Dealing with Danger
Chapter 21: Unwilling Sacrifice (Year 3)
By Anne B. Walsh
Chapter 21: Unwilling Sacrifice
"Draco!"
"Luna! What are you doing here? Get back to your post, quick, we’re not supposed to leave—"
"I can’t, I just can’t — I need your help, you and Hermione both, it’s dreadful." Luna wrung her hands. "Please, I need you now. It’ll only take a minute, and they’re nowhere near here. Please come, please..."
"You need both of us?" Draco looked at Hermione. She shrugged. "Luna, what’s wrong?"
"I can’t explain!" Luna wailed. "Please!"
"Shh, you’ll have everyone coming to see what’s going on if you’re not careful." Draco wondered why his next neighbors hadn’t already come to see what was happening — surely Luna’s cries would have drawn their attention by now.
"But you have to come. I need you." Luna looked at him soulfully.
"It’ll only take a minute?" asked Hermione. "You’re sure?"
"Positive. It’s important — I think he’s hurt badly..."
"Hurt? Why didn’t you say so?" Hermione was on her feet. "Where is he?"
"Right back this way," said Luna, starting off. Draco wondered at the faint note of triumph in her voice. "Just along here."
They jogged along a hallway, passing the statue of Gunhilda of Gorsemoor along the way, and turned the corner into Luna and Dudley Dursley’s sentry point. Dursley lay on the floor, a puddle of red liquid spreading around him, and Draco thought for one shocked instant —
But no, the liquid had a very definite orange tint to it.
"Luna, he’s not hurt," said Hermione with careful patience. "He just fell on your wand or something, he’ll have to leave the match, but he’s not really hurt."
"I know." Luna was smiling, not in her usual aimless, friendly manner, nor in the focused joy Draco found so dazzling when she was truly happy about something — no, this was distinctly nasty, it would have looked absurd if it hadn’t been so frightening —
And now that Draco looked, she was standing between them and the exit to the corridor, with her wand in her hand...
He turned just in time to see Dursley sit up abruptly and point his wand at them.
Several things happened at once. Draco’s pendants went freezing cold, and Hermione’s shriek was cut off in the middle as Dursley’s Stunning Spell hit her. Instinctively, Draco dropped to the floor, and Luna’s spell shot over his head — he thought of running for an instant, but he couldn’t leave Hermione, and the wand he held was useless for real combat —
The last thing he saw was the smirk on Dursley’s face, and the knowledge that he’d seen it before, but not on Dursley...
xXxXx
"Oh God." Harry leaned against the wall, one hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating wildly under the icy chill at his breastbone. The Combat Club match had just taken a turn for the worse, and Draco and Hermione needed his help...
He turned to his sentry partner. "Ginny, you have to get help. You have to run. Go, now."
"But what about you?"
"Don’t argue with me! Go!"
Ginny took a breath to continue the argument, but screamed instead. "Look out!"
Harry spun and dropped in the same motion, hearing the hiss of a near miss over his head —
That’s a live spell!
He brought his wand up and sprayed dye across his attacker’s eyes, and only as she recoiled in surprise and pain, yelling, did he recognize her —
Luna?
He stared at her in shock for an instant, but even that instant was too long.
"Worthless fool!" shouted a furious voice, and another figure appeared around the corner —
Dursley?
Harry brought his wand up again, but Dursley disarmed him with an insultingly casual flick, and hit him with a second spell in almost the same motion —
He fell, and waited for the blackness to hit, and it wasn’t until he struck the ground with a thud that bruised his back and shoulder that he realized he hadn’t been Stunned.
Petrificus Totalus — the Body-Bind...
"You imbecile!" Dursley stormed at Luna, who was wiping dye away from her streaming eyes. "You let her get away! They’ll know we’re here any second, we’ve got to move! Get Potter!"
Luna levitated Harry, a pouty expression on her face. "Why did I have to be the girl, anyway?"
"Because Draco trusts her above anyone, as you saw." Dursley smirked. "Besides, I think it rather suits you. Don’t make such a fuss, it’s only an illusion. You can take it off as soon as we get back."
Of course, that’s not Luna — she’d never do this, not in a million years — but then, who...
Harry’s captor dropped him to the floor in the long hallway and tapped the stone hump of the one-eyed witch. "Dissendium!"
But the only people who know about that passage are the Marauders...
Dursley came into Harry’s field of view now, levitating Draco and Hermione, both unconscious, and still smirking. As Harry watched, Dursley stretched out a hand and stroked Draco’s cheek, caressing him.
Eww. That is so wrong.
Unless this isn’t Dursley either...
And then everything locked together, and Harry knew beyond a doubt who was taking them prisoner.
It was not comforting knowledge.
