Surviving Malfoy _ Part II : Anger and Depression

Júniús Meyvant 'Guru' - Is the problem and the key.

Chapter 19:

I wrap my wet hair up in a towel and step out of the bathroom to find Draco sitting hunched over his desk, a single golden coin laying in front of his nose. His eyebrows are furrowed into a frown, his lips pursed. He doesn't look up at me when I close the door behind myself.

"What's happened?" I ask, instinctively curling my fingers in front of my knotting stomach.

Draco's head snaps up. "Blaise was granted asylum," he says matter-of-factly.

"Then why do you have that look on your face?" I exhale. "You scared me."

"Sorry." He turns back to the glowing coin, looks at it for a moment and waves his wand.

"Who is it you're talking to?" I step further into the room, but stop just short of where I could see the message on the coin.

"Blaise." The coin glows again and Draco gets up, extending his wand in my direction. I stare at it incredulously. "Take it. I'm going to have a shower."

I look up into his face to make sure he isn't messing with me and take the wand from him. I eye it suspiciously for a moment as Draco leaves the room. The sudden urge to try my luck and make a run for it overcomes me again, but I think better of it almost instantly, just as I did last time Draco let me borrow his wand. I sit down in his chair and glance down at the last message Blaise sent.

No worries, mate.

I wave my wand over the coin. It's Jay.

Blaise' response takes only seconds to arrive. Are you okay?

I hear the shower turn on in the other room. I'm fine.

Again, my words barely appear on the coin before Blaise shoots back his answer. Run. You have his wand.

My fingers tingle around the thin wood and I shoot a glance at the bathroom door. I gnaw on my lower lip for a few moments. I can't.

Yes, you can. Comes Blaise' immediate pushback.

They'll kill him.

He'll talk himself out of it. And then, He always does.

Blaise, I can't. I repeat.

He gave you his wand.

I won't make it out of this house alive.

Casper will come pick you up.

My heart drops.

Casper.

It takes my mind a moment to come up with a face and story. My throat closes up slowly and I take a deep breath.

I'm sorry. I send. I really can't. Draco's wand is shaking slightly in my hand. Blaise doesn't respond right away, so I carry on. We have a plan. A much less dangerous one.

Malfoy's plans never work. I can sense the exasperation dripping from his words.

Blaise stop.

Your mum is worried sick.

I close my eyes and exhale. Whatever he's going to say, I know I'm not going to back down. I already made up my mind. If there is a way to keep us all alive, I will do it. But making a blind run for it, with no plan and no preparation is going to get us all killed.

How's Debbie?

Worried.

Blaise. I hope he'll just drop it. A coin isn't enough for me to explain to him how stupid his suggestion is and the last thing I want is to fight in the little time we have.

Can I speak to her?

She's at work.

So, it must be a weekday. It's evening, I know that much. But I have lost track of the days of the week ages ago. Casper then? I send back, my stomach in knots.

The response takes a moment to arrive, during which I conclude Blaise must be getting Casper, none of which does my anxiety any good.

It's Cas.

I won't run like this. I decide to skip polite chit-chat.

You have a wand?

Oh, for fuck's sake. I'm not running! I repeat, increasingly irritated.

Just answer the question.

I obviously have one in hand. And I hope it comes across as annoyed as I want it to.

Do you know your way around the house?

No.

Do you know how many people are in the house?

No.

Do you have any clue how much dark magic is in the house?

The message curls itself around the coin and I look up dumbfounded, straight into my own reflection in the window. A wave of Draco's wand and the curtains pull shut over it. A second wave and No.

Do you know what travel restrictions are in place?

No.

Exactly. So, you're not running now.

I told you I'm not! I shoot back.

I needed Blaise to understand.

Oh. The image of an incensed, reckless Blaise and an irritated Casper suddenly pop into my head.

We'll find a way to get you home safely.

I have a plan.

Is it a good one?

It should keep us alive. I answer as truthfully as possible.

Then do what you need to do to survive.

My stomach churns again at the implication and I shoot a quick glance at the bathroom door, the shower is still running. Ok.

Be safe.

You too.

