A Touch of Necromancy

by Mother_of_Lilith

Summary:

Shortly after the war, Lucius is forced to work for the Ministry in exchange for his freedom. He is tasked with capturing rogue Death Eaters. He recruits Draco and his friends to aid in his missions. One mission goes terribly awry when Draco is hit with an Avada. Now Lucius, mad with anguish, hopes to resurrect his son with ancient, dark magic, not caring what consequences this may bring.

Chapter 1: A Second Chance

Chapter 1 - A Second Chance

Lucius’ gaze swept around the Wizengamot from his cage. He had been placed in the center of the room, so that he could be overwhelmed with humiliation from every angle. It was working. His Azkaban garb was itchy and a size too big, his hair had never felt so dirty in his life, and he would kill for a decent meal.

He noticed there were no reporters at this hearing.  Strange.

He could feel his wife staring at him from the visitor's bench, but he couldn't look at her.  He chanced one glance at Draco, and it was too much.  

Draco was one of the lucky ones, if you could even call it that.  He only spent a week in Azkaban after the war and his trial was moved up the docket due to his young age. Although he’d had to face the Wizengamot, just like all captured Death Eaters, to answer for his crimes, he was freed with minimal consequences thanks to the testimony of Harry Potter and Hermione Granger.  Plus, the Wizengamot took his age and his circumstances into consideration.  He was only 16 years old when he was forced to take the mark and assigned an impossible mission, all due to his father's capture.

The boy who didn't have a choice.  That's what Hermione called him during the testimony, and Lucius hated it.

Still, even a week in Azkaban did a number on his appearance and Lucius could only blame himself for his son's downfall.  Draco looked paler than usual, skinnier if that was possible, and completely defeated.  It was heartbreaking.

Lucius watched as the Wizengamot called their first witness.  Harry Potter.  It was always bloody Harry Potter.

He tried to pay attention, he truly did.  But he was so tired and all he wanted was to go home and be with his family.  He heard Harry mention something regarding Lucius's refusal to fight in the final battle, ignoring the threats and pleas from his fellow Death Eaters, choosing instead to search for his son through the chaos.

"Mr. Malfoy!" came the booming voice of an older, robust wizard who sat on the counsel.

Lucius tensed, jolted from his thoughts.  He noticed Harry had already left the witness stand and he had completely lost track of everything that followed.  Lucius stared at the older wizard, trying to hide his disdain for the man; his life did hang in the balance after all.

"Yes?" Lucius croaked; he hadn't used his voice in so long.

"Would you be willing to give the names and locations of rogue Death Eaters in exchange for a lighter sentence?" he sounded annoyed; he must have already asked him this.

Lucius finally managed to look at his wife.  The usually poised, unreadable woman was staring at her husband with desperation in her eyes.  The last time he saw that look in her eyes, Draco was about to take the mark.  He couldn't bear to see her look like that again.

"Yes," he answered with some confidence.  He couldn't think of any rogue Death Eaters at the moment, but he would do anything to be reunited with his family.

The counsel before him exchanged glances and some whispered to each other.  It was odd, seeing people whisper in front of him and knowing they were discussing his fate.

"We'll need some time to deliberate," a middle-aged witch finally said, giving Lucius a playful smirk that irritated him to no end.

His cage started to lower itself into the floor.  Shame consumed him and he found himself avoiding his family's gaze once more.  Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Draco try to stand but his mother stopped him.

And now he was alone in this cold, dark room.

What would his life be like if he were free?  What shame would follow his family for the years or decades to come?  How long would it be before Lucius could show his face in public?  Would charitable donations help?  Would it look desperate?  Pathetic?  Did he ruin Draco's chances of a suitable marriage prospect?  Would Narcissa abandon him?

Now Lucius started to question if it would be better for his family if he just rotted away in Azkaban.

He hit the bars in front of him, shaking himself of these pathetic thoughts.  He was a Malfoy; he was proud; he needed to put on the appearance of a man you couldn't intimidate.  He would see this through; this was just another obstacle to overcome.  He would go home with his dignity.  He could fix this.  He had to.

He would pace if he could, but the cage in which he was held only gave him enough room to spin around.  That, at least, was still beneath him.

How long did they need to deliberate?

Did they make Draco wait this long?  He wasn't at Draco's trial, naturally.  But he was relieved when his son didn't return to Azkaban.

The cage rattled and suddenly pulled upwards.  He sighed in relief and looked up, wondering what fate awaited him in that horribly lit courtroom.

He looked for his wife the moment the cage settled.  Their eyes met and she pursed her lips, trying to hide a sly smile.

A smile.

He looked back at the counsel, the first glimpse of hope coursing through him.

"Mr. Malfoy," came the voice of the woman who smirked at him earlier, "The vote regarding your freedom was close, but majority has spoken.”

His eyes widened in anticipation as he gripped the bars and stared on at the witches and wizards who held his fate.

“Your crimes date back to the first Wizarding War, aiding the dark lord and then lying about it, saying that you were under the Imperius Curse.  You sullied your family name once more during the second Wizarding War, aiding in the rebuilding of the Death Eater army and attacking students in the Department of Mysteries.  Not to mention, recruiting your only son into this damned war.  You used your influence and your wealth to bring a horrible man into power.  For this, you should live out your days in Azkaban."

Lucius flinched.  He was starting to question why Narcissa had smiled at him.

"However," the woman sighed, and Lucius looked at her, "Your refusal to fight in the final battle took an immense amount of courage.  In light of this and your previous connections, we feel like you could be of use to us, so, we are prepared to offer you clemency. We have created a list of rogue Death Eaters.  Your release is contingent upon the successful apprehension of all witches and wizards listed.  If, you think you can manage?”

Lucius realized this was why there were no reporters at this hearing.

He gulped and nodded to the woman, "I can manage that, madam."

The woman quirked a brow, "You will report to the Ministry at 8AM sharp on Monday morning.  You will meet with Kingsley Shacklebolt to go over the list of Death Eaters that are still at large.  I need you to understand Mr. Malfoy, if you fail to capture these Death Eaters within a reasonable amount of time, you will return to Azkaban and you will remain there for the rest of your days."

"I understand," he responded.  He wondered what a reasonable amount of time meant.

"You are not entirely free, Mr. Malfoy.  You will report to the Ministry every Monday morning and whenever the interim Minister requests you.  You will not leave your home unless approved by the interim Minister of Magic and your home will be subject to random inspections without any prior warning.  Are we clear?"

Lucius nodded.  He could handle this.  He could handle anything for Narcissa and Draco.  "Yes."

"Then Mr. Malfoy," she sighed; she apparently voted against this, "You are free to join your family and go home."

He heard a relieved gasp from his wife, and he closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against the bars.  He had been given a second chance.

***********************************************

Draco was the first to floo to the travel parlor in Malfoy Manor, followed closely by Lucius and then Narcissa.

It felt good to be home and back in his normal robes.  After six months in Azkaban, he had lost weight and Narcissa had to use a quick spell to adjust his clothes to his new measurements.

His home looked different as well.  He wiped a gloved finger on the mantle and was disgusted to see a layer of dust.  He looked at Narcissa.  Draco smirked and crossed his arms as he leaned against the doorway.

She was about to explain when Lucius called out, “TINSY!”

An awkward feeling crept up Lucius’s spine as silence filled the room.

“Tinsy isn’t here,” Draco responded nonchalantly.

Lucius looked at him dumbfounded.  He shook his head and then called out, “CRACKLE!”

“Crackle is gone too,” said Draco as he stared at his fingernails.

“What do you mean gone?” Lucius seethed, “PIP!”

“Not here.”

“HISSY!”

“Try again.”

“Where are the elves?!” Lucius hissed between gritted teeth, “The manor is filthy!”

“They left,” responded Narcissa, straightening her shoulders and sounding matter of fact.

“What do you mean they left?” Lucius stared at her, waiting- no, hoping, for this tasteless prank to be over with.

Narcissa sighed and checked the sofa for dust before sitting down, smoothing out her dress as she spoke, “While I was trying to restore our image in wizarding society, it was suggested to me that I give our elves the option to be a paid worker, or freed.”

Lucius gulped, “You…. Offered to pay the house elves?”

“I did,” she nodded as she folded her hands on her lap, “They all chose freedom, except for two.”

“Two?” he repeated with a quirked brow.

“Yes dear, two.  You have Frick and Whispy.  Frick handles the meals, the cleaning, and delivering of messages.  Whispy takes care of the gardens, the horses and the peacocks.  We have a rather large estate, and I have to give them at least two days off a week, so the only rooms that get cleaned regularly are the kitchen, the main dining room, our bedroom, Draco’s bedroom, two bathrooms and the entry.  He gets to the study, the library, the ballroom, the travel parlor and all the guest rooms when he can.” She kept eye contact with her husband throughout her entire explanation and her expression never faltered.

“This is preposterous!” Lucius scowled, “Pip and Tinsy have been with us since before Draco was born!”

“And Frick was a wedding gift, at least he stayed.  He’s elderly, but he’s loyal.”

Lucius muttered something under his breath as he turned back to the fireplace and grabbed a handful of floo powder.

“What are you doing?” his son asked.

“What does it look like I’m doing?  I am going to purchase more elves.”

Draco scoffed, “You aren’t allowed to leave the manor unless it’s for work.”

Lucius growled and threw the powder into the fireplace.  A waste.  “Then you go, Draco.  What have you been doing to help your mother out around here?”

“Lucius!” Narcissa scolded as she stood from the sofa, “Don’t.  He’s going through a lot too.  I get enough help around here.”

“Is that so?  It surely doesn’t seem that way when you look at the state of the manor!” Lucius waved his arms around dramatically, “Tell me, what are you and Draco doing for meals when Frick is off?”

“We aren’t helpless, father,” answered Draco, “Frick is good about storing meals for us on his days off and if we don’t feel like heating it, we just go out to eat.”

“This is absurd,” said the senior Malfoy as he began to pace the parlor, “I’m gone six months, the manor is in disarray, and we lost our house elves!  Next, you’re going to tell me we lost the chateau in France, and we’ll have to start buying our books at the secondhand store.”

He watched as Draco rolled his eyes and Narcissa chuckled.

“The manor was in disarray the moment Voldemort moved in,” Draco said with venom in his tone that he’s never used on his father before.  Lucius stared at him curiously as he continued, “His Death Eaters used our home for their own personal playground, their torture chamber, their brothel, and their buffet.   Even when we were fully staffed our elves couldn’t keep up with all the messes the Death Eaters left behind.  They destroyed mum’s garden, used the peacocks for target practice and abused the house elves!  You’re questioning the elf’s loyalty when you stood by and let Voldemort and his minions destroy our family home.”

The father and son stared at each other for a long moment as tension filled the air.  If Narcissa was disturbed, she didn’t seem to show any signs of it.  She just removed her gloves delicately, taking her time as her husband and her son seethed in silence.

She cleared her throat and stepped away from the sofa; this got the men’s attention.  “Frick is working tonight, and he prepared you your favorite meal.  Sort of a welcome home ordeal.  It should be ready soon.”

Lucius could only nod as Narcissa stepped past him and walked out of the travel parlor.  Draco wasn’t far behind her, refusing to give his father another glance.  Lucius sighed, looked around the travel parlor once more, then went off down the hallway, following the scent of the gourmet meal his loyal house elf had prepared for him.

***********************************

Lucius was on time to Shacklebolt’s office the following Monday morning.  He had been waiting at least 15 minutes.  He hated to be kept waiting.

The purple carpets were ghastly; he felt Shacklebolt was punishing him by making him wait and stare at them. If he still had his wand he would burn them, risking another trip to Azkaban was better than seeing this hideous carpet again.

The mahogany doors opened, and Kingsley Shacklebolt finally made an appearance, donning purple robes to match the horrible purple carpet.

Lucius was going to be sick.

“Mr. Malfoy,” he greeted with caution in his voice.

“Minister,” Lucius nodded.

Kingsley cleared his throat and sat at his desk, motioning for Lucius to sit as well.  He shuffled some parchment around until he found the one he was looking for.

“As you know, a few Death Eaters managed to escape during the battle at Hogwarts.  Our aurors have been doing their best to track them down but leads are few and far between and none of them have gotten us closer to finding them.” He paused a moment to see if Lucius was going to say anything before continuing, “During a meeting last month, Robards brought up that your hearing was coming up and that we should consider using your intel and in exchange, you get your freedom.”

“I’m aware,” was all Lucius said.

Kingsley stared at him a moment before continuing, “I understand with you being in Azkaban for the past six months, your communication with the outside world has been sparse.  But your wife was never imprisoned, and your son has been free for over 5 months.  If they are not attuned to any information, I’m sure your connections are.”

Lucius nodded again then spoke, “I’m assuming the press was not made aware of my release due to my new responsibilities with the Ministry?”

“That is correct,” Kingsley stated, “I’m sure as of this morning, they know that you are a free man, but they do not know the stipulations of your freedom.  It would be wise, Mr. Malfoy, that if the press approaches you or your family, you will give them no comment.”

“Of course,” Lucius responded, “I wouldn’t dare blow my cover and risk imprisonment.”

“Good,” said Kingsley with a hint of sarcasm, “Let’s go over this list then, shall we?” he placed the parchment at the center of his desk and turned it to where the writing faced Lucius.  He started going over everyone on the list one by one.

“Augustus Rookwood,” he began, “He was stunned by Aberforth Dumbledore during the Battle at Hogwarts but unfortunately, during all the chaos, he was mistaken for dead by passers-by.  By the time someone came to collect his body he was gone.”

Lucius only nodded, he knew this but didn’t let Kingsley know that.  Still, he didn’t have a clue where he could be.

“Walden Macnair,” Kingsley continued, “I was highly disappointed to hear we lost this one.  He was rendered unconscious by Rubeus Hagrid and collected for transportation to Azkaban.  Somehow, he never made it to Azkaban.  We have interviewed all of our guards who were in charge of transport, none of them have answers and we are assuming a confundus charm was involved.”

He paused to see if Lucius had any questions before continuing, “Antonin Dolohov, he was taken down by Professor Flitwick and bound in the Great Hall, also awaiting transport.  Someone spotted another Death Eater untying him and escaping, we are assuming it was Jugson, who is also on this list.”

Lucius sighed.  Dolohov and Jugson were going to be tricky, but he had to try.

“The Carrow twins,” Kinglsey glanced at Lucius and noticed this piqued his curiosity, “Potter and McGonagall had them tied to the ceiling in Ravenclaw Tower, as soon as we made it to the doors to collect them, we heard the crack of apparition, and we missed them and their savior by mere seconds.  This was also the moment we realized the anti-apparition wards had been dismantled.”

Interesting, Lucius thought as he leaned back in his chair, someone was obviously helping these Death Eaters escape. Who could it be?

“And lastly, Corban Yaxley.  He was seen battling George Weasley and Lee Jordan but was lost in the chaos as more Death Eaters arrived.  We have spoken with Mr. Weasley and Mr. Jordan several times on this.  Neither one was able to overpower him or keep track of where he went, and we are assuming he escaped once he realized the battle was lost.”

Lucius clasped his hands together as he collected his thoughts.   As soon as he got home, he would need to piece together everything that happened at his home while Voldemort was residing there and everything he could remember from the battle.  He would also need to get in contact with the few remaining comrades he had left, all of whom served Voldemort in some manner but managed to avoid prison time either through lack of proof or using their wealth to buy their way out of imprisonment.

“I no longer have a wand,” Lucius said after a few moments of tense silence, “I’ll need one if I am going to be capturing dangerous people.”

“You’ll go to Ollivander’s as soon as this meeting is over, I wouldn’t expect you to go on missions without one,” Kinglsey said as he made notes on a separate piece of parchment.

“And I suspect I still need to contact you for approval every time I leave the manor?  Even if it’s for a mission?”

Kinglsey looked up from his paperwork and nodded, “Yes, you cannot go anywhere without my approval.  I understand sending requests through owl would be a slow process so we will need other means of communication.”

“Such as?” Lucius asked, getting impatient.

“Can you produce a patronus?”

“No,” Lucius scoffed.

“That’s a shame,” Kingsley responded with a sigh, “We will communicate through portrait then.  I will need you to purchase an empty canvas or any form of landscape artwork to place in your home and allow access for my great grandfather to enter it.”

“What?” Lucius looked absolutely insulted at this suggestion, “You want me to grant your great grandfather permission into my home?”

“Just one picture in your home Malfoy, I’m not suggesting you hang it up in your bedroom.  He already has access to all the pictures in my home and my office.”

“And what if you are not at home or at work?”

“That won’t be an issue Malfoy,” Kingsley took a moment to take a drink of water, “My great grandfather knows that if he cannot reach me, he is free to deliver my messages to my secretary, the night guard or my girlfriend.”

Lucius scowled, disgusted at the thought that too many people were starting to get involved in his personal life.

“So, in order for me to, let’s say, take my family out to a nice dinner, I’ll have to ask your secretary or your night guard or your girlfriend if I can do that?” He had a bitter taste in his mouth.  This meeting couldn’t end soon enough.

Kingsley chuckled at this, “My great grandfather knows not to give too much information.  He will simply tell them that he is looking for me and he has a message from Lucius Malfoy.”

“And am I to assume that he will always be in the portrait in my home, so I have continuous access to him?”

Kinglsey nodded, “That would be correct.”

“Lovely,” Lucius groaned, “A spy in my home.”

Kingsley chuckled, “You could always learn to produce a patronus.”

The tension in the air was suffocating to Lucius as he glared at the Minister.  Kingsley didn’t seem phased as he opened a small drawer in his desk and pulled out a black box, placing it on the desk beside the parchment.  Lucius watched him closely as Kingsley opened the box, displaying a simple silver band.

“What’s the occasion?” Lucius asked with a quirk of his brow.

“Your pending freedom,” Kingsley said cooly, “This is how I track you, Malfoy.  You will wear this ring at all times, and I will know if you ever remove it.”

Lucius scoffed.

“Which finger do you want this on?” Kingsley asked.

“The middle one,” Lucius said with a sneer, hoping the slight would affect the Minister in some way.  He was wrong.  Kingsley seemed to enjoy the jab.  He handed Lucius the ring then watched as Lucius removed the glove of his right hand and placed the ring on his middle finger.  The ring glowed as it adjusted in size, fitting comfortably around the digit.

Lucius gave an annoyed sigh as he stared at the silver ring. He decided now was the time to move on from this conversation, “Am I allowed to recruit anyone for these missions?”

Kinglsey pondered that a moment and then asked, “Are you wanting to use one of my aurors?”

“No,” Lucius responded almost too quickly, “I want to recruit my son.”

“Hmm..” Kinglsey sat back and stroked his chin, “Your son?  How exactly could he assist you in these missions?”

“He’s capable, Minister.  My son is intelligent, he’s well versed in the members of our social circle and knows who and how to question someone without seeming suspicious.  I have no doubts that Draco will be an asset to this mission.” Lucius paused and shrugged a shoulder, “And if this will help him rebuild his image, then that is even better.”

Kinglsey looked suspicious, his next words were painful, “Remember the last time you recruited your son for a dangerous mission?  It ruined him, he’ll never be the same again.”

The harsh reminder hit Lucius harder than he thought it would, but he wouldn’t allow Kinglsey to see that, “I know, but as I stated before, this could help repair his image.”

“Fine,” Kingsley answered after short consideration, “But the Ministry is in no way liable for whatever may happen to Draco during these missions.  He will be entirely under your care.”

“As he should be,” regarded Lucius, “Is there anything else, Minister?”

“Yes,” said Kingsley, “I expect regular updates, at least three times a week.  You will report to me every Monday morning and you have thirty days to capture your first target.  If no one is caught within the next thirty days, the terms of your release will be re-evaluated.”

Lucius’s eyes widened at this, “Thirty days?” He felt his chest tighten.

“Thirty days,” Kinglsey repeated authoritatively.

Lucius drew in a deep breath.  He knew he didn’t have a choice. “Fine.” He said through gritted teeth.

Kingsley smiled and nodded at the door.  Lucius was more than happy to leave.

“Ollivander’s then straight home, Malfoy” Kingsley called out as Lucius was almost past the door.  Lucius paused, he didn’t answer, then continued down the hall.

*************

His trip to Ollivander’s was uncomfortable, yet successful.  He could feel the tension in the shop and Mr. Ollivander was quick to assist him and get him out of there as quickly as possible.

The wand that chose him was almost an exact replica of his old wand, elm with a core of dragon heartstring.  Slick black in color and about an inch longer than his previous one.  Feeling the magic course through his veins the moment he touched that wand felt invigorating.

Lucius stepped through the fireplace of his travel parlor and dusted the soot off his robes.  He paused when he heard chuckling coming from the drawing room.  He listened; the laughing was coming from his wife followed by a male’s voice.  A voice that did not belong to his son.

This was Narcissa’s polite chuckle; he could tell so he wasn’t too worried.  That other voice sounded familiar, young, cocky and flirtatious.

He sighed and rolled his eyes. Nott.

Lucius strolled into the drawing room and saw his wife sitting down for tea with Theodore Nott, who was leaning far too close on the table muttering something that Lucius could not quite make out.  Narcissa kept her distance, sitting straight up in her seat and giving Theodore cautious stares as she sipped her tea.

Lucius cleared his throat and Theodore nearly pissed himself.

He’d never seen Draco’s friend stand up so quickly, scratching the back of his head nervously as he nodded to Lucius.

“Mr. Malfoy,” he squeaked, “I heard you were released a few days ago, what wonderful news!  I was just joining Mrs. Malfoy for tea while I waited for Draco to get ready.  We’re heading to the Quidditch pitch soon, with the weather being so nice and all and both of us being out of practice.”  Theodore was speaking so quickly he was beginning to trip over his own words.

Lucius smirked as he eyed the nervous boy before him.  He couldn’t fault him for flirting with his wife, being that age and all- and Narcissa was a stunning woman.  But Theodore was playing a dangerous game and Lucius was more than willing to put him in his place.

“Theodore,” he addressed him gruffly, “Speaking of being out of practice, when was the last time you dueled?”

“Sir?” Theodore choked with wide eyes.

Lucius removed his gloves as he spoke, “You know, during my time in Azkaban, I picked up quite a few new hexes.  Tricky, dirty hexes that are too disturbing to be put into spell books.  And as luck would have it, I picked up a new wand today.”  Lucius grinned as he pulled the wand from his robes, “Care to test it out?”

Theodore’s face turned a shade paler, and he gulped, shaking his head vigorously. “You know, I should go see what’s taking Draco so long.  It’s a shame to waste the daylight.”

Theo nodded to Narcissa, though he didn’t make eye contact with her, and then walked towards the only exit, which happened to have Lucius standing in it.  Lucius eyed Theo as the poor kid had to turn sideways and maneuver his way around Lucius in order to exit the drawing room.

Once Theo was out of eyesight, Lucius turned to his wife who was staring at him with a coy grin.  He grinned back at her and shook his head. “This is almost like the time I caught him in your dressing room when he was 13 years old.”

Narcissa laughed, and not a polite laugh.  This was a laugh that women of high society were told was too loud and boisterous for a lady.  It was a laugh she reserved only for her husband.  And Gods, how he missed hearing that laugh.

She wiped a tear from her eye and sat her teacup down, “I’m surprised he kept coming to the house after you threatened him.”

“He’s tenacious, I’ll give him that,” Lucius said with a sneer, “Should I be worried about what happened here over the past 6 months?”

Narcissa scoffed and gave Lucius a teasing look, “Please Lucius, that boy wouldn’t know what to do with me if he got the opportunity.”

Lucius snickered.

“How did your meeting go dear?” Narcissa asked.

Lucius shrugged, “As predicted.  I must report to him regularly and he is expecting the first capture within the next thirty days.”

Narcissa’s eyes widen, “Thirty days?  They expect results so soon?”

“I’m afraid so, love.  He is allowing me to recruit Draco on these missions.”

Narcissa stiffened, which in turn caused Lucius to stiffen, “Come again?” she asked.

“It will be fine ‘Cissa,” Lucius said reassuringly as he approached the table and took the seat across from her, “I need Draco, he’s young and the young like to gossip.  He can report back to me what he’s hearing from all his friends and their parents.  Not to mention, he has freedom to travel whereas I do not.  I promise you ‘Cissa, I will not put our son in harm’s way.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, “You’ve made that promise before.”

Ouch.

Lucius flinched, “This time is different.”

Narcissa eyed her husband as she took a careful sip of tea.  Placing the teacup back on the saucer, she sat it down without so much as a clink.  She stood from her seat and Lucius stood as well.  She was about to make her exit when they both noticed Draco standing in the doorway with his best mate.

“Draco!” Lucius greeted, “We were just talking about you.  Come, there is something I need to discuss.”

Draco eyed him warily but approached his parents, leaving Theodore to lean nervously in the doorway.

Narcissa cleared her throat as Draco approached her and greeted her with a kiss on the cheek.  She smiled at her son, “I’ll leave you two to it.” She nodded to her husband and then joined Theodore in the doorway.

Theo smirked at Narcissa as he stepped aside to let her pass, “Where are you off to Mrs. Malfoy?”

Narcissa gave Theodore a knowing look before saying, “I think I am going to take a stroll through the gardens.”

“Ah,” Theodore nodded and flashed a toothy grin, “Do you need someone to accompany you outside?”

Lucius nudged Draco as he nodded towards Theo, “Go get your friend.  He looks far too comfortable with my wife.”

“Oi!” Draco called to Theo, “Back away from my mum, mate.”

Theo threw his hands up in a surrendering gesture.  Narcissa pinched his cheek and smiled before she finally exited the room. He turned back to the two Malfoy men; his hands went to his pockets, and he rocked on his heels anxiously.

“Is this a private discussion?” he asked them, “Should I go?”

“No Theodore,” Lucius said with a stern voice, “You need to stay where I can see you.  Besides, you may be of some use to me.”

“Oh?” Theo quirked a brow as his curiosity piqued.  He joined the two other men at the table, his fear of Lucius gone all too quickly.

Lucius looked between to the two younger men, the wheels in his head turning.  Getting Theodore involved wasn’t a bad idea.

“Sit down boys,” Lucius said after a moment, “We have much to discuss.”

 

Notes:

The beautiful tea scene photo was done by the talented Alix! Please follow her on IG @alixfelicis. Everything she does is simply beautiful

Chapter 2: Good Help is Hard to Find

He hated to admit it, but Theodore Nott was perfect for these missions.  His father, the fat sod, still had connections that Lucius needed.  Lucius was angry that Theodore Nott Sr avoided prison time.  How?  To put it simply, Nott Sr could buy his way out of anything, and if he couldn’t buy, he could sure lie.  It also helped that he didn’t have Lord Voldemort residing in his home during the latter part of the war.  He was still very much involved, just more behind the scenes.  Lucius assumed that Nott Sr taught his son how to remain behind the scenes as well.  This could work.  This was going to work.

Ugh.  But Theodore was a pest.  Lucius watched him as he grinned stupidly at nothing, probably thinking about Narcissa again.  What was wrong with that kid?

“So..” Theodore drawled as he put his feet up on the table and folded his hands behind his head, “You’re saying you need my help to keep you from going back to prison? Interesting…”

Theodore smirked.  The smug bastard.

“What’s in it for me?”

There it was.  Should Lucius even be surprised?

Draco was just as peeved as his father was.  He shoved Theodore’s boots off the table and leaned dangerously close to his friend, “What’s in it for you?” he spat, “The satisfaction of helping a friend keep his family together should be enough you prat!”

Theodore laughed as he threw his hands up defensively, “Of course!  Of course, mate.  I was only joking.  You know I’ll help.”

Draco sat back down and glared at his friend.  Theodore didn’t seem affected. Lucius rubbed his temples, distraught by the fact that his fate was being handled by Theodore Bloody Nott.

They went over the list that Shacklebolt gave him, throwing ideas around about who they should track down first, how to go about this without getting caught, and how to not alert these Death Eaters that they were looking for them.

Lucky for them, Theodore’s father was still in contact with Corban Yaxley and Augustus Rookwood; the former had even visited the manor not too long ago.  Theodore knew that his father regularly visited a gentleman’s club with Yaxley, and he assumed other shady individuals liked to frequent that establishment.  His father had invited him many times, but he always declined.  Now he would need to find a way to join his father without seeming suspicious.

They agreed that Yaxley would be their first target, followed by Rookwood.  If they’re lucky, maybe they would capture both at the same time.  The Carrow twins were rumored to be hiding at the Flints.  Theodore promised to look into this.  They had absolutely no leads on Jugson and could only assume he fled to Russia with Antonin Dolohov.

Lucius wasn’t sure why, but he felt Dolohov was going to be the most dangerous.  He was unpredictable, his temper unmanageable, and he was reckless.  Dolohov would need to be last.

“Wasn’t Macnair close with the Parkinsons?” Draco asked as he scanned the list.

“I believe he was,” Lucius responded, “Are you still in contact with Ms. Parkinson?”

“Is he still in contact with Pansy you mean?” Theodore asked with a sly grin, Draco shot him a dangerous look.

“Why are you looking at me like that Nott?” Draco sneered and enunciated his friend’s surname.

“You know exactly why I’m looking at you like that, Malfoy.” Theodore enunciated Draco’s surname just as dramatically and pressed his tongue crudely against the inside of his cheek.

Lucius scoffed and rolled his eyes at Theo’s crude gesture, “That’s enough!”

Draco was blushing furiously, which only caused Theo to cackle and clap his hands.  He was the only man in the room who didn’t feel uncomfortable.

“I don’t see the problem, we’re all men here,” Theodore said as he stood from his seat and stalked to the liquor cabinet. 

Draco could not look at his father.

Lucius eyed Theodore as he pulled out a vintage bottle of whiskey and a few tumblers.  He poured himself a generous amount and then looked at the other two to see if they wanted any.  Lucius shook his head, but Draco accepted a glass begrudgingly.

“Can we get back to the matter at hand?” Lucius asked impatiently.

Theodore nodded as he sipped his whiskey, “Of course, sir.  We were discussing Macnair and the Parkinsons, right?” he wagged his eyebrows at Draco.

Draco was fuming.  It wasn’t enough that Theo was hinting about Draco’s recent sexcapades, but he was doing it in front of Draco’s father and now Theo was drinking alcohol.  None of this was a good mix.  Draco had to find a way to get his friend to focus on the task at hand.

“What about Zabini?” Theo asked, interrupting Draco’s brooding thoughts.

“What about him?” Draco responded.

“Wasn’t he accepted into the Toothill Dueling Club not too long ago?”  Theo put his boots on the table again, ignoring the disdainful looks of the father and son duo and swirling his whiskey around with an air of arrogance.

“And?” Draco asked while glaring at Theo’s boots.

“And...” Theo started but was interrupted by Lucius.

“A duelist?” he muttered as he looked back at the list they were mulling over.

 “A rather talented one at that.” Theo added.

Lucius scanned the list.  Yaxley, Rookwood, Amycus Carrow, Jugson, Dolohov.  Well over half the list contained talented, dangerous duelists.

“You’re not suggesting we get Zabini involved?” Draco looked at his father and then to Theo, both who seemed to be communicating with each other strictly through eye contact.

Theo smirked; he took a long drink of his whiskey then shuddered. “If we can get past mama bear, that is, I think Zabini would be itching to test out his newfound skills.”

Theodore brought up a good point.  Blaise’s mother, Serafina Zabini, was indeed protective of her only child.  He was always the first to be picked up whenever Draco had friends over during his childhood, though it was rare she even allowed him at the manor, unless she could keep a watchful eye on him.  Though, Lucius wasn’t sure if she was being the protective mother, or if she was weary of Blaise letting out her secrets.  Eight dead husbands.  She had recently just married her ninth.

“Maybe it would be better to recruit his mother?” Draco asked, as if he were reading his father’s mind.

“Unfortunately, the Ministry wants the undesirables brought back alive.” Lucius responded, still lost in thought, “But Theodore does bring up a good point.  These Death Eaters are skilled.  Most were Voldemort’s top men.  It wouldn’t hurt to add another to our group, especially if he is as skilled in dueling as you claim he is.”

Theo crossed one foot over the other, boots still on the table, Lucius’s eye twitched when he noticed the dirt landing on the tabletop, too close to Narcissa’s expensive tea set.  He knocked Theo’s boots off the table and hovered over him threateningly.

“You’re extremely lucky I need you Nott but keep taking advantage of me and I’ll show you what a truly talented duelist can do,” his wand was at Theo’s throat and he saw the young man’s Adam’s apple bob nervously, “And I’m sure your father would be most upset if the family line ended with you.”

“Yes, sir.” Theo croaked.

Lucius ran his fingers through his hair and growled as he eyed the dirt on the table, "If I’m going to be trapped in this house, I refuse to deal with this filth! Draco, go buy more elves."

"You can't buy them anymore, father, you have to hire them."

Lucius seethed, he felt a headache coming on, "Then go hire some. Now."

"Where exactly do you find elves?" Draco asked.

"I can help you there mate," Theo jumped in, still nervous from the senior Malfoy’s outbursts; he went to stand by Draco, hoping his offer of help would diffuse the tension.

Draco looked at his friend curiously, "You've had to hire elves recently?"

Theo laughed and shook his head, "No, we still own our elves. My father isn't too worried about his reputation when it comes to that issue. I heard from Blaise that there's a small elf's rights group running a non-profit in Diagon Alley. Sort of a staffing agency for them, I suppose."

Lucius scoffed, "Ridiculous! Elf rights?!"

Draco groaned and rubbed his temples. This had Hermione Granger written all over it. He hadn't seen her since his trial and the thought of possibly running into her again made his stomach turn.

He could picture it now. Swotty little Hermione Granger, telling him how to treat the elves, what a fair wage was and how much vacation time to give them. She'd probably look at him with disgust and turn beet red if he said something particularly offensive to her.  Maybe she'd puff up like an angry cat or stomp her foot.  Draco did enjoy getting her riled up.  He saw himself swiping a book from her hands and holding it over her head, making her bounce up and down, just out of her reach, getting breathless and angry…

"Dracooooo!" Theo waved a hand in front of his face, breaking him of his awkward thoughts.

Draco cleared his throat, "Right then. Let's go to Diagon Alley and find this elf staffing agency or whatever..."

He bid his father goodbye then took the floo to Diagon Alley, his best mate close behind him.

They arrived at the Leaky Cauldron to the stares of the witches and wizards who frequented the establishment.  The stares ranged from disgusted to intrigued.   One wizard muttered something particularly offensive; turning his back to Draco and Theo as he drank his Butterbeer.  But there were a few witches who let their gazes linger.  Despite the fact that Draco was a known former Death Eater, and Theo still associated with him, multiple witches looked up from their cocktails and gave him and his friend an obvious once-over; one witch even bit her lip unconsciously.  Death Eater or not, Draco Malfoy was still very rich and very available.

Draco ignored the stares. Theo winked to a few witches as they exited the Leaky Cauldron and made their way down the crowded streets of Diagon Alley.

They found the office not too far from the owl emporium. It was a small office; the door would have been easy to miss if it hadn’t been painted so disgustingly bright yellow. Draco entered the office cautiously and scrunched his nose at the scenery. It was a one room office, dusty with boxes and filing cabinets strewn about, decorated with cheap plastic plants and secondhand art hanging up on the walls. One wall had a large, framed plaque that proudly stated the mission of this non-profit agency. And right in the middle of the office, sitting behind an old wooden desk was Luna Lovegood.

"Hello Draco! Hello Theodore!" Luna greeted with her airy voice and a warm smile.

"Looney," greeted Theo as he nodded with a grin.

Draco looked around again and put his hands in his pockets. He didn't want to touch anything. "Lovegood," he said warily.

"Are you here to pledge yourselves in the fight for elf rights?" she asked. Theo snorted. Draco looked at her like she had grown two extra heads.

"Not exactly..." Draco muttered. He noticed an orange cat jump down from a windowsill, stretching and yawning and then slinking its way towards the two men.

Draco backed away before the beast could rub its filthy fur on him. Theo chuckled and knelt down, scratching the cat behind the ears, "Scared of a little pussy, mate?"

Draco cleared his throat and ignored his friend's crude remark. He turned his attention back to Luna, "I came here looking to hire some elves."

"Oh!" she responded, her eyes widening as if Draco said something bewildering, "What do you need to hire elves for Draco?"

He quirked a brow. What did she think he needed them for? Was she really that daft?

“Umm… housework and such.” He responded slowly.

“And such?” she looked at him curiously.

“Yes,” he said, getting annoyed, “Housework, gardening, running errands and the like. What did you think I meant?”

Luna nodded, “I see. It’s for the protection of the elves; we have to make sure that people aren’t hiring them for more cruel purposes.”

“I’d say having to clean Draco’s bedsheets is pretty cruel,” said Theo in a snarky tone.

Luna never even saw Draco pull out his wand, but that stinging hex was spot on. Theo howled and grabbed his arm, rubbing it furiously while cursing at Draco. The cat at their feet hissed and darted behind a bookshelf.

“How many do you have?” Draco asked, turning back to Luna as he adjusted his robes.

“How many do I have?” Luna responded in confusion.

Draco sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “How many elves do you have to hire?”

“Oh! We have 12 elves looking for work.” She responded casually.

“Great,” Draco remarked, “I’ll hire six of them.”

“Sorry Draco, but no.” Luna rejected him, but didn’t change her positive tone.

“No?” he looked at her with shock, “What do you mean? I have more than enough money to pay them.”

“It’s not that, Draco,” Luna shrugged, “Hermione told me by no means do any house elves get assigned to you or your family.”

Draco had to take a deep breath before he responded. He spoke through gritted teeth, “Why didn’t you tell me that in the first place?”

“What about me, Looney?” asked Theo, “Am I allowed to hire elves?”

“Oh yes!” she nodded enthusiastically, “Hermione didn’t say anything about the Notts not being able to hire house elves.”

“Great,” Theo gave her a smile that would give Gilderoy Lockhart a run for his money, “I’ll take six.”

“What a coincidence!” she exclaimed, “You needed six elves too?”

“I know!” Theo responded with the same amount of excitement, “That must be why Draco and I are best mates, we think alike and need the same things!”

Her eyes widened in amazement, “It’s like you two are soulmates!”

“Please stop…” Draco groaned, “Does Theo need to fill out paperwork or what?”

Luna nodded, “I’ll go get the forms!” she turned to a filing cabinet a few feet away and started rummaging through it.

The two friends looked at each other and rolled their eyes. Draco really wanted to get this over with. Too much Theo in one day was enough to make any man go mad, and now Luna was thrown into the mix. Surely he could go home soon and dive back into that vintage whiskey in his father’s liquor cabinet…

“What are you doing Luna?” came the haughty voice from the woman who Draco knew was going to make his day so much worse.

“Granger!” greeted Theo pleasantly, “It’s been a while. And I see you brought the weasel along too! Have you come to make sure the elves are still safe? Do you plan on starting an awareness group for the unicorns as well? How about the garden gnomes? I’m sure they’re in need of a sassy heroine such as yourself.”

Hermione stood in the doorway, arms crossed and glaring at the two Slytherins. Ron was behind her, also looking irritated but not as much as Hermione.

She ignored Theo and strode towards Luna’s desk. She took the forms out of Luna’s hand and put them back in the filing cabinet.

“I told you Luna, do not hire elves out to him!” she pointed at Draco.

Luna stared at her wide-eyed and shook her head, “No, Hermione. They’re for Theodore. Draco said he needed six house elves, and I told him no, but Theodore needed six house elves too and you never said he couldn’t have any.”

There was a collective groan about the room. Hermione rubbed her temples and took a deep breath before speaking, “Luna, he’s hiring the elves for Malfoy.”

Luna gave Theodore a look that said she could not believe he would deceive her like that. Theo smiled innocently and shrugged.

“Tough luck Malfoy,” Ron gloated, “I guess you’ll have to clean your own golden toilets.”

“At least I’m not pissing in an outhouse, Weaselbee!” Draco sneered.

“I have modern plumbing, ferret!” Ron spat back.

“Call me ferret one more time!” Draco had his hand in his robes, reaching for his wand.  Ron noticed and started to do the same thing.

“I guess I should be more careful, huh?” Ron taunted, “Daddy is out of prison now and you can go back to hiding behind him.”

Draco growled and pressed his wand into Ron’s throat.

“Go ahead Malfoy!” Ron continued, “Go ahead and attack me, I’m sure that violates the stipulations of your release and you’ll be back in Azkaban!”

“Lucky for me, my probation ended last month,” Draco seethed as several incantations ran through his mind.

Ron, hands shaking with anger, couldn’t get the right grip on his wand and dropped it, which made Hermione gasp.  Not wanting to be bested by Draco, he swung his hand out and smacked Draco’s wand out of his hand and onto the floor.  This made Luna gasp.  Theodore choked, which turned into a laugh.

Draco, appalled that this ginger asshole had the audacity to touch him, found himself shoving Ron against a wall.  Hermione shouted and ran to the ensuing brawl, placing herself between them.

Ron and Draco were both much taller than Hermione and Ron was bulky due to his years of Quidditch practice.  Hermione struggled to keep them apart, pushing against Ron’s chest with one hand and using her elbow to fight off Draco.  She wanted to stun them both, but her wand was in her pocket, and she didn’t think she could spare the two seconds it would take to grab it.  Ron and Draco both had a murderous look in their eyes.

“Using your girlfriend as a shield!  How gallant of you!” hissed Draco.

“It’s lucky for you she’s holding me back!” barked Ron.

“Theo!” Hermione yelped.

“Yea?” He asked, sitting against Luna’s desk. He quirked a brow.  Luna looked on.  She didn't seem scared at all over the ensuing brawl just a few feet in front of her.  She actually looked fascinated and on the verge of coming to some sort of revelation.

Hermione screeched as Ron and Draco lunged for each other again and she had to ground her heels and push them back, “Help me!”

Theo looked bored as he stared at his cuticles, “Help you with what?”

She growled, “Help me break up this fight!”

“Why?” he whined.

“THEO!” she scowled.

He sighed and rolled his eyes, pushing himself off the desk. “Oh alright.”   He strolled over to Draco, clasping his shoulder and pulling him away from Ron and Hermione, “Come on Draco, let’s get you some nice new dress robes.  Madam Malkin’s has the latest line from that brand in Paris you like.  Won’t that make you happy?”

Draco seethed and shrugged his shoulder away from Theo.  He adjusted his robes and glared at the couple in front of him, “I’m not leaving without the elves.”

“I won’t be sending any house elves to your residence, Malfoy.”  Hermione glared right back at him.

“You can’t deny me service, Granger!” barked Draco, “I have the money to pay for them and from the looks of this place you need my money to keep it running.”

She made a frustrated noise and stomped her foot, which woke something up in the pit of his stomach.  Now her face was turning red.  Damn, if only she had a book…

“We are doing just fine without your money!” she huffed.  She picked Draco’s wand up off the floor, and he hated to admit he watched her every move; the way those ghastly muggle jeans clung to her derriere as she bent down left Draco feeling more stirred up than he cared to admit.

His eyes were quickly back on her face when she turned around and slammed his wand into his chest, “Now get out!”

Draco looked absolutely offended, all thoughts of Hermione's backside gone, “You can’t kick me out!” 

“I can and I will.  Don’t force me to alert the DMLE.”

Draco’s jaw dropped.  He narrowed his eyes at her and his nostrils flared.  He closed his mouth and ran his hands through his hair as he tried to calm down.  His voice dropped low and venomous as he leaned into her, “No one threatens me.  You just wait until…” he stopped himself.  He almost said it.

Wait until my father hears about this.   How embarrassing.  Had he not grown out of that?

Ron caught it though and he snorted, “Wait until what Malfoy?”

Draco glared at him.

Ron smirked, loving every second of this, “Wait until you complain to a certain someone who always bails your pampered arse out of trouble?  I don’t think your father has much influence anymore.  But I suppose you could always try.”

Theo clapped his hand on Draco’s shoulder to keep him from lunging at Ron again. “Let’s go mate.” He muttered in his ear.

“I’m not going home empty handed,” Draco argued.

“Yes, you are.” Theo sounded serious for once. 

"Wait!" came the voice of Luna Lovegood.  This caused everyone to turn around curiously.

Luna approached the three boys, carrying two gawdy looking necklaces with a colorful chain bearing a large green and pink speckled stone at the center.  She placed the first necklace around a bewildered Ron's neck.

"I'm assuming it's the Wrackspurts," she explained, "Though I can't be for certain without my Spectrespecs.  They infect your mind and take away all positive thoughts.  From the looks of it, you two have been suffering for a while. The stone is unakite, it will help with the toxicity."

She attempted to put the second necklace on Draco, but he immediately backed away.  Luna gave him a curious look, studying Draco for several uneasy seconds.

"Your wisps are restless, Draco." she said with worry.

"My what?" he asked.

Theo grabbed the tacky necklace from Luna, and he turned Draco towards the direction of the door, "Thank you Looney, I'll make sure Draco abolishes those mangy Wrackspurts."  He smiled to her, “Always a pleasure seeing you, Lovegood.  Granger, Weasel, good luck saving the planet.”

"My elves!" Draco exclaimed.

"They are not your elves, Malfoy!" Hermione spat back, "Get out!"

Theo gave them all a salute as he led Draco out of the office.

“Can you believe her?” Draco shouted as he was led down Diagon Alley, “I have never been treated with such disrespect!”

“Yes well, I don’t think a strongly worded letter to the Minister will help you in this situation, mate,” Theodore chuckled, “She did save the wizarding world and all.  You don’t have a chance of getting your way this time.”

“Now how am I going to get some bloody elves?”

Theo sighed and collected his thoughts, “Let me see if I can pull a few strings for you.  In the meantime, I’ll see if I can spare one or two of my own.  Probably Sphinx and Freki.  Will that appease your father for now?”

Draco groaned, “Sphinx jumps at any little sound and Freki always burns your pot pies.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers, mate.”

Draco was deeply offended, “I am no beggar!”

Theo rolled his eyes and continued down the busy street, “Have Sphinx attend to your mother’s needs and don’t have Freki do any of the cooking.  Easy enough?”

“Fine,” Draco opened the door to the Leaky Cauldron and let Theo step inside first, “thank you, I guess.  But this isn’t over with Granger.”

“I’m sure it’s not, mate.” Theodore grinned as he grabbed a handful of floo powder, “I’d love to join you back at home but quite frankly, I don’t want to be there when you tell your father you were rejected by a muggleborn.  I’ll send you a message as soon as I get more information on Yaxley.  He’s still our first target, right?”

Draco nodded and waved his friend off.  He would probably order a drink before he heads home to face his father.  The green flames of the fireplace reflected off his pale skin as Theodore disappeared.

************

Theodore arrived in the travel parlor of Nott Manor, one of his father’s many elves already there waiting for him, holding a tray with a drink on it.

“Thank you, Dizzy,” Theo said, taking the glass off the tray and taking a drink, “Mmm!” he smacked his lips, “Another fruity concoction?  What is this?”

Dizzy, a younger female elf with big blue eyes and floppy ears, beamed at his praise, “It’s a cherry limeade drink, sir, with vodka.  Very popular in America I hear.  Dizzy is happy that the young master likes it!”

“Hmm,” Theo smirked as he studied the drink, “What’s a cherry limeade?”

“It’s sorta like a lemonade sir, except with lime juice and cherries, and a citrus based soda.” She clasped her fingers together nervously and looked at the floor, “I know the master Nott Sr., doesn’t like sodas in his house, sir, but Dizzy knows that the young master likes his sweet drinks and please don’t tell master Nott Sr., I…I…” she began to sniffle.

Theo groaned, “It’s fine Dizzy.  Please, don’t start crying.”

Dizzy started shaking as she tried her hardest to obey his command.  Theo found it best in these situations to change the subject, “Do I have any messages?”

“No messages, sir, but Ms. Parkinson is waiting for you in your bedroom.” She squeaked.

“In my bedroom?” he grinned as his thoughts went straight to mischief, “Then I guess I shouldn’t keep her waiting.  Would you make Ms. Parkinson one of these vodka cherry limeades too?”

Dizzy nodded, “Right away sir.”  She disappeared with a pop.

Theo had a little more pep in his step as he strolled down the hall, removing his robes and loosening his tie.  He pictured Pansy waiting in his bedroom, probably lounging on the chaise in a short little black number, pouting and complaining about how he made her wait.

Theo and Pansy hadn’t been together in quite some time, and he wondered why she was here tonight.  She usually slipped off to Malfoy Manor whenever she felt lonely.  Maybe she finally got sick of their dramatic blonde friend.

He passed his father’s study and heard loud, boisterous laughing.  Theo stopped in his tracks and then backed up a bit to peer through the opening in the doorway.

What luck!

Sitting inside his father’s study, was none other than Corban Yaxley.  He was seated in one of the plush red leather arm chairs, sipping a brandy and regaling one of his old battle stories.  Theodore’s father, smoking a cigar, would in turn laugh at his friend’s obvious exaggerations and wave a dramatic arm, complaining about how mudbloods and blood traitors are slowly destroying the wizarding world.

Theo backed away quietly before he was seen.  As he started walking towards his room again, he decided with some regret, that fun with Pansy would have to wait.

“Pansy, darling!” he greeted as he threw his bedroom door open.  His sudden appearance made her jump, and she dropped the book she was looking through.  Pansy wasn’t lounging on his chaise, she was standing at his bookshelf, but she was wearing a little black number.

“Salazar Theodore!” she squawked as she held her hand to her chest, “Do you always have to be so theatrical?”

“Of course I do,” he flashed a toothy smile her way, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I was thinking about going to Sim Sala Bim’s tonight.  Daphne is away visiting family in Ireland and Blaise is having dinner with his mother’s new beau.  Do you want to join me?”

Sim Sala Bim’s was a new nightclub that opened a few months ago, just a block or two from the Ministry.  Some wizard had seen the appeal of muggle nightclubs and decided to create one for wizard kind.  It was exclusive, loud, dark, and best of all, a VIP section that was always reserved for the elite such as Nott or Malfoy.  Sim Sala Bim’s didn’t care that they were disgraced, they only cared that they paid for the high-end champagne and the elite membership.

“So glad I was your third choice, Pansy,” drawled Theo, “At least I beat out Malfoy this time.”

Pansy scoffed and rolled her eyes, “Do you want to come with me or not?”

“Unfortunately, I can’t.  Something has come up.” He sighed and scratched the back of his head, “I could actually use your help.”

“Oh?” Pansy looked intrigued.

“I need to pop over to Draco’s really quick, shouldn’t be longer than a few minutes.  My father has a guest in his study, could you make sure he doesn’t leave before I get back?”

Pansy narrowed her eyes, “Why?”

Theo sighed, “Come on Pans, it’s important!”

She studied Theo for several tortuous seconds.  Theo hated the way she looked at him when she was suspicious of him.  She crossed her arms and nodded her head towards his door, “I know your father is with Yaxley.  Why do you need him to stay?  And what does Draco have to do with it?”

Theo let out a nervous whine, “Please Pansy, I can’t tell you.  Are you going to make me beg?”

She grinned.

“Fine!” Theo grumbled.  He dropped to his knees and clasped his hands together, “Please Pans!  Please stay here and make sure my father’s illegal friend doesn’t leave.  I wouldn’t be on my knees begging you if it weren’t important!”

Pansy sighed and looked like she was considering it.  Her household was used to entertaining the slimy aristocratic misogynist types that Voldemort had a knack for recruiting.  It didn’t even faze her that a wanted criminal like Yaxley was in Theodore’s house since her own father had offered his home as a safe haven to those who were on the run.  She hated seeing those men in her house, so for the past few months she had spent most of her time either at Daphne or Draco’s home.  She had only recently stopped visiting Draco since his father was released from Azkaban.  Lucius had never given her any reason to be wary, but he was still an older aristocrat man who associated with the same men who leered at her and tried to cop a feel when her own father wasn’t looking.

And now Theo was asking her to keep Yaxley’s attention.  Which was fine, she guessed.  Yaxley didn’t scare her.  She knew she was a welcome distraction to many types of men, which was nice when she didn’t want to pay for her own drinks or carry her books.  But Gods, she was so much more than tits and ass.  And it was disappointing that her own friend couldn’t see that.

She cursed herself for letting her thoughts run rampant.  Theo was only asking her to make sure Yaxley didn’t leave, not shag him on the bear skinned rug.  Besides, he was with Theo’s father, she could just hide and watch.

She knelt down until she was eye level with Theo and tapped his nose, “Sure Theo.  I’ll keep an eye on him until you’re back.”

His eyes lit up and he hugged Pansy, almost knocking her over, “Thank you! I promise I won’t be gone long.  And I’ll take you to Sim Sala Bim’s next week, I promise.”

He jumped to his feet and ran to his door.  He stopped when he was in his doorway and turned back to his friend, “Oh and Pans…” his tone changed.

“Yes Theo?”

“When I return, I won’t be alone.  It’d be best if you got as far away as possible as soon as you see me.”

“What?” she responded breathlessly.  But Theo didn’t answer her, he just gave her that stupid smile and ran off.  She watched as he sped down the hallway and into the travel parlor.  Seconds later, she saw the green glow partially illuminate the hallway and she knew he was gone.

She groaned and made her way towards the study.  She would just take a peek, make sure the older men were still getting drunk off brandy and bragging about themselves, then she could just hang back and wait for Theo.

She didn’t hear anything as she got closer.  The study doors were still open a crack, she leaned in and peered.  Empty chairs.  Fire still going.  Empty glasses on end tables.

Where were they?

“Ms. Parkinson,” a low voice in her ear, it sent a shiver down her spine and she tensed.

Pansy turned around to see Corban Yaxley standing way too close.  She could practically feel the heat from his body and smell the alcohol on his breath.

“Corban,” she greeted, trying to hide the nervous tone in her voice and ignore the warning bells in her head.

“It’s been a while,” he crooned, his gaze lowering as he seemed to be memorizing every curve.  She cursed herself for wearing her clubbing outfit. “Are you here visiting junior?”

“He stepped out,” she mentally kicked herself as soon as she said it.

“Did he?” a wicked smile began to form on his features, “Well then, how’s about you keep me company in the study?”

He put his arm around her and Pansy had to fight the urge to flinch.  Theo said to keep Yaxley occupied until he came back.  He promised it would only be a few minutes.

She smiled at Yaxley as she leaned into his hold, “I’d be happy to.”

His eyes darkened at her response, and she felt his grip on her tighten.  She kept her sultry smile and eyes on him as he led her into the study, making sure the door was closed completely.  There would be no cracks to peek into this time.

 

Notes:

Will Theo continue his shenanigans?
Will Lucius lose his shit?
Will Draco lose his shit?
Probably.

Thank you for taking the time to read Chapter 2! Chapter 3 will be up shortly, and we can all see Pansy in her bad-assery.

As always, thank you to my lovely husband for listening to be drabble on and being my constant banter buddy.
And the lovely Laur for being my awesome editor. <3

Chapter 3: Tits and Ass

He kept grabbing her ass and Pansy had to continue to pretend to enjoy it.  No matter how many times she moved his calloused hands upwards away from her bottom, he would just slide them back down.  She would smile and tap his nose, calling him naughty and he would chuckle in her face.  His breath reeked of brandy.

"Does your father know you're here, princess?" he groaned into her ear.

She rolled her eyes at the nickname, "Yes darling," she spoke barely above a whisper, "But he thinks I'm here for Theodore."

Yaxley pressed his face into her neck, inhaling her scent as he gripped the thighs that straddled him, "That's right.  And how will your boyfriend react when he comes home and sees you in such a compromising position?"

Pansy scoffed and tangled her fingers in Yaxley's hair, "He's not my boyfriend."

"Good to know," he muttered as he pressed her hips against his lap.  She fought back the repulsion as she felt his hardness digging into her skin.

Where the hell was Theo?  He said just a few minutes.  It's been at least twenty...

Yaxley had moved quicker than she anticipated when he caught her snooping.  The alcohol made him desperate, impatient.  He practically dragged her into the study, plopping down on the armchair and pulling her onto his lap.  It was like the man had eight hands; she could feel him tangling her hair, sliding underneath her shirt, pulling her skirt up, and pinching her sides.  His lips brushed against the side of her face as he muttered drunken fantasies into her ear.  Pansy could only flirt and tease for so long before Yaxley's patience ran completely out, and he would demand more.  She needed Theo.

"Corban, I've been thinking more about that Egyptian text on dark arts and...oh!" Nott Sr. stopped abruptly at the scene before him.  His son's friend straddling his friend, who's over twice her age, on the leather armchair.  Pansy's short skirt already riding up, almost around her waist, with Yaxley's hands on her exposed thighs.

Yaxley glowered at Nott Sr., and Pansy looked over, her mouth open in shock.  Nott Sr.'s lip curled upwards, and he bowed his head, "I'll leave you to it then..." he backed away and shut the study door.

****************

"DRACO!" yelled Theo as he stumbled out of the floo.  He caught himself and dusted the soot off his robes as he steadied his breathing.  He looked around the travel parlor and listened.  Malfoy Manor was silent.

