Draco looked at the group of people standing in front of him.
The Weasley boy, was half hunched over and looked bloody, and bloody awful. The pig headed weasel had clearly thought it was a good idea to fight with his captors. Draco would almost have smiled at it if he didn't look so genuinely hurt.
He didn't want to look further because he knew the person next to him was surely Granger. His eyes shifted and he saw that she looked scared and defiant at the same time. Like a captured lioness in true annoying Gryffindor spirit. She was struggling against Greyback's grip. Her little sweater rode up exposing a strip of smooth skin across her stomach. Draco couldn't help looking. His eyes flickered away quickly and he was that the werewolf was leering at Granger and the exposed flesh licking his lips like Granger was some kind of a meal.
Draco felt the strong and sudden urge to punch Greyback in the face, with his fist and then hex him with a wand. He batted the thought down fiercely. It didn't matter that he didn't like the way the older man was looking at Hermione he was powerless to do anything about it. Still, it made his skin crawl.
Only moments ago he had been picturing her safe and sound...
You should know better than to hope by now, he chastised himself.
Draco realized he was staring. Granger's sharp eyes met his and locked with him.
He couldn't handle that look. He didn't want to bear the weight of the anger and the pleading he saw there. Feeling nauseous again he looked away from here and to the final member of the group.
It was Harry Potter to be sure. There was something wrong with his face, but who else could the one in front be other than the third member of the golden trio?
"They say they've got Potter," his mother announced with her usual regal authority and turned to him. "Draco come here."
Draco wanted to protest and turn heel and leave.
Unfortunately that wasn't an option.
Draco stood slowly, setting the book down on the table next to him as casually as he could manage. His mind protested with every step.
I don't want to be the Judas, the thought ran through his head. I don't want to be the one who betrays the 'Chosen One'
He tried to dismiss the thought. He didn't even like Potter.
No, he flat out Hated Harry Potter. Harry was the thorn in his side, the enemy...
That didn't change the fact that Draco did not want to be the wizard responsible for handing the wizarding worlds supposed savior over to the devil Voldemort.
Lucius saw handing over Potter as a chance at eternal glory. A few months ago Draco might have seen it that way to, before Voldemort had asked him to kill Dumbledore.
That was the night everything changed.
Draco was transported back immediately to the tower and the night mare memory he had almost every night. The memory of the old wizard standing so stoically and fearless... showing him kindness even as he held a wand like gun against the old man's head.
Draco shoved the memory aside violently. He felt his hand tremble.
Not now, you can't afford to think of it now.
He never want to think about that day, about how he had failed in two ways: Failed to live up to his family and the Dark Lord's expectations, and failed to save an old man, unarmed, and unprotected, from death.
Greyback pushed the disfigured boy forward. Draco walked over and stood at a distance in front of him.
He didn't want to get close. Even from where he stood he could see that yes, it was Harry.
Of course it is, he thought.
Potters face was pink, swollen and ugly, quite hideous to behold. It was obvious to Draco that Harry had been cursed.
The clothes were right, the glasses, and the company he was keeping certainly gave it away.
More than any of that Draco simply 'Knew' it was Potter. He had spent to many years next to Harry to not recognize him just because of some curse.
"Well boy?" rasped the werewolf.
Shut up you dumb dog, Draco answered in his head, saying nothing out loud.
He couldn't afford to antagonize the beast.
Draco swallowed, his throat feeling dry.
Potter wouldn't make eye contact with him, keeping his head low. Draco would have sneered if he wasn't so focused on remaining calm or at least, maintaining the illusion of calm...
Draco was anything but calm.
What the fuck am I supposed to do? You weren't supposed to get yourself caught you dumb twit, he growled inwardly at Potter.
Draco felt a fine sweat prick up on the back of his neck ad he started to feel claustrophobic in the giant room. There were too many people standing around looking at him, waiting for him to answer.
Why does everyone expect this of me?
It was a question that he kept asking even though he already knew the answer: because of his parents, because of his blood. He was expected to uphold the family 'Values' and tow the family line.
The privilege he had enjoyed his whole life felt like a noose tightening around his neck more and more each day.
"Well Draco?" Lucius asked avidly. "Is it? Is it Harry Potter?"