"I knew I was right to do the Silencing Charms for the perimeter myself," said Lucius Malfoy, still running his hand along Draco’s face, as Peter Pettigrew levitated Harry again, lifting him above the stone slide and letting him drop. "You’d have—"
Harry lost the rest of the sentence, but it didn’t matter.
Run, Ginny, he willed her as he careened down the chute. Run as fast as you can...
But he knew even that might not be enough.
xXxXx
Remus was sitting in his office, monitoring the match through a modified version of the Marauder’s Map he’d created. Instead of the complicated spells that showed every person on the grounds, each combatant touched the map before the match started and stated his or her name and team. The map registered them by their touch and showed their locations throughout the match. There were also territory markers which team members could mark with dye after they had taken an area, which changed that area’s color on the map.
The Slythindors were doing surprisingly well — a few of them had "killed" each other, but not nearly as many as he’d expected. They seemed to be able to put their differences aside for the duration of the match. "I guess we shouldn’t have worried," he said. "Gryffindors and Slytherins can cooperate after all."
"If you twist their arms sufficiently..." Danger’s laughing response trailed off, and worry crept onto her face, escalating rapidly into fear.
Remus was about to ask when he felt it too. A trickle of ice. It started at the back of his neck, then ran rapidly around both sides and down his chest.
Somewhere, one of the Pack was in danger of death.
He pulled the chain out, spread the pendants, and felt his breath catch in his throat. On the last pendant, the wolf cub glowed brightly, and the fox flickered fitfully for a moment before settling down to a steady, faint gleam.
No need to panic. It’s probably one of Harry’s wild schemes gone a bit wrong, with Draco not sure if he’s in or out yet. But I should check just to make sure...
Remus flipped the medallion over.
The carving of the cat shone like a flame, brighter than both the others put together.
A giant hand grabbed Remus’ lungs and squeezed. The room darkened, and a monster roared in his ears.
Hermione would never be part of any of the boys’ crazy ideas, especially not ones that involved the possibility of death. This was no game. Somewhere, something had gone deadly wrong.
Thinking he was losing one of his cubs had been torture.
Losing three of them would destroy him.
Somewhere nearby, he could hear Danger’s harsh breathing. Her panic was adding to his own, and his was fueling hers, creating a feedback loop, worsening every second — Remus knew they had to stop it, had to do something, but the recirculating fear held them paralyzed —
The door slammed open. "Professors!" Ginny Weasley dashed in. "Something’s wrong, it’s Luna — she shot at me, she had a real wand, she tried to Stun me..."
With a wrench, Remus closed the mental connection, breaking the loop. A good half of the fear he was feeling vanished, and he shoved what was left to the back of his mind. "Where?"
"Third floor — Harry told me to run, and now his carving’s glowing — I don’t know what’s going on."
"What part of the third floor?" Remus grabbed the girl’s arm and pulled her over to the map. "Show me."
Ginny stared for a moment, then put her finger down. "There. Look — there’s Luna now."
A dot marked Luna Lovegood was indeed under Ginny’s finger, Remus saw as she moved her hand. But it was curiously unmoving for a living thing — and it seemed to be inside the wall — and there were no other dots for combatants in that area...
Remus shoved his fear away again. You’re not useful. I need to think clearly, and you’re not going to help.
Danger was beside him now, staring at the place Ginny had identified, running her finger along the hallways. "Ginny, who set up the postings for sentries?"
"The captains. The Slytherin captain put us all there, but it wasn’t supposed to be very dangerous — there were Slytherins to both sides of our group—"
"But you and Harry, and Draco and Hermione, were all here," said Danger, still inscribing circles around the space. "Map, locate Harry Potter."
Combatant not found, the map printed in a margin.
"Locate Draco Black and Hermione Granger-Lupin."
Combatants not found.
Despite his best efforts, Remus’ fear was creeping back on him. The only reason for the map not to find the cubs was if they were no longer in the castle...
"And look what’s right here," said Danger. Her finger landed on something in one of the hallways, and Remus frowned.
"What does that have to — oh." He gave a shaky laugh. "Danger, don’t be silly — I warded those passages at the start of the year, nothing can get in that way."
"Could something get out?"
Out.
The floor dropped away from Remus’ feet.
Something could get out.
"Yes." The word left him in a harsh whisper. "Yes. Something could... get out."
Someone’s just left the castle. With my cubs. Meaning to kill them.
The passage takes them straight into Hogsmeade, and they can Apparate anywhere from there...
This is all my fault.
He barely heard Danger talking to Ginny, until suddenly the red-haired girl was gone and Danger was kneeling in front of him, looking him in the eye. He wondered when he’d fallen to the floor.
Remus.
