Surviving Malfoy _ Part II : Anger and Depression
Fiona Apple 'Every Single Night' – I just made a meal for us both to choke on.
Chapter 20:
Draco's mother starts requesting his presence at dinner more and more frequently, which bodes nothing good for my plans. I need him to look at the memories I make up at the very least, if not help me recreate them so I have a reference to work off. But more often than not, Draco has lunch with his mother and stays out until after dinner, leaving me to run laps around my own brain in solitude.
The memories I do manage to make up on my own are convincing and well rounded, but as much as I'd like to keep Draco from viewing them, we can't run the risk of his aunt double checking by going through his brain in turn. But the more days pass, the longer he stays out in the evenings. I try to stay awake until he makes his way back to his room, but I tend to fall asleep long before I get a chance to speak to him. When I do manage to catch him when he returns, he doesn't object to going through my latest concoctions, but does so with visible irritation.
I know how much of a toll these memories take on Draco. I understand how reluctant he is to see them through, how little he identifies with the version of him I conjure up in my brain. I'm not finding it particularly pleasant either. I too would much rather have lunch with my mother in a fancy dining room than torture myself mentally with no real sense of how much it will be worth in the end. But the fact remains, it is the only shot we currently have at buying us sufficient time to find another way out.
Since I do not have Draco around to distract me, I eventually start exercising to quieten down my mind in-between memory sessions. I've never been the athletic type, but I do know basic exercises I can do in this small a room and the ache in my muscles distracts me from the ache in my brain. Alf comes, brings food, and vanishes again. I try asking him where Draco is, but he keeps stumm, his answers usually monosyllabic. I grow increasingly more frustrated. I try not to let it out on the elf, but he has now effectively become my only company.
"Is Draco having dinner with me tonight?" I ask for the umpteenth time when Alf comes yet again with a single plate of food.
"Master Draco is having dinner with his mother, Miss," Alf answers unwaveringly.
"Can you tell me when he will be coming back tonight?" I push.
"Alf does not know, Miss," the elf responds. "Master Draco is very busy."
"Has he been taking his wolfsbane?"
Alf is taken aback. I haven't asked him that before. But I know it's time for the potion, I can see the moon growing each night. "With breakfast, Miss," he finally says.
"Good." I sigh. At least he's allowed to take it again.
"Would Miss like anything else?" The elf bows deeply, thereby avoiding looking me in the eye.
"No thank you," I say more drily than Alf deserves.
He vanishes with a soft pop, and I am yet again alone. I sit down at Draco's desk and pick up the fork he brought along. I'm miffed. And I poke at my potatoes without really intending to eat them. The rest of the coq au vin stays entirely untouched. It's already dark outside. The only dinner company I have is my own reflection in the window, slightly distorted by the sparkling snow that still covers Dracos balcony. I exhale, get up and climb onto the desk; the only way for me to pull the heavy satin curtains closed over the window without a wand.
I abandon my dinner and make my way into the bathroom. I think about running myself a bath and cooking up another memory, but Draco is already a few days behind with the ones that are done. Adding another one would be foolish, seeing as the full moon is now only a few days away and who knows what might happen then.
I don't have much hope Bellatrix wouldn't try entering Dracos room again. She tried last time. Granted, Draco is also leaving me behind in his room for the largest part of the day at the moment, but I have to assume he is still somewhere in the house. My guess is Bellatrix is simply biding her time until the full moon, when Draco will be forced back to his werewolf cubs and Bellatrix will have an entire night to force her way through my head.
I undress and walk over to the flush-floor shower in the right corner. The shower turns on as I approach, producing water at the exact temperature I like. It has no walls, no drain and I still feel weirdly exposed as the water runs over me and disappears just before it hits the ground. Bottles of my favourite body-wash, shampoo and conditioner appear on the wall in the order I need them, and I waste as much time as possible cleaning myself. The water turns off as soon as I decide to leave the shower, a fluffy white towel appears, floating at shoulder-height waiting for me to pick it out of the air. I wrap it around myself and walk over to the sink, leaving wet footprints in my trail. Leave-in conditioner, body lotion, facial cleanser, moisturizer, brushes, and towels appear, waiting to be used.
The amount of wealth these people have is unnecessary.
I dry, I moisturize, I pluck, I brush, and I curl until I truly can't think of anything more to do. A fresh pair of black silk pyjamas appear, and I pull them on. The towel and bottles disappear. I huff as I take one last look at myself in the mirror before returning to the bedroom. There is no clock in here. I have no clue what time it is. I do know it's February, the sun sets early, and it has been gone for a while but Draco could be out for hours more.