"DRACO!"  He called again as he strode down the hallway.  He heard the pop of apparition and Frick was suddenly in front of him, the Malfoy's elderly house elf.

"Master Nott," greeted Frick in a scratchy voice that gave away his age, "The young Master Malfoy is dining with his parents.  Shall I escort you to the dining room, sir?"

"That's alright Frick," Theo answered quickly, not giving the elf a second look before he was sprinting down the hall.

He was breathless again by the time he made it to the dining room.  The three Malfoys tensed at the intrusion as they watched Theo grasp his knees and take in a few steady breaths.

Lucius looked absolutely irritated, "Theodore."

"Hold on," Theo threw up one finger, still catching his breath, "Why is your dining room so far from your travel parlor?!"

"Why are you wheezing like an old man?" Draco snorted.

Theo almost threw a "that's not what your mom said last night joke" but immediately decided against it.  After all, Narcissa was sitting right there, and it wasn't her fault her son was such a prat.  He would put the entire blame on Lucius.

"Yaxley," Theo started, Lucius and Draco instantly straightened up and honed their attention on Theo, "He's at my house, right now!  He's having brandy with my father."

Lucius and Draco stood from their seats immediately.

"Alright, so what's the plan?" Draco looked to his father.

Lucius's jaw tightened as he mulled it over, "We can't just storm in if he's having brandy with your father.  We'll need to make it look like a casual visit and you'll need to lead your father away somehow."

Draco and Theo nodded.

Narcissa cleared her throat, getting everyone's attention.  She grabbed the napkin that was on her lap and delicately laid it on her plate, taking her time as the men in the room waited for her to say something, "Did you say we, dear?"

"I did," he answered carefully, studying her and trying to figure out where she was going with this.

"You mean, Draco and Theodore, correct?" she met his eyes with a challenging stare.

"No," he scoffed, "It would be easier if I'm there and I could pretend I was stopping by for a friendly chat and...." He stopped as the realization hit him.  Letting out an angry huff, he pounded his fist on the table.

He needed permission from Shacklebolt to leave his home and he didn't yet have the means to contact him.  He made a mental note to get a portrait available as soon as tomorrow morning.

"That's fine," Draco said, "We continue on with the plan, lead Theo's father away, and convince Yaxley to come to our home."

Lucius nodded, "Yes, get him here immediately."

"No." Narcissa said assertively, causing the entire room to still.  "You are not sending Draco there without you, Lucius. Theodore will have to go back alone and invite Yaxley to our home."

Draco scowled, "I'm not a child, mother!"

She didn't respond to Draco.  Instead, she kept her gaze on her husband as they both silently challenged each other.  This made things terribly awkward for Theo.

"Look," Theo cut in nervously, "We don't have time to argue this.  I don't know how much longer he will be there, and Pansy is..."

"What!" Draco interrupted, "Pansy is there?!"

"Well yes," Theo shrugged, "She came by to see if I wanted to go to Sim Sala Bim's, but I saw Yaxley was in my house, so I had to tell her another time."

"And then she left?" Draco added.

Theo laughed nervously, scratching his arm, "Not exactly, no.  I sort of asked her to keep an eye on things..."

"You what?!" father and son both shouted, but for different reasons.

"You didn't tell her about the mission, did you?" Lucius asked first.

"You left her alone with him?" Draco spoke over his father.

Theo looked between the father and son, irritated with the both of them.  Lucius, for only caring about the mission and Draco for thinking Pansy was some helpless damsel in distress, as if he'd never seen her put a knife to a man's throat for whistling at her.  He wasn't worried at all about Pansy, knowing that Yaxley was preoccupied with his father and that Pansy was smart enough to lay low and keep an eye on things.

"Pansy is a big girl, she will be fine!" he muttered through gritted teeth, "We are wasting time!  What is the plan?"

"You and I will go back there," Draco glared at his mother when she was about to protest, "We'll join them for brandy, have casual conversation.  You'll need to distract your father and then I'll throw something his way.  I could stun him, petrify him, or bind him.  It shouldn't be too difficult since he's already intoxicated."

"Don't assume his inebriation is his weakness," warned Lucius, "There's a reason Voldemort kept Yaxley close; he was one of his most trusted servants. He's clever, Draco, and a skilled duelist.  Heed caution."

Draco scoffed, "He's older and slower now, and he's drunk."

Draco yelped when he was hit with a silent incarcerous.  Thick ropes bound his wrists and ankles together as he fell on his side, wincing when his head hit the stone floor.  The ropes dug into his skin and he growled.

Lucius approached him and knelt down, his face close to Draco's ear as he whispered, "I'm older and I've had a few glasses of wine with my dinner.  But as you can see, I am not slower.   I'm not the only one who is trained in wordless magic.  I cannot express this enough, my dear son; do not underestimate Corban Yaxley."

Draco let out a frustrated sound as he fought against his binds, which only made the ropes tighten.  His skin burned as he felt the ropes cut into him.  Theo watched on in utter shock and Narcissa sighed in annoyance, as if the tussle between her husband and son were a daily occurrence.

"You made your point!" Draco shouted, "Let me go!"

Theo looked at the clock on the wall and his eyes widened; he hadn't realized almost half an hour had gone by since he left Pansy.  "I hate to break up this beautiful moment, but we need to go!"

Lucius studied his bound son, making no movements as he silently reversed the incarcerous spell.  Draco turned away from his father as soon as he was free, rubbing his sore wrists and ignoring the internal pain that was his wounded pride.

"Please be careful," pleaded Narcissa as she helped her son to his feet and smoothed out his robes, "And heed your father's words."

Draco grimaced, feeling betrayed by his mother's advice.  He gave her a solemn nod then left the room without telling anyone goodbye.  Theo followed closely behind him, and for once decided to stay quiet following such an awkward moment.

Draco arrived through floo first, greeted by a nervous Dizzy who was bouncing from foot to foot.  Theo wasn't far behind, his presence seeming to calm the poor elf a little.

"Shall Dizzy bring the young masters a drink?" she squeaked.

"Not right now Dizzy, is Yaxley still here?" asked Theo as he tossed his robes on a chair and started rolling up his shirt sleeve.

Her eyes grew wider, which should have been impossible, she started fidgeting with the seam of the pillowcase she was wearing.  She looked away from Theo and whimpered.

"Dizzy?" his tone grew serious, "Is Yaxley still here or not?"

"He's here, sir, " she whimpered again, "Mister Yaxley is in the study with Ms. Parkinson, sir."

Draco bolted down the hall before Theo could respond.  Theo groaned and started towards the hall, stopped himself and reassured Dizzy she wasn't in trouble, then was on his way again.  He needed to catch up to Draco before he stormed in there like a madman with a hero complex.

Damn Draco and his stupid long legs and his stupid adrenaline.  He had burst through the study door while Theo was still several feet away.

Draco took in the room and immediately saw red.  Yaxley's hands were all over her.  Pansy was straddling him, her shirt on the floor and her skirt riding up her waist.  Yaxley's shirt unbuttoned, and his trousers undone.

The look Pansy gave Draco was shock mixed with relief and maybe a bit of displeasure.  Yaxley glanced over at Draco as if he were a pest, a minor distraction.

Theo was only seconds behind Draco.  He slid through the doorway and paused awkwardly as he made eye contact with Pansy.  Yaxley met his gaze as well and chuckled.

"So sorry you had to find her like this, junior." he said to Theo.

"Pansy, move!"  Draco barked.  She was off Yaxley's lap instantly as he yelled, "STUPEFY!”

What. The. Fuck.

Yaxley laughed, wand in hand as he dodged Draco's spell with ease.  It seemed even drunk and with his trousers open, Yaxley still knew when to keep his defenses up.  He stood from his seat, zipping himself up as he turned to the two boys in the doorway.  Draco and Theo both had their wands at the ready.  Pansy sat frozen by the fireplace, covering her chest with her arms.

"What is this?" Yaxley asked with a gruff drawl, "Are we having a little row over a girl?"

Draco snarled, gripping his wand tighter as he kept his gaze on Yaxley.  Theo had more of a clear head; it was smart to let Yaxley believe this was all over the jealous claim of Pansy Parkinson.  He needed to speak before Draco blew their cover.

"Pansy," Theo whined, using his best impression of the broken-hearted snob as he sagged his shoulders, "I thought you said we were exclusive."

Pansy narrowed her eyes at him.  Theo stuck out his bottom lip for dramatic effect.  He tried to convey with her through eye contact to play along.

Several dreadful seconds passed as everyone seemed to eye Pansy.  Theo gave her a quick pleading look, slightly nodding his head to Yaxley then back to her.

"You!" she seethed, breaking the silence and pointing a perfectly manicured finger at Theo. "You cheated on me!" then she pointed to Draco, "With him!"

Oh, you bitch, thought Theo, but he was relieved she knew to play along.  Draco didn't know how to respond as he stared at Pansy open mouthed, his wand hand faltering a little.

Yaxley snorted, running his hands through his hair and muttering something extremely homophobic.

"Darling," Theo tutted, "I told you it doesn't count when the situationship is of the same sex.  Plus, you know how dramatic Draco gets when he doesn't get his way.  He's quite demanding."

"Excuse me!"  Draco bellowed, "I'm right here!"

"See?" Theo giggled as he nodded his head towards Draco, "Dramatic."

Yaxley looked on in utter confusion as the three youngsters before him started a heated argument.  Pansy, putting her shirt back on and adjusting her skirt, calling Theo a disgusting man whore while Theo attempted, and failed, to calm both Pansy and Draco down.  Draco was absolutely beside himself, being the loudest of them all.

"You promised me, Theo!  You promised your philandering days were over!"

"I'm sorry, darling!  I tried, I truly did.  But look at him!  Pouty lips, chiseled jaw, legs for days, he's practically a living adonis!"

"You're not funny Theo!"

"He's a whiny little prat and you know it!"

"An adorable whiny, little prat..."

"SHUT UP!"

"You're passing up this rack for that blonde tosser!"

"Well, why can't I have both?"

"I swear to Salazar Theo if you don't shut your trap right now I will..."

"Petrificus Totalus!"

They stopped when they heard the spell, followed by a loud thud.  Yaxley had fallen to the floor, his head painfully hitting against the coffee table as his entire body stiffened.  Standing over him, dripping with confidence, was Blaise Zabini.

The trio let out a collective gasp when they saw him.  Blaise spun his wand around twice in his hand and then sheathed it back in his robes.

Theo whistled at him.  Draco groaned and crossed his arms, irritated to be outshone.  Pansy grinned and clapped her hands.  But their celebration was short lived.

"What is going on here?!"  came the booming voice of Theo's father.

Theodore Nott Sr., fat and red faced, in his sleeping robes, eyed the foursome suspiciously.  He caught sight of Yaxley petrified on the floor, a small gash on the side of his head and bleeding onto the rug.

"Father!" Theo called out, grabbing the man's shoulders and attempting to escort him out of the room.  The elder Nott quickly pushed his son away as he made his way to Yaxley.  Theo stood in front of him again, wand poking discreetly into his father’s side.

Nott Senior's eyes widened then quickly changed to a glare, "What is the meaning of this?  What do you think you’re doing? Step aside Theodore!"

"Father, if we could just step out into the hallway..."

"Who petrified him?!" Nott Sr. bellowed.  He pointed a fat finger at Draco, "Was it you, boy?  Or maybe it was you, Ms. Parkinson!  Always skulking around my house dressed like a whore and chasing after my son!"

"I beg your pardon!" Pansy shrieked as she gave Nott Sr. a vexing look.

"Father!" Theo tried to direct him out of the study again.

"I'm letting your father know about this, you little bint!" he was still wailing at Pansy.  She lunged at the older man and Draco was quick to grab her, wrapping her into a tight bear hug and lifting her off the ground.  Pansy screamed and kicked her feet helplessly.

Theo rubbed his temples, "This is getting out of hand..."

"Let me go Draco!" Pansy screamed, flailing from side to side, trying to get him to lose his balance.  Draco growled furiously and held onto her tighter.

"Stop it, Pans!"

"I did it!" Blaise's voice was commanding through all the shouts.  Everyone stilled.

"You." Nott Sr. seethed, now pointing his fat finger at Blaise, "You petrified Yaxley?"

Blaise only nodded, standing tall and keeping a challenging glare on Nott Sr.

"Children!" Nott Sr., bellowed, "Do you know what you have done?!  And for what?! Is this how your mother gets her husbands, boy?"

Blaise kept his cool; merely cocking his head to the side, aiming his wand and saying, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

The elder Nott shook his head in disbelief and pointed his attention back towards Pansy and Draco, “You two, I will be telling your fathers about this, and I will see that you are properly punished!  And you, Zabini!....”

While Nott Sr. was distracted, Theo whispered in his ear, "Obliviate!"  His father suddenly dropped his finger and turned slowly to his son, eyes glazed over and looking confused.

An uncomfortable hush filled the room as everyone watched Theo, stunned.  Theo gently took his father’s arm and led him out of the study.  The elder Nott followed his son dutifully, an awkward sight since he was usually so authoritative.

“You were sleepwalking again father,” Theo said soothingly, “You have to be careful; you could have fallen down the stairs.”

“Sleepwalking?” his father asked meekly, “Oh dear…”

Theo sat his father down in a chair in the hallway.  He stepped back into the study, bearing a serious expression that made the moment more intense.

“It’s time you all left,” he said, “Get Yaxley out of here and go home.”

They all thought it best to leave when Theodore was like this, since it was indeed rare that he showed any sort of raw emotions.

Blaise started working the incantation to levitate Yaxley; the older man’s head was still bleeding and droplets slid down his face to the carpet below.  Pansy stepped in and cast a quick healing charm, assuming that whoever wanted this man captured probably didn’t want him dead due to blood loss.

Draco stepped out into the hallway, his gaze locked on Theo and his father as Theo led the older man up the stairs.  He was speaking to his father in a calming voice, reiterating to him that he was sleepwalking and that he should probably tone it down on the brandy since his healer said that could be what was causing this.

Draco got a sick feeling and wondered if this wasn’t the first time Theo obliviated his father.  He seemed to know just the right amount of magic to use to remove only a few hours of his father’s memories.

Levitating Yaxley and moving him was tedious work. They couldn’t take the floo for obvious reasons.  Apparition was an option but only outside the manor gates. Nott Manor was almost the size of Malfoy Manor and they were nowhere near the front or back door.   So, Blaise kept his wand hand steady as he carefully led the floating Yaxley down the winding halls, ignoring the gasps from alarmed portraits.  Draco strode ahead and Pansy was last in line.

Walking through the halls, out the front double doors and through the cobblestone drive was tiresome for three wizards who usually transported by magical means.  They didn’t know who had it worse, Pansy in her 6-inch heels or Blaise who had to keep his wand arm up and still so as to not accidentally drop Yaxley.

Draco opened the gate, and its loud creaking awoke the nightly wildlife around them.  But it was such a relief to finally reach an apparition point.

“I’ll take over mate,” said Draco, brandishing his wand.

“It’s fine,” responded Blaise, “I can apparate him to your home.  My arm hasn’t gone numb yet.”

Draco’s eye twitched.  He should have known it wasn’t going to be this easy.  He supposed his friends were going to have some questions as to why they needed to petrify Corban Yaxley and then take him to Malfoy Manor.

He was determined to try again, “I insist, Zabini.  Thank you for your help, but I can take over.”

Blaise only smirked.  Pansy crossed her arms and stared at Malfoy; her mere presence demanded answers.

“I can’t tell you!”  He blurted out.

“Bollocks,” Pansy sneered and rolled her eyes, “I had that man’s prick digging into my thigh for the past half hour.  I think I’ve earned an explanation.”

“And you would all be suffering an Unforgivable if it weren’t for me.” Blaise added.

“I understand, it’s just…. hold on.”  Draco paused and gave Blaise a suspicious look, “How did you know we needed help?”

“Dizzy.  I was having dinner with my mum and her new husband, and she found us at the restaurant.  She was frantic, drawing all sorts of attention.  That part worked in my favor, you know mum would have never let me go.  It was good I had an excuse to lead Dizzy out into the waiting area to calm her down.”  Blaise glanced back at Yaxley to make sure he was still levitating, “I’m guessing the portraits told Dizzy where to find me.”

Draco couldn’t deny the slight pang in his chest when he realized the little elf probably saved their lives.  Maybe Granger was right about these creatures deserving compassion and equality.

Gross.  Not likely.

Draco nodded at Blaise, “Fine.  You two can go with me.  But I can’t be the one to explain what’s going on.”

They both stared at him quizzically.

“It’s complicated.” Was all he would tell them.

They apparated to Malfoy Manor, appearing in the travel parlor where Lucius was already waiting.  The senior Malfoy saw Pansy and Blaise with his son and his prisoner and narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“Draco?” he asked, staring at his two friends.

“They witnessed everything.  It couldn’t be helped.”  Draco explained.

“I see,” was all Lucius said.  He eyed them for another uncomfortable moment before turning his attention to the petrified Yaxley.  “Where is his wand?”

The younger three froze and Lucius let out a rather irritated growl.

“Theo stayed behind, obviously,” Draco muttered as he nervously scratched his arm, “I’ll owl him and let him know to look for it.”

“Is Theo bright enough to understand what we are looking for without you directly mentioning what we are looking for?” asked Lucius.

Draco nodded.  His father nodded back, signaling him to make haste.  Draco threw his friends an apologetic look before leaving the room.

Lucius turned back to the two young adults, staring at him with arms crossed and looking expectant.  He ran his hand through his hair with a sigh, “Let me get Yaxley to the dungeons, then I’ll explain.”

He aimed his wand at Yaxley, muttering a “finite incantatem”.  Yaxley bolted upright with a shout, looking from Lucius to Pansy to Blaise and back to Lucius.

“Malfoy!” he bellowed, “What is the meaning of this?! I heard the rumors that you were a traitor, and I didn’t want to believe it!  But I suppose the way you tucked tail and ran during the battle; I shouldn’t be too surprised.”

“Oh, shut it,” Lucius spat as he waved his wand again and silenced Yaxley.  He threw out an incarcerous spell and bound Yaxley’s wrists behind his back.  He then grabbed Yaxley by the arm and started the process of dragging him to the dungeons.  Blaise and Pansy followed suit, keeping their wands pointed at Yaxley’s back.

The captured Death Eater flailed and fought his hardest against his binds.  The ropes finally got tight enough to start cutting off blood circulation and so he wavered.

Lucius learned to hate the dungeons, all thanks to the Dark Lord and his insidious use of it.  But it had been a long day, and he didn’t have the energy to deal with Shacklebolt and the endless amount of questioning he would endure when he turned Yaxley over to the Ministry.

As he locked Yaxley in, the Death Eater grabbed at the bars and stared down his old war mate.  He officially hated this man.  Lucius didn’t care.  He looked at Yaxley with a pompous grin, bidding Yaxley goodnight before waving off all the torch lights and leaving Yaxley in the dark.

“It’s part of my release,” he explained to Pansy and Blaise as he led them into his study.  He sat at his desk and motioned for the other two to make themselves comfortable.  Pansy sat down but Blaise remained standing.

“The Ministry has given me some sort of freedom.  I’m free from Azkaban as long as I round up their list of undesirables.  I’ve been given a certain amount of time to complete these tasks, so I have recruited Draco and Theodore to help me.  So far, Theodore has proven quite useful.” He groaned as he poured himself some firewhiskey.

“I want in,” Blaise said suddenly.

“Me too.” Added Pansy with a nod.

Lucius had the glass to his lips, and he paused before even taking his first drink, “You can’t be serious,” he said, “Theodore mentioned your dueling skills, Blaise, and I did consider it.  But then decided you weren’t worth the trouble.”

“Why is that?” Blaise asked stiffly.

“Mummy dearest,” Lucius responded casually as he sipped his drink.

Blaise narrowed his eyes, “With all due respect, sir, I am not a child.  And it was my dueling skills that saved your son’s life this evening.”

Lucius nodded, “Fair enough.” He turned his focus to Pansy, “And you Ms. Parkinson?  What can you bring to the table?”

Blaise seemed to answer for her.  Crudely gesturing at her low-cut top and short skirt.

“Hey!” Pansy shrieked, giving Blaise a threatening stare, “I am so much more than tits and ass!”

Lucius choked on his drink.

“I know Pans,” said Blaise, “But none of us blokes can be the tits and ass.”

She fumed, “Oh I know a potion that could give you some lovely tits, Zabini!”

He snorted, “And here I thought you hated having competition.”

She was about to shout something else at Blaise but Lucius cut her off, rather begrudgingly. “Zabini has a point,” he tried his damnedest to remain a gentleman, but he couldn’t look at her, “Six of our seven targets are men.  You’re…umm… assets could come in handy.”

“And we could use Draco’s assets for Alecto.” Blaise added.

“No.” Lucius responded quickly.

Pansy gasped loudly, “OH!  But it’s okay to use my assets?!  Use Pansy as the man bait but when it comes to your son, he’s too precious to be exploited!”

“Draco has other skills,” Lucius tried to explain.  That was not the right thing to say.

“Are you saying my only skill is sex appeal?!” she was outraged.

“No, of course not!” Lucius sputtered.  He looked at Blaise for help, Blaise only grinned, offering nothing.

Draco came in, just in the nick of time, holding out Yaxley’s wand.  He handed it to his father who then locked it up in his desk.

“Draco!” exclaimed Pansy, “Please tell your father that I am more than just tits and ass!”

Draco looked surprised, wondering what the hell had been going on during his absence.  He tried to find something to say as he looked from Pansy to his father.  Lucius just shook his head and focused on his drink.

“He won’t let me join you all in your missions unless I play the seductress,” she explained.

“Father!” Draco sounded appalled, “Did you seriously recruit my friend for sex work?”

“It’s not sex work!” Lucius sounded exasperated, “I merely meant she could help us in luring the male targets towards their capture.”

“And you get to use your Malfoy charm on Alecto,” Blaise added.

“What?!” exclaimed Draco.  Lucius sighed even louder.

“This is going to be a long night,” Lucius muttered as he poured himself another drink, wondering what the hell he just got himself into.

 

Notes:

And so begins Lucius's frustrating journey into babysitting XD
Chapter 4 will be posted soon!

Thanks again for reading and leaving Kudos <3

Chapter 4: Draco's Assets

Blaise stepped into the small office with the ugly yellow door, dressed in his expensive robes and looking dapper as ever.  He strode over to Luna Lovegood with a cool confidence. 

Leaning against her desk, he gave her a charming smile, “My, my, Luna Lovegood,” he crooned, “It’s been ages.”

Luna blinked, “It’s only been a few months Blaise,” she replied airily.

Blaise paused a moment, clearly caught off guard.  He smiled again, “Only a few months you say?  Feels longer than that. How have you been?”

Luna gave a slight look of distress and gave him more information than he needed, “It’s been a little stressful lately, what with it being nargle season and repellant has been hard to come by.  My father warned everyone in The Quibbler that it would happen so you would think we would be more prepared.  I suppose the war kept everyone’s minds somewhere else.  We were all easy targets for the nargles.  I’ve been collecting Butterbeer corks and using them to make bracelets and necklaces for protection.  Would you like one Blaise?”

“Er… no thanks, Lovegood.”  He tried to sound polite, “I just came here for some elves.”

Her eyes lit up, “Fascinating!  You are the third Slytherin boy this week to come looking for elves.”

“Oh really?” he tried to sound surprised, “Who else were inquiring about them?”

“Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott.” She answered.

“No!” Blaise gasped, “You didn’t give them any, did you?”

Luna shook her head, “I didn’t!  Hermione told me that Draco Malfoy isn’t allowed any elves.  And Theodore Nott tried to get some for Draco.  Can you believe that?”

“The scoundrels!” Blaise exclaimed a little too theatrically, “It’s a good thing you and Granger were here to stop them.”

Luna beamed.  She turned to the filing cabinet behind her to start gathering the forms, “How many elves were you needing Blaise?”

“Oh,” Blaise scratched the back of his head, pretending to be thinking about it, “I think six would do.  My mother just married some chap from America with a large estate.  With her residing here and in America now, you know, she has two places to keep up with.  So, I think six would do.”

“How odd,” Luna responded as she straightened out the forms on her desk, “That is exactly how many Draco and Theodore needed too.”

“Yes well, we’ve already established that is all purely coincidence.”  He scanned the forms as Luna handed them over, “This here seems simple enough.  Could you round the elves up for me while I fill this out?”

“Of course,” said Luna with a smile.

“Good girl.” Blaise hummed.

Luna just blinked at him.  Women usually liked being praised like that.  It had absolutely no effect on Luna and Blaise suddenly felt like less of a man.

Unbeknownst to Luna, Draco and Theo were outside the office, several feet from the door as to not look suspicious.  Draco would look back at the door from time to time and then at his pocket watch.  Theodore kept himself occupied by eating a bag of peanuts and grinning at any witch who looked his way.

“What are you doing here?” came the agitated voice of Hermione Granger.

Draco groaned and rolled his eyes.  He turned to Hermione, “I’m enjoying the weather.  Is it a crime to stand here?”

“It is if you’re loitering!  I told you that you weren’t welcome back here.” She crossed her arms, giving him a murderous stare.

“I am not loitering, and I am not in your shoddy office!  Theodore happens to like eating peanuts right here!”  Draco gestured to his friend.

Hermione looked over to Theo who waved at her with a coy smile.  She rolled her eyes and muttered something about morons.   She turned her heel and took a step towards the yellow door.

“Granger!”  Theodore called as he hastily swallowed his food, “Your boyfriend isn’t with you.”

She scoffed and turned back around, “So?  Am I not allowed to walk the streets of Diagon Alley without my boyfriend?”

“Trouble in paradise?”  Theodore teased, “Anything I could help you with?”

She laughed sarcastically, “That’s funny Theo.  I’m surprised Malfoy has any friends that have a sense of humor.”

Draco sneered but said nothing.  Theo noticed Blaise cautiously stepping out of the office with a few elves in tow.  Theo tried to shake his head in warning, but it was too late.  Hermione followed Theo’s line of vision.

“Blaise Zabini!” Hermione shouted, “What are you doing with those elves?!”

Blaise was caught off guard for only a moment before he straightened his robes and cleared his throat, “I hired them.” He said arrogantly.

“Oh, did you?” she responded angrily, “And it just so happens you needed six elves?”

Draco looked down, rubbing his temples, they really needed to change that number.

“I did!” said Blaise, “They’re for my mum and her new husband.”

“Absolutely not! Back inside, now!” she pointed to the ugly yellow door.

Blaise grumbled and shuffled back inside with the elves.  Draco and Theo started to follow too but Hermione stopped them, “Not you two!”

She slammed the door in their faces.  Draco looked incredibly appalled; Theo continued to munch away on his snack.

They used the Leaky Cauldron again to floo back to Malfoy Manor.  As they arrived in the travel parlor, they saw Lucius observing an empty portrait that his two elves were having trouble hanging on the wall.

“Draco,” Lucius greeted in a slightly bitter tone, “Did you get my elves?”

“No father,” Draco huffed as he pushed past the small gathering and stormed down the hallway.  Theo gave Lucius a shrug and followed his friend.

Lucius turned his attention back to the elves struggling to hang up the portrait.  The blank portrait was large and heavy, with an intricate gold frame adorning it.  The elves could maneuver it around with ease, thanks to magic; it was their master who was making the task difficult.  He had observed the canvas from several different walls in the travel parlor and in the hallway just outside the entry to the room.  He even had the elves take down other paintings to test how it would look there.

In reality, he didn’t want to hang the portrait up at all.

The fireplace lit up and his new boss stepped through.

“Malfoy,” greeted Kingsley, donning his usual purple robes. He adjusted his hat and stepped through the floo.  He noticed the elves hanging the portrait just above the sofa facing the fireplace.

Lucius only nodded to Kingsley as he stared at the new placement, hand to his chin as he contemplated the current location.

Kingsley stood beside Lucius, hands on his hips as he observed as well.  He nudged Malfoy and pointed to a wall opposite a large window.  Lucius, irritated that this man touched him, looked to the direction Kinglsey pointed.

“He would appreciate not staring at your fireplace all day.  This wall here has the perfect view of the gardens outside.  I think he would enjoy watching the peacocks and admiring Narcissa’s beautiful flower gardens.  Don’t you?”

Lucius was even more disgruntled.  To place Kinglsey’s great grandfather’s portrait there would mean that Lucius, or rather, Lucius’s elves would have to take down the current artwork hanging up across from the window.  A priceless Malfoy artwork, painted centuries ago, bore the lifelike image of his ancestor, Armand Malfoy, alongside William the Conqueror, after their victory at the Battle of Hastings.

This painting told the story of how the Malfoys rose to power, the beginning of their rich history.  And Kingsley Shacklebolt, the man who currently was controlling his fate, was telling him to replace it for a portrait of a man who would report his every move. The irony was not lost to him.

Kingsley smiled at him, as if he were mocking his lineage.  Lucius clenched his jaw and nodded.  “Fine.” He muttered.

The Minister clapped his shoulder and chuckled, “Cheer up Malfoy, you’re doing well.  You’ve already caught Yaxley, and I gave you your mission a mere 24 hours ago.  If you can keep this up, you’ll be free within the week.”

Lucius groaned.  He knew it was sheer luck that Yaxley just happened to be at Nott Manor last night.  He wouldn’t get his hopes up that the others would be just as easy to find.

He watched with great remorse as his only two elves took down his ancestral painting and replaced it with the empty portrait.  Kinglsey admired the portrait, noting that his great grandfather will enjoy the plush armchair and vintage whiskey painted on it.

Kingsley approached the portrait once the elves were finished, muttering a few words under his breath.  Moments later, an older man stepped into view and sat himself down in the armchair.

Purple.  What was with the Shacklebolts and the color purple?  The older Shacklebolt had kind eyes, with a sort of paternal sparkle to them; his salt and pepper beard was trimmed short, framing his face elegantly.  His purple robes spread out across the chair and he rested his hands on each arm.  He nodded to his great grandson.

“This will do nicely,” he said in a rich tone.

Kingsley smiled and nodded back.  “Lucius,” he said while still looking at the portrait, “This is my great grandfather, Kazim Shacklebolt.  He will be my eyes and ears for the foreseeable future.”

Lucius said nothing as the elderly man looked in his direction.

“Malfoy,” Kazim greeted, “I went to Hogwarts with a Malfoy, I was a few years ahead of him, but he made his presence known quite often.  I see you won’t be much different.”

Lucius smirked but remained silent.

“Good,” said Kingsley, giving his relative one more nod before turning back to Lucius, “Now that the pleasantries are taken care of, lets see what you have for me in the dungeons?”

Lucius led Kingsley down the dark stairwell into the cold, damp dungeons, lighting the torches along the way.  They approached Yaxley’s cell and were met with cold, angry eyes.

“Corban,” greeted Kingsley.

Yaxley only glared.

Kinglsey stepped closer to the bars, “I heard you were apprehended by children.”

He continued to glare.

“Oh right,” chuckled Lucius, he waved his wand, “I silenced him last night.”

Yaxley gripped the bars and glared at his former comrade, “You’ll pay for this, Malfoy!”

“That’s rather unlikely,” responded Lucius coolly, using his wand again to unlock the cell door and opening it with a loud creak.

Yaxley was still bound and made no sudden movements.  He planted his feet firmly on the ground and stared at the two men challengingly.  Kingsley took his arm and led him out.

“His wand?” the minister asked.

“It’s in my study.  I take it you can find your way back to the travel parlor?”

Kingsley nodded, “I shall meet you there.”

“Pardon?”

Kingsley chuckled at this, “You’re going back to the Ministry with me, Malfoy.  You know there will be a mountain of paperwork to fill out.”

Lucius scoffed and turned quickly away, bounding back upstairs to his study to retrieve Yaxley’s wand.

He found Draco along the way and motioned for his son to follow him.  Draco did as he was told with no arguments.

“Where’s Nott?” asked his father.

“Don’t worry, he went back home, mother is safe.” Draco responded with a grin.

Lucius rolled his eyes and stepped into his study, unlocking the desk drawer and grasping Yaxley’s wand. “I have to take Corban to the Ministry.  You’re going with me.”

Draco whined, “Why?”

Lucius narrowed his eyes, “I need you to keep your eyes and ears open while I’m stuck doing paperwork.  That’s why.”

Draco hesitated but eventually gave in, knowing he did not have a choice.

They met up with Kingsley and Yaxley in the travel parlor.  Draco noticed the new portrait and was taken aback.  Kazim smiled at the younger Malfoy.  Draco did not return the gesture as he turned his attention back to his father.

They each took a turn using the floo.  Kingsley went first, warning Yaxley not to try any funny business.  Yaxley went next, Lucius throwing the floo powder in for him and announcing Kingsley’s private office as the destination.  Lucius soon followed and then Draco.

They appeared in the fireplace of the secretary’s office, which preceded Kingsley’s office. His secretary sat at an elegantly decorated hardwood desk, sitting up straight as soon as she saw her boss.

“Malfoy,” Kingsley said as he gestured to his employee. “This is my secretary, Mystina Beckett.  I trust her with all of my correspondence.  She is already aware of your circumstances and knows that any messages delivered by you or your team are strictly confidential.”

Lucius looked at his secretary.  Mystina stood from her seat, an attractive blonde woman with her hair in a decorative ponytail, mixed in with a few braids here and there giving a Norse look about her.  Lucius placed her to be in her mid-30s.  She extended a hand out to the senior Malfoy and he grasped her fingers gently.

“Mystina,” he greeted smoothly, then gestured behind him, “This is my son, Draco.”

She gave Lucius a small curtsy then paused when she locked eyes with Draco.  A slight blush crept up her cheeks as she dropped her hand and stared.  Lucius smirked and gave his son a knowing glance.

Draco stepped up and took Mystina’s hand, noting the large diamond on her left ring finger.  He brought her hand to his lips and lingered. “Ms. Beckett,” he greeted.

“It’s missus…” she said breathlessly.

“My mistake.” Draco grinned as he let go of her hand gently.

“It’s alright,” she squeaked, still staring at Draco as if he were the only other person in the room.

“Ahem,” Kingsley cleared his throat, causing Mystina to jump and turn her attention to her boss, “Mystina, I’ll be in my office with Lucius and Yaxley.  Be sure to alert Robards that he needs to prepare a transport to Azkaban.”

She nodded, “Right away, sir.”

“Draco can keep you company,” Lucius offered, he took Yaxley’s arm and led him roughly into Kingsley’s office before anyone could refute him.

Kingsley lingered, watching Draco with a cautious stare.  He looked at his secretary, who gave him a reassuring nod.

“I’ll be right through here, Mystina.”  He said, giving Draco one more look before going into his office and shutting the door.

Mystina smiled nervously before attempting to make herself look busy.  She shuffled some papers around and then began to type away at her typewriter.

Draco put his hands in his pockets, wandering around her office, observing the random memos and flyers, reading the spines along the rows of books on her shelves, and admiring the bouquet of roses on her desk.  Mystina would dare some glances his way, and he would catch her eye, causing her to look away quickly and go back to her typing.

“These are beautiful,” he said, touching the petals of her roses; Mystina tensed and continued typing, “Did your husband get you these?”

“N-No,” she answered shyly, “Mr. Shacklebolt gave them to me, for Secretary’s Day.”

“Ah,” said Draco, sliding a finger slowly along the vase, “A day to honor you and all your hard work.  I imagine they are well deserved.”

Mystina stopped typing and watched as Draco traced his finger along the curves of her vase, his signet ring sparkling against the black glass; then his hand would move to his hair, running it through his blonde locks.

Mystina straightened in her seat and looked back at her work, “I’m nothing special, Mr. Malfoy.”

“Mr. Malfoy?” he feigned offense, “Please, Mr. Malfoy is my father.”

She bit her lip to hide a smile as she met his gaze again, “Would you like something to drink, Draco?” her voice shook when she said his first name.

He leaned slightly into her desk, “Please.” He murmured.

Her throat went dry.  She could only nod as she stood from her seat.  She walked around her desk in a nervous haste; her foot got caught on the rug and she tripped, only to be caught by Draco.  His touch felt like lightning going through her.

“Thank you,” she laughed awkwardly, trying to pull away from him but he kept a grip on her arm, “I’ll…umm.. go get you that drink.”

“Perfect,” he crooned, “Don’t forget to tell Robards about the prisoner.”

Her eyes widened, “Right!  Thank you!”  He finally let go of her as she sprinted out of the office, leaving Draco completely alone.

Cocky didn’t even begin to describe how Draco felt at that moment.  This was almost too easy.  He looked around her office, wondering why his father needed him to seduce Mystina into a nervous, bumbling mess.

He figured he had maybe ten minutes before she was back.

He started with her desk first, sitting in her seat and trying the drawers.  Locked of course.  He skimmed over what she was typing, just some silly memo letting the magical creatures department and the DMLE aware of a string of bank robberies happening throughout the country and that they believe the robbers are using nifflers to aid in their operations.  Next, he went over the stack of paperwork on her desk, pausing when he caught sight of his father’s case file.

Curiosity consumed him. He opened the file and saw his father’s disheveled mugshot staring back at him.  He skimmed over his father’s charges and the terms regarding his release.  Nothing he didn’t already know about.

After perusing through more paperwork, he came across Antonin Dolohov’s file.  He opened it, seeing the Russian man’s photo that looked as if it were taken by the paparazzi.  The photo was recent, hardly a month old.  Draco paused.  He flipped the photo over and read the memo behind it.  Dolohov was last spotted in Surrey, not Russia like they suspected.

Did his father know?

He searched through more notes in the file.  A long list of crimes attributed to Dolohov, several muggleborn families were found dead in their homes, all brutally murdered, and carved into the wall at every crime scene were the words “без пощады”.

His stomach dropped as he stared at the many lifeless faces of Dolohov’s victims.  These were all recent murders.  He didn’t remember seeing anything about this in the Daily Prophet.

He looked at the Russian carving that was left at the crime scenes.  He waved his wand over one of the images, revealing the translation.

Without Mercy.

A chill ran through him.  Realization came crashing down.  When he went after Yaxley last night, he ran straight into Nott’s study without a second thought.  Yaxley didn’t scare him.  He felt invincible.  His father’s warning meant nothing to him.

He should have known better.  Death Eaters practically lived at his home last year.  He heard their drunken, vile retellings daily; the screams of the victims they kept in the dungeons haunted his dreams, and he watched on in horror as his former professor was murdered on his dining room table.

It was naïve of him to forget, to assume the threat was over.  It was far from over.

He heard the clicking of heels approaching the office door.  He quickly slammed the file shut and tucked it in his suit jacket.  He stood from Mystina’s desk and strode towards her bookcase, leaning against it and hoping he looked as calm and collected as ever.

Mystina backed into the door to open it since her hands were full.  She was talking to someone passing by before turning to Draco, two cups of tea in her hands.

“Sugar and honey ok?” she asked politely.

“Well, most people call me Draco, but if you prefer sugar or honey, I won’t object.” Draco teased, though his voice had a slight tremble. 

Mystina blushed and looked away as she handed him the teacup. “Are you always this charming?”

He accepted the teacup, giving a cheeky smile and a wink. “Sometimes. But I can’t help myself, when I’m around a woman as stunning as you, even in a professional setting.”

“Careful Draco,” she said teasingly, “I’m a married woman.”

“What a shame,” he murmured, intentionally loud enough for her to hear.

She sat at her desk, taking a sip of tea and hoping the cup would hide her delighted smile.  As she glanced at her workspace she paused, studying it as if something were out of place.  Draco watched her, trying to ignore the lump in his throat and his sweaty palms.

She shrugged and went back to her typewriter, “Your father shouldn’t be much longer.  I know there is quite a bit of paperwork but as soon as Mr. Malfoy is done giving his statement, the rest flows fairly quickly.”

“Right.” Was all Draco would say.  The case file hidden in his jacket felt heavy and he couldn’t think of anything else charming to say.

So, they sat in silence; Mystina typing away on her typewriter, and Draco drinking his tea and constantly checking the time.

Minutes dragged on and all Draco could think about was the images of those dead families. Why was the Ministry keeping this quiet? Was this the real reason why his father was released and assigned to find Dolohov? The auror department wasn’t having any luck apprehending a dangerous criminal; apparently risking the life of a former Death Eater was the much better option. If he failed, no one would shed a tear; if he was successful, then he would be given his freedom and soon forgotten.

The Malfoy glory days were long gone.

Robards entered the office with a few aurors in tow; they knocked on Shacklebolt's door and were let in almost immediately.  Lucius was relieved. His part was done, and he was dismissed.  Casually walking out of Shacklebolt's office, he looked to Mystina and informed her that Shacklebolt was asking for her.  She gave Lucius a polite nod and entered her boss's office, closing the door behind her.

He looked at Draco, his lips quirked to one side.

Draco rolled his eyes, moving from the place where he was seated and approaching his father, "What?"

"Find out anything interesting?"

"Actually," Draco paused for dramatic effect, "I have."

"Good." Lucius responded in a low voice, "Maybe Zabini was onto something then..."

"What do you mean?"

His father chuckled and turned from his son, talking while he grabbed a handful of floo powder, "Something about your assets..."

Draco huffed, shoving his hands in his pockets and muttering, "Ridiculous...."

Lucius chuckled again, tossing the floo powder into the fireplace and announcing his destination.  Draco watched as his father disappeared into the green flames.  Taking another moment to scan Mystina's office, he couldn't help but smile. 

 At least his father couldn't see how pleased he was with himself.

*********

Narcissa was aghast at the sight of the images in Dolohov's file.  She had seen her fair share of torture and murder due to last year's unwelcome guests, and she never got used to the shock.

Lucius, however, was furious.  He flipped through the case file again, reading every line, studying every picture and questioning everything.

"Did you know about this?" he hissed at Theodore.

Theo, looking quite taken aback, stared at Lucius with wide eyes, "Me?  Why would I know about this?"

"Because your father is an insufferable gossip who hosts the worst of the worst quite often," Lucius responded, still eyeing Theo suspiciously.

"Yaxley, yes.  Rookwood, yes.  But I've never seen Dolohov in my home nor heard my father ever mention him.  Sure, he's hosted quite a few delinquents, but none as vile as Antonin Dolohov.  He does have some standards." 

"Pansy?" he looked to the girl standing beside Draco, leaning against the sofa and filing her nails casually.

"Sorry," she answered dully, "My father maybe a step below Nott's, but I haven't seen or heard anything either."

"What do you suppose he was doing in Surrey?" asked Blaise, grabbing the photo of Dolohov and studying it. "And why didn't Shacklebolt tell you he was spotted there?  We could have used the lead."

"We can't very well just go up and ask him, can we?" responded Draco, "Then he'll know I took the file."

"It's possible he hasn't been seen in Surry since and Shacklebolt believed it was a dead end," offered Pansy, "He could bloody well be in China by now."

Lucius rubbed his temples, none of this was helping.  Shacklebolt, being impressed by their most recent capture, gave Lucius some reprieve and allowed him sixty days to acquire his next target.  He didn't think the other Death Eaters were committing such heinous crimes; sixty days per target seemed doable. 

"I'll talk to my father," said Theo, breaking the silence, "See if he's heard anything."

Draco was grateful for his friend's offer but wasn't sure Nott Sr. was the man to go to this time around.  He had to ask the hard question, "Nott, how many times have you oblviated your father?"

The room felt uncomfortable as all eyes landed on Theo.

"You oblviated your father?" Narcissa asked, trying to maintain her polite tone.

Theo shrugged, as if this was a regular occurrence.  His demeanor seemed to cut some of the tension, "Not too often, I don't think.  I dabbled with memory charms starting around 6th year.  Oh no, I had a bad grade in Divination, time to obliviate daddy.  Shit, I was caught with my hands up the wrong skirt, obliviate.  No father, that wasn't me breaking into your liquor cabinet and finishing off your 100 year old whiskey.  Obliviate.  I was sick of the man striking me every time I made a wrong move."

Narcissa's hand was to her chest, gazing at Theo with sad eyes.  Pansy, Blaise and Draco all looked to the floor, knowing too well the abuse Theo endured throughout his childhood.  Lucius's jaw clenched.

"I'm fine." Theo said reassuringly. 

"That many memory charms is sure to have caused brain damage by now," said Lucius, "I'm not certain how reliable his intel will be."

"My father may be fat and ugly, but his mind is still sharp.  He's been obsessing over dark Egyptian magic here recently, the knowledge he's been spewing out has been precise.  I've read over the material myself.  Nothing is damaged in his noggin, I assure you."

“Theodore…” Narcissa whispered.  She was still watching him with sad eyes.

“Hmm?” Theodore’s eyebrows rose, not used to someone saying his name so affectionately.

Narcissa clasped each of his arms, gripping onto them for a moment before pulling him into a motherly hug.

“You poor thing…” she tutted.

Theodore’s face went from one of shock to one of deviance.  He suddenly clutched onto Narcissa and began sobbing in her neck.

“Oh, Mrs. Malfoy!” he cried, “It was awful!  He’d beat me for any little thing!  If he didn’t like the way I arranged my bookshelf, or if I didn’t eat everything on my plate… he once beat me for not making the Quidditch team!”

His sobs reverberated around the room.  Narcissa continued to comfort him.

Pansy and Blaise gawked at the scene before them.  Draco looked utterly irritated as he shook his head and crossed his arms.  Lucius had murder on the mind.

Draco nudged Pansy and gave her a nod, silently telling her to stop this before his father winds back up in Azkaban.  Pansy nodded back and approached the embracing duo.

“Theo darling, come here….”  Pansy tugged on his arm gently.

“No Pans,” he whimpered, “I need a mother’s love right now.”

Blaise backed away when he saw Lucius snap the quill in his hand.

Pansy tried again, tugging on his arm a little harder, “Theo please, I want to hold you too.”

“No, no…” he sounded muffled in Narcissa’s neck.  Narcissa gently pulled him from her and guided him towards Pansy.  “Oh alright,” he sighed, embracing Pansy so roughly he nearly knocked her over.

“Are you finished?!” Draco barked.

Theo sniffled, breaking from Pansy and wiping his crocodile tears away, “Yes, mate, I think I’m finished.”  He plopped down on the sofa, propping his feet up on the arm rest and began speaking as if he were never a horribly portrayed sobbing mess, “So about my abusive old man, I think it’s worth a shot bringing up the Russian slasher to him.”

“Don’t joke about that Theo,” Pansy sounded disgusted.

“Let me know when I can pay your father a visit, Theodore.”  Lucius said, ice in his tone as the image of his wife embracing Theo burned in his brain, “I’ll ask him about Dolohov.”

“Of course sir,” Theo gave a mock bow from where he was sitting, “I’m sure any night will do.  The man is always drinking and talking to anyone who will listen.”

Lucius sighed, rubbing his temples and taking a deep breath before speaking to Theo again, “Let Draco know instead, he’ll tell me.”

“I have a session at the dueling club tonight,” said Blaise as he looked at the time, “Just owl me when you schedule the next meeting.”

Draco nodded and Blaise left the group.

“There isn’t anything else to discuss tonight, you all should go home now.” Said Narcissa, giving Theo a stern look.  Theo wasn’t phased of course.  He simply stood up from the couch, took Pansy’s arm and led her out of the room.

The room became eerily quiet when the Malfoy family were all who remained in the study.  Lucius paced while Narcissa scanned over the Dolohov file again.  Draco remained by the sofa, lost in his own thoughts.

“I can’t stop you from going after him, Lucius,” Narcissa said, finally taking her eyes away from the file to look at her husband, “But I still have a say when it comes to the safety of my son.”

“Not this again ‘Cissa,” Lucius stopped pacing and met his wife’s gaze, “He’s not a boy anymore, his decisions are his own and he volunteered for this.”

“It wasn’t even a year ago when I thought he was dead!” Narcissa argued, her voice a mix of frustration and concern. She was remembering that night in the Forbidden Forest; leaning into Harry and asking if her son was still alive.  The fear she was feeling now was just as strong as it was that night.

Their argument ensued as if Draco wasn’t in the same room as them.  He couldn’t concentrate on what they were saying anyway. His mind was focused on too many things all at once: the mission, the images in the file, his father in a cage before the Wizengamot, the day he took the mark, and the faces of each Death Eater they were in charge of finding.

He thought about the Carrow twins during his final year at Hogwarts.  Although most students shunned him and kept their distance; the twins had him on a pedestal.  Always portraying Draco as the “hope” for a better future, a symbol for pureblood society and the continuation of a “perfect” wizarding world.  He was often volunteered to demonstrate Unforgivable Curses during the Dark Arts class; each demonstration tearing a part of his soul every time he performed.  The Carrows would laugh and praise him, all while Draco was slowly dying inside.

He thought about Yaxley and Rookwood in his home, giving him the slimiest grin as they made their way to the dungeons nightly to see what fresh new captures had arrived.  The helpless screams of tortured women echoed throughout the manor and kept him up at night.  Even when he could sleep, he could still hear them scream.

Jugson was more of the strong, silent type.  He terrified Draco.  He could still see him, entering his home and reporting his latest atrocities to Lord Voldemort.  Voldemort would praise him and send him on his way.  There was one time though, he commanded Jugson to take Draco with him on a hunt.  They had cornered a family of muggleborns somewhere outside Manchester, Jugson told Draco to kill the father.  He couldn’t do it.  Jugson threw him into a stone wall with a reducto; cracking a few ribs and commanding him again.  Draco still couldn’t do it.  He was taken back to Voldemort shortly after Jugson killed the family and forced to watch as the people in the dungeons were tortured.  He knew most of them.

Walden Macnair enjoyed killing almost as much as his Aunt Bellatrix did.  Macnair liked to present the bodies of his victims to Voldemort, throwing them before Voldemort’s feet like an offering.  Draco swore he could still smell the rot in their drawing room.  The first time he ever met his uncle, Ted, he was already dead on the stone floor, gazing with soulless eyes.  Draco would never forget Macnair’s black eyes staring into his grey ones and saying, “Draco, come meet your Uncle Teddy.”

In hindsight, it was a surprise it wasn’t Macnair’s face associated with the recent muggleborn murders.  Dolohov was a menace in their home, but he spent most of his time practicing his wand work on the innocent peacocks or obsessing over getting his revenge on Hermione Granger.  The man was manic, Draco just didn’t realize the intensity of that mania.

Draco left the study while his parents continued to argue.  He needed a Dreamless Sleep potion.  He needed to sleep and clear his head.

He needed to stop being afraid.

Chapter 5: Sim Sala Bim's

"That's it Pans, show him the bits!" Theo cheered from a rooftop in Diagon Alley, turning the dial on his omnioculars to get a better view into the window of a room in the Leaky Cauldron, "Good girl..."

Lucius groaned, setting his omnioculars down and giving Theo a cold stare.  Theo didn't notice of course, he just kept encouraging his friend from a distance, "There you go sweetheart, wiggle that arse.  He likes that very much."

Lucius let out another irritated noise, placing his omnioculars back to his face and watching Pansy with their current target, feeling rather uncomfortable about the ordeal.

It had been several weeks since another lead came in and Lucius had yet to meet with Theo's father.  Nott Sr. had decided to take an impromptu trip to Egypt to gather more relics for his current project and was due to be back any day now.  Blaise had found this current lead.  A bloke he met at the Leaky earlier in the month seemed a bit off, greeting Blaise as if he were an old friend and sharing information that no stranger would share with someone they just met.  So, Blaise decided to visit the inn pub after his nightly meetings at the dueling club, befriending this strange man and locking away anything that could be of use.

This strange man was so interesting because his knowledge in dark arts was impressive for someone who not only was a stranger but also had no ties with Lord Voldemort.  One night, he was demonstrating a particularly nasty spell when his methods suddenly reminded Blaise of a former professor.  During said demonstration, the man suddenly shook violently and dropped his mug of butterbeer.  He had trouble composing himself and was barely able to tell Blaise he needed the loo.  When he returned moments later, it was as if nothing was amiss.

Blaise took his information to Lucius, and both agreed the man could possibly be taking polyjuice potion and Blaise needed to keep meeting with him and find out more. Blaise started to notice more twitching and shaking on the man's behalf, after which he would run to the loo and return in perfect condition. Blaise would time it every time, to gauge how long the potion was lasting.  The man seemed to have a weak batch; polyjuice potion was hard to come by since it took so long to brew and was expensive to obtain.

He brought Pansy to his most recent visit to charm the man.  The man looked at Pansy with knowing eyes and let it slip that she had grown so much.  Pansy decided to ignore his little slip up, brushing a hand down his arm and asking him to buy her a drink.  It didn't take Pansy long to get the man back to his hotel room.  Now all the others had to do was wait and hope they were right about the polyjuice theory.

So, Lucius and Theo continued to watch from the rooftop while Blaise waited for their signal in the pub.  Draco was due to be joining the rooftop pair shortly.

"Pansy no!" whined Theo, "Why did you adjust your shirt darling; you had all the right parts hanging out!"  He tutted and adjusted his dial again.

Lucius glanced at Theo and then looked at him again once he realized what he was doing, "Are you using the replay feature?!"

Theo gave a nervous laugh at that and shrugged, "I thought I saw something..."

"I need you to focus," said the senior Malfoy through gritted teeth.

"I'm focused sir," Theo gave a reassuring nod, "Very, very focused."

"You're despicable."

"Despicable yet useful," responded Theo with a sly grin, never taking his eyes off the window they were peeping into. "Oh look!  Pansy is doing that shimmy thing she used on Draco in 5^th year!  That cost him his virginity, you know."

Lucius choked and then cleared his throat, "Nott!"

Theo finally dropped his omnioculars and gave Lucius a playful look of disgust, "With all due respect, sir, I don't think you should be watching this.  You're a married man after all and Pansy has been intimate with your son.  It's creepy."

"Do you ever stop talking?!"

"No," Theo answered with a grin.  He went back to looking through his omnioculars and suddenly exclaimed, "Tits in the face!  That's my girl!"

Lucius sighed, deciding he had seen enough and put his omnioculars down, "Tell me when she's done..."

"Will do," whistled Theo as he continued to watch.  There was an awkward silence as Theo continued to monitor and Lucius scanned the rest of Diagon Alley from the rooftop.

"Why is your father fascinated with Egyptian dark arts all of sudden?" asked Lucius, attempting to fill the awkward silence.

"Oh, he's suddenly become fascinated with the god Osiris and believes there is some truths to the lore." responded Theo.

"Osiris?  The god of the underworld?"

Theo nodded, keeping his attention on the window, "That's the one.  Apparently, he was dismembered by his brother and his wife searched far and wide to reassemble his body parts.  Legends say she brought him back to life through speech.  That's in the muggle texts; we all know speech translates to spells.  A rather silly story if you ask me."

Lucius paled, "What exactly is your father trying to accomplish?"

Before Theo could respond, they were joined by Draco who looked quite disgruntled to be sitting on a dirty rooftop.

"How are things coming along?" Draco asked.

"As expected," answered Theo, "Your father keeps looking at Pansy and it's creepy.  She's basically naked writhing all over this man and your father is just leering--"

"Father!"

Lucius pinched the bridge of his nose, gripping his wand with his other hand, "I will risk going back to Azkaban and hex you both right now if you don't stop talking..."

The man picked Pansy up with a grunt and slammed her onto the creaking bed, shoving his body in between her legs and hovering over her, placing sloppy kisses along her neck.  He groaned and chuckled as he nipped at her earlobe.  Pansy tangled her fingers into his shaggy brown hair and gave a rather convincing sigh of pleasure.

She glanced over at the clock on the wall as the man ground into her hips. They were coming up on an hour.  He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him as he drove his tongue straight into her mouth.  Pansy remembered to hold her breath to avoid smelling his rancid breath.

"I knew you were an easy one," he muttered into her mouth and grinned against her lips, "Always prancing about class, leaving a button or two undone and getting some boy to do your homework for you.."

Pansy rolled her eyes, "We went to school together?" she asked innocently.

The man paused, realizing his mistake, "No.  Just heard your name from some mates is all."

He twitched.  Pansy caught it and watched for another one.  He sat up quickly, looking around his room and frantically digging through his pockets.

"Is everything alright?" asked Pansy with fake concern, grabbing the man by the face and attempting to distract him.  He shoved her away with a growl and jumped to his feet, looking more and more agitated.

Pansy propped herself up on her elbows and looked around as well.  They both spotted the vial at the same time, sitting on his dresser beside an empty bottle of vodka, and they both scrambled for it.  Pansy grabbed at his shirt in attempt to pull him back and he backhanded her, causing Pansy to fall to the ground with a shriek.  She got her bearings quickly and watched as the man stumbled to the vial, losing a few inches in height and his hair slowly turning red.  She was on her feet in an instant, tackling the man to the ground just as his fingers barely brushed the vial.

The man raged as he swung his elbow back, just missing her face.  She grabbed him by the hair, slamming his face into the wooden floor.  She was on her feet again, reaching for the vial when the man grabbed her ankles and pulled her back down.  He reached for her throat, but Pansy managed to kick him hard in the chest.

