Surviving Malofy Part II : Anger and Depression

by Mrs. Lovetts

„I don't go looking for trouble. Trouble usually finds me." Is a fun little tidbit my brother likest o throw around. Just sucks that this particular trait of his seems to be hereditary.

18. Christened in blood

Surviving Malfoy _ Part II : Anger and Depression

The Cure 'Faith' – Christened in blood.

CW: light gore.

Chapter 17:

I stare into the flames of Draco's fireplace, gnawing at my thumb. I wasn't quick enough coming out of my trance to see which door Draco disappeared through, but I don't need to wait long to find out. He comes out of his bathroom only a few minutes after leaving my head. I spin around to look at him, he looks as indifferent as always, but his cheeks are slightly flushed and his hair is disheveled.

"I'm sorry," I mumble, rising from the sofa.

He pauses. He wasn't looking at me, but his eyes now latch onto my face as he moves to stand in front of me in a few quick strides. I don't step back.

"No. No no no," He says, his hands hovering hesitantly over my shoulders before he pushes them deep into his pockets. "You did good, you did very good. You did much better than I expected actually." He pauses again, averting his eyes. "I just… I would never."

My eyes search his, but he won't look at me. "I know," I say, confused. And I do, I know he wouldn't touch me. "That's not why-"

"You saved our lives." He cuts me off. "I have no clue how you pulled it off, but you did and that is all that matters. Now we need to find a way to get you out of here-"

"They'll kill you if I escape." I cut him off.

"Not necessarily-"

"Yes, they will," I say forcefully. "I'm your responsibility. Whether they suspect you have anything to do with it or not, if I escape, you're dead."

"If you make it out, it's worth the risk."

"No, it isn't," I say and add "Come with me." when he doesn't respond.

His features darken. "And risk getting killed on the spot by the Order? If they don't murder me, the Death Eaters will find me anyway. I still have this," he points at his mark. "I know too much for them to just let me go. I can't leave, Potter."

"Then I can't leave either," I say. "Not if it isn't perfectly clear that you couldn't have prevented it."

"You can't stay here." He shakes his head. "It's too dangerous. They won't stop going after you. My aunt won't stop until she has whatever she thinks she can get from you and if your brother gets captured, they'll execute you both for high treason and plaster it across every newspaper in the country. I won't let that happen."

"I can keep your aunt at bay. And Harry won't get caught that easily. Not anytime soon."

"We can't be sure of that."

"I trust him."

"He's reckless."

"He's not stupid."

Malfoy smirks, but the smile vanishes almost instantly. "They took pictures of you on New Year's Eve, do you remember that?"

I frown and try to think back, but my memory goes blank at the mention of photographs. I shake my head no.

Malfoy purses his lips before he says, "Well they did. And they printed it on every front page, saying they've captured one of the most wanted rebels. They've added details on where they're keeping you and how severely they're interrogating you. If your brother sees this-"

"He won't come after me," I say. "Trust me on this."

"How can you be so sure? No, don't tell me," He adds before I can think of a response. "The less I know, the better." He turns away to look at the fireplace. "What's the last thing you remember from New Year's?"

"Pain," I say quietly.

His jaw twitches. "And before that?"

"Sweat and smoke," I say. "The smell of it."

He nods. "Do you remember what the cellar looks like?"

I try to picture it in my mind, it isn't too hard; pitch-black and damp, with a table and a bucket. And Luna and Mr. Ollivander. I nod.

"There were a lot of people above it that night, a lot of noise. Close your eyes." I do as I am told. "There would have been a lot of footsteps, chairs scraping, cutlery, shouting-"

"'Magic is might.'"

"- yes, good! Carry on."

"They sent someone down to get me. Greyback - that's the stench. He pulled me upstairs. You-Know-Who questioned me. Someone from the Proph-" The word sticks in my throat. My eyes fly open to meet Draco's.

He holds my face between his hands, holding my gaze. "Close your eyes, keep going."

I do as I am told, but I pause, my mind suddenly blank again.

"Someone from the Prophet…" Draco prompts me.

"Took my picture." I answer mechanically, conjuring up the picture I just had in my head. But that's all it is, a picture.

"Flash of light, puff of smoke." He carries on. "Most people were quiet, a couple cheered, can you try and remember that? The room smelled burnt from the flash bulb going off-"

"They grabbed my arms when the picture was taken." I flinch at the memory. "So, I wouldn't run away? I thought it was odd. It was almost midnight, an elf gave me a champagne flute and I toasted with someone." I can almost feel the liquid prickling down my throat.