I pluck the old copy of the Tales of Beedle the Bard from the bookshelf and sink into the couch, pulling the duvet off the bed and wrapping it around myself. I can't bring myself to focus, so I just stare blankly at the first page, then at the crackling fire, unmoving. I drop the book on the floor after a while, too lazy to go put it back, and lay down, pulling the covers up to my nose. Before long I can feel my eyes falling closed, but I can't bring myself to force them back open. I just let myself doze off, focusing on the quiet sounds coming from the fireplace and shushing any other thought that tries popping into my brain.
It barely feels like a minute has passed before I feel the duvet gently being pulled away from me. I groan. I try turning away from the arm being pushed under my shoulders. "Let me sleep," I mumble, refusing to open my eyes.
"You can sleep in bed, Potter," Draco says as he lifts me up.
I rest my head on his shoulder. I still don't open my eyes, but I allow myself to savour the moment as he carries me the few short steps to the bed. He gently puts me down and I curl up on my side, peaking through my eyelashes. I watch him walk back to the couch and pick up the duvet, taking hold of the bottom two corners and throwing it out over me. Once it's landed on my, I lift up one side and look at him expectantly. He freezes. "Please," I say. I watch his jaw tighten as he straightens up.
"I need a shower," he says matter-of-factly.
"Ok," I whisper. I drop the duvet back on the bed and scoot over to where it has still retained some of my body heat, wrapping myself in the warmth. I watch Draco undo his cufflinks and putting them on his desk as my consciousness slowly pulls itself fully out of sleep. He sits down to pull off his shoes, undoes his belt and pulls it off his trousers, draping it over his desk chair. He shoots me a glance before he walks over to the bathroom, closing the door behind himself.
I watch the bathroom door in silence, listening as the shower turns on, then off again after a few minutes. I fight the urge to fall back asleep and wait for the door to open back up, which takes longer than it normally does. When Draco finally does come back out, he's changed into a plain t-shirt and pyjama pants.
"Are you sure..?" He asks, not moving a step further into the room.
I lift the corner of the duvet back up in response. Draco pulls the bathroom door closed and walks over to the bed. Laying down gently, he allows me to drape the duvet over him. I don't allow myself to hesitate and rest my arm over his chest.
"I can't do this," he mumbles, and I try pulling my arm back, but Draco takes a hold of my hand, keeping it in place, and turns on his side, pushing his arm under my head. "I can't keep living through these memories."
I sigh and scooch closer, pressing my face into his chest as he rests his hand on the back of my head. "It won't be for much longer," I say.
"The full moon is in three nights." I feel him tense up.
"We won't have to think about it again after," I say.
He's silent for a while. He's breathing normally, but his heartrate betrays his nerves. "What if I don't come back?"
"What do you mean?"
He's quiet again. "I mean-" he sighs. "What if I don't come back. What if I don't survive this mission. What if I can't control these cubs enough, get bitten. What if Greyback loses it, or one of the other werewolves. Or the Dark Lord makes me redundant, or the resistance catches us… What if I don't come back, Potter?" He pulls back and cups my chin to make me look at him. I don't see much of his face in the dark. "I hate the idea," he says. "All I've been thinking about these last few weeks is if I do not make it back, you're stuck with the thought that I hurt you. That I kept you locked up, tortured, and raped you, Potter. And that thought kills me."
I don't know what to say. I hold my breath as my thoughts race around my brain, looking for an answer, a way to calm him down.
"I would never hurt you," he reiterates.
"I know," I say, and then finally. "Blaise."
"What?"
"Blaise," I repeat. "Tell Blaise. Let him know how to unlock my memories."
"I'm not-"
"The coin, Malfoy." I grasp his hand. "Tell Blaise how to get to my memories. If you don't come back, and I somehow make it out, Blaise will help." I consciously omit how unlikely I find it that I would survive much longer than a few weeks in this house without Draco.
"Blaise…" Draco repeats.
"He's our safety net."
Draco nods. "He's not exactly good at Legilimency," he says.
"I don't think I'd be putting up much resistance with Blaise," I say. "And if I do, once the war is over, he can tell Hermione… Or his sister. He'll have plenty of time to find someone who knows Legilimency." I place my hand on his cheek, trying to appease him.
He nods again, slower this time. "Ok."
"Ok?"
"I'll tell him tomorrow."
"First thing?" I drop my hand to his chest, trying to feel for his heartbeat. It hasn't calmed down much.
He places a chaste kiss on my forehead, finally letting go of my chin and snaking his fingers into my hair, trying to pull my head closer to his chest again, but I resist. I push back against his hand and use the neck of his shirt to pull his face closer to mine. I can feel his breath on my cheek, but I still can't quite make out the look on his face. I move my hand back up to his chin and feel his lips part as I allow my fingers to travel past them. I brush my lips against his, letting my eyes fall closed. Draco doesn't move, but keeps my head firmly in place when I try to pull back. He brushes the tip of his nose against mine and takes a deep breath, finally pressing his lips firmly against mine.