He ignored her voice in favor of his own, closing his eyes as tears forced their way out. Hermione, sweet Kitten, forgive me — Draco, I’m so sorry, twice in the same month I’ve failed you — and Harry, dear God, did I take you from your relatives only to lose you now?
Remus John Lupin, listen to me!
With the mental shout came a yank, a sudden forced rapport, and Remus’ eyes opened without his conscious intent. Danger was staring into them, and Remus found himself listening to her, as she had commanded.
Yes, you made a mistake. Yes, it was a bad one. And yes, now our enemies have our cubs. But you cannot do this to yourself!
Why not?
Because people still need you. The cubs need you — Sirius and Letha need you — I need you. If you lose control, so will I, and we cannot afford that. Doubly tonight.
Tonight, Remus repeated dully. He looked over her shoulder at the clock. It was an hour until sunset.
It would be a relief to be lost in the beast, tonight — to rip and tear and rend and kill, to be free from this torment of thinking —
Stop it! A mental blow jolted him from his thoughts. Blame yourself all you want, but after we have them back safely! Now, please, help me. I can’t think this through all by myself...
I can’t think it through either. I don’t want to think anything through — it won’t help anyway — damn it, Danger, they could already be dead!
Danger bristled and tried to say something, but Remus silenced her with a mental hand over her mouth. And if they are, it is my fault. Do you understand that? My fault. I could have stopped whoever’s taken them — Malfoy, obviously, it has to be him — I could have stopped him getting away with them, and I didn’t, I forgot, and that’s the same as if I’d killed them myself —
"I have never heard such unmitigated bullshit!" Danger shouted aloud, making Remus pull back from her, since she’d been about two inches from his face. "You make one bloody mistake and suddenly everything is your fault? And that gives you the right to sit here and wallow in self-pity? I don’t think so!"
She got to her feet, staring down at him. "Fine. You sit on your arse and feel sorry for yourself. I’m going to find Sirius and Letha — they should be here any minute — and then we’re going to find our cubs, and rip apart whoever took them. We’ll do it fast if the cubs are still alive when we get there, and slow and painful if they’re dead. You can stay here — I’m sure somebody will find you a nice secure room to hurt yourself in — because tonight, I’m helping the people who need it most, and they aren’t you."
She turned her back on him and started for the door, then turned back. "I never thought you were selfish before. I guess I was wrong."
She had her hand on the doorknob before Remus found his voice. "Danger — wait. Please." He got shakily to his feet, crossed the office in a few steps, and pulled her into his arms. I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m just so scared...
I know. Me too. They were holding each other so tightly Remus was surprised either of them could still breathe. Let’s go do something about it.
Yes. Please.
They kissed once, then left the office at a run.
xXxXx
If he really strained his eyes, Harry found, he could see his watch.
He was grateful for that piece of luck. He knew from den-night stories that under stress, a person’s time-sense fell apart, so that they might think they’d been lost or under fire or in the dark for hours when it had really only been a few minutes.
He had a better excuse for not recalling the passage of time; he’d been unconscious. He’d hit his head at some point going down the chute, or possibly at the bottom. In any case, the chute was the last thing he remembered, and according to his watch, it was now fifteen minutes later.
His head hurt like anything, and he was still under the Petrificus. At least his eyes could move. He rolled them to their fullest extent, taking in what he could of the room where he was lying. There were no windows, and the shaky light of one candle didn’t show him much. As well, he was finding it a little hard to focus his eyes, and his mind kept wandering.
He did manage to notice, before darkness sneaked back up on him, that the room had the looks of a place that had been thoroughly trashed a long time ago, then hastily cleaned up. Something about the destruction looked familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on it...
xXxXx
Neville paced up and down the hospital wing. The Combat Club match had been canceled as soon as Ginny had told Professor McGonagall what had happened, and all students had been sent back to their dormitories immediately. He, Meghan, and Ginny had installed themselves in the hospital wing to wait for news.
Madam Pomfrey had just a little while ago forced Ron to take a Sleeping Potion, after catching him trying to get dressed and sneak out for the third time in twenty minutes. Luna had been found unconscious in a secret passage close to her sentry point. She had told her story, and was now lying impassive in the bed next to Ron’s, staring at the ceiling. Ginny sat between their two beds in a chair, hugging her knees to her chest and hissing between her teeth with every breath.
Meghan was curled up on a bed at the other end of the ward. The last few times Neville had come near her, she had lashed out with a fist or foot, snarling. This time, as he got near, she didn’t react at all.
I think that’s good. He sat down on the bed. "Pearl? You awake?"
"No."
If he hadn’t been so miserable, Neville would have laughed. "All right. Why are you mad?"
"I’m not mad!"
"You sound mad."
"I’m not! Why won’t you just leave me alone?"