"Open your eyes."

My eyes meet his again. He still holds my head gently in his hands. "And then she tortured you." He says matter-of-factly.

"And you stopped her." I remember his voice.

His jaw tightens. "I did."

"And I showed her-"

"You don't have to go back to that." He lets go of my head. "That's enough for now. But don't forget your other senses. Sounds, smells and tastes can bring back much more vivid memories. If you can evoke those, it'll be much easier to reconstruct the memories around them."

I avert my eyes as we both go silent. "She can't honestly think you'll get anything more out of me if she hasn't managed yet. They're setting you up for failure."

"I know."

"This is just another punishment." I stare at the fire.

"I'm aware, Potter."

"How much time do you think you have?" I ask.

He shrugs. "With absolutely no results? A couple of months maybe."

I frown. "And what kind of results do you think they'd accept?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Not yet," he interrupts me when I open my mouth to counter. "Focus on getting your head back in order for now, you're of no use confused. I'll help where I can."

"You could use that as an excuse," I say. "You could tell them I'm too confused to give any reliable information."

He ignores me. "Did the memory solution help at all?"

"A little," I say. "A lot of it's…" I trail off, waving my fingers by my temple.

"Jumbled," Draco says.

"Yeah, jumbled."

He pushes his hands deep into the pockets of his trousers again and turns away. "She's done this to me before. Not quite so severely, but things will start falling back into place eventually. It just takes time. I have some more memory solution if you need it, but you should take it in small doses or you start relying on it to remember things."

I nod and silence stretches over us yet again. "Are you still in touch with Blaise?"

He looks me up and down. "Yes. He still has no wand though."

"I know," I say. "He needs to get through his hearing first."

"His sister has been lending him hers, we've been talking occasionally."

"And she's alright with this?"

He shrugs. "Seems to be."

"How are they?"

"Furious," he says. "The MACUSA have Wallace, but they're angry no one caught on to his lies before."

"Was he actually part of law enforcement?"

"Yes. He fooled the entire Congress somehow. They have no way of knowing how big of a security breach this was; how much information he's been giving to the Dark Lord."

"Do you know?"

He huffs. "I'm just a lowly, little Death Eater. I'm not worthy of such information."

"Mh," I say. "He brought me straight here though…"

"My father knew him. Don't ask me how." Draco frowns at me. "Do you remember the day he brought you here?"

"It's hazy. But I don't have very many memories of this house, so it shouldn't be all that hard to piece back together."

Draco nods. "Start with what's certain-"

"It's what I've been doing." I huff before I can hold myself back.

"Right. Take your time. If there's anything I can clear up for you, let me know. Ask Alf if you need the memory solution, or anything that might help you remember certain things. Think foods, plants, potions..." He pauses and draws his wand. He flicks it over the couch, conjuring bedding for himself. "I'll take the couch. And I'll get Alf to find you clothes that fit tomorrow." He vaguely points at where his pajama shirt ends just above my knees.

"Thanks," I say, not willing to protest.

That first night is awkward. I feel too uneasy to sleep, so I follow his sensory advice, trying to remember what his breathing sounds like when he's asleep and quickly realizing he is just as awake as I. When I finally drift off in the early hours of the morning, I am plagued with strangely vivid dreams of almost every person I know, crammed together in Draco's bedroom, taking pictures as we both lay awake.

The awkwardness stretches itself over the next few days. Draco barely leaves his room, he has no reason to. And even though I am glad not to be left alone and defenseless in this house, I can't shake the anxiety of knowing he is never more than a few feet away. He spends his days reading or doing homework that doesn't need doing. But he doesn't speak to me much, preferring to let me sit in silence, eyes closed or staring into the fire, trying to piece together my own memories.

It becomes easier as the days pass. Draco is right, small details of my life quickly start falling back into place. Alf is eager to help any chance he gets, bringing me pieces of cloth, similar to Hogwarts bedding, or pumpkin ice cream, which finally allows me to place Martha. I spend a solid five minutes staring at the back of Draco's head, as her connection to Cassius and the entire Malfoy family reconstructs itself in my brain.

"What?" He asks when he catches me.

"Nothing," I say, quickly looking back at the fire. When I turn my head back a moment later, he's still studying me rather than the book on his desk. I hold his gaze, contemplating his eyes for a moment. I've always found the color striking, but I know they can be incredibly cold and vicious. I frown. "You slammed my head into a wall once. Why?"

He finally looks away, lips tightening. "What else do you remember from that day?"

"So, it definitely happened." He doesn't respond and his face swims out of focus as I try to think back. "Just the pain and your hand on my throat."

