At the end of March, Draco was called home for the holidays. The Dark Lord was away so he went, despite having to face his mad aunt and his father.
His mother hugged him possessively, holding his arm and checking him over like he was a child. 'You're too thin,' she said.
'Whatever,' he sneered, not impressed by any of it anymore.
It was while he was at the Manor that three more prisoners were brought in by Snatchers. His mother led them into the drawing room where he was sitting with his father. He knew immediately it was Granger and Weasley and his heart sunk, for although he was disfigured, it could only mean the third person was Potter.
'They say they've got Potter,' said his mother in a cold voice. 'Draco, come here.'
He rose slowly from his armchair as Greyback forced the prisoners into the light under the chandelier.
'Well, boy?' rasped the werewolf.
Draco looked into Potter's face. His face was huge, shiny and pink, every feature distorted by what he guessed was a jinx probably cast by Granger. His black hair reached his shoulders and there was a dark shadow around his jaw. The only true clue was his eyes, those eyes could only belong to Potter. Salazar, don't speak, Potter, was all he was thinking. His voice was bound to give him away. He tried pushing the thought into Potter's mind but was met by a strong Occlumency wall. That, at least, provided Draco with a strong gleam of satisfaction.
Potter held eye-contact with him, challenging him, resistant and defiant despite the hopelessness of the situation.
Don't give up hope.
'Well, Draco?' said his father. He sounded avid. 'Is it? Is it Harry Potter?'
'I can't - I can't be sure,' he said. He was scared of looking into Potter's hostile green eyes. He was keeping his distance from Greyback too, he didn't trust the werewolf.
'But look at him carefully, look! Come closer!'
He'd never heard his father sound so excited but he knew that if his father were to turn Potter over to the Dark Lord, after all this time, their favour would be restored.
His father confirmed his thoughts. 'Draco, if we are the ones who hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, everything will be forgiv-'
'Now, we won't be forgetting who actually caught him, I hope, Mr Malfoy? said Greyback.
'Of course not, of course not!' And his father leant close to Potter. 'It looks like a Stinging Jinx to me.'
Of course it's a fucking Stinging Jinx, you fucking imbecile! Draco wanted to scream. He kept quiet, wondering what to do. As soon as the Jinx wore off, there'd be no disguising who it was.
His father was scrutinising Potter's forehead, no doubt looking for traces of his scar. 'It could be...' he whispered. 'Draco, come here, look properly! What do you think?'
He bent in close beside his father, not looking at Potter's forehead, only braving those emerald-green eyes. They were so distinctive; he couldn't be mistaken. I know it's you. But he kept his mask in place.
'I don't know,' he said in a controlled and bored voice, and he walked away towards the fireplace where his mother stood watching. At least it wasn't an outright lie.
His mother watched him with narrowed eyes. She knew he wasn't telling a distinct truth.
Bellatrix appeared and started arguing about who should summon the Dark Lord when suddenly she shrieked 'STOP! Do not touch it, we shall all perish if the Dark Lord comes now!'
So like Bellatrix to be overly dramatic. Draco didn't roll his eyes. Visibly at any rate.
She marched over to one of the Snatchers, her heeled boots clipping across the marble floor. 'What is that?' she demanded.
'Sword,' he grunted.
'Give it to me.'
'It's not yorn, Missus, it's mine, I reckon I found it.'
There was a bang and a flash of red light and then a roar of anger from the fellow Snatchers about their stunned colleague.
'What d'you think you're playing at, woman?'
'STUPEFY!' she screamed. 'STUPEFY!'
It didn't surprise Draco that they were no match for her but still, the whole performance was eccentric and bizarre, even for Bellatrix.
'Where did you get this sword?' she hissed to Greyback as she pulled it from his unresisting hand. He had been forced into a kneeling position; his arms outstretched.
He bared his pointed teeth. 'Release me, woman!'
'Where did you find this sword?' she repeated, brandishing it in his face. 'Snape sent it to my vault in Gringotts!'
Now Draco was intrigued. The thing was gold and bejewelled with rubies and looked totally over the top to be practical.
'It was in their tent,' rasped Greyback. 'Release me, I say!'
Greyback was released but Bellatrix was agitated and an agitated Bellatrix was a volatile Bellatrix, which meant anyone could get cursed at any moment.
