Chapter Text
“Run,” shouted Professor Snape. “Draco, run!”
Draco’s legs were weak beneath him, but he did as he was bid and made toward the gates of Hogwarts. Once they were out they could disapparate. The sky was dark and the acrid smoke from the fire consuming Hagrid’s cottage stung.
Bellatrix laughed with glee during their flight across the school grounds. He believed she was truly deranged. How could she rejoice at the death of a human being…
Oh Merlin. Dumbledore was dead. Draco’s steps faltered. In an instant he felt a hand close around his arm and jerk him forward. He whipped his head around to see Snape. His mentor. The man that had killed Dumbledore.
The gate loomed ahead and soon they burst free. Snape did not release him, but side-alonged him away. Hogwarts disappeared in a whirl and Draco landed hard, the pain of it running up his legs. The Manor. He knew the place by instinct alone. He sank to his knees. His stomach caught up with him – both after the shock of the night’s events and after apparition. He retched.
“Worthless boy,” taunted his aunt. “Weak – just like your father.”
Draco closed his eyes and tried to control himself with deep breaths, but he couldn’t. What the hell had he done? What had Snape done? His insides heaved.
“Weak,” Bellatrix repeated.
“Enough,” said Snape harshly. “His mission has been completed.”
“No thanks to him,” replied his aunt. “Dumbledore would still be alive if not for you.”
Draco felt his body begin to shake. The most powerful wizard of the age was dead. He knew that he was supposed to be rejoicing, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t be glad at the death of the man who offered him clemency even after knowing all of his faults.
He retched again. Albus Dumbledore was dead. Who would stop the Dark Lord now that the headmaster wasn’t there to stand in his way?
Bellatrix bent down to his level. He didn’t look at her. She grabbed his chin and forced his face up to hers.
“The blood of the House of Black runs in your veins. It can be treacherous. It’s been known to produce weaklings and traitors. If Snape hadn’t been there to clean up your mess, where would you and your family be now in the Dark Lord’s estimation?”
Draco tried to twist out of her grasp, but she didn’t release him - her nails dug deeper into his skin. He hastened to close his mind off from her. He couldn’t let her see that he’d lowered his wand - that he hadn’t been able to do it. That Dumbledore had offered him mercy…
“Bella,” said the clear voice of his mother. “Release my son.”
Bellatrix’s eyes darted away from him and back again.
She leaned in closer – her wild hair tickling the side of his face. “I’ll be watching you boy. We can’t have another Sirius on our hands,” she whispered before dropping her grasp.
Draco’s gaze fell back to the floor. He felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Stand up,” said his mother.
He tried to rise, but his body did not want to obey. He was a weakling. Just as Bellatrix said. Just as his father had always said.
“Draco,” said his mother.
He drew a deep breath and rose. His mother stood before him, elegant as ever, but her face was an unreadable mask. He’d grown used to seeing her like this and he hated it.
“I’m taking my son to his room,” his mother announced before taking his arm and guiding him to the wing where his family resided. The Manor didn’t feel like his home anymore - hadn’t felt like his home since it had become the Dark Lord’s headquarters. His mother had set up wards and silencing charms in the family wing, but really, what good were those efforts against the Dark Lord?
Narcissa propelled Draco away from the entry vestibule toward a grand staircase. At the top of the stairs they turned into the East Wing. For a moment he felt resistance from the wards, and then they were through. Within moments she and Draco were alone in his bedroom.
“Mother, I – ” Draco began, but his mother cut him off.
“No. Not a word.”
“But - ”
“No,” she said, with a slight shake of head for emphasis. She leaned in closer, and whispered right in his ear, “We are not safe. Don’t speak of this. Let Snape do the talking. He made an unbreakable vow to keep you safe.”
“But he - ”
“Enough.”
Draco felt himself begin to tremble again. He wasn’t safe in his own room with his mother. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been safe. He choked back a sob.
“The Dark Lord will be here soon. I’m sure Bella will have summoned him by now. Make yourself presentable Draco.”
Draco looked in his mother’s eyes. He felt himself begging without words. He wanted this to end. He wanted to feel safe – to be saved. His mother stared back at him with eyes so like his own – a cool grey. The Black family’s eyes. She did not speak, just held his gaze for a long moment before walking out of his room, shutting the door behind her with a quiet click.
He sat down on the floor and held his head in his hands. Dumbledore was gone. Mere hours ago Dumbledore had offered to save him and his family. Who would save them now?