I pull myself up on the bed without breaking the kiss and follow his jawline with my fingers from his chin to just below his ear, before taking hold of the nape of his neck. Draco scrunches up his fingers in my hair, pulling on it gently. He groans when he finally lets go and traces his hand down my side, over my hip and to the small of my back. He pulls my body flush against his and I move my hand from his neck to his chest and over his ribs to his shoulder blades, pressing my chest against his in return.
I can feel him against my thigh. It sends an unexpected ripple through my core, and I barely suppress a moan. He uses the opportunity to slip his tongue between my lips. I move my leg gently, pressing upwards and revelling in the light vibration Dracos groan causes against my mouth and chest. He pushes his hips away from me, ignores my whine and slips his leg between mine. He retaliates by scratching his fingers over my lower back, balling them into a fist and using it to push my hips down against his thigh. I moan again, louder this time, as I feel his leg muscles through the soft silk of my pyjamas.
Draco breaks away from me, trailing his lips along my jaw down to my neck where he places a single soft kiss. He exhales shakily and I turn my face slightly back towards his.
"We should sleep." His voice is hoarse, and he clears his throat.
I don't trust myself to speak yet. I'm almost uncomfortably aware of the heat in my lower abdomen. So, I just nod. Draco turns his head back to mine and kisses me gently again before he pulls back and disentangles his legs from mine. I slide back down to rest my head on his arm while Draco holds onto the duvet. He drapes it over my shoulder and rests his arm on top of it. I sling mine around his upper body and ignore the ache in my core.
It takes hours for me to drift off to sleep, long after Draco's breathing has slowed, and when I wake back up with slivers of sunlight pushing through the curtains, he is still fast asleep. I crawl out from under his arm and climb out of bed. Alf has been here; there's a plate of buttered scones and a pot of fresh tea placed neatly on the desk, but I don't feel much like eating. I sit down on the couch and stare up at the ceiling. I feel oddly exposed without a blanket around me, but I can't steal the duvet from Draco. I can't remember where he placed his wand last night and I can't see it anywhere around, so conjuring one isn't an option. Alf has made a fire so at least I'm not cold.
I curl up and listen to Draco slow breathing. He's snoring gently. I have no clue what time it is, but I know it's the longest he's slept in weeks. I dread the moment he'll wake up. I have four memories he hasn't seen yet, and I need him to go through them before the full moon, but I have no clue how to go about it without upsetting him again. I won't make up any more. It's not quite enough memories to make up the entire month and a half I have been here, but Bellatrix can't really expect me to remember every moment of every day, can she? I'll keep most of the dull memories of dinners and showers, just altering them slightly so it fits a schedule of sleeping on the cold bathroom floor and being chained to the wall whenever Draco isn't around or asleep. It should fool her enough, as long as she can't find a hint of gentleness coming from Draco.
I'll have to hide the memory from last night, as far down as possible. The full moon is now two nights away and I can't have those feelings bubbling up when they aren't supposed to. I rub my forehead and try to ignore the repeated twinge in my core at the memory of last night. It's followed by a pinch of shame at the way it ended, the dismissal. I can't give this much though just yet though-
"Potter?"
I push myself up abruptly. I hadn't notice Draco stopped snoring. He's sitting up in bed, looking groggy. He falters a bit when he meets my gaze.
"Alf brought scones," I say, in lack of a better greeting.
"Ah. What time is it?"
"I have no clue." I finally break eye contact.
"Have you seen my wand?"
"Not in a while," I say truthfully.
Draco pushes the covers away. He gets out of bed, and I make a conscious effort not to look at his trousers. He walks into the bathroom and re-emerges with his wand in hand, flicking it; the curtains pull themselves open. I flinch at the sudden onslaught of light and turn away from the windows towards the fire. Draco flicks his wand again and the plate of scones flies over to where I'm sitting. He makes two cups of tea, with one sugar for me and two for him, and comes to sit down on the other side of the scones.
"Thanks," I mumble, reaching for the tea. "So what time is it?" I ask a little louder.
"'bout half ten," Draco says. "How long have you been awake?"
"Not long, maybe ten minutes."
"Mh."
The conversation stalls and we fall quiet for a bit. I can feel my heart hammering away in my chest as I'm frantically trying to find a good way to breach the subject of my memories. "So-"
"I'm sorry." Draco doesn't look at me.
"What?" I ask, dumfounded.
