Long Live the Mafia Prince - A Drarry Fanfiction

Part 010

If my head was a piece of paper, it was like I had written out every strategy, every possible way to be dominant in the exchange this time, to get myself out of Draco's grip. Only, in reality, the paper was ripped, shredded, flushed down the drain by the hands I so desperately hoped I could escape.

Staring at the pitiful reminisce of my teared, soggy sanity, I try to spread out a new piece of paper, to stop being a failure.

Draco didn't hurt me, and, though a bad time to rely on hunches, something about how he treats me, I can almost be certain he isn't planning to hurt me, either. After all, no matter what I do, if I threaten that I'm an auror, if I ask him about his father, if I yell into his face, not a single time has he physically assaulted me. Assuming he has some reason to not harm me, I guess all I can do is trust that he has reason to keep whoever is with me untouched as well.

Trust... Trust Draco Malfoy...

Heat rises from my chest, clogging my throat.

What can I do now? Beg Draco to let Ginny go? Try to get out of this cell of a room and find her? Make an exchange with whatever I have?

What do I say to Ron? To Mr and Mrs Weasley? To the Ministry? That I got your sister, your daughter, your best auror killed because I was blinded by the worthless idea of bringing the Mafia to justice, of... of fulfilling my own greed?

I chew on my cheek, swallowing my tears.

I have no right to cry. It's all my fault, every bit of it. I... I'm sorry...

"What do you want from me?" I say, my voice shivering.

Draco blinks. "What do I want? Why do you ask?".

I drag my eyes to meet Draco's. "You brought me out to Vulpes Street, you kidnapped me, you showed me 'La vie', you confessed to me about killing your father, you gave me a way to come crawling back for you... Why? Why me, for what?".

There's a chilling silence. The crackling of the fireplace fills the room, its warmth unbearably scorching. Slowly something changes in Draco's face. I can see through it for once. It's like he let down his guard, for whatever reason. The thoughts racing, storming behind his eyes... He leans forward onto his desk with a heaviness I haven't felt in this room before. "Let's make a deal, Harry. One where we both get what we want.".

Clenching my jaw tighter, I cling on to my last bit of mind. "What deal?".

"Today, I give you 'La vie'.".

I pause.

He carries on. "You come back another day, and I give you a confession letter about my dad's murder with my signature.".

"What-".

"Come back another day, I'll give you your friend.".

As confusion messes with my head, Draco lifts the painting off the wall with the flick of a wand. I watch as the canvas drifts in the air, onto the ground under my feet dangling from Draco's bed.

I stare at the painting. The hollow eyes of the dead eagle gazes back, the rose on its head vividly waving.

"I've heard eagles are a symbol of power." Draco murmurs, a tone I have never heard from him.

I glance up. He's also looking at 'La vie', with eyes I've also never seen before. Soft, but no longer alluring, only slightly faded and numb.

Draco gets off his desk and walks over, taking a seat on the floor next to the painting. "I suppose power is dead. Sounds a lot like someone, doesn't it?".

"Is that why you stole the painting? To tell us you were going to kill your father?" I say, barely enough strength to stay awake.

He scoffs emptily. "It's... art.".

I glance at him again. "Do you regret it?".

"Why would I?" Draco says, "He killed me first.".

/////

He killed me first...

A traumatic backstory for a traumatic supervillain, a cliché humanity cannot escape from.

As the sun rises, I sit on the couch, staring at 'La vie'. For a painting I've heard so much good about, it doesn't make me feel. All that I can see in it is the lifeless eyes of the eagle being unsettlingly realistic compared to the image of Lucius Malfoy's dead gaze.

I blink, realizing how dry my eyes are.

I'm exhausted, but I can't get myself to sleep. Not when I know Ginny is with Draco, not when I have 'La vie' sitting in my home, not when I have full responsibility for everything. Although, going to bed, at least trying to, might be the only way to avoid running into Ron. I know better than to run away, than to leave people that mean to me in the dark, but... How could anyone bring themselves to tell the truth in moments like this?

Ginny could have. She's brave. She's strong. I know she is. I have to believe she is...

There's noise down by Ron's room. I hear him walking into the bathroom. I can't run. As much as I can't bring myself to apologize, make excuses and promises, I also can't leave knowing that I got friends into trouble, that I'm... just like Draco.

A few minutes later, Ron walks into the living room, drying off his hair.

"What is that?" Ron says, looking at the large painting that has appeared in our house overnight.

I swallow, but keep my eyes on 'La vie'. "It's the painting from my case.".

Ron pauses and puts his towel down. "The Mafia case? Why the hell is it here?".

"I need to bring it to the Ministry.".

"What? No, no, no, you need to answer me before you do that. Why do you have this? I thought the Mafia had it?".

I turn to face Ron. "Can you bring it to the Ministry for me? I'm not allowed in the office right now.".

There's a moment of silence. He seems taken aback. "Where were you last night? Did you...?".

I don't answer.

"Did you go out looking for that thing? Did you see the Mafia? What did they do to you? You look like they took your soul, what-".

"Ron," I say, "Get it to the Ministry. And...".

Ron's pupiles quiver. "And what?".

I breathe, my throat clogging up again. "I'm sorry."

/////

Ron throws a quill and parchment onto the couch next to me. I glance at it, then at him.

"Explain." Ron says, "Write how you got the painting, why you've been gone all night, and about the Mafia if they matter.".

I stare at the blank paper. I can't...

Ron sighs. "It's not for me, I don't... I don't care about whatever you have going on in your life, especially recently, even though you've been clearly up to something, being gone all night and shit. It's for the Ministry and you can't refuse this time. I can deliver the dumb painting, but I'm not explaining your bullcrap.".

He glares down at me. I look away, reaching for the quill with shaking hands. After watching me start to write, Ron heads into the kitchen.

I try to force strength into my finger.

I'll fix everything. I'm sorry.

//////////

A huge thank you for reading all the way through to PART 10🖤🖤🖤

I hope you're having fun, as much as the effort I put into this fanfic. Though far from perfect, I worked really hard in making this, and so it means so much that you've come all the way to the tenth part.

With that said, there is still more than double the story left to come, so stick around to see the ending of this twisted relationship!

(If you want to see the completed versions of this fanfic, visit me on Instagram @drarstar_.)