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Slytherin Through and Through - Part 1/2 of The Slytherin Way
Title: Slytherin Through and Through - Part 1/2 of The Slytherin Way
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sesheta_66
Rating: PG-13 (language)
Pairing: No pairings, by request (feel free to squint and read the subtext, and see it as H/D pre-slash). Characters include Draco, Snape and Harry.
Word count: ~ 3500 words (part 1)
Summary: The story begins as Draco and Snape flee Hogwarts at the end of HBP.
Author's Note: Thanks so much to my amazing friend and betaalaana_fair for all her encouragement and suggestions. Any mistakes are my own, so please point out any that I missed.
Request: Written for thehds_beltane fic exchange, the request was for a general fic, no romance, from quimtessence. Original request can be found here.
"Run, Draco!"
Draco didn't need telling twice. Potter was behind them, running at top speed, throwing curses at Snape. Draco couldn't help himself. He turned and slowed to watch in morbid fascination as Potter didn't hesitate -- not in the slightest -- to avenge his mentor's death. He was no match for Snape, of course, and had the Dark Lord not demanded to be the one to kill Potter himself, the Gryffindor would surely have been dead at Snape's hand by now.
Draco watched as Snape and Potter threw curse after curse, alternately yelling at each other. He couldn't make out the words, but Snape was taunting Potter, just like he always did. Yet Potter continued to advance. Draco couldn't help but appreciate his tenacity. It fascinated him to see how determined, yet blatantly stupid, the other boy was.
With a look from Snape, Draco turned back around and made it just outside the wards of Hogwarts. Snape passed through, grabbed Draco's arm, and Apparated them to safety.
"Stay here," Snape ordered. "Do not open the door. Go nowhere. I shall return." Before Draco had a chance to say anything, Snape was gone.
Shit, shit, shit! What have I done? What just happened? Oh, God, Mother!
Thoughts swam around in Draco's head. He wondered what the events of tonight would mean. Dumbledore was dead. Not at his hand, but still ... the Dark Lord should be pleased. And Draco had let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts like he had promised. He shuddered at the thought of Greyback running around his school, where his friends were.
He cast that thought from his mind. Surely the Dark Lord would be satisfied with the end result, and let his mother go now. Wouldn't he? Or would he want to punish Draco for not following through? Had he made things even worse now? He wanted to be angry with Snape, wanted to blame him, but he knew he couldn't. Draco hadn't been about to kill Dumbledore; that much was obvious. He had made his decision when he had lowered his wand. Not that he had really thought things through before that. Sure, he wanted his mother safe, and had been put in an impossible situation, but ...
Randomly sending deadly packages to Dumbledore was one thing. Personally facing someone and casting a Killing Curse was quite another. Especially when the man he was about to kill kept telling him he could help him, help his family. Could he have? Has his death now solidified their fate? Is Draco's mother now doomed? Will she be released now, only to be used as a pawn again the next time the Dark Lord demands something of Draco? Should he have accepted Dumbledore's offer right then? Or had it already been too late?
Draco's head throbbed, and his body ached. Willing himself to sit down, he took in his surroundings. Where am I? he thought. What is this place?
The Great Escape, as Draco now referred to his and Snape's flight from Hogwarts, was in a word anticlimactic. Once they were beyond the wards, they had Apparated to Snape's home (hovel was more like it) and then ... well ... nothing.
It had been three solid weeks of nothing. Nothing to do, nowhere to go, no one to see. Draco was bored senseless, and was sure by now that he had memorized all the swirls and patterns on the ceiling in the small room where he was kept. And kept he was -- he never left the house.
With that creepy Pettigrew character hovering around constantly, he found the solitude of his room to be preferable to the sitting room, if one was inclined to call it that. Truly he didn't understand how his Potions Master -- a man he had looked up to for years -- could live in such a place.
Dull, dreary and depressing, thought Draco. That explained a lot. He supposed he would have become surly just like Snape if he had to live here. Hell, he was becoming that way himself after only a few weeks.
Then again, he had nothing but his own thoughts for company. Thoughts that haunted him day and night. He awoke every morning bathed in sweat, having relived that last day at Hogwarts and their escape, remembering the sight of fiery green eyes flashing with anger and pain. During the day he thought of his mother. She was all he could think of. Was she okay? Had she been released? If she had been, then why hadn't she come to see him?
Through it all, he was told nothing. It was driving him to the brink of insanity. He needed to know what was happening beyond these walls. They were fast closing in on him, and he was sure he would break any day now.
Then, however, something happened that made him long for boredom.
Snape returned the next day from some meeting or other and pulled Draco aside. "Prepare to leave tonight. Do not tell Wormtail." Then he left Draco to wonder just what was going on. As usual.