"Because I’m scared. I was hoping you would sit with me."
A moment passed. Then a pair of eyes peered out from under an arm. "You’re scared?"
Neville nodded. "An awful lot."
Meghan hiccupped. "Me too."
"I know." Neville moved up the bed and gingerly put his hand on Meghan’s back. They stayed that way for a long time.
Finally, Meghan sat up. "It’s not fair," she said petulantly, looking at Neville. "It’s not fair — I’m supposed to fix things. Make wrong things right. But this is the wrongest thing I’ve ever felt, and I can’t do anything about it!" The last half of the sentence came out as a wail.
Neville swallowed, thinking of all the nights he’d spent crying in his bed after visiting his parents in St. Mungo’s. "Sometimes you can’t," he said quietly. "Sometimes you have to trust other people to do it for you. And sometimes there’s nothing anyone can do. But I don’t think this is one of those times. I think this is one of the times where you have to trust other people. Your parents are smart and really good wizards and witches. They’ll find them. They’ll bring them back."
"But what if they don’t?" Meghan clenched her fists and stared at the wall. "What if Harry and Hermione and Draco all get killed?"
"They won’t."
"But what if they do?"
"Then your parents will need you more than ever."
Meghan sniffled once, twice, and started to cry again, and because he’d made it happen, even though he hadn’t meant to, Neville moved a little closer and held her.
An owl fluttered in through the window. Ginny jumped up and ran to it, snatching the note from its beak. She read it eagerly, then scowled and shook her head. "Still nothing," she said. "All they know is that two people, with ‘several’ Side-Along passengers, Disapparated in Honeydukes’ cellar."
"Fat lot of help that is," said Meghan roughly.
Neville checked his watch. Harry, Draco, and Hermione had been missing for half an hour.
xXxXx
At Dumbledore’s invitation, the Pack was waiting for news in his office.
Aletha was twisting little scraps of parchment into tight screws, with an expression that suggested she wished each of them was Lucius Malfoy’s neck. Sirius was pacing, looking at his pendants and his watch after every few circuits of the office, as if convinced his motion would make them change. Danger was playing with a string she’d picked out of one of the chairs, twirling it between her fingers, knotting and unknotting it.
And I... am playing with fire.
Literally.
Remus wondered if anyone understood why he was choosing to pass the time and expend his nervous energy in this way. True, it was satisfying to shape the flames in Dumbledore’s fireplace into various forms. True, it ensured that he kept control over himself, since without that control he couldn’t hope to control the fire. But it also put him in a perfect position to read any notes that came through, and the Pack’s friends on the Auror force, of whom there were several (Sirius had made himself popular, not least by storming out of Scrimgeour’s office two weeks ago), were keeping them informed as often as possible...
The fire flared green, and a note fell out of it. Remus snatched it up and ripped it open. Oh God, please let this be...
"Nothing," he said in disappointment. "Malfoy Manor is still deserted, no sign anyone was ever there. They’re doing the rounds of suspected Death Eaters — the ones who got off — but they don’t think they’ll find anything..."
"No shit," said Sirius angrily. "He’s not going to take them to somebody’s effing house. He won’t want witnesses. Wherever he’s gone, it’s deserted, abandoned."
Abandoned. Something flickered in Remus’ mind, but it was gone again just as quickly. He let it go. Chasing after it would do no good — he had to think about something else to make it come back.
He picked up quill and parchment. Better tell the Pride this, as unhelpful as it is.
After the near-fiasco with the curse, Remus was determined not to keep the Pride in the dark again. Informed people tended to make fewer stupid decisions. As long as the Pride was aware of how much was not known, they were less likely to go running off and try to rescue their friends themselves.
Well, except Ron. But we knew that. He was livid when Poppy made him take that potion, but Letha said if he overexerts at this point he could hurt himself, and he wouldn’t promise to stay in bed...
He finished the note and whistled for one of the owls roosting on the windowsill. A barn owl hopped inside, and Remus handed it the note, which he’d addressed to Ginny. The owl took wing and swooped out the window, and Remus returned to his place by the fire.
Fifteen minutes till moonrise, Danger reminded him.
I know.
Are we going anywhere else for it?
There’s no reason to. As long as you’re here with me.
True enough. Danger stood up and came to sit behind him, beginning to rub his shoulders. It just strikes me as a little odd.
What does?
You’ve always been shy about your change. The only time I can think of when you were all right with letting anyone but me see it was the night before Sirius’ trial, when we were in jail together.
Remus twisted to look at her. Somehow, with everything else that’s happening right now, it doesn’t seem quite as important as it used to.
xXxXx
Scared. Scared. Scared. Cold. Face hurts. Hands hurt. I want to go home!