"Do you want me to show you?"

It takes me a moment to process as I gawk at him.

"It's only fair," he says, meeting my gaze. He picks up his wand from his desk, twirling it between his fingers.

"I've- I've never…"

"It's easy. I won't put up any resistance and I'll get you straight to the right memory."

I get up off the sofa and take the wand he holds up for me. I feel a quick surge of magic and for an irrational moment I think about the power I hold - but I wouldn't make it past the first landing. Draco stays put in his desk chair and nods encouragingly as I raise his wand.

"Legilimens," I whisper, pointing it between Draco's eyes.

I'm pulled forward, Draco's bedroom disappears, and he reappears before me in an empty Hogwarts classroom, red-faced and pacing in front of an equally disheveled looking Snape. Snape is wearing dress-robes, his words take a moment to make sense to me.

"- confide in me, and I can-"

"No, I won't have you spying on me, he assigned me-"

Snape cuts him off. "You are speaking like a child, Draco. You cannot rely on only Crabbe and Goyle. I understand you're under duress, but you are being incautious-"

Draco flings the door open, and I quickly run after him out of the classroom, barely able to keep up with his long strides. He comes to a halt around the next corner, leans against the wall and holds his breath, listening out for Snape's footsteps that are slowly disappearing down the other end of the corridor. Once Snape is out of earshot, Draco turns back on his heels and I starts following him down the corridor towards the dungeons.

And there I am. I come out of a nook, catching Draco off guard. He falters for a moment, but the me in his memory hasn't noticed him yet. I am wearing a dark cocktail dress, my feet are bare and I appear tiny from his point of view - but I look prettier than I've ever seen myself.

Draco shoots forward and grabs my wrist, pulling me back into the alcove I just came out of. He pushes me against the wall in the shadows and points his wand between my eyes.

"How much did you hear?" His voice is strangely calm, but I can feel the fear rushing through him. I take a step towards the pair, so I can make out his face better in the dark.

"Nothing." I hear myself squeak.

Draco doesn't seem to care. His brows are furrowed, and his eyes look merciless. My stomach sinks and I know what's about to happen. I see Draco forcefully grab my chin, pulling me up slightly, onto my tip toes and the shoes I'm holding fall to the floor with a dull thud. I turn around, not wanting to look any longer as I hear my own yelp of pain. How do I get out of this?

Before I can finish the thought, Draco's bedroom comes back into focus. Today's Draco is still sitting in front of me, his head hanging low in apparent shame, a far cry from the look I just witnessed in his memory. I still hold his wand, and for a moment I, again, contemplate using it. I hold it out to him, and he finally looks up as he takes it back.

"I'm sorry," he says.

"You did that twice." I ignore him, rubbing the back of my head.

He pauses. "I never found out how much of my conversation with Snape you heard. Or if you ever actually eavesdropped, or really were just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Hm." I say, straining my thoughts back to that night. The pain is what makes the images fall back into place as I mentally retrace my steps. "I must have. I saw Snape pull you away from the party. You hadn't been invited, so I got curious."

"Glad to know we were both curious about each other." The corner of his mouth twitches.

"Harry was curious about you," I say, icy-cold, still remembering the sharp ache at the back of my head. "I was being curious for him."

The amusement on his face disappears and he hums in understanding. "He was breathing down my neck the entire year."

"Well Snape was right, you were being incautious."

"And your brother was being a nosy bastard." He raises his eyebrows.

I don't grace that with a response. "That's the night I found out you were planning on killing someone."

Draco exhales. "Did you ever tell your brother?"

I shake my head. "He heard enough that night to know you were planning something dangerous."

Draco's eyebrows shoot up again. "Your brother heard me and Snape that night?"

I bite my lip. I don't know if Draco knows about Harry's invisibility cloak, but I sure am not going to tell him. I nod and sit back down on his couch, a few steps further away from him.

Draco rubs the bridge of his nose. "I'm not surprised to be honest. He eavesdropped on us on the way to Hogwarts, did he ever tell you that?" I frown and eventually shake my head no. "He was laying on the luggage rack above your head almost the entire train ride."

I grin. "Sounds like him." I stare past Draco's head into the distance as more and more memories of Harry bubble to the surface, sewing themselves back together. "He found out Blaise and I had a deal that I should take you to Slughorn's Christmas party if Gryffindor lost their Quidditch match. He seriously contemplated sabotaging the game so I could get you drunk and talking."

Draco chortles and then grows silent. "I seriously contemplated playing in the game and beating your brother so I could get you drunk and talking." A quick smirk flits across his face, but he won't look at me, choosing to study his fingers instead.