Not only had he been told nothing about his mother, but he didn't know if his father was still in Azkaban, or what the fallout had been after Dumbledore's death. Correction -- murder. After Dumbledore's murder.
Draco still couldn't believe that Snape had done it. He had been shocked to see the look of utter disdain on Snape's face as he had aimed his wand at the cowering Headmaster and uttered the words that Draco had been unable to.
Shaking away the memory, he was left once again feeling like his life was out of control. He didn't make any decisions, wasn't informed of anything, and now he had to get ready to flee again. But to where? And why now?
Once Wormtail had left, Snape came to collect him. "Now. We must leave now, before that rat returns. Collect your things, and let's go," Snape had ordered.
It hadn't been difficult, since he had come there with only the clothes on his back and his wand. He hadn't accumulated much more in the three weeks he had been there. In five minutes he had everything and was ready to go. "Where are we going?" he asked.
"You'll find out soon enough," was the only response he got before Snape grabbed his arm and Apparated them both away. Before he had the chance to focus on his surroundings, Snape had thrust a piece of paper under his nose.
The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix
is at 12 Grimmauld Place, London.
Draco looked up as the house materialized in front of him. "Fidelius?" he asked.
Snape nodded. "Now move."
"But --"
"Move!" he barked as he pushed Draco ahead of him, looking around as he did so. He knocked on the door, and when it opened, to Draco's horror, there stood Harry fucking Potter! What the hell?
If looks could kill, he was quite sure Snape would have died a painful, lingering death at Potter's hand. Narrowing his eyes (those same angry green eyes Draco saw every night now) at his former professor, Potter growled, "What the hell are you doing here?"
Snape took a deep breath and seemed to waver in his resolve, but only momentarily. "Surely you know by now what really happened?" he asked Potter, who continued to glare daggers at him. "Mr. Potter, perhaps we could discuss this where we cannot be seen?"
To Draco's surprise, Potter then opened the door, turning his back on them and leading the way into the front room. "There. No one can see you. Now tell me why you are here so you can get out."
Draco noted, much to his irritation, that Potter hadn't even acknowledged his existence. He seemed completely consumed by his loathing of Snape. So consumed in fact that it was palpable. Draco felt almost smothered by it, as though the air around them had grown heavy from the weight of it. Draco had the sudden urge to get out of there, to go where the air was breathable.
"Do you treat all your guests in such an abhorrent manner?" asked Snape.
"First, you are not my guest, nor will you ever be. Second, no. I reserve such warm greetings for murderers." He still hadn't so much as glanced in Draco's direction. "Now say what you will and get out of my house."
His house? This is Potter's house? What was Snape thinking, bringing me here? This is suicide.
Draco suddenly realized that Potter was alone. He had no one else protecting him.
What was Snape playing at? And what did he mean by "what really happened"? He had killed Dumbledore. There wasn't much else to tell. But then why had Potter willingly let them into his home?
Draco was completely lost. He opened his mouth to speak, but quickly shut it again. He didn't know what Snape was doing, but he wasn't going to ruin it for him by saying something stupid. He stood there saying nothing instead.
"I have come here to ask you to honour Albus Dumbledore's wishes." He glanced over at Draco, and Potter's eyes followed. As quickly as he had looked Draco's way, Potter had turned back to Snape.
"Surely you don't expect me to --"
"That's exactly what I expect." Potter resumed glaring at Snape. "He had extended an offer to Mr. Malfoy here, and I'm asking you to honour it."
Draco wasn't sure what they were talking about, but a feeling of foreboding was settling over him. Surely he didn't mean ...?
Potter mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, "For fuck's sake" before turning his glare to Draco. "Why should I?" he spat, glaring at Draco, speaking to Snape.
"Because it is the right thing to do, and you know it." Snape's voice sounded defeated.
Potter laughed aloud at Snape's remark, but it was a laugh lacking humour, full of malice. The sound, coupled with the look on Potter's face, caused Draco to wince. "As if he --" (Potter shot a derisive look in Draco's direction) "-- thought about what was right when he let those Death Eaters into Hogwarts." Then, almost as an afterthought, looking directly at Draco, he added one more jab. "And let's not forget about Fenrir Greyback."
Draco cringed, knowing that Potter was right. He hadn't known that the werewolf would be there, and the memory sickened him. But he hadn't had a choice, had he? His mother. His beautiful, graceful, strong mother had been reduced to a weeping shell, tortured by Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Her own sister had stood by and watched. He had to help her, had no choice, couldn't have left her. His father hadn't been in any position to help, and Bellatrix did nothing, so it had been left to Draco to save her.
He blinked back tears that threatened to flow as he realized that he still didn't know if she was safe.
