought forth memories of the Vanishing Cabinet, the success he had had in transporting inanimate objects to Borgin and back again.
"Very good, Draco," the Dark Lord said after an age, and Draco struggled not to let out an audible sigh of relief. "It's too early to say for certain, but it appears I was right - you were the right man for the job. What say you, Lucius? Are you proud of your Death Eater son?"
"Most proud, my Lord," Lucius replied immediately. Draco saw him bow out of the corner of his eye. "I knew he wouldn't fail you."
"That remains to be seen," the Dark Lord said, causing Lucius to falter.
The sea, the sea, the sea...
"What of your second task, Draco? Have you been able to make any more sense of dear Sybill's predictions than we have?" He patted Trelawney's hand in mock comfort but Trelawney was far beyond noticing.
Draco took a deep breath. "It gets a little more convoluted here, my Lord." Again keeping to the most bare-bones explanation he could, he explained how what initially appeared to be the ramblings of a conspiracy theorist actually held up to scrutiny. He explained the Tale of the Three Brothers - which he quickly realized the Dark Lord had no knowledge of - as well as historical accounts of "the Deathstick" and "the Wand of Destiny." He explained his findings through his genealogical and historical research, as well as his conclusions that Trelawney's second prophecy referred to Godric's Hollow. The Dark Lord visibly stiffened at this, making Draco gulp as he continued.
"-and based on the historical trail, I have reason to believe that Dumbledore currently has the wand and Harry Potter currently has the cloak. I have not been able to locate the stone, but the Gaunt family-"
"That's enough!" the Dark Lord snapped, his face twisted with some unknown emotion. Draco stopped speaking at once. Nagini slithered up out of the shadows and up the side of the throne, coming to rest across the Dark Lord's shoulders. He extended a hand to pet her scaly hide.
Coming to comfort her master? Draco wondered, morbidly curious at what he could possibly have said to upset the Dark Lord. He had the distinct feeling that any goodwill the Vanishing Cabinet had won him was rapidly dissipating. But why?
"Severus," the Dark Lord said after a long moment. "It appears that we need more information. I need to know how I can acquire the Hallows, not just where. The Veritaserum, if you will."
Snape looked like he was going to protest but thought better of it. He wordlessly removed a small vial from his robes that he quickly tipped into Trelawney's mouth. Her pupils widened to an impossible size as the potion took effect. The Dark Lord opened his mouth to question her, but Trelawney was already speaking. The room had taken on an odd electric quality; Draco could feel the hairs on his arms standing up.
"A young witch, pure of blood and pure of heart, travels down a lonely, winding road at twilight. In time, she reaches the ghost of a river, once too deep to wade through and too dangerous to swim across. Death lives in this place and requires payment for his gifts. She freely gives of her purity; a drop of blood on the riverbed, a declaration of her true intent, and Death will bless her threefold. The wand, the stone, the cloak - all shall be given."
And with that, Sybill Trelawney fell over, dead.
The room erupted in whispered conversations. Draco took an involuntary step backward. Trelawney's eyes were glazed over and had taken on a milky quality. He distantly realized that this was the first time he was seeing a dead body.
"Silence!" the Dark Lord thundered, standing up from his seat. The room instantly fell quiet. Draco could hear his blood pounding in his ears and no amount of focus would allow him to convince himself it was the sound of the sea. The Dark Lord walked over to Trelawney's corpse and nudged her with his foot, apparently confirming she was really dead.
"Well, Draco," the Dark Lord said, making Draco cringe. "It appears you were correct once again. The wand, the stone, the cloak - all shall be given. But not to me." He returned to his seat, Trelawney forgotten on the floor, and held his hands wide to the crowd.
"My most loyal followers, I require your counsel," the Dark Lord said. "To whom does this prophecy refer? Our source has nothing more to say on the matter." The crowd laughed nervously before Bellatrix stepped forward.
"My Lord, there would be no higher honor than for me to complete this assignment," she said. "I can depart immediately-"
"I believe the prophecy said a young witch," her husband Rodolphus said drily, causing her to turn and glare at him. The Dark Lord, to Bellatrix's chagrin, chuckled.
"Your husband is right, Bella," he said. "Given that two of the three Hallows are at Hogwarts, I believe we are looking for a child, though your dedication is, as always, admirable. Well, what say you?" This last bit, he indicated to the crowd, who quickly broke out in hushed whispers.