"You bitch!" he screamed.

"FUCK!"  Theo yelled from the rooftop, dropping his omnioculars as soon as he saw Pansy being struck, "Signal Blaise NOW!"

Draco was quick with his wand, sending 3 red sparks towards the window Blaise was sitting at from the pub.  Theo and Lucius both watched through their omnioculars as Blaise jumped to his feet and sprang towards the rooms upstairs.

The man had Pansy pressed against the dresser, wand to her throat when he fully transformed back into his original state.

"Professor Carrow," Pansy greeted breathlessly.

"Pansy Parkinson," he responded, digging his wand into her throat, "You in cahoots with Zabini? Planning on fucking me then robbing me, eh?"

She scoffed, trying to turn her head away from the pain in her neck, "You were never going to get that far."

They were interrupted by the sound of someone yelling, "Alohomora!"  The door rattled but didn't unlock.  Amycus Carrow cackled, pleased that his wards were still standing strong.  Pansy grabbed the empty vodka bottle while Amycus was distracted and smashed it over his head.  Amycus fell to the ground with a yelp, holding the fresh gash on the back of his skull.  She kicked him in the ribs for good measure before sprinting to the door and opening it.

Blaise came barreling in, wand at the ready.  He came to a halt when he saw Amycus on the ground, bloody and moaning.

"Bloody hell Pans," he muttered with a grin.  Pansy crossed her arms, looking pleased.

Blaise grabbed the robes strewn across a chair and threw them at her, "Cover yourself before you embarrass Mr. Malfoy."

She giggled and wrapped the robes around her, "The last thing I need is to be on Narcissa's hit list."

"Not as lengthy as Lucius's, I hear." Blaise joked as the pair approached the moaning Death Eater, wands at the ready.

Blaise used an incarcerous spell just as the rest of the group joined them.

Theo immediately grabbed Pansy's arms and checked her for injuries.  She gave him an irritated look, shoving him away, "I'm fine, Nott."

"You're not fine," he argued, examining her bruised cheek.  Anger flared in his eyes when he remembered Carrow backhanding her.

Theo approached the bound Death Eater with a scary confidence, through blurry vision Amycus Carrow watched as Theo knelt beside him, grabbed his collar and lifted him until they were eye level.  The anger in Theo’s eyes was gone and replaced with false pity.

He tutted, “Professor Carrow, where are your manners?  Hitting a lady?”

"I don't need a hero, Theodore." Pansy said listlessly.

Carrow spat, too disorientated to aim and it landed on Theo’s sleeve, “She’s no lady.”

“And you’re no gentleman,” Theo grumbled, scrunching his nose at the bloody spit dripping down his sleeve.  Theo dropped Carrow not-to-gently and took out his wand, vanishing the mess.  He then tapped his wand on Carrow’s temple and smiled, “Remember that nasty spell you taught me?  The one that makes a person’s bones so brittle a mere sniffle could break their nose?”

Carrow’s eyes widened for a moment, Theo wagged his eyebrows at him.

“Leave him alone, Nott.”  Lucius interrupted, though he looked unbothered.

Lucius jumped and looked immediately over to the pair when he heard a sickening crack.  Amycus howled in pain and blood poured from his nose.  Theo was shaking his boot off.  He shrugged, shooting Lucius an innocent smile and simply saying, “Oops.”

Pansy scoffed and Lucius rolled his eyes.

Amycus was sat up against the dresser, giving Lucius a cold stare as he spat blood onto the floor, "Malfoy." he growled.

"Amycus," Lucius greeted in a low tone, slowly spinning his wand around in his fingers, "Hiding in plain sight I see.  It would have been genius if you didn't talk so much."

"I don't have to explain myself to the likes of you," Amycus responded venomously, "Traitor to the Dark Lord and having children do all your dirty work.  You were always a sneaky bastard, turning your back on the cause the moment the Dark Lord failed the first time, then groveling back the moment he returned, only to run away again."

His words affected Draco to a point, but not Lucius.  He merely smiled at his prisoner as he continued to slowly spin his wand between his fingers.

Amycus kept hurling the insults, desperate for some sort of response, "I heard it was Potter and the mudblood's testimony that got you your freedom.  You a blood traitor now too, Malfoy?  I bet you got a taste of that mudblood cunt and it poisoned your mind."

Draco took a step towards Amycus, but Lucius put his arm out, blocking him.

"You are quite vile, aren't you Amycus?" Lucius asked in a cool tone.

"Very." Pansy answered for him.

Amycus gave Pansy a disgusting grin, his eyes roaming down her body, "I got a taste of you though, didn't I?  Pretty little Pansy Parkinson, graduating from schoolboys to professors.  Such a tight little body, makes me wonder what else was tight on you.  Too bad the polyjuice potion wore off before I could bend you over and find out."

“Stupefy,” Pansy chanted calmly, barely waving her wand.  The stunner hit and Amycus was out cold.

"Finally, silence." Lucius said, looking relieved.

They transferred the unconscious Carrow brother to the Malfoy dungeons, deciding that they wouldn’t alert the Ministry yet.  They needed him for questioning.

After a few ice cold Aguamenti spells to the face, Amycus woke up with a choke.

“Bloody hell!” he sputtered, spitting onto the stone floor.

“Good morning professor,” Theodore mused.

Once Amycus got his bearings and realized where he was, he blindly bolted for the door but was immediately shoved back onto the floor by Blaise.

“What’s the rush?” asked Theodore, “You just got here.”

“Why am I here?!” he bellowed, eyeing the faces of his former students, “Why did you attack me?”

“Surely you saw the wanted posters strung throughout Diagon Alley,” explained Draco, pointing his wand at Amycus and daring him to try to get up again.

Amycus spat at Draco’s feet, “You here for the bounty on my head?  Have the Malfoys fallen on hard times?”

“Hardly,” Draco countered.

The group parted when Lucius approached their new prisoner.  Amycus scowled.

“Where is your sister, Amycus?” Lucius asked, getting straight to the point.

“Fuck off, Malfoy.” Seethed Amycus.

Lucius took a breath.  He knew it wasn’t going to be this easy. “Don’t make this harder on yourself.  You have no way of escaping.  Now tell me where to find Alecto.”

“Why?  Your wife not doing it for you anymore?” he said with a smirk, “I find that hard to believe when it comes to Narcissa.  If she is even half as wild as her sister, I’d have her warming my cock every night.”

Draco moved forward to strike Amycus, but Lucius beat him to it.

Pansy cringed when she saw Amycus spit out a tooth.  Amycus only chuckled as blood dripped from his mouth, pleased to finally get a rise out of Lucius.

“Come on Lucius, where’s that high born restraint?” taunted Amycus.

Lucius smirked, “You seem to bring out my inner sadist.  Now I’ll ask you again, where is your sister?”

“And stop all this fun we’re having?” Amycus laughed, “I’m still catching up with an old friend.”

Lucius sighed, unsheathing his new wand from the custom-made snake cane he recently had Frick construct, closely resembling his previous one.  He considered other ways to get Amycus to talk.

Amycus licked the blood from his lips, giving Pansy a hungry stare.  She returned his stare with an angry one.  He taunted her with a kissing gesture.  Pansy rolled her eyes and then threw a stinging hex right at his eye.

“I don’t have all day Carrow!” she fumed, “Where is your sister?”

“What’s the rush Parkinson?” Amycus said after he caught his breath, his freshly injured eye beginning to swell shut, “Running late to your next knob slobbing session?”

She held one hand up when she noticed Theo and Blaise make a move, “I got this gentlemen,” she said calmly.

She kneeled to Amycus’s eye level, sliding a finger under his chin and forcing his head up to meet her gaze.  She smiled wickedly, “I can miss a session or two if it means I get to watch you being tortured; I do love to hear a man scream.”

“Is that why that one came to your defense so quickly?” he nodded to Theo, “He looks like a screamer.”

“Only when I’ve been a good boy,” responded Theo, not missing a beat.

“Enough banter,” Lucius seethed, “My patience is coming to an end.   Where is Alecto?”

“Come on Lucius, you haven’t even tried an Unforgivable yet.  Have you lost your touch?” Amycus feigned disappointment.

“Allow me sir,” offered Blaise, but Lucius held up his hand.

“I’ll handle it Zabini,” Lucius responded, gripping his wand and closing his eyes.  His wand glowed as he drew in thoughts of pure hatred.

Draco stepped out of the dungeon unnoticed, not ready for the painful emotions that consumed him whenever he heard the Unforgivable Curses cast.  He flinched, already halfway up the stairs when he heard his father’s Cruciatus Curse; followed by the agonized screams of Amycus Carrow.

The three remaining young adults winced when they witnessed Amycus scream and flail on the floor helplessly.  Lucius held his spell for about fifteen seconds, but it felt much longer.

He didn’t let Amycus catch his breath as he gripped the man by his shirt and slammed him against the wall, “Where is your sister?” Lucius asked again.

“Fuck off Malfoy,” Amycus groaned.  He was crucio’d for an additional twenty seconds.

It was hard to watch.  No one was enjoying this, not even Lucius.

“Just tell him already!” Pansy shrieked.

“Fuck you too, whore!” Amycus said through gritted teeth, “You won’t get a thing out of me!  You can crucio me until I’m mad, I’ll never give up Alecto.”

“How sweet,” muttered Lucius, running his hands through his hair and taking a moment to recoup his magical reserves.

“Would you like us to have a go at him?” asked Theo.

Lucius opened his mouth to respond but heard the sound of heavy boots coming down the stairs.  He looked up, and to his disdain, saw Kingsley Shacklebolt.  Shacklebolt looked just as displeased.

“This wasn’t part of our agreement, Malfoy.” Said Kingsley, examining the state Amycus was in.

“Well,” Lucius began, “I had planned on capturing the set.  I was only trying to get more information on his sister’s whereabouts.”

“You of all people should know that Unforgivable Curses are illegal,” he nodded to Lucius’s hand, “Your ring tells me more than just your whereabouts.  You’re lucky I’m not sending you back to Azkaban for this.”

Lucius growled, eyeing the ring on his middle finger.  He should’ve known.

“You three,” Kingsley looked to Blaise, Pansy and Theo, “Out.”

The three did not immediately obey.  They looked to Lucius for guidance, but he merely nodded at them.  They left.

They decided to find Draco; they walked down the long hallway heading for his room in silence.  They found Draco in there, solemnly staring out his window overlooking the hedge maze.

“Were you able to get Alecto’s location?” he asked without averting his gaze.

“Unfortunately, no,” answered Blaise, “Shacklebolt showed up and crashed the party.”

“You alright, mate?” asked Theo, approaching his friend cautiously.

“Fine,” muttered Draco, closing the curtains and turning to his friends, “I’m bored and fancy a night out.  Sim Sala Bim’s anyone?”

That drew out a delighted smile from Pansy and Theo.  Blaise declined respectfully, saying he had dinner plans with his mother and her new man.  He would join them later if his evening ended early.  They waved their friend goodbye, and the rest prepared for a night of drunken debauchery.

***********

Sim Sala Bim’s was crowded, not unusual for a Friday night.  The crowd wasn’t an issue for Draco, Theo and Pansy since they had their VIP section reserved.  The VIP section was set up like a loft, located past the dance floor, up a flight of stairs onto an area overlooking the club.  The lounge had its own private bar and was adorned with several plush velvet couches, each with tables in front of them.

Pansy was on one of the sofas, sitting on her legs and nursing a martini as Draco and Theo leaned over the railing to peer at the crowd below them.  They watched them like the royals would do, perched on their balcony so the peasants below could bask in their superiority.

“Look at the bird with the blue hair just to the left of the dance floor there,” pointed Theo, “Think she’s a Metamorphmagus or just going through a rebellious stage?”

Draco squinted and spotted the blue hair, “That’s a terrible dye job if I’ve ever seen one.”

“Alright,” said Theo, taking a drink from his tumbler, “No bad dye jobs, noted.  Are we looking for anything in particular tonight then?  Blondes?  Brunettes? Redheads?”

“No redheads,” said Draco sternly, “And no brunettes either.”

“We’re sticking to blondes then.  You know that runs the risk of you being distantly related to them.”  Theo grinned.

“There are other hair colors, Nott.”  Draco said with a glare, “Such as witches with black hair.”

Nott gestured to Pansy, “If you want a witch with black hair, all you have to do is ask.  Though I’m afraid you’ll wake up tomorrow with a limp.”

Pansy eyed the two boys; she couldn’t hear them over the music, but Theo’s gesture was enough for her to know she had been mentioned.

Draco ignored Theo’s suggestion and continued to scan the dance floor and the first-floor bar area.  A small group gathered at a table caught his attention, “Speaking of redheads…” he nudged Theo and pointed.

Theo followed where Draco’s finger was pointing.  He spotted them almost immediately.  Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny all gathered together around a table, clinking glasses and drunkenly laughing at something the She-Weasel said.

“Oh, the golden trio and Potter’s little girlfriend,” Theo said delightedly, “I suppose their fame gained them access into the club, but how do you suppose they’re affording those drinks?  I find it hard to believe there’s money to be made in the elf rescue business.”

“I doubt they’re drinking top shelf,” responded Draco, “And I can almost guarantee their drinks are on the house.”

“How serious do you think she is about Potter?” asked Theo, sporting a wicked grin.

“You can’t be serious,” Draco looked absolutely repulsed.

“Have you seen her in her Quidditch robes, mate?” Theo wagged his eyebrows, “She looks utterly dangerous in them.”

Draco turned away, leaning his back against the railing and downing his drink, “Have at it, mate.  Good luck.”

Theo gave his friend a drunken salute, bowed to Pansy who rolled her eyes at him and slid down the railing to the first floor.  He approached the group of heroes with Slytherin confidence.

“Look who it is!” he greeted loudly through the music, the foursome immediately looked at him with mixed expressions, “The saviors of the wizarding world come to bless us with their appearance.”

Ron glared.  Hermione scoffed. Harry looked confused.  Ginny seemed intrigued.

“Hello Nott,” greeted Harry respectfully, “How are you?”

“Don’t be nice to him Harry,” Ron interjected.

“Weasley,” Theo pouted, “I’m hurt.  I only wanted to offer you all my gratitude for saving us all from a life of groveling and unnecessary torture.”

“Seemed like the perfect life for you,” Ron retorted.

Theo shrugged and leaned against the table, his shoulder brushing against Ginny’s, “I don’t mind a little groveling if the situation calls for it…” he batted his eyes at Ginny.

Harry looked extremely uncomfortable, and Hermione had to grab Ron’s arm before he did something stupid.

Ginny didn’t seem fazed by Theo’s flirting.  She simply eyed her former classmate with amused curiosity and said, “And what situation would that be, Nott?”

“A situation that’s call for you, me and a ridiculously expensive suite at the Savoy.” He winked.

“Nott,” Harry growled.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Theo backed away playfully, “Are you two still a thing?”

Ginny nodded with a grin while Harry and Ron continued to eye Theo dangerously.

“Really?” he propped his elbows up on the table and leaned into Ginny again, “Is it the scar?  Does that do it for you?”

“Oh, it’s so much more than the scar,” Ginny crooned, leaning into Theo as well as she spoke in a sultry tone, “I love a man who lives dangerously; keeps me on my toes.”

Theo shuttered, lost in her eyes, “Oh darling, I can show you danger.”

“Stop encouraging him, Ginny!” Hermione hissed.

Ginny grinned and tapped Theo on the nose, “Go back to blondie, Nott.”

Theo pouted, “I’d much rather hang out with you Gryffindorks.  Draco is no fun.”

“You heard her!” Ron was almost shouting, “Go back to your snake pit.”

“My snake pit?” Theo laughed, and turned back to Ginny, “How’s about you join me in my snake pit?  Granger, you can come along too.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, but Ginny was caught looking up at the VIP section, Draco still leaning against the railing, Pansy was now standing beside him, conversing.

“Ginny!” Ron exclaimed.

“What?” Ginny gave her brother a seething stare, “I was just looking.  I wasn’t actually going to go up there.”

Ginny glanced over at Harry who looked worried.  She reassured him that she wasn’t actually considering joining Theo in the VIP section.

“Run along Nott,” Ginny made a shooing motion, “You’ve upset my boyfriend.”

“Very well,” Theo gave a dramatic sigh, “Another time?”

“Try next century,” Ginny replied.

“I’ll hold you to it,” Theo said with a wink, pushing himself off the table and leaving the foursome to stew in their newfound irritation of him.

Theo rejoined his friends in the VIP section, accepting a drink from a waitress in a skimpy uniform.

“No redheads tonight, mate?” Draco smirked.

“Not tonight,” answered Theo, downing his drink in one go.

“What are you compared to the boy who saved the Wizarding world?” asked Draco with a smug grin. 

Theo grinned back at him and shrugged, “It was worth a shot.  Why don’t you try?”

This drew an obnoxious laugh from Draco, “Redheads are not my thing.”

“Then go for the brunette,” said Theo looking sheepish, taking another drink from a passing tray.  Pansy threw him a quizzical look.

Draco paused, casting a glance at the witch who was currently brushing the Weasley’s hair from his stupid weasel face, “You’re joking.” He stated coldly.

“Come now, Draco.  Don’t tell me you’ve never fantasized about taking her to the library and doing unspeakable things in the restricted section?”

Pansy scoffed and muttered something about Theo being despicable.

Theo waved off Pansy’s comment, he was proud of his remark.  He didn’t miss the way Draco tensed and gripped his glass.  He pushed more, “What could the weasel provide her when you have the world at your fingertips?”

Draco sat his empty glass down at a nearby table, giving Theo a sneer and saying, “Not anymore, I don’t.  Voldemort made sure of that.”

“Even better,” Theo leaned over the railing, catching Hermione’s eye and smirking at her, “Granger has a thing for wounded creatures.”

Draco snorted, “She seemed rather repulsed by you.”

“She did,” Theo shrugged, “But I’ve never seen anyone rile her up the way you do, mate.”

“I’m not going down there.” Draco said with finality.

Theo held his hands up in a surrendering gesture, “Fine.  Go ahead and miss your window of opportunity then.”

Draco sighed, wishing this conversation would end, “And how is this my window of opportunity?”

There was a gleam in Theo’s eye when he turned back to his friend, “We aren’t at the elf rescue.  This here, is our territory.”

Draco bit the inside of his cheek.  Was he really considering this?  Was Theo that convincing?  Or perhaps it was the liquid courage currently flowing through his veins?

He thought about it.  Leaning over the railing again, he examined Hermione as she threw her head back and laughed at something Harry was saying.  Her wild curls bounced flawlessly against her shoulders, and she would adjust them from time to time, gathering up her hair and alternating which shoulder she would slide it over to.

Ron wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him.  Draco zeroed in on the gesture, picturing a hand adorned with a signet ring pressing against the material of her soft dress instead of the tan freckled one that was currently gripping her.

Not tonight thought Draco, pushing himself away from the railing and turning his gaze from the couple below.  Theo watched the subtle changes in his friend’s expression and knew his insistence was not going to work this time.

“Blondes then?” Theo asked with a quirk of his brow.

“Why not?” Draco sighed, taking one last shot from a passing tray.

“I call dibs on the one wearing that tiny red halter top,” Theo pointed to the dance floor, Draco spotted her dancing with a group of witches and also noticed a few men gawking at her.

Pansy rolled her eyes once she caught sight of the witch in question, “That is an obvious engorgement spell, and a bloody bad one at that.”

Theo growled seductively, pretending to reach for Pansy but she slapped his hand away.

“Not every bird is blessed with your tits, love.” He winked.  She smirked at him and tapped his nose; Theo nipped at her finger.

“Keep him distracted with that blessing Pansy,” Draco said, waving at his friends nonchalantly, “I’m off to help a blonde with her engorgement charm.”

“Oh, are we in for a bit of competition then?” Theo rubbed his hands together as he turned away from Pansy, “Winner gets the blonde, loser flies naked through the Quidditch pitch?”

Draco was already walking down the stairs, looking back at his friend and flashing a challenging smile, “It’s going to be cold tonight, Nott, I hope no one is around when your cock turns blue.”

Theo laughed and followed his friend down the stairs, “On the contrary, Malfoy, my cock will be plenty warm tonight.”

Chapter 6: Shafiq's

"Take a look at this Malfoy," Nott Sr. said as he handed a golden object to Lucius. The item appeared to be a cross with a loop at the top, about 8 inches in height but felt heavy in his hand.

Lucius examined the relic, turning it over and feeling the cool metal against his hand. He gave Nott Sr. a curious look.

"It's called an ankh," explained the elder Nott, "Ancient Egyptians used it for many reasons; it represents life and can also be used for protection and luck. I nabbed it from one of the tombs hidden away from muggle tourists."

Lucius handed the ankh back to Nott Sr. rather quickly, "You took it from a tomb?!" he hissed in surprise.

Nott Sr. chuckled as he took the relic back, flipping it over in his hands playfully, "Not superstitious are you, Malfoy?"

"Not necessarily but you stole an ancient relic from someone who's been dead for thousands of years." Explained Lucius- not wanting to admit he was, in fact, a little superstitious.

"Well, he's not going to need it anymore," answered Nott Sr. with another laugh, setting the ankh down and grabbing his glass of brandy. "You should go with me to Egypt next time. It's crowded with muggles and beggars but once you get through to the secret tombs only wizards know about, it's peaceful."

"It's peaceful being surrounded by the dead?" asked Lucius.

Nott Sr. shrugged, "They don't talk back."

Lucius rolled his eyes and took a drink of his own brandy, relishing the burn that ran down his throat. He had been listening to Nott Sr. go on for hours about his trip to Egypt, the knowledge he collected, the artifacts he'd stolen and the comparison of Egyptian women to British women. According to him, the Egyptian women had more of a wild side, but he preferred the delicate nature of British women. Lucius tried his best to keep that image out of his mind, not caring for the details his old friend offered.

He looked around Nott Sr.'s cigar room and realized he had collected quite a few items from his trip. Aside from the ankh, he had taken some ancient scrolls, amulets, a scarab, and to Lucius's utter disgust some canopic jars. He shivered when he looked at them; knowing the jars' contents contained some poor soul's organs.

Lucius was running out of patience. He decided enough time had passed so that he could discuss what he really came for without seeming suspicious.

"I hear that Rookwood has paid you a visit recently?" he asked casually.

"Yes, yes," nodded Nott Sr., enthusiastically, "Him and Corban, actually. Though, I haven't heard from Corban in a few weeks. I guess I shouldn't be too surprised, seeing as he is on the run and all. But I didn't expect to go this long without hearing from him. The girls at Shafiq's have been asking about him."

Lucius rolled his eyes; of course Nott Sr. would find a way to sneak in the topic of Shafiq's - an underground luxurious gentlemen's club. It was one of the few joints frequented by dark wizards that survived the war. It boasted about its selection of the finest cigars and alcohol money could buy and its collection of exotic women. To those who couldn't get past the main level, it simply appeared to be a lavish cigar bar occupied by men being waited on by beautiful women. But to those with special access, Shafiq's was a high-end brothel with witches from several different backgrounds and cultures. One was even rumored to be a vampire. Nott Sr. loved to talk about her. Voldemort used to give new Death Eaters one night of free access to the witches at Shafiq's, sort of an initiation gift. Draco had politely declined the night he was given the Mark, much to his father's (and mother's) relief.

"Rookwood will be at Shafiq's tonight," Nott Sr. said.

Lucius tensed. Of course he would be. This was the perfect opportunity for his third capture; the man would be drunk and distracted. But did he have to be at Shafiq's? Lucius debated on whether or not to jump on this opportunity and possibly risk a messy, expensive divorce or wait for another opportunity and risk going back to Azkaban if he didn't meet the deadline.

He sighed. He would just have to grovel at his wife's feet and beg for forgiveness. He needed to get to Rookwood sooner rather than later.

"Will he?" asked Lucius, trying not to sound like he cared.

"You should go, Malfoy," offered Nott Sr. giving his friend a delighted smile that looked too much like Theo's annoying smile, "Cut the old ball and chain for one night and join us blokes for a night of frivolity."

Lucius took a drink from his brandy and pretended to consider. He eventually grinned at Nott Sr. The elder Nott let out a raucous laugh and clapped his hands together.

"It's about time Lucius, old friend!" he rocked back in his seat with glee, "I've been trying to get you to go to Shafiq's for decades!"

"Decades?" Lucius quirked a brow, "Are we that old?"

"Practically ancient," grinned Nott Sr., as he leaned over, clinking glasses with Lucius.

"Oh, what are we toasting?" came the delighted voice of Theo as he stepped into the cigar room with Draco, Blaise and Pansy. Pansy gave Nott Sr. a disgusted look, remembering him calling her a whore during her last visit. Of course, Nott Sr. hadn't remembered that; he had, after all, been obliviated by his son.

"Lucius here has agreed to join me at Shafiq's tonight!" boasted Theo's father.

"Did he?" Draco asked, giving his father a quizzical look.

"Yes Draco," Lucius returned his son's stare with a challenging one, "I'm hoping to meet up with an old friend."

"Count me in!" said Theo, plopping down on the sofa and kicking his feet up on the coffee table. "It's about time I visited Shafiq's with my old man."

Nott Sr. gave his son a surprised, yet elated look, "Really? Well, this is possibly the proudest moment of my life!"

Blaise and Pansy exchanged displeased looks as they sat next to each other on the same sofa Theo occupied.

"Let’s make this a father and son celebration!" exclaimed Nott Sr., "Draco, why don't you come too?"

Draco couldn't read his father's expression and took a gamble at what to say, "....sure."

"Splendid!" Theo's father raised his drink in a toasting gesture, "And you Zabini? Think you can sneak away from your protective mother for one night and join us men at Shafiq's?"

"I'd love to," said Zabini, though his tone didn't match his words.

"Sorry Parkinson," Nott Sr. snorted, "Men only. You understand, don't you, dear?" He gave her a condescending look.

Pansy, not one to be slighted, looped an arm around Theo’s waist and pulled him into her as she straightened her back and sat up straight with pride, "Actually, I want to go to Shafiq's too." She turned to Theo and started playing with his hair, "I like to watch..."

Lucius nearly choked on his brandy. Nott Sr.'s eyes widened but he looked impressed. He nodded his head to Pansy, toasting his drink to her before downing it. Theo had a silly grin on his face as he relished the way Pansy was massaging his scalp. Pansy rolled her eyes and then pushed him away.

Theo snickered and stood from the sofa, approaching the table full of ancient relics. "What is this?" he asked as he picked up the ankh.

"That is an ankh," answered Lucius matter-of-factly, "Your father stole it from a mummy."

"Ahh!" Theo shrieked, dropping the item to the floor as if it burned his hands. "What are you doing with that, father?!"

"Don't be such a coward, Theodore," his father replied. "It can't hurt you."

"I am not sleeping here tonight..." muttered Theo as he slowly backed away from the table.

"Why don't you ask your father what's in those jars?" Lucius suggested innocently, though his sly grin betrayed him.

"Umm..." Theo eyed the collection of ancient jars, "Do I want to?"

"They're the organs of someone important," answered Nott Sr., "I haven't deciphered the text yet, but hopefully I'll know soon."

"Draco, can I come live with you?" Theo pleaded.

"Absolutely not," Lucius answered for his son.

Draco was already heading for the door, "We should start getting ready for Shafiq's," he glanced back at his father, giving him his most intense judgmental look. Lucius ignored him. Theo was practically skipping out of the room; Blaise and Pansy did not look nearly as pleased as their friend as they followed.

Lucius waited for the door to close before he restarted their earlier conversation, "Have you run into anyone else lately?"

"I run into all sorts of people, Malfoy, you'll have to be more specific." said Nott Sr. as he lit a cigar.

"You know I've been out of loop for almost a year," Lucius explained, "I'm glad to hear that Yaxley and Rookwood have been able to remain obscure while communicating with you. What about Dolohov?"

"Dolohov?" Nott Sr. chuckled, "Why would I know anything about him? I know he was a loyal servant to the Dark Lord, and he was a tough soldier, but he never piqued my interest. I could hardly understand him half the time with that barbaric accent, and he was rather brutish. Don't you think? Men like him don't run in my circle."

"I see," Lucius responded, feeling disappointed.

"Why are you asking about Dolohov?"

"No reason, I just happened to notice his wanted poster in Diagon Alley the other day." Lucius took another drink, feeling positive his friend was too drunk and stupid to be suspicious.

"I'm sure he ran off to his mother country, searching for a new Dark Lord to worship." Nott Sr. puffed on his cigar, filling the air with a smoky sweet scent.

"I'm sure he did."

***********

"Shafiq's?" asked Narcissa, pursing her lips together and eyeing her husband. She sat her teacup down and straightened her back, presenting the ever-perfect look of a sophisticated woman of high society. No one would know she was actually feeling irritated, except for Lucius.

"I don't have a choice 'Cissa," Lucius responded, trying to keep his commanding tone, "Rookwood will be there tonight. I have a deadline to consider."

"And Draco is going?" she asked, sipping her tea but not taking her eyes off her husband.

"Yes, Draco is going."

"Hmm." She sat her teacup down and smoothed out her dress.

Lucius wondered if the groveling should begin now.

"I promise you love, I am only going there to apprehend Rookwood."

"And Draco has to be there for that?"

"I may need the back up."

"That's why Blaise and Theodore are there," she challenged.

Lucius sighed, “Cissa, please. He's already agreed to go. I can't risk any suspicion if I don't bring him."

"It would hardly seem suspicious if he backed out at the last moment. Tell Nott he wasn't feeling well."

"He's going." Lucius said with finality. Narcissa stood from her seat and Lucius shamefully took a step back.

She approached her husband and smiled, getting on her toes and kissing him on the cheek before whispering in his ear, "If you come home smelling like anything other than blood and your cologne, you'll be begging for Azkaban."

She started to walk away but Lucius took her arm, gently pulling her back and into his embrace, "Have I ever given you a reason to question my loyalty before?"

She paused and then sighed, taking her time and pretending to smooth out her husband's robes. "No love, you haven't."

He lifted her chin delicately with his hand until their eyes met and ran his thumb across her bottom lip before saying, "And that is not ever going to change."

"You'll be surrounded by temptation," she murmured, her resolve wavering as he ghosted her lips.

His own lip curled, and he chuckled slightly, "You're the only one that can tempt me," he said right before kissing her tenderly, as if he were savoring the finest of wines. Narcissa lost all the fight in her, and she relaxed into his hold, this moment reminiscent of their earlier days of courtship.  Lucius wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her tighter against him, his hands roamed to her hips and drew slow circles into her delicate skin.  His intimate gesture drew a breathy sigh from Narcissa that almost made her forget where his mission was taking him.

They were interrupted by the obnoxious throat clearing of Theodore Nott, who looked at his invisible watch and dramatically tapped his wrist.

Lucius sighed and pressed his forehead against his wife's. Narcissa smiled and squeezed his arms before they parted. Draco stood in the doorway looking somber, while Pansy and Blaise looked anywhere except the older couple in front of them.

"Blood and cologne, Lucius," Narcissa reiterated, "Your cologne."

"You have my word," he said, kissing her forehead before heading to the door. The group parted as he passed. Theo, Blaise and Pansy followed him, but Draco lingered.

Narcissa approached her son; he had his head down staring at the floor. She took both his hands in hers and he looked at her.

This was terribly embarrassing for Draco as he felt his mother's eyes on him, knowing where he was going tonight.  This sort of atmosphere wasn't exactly beneath him, and he would probably be thrilled if he were going with just Theo and Blaise; but to be entering a brothel with his father in tow and possibly having to see the man in an uncomfortable situation was never something Draco could have imagined in his lifetime. 

But the concern in his mother’s eyes reminded Draco that this was so much more than the awkwardness of seeing his father with some sleezy low-grade witches.  This was a high-stakes mission involving dark wizards and there was always the risk of disaster.

"You don't have to go," she told him, sounding nurturing.

"I do," he muttered, glancing away, "Rookwood isn't the worst of the worst. I'll be home later tonight, mother."

She cupped his cheek, and he met her eyes again, "Stay close to your father." she pleaded.

Draco nodded. 

Narcissa began straightening her son's robes, smoothing out the creases as she continued, "He doesn't want to go either, your father. He's doing this for us."

Draco snorted.  Narcissa narrowed her eyes.

"Explain, Draco." she demanded.

"He's doing this for his own freedom," Draco answered in a bitter tone.

"He's doing this for us." She reiterated, "For you."

Draco said nothing.

She smiled at her son and took another moment to memorize his features. He had the strong jawline of a man now, but she still saw a boy in those grey eyes. Draco let her study him for another moment before backing away.

He didn't want to go.  She didn't want him to go.

He left, feeling that something had gone unsaid.

He met up with everyone in the travel parlor, hearing the chuckling voice of Kazim's portrait.

"Shafiq's? You need permission to go to Shafiq's?"

Lucius scowled and spoke through gritted teeth, "I have legitimate intel Rookwood will be there tonight."

Kazim nodded, still grinning from ear to ear, "I shall return momentarily." Then he walked out of sight.

"Do you really think they have a vampire?" Theo asked excitedly.

"I doubt it," said Blaise with an eye roll, "Probably just some pale bird with sharp teeth."

"You couldn't handle a vampire Theo," Pansy mocked.

"I could too!" Theo squeaked, "I bet I taste delicious."

"You don't want her to bite you!" Pansy retorted.

"There's no vampire!" Blaise exclaimed.

"How do you know Zabini? Do you frequent Shafiq's?" asked Theo.

Blaise sighed, "No, I've never been to Shafiq’s, but we all know vampires keep to the forests."

"Then how do they feed?" questioned Theo.

"Ask Mr. Malfoy then!" Blaise was losing his patience.

"I've never been there!" Lucius hissed, already getting a headache from the trio.

"Do you think she's allowed to bite the clients?" asked Theo, not reading the room.

There was a collective groan. Luckily, Kazim returned before anyone could clock Theo in the noggin.

Kazim was still grinning from ear to ear, "Kinglsey said to have a good time."

Lucius rolled his eyes and muttered, "I'm sure he did..."

They had to floo to Borgin and Burke's first then take the hidden floo in the basement of the dodgy shop. Borgin and Burke's had the only accessible floo network to Shafiq's. Even as they entered the gentlemen's club, they were stopped by the bouncer who demanded the password for entry.

"Tentacular," muttered Lucius. The bouncer gave an approving nod then opened the blood red double doors to the inside.

Their nostrils were immediately assaulted by the strong smell of cigar and incense. The main room was dark; the only light came from several candles hanging about the room. The floor was covered in multi-patterned rugs, a large vintage-looking bar to one side of the room and a small stage on the other side. The stage had a pole in the center of it with a dark-haired woman dancing around it; she was wearing black thigh highs and not much of anything else. Several tables and couches were strewn throughout, most with hungry gentlemen already occupying them. Scantily dressed waitresses walked about with trays of either drinks or boxes of cigars.

Lucius made his way towards the bar and the others followed. Well, everyone except Theo. His gaze remained fixed on the woman dancing around the pole. However, Pansy soon noticed his distraction and swiftly grabbed him by the collar, yanking him with an exasperated kind of violence towards the bar.

"What it'll be boss?" asked the rough-looking bartender with a Cockney accent.

"Gigglewater," Lucius said, feeling uncomfortable ordering such a feminine drink, but this was what Nott Sr. told him to order, "Extra giggles."

The bartender raised his eyebrows and grinned, "I need to see your hand, mate."

Lucius rolled his eyes and removed the glove from his left hand, showing the bartender his signet ring. The bartender brandished his wand and tapped it against the ring, it glowed green.

"Very well, just making sure it was you, Mr. Malfoy," the bartender said, "This way please." He had the group step around the bar as he pulled back the curtains behind him, "Do watch your step."

They were led into a pitch-black room and everyone tripped over each other until Blaise was stopped abruptly by a wall.

"Where are we?" Lucius hissed, but when he turned around the bartender was gone, and so were the curtains.

Theo and Blaise felt along the wall looking for a hidden passage, a secret button, anything.

"I can't see a damn thing!" Draco complained.

"Lumos!" Pansy chanted; her wand instantly lit up the room.

Blaise yelped when a woman's face suddenly appeared near his.

She giggled and waved her arm behind her; the wall opened up to another lobby much similar to the first one, "Follow me naughty boys...and girl." She winked at Pansy.

This room was much larger than the first, it still had a bar, a dance floor and many places to sit, but this space also had several closed doors along the walls. They saw a half-naked woman holding the hand of a patron, laughing and leading him to one of the doors. She opened it, pulled him inside and let the door slam.

“Was that Marcus Flint?” Blaise asked.

“It was,” Theo responded feeling amused.

“Poor girl…” Pansy murmured.

“I hope he didn’t pay for the full hour.  The poor bird will just be cuddling him for remaining 56 minutes.” Said Theo, getting a snicker from Blaise and Pansy.

“Awfully kind of you to give him those two extra minutes, Nott.” Draco joined in with a smirk.

“The place is starting to look like a Quidditch reunion,” remarked Blaise.  “Why didn’t we get the invite, Draco?”

Draco looked at the patrons again and realized Blaise was right.  Mingling in with the other patrons, they noticed Graham Montague and Terence Higgs.

“Keep your head down; they haven’t noticed us yet.” Lucius said in a low tone to the group.

"There you are Malfoy!" came the booming voice of Nott Sr.  Well, there went their low profile. "Come! I reserved us a private meeting room!"

As they began to follow Nott Sr., Draco locked eyes with Graham Montague.  Graham gave him a knowing smirk.  Draco did not return the gesture.

They were led into yet another room. The red wallpapered walls of this room were adorned with several erotic designs of medieval looking men and women in different compromising positions. This room had a large fireplace, private bar and a bookshelf displaying several varieties of cigars. Two plush leather sofas and three leather armchairs in the middle circled around a coffee table.

One of the chairs was occupied by Augustus Rookwood.

“Lucius Malfoy,” greeted Rookwood, standing from his seat and approaching his friend. l He laughed darkly and clapped Lucius on both arms, crowing, “It’s about bloody time you showed your pompous face at Shafiq’s!”

Lucius also laughed, sounding perfectly natural as he shook Rookwood’s hand, “It took some convincing, I’ll admit, but the nights were lonely in Azkaban and Narcissa hasn’t been exactly welcoming since I’ve come home.”

Draco winced.

“Well, I hate to hear that old friend, but I can assure you the women here are very welcoming.” Rookwood gave Lucius a devious look, clapping his arm again and motioning for him to sit in one of the chairs.

Lucius gave his son a quick glance and saw he was making himself comfortable at the bar. He followed Rookwood to the armchairs and sat down. The door opened again, and a group of women stepped in, lining themselves along the wall.

Nott Sr. gave a slimy laugh as he rubbed his hands together, sitting down in the third chair, “Here they are gentleman! Pick your poison.”

Lucius eyed each woman studiously, hiding his disdain. There were seven women, one for each guest. The women gave the three older gentleman sultry looks, assuming they were the ones with all the money.

Blaise and Pansy joined Draco at the bar. Blaise gave a casual wave to the bartender and ordered a single shot of firewhisky. Theo remained standing near the door, curious about how all of this would play out.

“Come here darling,” growled Nott Sr., pointing a fat finger to the petite blonde wearing nothing but an opened Quidditch robe. Holyhead Harpies. The petite blonde smiled politely and approached Nott Sr. He grabbed her and pulled her onto his lap, she squealed and giggled.

“You.” Rookwood pointed a finger at a dark-skinned girl with her hair in braids and wearing a gold bathing suit that hardly covered anything. She gave him a seductive stare and sauntered over to him slowly, swaying her hips. She straddled Rookwood and he gripped her waist.

“Theo, come join us son. I have a special one for you,” Nott Sr. said in a low tone, motioning for his son to come over and sit on the sofa. Theo ran a hand through his hair nervously and approached the group, taking a seat.

“Not that sofa,” chuckled his father, “Ms. Parkinson wanted to watch, didn’t she?” he pointed to the sofa that would give Pansy a perfect view of Theo’s upcoming atrocities. Theo switched to the other sofa.

“Violetta!” hollered Nott Sr., “Come meet my son.”

Theo’s eyes widened when he saw the woman who left the line to join them. She had long, dark burgundy hair, pale skin, and ruby red lipstick. She smiled at Theo, and he gulped when he saw sharp teeth. She was dressed a little more conservatively, but not much. Her lacey corset gave Theo a perfect view of her cleavage and her long black skirt had a high slit that exposed her black stockings.

She pushed Theo back into the couch cushions and straddled him. She wasted no time grabbing his face and kissing him as she worked the buttons of his shirt.

Nott Sr. chuckled again as he ran his thumb along the thigh of the girl he was holding. He looked over to Lucius and said, “Your turn Malfoy.”

“I’d rather wait,” Lucius said with indifference, grabbing a bottle of firewhisky and pouring himself a glass. He could feel Draco’s eyes on him. He turned to his son briefly and shot him a warning look. He couldn’t risk Draco blowing their cover.

“Zabini?” Nott Sr. shot him a curious look.

A redheaded woman approached Blaise and ran her hand seductively down his arm. He watched her as she did this; when she slid her hand back up to cup his cheek, he met her eyes and shook his head, “Not tonight, darling.”

She pouted and returned to the wall.

“Parkinson?” Nott Sr. tried again.

“I’m just here to watch,” she responded in a bored tone.

“Draco?” He began to sound annoyed.

Draco eyed a woman who was approaching him. He glared at her and simply stated, “No.”  She backed away immediately.

Lucius was somewhat relieved; but he was counting on Blaise or at least Pansy to join in. They hardly looked convincing with Theo being the only one to partake.

At least Rookwood didn’t notice; he was too busy pouring whisky down the chest of his woman then licking it off her.

“Why is everyone so tense?” bellowed Nott Sr., “This is the ultimate place to relax! Draco, Blaise, look at how much fun Theo is having!”

Blaise and Draco looked at Theo and saw Violetta was still on top of him; his shirt was completely open now and she was grinding on him. She leaned over his chest and tilted his chin back, exposing his neck. Theo tensed when he felt her breath on his neck; she could feel his tension and merely sniggered before licking up the entire length of his neck.

Blaise and Draco didn’t realize they were holding their breath until they saw that their friend was safe. Mostly safe.  It was clear by the way Theo shuddered and roamed his hands over Violetta’s body that he was quite content with surrendering his body to the cause.

"If it is because your father is here," Nott Sr. continued, "We can get you a private room."

Draco gritted his teeth, trying to control his rage because what the hell would Nott Sr know about healthy father/son relationships; Draco looked up to his father and his parents' marriage had always been the perfect example of what he wanted for his own life one day.

 "I said no."

"Let him be," Lucius intervened, his paternal instincts overriding his focus on the mission.

“Malfoy,” taunted Nott Sr., nudging his friend.

Lucius turned to his friend then quickly averted his eyes when he saw the Quidditch robes drop to the floor. He was running out of time. He needed to find a way to get Nott Sr. and the women out of the room so he could apprehend Rookwood. He was having a hard time concentrating over the obnoxious noises Theo and his paramour were making.

Draco and Blaise turned out to be a disappointment to Lucius, skulking at the bar and looking utterly bored. At least Pansy was playing her role; watching Theo as she occasionally chimed in with suggestive words of encouragement.

“Come on Nott, you pull my hair harder than that,” Pansy chastised playfully.

Nott Sr. snapped his fingers at the redheaded woman who had recently been turned down by Blaise. Her head shot up and she immediately approached him. He pointed his finger at Lucius, and she nodded.

Lucius nearly spilled his drink when the redhead slid onto his lap; she took a strand of his hair around her finger and began twirling it lazily.

Draco narrowed his eyes at his father and clutched his fists.  He ordered a drink in the hopes it would calm his nerves.

Lucius took a deep breath and silently begged his wife for forgiveness as he brought his hand up and rested it on the small of the redhead's back.  The woman leaned into him and pressed a hand on his chest.

Draco focused on the wall in front of him.

The raucous shenanigans continued.  Three of the men at least were lost in the moment: Theo with his supposed vampire who kept teasing his neck while she worked the buckle of his belt; Rookwood had pulled the strings of his woman's top and she currently had her breasts in his face, and Nott Sr. was making obscene noises as he sniffed his woman's hair and gripped her bare ass.

Lucius cringed as the redhead licked his ear and ran a hand down his stomach and to his waistband.  He grabbed her hand out of reflex and placed it on her own thigh; he played it off by grinning at her and bringing his face closer to hers.

That was enough for Draco. He slammed his drink down on the bar and stood up. Everyone jumped at his reaction, even Theodore and Violetta.

“Mate…” Blaise whispered cautiously.

“I need some air,” muttered Draco as he left the room.

Lucius watched his son leave and the feeling of shame tugged at his insides. He did his best to brush it off and turned his attention back to the redhead.

“I’ll go check on him,” said Blaise as he used the bar to push himself off the stool. He touched Pansy’s arm and motioned for her to go with him. She nodded and left with Blaise.

"Draco!" Blaise called after him.  He had to pick up the pace as Draco practically stormed down the hallway.  Pansy, not having the long legs of her two friends, had to sprint.

"Draco!" she shouted too.

He stopped when he got to the lobby, the larger one that required special access.  He didn't turn to Blaise and Pansy when they caught up to him.

"What the hell, mate?" Blaise said breathlessly.

"Draco, are you alright?" Pansy asked.

Draco said nothing as he stared off into the distance.  He was never one to open up about feelings; it wasn't a very masculine thing to do.  Truth was, Draco was taught to worship the Malfoy women; they were to be respected and spoiled because they were the ones who brought life that aided in the continuation of their family line.

He knew what his father was currently doing was just an act.  But it was still too difficult to watch.  It made him sick.

"Draco!" Pansy suddenly sounded panicked as she gripped his arm and pointed.

Draco followed the direction of where Pansy was pointing and froze when he saw him.

He was laughing darkly as a woman took his large hand and led him towards a private room.  He gripped her hand and smiled, bearing his rotted teeth.  He said something to this woman in words Draco could not understand.  The door shut.  The three friends stood in silence for a few seconds until Draco whispered...

"Dolohov..."

 

Chapter 7: Bez Poshchady

Author's Note - This chapter comes with trigger warnings.  Please scroll to the bottom if you need to read them before continuing.

 

This game was brutal.  Draco wiped the sweat from his brow and locked eyes with Cho Chang, who seemed to be just as stressed out as he was.  The sun was bearing down on them; the game was tied; and neither seeker had yet to find the golden snitch.

Flint had already given Draco his fourth threat of the day, telling him to get on with it before he finds another seeker.

Draco put his hand to his forehead to block out the blinding sun, avoiding his father’s calculating stares from the stands.

“Looks like blondie is in trouble!” Lee Jordan taunted through the megaphone, “Chang is still keeping her cool.  What’s this?!  I think she sees something!”

Draco’s head shot towards the direction of Cho Chang.  He saw her turn direction and barrel towards the south end of the pitch.  Draco followed.

He could barely make out the fluttering wings of the snitch as him and Cho were neck and neck, both reaching for their glory.

“It’s a race to the win folks!” shouted Jordan, “Chang is ahead by a hair!  Come on Chang!  His daddy can’t save him from this one- OOF!” he was abruptly elbowed by Snape.

Draco hardly heard the insult; his mind was focused on victory.

Draco and Cho had to duck as a bludger zipped dangerously past them.  They lost sight of the snitch.  Cho looked to Draco and he sneered at her.  She only smiled back and continued her search.

He zipped to the left and Cho went right, both utterly exhausted and slowly losing their resolve.  He heard the bell dinging and a cheer from the Slytherin crowd.  He looked to the goal and saw Adrian Pucey shaking a fist in triumph.  He met Draco’s stare and gave him a nod.  This gave Draco a newfound determination.

He heard Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy and Blaise cheering from the stands.  Pansy was the loudest of them all.  He heard Fred and George from the Gryffindor stands, throwing out taunts and telling Draco his shiny hair was blinding them.  He heard the Ravenclaws yelling inspiring words to Cho.  He could feel hundreds of eyes on him, all varying from disdain to hope.  But the only daunting stare that mattered came from the set belonging to the man who raised him.

His attention turned to the Gryffindors when he noticed Hermione ducking and batting away at something.  There it was getting tangled up in her wild mane.  Ron and Harry were attempting to untangle the snitch from her locks and Draco sped that way before Cho could notice.  He was several feet away when the boys managed to release it from Hermione’s hair, and it flew away.  Draco never lost sight of it, he turned his broom around quickly, almost knocking Ron in the head as he chased after it.

“CHO!” screamed Ron, “Look!  Malfoy!”

Cho gasped when she saw what Ron was pointing at, she zoomed towards Draco’s direction.

He was almost there.  He reached out, his fingers almost touching it.  He felt Cho gaining on him, but he remained laser focused on the snitch.

Then she was right beside him, her hand reaching too.

A hush fell over the crowd.

He had it.  He knew he did.  He kicked the back of his broom as if it were a horse, giving it one final push.

He felt the fluttering of its wings.  Then he gripped it in his palm.  The wings tickled his skin before collapsing back inside its home.  He smiled.

The Slytherin crowd erupted as Lee Jordan begrudgingly announced Slytherin’s victory.

Flint cheered loudly as he flew towards Draco and gave him a surprisingly hard pat on the back.  Draco almost choked but managed to hold it back as his other teammates joined them.

They landed on the ground as Draco held the snitch up proudly, looking for his father in the stands.  He needed this validation more than anything.  He found him and was given a smirk.  Draco beamed.

His father met him several minutes later in the locker room.  Draco left his celebrating group of friends to approach Lucius, waiting anxiously to see what he had to say.

“Well done, Draco.” Lucius said, placing a hand on his son’s shoulder.

“Thank you, father,” Draco responded, his boyish grin hard to contain.

Lucius nodded to Draco’s friends, signaling to him that this moment was over.  He turned away and Draco watched him leave.

It was a brief moment, but Draco felt victorious all the same.

***********

“Draco Malfoy,” Graham Montague greeted, breaking Draco’s focus.  He glanced sideways at his former Quidditch mate.

“Not now.” Draco snarled.

Graham ignored Draco’s warning and approached the anxious trio, carrying a suave air about him, “Look at you Malfoy, all grown up and going to big boy places.  Though I saw daddy still had to escort you here.  Is this his way of teaching you about what happens when a randy wizard meets a vivacious witch?”

“Piss off Montague!” vexed Pansy, taking Draco’s arm and pulling him to her.

Graham’s eyes lit up, “Pansy Parkinson,” he purred, “Do you work here now or are the rumors from 5^th year about you true?”

Pansy narrowed her eyes at the older Slytherin and responded in an eerily calm voice, “You couldn’t afford me, Montague.”

Graham laughed.  Blaise stepped in to diffuse the situation.  Draco stared back at the door Antonin Dolohov just walked through.

“Always a pleasure, Montague,” Blaise said as he attempted to redirect Pansy, “Do tell your mother we said hello.”

“Ask the madam for Lady Morgana, she’ll know how to remove that stick up Malfoy’s arse,” Montague called after them as he turned away, rejoining his other mates at the bar.

“Don’t let him get to you, mate.” Said Blaise as Draco kept his eyes on the door.

“We have to go in there,” Draco said with determination.

Pansy’s jaw dropped, “We can’t just go rushing in there wands a blazing!  We need to get Mr. Malfoy.”

“There’s no time!” Draco argued, “Besides, he’s busy trying to catch Rookwood.”

“You saw the file, Draco,” Blaise pleaded, grabbing Draco’s shoulder and turning him around, “We can’t go in there without a plan.”

“He’s probably already bare assed and bollocks deep in that witch by now.  We go in, stun him, then take him to Shacklebolt.” Draco explained.

“And how do you plan on getting him out of here without anyone noticing?  There are anti-apparition wards in place and only one floo exit.”  Blaise argued.

“Well how do you suppose my father plans to get Rookwood out of here?!”

“He is casually going to invite him to his home for afterhours drinks and then subdue him there,” Blaise dropped his hold on Draco, “Did he not tell you that?”

Draco’s eyes flared.  His father had told Blaise the entire plan but not his own son.  Did the man not trust his own flesh and blood?  Draco’s heart raced, consumed by betrayal and the anticipation of facing Antonin Dolohov.  His father didn’t think he was capable, just like in 2^nd year when Lucius believed Draco wasn’t competent enough to make the Quidditch team on his talent alone.

At least nobody on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in, they got in on pure talent. Hermione’s voice taunted his mind.

He was tired of being underestimated.  He took a step towards the door and Blaise grabbed his shoulder again.

“Draco, I don’t like this,” Pansy pleaded.

“Then go back to watching Theo get his rocks off,” Draco spat at his friend, shrugging his shoulder away from Blaise and making his way to the closed door.

His mind raced with the images from the file.  He remembered every lifeless face.  He remembered the Russian carvings on the wall.  He remembered his father’s warning.  He touched the doorknob and paused. 

He remembered that moment in third year, his father touching his shoulder and saying, “Well done, Draco…”

He gripped the knob, remembering the surge of pride his thirteen-year-old self felt in that moment.  He needed to feel it again.

He turned the knob.

Pansy placed her hand on his, gripping tight, “Please Draco…”

“Remove your hand,” Draco said through gritted teeth.

“Draco!” Blaise whispered desperately, “There’s too many witnesses here.  We can’t do this tonight.”

Pansy gripped his hand tighter.  Draco slowly turned his head towards Pansy and the look he gave her sent a chill up her spine.

“I won’t tell you again, Pans.” He growled.

She ignored the warning bells going off in her head and tried again, “We need to get your father.”

“Then go get him.  But I’m going in there either way.”

She hesitated before letting him go.  She took a step back and looked to Blaise who nodded at her. “I’ll stay with him.”

She returned the nod then sprinted away in the direction of the meeting room.

Draco was still gripping the doorknob; he felt his palms getting sweaty.  He took a deep breath before opening the door and stepping inside, Blaise right behind him.

The noises were obscene.  The image before them was worse.  Dolohov apparently had a thing for BDSM.  His back was to them, his pants were still on, but his trousers were open as he pounded into the woman who was currently suspended in the air by a chain that hung from the ceiling.  Her back was covered in bleeding slashes that had clearly been given to her by the whip that Dolohov was holding in his right hand.

She screamed when Dolohov whipped her.  Dolohov gripped her ponytail with his other hand and muttered something in Russian in her ear.  Though she screamed and whimpered throughout the ordeal, her eyes never showed any fear.  This woman was either enjoying this or was that good at her job.

Draco’s gaze shifted to Blaise and the two looked at each other nervously.

“We can always go back,” Blaise whispered.

“Zis room is occupied!” bellowed Dolohov.

“Too late,” mouthed Draco, immediately turning his attention back to Dolohov, wand already drawn and aimed.  Blaise did the same.

Dolohov dropped his hand from the woman’s hair and backed away while he adjusted his trousers.  He turned to face the two young men and narrowed his black eyes.

“Malfoy, Zabini,” he said in his thick Russian accent, “Vhat is the meaning of zis?”

“We’re…” Draco cleared his throat; he placed his free hand over his wand arm to stop it from shaking, “We’re here to take you in.”

Dolohov barked a laugh, “Zasranets! You dare interrupt my pleasure to challenge me?”

Blaise took a tentative step forward, focusing on his recent training from the dueling club.  He maintained his composure better than Draco did.

Dolohov drew his wand from his pants pocket, but Blaise was quick with his words, “Expelliarmus!”

Dolohov cursed as his wand flew out of his hand and rolled across the floor.  There was a long pause as he stared down his attackers; his chest heaved as his anger grew.  The woman suspended in the chains shifted and the chains rattled.  Draco made the mistake of looking at her and Dolohov used this distraction to his advantage.  He charged at Draco with full force and tackled him to the ground.  The woman screamed as Blaise yelled out a Reducto, barely missing Dolohov as he continued to grapple with Draco.

Blaise threw another stunner that managed to temporarily halt Dolohov, giving Draco enough time to roll on top of him and punch Dolohov in the jaw.  Dolohov’s head bounced off the floor and his cheek bled from Draco’s signet ring.

Dolohov, being much larger than Draco, screamed in rage and threw Draco off of him and into Blaise.  The impact was too heavy for Blaise to remain on his feet and the two fell to the floor.  Dolohov dove for his wand as Blaise and Draco scrambled to their feet.

The woman screamed again.  Dolohov silenced her with a Silencio before aiming his wand at his attackers.

They were at a standstill yet again.

************

Pansy ran into the meeting room, “Mr. Malfoy!”

Lucius gave her a tentative stare, the redhead had moved to his armrest and looked bored.  She must have finally realized that Lucius was not going to be playing with her.

“Ms. Parkinson!” cheered Nott Sr., “You missed the show!”

She looked over to Theo, who looked dazed with his open shirt and messy hair.  His lady of the night sat next to him, nursing a drink and looking smug.  Rookwood had moved to the other sofa with his woman and was ravaging her mercilessly.  He didn’t even notice Pansy.  The lady Theo’s father was with was back in the lineup, Quidditch robe back on.

