On we go… Draco's on a mission!

Chapter Thirteen

…

Malfoy manor had been their ancestral home for generations. It was an ancient bastion of the Malfoy name and reputation, hosting countless soirees and galas to win favour and gain influence. To Draco it had always provided a comfort of sorts. The house with its many extensive wings wasn't exactly cozy or inviting. But despite the grand ballrooms and sweeping corridors, there had always been a sense of pride and security within those walls.

And now…

Draco emerged into the drawing room in a rush of green flames. The room was set aside as a sort of antechamber to welcome guests through the floo network. It was staged with some of the most impressive antique furniture and old Malfoy heirlooms. As he stepped out onto the rich carpets, he felt a shiver crawl down his spine. A number of portraits lined the wall, the judgmental stares of his bloodline watching his every move.

This place was no longer home to him. There were too many nightmares held within these walls. The tapestries and busts were stained with memories of violence. The marble floors reverberated with the cries of those tortured and murdered here.

No, he would never view this as home. Never again. If it weren't for his mother, Draco would most likely have taken the first opportunity to tear the place to the ground brick by brick. Tradition and honour be damned.

Lucius had already destroyed their legacy. The house itself was just collateral.

As Draco brushed off a few traces of soot, he marched into the adjoining library, surprised to find his mother sitting there sifting through a sheaf of parchments. She looked up at his entrance, her own face dropping in shock at his appearance.

"Draco!"

He allowed her to approach him and place a slightly stiff, formal kiss on his cheek, her bony jaw pressing against his.

"Hello mother."

"What on earth are you doing here, dearest?" she asked him in her melodic, cultured tone, though there was an edge of concern underneath it, "the ministry said that you're not supposed to return here…?"

Draco shook his head hurriedly.

"I know. The Headmistress gave me permission to come."

"McGonagall?! Why…?"

"I need to ask you something."

"You… Draco, what's going on?" she asked with a confused frown, inspecting him more closely. "You look like you haven't slept, your clothes are a mess. You're positively … unkempt. What have they been doing to you there?"

"I'm fine. It's nothing. But I need to ask you something about Aunt Bella."

Narcissa actually took a small step back in shock. Her face went white as her lips pursed.

"B…Bella?"

"I need to ask you about that night when the snatchers caught Potter and his friends and brought them here."

"Darling, please. There's simply no need to bring up the unpleasantness of the past," her voice was shaky, and she looked quite faint.

"There is. I need to know about the cursed dagger Bella used."

"Goodness, Draco-"

"You must remember it. It was one of her favourite instruments. She was particularly fond of it. But I don't remember much about it, like where she got it from or what curse she used."

"I do not wish to speak of such horrid things," Narcissa insisted, her voice crisper this time.

"Did she curse it herself?"

"Draco-"

"What happened to it after that night?"

"Enough! It is unseemly to speak of such things," the witch's lips were pursed tightly now, a panicked gleam in her eyes. Draco took a deep breath and looked at her, steady and serious.

"Please, mother. I need this…" she almost spoke up in opposition again, but he grabbed her hand and gave it a soft squeeze, "please." Narcissa swallowed, gazing at him with a twisted expression of concern.

"Draco, what's happening? Why are you bringing this up?"

"Aunt Bella used that dagger on Hermione Granger. Whatever curse was imprinted there is still affecting her. Please. I have to do something. I have to help."

"That… that Granger girl?" his mother repeated in confusion, "Potter's little paramour?"

He nodded firmly, certain that his mother wasn't ready for any harsh realities with regards to his feelings for Hermione or even their friendship.

"You shouldn't get involved," she told him curtly, "we're standing on a knife's edge as it is. The ministry is watching our every move. Just leave it be."

"I can't."

"She's just one insignificant muggleborn, Draco. It's hardly worth risking everything…"

"She's my friend," he insisted, deciding to reveal a little to help sway her. Narcissa scoffed and looked at him with a patronising frown.

"Now do be serious, dear-"

"I am. Mother – I'm not here to argue about the merits of who I choose to keep company with. Everything has changed. I'm following my own moral code now, and it's not up for debate. And I'm not going to apologise for how I feel."

Narcissa appeared a little taken aback. She stared at him a bit unknowingly for a while, giving him the opportunity to push forwards.

"Please. I just need your help on this. I need you to remember as much as you can about that dagger."