Draco was ordered to take the unconscious Snatchers from the room and although his father and mother proceeded to argue with Bellatrix about who gave the orders in the Manor, Draco complied, happy to be out of the way for a moment.
He came back just in time to see that Potter and Weasley had been taken away and his Aunt was sitting astride Granger in the middle of the floor with her silver dagger hovering above Granger's exposed arm as she pinned her to the floor.
'How did you get the sword, Mudblood?' she snarled in Granger's face.
When Granger looked away, Bellatrix pressed the knife into her forearm, immediately drawing blood, and then twisted the blade.
Granger let out a terrible, drawn-out scream and Draco wanted to be sick. His mother gripped his forearm, her nails digging into his flesh to stop him fleeing.
Wear the mask...
He could hear Weasley bellowing, 'HERMIONE!' from way below them.
He would never return to this room, not without hearing Granger screaming and Weasley's voice bellowing, 'HERMIONE! HERMIONE!'
His own fingers itched at his wand. He felt shaky.
Bellatrix was shrieking in Granger's face. Granger was screaming as Bellatrix torturously carved into her skin. His mother's nails were digging into his flesh, stopping him from raising his own wand on his aunt, or puking, or fleeing, or perhaps all three.
'YOU'RE A LYING, FILTHY MUDBLOOD, AND I KNOW IT! YOU HAVE BEEN INSIDE MY VAULT AT GRINGOTTS! TELL THE TRUTH, TELL THE TRUTH!'
Granger gave another terrible scream.
'HERMIONE!' Weasley bellowed from below their feet. His distress equal to her screams of pain.
'WHAT ELSE DID YOU TAKE? WHAT ELSE HAVE YOU GOT? TELL ME THE TRUTH OR, I SWEAR, I SHALL RUN YOU THROUGH WITH THIS KNIFE!'
Granger said nothing. She looked at Bellatrix defiantly despite the tears streaking her face.
'What else did you take, what else? ANSWER ME! CRUCIO!'
His mother's grip on his arm tightened as Granger's screams went through him like a physical blow as they echoed off the walls.
'How did you get into my vault? Did that dirty little goblin in the cellar help you?'
'We've never been inside your vault ... it isn't the real sword! It's a copy,' Granger sobbed.
Draco was sent to retrieve Griphook from the cellar. He told the prisoners to stand back, to stay in the shadows. Not that he said aloud that this way he couldn't identify them if the jinx had worn off. He'd barely returned before there was some sort of fight breaking out below their feet. Thankfully, Wormtail was sent, he couldn't bear to see Potter's face. Not now, not here in his father's manor. Not after what he'd witnessed Bellatrix doing to Granger.
Bellatrix stood over Griphook, Granger at her feet, as the goblin inspected the sword.
'It's a fake,' he said.
'Are you sure?' panted Bellatrix. 'Quite sure?'
'Yes,' said the goblin.
Draco watched as relief broke across Bellatrix's face, all tension drained from it.
'Good,' she said, and with a casual flick of the sword she slashed Griphook's face with a deep cut and he dropped to the floor with a yell. She kicked him aside. 'And now,' she said, in a voice that burst with triumph, 'we call the Dark Lord!'
She drew back her sleeve and touched her forefinger to the Dark Mark on her forearm.
'And I think,' said Bellatrix, 'we can dispose of the Mudblood. Greyback, take her if you want her.'
'NOOOOOOOOOOOO!' Weasley roared. Only now it was from the doorway. 'Expelliamus,' he bellowed and Potter deftly caught Bellatrix's wand as it flew through the air. It happened so quickly that Draco sighed in relief as Potter's 'Stupefy' hit his father, throwing his unconscious form backwards. His mother and Greyback were firing spells at Potter and Weasley. Potter seemed to be deflecting everything easily. Draco half-heartedly joined the fray, his spells widely missing the mark on purpose.
'STOP OR SHE DIES!' Bellatrix was supporting Hermione, her knife at Granger's throat. 'Drop your wands,' she whispered menacingly.
When beads of blood appeared on Granger's neck, Potter complied, followed by Weasley.
'Draco, pick them up! The Dark Lord is coming, Harry Potter! Your death approaches!'