Looking up, Draco realized that both men were staring at him. They must have said something to him. Saying nothing, he gave them a questioning look.
"Well?" Potter grunted at him.
"Well what?" Draco croaked, his throat dry from lack of use, and perhaps a little out of fear.
"Haven't you been listening?" Snape hissed at him.
"Sorry. I was thinking --"
"Never mind," Snape cut him off. Potter merely rolled his eyes.
"Fine," Potter said to Snape, then turned to Draco. "This way," he said and walked towards the stairs. "I'll be taking your wand, and if you try anything, just once, you will be out on the street and I won't care what Voldemort or anyone else does to you."
Draco gaped at Snape, who merely nodded, and held out his hand. "Your wand, Draco."
"What? I'm not --"
"Your wand or your life," Potter said.
"Isn't that just a bit dramatic, even for you, Potter?"
"You think so? Try me. I don't owe you a damn thing, Malfoy, and I don't like you. I couldn't care less if you die. Do you get that? I don't care. If you want to try something, go ahead. You will be out on your pureblood arse so fast your head will spin. Your life expectancy out there is dependent on just how quickly Voldemort finds you."
Potter hadn't raised his voice at all, yet Draco could feel contempt coming off him in waves. He turned to Snape for help, support, or even an explanation, but all he saw was defeat on the older man's face. "Give me your wand, Draco. I will take care of it for you." At Draco's pleading look, he continued. "It is for the best. You have to trust me. And as difficult as it sounds, you have to trust Potter. It's the only way."
Clearly faced with no choice -- again -- Draco handed over his wand, and left himself at the mercy of the one man in the world he never thought he would be beholden to. Suddenly Draco felt weak, stripped, impotent. He tried not to think about what Potter might do, having Draco at his mercy. He shuddered involuntarily at the thought, and followed Potter to what was about to become his room.
One week later, Draco had finally begun to relax, and had finally stopped jumping every time anyone entered the room. Unlike what any Slytherin he knew would have done in similar circumstances, Potter hadn't done anything to him. And Draco couldn't be sure, but he suspected that Saint Potter had prevented others -- namely Weasley -- from lashing out at a defenceless man, even if it was Draco.
"Malfoy!" called Potter. Draco was in the habit of staying in his room except at mealtime and when he used the washroom. He felt safer hidden away. Out of sight, out of mind. Perhaps if everyone forgot he was there, they wouldn't do anything to him. He hated not having a wand. And he hated Potter for taking his away. "Malfoy!" Potter called again.
"I'll be right down," he called back.
To Draco's utter shock, when he got downstairs, Potter handed him a wand. "It's a beginner's wand," he explained. "It can only perform the most basic of spells." At Draco's look of confusion, he continued. "I need to leave for a few days, and I don't want to leave you completely without magic."
Draco's mouth opened for him to speak, but no words came out. He closed his mouth again and stared stupidly at the boy wonder.
"I don't trust you," Potter said, his eyes boring into Draco's. "I doubt that I ever will. But I'm not cruel, and I have seen what not having magic is doing to you."
With that, Potter made his way to the fireplace and threw in some Floo powder. "Don't make me regret this, Malfoy. I'll be back in two or three days. Dobby will make sure you have what you need. Don't go anywhere." Draco nodded and watched Potter Floo away.
After Potter left, Draco tested his new wand. Sure enough, he could cast some basic spells, but nothing too complex. As the realization dawned that Potter would be away, Draco began to feel vulnerable again, even with the wand. What would the others do, knowing that Potter wasn't around to stop them? A tightening in his chest was accompanied by a weight in his stomach. What if the Weasel came by?
Three days had passed when Draco heard the unmistakable sound of someone coming through the Floo.
"Potter?" he called as he raced down the stairs. Try as he might, he couldn't shake the feeling of relief that another human being -- even Potter -- was there with him. He had thought that solitude would be far better than the harsh reality of living with one's enemy, but he had soon been proven wrong. He was practically climbing the walls with boredom. As he reached the landing, he hesitated. What if it was the weasel?
As he slowly entered the front room, he was met by Snape who regarded him with a strange look, eyebrow raised. "Sorry to disappoint," Snape drawled.
Draco's face broke into a smile. "Professor Snape! Thank Merlin it's you!" Snape's other eyebrow joined the first one, and Draco continued. "I am going rather barmy right now. It has been days since I've had human contact of any kind, and --"
"Ahh," Snape said, relaxing his gaze. "That explains why you sounded almost hopeful that Potter had returned."
"I didn't!" Draco gasped, horrified at the thought that he might have sounded so weak.
