officium: duty, service, obligation
———
DRACO was in the middle of talking when Elara burst into the meeting room, nearly panting, her eyes wide.
Potter, Kingsley, Hermione and Draco were seated around the table, discussing the Horcrux. They knew where it was now—somewhere near the dungeons in Malfoy Manor—but they still had to figure out how to get to it. Since Voldemort hadn't told Draco anything, it was a grueling process to find out the wards and protections around the Horcrux. Even though he'd been working twice as hard the past two weeks, he still had close to no clue.
He'd been in the middle of talking about how they'd have to find a way to get to the Horcrux from the inside—without using brute force—when the door slammed open and Elara burst in.
Her hair was wild around her face, her cheeks pink as if she'd run here. She'd been out somewhere in the forest, picking herbs when Draco had arrived at the safehouse—but she must've heard he'd arrived early today and come running.
On instinct, his heart leaped in his chest and his ankle slid off where it had been resting on his opposite knee as he leaned forward to place his mug on the table.
All eyes fixed on her and for a second, she looked stunned—and then embarrassed. "Oh, I'm so—I didn't realise you were—I'm so sorry for disturbing."
Draco was already pushing back his chair, even as that voice in his head nagged at how adorable she looked when she was embarrassed and flustered. "Is everything—"
"Yeah." She was already retreating, flushed. "Yeah, everything's fine. I'm sorry."
And then she was gone, shutting the door quietly behind her, and Draco blinked, halting where he'd been about to stand, hands on the armrests of his chair.
"Well," said Hermione, sending Draco a glance.
Kingsley cleared his throat. "Well. As you were saying, access from the inside is imperative. Any ideas?"
"If Malfoy can't do it, my best bet is to blow a hole into the side of the Manor," Potter answered, frowning. "Malfoy, do you think—"
But Draco only stood and murmured, his voice far off, "Excuse me."
Rounding the table, he pulled open the door and stepped out into the hallway, closing it behind him.
He reached Elara just as she was making her way down the steps of the porch and caught her elbow, pulling her back. "Hey."
She turned, her breath catching and the smile that bloomed on her face mirrored the warm sensation in his chest. "Draco."
"Is everything okay?" he asked, tilting his head as a breeze whipped past. It was past dark and the moon was high in the sky, clear and round. "You looked—"
"Don't you have to be in there?" she inquired, a crease appearing between her eyebrows. She was dressed in a tight lilac t-shirt and loose jeans today and he marveled at how pretty she looked all the time. "What about the Horcr—"
"They can wait," he interrupted, unable to resist brushing a strand of her hair from her face. "What happened?"
She blinked up at him, pressing an absent-minded kiss to his palm. "It can really wait if you're busy."
"Elara," he laughed, pressing his hand to her cheek and swiping his thumb across her cheekbone. "It's okay. Tell me."
She seemed to steel herself with a deep breath. "I think I know where my sister is."
Draco's eyebrows rose. He hadn't returned to the safehouse for the night yesterday—and had felt terrible about it the entire day. She often had nightmares and he hated to think she'd be alone when she woke from them—but he'd been hunting down Order members in London all night. The Dark Lord hadn't allowed him to rest until he'd killed them.
He'd been thinking about her the entire time. Even as he maimed, tortured and killed. All he'd been thinking about was how she might be knelt in front of the toilet, throwing up or shivering in a ball on the floor, unable to breathe.
It had been torture to stay away and his nerves had only settled when he'd arrived at the safehouse and Granger told him she was fine and just out picking herbs.
"Where?" he demanded, brushing some dirt off her cheek.
"You're gonna hate me for this," she said, giving him a wry smile, "but in Malfoy Manor."
Draco drew his shoulders back and inhaled deeply, looking down at her. He could tell by the look on her face that she was hesitant, almost unsure. "And you want me to find her."
She looked up, surprised. "You're not gonna ask how I know?"
He shrugged, not caring when Weaslette and Kaia passed them on the steps, heading inside. "You're probably right anyway."
She glared at him, pushing away his hand. "You have to challenge me. What if I'm making a stupid mistake?"
"It'd be no different from ninety percent of the time," he drawled back, smirking as her glare deepened. Her mouth turned down into a scowl, her eyes dark and he chuckled.
"There's that look," he murmured, bending to kiss her forehead. She swatted him away.
"You're—" she began but he cut her off once more.
"Insufferable, I know." He pinched her hip and she rolled her eyes. "Alright, alright. Please, won't you endeavour to tell me how you stumbled upon this discovery of yours?"