Draco snapped into full awareness. He was sitting cross-legged on a moldy-smelling bed, his hands tied behind him, back to back and hand in hand with someone else. It wasn’t hard to guess who, not with her voice dinning into him.
I want to go home, I want to go home, I want to go home now...
"Guess what, Neenie, me too. Would you mind shutting up about it?" Draco tried to keep his voice from cracking, and was startled by how mean it sounded instead. A wave of hurt rolled over him. God, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that...
"It’s all right," said Hermione’s voice from behind him, and he felt her hand squeeze his gently. "I know you didn’t. But Draco?"
"Yeah?"
"I wasn’t saying anything."
"Yes, you were. I heard you."
But did you hear me with your ears?
"Of course I heard you with my ears. How else do people hear each other?"
You’re assuming. Listen. Listen carefully. What do you hear?
Draco listened. A cold draft whistled through the room, coming in the open door and blowing out the broken window he could see when he craned his neck to look over his shoulder. He could hear his own breathing, and Hermione’s, and footsteps somewhere else in the house...
Now keep listening. You should still be able to hear all those sounds. Because you’re not hearing me with your ears. You can’t be. I’m not talking aloud.
"Then how are you talking?"
With my mind. The way Moony and Danger do, or the way we do with the chains. Try it.
"Try what?"
Think at me.
"Give me a second." Draco closed his eyes. Could they actually be talking silently?
After I yelled at her, she answered what I was thinking, not what I said out loud. And that didn’t sound like something she’d say out loud, but it did sound like something she’d think...
Can you hear this? he thought loudly, picturing Hermione clearly in his mind and squeezing her hand as he did.
Ow! You don’t have to shout!
Sorry. Didn’t mean to.
It’s all right. How are you feeling?
Scared. Stiff. Both separately and together. Draco opened his eyes and leaned a little forward, rolling his shoulders as best he could with his hands in their unnatural position.
Me too. How long do you think we’ve been here?
I don’t know. You’re facing the window — can you see anything?
Just glass on the floor. And sunlight coming straight in. It can’t be long till sunset.
Sunset. Draco frowned in thought. The match was supposed to end half an hour before sunset, to give Moony and Danger time to run us through a quick analysis before they had to go... you know. And it was about half an hour from being done when Luna came to get us.
So we’ve been here maybe an hour, or a little less.
Wherever here is. Draco’s gut was turning cold. Hermione, I think I know who took us. And at least part of why.
Your father?
Yeah. He looked like Dursley, but that smile gave him away. It was nasty.
So maybe the Luna who came to get us wasn’t really Luna. Maybe she was Pettigrew in disguise.
A knot in Draco’s throat untied with a rush of relief. Luna hadn’t betrayed them after all. Neenie, you’re brilliant.
I just hope the real Luna is all right. Pettigrew wouldn’t have wanted to risk her bursting in on us...
The knot retied itself, but looser. She can’t be dead. Our pendants would have reacted to it. Maybe he just knocked her out.
From behind, like he did Meghan on Halloween, so she wouldn’t see anything to be scared or worried about. He felt Hermione nod. That makes sense. But you said you know why he took us.
Same reason as always, Neenie. He wants me. Why he’d need you too, I don’t know — usually he wouldn’t have any use for a Mudblood... Draco was trying to make light of it, but the truth was he could think of any number of horrible things his father could do to Hermione.
And I’d go with him if he’d just promise not to touch her...
Does your face hurt? asked Hermione abruptly. Just under your left eye?
Yes, actually, it does. Draco ran his tongue up and down the inside of his left cheek and felt the stretch of just-healed tissue on the outside. It’s like someone cut me there, but it’s healed already. Unless it’s been a lot longer than we think it has, that means magic. Blood magic...
Blood magic. Draco — could that be why we can talk like this? Because someone did blood magic on us?
Draco frowned. I don’t know. Why would my father do a spell binding us closer together? He wants to pull me away from the Pack, not make me closer to you.
I don’t know either. But let’s get one thing straight. If he offers you any kind of deal where he’ll leave us alone forever if you’ll just go away with him, don’t take it.
Why not? I want you to be safe —
And that’s just what we wouldn’t be! Draco, he was a Death Eater. Do you really think he’s going to keep a promise?
I could get him to make an Unbreakable Vow. He couldn’t get out of that.
He’d find some way to get around it. Like resurrecting Voldemort and having him come and kill us all. Hermione sounded angry, but Draco would have bet money she was using Letha’s trick of being angry so you weren’t afraid. Draco, whatever he does to me, don’t, please don’t throw your life away. One of us has to get back.
Draco shook his head hard. I’m not leaving without you.