The older witch swallowed and turned away for a while. She paced over to the nearby window alcove. Her hand toyed with the edge of the curtain, but her gaze seemed focused inwards rather than out into the gardens. There was a tense, silent pause that seemed to last for several minutes. But eventually Narcissa spoke in a small, tight voice.

"I don't know much about it," she murmured, "I do know that she was particularly possessive about it. It was a present from Rodolphus, I believe. But she did used to gloat that the Dark Lord himself had placed a hex on it."

Draco closed his eyes for a second, collecting himself and trying not to tremble. He'd been awake for hours and his body was tired and aching. He was only just managing to keep a tight leash on his turbulent emotions.

"She threw it… when they were escaping with our old house elf, the weird one. What happened to it?"

Narcissa shook her head.

"I don't know. It disappeared with them, I think. I'm surprised Bella was so careless with it, given how much she seemed to obsess over it."

Draco frowned.

"So… it went with them?"

She nodded slowly.

"That's how it seemed."

Draco grit his teeth and let out a long slow breath. That meant it could be anywhere by now. Surely the golden trio hadn't thought to keep it around, not if it was heavily cursed with dark magic. Maybe he could go ask Potter, though he didn't have much faith in the other wizard's ability to remember important details.

"I need to go-" he muttered, spinning on his heel. It seemed a conversation with the Chosen One was inevitable., He almost made it to the door when his mother spoke up again from behind him.

"You like her. Don't you?" she asked in a brittle, horrified voice. He froze at the threshold to the drawing room, his shoulders stiff as he turned his head to half face her. Licking his lips, he decided to throw caution to the wind and be honest.

"Yes," he breathed, before shrugging, "But you don't need to worry. We're not exactly…well…she's hardly likely to pick someone like me in the end, is she?"

Without waiting for a response, Draco strode from the room. He really didn't want to waste any time. And it would be best if he caught Potter before the other wizard left to go to his auror training program. It was still early.

Before he'd left the castle, Draco had managed to secure the Gryffindor's home address from Longbottom. He'd had a niggling suspicion that he would need to contact the wizard, but not necessarily for this reason. In the back of his mind, he'd figured that Granger would want her friend by her side. Rather than fetching him and bringing him to Hogwarts, however, he was hunting information that might save her.

He just hoped his quest wouldn't prove futile.

…

…

"Remind me again, Malfoy, why exactly did you need me here for this?"

Draco clenched his jaw and kept his eyes fixed on the back of the goblin walking in front of him as they moved single file down a rocky staircase. The grumbling little figure kept shooting dark looks back their way. Clearly, like his friend, Potter was not forgiven for breaking into the bank and causing massive property destruction.

He sighed and glanced back at the bespectacled wizard.

"Because even with McGonagall's tacit approval, I don't trust the aurors not to arrest me on sight for leaving the school."

"So I'm here to…er…"

"Distract them, obviously," he drawled bitingly, "why would they even look twice at me if I'm in the esteemed company of the Boy-Who-Lived to be a pain in the ass."

He saw out of the corner of his eye the other wizard flush red and rub the back of his neck.

"I'm not that noticeable."

Draco snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Suuure you're not. It doesn't matter anyway. Anyone who sees me with Saint Potter will just assume I have a legitimate reason to be here."

"Oy! I broke the rules all the time when we were at school-" he protested weakly.

"It's hardly breaking the rules if the headmaster just lets you get away with it every time."

Before Potter could come up with some undoubtedly lame retort, the goblin halted at the entrance to an alcove, where several of the most ancient vaults were set into the rock, their towering doors glittering with gemstones.

"The Lestrange family vault is on the left. You may proceed," the goblin rasped, pointing a bony finger towards an enormous black door, dotted with emeralds and a single ornate golden handle. Potter came to stand beside him, and he could feel the other boy shudder.

"Didn't think I'd ever be back here again," the wizard muttered, looking at the vault with trepidation.

"Perhaps your exit can be a little more dignified this time," Draco said wryly. He moved forwards and placed his hand against the vault. With too many loose ends left hanging after the war, he'd been the only logical inheritor for the ancient Lestrange and Black fortunes. What hadn't been grasped by the criminal Sirius Black anyway. He didn't know what had happened to that portion. But he was pretty sure the ailing Mrs Black had struck him from her will and left him nothing much of importance.

The vault shivered for a moment before giving a ripple of recognition and opening with an almighty creaking sound.