I wait a few minutes but nothing more comes, not from Casper and not from Blaise. I push the coin away and unwrap my hair, using the rare opportunity of a wand to dry it into semi-neat curls rather than the unruly bird's nest it usually air-dries into. I put the wand down next to the coin and go to sit on the couch where I left my book on mediaeval alchemy before my shower.

Draco emerges before I can even find my spot on the page. I don't look up, I never do, but rather than patting over to his wardrobe to find clothes, he just stands in the open bathroom door. I stop reading. His hair is wet and combed back, dripping water onto his naked shoulders and a towel is wrapped around his hips. He stares back at me.

"I gave you an out," he says quietly.

I blink up at him. "A very stupid out." I remark.

His face falls, trepidation replaced by indignation. "Why didn't you leave?'

"And go where exactly?" I ask.

"To safety," Draco says matter-of-factly.

"Malfoy, I wouldn't even make it out of this house safely," I retort, putting my book down beside me. "I don't know my way around this place. I don't know how many people are here. I don't know the safest way out of here, and I highly doubt anyone would just let me prance out the front doors." I quietly thank Casper for the arguments. "And even if I were to make it off your family's land and into an apparition zone, I don't know what kind of travel restrictions have been put in place. I wouldn't make it out of the country, and I don't know any other places that are safe to go to. Theresa Zabini's townhouse sounds like a terrible idea, and I doubt I'd be accepted back into Hogwarts."

Draco stares at me, huffs and turns on his heels towards his wardrobe. He lets the door click shut behind him and I pick my book back up, waiting for him to re-emerge.

"Have you thought a bit more about the plan we actually discussed?" I ask loftily when he finally does.

"It's nuts, Potter." He pauses, leaning on his desk. "But since you're not willing to take any risks... How do you propose we do this?"

I ignore his taunt. "Well, we would obviously need memories. So, we need ideas for memories, we need to plan them out and make them look as realistic as possible, in both our minds. And we need to make them look exactly the same. Maybe even act them out.''

Draco's jaw tenses. "You want me to torture you. To abuse you?"

"Not really. We only need to pretend like you are if we can't get things to look realistic enough. I know what ... Certain things feel like, and I can use that to piece memories together. It would be purely about the visual aspect of it."

Draco rubs his forehead. "Potter, I-"

"We don't need to do that just yet," I interject. "It's only if we can't get things right in our heads."

"I'm not - I can't pretend to-" he stammers. "Potter, I'm not going to pretend to abuse you," he finally settles on a wording.

"If we imagine things well enough-"

"No Potter, I'm not making up memories of me raping you," he says with finality.

I look away and pause, debating how to deliver my next message in the least blunt way possible, all the while ignoring the sinking feeling in my stomach. "Your aunt thinks you've done it before, remember? It would be weird if you suddenly felt queasy about doing it again."

"This is insane," Malfoy hides his face in his hands. "This is fucking insane."

I backtrack a little. "We don't need to think about that just yet. We should start with the easier ones, of you questioning me, and see how that goes."

Draco doesn't look me in the eye. "Right," he mutters sceptically, and takes a deep breath. "And once we have those memories, and say they are convincing enough to work, then what do we do again?"

"I lock my real memories away somewhere only you can find them, you leave, your aunt goes through my head and that hopefully convinces her enough to leave us both alone until we get a chance to run."

Draco raises an eyebrow.

"Ideally," I add.

"Right," he repeats drily.

"And when you come back, you unlock my real memories."

"Just like that," says Draco, not sounding particularly convinced.

I sigh, stand up and take a couple of steps towards him. "Take out your wand. I'll show you." I add when he looks sceptical. He grabs his wand from his desk where I left it. "I told you about the house, but that is just how I visualise and organise my memories; it's easier to hide things this way, in some building with loads of rooms, and nooks and crannies. But I'm not actually sure that's what it'll look like to you. I don't know what your aunt saw when she was in my head, I just know it worked."

"And what if I can't actually unlock anything?"

"Your wand, Malfoy," I order, ignoring him. "Don't take control, let me guide you."

"Fine."

I close my eyes and take a deep breath preparing my little house. I nod to give him the okay.