"I never told him anything, you know." At least not before it didn't matter anymore. Draco looks up. "He worked out a lot of stuff himself, though. He wasn't right about everything, but he got pretty close. He figured out you were working in the Room of Requirements. The Room of Hidden Things." I add when he frowns.

"Did he know about…" He trails off, pointing from me to himself and back.

I nod. "Everyone did by the end," I say dryly.

"What did he say to that?"

"He wasn't particularly thrilled. But he trusts me."

"And he never questioned you about me?"

"I don't think so," I say. "Not really. I guess he assumed you wouldn't tell me any of your plans of your own accord. Or that I would naturally tell him if you did. He knew to keep out of my personal business."

Silence stretches over us for a few minutes. Draco contemplates his feet, and it becomes abundantly clear he has something else on his mind before he breaks it. "What about Wallace?"

I pause. "What about him?"

"He said you were making notes of our conversations." Draco presses on.

It takes me a moment to understand what he means. I've buried that deep down, where Bellatrix couldn't find it, so I know he's right. I bite my lip with a pang of guilt in my stomach. I nod slowly and swallow. "I didn't know he was working for the Death Eaters."

"But you thought he'd pass everything on to the MACUSA," Draco says matter-of-factly.

I avert my eyes. "I thought any bit of insider information they could get could help. I didn't pass on anything too personal though," I quickly add. "You didn't really ever say much about the war anyway and I wasn't going to pressure you. I didn't want you to stop responding." Draco stays silent and I feel the pressure to keep talking. "I didn't want to, at first. It felt too deceitful. But it was a good excuse… To talk to you." I add quietly. Now it's my turn to study my fingers. "I'm sorry."

"Talking to you helped, made me feel less alone," Draco says after another stretch of silence and I feel my stomach flutter. "Going to Blaise wasn't all that stupid either. I'm sorry I got so upset."

I smile furtively.

Draco clears his throat and chooses to drastically change the subject. "It's the full moon soon."

It takes me a moment to understand what he means. "Do you have the potion?" I ask, trying to remember if I've seen him take any in the past couple of days.

Draco clenches his jaw. "They don't want me to take it. I won't be here." He adds quickly, seeing the look of terror on my face. "Don't worry, I won't be hurting you." His voice cracks.

"What are they planning?" I frown.

He shrugs. "Dunno."

"When is it?"

"Four nights from now."

I nod slowly. "Where will I be?"

"In here. I'll put additional protection charms on the door just in case, but my aunt should be out anyhow." Draco swallows. "And Alf will be here too, he'll make sure you're safe."

I feel dread build in my stomach and my eyes flit to the wand on his desk.

"I can't leave you with a wand." Draco picks up on it. I nod again, looking at the floor. "You'll be safe. I promise you."

I meet his gaze, wanting to trust him. "Okay."

I don't know how long he's known about his next mission. It must be at least a few days for them to refuse him the Wolfsbane Potion. But now he's told me, the awkwardness we both felt in the last few days, steadily turns into outright anxiety. Draco grows more uneasy by the day. He's fidgety and irritable, snapping at Alf on more than one occasion. I don't dare bring up the subject of the full moon to him though. My thoughts on the subject aren't exactly reassuring, and I can't imagine they would help whatever is going through Draco's mind.

His sleep grows steadily more restless, keeping me awake even though he's still sleeping on the sofa. I wake up at least once per night to find him sitting upright, staring into the flames. I offer to let him sleep in the bed two nights before the full moon, but he refuses, claiming it doesn't matter where he lays awake.

He stops pretending entirely the day before his mission. He sits at his desk, staring out onto the snow-covered grounds, his face blank, entirely still. Like a puppet waiting for its master.

"Alf brought dinner for Master!" The tiny elf appears out of thin air, cautiously approaching Draco. I look up from my book. Draco was so on edge these past few days, I haven't dared to jump into the depths of my own mind in his presence. He doesn't respond to the elf.

"Leave it on the desk, Alf," I say.

"But Master Draco hasn't touched his breakfast," the elf says, indignantly pointing at Draco's untouched plate of eggs and Bacon, now grown cold.

"He's been like this all day. Leave the food maybe he'll have some later."

"But Master must eat before his mission!" The elf repeats.

Draco flinches, the most I've seen him move since he sat down in the early hours of the morning.

"Just leave it there., I repeat myself a little more forcefully. "Thank you, Alf, I'll handle it."