"How do you even know about that whole… dragon escape?"

"Everybody knew. The Dark Lord went absolutely insane when he found out. Well… more insane."

"The treasure isn't going to start multiplying on us, is it?"

Draco glared at him and stepped into the vault.

"I'm the rightful owner, dimwit. That curse is just to stop idiots like you from stealing."

"Right."

Once inside, Draco quickly catalogued the room. It had clearly been kept organised and tidied up by the goblins in the wake of the war. Everything was in perfect order, filed and stored according to size and type. But the sheer scope of the room was almost overwhelming.

"You're sure you saw the dagger actually disappear?" he asked again, pacing around the perimeter and letting his gaze scan over the items.

"Yes, I told you," Potter snapped, looking uncomfortable, "by the time I…I buried him…it was gone."

Draco chose to ignore the pained look on the other wizard's face. Something about that odd house elf and a beach grave had led them here. He was too concerned with Hermione to poke deeper into the topic.

"It had a ruby near the hilt, and the metal was dark. Almost black," Draco described quietly as he peered around the room. He knew an accio wouldn't work without removing certain wards and didn't want to call the goblin in to help.

"I really don't want to see that thing again," Potter protested grimly, but Draco shot him a warning look.

"Even if it will help your friend?"

Potter sighed in acceptance and started searching the room as well.

"What makes you so sure it's even here?" the boy asked.

"You said the dagger vanished. That's not normal. My guess is that it held some kind of possession charm. And that it was spelled to return to Bellatrix's vault if lost. A gift from the Dark Lord perhaps."

"Like the sword of Gryffindor," Potter guessed.

"Something like that."

"And if you're wrong?"

"Then we go dig up your house elf."

The other wizard was silent for a long time, and he could feel him stewing on his anger even from the other side of the large vault.

"Why do you still call him the Dark Lord?" he asked suddenly, his voice tight. Draco was taken aback by the question, and shrugged his shoulders, still concentrating on the task at hand.

"Habit. We weren't allowed to say his name."

"Did you really not know about Hermione's curse wound?"

He clenched his teeth, trying and failing at ignoring the other wizard.

"I assumed she was healed after you all escaped. Not in my worst nightmares did I think for one second…" he forced himself to stop talking as his voice sounded choked. The last thing he wanted was to make a fool of himself in front of the bloody Chosen One. A tense silence descended over the space as they searched. Eventually the other boy cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"I think… I think I can see it…"

Draco swivelled around and approached the corner where Potter had been quietly scanning the walls. And sure enough there it was, mounted alongside several other sharp instruments of torture. A wave of relief filled him. Ignoring its neighbours, Draco focused in on the cursed dagger, just as gloomy and twisted as he remembered.

"Yep… there it is," he muttered before reluctantly reaching towards the clasp that was holding it there.

"Wait!" Potter cried, jerking as if to stop him in his tracks, "it's cursed, isn't it? What if you're not supposed to touch it? It might turn you into a frog or…something."

Draco almost snorted, but just rolled his eyes instead.

"We're just looking for echoes of the original magic. The person who hexed it is dead. You killed him, remember? No more curse!"

As if to prove his point, he flipped the clasp open and grabbed it, silently letting out a breath of relief when it didn't burn him or indeed turn him into a toad. Behind him he heard Potter muttering,

"Actually, his own spell rebounded… so technically he killed himself. I just disarmed him."

"Whatever. Let's get the hell out of here," he snapped. Not wanting to waste any more time, Draco spun and started to stride towards the door. As they made their way back to the goblin, Potter caught up with him, clearing his throat awkwardly once more.

"You er… you and Mione are pretty good friends, huh?"

Draco grimaced. It seemed he was doomed to answer that line of questioning multiple times in one day.

"I suppose," he grumbled, hoping to avoid it entirely.

"Do you… you know… fancy her?"

He paused for a moment, glaring at the other wizard.

"Seriously, Potter? You want to braid each other's hair and chat about our feelings here of all places?"

The Gryffindor threw his hands up innocently.

"Hey, it's weird alright! It's weird that I even have to bring it up. It's weird that you clearly have a crush on her. Your acting is atrocious by the way. It was obvious the moment I first saw you making moon eyes at her in the Great Hall the day we went to Hogsmeade. Honestly, it's weird to see you like anyone actually, but especially her. You know… because she's…well…"

"Potter?"

