Surviving Malfoy _ Part II : Anger and Depression
Doja Cat 'Candy' – I can name a couple ways, baby, this shit might go.
Chapter 14:
The heavy wooden door clicks shut behind me and I am bathed in darkness. The tiniest slither of daylight creeps through the gap underneath the door, but it is barely enough to see my own feet. I stand frozen, staring into the black void ahead of me. The room is cool and smells faintly damp.
"Hello?" A soft voice comes from the darkness. It's hard to locate as it reverberates around the empty room. It sounds vast and, mentally mapping out my surroundings, I realise it must be the same size as the drawing room above.
I raise my hand, groping the air until my hand catches hold of a wall. "Hello?" I call back.
"I'm Luna," the voice says. She sounds closer and I flinch, realising I haven't heard her footsteps approach.
"Lovegood," I mumble, a sinking feeling in my chest.
"Yes," She sounds closer again. "Who are you?"
I hold my hand up in front of me in the direction I think she's probably coming from. "I'm- I'm Jay." I reply. "Are you alright? Did they hurt you?"
A hand takes hold of my outstretched arm. It is so gentle I only notice when she takes hold of my other arm too, prying it away from the wall and pulling me into the darkness. "Don't worry, your eyes will get used to it," she says.
I grab her hand in return, stopping her. "Are you okay?" I ask, carrying on when she doesn't respond right away. "My friend saw you getting pulled off the school train. Your father-"
"I'm fine," she cuts me off. "They never touched me after that, they said they aren't interested in torturing me unless daddy carries on telling his lies." Her voice is still light, but it has taken on a subtle sharpness. "Come, it's dryer and warmer over here."
She pulls on my arm again, leading me further into the room. My eyes slowly adapt to the lack of light, but it is so minimal in the vast cellar, I can just about make out Luna's silhouette. She leads me to the nearest wall on the left-hand side, to where the fireplace is in the drawing room above. She lets herself slide to the ground.
"Hello," comes the voice of a man, just as shouting erupts above us. I flinch and Luna tugs on my arm, pulling me down to sit next to her.
"This is Mr. Ollivander," she says, completely ignoring the noise coming from the drawing room.
"Hello," says the voice again, a little more subdued.
"Lucius!" There is a loud bang above our heads, and I flinch again.
"They shout an awful lot," Luna says. "Especially Mr. Malfoy."
"Only because the boy is here," says Ollivander. "It's much quieter when he's at school."
"Draco?" I ask.
"He doesn't get along with his father," Ollivander continues. "Ever since he broke out of Azkaban, they've done nothing but scream at each other."
"How long have you been here?" I ask.
"About a year and a half," Ollivander says. "Lucius came back six months ago and has been terrorising his family ever since. His son more so than his wife, she's much more apt at calming him down. Azkaban messes with your mind, and it's turned him cruel," as if to underline this point, there's a loud crash above us.
"He wasn't much nicer before," I say, looking up at the ceiling. I quickly add, "Or so I've heard."
"You and Draco went out last year, didn't you?" Luna asks.
"Not exactly," I deny. "We were close though. To an extent…"
"Did he ever tell you-"
"That he was plotting to murder Dumbledore?" I huff and shake my head "No. I knew he was up to something, though. I went to Dumbledore, but he told me not to worry about it. He said he had it under control."
"Even the greatest wizard of our time can't always be right," Ollivander says.
"You can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped," I say darkly.
"He did look unwell all year," Luna says, adding "Draco." When no one responds.
"He was under a lot of stress," I say. "He didn't exactly volunteer for the task."
"Is that why you are here?" Ollivander asks. "For all you know?"
"I don't think so. I-" I pause, "I'm not sure why I'm here. I wasn't even in the country."
"You were close to Harry, Hermione and Ron too, no?" Luna asks.
My stomach sinks. "Hermione mostly. But I have no idea where they are or what they're up to." I lie.
"They might just keep you here to try and lure Harry out of hiding," Luna says.
Unlikely.
"Why not use Ginny for that?" I frown.
"Ginny's family isn't resisting." Luna says.
"Ron-"
"Is stuck at home with Spattergroit," Luna says so gently, it's clear she knows it's a lie.
"The Dark Lord can't just abduct whoever he wants, especially not pure-blooded children, without incurring the wrath of at least half of his followers," Ollivander says. "If no one knows you here, you're easy to frame as a member of the resistance. They'll widely announce your capture and hope Mr. Potter and his friends see it and care enough to come looking for you."
"They wouldn't," I say. At least I know Hermione will stay rational enough not to attempt a rescue mission.