Elara scowled further and turned on her heel. "I'm not speaking to you."
Draco laughed and caught her waist, spinning her right back around to face him. "Okay, alright. I'm sorry."
He had no idea how just looking at her put him in such a good mood—but seeing her frown disappear nearly made him grin. It was embarrassing.
"So I was talking to George," she said, suddenly all excited again, almost bouncing on her feet, "and he mentions how Freya had this—By the way, do you know Alfie is their kid?"
Draco's eyebrows rose further.
"Yeah, right?" She was talking fast now. "So anyway, I was talking to George and he says Freya had this smile he'd never seen before. Sincere and—and true. And that she had golden hair and brown eyes. And it just—it just clicked in my head and I was sure there was no way it was possible. I mean—I'd only gotten a glimpse of her and why the hell would she be in Malfoy Manor? But then I was sure because I'm always right and there's no way I couldn't recognise my own sister, right?"
Draco blinked, barely able to keep up but she sped on, voice growing louder.
"And I'm sure. I'm sure I saw her there that night. The night of the Masquerade. She was wearing the waitress uniform—and no mask. She had long golden hair in a braid and brown eyes. It's her. It has to be her."
Draco shook his head as she finally finished, staring up at him expectantly, long dark lashes brushing under her eyebrow. "What the fuck is she doing in Malfoy Manor?"
Elara frowned. "That's the part I haven't been able to figure out yet. Was she captured? Did she join them? I don't know. How were the waiters and waitresses picked for the Masquerade?"
"I don't know. My mother did most of the work."
Elara's eyes softened and she reached for his hand, intertwining their fingers. "You don't have to—"
"I'll ask Orion," he said, giving her a swift kiss. "He'll find a way to get it out of her."
Her resulting smile made him kiss her again.
|
"You said you narrowed it down."
"I did."
"There's over sixty names on this list."
"I know."
"So how is this narrowed down?"
"Well, Mr. Malfoy, if you'd consider that I had over a hundred and fifty names to deal with—you'd consider this narrowed down."
"How can there be so many women with golden hair at one Ball?"
"I don't know. It's in fashion."
Draco groaned, dropping the piece of parchment onto the kitchen table. "This is ridiculous."
Orion looked over his shoulder from where he was peeking into the oven to see if his carrot cake was baked. "Look, if we split it, it's a little over thirty houses each."
"Do you think I have the time for that?" Draco responded, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"Well, you're going to have to make time if you want to find her." He shut the oven again and yanked off the mittens. "We can start now. I'll get Mochi to watch the oven."
Draco did a double take. "You'll get the—the cat to watch the oven?"
"She's trained," came the reply. "When it dings, she'll jump up and twist the knob till it goes off."
Draco blinked and heaved a sigh, turning to leave the kitchen. Between Orion and Elara, he didn't know why he was still surprised.
They divided the houses equally and set off for Wiltshire. It was midday and just an hour into visiting different houses, Draco had to sling off his cloak and roll the sleeves of his white shirt up to his elbows.
Each woman they visited had been present as a waitress at Malfoy Manor the night of the Masquerade Ball. But by the time Draco had reached twenty three houses of his thirty eight quota, not one of them had been Freya. They'd all come to the door and Draco had taken one look at them and apologised for knocking at the wrong house before making his exit. One woman had even offered him tea—he'd politely declined and moved on.
A couple of them even looked terrified when they realised Draco Malfoy was on their doorstep. A couple others tried to seduce him into their beds. To both, he'd bowed his head and strode away.
It was on the twenty fourth house when something peaked Draco's interest. It was a small, dingy thing—no more than a shack—and the garden was bare, the fence nearly derelict.
Compared to the other houses he'd visited, it was shabby and uninteresting. Like where someone who wanted to keep out of sight would stay.
He pushed open the rickety gate and it made a loud creak as he stepped through, casting one last glance at the empty street behind him.
Orion would be on the other side of Wiltshire, doing his own rounds with the addresses he'd jotted down. But seeing as Draco hadn't received a Patronus yet, he assumed his friend had had no luck either.
His knock on the door echoed within the house—as if it were small enough for the sound to bounce off all the walls. Draco narrowed his eyes and took a step back, squinting against the sun as he took a look at the top story. The curtains were pulled over the window.
He knocked again. No answer. Drawing his wand, he cast a Detection Charm, not really expecting it to work. They were easy to counter and block if the proper wards were placed.