"Legilimence."

I put up no resistance. Draco makes it into my mind with ease and stays put, waiting. I feel his presence on the ground floor hallway. I let my most mundane thoughts run freely around him, but he lets them all be, which I take as a good sign. I loosen my guards a bit more, retreating so he can roam the ground floor freely. He takes the invitation, flitting from door to door, but never truly looking at anything in particular. I know he must at least see glimpses of my life, but nothing seems to pique his interest until he reaches the curtain behind which is the door up to the attic.

I gently steer him away from it. I can feel his reluctant curiosity, but he lets me guide him and instead follows out of the door, around the house, to the small, padlocked door half-hidden by some overgrown ivy. And I leave him to it. I feel him prod the lock, which springs open in seconds. I follow him down into the darkness.

I have an idea of what's down here, but I have spent very little time here since Bella's intrusion. My most secret thoughts flit feebly around us and I realise, perhaps a little too late, that I have memories hidden away down here Draco shouldn't see either. I tighten my clutch on the room and Draco hesitates immediately, uncertainly letting memories dance around him in the dim cellar, until something catches his attention. I instinctively take hold of the memory, and Draco gently prods my defences, urging me to let go. He pulls at the thread in my grip and unravels his own face, laying on a hospital bed, an angry red streak across it, as if to say he knows this particular scene anyhow.

I let go. Only for a split second but it is long enough for Draco to get a sense of my pounding heart and my fluttering stomach. His curiosity piques and I take advantage of his momentary carelessness to forcefully pull him out, shutting it all away. A moment later I'm staring into his unblinking eyes in his bedroom, wand safely tucked away in his pocket, arms crossed innocently.

"Sorry," he mutters.

I purse my lips, ignoring the heat on my face. "What did you see?'

"A very unusual way of organising a mind," Draco says.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning I've never seen anything like this." Draco leans back against his desk. "It's impressive, don't get me wrong, it's very thorough. But I can see why Bellatrix thinks you might have more to hide in that little head of yours." My stomach sinks. "Someone with a brain this methodically organised is no stranger to repressing memories. But repressing memories is nothing too unusual, even Muggles do it unknowingly."

"There's the attic also," I say. "I put that in place as a distraction. I have a few spicier memories up there but nothing particularly incriminating. I knew she would find that after a while, but I hoped it would seem convincing enough to distract her from the really problematic memories."

"That might still work," he muses. "But not without her having a thorough look. She didn't have all the time she would've liked on New Year's Eve. It won't be pleasant, Potter."

"So, you think this could work?"

He nods reluctantly. "We should do a test run though, to make sure I can actually retrieve your memories for you. We wouldn't want you to lose anything important." He lets the suggestion hang in the air.

I nod. "You're right." I rack my brain and, after a few moments, nod again. "Okay."

"Done already?" Draco asks.

"No." I hold back a huff. "I was choosing a memory. It'll take me a bit longer than that. For it to really work, I'll also have to lock away all memories I have of even being able to do this."

Draco averts his eyes for a moment. "And what if it doesn't work, then? What if I can't retrieve those memories?"

"Guess you'll just have to tell me that's an option."

"Right," Draco says sceptically. "Which memory do you want to lock away?"

"Our first kiss," I say flatly.

"No," Draco says, mildly offended. "I'm not having you forget that."

"It needs to be something memorable enough, nothing trivial, not just any old mundane memory," I taunt.

Draco raises an eyebrow and takes a quick step forward. "Ow!" I yelp. Draco has pinched my upper arm, hard. "That memorable enough?" He asks. "Now do your thing," he adds before I can reply.

I pull a face at him. "If all goes to plan, I won't remember this conversation in a couple minutes. You might want to preface pointing your wand at me. Make sure I don't resist your Legilimency."

Draco nods and I sit cross-legged on the floor in front of the couch as I normally do when meditating. First, I empty the cellar. I work meticulously, extricating every last hint of hiding memories out of my brain. I leave the cellar door ajar as I do one last round, making sure my mind is void of any strange plan Draco and I might have concocted, yet still makes sense and doesn't leave me with any illogical gaps. Lastly, I tweak out the sensation of Draco pinching me, slipping any feelings of indignation towards him into the cellar.