The drawing room above us grows quiet after a while, not another footstep to be heard. The small slither of light coming through underneath the door grows just the slightest bit darker. Food appears; cold, dry potatoes, meat, slices of bread and a fresh jug of water. It isn't enough for three, so we divide it between us as best we can, giving Mr. Ollivander the biggest portion despite his protests. He's suffering from a chesty cough, shivering under the fireplace, already wrapped up tightly in Luna's sweater, I insist he take mine as well.
While Luna and Mr. Ollivander soon fall asleep, I stay wide awake. I try to convince myself it's just the jet lag, but I know it's the anxiety that has taken hold of my insides. My heart still has not regained its normal rhythm. I sit cowering against the wall, my arms wrapped tightly around my knees, biting my lower lip raw listening to Mr. Ollivander's quiet snoring. The room grows progressively colder, the fire above our heads has probably gone out by now. I pull my arms into my shirt and burrow my nose between my knees in an attempt to keep warm.
Despite the darkness, despite the quiet, I can not will myself to sleep. My thoughts are running amuck in my brain, and I have nothing to distract myself with. I haven't heard Austin's voice upstairs, hopefully that means Draco's message has reached Blaise in time and he is one less person to worry about. But Draco's aunt will undoubtedly show up soon, as will Voldemort, and they will be a much bigger problem. I practice my Occlumency as best I can, shoving any thoughts of Harry, Hermione, Ron or even Draco as far into the back of my mind as I possibly can. I picture gathering them up, throwing them into a chest in the deepest, darkest corner of my memory, locking it up and burying it under layer after layer of other memories, of happier memories. Memories of school, of New Orleans, of my mother, Debbie, Casper, or Aithne; of people they can't hurt.
The cellar door creaks open, and I have to squint against the sudden onslaught of light on my retinas after hours of darkness. The tall silhouette of a man takes up most of the door frame, his hair shines white in the moonlight. My heart springs into my throat, the fingers of his right hand are closed tightly around a wand that is loosely pointed in my direction.
"Potter." He whispers and my insides twist. I shoot a look at Luna and Mr. Ollivander, both still asleep, blissfully unaware of Draco. I push my arms through the sleeves of my shirt and pull myself onto my feet, walking gingerly over to him. Draco puts a finger to his lips and ushers me through the door. I press myself into a corner, watching as he taps the cellar door with the tip of his wand, locking it. Without looking at me he takes hold of my hand and pulls me up the stairs, but instead of leading me through the door to the drawing room, he guides me through a different door to its right I haven't noticed before.
I follow Draco through a dark, windowless hallway only sporadically illuminated by old oil lamps on the walls. We pass four doors, but Draco purposefully walks towards a fifth one at the end of the hallway. It is flanked by two sets of stairs, one on the left leading up a floor and one on the right leading down. Draco pulls me up the left stairs. I try catching a glimpse of the other cellar on the right, but can make out nothing but darkness.
The stairs lead us to a second windowless hallway, this time lined with oil lamps that spring to life as we reach the second-floor landing and portraits that are all fast asleep. I am led around the stairs and towards a set of french doors at the end of the hallway, our footsteps muffled by a thick ornate carpet. Draco pushes me quickly through the doors and shoots a glance over his shoulder at the dark corridor before closing them behind us.
We stand in a large bedroom, and I take the opportunity to look around as Draco murmurs protective charms under his breath, tapping his wand on the doors. Another set of doors mirrors the ones we have just come through and lead out to a balcony covered in untouched snow, glistening in the moonlight. A desk stands under the windows to their right, heaps of schoolbooks and scrolls carelessly strewn across it. A large bed stands against the wall to my left, a dark green leather sofa at its foot, facing a fireplace on the right wall, with two more doors, one on each side of it.
"Did they send you dinner?"
I flinch and stumble forward a few steps, he is standing so close behind me. I turn around, Draco stands in front of me, his hands burrowed deep in the pockets of his black trousers, his wand nowhere to be seen.
"Not enough for all of us," I say quietly.
"Alf!" Draco calls and a tiny house-elf appears, even smaller than the one I saw in the drawing room. "Get us a plate of leftovers."
"Alf?" I raise my eyebrows incredulously as the elf disappears with a small pop.
"He's mine. He won't take orders from anyone else, and he's been told to keep quiet about anything he hears or sees me do."
I open my mouth to respond but hold back, reminding myself that Draco is probably unaware of the Alien Life Form and focus instead on the much more important information he just relayed to me. "What do you want?"
Draco doesn't respond. His eyes flicker over me, assessing me from head to toe before finally reaching my left eye. He glares at it for several seconds before he takes a step forward, reaching his hand towards my face. I retreat until I feel a bedpost in my back and turn my eye away from him, frowning at him.