Pansy strode over to Lucius, looking around the room cautiously before leaning into him.

“What is it Ms. Parkinson?” Lucius said in a low, cautious tone.  He glanced around the room.  Nobody seemed to be paying attention.

“It’s Draco, sir.” She whispered, “He found Dolohov.”

Lucius’s eyes widened.  He noticed the redhead tense at the mention of Dolohov.  Lucius quickly rose from his seat and took Pansy’s arm, guiding her to the other side of the room.

“What?” he hissed.

“I tried to stop him, sir.” She whispered in a shaky voice, “But he went in anyways with Blaise.  Blaise is trying to hold them off before you get there but I don’t know how long he can stall, especially with how Draco was acting.”

“Dammit Draco,” Lucius muttered.  He looked over to Rookwood and wondered how long he would be occupied and if he would have enough time to apprehend Dolohov before returning to subdue his original target.

He locked eyes with Nott Sr. who was giving him and Pansy a suspicious look.  He smiled at his friend, hoping that would be enough to squash any alarming thoughts.  This seemed to do the trick, Nott Sr. gave him a nod and returned to his brandy.

Pansy followed as Lucius walked over to Theo and muttered, “Keep Rookwood where you can see him.  I have something I need to take care of.”

Theo nodded, still looking dazed.

The room suddenly shook, and debris fell from the ceiling.  Screams were heard outside the room followed by frantic footsteps.

Nott Sr. jumped from his seat and shouted, “It could be aurors!  Rookwood, we need to leave!”

Rookwood shoved his woman off him, and she shrieked.  He quickly adjusted his trousers and was on his feet in seconds.

“Through here sirs,” the woman with the Quidditch robe said, pulling back the bookshelf and revealing a hidden passageway.  She beckoned the men to her as the remaining women ran through the secret exit.

Rookwood soon followed, even pushing one of the women out of his way as he ran.

“Come on son!” hollered Nott Sr. from the exit.

The room shook once more, and Nott Sr. fled without calling to his son again.

Lucius, wand drawn, opened the door to the hallway and was met with chaos.  Several witches and wizards in various forms of undress were running through the halls in a panic.  He pushed his way through the crowd as Pansy and Theo tried to keep up with him.

They were pushed back by a frenzied group of people who were running in the opposite direction.  Theo grabbed onto Pansy’s arm as they pushed their way through the crowd.  Lucius wasn’t so lucky as an injured woman grabbed his arm and pleaded for help.

“Unhand me!” he snarled, trying to shove the woman away.

Theo looked back just as another blast was heard and the ceiling caved in.  He lost sight of Lucius as rubble came crashing down and separated Lucius from Theo and Pansy.

“Mr. Malfoy!” Pansy called.  Theo immediately started removing the rubble with his wand.

“Go!” they heard Lucius shout, “Find Draco!  I’m right behind you!”

Theo had to drag Pansy away from the rubble as she continued to shout for Lucius. 

“Theo, we need him!” she begged.

“You heard him, let’s go!” Theo countered, pulling her further away from the wreckage.

They made it to the private lobby where they came across Draco and Blaise in a heated duel with Dolohov.  There were a few remaining patrons, ducking behind the bar and watching on in horror.  Theo and Pansy quickly joined their friends’ sides and began throwing hexes at Dolohov.

Even against four, Dolohov was barely breaking a sweat as he dodged spells from every direction.  He cast a Reducto and Theo was thrown into a wall, liquor bottles fell all around him.

“STUPEFY!” Pansy shouted.  Dolohov bounced it back at her.

“CONFRINGO!” Draco yelled, the explosive curse shot at Dolohov and he ducked.  The wall behind him exploded, revealing one of the private suites.

“EXPELLIARMUS!” Blaise tried.  Dolohov stepped to the side, and it missed.

“CRUCIO!” screamed Dolohov.  Blaise tackled Pansy out of the way.

“SECTUMSEMPRA!” screamed Draco as light blasted out his wand.  He saw Marcus Flint and Graham Montague jump away from the bar and sprint past him.

Dolohov chuckled as he knocked the spell away, “Such a beeg spell for such a little man.” He taunted.  “AVADA KEDAVRA!”

Pansy screamed.  Theo tore himself away from the shattered bottles he was buried under.  Blaise held his breath.

Draco stood shaking uncontrollably.  He reflexively patted his chest then stared at his hands.  He was alive.

He slowly turned around and saw the lifeless body of Graham Montague, still clutching his wand, eyes wide open and staring into nothing.

The room became deathly quiet as everyone stared at Graham’s body.  Pansy took a shaking step towards him, but Blaise held his arm up to stop her.  Theo was back on his feet, approaching the group with his wand aimed at Dolohov.

Dolohov laughed, bearing his rotted teeth and staring menacingly at Draco.  “You’re next.”

Blaise and Pansy stepped in front of Draco; wands drawn.  Dolohov merely smirked and raised his own wand.

“Krasivaya devushka,” he crooned to Pansy, “I think I’ll have you vonce these boys are out of my way.  You are feisty, I like.”

Theo growled and took another step.  Dolohov quickly had his wand at Theo, “Try me, boy.”

Theo’s chest heaved in anticipation as he tried to tell himself Lucius was on his way.  They just needed to hold off a little longer.

“BOMBARDA MAXIMA!” Blaise shouted; another wall exploded.  Theo tackled Dolohov to the ground as he was distracted while pieces of debris rained down on them. 

Draco and Blaise both choked as they ran through the debris, trying not to inhale the surrounding smoke.  Their eyes burned as they searched for their friend.  They could hear the grunts and curses from Theo and Dolohov and followed the sound.

Pansy shielded her face and screamed for her friends.

Draco squinted and could just make out the figures of Theodore and Dolohov, both back on their feet and swinging at each other.  Blaise saw them too and was already a step ahead of Draco.

Blaise was knocked back by a punch to the face, though he didn’t know from whom.  He grabbed his bleeding nose and cast a quick healing charm.

Dolohov managed to shove Theo away before casting a stupefy and stunning him.  Draco shot out a slicing hex just as the smoke was clearing and managed to nick Dolohov’s leg, just above his right knee.

Dolohov hissed and grabbed his leg, feeling blood seep between his fingers. “You’ll pay for that, Malfoy!”

They threw hexes back and forth at each other.  Even limping and nursing a bleeding leg, Dolohov could still keep up with Draco.  As soon as Blaise got his bearings, he joined in the duel.  Both friends threw stunners, slicing hexes and explosive spells at Dolohov while the Death Eater continued to dodge and deflect.

Blaise cast a Reducto in which Dolohov sent back, throwing Blaise several feet into a cluster of tables and chairs.  He yelped when his back hit a table hard enough to split it in half.  Pansy ran to his aid.

It was just Draco and Dolohov again, still shouting out spells which were continuously dodged or missed.  Sweat trickled down Draco’s forehead.  Dolohov seemed to be taking immense pleasure in wearing out the young Malfoy.

Draco gritted his teeth and growled once he realized Dolohov had been toying with them all along.  They were out of their league.

Theo was down.  Blaise was down.  Pansy was desperately trying to heal them.

“I don’t like killing purebloods, Malfoy.” Dolohov goaded, “But your family proved to be a disgrace.  I will kill you.  I will kill you for failing the Dark Lord.  I will kill your two friends, and I will play with the girl until I’m bored of her then kill her too.”

Draco narrowed his eyes, his wand arm trembled but he remained focused.

“Or maybe…” Dolohov grinned, “Maybe I kill your two friends first and make you watch while I play with the girl.  Hmm?”

Draco could feel his rage growing and realized he had to kill Dolohov before Dolohov killed him.  His friends’ lives were worth whatever scolding he and his father would receive from Shacklebolt.

Draco’s wand glowed green, he could feel his body preparing for the killing curse.  He let the hatred consume him.  He dug his heels into the ground and opened his mouth.

“AVADA KEDAVRA!”

Pansy let out an ear shattering scream.  Adrenaline took over Blaise’s body that was much stronger than his pain, and he shot to his feet.  Theo froze, his heart felt like it was beating out of his chest.

Dolohov stood triumphantly over Draco’s body.

Pansy’s wails rang throughout the room as Blaise wrapped his arms tightly around her, trying to shield her from the view of her dead friend.  Theo was back on his feet.  He dropped his wand.  The sound of his wand hitting the floor echoed in his ears.

“Goodnight Malfoy.” Dolohov drawled.

The debris finally settled, and the room suddenly felt smaller.  Pansy’s sobs filled the suffocating space as Blaise and Theo looked on with bewilderment.

“FUCKER!” Theo screamed, breaking the tension and lunging at Dolohov with newfound energy as he tackled Dolohov right in the bar.  Dolohov gasped when his back hit the hardwood, knocking the wind out of him.  Theo punched Dolohov in the face relentlessly, choking on sobs after each hit met their mark.  Dolohov’s face was bloodied in no time, but Theo continued punching.  His own fist began to bleed, and he was sure his knuckles were broken but he kept going.  Soon, Dolohov’s eyes were too swollen to see and all he could feel was pain.

Blaise let Pansy down gently and ran to Theo, grabbing his friend’s shoulder and attempting to pull him off Dolohov.  Theo’s rage was too strong for Blaise, and he shoved his friend away with ease.

“He’s down, mate!” Blaise pleaded, “He won’t fight back!”

Pansy whimpered as she crawled over to Draco.  Reaching desperately for him, she sat on her heels and placed Draco’s head in her lap.  She closed his eyes and began to stroke his hair as she cried.

“Draco…” her voice shook, “Oh Draco…”

Blaise was yelling now as he continued to try and pull Theo off of Dolohov.  The room was filled with the uncomfortable sounds of cracking bones, pleading and sobbing.  Pansy heard none of it.  She just stared at Draco’s lifeless body as she continued to stroke his hair and silently begged for him to wake up.

Draco looked peaceful.  His face was serene and relaxed, no longer forming a sneer or the twisted look of defiance.

“Draco?”

Theo suddenly stopped punching Dolohov.  He dropped the unconscious Death Eater and turned around.  Blaise followed his gaze, and his chest filled with anxiety.  Pansy looked up and began to cry harder.

Lucius stood in the doorway of the lobby, covered in soot and robes disheveled.  He stared at his son.

His boots echoed on the floor as he took long strides towards Pansy and Draco.  He dropped to his knees beside his son and immediately placed a hand on Draco’s chest.  He waited.  He sucked in a breath and pressed his hand down harder.  He waited again.

“No…” he whispered.

He sat Draco up in his arms and cradled him, shaking him gently as he repeated Draco’s name.  Pansy trembled and watched on through stuttering breaths.

“Draco!” he pleaded, “Son?” he held his child’s face and begged for Draco to open his eyes.  He let go and Draco’s head fell limp against his father’s arm.

Although Dolohov was now unconscious, Blaise still chanted a low incarcerous spell and bound the Death Eater.  He stood and then stared at the bloodied man as he wiped a tear from his eye.

Theo’s adrenaline finally gave out and he slumped to the floor.  He watched Lucius and Draco through blurry eyes.

Pansy stood up and slowly backed away, still trembling as the tears flowed.  Blaise approached her and pulled her into a tight embrace.  Her legs seemed to give out and he held her as she buried her face into his chest.

“Please Draco,” Lucius continued, he shook his son again, “This isn’t how your life ends.  This wasn’t supposed to happen.  Draco!  Draco!”

Draco’s hair fell in his face when his father shook him.  His arm slipped out of his father’s hold and laid limply on the ground.

Lucius pulled his son closer to him and took a deep breath.  Reality consumed Lucius like a hurricane.  Strong, terrifying and devastating.

Lucius looked upwards and wailed.  His laments were haunting and heartbreaking.  The horrifying sounds he made could only come from a father who just lost his son.

Pansy, Theo and Blaise collectively shuddered.

That sound would haunt their dreams for years to come.

 

 

I hope that it's fatal and not something worse
I don't think I'm able to handle the hurt
I pray for the end 'cause I can't break the cursе
Goodnight, see you on the other side

-Voila, “I Hope That It’s Fatal”

Notes:

TRIGGER WARNINGS:
-Depictions of BDSM
-Minor Character Death
-Major Character Death

Russian translations:
bez poshchady - without mercy
zasranets - little shits
Krasivaya devushka - pretty girl

Artwork done by the amazing @imikuyya, send her some love on IG, this was a rough image for her to create, and she means the world to me.
Please don't hate me. The Malfoys' story is far from over.

Chapter 8: A Family Broken

Chapter 8 –

Lucius tried to maintain his composure as he gripped his cane and stared at Albus Dumbledore.

He was sitting across from the headmaster’s desk; he bounced his knee anxiously as he watched the older wizard who seemed to be watching him back with the calm and patience of a saint.  Fawkes squawked, which only distracted Dumbledore for a second.  He smiled at his bird and stroked its wings.

Lucius was not here to play the quiet game.  He would let Dumbledore win this ridiculous battle of wits, but Lucius planned on winning the ultimate battle.  Alastor Moody would pay for what he did to Draco.

“Am I understanding this correctly?” Lucius seethed, “Your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor turned my son into a ferret over some ridiculous quarrel with Potter?”

“That is correct,” responded Dumbledore calmly, “I believe it was over a bet you made with your son regarding Harry’s success in the tournament?”

Lucius’s nostrils flared, “And that was reason enough to transfigure my son into a rodent?!”

“I agree that his methods are not conventional,” Dumbledore responded, still calm as ever, “And Alastor was informed that he broke policy.”

“Informed?!” Lucius scoffed, “I want him fired!  Now!”

“Lucius you are well aware of the difficulties we’ve had keeping the Defense Against the Darks position filled.  Alastor’s way of dealing with students is a bit archaic but we must remember where he came from.  He’s an auror who has gone through a great deal of suffering to keep our world safe.  I assure you; we are handling the situation, and it will not happen again.”

“I will not allow this absurdity to continue!” Lucius snarled, slamming a hand on Dumbledore’s desk, “He will be removed from this school, or I will get the Ministry involved!”

“Alastor is a part of the Ministry; they are no stranger to his tactics.  The Ministry trusts me to handle this situation and that is exactly what I am doing.”  Dumbledore didn’t even flinch at Lucius’s aggression.

There was a low rumble as the two men heard the slow movement of the staircase turning, alerting them that someone was about to enter Dumbledore’s office.  A cane rhythmically echoed throughout the room as rough footsteps drew towards them.  Lucius stood from his seat and turned to Alastor Moody, who looked too smug for the amount of trouble he was currently in.

“Malfoy,” Moody greeted with his gruff voice, “I suppose you’re here to discuss that insufferable lad of yours.”

“How dare you!” Lucius hissed. “I should have you apprehended for committing such an atrocity.”

“Atrocity, you say?” Moody chuckled, “Turning your son to a ferret is quite tame compared to your own atrocities, Malfoy.  Don’t you think?”

Lucius was taken aback. “What did you say?”

“You heard me.” Moody gave him a dangerous stare, “Surely you haven’t forgotten the events of 1981 and the role you played in it.  Convincing the Ministry you were under the Imperius Curse.  I saw right through you.”

“We are not here to discuss my past,” exclaimed Lucius, “What you did to my son was unforgivable and I will make sure your actions are dealt with properly.”

“Oh, you will?” Moody let out a raucous laugh, “I suppose now you expect me to grovel and beg for forgiveness?  Is that it, Malfoy?  Should I take a page from your book then?”

“You will pay for---”

Moody cut Malfoy off immediately as he spoke in a low, dangerous tone, “Do not make the mistake of assuming I’m just some crippled old man.  I’ve seen and I know things you couldn’t begin to fathom.  You will be the one paying for your treachery.  Your son merely got a taste of my abilities.”

“Enough!” boomed Dumbledore, his sense of calm dissipated, “Alastor will continue teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts to our students under my watchful eye.  Malfoy, what happened to your son was unfortunate, but I am confident he has learned his lesson in regards to bullying.”

Lucius opened his mouth to protest but Dumbledore held up his index finger to stop him.

“Alastor, you will no longer use Transfigurations as any form of punishment, even under the guise of teaching.  Transfiguration is not your chosen subject, that honor belongs to Professor McGonagall.”

“I am not finished here!” Lucius scowled.

“Your son was not harmed, Lucius.” Dumbledore’s calm demeanor returned.

“Just his pride,” Moody snickered.

“That is enough Alastor,” said Dumbledore, “As far as I’m concerned, this unfortunate matter is finished, and we will move forward.”

Lucius stormed out of Dumbledore’s office and continued his hurried stride down the hallway of Hogwarts.  He could hear Alastor’s heavy footsteps behind him. Alastor called to him.

Lucius stopped; he clutched his fists but did not turn around.  Alastor approached him and rambled venomously in his ear, “Very soon Malfoy, we will see you groveling again.”

Lucius said nothing as Moody walked away.  He failed in protecting his son, and the shame left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Never again, he thought.

**********

Pansy was finally able to stop crying as Blaise continued to hold her close.  Theo remained slumped against the bar, staring at his friend’s lifeless body.  He would occasionally avert his eyes to the unconscious Death Eater who was the sole blame for Theo’s current grief.

“The aurors could be coming any minute now,” Blaise said hesitantly, “Are we staying here or are we…?..”

Lucius wrapped one arm underneath his son’s back and the other under his knees as he stood up.  Draco’s head drooped backwards, and he felt heavy in his father’s arms.

Lucius turned to the group as he spoke softly, “Theodore, get your father and bring him to my residence.”

“What?” Theo’s head shot up and looked at Lucius in confusion.

“Now.” Lucius commanded, “I’m taking Draco home.”

“I’ll go with you,” Pansy offered, breaking her embrace from Blaise.

“I’ll go too,” Blaise added.

“Take him to my dungeons, Zabini.” Lucius nodded his head towards Dolohov, “I’m not through with him.”

“Right away,” answered Blaise, drawing his wand and muttering the levitation spell.

Lucius only nodded as he carried his son through the rubble and to the outside to find a safe place to apparate.

Blaise carefully levitated the unconscious Dolohov as he made his way towards the exit.  He stopped when he noticed Theo and Pansy approaching the lifeless body of Graham Montague. 

Theo knelt down and closed his former classmate’s eyes, “I’m sorry you got caught in the crossfire, mate.”

Pansy crossed her arms and monitored, fighting back a shiver as she said, “He was a prat, but he didn’t deserve this.  Did Flint even see it happen?”

“I’m not sure Pans, I was a little preoccupied,” answered Theo as he stood up, “What do we do with him now?”

“Leave him for the aurors,” Blaise answered, trying not to sound cold, “There were too many witnesses tonight to hide anything anyway.  Lucius will have his hands full with Shacklebolt tomorrow.”

“Poor Mr. Malfoy,” Pansy sighed, “He’s dealing with enough as it is.”

“He’ll handle it,” Theo murmured, “I guess I better go find my old man.  I’ll meet you two at Malfoy Manor then?”

Blaise and Pansy nodded.  They all remained silent on the walk outside, Blaise occupied with levitating Dolohov, Pansy and Theo with their minds full of grief.  Theo apparated first.  Pansy and Blaise gave each other a solemn look before disappearing.

*********

Lucius appeared at the gates of Malfoy Manor with his son still in his arms.  It was well past midnight and the grounds were silent.  Even the nighttime wildlife seemed to be sleeping.

He stared ahead as he walked the cobblestone entry towards his home.  He wondered if Narcissa was still awake, nervously pacing their bedroom waiting for her family to return home, or if she was sound asleep, blissfully unaware of the horrible news that awaited her.  He hoped for the latter.  He wanted his wife to enjoy these last few moments of peace before her world fell apart.

The front door opened as he approached, and Frick stepped out.  The elderly elf’s face dropped into a horrid expression when he saw Lucius and Draco.

“Master Malfoy,” he began.

“Is Narcissa asleep?” Lucius asked.

“She is sir.” The elf answered.

“Do not wake her,” Lucius commanded, stepping inside.  Frick closed the door behind them and nodded.

“I’ll wake her in a moment,” Lucius said, more to himself than to Frick.  Frick gave a bow then disappeared with a pop.

Lucius took Draco straight to Draco’s bedroom, lying him down on his bed and placing his hands at his sides.  He smoothed out his son’s clothes and then stroked his hair back with his fingers.

He could be sleeping.  He could just be sleeping.

Lucius heard the click of the front door, followed by careful footsteps and hushed voices.  Pansy stepped in moments later.

“Mr. Malfoy?” she spoke softly.

“Did Blaise?...” he asked.

Pansy nodded, “He’s taking Dolohov to the dungeons now.”

Lucius nodded as he gazed at his son.  Pansy joined his side, and they looked on quietly. There were no words that could be spoken right now.

Pansy nervously grabbed her right arm with her left hand and stared down at the floor.  She sucked in a breath before breaking the silence, “Could I just?...” she approached Draco and adjusted his collar before buttoning the top button on his shirt, “I just want him to look nice.”

Lucius said nothing and let Pansy do whatever she needed to bring herself comfort.

Blaise joined them several minutes later, entering the room cautiously. “He’s locked away in the dungeons, sir.  I already informed Frick that no one goes in there without your permission.”

“Thank you, Blaise.” Lucius responded.

“Theo should be on his way with his father soon,” Blaise said nervously, “It’s not my place, but I think you should let Mrs. Malfoy know before they arrive.”

Lucius sighed.  Blaise was right.  He left the room.

The walk to the master bedroom was the longest of his life.  The portraits watched as he passed, staring with perplexion, whispering amongst each other.  This long line of Malfoy men usually had no qualms when it came to asking questions, but the way Lucius carried himself gave them pause.  They would find out soon enough.

Lucius stopped outside their bedroom.  He glanced over at the family portrait just across from their door.  It was taken several years ago at a Christmas party.  Draco was not quite old enough for Hogwarts at the time it had been taken.  Lucius remembered that party well.  Draco was allowed to give a toast to their guests that evening.  He had been rehearsing with Narcissa for several days leading up to the party.  Lucius remembered the way Narcissa beamed as Draco held his head up high and thanked their guests for attending.  He spoke about their future, their lineage, and he spoke about their successes.  It was all very impressive, especially coming from the mouth of a ten-year-old boy.

Lucius knew that Draco had always looked up to him.  But at the end of the day, everyone knew that Draco was Narcissa’s son.  Her pride and joy.  Her everything.

And now… Now, they were a broken family.  Another tragedy.

Once he was inside, he gazed at his wife sleeping peacefully.  Even while asleep, her hair and face were perfectly kept.  He knelt by her side and stroked her cheek.  He didn’t want to wake her.  He didn’t want to break her heart.

“’Cissa,” he whispered, running his hand gently down her arm.

She sighed dreamily, eyes still closed as she muttered, “Lucius…”

“Darling,” his voice cracked, “I need you to wake up.”

She bolted upright, instantly feeling her husband’s tension, “What is it?” she whispered hurriedly, “Are you alright?” she grabbed his shoulder.

Lucius nodded as he tried to maintain a strong demeanor, “I’m fine, ‘Cissa.”

“Draco?” she looked at him, her eyes looked desperate, searching for some sort of clue to her son’s wellbeing.

Lucius could only look at her.  His throat constricted.  He couldn’t find the words.

“Lucius?” she sounded more urgent, “What is it?”

“Something happened,” he managed to say, “We found Rookwood, but Dolohov was also there and—”

Narcissa was out of bed and was running out the door before Lucius could finish.  Lucius got to his feet quickly and chased after her.

“’Cissa wait!” he called to her.  He grabbed her halfway down the hall and pulled her into his arms, “I need to tell you before…”

“Before what?!” she shouted, “Where is my son, Lucius?!”

He tried to pull her closer and she shoved him away, “Let me see him!”

He let her run to Draco’s room.

She stopped in Draco’s doorway and saw Pansy and Blaise first.  They had a bewildered look in their eyes as they turned to her and shielded her view of Draco.

“Let me see!” she demanded, pushing between the two friends and approaching her son’s bed.  She froze.

Lucius appeared in the doorway and looked on.

“What’s wrong with him?” she whispered.

No one said anything.

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH HIM?!” she screamed.  Blaise and Pansy both flinched and Pansy choked back a sob.

Narcissa leaned over her son and touched his face.  She gasped when she felt his cold skin.  She ran her fingers down his neck and felt for a pulse.  Nothing.  She quickly turned to Lucius and narrowed her eyes.

“What happened?” she seethed.

“Draco, he ran into Dolohov,” Lucius explained in a weak voice, “There was a fight.”

Narcissa strode past Blaise and Pansy once more and stopped once she was mere centimeters from her husband.  There was a long, tense silence as the pair stared at each other.

A slap echoed throughout the room; Blaise and Pansy flinched again and then stood with their mouths gaped open.

“I told you!” she cried, “I told you Lucius I did not want our son to be a part of this!  You promised me!  You promised me you would protect him!”

Lucius said nothing as he felt the stinging burn from his cheek.  He watched his wife through blurry eyes and let her scream.

She pounded her fists feebly into her husband’s chest as she repeatedly said, “I told you… I told you…”

Lucius finally took her wrists, and her face fell into his chest as she sobbed.

“I’m so sorry, ‘Cissa,” he whispered as he pressed his face into her hair.

Narcissa abruptly parted from Lucius and ran back to her son’s bedside.  She sat down beside him and grabbed his hand, kissing Draco’s knuckles. “My son,” she whispered through quiet sobs, “My boy…”

Blaise felt it was time to give the family some privacy.  He touched Pansy’s arm and nodded towards the door.  She followed him into the hallway and Lucius shut the door.

“What now?” Pansy whispered.

“I don’t know,” was all Blaise could think to say.

They both slid down the wall and sat on the floor, closing their eyes and listening to the painful muffled sobs that came from the other side of the wall.

Blaise replayed the night’s events over and over in his head.  He felt like such a failure.  He was supposed to be the skilled duelist of the group; he was the most level-headed person after Lucius.  He should have tried harder to keep Draco from opening that door.

Pansy’s mind was further into the past.  She could not remember the first time she met Draco; they had basically grown up together since their families ran in the same circles.  She remembered Draco beaming when the Sorting Hat was placed on his head and the hat took no time to announce he belonged in Slytherin.  She was placed in the same house shortly after and sat across from him at the table in the Great Hall.  She was his loudest cheerleader at every Quidditch game.  She was his date to the Yule Ball.  She was his first kiss.  They were each other’s first intimate partner.  She held him throughout many nights, whether it was to celebrate a win or comfort him when he took the Dark Mark.  And she held him one last time after his life was carelessly taken away.

She turned to Blaise.  He turned his head back to her.  He took her hand, and they sat in silence a bit longer before they heard the flames ignite from the travel parlor.

“Theo it is the middle of the night!” they heard Nott Sr. bellow, “Lucius better have a good reason for dragging me over here!  I hardly had enough time to hide Augustus when you came home a shouting, blubbering mess!”

“Oh, shut it father!” they heard Theo giving it right back to him, “How many times has Mr. Malfoy saved your arse from Voldemort’s wrath?  Or even worse, mother’s?”

Nott Sr. covered his embarrassment with a throaty cough and emerged from the travel parlor with his son.  Theo looked a right mess with his half open shirt, messy hair and bloody knuckles, but his eyes remained determined as he continued on down the hall with his father.

They stopped when they saw Blaise and Pansy sitting on the floor, backs pressed against the wall and looking glum.

“Zabini, Ms. Parkinson,” greeted a surprised Nott Sr., “What is going on?”

They watched him in silence, giving him a few moments to stew in his confusion.  His ears perked and his head turned towards the direction of Draco’s door when he heard the muffled sobs.

“The club…” Nott Sr. whispered, “Did Draco get hurt?  Do the aurors have him?”

“If only that were the case,” muttered his son as he knocked on Draco’s door.  The sobs ceased and more silence followed.

Lucius opened the door and peered out, seeing Theo with his father, Lucius nodded his head and opened the door wider to let them in.

Theo stopped his father before they entered, pressing a hand to his shoulder, “It’s bad.  Just, don’t be an insufferable prat for once.  Please.”

Nott Sr. had the perfect comeback for his son, but he could read the room and decided against it.  He stepped inside.

He was not prepared.

Narcissa sat at Draco’s bedside, handkerchief in one hand and holding Draco’s hand with the other.  Her face was red and blotchy; her eyes were filled with the unmistakable image of sorrow.  Lucius stayed standing in the doorway and watched Nott Sr. closely.

The elder Nott took a tentative step towards the bed, “Is he?...”

“Yes.”  Theo whispered.

“Lucius,” Nott Sr. hung his head, “I am terribly sorry my friend.”

Lucius said nothing, he just kept watching.

Theo approached the bed, a lump forming in his throat.  He stared at Draco as so many emotions consumed him; sadness, anger, regret, confusion and worst of all, emptiness.  He touched Narcissa’s shoulder, and she laid her hand delicately over his.  She sniffled.  He hung his head.  He dropped his hand and stepped away until he stood next to his father.

“What happened?” Nott Sr. whispered to his son.

“It wasn’t the aurors, father,” Theo began, “Antonin Dolohov caused the explosion.  He killed Draco.”

Nott Sr. paled, turning his head sharply back to Draco and then to Lucius.

Lucius nodded his head in the direction of the hallway.  Nott Sr. understood and left the room with Lucius.  Narcissa watched them leave; she narrowed her eyes and felt something was amiss.

Lucius led Nott Sr. to his study and shut the door behind them.  He wasted no time, asking the senior Nott a question before they even sat down.

“When you went to Egypt, did you take any of the scrolls about Isis?”

Nott Sr. stuttered, nodding his head in confusion, “I did, yes.”

“The resurrection of her husband?  Did you grab that one?” Lucius almost sounded frantic.

Nott Sr. eyes widened in astonishment, “Lucius, you can’t mean to…”

“Did you?!”

Nott Sr. nodded slowly, “Yes.  I took it.  Lucius, that scroll is thousands of years old and bears ancient magic no one has ever attempted.  We aren’t even sure if the legends are true.”

“Bring it.” Lucius commanded.

“Old friend, you’re grieving, you’re not thinking clearly.  The texts are old and damaged and what if a key piece is missing?  This could end in either disaster or nothing at all.  Either way, you end up disappointed.”  Nott Sr. explained nervously.

Lucius paced the study furiously, “But we have to try.”

“The stories say that Isis resurrected her husband, yes.  But even then, he was not allowed to stay in our world and had to return to the Underworld, where he ruled as a God.  Isis still lived out her days without her beloved.”

“No!” Lucius panicked, “There has to be more to it.  Humor me Nott, let us at least try.”

“I won’t do it,” Nott Sr. said sternly, “We have spent our lifetime dabbling in dark magic, but this is something I do not want to attempt.”

“You’ve already stolen from a sacred tomb, if you’re scared of some ancient God’s wrath, you’re already damned.  Do this one thing for me, Nott.  Just go home and get the scroll and let us try.”  Lucius stopped his pacing and stared at his friend desperately.

Nott Sr. began to sweat and grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping his forehead. “I can’t,” he spoke gently, “This will only lead to more pain, Lucius.  I don’t want to be the one to give you false hope.  And think of your wife, she’s suffered enough heartache.”

“He is our son!”  Lucius pleaded, “Our only son.  I have to do this.”

“If this is about the continuation of your line, can’t you have another?”

That was not the right thing to say.  Lucius slammed his fist against a bookshelf, it shook, and several decorative items fell from its shelves and either shattered or rolled across the floor.

“How dare you,” Lucius seethed, “Do you believe I am honestly that shallow?  That all I care about is keeping my family name alive?”

Nott Sr. took a cautious step back before answering, “Well, yes.  Your family is part of the Sacred 28, one of the few left who can prove their blood purity.  Purebloods are slowly dying away in our world, and we’ve had many conversations regarding this.”

“My life and my family’s lives were saved by a half blood,” Lucius explained slowly, “A muggleborn spoke on behalf of my son during his trial and aided in his release.  My prejudices are not what they were.”

Nott Sr. scoffed, clearly taken aback by Lucius’s words, “I’m going to assume that you’re too grief stricken to be thinking clearly.”

Lucius had his response ready, but they were interrupted by the study door opening and Narcissa walking in quietly.  She shut the door behind her and leaned against it.

She gazed at Lucius with suspicious, tear-filled eyes, “What is going on?”

“’Cissa…” Lucius began.

“Your husband has gone mad!” Nott Sr. exclaimed, “I’m sorry, this isn’t the time for me to be telling you that, but I need you to talk some sense into him!”

Narcissa straightened up, looking between the two men before addressing her husband, “What is he talking about?”

Lucius sighed, running his hands through his hair, “I may have found a way to save Draco.”

“Save Draco?” she looked at him in disbelief, “Lucius, our son is dead.”

He winced at the reminder, “I know this,” he managed to say, “But Nott here has obtained some ancient magic that could bring him back.”

Narcissa took a moment to digest what her husband just said to her.  She took in his disheveled appearance, the desperate look in his eyes and the way he tightened his jaw as he waited for her response.  She had seen this desperate look before.  This was the same look he had given Draco whenever he begged his son to identify Harry Potter when the snatchers had brought the golden trio into their home.

“Lucius,” she whispered harshly, “What are you talking about?”

“He has a scroll, ‘Cissa,” Lucius explained with haste, “He retrieved it from the tomb of Isis when he was in Egypt.  Isis resurrected her husband, and her spell is written on that scroll!”

Narcissa did a fine job maintaining her composure as she stared at her husband, taking the time to choose her next words carefully.

“Lucius,” she began, “I need you now more than ever, I cannot have you crumbling like this.”

“’Cissa!”

“Don’t!” she held a hand up, giving him a stern look, “We need to go to bed, Lucius.  You need to rest because I need you to contact the funeral home tomorrow while you’re still of sound mind.”

“’Cissa,” he tried again, his voice a bit calmer, “Let me try.”

“No!”

Lucius sucked in a breath and then exhaled slowly, closing his eyes in an attempt to find his calm.  He looked to his wife again and said, “Just, let me do this.  You don’t have to be there.  If this doesn’t work, then I will contact the funeral home, but I have hope that it won’t come to that.”

He reached for her, and she pulled away.  The tears began to flow before she gave her husband one final look and said, “You’re mad.”

She left the study; Lucius and Nott Sr stood in stunned silence.  Lucius stared at the door, trying to will his wife to come back.  She told him not to crumble.  He was trying, he really was.  But he found it difficult when she made him feel abandoned and insane.

Nott Sr cleared his throat after a moment.  Narcissa had absolutely no faith in her husband and Nott Sr saw that as a clear sign of disrespect.  If this had happened to him, if it were he who had lost his son, he wouldn’t have bothered seeking his wife’s approval.  Nott Sr would do whatever it took to bring back his only child.

He placed his hand on Lucius’s shoulder, “Give me a day or two, Malfoy.  I can transcribe the scrolls in that amount of time, I’m sure of it.  I’m hoping I have the relics needed to perform the incantation, but if I don’t, I will find them.”

Lucius turned to his friend in surprise, “You’ll do it?”

Nott Sr nodded sadly, “I will.  We don’t have much time, keep his body cold.  We need to preserve as much of him as we can.”

Lucius let out a sigh of relief as a weight lifted from him, “Thank you,” was all he could think to say.

“Just,” Nott Sr began, “Don’t get your hopes up.”

Before Nott Sr could leave, Lucius called to him.

“Nott, no one can know about this.  Not even your wife.”

Theodore Nott Sr nodded.

And with that, Nott Sr left Malfoy’s study, leaving Lucius alone to think about the possible outcomes of the next two days.

Lucius was back down the hallway, noticing that Blaise, Pansy and Theo had already left.  He pressed his palm on Draco’s door and hesitated before eventually opening it up.

He took slow steps towards his son’s bed as he removed his wand from his cane.  A blue light emitted from his wand, and he waved it over his son’s body.  The blue light glowed against Draco’s skin, illuminating his still features.

“Glacius,” Lucius whispered, Draco’s body was suddenly covered in a thin layer of ice.  Lucius felt the effects immediately as the temperature in Draco’s room dropped.

“I will see you again,” Lucius promised, giving his son one final look before extinguishing the lantern at Draco’s bedside and leaving his son’s room.

 

Your death will be my soul's demise
I'll carry your sins, but who will carry mine?
Who (who), who will carry mine?
Who will carry mine?

-Blackbriar, “My Soul’s Demise”

 

Chapter 9: The Dungeons

T/W - This chapter depicts scenes of torture

 

Chapter 9 –

They ran through the gardens, chasing the peacocks, each laughing at the other's absurdity.  Draco was more daring, getting close enough to brush his fingers on an elegant feather or bop one on the head.  Theo would chase but not touch. They went on like this for several minutes, taunting the poor birds and running tirelessly through the Malfoy Manor landscape.  Theo tripped over a rock and went tumbling down a hill; he could barely hear the infectious laughter of Draco through the noise of his head hitting the grass and dirt over and over again as he rolled.  Once he was back on his feet, he didn't have time to dust himself off as he saw a large male peacock chasing down the hill after him.

Theo wailed and started running.  He ran around the fountains at the bottom of the hill; the peacock followed; he ran through a cluster of trees; the peacock followed; in a last-ditch effort to lose this terrifying creature, Theo ran into the hedge maze.  He took so many twists and turns and kept running into dead ends.  He was already deep in the maze once he realized the peacock had not followed him there.

He stopped to catch his breath, hands on his knees and chest heaving.  He lifted up his pant legs and saw the fresh scrapes on his bloody knees.  He groaned, knowing his father would not be happy about this.  He would just have to ask Narcissa to heal him and the elves to repair his torn trousers.

Theo tried to get his bearings, wandering back through the hedge maze trying to retrace his steps.  Everything looked the same.  The hedges towered over him, which was very intimidating for an eight-year-old boy.  He felt like the walls were closing in on him and shadows were stalking him, so he picked up the pace. 

He came across another dead end, but this one had a large statue blocking the wall of greenery behind it.  Theo approached the statue, reading the wording etched into the marble.  One of Draco's pompous ancestors no doubt, the inscription told a detailed story of this man's accomplishments that Theo did not care to read.

He spoke to the statue, hoping it would be like the portraits and talk back, "Do you know how to get out of here?"

There was a low rumble, and Theo took a step back.  The statue seemed to be stretching its limbs, and it yawned before answering, "I do."

"Oh, good!" Theo exclaimed, "Please, could you tell me?"

The statue sighed and somehow managed to roll its eyes.  Theo couldn't help but grin, the sight reminded him too much of Lucius Malfoy whenever he got irritated.

"It's always a Nott, isn't it?" the statue asked with a sneer, "My best mate always got himself into sticky situations as well.  You'd think our family would learn its lesson and find a new family to mingle with."

"You don't have to be rude," Theo huffed, sounding as intimidating as a small boy could.

The statue laughed and pointed behind Theo, "Keep going straight about forty paces, it looks like a dead end that way but it's merely an illusion.  When you come across a fork in the path take the left one.  Keep going until you get to the fifth right turn, that should lead you out.  Keep count of the passageways, if you come across the snake statue you've gone too far."

"Thank you, Mr. Stone Malfoy," Theo gave a bow and then was on his way.

As Theo got closer to the exit, he could hear Draco calling for him.

"THEO!!"  Draco cried, sounding worried.

"I'm here Draco!"  Theo called back; he saw Draco's small frame appear at the exit.  Theo picked up the pace and ran to his friend.

He was breathless again once he made it to Draco.  Hands back on his knees, chest heaving.

Draco snorted, "You're like an old man."

"Shut it," Theo snapped with a glare.  Draco pursed his lips together to keep from laughing, which in turn made Theo do the same thing.  In no time they were both laughing uncontrollably.

They walked back into the Manor, finding Narcissa in the drawing room with her tea and notebook.  She took one look at the boys, dirty with torn trousers, and shook her head.  Theo approached her, cheeks flushed and staring at the floor.  He lifted one pant leg and showed her his scraped knee.

"Terrorizing the peacocks again I see," she said with a polite laugh, kneeling to Theo's eye level and tilting his chin to meet her gaze.  Theo blushed harder but felt her maternal comfort instantly.  Narcissa drew her wand and healed his knee with loving care.

"Draco," she said to her son, "Get Theodore some trousers from your room.  I'll have the elves mend his before he goes home for supper." She turned back to Theo, grinning and pinching his cheek, "Your father will never know, darling."

Theo's eyes lit up and he gave her a huge smile, "Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy."

About an hour later, Draco and Theo snuck into Lucius's study, all cleaned up and trousers mended.  Draco looked around cautiously before going in further.  Theo trailed along after him, taking in the study with its high ceilings, towering bookshelves and display after display of dark artifacts.  He reached out to one.

"Don't touch that one!" Draco shouted, holding up a hand in protest, "My dad said it'll turn you into a girl who wears pink dresses and courts Hufflepuffs!"

Theo gagged and jumped back, placing his hands behind his back immediately.  He glared at the dark artifact, which was a tarnished gold crown, adorned with jewels and black pearls.  "I'll never court a Hufflepuff!"  Theo said proudly.

Draco spoke in a hushed voice, motioning Theo to him as he climbed into his father's office chair, "Look what I found the other day."  He slowly and quietly slid open a drawer from his father's desk and reached inside.

Theo peered over his shoulder curiously.

Draco pulled out a mask.  Lucius's Death Eater mask to be exact.  It was black, bearing an intricate silver design.  There were holes for the wearer's eyes, but without a person behind the mask, the holes felt soulless, uncanny.  Draco narrowed his eyes for a moment; the mask strangely felt heavy in his hands.

Theo's eyes widened as he stared at the mask Draco held before him.  Even with so little light, the silver parts gleamed in the darkness.

Draco hopped off the chair, looking triumphant.  He placed his father's mask over his boyish face and attempted his most sinister impression of a bad guy, "Grr!  Look at me!  I'm a scary Death Eater!" he strode around the room menacingly.

Theo laughed then noticed Lucius's coat rack by the door, and hanging on it were long black robes.  He quickly snatched the robes and tossed them to Draco, "Here! You need this!"

Draco snickered and swung the robes around his shoulders; the garment swallowed him, and it dragged along the floor.  Draco proceeded to grab a quill, pretending it was a wand and muttered made up spells, slashing the wand at random items throughout the study.

The boys were in fits of laughter in no time.

Draco aimed his wand at Theo and shouted, "Muggle!"

Theo backed away theatrically, shielding his face with his arms, "Please sir!  Don't hurt me!"

They continued this game, Draco trying his best to sound terrifying but failing miserably due to his giggles.  He chased Theo around the room, flicking his quill-wand this way and that, hissing and snarling spells at Theo as Theo continued to impersonate a scared Muggle running for their life.

Draco had Theo backed into a shelf; he pretended to lunge at Theo, which caused Theo to bump his shoulders into the shelf too hard.  The shelves shook and a goblet fell over, crashing onto the floor and shattering into several pieces.  They both gasped and froze.

"What was that?!" came the alarming voice of Lucius Malfoy.

"Oh no..." Draco whispered.

The study doors swung open, and Lucius entered.  He always looked intimidating to young Theo, but at this moment, he was downright terrifying.  Lucius glanced around the room until he spotted the boys.  His face changed from anger to shock, seeing his son wearing his old Death Eater mask and robes.  He strode towards the boys faster than Theo had ever seen.

"Draco!"  Lucius barked, swiping the mask off his son's face, "What do you think you're doing?!"

"I'm s-sorry, father!"  Draco stuttered, clutching the over-sized robes around him tightly.

Lucius sighed, looking at his mask then back to the two boys, "This is not a toy, Draco.  You shouldn't be playing with this, and you shouldn't have been going through my desk."

Draco could only nod.  Theo looked on with wide eyes.

Then Lucius noticed the shattered goblet.  They saw his jaw clench.  Lucius took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair.  They could tell he was trying his best not to explode.

"That goblet..." he began, his voice low, "Was used by Vlad the Impaler himself during a victory dinner.  It's priceless...or it was."

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Malfoy - " Theo began.

"I did it, father!" Draco jumped in, "It's my fault."

Lucius and Theo both paused, each staring at Draco quizzically. 

"You did this, Draco?" Lucius asked.

Draco nodded again, "I did, I'm sorry.  I was using your quill as a wand," he showed his father the quill in his hand, "And I accidentally hit it.  I wasn't paying attention, and I couldn't see well with that mask.  Please, I won't do it again."

There was a long pause as father and son stared at each other.

"Theodore," Lucius said, still staring at Draco, "It's time you went home."

Theo gulped, glancing at Draco who returned his stare with nervous eyes.  Theo hung his head, nodding shamefully, "Yes, Mr. Malfoy."

Theo proceeded to the study doors, clutching one arm to comfort himself.  He was scared for his friend, wondering what sort of punishment lay before him.  If the tables were turned, and they had broken something at Nott Manor, Theodore's father would have the switch out in no time, whipping it over Theo's knees and screaming at him.  He pictured that happening to Draco and he shuddered.

He took one last look at the father and son.  He saw Lucius down on one knee, his hand on Draco's shoulder and speaking to him in a low yet stern voice.  Draco had his head down, sniffling.

That was when Theodore realized that Lucius Malfoy was nothing like Theodore Nott Sr.  Draco was going to be okay.

**********

Theodore stared out the window at the top of the dungeon stairs, eyes half open due to the glaring sun.  He saw the peacocks out in the gardens, grazing about elegantly.  He looked over to the hedge maze, still a healthy green color with its towering walls.  He wondered how the statue was doing.

He looked down at his bruised knuckles and clenched his fists.  He grabbed a pepper up potion from his pocket, downing it in one go.  Then he wiped his mouth with his sleeve, shuddering as the potion took effect.  He tilted his head to the side quickly, popping his neck.  Then, Theodore Nott descended the stairs to the dungeon, his footsteps echoing loudly as he walked down.

Screams followed moments later.

*********

Lucius was called to the Ministry the first thing the next morning.  He was not surprised.  His previous night was obviously restless, and it was reflected in his appearance.  His usual regal image was a shell of its former self.  Though his dress robes were still nice, his hair lay limp and tangled along his back and his eyes bore the image of a man who had aged 20 years in one night.

He entered Shacklebolt’s office, ignoring his secretary who stared at him wide eyed, and opened the mahogony doors without knocking.

Kingsley hardly looked up from his desk as he was frantically shuffling through the several layers of parchments and files.

“Looking for something, Minister?” Lucius asked with a quirked brow.

“I misplaced a file…” Shacklebolt muttered, then he hollered towards the door, “Mystina!  Any luck finding the… erm… the file I asked about?”

“Sorry Minister!”  Lucius heard Mystina calling from her office, “I’m still looking but I promise I’ll find it!”

Lucius tried to keep his expression neutral.  They must have been looking for Dolohov’s file, which currently still lay hidden somewhere in Lucius’s desk at home.  He would need to find a way to return it discreetly.

“I don’t have much time, Malfoy,” Kingsley said, going back to his paperwork, “We need to discuss the details of last night quickly.  I have a press conference soon and the people are demanding answers.  Answers I don’t have.  Answers I’m hoping you do have.”

Lucius sighed; he did not have time for this either. “What do you need to know?”

“What happened, obviously.” Kingsley’s kind voice was no longer there, he truly sounded like a man of his title.

“I went to Shafiq’s last night accompanied by my team.  I was able to find Augustus Rookwood but was unfortunately interrupted by Antonin Dolohov, whom you already know, attacked members of my team.  His spells all but destroyed the gentlemen’s club.  He and Rookwood managed to escape before I could apprehend them.”

Lucius was rather rusty in his Occulmency skills, and he was hoping Kingsley was not a professional Legillimens.  The way Kinglsey was eyeing him, he could tell the man was searching for the truth, but he did not feel Kinglsey trying to enter his mind.

“Were you discovered?  Was your cover compromised?” Kingsley asked, a flash of concern shown in his eyes.

“No,” Lucius answered and could see Kingsley relax just a smidge, “Rookwood believed I was there for the same reasons he was.  He was too fixated on his trollop to be suspicious of anything.  The attack happened while Rookwood was in a compromising position,” he cleared his throat uncomfortably, “He fled the moment Dolohov let off the first explosion.”

“And why did Dolohov attack the club?”

“I don’t have the specifics, Minister.  From what I gathered, Dolohov was being too garish with one of the employees and Montague tried to intervene.  A duel ensued and things got out of hand.”

“Out of hand?” Kinglsey let out a sarcastic laugh, “Graham Montague is dead, several people are injured, and a building has been destroyed.  There were too many witnesses for this to remain quiet.  The Daily Prophet has told the public that Antonin Dolohov is on the run and murdering innocent people.”

Lucius sighed; through his lack of sleep, he forgot about the several witnesses who saw his son dueling Antonin.

“My team attempted to apprehend Dolohov, but as you know, they were unsuccessful.  I unfortunately was trapped in the chaos and was not able to get to them in time to help.  But I can assure you, my son and his friends did not reveal our true intentions.  If you question any witness, they will tell you that Draco was only trying to help Montague.”

Kingsley studied Lucius for a long time, tapping his fingers together as he processed all this information.

“And where is Draco?  I need to question him.” Kinglsey said.

Lucius fought back the anxiety building up in his chest and took in a deep breath before responding, “Draco was injured in the attack, he is in no state to answer any of your questions.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Malfoy,” Kingsley’s expression softened for only a second before his commanding demeanor returned, “I can go by your home after the press conference and question him there.”

“I’m afraid he was hit with a particularly strong Petrificus Totalus in which Finite Incantatem is not reversing.  But my wife has already sent for the best healers my galleons can buy.  I will be happy to let the portrait know when Draco is able to talk.”  Lucius gripped his cane tightly, ignoring his sweaty palms.

“A Petrificus that cannot be reversed?  I’ve never heard of such a thing,” Kingsley furrowed his brows in suspicion.

“Neither have I,” Lucius replied.

“And the others?  Nott, Zabini and Parkinson, were they injured as well?”

“Their injuries were minor, thank Merlin.”

“Then I will speak to them after the press conference.  After our meeting, I want you to let them know to come to my office immediately.”

Lucius nodded, “Of course.”

Kinglsey sighed loudly and leaned into his chair, “I will need to give the press something to calm anxious minds.  With several Death Eaters still on the run, very few have been able to sleep easily.  I plan on announcing Yaxley and Carrow’s apprehension at the press conference.”

Lucius tensed, “And give away my operation?  What would this mean for my release?  What would this mean for my family?  Do you understand the dangers they will be in if the public is made aware that I was a part of capturing Yaxley and Carrow?”

“You didn’t apprehend them, Malfoy.  My aurors did.”  Kinglsey leaned onto his desk and awaited Lucius’s response.

Lucius straightened in his seat and sneered, “I see.  My and my team do all your dirty work, and your aurors get the glory.”

“I know this is a shot to your pride, Malfoy.  But it has to be done.  Your family will remain safe, and your cover won’t be blown.  You can continue your missions accordingly and no one would be the wiser.”

Lucius stared at Kinglsey as he processed this information.  He knew the man was right, wherever the remaining rogue Death Eaters were they would not get wind of Lucius’s assignment.  Dolohov was the only one aware of this and he was safely locked away at Malfoy Manor.

“Fine.”  Lucius muttered.

Kinglsey found this to be the opportune time to redirect the conversation, “And while I still have you, we need to discuss the roles Nott, Zabini and Parkinson are playing in your assignment.”

Lucius quirked a brow, “Oh?”

“I gave you permission to allow Draco to accompany you, I said nothing about you bringing on anyone else.” Kinglsey explained.

“Exactly,” Lucius challenged, “You neither rejected it nor approved it.  I’ve seen these three grow up and they have all become quite the exceptional wizards and witch.”

“They’re children,” Kingsley countered.

“No Minister, they are young adults now.  They have all finished their schooling at Hogwarts and passed with exceptional scores.  Nott has just turned nineteen and the other two are not far behind him.  Age aside, Nott has knowledge and connections regarding my targets, Zabini is a rather skilled duelist.  Haven’t you heard he is part of the Toothill Dueling Club?  And Ms. Parkinson, she held her own against Amycus Carrow.  We wouldn’t have been able to capture him without her.”  Lucius spoke with pride as if those three were his own children.

“Well, color me impressed Malfoy,” Kinglsey responded, “And you are sure they did not give away your cover while dueling Dolohov?”

“I am,” Lucius said confidently.

Kinglsey stood from his seat, signaling to Lucius that their meeting was over.

“One more thing, Minister,” Lucius did not get up from his seat.

“Yes Malfoy?” Kingsley glanced at the clock and remained standing.

“I need more time.”

Kingsley sat back down, “Why?”

“With Dolohov’s recent attack, the others will know that the aurors are on high alert and looking.  Now you are going to reveal to the world that Yaxley and Carrow have been caught.  This will make my efforts more difficult.” Lucius explained simply.

Kingsley nodded, “I took that into consideration, as did the Wizengamot.”

Now Lucius stood from his seat, his attention piqued, “The Wizengamot?”

Kinglsey smiled, “I met with them early this morning to discuss the stipulations of your release.  We all agreed, well mostly all, that you need more time.  I was able to extend your deadline by two years.”

Lucius’s eyes widened, “Did you say two years?”

Kingsley nodded, “That I did.  Though I still expect your next capture to be much sooner than that.  Do not make me regret my decision.”

Lucius couldn’t find the words.  Gratitude was something that did not come easy to him.  Kingsley saw this and took his silence as a thank you.

“I will visit you soon, Malfoy.  Please remember to send Nott, Zabini and Parkinson here after the press conference.”

Lucius nodded.  He remained in Kingsley’s office for a few minutes after the Minister left.  His relief was short lived when he remembered what was awaiting him at home.

***********

Lucius could hear the spells being cast and the whimpers and curses that followed before he even opened the door to the dungeons.  As he descended the stairs, the noises grew louder.

Upon approaching Dolohov’s cell, he saw Pansy first, sitting crossed legged on a chair and casually filing her nails.  Blaise or Theo would call her name, and she would cast a quick healing charm in their direction without even looking at them.  But she wasn’t healing Blaise or Theo, she was healing Dolohov.

Once the other three came into his view, Lucius saw Dolohov tied to a chair, head hung low, sweat dripping off the ends of his black hair and blood pooling beneath his feet.  Theo looked just as terrible as he did the night before, clothes disheveled and knuckles bloody.   Aside from Blaise’s grief-stricken face, he was much more put together than Theo.  That wasn’t unusual, Blaise was raised to always keep up appearances, no matter the circumstances.

Lucius watched as Blaise would throw out a slicing curse, usually to an arm or leg and sometimes at Dolohov’s face.  Theo preferred a more physical method, throwing a punch to the nose or the stomach; Dolohov’s chair would fall over and then he would kick him in the ribs.  Dolohov cried and spat and cursed in his mother tongue.

Once Blaise decided that Dolohov was losing too much blood, Pansy would simply heal their captive and then the torture would resume.

“Is that a finger on my floor?” Lucius exclaimed.

Theo nudged the loose appendage with his boot and shrugged, “Oops.”

“Oops?” Lucius hissed in return, “I need him in one piece once we decide to turn him over to the Ministry.”

“He’s a psychotic murderer,” Theo countered, “A missing finger can easily be explained.  I really wanted to remove his bollocks, but Blaise talked me out of it.”

Lucius groaned and kicked away the several bottles of blood replenishing potions that littered his floor. “You three need to get yourselves cleaned up and report to the Ministry, Kingsley has summoned you.”

“Ugh,” Theo groaned as he kicked Dolohov’s kneecap with his heel, “Why?”

“Why do you think, Nott?” Lucius shuddered when he saw Dolohov’s kneecap shift out of place, “He has questions about last night.”

Everyone paused and looked up.  Even Dolohov.

Blaise and Theo hoisted Dolohov’s chair back up and then Theo grabbed a handful of Dolohov’s hair, forcing the man to look at him.

“Don’t miss me too much,” Theo taunted.  Dolohov spat blood in his face.  Theo flinched and then stilled.  It was eerie the way Theo suddenly smirked as he wiped the blood from his face.  The seconds ticked by each more tense than the last.

Theo drew his wand, he stared at it, as if contemplating just what spell he should use.  He looked back at Dolohov and then jammed the tip of his wand right into Dolohov’s groin.  The Russian man howled as his muscles tensed and pain consumed him.  Theo dug the wand deeper into his skin and murmured a spell that burned into Dolohov’s flesh.

“Are you finished?” Lucius asked with impatience.

“I am now,” Theo responded, not taking his eyes off their captive.

Everyone left Dolohov alone in his cell without healing his dislocated kneecap or burned skin.  As soon as the cell door slid shut, Lucius cast a privacy charm.

“He is not aware of Draco’s condition,” Lucius began, refusing to acknowledge Draco’s death, “I told him that Montague was dueling Dolohov while defending an employee.  You all stepped in to help and Draco was injured.  A particularly strong Petrificus Totalus that we could not reverse.  Understand?”

The three before him nodded.

“He will grill you, possibly separately.  Do not by any means give away any information that points to what truly happened to Draco and do not let him know we have Dolohov here.  You three need to all stick to the same story.”