He saw Potter pale, pain briefly crossing his green eyes.
It was then that there was a peculiar grinding noise from above. All of them looked upwards in time to see the crystal chandelier tremble; then, with a creak and an ominous jingling, it began to fall. Bellatrix dropped Granger and leapt to one side. Glittering shards of crystal flew in all directions: Draco doubled over, his hands covering his bloody face.
His mother didn't try to fight them, instead she pulled Draco away from further harm. It was with a sudden shock when Draco realised it was Dobby, their old House-Elf, who had dropped the chandelier on Bellatrix, shouting at her that she will not harm Harry Potter.
Potter grabbed the opportunity before Draco had even registered that he'd easily vaulted the sofa and plucked the three wands from his hand, stunning Greyback with a 'Stupefy' that hurled him against the drawing room and against the far wall as Weasley pulled Granger and Griphook from the wreckage.
Bellatrix was still shouting but it all seemed to blur into continuous noise as he watched Potter easily hoist Griphook over his shoulder and pick up the sword as Weasley pulled the semi-conscious Granger against his body. Dobby took hold of their hands and whisked them away in a whirl of dark haze and a streak of red from Weasley's hair and determined shouts of 'DOBBY IS A FREE ELF!', and a blur of flying silver as Bellatrix's knife flew across the room at the place where they were all vanishing...
His mother pushed her wand into Draco's hand. 'Get out of here,' she hissed. 'Before he comes.'
Without thinking, Draco Disapparated straight to the gates of Hogwarts and practically ran up the hill to the school. He hated to think what he'd left his mother to deal with. Bellatrix and his father deserved it all but not her. And now... now he'd shown his mother where his loyalties lay. And his allegiance could be questionable to the Dark Lord because he'd fled.
At least Potter was still alive.
Hope...
That night, after an absence over dinner, Severus appeared at Minerva's office door with a bottle of wine.
Minerva raised an eyebrow. 'Is there something to celebrate, Severus?'
'I believe my Slytherins call it a "Potter Nearly Died" celebration.
'How delightfully ambiguous,' she said but worry flickered through her stomach. Her Harry! So, he'd escaped Death again!
'Indeed.'
'There has been nothing about it on Potterwatch.'
'Not yet...' said Severus slyly.
'I sometimes wonder how they get hold of their information,' she said.
'Anonymous Owl Post, I believe...'
She flicked on the small radio and tuned it, keeping the volume low so it didn't interfere with their conversation but so they could hear in case anything should be announced.
They listened in silence for a moment to the list of deaths; Muggles, Muggleborns, Half-bloods, and Purebloods. There was no apparent rationality. And now Half-breeds joined the ranks of the deceased too. They sighed in relief to not hear any familiar names.
Once the wine was poured and he was seated, he said in a low conspiratorial voice, 'it appears there was an unexpected guest at Malfoy Manor today. Or rather, three unexpected guests. It seems that all three escaped just shortly before Mr Malfoy Jnr returned to the school. It also seems that they rescued a number of hostages, namely Miss Lovegood, Mr Thomas, Mr Ollivander, and a goblin called Griphook. But not before Bellatrix Lestrange had summoned the Dark Lord, drawing him away from important business. He arrived to find the Manor in disarray; Lucius and Greyback were seriously incapacitated and Wormtail most definitely deceased. Potter had been within his grasps and they bungled it. As you can imagine, the Dark Lord is not happy. The Carrows are absent from school again tonight.'
She took a slow sip of wine from her goblet, unsure whether she should be celebrating or deeply worried 'And you say Wormtail...'
'Dead as a doornail. It appears your son called in a life debt. He will have been compelled to oblige but I understand the hand that the Dark Lord gifted him after his... sacrifice,' he said the word with a sneer, 'turned on him. A small irony that he died by his own traitorous hand. A small consolation for James and dear Lily.'
She didn't miss the endearment but she needed to focus on the news of the children, not that they were really children... 'So, none of the children killed him.'
'No.'
She sighed in relief. 'Mr Malfoy Jnr? Is he okay? Did he escape the Manor unharmed? Has he openly defected?'
