Surviving Malfoy _ Part II : Anger and Depression
MILKAVELLI 'Where's Olly' – Purple silk, royalty.
Chapter 13:
The first gulp of icy cold air stings through my lungs, forcing me to cough it back up in confusion, my breath coming out in thick puffs of condensation. The thin sweater I am wearing does nothing against the freezing cold air gnawing at my skin, and the bottom hems of my jeans cling to my legs as I suddenly stand in a foot of snow. I feel my wand zooming out of my belt buckle of its own accord, and I realize my right hand is still trapped in Austin's strong grip.
"What—" I sputter, pulling on my hand, but he won't let go. He grabs my upper arm instead, half lifting me up to pull me forward. "Ow! What the hell?!" My shouts sound eerily muffled by the snow.
"Shut it."
I look up at Austin. His face is stony and callous, he doesn't return my gaze, stoically looking ahead instead. I can't help but let him drag me forward a few steps. He's pulling me along a gravel pathway, but it is so frozen over and slippery with snow that I can't dig my heels into anything to offer him any resistance. I am shaking from fear and cold, my heart hammering in my chest as I finally start to comprehend what is going on. I curse my slow reflexes for letting go of my wand.
"Where are we?" I pull on my arm again, trying to wrench it out of Austin's grip. He won't answer. The pathway we are on is surrounded by large hedges, yew by the looks of it, but too high for me to get a glimpse of anything on the other side. There are gates ahead of us as tall as the hedges around it, but I can just about make out an impressive manor house on the other side. It towers gloomily over the white landscape, its black stone in stark contrast with the snow. My right arm is going numb, and I start pulling at Austin's fingers with my left hand, scratching at them.
"Stop that," he says and jerks me forward, pulling me off my feet.
My heart leaps into my throat as a large, pure-white bird jumps up on the hedge to our right. I only realize it's a peacock when it ruffles its feathers, fanning out its train as it marches along the hedge. "Wh—" I mean to ask where on earth he's taken me, but all that comes out is a terrified wheeze. I have my suspicions anyway. Suspicions that only grow stronger once he's finally dragged me all the way to the wrought-iron gates, the abstract foils and coils of which form a single large M in their middle. "No." I huff, tugging and clawing at Austin's fingers around my arm.
Austin taps his wand once against the large letter, which immediately twists and contorts itself into a horrifying face. "State your purpose." Its stale voice echoes along the pathway, and I instinctively take a step back, which Austin reciprocates by yanking me forward again.
"I've got the Potter girl," he says, and I intuitively let myself fall, hoping against hope he won't be able to drag my deadweight along.
"No," I say louder, panicked as the broad gates swing inward, giving a clear view of the handsome manor behind them. "No!" I start hitting Austin's arm, kicking his legs and dropping myself backwards against his grip, trying to at least delay the inevitable as he drags me farther along, the large gates falling shut behind us.
"Ow! For—" He yells when I follow Debbie's wise words and knee him in the groin. He lets go of my arm, and I stumble backwards, falling over in the snow and picking myself back up as quickly as I can, running the few steps back towards the wrought-iron gates. They won't budge, but before I even make it to the hedge in an attempt to crawl under it, ropes shoot out of Austin's wand, slinging themselves around my wrists and ankles.
"NO!" I shriek, rolling towards the hedge but Austin is quicker. He picks me up in one swift movement, swinging me over his shoulder. "Let me—" I try kicking but his arms are wound tightly around my legs, so I start hammering on his back instead. "GO!"
"Will you stop it!" Austin roars, violently dropping me to the ground after just a few steps, knocking the wind out of me. "You stupid-"
"What's going on out here?" The large front doors of the manor swing open, revealing a tall, slender woman in dark robes. "Who are you?" She asks in a cold, clear voice.
I try catching my breath, coughing into the snow under my face. Pain is radiating through my left side, emanating from the shoulder I landed on.
"Wallace, Ma'am," Austin says. I lay as still as I can on the ground next to his feet, trying my best to control how violently my entire body is shaking. "I brought Potter's sister."