Damn it, don’t talk like that! It sounds really great in films, but it doesn’t work in real life! It’s like Ron’s always telling you about chess. That’s why you don’t play so well. You don’t like to make sacrifices. But sometimes you have to. And if I’m what you have to sacrifice to get out of here alive...
Hermione, I’m not leaving you with him. I wouldn’t leave my worst enemy with him —
Hermione snorted. He is your worst enemy.
Draco gave a short laugh. You have a point. But that’s not what I mean. How could I keep living, knowing the price I paid for it? No. We both get out of here, or neither.
That’s what I’m worried about. The neither part. And there’s somebody else involved in this too.
What? Who?
Harry. I got a look at my pendants, and your carving is glowing, but so is Harry’s. He must have come to see what was going on.
And got caught himself. Draco felt ill. It’s all my fault — none of this would ever have happened if I just hadn’t been there —
Would you bloody STOP! Hermione screamed into his mental ear.
Draco wasn’t sure what shocked him more, the volume or the language. Hermione never swore.
I do when I need to. And I need to now. We have to think — find some way to get out of this — and I do NOT have the time to play Clarence to your George Bailey, so knock it off right now!
All right, all right. I’ll stop. Do you have any ideas about how to get out of this, then?
No, admitted Hermione. I was hoping you did.
Sorry. When it comes to ideas, I haven’t got a twig to fly with right now. But damn it, there’s got to be something! Draco kicked at one of the disintegrating pillows in frustration, sending up a cloud of dust. His eyes began to water and his nose to itch. Uh-oh. Hang on.
To what?
Me, I guess. Draco sneezed three times in rapid succession, just missing banging his head into Hermione’s with the force of the third. Sorry.
"Awake, then," said a cool voice from the hallway. "Excellent."
Hermione’s hands tightened around Draco’s as Lucius Malfoy stepped into the room. Draco stared. His father was elegantly robed and perfectly coiffed, not a hair out of place, and looked overall more suited to a dinner party than to a dank, decaying house like this.
Malfoy tutted. "Do I not merit a greeting, Draco? Such an undutiful son. Five months since last we met, and you cannot even spare me the courtesy of a salutation."
"Do you hear something, Hermione?" said Draco, looking away from the man.
Draco, don’t do this. Please. It can’t hurt you to talk to him.
What happened to "don’t listen to him"?
I meant don’t agree to anything he asks you for! All we have to do is wait, the Pack’s bound to find us soon — but I’d rather not get tortured while we’re waiting!
All right.
"You seem to be in some discomfort, my son. Allow me." Malfoy drew a handkerchief from his pocket and gently wiped Draco’s eyes with it. It took all Draco’s courage not to flinch away from the man’s touch.
"Thank you, sir," he said with only a tiny bit of sarcasm in the tone as Malfoy pocketed the handkerchief. "It’s very kind of you."
"Not at all, my son, not at all." Malfoy seated himself on a chair in the corner of the room, near the edge of Draco’s field of vision. "It is the very least of what I will soon be giving to you. I apologize for these unusual arrangements — I am sure it must be torturous for you, to be in such close proximity to one such as Miss Granger-Lupin..." His voice caressed Hermione’s name. "But, as you will soon understand, it was necessary."
He thinks it’s torture to be close to you, but not to have my freaking hands tied? I think someone needs to sort out his priorities.
Will you please not make me laugh in front of him?
"Necessary, sir? I don’t understand."
"Of course you don’t." Malfoy stared out the window, towards the setting sun. "Of course. Because you have been lied to, Draco. Vilely lied to, and viciously used. Tell me, my son — of the two of you, yourself and the girl behind you, who would you say is the better at using magic? Who would you say has more success in lessons and the like?"
"Hermione," said Draco without hesitation. "She’s better than I’ll ever be at everything."
Draco!
It’s true.
"She is better than you will ever be, at everything," Malfoy repeated slowly. "And have you never wondered why?"
"I know why. She’s smart. She’s really smart, and she loves to learn, and she pays attention to everything. What does that have to do with me?"
I am not better than you’ll ever be!
You are so. Shush.
"It has this to do with you," said Malfoy, leaning forward. "This so-called family of yours — this Pack — have they ever been able to explain to your satisfaction why it is that you, a child of the oldest magical bloodlines in Britain, should have less magic than the brat of a pair of Muggle tooth-pullers?"
Hermione gasped. "Don’t act so surprised, girl, of course I know who you are," said Malfoy testily. "I make it a point to know my enemies. It makes predicting their next moves easier. So I know all about you, and your precious sister — rather curious, the way she married Lupin so soon after meeting him. One would almost think she’d had some kind of shock. Perhaps she feared for your life on some future full moon, should she fail to... satisfy her new acquaintance..."
"That’s not true!" shouted Hermione, whipping her head around. Draco leaned away from the flying hair that threatened to hit him in the face. "You’re lying!"