'He is shaken and I had to heal his face from multiple cuts, looked like shards of glass. He wouldn't explain but there is no lasting damage. As to your last question, no he has not openly defected but he may or may not have aided the unexpected guests. The details are unclear. From what I could glean from Narcissa's mind, it appears he was unable to identify Potter when they first arrived; Potter had taken a bad Stinging Jinx to the face and claimed to be Dudley Dursley. Lucius wanted to be sure it was him before they summoned the Dark Lord. However, I think it would be imprudent if Draco were to return to the Manor any time soon. He is better under our protection. I believe he knows this too, though he won't say as much. Sensibly, he doesn't trust anyone. I imagine, rather than openly defect, he will bid his time and hope to escape both sides. I didn't inform the Dark Lord that Narcissa had to hold Draco back while Bellatrix tortured Ms Granger...'
'...oh my goodness, is Hermione alright?'
'I don't know, she escaped with Potter. She's alive. Unfortunately, I have been placed in an uncomfortable situation. Narcissa will know I have held information back from the Dark Lord, which means she may guess my position. It is a gamble. I hope that I may have formed an ally should a moment of need arise. I hope her Legilimency holds up against any attempts the Dark Lord may make, though that is why he called on me in the first place, her barriers are outstanding.' He paused. 'Nearly as good as yours. Thankfully, the Dark Lord is currently occupied dealing with Bellatrix and Lucius and has not recalled Draco. I have told him that I will deal with Draco's punishment.'
'And have you?'
'Yes.'
'I suppose that means I shouldn't ask.'
'The solution was quite simple. As detentions are normally held with either Filch or Hagrid, I set him a month's worth of detentions cleaning out the Hippogriff stables or something akin to whatever Hagrid would want him to do.'
'I see. Does the Dark Lord approve?'
'The Dark Lord is, as I mentioned, currently pre-occupied with doing Dark-Lordy things.'
'Should the Dark Lord's right-hand man really be talking in such a way?'
'Forgive me. I believe I feel a little giddy. It must be all the excitement and the wine.'
'You, Severus, are never giddy. I don't believe you've ever made an uncalculated move in your adult life. This means something is afoot.'
'Perhaps. The unexpected guests at the Manor have inadvertently been given a rather important clue to help them on their way. Hopefully, they realise this and the Dark Lord doesn't. I suspect that Bellatrix will keep her mouth shut for it would be injudicious for her own skin to reiterate what Draco and Narcissa have told me she revealed.'
'And can you reiterate to me what she revealed?'
'It is better that you don't know what your son is up to.'
'So, you have known all along.'
'Yes. Now, it is a waiting game,' sighed Severus.
'It has been a waiting game since Harry left.'
'But now the marathon is nearing its end. Minerva, you must be prepared for the next time you see your son...'
'What do you mean?'
'He has changed. He is no longer a boy. There is a hint of Sirius Black about him but I suppose living for eight months in the wilds without a hairdresser does that. Narcissa was scared. There is not much that frightens her.'
A silent 'oh!' formed on Minerva's lips for what could she say.
'The next month is key. It would sensible if the Order were on high-alert and ready for when the time comes. They will need to be able to get into the school.'
'The Order is ready.'
'Good.'
They drank their wine in silence for a while.
'Minerva?'
'Yes?'
'When the time comes, look after my Slytherin children. Maybe the older ones can look after themselves but they are all children at the end of the day.'
'Indeed,' said Minerva. 'Be assured, I have a plan in place. It may not reflect on me in the best of light but it will keep them safe and that is more important. I'm afraid I will not give them a choice of whether they join the fight or not. There are too many people who will assume wrongly to risk otherwise.'
'Thank you.' He got up and bowed slightly. 'Perhaps, in the Carrows absence from the school, you would oblige me by doing the curfew rounds.'
'Of course, Severus.'
'Goodnight, Minerva.'
'Goodnight.'
Draco wondered how the news had got out about Potter escaping the Manor. There were, after all, only a few people there to witness the event. Though, he realised as he listened to Potterwatch, not all the information was correct and a substantial amount was missing. Perhaps the report had come from Dean Thomas, that made the most sense. Still, it made him feel nauseous, again, in case he was suspected. Everything seemed to make him feel nauseous at the moment. They were on the brink of war and they were all caught up in it. They were children, he didn't care if Wizarding Law recognised him as an adult, he felt like a child and he was scared.