And finally, I shut the door. I padlock it, I ward it. I seal the door with heavy bricks and conjure up my last anxious words to Casper.

Casper.

I stare at the blank wall in front of me, unsure how I got here. I forgot about Casper, I ignored his existence because it makes things easier - and now I can't find him anywhere? Certainly not out here. But I don't want to remember him yet. If I want to survive this, I can't afford to have him weighing on my mind, can I? I catch glimpses of his face up in the attic and stuff it back into the deepest corner, doing a quick run-down of what else is still up here while I'm at it. Bellatrix wreaked havoc, but some of the chaos I caused myself. I gently poke the memory of Draco in a Hogwarts bathroom. It flickers feebly, falling apart at the seams. I will have to repair it someday, but for now it will be fine staying up here.

Either I someday get the chance to put my mind back in order, or I won't need to care anymore.

"What the hell, Malfoy?!" I almost jump off the floor when I open my eyes. Draco sits, mirroring me, inches from my face.

"Did you manage?"

"What?" I ask, confused.

"I'll take that as a yes," he says, not exactly clearing things up.

"The f-" Draco points his wand at me and I flinch, his hand on my throat in a stale cubicle rearing its ugly head and I have to remind myself it is fake.

"Potter," he says, but makes no motion to use his wand. "I'm going to go through your head and I'm going to need you to let me. Don't fight it."

"Why?"

"It'll make it more difficult if you do."

I almost roll my eyes. "Why do you want to go through my head?"

"It's much easier to just show you," he says. "Do you trust me?"

I study his face carefully. It shows no malice, only mild curiosity. "What are you looking for?"

"Nothing you wouldn't want me to see, I promise you," he says. "And if I do, you can push me out in an instant, I wouldn't stand a chance." He adds, "You know that."

I consider it for a moment. "Fine."

He raises his wand, points it between my eyes and a moment later I am pulled back into my own mind. I feel Draco's presence shifting almost impatiently, but I refuse to let go of my grip on him just yet. He struggles, I feel him push against my restraints, but it's no effort at all holding him back. It barely requires any after-thought, like swatting away a fly. So, I let go.

I suspect his goal to be the attic, but against my expectations, Draco pulls me outside, to the back wall of the house, to the outskirts of my consciousness, where I go to empty my mind if I ever need to. I can't ask him what his deal is, so I just let him pull me along.

Until his presence isn't all that peaceful anymore. With great force Draco cracks open the wall. I react instinctively, pulling him back from the wall and out of my head before he can do so much as twitch again.

"What the fuck, Malfoy?!" I want to shout, but my sentence is cut short as something cracks in my mind. I stare into Draco's expectant grey eyes, mouth hanging open as I try to process the still unfamiliar memories flooding my brain. It feels like plunging into somebody else's head, yet knowing these unfamiliar memories are products of my own mind. I can't help but splutter "What?"

"Did it work?' Draco lowers his wand and looks at me expectantly.

" I…" I stammer, trying to reconcile what I thought to be true only a moment ago with the images now floating around my mind again. "I think so?"

"Drink this." Draco holds out a vial and I recognise it as the memory potion Alf forced down my throat after New Year's Eve.

I take it, unstopper the vial and drink its contents in one swift gulp. Then I lay down on the thick carpet and stare at the ornate moulding on the ceiling waiting for my brain to quiet down.

Draco's face appears above mine a minute or so later. "You okay?" He asks.

"This is so weird," I whisper, staring past his cheek. I managed to lock away entire parts of my memory and managed to make them completely inaccessible. Even to myself. Slowly but surely, as the realisation settles in, glee begins to bubble up in my chest.

"Potter?" Draco asks tentatively.

My eyes met his. His fringe is hanging loosely over his worried frown and his eyes are flitting quickly over my face, searching. "It worked." I grin up at him.

He groans in relief, hanging his head for a moment before he lets himself fall onto his back next to me. "And now?" It isn't really a question.

I turn my head to be able to look at his profile. "We make up fake memories."