“We won’t let you down,” Blaise promised.  Pansy and Theo both nodded.

“Good.  Nott, you look terrible.  Go home and get cleaned up, heal your bloody knuckles for Salazar’s sake.  And do not tell your father where you are going.”  Lucius said authoritatively.

Theo glanced at his swollen knuckles and smirked.  He gave Lucius another nod and the three departed.

Lucius deactivated the privacy charm and slid open the cell door.  He conjured a chair and sat before his son’s murderer.  The air smelt of blood and burned flesh.  Lucius scrunched his nose in distate.

Dolohov stared at him through his sweat-soaked hair, he let out a distorted laugh before muttering, “Malfoy.”

Lucius sat straight in his chair; one leg crossed over his knee with his cane resting on his lap.  He did not return the greeting, he only studied Dolohov as he calculated his next move.

“My condolences,” Dolohov said with a smirk, “To you and your beautiful wife.  Such an ambitious boy you had.  Top of his class, after a mudblood, and richer than the bloody Queen of England.  I’m sure you had his entire future planned out for him.  Shame he met such a bitter end.”

Lucius maintained his calculating stare as he gripped his cane.

“You brought humiliation to your family, Malfoy,” Dolohov continued, “Tell me, vhat future did Draco really have with you as his father?”

“He had a future nonetheless,” Lucius responded, his voice full of venom.

“Draco vas a coward who couldn’t complete one simple task.”  Dolohov smiled, showing his black teeth. “Two actually.”

“Killing Albus Dumbledore was no simple task for a 16-year-old boy,” Lucius countered.

Dolohov laughed, “I vas killing before I vas fucking! And I started doing that at a very young age.”

“And his second task?” Lucius asked, deflecting Dolohov’s recent comment.

“Killing me of course.”

“Hm, well…” Lucius picked up his cane and studied the snake emblem, “I’m afraid you’re going to be living for quite a long time now Antonin.”

“Unlike your son.”

Dolohov snarled when the snake end of Lucius's cane cut into his face, just below his right eye.  The strike was quick, and it stung, he felt blood trickle down his cheek. Through blurry vision he watched as Lucius sat back down in his chair and fixed his hair.  His leg crossed back over his knee and the cane was back in his lap.  Dolohov met Lucius's gaze and saw nothing but hatred in his eyes.

"Let's try this again, shall we?" Lucius asked.

"Try vhat?" Dolohov growled.

"Sources tell me that it was Jugson who aided in your escape at the Battle at Hogwarts.  He hasn't been seen since.  I want to know where your savior ran off to." Lucius leaned over in his chair, facial expression stern and gripping his cane as if to prepare for another strike.

Dolohov sneered and he spat blood onto the floor, "Your son is dead, and you ask about Jugson?  You are an interesting man, Lucius Malfoy."

"So I've been told," Lucius countered, "Answer the question."

"Vhat do you want with Jugson?"

Lucius frowned, "I just want to talk."

Dolohov gave a short laugh, shrugging his shoulders and hiding a wince, "Like you talk to me?"

"No Dolohov, not like I talk to you.  Your case is.... special.  Where is he?"

"Why?  So you can send those children after him?  I admit, Jugson is more powerful than me.  You'll lose more young lives." he smirked, which made Lucius's repulsion for the man grow.  Dolohov continued, "You stand no chance against Jugson."

"I'll take the risk," Lucius responded almost casually, "Tell me where he is."

"And vhat do I get in return?"

Lucius’s eye twitched.  Was this man really asking this?

Lucius struck him with the snake end of his cane again, it felt like a reflex, a movement he couldn’t control.  Dolohov howled in pain; he would clutch his eye if his hands weren’t bound behind him.  Instead, Lucius had to watch as blood flowed from Dolohov’s eye socket.

“You dare ask for something when you murdered my son?” Lucius hissed, his eyes wild with fury.

Dolohov’s cries turned to laughter, which sent a shiver down Lucius’s spine.  Dolohov looked like a madman with his dripping black hair and blood-soaked face, laughing menacingly.

“I did,” Dolohov said after he finished laughing, “And vhen I find my way out of this prison, I shall murder your wife next, and only your wife.  Killing you Malfoy would be a mercy, and now I live for nothing more than your misery.”

Lucius sighed, frustrated.  He was getting nowhere.  He couldn’t keep his head straight.  This interrogation was useless with the state his mind was in.  Shacklebolt had given him two years.  He had time.

Lucius stood from his seat, leaning in close to Dolohov as he whispered, “Your eye will get infected, Antonin, and I will not heal it.  Your head will throb for several days as the infection slowly eats away at your eye.  Once you lose it, I will consider treating the infection.  I still need you alive.  You will not escape this prison.  You will be begging for Azkaban after my team and I are through with you.”

Dolohov smirked, “You think I can’t handle a little torture? This is child’s play compared to vhat I had done for the Dark Lord.”

“You may be right,” Lucius shrugged as he turned away from Dolohov and grabbed the cell door, “Though if I let Nott have his way, he would make your Dark Lord look like a pygmy puff in comparison.  He may not look nor act the part, but if he’s anything like his father, your suffering will be limitless.”

Dolohov spat on the floor, “That boy does not scare me.”

Lucius smirked, sliding the cell door shut, “The elves shall be down soon with your supper.  I believe it’s a healthy serving of molded bread and flubberworm.  Do enjoy.”

Dolohov stared at Lucius with his cold eyes, watching as the senior Malfoy ascended the steps to the first level of the Manor.  He watched him until his figure disappeared into the darkness and all that was left were the sounds of retreating footsteps.

Lucius fought the feelings of disappointment as he walked the halls of his ancestral home.  The portraits watched as he stared ahead, ignoring their stares and random words of sympathy.  Some even had the audacity to question if this was really the end of their family line.  He had to threaten to burn one portrait who suggested that Lucius find himself a second, young and fertile wife.  Narcissa had been through enough, and he hoped the portraits were keeping their mouths shut around her.

He approached Draco’s door and pressed his gloved palm against it.  Even through the leather, he could feel the cold against the wood.  He took a deep breath before entering Draco’s room.  Lucius stepped inside and could see his breath when he exhaled.

Draco was now covered in a thick sheet of ice; his skin looked light blue.  Lucius saw that in the chair next to Draco’s bed was a handkerchief.  Narcissa had been here.  He picked up the handkerchief, stared at the embroidery for a moment before placing it in his pocket.

He sat in the chair, gazing at his son in solemn silence.  He placed his cane back in his lap and cleared his throat.

Lucius had a lot he needed to say and now felt like the perfect time.

“I’ve been a shite father… for your entire life.  I was too focused on our image to actually pay attention to your needs.  When I married your mother… it took us years for her to finally get pregnant.  All those years waiting… and when we finally saw you, it was worth it.  I hardly showed my appreciation…too busy concerned about other things…menial things.  I missed out on so much, too much, handling the Dark Lord’s affairs.  Your mother spent so many lonely nights taking care of you and worrying over me.  I put her through hell. 

The first time he was defeated, I should have taken advantage of that.  I should have focused more on you.  Not our bloodline, not our status… And no matter how hard I was on you, you still looked up to me.  I hardly deserved it.”

He felt his throat constrict but he pushed on, “You could have made the Quidditch team on your own.  I saw you out there on that field.  You handled the rain, the wind, and the sun with ease.  You rode that broom like you were made for it.  And I should have told you that.  I should have told you many things, Draco.

My pride….my bloody pride.  I’m sorry, Draco.” His voice cracked.  Lucius cleared his throat again, shook his head and continued.

“You stepped up when you shouldn’t have had to.  You were almost done with school; you should have focused on studies.  Instead, you were given an impossible task all because of my failures.  You had to give up Quidditch.  You had to give up your youth.  You had to protect your mother.  All because of me.”

He ran his hand over Draco’s ice-covered hand for a brief moment before returning it to his lap, “I asked you to help me with these missions because I needed you.  I always needed you, son.  I wanted more than anything to turn your image around and give you all the glory.  All I wanted was my family and my freedom back.

You had so much more to give this world.  You had your whole life ahead of you.  And I should have protected you.  I should have found another way.  I’m sorry…

Isis’s spell has to work.  It will work!  This isn’t the end of your story, Draco.  I will do everything in my power to bring you back.  I promise you this.  This isn’t the end…it’s not.  It can’t be.”

Lucius stood from his seat and gripped his cane.  His body began to tremble, and he did his best to fight it.  Lucius closed his eyes, promised Draco that he would see him again, then left the cold room without a second look.

 

Oh, what a disgrace, I'm losing my faith
Is anyone out there listening?
'Cause I don't want to face this mess that I made
My mind is a dangerous place to live

-Connor Kauffman, “Skin of a Saint”

 

Chapter 10: Isis and Osiris

Pansy admired herself in the large mirror she conjured into the Slytherin common room.  She was trying on her dress robes for the upcoming Yule Ball.  The frilly, pale pink formal outfit hugged her in all the right places and managed to make her raven hair look darker.  The blush on her cheeks was just a shade darker than the dress, accentuating her cheekbones nicely.  She did one twirl, to test out how her robes would swish about while dancing then admired her backside.

"What do you think?" she asked the student behind her.

She heard nothing but the rustling paper of a page turning.

Pansy scowled and turned around quickly, hands on her hips, "Are you listening to me?!"

Draco, lying lazily on a couch, feet propped over the end of it and holding a Quidditch magazine, hardly looked up at her.

"It's nice," he answered monotonously, going back to his magazine.

She huffed, clenching her fists, "Nice?  That's all you can say is nice?!  I'll have you know I had this owled over from Paris!"

Draco shrugged, still focused on his Quidditch reading.

Pansy stormed over to him, snatching the magazine out of his hands.  Draco sat up and protested, only to be whacked in the arm with his magazine.

"What was that for?" he grimaced, rubbing his arm, it didn't hurt but he was irritated all the same.

Pansy tossed the magazine on the coffee table and then crossed her arms, "Look at my dress, Malfoy."

Draco rolled his eyes then gave her a once over, "I'm looking."

"And?"

"And what?  It's....frilly." he furrowed his brows and studied the tule that spread out towards the bottom.

"Well, it's all the rage in Paris right now." she defended.

"It's pink," Draco retorted.

"Wonderful observation, Draco."  Pansy responded sarcastically.

Draco picked up his magazine and returned to his lazy position on the couch.  Pansy sighed and returned to the mirror, running her fingers delicately over the fine material.  She tilted her head to the side, admiring her neck and considering if she should wear a necklace or keep her neck bare.

She glanced back at Draco who was oblivious to her again.

"Daphne Greengrass thinks you're going to ask her to the Yule Ball," she said quietly, searching his face for a response.

Draco snorted, eyes still on his reading, "Does she?"

"So, you're not going to ask her?" Pansy questioned.

"Obviously," Draco said, sounding bored, "She'll probably go with Zabini."

"Blaise is going with Tracey," Pansy responded.

"Then she'll have to go with Montague or Pucey, I don't know.  I really don't care."

"What about Theo?" Pansy quirked a brow.

Draco let out a short laugh, flipping a page in his magazine, "Theo will go stag.  He thinks it makes him look cool."

Pansy smirked.  That sounded like Theodore.  "Is that what you're doing?"  she asked after a moment.

"What? Going stag? Of course not," replied Draco, shutting his magazine and meeting her eyes, "I'm going with you."

She scoffed, placing a hand to her chest for dramatic effect, "Oh are you now?"

"I am."

"You haven't even asked me!" she exclaimed.

"I just did," he argued.

"No, you didn't!" Pansy refused to back down.

Draco groaned, sitting up on the couch and resting his elbows on his knees, "Fine, Pansy, will you go to the Yule Ball with me?"

She smirked, turning away from him to gaze at herself in the mirror once more, "I don't know."

Draco stood from his seat, approaching Pansy and wrapping his arms around her waist from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder as they stared at her reflection. "You will," he said confidently.

Pansy grinned, leaning into his hold and covering one of her hands over his, "Trying out the Malfoy charm on me, are you?"

"Is it working?"

"No." She turned around in his hold and tapped his nose, "But yes, Draco, I will go to the Yule Ball with you."

"Of course you will," Draco murmured with a wicked smile.  Pansy shot him a warning glare, but decided to let him have this win.  She couldn't deny the way her stomach fluttered at this moment.

Weeks later, she approached the Great Hall on Draco's arm. She could hear excited chatter from other students and the band playing a quirky melody.  She scanned the numerous people, coming and going through the entrance of the Great Hall, looking for any fellow Slytherins.

Pansy paused when she felt Draco tense beside her.

"She looks beautiful," Pansy heard one of the Patil sisters say in a surprised whisper.

Pansy looked to Draco first, then followed his gaze to the staircase as Hermione Bloody Granger ascended nervously down the stairs.  Pansy clenched her jaw, gripping onto Draco's arm and gently tugging him towards the entrance to the Great Hall.  Draco shook from his trance and followed Pansy inside.

Most of the night was a blur.  She vaguely remembered the champions' dance at the very beginning.  She was stunned to see Hermione on the arm of Viktor Krum, but Pansy felt that out of the two, she had the better trophy on her arm.  Daphne managed to snag Adrian Pucey at the last minute; Blaise was with Tracey and Theo was completely content with not having a date.  She took a mental note not to touch any of the punch bowls that Theodore lingered around, knowing him and his delight in potions experiments, there was no telling what could happen if she dared try the punch.

Draco could dance.  Merlin, could he dance! He whirled her about that dance floor effortlessly, and did an amazing job at making her feel that they were the only two in the room.  He would sneer and make snide comments at Potter every time he tripped over his date's feet and Pansy would laugh at Potter's lack of coordination.

Towards the end of the night, she was delighted to see that the Golden Trio were having a spat.  The ginger one looked rather enraged, going off on Hermione about something.  Hermione was in tears when she stormed out of the Great Hall.  Pansy had been wrapped up in Draco's arms at the time, enjoying one of the final slow songs of the night.

"What has gotten you so amused?" Draco murmured in her ear.

"The weasel," she responded with a soft cackle, "I think he's jealous Krum didn't take him to the ball."

Draco snorted, "You can't be serious."  He swiftly turned Pansy around so he could get a better look at the fuming Weasley.  He saw him just as he was storming out, Potter not too far behind.

"Salazar, he's pathetic."  Draco muttered.

Pansy laughed again and more students started to filter out.  She rested her head in the crook of Draco's neck as they continued to sway to the soft melody.  There were only a few other couples still on the dance floor, none of them Slytherin, so they didn't matter.  Once the song ended, they left as well, laughing about the fantastic night they had and winding down the corridors in search of their friends.

They came across Theo first, hidden in an alcove and currently entangled with a girl from Beauxbatons.  They left him alone.  Crabbe and Goyle were in the courtyard with Viktor Krum and a few students from Durmstrang, playing a game of exploding snap.  They never found Blaise and Tracey.  Daphne had joined Adrian on the Quidditch pitch, watching him and other members of the Slytherin Quidditch team partaking in a drunken match, most likely thanks to Theo's spiking.

Everyone was preoccupied; everyone except Draco and Pansy.

It was Draco who suggested they venture to the Astronomy Tower.

Once there, Pansy leaned into the railing that overlooked the grounds below and had to admit it all looked breathtaking under the moonlit sky.  Her short hair blew softly in the light breeze.  She didn't know if the goosebumps forming along her bare arms were due to the cold or Draco who was currently holding her tight against his chest.  He ran a hand over her arm, feeling the prickles on her skin, and being the gentleman that he was, removed his jacket and placed it over her shoulders.  She could smell his cologne on the jacket.

Pansy wondered if Draco was feeling just an anxious as she was.

Whatever led Draco to finally make his move, Pansy would never know.  But he eventually turned her around, still close in his hold and kissed her hungrily.  The kiss was what would be expected from any nervous teenager, awkward, experimental, new... Their tongues explored each other for only a few seconds, they both shifted in each other's arms, trying to find something that felt good.  Something that felt right.

It was Pansy who broke the kiss.

"Draco..." she shuddered, "No."

Draco laughed, pressing his forehead against hers, "Yeah, that didn't seem quite right."

"No sparks," she murmured.

He squeezed her arms and shut his eyes, "None whatsoever."

"We aren't going to get weird around each other, are we?" she asked with a laugh.

"Merlin, I hope not," he muttered back.

Draco led her back to the Slytherin Common Room, diffusing any awkwardness between them by telling Pansy about a recent encounter he had with Weasley in Charms class and how he bested him at the spell they were practicing that day.  Weasley had gotten so angry, he challenged Draco to a duel, but Professor Flitwick put a stop to that instantly.   She laughed the entire way, up until the moment they entered the common room, and Draco told her goodnight.

Thus began their journey to what is called the friends with benefits situation.  Draco and Pansy were both confident individuals, so they got the kissing thing down in no time.  By the time they reached their 5th year, they had already moved on to groping and stroking and fingering.  Pansy taught Draco many things that a female would enjoy in the bedroom, and she hoped the string of girlfriends he went through were thankful for it.  By the time they reached their 6th year, Draco was too stressed out over his father's imprisonment to be concerned with her.  She managed to catch his attention one night, finding him in the Astronomy Tower where they had their first kiss.  His mind was filled with fear for the future.  He needed her.  And she gave herself to him.  They shared one last first together, and in that intimate moment, Pansy was able to take Draco's mind off everything that troubled him.

********

Pansy arrived at Malfoy Manor an hour before sunset as instructed.  As she dusted the soot off her designer jacket, she could hear Lucius and Narcissa arguing in another room.  She couldn't quite make out what they were saying but it still broke her heart hearing their pained voices.  In the years she had visited Malfoy Manor, she had never heard Draco's parents argue.  They may give each other irritated or challenging looks from time to time, but they were careful about keeping their personal life private.

It had been three days since Draco's passing and Pansy was sure that Narcissa had been fighting with Lucius at every given moment about his attempt to resurrect their son.  It gave Pansy chills, thinking about Draco lying there, limp and motionless, only to suddenly open his eyes and take a shocking inhale of air.

Pansy joined Theodore, Blaise and Nott Sr on the veranda.  A long table had been conjured in the center and lying on it was Draco, his skin already beginning to turn grey and still wearing the clothes he wore the night of his passing.  The sun was setting perfectly behind him, causing a warm glow to surround his still body.

Nott Sr was pacing about, arranging and rearranging random relics along the table.  He would wipe the sweat off his nervous face and bark orders at Theo, who was only half listening to him.  Blaise seemed nervous as well, fidgeting with his wand and trying to find something to do to make himself look busy.  Pansy approached Draco's body, brushing her fingers through his hair and studying his peaceful features.

"Hello Draco," she whispered to him.

"Ms. Parkinson! Good, you're here." Nott Sr said.  Pansy sighed and turned to Theo's father, and he continued, "Could you roll his sleeves up for me and place his hands with the palms facing up?"

Pansy nodded and began carefully rolling up Draco's sleeves.  She traced her finger over the Dark Mark on his left arm, still a deep black color with no signs of fading.  She remembered the first time she saw it and grimaced.  She turned his hands over and uncurled his fingers, delicately tracing her own finger over his palm.  She adjusted his signet ring, which was already starting to loosen.

Nott Sr was far from gentle when he nudged her away and placed an Ankh in Draco's left palm and a scarab amulet in his right.

Blaise looked curiously over Nott Sr’s shoulder, “What will those be used for?”

“The Ankh is known as the key of life,” the elder Nott explained, busying himself with arranging other relics again, “And the scarab amulet symbolizes rebirth.  These are believed to be the same relics used by Isis for Osiris’s reawakening.”

“And these other artifacts?” Blaise asked, pointing to the jars that were now circling Draco.

“I’m using these for an offering, I’m hoping they will be enough to appease whatever Gods we are pleading to,” Nott Sr studied the arrangement, backing away a step to make sure they all looked arranged evenly.

“What Gods are going to want a thousand-year-old mummified liver?” Theo asked, tapping one of the jars but not daring to try anything else.

His father huffed and smacked Theo’s hand away, “I had just gotten that perfect!”  He frantically moved the jar again.

Theo snickered as he held his hands up in a surrendering gesture.

“Mr. Nott,” Blaise asked, clearing his throat, “What happened to Rookwood?  After Shafiq’s?  Was he able to get away safely?”

“Yes, yes,” Nott Sr nodded, too involved with the relics to be suspicious of Blaise’s question. “I managed to get him safely to my vacation home in Dublin.”

Blaise and Theo exchanged knowing looks and smirked.  Wherever Theo inherited his intelligence, it was not from his father.

Lucius made his appearance, minutes before sunset, looking almost as terrible as he did during the last war.  He ran his hand through his hair and cleared his throat before making eye contact with anyone.

“Are we ready?”

“Narcissa won’t be joining us?” Nott Sr asked.

“She went to bed early,” Lucius responded, a flicker of shame shown in his eyes.

“That’s too bad,” said Nott Sr, “I’m sure she would want to be here when Draco opens his eyes.”

“Your optimism is refreshing,” was all Lucius said in return.

Nott Sr nodded and pulled out a rolled-up scroll from his jacket.  He removed the ribbon around it carefully before unrolling the document.  The parchment looked new, not yellowed and damaged like Lucius would have expected from a thousand-year-old tome.

Nott Sr could read his friend’s face and offered an explanation, “This is a copy, transcribed it myself.  Isis’s actual scroll is too damaged and delicate to risk bringing.  But I can assure you, my transcription is perfect.”

“Weren’t there pieces missing?” Theo glared at his father, “You were telling me just the other day that no one has ever uncovered Isis’s entire spell.”

Lucius narrowed his eyes at Nott Sr, “Excuse me?”

Nott Sr coughed nervously before returning his son’s glare, “I had most of the spell intact.  The few words missing were somewhere in the middle of the spell and it was easy to fill in the blanks.”

Lucius growled, his composure crumbling, “And you’re telling me this now?!”

“I promise you, friend!” Nott Sr bumbled, “The spell is perfect.”

“I’m sorry Mr. Malfoy,” Theo said, approaching the older men, “It didn’t feel right not telling you.  I have just as much hope as you do that this will work, but if it doesn’t, we will know why.”

Pansy had been silent the whole time; her back turned to the group as she alternated between fixing Draco’s hair or his shirt or just simply staring at him.  She maintained her confident demeanor but deep down she was nervous over the whole ordeal.  Nervous over everyone’s reactions if the spell didn’t work.  Nervous about what would happen if it did work.  Would Draco be the same man he was before?  Would he be better?  Would he be worse?

She felt Blaise tug on her arm; she looked at him and then backed away from Draco.

“It’s time?” she asked him.  Blaise nodded.

Everyone stepped behind Nott Sr as he approached Draco’s body.  He put on his glasses and read over the scroll a couple of times.

“Alright,” he finally said, holding the scroll in one hand and brandishing his wand with the other, a yellow glow started to emanate from it.  “Let’s begin.”

“Di anh Draco, per em ma’at,
Nekhtet Theodore, weret-hekau,
Ka en Draco, sedjem en ba,
Re her nef, Thoth her sesheta,
Anh Draco, anh em Duat,
Djed en ma’at, per em anh!”

The Ankh and the scarab amulet in Draco’s hands began to glow in a pulsating rhythm.  The canopic jars shook.

The light from Nott Sr’s wand became blinding until it burst, and thousands of yellow sparkles fluttered down onto Draco, dissipating into his body.  Everyone held their breath and watched.

Draco’s body glowed for a moment, then the glow dulled and then it completely went away.  There was a long silence.  No one knew what to do but stare.

Blaise took a tentative step forward, “Did it work?”

Lucius went over to the table, reaching out but not touching, “Draco?”

More silence.

“Is this part of the spell?” Pansy asked.

“I do not know,” Nott Sr answered, his voice trembling.

Lucius touched his son’s neck and sighed when he felt nothing but cold skin.  Disappointment rang heavily around the group.

No one could look at each other.  Everyone was either staring at the floor or at Draco.  Theo rubbed his arm, as he always did when he was nervous.

“Maybe…” Theo began.  He sighed, “No.”

“What is it?” his father asked.

“Well,” Theo scratched the back of his head, “Isis created the spell to bring back the man she loves, correct?”

Nott Sr nodded.

“So maybe,” Theo sighed, already regretting bringing this up, “Maybe the spell has to come from someone who loves him?”

Nott Sr’s eyes lit up and he gasped.  He clapped his son on the shoulder rather harshly and exclaimed, “Son you are a genius!  That has to be it!”

“So…” Pansy began, “Mr. Malfoy could do it?”

“Possibly,” Nott Sr contemplated, “But Osiris was Isis’s beloved, it may have to come from someone Draco is in love with or someone who knows him more… intimately?”

All eyes turned to Pansy.

Pansy’s jaw dropped and she took a step away from the group.  “No!” she shouted after she found her voice.

Lucius strode over to Pansy, pulling her aside, his voice full of desperation, “Ms. Parkinson, please.  I wouldn’t ask you to do this if we had no other choice.  Could you at least try?”

“Mr. Malfoy, Draco and I were never in love,” she pleaded, “Please don’t make me do this.”

Lucius sighed and Pansy could tell he was struggling with an internal battle.  He glanced over to Draco, considering his next move.  Pansy studied his face.  The dark circles around his eyes.  The 5 o’clock shadow.  The way his jaw clenched as he tried to find the words.  The way his breathing sounded painful as he let out a strangled breath.

She saw the hope slowly leave his eyes and it tore her apart.

“Alright Mr. Malfoy,” she whispered, “I’ll try.”

Lucius closed his eyes and nodded, “Thank you.”

Pansy walked back over to the table, trying to put on an air of confidence even though her insides were a complete mess.  Blaise stopped her.

“You don’t have to do this,” he whispered, gripping her arm.

She met Blaise’s intense stare and shook her head, “I have to try.”

“Pansy,” he gripped her shoulders, “I admire your bravery, honestly, but if this doesn’t work, I don’t want you beating yourself up for it.”

“I won’t Blaise,” she responded, carefully removing herself from his hold, “I’ll beat up Theo.”

Blaise grinned, glancing at Theo who was trying to appear as if he weren’t eavesdropping.

Nott Sr handed her the parchment, awkwardly putting an arm around her and explaining the spell as if she were a first year. “No need to worry about speaking in the Egyptian tongue my dear, I have the translation down here at the bottom.”  He pointed.

“Now Ms. Parkinson, you need to pronounce every word perfectly.  Loud and clear.  Do not falter.  And you must hold your wand up like this,” Nott Sr demonstrated, “Wait until the yellow light emits from your wand before you chant the spell.  Speak from the heart.  Pretend like you are Isis herself bringing your beloved back from the dead.”

Pansy gave the man a disgusted look and removed herself from his hold.  She snatched the parchment from his hand and shooed him away.  Theo snorted from behind them.

Pansy looked down at Draco and took his hand, spinning his signet ring a couple of times.  She leaned down to whisper in his ear, hoping somewhere he could hear her, “Come back to us Draco, please.”

She stepped back, holding the spell out in front of her and held her wand up in the direction she was instructed.  She took a deep breath, summoned her innermost Slytherin confidence and began.

Pansy’s wand glowed with a bright yellow light.  As she began the spell, an eeriness washed over, soon followed by a strong gust of wind.  The wind almost knocked the breath out of her; she looked over at the group and they all encouraged her to continue.

“I give life to Draco, rising in cosmic order,
I, Pansy, great of magic, am strong,
The soul of Draco hears, the spirit is awakened,
Re is with him, Thoth with sacred knowledge,
Draco lives, lives in the Duat,
Enduring in cosmic order, rising in life!”

The wind suddenly stopped, and so did the sounds of the crickets chirping and birds singing.  The Ankh and the scarab amulet began to glow and pulsate in a rapid manner.

The light from her wand grew brighter and Pansy felt an extra surge of confidence.  She felt the words coming out stronger as she repeated the spell.  The air began to shift.

The sun seemed to set quicker all of a sudden as the wind returned.  Lucius clutched his cane and never took his eyes off Pansy and Draco.  Theo and Blaise both gave each other a nervous glance while Nott Sr looked on in complete awe.

As Pansy finished the spell, her wand light shot into the evening air and exploded, louder and brighter than before.  The yellow sparkles drifted their way down, encasing Draco’s body once more.  The sparkles disappeared into his body and darkness took over.

The crickets began chirping again as everyone stood in silence.

Draco’s body glowed once more, then the light went out.

They waited.

And waited.

Pansy took a shaking step towards Draco and pressed her hand to his neck.  Nothing.

She turned to Lucius, eyes filled with tears as she cried, “I’m sorry!  I tried, I’m sorry!”

Lucius seemed to be shaken from a trance at her cries.  He watched as Blaise pulled her into a tight embrace, and she wept into his chest.

The air was thick with tension.  The sounds of wildlife were drowned out from Pansy’s sobs.

“She must’ve done something wrong…” Nott Sr mumbled.

Theo turned to his father; his eyes flashed dangerously.

“What did you say?” Theo said through gritted teeth.

Nott Sr motioned to the table, “She didn’t do it right!  Just look!  I knew I shouldn’t have put my faith in such a subpar witch.”

“More happened this time around than when you cast the spell!” Theo waved his arm towards Pansy, “We put her under a lot of pressure asking her to do this!  Don’t you dare blame her!”

Nott Sr barked back, “It is all on her!  The spell was working!  I could feel it!  The Gods must have sensed something off-putting about her!  Isis was Osiris’s true love, whereas she rotates between you and Draco every night!”

“Hey now!” Blaise shouted to Nott Sr.

“That is quite enough, Nott!” Lucius hissed.

Theo stepped dangerously close to his father, fists clenched, “Say one more thing about Pansy, father.  Say it!”

Nott Sr puffed out his chest and continued, “She’s a fraud!  Going about every day, trying to fit into our circle, wearing her designer clothes and batting her eyes at any man with a large vault.  She’s a trollop, Theodore, and I’m done watching you play these little games with her.”

Theo lunged at his father, but Lucius was quick enough to pull them apart, a quite impressive feat due to Nott Sr’s obtuse size and Theo’s tall stature.

“Stop this!”  Lucius commanded.

“Take it back!” Theo shouted, trying to shove his way around Lucius.

“I won’t!” Nott Sr shouted back, sweating profusely now.

“Both of you!” Lucius continued to try, “You are acting like children!  This is not how men of our society behave!” he dodged a swing from Theo.

“You’re a shite father, you know that?!” Theo hollered, ignoring Lucius’s pleas, “You have some nerve going on about Pansy when you’ve been cheating on mother with every witch at Shafiq’s for the past two decades!”

“Pansy belongs at Shafiq’s!” Nott Sr barked back.

Blaise held Pansy tighter, hoping somehow, he could block out all the noise.  Pansy trembled in his arms and gripped onto his shirt.  Blaise was sure she was completely wrecked over Draco, otherwise she would be clawing Nott Sr’s eyes out, and telling everyone she could defend her own honor while giving Theo’s father a piece of her mind.

“I swear to Salazar father I will hex you into a heart attack!” Theo was relentless.

“As soon as we get home, I am removing you from the will!” Nott Sr threatened.

“That’s unlikely,” Theo scoffed, “I’m the last of the Nott bloodline, you need me.”

Nott Sr barked out a laugh, “I’m sure I have a bastard out there somewhere who will be more appreciative than you!”

“Do you hear yourself?” Lucius snarled at the elder Nott, “Look what I’ve lost and look what you still have!  Your son is alive and you’re threatening to disown him.”

Blaise intervened, pulling Theo away from the quarrel and grabbing Lucius’s arm.

“Gentleman!” he said with authority.

Everyone stopped and looked at Blaise.  Pansy had hoisted herself up on the table next to Draco and watched him through bloodshot eyes.

Blaise sighed, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair. “Mr. Malfoy…” he began.

Lucius straightened his robes and gave Blaise his full attention, “Yes, Zabini?”

Blaise sighed again and he hesitated. He met Lucius’s eyes as he spoke.

“I may know someone who can help us…”

 

When doubts arise, the game begins
The one we will never win
My baby
It always ends up in tears

-HIM, “Pretending”

 

 

 

Notes:

The biggest thanks to my amazing husband, who did way more research on Egyptian history than I did and created Isis's spell. This chapter really stressed me out while writing it and he made it all better. I love you babe <3

Chapter 11: Blood and Fire

To say Blaise’s mother is stunning just wasn’t enough.  Witches envied her beauty and longed to look like her.  Men craved her and yearned to be Husband Number Nine, never giving a second thought to what happened to the previous eight.  She was tall, with legs that stretched for days and high cheekbones that earned her the front-page cover of Witch Weekly multiple times over.  Her eyes were a mesmerizing deep brown, with intimidating perfectly plucked eyebrows to boot.  Pouty lips, sleek body and long, glossy black hair.  The woman never seemed to age.

And Blaise Zabini hated it.

He loved his mother, there was no question about that.  No, he hated the way men gawked at her and the disgusting comments his housemates would make late at night in the dormitories.  As the boys aged, they wouldn’t even hide the disgusting noises they made in their beds while their thoughts were consumed by images of her.

Blaise could have put them all in their place, but he was more levelheaded than that.  He would bide his time.  Keep a list in his head.  He never forgot a name.  He remembered every vulgar thing said about his mother.

And besides, with eight dead husbands, did his mother really need any defending?

Luckily, Draco didn’t seem to have a thing for older women and never made an inappropriate comment about Serafina Zabini.  He was seen snapping at Crabbe or Goyle many times if they made an off-putting remark and once, he even hexed Graham Montague for making lewd gestures at one of Serafina’s modeling photos.  Montague had spiders crawling out of his nose for nearly a week before the spell finally wore off.

Theodore respectfully held his tongue, which was a surprise since he had no issue shamelessly flirting with Narcissa Malfoy in front of Draco and Lucius.  A part of him knew that Blaise was the silent, deadly type, just like his mother.  Theo preferred keeping his cock inside a pretty woman, not in a jar.

On this particular day, Blaise was preparing for his first Quidditch match as Slytherin’s newest chaser.  He had been tirelessly practicing at Hogwarts for weeks and before that at Malfoy Manor during the summer.  Even though Draco was pre-occupied with keeping himself and his mother alive, he still lent his personal pitch to Blaise.

He zoomed out onto the Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch to the roaring cheers coming from the Slytherin stands.  His teammates pounded their fists in the air and roared.  Blaise maintained his cool, scanning the crowd for the most important person in his life.

Blaise spotted his mother, sitting next to another Slytherin parent, occasionally nodding her head and using her practiced mysterious smile she would use when photographers saw her at public events.

He finally caught her eye, and her smile brightened.  She gave him a small wave and wink, mouthing the words “I’m proud of you.”

Blaise Zabini was already confident, but that was the boost he needed.  Slytherin beat Hufflepuff by over 100 points.

The after party in the Slytherin common room was its usual raucous affair.  The booze that was snuck in was top shelf, the food was gourmet, and a fair number of teenagers were loose and randy.

Tracey Davis gripped onto Blaise’s arm, glaring at any other girl who looked his way.  Most of them just wanted to congratulate him on his win, but even that drove her wild with jealousy.  Blaise had to basically pry her off his arm so he could sneak away and join his friends at the makeshift bar.

Theo had a shot glass in Blaise’s hand the moment he approached them.  They clinked glasses and downed the firewhisky.  Blaise grimaced as the liquid burned his throat.  Theo shook his head and whooped, then poured them another round.  Crabbe and Goyle had clapped his shoulder for the tenth time and drunkenly told him how bloody brilliant he was out there.

Draco, usually brooding and hiding out in the Astronomy Tower, was actually there that night.  Loosened up all thanks to the alcohol.  He took a shot with Theo and Blaise, also making a face once the alcohol hit his throat.

Goyle nudged Blaise in the ribs, grinning stupidly and saying, “I saw your mum up there in the stands.”

Blaise, ever the calm and collected individual (even under the influence) simply narrowed his eyes slightly at Goyle and responded, “Oh?”

“I didn’t think they made dress robes so revealing,” he cackled, “I’m surprised she wasn’t stopped for dress code.”

Blaise stiffened but showed no other reaction.  Draco glared at his ignorant cohort.

“Oh Goyle,” Theo hummed sarcastically, “I’m going to miss looking into those stupid brown eyes whenever they’re viciously ripped from your eye sockets.”

Goyle snorted, thinking it was a joke.  It was the look Draco gave him that made him nervously clear his throat and hang his head.

Another name added to Blaise’s list.

Crabbe, just as stupid as Goyle, didn’t read the room and uttered, “I had a hard time watching the game, too distracted when Blaise’s mum--! Ahh!  Fuck!”

Crabbe barely had enough time to kick his boot off as his foot swelled to a dangerously large size and painful boils emerged from his toes to his calf.

Blaise glanced over at Draco, who had his wand discreetly pointed out from between his robes.  The look Draco was giving Crabbe was downright scary.

“You two,” Draco seethed, nodding his head at Crabbe and Goyle, “Leave. Now.”

“But Draco-!” Goyle started.

“Now!”

Goyle huffed, putting an arm around Crabbe to help him walk.  They watched as the two left the common room, heading to the dormitories.  Crabbe hissed and whimpered every time he had to put weight on his foot.

“Thanks, mate.” Blaise whispered, nursing a new drink, “You didn’t have to.”

“I know exactly what you’re going through,” Draco responded, shooting Theo a glare.

Theo whistled innocently and took this opportunity to wrap an arm around Daphne Greengrass and saunter away.

Draco grabbed his drink and then turned his back to the bar, leaning against it.  He scanned the crowd of partygoers, sipping his drink quietly.  Blaise watched and contemplated, noticing the occasional nervous glance and the way Draco would rub his left arm then adjust his shirt sleeve.

“Harper doesn’t have your sharp eye,” Blaise said casually, leaning against the bar as well and avoiding eye contact with Tracey, “I think the game would have ended a lot quicker if you were still seeker.”

Draco smirked, “And where is the fun in that?  Surely Harper just wanted to leave everyone in suspense.”

“That wasn’t it,” Blaise responded, “It’s all that bright yellow the Puffies wear, the bloody snitch just blends in.”

“Well, the Puffies need some sort of advantage since they haven’t had a decent player since Cedric Diggory.  Come to think of it, they haven’t had a decent anything since Newt Scamander,” Draco laughed, “What else are they good for aside from the occasional hazing?”

“Hannah Abbott does make a mean German Chocolate Cake,” Blaise snorted, “And Ernie MacMillan knows more about plants than just growing them for healing purposes…if you know what I mean.”

Draco smirked, “Cheers to that,” he said while clinking glasses with Blaise.

“We should go find Ernie,” Draco said after a long pause.

“After today’s defeat?  Not a good idea, mate.”  Blaise put his glass down and shook his head when offered another, “We should give the Puffies time to lick their wounds before asking Ernie for any….Herbology notes.”

Draco nodded, setting his glass down as well, “I suppose you’re right.  But it would be a good excuse to leave this party.  Tracey is heading this way.”

Blaise stiffened when he caught sight of his on-again/off-again girlfriend.  She was making her way towards him, and she looked determined.

Blaise had his arms behind his back before Tracey could latch on, “So sorry love,” he greeted as casually as he could, “Draco and I were just off to find MacMillan, you know, to grab some things to make this party even more fun.”

“Oh?” Tracey beamed, “I’ll go with you.”

“No,” Draco said, taking a step forward and giving Tracey the famous Malfoy look of superiority, “You won’t.”

She scoffed, looking at Malfoy like he had two heads, “And why not?”

Draco glanced at Blaise, who gave him a short nod.  Draco turned back to Tracey and sneered, “He doesn’t want you tagging along, Davis. Did you not take the hint the first time he kept his distance from you since this party began?”

“Blaise, I…” she got on her toes to look over Malfoy’s shoulder and gripped his left arm to keep from losing her balance.  Draco hissed as a sharp pain burned right into his fresh new Dark Mark.

“Dammit Tracey!” Draco snarled, taking her arm and shoving her away from them.

She shrieked, rather dramatically, at Draco, which caused several people to stop their partying and look their way.  The stares ranged from shocking, curious, confused and disgusted.  Then the whispers started.

Theo cleared his throat, turning the attention towards him, “Who wants to play a round of Wizard’s Poker?  Anyone?  Winner can have my lucky dragon egg.”

There was a collective cheer, followed by a group of Slytherins gathering around Theodore, some telling Theo to kiss his dragon egg goodbye, others threatening to hex Theo if he’s caught cheating.

Tracey stayed standing close to Draco and Blaise, looking for any sign of her beau stepping in to rescue her.

Blaise sighed, “Tracey…”

Tracey scoffed, “You’re not going to stand up for me, are you?”

His silence was answer enough.  Tracey’s eyes turned from venomous to pained.  She muttered something about Blaise being a coward before storming off.

“Off again?” Draco asked, watching Tracey shove through the group of poker players and disappearing into the dormitories.

“Without the again…” Blaise muttered.

Draco scanned the room, then turned to leave.

“Where are you going?” Blaise called after him.

“Out.” Draco responded without turning around.

Something told Blaise to follow him, so he did. Draco left the common room and made his way through the dungeons and towards the stairs.

“Needing something Zabini?” Draco asked, pausing on the stairs.

“Malfoy,” Blaise began, not really knowing how to continue, struggling with showing concern without coming off as weak, “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing that concerns you and it’s in your best interest to keep it that way,” Draco turned to face his friend from the stairway.

Blaise sighed and Draco began ascending the stairs once more.  He was near the top when Blaise began to follow him again.

“Nott told me,” Blaise called out.

Draco paused again, he clenched his fist, “Of course he did.”

Blaise joined Draco on the top step, glancing at Draco’s left sleeve and feeling a pang of unease, “Let me talk to my mum.  She can help you.”

“He has my mum, Blaise,” Draco retorted, his voice cracking slightly, “If I don’t do what he says he’ll… he’ll... give her to Greyback.”

Blaise’s eyes widened and he gripped the banister, “What?”

Draco sniffed and looked away, clutching his left arm nervously, “I have to do this.”

“We can find a way,” Blaise reached out.

“There is no other way!” Draco barked, his voice echoing throughout the halls.

There was a long silence afterward.  Blaise had never seen his friend looking so rattled.  He was too preoccupied with Quidditch and the Slug Club to really get a good look at Draco.  His features were paler than usual, his eyes sunken, his lips always tightly pressed together in a constant state of worry.

“Maybe we could find a way to hide your mother…” Blaise whispered, grasping for solutions.

Draco laughed, “Don’t you think I haven’t thought of that?  He has her under constant watch.  She’s not even allowed to visit my father in Azkaban.  This is my life now mate, and I suggest you keep yourself as far away from me as possible.”

Blaise dropped his arms in defeat.  He didn’t know what else to say.

“Promise me something, Zabini.”

Blaise looked up, “Yeah?”

“Protect your mum.  Keep her close.  I’m sure with her set of skills the Dark Lord could be showing some interest in her,” Draco explained.

“I will.” Blaise nodded, suddenly looking determined.

Draco returned the nod then motioned back downstairs, “Go back to your party Zabini.  This is your celebration.”

Blaise watched as Draco disappeared down the corridor, feeling a mix of pity towards Draco’s situation and shame for being lucky enough to have a family who is smart enough to keep their distance from the Dark Lord’s affairs.

**********

Lucius was pacing the travel parlor, awaiting Blaise's arrival.  Narcissa was with him, begrudgingly, sitting on the sofa with her back straight and her hands resting delicately on her lap.  She had hoped she wore enough make-up today to hide any signs of stress.

Theo and Pansy were there too, as well as Nott Sr.  The younger two were leaning against a wall next to each other, glancing over at the fireplace from time to time but not saying anything.

Nott Sr was in an armchair, grumbling about someone being a crackpot and that they should really attempt the Egyptian ritual once more.  Lucius shot his old friend a cold stare and pointed to the portrait of the sleeping Kazim, reminding Nott Sr that the Shacklebolt’s are not aware of their current predicament.  Nott Sr paled and nodded his head nervously.

The flames lit up, causing everyone to turn their attention to the fireplace.

Blaise stepped through first, looking slightly uneasy.  His mother followed next, regal as ever in her emerald-green robes and adorning a large gold necklace.  Blaise took her hand and helped her out; she thanked her son then smoothed out her dress, fixing her sleek black hair next.  Theo straightened his stance when he saw her.

"Good evening, everyone," Serafina Zabini greeted with an air of cool confidence.

The flames lit up once more.  A third person stepped out.

"Allow me to introduce you to my new husband," she raised her hand elegantly towards the fireplace.

Husband Number Nine was tall, towering even, with dark skin and a perfectly manicured goatee.  He wore a top hat that looked like it had been around for at least a century with its frazzled edges.  His long dreadlocks were almost as long as his wife's hair.  He wore a black tailcoat suit jacket, and his dark purple undershirt bore a large skull brooch at the neck. 

Everyone in the room stood in awkward silence as they stared at the new man.  Serafina beamed proudly and led her husband to Lucius.

"Jevaun Baptiste," the man said in a rich, Creole accent, extending his large hand out to Lucius.  His smile revealed one gold tooth surrounded by the rest of his pearly whites.

Lucius cleared his throat and found his voice, shaking the man's hand, "Lucius Malfoy."

Jevaun nodded politely and turned to Narcissa, who found her footing and approached the two.  She offered her delicate hand to him.

"You must be his lovely wife," he said smoothly, kissing her knuckles, "Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Malfoy."

Blaise rolled his eyes and joined his two friends against the wall.

"Narcissa," Serafina spoke softly as she took Narcissa's hands in hers, "I am so sorry to hear about-…”

Narcissa cleared her throat and nodded her head towards the sleeping portrait.  Serafina covered her mouth and nodded.

Nott Sr decided he did not like this man or the attention he was receiving.  He rose from his seat and shook Jevaun's hand gruffly, "Theodore Nott.  This lad over here by Blaise is my son, Theodore Nott Jr.  We dabble in Egyptian dark magic.  What is it you do exactly?"

Jevaun tutted and waggled a finger as if scolding a small child, "All in due time my good sir."

Nott Sr narrowed his eyes and turned to Lucius, hoping for some sort of answer.

"May I see him?" Jevaun asked, ignoring any intimidation Nott Sr tried to throw his way.

"This way," Lucius responded, exiting the travel parlor and leading Jevaun and Serafina down the hall.  Narcissa and Nott Sr followed, the remaining three trailing behind and speaking in hushed voices.

"Your mother married an American?" Pansy whispered to Blaise.

"She did," Blaise grumbled.

"I don't know, mate."  Theo cackled quietly, "She may have some trouble offing this one."

Blaise seethed and glared at his obnoxious friend.

"You really think he can help Draco?" Pansy asked, a hint of hope in her tone.

Blaise nodded, "Trust me, I've seen what this man can do." He shuddered.

They all entered Draco's cold room.  He was encased in ice again.  Serafina shivered and crossed her arms.  Theo offered his jacket, and Blaise whacked him in the arm before giving his mother his own jacket.

"Oh Narcissa," Serafina gasped, placing her manicured hands to her surprised lips.  She approached Draco and touched the ice cautiously.

Narcissa said nothing as she took a seat at the edge of the chaise lounge near Draco's bed.  Jevaun approached Draco as well and waved his hand a few inches above the ice.  His hand began to emit a soft purple glow which reflected off Draco's frozen features.

"How did he die?" Jevaun asked, not taking his eyes off Draco.

"The killing curse," Lucius answered, watching closely.

Jevaun sighed, "That makes things more difficult."  He turned to Lucius, "Difficult yet not impossible."

"How do you mean?"  Lucius asked.

Jevaun kept tracing the glow over Draco's body as he spoke, "His ti bon ange usually remains in the body for nine days after his passing.  Unfortunately, when someone is hit with an Avada, the ti bon ange is lost much sooner than that.  It's usually absorbed in the caster's wand."

"I'm sorry, his what?" Theo asked abruptly.

“When we are born, we have a ti bon ange and a gros bon ange,” Jevaun explained carefully, “It is your soul split into two.  The ti bon ange is responsible for your consciousness and identity whereas the gros bon ange is responsible for your life force and bodily functions.  The gros bon ange is not so easily lost because it tends to linger until burial, though it will weaken without your lifeforce.  The ti bon ange though…could be a bit dicey.  I’ve heard rumors of some folks living with one and not the other, but they were not pleasant people.”

“Lucius, this is all poppycock!” Nott Sr exclaimed, looking very skeptical.

"We took Dolohov's wand, right?" Blaise looked at Lucius with concern.

Lucius nodded, deciding to ignore Nott Sr, "It's in my office."

"I'll get it," Theo offered, turning towards the door.

Lucius nodded and continued to watch as Jevaun's glowing hand roamed inches above Draco's body.  He seemed to be looking for something.

"Do you know where the curse hit him?" questioned Jevaun.

"Ms. Parkinson?"  Lucius glanced at her, "Weren't you closest to him when it happened?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy, I didn't exactly see where it landed."  she crossed her arms nervously, "I'm thinking somewhere on the upper body."

Jevaun ran his hand higher, the glow began to pulse, "Right shoulder," he announced, "This is good.  If it were the left shoulder, it would have been too close to his heart.  How long has he been deceased?"

"Four days," answered Blaise.

"Four days..." repeated Jevaun, "I can work with that."

"I'm sorry but," Nott Sr interrupted, ignoring Pansy's glare, "Have you ever done this before?"

Jevaun's glowing hand dimmed, and he met Nott Sr's gaze with a knowing smirk, "Remember Rasputin?"

Nott Sr scoffed, "That dark wizard that had all of muggle Russia believing he was some sort of miracle worker?  Yes, I remember him."

Jevaun placed his hands in his pockets and leaned on one leg, looking smug, "That was the work of my granpapa."

"What work?" Lucius asked with a quirked brow.

"Legends say the man would never die," Jevaun explained, "He did die though, several times over.  My granpapa got tired of making the trip to Russia to keep resurrecting him.  Rasputin's soul would get darker and dirtier with each resurrection and my grandfather decided to stop helping him.  Though Rasputin’s money did get dear old grandpa out of Haiti and to New Orleans.”

Jevaun shrugged and continued, “Resurrection is a dark, tricky art and shouldn't be used lightly.  I try my best to do good in life to help balance out some of the darker deeds my clients’ request.  I don't want to upset any angry spirits."

"You're a voodoo doctor." Narcissa claimed.

"I prefer the term oungan or shaman but yes Mrs. Malfoy, I do practice the art of voodoo.  My family has for generations."

"Lucius!"  Nott Sr hissed, "You can't possibly be buying into all this?"

"Quiet Nott," Lucius seethed, "He has much more recent proof that resurrection works compared to your thousand-year-old ritual."

"My ritual would have worked!"  Nott Sr barked, "It was Pansy who-"

Nott Sr stopped talking when the door slammed open and his son came back in, handing Lucius Dolohov's wand and glaring at his father.  Nott Sr sighed and plopped down on a nearby armchair.

"What do you need?"  Lucius asked Jevaun while shooting Nott Sr a warning glare.

Jevaun held his hand up and began counting on his fingers, "I already brought the candles, so I'll just need crushed mandrake, some jimson weed, narcissus flowers, some essence of dittany and....do you happen to have a black goat?"

"No," Lucius looked puzzled.

"He has peacocks."  Theo offered.

Lucius turned towards Theo rather fast and snarled, "Not. My. Peacocks!"

Theo grinned and threw his hands up in a surrendering gesture.  Pansy and Blaise grabbed him and pulled him away from Lucius before another murder could happen.

"A peacock would do nicely though.  Don't you think darling?"  Serafina asked her husband, "They do symbolize beauty and rebirth."

Lucius paled.

Jevaun chuckled, "Don't worry Mr. Malfoy, we won't be sacrificing any of your peacocks.  I wouldn't want to maim such a beautiful bird.  A black goat would've done better anyway.  But I suppose we could work with some familial blood."

Lucius was already rolling up his sleeves, "Fine."

Jevaun put a hand up to stop him, "Your blood could work, yes.  But I believe the maternal bloodline is stronger and therefore could produce a successful result."

Everyone looked at Narcissa.  Her eyes widened for just a brief moment before she composed herself and shot a look at Lucius.

"No," Lucius said, defeated, "Not her.  Try mine."

"I can assure you that it would only hurt for a moment, and we could heal her cut immediately afterward to reduce any scarring," Jevaun explained.

"You're not cutting my wife," Lucius said sternly.

"But Draco!" Pansy started; Blaise took her arm and shook his head.

Serafina cleared her throat; she made even that sound elegant.  "Narcissa, could I speak with you in the hall?" she asked.

Narcissa glanced over at Lucius once more before nodding and rose from the chaise lounge.  Serafina took her arm and led her out of the room; several confused faces watched them leave.

"I just wanted to have a chat, mother to mother," Serafina began once they were far enough down the hall and out of earshot, "I understand that this is all terribly shocking for you."

"My son is dead, and my husband has gone mad," Narcissa responded coldly, "I've had enough dark magic in this house to last several lifetimes."

Serafina nodded, maintaining a calm demeanor, "I know, and I agree about the dark magic, but not about your husband being mad.  I see a man in there who is willing to risk anything to see his son again...everything except maybe for his peacocks."

This made Narcissa smile slightly.  Serafina grinned, knowing this conversation was going to go her way.

"I've only been married to Jevaun for a few months, but I know that he is a powerful wizard and his reputation in America precedes him.  Wizards and witches from far and wide have tracked him down for his services.  He knows what he is doing, I can promise you that."

"He's done this before?" Narcissa gasped.

Serafina's confident shoulders dropped, "Well, no.  This would be his first resurrection.  But he has practiced voodoo his entire life and has performed several other successful rituals."

“But what if he comes back different?” Narcissa asked quietly.

“What if he comes back better than before?” Serafina responded with a comforting smile.

Narcissa waved her hand dismissively, “I don’t see how it’s possible, and if it were, what about all those things he said about the soul splitting in two?  What if we’ve already lost the good part of Draco’s soul?”

Serafina nodded, “If the ti bon ange is in fact inside the caster’s wand, Jevaun can safely return it to Draco.”

Narcissa hesitated.  She stared down the hall at Draco’s bedroom door.  She was conflicted.  Her conscience told her this was all wrong, but her heart was telling her something completely different.

“Narcissa,” Serafina began, speaking soft yet sternly, narrowing her eyes to form a determined expression, “We are both mothers to only one child.  We both had sons.  We both know what it is like to raise boys.  We’ve seen our boys grow up into young men.  We always love and protect them, but they love and protect us in return.  I cannot begin to imagine your pain, but I do know if I were in your position, I would do anything to get my child back.”

“It seems so wrong,” Narcissa sighed.

“Does it though?” Serafina asked, taking Narcissa’s hand, “Wouldn’t you give anything to see your son again?  To see him smile?  To hear him laugh?  To watch him grow up and become someone incredible?”

Narcissa was still hesitant, but Serafina was far from done.

“I heard about what you did, when you saved Harry Potter’s life.  You risked everything for Draco.  You returned to the battlefield and then what did you do?”

Narcissa’s eyes welled up and she dabbed at them with her handkerchief, “Lucius and I…we ran through all the chaos, all the bloodshed, to find him…”

“And then what?” Serafina pressed on.

The tears flew freely now, “I held him and then I took him home.”

Serafina squeezed her hand, “Let’s bring him home again.”

After a moment, Narcissa nodded.  Serafina beamed.  She looped her arm into Narcissa’s and led her back to Draco’s room. “And don’t worry about the cut for the blood sacrifice, I am quite skilled at healing charms, and I also have some of the finest creams to diminish any scarring.”

That caused Narcissa to let out a small chuckle, “He is worth the scars.”

They re-entered Draco’s room and Lucius immediately approached his wife, pulling her away from the small group.

“’Cissa?” he whispered, “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine darling,” she patted his arm, “I’ll go through with it.”

Lucius’s eyes widened, “You’re certain?”

Narcissa nodded.  She looked back to the group then nodded to Jevaun.

Jevaun clapped his hands once and cheered, “Very good!  Let us get started then.  I’ll need to remove the ice spell from Draco here and then we’ll need to remove his shirt.  I would rather not do the ritual in his bedroom.  Is there a dining room perhaps?  We need to lay him down on a long table, I would feel awful if we got blood on his bedsheets.”

“Yes,” Lucius responded, “This way.”  He pointed down the hall.

Theo and Blaise told Lucius they would handle Draco while everyone gathered the supplies.  Blaise worked on the charm to remove the glacius spell and Theo worked on removing Draco’s shirt.  Pansy stayed with them, telling the two to be careful several times.

Blaise carefully levitated Draco into the dining room, which was already dimly lit with several black candles illuminating blue flames displayed throughout the room.  Two tablecloths, one red and one black, adorned the table.  Blaise noticed the several portraits throughout the room had been covered by sheets.

Jevaun had his ingredients set out on a smaller table, pestle in hand and already smashing something into the mortar.  Serafina was busying herself by arranging more candles around the table.  Blaise gently levitated Draco onto the table, careful not to touch any of the candles.