Mulciber offered up his daughter, who was twelve, but was cut off by an irritated Travers, who said that in order to be sure of the girl's blood purity, only families listed in Cantankerus Nott's Pure Blood Directory should be considered. An irate Mulciber started to argue but Voldemort silenced him with a wave of his hand.
"Travers is right," he said. "We cannot afford to choose incorrectly." He waved his wand, summoning the Malfoys' copy of the directory.
Others pushed forward, calling out their daughers' and nieces' names, sensing an opportunity to gain influence.
"While I appreciate your suggestions," he said, thumbing through the pages of the book, "it would be a far cry for anyone to call the daughter of a Death Eater pure of heart. Who would Albus Dumbledore choose, if this prophecy had been given to him?"
The room fell silent as the Death Eaters considered. Draco kept his mind carefully blank, noticing the lovely way the sand felt between his toes in his mind. It was perfectly smooth, not marred by sharp rocks like it would be in real life. Here, everything was easy.
"What about the Abbott family?" the Dark Lord asked without looking up from the book as he turned a page.
"His wife's a mudblood, my Lord," Yaxley replied. "I paid him a visit myself, a couple months back. Wasn't very receptive to our cause. But in any case, the girl's half."
"A pity," the Dark Lord said, his attention still on the book.
Bellatrix, who had reluctantly retreated to stand next to Draco again, grabbed his arm.
"Come on, Draco," she hissed in his ear. "Can you think of anyone? The Dark Lord is waiting."
"No. I can't think of anyone."
Bellatrix let out a growl of frustration before turning away from him to discuss the matter with Ted Nott.
After a moment, the Dark Lord let out a bark of a laugh, making the room jump.
"What delicious irony," he said. "I had forgotten that the Weasleys were included here." He stood up and started to pace slowly, his hands laced behind his back. The crowd, who had started to laugh when he mentioned the Weasleys, had quieted and watched him with rapt attention.
"Ginny Weasley unwittingly aided me four years ago, and it appears she is about to do so again. We must see to it that she follows our dear Sybill's instructions. She must be willing, so she mustn't know of her true purpose. She must be delivered to me in Godric's Hollow, and there I will-"
Draco couldn't stop the look of horror creeping over his face as the Dark Lord spoke, nor the cold sweat that broke out all over his body. The Dark Lord's eyes snapped to meet his and Draco's mind went blank with panic.
"What's this?" the Dark Lord asked in a mocking voice, striding toward a frozen Draco. "Not reluctance, I hope? In this final hour?"
The Dark Lord didn't speak the incantation for Legilimency as he gripped Draco's chin, but he didn't need to. Draco felt his oily presence at once inside his mind, floating on the surface of the ocean. If there was ever going to be a test of his abilities, it was now.
The pirate's chest, reinforced with runes as it was, stayed mercifully silent and uninteresting, just another small feature of the endless sea floor. The Dark Lord sifted through Draco's memories with brutal efficiency, lingering a hair longer on Draco's efforts at dominance over Crabbe and Goyle. Draco focused on his eagerness to please the Dark Lord, on his desire to see his father's position reinstated. None of it was a lie.
At first, it seemed like all would be well. He could feel the Dark Lord's satisfaction at the effort Draco had put forward into his tasks so far and at his desperation to redeem his father. All was well, until one stray memory rose unbidden through the water.
Draco's stomach twisted in horror as he realized that he had forgotten to put his most recent memory of Ginny Weasley away in the chest. He dared not think too much about it with the Dark Lord in his mind - better one memory exposed than all of them. Maybe he could excuse it as a terrible lapse in judgment...
He was powerless to do anything as the Dark Lord watched his interaction with Ginny over the punch bowl at Slughorn's Christmas party. He felt his cheeks redden as the memory turned sexual and he cringed at the Dark Lord's cruel amusement. Potter entered the memory and slid his hand around Ginny's back, which only increased the Dark Lord's delight. The Dark Lord lingered a little longer before pulling back. Draco felt like he was caught in the tide - the room around him seemed blurry, only the Dark Lord's wicked face was in focus.
"So you desire her," he said to a tittering crowd. "Why didn't you say so earlier? Did you think I would be angry with you? I'm not as unkind as all that - am I, Severus?"
Snape did not speak and the Dark Lord did not appear to expect an answer. He kept his grip on Draco's chin, who could not stop himself from trembling.