His suit felt constricting. He wrenched it off of his body and with clumsy, numb fingers undid the buttons of his shirt and pealed that off as well. He looked down at his hands. How much blood was on them? Who had been killed or maimed by the Death Eaters he’d gotten into Hogwarts?
His mind kept repeating the word, “weak,” over and over. He’d always been weak.
Dumbledore had been wrong. He wasn’t worth saving.
Potter had known this. Potter had always known he was weak. Draco ran a hand across the silvery scars that traced across his shoulders, chest, and abdomen. Potter, after all, hadn’t tried to save him – no – he’d cast a spell that had sliced Draco open. All the dittany in the world couldn’t erase the scars the Chosen One had inflicted on him. And Draco hated him. Hated that he had never known how to act around Potter so that he would ever look at Draco with anything other than disgust. And in that bathroom as Draco had cried to Moaning Myrtle, he’d looked up to see Potter’s emerald eyes glaring at him in the mirror. In an instant, Draco had read the scorn and revulsion in the other boy’s face and he’d lashed out in his pain and humiliation, sending an unforgiveable towards Dumbledore's golden boy. Moments later, his body had seared with pain and he lay gasping and choking in a puddle of water as blood had swirled around him. Potter had stared down at him, and it had felt like an eternity of fear and pain before Professor Snape had found him and bound his wounds enough to get him to the hospital.
Oh yes, Draco hated Harry Potter. Hated that the boy whose attention he had always sought had looked at him that day as if he were foul and not worthy of a moment’s kindness. Potter who was brave and kind, and was the predicted savior of the wizarding world had not saved Draco. He had not even tried. And Draco hated him for it.
Crack. Draco looked up to see a house elf dressed in an old pillowcase.
“Mistress Malfoy says Master Draco is to be ready for an audience with the Dark Lord in half an hour.”
Draco looked at the clock on the mantel and did the math. Midnight. He was to see the Dark Lord at midnight.
He nodded at the house elf. “Tell my mother I’ll be ready.”
With another crack, the house elf was gone. After a moment, Draco hauled himself to his feet and walked to the ensuite bathroom. He shed the rest of his clothing and stood in the immaculate shower and tried to imagine the hot water rinsing away his fear and exhaustion. He wondered if this would be the last time he showered. If these would be his final moments on earth. He clamped down on these thoughts and tried to school his mind to be blank. The Dark Lord would be able to read his fear and doubt if Draco let him. Bellatrix was a mad woman, but she had at least schooled him well in Occlumency. The Dark Lord hadn’t wanted Dumbledore or the staff at Hogwarts to find out about Draco’s assigned mission and had ordered Bellatrix to teach him how to protect his mind. Draco, however, found the skills he’d learned just as useful in his dealings with other Death Eaters and with the Dark Lord himself.
He turned off the shower, dried himself with a charm, and buttoned himself into a clean black suit. The Dark Lord and his father favored robes, but Draco liked the ease of movement that a more minimalist suit offered. He avoided looking at himself in the mirror. He knew what he’d see – a pale face with dark smudges beneath his eyes. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d really slept.
There was a rap at the door. His Aunt Bellatrix’s voice drifted through the door. “Little Draco. He is here for you.”
He pulled at his sleeves, straightening his jacket. The knob of the door turned, but didn’t open. Bellatrix snarled. The wards on his room at least appeared to keep her out even if she was able to prowl through the family wing. He allowed himself a small smile at this, before emptying his mind of emotion and walking to the door.
“Aunt,” he said.
“The Dark Lord is most displeased with you.”
He said nothing, but followed behind her as she led the way to the dining room, where the Dark Lord liked to convene his acolytes. He felt like his mind was drifting above him and watching his body from afar. He’d discovered that when he really closed off his mind that he had these out of body sensations.
He came to a stop behind Bellatrix at the foot of the table. The Dark Lord remained seated at the head. Standing to his side was Snape. Seated to his left, were his mother and his father.
Draco’s head snapped up. His father looked disheveled and was still dressed in a prison uniform. His shoulders were hunched. Gone from his face was the aloofness and arrogance that Draco had been taught defined a Malfoy.
“Father?”
Lucius did not lift his eyes or acknowledge that Draco had spoken except for the slightest tremor in his posture.
“I am disappointed in you Draco,” said the Dark Lord. “I gave you a task to prove your worth and you failed me. I had so thought you would want to bring honor to me and your family.”
Draco tried to control a flinch as he felt a heavy weight slide past his leg. He glanced down to see the Dark Lord’s great snake make its way down the length of the dining room to its master.
“I honored you with the Dark Mark boy, and you, like your father, have repaid me with failure.”
