Be Careful
21: What You Bargain With
By Anne B. Walsh
Lucius mounted the stairs to the second floor of his home, scowling to himself.
Five days. Five days and still the boy refuses to crack. Narcissa says he even seems happy. Not that she has spoken to him, I forbade that expressly and for a change she’s listened to me, but she sees him smiling as he sleeps or hears him talking to himself about some piece of work from outside the door.
I should have done at the outset what I am about to do now. It would have made everything simpler.
A strange sound came to his ears as he gained the hallway. It was as if—
No, it is precisely what it sounds like.
A voice. Singing.
Unaccompanied, so it is unlikely to be the wireless, and only one person resides on this floor.
I believe that will be quite enough of that.
Pulling the key to Draco’s room from his pocket, Lucius started down the hall, quietly. If he could catch the boy in the act, there might be enough shame there to make a dent in this strange new brashness.
As he came closer, he began to hear words.
"…and overbearing fathers, yes, and also You-Know-Who…" A snicker, then the song resumed. "The task of filling up the blanks I’d rather leave to you, but it really doesn’t matter whom you put upon the list, for they’d none of them be missed, no, they’d none of them be—"
Lucius shoved the key into the lock and turned it savagely. The singing broke off with a gasp as the door opened.
Much better.
"I see you are occupying yourself productively," he said, surveying the disarranged interior of the room. The bed and the wardrobe had been shoved into a corner, and the floor was covered with a chalked grid. A practice rapier hung by its belt from the back of the chair beside which Draco was now standing. Lucius noted with detached approval that his son’s face was flushed, his breathing rapid and shallow.
He still fears me. He may prate when he thinks no one is near, but confronted with my reality, he quails.
Yes, this will be for the good of all.
Draco gave his head a little shake, staring at an upper corner of the room, then brought his gaze down to Lucius. "Did you want something?" he asked with bare civility.
"As it happens, yes." Lucius advanced into the room. "Your attitude does not appear to have improved. You will therefore be staying here for the foreseeable future."
"Surprise, surprise," Draco muttered under his breath.
"How ungrateful of you, Draco. Not to appreciate the chance to live in luxury while doing no work in return." The boy had been writing something, Lucius noticed out of the corner of his eye; the scroll was still unrolled on his desk, the quill leaking ink where it had been dropped across the parchment. Several others sat in a rack on the floor beside the chair.
"Live in luxury?" Draco repeated, his tone shading out of civil and into hostile. "Is that what I’m doing here?"
"You have air and light and space, ample food and drink, books and games with which to amuse yourself. There are guests of the Manor less well provided for." The subtlest of hints, but he catches it easily, as I knew he would—his state could be reduced to that of our ‘guest’ on my whim. "And your current attitude leads me to believe I have given you too much." Lucius continued to advance, until he was within arm’s reach of Draco, who stared at him, fear warring with determination in the grey eyes so like his own. "It is time for you to give back."
"Give back what?"
There was definitely sneer in that tone, Lucius decided. This is long overdue. "Your wand, Draco. You will give it to me." He put out his hand. "Now."
I don’t believe this.
An idle portion of Draco’s mind noted that he might want to take another look at the things he could and could not believe, if the former included himself traveling between worlds in his sleep and the latter his ‘father’ being an arrogant bully.
But he’s never tried anything like this before. Locking me up for nearly a week, then marching in and demanding my wand… I know the Dark Lord took his to use, but why does he suddenly think it’s so important to take mine away? Is it just because he can’t stand the thought of me having something he doesn’t?
Draco swept the musings into a back corner to think about them later and returned his full attention to the man in front of him. One word, if he could say it, would change the dynamics of the situation entirely.
And two weeks ago, I wouldn’t have been able to say it. But now… now I think I can.
"No."
Lucius jerked as if he’d been Stunned from behind.
What was he expecting, me to hand it over and thank him on bended knee for allowing me to continue breathing? Then again, knowing him, he probably was. And two weeks ago, maybe I would have. Or maybe I’d have whined a bit, then given in. But now I have a crup in the race, and it’s just pulled ahead of the pack.
I surprised him, so I have the advantage, but it won’t last. I have to think fast, before he recovers. Why is this happening now? Is it just because I haven’t broken, or is something else going on?
His eye fell on the slip of parchment he’d tacked to the wall above his desk, bearing three names and two dates, and a suspicion blossomed in his mind.
Quick, start talking. Get him on the defensive. And for Merlin’s sake remember to use surnames!
"You want to go out hunting for Potter, don’t you?" Draco challenged. "You want to make sure they don’t leave you behind at home to hear how it all came out."
Lucius stared wide-eyed at Draco, the color draining from his face. Draco allowed himself a small, wintry smile and kept talking. "This isn’t about me. This is about you. You need a wand and I’m the closest place you can get one. Leaving me more helpless than I already was so I’ll break faster is just a bonus. You want to be in at the kill. But without a wand, you’re a handicap, a nuisance. He’ll order you to stay here, and you’ve got to obey." The smile grew. "How’s it feel to be me?"