"For last night," he clarifies. "I'm sorry."
"Oh…" The pang of rejection from earlier solidifies. "Right," I say.
"I didn't mean to let it go that far." He's still not looking at me. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable."
"Right, Draco-" I start, but he cuts me off.
"We don't know how long we're going to be locked up here together and I don't want you to think you have to do something you clearly don't want to. I'm attracted to you, always have been, I can't deny that, but there's a time and place-"
"Malfoy." But he won't listen.
"- and this clearly isn't it, if you can't leave when you want to -"
"I appreciate the thought." I really do. "But Malfoy-"
"- I just feel awful for how… unpleasant that must have been for you last night. And I can't blame you, after what happened to you and the sort of memories we've been-"
Ok, now I'm mad. "Draco!" I say loudly, and he finally snaps out of it. He looks at me like a deer in the headlights, an unusual expression to see on his face. "I was the one who invited you into bed," I say matter-of-factly.
"But that doesn't mean-" he starts arguing.
"I know it doesn't mean anything," I interrupt him. "And I appreciate that you know that, really, but I was as much a part of last night as you were."
He averts his eyes, directing them at his teacup instead. "I just…" he starts mumbling.
"I appreciate the thought," I repeat. "But can you let me decide what I do and don't want to do?"
"Sorry," he mumbles again.
"Thank you," I say. "For the consideration. I appreciate it really, but I'll let you know if something goes too far." He doesn't react. "Ok?"
He nods. "Sorry."
"Stop apologising."
"Sorry." I ignore that considering the slight upwards pull of his lips.
"Anyway," I change the subject to something more productive. "Two more nights."
He visibly blanches and clears his throat before answering, "how many memories do you want me to look at?"
I'm grateful he's not making me ask. "Four."
He doesn't answer, choosing to stare into the flames instead.
"I'm not going to make up any more," I continue. "We have enough for now, I can make it look complete for your aunt. You won't need to go through anything else, I promise."
He lets his head hang and rests it in his hands. "I don't doubt you, Potter," he starts. "I'm sure you'll be convincing enough, but what happens then?" He asks flatly.
"We find a way out."
"How?"
"That's a problem for three days from now," I respond. I put my cup down on the floor, tea untouched, and pull my legs up onto the couch to face him fully.
He still won't look at me. "I just- I'm scared… That we'll just keep putting this off. I can't think of a way out, Potter. I keep racking my brain, but I can't think of a way to get you safely out of here that your stubborn Gryffindor brain will allow," he sounds angry.
"I won't sacrifice you," I say emphatically.
"There is no way we both survive an escape. I won't run with you; they'll go after my mother, and then they'll find me and kill me. And if I don't go with you; they'll kill me. But keeping you here is just not an option. We can't keep up this Spiel forever. We'll be found out eventually and then we'll both be dead anyway. I do not understand what it is you expect to happen after the next full moon, Potter."
I look at him for a moment, weighing my next words. His eyebrows are pulled together in a slight frown, but other than that, he looks as indifferent as ever. "There are two possible outcomes to this war, Malfoy."
He huffs. "There is no war, Potter."
"Then how would you describe what you're doing with those cubs," I say drily.
"Control?" He offers. "Law enforcement. Regime maintenance, regulation, rule; call it what you will, but it isn't a war. The Dark Lord is in the ministry, he controls everything. He has turned this government into a dictatorship and even the muggles have notices something is severely wrong. Almost every mudblood in the country is sitting in Askaban or dead, except your dear Granger. There isn't much of a resistance to speak of, at least they're not doing anything worth mentioning. Your darling brother has disappeared from the face of the earth. The Dark Lord barely sees him as a threat anymore. He's stopped looking for him! The Dark Lord has stopped hunting down Harry fucking Potter, so I don't know what war it is you're talking about Potter, but it's not happening in this country." He still won't look at me.
I bite my lip in annoyance and avert my eyes. "There are two possible outcomes to this war, Malfoy. Don't interrupt me," I say forcefully when he makes to retort. "There is a war. You told me you didn't want to know details and frankly, I think it would be an incredibly stupid idea to give you any. So, I guess you'll just have to trust me. Two possible outcomes. Either my side wins, in which case I can guarantee you, we will both be fine," I pause. "Or yours does, in which case I would much rather be dead anyway. But if that does happen, there is still a very good chance you will make it out alive and I will do my damndest to make sure you do."
He finally looks up. His jaw twitches before he answers, "you really still have hope, do you?"
"Yes," I answer truthfully. "I don't think we'll make it out of here without help, I don't disagree with you," I continue. "But things won't stay like this forever and I'm just biding my time until they change, so will you please just look at the blasted memories and trust my judgement."