Alf's watery, worried eyes are stuck on Draco's profile for a moment longer before he disappears with a soft pop. I let my book fall to the floor and get up off the sofa, taking a few cautious steps toward Draco. His back and shoulders are entirely still, almost as stiff as stone, nothing indicating he is in any way present.

"Draco…" When he doesn't react, I take the last step towards him. "Alf is right, you need to eat."

"I'm not hungry," he croaks, so low I barely understand.

I chew my lip, carefully considering whether I really want to say what I am about to say. "Don't take this the wrong way." I hesitate, "But the wolf will be."

For a moment I think he hasn't heard me until finally he exhales shakily and lowers his head. He nods.

"Do you want me to ask Alf for an anti-nausea potion?"

He shakes his head no. He takes hold of the rim of his plate between his thumb and forefinger and slowly pulls it towards himself. I pass him the cutlery Alf left, squeeze his shoulder and make my way back to the sofa with the second plate of food. I try watching Draco inconspicuously as he eats the boeuf bourguignon Alf brought in tiny bites, piece by piece, until the plate is finally empty long after I finish mine.

It's only 4pm but the sun is due to set soon, leaving the full moon to rise entirely from where it's been looming on the horizon. Draco puts down his knife and fork and starts eating the bacon off his breakfast plate with his fingers. I bring my own empty plate over to his desk and arrange it with Draco's so it will be easier for Alf to clear up.

"Eat the eggs too if you can," I say.

"I'm not hungry for eggs,'' he replies, glancing at the white orb glistening in the darkening sky. It'll be less than half an hour until he is forced to transform. "Alf!" Draco exclaims and the elf appears. I step towards the sofa, but Draco puts a hand on my wrist. "Hold on."

"Master ate!' Alf shouts excitedly.

"Alf, I need you to listen." His overgrown bat ears perk up and he fixes his eyes on Draco. "No one is to come in here tonight, do you hear me?" The elf nods. "I will be putting up extra wards around the room before I leave and seal it completely. No one will be able to come in - or out." He shoots me a glance. " - until I'm back. Except you. Anything she wants, you bring her. But the rules still apply, no one is to know how comfortable she is in here. For all the other elves know, she is chained to the bathroom wall." He glances back up at me and I hold his gaze. "Is that clear?'

Alf and I nod in unison.

"Good. If anyone attempts to breach the wards tonight, I will be in no state to notice. I will need you to fend them off. Whatever it takes, do it and let me know as soon as I am back tomorrow morning. I'll handle it from there. Understood?"

"Yes Master," the elf squeaks.

"Excellent. Potter, bathroom." He commands. "You can come out when the moon has risen. Stay away from the windows."

I nod, not thinking to object. "Good luck."

I close the bathroom door behind me, listening to the sounds of Draco's wand cutting through the air. I sit on the cold tiles in the far-left corner of the bathroom floor, between the sink and the window, where it would be most logical for me to be chained to a wall. I pull the heavy green curtain aside and stare at the moon, watching it climb steadily higher, and the sky around it steadily darker.

The wall in my back gives a quick hiss before it crackles under what I assume is Draco's last protective spell. He needs to hurry if he wants to transform outside the manor. I stay put for an extra 15 minutes after the full moon has started shining with full force, just for good measure. With nothing to distract myself from it, I feel its light prickle on my skin and a sharp twinge of sympathy for Draco.

Draco's room feels quiet and strangely larger than it does with him present. I suddenly have all of Draco's personal belongings at my disposal, things I have felt curious about ever since waking in his bed alone for the first time. But I now know what is hidden behind the second door, on the right of the bathroom. It's Draco's closet. It is still locked to me, fresh clothes just appear after each shower, but I have caught glimpses whenever Draco disappears into it.

Most of Draco's desk drawers are also locked, others are empty or filled with sheets of fresh parchment, inks and quills. I assume they work much like the self-replenishing ones at Salem. His desk is now empty, Alf has taken the empty plates of food with him and cleared all the clutter Draco left behind while I sat in the bathroom waiting, leaving me with nothing but his bookshelf to snoop through.

But I already know which books Draco has in his room. They are nothing he seems to want to hide. The vast majority are schoolbooks, on arithmancy and potions, a few novels and old storybooks for children. And there is one shelf dedicated entirely to the study of lycanthropy. I flipped through them on occasion, whenever Draco didn't seem to be paying attention. But I'm sure he noticed me doing it more than once and he doesn't seem to mind. They all seem equally superficial and rudimentary, focusing more on how to recognize and combat a werewolf, than how to ease symptoms or support one in its human form. I guess there isn't much interest in those aspects.