Blaise gave him his glass of Firewhiskey and frowned when Draco downed it like a shot.
'That's bloody expensive vintage shit,' he grumbled.
'Then stop handing it out like it's Jägermeister.'
'How do you even know about Jägermeister?'
Draco got up out of the armchair in the common-room. 'I'll see you later,' he said.
'Where are you going?'
'To see my Godfather,' he lied.
He wandered around the school aimlessly, enjoying the empty and dark corridors until he found a large window with a wide enough sill that he could sit on and stare out at the moon as it lingered over the Black Lake. He hugged his knees and wondered if he'd ever be free again. He'd probably end up looking at the moon from his cell window in Azkaban, if he survived.
'Mr Malfoy...' McGonagall's quiet voice stirred him from his thoughts.
'Professor,' he said, not bothering to uncurl. His father would have disapproved immensely but he didn't give a shit anymore.
'Are you okay?' she said softly.
'I'll live. Hopefully,' he added. He didn't look at her but continued to stare out of the window at the night sky.
'That is not a satisfactory situation to be in.'
'Perhaps but it's my lot. I chose to take this route.'
'I question that statement. I doubt you chose your route; any more than Harry chose his. Your lives have been decided for you from an early age by others with bigger, more selfish plans than to think about the individuals they are affecting or harming. But even if you have taken a particular route, it is always possible to choose to deviate from the path. It may just be in small ways, in the only way that is possible to you at the time, but even the smallest of actions can have the biggest of impacts.'
'Like today...'
'I don't know to what you are referring to, Mr Malfoy, and nor do I ask to know the details. I do not wish to cause you trouble, which it undoubtedly would if you were to tell anyone what happened. All I want is for you to look after yourself and know that help is available if you wish for it.'
'You don't wish to know about your son?' he stared at her reflection in the glass. She looked drawn and thin and worried.
'I wish to know everything about my son but, for the moment, it is enough to know he is alive. That he is surviving out there in whatever he is doing. Can I suggest you get some sleep? Tomorrow is a new day.'
'Tomorrow is always a new day.'
'And so we must try to approach it as such and not just as a continuum of the difficult situation we find ourselves in today. There is always hope, no matter how bleak a situation may seem. One day we will wake up to find that new day does actually bring us our hopes. For instance, this morning I woke up hoping that this new day would bring me news of my son, tonight, I go to bed knowing he is still alive. It may not be much to some, to me, it is everything. Goodnight, Mr Malfoy... And thank you...'
He watched her reflection turn and start to walk away. He knew she was thanking him for not identifying Potter, for keeping Potter alive for another day.
'He is strong,' he said quietly. 'Potter is strong. He looks strong but his magic is strong and quick too. The Dark Lord has every reason to be afraid.'
He heard her sigh in the darkness of the shadows. 'Again, thank you, Mr Malfoy,' she said softly before walking away.
Hope. They both talked about hope. He was starting to believe in it too.
April dragged by. No more news. No more information. Everything was quiet, waiting, anticipating. The school remained a place of torture and discipline with an undercurrent of quiet rebellion happening that was difficult for certain members of staff to deal with. The others simply ignored it. McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, and Slughorn were occasionally spotted, huddled in a hurried meeting which would instantly breakaway if anyone came too close. Minerva and Cuthbert Binns researched every defence possible that was built into the school. Neville still stepped up to take the curses. Poppy Pomfrey was as often in the Room of Requirement as she was in the school infirmary. Blaise had a constant supply of expensive Firewhiskey. Draco still wore his mask and handed out his fake Cruciatus.
The Carrows are actually idiots, Draco thought on more than one occasion.
So did Minerva.
'What's taking so long?' she muttered to Severus one evening in the Great Hall.
'Either they missed the clue or they're brewing Polyjuice Potion. That takes a month and it is their known modus operandi. Since second year, if you think about it. Thankfully, the Dark Lord doesn't think about it.'
'Oh gods,' she whispered. 'I don't want to know that. It means they're going to break into somewhere, oh gods...' the colour drained from her face as she wildly guessed the possibilities. Though the one place she dismissed as outrageously impossible to even contemplate turned out to be the very place they broke into...
***