Snape chuckled -- actually chuckled! "Now there is the Draco Malfoy that I know so well," he said in an almost paternal fashion. Draco had never heard such warmth coming from his favourite teacher before, even towards his favourite student. A feeling of dread came over Draco at that thought.
"So, does this mean that you and Potter are getting along?"
Draco snorted in as dignified a fashion as he could. "If you call not killing each other 'getting along' then I suppose we are, yes." Draco forced a smile.
"Well that's good," Snape said. Draco wasn't sure, but he sensed that the other man hadn't heard him at all. "Draco, have a seat please," he said, motioning to one of the chairs by the fire. Draco's feeling of unease increased. "I have some news."
Draco's stomach lurched. "My mother?" he asked.
"I'm afraid so."
Draco collapsed into a chair. "And my father?"
"Your father also," Snape said, a shadow falling over his features.
"How? When? Why?" Draco asked, frankly surprised he could speak at all.
"Your father was executed by your Aunt Bellatrix on the Dark Lord's orders. A group of Death Eaters broke into Azkaban, under the guise of breaking him out, but when Bellatrix reached his cell, it was over. She apparently spit at his feet and said, "This is for the Dark Lord, because of your failure, and in memory of my sister," before she cast the Killing Curse.
"When?"
"The day I brought you here."
"You knew?" Draco yelled, a ringing in his ears and pressure in his head mounting.
"I did not know if what she said was the truth. We had no way of knowing."
"But you knew my father was dead," he accused.
"Yes, but we couldn't risk you doing something foolish in the event your mother was still alive. We believed it might have been a trap designed to capture you."
"And now?"
"Now we know. We found Narcissa's body this morning." He laid a hand upon Draco's shoulder. "I am so very sorry, Draco."
"Does Potter know?" he asked, not sure why it mattered.
"Yes. He has known since that day."
Five days later, Potter returned. Draco had begun to wonder if he was coming back at all. When he did, he was in rough shape. He made it through the fire, only to collapse on the floor in front of it, startling Draco who had been in the room reading.
"Dobby!" Draco called. The house-elf appeared immediately.
"Oh!" the house-elf squeaked. "Harry Potter is hurting!"
"Yes, Dobby. Go draw a bath and gather whatever healing potions you have."
"Yes, Master Malfoy, sir."
Draco lifted a very weak Potter into a standing position. "I'm going to get you upstairs so you can get cleaned up, okay?" he asked a semi-conscious Potter. "It would help if I could use your wand."
Potter nodded, and Draco went into Potter's cloak pocket, and retrieved the wand. "You can trust me," he said just before casting a Levicorpus Spell and guiding the brunette up the stairs. Potter passed out halfway to the bathroom.
Hours later, sometime in the middle of the night, Draco was awakened by someone calling his name.
"Malfoy!"
He went running into Potter's room, wondering what the other man was screaming about.
"Where's my wand?" he asked without preamble.
"Good God, Potter! You woke me up to ask me that?"
"Yes!" he barked. "Where is it?"
Draco made his way over to the night table beside Potter's bed, opened the drawer and pointed. "There. May I go back to sleep now?" Draco turned and made his way to the door.
"No." Potter's voice stopped him in his tracks. Draco huffed in irritation, turning around to look at Potter. "Why didn't you kill me, or just let me die?" Potter asked. "Or take my wand and leave?"
Draco took a deep breath, and decided that honesty was the best response. "It's like you said, isn't it? I've nowhere to go, and the Dark Lord wants me dead. Besides," he continued, "you took me in, you didn't rub it in that the Dark Lord had killed my parents, and … well …" He looked into Potter's eyes with a fierce gaze. "You are going to kill the bastard, right?"
"Mhm," Potter replied.
"Then who am I to stop you?"
"You could help us, you know," Potter suggested. Typical stupid Gryffindor.
"Come on, Potter. You know me better than that. I am Slytherin through and through. I protect me. I may even protect my family. But that's where it ends. Saving the entire bloody wizarding world is your thing, not mine. I'm afraid you're on your own against the Dark Lord."
"But you just helped me now."
"Oh it was nothing personal. I just couldn't let you die. If you were dead, then who would kill him?" Draco explained, turning again to leave. As he approached the door, he hesitated. "Oh, and Potter?"
"Yeah?"
"Be quick about it, would you? I'd like to get my life back."
Part 2 - Protecting One's Future
.
Author:
sesheta_66Rating: PG-13 (language)
Pairing: No pairings, by request (feel free to squint and read the subtext, and see it as H/D pre-slash). Characters include Draco, Snape and Harry.
Word count: ~ 3500 words (part 1)
Summary: The story begins as Draco and Snape flee Hogwarts at the end of HBP.