Lucius paced.  Narcissa sat in a chair gripping her handkerchief tightly.  Nott Sr grumbled and occasionally wiped sweat off his forehead.  Theo hovered around Jevaun asking about the ingredients and Pansy sat on the edge of a chair opposite from Narcissa, taking in the scene before her.

“What am I missing….” Jevaun muttered, tapping his finger to his chin, “Ah yes!  Cane syrup, peanuts and some…” he dug through his pockets, “Coins!”

Theo pulled a small bag of peanuts from his jacket and handed them to Jevaun who looked quizzical yet grateful.  Theo grinned and shrugged.  Lucius called for Frick to grab the cane syrup from the kitchens.

“What do you need these for?” Lucius asked.

“An offering for Papa Legba to open the spiritual gate,” Jevaun explained.

Nott Sr rolled his eyes.

Frick was back in an instant with the cane syrup, handing it to Lucius while staring at Jevaun with a look of distrust.  Jevaun laid out the cane syrup, coins and peanuts along the fireplace, using it as a makeshift portal to the beyond.

“Alright everyone,” Jevaun said as he pulled out a large blade from his jacket, “Sit around the table and join hands.”

Nott Sr sat down beside Pansy, she sneered and stood up, choosing a seat in between Blaise and Theo instead.  They formed a half circle, Narcissa, Lucius, Serafina and Nott Sr on one side, Blaise, Pansy and Theo across from them.

Jevaun approached Draco from the opening in the circle, blade in one hand and Dolohov’s wand in the other.  He sat Dolohov’s wand down beside Draco’s right arm, his free hand began to glow purple again.  He waved his hand over Draco’s right shoulder until it began to pulse.  Then, in one swift movement, he sliced open Draco’s shoulder.  Narcissa gasped and gripped her husband’s hand tightly.

The purple glow pulsed quicker as Jevaun kept it over Draco’s bleeding shoulder.  Suddenly, a green light began to seep out of Draco’s open wound, slowly mixing in with the purple.  This continued on for several more seconds until the green was completely encased in the purple.  He backed away from Draco and placed the glowing orb into a clear jar, sealing it shut immediately.  He then placed the jar with the items at the fireplace and began to chant:

“Papa Legba, open the gate for me,
At the crossroads, I call the Iwa,
With your pretty key, make way for Kalfu to walk.”

Flames suddenly erupted from the fireplace, bright blue and chaotic.  The items in front of the fireplace shook violently.  Jevaun cautiously backed away, and with every step he took the flames began to calm down.

“Good….this is good…” He announced to the group, glancing back at them, “Papa Legba has accepted our offerings.  We can continue.”

He returned to the paste he was making in the mortar, picking it up and bringing it to Narcissa, “Your hand, Mrs. Malfoy.”

Narcissa let go of her husband’s hand and tried to stop her trembling as she offered her hand to Jevaun.

He sliced her palm in one quick movement, causing everyone to cringe.  He then placed her hand over the mortar and allowed the blood to flow into the mixture.  Once he believed enough was in there, he gently let go of her hand and nodded to Serafina to begin healing the cut.  Serafina had her wand out within seconds and began casting healing charms as Jevaun stirred with the pestle.

Once the paste was thick enough, he slathered it onto Draco’s open wound.

“We can begin the second part of the ritual now,” he announced.  “Please, everyone join hands again.”

Jevaun removed Draco’s signet ring from his finger and placed it on the makeshift altar at the fireplace.

“What are you doing with that?” Lucius asked, sounding impatient.

“We need a personal item from the deceased to continue,” Jevaun responded.

He started chanting again, and as he spoke, the candles seemed to dim.

“Kalfu, master of the night, walk in darkness
Baron Samedi, guardian of the cemetery, hear my call
I offer blood and fire to open the door of death
Pull Draco from Ginen for me!”

What happened next was truly horrifying.  Draco’s body suddenly shot into the air, a few feet above everyone.  Pansy shrieked and gripped Theo and Blaise’s hands so tightly they both hissed.

“In the name of Bondye and the Iwa,
I bind your spirt
In the name of Bondye and the Iwa,
I bind your spirt
Draco, return as you were, not zombie, not corpse
With blood, with prayer, I make you walk again”

“Almost done,” Jevaun whispered, grabbing Dolohov’s wand and chanting in Haitian.   Dolohov’s wand began to glow dark blue.  The blue glow suddenly pulled from the wand and floated in front of Jevaun’s face.

“Serafina, the jar!” he called eagerly.  She quickly stood from her seat and handed her husband an empty jar, lid already off.  Jevaun framed the blue glow with both of his hands, slowly guiding it to the jar.

The blue glow seemed to struggle around his hands as if it were fighting for a way out.  Then, in an instant, the blue glow slipped from his fingers and zipped through a window.

“No!” Jevaun cried out, reaching to the open window.

All the candles went out and Draco’s body dropped to the table with a loud thud.  A hush fell over the room.  The blue flames from the fireplace suddenly turned to orange and crackled as any normal fire would.

Lucius abruptly stood from his seat, his chair screeching against the stone floor, “What happened?!” he seethed.

“His ti bon ange….” Jevaun muttered, face full of shock, “It’s gone…”

Narcissa let out a disappointing sigh.  Theo had also stood from the table, slamming his hands on the tabletop, “What do you mean it’s gone?!”

“I told you this man was a crook!” bellowed Nott Sr.

“He is not!” Serafina spat back.

“What happens now?!” Pansy cried out.

“It’s fine,” Jevaun said, though he didn’t sound very confident, “He still has his gros bon ange… I felt it inside him.”

“But you said earlier those who live with only one half of their soul are not pleasant,” Nott Sr boasted.

“But he’ll still live!” Serafina argued, desperately trying to defend her husband.

“Does he look alive to you?!” roared Nott Sr.

More arguing ensued.  Jevaun and Serafina, defending his voodoo ritual practices, Nott Sr exclaiming that the ritual was a complete failure and they should go the Egyptian route again, Theo and Pansy frantically asking what do they do now.  Blaise was trying his best to calm everyone down.

The room was suddenly silent when Narcissa stood from her seat.  She placed her hand on her husband’s shoulder and directed him clearly, “No more, Lucius.  You will get in contact with the funeral home tomorrow to prepare for our son’s burial.”

Lucius hung his head and sighed, “Fine, ‘Cissa.”

Narcissa, ever the sophisticated woman she is, politely nodded to everyone and bid them goodnight.  The group watched solemnly as she left the room, her head held high.

Lucius ran a hand through his hair, trying to find something to say but no words would come out.  Blaise, Serafina and Jevaun started gathering up all the items used for the ritual.

“I suppose it is time we went home,” Nott Sr said, “Theodore?”

“Yeah, I’m right behind you,” Theo grumbled, waving his father off.  Nott Sr huffed and left the dining room.

Blaise approached Pansy and Theo, looking glum, “I’m terribly sorry.  I thought this would work.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, Blaise,” Pansy said, placing a hand on his shoulder for comfort, “I suppose we will all see each other at the funeral.”

They all nodded sadly, bid each other goodnight, and went their separate ways home, trying to figure out what their life would be like without Draco Malfoy.

**************

Lucius awoke suddenly in the middle of the night.  He shook his head and cleared his vision, turning on his side and seeing Narcissa at the other end of the bed, her back to him.  She was sleeping as far away as possible from him.  He knew he deserved it, but at least she hadn't moved to one of the guest rooms.  A part of him knew that she still needed to be close to him.  They were all they had left.

Thoughts of the ritual swam through his head.  He couldn’t get the image of Draco’s body hovering in the air from his mind.  Everything seemed to be going right, until that dark blue light escaped out the window.

He sat up on the edge of the bed and placed his feet on the floor.  He called as quietly as he could for Frick.

Nothing.

He waited a few seconds and called again, glancing over to Narcissa to make sure she wasn't stirring.

With a dramatic sigh, Lucius stood up and grabbed his sleeping robes.  He tied them hastily around himself and stormed out, muttering something about useless elves and having to get his own whisky to settle his nerves.

He stopped before he passed Draco's room towards the end of the hall.  The doors were closed.  He stared at them and took a heavy breath.  He pressed his palm against the cold wall but hesitated.

Not tonight.

He continued his journey down the hall and towards the kitchens.  The few portraits that were still awake muttered and whispered to each other, each staring at Lucius with wide eyes.

That was....strange.

Lucius turned a corner and paused.  He saw Frick, standing paralyzed in the doorway to the dining room.

"Frick?" Lucius called out in a loud whisper.

The elf did not move.

"Frick!" he hissed a little louder.

No reaction.

Lucius grumbled and approached the house elf, ready to discipline him when he caught sight of what caused Frick to be staring in such fear.

A chill ran down Lucius's spine as he stood motionless.  He was beginning to think he was seeing things.  Or was he still asleep?  Was this some horrible, taunting nightmare?

Sitting towards the end of the table, shivering and rubbing his arms frantically, was Draco.  The gash on his right shoulder shown bright red against his pale skin.

Draco's head shot up, meeting his father's bewildered eyes.

"Father..." Draco said through chattering teeth, "Why am I so cold?..."

 

 

 

You tried to bury me
Six feet but I still breathe
No guts, no glory, no limits
To how you play this game
You won't be the death, be the death of me
-Connor Kauffman, “Death of Me”

 

 

Notes:

Another huge shoutout to my husband for helping me research Haitian and New Orleans voodoo. Baptiste's character is also loosely inspired by Dr. Facilier from The Princess and the Frog :)

Thank you to everyone for all the kind comments and kudos. You inspire me to keep going.

Chapter 12: Cold, So Cold

Summary:

A TOUCH OF NECROMANCY PART 2

"All magic comes with a price."
-Rumpelstiltskin, Once Upon a Time

"'CISSA!" Lucius shouted, falling against the wall and nearly knocking down a china cabinet.  Antique dishes rattled on the shelves.

Frick shook from his trance, still staring at Draco wide-eyed as he said, "I'll go get the mistress."  He vanished with a pop.

Lucius pulled himself from the wall hesitantly while Draco continued to shiver and watch his father, looking perplexed.  Lucius gathered himself to the best of his ability and approached his son with caution.

"Draco?" he whispered.

Draco rubbed his arms with his hands vigorously as his teeth continued to chatter, "Wh-what is going on?"

Lucius quickened his pace towards his son and threw off his sleeping robes to wrap them around Draco's shoulders.  Draco grabbed at the robes and immediately tightened them around himself.

Lucius tried to collect his thoughts but all he could manage to say was, "How are you feeling?"

"Cold!" Draco shouted, causing Lucius to flinch, "But why am I so bloody cold?"

Lucius Malfoy, well trained in many things, was not knowledgeable in the subject of how to explain to his child that he had recently been murdered but was brought back by a voodoo doctor.  So, he answered Draco's question with another question, "What is the last thing you remember?"

"I don't know...." Draco said frustratingly, pressing his face into his palms. The teeth-chattering had finally ceased but he was still shivering. "I woke up in my room and couldn't catch my breath.  And it was so cold in there, everything was numb.  I couldn't find my wand to light a fire, so I decided to walk...why I went into the dining room, I haven't a clue.  So, I just...sat down..."

Lucius wanted to kick himself.  He saw his son, freezing and suffering; he had his wand with him, he should've lit a fire by now.  Lucius remedied that instantly, flicking his wand at the fireplace; so that it roared to life and warmth crept into the room.  If Draco was grateful, he didn't show it.

"Do you remember anything before that?" Lucius asked cautiously.

"I...." Draco shut his eyes as he paused to think, "Granger and her bloody elf sanctuary...No, that couldn't be the last thing.  Pansy and Carrow... How long ago was that?"

Lucius said nothing, just nodded his head reassuringly and waited for Draco to continue.

"Theo was saying something ridiculous about vampires...wasn't he?" Draco muttered away, "He's always saying ridiculous things, but vampires?  Why vampires?..." His eyes widened and he gasped, "Shafiq's!"

Lucius nodded again, choosing every word carefully, "What do you remember from Shafiq's?"

Draco narrowed his eyes, "I remember that slag crawling all over you."

"She did not!" Lucius snapped.  He took a deep breath then lowered his tone, "That wasn't... Forget it.  Let's move past that.  What else?"

Draco inhaled too, mimicking his father's practice towards being calm, "I got so angry seeing you there, like that, so I left the room.  Blaise and Pansy followed me and then..."

"Draco?!" came the exasperated voice of his mother.

The two men looked up and saw Narcissa in the doorway, frozen on the spot just like Lucius and Frick had been.  Frick was at her side, as well as their other house elf, Whispy, who was bouncing nervously from foot to foot.

"This ain't right, Mistress." grumbled Frick, looking wary, "This is the same sort of dark magic Lord Voldemort dabbled in."

"Frick!" Lucius hissed so suddenly that everyone in the room straightened, save for Narcissa who could not take her eyes off Draco.

"Is Master Draco really back?" Whispy squeaked, staying closely behind Frick.

"What is she talking about?" Draco asked.

"Frick, Whispy," Lucius said with authority, "Get Zabini and his family here now then retire for the night.  Your services won't be required again until the morning."

The two house elves, although no longer magically bound to the Malfoys, still bowed and vanished without another word.

Narcissa found her footing.  She took a few cautious steps towards the pair, but her resolve crumbled quickly, and she sprinted towards her son, kneeling in front of him and cupping his face with her delicate hands.

"Mother," Draco looked at her bewildered, "What is going on?  Why are you asking for Blaise?  What did Whispy mean about me being back?"

Narcissa glanced at her husband and he met her gaze with a look of hesitation.  Draco was already on edge and this matter needed to be explained carefully.

"You're cold," she said instead, rubbing her palms between one of his hands, "Do you want some tea?"

"No." Draco responded icily, "I don't want tea, mother.  I want some bloody answers."

Narcissa looked quite taken aback by Draco’s cold response.  She glanced at Lucius who in turn shook his head tentatively.

“Draco,” his father said, “Wait here a moment.”  Draco did not respond as Lucius took his wife’s arm and led her out into the hallway.  They both stood quietly for a minute and watched Draco who would alternate between rubbing his arms and muttering incoherently.

“We need to tell him.” Narcissa whispered.

“We do,” Lucius agreed, “But gently.  He’s already angry and confused.  We need to find a way to break this to him delicately.”

Narcissa peered into the doorway again to look at Draco.  A tear escaped her eye, and her voice cracked as she said, “Lucius, our boy is back.  We got him back.”

That brought a small smile to Lucius’s face.  He continued to watch Draco as he hugged the sleeping robes around him and stood up.  He paced the dining area.  He ran a hand along the solid wood table.  He gripped a chair.  Then, he grabbed a goblet and threw it on the ground.  Pieces shattered everywhere.

Narcissa gasped and clutched her husband’s arm.  They looked on as their son became more and more agitated.

“He’s in no state to hear what happened,” Lucius muttered.

“He won’t calm down until we do.” Narcissa responded.

“This aggression…” Lucius began as they watched their son slump back down in his chair, lean over and pull at his hair, “Maybe it’s normal.  We won’t know until Baptiste gets here.”

A movement in Lucius’s peripheral caught his attention.  He glanced down the hallway at a familiar figure dashing towards them.  Lucius sighed.

“What are you doing here?”

“I… um... I never left,” came the nervous laughter of Theodore Nott. He scratched the back of his head, “I heard a crash and came to investigate.”

“What?” Lucius hissed, “You never left?  Where were you?”

“In one of the guest rooms in the west wing,” Theo shrugged.

Lucius scoffed, “When Narcissa told you to make yourself at home several years ago, she didn’t mean you could just stay the night whenever you felt like it.”

“Well, I’m sorry Mr. Malfoy.  I was about to leave with my father, I had every intention to, but I knew the moment we got home he would get drunk and brash.” Theo ran a tired hand over his face, “And I had just told my best mate goodbye forever.”

Theo looked at the ground, vulnerable, “I just didn’t want to be around my old man.”

He waited for a response, but none came.  Theo looked from Lucius to Narcissa and watched as they eyed each other.  He started to feel uncomfortable.  Then he heard a throat clearing.

Theo quirked a brow, “Who’s in there?”

Narcissa gave a small smile and stepped to the side: Theo peered around her. 

Theo stood in shock for a few seconds until Draco looked up and met his gaze.

Theo laughed, “Salazar! It bloody worked!”

“Theodore!” Lucius hissed, grabbing for his arm but Theo was already running into the room.  He nearly crashed right into Draco as he sank to his knees and grabbed his friend’s face.

“Fuck! Theo!” Draco growled, batting his friend’s hands away.

Theo dodged Draco’s swats and gripped his face again, making sure he was real. “You’re here, you are really here…”

“Theodore darling,” Narcissa whispered as she tugged on his shoulder and gently pulled him back, “This is a bit of a delicate situation.”

“Right,” Theo nodded, yet he didn’t get up off the floor nor avert his gaze from Draco.  Draco was looking everywhere except Theo’s eyes.

“What is a delicate situation?” Draco seethed, “Why is Theodore trying to molest me and why is everyone looking at me like this?”

A booming laugh was heard from the dining room entry followed by a slow clap.  Everyone turned in the direction of the noise and saw a very pleased Jevaun Baptiste enter with a bewildered Blaise Zabini.

“I knew it!  I knew it would work!” Baptiste announced as he clapped Lucius harshly on the shoulder.  Lucius tensed and then scowled.

“Just look at you,” Baptiste said as he approached Draco, beaming, “How are you feeling?”

“Who are you?” Draco asked, looking irritated.

Baptiste glanced at Blaise to see if he would introduce them, but Blaise was currently in a state of shock as he stared at Draco.  Baptiste shrugged and turned back to Draco, extending his hand, “Jevaun Baptiste, shaman and new husband to Serafina.”

Draco did not take his hand.  He sneered, “And why are you in my house in the middle of the night?”

“We haven’t told him anything yet,” Narcissa said.

“He’s rather grumpy,” Theo added.

“That is to be expected,” Baptiste responded, dropping his hand and studying Draco.

“Will you all stop staring at me like I’m some sort of experiment?!” Draco shouted, “Someone, please, tell me what the bloody hell is going on.”

“Draco,” Lucius sighed, nodding his head to the side to signal everyone to give his son some space.  Theodore stood up and everyone backed away.  Lucius approached his son and pulled out a chair from the table and he sat across from Draco. “The night you dueled Dolohov at the gentlemen’s club, I need to know, what is the last thing you remember?”

Draco glared, his patience long gone. “I sliced his leg; he was bleeding but still dueling.  He threatened to kill Theo and Blaise and torture Pansy.  I knew I had to kill him.  I was preparing to kill him and then…nothing.  Did he stun me?”

“That was four days ago, Draco.” Lucius explained, “I tried to get there in time; I got separated from Nott and Parkinson.  When I finally made it, I was too late.”

“What do you mean?”  Draco asked, “Did he get away?”

“We have him in the dungeons,” Blaise answered, finally finding his voice.

“What did he hit me with that left me out for so long?”

“An Avada,” said Lucius.

Draco blinked.  He looked at every face in the room, searching for an explanation but everyone just stared at him.  He looked back at his father, “What?”

“You’ve been dead for four days, Draco,” his father responded delicately, “Zabini brought Baptiste here and he revived you through voodoo magic.”

Draco laughed.  This was not the reaction anyone was expecting.  He continued laughing to the point he had thrown his head back and his entire body shook.  Everyone else except for Lucius glanced at each other nervously as Draco’s laughter echoed throughout the dining room.  Lucius’s jaw clenched but he let Draco ride out whatever this was.

“Is this normal?” Theodore whispered to Blaise who in turn looked at Baptiste for answers.  Baptiste watched Draco with curiosity as he stroked his beard and contemplated.

“You’ve never been one to pull pranks, father,” Draco finally said, sounding breathless, “This is quite elaborate for your first.  You even hired this fool to play along.”

Lucius sneered, “This isn’t a prank,” he said through gritted teeth, “Your mother and I, and your friends here have gone through a rather strenuous few days.  We worked tirelessly finding a spell that could resurrect you.  Your mother has been by your side every day watching over you, making sure you remain pristine so nothing would rot.  I don’t think Theodore has slept…or showered, too busy beating the bloody hell out of Dolohov.  Parkinson sacrificed her pride attempting an Egyptian ritual which didn’t go according to plan.  If it weren’t for Zabini’s connections, you’d be in the Malfoy catacombs by now.”

Draco paused and took his time analyzing everyone in the room.  A part of him still felt like this was some morbid joke, but he couldn’t find a hint of amusement in anyone’s expression.  Not even Theo’s.  Draco noticed Theo’s bruised knuckles, he didn’t miss the way Blaise stared at him with a mixture of worry and hope, and his mother… Narcissa’s face was the most heart breaking of them all.

Her eyes said it all.  They looked tired; the past few days of torment could not be hidden by any amount of make-up or magic.  She wanted to reach out to him, she wanted to touch him, to embrace him, but she was holding back.  Everything about Draco reeked of aggression, anger, defiance…

But why?...

Draco touched his right shoulder, still sticky with dried blood and the paste used in the ritual.  The anger that consumed him was replaced with confusion.  Draco hated to feel confused, which caused his anger to return tenfold.

“Dolohov did this,” he whispered venomously as he glared at his father.  Lucius nodded.

“And he’s in the dungeons?”

“He is,” Lucius answered, suddenly feeling the need to grip his wand, just in case, “But now is not the time for you to visit him.”

“And why not?!” Draco shouted, standing up so abruptly that his chair tipped over and crashed sideways onto the stone floor.

“Because…” Lucius started as he remained seated, attempting to appear as a man who had the situation under control.

“Because we need to tell Pansy!” Theo blurted.

“Yes, Pansy!” Blaise chimed in, “She’s been a right mess over you.”

“We need to tell her,” Theo reiterated as he nodded to Blaise.

Blaise gulped, “It’s 3 o’clock in the morning!  I’m not waking her.”

Theo rolled his eyes, “Coward.”

“Excellent idea,” Narcissa said as she clasped her hands together, “Theodore will go get Ms. Parkinson and I’ll get everyone some tea and we can answer all of Draco’s questions until he’s ready to go to sleep.  I’m sure Mr. Baptiste can explain everything.”

Baptiste nodded excitedly, “Well, this is my first successful resurrection, but yes Mrs. Malfoy, I would be happy to answer any questions Draco here may have.”

Draco eyed Baptiste warily.  Theodore backed away from everyone, no one seemed to notice.  Once he was safely down the hall, he made a mad dash for the travel parlor.  The further away he got from the dining room, the less tension he seemed to feel.

***

“PANSY!” greeted Theo, obnoxiously, as he pounced onto his friend’s bed and woke her abruptly.  Pansy bounced and screamed when Theo landed, and she ripped her sleeping mask from her face.

“Theodore!” she growled, casting him a dangerous look, “How many times have I told you not to wake me up for sex?!”

“I wasn’t, I—”

“You have some nerve!” Pansy continued, grabbing Theo by the collar and shaking him, “We have to bury our friend soon and you thought this would be the appropriate time for a late-night romp!”

“Pans, no!” Theo argued, “I wanted to show you something!”

Pansy let go of Theo and crossed her arms, she rolled her eyes, “I’ve seen it Theo.  We’ve all seen it.  I believe everyone except for Mrs. Malfoy has seen it.  You’re rather proud.”

Theo scoffed, “Not everyone has seen it!  Mr. Malfoy hasn’t seen it…. wait… Do you think he saw it at Shafiq’s.... oh, there was that one pool incident… But that wasn’t my fault! Goyle pantsed me.”

“If that were the case you wouldn’t have taken so long to pull your swimming trunks back up,” Pansy scoffed.

“I was in shock!”

“Nothing ever shocks you.  You were showing off!”

Theo wagged his eyebrows, “Were you impressed?”

Pansy smirked, “Water was a bit too cold for anything to be impressive.”

“Have you been obliviated my dear friend?” Theo exclaimed, hands to his heart, “Cold water has never, ever affected my most precious jewel.”

“Precious jewel my arse,” she huffed.

“Oh, it hasn’t been there yet,” Theo purred.

Pansy sighed and collapsed back into the sheets; she rolled on her side and hugged her pillow as she wiggled her bum provocatively in Theo’s direction.  “Whatever Theodore,” she said with a yawn, “I can see you’re not going to leave me alone anytime soon. Just make it quick.”

Theo choked as he eyed the curve of Pansy’s bum that just happened to be peeking out of her short silk nightgown because of course Pansy Parkinson would sleep knicker-less in a short night gown.  Her pale legs glowed in the moonlight, and she rubbed them together as she got comfortable.

Theo shifted and whimpered, reaching a tentative hand towards her nether regions before quickly pulling away.  He reached out again.  Pansy did say to be quick…he could be quick. He groaned and ran a hand through his hair.

“You vile temptress!” he shouted, “I came here to tell you Draco is alive!”

Pansy’s eyes shot wide open, and she sat up immediately, “What?  Draco is alive?!  And you decided to have a short romp before telling me?!”

“What?!” Theo spat back, “No!  I came here to tell you about Draco, and you were the one trying to seduce me with your silky nightgown and no knickers, waving your bum around like a cat in heat.”

Pansy gasped dramatically and threw her pillow at Theo, “How dare you!  You know I always sleep without knickers!”

Theo opened his mouth to say something then paused, “Do you?”

Pansy smirked and threw a second pillow at him.  Theodore caught the pillow and returned her grin and winked.  Then Pansy crawled out of bed, and to Theodore’s dismay, changed into a more conservative outfit.

Theo prepared the floo when Pansy started fixing her hair.  He sighed and rocked anxiously on his heels as he waited.  Once she was done with her hair, he grabbed a handful of floo powder.  But then, Pansy started applying make-up to her face.

“Are you putting on make-up?!” Theo said impatiently as floo dust slipped through his fingers.

“Of course I am!” Pansy declared, pausing as she admired herself in the mirror, “I’m not going to Malfoy Manor without looking proper!”

“Who are you trying to impress?  It’s the Malfoys!  You’ve already been removed from the list of suitable marriage candidates.”

Pansy glared at Theo and considered throwing her compact at him but decided she didn’t want to risk any bad luck if the mirror were to break, “Draco has returned, this is a celebration.  I refuse to look anything less than perfectly presentable.”

“It’s the middle of the night, no one looks presentable!”

“And?” Pansy winked as she powdered her face, “Just means I’ll be the best looking one there.”

Theodore sighed and dropped the floo powder back into its bowl.  He waited until Pansy was completing absorbed in her art before sneaking up behind her, grabbing her by the waist and throwing her over his shoulder.  Pansy let out a loud shriek and beat against Theo’s back as she kicked at his front.  Theo just smacked her bum before grabbing a handful of floo powder again, throwing Pansy and the floo into the fireplace and announcing their destination.

***

“You see this here,” Baptiste said, now sitting in the chair Lucius was in moments ago, across from Draco.  He pointed to Draco’s bloody shoulder, “This was the area the Avada hit you, I was able to stabilize the magic here and pull the spell from your open wound.”

“The wound you made,” Draco reiterated.

Baptiste nodded, “I had to, there was no other way to get the curse out.  I’m afraid this is going to scar, you were hit with the darkest spell known to Wizarding kind.”

“Like Potter,” Blaise added.

Draco rolled his eyes, “Splendid.  Now Potter and I have something in common.”

“Well, with that scar on top of the one Potter gave you in 6^th year and your Dark Mark, it just adds to your brooding, bad boy image,” Blaise teased, “You’ll have birds all over you in no time.”

“Just because Theo isn’t here doesn’t mean you have to make up for his absence by acting like him,” Draco retorted with an eye roll.

Blaise snickered, earning a smirk from Draco.  At last, the tension in the room began to dissipate.

However, the mood immediately darkened again when Baptiste spoke up in a low tone. “I need to warn you, Draco -- The Killing Curse will affect you in unpredictable ways.  Your soul isn’t completely intact, and it may take some time for certain inner feelings to return, and some may never return at all.  You’re going to have many moments where you feel angry and alone, and no one else will be able to relate to what you are feeling.  Aside from maybe this Harry Potter?”

“It’s doubtful,” Lucius responded with a sigh, “He survived the Killing Curse when he was an infant.  How do you suggest we handle this?”

“With the patience of a saint,” answered Baptiste; “There will be times when he will be quite volatile and downright cruel.  It all stems from the confusion.  Other times, he may feel invincible and dare I say, God like? I only have one example I can reference unfortunately.”

“You’re referencing Rasputin, correct?” asked Narcissa, “He was known for his particularly scandalous ways in his later years.”

Baptiste nodded, “I’ll owl over a few books on Rasputin and his final years.  I’m hoping it will be enough.”

Draco listened but did not like what he was hearing.  This was all still hard to believe.  He did feel angry, and he had broken a few things but aside from all that, all he felt was confusion.  He thought about all the reading he had done on Rasputin, required reading of course, and how the dark wizard basically had muggle Russia under his spell.  The muggles believed he was immortal, a sorcerer, a high priest who could heal any illness.  He also had a reputation for being a womanizer.  Draco had read about how he had survived several assassination attempts.  The muggles tried to poison him; they tried to drown him; he finally succumbed after three gunshots to the head.

Draco wondered if he would go mad like Rasputin did.  Was he already beginning to go mad?  He certainly felt surreal at this moment.  He met his father’s gaze and suddenly felt like a child, wanting answers from this man yet he knew that Lucius couldn’t answer them.  This was frustrating.

He looked at his mother.  She used to chase his nightmares away when he was a child.  Maybe this was a nightmare?  Maybe if he stared at her long enough, pleaded with her, maybe she could help him wake up and soothe his worries away?

Draco closed his eyes and saw dark hair, black eyes and rotted teeth.  He saw Dolohov bleeding from the leg but still smiling menacingly at him.  He could hear his voice clear as day, telling Draco the awful things he was going to do to Pansy.  Draco could feel fear burning in his chest and rising up his throat like bile. He wanted to protect her.  He wanted to save everyone.  He was about to kill Dolohov; he felt the Killing Curse coursing through his veins.  But Dolohov beat him to it, and he had failed.

Dolohov was in the dungeons.  Draco needed to go to the dungeons.  He eyed the exit.  He could tell everyone he was going to bed and then wait a bit before slipping out and heading downstairs.  But where was his wand?  Maybe he didn’t need it?  He remembered Theo’s bruised knuckles.  Was he strong enough to use his bare hands?  Why not?

Draco could feel everyone staring at him and suddenly he felt paranoid.  Could they read his mind?  He couldn’t sense that anyone was attempting Legillimency.  But he didn’t have his wand.  Did he still have his magic?  He had to find out.

“Where’s my wand, father?” Draco asked.

“Why?” Lucius responded suspiciously.

Draco gritted his teeth and growled, “Because I’m a wizard and it’s mine.”

“True,” Lucius said with calm, “But there is no need for it right now.”

“I just want to know if I can still produce magic,” Draco explained, trying his best to keep his tone low and not so threatening.

“Draco darling” Narcissa spoke softly, “You don’t need it right now.  You’re home, you’re safe.  I’m sure you still have your magic.”

Draco did not miss the way Narcissa looked to Baptiste hopefully.

“He does,” Baptiste reassured her, “I wouldn’t have been able to resurrect him without it.  Until you are more stabilized, your wand needs to be kept locked away.”

“This is madness!” Draco shouted, slamming his fist into the table as magic suddenly crackled from his fists and left a burn mark into the wood.  There was a collective gasp as Lucius and Blaise both drew their wands.

“Are you bloody kidding me?” Draco snarled at the two men, “What are you going to do?  Stun me?!”

“Mate,” Blaise said smoothly, “Calm down.”

Draco barked out a short laugh, “Calm down?  CALM DOWN?!”

“Draco?!” suddenly came a second feminine voice.

Draco turned towards the doorway and saw the surprised face of Pansy Parkinson, standing beside Theodore Nott.

Pansy Parkinson.  Draco blinked.  His anger suddenly vanished when he looked at her.  He looked at every inch of her.  Raven hair, blushed cheeks, ruby red lips, skintight jumper and leggings to boot.  She looked more put together than anyone else in this room.  Did she dress nicely for him?

“Pansy,” he whispered.  Draco realized for the first time this evening, he wasn’t feeling cold.  And he only grew warmer the closer she got to him.  But she wasn’t walking.  He was.  When did he start walking towards her?

Pansy stood frozen as Draco’s intense gaze made her uncomfortable.  Had he ever looked at her that way before?  She reached out and touched his arm; he was cool to the touch, but his skin felt smooth, alive.  His muscles flexed at her touch.

Pansy pulled her hand away, “I’m sorry, did I shock you?”

Draco nodded then embraced her.  The movement was so sudden that Pansy gasped.  She hugged him back and her warmth was so inviting.  Draco needed more.  He pulled her so tightly against him he wished he could crawl inside of her and feel more of this cozy comfort.  He was crushing her against him; Pansy could hardly breathe.  But Draco was alive, and Pansy decided she could lose a few moments of air if it truly meant her friend was actually here.

“Pansy…” he murmured, burying his nose in her hair and inhaling her scent.

Theo quirked a brow at this intimate reunion.  He glanced at Blaise and noticed he looked just as bewildered.  Draco’s hands were roaming down her back now and he bunched the fabric of her jumper and pressed his palms against her skin.  She was so soft, so warm, so intoxicating.  He felt he needed to pick her up and carry her to his bedroom.

Pansy gave a nervous laugh, “That’s enough Draco,” she tried to say delicately.

He wouldn’t let go.

“Draco,” his father interrupted, a warning in his tone.

Draco ignored him.  His mother called to him, and he ignored her too.  Theodore tried.  That set him off.

“Fuck off, Nott!” Draco growled.

“Draco!” Pansy shrieked, pushing him off her.

Why? Why was Pansy pushing him away?  He was cold!  Everyone was so worried about him being cold and he found his warmth and they wanted to take him away from it.  Didn’t they want him to get better?  He had the answer before him. Shouldn’t they be relieved?

“Draco,” his mother tried again, her voice gentle and her touch soft on his shoulder.  Draco flinched.  His mother wasn’t his warmth anymore, not like she was when he was a child.  He gripped her wrist and shoved her away, hard, and Narcissa gasped and stumbled back.

Another hand grabbed his arm and turned him violently towards their direction.  He was met with angry grey eyes.  Lucius Malfoy never took kindly to anyone being crass to his wife, including his own son.

“Lucius, I’m fine!” Narcissa pleaded.

Lucius kept a tight grip on Draco’s wrist, his eyes wild with fury.  Draco’s wrist hurt until it grew numb. He briefly thought he should be scared but he wasn’t.  Instead, Draco felt outraged.  He glared at his father with equal hostility and found himself fighting the urge to strike him.  He clenched his fists and the electricity in his hands returned.

Lucius paused briefly, his eyes wandering to the magic crackling in his son’s hand.

“Amazing,” Baptiste murmured, approaching the two men with a look of wonder.  He was the only one there who wasn’t currently frozen in place.  Lucius’s grip continued to loosen, and Draco unfurled his fingers as the magic slowly dissipated.

“Aggression, confusion, the need for affection, and the need for dominance,” Baptiste continued. “These were all traits exhibited by Rasputin after his multiple resurrections.”

“Bloody hell,” Blaise murmured.

“Brilliant,” Lucius muttered sarcastically.

Theodore found himself shuffling towards Pansy and standing in front of her protectively. Draco glowered. Blaise had drawn his wand on him.  His father had grabbed him.  And now Theo was separating him from the only thing that felt right.  Draco was surrounded by threats.

Draco inhaled sharply and then exhaled slowly.  He ran his fingers through his hair and decided a change in subject could help clear the atmosphere, “Am I allowed to shower?  Or do I need a babysitter for that too?  I would like to wash off all this blood and whatever this is.”  He pointed to the dried paste on his shoulder.

Baptiste nodded, “We’ll need to remove that gently with a warm washcloth and mend the cut first.  But I suppose a hot shower would bring you comfort, no matter how temporary.”

Narcissa offered to gather the washcloth and bowl of warm soapy water since the elves had already been dismissed for the evening.  She asked Pansy to escort her in the off chance that a brawl would ensue between her son and Theodore.  This home had seen enough violence.

Draco returned to his seat and allowed Baptiste to look at his wound.  Through all the cold, the fury and adrenaline, he didn’t realize the injury actually hurt until he settled down.  He watched as a purple glow emitted from Baptiste’s hand and warmed over his pale shoulder.  Lucius looked on a few feet behind them and Blaise and Theo kept their distance, standing near the fireplace.  They would whisper to each other, and it made Draco feel frustratingly paranoid.

Narcissa returned moments later without Pansy.  She thought it best for Pansy to leave and Pansy agreed, seeing the situation was becoming all too overwhelming.

As Draco’s wound was cleansed and the paste was delicately scrubbed off, the distinct smell of rot filled the nostrils of those close by.  Draco scrunched his nose and winced when he saw bits of his skin flake off with the dried blood.

While Narcissa carefully stitched her son’s injury with her wand, she couldn’t help but notice the slight discoloration on his shoulder.  Once the blue light from her wand went out, she noticed his skin was grey around his fresh scar.

“What is this?” she asked Baptiste, voice full of concern.

Baptiste frowned and hesitated, “His flesh was rotting but I have contained it to just that area and it shouldn’t spread.”

“Shouldn’t?” Lucius gave the man a disdainful look.

Baptiste shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, “He was unfrozen during the entire ritual, it was bound to happen.  You are more than welcome to contact me if it spreads.”

“What can you do if it does?” Narcissa asked.

Baptiste didn’t have a response, which did not settle the nerves of the Malfoy family. “I will search through my grandfather’s journals, I’m confident I will find something in there that will give us answers.”

Lucius sighed, rubbing his temples. The old Lucius wanted to berate the shaman for not being entirely educated in his rituals, but he knew his options were limited.  So instead, he went with, “Fine.”

Baptiste nodded and felt he was starting to overstay his welcome.  Baptiste approached Lucius, grabbing something from his jacket and then handing Lucius a card.  Lucius snatched it and studied the card with its rough edges and skull design.

“You can reach me through this,” Baptiste explained, “It has the password to access both of my private floo networks.  If I’m not at home, you can tap the card three times with your wand, and it will alert me.  You can also pass any messages along to Blaise.”

Lucius just nodded.

Baptiste clapped his hands once then tipped his hat, “Until then,” he turned to Draco, “I’m pleased the ritual was a success though your emotions are going to be a whirlwind for quite some time.  I advise you don’t shut out your family or close friends.  You’re going to need them.”

Draco glared.  He didn’t want anyone right now.  He just needed to be alone.  The yearning for solitude and revenge was overwhelming.  Baptiste wasn’t fazed by Draco’s hateful look, he smiled at him, nodded, then bid everyone goodnight.

Narcissa knelt down in front of her son and cradled his cheek one last time, gazing into his eyes and searching for any sign of kindness.  Draco flinched, her touch felt too stimulating.  Narcissa drew her hand back and sighed sadly.  She stood back up and took her husband’s arm.  Lucius studied Draco with a calculating expression for a moment before leading his wife out of the dining room and back to their chambers.

Blaise and Theo lingered.

“Do you need anything, mate?” Blaise asked.

Draco shook his head and said nothing.  Blaise nodded and slowly backed away towards the exit.  Theo stayed.

“Stop looking at me like that, Nott.” Draco seethed.

Theo’s eyes turned from hope to sadness, “I was sleeping in a guest room, do you want me to keep staying there?”

“No.” Draco responded bitterly.

“Alright,” Theo responded with a sigh, “I’ll see you around then.”

Draco grunted.  Blaise tapped Theo’s arm and signaled to him it was time to leave.  They both gave Draco one last look before making their exit.

*********

Draco couldn’t sleep.  He tossed and turned, threw the sheets off, waited, and pulled them back over himself.  He turned on his side facing the nightstand and stared at the spot where his wand should be.  He felt naked without it.

He traced his fingers over his injury and cringed at the sensitive feeling.  Had he really been dead?

So many images flooded his mind: Baptiste explaining the ritual, his mother’s stunned face when she saw him, the way his father grabbed his arm when he shoved his mother, how warm and comforting Pansy felt when he embraced her, and Dolohov…

Dolohov’s black eyes and rotted teeth, his blood-soaked leg as he continued to fight, his menacing grin as he aimed his wand at Draco and taunted him.

Dolohov was in the dungeons.

Draco sat up abruptly and ran his hands through his hair.  He couldn’t wait any longer.

********

Lucius couldn’t sleep as well.  He and Narcissa had talked for a while before she was finally overcome with drowsiness and drifted off into a peaceful slumber.  He watched her sleep and stroked a rare strand of hair from her face.

Draco was alive….

Lucius had originally felt relief, joy and gratitude that his only child was brought back to him.  But watching Draco’s reaction gave him pause.  Draco was so angry, so volatile up until the moment he saw Pansy.  Lucius wondered if he should fear for Pansy’s safety.  For anyone’s safety actually.

He decided he should approach the next few days with caution.  Draco was going to be unpredictable, and Lucius needed to find a way to be prepared.

********

Dolohov groaned and hung his head, rolling it from side to side to ease some tension.  His head throbbed continuously.  His eye was never healed, and he could feel the infection spreading; it felt like maggots slowly worming their way into his brain and eating away at him slowly.

For days he had been tied to this chair, sitting in his own filth.  The air reeked of blood, piss and rot.  The smell seemed to make his headache several times worse.  His stomach growled.  The elves only came once a day to force feed him meager meals of old bread and cold meats.  The water he drank tasted stagnant and dirty.

He hadn’t seen Lucius in a couple of days, or his obnoxious minions.  He figured Nott at least would be down to dole out some more torture, but he had been kept in dark silence.  Maybe this was another form of torture?  Maybe if they kept him in suspense long enough, he would go mad?

Dolohov heard footsteps slowly coming down the stairs.  Was he imagining it?

He glanced up with his one good eye and could barely make out the dragon hide boots and long, billowing robes.  The moonlight shone through a window, and he caught a glimpse of platinum blonde hair.

Dolohov smirked, “Lucius,” he began, “Come to scold me more?”

“Dolohov…” came an eerie voice, a young voice.

The Death Eater gasped and looked up; his eye widened in horror.

He had gone mad, he thought to himself, he was seeing a ghost.  Draco Malfoy stood before him, one hand clasped around a bar as he leaned in closer.

“Boo.”

 

Did you think it’s cool to walk right up
To take my life and fuck it up
Well, did you?
Well, did you?
-Jay Gordon, “Slept So Long”

 

 

Notes:

POSTING UPDATE: I try my best to post every Sunday but chapter 13 and 14 maybe delayed. My beta is taking a well-deserved vacation and I'm not sure when she will get around to reading the next two chapters. I post updates to my fics regularly on IG, please feel free to follow me at mother.of.lilith13

Chapter 13: Did You Miss Me?

Notes:

TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains a graphic depiction of maiming.

Draco stormed through the kitchens, past the servant's corridor and barged into Whispy's room.  The tiny elf woke with a shriek when Draco grabbed her by her dirty garment and shook her.

"Wake up," Draco commanded through gritted teeth, "You're going to help me in the dungeons."

"Th-The dungeons, sir?" Whispy squeaked and trembled, "Why does the young master need Whispy in the dungeons?"

"I don't have my wand," Draco grumbled, "So you're going to open Dolohov's cell for me."

Whispy let out a pained gasp and wiggled out of Draco's hold as she began to pace nervously on her tiny bed, "Whispy cannot, sir!  Whispy has orders from Master Malfoy to not let anyone in the dungeons aside from myself, Frick, the young Mr. Nott, Mr. Zabini and Ms. Parkinson.  Young Master Malfoy is not on the list, sir!"

Draco snarled, grabbing Whispy by the arm and yanking her to him, "This is my home too!  You will let me in, Whispy!"

Whispy sobbed and struggled, "Please young master, Whispy will get in trouble!"

Draco released his hold and took a deep breath.  His voice shifted from cruel to calm, "No one will know."

Whispy's eyes widened into saucers as she lowered her voice and looked around warily, "Master Malfoy will know.  He always knows."

"I promise he won't find out this time," Draco said as he struggled to keep his anger to a minimum, "Now are you going to go willingly or do I need to drag you out?"

Whispy got desperate, "Master Malfoy will hit Whispy!"

Draco rolled his eyes, "He hasn't struck you in years and you know it.  Let's go!  Now!"

Whispy whimpered and nodded meekly as she jumped down from her bed.  She muttered something incoherently as she followed Draco out of her room and down the servant's corridor.  As they made their way down the main hallway, Whispy kept her head down to avoid the judgmental stares coming from the Malfoy ancestors.

Draco attempted to open the doors to the dungeons quietly, but the heavy steel door creaked at the hinges.  Whispy shuddered and hesitated as she watched Draco descend the stairs.  His boots echoed eerily with each step he took.

He saw Dolohov, tied to a chair and looking worse for wear.  Draco felt his chest burning and his jaw tightened; each step down the stairs felt like a satisfying step towards vengeance.

 "Lucius," he heard Dolohov state in a long drawl, followed by a short chuckle, "Come to scold me more?"

Draco smirked as he came within a few feet of the cell door.  He greeted Dolohov with a voice full of eerie satisfaction, "Dolohov..."

Dolohov's good eye widened as he took in the sight of Draco Malfoy.

"Boo." Draco taunted with a twisted smile.  He observed Dolohov; beaten, bloodied, about to lose an eye, sitting in his own filth.  It brought Draco immense joy, though he was a little irked it wasn't he who had doled out the punishment.

"I see my friends have been taking great care of you," Draco continued, "Though it seems Nott got a little carried away with your eye."

Dolohov continued to stare in astonishment.  He tried to clear his throat and found himself in a fit of coughing.  He managed to gasp out, "That...was...your father."

Draco raised his eyebrows, looking perplexed, "My father?  Well, that certainly is... shocking. He's usually so reserved."

Dolohov said nothing.  He continued staring at Draco in bewilderment.  He managed to mutter something in Russian, but he couldn't make sense of any of this.  How?  How was Draco here?  He saw him die!  He endured days' worth of torture for murdering him.  This had to be a trick.

Draco scrunched his nose, “You reek.”

"You're not real!" Dolohov cried out, "I watched you die!  You're just one of those brats, probably took a polyjuice potion.  You're trying to make me go mad!  I won't!"

Draco crossed his arms and let Dolohov panic for a little while longer.  He watched as the Russian man began to thrash against his binds and spurt out curses in English and his mother language.  Dolohov shook his head violently and then screamed, probably due to his intense headache.

"Whispy!" Draco called out, craning his neck to see the small elf trembling on the stairs, "Come here."

Whispy nodded frightfully and ran down the stairs, "Yes young master?"

"Open the cell door."  Draco commanded.

Whispy squeaked and began bouncing from foot to foot, "Whispy shouldn't sir!"

"Now Whispy!" Draco snarled.

Whispy wailed and started prancing frantically around Draco, pausing at the door, as if she were about to open it, but then she would grit her teeth and whimper and begin bouncing again.  Draco's patience was wearing thin; he stopped her movements by gripping the back of her neck and growling into her ear, "Do as I say, Whispy."

Whispy yelped and froze in place.  She waited for Draco to release her before she pointed her tiny fingers at the lock on the cell door.  Sparks shot from her hand and the door swung open.  Draco gave her a satisfied grin and then straightened his robes before rolling his sleeves up.

"Now for the fun part..." he murmured venomously as he took a step inside the cell.

The room was suddenly filled with an ear-shattering screech.  Draco and Whispy immediately covered their ears and Dolohov roared in pain.  The screeching went on and on with no signs of stopping.

"I thought you said you had access to the cell!"  Draco shouted through the Caterwaul Charm.

The screeching suddenly stopped.

"She does," came the calm, yet irritated voice of Lucius Malfoy as he stepped past a shaking Whispy and approached his son with a dangerous glare, "You don't."

Draco dropped his arms and returned his father's glare with his own.  The air shifted from uncomfortable to downright suffocating.  Draco's gut told him that Lucius was challenging him again and he believed it.  He balled his fists, “This is ridiculous.  I should have free roam in my own house."

Lucius scoffed as he tugged a tangle from his hair, proof that he had been sleeping restlessly, "These charms were put up after your death, you've hardly been back a couple of hours.  Do you think I would have the time to adjust my wards when I am still coming to terms with all this?"

"Fair enough," Draco responded, slightly loosening his fists, "Add me to the wards then."

Lucius's lip twitched as he leered, "Later."

"Why?" Draco growled.

"Zis is impossible!" Dolohov shouted, "Lucius, you....You are tricking me!"

The father and son paused to look at Dolohov; he was trembling.  Draco grinned victoriously, relishing in the fact that his killer was shaking in fear.  Lucius did not look quite as satisfied.  Instead, Lucius approached Dolohov and grabbed his chin roughly, forcing his head up so Lucius could examine his eye.  Lucius cringed, the eye was beyond repair; it was caked in dried blood and beginning to leak a sickly yellow pus.  Lucius drew his wand.

"What are you doing?" Draco asked with a jolt.

"Healing him," Lucius answered, and his wand began to glow blue at the tip.

"Why?!" 

Lucius gritted his teeth, "The infection will kill him, and I need him alive."

Draco was about to argue until a painful hiss escaped Dolohov's lips.  The blue glow from Lucius's wand changed to a more orange color as Dolohov's skin started to sizzle around his eye.  Lucius focused as his magic encased the injured eye then started to tug from Dolohov's socket.  Dolohov's hisses turned to wails as his injured eye was being torn from its hold.  Blood and pus began to pour from his injury and Lucius gripped Dolohov's shoulder with his free hand to keep him still.  Draco's face turned from horrified to a look of sick pleasure as he watched his father continue to maim Dolohov.  Whispy was covering her eyes and crying in her hands.

Lucius's jaw clenched as he poured more strength into his wand work; the eye was nearly entirely out of its socket.  Dolohov moaned and pleaded for Lucius to stop.  There was finally a sickening sound of a pop when the optic nerve broke free from Dolohov's face and his eye floated in the air.  Lucius whipped his wand in one simple motion and the eye flung to the wall then rolled to the floor.

Dolohov whimpered and tried to hang his head, but Lucius gripped his chin again. The blue glow returned, and Lucius began sealing up the wound.

"The elves will need to clean this every day," he explained to Dolohov, his tone was not caring, "If you refuse them, I'll let Nott pick the next appendage you lose."

Dolohov bared his teeth and nodded angrily, knowing he couldn't argue.

Draco cleared his throat and straightened his robes, "Now, the wards?"

Lucius released his grip on Dolohov and took a step back.  Without even looking at Draco he said, "Go to bed, Draco.  We will discuss this later."

Draco sighed.  He had been dead for days.  He was not tired.  Lucius had that look about him that clearly stated there was no room for argument.  They left the cell, making sure Dolohov had a clear view of his separated eye before shutting the door.

Whispy whimpered and bounced, "Whispy is sorry, Master Malfoy!  Whispy shall go put her hands on the stove!"

Lucius growled and eyed Draco as he spoke to his house elf, "That won't be necessary, Whispy.  Return to your room."

Whispy squeaked and gave a bow before dashing up the stairs and disappearing down the hall.

"You will never," Lucius began in a low, lethal tone, "Use my house elves for your vendetta ever again.  Are we clear?"

Draco seethed but nodded his head.  Lucius quirked a brow as he continued staring at his son, making sure his son felt quite uncomfortable so that his message came through loud and clear.

"Good," Lucius said after a long silence.  They returned to their respective rooms without exchanging any more words.

*********

Lucius met with Theo at Nott Manor the following day, with plans on how to handle Nott Sr.

“This has to be done,” Lucius said with a tired sigh, “Your father is an insufferable gossip, and I am admittedly astounded he hasn’t said anything about Draco to anyone yet.”

Theo shrugged, “I may have threatened him a time or two,” he said before drinking from a champagne flute.  The drink was red and bubbly and had a lime wedge on the rim.  He smacked his lips together then offered it to Lucius.  Lucius gave him a look of disdain and shook his head.

“What is that?” the senior Malfoy asked.

“A vodka cherry limeade,” Theo answered.

“A what?”

Theo grinned, “Dizzy makes them for me.  It’s this cherry soda concoction with lime juice and vodka, I think.  Quite popular in America.”

“Nott,” Lucius groaned, “It is ten o’clock in the morning, don’t you think it’s a little early for hard liquor?”

Theo blinked.

“Never mind,” Lucuis grumbled, “We need to measure this out perfectly.  I still need him to remember the attack at Shafiq’s and Rookwood’s escape.  He said Rookwood is at your vacation home in Dublin?”

Theo nodded, “Yes, he’s still there I believe.  I’m sure I can obliviate the last five days up until that moment.”

“How are you going to explain his lapse in memory?” asked Lucius.

Theo shrugged again and downed the rest of his drink, “He got knocked in the head by the fallen debris.”

Lucius sighed, “We need him to arrange this meeting with Rookwood.  He would ask Augustus about any head injuries.”

“Fine, fine,” Theo waved his hand dismissively, “I’ll obliviate him up until the time I came home that night and told him you were needing him at Malfoy Manor.  I’ll tell him he was so drunk that when we went through the floo it made him terribly ill, and he’s been dousing himself with sleep potions until the sickness wore off.”

“You just drank an entire glass of that American beverage,” Lucius countered, “Maybe I should do it.”

Theo gasped dramatically and held his wand to his chest, “You will not rob me of this!”

“Theodore,” Lucius said slowly, “It scares me how willing you are to obliviate your own father.”

“Are you worried Draco is going to get any ideas?” Theo grinned wickedly.

Lucius rolled his eyes and decided not to answer that question.  They went over the plan a couple of more times before making their way into the cigar room to meet with Nott Sr.

“Lucius, old friend!” bellowed Nott Sr as he waved him over, “Come, sit!  Would you like a glass of brandy?”

“Nott… its ten o’clock…oh never mind,” Lucius rubbed his temples, “Fine.”

Nott Sr snapped his fingers rather obnoxiously and Dizzy, their house elf, appeared with a pop, “Yes Master Nott?” she squeaked.

“Brandy. Now.” He responded gruffly.

“R-right away, sir!” Dizzy said in a shaky voice, “Would the young master like another drink?”

Theodore eyed his empty glass but shook his head, “Maybe later, Dizzy.”

Dizzy nodded and meandered over to the bar where she pulled out two goblets and filled them both with brandy.  She handed them to the older men, gave a bow and then disappeared.

“Stupid little creature,” Nott Sr mumbled as he took a drink.

Lucius cleared his throat, “I came by to see how Rookwood was doing.”

“Rookwood?” Nott Sr quirked a brow as he swirled his goblet around in his hand, “Shouldn’t you be more concerned with funeral arrangements?  I’m surprised Narcissa hasn’t strangled you by now, how long you’ve been taking for the preparations.  Did you come by to talk about trying the Egyptian ritual again?”

“No,” Lucius answered quickly.

“You know,” Nott Sr leaned in and lowered his voice, “I did find another ritual we could try.  Something the Mayans did, but it would require a human sacrifice.”

Lucius paled, “That won’t be necessary.  I’ve already been in touch with the funeral home.”

“Giving up so soon?” Nott Sr asked.

“I’m afraid so,” Lucius responded, trying to maintain his eye contact with Nott Sr and keep him talking as Theo stood by patiently waiting for their opening.

“Well,” Nott Sr started as he lit a cigar and took a few puffs, “I still think we should attempt the Egyptian ritual again.  It was all Parkinson’s fault; she doesn’t love Draco, just his money.  The way she ogles him and my son-- she’s filthy.  Weren’t you going to marry Draco off to a Greengrass sister?  Perhaps, you should try one of them.  They’re nice girls, pure, well bred, not like that slu—”

“Obliviate!”

Nott Sr paused, and his eyes glazed over.  Lucius held his breath as he watched his friend’s expression change from arrogant to confused.

“You’re marrying Draco to one of the Greengrasses?” Theodore asked casually, as if he hadn’t just erased some of his father’s memories.

“What?” Nott Sr asked.  He stared at the cigar in his hand, then he looked behind him at Theodore and then back to Lucius.

“Never mind that,” Lucius said with a relaxed wave of his hand, “Nott, are you alright?”

Nott Sr blinked then shook his head, “What happened?”

It was scary the way Theodore switched his personality and suddenly became the concerned son, “Oh father,” he said as he put an arm around his father’s shoulder, “You blacked out again.  Here, let me have this.”  He took his father’s brandy and cigar, “You really need to slow down, it’s barely ten o’clock in the morning!”

Lucius rolled his eyes.

“Mr. Malfoy came here because he heard you had been drowning yourself in sleeping potions for days and he’s concerned.  I assured him you’re alright.  Come now, father, don’t be rude.  Tell Mr. Malfoy you’re fine.”

“Oh,” Nott Sr exclaimed, suddenly feeling embarrassed, “Lucius, I apologize.  I get these awful headaches you see and sometimes I just need to sleep until it goes away.  Have I missed anything important?”

“No,” Lucius responded simply, “I hadn’t heard from you since the attack at Shafiq’s.  I’m happy to see you weren’t hurt, aside from the headache.  Maybe you should see a healer?”