Draco visibly suppresses a groan and massages the bridge of his nose. My joy takes a hit.

"None of them would be real." I reassure him again, the smile has left my face.

"I know." He lets his hand sink and stares up at the ceiling. "I just don't much like the idea of... Hitting you. Either, Potter."

"I appreciate the sentiment, Malfoy," I say. "Neither do I. But you have to admit it's the lesser of two evils."

He turns his head to look at me. "I also still think it's insane."

I sigh. "I know you do."

I hold his gaze and Draco tenderly brushes a curl out of my face. "I should leave you my wand more often," he says, twirling it between his fingers. I don't respond. "We'll start tomorrow. You should give your head some rest first." He places the strand of hair over my shoulder and gets up.

I wake up the next day with a pounding headache. A gleam of white sunlight has snuck through a gap in the heavy curtains right onto my face, painfully burning its way through my eyelids. I turn away from it with a groan and pull the covers over my head, but I can't escape the knife poking away at my temple.

"Good morning," comes Draco's dry voice from somewhere to my left. I groan again and he chuckles. "How's your head?" He asks knowingly.

I rub my temple. "Throbbing," I say dryly.

"There's a pain relief potion on the bedside table for you." The bedside table the light is shining onto - I just about hold back another groan. I turn back over, screwing my eyes shut and feel for the vial. I knock it over at first, but catch it before it rolls off the table, unstopper it and drink its contents in one gulp. The potion takes a moment to take effect but when it finally does, I put my head back with a groan of relief as the stabbing pain drains out of my temples.

Draco is sitting at his desk, weary eyes on me.

I put down the empty vial. "Did you even sleep?" I ask him, sitting up fully.

"It's past noon, Potter," he says. "I've been up for a bit." I press my lips together tightly in response. "Alf brought the potion this morning. Headaches are to be expected if you keep messing with your mind the way you do."

I shoot him a look that clearly means to say we've been over this.

Draco holds up his hands in defence. "Your mind, your decision." He changes the subject, "You missed breakfast, but there's some lunch here for you." I make a move to get up out of bed, but before I can do so he hands me a tray with a bowl of oxtail soup, a goblet of pumpkin juice and a slice of baked cheesecake. "My mother has requested me for dinner this evening, so I won't be here for a few hours." I look up from my soup in concern. "My aunt is away, so nothing for you to worry about. My father will be at dinner with us and there's nobody else in the house. No house elf can come in here without my explicit permission. We can start on the memories today if your mind can take it," he adds resigned.

"We should try coming up with at least one memory today," I say between two bites of oxtail, opting not to remind him he promised we would do so the night before. "The sooner we start the better."

"Anything in particular you have in mind?" Draco asks, voice neutral.

I shrug, putting my spoon down for a moment. "It's probably easiest for now if I modify a memory I already have. You know, the way I did on New Year's." I avoid his eyes. "I'd start with something simple, like that time you grabbed me by the throat." Now it's his turn to avoid my eyes. "I can try and use that image and that sensation, but change the setting. Or Alf smacking me across the face, but make it you."

"Which one do you reckon would be easiest?" He asks.

I think for a moment, sipping the rest of my soup from my bowl. "The throat probably," I say. "It's easier to change a background than to transform an elf into you."

Draco inhales deeply. "Fair enough."

"We need to think of something else you might say though," I say, averting my eyes again. "She's already seen the original."

His expression hardens. "And you don't think she'll grow suspicious, seeing the same thing twice?"

"Maybe you just have a signature move," I say dryly.

His nostrils flare, but he nods. "Fine, give it a try. But keep it short don't make me say anything for now."

I eat my dessert in silence. Draco takes the tray from me the moment I am done, and I get out of bed. I go to wash my face and take the opportunity to get a good look at the bathroom. I stand near the wall to which I am supposedly chained and inspect every corner of the room from its particular angle, trying to imagine Draco in it, angry faced with his hand pressed against my throat.