Author's Note: Thanks so much to my amazing friend and beta
alaana_fair for all her encouragement and suggestions. Any mistakes are my own, so please point out any that I missed.Request: Written for the
hds_beltane fic exchange, the request was for a general fic, no romance, from quimtessence. Original request can be found here. "Run, Draco!"
Draco didn't need telling twice. Potter was behind them, running at top speed, throwing curses at Snape. Draco couldn't help himself. He turned and slowed to watch in morbid fascination as Potter didn't hesitate -- not in the slightest -- to avenge his mentor's death. He was no match for Snape, of course, and had the Dark Lord not demanded to be the one to kill Potter himself, the Gryffindor would surely have been dead at Snape's hand by now.
Draco watched as Snape and Potter threw curse after curse, alternately yelling at each other. He couldn't make out the words, but Snape was taunting Potter, just like he always did. Yet Potter continued to advance. Draco couldn't help but appreciate his tenacity. It fascinated him to see how determined, yet blatantly stupid, the other boy was.
With a look from Snape, Draco turned back around and made it just outside the wards of Hogwarts. Snape passed through, grabbed Draco's arm, and Apparated them to safety.
"Stay here," Snape ordered. "Do not open the door. Go nowhere. I shall return." Before Draco had a chance to say anything, Snape was gone.
Shit, shit, shit! What have I done? What just happened? Oh, God, Mother!
Thoughts swam around in Draco's head. He wondered what the events of tonight would mean. Dumbledore was dead. Not at his hand, but still ... the Dark Lord should be pleased. And Draco had let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts like he had promised. He shuddered at the thought of Greyback running around his school, where his friends were.
He cast that thought from his mind. Surely the Dark Lord would be satisfied with the end result, and let his mother go now. Wouldn't he? Or would he want to punish Draco for not following through? Had he made things even worse now? He wanted to be angry with Snape, wanted to blame him, but he knew he couldn't. Draco hadn't been about to kill Dumbledore; that much was obvious. He had made his decision when he had lowered his wand. Not that he had really thought things through before that. Sure, he wanted his mother safe, and had been put in an impossible situation, but ...
Randomly sending deadly packages to Dumbledore was one thing. Personally facing someone and casting a Killing Curse was quite another. Especially when the man he was about to kill kept telling him he could help him, help his family. Could he have? Has his death now solidified their fate? Is Draco's mother now doomed? Will she be released now, only to be used as a pawn again the next time the Dark Lord demands something of Draco? Should he have accepted Dumbledore's offer right then? Or had it already been too late?
Draco's head throbbed, and his body ached. Willing himself to sit down, he took in his surroundings. Where am I? he thought. What is this place?
The Great Escape, as Draco now referred to his and Snape's flight from Hogwarts, was in a word anticlimactic. Once they were beyond the wards, they had Apparated to Snape's home (hovel was more like it) and then ... well ... nothing.
It had been three solid weeks of nothing. Nothing to do, nowhere to go, no one to see. Draco was bored senseless, and was sure by now that he had memorized all the swirls and patterns on the ceiling in the small room where he was kept. And kept he was -- he never left the house.
With that creepy Pettigrew character hovering around constantly, he found the solitude of his room to be preferable to the sitting room, if one was inclined to call it that. Truly he didn't understand how his Potions Master -- a man he had looked up to for years -- could live in such a place.
Dull, dreary and depressing, thought Draco. That explained a lot. He supposed he would have become surly just like Snape if he had to live here. Hell, he was becoming that way himself after only a few weeks.
Then again, he had nothing but his own thoughts for company. Thoughts that haunted him day and night. He awoke every morning bathed in sweat, having relived that last day at Hogwarts and their escape, remembering the sight of fiery green eyes flashing with anger and pain. During the day he thought of his mother. She was all he could think of. Was she okay? Had she been released? If she had been, then why hadn't she come to see him?
Through it all, he was told nothing. It was driving him to the brink of insanity. He needed to know what was happening beyond these walls. They were fast closing in on him, and he was sure he would break any day now.
Then, however, something happened that made him long for boredom.
Snape returned the next day from some meeting or other and pulled Draco aside. "Prepare to leave tonight. Do not tell Wormtail." Then he left Draco to wonder just what was going on. As usual.
Not only had he been told nothing about his mother, but he didn't know if his father was still in Azkaban, or what the fallout had been after Dumbledore's death. Correction -- murder. After Dumbledore's murder.
Draco still couldn't believe that Snape had done it. He had been shocked to see the look of utter disdain on Snape's face as he had aimed his wand at the cowering Headmaster and uttered the words that Draco had been unable to.
Shaking away the memory, he was left once again feeling like his life was out of control. He didn't make any decisions, wasn't informed of anything, and now he had to get ready to flee again. But to where? And why now?