I try to slow down my breathing, willing the bubble of horror in my throat to subside, but it only seems to grow with every breath I take. I try remembering Madam Zollner's classes, centering myself so as not to succumb to panic. I am laying restrained in the snowy pathway to what I assume is Draco's childhood home — and therefore, Voldemort's headquarters. Not what I was hoping for for Christmas, but nothing I can do about it now. My wand is gone, I am definitely outnumbered, but I still have a chance at survival. Whatever it is they truly want from me, I hope that they will at least consider me adequate bait to get Harry, and therefore keep me alive. I know Harry might be stupid enough to come after me, but Hermione is smart enough to keep him from trying. But rather than Madam Zollner's classes, it is Draco's voice that echoes through my head. You don't know what they're capable of. I take a breath in through my nose, out through my mouth and bury my face in the cold snow.
Do not panic now.
"And you're sure that's her?" The woman's icy drawl comes from the doorway.
I hear Austin huff next to me and take another deep breath. Compartmentalize, push down any thoughts of Harry or Hermione. Or Draco. Although they probably already know I'm in touch with him, considering I gave Austin detailed reports every other day. No wonder he was forced to take the mark so much earlier.
"Positive," Austin replies dryly. "I've been around her for half a year, I can guarantee that's the right girl."
I feel a trickle of anger running down my throat at his words.
"And you bring her to us now?" Her skepticism gives me some hope. With a bit of luck, they won't have enough faith in Austin and will just send him on his way. Me included. But who knows what he will do to me then…
"With all due respect, Ma'am, this plan was hashed out with your husband. If you'd let me through to speak to him, you'll see that this is definitely the right girl." The smugness in his voice makes me scrunch up my nose, much like the woman in the doorway. I look up at her, but she seems intent on not letting her eyes run over me even once. Her features are refined, she looks distinctly snobbish and arrogant — she has that in common with her son. There is no doubt in my mind about who she is. Either way, I've seen her before, and I have the distinct impression that she knows very well who I am.
"Well then," she says, hostility dripping from her voice.
Austin yanks my up by my elbow, twisting my shoulder and making me yelp in pain. He starts dragging me forward again before he realizes my ankles are still bound. I start kicking again the second he unties them, and he slaps me once across the face, hard. "Stop it," he says through gritted teeth.
"With a little less noise, if you will," Draco's mother snarls.
"You heard the lady." Austin waves his wand, and my next cry catches in my throat, my vocal cords categorically refusing to produce a sound. He pulls me upright and shoves me in the back, forcing me to walk up the steps to where Mrs. Malfoy is standing. She still refuses to look at me, keeping her eyes on Austin instead until I've stumbled through the front door.
A gust of hot air surrounds me, drying my clothes instantly and leaving them cozily warm.
"Lest either of you ruin my carpets." Mrs. Malfoy strides past me in quick steps, waving her wand and shutting the front doors with a soft thud. I stand for a moment, looking after her as she walks down the short, narrow, almost constricting hallway. Or perhaps it only feels that way to me from my biased viewpoint. Austin pushes me again, and I am forced to follow her on wobbly knees, the thick carpet muffling my steps on the dark stone floor.
She leads us into a vast entrance hall with pale-faced portraits lining the walls. Maybe it is pure luck, or maybe my eyes are just frantically trying to latch onto something familiar, but within seconds they catch those of a witch to my right. She seems no different from the other portraits in the room by her haughty demeanor. It's her clothes, however, that distinguish her from the rest: a long black skirt, a white blouse, a black, floppy bow-tie and a large-brimmed, black witches hat - no robes. She holds my gaze, and I try pleading with her, silently mouthing "help me" at her, but she makes no sign of recognition, or even a sign that she realizes that we have anything in common.
Mrs. Malfoy strides straight past the enormous imperial staircase opposite the witch's portrait towards another door. She pushes down the bronze handle, and I stop in my tracks, causing Austin to bump into my back. I can feel my heart hammering up into my throat.
"Move." I feel Austin's hand in my back, pushing me through the door. I stop immediately, hoping against hope to go unnoticed in the shadows of the doorway. Mrs. Malfoy leads us into an ample drawing room, with ceilings thirty feet high and roomy enough to accommodate two crystal chandeliers. A pipe organ fits snuggly along the wall to our right, standing opposite a long ornate table, covered in scrolls, quills, inkwells and candle holders. The walls here too are lined with portraits of pale-eyed, snobbish-looking witches and wizards.
A Christmas tree reaches towards the ceiling in one corner, over-shadowing most of the other sumptuous decorations. Austin pushes me further into the room, towards an impressive marble mantelpiece hosting a roaring fire, flanked by two sets of diamond-paned french doors, leading out to a patio covered in snow and around which stand several black, wingback armchairs. One of them has a shock of white-blond hair peeking out over its backrest, making my stomach turn.