I sigh, lock the door to Draco's bedroom and sit on the tiled floor. Taking a few deep breaths, I close my eyes and start by imagining the chains Alf conjured before. The weight of them on my ankles, the sharp steel edges chafing the skin over my bones. The sound of them whenever I move and the muffled steps of Draco next door. I imagine the cold tiles warming to my bare skin whenever I shift position. And the feel of the filthy, almost damp shirt on my shoulders.

I conjure up the same fear I felt when Draco trapped me in the Hogwarts nook and feed it, subdued, into the scene I am creating. I picture the door bursting open, the heavy wood almost slamming into the wall and immediately retract - he would open the door slowly, almost casually, but my heart would still jump up into my throat. And I would get up, try to get onto some higher ground, yet still cower into the corner of the wall. I focus on the feel of the smooth tiles under my naked feet and the rough stone wall through my shirt, against my shoulder blades. Panic would bubble up in my chest and I could feel it restricting my breathing. I wouldn't dare look up at Draco, instead I envision his expensive dress shoes coming my way stopping in front of me, cornering me.

"Calm down." I pull his humourless voice from that fateful night on the Astronomy Tower. "I'm not going to hurt you."

I wouldn't look up, but I would try to calm my breathing to avoid angering him. I conjure up his palm on my throat, the way his fingers wrapped around my chin and try to imagine what it would feel like if he pushed it upwards, the force of his hand pressing into the soft flesh on the underside of my jaw, dangerously close to my throat. How the resistance would feel when I try to swallow, how tears would start to well up in my eyes. But I wouldn't try to resist him, my arms would just hang limply at my sides.

"Look at me." The cold, grey indifferent stare boring into me, slightly blurry at the edges from my tears. He would raise his wand almost nonchalantly, "Legilimens." and I would feel him penetrate my mind, unable to put up any resistance. Maybe I would whimper, I would dissociate from what he was doing in my head, crying freely until he withdraws and lets go of my throat. He would growl, not having found anything. "I'll be back."

I replay the scene multiple times over making sure it runs smoothly. I focus on the underlying anxiety I would be feeling, inducing it into the memory until it finally feels right. I have no idea how much time has passed once I open my eyes again. I almost jump when I do, Draco has sat himself opposite me on the hard tiles. His face is blurry, and it takes me a moment to realise it's due to the tears running down my cheeks. I hastily wipe them away with the sleeves of my sweater. "Stop doing that," I mumble indignantly.

"Are you okay?' Draco asks, looking worried.

"I'm fine," I reassure him, although I still have a faint feeling of anxiety constricting my chest. I rub my sternum. "Do you want to look at the memory?" I ask quickly before Draco can ask any more questions.

He exhales, unconvinced. "Sure." But he doesn't raise his wand. It just hangs limply in his hand.

I nod at it. "Go on then."

His jaw tightens but he does as he is told. I let him replay and inspect the memory as much as he wants to, which only takes two run throughs before he leaves my mind again. "Well, that's thorough," he says drily.

"Do you think it'll work?"

"Sure," he says. "Do you have to be this detailed though?"

"Is it too much?" I meet his eyes and he presses his lips together.

"It feels realistic. I'm just..." He exhales again. "Worried Potter. Are you sure you want to do this?"

I sigh, shooing away the new fake Draco in my head so I can focus on the concerned real Draco in front of me. I nod, "I'm sure."

"Fine," he says and pushes himself off the floor. I take his outstretched hands and let him pull me to my feet. But before I let go of them, I wrap his arms around my shoulders and my own around his waist, squeezing tightly. His heart thumps faster in his chest as he hesitantly pulls me close and rests his cheek on the top of my head. "I need to shower before I have dinner with my parents," he says after a little while.

"Okay." I say against his shirt, finally letting go. I don't look at him as I leave the bathroom, letting the door quietly click shut behind me. I curl up on the sofa and feel myself overcome with a heavy sort of tiredness. I don't fight it and let myself doze off until I feel a hand squeeze my ankle.

"I need to go." Draco says, crouching next to my legs. "I can tell Alf to let you sleep if you'd like."

I shake my head. "No, no it's fine."

Draco nods and stands up. "I'll be back in a couple of hours. Alf will bring you dinner."

"Thank you," I say and Draco leaves without another word.

I stay on the couch, my limbs too heavy to move.