"Bring Ginny Weasley to me, Draco," the Dark Lord said in a soft voice, "and your debt is repaid, as is your father's. All shall be as it was. I'll even give you the girl - consider it an extra incentive. Desire is not a crime, and after all, she is a pureblood, misguided as she is. Imagine Harry Potter's face when you steal his lover away - you'll have beaten your old school rival at last."
Draco's mind was blank. This was not what he had expected. Was it a trick?
Though the Dark Lord had withdrawn from his mind, he seemed to sense Draco's thoughts, for he dropped Draco's chin and turned to face Snape.
"You can trust me, Draco. This isn't the first time I've made such an offer - and the first time was for a mudblood, no less." The crowd gasped and whispered at this news. Snape's face, Draco noticed, had turned a ghastly shade of white. The Dark Lord stepped forward until he was standing directly in front of Snape, who looked uncharacteristically shaken.
"We will have to hope that Ginny Weasley has more sense than Lily Potter ever did," the Dark Lord said, his voice dangerously soft now. Snape said nothing, but he too appeared to be holding back some great emotion. Turning back to the crowd, the Dark Lord declared, "You are all dismissed. You have your assignments. I will be seeing you all very soon."
Draco wasted no time. He saw his father try to catch his eye but he ignored him. If he didn't make it back to his room immediately, he was going to be sick.
He hurried out of the ballroom as Death Eaters walked toward the front doors, unbuttoning the collar of his robes as he went. He ascended the stairs two at a time, only vaguely noticing the moonlight shining in through the large corridor windows.
"Draco-" his mother called from behind him, but he ignored her too. His mind was empty and terribly, terribly full all at the same time. His vision blurred as he yanked open the door to his room and slammed it shut, spelling it to stay locked and to muffle sound inside. Slowly, he leaned his back against the door and slid to the floor, clutching his head in his hands.
How could he have been so bloody stupid? He had been perfect, perfect, all term and now... Now it was all ruined. He took in the familiarity of his room and sobbed as he stared at his balcony window.
He cried for a while, all the pent up stress and relief and regret mingling into one tight ball in his stomach. Finally, when there were no more tears left to cry, he returned to the sea.
It's not your fault, he told the water. It was mine.
But was it really though? The Dark Lord didn't pick Ginny Weasley because Draco desired her - he discovered Draco desired her because the Dark Lord had decided this stupid new prophecy must refer to her. Yes, Draco should have protected that last memory, but Ginny would still be in just as much danger even if the Dark Lord had never learned Draco's secret. More, even, as it wasn't a guarantee that Draco would have been the one selected for the task. Would Yaxley or his dreaded aunt really have been a better choice? Or Greyback? No, definitely not. Draco could minimize damage this way. And...
He couldn't stop the Dark Lord's voice from echoing in his mind. I'll even give you the girl. His stomach twisted at the thought, and though he tried to deny it, it wasn't entirely out of disgust. She would hate him, there was no denying that, but given the role he was being asked to play in this war, that seemed a given anyway. Would it not be better for her to be here, away from all the fighting? With Potter, she would surely be a prime target for the Death Eaters, as either a victim or a hostage. But under Draco's protection...
He balled his hands into fists, letting his wrists rest on his knees. It was decided. He wouldn't touch her - he knew she didn't want him to - but he would do everything in his power to deliver her to the Dark Lord and thus ensure her survival.
Draco slept in the next morning, having dozed fitfully all night. He should have called Tilly, his house elf, to bring him a sleeping draught, but stubbornness had won out. He groggily roused himself from sleep, groaning as he stretched. His muscles were tight and his neck ached.
As though she had sensed his thoughts, Tilly appeared with a loud crack at the foot of his bed. "Good morning, Master Draco."
"Is it still morning?" he asked, sitting up with another stretch. "I feel like I've been asleep for ages."
"It is 11:17 in the morning, Master Draco," Tilly supplied helpfully. "Master Lucius has summoned Master Draco to his study."
Draco groaned loudly and collapsed back into bed. Could he not get any peace in this place?
"None of that, Master Draco," Tilly said, hurrying forward and pulling on his hand to encourage him to sit up. "Master Lucius said Tilly was to insist-"
"Alright, alright, I'm getting up," Draco mumbled and pulled his hand out of her reach. He stumbled out of bed and looked at himself in the long standing mirror in the corner. He ran a hand through his hair half-heartedly, but there was nothing to be done for it. He needed a bath, something he thought his father was unlikely to wait for. He shrugged out of his robes - he hadn't bothered to undress the night before - and pulled new ones on.