"It's for you." Draco's mother says matter-of-factly, sitting down in another one of the armchairs, her back to us.
The shock of white-blond hair abruptly turns around in its seat. For just a moment, I am convinced it is Draco, before I realize the man now scrutinizing me is considerably older. He has the same grey eyes and pointed, aristocratic features, but his skin seems waxy and yellow, and his eyes have a haunted look to them. He stands up at the sight of Austin and me.
"Ah, Wallace," he stretches his arms out wide in greeting, but his voice is a cold, uninviting drawl. "I've been expecting you. And you've brought a guest!" He fixes his eyes on me, a mocking smile on his face. "I hadn't expected you this soon."
"The opportunity came up," Austin says.
"We'll make do." Mr. Malfoy comes towards us, and I try taking a step back, but immediately bump into Austin who pushes his knuckles into my back, keeping me in place. "I haven't had a room prepared, but I'm sure Miss Potter will be fine cozying up with our other guests for the time being," he says derisively, and I shudder at the way he snarls the name.
I hold his gaze with all the courage I can muster. He looks down on me, taller than his son, and I feel trapped with Austin at my back. I feel my heart hammering all the way in my throat, making it hard to breathe.
"What happened here?" Mr. Malfoy asks, lifting a finger to my left cheek, and I recoil, my head bumping into Austin's chest.
"Werewolf attack," Austin says matter-of-factly. Mr. Malfoy lifts his eyes up at him, his eyebrows pulled up quizzically. "One of yours as far as I understand, at Hogwarts last summer."
The corner of Mr. Malfoy's mouth twitches. "Greyback," he states. "Is she dangerous?"
I fight hard to keep my eyebrows from jumping together angrily. "She isn't," Austin answers.
"And you're sure that's the right girl?" Mr. Malfoy echoes his wife's earlier question.
"Ask your son."
Mr. Malfoy's polite smile grows considerably colder. "I beg your pardon?"
"He's been in cahoots with her for almost a year now. He's been informing her about the Dark Lord's plans since summer." Austin pauses. "Rumor has it, they had been in a bit of an entanglement at school—"
"I am well aware of my son's liaison with Miss Potter, Mr. Wallace. I know he's been cultivating a relationship with the girl. He's been trying to lure her into our midst to get closer to Potter. He's been quite keen on a bit of extra credit with the Dark Lord, but rest assured, I've let him know that pulling such stunts single-handedly was a foolish undertaking. Especially in today's climate. Draco would not dream of keeping up any form of alliance with Harry Potter's sister without my explicit consent. Or are you insinuating my own son would dare deceive me?"
Austin does not answer. I stand as still as I can in front of him, refusing to take my eyes off Draco's father. Less in defiance and more in an attempt not to show him any weakness, or even just a hint that his words affect me in any way. Not that it matters; he is staring unblinkingly at Austin's face, the smile now entirely gone and replaced by a defiant scowl.
"Fips." At the mention of his name, a tiny house-elf appears. So tiny in fact, the tips of his large bat-ears barely reach Mr. Malfoy's knee. His enormous eyes, at shin-level, look up at him expectantly. "Fetch Draco."
"Yes, Master," the house-elf squeaks, snapping in half in a low bow and pressing his pointy nose to the carpet before disappearing with the faintest popping noise.
My heart sinks, and I knot my fingers together to keep them from trembling.
"We'll let Draco speak for himself, shall we?"
"Why are you letting him irk you, Lucius?" Draco's mother gets up from her spot in front of the fireplace and walks up to her husband. Her voice is cold with contempt. "You know Draco wouldn't go behind your back, you don't have to get him involved on account of one man's gossip."
"I don't engage in gossip," Austin finally responds, irritated. "I do have proof. They've been communicating via coin, as I believe your son did with his informant in Hogsmeade last year. Same concept. And this one has been dim enough to keep record of every word your son has sent her."
"And you've brought that with you?" Mr. Malfoy asks quizzically.
"No, but you'll find the coin in her backpack." I hear a ruffle next to me and glance over my shoulder at the backpack he's holding up, and for the first time since we apparated, I feel a sense of relief. I silently thank myself for leaving that coin with Blaise. And then I immediately berate myself; I still have Hermione's coin with me.
"What is it, father?" I flinch at the sound of Draco's voice. It comes from above us, and Austin and I look over our shoulders simultaneously. Above the door we've been brought in through, there is a gallery overlooking the drawing room that I haven't noticed when coming in. Draco stands above us, leaning on the black banisters with both hands, looking disinterested.