As he suspected, it came back blank. He wouldn't be able to tell if someone was inside unless he went in.
The door was easy to crack open, the lock weak and it took just a shove of his shoulder for it to snap. It swung open, revealing a dark hallway, bare and empty except for a lone lightbulb hanging from the ceiling.
Immediately, every single one of Draco's senses went on alert. He kept his wand drawn and at his side as he took cautious steps further in, eyes skating over the derelict stairs ahead of him, the peeling grey wallpaper.
The floorboards creaked underneath his feet and he caught a rat darting across the hallway, disappearing into a small hole in the wall.
There was a scuffle from behind him—barely audible—but he whirled on instinct, finding nothing behind him. Another shuffle of footsteps and he was forced to swivel back around to face the stairs.
There was definitely someone in here.
A couple steps forward and Draco was beginning to think he'd imagined the sounds. There didn't seem to be any sign of life in here—apart from the rats.
But a nagging feeling in his stomach didn't let him leave. If Freya was here and he left, he'd never forgive himself. This was the one thing he could do for Elara—and he intended on carrying it out to the last degree.
He vaguely wondered if Orion had had any luck. Maybe he'd already found Freya. Maybe his Patronus was on the way to Draco right now—
He didn't realise there was a knife pressed to his throat until he felt a thin trickle of blood. Didn't realise there was a wand jabbed into his side until his assailant dug it in deeper.
Yeah. There was definitely someone in the house.
"Who are you?" It was a hiss from behind him—definitely female.
It was difficult to speak around the knife pressed to his Adam's Apple but he managed. "I'm sure you already know."
Whoever his attacker was, she was not in a good mood. He could feel her hand tensing, could feel her a second away from dragging her hand across his throat and slitting it.
So he said, his tone calm, "Elara sends her regards."
He heard her gasp and felt her muscles slacken in shock—but he didn't move an inch. She wouldn't attack him now.
"What did you say?" She sounded breathless, her grip on the knife loosening.
"Your sister," he said without missing a beat, still unable to see her, "sends her regards."
The knife fell away. Clattered to the ground. The wand receded from his side—but when he turned, she still had it pointed at him.
Freya Jacobs hadn't changed. Her silky straight golden hair was free around her shoulders, brushing her hip and her eyes were that warm caramel brown—although they'd hardened. Her skin was as tan as Elara's—but she had no freckles, not even a beauty spot on her face.
"You're scared I'm here to kill you." Draco nodded at the wand in her hand, directed right at him. "But believe me when I say, I'm not going to harm a hair on your head."
Her eyes narrowed. "You expect me to believe you? You're Voldemort's pet."
He raised an eyebrow. "You're not even going to pretend like you're on his side?"
Her hand trembled around her wand. "Why should I? If you're here, that means you know who I am. You already know I'm not loyal."
After a pause, she went on, "It's obvious you're here to kill me—and it's also obvious I don't stand a chance against you. All I ask is that you tell me about my sister before you do it."
A smirk tugged at his lips. "Tell you about her? Why don't you just come with me and find out yourself?"
Her determined expression flickered, trying to discern whether he was serious or just toying with her.
"Elara is safe," he continued, tucking his wand back into his holster, showing her he was no threat. "I've gone to extreme lengths to make sure of it. She misses you—and wants you to come home."
Freya's eyes widened and he could see the inner conflict raging within her. To believe him or not. "She—You're saying she's safe?"
He nodded in response. "She's at a safehouse. I can't disclose the location to you—but I can take you there. She's been there for the past two years."
Again, she was on the defense, stiffening. "And the two years before that?"
He inclined his head—almost in apology. "She was kept in a cell underneath Antonin Dolohov's estate. I reached her two years too late."
She seemed to suck in a deep breath, hovering between uncertainty and believing him. "How do I know—"
"Your son is there," Draco cut her off, his voice quiet. "Alfie. George Weasley is there too."
It was then that she broke and a small cry escaped her lips as her wand fell from her hand, joining the knife on the ground.
Draco only wiped at the blood smeared on his throat, watching as she stared into space, looking void and empty, her hands on her knees as she fell to them.
"They're all safe," he told her softly, not wanting to scare her. "Elara, Alfie, George. They're waiting for you."
Freya blinked up at him, no sign of tears in her eyes. "I...I can't. I can't leave. I have to—I have to—We set this up to take them down from the inside."
Draco frowned, cocking his head. "Who?"