"Am I?" Malfoy chuckled. "But we’re rather off the subject, I fear. Or are we? Your sister interests me, little one. She never attended Hogwarts, nor was this because she refused her invitation — there was no invitation. She was a Muggle at the age of eleven, and twelve, and on upwards. Until, approximately, her twenty-first year, when she married Remus Lupin and vanished from sight. When she reemerged nearly ten years later, she seemed perfectly comfortable with magic. She owned and used a wand, and she possessed some unusual abilities."
"Like what?" asked Draco. "Punching you in the face? That’s not so unusual. I can do it. Let me up and I’ll show you."
"Oh, I’m afraid I can’t do that. Not yet, at any rate. You see, it is imperative that you and she remain in physical contact for the next..." Malfoy checked the time, and Draco marveled at the man’s need to playact, that he had strained what had to be very limited resources to get what looked like a real gold pocket watch. "Seven minutes. At that time, the bond will be complete, and we can proceed."
"What bond?" asked Hermione, at the same time Draco said, "Proceed with what?"
Malfoy laughed. "I do believe I have caught your interest," he said teasingly. "Draco, a question remains unanswered between us. Have those folk who pretend to be your parents never discussed with you why it is that this girl has more magic than you do yourself?"
"They’re not pretending to be my parents," said Draco, scowling. "And I don’t think Hermione has more magic than I do. She just uses what she has better."
"Oh, believe me, my son, I have examined you both carefully." Malfoy smirked, and Draco felt Hermione shudder. "It is as I say. Have you any idea why?"
Draco shrugged as best he could. "It happens like that sometimes," he said. "There’s no way to predict who’ll have more or better magic by looking at blood."
"That," thundered Malfoy, standing up, "is the lie you have been taught! See beyond the lie, Draco, see the truth! You have been robbed, robbed of your birthright! This girl has stolen your magic!"
"I have not!" cried Hermione furiously. "I wouldn’t!"
"Oh, not of your own accord, perhaps, but have you never wondered from whence came your marvelous magical prowess?" Malfoy prowled around the bed, and Draco squeezed Hermione’s hands hard as he felt her leaning back against him, away from the older wizard. "Have you never pondered the improbability of such a very fine witch being born from a line that produced no other magical scions save your very — unusual — sister?"
"Blood isn’t everything," said Hermione in a trembling voice. "I wouldn’t be a pureblood if you paid me."
"As well," said Malfoy lazily. "I doubt you would be willing to pay the necessary price..."
Draco felt a tide of rising panic. What’s wrong?
He’s going to touch me — he’s petting me. Down the side of my face and — wait a second — Hermione’s mind flashed from fear to fierce jubilation. Got it.
She jerked her head rapidly to one side, and Malfoy yelped.
What did you do?
Bit him. Hermione sounded very proud of herself. Right on the finger.
There was the sound of a slap. "Little bitch," Malfoy snarled.
"That’s queen to you," spat Hermione.
Another slap. "Hold your tongue."
Nice going, Draco said, working to remove the grin from his face before his father came around and saw it. Really nice.
Thanks. See if you can keep him talking. Maybe act like you think he did right.
"My apologies for that, sir," said Draco as Malfoy came around the end of the bed again, his finger wrapped in his handkerchief. "Hermione can be rather rowdy at times. But you seem to have found a good method of controlling her."
"Is it one you favor yourself, Draco?"
Draco pouted slightly. "We’re not permitted to do such things at home, sir. She’d go crying to the adults if I did. But you were just getting to something interesting. You say Hermione’s stolen my magic to be as powerful as she has, and then you mentioned Danger. Do you think she also stole someone’s magic?"
"Without a doubt. Though ‘stole’ is less proper an appellation. Living with them, you must have noticed that she and Lupin are seldom far from one another? To the best of my knowledge, they have not been parted for so much as a full day since they were married. I believe that, out of ‘love’ or some other misguided sentiment, Lupin has extended use of his own magic to his so-beautiful mate, and she has accepted it."
Draco frowned. "Can he do that?"
"Marriage creates a certain bond between the man and the woman who undergo it, Draco. Even a Muggle ceremony creates such a tie, but a magical wedding creates a far stronger one. Through such bonds as these, magic may indeed be shared. Though long-term sharing necessitates close contact between both parties."
Hermione inhaled sharply. Ask if there are any other kinds of bonds that magic can be shared on. I think we’re getting somewhere.
"Are there other bonds that can allow magic to be shared, sir? I assume so, since you mentioned a bond you are creating between myself and Her... Miss Granger-Lupin."