Once Wormtail had left, Snape came to collect him. "Now. We must leave now, before that rat returns. Collect your things, and let's go," Snape had ordered.
It hadn't been difficult, since he had come there with only the clothes on his back and his wand. He hadn't accumulated much more in the three weeks he had been there. In five minutes he had everything and was ready to go. "Where are we going?" he asked.
"You'll find out soon enough," was the only response he got before Snape grabbed his arm and Apparated them both away. Before he had the chance to focus on his surroundings, Snape had thrust a piece of paper under his nose.
is at 12 Grimmauld Place, London.
Draco looked up as the house materialized in front of him. "Fidelius?" he asked.
Snape nodded. "Now move."
"But --"
"Move!" he barked as he pushed Draco ahead of him, looking around as he did so. He knocked on the door, and when it opened, to Draco's horror, there stood Harry fucking Potter! What the hell?
If looks could kill, he was quite sure Snape would have died a painful, lingering death at Potter's hand. Narrowing his eyes (those same angry green eyes Draco saw every night now) at his former professor, Potter growled, "What the hell are you doing here?"
Snape took a deep breath and seemed to waver in his resolve, but only momentarily. "Surely you know by now what really happened?" he asked Potter, who continued to glare daggers at him. "Mr. Potter, perhaps we could discuss this where we cannot be seen?"
To Draco's surprise, Potter then opened the door, turning his back on them and leading the way into the front room. "There. No one can see you. Now tell me why you are here so you can get out."
Draco noted, much to his irritation, that Potter hadn't even acknowledged his existence. He seemed completely consumed by his loathing of Snape. So consumed in fact that it was palpable. Draco felt almost smothered by it, as though the air around them had grown heavy from the weight of it. Draco had the sudden urge to get out of there, to go where the air was breathable.
"Do you treat all your guests in such an abhorrent manner?" asked Snape.
"First, you are not my guest, nor will you ever be. Second, no. I reserve such warm greetings for murderers." He still hadn't so much as glanced in Draco's direction. "Now say what you will and get out of my house."
His house? This is Potter's house? What was Snape thinking, bringing me here? This is suicide.
Draco suddenly realized that Potter was alone. He had no one else protecting him.
What was Snape playing at? And what did he mean by "what really happened"? He had killed Dumbledore. There wasn't much else to tell. But then why had Potter willingly let them into his home?
Draco was completely lost. He opened his mouth to speak, but quickly shut it again. He didn't know what Snape was doing, but he wasn't going to ruin it for him by saying something stupid. He stood there saying nothing instead.
"I have come here to ask you to honour Albus Dumbledore's wishes." He glanced over at Draco, and Potter's eyes followed. As quickly as he had looked Draco's way, Potter had turned back to Snape.
"Surely you don't expect me to --"
"That's exactly what I expect." Potter resumed glaring at Snape. "He had extended an offer to Mr. Malfoy here, and I'm asking you to honour it."
Draco wasn't sure what they were talking about, but a feeling of foreboding was settling over him. Surely he didn't mean ...?
Potter mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, "For fuck's sake" before turning his glare to Draco. "Why should I?" he spat, glaring at Draco, speaking to Snape.
"Because it is the right thing to do, and you know it." Snape's voice sounded defeated.
Potter laughed aloud at Snape's remark, but it was a laugh lacking humour, full of malice. The sound, coupled with the look on Potter's face, caused Draco to wince. "As if he --" (Potter shot a derisive look in Draco's direction) "-- thought about what was right when he let those Death Eaters into Hogwarts." Then, almost as an afterthought, looking directly at Draco, he added one more jab. "And let's not forget about Fenrir Greyback."
Draco cringed, knowing that Potter was right. He hadn't known that the werewolf would be there, and the memory sickened him. But he hadn't had a choice, had he? His mother. His beautiful, graceful, strong mother had been reduced to a weeping shell, tortured by Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Her own sister had stood by and watched. He had to help her, had no choice, couldn't have left her. His father hadn't been in any position to help, and Bellatrix did nothing, so it had been left to Draco to save her.
He blinked back tears that threatened to flow as he realized that he still didn't know if she was safe.
Looking up, Draco realized that both men were staring at him. They must have said something to him. Saying nothing, he gave them a questioning look.
"Well?" Potter grunted at him.
"Well what?" Draco croaked, his throat dry from lack of use, and perhaps a little out of fear.
"Haven't you been listening?" Snape hissed at him.
"Sorry. I was thinking --"
"Never mind," Snape cut him off. Potter merely rolled his eyes.
"Fine," Potter said to Snape, then turned to Draco. "This way," he said and walked towards the stairs. "I'll be taking your wand, and if you try anything, just once, you will be out on the street and I won't care what Voldemort or anyone else does to you."