"We have a new guest," Lucius Malfoy proclaims. "Why don't you come down and say hello?"
Draco lets his gaze roam over Austin and me, showing no sign of recognition, before nodding and turning away, towards what I presume is the grand staircase I've seen in the entrance hall.
"Show me that coin."
Austin steps away from behind me, and my back feels suddenly exposed. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up in anticipation of the door opening. Austin rummages through my backpack, pulling out my clothes and toiletries with no regard for my privacy. Mrs. Malfoy tuts at the sight. He grows more frantic with each pocket he searches until he finally reaches the sides and triumphantly pulls out a single gold galleon. I know he eventually would and keep my face neutral, following the galleon with my eyes as he places it in Mr. Malfoy's hand. With a flick of her wand, Draco's mother makes my belongings disappear off the carpet, wrinkling her nose at them.
"Finally snatched her up, have you?" Draco's voice comes from behind me, the slightest hint of disdain in it. I didn't even hear the door open.
"So, you can confirm that's her?" his father asks, looking up from the galleon in his hand.
Draco walks past me towards his mother and stops suddenly in his tracks, apparently confused at his father's question. He turns around, casting one look at me before turning back to his father. "'Course that's her," he says curtly, exchanging a seemingly irritated look with his mother.
"That's cleared up then." Mr. Malfoy turns back to the galleon in his hand, holding it up for his son to look at. "Mr. Wallace here has come in with quite the unpleasant accusation, Draco. I was hoping you could enlighten me."
If Draco is worried in any way, it doesn't show on his face.
"He's under the impression you've been communicating with Miss Potter over the last few months."
Draco's eyebrow shoots up. "And how would I have done that?" I'm glad to see he still knows how to keep his mask of indifference plastered on his face unflinchingly.
"With this galleon," his father responds.
"Heard about Madam Rosmerta, have you?" Draco huffs.
I try turning my head towards Austin inconspicuously. Draco has always been a good liar; it is in his nature to seem unaffected and to deny any wrong-doing. I just need to keep my face from betraying us.
"Don't play innocent," Austin spits at him. "I have dozens of rolls of parchment with transcripts of your conversations, so I suggest you come out with the truth now."
Draco looks around the room. "I don't see dozens of rolls of parchment."
"Our departure was a little hasty." Austin shoots back.
"So, you're saying you've come into my house, accused my son of treason and dared doing so without bringing evidence?"
All heads turn towards Draco's mother. She discreetly walked up behind her son and now stands next to him, an eyebrow raised at Austin.
"The galleon should be proof enough." He points at the coin still in Mr. Malfoy's hand.
"It's a regular gold galleon." Draco's father inspects it. "It has the Gringotts emblem, a serial number, nothing out of the ordinary. I've seen the coin my son used last year, shouldn't this be sporting some message?"
Hermione you absolute genius.
"Your son must've changed it. Heard me coming in and changed the message to a random number, just in case."
Draco huffs. "I've never seen you before in my life. For all I know, you could be some snatcher who got lucky."
Lucius Malfoy holds up his hand to silence him, but Austin cuts him off before he can speak. "What would she be doing with a galleon?"
"It's the most common wizarding currency." Mrs. Malfoy doesn't miss a beat. "Isn't there a Gringotts branch in New York?"
Austin shoots me a furious look, and I give him the tiniest of innocent shrugs. "Must be the wrong coin then," he says matter-of-factly and turns his head downwards to the clear carpet, where the contents of my backpack were only minutes ago. "If you would please return her belongings." But he needn't have asked. Mrs. Malfoy has already flicked her wand, and my backpack, including my things, reappear on the floor. Austin starts rummaging through them again, and I tighten my jaw, intently keeping my eyes away from anybody else's as he starts pulling apart my underwear.
Mrs. Malfoy tuts again. "Step away." She flicks her wand, and I watch as my clothes fold themselves neatly in a pile and my toiletries line themselves up behind them. She walks over and takes the backpack from Austin's hands, turning it over and shaking it out. "Empty," she says to her husband.
"There should definitely be a second coin," Austin says confused, and I look up at him, feigning irritated confusion with hopefully enough conviction to fool the Malfoys. He frowns. "She has another one of those she's been using to keep in touch with her brother."
"And a third one for chit-chat with the Dark Lord?" Draco shoots back sarcastically.