"Hmm?"

"Shut up. We really don't have to have this conversation."

The two of them clambered into the mine cart that would take them back to the atrium. Potter's face was flushed crimson with embarrassment, but there was still a steely look in his eye. The goblin was ignoring them entirely.

"Maybe we do."

"Can we just focus on the problem at hand-" he hissed, waving the dagger between them.

"It's not my fault your snooty medieval vaults are so deep underground it's going to take us an age to ride back up to the surface. You really want to just sit in silence for the next ten minutes?"

"Please, that would be wonderful," he drawled.

"Well too bad. Mione is my best friend-"

"Oh Merlin spare me the if you hurt her I'll hurt you lecture."

"I wouldn't get a chance to hurt you. Mione would destroy the both of us in a duel without breaking a sweat. She's a bit scary, actually."

"Don't I know it," he snorted, thinking of how she'd made those Gryffindor boys cower in fear, her hair crackling with fury. There was a pause during which Draco tried to smother his smile and scowl at the other boy, feeling his eyes on him.

"Oh boy… you've got it bad."

"This is the lowest point of my entire life, including the war," Draco grumbled.

"How did this even happen?"

"None of your business."

"Does she know you like her?"

Draco groaned and buried his head in his hands. Riding a mine cart through Gringotts, holding a Death Eater blade and talking about his love life with Harry Potter… it was one of the more surreal moments in his life.

"I mean… I knew she had feelings for you. Gross, by the way. But given that she's…well… muggleborn, I had no idea you'd also be interested-"

Draco's gut swooped and his mouth went dry. He felt like his pulse froze for several seconds, but then an unexpected jolt from the mine cart thrust it back into gear. He turned in his seat to face the other wizard head on, pulse racing and eyes wide.

"Wait… what?"

Potter frowned, cocking his head to one side.

"She's muggleborn. Have you had a stroke or something? You knew that…"

"No, idiot. Not that. She has feelings for me?"

Potter's face resembled a niffler caught nicking a bag of galleons.

"Huh?" he replied innocently, clearly trying to play dumb.

"You said that you knew she had feelings for me. What the hell are you talking about?"

"Oh…er…well…I…"

"I swear to Salazar, Potter, if you stammer one more time-" he growled.

"I probably shouldn't have said anything."

"Well you did."

"It really isn't any of my business…"

"Says the wizard who was poking his nose in all kinds of things for the last bloody hour."

"It just slipped out."

"She actually told you she likes me?" Draco asked, feeling like a fool as his cheeks reddened further. But he was more invested in knowing the other boy's answer than he was embarrassed about asking. There must have been some hint of desperation on his face, because Potter finally caved, his shoulder drooping.

"Mione is going to be so pissed," he muttered, folding his arms over his chest, "but yeh…okay. She may have expressed some…feelings."

"When was this?"

"Christmas. Just before you came banging on the door actually."

Draco blinked in surprise. That was just after they had first hooked up in her room. Before she'd rejected him and then come to see him later. The night she'd changed her mind.

"I thought you two were some kind of… item… or something. I'm trying not to think about it in much detail, actually. But didn't you guys even talk about it?"

"Not really. We never actually said any words as such…" he murmured, drumming his fingers on his knee and staring distractedly out at the rocks they whizzed by. His treacherous heart was beating a painful rhythm now, and his thoughts were spinning as that insidious voice of hope took root in his head. Was it true? Potter was a moron, but he was no liar. That meant… Hermione had actual feelings for him? She liked him? It wasn't just friendship or… or physical… it was both. It might just be everything.

"Look… you want my advice?" Potter called after a while. The screeching of the cart had escalated as the cavern narrowed and the bends became sharper. "Mione doesn't do casual. It's not in her nature. So whatever is going on between you… she wouldn't be doing it if she wasn't serious."

Draco swallowed and continued to stare out at the rows of vaults as they raced past the middle levels on their ascent to the top. He didn't know what to say and could barely look at the other wizard seated next to him. It would be too mortifying. So he just stared blankly ahead. His fingers tightened around the dagger that was resting like cold lead in his lap. He felt restless and just wanted to get out of there. Get back to the castle and back to Hermione.

And if she was indeed serious about him, as Potter had suggested…

Well… Draco didn't dare to let himself hope.

Not until she was better.

One thing at a time, he repeated to himself.

One thing at a time.

…