Enough of that. He’s got the point already. Lucius was going from pale to flushed, which meant in another moment he’d be angry enough to start talking again. Time to offer an alternative…
"I’ll let you borrow my wand, since you want it so much." Draco folded his arms over his wand pocket. "You can use it to go try and catch Potter, to go out and play with Muggles, whatever you want to do with it. But I want it back when you’re done. And I want something in return. Three somethings, actually."
"And those are?" Lucius’ face was beginning to regain its normal color, and his expression was changing, going from a combination of shock and anger to…
Is that pride?
"One." Draco held up a finger, not lifting his arms from their place. "Let me out of this room during the day. I’ll stay on the grounds, or even in the house if you say so, but I’m tired of these same four walls. Two." Another finger. "Let me decide for myself whether or not to dose my sleep. I’ll let you lock me in at night if you want, so I don’t wander off again, but I want to be able to choose to take the potion. And three." A third finger joined the others, and Draco prayed silently Lucius hadn’t seen him swallow. This was the big one. "If it becomes possible, I want to go back to school in September. To finish my education, to become a better wizard."
To learn how people live who don’t threaten one another with every third word. To sing and dance and make a complete fool of myself on a stage. To hug my mum and spin my little sister around until she’s so dizzy she can’t see straight.
But you don’t need to know any of that.
Draco held his breath, met Lucius’ eyes, and hoped.
Lucius brought his face back under his control, but his thoughts could not be so easily realigned. This is the boy of whom I once said that he would never learn even the basic tenets of negotiation…
It seems more of my lessons got through than I realized.
The back of Lucius’ mind had been sifting through Draco’s proposal, and now informed the front of the mind that it seemed harmless enough. Appropriate measures could be taken to ensure that Draco kept his word to stay on the grounds, and the Dreamless Sleep had been more a sop to Narcissa than anything else. As for school…
If Severus becomes Headmaster, as the Dark Lord intends, there will be no better place for my son than Hogwarts reborn. Especially now that he is finally learning how to wield power in a fashion befitting a Malfoy.
Still, it might be well to refuse one of his demands. To establish who is the master here.
"I believe I can countenance giving you the freedom of the grounds, as you had before." Lucius smiled to see the disbelieving hope start to show in Draco’s face. "And I too have hoped that you could return to school for your final year. But the potion… that, I must still insist upon. I will allow you to choose when to take it, but take it you will. For that, you give me the use of your wand and your word to cause no more disturbances in the house. Are we agreed?"
Mutiny lurked in Draco’s eyes for a brief instant, but he blinked it back and replaced it with calm. "It remains my wand, even though you’re using it," he said, in a tone of clarification. "I have the first claim to it, unless the Dark Lord needs you for something, and I take it with me when I leave for Hogwarts."
Giving me five weeks in which to disarm some unsuspecting fool and thus make his wand mine by right of conquest. "Agreed."
"Agreed."
Father and son both bowed, the shallow bows of a contract made.
"I will have my first need of it tomorrow night," Lucius told his son, feeling generous. "You may use it until then."
"Thank you." There might have been a trace of sarcasm in the words, but Lucius chose to ignore it, instead turning and leaving the room.
This had become a better day than he had dared to hope it might. His son was growing up, and he would be able to participate in the capture of Harry Potter after all.
A celebration was clearly in order.
Draco held his pose beside the desk for a slow count of fifteen, then dropped back into his chair, his heart pounding louder than a giant’s footsteps in his ears.
It worked. It worked. I don’t believe it worked.
It’s not perfect. I still have to take the potion every night. But I already know when I’ll be able to get rid of that. Now I’ll get the chance to do it.
And I’m free. An open door had never looked better. I can get out of this room. Go for a walk outside. Breathe fresh air, maybe even fly a bit…
A huge yawn interrupted his train of thought.
Or perhaps I should take a nap first. I won’t enjoy anything if I’m tired.
He’d been appraised of the dangers of constant spirit-travel between the worlds on his second visit, and had agreed (after pitching a brief and private fit over the unfairness of life) to limit himself to one night in three visiting. A real night’s sleep, even with the potion affecting it, had convinced him he’d made the right choice.
Of course, I’d still prefer to go without the potion, because then I’d get the best of both worlds…
Another yawn. He’d been up most of the night writing, after the potion he’d taken at ten the previous morning had worn off him, and was almost up to the present in recording the story of his dream-travels.
Good thing, too. Today is going to be important.
Draco drew his wand, stroked it lovingly with a finger, then waved it at the door, closing and locking it. Heart beginning to speed up again, this time with excitement, he replaced his bed where it had been and climbed onto it, covering yet another yawn with his hand.
I did it. Turned around my sleeping pattern. And just in time.
Today’s the 26th. Ray and Neenie’s birthday.
Fidelus Manor, here I come.