"After I'm done, bring me lunch, Tilly," he said as he turned toward the door. "I'm starving."
Tilly nodded her assent cheerfully before Disapparating.
Draco strolled along the second floor corridor, squinting a bit against the midday light. Thankfully, the Dark Lord had decided to make his permanent headquarters elsewhere, some Muggle manor house in a town Draco had never heard of. Malfoy Manor was again home only to himself and his parents. If he allowed himself, he could imagine the manor as it was when he was a child. His mother would be playing piano downstairs, the lovely melodies drifting up to greet him and promising a wonderful day filled with games and laughter. Later, he would join his father in his study and practice his reading or history or arithmetic, and if he did something particularly clever he would earn a grin from Lucius. If he had been very, very good, Lucius would take him outside and they would play a child's version of Quidditch together. He could still remember his own screams of laughter as he zoomed around the grounds, dodging a kid-friendly Bludger.
Where have those days gone, I wonder?
Present-day Draco arrived at Lucius' study and he paused in front of the door. He studied the ornate handle for a moment before sighing, knowing that he was trying to avoid the inevitable. He knocked sharply, once, before opening the door.
Lucius was sitting at his desk, the Daily Prophet held open in front of him. Unlike Draco, he had taken the time to bathe and change his robes. He looked decidedly better than he had the night before, like the meeting with the Dark Lord had invigorated him. He couldn't muster surprise at the sight of his mother sitting across from him, a cup of tea in her hands and an array of sweets piled high on her finest china.
"There you are," Lucius said without looking up from his paper. "I was beginning to think you were never going to wake up."
One can only wish.
"Sorry, Father," he said before moving into the room and taking a seat next to his mother. "I haven't been sleeping well lately."
"No matter," his father said before closing the paper and turning to look at his son. "I thought you would have wanted to celebrate last night. The Dark Lord was not only pleased with your progress but offered you a chance to become favored among his ranks. It was more than I dared to hope for."
"Yes," Draco replied, his eyes not quite meeting his father's. "It was...overwhelming."
Narcissa put her hand on Draco's knee and gave it a squeeze. "We're very proud of you, Draco. We know you've been working so hard, and it will all be over soon. Whatever you need, you tell us and we will get it for you."
"You aren't...upset with me?" Draco said, his eyes on Lucius. His father smirked.
"Whatever for? About the Weasley girl? If the Dark Lord is not upset about it, I see no reason to be. She is a blood traitor, it's true, but she will also apparently be the key to the Dark Lord's ultimate triumph. You could certainly do worse for yourself."
Draco scarcely dared to believe his ears. All his life, he had heard his father rant and rave about the Weasleys, how they were a disgrace to the name of wizard and their pure blood was wasted on them. How their poverty was an outward reflection of the inner rot that came from freely associating with mudbloods. If Draco had so much as mentioned Ginny before last night, he was certain he would have gotten a thorough tongue lashing. But now his father was...glad of it?
"How will you persuade her to our cause?" Lucius asked after a moment. Draco frowned.
"It will be difficult. She has to be willing, which means the information can't come from me."
"Surely you could charm her-" his mother started. Draco shook his head.
"It won't work."
"But-"
"It won't work. She's been in love with Potter since she was ten. She won't turn her back on him for anything." The declaration didn't hurt as much as he expected it to. He supposed he was beyond caring for the moment.
Lucius leaned back in his seat and folded his hands behind his head. "Then she must be made to believe she is helping Potter," he said. At Draco's furrowed brow, he continued, "What you must do, Draco, is set a trap."
A few author's notes here: We see cognitive dissonance in action in this chapter. Draco is not a bad person, but he has also never been taught or shown how to be a good person, and the apparent praise and acceptance from Voldemort, not to mention his parents, make for a fairly confusing cocktail of thoughts and emotions for him. Our story will have a happy ending, but both Ginny and Draco will have to face a pretty harrowing "dark night of the soul" before they can get there. For any chapters that take a particularly dark turn, I will include a content warning at the top. Also, I had wanted to include a Snape/Dumbledore scene in this chapter, but it just didn't fit without making this insanely long, so they will be featured in the next one. I will be out of town this weekend so it may take me some additional time to upload the next chapter. Thanks for sticking with me so far and I'll see you in Chapter 9!
Also, part of the prophecy's language is directly taken from the opening lines of "The Tale of the Three Brothers."