Draco gaped at Snape, who merely nodded, and held out his hand. "Your wand, Draco."
"What? I'm not --"
"Your wand or your life," Potter said.
"Isn't that just a bit dramatic, even for you, Potter?"
"You think so? Try me. I don't owe you a damn thing, Malfoy, and I don't like you. I couldn't care less if you die. Do you get that? I don't care. If you want to try something, go ahead. You will be out on your pureblood arse so fast your head will spin. Your life expectancy out there is dependent on just how quickly Voldemort finds you."
Potter hadn't raised his voice at all, yet Draco could feel contempt coming off him in waves. He turned to Snape for help, support, or even an explanation, but all he saw was defeat on the older man's face. "Give me your wand, Draco. I will take care of it for you." At Draco's pleading look, he continued. "It is for the best. You have to trust me. And as difficult as it sounds, you have to trust Potter. It's the only way."
Clearly faced with no choice -- again -- Draco handed over his wand, and left himself at the mercy of the one man in the world he never thought he would be beholden to. Suddenly Draco felt weak, stripped, impotent. He tried not to think about what Potter might do, having Draco at his mercy. He shuddered involuntarily at the thought, and followed Potter to what was about to become his room.
One week later, Draco had finally begun to relax, and had finally stopped jumping every time anyone entered the room. Unlike what any Slytherin he knew would have done in similar circumstances, Potter hadn't done anything to him. And Draco couldn't be sure, but he suspected that Saint Potter had prevented others -- namely Weasley -- from lashing out at a defenceless man, even if it was Draco.
"Malfoy!" called Potter. Draco was in the habit of staying in his room except at mealtime and when he used the washroom. He felt safer hidden away. Out of sight, out of mind. Perhaps if everyone forgot he was there, they wouldn't do anything to him. He hated not having a wand. And he hated Potter for taking his away. "Malfoy!" Potter called again.
"I'll be right down," he called back.
To Draco's utter shock, when he got downstairs, Potter handed him a wand. "It's a beginner's wand," he explained. "It can only perform the most basic of spells." At Draco's look of confusion, he continued. "I need to leave for a few days, and I don't want to leave you completely without magic."
Draco's mouth opened for him to speak, but no words came out. He closed his mouth again and stared stupidly at the boy wonder.
"I don't trust you," Potter said, his eyes boring into Draco's. "I doubt that I ever will. But I'm not cruel, and I have seen what not having magic is doing to you."
With that, Potter made his way to the fireplace and threw in some Floo powder. "Don't make me regret this, Malfoy. I'll be back in two or three days. Dobby will make sure you have what you need. Don't go anywhere." Draco nodded and watched Potter Floo away.
After Potter left, Draco tested his new wand. Sure enough, he could cast some basic spells, but nothing too complex. As the realization dawned that Potter would be away, Draco began to feel vulnerable again, even with the wand. What would the others do, knowing that Potter wasn't around to stop them? A tightening in his chest was accompanied by a weight in his stomach. What if the Weasel came by?
Three days had passed when Draco heard the unmistakable sound of someone coming through the Floo.
"Potter?" he called as he raced down the stairs. Try as he might, he couldn't shake the feeling of relief that another human being -- even Potter -- was there with him. He had thought that solitude would be far better than the harsh reality of living with one's enemy, but he had soon been proven wrong. He was practically climbing the walls with boredom. As he reached the landing, he hesitated. What if it was the weasel?
As he slowly entered the front room, he was met by Snape who regarded him with a strange look, eyebrow raised. "Sorry to disappoint," Snape drawled.
Draco's face broke into a smile. "Professor Snape! Thank Merlin it's you!" Snape's other eyebrow joined the first one, and Draco continued. "I am going rather barmy right now. It has been days since I've had human contact of any kind, and --"
"Ahh," Snape said, relaxing his gaze. "That explains why you sounded almost hopeful that Potter had returned."
"I didn't!" Draco gasped, horrified at the thought that he might have sounded so weak.
Snape chuckled -- actually chuckled! "Now there is the Draco Malfoy that I know so well," he said in an almost paternal fashion. Draco had never heard such warmth coming from his favourite teacher before, even towards his favourite student. A feeling of dread came over Draco at that thought.
"So, does this mean that you and Potter are getting along?"
Draco snorted in as dignified a fashion as he could. "If you call not killing each other 'getting along' then I suppose we are, yes." Draco forced a smile.
"Well that's good," Snape said. Draco wasn't sure, but he sensed that the other man hadn't heard him at all. "Draco, have a seat please," he said, motioning to one of the chairs by the fire. Draco's feeling of unease increased. "I have some news."