Mr. Malfoy ignores him, the fake smile reappearing on his face. "I suggest you find us these coins Mr. Wallace. Without them, I wouldn't be inclined to believe you over my son's word."
"I'll bring you the records."
"Easy to fake."
Austin stares at Mr. Malfoy, his face twists into an ugly grimace. After a moment, he pulls out his wand, and I immediately take a step away from him. Mr. Malfoy follows my lead; Mrs. Malfoy and Draco point their wands at Austin in unison.
"Accio coin." Austin says unfazed, but nothing happens. "Vanished it while you had the backpack in hand, did you?"
"Now you're accusing my wife?"
"Time for you to leave," Draco says threateningly, pointing his wand directly at Austin's face.
Austin huffs. "I bring you the Potter girl, and this is the thanks I get?"
"I'm eternally grateful to you for bringing us the girl," Mr. Malfoy says unpleasantly. "But I won't tolerate you trying to discredit my family's integrity."
"Fine. But I'm taking her with me."
There's a loud bang, and before I can even turn my head to look at Austin, my vision blurs. Next thing I know, fingers are digging into the flesh of my upper arm as I am forced to my knees, my hands still tied in front of me.
"Get out of my house!" Mr. Malfoy bellows.
Austin stumbles backwards from the curse that shoots out of Draco's wand. I pull myself onto my feet, my arm still firmly in Mrs. Malfoy's grip. Her wand is stretched out in front of us defensively, and with a wave, she casts a protection shield between her son and Austin's rebuttal curse.
"Fips!" she calls, and the tiny house-elf reappears. "Escort the gentleman out."
Fips disappears and reappears next to Austin before he can react. He takes hold of his pant-leg, and with a tiny pop, the two of them vanish, Austin's voice cut-off in the middle of a furious scream.
"Draco," Mr. Malfoy hisses, his voice dangerously low. I feel goosebumps rise up my back.
"We'll discuss this in a moment, Lucius," Draco's mother says firmly, and her husband turns around to look at her, anger in his eyes. "Draco, take Miss Potter down to the cellar." She holds her husband's gaze as Draco walks up to us. He takes my arm out of his mother's grip, and I feel the goosebumps all the way up my neck.
He refuses to look at me, leading me towards a door hidden away by the French doors leading out to the snow-covered patio. He pulls it open and pushes me through it roughly, following closely behind and shutting the door behind us in one swift move. "Come on," he whispers under his breath, putting a hand on the small of my back, gently leading me towards a flight of half-turn stairs in front of us.
I let him guide me down a few steps and intently listen to his breathing. It grows shakier with every step he takes, and when I turn to look up at him, his usual mask of indifference has slipped.
"Malfoy," I mouth, but no sound comes out. Austin's silencing charm hasn't worn off yet. I raise my tied hands and tap on his arm, mouthing his name again when he turns towards me. He stops in the middle of the stairs, half hidden from the door to the drawing room, around the corner from the banisters. He frantically looks up at the door we just came out of, and I stop next to him in the shadows; he's grown since I've last seen him.
Draco raises a finger to his lips, then whispers, "Finite."
"Malfoy," I try again pleased to hear I have regained control of my vocal cords.
Draco takes a deep breath, his eyes darting frantically across my face, and his eyebrows pull together in a concerned frown. He lifts a finger to my cheek, just as his father did earlier, and I lift my hands, pushing his arm aside.
"Blaise has my coin," I whisper.
Draco's face falls as he understands, and his eyes dart to the door again. He pushes his hand deeply into his pocket and pulls out a gold galleon. "What was that guy's name again?"
"Austin," I say softly, a glimmer of hope running through me. If he dares show up in New Orleans again, at least Debbie and Casper will be warned. I watch Draco wave his wand over the coin in his hand and lean against the wall behind me. I'm still shaking.
"How's… How are you doing with Occlumency?" Fear now mingles with the other emotions on his face.
I purse my lips, my heart sinking again. "I've been practicing."
Draco nods slowly. "My aunt," he starts. "She'll be back by New Years. She's—" He breaks off.
"I know."
He lets out another shaky breath, keeping his eyes steadily on mine. "I'm sorry," he whispers, shooting another look at the door. He waves his wand again, and the ties around my wrists vanish. He continues down the stairs, to another door on our left, leading to a room below the drawing room. "Stand back," he says loudly. He flicks his wand, and the door clicks open.