"I'm sorry." He lets his hand fall back to his side, just as Alf reappears with a tray laden with food. He waves his tiny hand and the scrolls on Draco's desk rise into the air, stacking themselves into a neat pile, leaving room for dinner. The elf disappears again.
"Eat. And there's a bathroom there if you need it," he points at the door on the left of the fireplace. His eyes follow me all the way to it. I walk straight to the sink on the opposite wall. It stands under a vast, silver framed mirror. It makes the room look enormous and my face impossible to ignore as I wash my hands. I've learnt to ignore the scars on my face and neck over the past six months. I rarely have to endure looks or comments from strangers as I have barely left the house since I got them. But the expression on Draco's face has reawakened a sense of shame that now mingles with the dread in my stomach. I glare at my milky blind eye as I dry off my hands and try to comb my hair over it with my fingers. I don't look at Draco who sat down on his sofa in my absence when I re-enter the room. I take a seat at his desk, eyeing the food suspiciously. The elf has brought a variety of salads, salmon, turkey legs, gratin, mashed peas, string beans, profiteroles and a bowl of trifle.
"I promise you it isn't poisoned."
I bite back a snarky comment about his promises and silently pick up the fork, poking at the salmon. "What do you want?" I ask again after a few bites, but Draco doesn't respond. I glance over at him, he sits leaning forward, elbows on his knees and eyes on me. "Has Blaise answered?"
"They already knew this Wallace guy brought you here," he nods.
I pause, fork in mid-air. "How?"
"I've been told they have their sources. Blaise wouldn't let me know how exactly they found out, but they caught him the moment he apparated. The MACUSA know what's happened," he hesitates. "They're a little reluctant to get involved though."
I keep poking at my food. The witch in the entrance hall might have alerted Madam Fox, but they are probably right in not telling Draco. "Hundreds of people have disappeared, and they never get involved, why would they suddenly decide to interfere now?"
"You're one of their citizens?" He says.
"Not the first to disappear either. The Death Eaters are too strong. MACUSA won't get involved unless directly attacked or they're sure they can win. It's always been that way."
Draco doesn't offer any consolation, but stays quiet instead, letting me eat in peace for a few minutes, before he asks the question I know has been weighing on his mind all afternoon. "So, you've been recording our conversations?"
I take a mouthful of peas to buy myself some time. I can't think of a response that wouldn't be hurtful and considering my situation, hurtful is probably not a wise thing to be. I swallow my peas and look up at Draco. He hasn't moved, his eyes are still fixated on me, his expression indifferent, but I can just make out the faintest glint of pain. I scowl.
"Oh, don't pretend like you didn't do the same," I say before I can hold myself back.
His nostrils flare. "I didn't," he says.
"Maybe not, but you tried to lure me into your midst, was it?"
"I had to tell my father something."
"You didn't have to tell your father anything at all," I shoot back.
"Trust me, I didn't want to. And if you'd care to remember, I tried getting to know you before I found out who you are," he deflects.
"No, you tormented me before you found out who I was, then you started playing nice."
"A schoolboy pulling on pigtails," he says, the corner of his mouth twitching.
Now it's my turn to roll my eyes. "Oh, don't 'boys will be boys' me," I mumble and turn back to my plate.
"I genuinely liked you," his voice turns sour.
I huff. "Well good thing that's in the past, or we'd both be in huge trouble."
I shoot Draco a look. His jaw is clenched, his eyes dark and I quickly look back at my plate. "We need to make sure it stays in the past," he says, and I set my fork down, goosebumps creeping up my neck. "You say you've been practicing Occlumency?"
I nod. I see his wand slip out of his sleeve out of the corner of my eye and react instinctively, surprising even myself. The wall I have built up around my mind is strong, I can feel Draco pushing and pulling at it, but I flick him out without so much as a flinch. He nods his approval. "I had to check, I'm sorry," he says when I shoot him a dark look.
"There are easier ways to teach someone Occlumency, you know."
Now it's his turn to look at me darkly. "I don't. The way I taught you was the way that I learnt. I'm sorry my teachers didn't use gentler methods."
I look back at my food. I have never been good at holding Draco's gaze, not when he's looking at me with so much animosity in his eyes. My appetite is gone.
"They're a lot stronger than me," Draco says. "My aunt and the Dark Lord. I'm glad you can fend me off this easily, but I am no match for them. And my aunt has a tendency to torture people while she digs through their heads. Distracts them from what they're trying to hide, she says." Draco pauses and I feel heat rising up in my cheeks. I don't look at him. "This won't be easy, and it won't be pleasant."
"What does it feel like?"
"Getting tortured?"
"It's better I know what I'm in for."
He pauses. "I couldn't show you."
"Why not?"
"Because I'd have to mean it." His eyes soften.
"Right."
"I'll try and get you out of here before they come back."