Yes father, the chosen one is kneeling right in front of you, and you can't even recognize him for yourself, Draco almost glared.
"I can't-I can't be sure." Draco answered aloud and looked away.
Why couldn't they just figure it out for themselves and leave him out of it?
Why did it have to fall to him?
"But look at him carefully. look! Come closer!" Draco felt his father's excitement and it made his stomach turn.
He sneered inwardly.
Why had he looked up to his father for so many years?
Why had be wanted to make him proud despite the cruelty, despite the berating him constantly for coming second to the 'Mudblood'?
Draco glanced over across the room at her: The Mudblood.
How was it that he hated the sound of that word only when used to describe her?
And when had that changed happened inside his head?
He remembered a time where that was what he called her...to her face...to hurt her.
She looked desperate, begging him with her eyes to protect them all with a simple lie.
She knew he knew; he could see it in those beautiful eyes
He hated her for all the times he had felt the sharp bite of his father's cane so the unfounded and very off-putting desire to play hero to her in that moment wreaked havoc inside him.
You're an idiot. You'll never be the hero. Even if you saved them they would all still hate you for what you've done to them in the past, especially her.
So what if he had tried to save her before when the death eaters had attacked the world cup? She didn't know that. She had no clue.
Her friends were too dense to pick up on his hint. If he had said it one more time even his own father would have picked up on what he was doing and there would have been hell to pay. As it was he still remembered the sharp slap of his fathers hand at the side of his head. Lucius who was always so careful about outward appearances had still stooped to striking his son in public. It coincided with things getting worse at home. It was almost like his own father couldn't quite keep the violence towards his son in check anymore.
Draco thought of that night, how he had worried that they would kill her. He didn't know why he had done it then. He had only know that he didn't want her dead. Not then, and not now.
He couldn't explain it.
He tried to write it off as just not wanting to lose the one person who had the guts to challenge him for real . She went toe to toe with him in class and she had gone toe to toe with him when she punched him square in the face third year.
Why don't you want her dead? the darker side asked at the memory of how much that punch had hurt both his pride and his nose. Crabbe and Goyle hadn't let it go until he threatened them into silence.
"Draco," His father leaned in, earnest. "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 Menacingly.
"Of course not, of course not!" Lucius moved closer and Draco took a step away, happy to distance himself from the mess.
"What did you do to him? How did he get into this state?" asked Lucius.
"That wasn't us."
If it wasn't them... Draco's thought trailed off and he looked back at Hermione.
She must have done it.
Hide his face to keep him safe while fleeing the enemy? Who was smart enough and quick enough to think of that? Granger was. He hadn't known she had it in him to hurt someone she cared about even if it was to save them. It made him feel a little proud of her.
Do you really think she hurt her friend? doubt niggled at him.
Yes, he answered back. It had to have been her because Weasel-the great clod- wouldn't think to disguise Harry's face if he had an hour let alone while trying to stay out of the grip of snatchers.
Draco glanced at Granger and knew she was the one responsible.
Probably hurt like a bitch. Draco smiled to himself at that thought, and then shook his head.
You're an asshole you know that? he told himself.
"Looks more like a stinging Jinx to me." Lucius leaned in closer examining Harry's forehead. "There's something there... It could be the scar stretched tight...Draco, come here, look properly! What do you think?" Lucius grabbed the back of Draco's neck and dragged him in close to look. Draco didn't fight, he knew there was no point.
For the first time Harry looked up at Draco.
Draco's chest tightened.
If he hadn't been sure before he was certain now, beyond any trace of a doubt.
Those were Harry Potter's eyes staring back at him.
It didn't matter the scar on the forehead-distorted as it was-the truth of his identity was clear in the pair of eyes that looked back at him.
He couldn't read the expression in those eyes.
Harry didn't look hopeful that Draco would keep the secret, not like Granger had.
Harry was looking at Draco like he was trying to read Draco.
The look made him uncomfortable.
Harry had seen what had happened in the tower.
Draco swallowed, he had the urge to run.
Don't make me do this...
Draco choked out the words: "I don't know," and walked back towards the fireplace where his mother was standing.
I won't be responsible for the fall of the world.
I won't.
-
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