“Pish posh,” Nott Sr waved him off.  Then he reached for his brandy and Theo held it away from his reach, “I don’t need a healer.  I just need my brandy!  Give it here, boy.”

“Mr. Malfoy was asking you about Rookwood,” Theo said, ignoring his father’s grabby hands, “I told him you managed to get him safely to our vacation home in Dublin.”

Nott Sr gave up and dropped his hands. He nodded to Lucius, “I did, yes.  Though I don’t know how long he can remain there.  I’m sure after the attack at Shafiq’s, the aurors will buckle down on their search for all the wanted Death Eaters.  I still haven’t heard from Yaxley.”

Lucius took a drink to collect his thoughts, he didn’t want to give away too much information from the past five days, “I’m afraid to tell you that Yaxley has been caught, as has Amycus Carrow.  It was in the Daily Prophet a few days ago.”

“See what you miss when you sleep your days away, father?” Theo asked with a chuckle.  His father glared at him.

“You just said I hadn’t missed anything important!” Nott Sr said with a huff. “Yaxley and Carrow’s arrest fits into the category of important!”

“My apologies,” Lucius responded casually, “I didn’t think it important, it was only a matter of time before they got caught, I knew their recklessness would catch up to them eventually.  The way they carried on, hanging about your manor; we’re lucky their indiscretions didn’t land you in Azkaban.  And where would that leave your poor wife and Theodore?”

“Mr. Malfoy, I didn’t know you cared,” Theo smirked and placed a hand over his own heart.

“This is an outrage!” Nott Sr exclaimed, pounding a fist against the coffee table, “I need to contact my solicitor.  Yaxley shouldn’t be wasting away in a cell.  Why, he did so much work for the Ministry-- they should be thanking him!”

Lucius raised a skeptical eyebrow and remained silent as Nott Sr went on his tirade.  He watched as Nott Sr jumped from his seat and paced about, waving his arms around dramatically and going on about how the Wizarding World is in shambles.

“That Shacklebolt is a menace!  He doesn’t know the first thing about running the Ministry.  Surely, we still have a few friends left in the Wizengamot. Lucius, couldn’t you pull a few strings?”

Lucius sighed and sat back in his chair, eyeing Nott Sr with a contemplative look, “I was hardly released from Azkaban a few months ago; in fact, I’m still under supervised release.  I have no connections, Nott.”

“That can’t be true,” Nott Sr said with a shake of his head, “We need to rally the troops.  We could get in touch with the Parkinsons or the Flints.  Perhaps the Goyles?”

“Mr. Parkinson is also under parole and is keeping his head down.  The Flints are too volatile and will make matters worse and Mrs. Goyle is a widowed recluse.”  Lucius reminded him, Nott Sr’s brain clearly still foggy on some of the more recent news in their circle.  Except the Flints, of course; they had always been volatile.  Rumors had circulated that their line may even have a bit of troll blood in it.

“Zabini?” Nott Sr suggested desperately.

Lucius laughed, “Serafina Zabini?  You’re joking?  She didn’t even take part in the war.   You can contact her if you must, but I plan on living a very long life and I won’t be able to ever know my grandchildren if I approach Ms. Zabini with such a ridiculous request.”

“You’re being dramatic,” Nott Sr scoffed, “She isn’t that bad.”

Theo snorted, “Go ahead father, I’m ready to collect my inheritance.”

Nott Sr plopped down in his armchair and crossed his arms like a petulant child, “Fine!  What do you suggest?”

“I suggest you arrange a meeting for me with Rookwood,” Lucius answered, “I can help move him to a more secure location.”

“What about Yaxley?”

Lucius sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Yaxley is a lost cause, Nott.  He’s in Azkaban for the rest of his life.  Focus on Rookwood.”

“Well why did you get an early release?” Nott Sr huffed.

Lucius narrowed his eyes, “Are you suggesting Yaxley is more deserving of freedom than I am?”

“Well,” Nott Sr straightened as he tried to back track, “That’s not what I meant.  But if you really want to go over the facts, your list of supposed crimes is just as long and…”

“Choose your next words carefully, Nott.”  Lucius said in a low, lethal tone.

Theo rubbed his hands together excitedly and sat down on a bar stool as he prepared for an exciting show of his father getting pulverized by Lucius Malfoy.  Nott Sr, demonstrating his stupidity, puffed out his chest and refused to back down.

“Last I recall,” Nott Sr began, “Yaxley didn’t slip an important diary into a little girl’s book bag that led to several students getting petrified and almost shutting down the entire school!”

Lucius rolled his eyes, “You were all for it at the time.”

“Only because that basilisk would’ve rid the school of all the mudblood filth! If it were my mission, I wouldn’t have a little girl do my dirty work.”

Theo was becoming absolutely giddy as tension filled the air.

Lucius sighed, “Is that all you have for my list of terrible crimes, Nott?  I’m not deserving of my freedom because Ginevra Weasley had a few students petrified?  What you’re failing to consider is the influence that comes with the Malfoy name, my wealth, and not to mention the role my wife played in saving Harry Potter’s life.  None of which could be said for Yaxley.”

Nott Sr pointed his finger angrily, “Yaxley wouldn’t even be in Azkaban if it weren’t for you!”

Lucius and Theo both paused.  They glanced at each other briefly and feared that Nott Sr knew about their mission.

“Pardon?” Lucius asked quietly.

“That’s right!” Nott Sr beamed, proud of himself for giving Lucius pause, “If you hadn’t dropped the prophecy in the Department of Mysteries and gotten yourself arrested, we would’ve won that bloody war!”

Lucius sighed in relief, but his relief was short-lived.

“And then your own son couldn’t clean up your mess!”

“Oh boy…” Theo whistled.

Lucius suddenly stood up and Nott Sr sank into his chair.

“Do you care to finish that thought, old friend?” Lucius snarled venomously as he leaned over Nott Sr and gripped both sides of the armchair, caging the elder Nott in.

Nott Sr sputtered then laughed nervously, “I just meant to say…”

Theo found himself sitting on the edge of the barstool and sipping from the goblet of brandy he had taken from his father earlier.

“What did you mean to say?” Lucius said slowly, his lethal tone reminiscent of Severus Snape when he used to intimidate the students at Hogwarts.

“Come now Lucius,” Nott Sr stuttered, “I didn’t mean it.  I merely got carried away.  It’s the headaches you know?  Makes me say silly things.”

Lucius sat up straight and smoothed out his robes.  He glared at Nott Sr then said, “Now, about that meeting with Rookwood.”

Nott Sr nodded vigorously, “Yes, I’ll have it arranged.”

“Excellent.” Lucius smirked, “I’ll be in touch.”

Lucius nodded to Theo; Theo gave him a salute and Lucius saw himself out.

*******

Lucius returned to the manor feeling rather pleased with himself, as most men would after they've put an obnoxious idiot in their place.  Nott Sr was incredibly arrogant and ignorant, and those two traits combined made him insufferable.  Lucius scowled at the thought, irritated that he still needed Nott Sr for his connections.  He hoped that Rookwood would be the last Death Eater he needed to use Nott Sr to get to.  Macnair was a possibility, but he remembered that Macnair was also close with the Parkinsons.  There were no leads on Jugson, not even illegitimate ones.  Jugson was the quiet, intimidating type.  He would do the Dark Lord's bidding then wait for his next command, never mixing business with pleasure.  His type bored Nott Sr because he couldn't coax him with wealth or women.  Alecto, the only female Death Eater on his list, was closer to Lucius than she ever was to Nott Sr simply due to the fact that Nott Sr believed women were beneath him.  She was a desperate, vile woman and nearly as crazy as Bellatrix Lestrange.  Still, he had no clue as to her whereabouts.  He tried to get her brother to speak, but Kingsley interrupted his interrogation and took Amycus Carrow to Azkaban.

He still had two years to find them.  Lucius wanted to focus his time on rehabilitating Draco, but he also didn't want to miss the opportunity to apprehend Rookwood.  Two years could slip by in an instant and Lucius refused to go back to Azkaban.  He would take care of Rookwood then he would take some much-needed time with his family before returning to his search for the remaining Death Eaters.  If needed, he could rely on Theo, Blaise and Pansy to gather intel while he worked on mending his shattered family.

"Lucius!" came the smooth, deep tone of Kazim Shacklebolt.  Lucius side-eyed the portrait of Kingsley's ancestor and clenched his jaw.

Kazim shifted in his painted armchair and smiled warmly at Malfoy, "I heard your son's voice this morning!  Am I to presume he is feeling better?  Whatever woke him from that Petrificus?"

"He is doing better," Lucius answered curtly, "The spell finally weakened on its own.  I'm assuming his attacker has fled far enough away that the curse has lost some potency.  That, as well as the number of finites that has been cast on him."

Kazim seemed suspicious and Lucius swallowed down his paranoia.

"That's odd," Kazim said after a few moments of tense silence, "I've never heard of such a thing.  Though I suppose I don't know everything.  Is Draco feeling well enough to visit with the Minister?  Kingsley still needs his statement."

Lucius sighed, "Give us a day, would you?"

Kazim pursed his lips together and considered.  Lucius couldn't help but feel that Kazim was attempting Legilimency on him, which was silly.  Portraits could not use magic in that way.

"One day."  Kazim said, and his tone came with a warning.

"Fine," Lucius responded through gritted teeth.

Kazim looked pleased, "I shall let Kingsley know that you and Draco will be at his office first thing in the morning."

Lucius waved him off, annoyed that Kazim had ruined his jovial mood from when he humiliated Nott Sr.  He left the travel parlor in search of his wife.  He didn't have to search far, finding her in the tearoom with Draco who looked to be in a joyful state-- a clear contrast to his previous mood from earlier that morning.

"Husband," Narcissa greeted with a polite smile that he could see right through, one of the many benefits of having been married for multiple decades.

"Love," he responded warily while eyeing his son.

Draco sat across from his mother, leaning casually against his chair with one leg stretched out from under the table and his elbow resting against the top of the chair.  He smiled at his father.  Not a smirk.  A smile.  One that was innocent, boyish.  Lucius was not buying it.

"Father," Draco greeted in a bittersweet tone, "Where were you off to on this lovely morning?"

Lucius did not like this at all.  There were no signs of any lingering anger at him for the events of the night before.  Not even a hint of hostility over Lucius not giving Draco access to the wards or returning his wand.

Lucius approached the table and kissed the top of Narcissa's head while placing a hand on the back of her chair, "If you must know, I was at the Nott's, helping an old friend out with his memory."

"Oh?" Draco’s eyebrows rose with a mild and pleasant curiousity, "I suppose Theo was there."

"Of course he was; why wouldn't he be?"

"Well," Draco scoffed and flicked a strand of hair from his face, "You just never know with him, right? He hardly spends time in his own home; the wanker is always here or out bothering someone else."

"Draco!" His mother scolded.

Draco blinked. He looked innocent and confused, "I'm sorry mother, I was only joking.  You know he's my best mate."

Lucius’s silence dragged on for several moments as he tried to read Draco and this newfound friendly mood. Draco stared back with virtuous eyes and continued to simply smile. This was indeed peculiar; he was used to Draco being arrogant or sulky, even aggressive at times.  He had been so angry at Lucius earlier that morning that he actually thought his son would attempt to duel him.  The Draco he was witnessing right now came off as more mild-mannered, agreeable.  Lucius found this sudden shift intensely suspicious.

"Draco," Lucius began carefully, "Were you concerned Theodore was somewhere else? Possibly with Ms. Parkinson?"

Draco laughed casually, "What are you implying?"

Lucius hesitated, contemplating whether or not he should continue testing his son's pleasant mood.  He decided now was not the time to push it.

"Doesn't matter," Lucius responded with a hint of irritation, "We have a meeting with the Minister tomorrow morning. I need to brief you on the matter before Kinglsey starts questioning you. I've already given my statement, as has Theodore, Zabini and Parkinson. Our stories need to match."

"Oh?" Draco leaned into the table and propped his elbows, "I'm listening."

"Tomorrow is too soon," Narcissa interrupted.

Draco laughed again and waved his mother off, "You worry too much, mother.  I've been dead for four days; I'm sure he will only want my side of the story regarding the attack at Shafiq's.  Tell me father, where does the Minister think I was while I was rotting away?"

Lucius flinched, "You weren't rotting, Draco.  I had you under the Glacius charm for nearly the entire time.  I told Shacklebolt that you were under a strong petrification spell that we couldn't break."

Draco sat up in his chair and stroked his chin, "Clever.  Was I sentient during my petrified state?"

"No." Lucius answered curtly.

"Easy enough," Draco said as he clapped his hands together, "Let's go to the Ministry now. No need to wait for tomorrow."

“Draco, I don’t think you realize the seriousness of the situation,” Narcissa explained with a combination of motherly sternness and worry, “If your statement does not line up with everyone else’s, our home will be subjected to a search and if they find Dolohov, well, your father could end back up in Azkaban.”

“Wouldn’t that be tragic,” Draco said in a sarcastic drawl, and a flash of something reflecting in his eyes.  It was gone in an instant and his toothy smile returned.  Narcissa stared at her son in bewilderment.

Lucius’s lips twitched, “Would you have rather I turned him in Draco?”

“Well, you won’t let me have any fun with him,” Draco answered in a joking manner.

“You are too bloody unstable right now. You are not allowed near him until your head is clear.”

“Of course, father.” Draco responded obediently, though Lucius didn't miss the hint of sarcasm in his tone.

“You’re still coming to terms with everything.” Narcissa added.

Draco paused and seemed to consider.  He smiled again and nodded to his parents politely.

“Alright.” He said.

“Alright?” Narcissa repeated slowly.

Draco nodded, “Yes fine. Dolohov isn’t going anywhere, right? You’ll give me my opportunity one day. For now, let’s just sit here and be a family.”

Narcissa glanced nervously towards Lucius who was studying his son suspiciously. Draco’s demeanor was eerie. Draco flashed another toothy grin, straightened his jacket and then leaned back in his chair. Lucius and Narcissa watched as he calmly poured himself a cup of tea and began humming.

Lucius and Narcissa seemed to be thinking the same thing. Was he actually humming? When was the last time they had heard their son hum? When he was a toddler? The melody was a strange mixture of serene and sinister. Narcissa felt a chill run up her spine.

“We should have tea on the veranda,” Draco said calmly, “It’s such a beautiful day out. Wouldn’t you agree, mother?”

Narcissa cleared her throat and collected herself, “Yes, Draco, it is nice out today.”

“And you, father?” Draco grinned and quirked a curious brow.

Lucius could only nod. Draco stood, teacup and saucer in hand as he casually passed his father and then whispered…

“What a wonderful time to be alive.”

 

I am fully aware of all the warning signs
Yet I'm serving my heart on a platter and my blood as wine
So I might as well dance along with you
For a piece of me already died
-Blackbriar, "Walking Over My Grave"

Chapter 14: Have I Disappointed You Father?

TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter depicts a scene of attempted sexual assault.

 

 

The following morning, Draco was still in a pleasant mood as he followed his father to the travel parlor, carrying on delightedly about the much-needed rain they were currently experiencing.  Lucius kept reiterating the plan, telling Draco what he needed to say to the Minister, careful not to say too much in front of the portrait of Kazim Shacklebolt.

Lucius was still admittedly wary over Draco's jovial mood.  Baptiste had warned him that Draco would experience mood swings, but Lucius had braced himself, expecting more of the same hostility he had witnessed on the night of Draco’s resurrection.  The senior Malfoy had yet another night of restless sleep, and decided he needed a pepper-up potion in order to keep his head clear and be prepared for anything the Minister would throw at them.

Lucius paused at the floo entrance and turned to Draco, nodding his head towards Draco's jacket, "Did you bring it?"

Draco grinned and opened his jacket just a smidge, showing his father the top corner of the file they had stolen from the Ministry.  They had plans to return it discreetly, not an obvious place that Kingsley or his secretary would have looked dozens of times.  If they happened to find the file today, it would coincide too suspiciously with Lucius and Draco’s visit.

Lucius gave a curt nod then grabbed a handful of floo powder, hoping Draco’s mood remained agreeable, no matter how ominous it felt to him.

They arrived in the secretary’s office, which was currently unoccupied.  The two men carefully looked around the room for a somewhat inconspicuous spot to place the file.  The desk was too obvious; the filing cabinet was locked, as were the drawers attached to the desk.  Lucius nudged Draco and nodded to a storage box in the corner, already overloaded with old, dusty files.  Draco grinned and took a few steps towards the box when the door to Kingsley’s office flew open.

“Malfoy!” Kingsley greeted with his loud voice, “And Malfoy,” he added as he nodded to Draco, “So glad to see you are back amongst the living.”

Lucius and Draco both paled.

“Pardon?” Draco squeaked.

Kingsley blinked, then laughed, “It’s a figure of speech.  Surely, you’ve heard it?”

“Right,” Lucius said with a brisk nod as he straightened his robes, “Of course.  It’s been a troublesome few days, very tiring, not much sleep.”

“Understandable,” Kingsley responded as his expression shifted from excitable to concerned, “Please come in.  We’ll make this brief.”

They followed Kingsley to his office and Lucius scrunched his nose in disdain.  How could he have forgotten the hideous purple carpets?  Draco had a similar expression as he took his seat next to his father. 

“You look well, Draco,” Kingsley (who did not seem to have any problems with purple carpet) said as he sat down and shuffled some papers around, “A little pale but you Malfoys are usually on the fairer side.”

Lucius said nothing but Draco chuckled as he put on the charm, “Yes, I suppose we tend to avoid the sun when we can.  Can’t have any sunspots ruin this complexion.”

Lucius rolled his eyes and wondered if his son was accidentally resurrected as Gilderoy Lockhart.

Kingsley chuckled as well as he clasped his hands together and placed them on his desk, “Let’s get down to business, shall we?  The attack at Shafiq’s, I would like to hear your side of the story Draco.”

The quill on Kingsley’s desk popped straight up of its own accord, dipped itself in ink, then waited atop a blank sheet of parchment.

“Of course,” Draco said with a smile, “My father and I, as well as Theo, Blaise-…”  The quill that was writing on its own abruptly stopped.

Kingsley interrupted, “Full names, please Draco.”

“Even…” he pointed to his father.  Kingsley nodded.

“Right,” Draco cleared his throat and started again, “My father Lucius Malfoy and I, as well as Theodore Nott Jr, Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson went to Shafiq’s on a mission to capture Augustus Rookwood.  All of us met with Rookwood in a private room.  There were women there to, you know, do their job.  I felt uncomfortable and left to get some air.  Blaise and Pansy followed me out to the lobby where we found Graham Montague in an argument with Antonin Dolohov over the treatment of the employees.  A fight broke out; the three of us tried to intervene when Montague was unfortunately struck with an Unforgivable Curse and killed.  I’m sorry, Minister, I do not remember much after that.  There were so many people screaming; walls were exploding; I was trying to protect my friends and then I guess I was petrified.”

Kingsley studied Draco for several seconds.  Draco’s smile faltered a bit as he maintained uncomfortable eye contact with the Minister.

“I see,” Kingsley finally said, “Were you aware that Antonin Dolohov would be at Shafiq’s that night?”

“No, Minister.”

Kingsley shifted his gaze to Lucius, “His story lines up with the others.  Kazim tells me that he just awoke from his petrified state after four days.  You said you were sending your best healers on it, but they weren’t successful?”

Lucius shook his head, “They were not.  As I told your great-grandfather, he just suddenly awoke sometime around three o’clock in the morning.  I found him in the dining room in a state of confusion.  I’m assuming the spell just gradually wore off after time.”

“Hmm…” Kingsley steepled his fingers, “You see, Mr. Malfoy, I have never heard of any type of petrification that goes away on its own.”

Draco glanced at Lucius nervously, but Lucius didn’t even flinch, “You also said you’ve never heard of a petrification spell that couldn’t be reversed.  I can’t explain how my son suddenly woke up, I’m guessing from the countless finites that were cast on him or, as I said earlier, the spell just wore off.  All I know is that my son is back, he’s well, and I’m grateful for it.”

Kingsley kept an annoyingly perfect poker face, “Draco, could you step outside for a bit?”

Draco cleared his throat, smiled and nodded, “Of course, Minister.”  He looked at his father, who did not look back, then left Kingsley’s office.  The secretary’s office was still vacant when he reemerged.  He took a few careful steps and looked around before approaching the storage box in the corner.  Draco grabbed the file out of his jacket, looked around again, then lifted a few older files in order to place Dolohov’s file underneath them.

Draco straightened and exhaled in relief.

“Draco?”

He jumped and swiftly turned around.  Mystina, Kingsley’s secretary, was standing in the doorway holding a coffee mug and a few files tucked under her arm.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

Draco opened his mouth to speak when he realized he was beginning to feel warm.  Draco liked to feel warm as of late.  He stared at Mystina with her dirty blonde hair thrown up in a messy bun, her pencil skirt perfectly accentuating the curve of her hips and the petite cinch of her waist, not to mention the button-up blouse… its buttons fighting a valiant battle to keep from exposing what was clearly an ample bosom.

He grinned as he ran a hand through his hair, “Mystina,” he purred.

 

A faint blush appeared on Mystina’s cheeks.  She gave Draco a sly smile and said, “Were you snooping?”

Draco shrugged innocently, “You caught me.”

Mystina shook her head teasingly as she walked towards her desk to set her files and coffee down.  The closer she got to him, the more warmth he felt, not to mention her smell was quite intoxicating.

“Looking for something?” she asked, placing a hand on her hip.  Her hip popped to the side and Draco couldn’t help but stare.  The manicured fingernails from her other hand tapped rhythmically against the desk and Draco watched as her slender fingers moved up and down.  It was mesmerizing.

“I…” he cleared his throat and took a step towards her-- more warmth-- then another step, his body began to feel overwhelmingly comfortable.  He was just a few steps away from her when he found his confidence, “No. My father is in there with the Minister; I was told to wait out here.  I apologize, I got bored and just started to wander around your office. I hope I didn’t offend you.”

Mystina quirked a brow but kept the playful smile, “I see.  Would you like anything to drink while you wait?”

Just you, Draco thought.

He stared at her legs, sheer nude stockings with a classy line down the back that met at her pointy black stilettos, “No, thank you.  You seem to have just come back from something; I’m sure your feet are killing you.”

Mystina followed his gaze down to her heels then looked back up at him, dropping  her smile, “My feet are fine.  I’m used to it.  The Minister told me you have been unwell.  I see you are feeling better.”

Draco took a large step, closing the distance between them and he leaned into her.  She arched back slightly, “Much better,” he responded in a low tone.

Mystina took another step back and he took one forward.  Her warmth was addictive, and he wanted to press his palms on either side of her waist and feel her body heat.  He wanted to assist those struggling buttons because that blouse just looked so uncomfortably tight.  He balled his hands into fists to fight his urges.

But she was just so inviting.  He noticed the way her breath picked up, causing her chest to heave and the struggling buttons to rise up and down…up and down… his eyes trailed along her bare neck; his heart began to race.  Draco relaxed his clenched fists and inched forward again.

“Draco…” she warned, a slight shake to her voice.

Oh, the way she said his name.  It was the sweetest sound.  He wanted her to make more sweet sounds.  He reached for her.

Draco saw as she backed into her desk and was reaching behind her for something.  He saw it.  A small black button just on the inside of her desk.  A panic button.

No.

He pressed his body into hers, pushing her against the desk and grabbing both of her wrists with one hand, he clasped her wrists together and held them tightly in place; he clamped the other against her mouth to muffle a scream.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Draco murmured as he pressed his nose into the crook of her neck and inhaled her sweet perfume.

Mystina thrashed, bucking her hips against his and trying to pull her hands away from his grip.  Draco tightened his grip on her wrists and growled.

“You don’t understand, Mystina,” he said venomously against her neck, “You are incredibly warm, and I have been so cold for days.  I’m suffering, Mystina.  I could have a dragon breathe fire on me and still feel cold.  You’re here and you make me feel better.  Don’t you want me to feel better?”

She screamed again against his palm and attempted to knee him in the groin.  Draco dodged and pulled her away from the desk, only to slam her back against it.

He snarled, his teeth grazing against her pulse point, “Mother took Pansy away from me.  She’s not here to take you away.  Be a good girl, Mystina, and let me do this.”

Mystina continued to thrash and pushed her knuckles into his chest, trying to pull him off of her but Draco was much larger and much stronger.  She tried to stomp on his foot, which proved to be a mistake.  The slight change in her stance gave Draco access to slip his knee in between her legs and run it up her thighs.  Her skirt began to hike up as his knee slid further and further upwards.  Mystina shook her head violently and Draco gripped her wrists more tightly; his hold was bruising.

Mystina squeezed her thighs together in an attempt to keep Draco from moving further.  This only excited him more as he slid his knee higher.

She felt her eyes well up and her vision went blurry as Draco’s knee rubbed against her knickers.  He let out a strangled breath and licked a long stripe up her neck.

They heard the click of a door.  Draco paused and craned his neck to see the door to Shacklebolt’s office opening.  His father was speaking to the Minister and froze when he saw Draco.  He quickly turned back to Shacklebolt, bid him good day and shut the door before the Minister could see anything.

“What are you doing?!” Lucius hissed.

Draco’s hold on Mystina dropped and he stepped away from her.  He straightened his jacket and ran a hand through his hair, “Apologies father, this is embarrassing.”

Lucius glared.  He took in Mystina’s disheveled clothes, trembling figure and tear-stained face.  He suddenly felt humiliated, angry, and disappointed.

“Draco,” Lucius said through gritted teeth, “Out.”

“Father,” Draco laughed casually, “We were only messing around.”

Lucius stormed towards the two, took Draco by the arm and roughly yanked him away from the secretary.  Draco lost his footing and stumbled into his father. “Are you out of your bloody mind?!” Lucius snarled as he gripped Draco’s arm hard enough to cause Draco to wince.

Draco glared.  First his mother and now his father were taking away his source of comfort.  They didn’t understand.

“I wasn’t going to hurt her,” Draco argued bitterly.

“I’m getting Kingsley!” Mystina announced as she attempted to bolt to the door, but Draco blocked her.

“Draco!” Lucius seethed, “Stop this, now!”

“She goes to the Minister, I land in Azkaban, and you probably will too.” Draco explained.

“Draco, go!” Lucius demanded, “I will deal with you when I get home.”

“He’s not going anywhere,” Mystina said in a panic.

“Mrs. Beckett,” Lucius lowered his tone and tried to speak softly, “Let’s just talk about this.  Let me send Draco home, then you and I can come to an agreement.  Alright?”

“Are you going to try and pay for my silence, Malfoy?” she asked, attempting to sound tough but her voice came out shaky.

Lucius sighed and held his hands up defensively, “Look, he is not usually like this.  He was raised better.  I fear the petrified state he was in the past few days has altered something in him internally.  Just, let him leave and I will handle it.”

“I have to report this,” she said.

Lucius glared at Draco as he took a deep breath, “I understand.  If you were my daughter, I would want you to report him but….” He had a hard time finding the right words, “Just, let me fix this.  Please.”

“You Malfoys think you can buy your way out of everything!” Mystina said as she began to cry again, “I…I thought the war had changed you, but I was wrong.  Your son is a monster!”

Lucius flinched and shook his head slowly.  He kept telling himself he could get them out of this mess.  Voldemort aside, Lucius was always able to get himself and his family out of sticky situations, but he never thought he would ever have to get Draco out of something so incredibly vile.  Malfoys did not behave this way.  What could he say?  What could he possibly say to defend such despicable behavior?

“Mrs. Beckett, please,” Lucius began again, “Whatever spell Draco was under is still new to all of us.  I promise you he’s never done anything like this before.  What can I do to fix this?”

She stared at Lucius as the trembling slowly began to cease.  She glanced at Draco then back again, “He is to never step foot in this office again, unless the Minister commands it and even then, you are to be here with him.”

Lucius nodded.

“And I want a sizable donation made to Scamander’s Magical Creature Habitat, enough for the Scamanders to buy more land for the unicorns.”

“Fine,” Lucius responded.

“And…”

“You’re kidding me!” Draco interrupted.  Lucius shot him a warning glare and Draco piped down.

Mystina glared at Draco before continuing, “Granger needs a larger office for her elf staffing agency along with new furnishings.”

“Very well.” Lucius said with a nod.

Mystina crossed her arms and considered.  Lucius couldn’t tell if she was thinking of more demands, but he was certain she was going to keep quiet regarding Draco’s attempted assault. 

She nodded her head towards the floo.

Lucius returned the nod, “Thank you.”  He looked at Draco then back to the floo.  “Go Draco.  It appears I need to make a stop at Gringotts.”

Draco seethed and grabbed a handful of floo powder.  He avoided their judgmental stares and went home.

*******

Draco appeared in the travel parlor and threw his jacket off; he screamed as he paced about the room.  He ran his fingers through his hair and pulled at his scalp as he tried to make sense of the last half hour.  What the bloody hell happened?  He had almost… no.  He didn’t.  He couldn’t have.  He would never…

She was warm.  She was flirting with him.  She wanted him.  He didn’t think he was doing anything wrong.  Mystina overreacted.  Maybe she remembered she was married and panicked.  His father saw him and Mystina was crying and that bitch secretary made Draco out to be a monster.

Right?

She did it on purpose.  That had to be the case.  She wanted them back in Azkaban.  She wanted their money.  She tricked him.  She seduced him.

But… she didn’t ask for any money for herself.  She wanted money for charity.  Draco shuddered.

He ran to his room, ignoring his mother’s plea as he slammed the door and locked it.  He looked around his dark room and zeroed in on the fireplace.

Draco fell to his knees in front of the fireplace and called for Zabini.  Moments later, the flames lit up and Blaise’s concerned face appeared in the flames.

“You alright mate?” Blaise asked.

“What has that man done to me?!” Draco shouted in rage.

Blaise’s eyes widened through the flames, and he opened his mouth to speak.  He paused to collect his thoughts, “Draco, what happened?”

Draco sobbed and was even more angry that he couldn’t hold back his tears, “My father is currently paying a woman from the Ministry off because I…”

“You what?” Blaise asked cautiously.

“I… I… I pushed her against a desk and…”

Blaise gasped, “Draco!  You didn’t?”

Draco shook his head violently, “No!  No, it didn’t get that far.  My father walked in and stopped it.  But Blaise…. Fuck!  I almost… You don’t understand.  She was so warm, and I was so cold… and…”

Blaise sighed, “I’m coming over.”

“No!”

“You can’t be alone right now,” Blaise countered.

“My mother is here, somewhere…” Draco muttered, sniffling and wiping his sleeve over his eyes.

“Look,” Blaise started, “We found Baptiste’s grandfather’s journals and we’re going over them.  I think you’re going through some similarities. But Rasputin was resurrected multiple times, and he grew worse with each resurrection.  It ripped away at his soul bit by bit every time.  You won’t get worse though, Draco.  You still have half of your soul.”

“Half?” Draco paused, staring at Blaise’s fiery face incredulously, “Where is the other half?”

Blaise sighed, “We lost it during the ritual.  Baptiste is trying to figure out how to locate it.  Until then, you only have your Gros Bon Ange working inside of you and that part of your soul isn’t used to controlling emotions.”

“My what?” Draco asked again.

Blaise shut his eyes and nodded, “How can I explain this… do you remember those ridiculous comic books Nott would always sneak into school?  The ones he got from Zonko’s?”

Draco nodded.

“Okay well, remember when the protagonist would sometimes come to a crossroads and had conflicting ideals of how to handle it?  He would have that stupid little angel and devil on each shoulder?”

Draco scoffed, “Are you saying the angel on my shoulder is missing?”

“Kind of,” Blaise said with exasperation, “It doesn’t quite work that way, but that’s the only way I can think to explain it.”

“Do you know how ridiculous you sound?”

“I do,” Blaise said with a shrug.

“So how do we find the other half of my soul?”

“Well, according to the research we’ve found, our souls are always searching for our greatest source of comfort.  Someone we connect to better than anyone else.” Blaise explained, feeling slightly uncomfortable.

Draco laughed, “Are we talking soulmates?”

Blaise cringed, “Yeah.”

Draco rolled his eyes, “So I need to search the bloody ends of the Earth to find a person that may not even exist?”

“Don’t believe in soulmates, Draco?” Blaise teased.

“This is rubbish.  Tell your stepfather to keep researching.  I’ve hardly been alive for two days and I’m bloody suffering here.  I made an absolute arse of myself at the Ministry.”

“We’ll keep looking,” Blaise responded, “In the meantime, don’t go anywhere alone.  Keep your parents nearby.”

“My father doesn’t want to be anywhere near me at the moment,” Draco grumbled.

“Draco,” Blaise sighed, “I saw a side to your father I had never seen before when you passed.  I don’t think he slept the entire time you were dead.  Just… give him time.  You still have your mother.”

Draco buried his face in his hands and groaned, “Fine…”

“Don’t hesitate to reach out, please.”

Draco only nodded.  Blaise waited another moment before the flames gradually died out, leaving Draco in darkness again.

*******

Lucius returned home angry and with a few less galleons in his vault.  Not enough to put a dent in it, but the circumstances were still frustrating.  The troll at Gringrotts gave him the most conniving, disgusted look when he told him to transfer funds into Hermione Granger’s vault for her elf rescue.  He made sure the donation remained anonymous.  Lucius no longer had anything against Hermione Granger; it was the elves.  He still had trouble figuring out why elves needed rescuing.

Transferring money to Rolf Scamander was no big deal.  He had visited the magical creature habitat several times with his wife, mostly to attend charity galas.  Narcissa enjoyed watching the unicorns graze about and Lucius enjoyed watching Narcissa.  The peacock collection wasn’t too bad either, not as impressive as his, but still exceptional.

Lucius slumped in his armchair in his study, nursing a glass of whisky and rubbing his forehead. He felt more confused than embarrassed over Draco’s attempted assault on Shacklebolt’s secretary.  He kept seeing the fear in her eyes and couldn’t believe it was his own son that brought upon that fear.  Lucius couldn’t help but question where did he go wrong?

He sipped his whisky and wondered if he should tell Narcissa.  He wondered if Draco had already told her.  Lucius hated keeping things from his wife.  He was conflicted about either telling her and seeing her heart break or keeping it from her and hoping nothing like this would ever happen again.

Should he fear for his wife’s safety?

Lucius sighed.  Surely Draco wouldn’t hurt his own mother.  Did he need to remove Pansy from the team?  He remembered the way Draco looked at her, grabbed for her, and refused to let her go.

The alcohol hit and Lucius chuckled to himself.  Pansy was fierce; she could knock Draco on his arse if she had to.  No, removing Pansy from the team was out of the question.

An owl tapped on the window, and he recognized it was Nott’s.  He casually flicked his  wand at the window, it opened, and the owl swooped in, dropping an envelope on his desk.  He ripped the envelope open and rolled his eyes at Theodore’s first line:

Dear Second Father,

My fat old man has your meeting arranged with the drunk old man at the vacation home.  Surely you remember that place?  I do believe it was six Christmases ago when you last visited and twisted my arm for trying to follow your lovely wife to the lavatory.  I still feel a soreness in my right shoulder whenever it rains.  Anyway, the drunk plans on leaving early next week but has agreed to meet you Tuesday morning.  He wants Zabini with you because he wants to reminisce over his younger years in the dueling club.  He also wants to meet with Draco because apparently Draco is perfect and brilliant and oh so handsome (Or something like that).  He didn’t mention wanting to see me.  Rude.  It is MY vacation home.  Drunk bastard.  Anyhow, next Tuesday, 9am sharp.  Bring Zabini and blondie.

                                                                                                         Sincerely,

                                                                                                         The Son You Wished You Had

 

Lucius paused.  Something else was happening next Tuesday morning.  He glanced at his calendar and noticed he hadn’t written it in yet, so it was something he was only recently informed about.  What was it?

He groaned.  He had forgotten that he had a Wizengamot hearing at the same time.  Kingsley informed him during their meeting after Draco left.  The hearing was more of a mandatory meeting where Lucius would provide updates on his search for the remaining rogue Death Eaters.  Kingsley had also told him that he was going on vacation and would have to deal with that vile woman on the Wizengamot on his own.

That vile woman was Charlotte Burbage, sister of Charity Burbage who was murdered on Lucius’s dining room table almost two years ago.  She was one of the few who voted against Lucius’s release.  She had several harsh words with Lucius after the hearing, how she held him accountable for her sister’s death and that she would be watching him closely, awaiting any opportunity to put him back in Azkaban.  And now, she would be acting Minister until Kingsley returned. 

Lucius thought maybe he could get a message to Shacklebolt before he left to see if he could reschedule.  He knew that if he asked Burbage, he would get a resounding no.

He left the study to visit with Kazim in the travel parlor.  The old wizard was snoring away.  Lucius grumbled. 

“Shacklebolt,” he said with a hint of annoyance.

Nothing.

Lucius cleared his throat.

Kazim snored.

“Shacklebolt!” Lucius barked.

Kazim startled then began coughing.  He pounded his fist against his chest and glared at Lucius.

“Merlin Malfoy!” he choked out, “Can’t a man get a nap in?”

“Apologies,” Lucius responded with a sneer, “I need you to deliver a message to Kingsley.”

Kazim sighed and cleared his throat, “Alright.”

“I have a meeting with the Wizengamot next Tuesday morning.  Unfortunately, I need to meet with Augustus Rookwood at the same time.  Rookwood is about to be on the move, and this could be my last chance to apprehend him.  I need your great grandson to move the hearing.”

Kazim nodded, “I’ll see what I can do.  Kingsley was very eager to finish his work today and head off on his cruise with that girl he’s seeing.  If he’s already left, I can get word to Mystina.”

Lucius paled, but he knew he had no other choice, “Fine.”

He left in a huff, angry at Draco all over again for his stunt with the secretary.  Lucius was trying his hardest not to lose his temper, trying to tell himself that Draco was simply going through something that none of them understood.  He really tried to convince himself not to storm into Draco’s room and wring his neck.

But he found himself in front of Draco’s door.

Lucius hesitated.

He grabbed the knob and tried to turn it.  Locked.  Lucius scoffed.  This was his home; no one was going to lock him out.  Privacy be damned.  Draco lost that privilege.

Lucius drew his wand, “Alohomora.”  He heard the click and swung the door open.

“Draco!” he bellowed.

He paused.

Draco was huddled entirely too close to the roaring fireplace in nothing but his trousers.  He saw Draco shivering and placing his hands just centimeters from the flames.  He could hear his teeth chattering.

Lucius took a cautious step forward, “Draco?”

He approached his son and knelt down beside him.  The flames were so close Lucius could feel the intense heat on the side of his face, and he began to sweat.  He grabbed Draco’s shoulder and turned him towards him.

Draco met his eyes; he was crying.  But that wasn’t what shocked Lucius.  It was the scar on his shoulder.  The grey, the rot…

….was spreading.

 

Wait, I'm starting to suffocate
And soon I anticipate
I'm coming undone
What looks so strong, so delicate
Korn, "Coming Undone"

Notes:

Friends, I apologize for the delay on posting chapters. I am afraid there will be another delay. I have chapter 15 written, but I did not like how it turned out, so I am currently re-writing it. A Touch of Necromancy is getting more complex, and I want to take my time and make it perfect for you. Please bear with me, I will not give up on this story. Please also bear with Draco, he will be going through this roller coaster for a while.

Chapter 15: The Tricky Potioneer

“Theo!” Pansy hissed, tripping over the cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley because she went everywhere in heels, “Where are we going?!  We passed the apothecary.”

Theo glanced back at her and rolled his eyes, he didn’t slow down his pace, “I don’t want to go to that one!  I like the one over here!” He pointed towards the end of the road to the very last shop in Diagon Alley.

“Pesto Presto?” Pansy scoffed, “That dingy place?  It’s barely bigger than my walk-in closet!”

“It is not that small,” Theo groaned, taking her hand and dragging her along.

“Theodore Nott Junior if I twist my ankle!...”

Theo cut her off when he swung his arm behind her knees and picked her up bridal style, “Better?”

“No!” she shrieked and kicked her legs, “Put me down!  People are staring!”

Theo looked around and saw that witches and wizards were indeed gawking at them.  Theo nodded his head, “Don’t mind us folks!  We just got married.”

“THEO!” Pansy smacked his shoulder.  He ignored her threats and continued down the street, Pansy gave up eventually and let him carry her.

“You sure you know how to help Draco?” she asked, slinging an arm around his neck for balance.

Theo nodded, “I think so.  I just need a few more ingredients.”

He set her down when they got to the door of Pesto Presto.  The dark purple paint was old and peeling and the yellow letters of the sign were hardly visible.  The shop had certainly been around for quite some time.  A bell chimed when they entered.

“Welcome!” called a female voice from the office in the back, “I’ll be right with you!”

“No need!” Theo called back, heading down an aisle, “I know what I’m here for.”

There was no response as Pansy followed him.  She eyed the several displays of bottles and jars, some were dusty, and others looked as if they were just put out today.  She scrunched her nose at the grime and clutter.  Theo didn’t seem bothered; he grabbed a basket and started piling items into it.

“Hold this love,” Theo said, absentmindedly handing her a crocodile heart.  Pansy shrieked and immediately dropped it into the basket.

“Careful with that!” Theo hissed.

“Is there a problem here?” came the same female voice from earlier.

“No, no,” Theo said casually, still digging through the shelves, “She’s just dramatic.”  He found the bottle he was looking for and tossed it gently into the basket.  He looked up at the shopkeeper and paused.

She was a younger woman—close to his age—with wavy brown hair and bright blue eyes.  Despite the baggy nature of her clothes, he was piqued to observe that she had a nice pair of legs.  Theo narrowed his eyes and grinned.  He absentmindedly shoved the basket in Pansy’s hands and leaned against the shelf.

“Hello,” he purred, “You’re new.” 

Pansy rolled her eyes.

The clerk quirked an eyebrow and crossed her arms, “Can I help you find something?”

Theo shook his head, “Looks like I already found it.”

Pansy and the clerk both scoffed.

“You’re worse than Draco…” Pansy muttered.

Theo strode over to the woman and offered his hand, “Theodore Nott.”

“Sage,” the woman said, taking his hand hesitantly.

“Sage,” he crooned.

Pansy pushed past them, “We are ready to check out now!”

Theo glared but followed Pansy to the counter.  She sat the basket on top of it and propped an elbow, “Casanova here is paying.”

Sage took the items out one by one and examined them, “Are you making draught of peace and a calming draught?”

“Not exactly,” Theo answered, “I’m going to combine some of the ingredients and make a sort of in between.  I have a friend who suffers from perpetual grumpiness.”

“You have two jars of powdered unicorn horn,” Sage said with concern, “You do realize too much of this could put someone in a coma?”

Theo scoffed and rolled his eyes, “Please madam, I know what I’m doing.”

“I don’t think you do,” Sage argued, “I’ve seen the effects of too much unicorn horn and it’s disastrous.  I don’t feel comfortable selling you two jars.”

Theo’s eyes widened and Pansy grinned.  Theo turned red, “I beg your pardon!  I am a paying customer, and you will sell me both those jars!”

“And if your friend is suffering from grumpiness,” Sage continued, ignoring his statement, “You need ingredients that focus on positivity.  I would suggest cocoa beans, fish oil or peacock eggs.”

Pansy giggled, “Good luck getting peacock eggs.”

Sage blinked, “I have some in the store.”

“No need,” Theo grumbled, “I can come by fresh eggs.”

Sage narrowed her eyes, “My eggs are fresh!”

Theo straightened and flashed a cocky smile, “I happen to have access to albino peacock eggs.”

“Oh!” Sage blinked, “Really? Those are hard to come by, and I hear the effects when used in a potion are exhilarating!  I would love to have some in my shop.”  Her earlier tone forgotten, she gave Theo a pleading look.  Theo paused then relaxed. 

Now Theo was leaning over the counter, “Sure thing, love.  I can get you some eggs.”

Pansy groaned.

“I would be happy to pay you for them,” Sage offered.

“No need,” Theo said in a smooth tone, “You could just meet me for dinner sometime.”

“Ugh Theo!” Pansy snarled, “There is no way Mr. Malfoy will allow you to take any of his peacock eggs!”

“Shut up Pansy!” Theo hissed, “You’re ruining this!”

Sage laughed, “So they’re not your eggs?”

“Not exactly,” Theo chuckled nervously.

Sage shook her head, “Never mind then.  I am not risking getting my shop shut down because I pissed off a Malfoy.”

“So…” Theo pouted, “No dinner?”

Sage grinned and bagged his items, “No dinner.”

Theo groaned and handed her a bag of coins, “Thanks a lot Pans.”

Pansy winked at Sage, who in return gave her a nod, “Good luck with that one.”

“Thanks,” Pansy said with a laugh and a flick of her hair.  She took Theo’s arm and pulled him out of the shop, Theo whining the entire way.

Pansy rummaged through the bag, “Well, at least she gave you the two unicorn horn jars.”

“I don’t care anymore!” Theo cried.

Pansy patted his arm, “Poor thing.  Come on, let’s get back to your lab and make Draco his happy potion.”

Theo huffed and followed Pansy to the nearest floo network.  They returned to Theo’s home, unaware of the catastrophe that was currently happening at Malfoy Manor.

*******

“Draco!” Lucius shouted, wrapping his arms around his son and pulling him away from the fireplace.  Draco clung to his father desperately and cried out in pain.  Lucius held him close, his hair already damp from sweat.  He rubbed his son’s arms and back, trying to warm him up.

“Frick!” he called.  The elderly elf appeared with a pop.

Frick’s eyes widened in horror, “M-Master?” he stuttered.

“Get ‘Cissa in here then floo to Zabini’s!  I need Baptiste here NOW!” Lucius ordered.

Frick nodded and vanished again.

Lucius released his son momentarily to grab a blanket and wrap it around him.  “You’re alright,” he whispered, attempting to convince himself whilst comforting his son.

“P-Please,” Draco stammered, teeth chattering, “I need Pansy, bring her instead.”

Lucius sighed sadly and held him closer, “You know I can’t do that.  We’ll figure this out.”

Draco shivered uncontrollably, “M-My shoulder,” he whimpered, “It fucking hurts.”

Lucius winced but said nothing.  Narcissa apparated and gasped the instant she saw her son.  She ran to Draco and pulled him from Lucius, cupping his face and examining him closely.

“What happened?” she whispered.

“I found him like this,” Lucius explained, “Practically sitting in the fire yet still shivering. And his shoulder…. ‘Cissa, brace yourself.”

She nodded and pulled away from Draco, carefully removing the blanket off his shoulder.  Her hands immediately went to her lips.  The wound, still fresh from the ceremony, was not only red and swollen, but surrounded by several inches of decay.  The smell filled her nostrils, and her stomach turned.

“I sent Frick to get Zabini and Baptiste.  They should be here shortly.”

“Oh, my boy,” Narcissa murmured, running her fingers through his wet hair and keeping her gaze off the wound, “We’re going to get you help.  When did this start?”

Draco seemed out of breath, too much movement and chattering.  He wrapped the blanket tighter around himself and inched closer to the fireplace, “I don’t know… sometime after the Ministry v-visit.  I spoke with B-Blaise through the floo and then… then…”  He looked away.

Lucius followed his line of sight and saw a portrait across the room, the canvas torn to shreds.  He tensed and approached the portrait with caution, “Salazar Draco… what did you do?  This was your grandmother’s portrait…”

“Druella wouldn’t shut her bloody mouth!” Draco shouted, then he winced and grabbed his shoulder.

Narcissa’s eyes widened, and she placed her hand delicately on his arm, “What did she say?”

“I’m an abomination, a stain on Pureblood society,” he looked away and lowered his voice, “That I shouldn’t be here.”

Lucius scoffed and couldn’t help but grin when he looked at his wife, “That’s surprising coming from your mother.”

Narcissa shot her husband a look of warning, “Your comment is not necessary dear husband.”

Lucius shrugged.  They heard the flames from their travel parlor, followed by the deep baritone voice of Jevaun Baptiste calling out for them.  Lucius helped Draco to his feet and the family departed from Draco’s room.

*******

There were several visitors in the Malfoy home yet again. Narcissa stood nervously behind Draco’s chair as Jevaun Baptiste knelt before him and examined his shoulder.  His hand had that purple glow and it felt warm yet strange against Draco’s skin.  Jevaun would click his tongue, shake his head, and mutter to himself.  Lucius stood a few feet behind Baptiste, arms crossed and looking eager for answers.  Blaise and his mother were also there, sitting further away on a couch and watching anxiously.

Draco’s shivering had ceased a little and the warm glow emitting from Baptiste’s hand was mixed with healing properties that helped his aching wound.

“Draco…” Baptiste said with a sort of paternal tone, “Have you perhaps done anything… uncouth?”

Draco winced and instantly looked away, avoiding everyone’s curious gaze.

“I…umm…”

“I found him in the dungeons,” Lucius stepped in, “Torturing the man who murdered him.”

Draco gave his father a surprised look, shocked yet grateful Lucius was covering for him.  He was in the dungeon two nights ago with the intention of torturing Dolohov, but it didn’t happen.  Lucius was saving him from the embarrassment of confessing his attempted assault on Mystina.

“Torturing a man?” Baptiste asked, glancing back at Lucius, “He’s only been alive a couple of days and he’s already seeking vengeance?  I suppose there’s no rest for the wicked.”

Lucius nodded.

Baptiste shook his head in disapproval, “I get it, I do.  But Draco, you must understand that cruel deeds will eat away at your body, literally.  Until I can find your ti bon ange, it is imperative that you conduct yourself ethically.”

Draco scoffed, “This is ridiculous.”

Baptiste frowned.  He turned to his wife and motioned for her, “Serafina, the journals please.”

Serafina rose from the couch and strode over to her husband, handing him a tattered leatherbound journal.  Baptiste thanked her and flipped through the pages.  Once he found what he was looking for, he handed it to Draco.  Narcissa peered over her son’s shoulder and gasped, placing her dainty hand on her chest.

A black and white photo was taped to the page, showing a decrepit, withered old man with long scraggly black hair and a long beard.  He had bullet wounds in his head, but that wasn’t even the most disturbing part.  Several parts of his torso and his legs had literal holes in them where the skin had been eaten away down to the bone.

“This is Rasputin’s official autopsy photo,” Baptiste explained, “You see these cavities all over his body? This is what would happen every time he did something terrible.  His body was literally rotting away.  He never stopped doing terrible things, Draco, because he believed my grandfather would just keep reviving him.  We unfortunately do not know how long it would take for the rot to consume him due to his last murder, but doesn’t that look painful?  Do you want that to happen to you?”

“So, what you’re saying is I basically have to be this perfect, good little… ugh… Hufflepuff for the rest of my bloody life?” Draco growled.

Blaise snorted.

Baptiste gave Blaise a sideways glance before returning back to Draco, “Would you rather wither away and end up like this?” He gestured to the picture.

Draco grumbled, "I suppose not."

"Can you stop the rot?" Lucius asked impatiently.

Baptiste stepped away and nodded, "It's contained for now.  I applied more paste and cast a Haitian healing charm on the wound.  It will slow down the rot significantly and buy us more time."

"How much time?" asked a desperate Narcissa.

Baptiste sighed, "Hard to tell.  A couple of months maybe."

Lucius growled and tapped his cane furiously against the stone floor, "How will you go about finding this ti bon ange?"

"Well, I..." Baptiste scratched the back of his head, "I was going over that with Blaise.  The ti bon ange would be in search of his soulmate.  We scoured the Hogwarts yearbooks, going over any witch who's caught his eye in the past."

Draco blushed and looked at Blaise.  Blaise met his eyes with a sorrowful stare.  Blaise knew about his past dalliances, but they were nothing more than that.  Draco had never truly felt anything for anyone except... But it couldn't be her.  He spent countless nights banishing the thoughts from his mind, cold showers, other women... anything.

Blaise didn't know about her.  Only one other person did...

And that other person had just stormed dramatically into the sitting room carrying a large cauldron and rambling on about needing just one more ingredient.

Lucius groaned, "What are you prattling on about Nott?"

Pansy pushed past Theodore but paused when she saw Draco.  Draco straightened his posture and fought the sudden urge to run to her.

"I concocted a new potion for sour puss over here," Theo said gleefully, "I just need one last ingredient that I know you have, Mr. Malfoy."

Lucius looked at him suspiciously and Baptiste approached Theo, examining the cauldron, "A new potion you say?  What is it?"

Theo beamed, "I mixed the ingredients from draught of peace and a calming draught and added some of my own components to it!  The peace and the calming will settle his urges for Pansy; I also added dragon's breath for his chills and just a touch of moonshine to give him some happy feelings."

"Moonshine," Baptiste chuckled and rubbed his hands together, "You're my kind of potioneer!"

"Theodore," Narcissa said in a stern motherly tone, "My son will not be going on about his day drunk!"

"Never fear madam, he would have to drink the entire cauldron to feel inebriated."

Narcissa threw him a skeptical look.

"You said you needed one more ingredient?" Lucius asked warily.

Theo nodded excitedly, "I need a peacock egg."

A hush fell over the room as all eyes turned to Lucius who looked like he was about to have a stroke.  Lucius clenched his jaw and gripped his cane.  He finally let out a long sigh, "Fine.  One of the peahens laid some this morning.  Just take one, Nott."

Theodore blinked, astonished that Lucius wasn’t putting up more of a fight.  Theodore was slightly disappointed; he had an entire monologue drawn out in his head and he was ready for war.  He even played out his speech to Pansy and made her pretend to be Lucius so he could be more prepared for any counter arguments from the Malfoy patriarch.

He hid his disappointment with his signature grin and winked, “Of course Mr. Malfoy, I only need one.  I’ll be back shortly.”  He sat the cauldron down on the table and left with haste.

Pansy jumped and placed a hand on her chest when she realized Draco had snuck up on her.  He jumped too, unaware of his own movements.  He balled his hands into fists and forced himself to take a step back.  Narcissa was there in an instant, stepping in between the two.

“I’m sorry,” Draco muttered, looking away, “It’s… you know.  Your warmth.   And my shoulder isn’t hurting as much.  I can’t understand how you’re doing it, Pans.”

“I’m not doing anything, Draco.” Pansy responded sternly.

Baptiste approached the trio, stroking his chin and observing, “You say the pain has dulled?”

Draco nodded.

“Hmm…” Baptiste circled them and studied the area around them.

“What are you doing?” Lucius asked impatiently.

“It’s intriguing that Ms. Parkinson brings him warmth and eases his pain, yet I do not see his ti bon ange around her.  I’ve scoured my grandfather’s journals, and he mentions quite often Rasputin’s insatiable appetite for women.  He had assumed it was due to the dark magic used for the resurrection, but I wonder if it’s deeper than that.   Tell me, do you two have a history?”

Pansy rolled her eyes, “Hardly.”

“What do you mean by that, dear?” asked Narcissa, “You two dated for some time during school.”

Draco blushed.  Pansy had a terrible time looking Narcissa in the eye.

Blaise chuckled.

“Something funny, Zabini?” Draco glared.

Blaise just grinned.

“Am I mistaken?” Narcissa looked at Draco with confusion.

Draco groaned and ran his hands through his hair, “We were just… friendly.”

There was another chuckle, but this one came from Lucius.

Narcissa narrowed her eyes at her husband.  She looked back at Draco and sighed, “You are your father’s son.”

“Mother, gross!” Draco whined.

“What’s gross?” came the slippery voice of Theodore Nott as he waltzed back in tossing a peacock egg up and down.

“Stop that!” Lucius hissed, his voice laced with panic.

Theo rolled his eyes, “I have to crack this baby open anyway.”

Lucius made a noise of frustration and gripped his cane, contemplating on whether or not to strike Theo with it, “You’re not getting another one if you drop it!”

“Then Draco won’t get his happy potion!”

Lucius groaned and rubbed his temple; he had to literally turn and walk away from Nott before he did something he would regret.  It didn’t help that Theo cackled at his reaction and strode over to the cauldron with a little too much arrogance.

Blaise and Baptiste followed him.  Theo kissed the egg before tapping it against the rim of the cauldron and cracking it open.  He swore he heard Lucius whimper.  He dropped the yolk into the mixture then stirred counterclockwise.  The brew began showing a combination of turquoise and purple coloring.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Theo gloated, “I’m a genius.”

Blaise scoffed, “Don’t get ahead of yourself.  We don’t even know if it will work yet.”

Theo feigned offense, “Have you no faith in me, mate?”

“Not really,” Blaise smirked.

“Fascinating…” Baptiste murmured. 

Theo beamed as he used the ladle to scoop out the potion and pour some of it into a vial.  He turned to Draco, grinning wickedly.  Draco took a cautious step back.

“I’m not trying your experimental potion when you’re looking at me like that.” He said.

“Like what?” Theo responded with a sly grin.

“Are you just going to let him experiment on me?” Draco asked, looking at his parents.

Narcissa glanced at Lucius who just shrugged, “If anything dire happens, we have a voodoo doctor here with us.”