He concentrated on breathing. He would not think about the day he had been marked – he could not hazard a memory into that minefield of emotion.
“You had so much promise Draco – with your Malfoy and Black lineage. So much potential. Such a pity you have been a waste of my time and esteem.”
The Dark Lord rose then and stepped toward him, followed by his snake. Draco didn’t meet his eyes but stared resolutely at the floor.
“Your father clearly failed in his duty in raising you to be a trusted and valuable servant.”
Draco darted a quick glance to his mother. Her eyes met his for a moment before he heard, “Crucio!”
Pain coursed through Draco’s nerves and he hit the floor. He opened his mouth but no sound came out. The pain was overwhelming. His body lurched and convulsed as currents of electric torture pulsed through him. Bellatrix had used this curse on him before, for mere moments when he failed to live up to her standards of instruction, but those times paled in comparison to this. This was like nothing he’d ever known. He’d take Sectumsempra again and gladly.
He felt the onslaught of pain stop. He was raw and his body tingled with the memory and after effects of the curse, but it was no longer spasming through his body.
Lord Voldemort took a step closer to him and leered down. “No more chances for you young Malfoy. Crucio.”
He convulsed on the floor. The pain was impossible. He tried to free his mind from the pain, but he couldn’t. It was too much – too much to bear.
“Draco!”
His name ripped through his consciousness and the pain stopped.
“You dare to question the Dark Lord?” he heard his aunt say.
Draco rolled to his side and strained to open his eyes. Through the haze of lingering pain, he saw that his mother had risen, she held her hands outstretched and imploring.
“He is my only son my Lord,” she begged.
“And what a burden he must have been for you,” said the Dark Lord sounding almost bored.
With what little strength and focus remained, Draco sought to establish a mental connection with his mother. “Don’t,” he pleaded. “Please.” He’d done so many horrible things over the past year to protect her, he couldn’t risk her now.
He saw Narcissa give a slight shake of head before saying, “He is my child.”
His mother was ignored. The Dark Lord instead turned to Snape and said, “He was once a favorite pupil of yours Severus. How could that be when he was so clearly undeserving.”
“If I may, my Lord, he did not fail you. Not completely,” said Snape in his rich voice. “There was the issue of Harry Potter. He was there, at the astronomy tower.”
Lord Voldemort turned swiftly. “Harry Potter was there? Bellatrix, you did not mention this.”
“My Lord, it is true the Potter brat pursued us, hurling insults and ineffective curses, but what does that have to do with Draco failing you?”
Draco closed his eyes and for one moment allowed himself to think of Potter. He wondered if the Dark Lord had ever reduced him to a sniveling mess. Draco doubted it. Potter was all defiance – the very poster boy of Gryffindor foolhardiness.
“When I arrived at the tower,” continued Snape. “Potter was concealed below the viewing platform. He was held there by a spell undoubtedly cast by Dumbledore. He could see and hear everything. If Draco had killed Dumbledore as ordered, it would have been one school boy’s word against the other. Your plans, my Lord, are too important to get mired down by Potter’s accusations. You have plans for the ministry and the Prophet. It will be much easier to control any fallout when Potter accuses me of Dumbledore’s death. After all, it is well known that he loathes me. So much easier to say that the boy is confused and keen to blame a professor he never had a chance of swaying despite all of his fame and celebrity.”
Draco closed his eyes. He wanted to give in to the pain and despair. Harry Potter had seen everything. Potter knew that Dumbledore had offered him mercy and he would have seen that for a moment before the others arrived that Draco had considered it – that he had wanted to believe that he could be redeemed.
“You disobeyed me Severus. The death of Dumbledore was Draco’s task.”
From the floor, he cracked his eyes open to see Snape bow his head in ascent to the Dark Lord’s words.
“However, I see the wisdom in your actions. Potter must not derail my plans. And you,” said the Dark Lord pointing his wand at Draco. “You must learn to obey without question.”
With a flick of Lord Voldemort’s wand, Draco felt his body hurl across the floor. His stomach lurched. He had no control over where he was going. He couldn’t even raise his arms to shield himself before he was slammed hard into the wall. His whole body shuddered at the impact before he slid to the floor. His vision was blurred, but he saw the dark smudge of the snake slide across the room to its master.
“A prisoner is being brought here Draco. You will be charged with ensuring he does all that we ask of him. Do not fail me again.”
The wretched man that held his life in his hands exited the room in a swirl of black robes. Draco shut his eyes, and let his mind drift away from his broken body.