His spindly-legged bedside tables, one on each side of the bed, are kept clear save for a lamp each and the occasional book. They have no drawers for me to snoop through, there is nothing hidden under his bed either, not even a dust mite. Alf is much too thorough. I inspect each corner of the room, each panel of wood on the walls, listen out for creaking floorboards that can be lifted, even consider the inside of the toilet tank before I realize I don't even know what it is I could possibly be looking for. Other than a distraction.

I pick up the book I was reading off the floor by the far-left corner of the sofa. I picked the Tales of Beedle the Bard this morning. It was able to hold my interest somewhat, but only because I know Hermione was studying it before Christmas. I haven't read anything noteworthy or relevant in it yet though, and with Draco gone and my lack of a wand, it isn't enough anymore to keep my mind from wandering. I push the book back into its gap on the shelf.

I move to the bathroom. There are no drawers or shelves here, only the sink, the mirror above it, a claw foot tub and flush-floor shower, barely noticeable in the right corner as it has no walls. But there is no need for shelves in here, anything you might need for your personal hygiene just appears as soon as you think of it. Still, I go down on all fours and check below the tub, in the corners under the sink and behind the curtains - nothing. No tiles are loose, no wood paneling on the wall moveable. But then, just as I almost resign myself to staring at the ceiling and waiting for Draco to come back, I hear it. Voices, incredibly faint, coming from the baseboard where I was sitting when Draco sealed his room. Not what I was expecting but better than I had hoped for. I press my ear to the floor, moving around gently until I can hear the voices more clearly.

"- children, Lucius! In our house?!" Draco's mother's voice, infuriated.

"Only for tonight, Cissy!"

I push myself off the floor. Whenever I was being dragged through this house, I stupidly didn't pay much attention to its layout. I pull the heavy curtain aside and press my face against the window, cupping my hands around it to shield the reflection from the chandelier. The snow outside glistens in the moon light. Draco's room is on the second floor, his balcony to my left stands atop an alcove protruding from the building. To my right are diamond paned windows at a right angle, two stories high and shimmering gold with the fire of a large furnace. Two armchairs stand in front of the fireplace, empty. Two shadows dance around the room and the chandelier above my head suddenly dims its lights to almost nothing when I realize how exposed I am. I pull the curtain closed behind me for good measure and crouch down to hide.

Draco's mother walks into view, gesticulating angrily at who I assume to be Draco's father. I can't hear her or read her lips from up here, but from the way she shakes with every point of her finger, she is seething. I watch her for a few minutes until she makes a sweeping motion towards Draco's windows, and I quickly duck out of her line of sight. I crawl away from the window, trying not to move the curtain, and press my ear against the baseboard until I find the weak spot in Draco's ward again.

"-barbaric. You cannot expect me to sit by and tolerate this nonsense, Lucius. Children?! Werewolves are volatile and uncontrollable in the best of times, but children? Muggle children at that and you ask this of our-"

"I'm not asking anything of anyone, Cissy. The dark Lord wants to recruit them young."

"It's ridiculous! You are not recruiting anyone, you're -"

"Turn them if you must! The dark Lord wants to turn them young so they will be easier to train- "

"Train for what exactly? Battle? You can't use werewolves in battle, they won't distinguish between who is on the dark Lord's side and who isn't!"

"Not for Battle, to use as a threat, as punishment-"

"Like he's done your son!'

"As he has done with Draco, yes."

"But muggle children?"

"Muggleborn children, Cissy."

"As if-"

"Yes, it does make a difference. Snape has sent the Dark Lord the enrolment book for the next few years. These children would be dead otherwise."

"They would be better off dead, Lucius."

"Would our son be better off dead?"

"Are you condoning this?"

"Do I have a choice?!"

Lucius Malfoy is cut off by a piercing scream that makes me recoil from the wall. I jump back, pressing myself as far away from the wall as possible, against the tub. It's a human scream, now echoing in my skull, high-pitched and terrified. A child's scream, and the argument I just overheard starts making more sense to me. I slowly crawl back towards the baseboard and press my ear back against the floor. The child is still screaming, at the top of its lungs, whether in pain or fear or both, I can't make out the conversation between Lucius and Narcissa anymore. I try; but only for a few moments, until the child in question begs for its mother and I feel the boeuf bourguignon creep its way up my esophagus.

I inhale deeply and pull my knees to my chest. The scream in my brain is on-going. It doesn't seem to ever want to stop and my breath hitches in my throat as I replay the scene I just witnessed in my mind.

"Alf!"