She waved a hand, still looking shell-shocked. "A couple of us. We managed to infiltrate Voldemort's ranks. We've been passing on information to Order members in London but there hasn't been any sign from them in the last—"
"I killed them." He sounded emotionless. "The Dark Lord made me."
She looked up at him, her hands twisting into the material of her trousers. "You—what?"
"I've had to do a number of things to make sure he never suspects me," Draco answered, bitterly. "I'll explain later. Right now, we have to—"
"No." She was suddenly on her feet, shaking her head. "No, I can't go. Not yet. Not today. I need to tell—I need to tell my people our contacts in London are dead."
Draco stared at her, surprised. "Your younger sister and your son are waiting for you—and you're not going to go?"
He could see how torn apart she was and she shook her head again, pushing her fingers through the strands of her hair. "Not right now. I'll—When can you come again?"
Draco blinked. "I might not be able to—but I can get Orion to."
"O-Orion? He's on our side too?"
Draco nodded, checking his watch. He had to get to Voldemort in the next half an hour. "I'll send him later this week. Friday. Don't you dare stay behind then."
Freya looked relieved. "I won't. She's—She's really there?"
He was halfway out the front door when he turned and said, "She is."
"And you're—you're helping her?"
Again, he nodded. "Until the day I die."
With that, he swept out of the small shack, shutting the door behind him.
|
Draco knocked on the door of what used to be his home.
He didn't know if his mother was in—but their manor in Balloch, Scotland looked the same as it always had. The elves had repaired it well after Potter had trashed it to make it look like he stole the ring.
The door swung open, revealing Narcissa Malfoy, clad in an emerald green dress.
For a second, he was taken aback. He hadn't expected her to come to the door herself—the elves usually answered—and he definitely hadn't expected her to be dressed up.
They stared at each other for a couple moments before she turned and retreated into the hallway. He followed, stepping over the threshold.
"I'm afraid I was just on my way out." Her voice was eerily calm as she snagged two emerald earrings off the table lining the wall. "If you wish to stay, I can get Mipsy to clean your room before—"
"I'm not here to stay," he cut her off, the walls in his mind strong and impenetrable. "I'm here to offer my help."
Her movements slowed where she was clipping on her earrings, her brow furrowing as she looked at him. "Your...help?"
"Yes." He dragged his fingers over the oak table, the wood smooth. "The war is almost over. Which side will win—that's still to be seen. But either way, life will only get worse for you here." He glanced up at her. "Either the Dark Lord wins—and you'll be surrounded by more death, more torture. Or the other side does—and the entire regime will crumble around you. You will be caught in the crossfire."
Narcissa crossed her arms over her chest, looking uncertain. She looked pale and haggard since he'd last seen her at the Ball. It seemed she still cared about him more than she'd like to admit.
"I can get you out," he finished, calmly. "You don't have the burden of a Dark Mark. I can get you to safety—when the war does end. Whichever side wins—I can make sure you're far away from it all."
"Why?" Her voice was hoarse. "Why would you help me? You've threatened to kill me twice now."
Draco chuckled with a shake of his head. Harsh. Humourless. "And I'll make good on that threat if you threaten Elara a third time."
She bristled, her face flashing with hurt but he went on, unable to find it in himself to care. "But at the end of the day, you are my mother. I have a duty towards you that I'm trying to fulfill—whether I like it or not."
She didn't respond for several long moments but when she did, her voice was soft. "You love her that much?"
It was suddenly difficult to swallow. "That answer should be obvious by now."
She examined him with those sharp blue eyes and said, "How many are left?"
"Two," he answered, promptly. "One is in Malfoy Manor. It's the one we're tackling next."
"Where?"
"Somewhere near the dungeons. I haven't been able to gather much on it. The Dark Lord keeps me occupied elsewhere."
"Suspicious?"
"Most likely. The loss of the ring hurt him more than he's comfortable admitting."
"So he's weak."
"Extremely. But we'd still never be able to defeat him unless all the Horcruxes are gone."
A small pause. "It'll be a bloodbath."
"I'm well aware."
Narcissa drew back her shoulders and snatched her purse off the table. "I'll find out about the one in Malfoy Manor. Focus on finding the next."
Draco barely had time to digest her words before she was sweeping past him, heading for the door. "I didn't come here to ask you to—"
"You're my son." She didn't stop as she pulled open the door. "I have more than just a duty to fulfill."
The door sealed shut behind her with a click.
———
i do not like this chapter but it covers a lot of plot points even tho it's short
vote!!! or rory will warm both sides of ur pillow <3
kisses,
nyx