Draco's stomach lurched. "My mother?" he asked.
"I'm afraid so."
Draco collapsed into a chair. "And my father?"
"Your father also," Snape said, a shadow falling over his features.
"How? When? Why?" Draco asked, frankly surprised he could speak at all.
"Your father was executed by your Aunt Bellatrix on the Dark Lord's orders. A group of Death Eaters broke into Azkaban, under the guise of breaking him out, but when Bellatrix reached his cell, it was over. She apparently spit at his feet and said, "This is for the Dark Lord, because of your failure, and in memory of my sister," before she cast the Killing Curse.
"When?"
"The day I brought you here."
"You knew?" Draco yelled, a ringing in his ears and pressure in his head mounting.
"I did not know if what she said was the truth. We had no way of knowing."
"But you knew my father was dead," he accused.
"Yes, but we couldn't risk you doing something foolish in the event your mother was still alive. We believed it might have been a trap designed to capture you."
"And now?"
"Now we know. We found Narcissa's body this morning." He laid a hand upon Draco's shoulder. "I am so very sorry, Draco."
"Does Potter know?" he asked, not sure why it mattered.
"Yes. He has known since that day."
Five days later, Potter returned. Draco had begun to wonder if he was coming back at all. When he did, he was in rough shape. He made it through the fire, only to collapse on the floor in front of it, startling Draco who had been in the room reading.
"Dobby!" Draco called. The house-elf appeared immediately.
"Oh!" the house-elf squeaked. "Harry Potter is hurting!"
"Yes, Dobby. Go draw a bath and gather whatever healing potions you have."
"Yes, Master Malfoy, sir."
Draco lifted a very weak Potter into a standing position. "I'm going to get you upstairs so you can get cleaned up, okay?" he asked a semi-conscious Potter. "It would help if I could use your wand."
Potter nodded, and Draco went into Potter's cloak pocket, and retrieved the wand. "You can trust me," he said just before casting a Levicorpus Spell and guiding the brunette up the stairs. Potter passed out halfway to the bathroom.
Hours later, sometime in the middle of the night, Draco was awakened by someone calling his name.
"Malfoy!"
He went running into Potter's room, wondering what the other man was screaming about.
"Where's my wand?" he asked without preamble.
"Good God, Potter! You woke me up to ask me that?"
"Yes!" he barked. "Where is it?"
Draco made his way over to the night table beside Potter's bed, opened the drawer and pointed. "There. May I go back to sleep now?" Draco turned and made his way to the door.
"No." Potter's voice stopped him in his tracks. Draco huffed in irritation, turning around to look at Potter. "Why didn't you kill me, or just let me die?" Potter asked. "Or take my wand and leave?"
Draco took a deep breath, and decided that honesty was the best response. "It's like you said, isn't it? I've nowhere to go, and the Dark Lord wants me dead. Besides," he continued, "you took me in, you didn't rub it in that the Dark Lord had killed my parents, and … well …" He looked into Potter's eyes with a fierce gaze. "You are going to kill the bastard, right?"
"Mhm," Potter replied.
"Then who am I to stop you?"
"You could help us, you know," Potter suggested. Typical stupid Gryffindor.
"Come on, Potter. You know me better than that. I am Slytherin through and through. I protect me. I may even protect my family. But that's where it ends. Saving the entire bloody wizarding world is your thing, not mine. I'm afraid you're on your own against the Dark Lord."
"But you just helped me now."
"Oh it was nothing personal. I just couldn't let you die. If you were dead, then who would kill him?" Draco explained, turning again to leave. As he approached the door, he hesitated. "Oh, and Potter?"
"Yeah?"
"Be quick about it, would you? I'd like to get my life back."
Part 2 - Protecting One's Future
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Looking forward to an update :)
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I really like Narcissa.
C'est la vie!
This writing is superb. You do a nice mix of 'telling' and 'showing'. It's kind of hard to 'show' in short ficlets like this, but you manage to do it.
can't wait for more!
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*preens* Thanks for the compliment. ♥
(This one NOT brought to you by the Canadian Dental Association). Heh.
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When I saw the giftee had been absent from LJ for a while, I back-burnered the second part, and kept doing that since, making room for other work. But it has never been removed from the list. I'll stop pushing it aside - promise.
Thanks for the interest in the story, by the way. ♥
And your icon is adorable!
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Did you get a chance to read part 2 (link at the end of this part)?
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I just finally got a chance to read it :] Thanks!
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I liked Draco's explanation for saving Harry. That's SO him! And the last lines ... priceless!
Now I'm off to read the second part! Great work!
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Yup, yup. He's out to save himself. Harry just happens to be the means to that end.
Glad you liked it. :)