The elf mercifully pops out of thin air immediately. "Yes Miss?"

"Could you get me an anti-nausea potion please?"

The elf disappears and reappears within a matter of seconds and hands me the brownish liquid. I gulp it down in one go.

"Would Miss like a calming draught?" His large green eyes look at me concerned and I nod my head yes. I gulp down the minty-blue liquid and hide my face between my knees. Alf has disappeared again when I look back up. The chandelier's lights are still dimmed and I'm grateful for how well Draco's wards work, for how silent the room is.

I take a deep breath and wait for the potion to make its way through my body. But it barely does. It dulls the aching fear and pity and anger I feel, but only so much - it all still burns deep in the pit of my stomach.

I crouch down again, pressing my ear against the wooden baseboard. A second child's cry has joined the first, over it Narcissa Malfoy shouts angrily, about the state of her house, her son, the barbarism playing out in front of her, but I barely pay her voice any attention. How many children are they planning on infecting tonight? I crawl back to the window and try to see into the drawing room. I don't dare try to open the window to get a better angle. From up here, the fire burns innocently, the two armchairs empty in front of it.

Draco.

Draco is the one sending these children here.

He hasn't taken his potion. He has no clue what atrocities he's committing, but he will remember it all tomorrow morning.

"Alf!" I ambush the tiny creature before he can ask me what I need. "I need your help."

"Anything Miss-"

"I want to help Draco." I interrupt him. "But I need you to tell me about his mission."

"Alf doesn't-"

"You must have heard something." He opens his mouth to object. "Listen," I say frantically. "Is he alone? Are there any other werewolves with him?" I clarify when he looks up at me, face blank.

"Alf can't say Miss."

I sigh. It isn't very surprising he's been ordered to keep me in the dark.

"You don't need to say." I say and he looks up at me questioningly. "If he's not alone, I need you to get me a few things before he's back, but make sure you aren't seen. Can you do that for me?"

Alf nods.

"Good. I need dittany - leaves, not the paste - and powdered silver, mint leaves, a calming drought, and a blood-replenishing potion. And a mild sleeping drought." I add as an after-thought.

"Yes Miss," Alf says eagerly. " Alf will be back as soon as possible, Miss."

It doesn't take the elf very long to come back with the potions and the mint. But the dittany and powdered silver are a different story. Draco has no clock in his room. He has no need for one with a wand, but there is no way for me to tell how much time has passed since I asked him to get it for me. Or since Draco left.

I take the duvet of the bed and snuggle up under it on the couch. Despite that and the heat from the fire, I'm shivering. Even though I can't hear a word of what is happening in the drawing room, the noises I witnessed are bouncing around my brain. Eventually, I start nodding off, the images in my head growing more vivid until I fall into a half daze, unable to tell what is a dream and what is truly happening around me.

I think it's a wailing child poking me at first when I open my eyes to look straight into Alf's, an inch or so from my face. "Alf found the dittany and powdered silver, Miss."

"Great," I splutter, scooting away from him on the couch. "Where is it?"

"Alf put it in the bathroom, Miss." The elf takes a step back. "Alf brought a mortar and pestle too, Miss!"

"That's great Alf, thank you!" I jump off the sofa. "What time is it?"

"The sun will come up in about half an hour, Miss."

"Thank you."

Alf set up the ingredients and utensils by the sink and I get to work, grinding one third dittany leaves into a paste and gradually adding two thirds powdered silver. I cover the mortar with a damp towel, to let the silver absorb the dittany and organize the potions in the order I will need them - calming drought, blood-replenishing potion, sleeping potion. I briefly consider putting Draco to sleep before working on any potential wounds of his, but ideally, I will need his cooperation to do so.

I sit down at his desk and watch as the sky steadily grows lighter on the horizon. The sun rises much quicker than I anticipated, turning the sky from a deep purple to a rosy pink and finally to a light blue as the door behind me clicks open so quietly, I'm not sure I truly heard it at first. I whip around in my seat and watch as Draco closes the door just as quietly, his back to me, white shirt torn to shreds and blood oozing from several long gashes on his back.

"Alf," he whispers, his voice shaky.

"I got this," I say to the elf when it appears.

Draco flinches, his eyes darting from the empty bed to me and then to his elf.

"Can you get us some toast?"

"Yes Miss." Alf disappears and I draw a shaky breath.

"Come on." I nod towards the bathroom.

Draco looks almost catatonic, his eyes are pulled wide open, he is white as a sheet and trembling like a leaf. He looks like he is about to go into shock. "Potter." It comes out in a terrified breath.