“Lucius!” Narcissa scolded.

Baptiste chuckled, “There isn’t anything in these ingredients that could harm you.  I’m sure the worst possible side effect would be feelings of drunkenness.  Go ahead Draco, give it a try.”

Draco sighed and snatched the vial from Theo.  Everyone’s eyes were on him.  He gave everyone in the room a brief glance then put the vial to his lips.

“Here goes nothing…”

*******

"I don't need a babysitter," Draco grumbled as he watched Blaise conjure a cot in his bedroom, refusing to admit he was feeling slightly relieved he wasn't going to be alone tonight.  

Blaise snorted and opened the linen closet in the connecting bathroom, pulling out several blankets, "I'm not babysitting, mate.  I just want to keep an eye on the rot."

"Theo's potion is working," Draco said, trying to sound convincing.

"Glad to hear it," Blaise responded nonchalantly.  He unfolded a blanket and spread it across the cot, "Can I have a pillow?  You have at least six up there."

Draco sighed and threw a pillow at Blaise; he caught it with one hand and smirked.

"This will be like when we were kids," Blaise teased, "We'll stay up late talking shit about Gryffindors and get a lecture from your father about how it's one o'clock in the bloody morning and stop with all that incessant laughing."

Draco cracked a smile at the memory.  He heard the click of the door and turned towards it.  Theo walked in, followed by Pansy.  He was waving a bottle of firewhisky, "And your favorite mate Theo breaks into his father's liquor cabinet and sneaks it into the manor for a bunch of rowdy teenagers," Theo said with wicked glee.  Blaise gave a nod of approval.

Draco and Pansy's eyes met, both feeling hesitant and she stayed close to Theo.  Draco focused on his feelings and realized the warmth wasn't there.  The potion was working.

"It's alright, Pans," he said, "I... I don't feel anything."

Pansy visibly relaxed and nodded.

"Yes well," Theo's tone grew serious, "Of course my potion worked but, she's sticking with me tonight."

Draco nodded, feeling slightly embarrassed, "Understood."

Blaise conjured two more cots and Draco lost three more pillows because of course Pansy needed two pillows.

"Father knows you're here?" Draco asked Pansy.

She rolled her eyes and accepted the glass handed to her by Theo, "Godric Draco, we aren't 15 anymore.  No need to sneak into your room.  Yes, he knows.  He knew when I was a teenager, and he knows now."

"I'm sure Narcissa finds it very improper that you're sharing a room with three blokes," Theo said with a grin, taking a sip from his glass.  Pansy gave him a look.

"But he didn't object?" Draco continued.

"Salazar Draco, you're an adult!" Blaise laughed, "Besides, he knows Pansy can knock you on your arse if you try anything."

Draco glared, but he was also blushing.

Theo was cackling, already feeling the effects of the alcohol, "Look at him blushing!  What's wrong?  Never had a sleepover with a girl before?  Oh, poor Drakey, has daddy not given you the talk yet?"

Pansy giggled and Blaise snickered as Draco searched for an object to throw at Theo.

Theo took another drink then nodded, "Oh that's right!  He hired someone to give you the talk."

"What?!" Pansy exclaimed, almost choking on her firewhisky.

Theo continued laughing, "Tell them, Draco!"

Draco groaned and Pansy sat up in her cot, hugging her pillow.  Blaise sat on the edge of the chaise; his drink held loosely in his hand.  Draco rolled his eyes, "He tried to give me the talk, honestly, he told me to be mindful and if a bastard shows up on his doorstep in nine months he's going to dis-inherit me.  Mother didn't care for that, so they hired this ancient witch, and she came over with pamphlets and scrolls depicting male and female anatomy and it was all incredibly detailed and awkward."

"At least your father didn't take you to a brothel at 16," Theo said, "My fat old man told me that I'm a visual learner, so we went to Shafiq's.  We didn't even make it past the bouncer."

Pansy gawked, "Your father took you to a whorehouse?!"

Theo feigned offense, "It is a fine establishment, madam!"

Pansy giggled, "Oh, my mother was just as bad.  She conjured a calendar for me that tracks my cycle."

"That seems wise," Blaise countered.

Pansy held her finger up, "No, no.  Let me finish.  She explained the calendar to me and told me to pay extra attention to my fertile days.  She said whenever I'm fertile, just use my mouth."

Draco almost spilled his drink and Blaise howled in laughter.  Theo inched closer to her and wagged his eyebrows, "Is it a fertile day?"  Pansy elbowed him.

“I guess it’s my turn,” Blaise said, he took a drink, “My mother sat me down during dinner and told me teenage girls are scandalous and to stay away.  She told me to not even look at a bird until I’m at least 25, but she prefers I wait until I am 30.”

Theo took a shot then poured himself another drink, “That’s because your mother is a siren and lures men to their deaths regularly.  She’s certain there’s more like her and she doesn’t want to risk losing her precious baby boy.”

Blaise scowled, “At least she didn’t take me to a brothel.”

Theo tipped his glass, “Cheers to that, mate.”

“We can all agree we have terrible parents,” said Draco, stepping behind a dressing screen to change into pajamas.

Theo rolled his eyes, “Pansy has already seen it mate!”

Pansy smacked Theo on the arm, “You are vile!”

“Piss off Nott!” Draco called from behind the screen.

“We don’t have terrible parents!” Blaise said, “Except Theo.”

“Cheers again!” Theo rose his glass in the air proudly.

“Pour me another,” Pansy commanded to Theo, “And if I were to rate our parents on a scale from worst to best it would be Theo, mine, Draco’s and then Blaise.”

“Blaise’s mom has killed people!” Theo exclaimed. 

“So has Draco’s!” Blaise snarled.

“So has mine now that I think about it…” Theo blinked.

Draco stepped away from the dressing screen, wearing emerald-green silk pajamas.  He ran his hands through his hair and sat back on his bed, grabbing his drink from the nightstand, “We are all related to killers.”

“We can bond over the trauma,” Pansy joked.

The foursome stayed up for a few more hours, downing more drinks, stealing another bottle from Lucius’s liquor cabinet, laughing and reminiscing.  As the night went on, their drunken voices and their laughs grew louder.  Draco hadn’t realized how badly he needed this.  They all needed it.

Pansy was in a fit of giggles, “Remember that time, the summer after fourth year, Daphne and I snuck over during your sleepover?”

Blaise wailed in laughter, clearly drunk, “You two didn’t make it past the travel parlor!  Lucius was already there waiting.”

“Theo was too drunk to realize he wasn’t whispering when he contacted you through the floo,” Draco chuckled, then imitated him, “Pansy!  Daph!  Come over!  Mr. Malfoy is asleep.”

“I think he has the floo network bugged,” Theo said with a slur.

Pansy had tears in her eyes, “Daphne was freaking out!  She just kept stammering!”

“And Pansy was over there, hand on her hip and smiling at him,” it was Blaise’s turn to mock her, “Good evening Mr. Malfoy, are those new boots?  Draco just needed me to return his quill.”

Draco raised an eyebrow and grinned, “And then he offered to bring me the quill.  And did you have a quill, Pans?”

Pansy closed her eyes and shook her head, hardly able to get the words out through her laughter, “I started digging around in my bra and he told me to leave immediately.”

Theo snickered, opening a window so he could light a cigarette, “I don’t think I had ever seen that man look so uncomfortable.  And remember Crabbe and Goyle?!”

Draco choked on his drink, “They were so flustered!  Going on about how girls were coming over!”

Blaise snorted, “As if they had a chance.”

Pansy gagged.

Theo took a drag then did his best Goyle imitation, “Do you think Pansy will wear a short dress?” He shook his head and returned to his normal voice, “He was practically panting.”

“Ugh!” Pansy responded, “He needs to keep his fat hands to himself.”

“I’m sure he does,” Draco said with a grin.  Pansy threw a pillow at him.

Down the hall, in the master bedroom, Lucius groaned and looked up at the canopy, the distant sounds of laughter keeping him awake.  Narcissa chuckled quietly.

“Twenty years old and they don’t think to use a silencing charm…” he grumbled.

“You have to admit,” Narcissa said with a yawn, she turned to her side and placed her hand on his chest, “It’s nice to hear laughter in this house again.”

Lucius nodded and smirked, “I suppose you’re right.”

He closed his eyes and listened to their laughter, relieved that Theo’s experimental potion seemed to be working.  He was weary of allowing Pansy to stay over, but knew she was capable of handling Draco, and that Theo and Blaise would not let anything happen to her.

Lucius knew Narcissa was right.  They needed this.  They all needed this.  It hadn’t even been two weeks since Draco’s murder and in that short amount of time he had been resurrected, attempted to exact revenge on Dolohov, nearly assaulted a secretary and not to mention was in unimaginable pain.  He would give Draco a few more days of rest and reprieve.  Their meeting with Rookwood was coming up soon and Lucius still needed to figure out a way to be there and at his Ministry hearing.

He would meet with his team and discuss strategy.  Somehow, he would find a way to be in two places at once.

 

 

Recall the deeds as if they're all
Someone else's atrocious stories
Now you stand reborn before us all
So glad to see you well
-A Perfect Circle, "The Noose"

 

Notes:

This chapter is dedicated to my lovely editor, Laur. I met her over 20 years ago in a Marauder RP chat. Sage was actually her character in our role-playing adventures :) I love you friend, thank you for taking the time to read my crap and give wonderful feedback and support.

I apologize for the long break in updates. I wrote and re-wrote this chapter. But I am happy to say my muse has been back as of late and chapters 16 and 17 are currently in their editing process! Hoping to have more updates soon. Thank you all for your patience. Your kudos and kind words mean the world to me.

.....and for all my Dramione fans, we will start seeing more of the The Golden Girl soon!

Chapter 16: Two Many Malfoys

“This could be our last chance to get Rookwood before he goes into hiding.” Draco said.

“I know,” Lucius sighed, gritting his teeth and trying to come up with some solution, “But that horrid woman on the Wizengamot insists I go to this hearing. I tried to get Rookwood to postpone our visit, but he is paranoid that the Ministry knows his whereabouts.”

“Okay,” said Blaise, speaking his thoughts out loud, “Why can’t we just go? We can tell Rookwood you got caught in something and will visit later that day.”

“He’s already suspicious and I’m afraid he won’t trust you,” explained Lucius, eyeing a stray hair on his robes and removing it. “There has to be another way.”

Theo watched Lucius’s casual movement, and his eyes lit up as an idea formed in his head. “Polyjuice potion!” He exclaimed.

Pansy perked her head up and looked at Theo the way any sane woman would do when a man says something ridiculous. “What about it?”

Theo grinned.

“No.” Lucius responded tersely, giving Theo a stare that he hoped would be threatening enough to end this absurd conversation before it even started.

“Why not?” Theo asked, blissfully unaware of Lucius’s growing irritation.  “This puts you in two places at once. Draco could take the potion; he knows your mannerisms best. We could pull it off.”

“Draco is expected at Rookwood’s,” answered Lucius, “You know this.”

“Blaise then?” suggested Pansy.

Lucius rubbed his temples, “Blaise is expected there as well. Rookwood got word that Zabini is a part of the dueling club, and it just so happens Rookwood was a member of that club in his earlier days. He wants to reminisce.”

Blaise groaned and rolled his eyes, “As if I wanted to have anything in common with that tosser.”

Draco scratched the back of his head and gave a nervous laugh, “That just leaves Theo and Pansy.”

Theo grinned.

“Absolutely not!” Lucius hissed.

“Why not?!” Theo pouted.

“Because you’re you,” was all Lucius cared to explain.

“What about me?” Theo whined.

“You’re going to be over the top about it and probably try something that will humiliate me,” answered Lucius.

Theo gasped and placed a hand on his chest, “Over the top? ME?”

“He’d probably try something with your mum,” Blaise teased, nudging Draco with his elbow. Blaise received a glare from Lucius and Draco.

“Just watch,” Theo cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders, then he stuck his nose in the air and strutted around the study, “Draco! Stop slouching! Draco! Hand me my dinner robes! Draco! Stop what you’re doing and feed the peacocks immediately! Draco! Tell Theodore he is an annoying git and to stop looking better than me in formal dress robes.”

Pansy choked on her wine. Blaise looked impressed.

"Close," Draco said with a mischievous grin, "You need to puff out your chest more and maybe kick a house elf."

“That settles it,” Lucius muttered and glared at his son, “Theodore, do not come near me, nor my hair, and especially my wife.”

Theo slumped down in a chair theatrically, crossed his arms and pouted.

“So…” Blaise drawled, “Pansy?”

Lucius and Pansy both scoffed. Theo scoffed a second after they did.

“No one is going to impersonate me!” Lucius exclaimed, “We will just have to keep eyes on Rookwood and wait for our next opportunity.”

“Actually,” Draco started, meeting his father’s eyes with a sly look, “Pansy isn’t expected to be at Rookwood’s.”

“No!” both Pansy and Lucius exclaimed. Then they looked at each other. Theo snorted, which in turn caused Draco and Blaise to chuckle.

“I think she could do it, actually,” said Blaise after he was done laughing. “She’s grown up with Draco, she’s been at the Manor long enough to learn Mr. Malfoy’s mannerisms.”

“And you won’t have to worry about her hitting on mum,” Draco added.

“Or will she?” Theo teased.

Pansy shrugged and winked at Theo; he wagged his eyebrows at her in return. Lucius looked horrified.

“I suppose it’s worth a try,” Pansy sighed, sounding bored.

“This is a nightmare…” Lucius groaned. He swung the door open and shouted down the hall, “’Cissa! Fetch me my headache potion!”

*********

Lucius looked at Pansy-Lucius and wanted to die. She was admiring her dark robes in the mirror and swishing them about. This was going to be a long day, indeed.

“Ms. Parkinson,” Lucius hissed, “Stop swishing my robes.”

Draco leaned against the doorframe; one ankle crossed over the other and holding a glass loosely in his right hand.  He kept looking back and forth from Lucius to Pansy-Lucius, trying his best to suppress his mirth.  Pansy-Lucius kept checking herself out in the mirror and adjusting her clothes; Lucius kept groaning and rubbing his forehead.  Draco swore the man was going to have an aneurysm. For his part, seeing an exact replica of his father fidgeting about and giggling was definitely something he was never going to forget.

“I don’t think I’ll need my potion today, father.”  He said teasingly.

Lucius scowled, “You’re taking that potion.”

“Not feeling any warmth, she’s definitely has that part of you down,” he responded cattily.

“Do the sneer!” Theo cheered.

Pansy-Lucius sneered, and Theo fell back into his chair in a fit of laughter.

“Can we take this seriously?!” Lucius seethed, “The Polyjuice potion only lasts for a limited time, and I need to get to the Ministry.”

“Pansy,” Draco tried his best to hide his grin and sound serious, “Say something Father would say.”

Pansy-Lucius paused and couldn’t think of a thing to say.

“Oh!” Theo clapped, bouncing in his seat, “Ground Draco!”

“Draco!” Pansy-Lucius said, trying to mock a deep voice as she pointed a threatening finger at him, “You are grounded for… um… kissing Hermione Granger!”

Blaise, who had been trying the whole time to remain serious, burst into laughter with Theodore while Draco turned an adorable shade of red. Lucius pinched the bridge of his nose and prayed for instant death.

Narcissa walked in, saw two husbands, and then immediately walked out.

“I need to leave in ten minutes,” Lucius said as he ran his hands through his hair with frustration, “Focus Ms. Parkinson. We need to go over what will be said to Rookwood.”

“She can’t even sound like you no matter how deep she tries to get her voice,” Draco explained. “Maybe she should just remain quiet, and I’ll do all the talking?”

“And how are you going to explain away my silence?” quizzed Lucius.

“You, Mr. Malfoy, had an unfortunate run in with a hag, and she gave you the worst case of throat constrictavitus,” Theo stated matter-of-fact.

“Do I look like someone who could be bested by a hag?” Lucius snarled.

“He’s right,” said Draco as he drummed his fingers nervously, “Rookwood wouldn’t believe that father was outsmarted by a hag.”

Blaise stepped in, “Pansy, do very little talking. I’ll keep Rookwood occupied on the topic of the dueling club. We’ll just have to move quickly. I’ll distract him; Draco and Theo will hit him with a double stunner and then we’ll take him to the Ministry. Easy enough?” Blaise looked around the room for a response.

Lucius glanced at the grandfather clock and let out a frustrated growl, “It will have to do. Ms. Parkinson, just make a brief appearance; Zabini keep him distracted; Draco and Theodore stun him at the first opening. Understood?”

Everyone nodded. Everyone except Pansy-Lucius who rose her hand in question, which looked quite comical.

“Yes Parkinson?” Lucius sounded very irritated.

“What if I need to use the loo?” she asked.

“Hold it,” Lucius responded through gritted teeth, “Don’t. Drink. Anything.”

“I can show you how to do it,” Theo offered.

“You will show her no such thing!” Lucius spat.

“What is wrong with you?” Draco asked as he fought the urge to whack Theo on the head.

Pansy-Lucius stomped her foot and crossed her arms, “I had a glass of wine before I drank the potion.”

Lucius paled, “Why would you do that?!”

Pansy-Lucius shrugged, “I was nervous.”

Theo giggled, “You? Nervous?”

“Shut up Theo!” Pansy-Lucius growled.

“Hey, she’s getting better already at your impressions Mr. Malfoy,” Blaise chuckled.

Lucius sighed again and grabbed his cane, “I need to leave before that blasted woman in the Wizengamot uses my tardiness for an excuse to go back to Azkaban. Get to Rookwood, stun him quickly and bring him back here. You have less than an hour. And Parkinson,” he gave his dopple-ganger a very menacing look, “Do not use the loo.”

Pansy-Lucius tensed and nodded quickly.

Lucius muttered something under his breath, grabbed a handful of floo powder and vanished to the Ministry.

******

The foursome used a port-key to travel to Dublin and arrived in a small shopping district.

“Pansy,” Draco whispered venomously, “You’re still walking like a girl.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Draco, I’ve walked like a girl all my life,” she whispered back, sounding just as lethal.

“Walk like Draco does,” Blaise murmured as they made their way through a crowd of shoppers, “And hold your head higher. You’re Lucius Malfoy, Lord of Malfoy Manor.”

Pansy-Lucius studied Draco’s walk for a moment then stuck her nose in the air and took a few steps. How could Lucius see where he is going walking like this? She abruptly ran right into Theodore and shrieked.

Several people turned towards the commotion and Draco and Blaise immediately blocked their view as Theo and Pansy-Lucius got up and dusted themselves off.

“Let’s just get to the vacation home quickly,” Blaise muttered.

They started their stroll again down the shopping district, Pansy-Lucius decided not to keep her head held so high so she could see better. She started to sweat, Lucius’s robes and boots were so heavy and hard to walk in.

“How does your father walk in these clunky boots all day?” she whined quietly.

“Coming from the woman who takes casual strolls in 6-inch heels,” Draco responded with an eye roll.

They continued walking until Pansy-Lucius paused, looked in a store window and gasped, “There’s a new line of Madam Le Fay handbags!” she squealed.

Draco groaned, grabbed Pansy-Lucius by the arm and dragged her away from the store window.

They arrived at Nott’s vacation home and Theodore knocked on the door casually. After a few moments, Rookwood poked his head out the door and looked around suspiciously. Once he noted that it was simply the four wizards he had invited, he let them in.

“Lucius old friend!” Rookwood bellowed as he clapped Pansy-Lucius on the back rather roughly then shook his hand aggressively.

Pansy-Lucius coughed and then winced at the painful handshake. She had to remind herself that men shake hands this way and gripped back just as strongly. She didn’t say anything to Rookwood, just nodded her head and did her best Lucius impression smirk.

Rookwood put a heavy arm around Pansy-Lucius's shoulder, she scrunched her nose at his alcohol-riddled breath.  Rookwood didn't notice as he started rambling, "I haven't seen you since Shafiq's!  You seemed so uptight when that redhead crawled onto your lap.  She was a fine piece, Malfoy.  Please tell me you took her home."

Pansy-Lucius's eyes widened, and she glanced at Draco.

Draco seethed, "We were under attack at Shafiq's, remember?  How would he have been able to take her home?"

Rookwood gave a raucous laugh, "She was a frightened little bird!  Lucius here could have taken her to the Manor and comforted her all night.  Eh Lucius?"

Pansy-Lucius scoffed.

Draco pushed his hand into his pocket and gripped his wand; with a clenched jaw he said, "My mother was home, sir."

Rookwood paused, dropping his hand from Pansy-Lucius's shoulder and began teasing Draco, "Oh young Draco, you were more uptight than your father!  Wouldn't let any of the girls touch you.  Were you too good for them or perhaps your tastes lie elsewhere?"  He gestured to Theo and Blaise.

Theo snickered and Blaise looked completely offended.  Draco's ears burned and the urge to hex Rookwood became stronger.  He could do it. Right now.  Complete the mission quicker than planned.

They entered the drawing room while Blaise quickly changed the subject. Theodore looked around his vacation home and grumbled at the disarray. Rookwood was a slob. Books not put back in place, dishes in the sink and random items of trash strewn about the floor. And the liquor cabinet! Theo scowled when he realized Rookwood had drank all of the aged whiskey that he had been saving for a special occasion.

“Zabini,” Rookwood said as he sat down in an armchair, “Tell me, how are you enjoying the dueling club? Are the Higgs still regular attendees?”

“No,” Blaise answered casually as he removed an empty liquor bottle from the couch then sat down, “After the war, the Higgs moved off to Switzerland for a more quiet life.”

“That’s too bad,” Rookwood shook his head, “That bloody war has ruined everything. I’m constantly having to look behind my back. The wanted posters are starting to make their way towards here! That’s why I need to leave. Your father wouldn’t happen to have a vacation home anywhere else, would he, Nott?”

Theodore and Pansy-Lucius sat down at a different couch and Theo nudged Pansy-Lucius when she crossed her legs. She quickly uncrossed them and tried to mimic how Blaise was sitting.

“I’m afraid not,” Theodore responded, “The villa in Mexico was raided shortly after the war and my father decided to sell it off.”

“Pity!” Rookwood replied, “I would have rather enjoyed the beaches of Mexico.”

Draco leaned against a wall and his eyes widened when an idea struck him, “We have a penthouse in New York City. I’m sure we could make arrangements to move you there.”

Rookwood appeared delighted as he looked at Pansy-Lucius and asked, “Could you make that happen Lucius?”

Pansy-Lucius cleared her throat and simply nodded.

Rookwood clapped his hands and rose from his seat, “This calls for a celebration! I’m sure there’s something left in the liquor cabinet…”

Theo growled lowly and glared as Rookwood approached the opened liquor cabinet and rummaged through several empty bottles. Draco cleared his throat in Theo’s direction and caught his attention. He nodded towards the busy Death Eater. Theo returned the nod and discreetly reached for his wand.

“As you may have heard,” Rookwood began while Draco and Theo took cautious steps towards him, “Yaxley and Amycus have been caught!” He turned around quickly, waving a half empty bottle of gin. Draco and Theo immediately straightened and tried to appear casual.

“I heard,” Blaise said loudly in order to catch Rookwood’s attention, “It’s preposterous! An outrage!”

“Indeed, it is,” Rookwood agreed as he strode towards the bar and opened a cabinet full of glasses. The sound of glasses clinking filled the air as Rookwood scanned for the cleanest ones.

Draco gave Blaise the signal to keep talking as he and Theo made their move again, gripping their wands tightly. Pansy-Lucius looked on and tried to focus on keeping a regal appearance.

Blaise blurted out the first thing he could think of, “Er, Nott Sr keeps the better glasses towards the back. The ones saved for special occasions, such as this one. We wouldn’t want to waste our toast on anything lesser.”

“Right you are!” Rookwood hollered as he continued moving glassware about and digging deeper towards the back.

Draco and Theo wasted no more time, drawing their wands and chanting a collective, “Stupefy!”

There was a loud crash as Rookwood fell to the floor and glasses shattered all around him. Theo whimpered at the damage.

“Finally!” Pansy-Lucius exclaimed as she rose from her seat, “Let’s get him out of here.”

Blaise nodded in agreement and let Theo have the honor of binding Rookwood with an incarcerous, “Bloody pig!” Theo hissed, “Look at my house!”

“We don’t have time for this, Nott,” said Draco as he began his levitation spell, “Let’s get him disillusioned and port key out of here.”

“How long do think this potion will last?” asked Pansy-Lucius as the men noticed she was nervously leaning from foot to foot.

“Oh,” Draco said as he glanced at a clock on the wall, “I don’t know, maybe another twenty minutes?”

Pansy-Lucius whimpered.

“What?” Blaise asked with a quirked brow.

“I’ve been needing to use the loo since the shopping district,” she said quietly, avoiding Draco’s leer.

“Oh!” Theo remarked, sounding thoroughly amused.

“Hold it!” Draco barked.

“I’m trying!” she shifted uncomfortably, “These pants are awfully tight, and I don’t know what to do to fix that.”

Theo lost it, laughing loudly and slamming his hand against the countertop. Blaise tried to hide a smile and Draco looked absolutely horrified.

“Were they tight before you needed to go?” Theo managed to say as he tried to catch his breath. He wiped a tear from his eye.

“No,” Pansy-Lucius squeaked, “What do I do?”

“You hold it!” Draco reiterated.

“It hurts!” she whined.

“Come on Pans,” Theo said with a devilish grin, “Do what Draco says and hold it. It’s your schoolgirl fantasy dream come true.”

Pansy-Lucius gasped and looked for something to throw at Theo, “I told you that in confidence!”

“Excuse me?!” Draco exclaimed, “You were fantasizing about my father?!”

“It was only for a short time, during school…” Pansy-Lucius murmured as she stared at the floor.

“We were dating during school!” Draco retorted angrily.

“It wasn’t when we were dating!” she answered shrilly.

Blaise had to turn away from them because he could no longer hold back his smile and didn’t want Draco to hex him into oblivion.

“Come now Draco,” Theo said, still chuckling, “It was just some silly teenage girl fantasy. Did you think only blokes fantasized about their friends’ parents?”

Draco seethed as he stared down Theodore, trying to figure out which Unforgivable Curse he should use on him.

“Help her out, Draco.” Theo said teasingly, “She’s miserable.”

“I could just close my eyes, and you could…” Pansy-Lucius started.

“I will NOT!” Draco sounded appalled.

“Theo?” she pleaded.

“Don’t you dare, Nott!” Draco snarled.

Blaise collected himself and turned back to the group, “Let’s just port key out of here and you can go at the manor.”

“I will piss myself if we use the port key!” Pansy-Lucius gripped onto the side of the couch and looked terribly uncomfortable.

“This is pure gold!” Theo cackled.

“I don’t care,” argued Draco, “I’d rather you piss yourself.”

Pansy-Lucius held her hand to her chest and gasped, “These trousers are expensive! They are from the 1998 Madam Le Fay Fall Line! I refuse to soil them and I’m sure your father would appreciate that as well.”

“My father would rather you ruin his trousers, trust me.”

“Draco, I need to go NOW!”

Draco grit his teeth, “Salazar! Fine! Go use the loo down the hall and be quick about it. And try not to look!”

“How is she going to aim?” Theo asked.

“I don’t care if she pisses all over the floor, she does not need to look at my father’s…. you know!” Draco suddenly grabbed the half empty gin bottle and took a healthy swig.

“I’m not going to pee on the floor like a dog!” Pansy-Lucius vexed, “I’m tired of arguing about this! I’m going to the loo, is anyone going to help me?”

No one responded. Theo started to raise his hand, and Draco shot him a nasty look. He quickly lowered his hand.

Pansy-Lucius took a deep breath and fixed her hair, “Fine. I’ll do it myself. I’m sure I can figure it out.”

Pansy-Lucius left the room, and they heard the door to the lavatory slam shut. Theo snickered. Blaise bit his lip to keep from doing the same.

Draco pointed his finger threateningly at his two mates, “No one tells my father about this.”

Pansy-Lucius returned from the restroom a few minutes later. Her face was beet red but otherwise she looked relieved. She looked at Draco and smirked.

“What?” Draco asked with a voice of annoyance.

“Nothing,” Pansy-Lucius responded suspiciously.

“Spit it out, Pans,” Draco groaned as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

Pansy-Lucius cleared her throat and grinned sheepishly as she said, “Your mother is a very lucky lady.”

“Godric, Pans!” Draco shouted as Theo bowled over, howling in laughter and Blaise snorted.

Pansy-Lucius simply shrugged, “I’m ready to grab the port key whenever you are.”

Draco grumbled as Blaise tried his best to focus on levitating the unconscious Rookwood.  Theo kept looking at Pansy-Lucius and giggling.  Pansy-Lucius avoided looking at Draco but couldn't help snickering every time her and Theo made eye contact.  Once Rookwood was bound and floating, Blaise kept one hand on the Death Eater's shoulder and his other reached for the port key that Draco held out in a handkerchief. On his count, everyone touched the port key and vanished to the Manor.

Once safely at Malfoy's home, Pansy-Lucius hid in a spare room for the remaining ten minutes until she transformed back to her normal self.  She was happy to remove the heavy boots and oversized clothes, changing back into her usual fashionable attire of a skin-tight wardrobe and high-priced jewelry. 

*******

Lucius tapped his finger against his cane, his signet ring clinking against the fine wood, irritated that this abysmal woman was making him wait.  He sat in the center of the court room at The Ministry, surrounded by the Wizengamot as they whispered amongst each other and shot him suspicious stares.

They were trying to see how far they could push him.  They had interrogated him for over an hour, repeated the same questions several times over, waiting for him to trip up and change his answers.  Charlotte Burbage was acting Minister, and Lucius was Undesirable Number One on her list.  One mistake, no matter how miniscule, was all she needed to send him back to Azkaban.

The bloody vultures.  They reveled in picking him off, bit by bit.  They questioned his motives, his alibis, his past prejudices, hell they even questioned the purity of his bloodline.  They accused him of knowing the whereabouts of the remaining rogue Death Eaters, he was just protecting them for as long as he could.  He reminded them three times that he had already apprehended two, but they believed he did that only to stay in the Wizengamot’s good graces.

It was astonishing.  None dared try this whenever Shacklebolt was present.  Most were actually encouraging of Lucius, congratulating him for his first two captures.  Lucius was no stranger to politics; he could play their game.  He’d come too far to allow them to push him over the edge now.  He had his family back, no one was taking that away from him again.

“You admit you partook in a battle at an illegal brothel that led to the death of Graham Montague?” Charlotte Burbage asked, her tone laced with bittersweet hatred.

Lucius clenched his jaw, desperately holding on to what little patience he had, “As I stated previously, Minister Shacklebolt was aware that I went to Shafiq’s to follow a lead that Augustus Rookwood would be there.  You are welcome to check his records; he gave me permission to go.  I was not privy to Dolohov’s attendance at the brothel, nor could I have foreseen a fight breaking out that would lead to the unfortunate death of a young wizard.  Once I heard the first explosion, my only goal in that moment was to protect my son and my team and get them to safety.”

“And you failed to apprehend not just one, but two Undesirables?” Charlotte asked with a haughty undertone.

“That is correct,” Lucius responded bitterly, “However-!”

Burbage cut him off, “Are you aware that your freedom relies on the successes of your missions?”

“Yes, but…”

“And you are aware of the time constraints in regard to capturing the Death Eaters?”

“Yes madam,” Lucius sighed.

“You let two dangerous criminals get away, Mr. Malfoy,” she continued, “One life lost, several injuries and extensive damage done to Shafiq’s.  What are your plans on finding Rookwood and Dolohov?”

Lucius took a sharp intake of breath, “I have a lead on Rookwood that my team is currently following up on.  Unfortunately, I have no leads on Dolohov, but I was told by The Minister himself that my time limit has been extended.”

“Mr. Malfoy,” Burbage leaned over her podium and glared at him, “May I suggest that you use your time wisely?  You may have two more years to find these missing Death Eaters, but will that be enough time to scour the world for them?  Rookwood and Dolohov have already escaped your grasp once, you have no leads on Macnair, Jugson or Alecto Carrow.  I suggest you don’t get too comfortable in that large manor of yours.  The clock is ticking, Mr. Malfoy.”

“I will not fail you, madam,” Lucius responded, ice in his tone, yet his confidence did not waver.

“You’ve already failed me, Mr. Malfoy.”  She responded bitterly.

Lucius had so much more to say, but the sudden sound of a large door slamming open jolted everyone from their tense thoughts.

“Who is that?!” Burbage barked, “You are interrupting a legal proceeding!  I could have you---”

Burbage cut herself off, mouth agape at the sight before her.  Lucius turned around swiftly, and he couldn’t hold back his smile.  His chest swelled with pride, elated that the scene before him just made Burbage eat her own words.

His team strode forward, dragging a ragged Rookwood along behind them.  The Death Eater was growling and spitting out curses which echoed throughout the courtroom. Draco did the honors of shoving Rookwood to the center of the room, right at Lucius’s feet.

Lucius turned his attention back to Burbage and raised a taunting brow, “You were saying?”

 

Chapter 17: Meeting Canceled

"Lucius..." Narcissa gave a breathy sigh as she tilted her head and arched her back. She gripped her husband’s arms as he began kissing along her exposed neck. 

Lucius groaned at the sound of his name coming from his wife’s lips.  He slid his hand around the back of her head, tilting it back further so he could continue kissing a hot trail up her neck. 

Narcissa bent her knees, framing each side of his hips to open her legs wider and give him the opportunity to sink deeper into her.  His breath picked up as he pressed his forehead to hers and closed his eyes, feeling every sensation. 

Lucius could worship her all day. Every thrust was slow and deliberate, to make sure he savored every bit of her. Her breathy moans were a slice of heaven. Her skin was soft and her touch delicate. Her kiss was perfection.  She would whisper his name with want and need all in one and he would give her everything she craved. Her touch and her warmth never grew old; it still gave him the same sensation as it had during their first time. She was his. He was hers. 

He spent 10 months in Azkaban the first time and 6 the second-- too long away from her. Every waking minute without his Narcissa was an eternity in hell. So, he always took his time when he made love to her, to etch every moment into memory. He handled each time as if it were their last. 

Lucius could tell from her shaky breaths that she was getting close. He kissed her tenderly and swallowed her moans. She gripped his arms tighter and rolled her hips against his. 

Paradise. This was absolute paradise. And she was so close to showing him just how amazing he made her feel. 

"MR. MALFOY!"

Lucius paused, lifted his head towards the door, and groaned. The obnoxious voice was followed by a banging on his door. They both waited in silence. Maybe the interrupter would go away.

The couple stared at the door for another minute, Narcissa still clinging to her husband's arms. When they didn't hear any more disturbances, Lucius turned his face back to his wife's and continued his movements. Narcissa let out a low, long breath and released his arms to tangle her hands in his hair. 

"MR. MALFOY!"

Lucius growled as he stopped again. "I'm going to murder him."

He removed his hold from Narcissa, sliding off the bed and yanking his robes from the chair it had been tossed on earlier. He pushed his arms through the sleeves angrily and picked up his wand.

Narcissa covered herself with a sheet, "Lucius don't."

"Don't what?" He seethed as his made his way to the door.

Narcissa chuckled, "Don't murder him."

Lucius sighed, "I can't make any promises, dear."

The knocking began again, and Lucius swung the door wide open. "What?!" He bellowed. 

Theodore Nott stood there with a mischievous smile on his face, "Watcha doing?"

Lucius glared as he stepped through the doorframe and shut the door behind him, "What do you want Nott?"

Lucius saw another in his peripheral and looked over to see Pansy Parkinson leaning against a wall and grinning widely. Lucius wrapped his robes around himself more tightly. 

"Parkinson," he muttered through gritted teeth. 

Pansy gave Lucius a once over, knowing exactly what the senior Malfoy was packing thanks to the polyjuice potion. She teased, "Morning daddy."

Lucius choked and stared at her with wide eyes, "What did you just say?"

"Yea! What did you say?!" Theo said with an air of offense, "You're only supposed to call me that!"

Pansy shrugged.

Lucius sighed and turned back to Theo, "Why are you here? Do you have a death wish, Nott?"

Theo grinned, showing no signs that he feared for his life, "You're late for our morning meeting and I have a pedicure scheduled in an hour. So, I need you to finish up in there, I'm sure it won't take you too long." 

Lucius scowled, "Just because you are here every damn morning, eating my food, drinking my liquor and Godric knows what else, doesn't mean we have regularly scheduled meetings. Now go. Both of you."

Theo rolled his eyes, "You did schedule a meeting. You told me last night, and I quote," Theo lowered his voice to dramatically imitate Lucius's voice, "Do not be late to the meeting Theodore, I don't care how hungover you are, it's time you grew up and took things more seriously."

Lucius paused then ran his hands through his hair, "So I did." He muttered.

"I'm not mad," Theo responded innocently, "You have a rather good excuse for being tardy. But Mr. Malfoy, you shouldn't lecture me on responsibilities whenever you're missing meetings for a-!"

Lucius had his wand to Theo's throat. "I've made a grave mistake, haven't I Theodore? Letting you get too comfortable in my home and allowing you to think you can disturb my peace whenever you feel like it."

Theo laughed nervously and raised his hands defensively, "We'll just uh...wait in the dining room. Take your time."

Pansy pushed herself off the wall and grabbed Theo's arm, tugging him away from imminent danger.   

Lucius lowered his wand and cleared his throat, "Do not disturb me over trivial matters. And Parkinson..." Pansy paused and turned to Lucius, "Do not call me that, ever again."

Pansy giggled and nodded.   Lucius gave them one last venomous look, opened his door, entered his room and slammed the door loud enough to cause the walls to shake.

Theo and Pansy jumped, looked at each other and snickered.

They went back to the dining room where Draco and Blaise were waiting.  Draco was leaning back in a chair, looking bored while Blaise stood against the wall with his arms crossed.  When Draco noticed them enter, his body clenched slightly as warmth crept along his skin.  He tried to ignore it; he averted his gaze from Pansy.

Theodore’s first batch of potions lasted for about a month.  One dose lasted a full twenty-four hours.  In that month they had successfully apprehended Rookwood and turned him into the Ministry.  Shacklebolt was delighted when he returned from his cruise.  But since then, there had been no new leads on the remaining Death Eaters.  There had been meetings regarding turning Dolohov in, but Draco still wanted to torture him at least once before that happened.  Lucius had given him his wand back for the mission with Rookwood, but still left the dungeons warded.

Draco was itching for revenge.  But he was also itching for a woman.  Theo had all the necessary ingredients except for the crocodile heart.  Every apothecary in town was out of stock.  His favorite clerk at Presto Pesto promised to send him an owl as soon as a new shipment arrived.  If they didn’t hear anything soon, they may have to raid the stores in the potions lab at Hogwarts.

"Pansy was flirting with your father while he was naked," Theo announced.

Blaise choked and stood straighter.  Draco rolled his eyes, "I doubt he was naked."

"He wasn't," Pansy scoffed, whacking Theo in the arm before taking a seat at the table, knowing to sit as far away from Draco as possible.

"Well Theodore," Draco said casually as he eyed his tricky friend, "I'm surprised you're here in one piece.  I told you not to disturb them."

Theo shrugged and took his seat across from Pansy, "He should put wards on his door if he doesn't want to be disturbed."

"I'm sure he didn't expect any interruptions in his own home," Blaise chimed in.

"He should know better with Theo practically living here," Pansy snorted.

Theo smiled wickedly as he poured tea into his teacup then added a ridiculous amount of sugar, "Your father is usually up at the crack of dawn.  How was I supposed to know he'd be shagging your mum at..." he glanced at the clock on the wall, "Nine o'clock in the morning."

Draco groaned and sat forward in his seat, rubbing his palms against his face to hide his flustered state, "It's their anniversary week.  They usually only come out for dinner."

Theo clapped his hands and cackled, "That's impressive!"

“You have no idea…” Pansy teased, shrugging one shoulder and winking at Draco.

"Stop it," Draco grumbled.

Blaise covered his mouth to hide a snicker.  Pansy quirked a curious brow and shot Theo a sly smile.  He winked at her, and Draco shot them both warning glares.

"So do we just wait?" Pansy asked.

The room fell into an uncomfortable silence.  The minutes ticked by as everyone avoided each other's eyes. Well, everyone except for Theo who would glance at Draco from time to time and giggle. Draco spent his quiet time envisioning Theo's slow and painful death. 

They waited an entire hour. Theo missed his pedicure appointment. An owl swooped in. It was in fact, the Malfoy’s eagle owl; it was rather strange for Draco to see their owl delivering a message to their own home. 

The majestic creature dropped a letter right into the center of the table. The wax seal bore the Malfoy crest.   Draco quirked a curious brow and snatched the letter, breaking the seal and unfolding the parchment.

The letter, in very elegant script, simply read "Meeting Canceled."

Draco turned an embarrassing shade of red. Blaise read the note over Draco's shoulder and laughed. Theo snatched the letter from Draco's hands and grumbled about missing his pedicure.

Pansy flicked her hair back and smirked, "Good for them."

Theo rolled his eyes, "You're only saying that because you saw Mr. Malfoy naked."

Pansy gasped, "I did not see him naked!"

"Godric!!" Draco shouted, "Stop talking about my father naked!" 

After Theo was done wiping the tears from his eyes, he suggested they all go out for pedicures.  Pansy was the only one who agreed.  So then he suggested brunch at The Leaky Cauldron, Blaise said it wouldn’t be wise to have Draco out in public without having his potion.  Theo told Blaise that there was nothing to worry about because they would both be there.  Then Blaise retorted that they should let Mr. Malfoy know where they are going and make sure he is okay with it first.  Theo laughed and told Blaise that he isn’t going anywhere near Mr. Malfoy’s bedroom ever again.  They went back and forth like this for a few minutes, unaware that Draco had already left and was on his way to the travel parlor.

Pansy tugged on Theo’s sleeve.

“Not now love,” Theo said before turning back to Blaise, “And furthermore….”

“Theo!” Pansy hissed.

Theo sighed dramatically, “What?!”

Pansy pointed to the door, “Draco already left.”

“Damnit!” Blaise seethed, bolting towards the door.  He and the other two made a mad dash to the travel parlor and witnessed the green flames already dying out.

“Lucius is going to kill us!” Pansy shrieked.

“Calm down, he just went to The Leaky Cauldron, we won’t be too far behind,” said Blaise as he grabbed a handful of floo powder.

The trio vanished through the flames and abruptly appeared in the fireplace of the rundown inn.  They looked around and their panic only grew the longer they did not spot blinding blonde hair.  They split up and began asking patrons and employees if they had seen Draco.

Tom the innkeeper was wiping down the bar when Blaise asked him, Tom shook his head and replied, “You’re the only the three who’ve used the floo today, I’m afraid.  It’s been a slow morning.”

Pansy and Blaise gave each other a fearful stare.  They pulled Theo away from a working girl and huddled together to think.

“Where else could he have gone?” Pansy asked in a whisper.

“Sim Salla Bims?” Theo suggested.

“That’s a night club and it’s 10AM!” Blaise responded.

“Madam Malkins?” Pansy suggested next.

“They aren’t open yet and there isn’t a floo network there,” Blaise, again.

“Do you think he went to Hogsmeade?” asked Theo.

“I don’t think he would go anywhere near Madam Rosmerta,” Pansy snorted.

“We have to tell Lucius,” Said the sensible one, Blaise.

Then Blaise and Theo both collectively said, “NOT IT!”

Pansy rolled her eyes, “Bloody cowards.”

“He’s intimidating enough as it is,” Blaise said with a laugh, “And disturbing him during his anniversary week?  No thank you.  Besides, you’re a girl.  He wouldn’t hurt a girl… I think.”

Pansy sighed and flicked her hair from her face, “Fine, I’ll do it.  Can I at least have a drink first?”

“Already ahead of you,” said Theo, handing her a glass of firewhisky, “Liquid courage.”

Pansy shot him a wink before tipping the glass back and drinking the entire thing.

*******

“WHAT?!” Lucius snarled, swinging the door open, hair disheveled and he didn’t even bother putting his robes back on, assuming it was Theodore again.  He was only in his trousers.  He flushed when he came face to face with Pansy and quickly accio’d his robes.

Pansy bit her lip and blushed as well, though she still appeared coy.  She considered complimenting him on his physique, it may have been a good idea before she delivered the bad news but ultimately decided against it.

She decided to just spit it out, “Draco is missing.”

Lucius’s head shot up, he was still tying his robes together, “What did you say?”

Pansy crossed her arms and huffed, “It was the boys’ fault.  They were trying to make plans for today since you canceled on us and while Theo and Blaise were arguing Draco just snuck off.  We already checked The Leaky, no one has seen him.”

Lucius groaned and ran his hands through his hair, “You only checked the Leaky Cauldron?”

Pansy nodded.

Lucius felt increasingly frustrated, his paternal instincts immediately told him to go find his son, but he knew he couldn’t since he needed permission to leave his home. He turned back to Pansy and said, “One of you try the Ministry, the other Hogsmeade and the last search Diagon and Knockturn Alley.  I’ll send word to Shacklebolt and join you as soon as I can.”

“Do you really think he would go to Hogsmeade?  Madam Rosmerta threatened to hex him if he ever stepped foot near her pub again.”

Lucius shrugged, “We cannot assume anything when it comes to Draco right now.  He’s been without Theo’s potion for too long and we still do not know the entire effects of his resurrection.  Now stop wasting time, go.”

Pansy nodded again and dashed back towards the travel parlor where Blaise and Theo were waiting.

*******

Draco found a quiet nook on the second floor of Flourish and Blotts and sat down in a well-used and not very comfortable armchair.  He opened one of his favorite classic novels and began reading.

Tom, the innkeeper, had indeed lied to his three friends when he told them he hadn’t seen Draco.  The younger Malfoy had paid him off handsomely to keep his mouth shut.  Draco felt as if he hadn’t been outside his Manor in ages, aside from his one trip to Theo’s vacation home and to the Ministry.

It was a quiet Thursday morning and the streets of Diagon Alley was scarce of shopping witches and wizards.  Hardly anyone paid him any mind, a few people threw him disgusted stares, but no one approached or said anything to him.  Even as he entered the bookshop, the clerk barely greeted him then went back to take care of a customer. He could read in peace and temporarily forget his troubles.  No thoughts on the mission, no Theo being an annoying prat, no lectures from his father and especially no sympathizing looks from his mother.

It was just Draco and this book…

Warmth.

Incredible warmth.

He paused, gripping the edges of his novel tightly.  He thought he was alone up here.

There was something different about this warm feeling.  It felt inviting, serene, safe… Like a cozy winter’s night wrapped up in a blanket by the fireplace and sipping cocoa.  This wasn’t anything like the salacious warmth he felt from Pansy or Mystina.  This one seemed to comfort his broken soul and left him feeling secure.

Hopeful.

Loved.

Draco suddenly felt afraid to look up from his book to find the source of this warmth.  He usually couldn’t contain himself, around Pansy and Mystina he would practically throw himself on them, but not with this one.  He wanted to find her.  He wanted to see her, touch her, hold her.  But more than anything, he didn’t want to hurt her.

He tried to focus on his book; he read the same sentence five times.  The words didn’t make sense.  Nothing made sense.

Draco curled into himself and held the book closer to his face.  He needed to concentrate.  His body shook with anticipation.  He began to sweat.  And now he could smell her.  She smelt like… what was that?  It was a clean smell.  Soft.  Cozy.  He would compare it to home, but his home never came off as soft and cozy.  His home was stuffy, tense, and proper.  Not relaxing like this feeling.

He couldn’t take it anymore.  Draco finally looked up, she was on the other side of the bookshelf across from him.  He could only see a small part of her through the cracks in the bookshelf.  She seemed frazzled, grabbing one book off the shelf, flipping through its pages and then hastily returning it to its proper place before grabbing another.  He would hear a huff, and he thought it sounded adorable.

Draco stood from his chair but dared not take another step, he leaned over, peering through the cracks and squinting his eyes.  He caught sight of fingernails that Pansy would find ghastly.  This mystery witch obviously had a nervous habit of chewing on her nails.  Her skin was tanned, so she must spend quite a bit of time out in the sun.  He saw her hand reach for another book and caught glimpse of a small diamond ring on her left ring finger.

Draco sighed.  Of course whatever was going on within him would lead him to a taken woman.

He took a step closer anyway, no longer able to fight this angelic figure he was drawn to.  The closer he got, the better he felt.  Draco believed he hadn’t felt this good in his entire life.  No amount of money or victories had ever made him feel this way.  He had to see her.

Another step.

He felt his muscles relax.

Another step.

He was so close to the bookshelf.

“Who are you…” he whispered to himself.  He saw her shadow pause and her hand reach for her hair to tie it up in a bun.  From what he could tell from the shadow, she had a petite body and long, thick hair.  She had thrown it up so quickly in that bun and it looked as if she used her wand to keep it in place.  Draco found that silly.   Silly and adorable.

Draco shut his eyes and took a deep breath.  He counted to three in his head.  Then he opened his eyes and stepped around the bookshelf.

“Draco!”

He groaned.  He turned towards the direction of his name before he even caught sight of the witch.  He saw Blaise jogging up the stairs and pausing once he got to the top.

“You alright mate?” Blaise asked.

“Yes…” Draco murmured, not realizing he was breathless.  He turned back in the direction of the bookshelf.  The witch was gone.  Draco sighed sadly.  Her warmth still lingered, and he walked over to the spot she stood only moments ago.  He could still smell her.  He ran his hands over the spine of the books, wondering which ones she touched.

Blaise approached him cautiously, “Mate?” He said quietly, “We need to go.  Your father is really upset.”

“Of course he is,” Draco responded with a quiet chuckle.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Blaise asked.

Draco turned to his friend and gave a charming smile, “Never better.”

*******

Dinner was predictably tense, which irritated Lucius to no end.  This was his anniversary week; this was supposed to be a celebration.  A week spent with the love of his life, caressing her, admiring her, reminiscing with her, spoiling her...  But instead, he had been interrupted not once, but twice during the throes of passion.  And by Theo and Pansy no less.  Then there was the wild goose chase finding his unstable son.

Narcissa told him not to be mad, and he would try for her.  But every time Draco moved, scraped his fork against the plate or did anything that drew attention to him, Lucius fumed.  Lucius clenched his jaw and tore into his steak with fervor.

Draco had a slight twitch going, hardly noticeable.  It had been hours since he felt that intoxicating warmth and now his body seemed to be going through withdrawals.   If Lucius glared at him one more time, he feared a Diffindo just might slip from his lips.  His mother would be awfully disappointed in him if his spell hit just the right artery and caused his father to bleed all over his expensive robes.

"Theodore was considering traveling to France to stockpile on crocodile hearts," Narcissa spoke quietly, assessing the tension in the room.

"That would be a waste of time," Lucius muttered while he stabbed at his steak, "They're imported from other continents.  Asia would be closest.  Perhaps Nott should visit another country, give me a bloody reprieve from his asinine schemes."

"His father is traveling to Egypt again soon," Narcissa added politely, "Theodore could possibly travel with him."

Draco snorted, "Those two traveling alone is a disaster waiting to happen."

Narcissa frowned, "Maybe it's what they need, some time to bond."

"Trust me mother," Draco flashed a cold stare towards Lucius, "Some fathers and sons are better off not attempting to fix broken bonds."

The sound of silverware clattering against a plate echoed in the room as Lucius stiffened and narrowed his eyes at Draco, "Is there something you would like to say to me, Draco?"

Oh, there was much young Draco wanted to say, and his rational thought was fighting a losing battle.  Every time the dark part of his soul took over, Lucius became his adversary.  The man who took his wand, kept him from Pansy, kept him from doling out well-deserved vengeance on Antonin Dolohov.  He could no longer see the man who raised him, who made sure he never went without, or worked tirelessly to resurrect him.

"Do you not see how humiliating it was to have Blaise pick me up from the bookstore like I'm some lost child?" Draco said aggressively. 

"Do you not see how reckless it was to go out in public on your own?" Lucius shot back, "You're unstable Draco and there are those out there who are looking for a reason to put you back in Azkaban."

“Well, unlike you, I am no longer on parole so they couldn’t possibly put me back in Azkaban,” Draco responded tauntingly.

Lucius took a deep breath and looked at his wife to avoid losing his temper.  Narcissa met his stare and gave him an encouraging, albeit stern nod.  That seemed to help.

“Draco,” Lucius stated calmly, “You may no longer be on parole, but you unfortunately have no control over your own mood swings.  You could become volatile the first moment someone insults you.  Or worse, you could come across a witch who gives you the same alluring affects that you receive from Ms. Parkinson.  You need to remember that you have a criminal record now, it just takes one mistake, even if you were provoked, and the Wizengamot will show you no mercy.”

“That’s rubbish!” Draco shouted, slamming a hand down on the table, causing his mother to flinch.

“Draco!” Narcissa said in a harsh whisper.

Lucius’s only reaction was to grab his wine glass and sip calmly.  When he placed it back on the table, it hardly made a sound.  “Is it?” He asked.

Draco paused, his angry demeanor slowly shifting into something more of a puzzled expression.  He thought about his father’s words, the bitter acceptance that they were no longer revered wizards of society made his chest burn.  They were outcasts.  And the disgraceful markings on their left arm reminded him of this.

Who would ever accept him now?  He was scarred.  Damaged. A poster boy for bad wizards.  And now he was literally rotting away.  Would she, he wondered, would his mystery witch find him just as unappealing as others?  Was the hope he so longed for impossible to obtain?

The room suddenly felt smaller.  His parents stared at him.  He was feeling a chill.

Oh no.

A chill.

Draco resisted the urge to shiver.  He couldn’t allow Lucius and Narcissa to see him grow cold.  The twitches were getting harder to fight.  He was crashing.  He needed a fix.  How was he sweating when he was cold?

“I’m….” he began, as his face softened, “Forgive me, father.  Mother.  I’m going to retire to my room.”

Lucius looked skeptical but nodded.  Narcissa reached for Draco and squeezed his hand when he offered it.  Then he left.

He didn’t go to his room.  He had every intention to.  But another room caught his eye…

*******

Pansy excused herself from the dining table at her parents’ house.  She grew bored of their guests, all slimy men who drank too much and leered at her when her father wasn’t looking.  Her father, drunk and loud, was clapping his hands and laughing at a vile story one of his colleagues was telling.

Her mother, not quite as drunk as Mr. Parkinson, bid her goodnight with a dismissive wave of her hand and went back to shamelessly flirting with her husband’s colleague.

The laughter slowly died out the closer she got to her bedroom.  Pansy was exhausted from searching all through Hogsmeade looking for her blonde friend.  She was relieved when Blaise alerted her that he was found at Flourish and Blotts.  Then she met up with Theodore and the two had a well-deserved spa day.  She was relaxed, until her and Theo decided to play a round of Wizarding pool at a shady pub in Knockturn Alley.  They drank too much, smoked too much and bickered about one or the other playing dirty.

Dinner with her parents and their friends didn’t help with her exhaustion.  There really was no reason for her to be there; they didn’t invite her into their conversation.  But she was expected to sit quietly and listen.  Her mother still made sure she was dolled up and presentable for any eligible bachelor, even if they were twice her age and losing their hair.

Pansy entered her room and immediately shed her dress robes, changing into a short silk night gown that hardly covered her nether regions.  She tossed her knickers into the hamper and slid under the covers.  There was no meeting scheduled tomorrow, she could sleep in and then perhaps catch up on the latest issue of Witch Weekly which yet again had Ms. Zabini on the front cover.

Her dreams were slowly coming into view, Ms. Zabini’s magazine cover slowly morphed into a young witch with raven hair and cherry red lips.  Pansy smiled to herself.  Someday, that would be her gracing the cover.

She heard shuffling and her eyes immediately shot open.  She could feel the presence of someone in her room.  Pansy rolled her eyes and groaned expecting another geriatric suitor to attempt to woo her with their money and jewels.

Pansy sat up and she gasped.

Leaning in lazily against the doorframe, head tilted slightly to the side, hair disheveled, shirt unbuttoned almost halfway, and eyes glazed over was Draco Malfoy.

He grinned at her, and with an alluring purr he said…

“Pansy…”

 

I can't stop from spinning down the rabbit hole
The deeper that you push, the deeper I will go
They said that God's a woman, I'll worship you the same
'Cause all I do is think about saying your name in vain
-Falling In Reverse/Marilyn Manson, "God is a Weapon"

Notes:

I don't know about you guys, but I was craving some Lucissa! I hope you enjoyed their little spicy scene....even if it was interrupted.

Notes:

Shout out to my loving husband who listened and listened and listened some more as I read this chapter out loud to him and offered his opinions and additions.
Thank you to my lifelong RP friend Laur who taught me how to use Google Doc and was my incredible editor.
And to Grace, you are so AWESOME! Your commentary on my fics truly make my week. I am so glad the universe led us both to Xanga so we could meet and be lifelong nerds together.
And thank you to everyone who took the time out of their lives to read this.

You can follow me for updates on IG @ mother.of.lilith13