My eyebrows shoot up and I huff at him. "How?"
"I don't know, but I'll find a way."
"No, you won't." I say pragmatically and he frowns in return. "They'll know it was you." I continue. "I have no wand. Anyone who knows where I am and is willing to come rescue me is on the other side of the world. They wouldn't have the time to figure out a plan before New Year's, or to even make it over unnoticed. I bet you they are keeping tags on every single Salem Witch I've ever spoken to. It's safer for the both of us if I stay here and you don't pull any stunts."
"No, it isn't," he answers forcefully. "They'll torture you, they'll dig through your head, they'll see every single thing I've told you and we'll both be dead."
"You'll be," I say harshly before I can stop myself. "They still need me, they don't need you." Draco opens his mouth to retort, but I don't give him the chance. "We'd get caught before we even make it out of this house-"
"This is my house Potter, I can leave whenever I want. We just need to find a way to disguise you-"
"Don't tell me you honestly believe that," I say forcefully. "You don't seriously think you're not under surveillance too. This isn't your house anymore Malfoy, it's your Dark Lord's. You've told me so yourself, you have no authority here. He'd know the second we crossed the front gates and then we'd definitely both be dead." I pause. "It's better we do nothing, and we take the one realistic chance we do have. I can do this." I'm not as convinced as I sound, but if it keeps Draco from doing anything stupid, it's worth a shot.
"If we're quick enough-"
I cut him off again. "He'll track you down in a second with that thing you have on your arm."
His features darken.
"What?" I challenge him. "You'd rather die than have me tortured? How very Gryffindor of you."
His nostrils flare. "I'd rather die, than have them find out I confided in you."
I bark out a humourless laugh, I can't help myself. "You're a coward, Malfoy."
He exhales loudly. His elbows still resting on his knees, he lowers his head and looks away for a moment, before finally getting up and turning his back to me. He shoves his left hand into his pocket and rubs his forehead with the other. "I don't want you to get hurt." He says.
I lean back in his desk chair, crossing both my arms and my legs. "You realise I wouldn't even be in this mess without you?"
He turns around to look at me. "They would have found you either way."
"I don't mean that."
He glowers for a moment before taking a step towards me, which prompts me to get up out of my seat. "Don't," he says.
"If you'd listened-"
"I had no choice!"
"You did. You just chose wrong."
"Snape-"
"Would not have known if you had told Dumbledore you didn't trust him." I cross my arms again, holding Draco's gaze and ignoring the look of defeat on his face. He knows I'm right. "You promised me."
"Potter-" He takes another step towards me, raising his hands, but I shake my head.
"Don't touch me."
He stops dead in his tracks.
"You said you'd do your best to earn my trust. You went behind my back after I offered you help. You could've gone to Dumbledore at any time and he would've gotten both you and your mother out of this mess in a heartbeat. Yet you chose to plot his murder, because it was the easier, less risky thing for you to do. You're a coward."
"Potter," he says again.
"You doomed us all," I say heatedly, pointing at him and he looks like I just struck him across the face. "Dumbledore was our one realistic chance at defeating You-Know-Who."
"Your brother-"
"Is a seventeen year old boy!" I shout louder than anticipated and Malfoy flinches. "He's a boy. And you expect him to save the whole world from one of the most powerful wizards of all time, when you didn't even have the guts to cross him once." Malfoy's shoulders sink and we look at each other for a moment. My finger is still pointed accusingly at his chest and the look of defeat hasn't left his face. "Dumbledore knew," I finally say. "Dumbledore knew you were up to something. I went to him, behind your back, and I told him everything I knew and he told me not to worry. That he had it under control and that he was doing everything he could to keep you safe. But that he could do nothing more if you weren't willing to take help." I cross my arms over my chest. "And he told me to be a friend to you, in the hopes that you might take my help, or maybe divulge more about your plan to me."
Malfoy sticks both his hands into his pockets, he clenches his jaw and looks away. He doesn't say anything for a while and I'm not going to be the one disturbing his silence. He takes a deep breath before he finally speaks. "My aunt will be back in six days. As far as I know, the Dark Lord will be coming with her, and they'll likely be bringing a few more Death Eaters. But I doubt any of them will trouble themselves coming any earlier, not for someone as lowly as you. Take that time to prepare as best you can."
I nod.
"I'll get Alf to smuggle you more food whenever he can. Is there anything else you need?"
I think for a moment. "Blankets," I say. "It's cold down there."
"I'll get them to you as soon as I can. I won't be coming down again, it's too risky. If there's anything urgent you need, call for Alf. He's the only elf you can trust. Is that clear?"
I nod again.
Malfoy shoots a furtive glance at the clock on his bedside table. "We better get you back to the cellar before anyone wakes up."