"I know." I hold out my hand to him and swallow heavily. "Come on, we need to deal with those bites." I point at his left arm, where his blood is spilling onto the floor in a steady trickle. A few more minutes and he will lose consciousness. He takes my hand and I pull him into the bathroom. A chair appears in the corner by the sink, and I help him lower himself into it, deciding on the blood-replenishing potion against my prior plan. "Just one gulp for now."

Draco takes the vial from my hands and does as he is told, his eyes never leaving my face. "Take off your shirt." I pick up a fresh piece of cloth and the mortar of dittany. When I turn back to Draco, some of the color has returned to his cheeks and chest. "I'm going to need your wand." I kneel down beside him and take hold of his arm, ignoring the mark and mopping up as much blood as I can. Draco hands me his wand without protest. "Keep applying pressure." I turn back to the sink to find a stack of clean towels and cloths that I put in Draco's lap before sinking back to the floor. "Did you get bitten anywhere else?" I look up at his face when he doesn't reply right away. His eyes are still fixed on me, his cheeks rapidly losing color again. "Malfoy?" I'm kneeling in a pool of blood.

He shakes his head no and I breathe a sigh of relief. I dab a clean towel into the dittany mixture and take the now blood-soaked cloth off the two bites on Draco's arm. "This is going to sting," I say, holding my breath to avoid the smell of fresh blood seeping from the small half-circle puncture wounds. I spread a generous amount of the mixture quickly onto both bites to stop the loss of blood. Draco hisses and flinches, but doesn't pull his arm out of my grip. "Do you want pain-relief?" I ask, mentally scolding myself for not asking Alf for one sooner.

"No." Draco says through gritted teeth.

"Malfoy, I can't have you passing out here."

He finally looks away from me, tears visible in the corners of his eyes, but he violently shakes his head. "I don't want it."

"At least take a calming drought then." I lean past Draco from my spot on the floor to hand him the vial off the sink. He hesitates before unstoppering it with his teeth and drinking the contents in three long gulps.

I watch his blood slow down to a trickle and wipe his arm again with a clean cloth. "This needs one more layer. Ready?" He grunts and I spread another layer of dittany across his arm, more evenly this time. I make sure his blood stops oozing out of his body before picking up his wand. I mutter the most powerful healing spell I know and watch his skin sew shut. "Take the rest of the blood-replenishing potion." I dampen a towel and wipe away the drying blood and excess dittany off Draco's arm. I listen as his breathing slowly evens out and spread out a clean, damp cloth on the side of the sink. I take some mint, rub it between my hands and spread the crushed leaves on the cloth, tying the whole thing around Draco's arm to soothe it.

"Turn around," I say. "You have scratches all over your back Malfoy, I need to have a look at them." I look at his face when he still gives no response. His skin is ashen and despite the calming drought, he's shaking more violently than when he came in. There are tears running down his face. My shoulders drop. "Draco please," I whisper.

I have trouble holding back my own tears now. Draco sits himself across the chair, leaning over the backrest and staring blankly at the wall in front of him. I meticulously clean the scratches and tears on his back and stitch them up. When I ask if he's been injured anywhere else, he wordlessly lifts his right pant leg and I heal the last, long gash on his calf.

"Let's get you cleaned up," I say, the tub already filling with water before I finish my sentence. Draco snivels. "Can you manage on your own?" I ask tentatively and he whimpers. Bubbles appear. I help him pull off his clothes, avoiding looking too far below his stomach or at his tear-streaked face, opting for his neck and shoulders as a neutral middle ground. I am well aware of the heat creeping up my neck conflicting with the tears stinging in the corners of my eyes as I lower Draco into the bubbly water, making sure to keep his left arm out of it. He hisses and allows his eyes to fall shut for a moment.

"I got a sleeping drought for later," I say, letting go of his arm. "You should try and eat some of Alf's toast before going to bed though."

Draco's hand shoots out of the water, taking hold of my wrist when I try to step away. "Stay. Please stay," he whimpers and pulls me down until I am kneeling on the floor beside the tub. His face is twisted in agony and covered in tears. His blood-shot eyes search mine and he raises his other hand, gently brushing my hair off my scarred cheek. "I'm sorry," he whispers, "I'm so sorry."

I blink at him and feel the first tear spill over. He wipes it away with his thumb and I take his hand in mine. "It's okay," I whisper, leaning over the side of the tub and slinging my arm around his neck. He wraps both of his around my torso, hides his face in the crook of my neck and starts sobbing in earnest. "It's okay," I repeat a little louder, holding him as he cries.