A ghost of a smile was beginning on Malfoy’s face. "Indeed there are such bonds, my son. Blood bonds are some of the most powerful in magic. Parents may share magic with their children, or take it from them temporarily, as many do to stop a spate of childhood accidental magic. And, of course, blood siblings may share magic. I believe that thus was your magic stolen, Draco — that your family did much as I am doing."
"What are you doing, sir?"
"I have created between you," announced Malfoy, "an artificial blood bond. When it is complete, you will be able to share magic as fully as siblings — no, I dare go even farther and say that the bond between you will be more like that of twins." He shuddered artistically. "You have my most abject apologies for the indignity, Draco, but it was necessary. It was the only possible way in which I could restore to you the magic which was stolen from you so long ago." The ghostly smile returned. "Poetic justice exists, I daresay."
"Why do you dare, sir?"
"I have no doubt that your so-called guardians have kept you all these years out of some misguided sense of loyalty to my late wife. Had she not charged them with your keeping in return for their safe deliverance, they would likely have killed you once they had what they wanted from you."
Oh, God, please don’t let me laugh, said Hermione desperately.
You think you’ve got problems? I can’t even crack a smile! Draco thought hard of Danger’s cries by his bedside, of the pain in her voice and Moony’s as they spoke his name, and managed a suitably grieved expression for his father’s benefit.
You idiot. A month ago, you might have convinced me. But I’ve heard it now, what they would say if they thought I was dead, and it’s nowhere near the "Thank Merlin that’s off our hands" you’d have me think it is — and that’s your fault. You’re a liar, and you always have been.
It was then that the implications of Malfoy’s statement struck him.
"Sir?"
"You may address me as Father, Draco, if you wish. It is, after all, accurate, and it would give me great pleasure."
I don’t want to do anything that will give you pleasure, great or small.
Do it. You don’t have to mean it.
Yes, Mother. "Yes... Father. Why do you think that the Pack — my guardians, that is — why would they have killed me?"
"Because even after the blood-bond between you and the girl was broken — and skillfully broken at that, to the point where I can find no traces of it..."
Because there never was one, said Hermione scornfully, except in your twisted imagination.
"Some form of bond still existed between you, and you began to reclaim your magic slowly through it, becoming more intelligent and skilled in magic as the years passed, at her expense." Malfoy smiled, examining his fingernails. "I shall not make that mistake."
Draco was grateful that his father’s head was down, since he knew for a fact that an expression of pure terror currently inhabited his face. God, no, no, he can’t mean —
He does. He must. Draco, get a hold of yourself, please!
Get a hold of myself? Hermione, he’s going to kill you!
I know. I know. But I have an idea. I think there might be a way for us to get out of here. Or at least out of these ropes. But you have to do something first.
Anything. Tell me what.
Get him to tie us front-to-front, instead of back-to-back, and leave us alone for a few minutes. Can you do it?
Draco grinned inwardly. Watch me.
"You’re going to kill her," he said in as flat a tone as he could manage, trying to ignore the gallon of ice water that seemed to have replaced everything which ought to be inside him. "Aren’t you?"
"I am."
"I don’t suppose I can stop you."
Malfoy laughed. "Bound as you are, without a wand, and with your marvelous family unaware of your whereabouts? I doubt you can."
Draco let some of his fear creep onto his face. "I guess you’re right. I just wish..." He let the words trail off and looked away.
"Wish what?" Malfoy was suddenly in front of him, all concern. "Come, Draco, speak to me. If we are to be a family again, we must learn to trust one another. I will gratify any wish you may have — within reason, of course. What is it you wish?"
Draco looked directly into the man’s eyes. "I wish I could see her," he said. "I wish we could look at each other one more time, and have a minute or two to say goodbye." It took very little acting to summon a tear. "She does bother me a lot, but she’s still — I mean, we’ve grown up together. I’ll miss her when she’s gone."
"It would be fitting," said Malfoy thoughtfully. "A ceremonial farewell, bidding adieu to the last vestiges of the old life before stepping into the new. I believe it can be managed. I assume you would wish me elsewhere during this touching scene?"
"If it’s not asking too much."
"Never, my son."
Draco smiled faintly. "Thank you, Father."
And I mean that like I never have before.
"Stay still, now, children," Malfoy cautioned, drawing a wand from his robes. "Do not try to move, or the spell will be disrupted..."
Draco felt himself spinning in place, and Hermione was spinning too, her startled cry echoing once in the room, and then suddenly they were looking into each other’s eyes, their four hands clasped in front of them, cocooned in rope. Malfoy put his wand away, looking rather pleased with himself. "Five minutes," he said coolly. "By that time, the bond will be cemented. I must tend to my cauldron in any case. Enjoy yourselves."
He left the room, pulling the door shut behind him.
All right, said Draco, taking a deep breath. What do we have to do?