Be Careful
86: Whose Voice You Hear
By Anne B. Walsh
Draco Apparated into the alley behind the Hog’s Head in the last red light of sunset, his wand already in his hand. Shutting his eyes for a second, he concentrated on the moment Hermione had awakened in response to his whispered promise.
"Expecto patronum!"
The silver owl erupted from the end of his wand and fluttered ahead of him as he hurried around the building to the street beyond, rehearsing his story to himself. We got to talking about Mother and lost track of time. Aunt Andromeda went straight home, she said she trusted me to get back to the school alone, and here I am, all safe and sound...
A four-legged Patronus came into view at the end of the street, and Draco’s owl turned in a flurry of silver feathers and flew to meet it. Draco followed, squinting to make out what animal the other was. Too delicate for a horse, and who’d have a cow Patronus? No antlers, though, so it can’t be a stag like Harry’s...
"Draco?" called Snape’s voice from around the corner.
"Here, sir," Draco called back, fighting down a grin of delight as he recognized the delicate creature lifting her head to investigate his owl. "I’m sorry I’m late, we had a lot of stories to tell each other."
And I’ll have a good one to tell Mum in the morning, along with all I’ve got to ask her.
I wonder if she knows about this?
Back at the Tonkses’, the party had grown more raucous. Remus, into whose punch Hermione suspected Tonks had been slipping the alcohol she was removing from Harry’s, was reprising his role as teacher, though the current subject had never been on any official Hogwarts curriculum. Still, no one was surprised that the last survivor of the Marauders knew a great many bawdy songs and ribald jokes, and judging by the grin on Tonks’ face, she had orchestrated the celebration in part for this exact reason.
And I am grateful. I haven’t heard Harry laugh this hard in ages.
But around the time Remus started giving Harry and Ron the male lines of a song about the goings-on of fictitious royalty of England, Spain, and France, to alternate with the female lines as sung by Ginny and Tonks, Hermione exchanged glances with Luna and the two of them excused themselves. Andromeda motioned them towards the same back room Remus had used earlier for performing the Fidelius, and Luna cast an Imperturbable Charm on the door before sitting down across from Hermione. "What is it you want to know?" she asked.
"I..." Hermione floundered for a moment before seizing on one question that needed an answer immediately. "Has he really always wanted to be my friend?"
"Oh, yes." Luna’s eyes closed for a moment to see a happy memory. "He couldn’t admit it even to himself until this year, but he was always impressed by how good your magic is, and by how smart you are. You’re quite right that your birthdates are just a coincidence, but it’s an interesting one, don’t you think?"
"It is." Hermione rubbed her right wrist, trying to think of how she could phrase her next question without seeming rude. The words to which she had awakened had given her enough hope to behave normally for the intervening hours, but now she was beginning to have her doubts. "Luna, I know purebloods keep their word, but..."
"If he doesn’t help you, I won’t stay with him," Luna said firmly. "I do love him, but I couldn’t marry anyone who didn’t keep a promise that important." She smiled. "But he will keep it, so I don’t have to worry. He won’t be able to bring it with him here, though, so it will have to wait until we all go to Hogwarts, and that probably won’t be until the end of the month."
Hermione nodded, tempering her reawakening hope with caution. This was, after all, Luna Lovegood she was talking to.
But she, or she and Draco together, got the Horcrux out of Gringotts and sent it to us, with the basilisk fang that destroyed the locket. She helped save Dean from the Snatchers, and she showed Harry and Ginny how to bring down the wards so Ron and I could escape. She may believe odd things on her own time, but when it comes to the war she seems well-focused...
A rapping on the door made them both jump. Luna removed the charm and unlocked the door with her wand. "Come in!" she called.
Andromeda opened the door on a burst of singing mixed with giggles from Ginny and Tonks.
Now the Queen of Spain was an amorous dame
And a lusty wench was she...
"May I take refuge in here with you?" the older witch inquired over the next lines. "I fear this is becoming the sort of party my mother warned me about."
"Please, do come in," Hermione said, as Harry, Ron, and Remus began their answer, Ron’s guffaws rising over the off-key singing.
So she sent a royal message with a royal messenger
To ask the King of England...
Slipping in, Andromeda shut the door on the following words. "Thank you," she said, replacing the Imperturbable Charm. "I enjoy ribald humor occasionally, but I have had my fill for tonight."
"Yes, me too, but it’s so good to see them happy again." Hermione leaned back in her chair. "It reminds me of the parties they used to have after Quidditch games..."
Stories of the Trio’s Hogwarts escapades, Luna and Draco’s theatrical misadventures, and Tonks’ childhood mishaps filled up the next few hours effortlessly. Outside observers would have been hard put to say which of the two parties had more fun that night.
Not that they didn’t try, of course.
Draco awakened all at once, and let out a silent sigh of relief as he saw the yellow strip of cloth inside his bedcurtains. Home again, home again. Saturday again, too. Not that it matters so much during holidays...
But then again, it might.
He got up, pulled on the first set of robes that came to hand, and headed for the Great Hall, noticing in passing that no one else seemed to be up. Must be pretty early. No matter, the house-elves are always awake. I’ll have some breakfast and ask one of them to take a message to London for me.
Up the stairs, across the entrance hall, through the doors, and Draco stopped short, a smile coming unconsciously to his face. No message would be needed. Near the end of the Slytherin table sat Healer Cecilia Black, reading from a slender book held in her left hand, a forkful of eggs neglected in her right.
He hadn’t made any sound, or he thought he hadn’t, but she looked up and saw him, and her face brightened. For that one instant, she looked exactly like his mother, like Narcissa when she’d seen him alive and mostly unhurt—Narcissa, who would stop being alive herself in only a few moments—
Mum was beside him as though by magic, her arms around him, holding him close. "My love," she murmured, "my love, here I am, hold onto me..."
"I couldn’t save her," he whispered back, holding on as he’d been ordered, feeling the hot sting of more tears in his eyes. "I couldn’t. I didn’t even know what he was going to do."
"She would not have wanted you to save her," Mum said with total certainty. "Not if it meant your own life."
"We could have found some other way..."
"Not in the time and the situation that you had." She guided him to the bench and helped him sit down beside her. "She made her choice. Never dishonor it by second-guessing her. Though I will admit, since the choice was among the three of you—"
"What?" Draco scrubbed the back of his right hand across his eyes and stared at his mum. "The three of us?"
"Your father, your mother, and yourself. Did you not know?"
Draco shook his head slowly, feeling the muscles beneath his breastbone begin to tighten.
"Severus told me so, and I confirmed it for myself by watching the scene." Mum rested her hand on his shoulder. "He also told me that he saw qualities in you that night he has never seen before. Based on that, and on what he knew of your parents, he expressed some slight pity for Lucius, if only for having so little wit that he could not weigh the members of his family at their true worth."
"Couldn’t figure out he was the least valuable, you mean." Draco barely knew his own voice. It seemed to come from miles away, from some snowbank on the mountains high above the school.
"Yes, I do."
The knot of muscle was large enough to hurt, but Draco found enough breath for four words, forced around his tight-clenched teeth. "I will kill him."
"No."
The tone penetrated Draco’s anger-filled trance and made him look around in surprise. Mum was sitting very straight, and her eyes sparked as they met his. "I would have my son neither a murderer nor a fool. Do you not see? Can you not understand? He walks through hell every day of his life, as surely as though he were already under the sway of the dementors!"
Already? She must mean Azkaban... but we don’t have that here, not the same way they do where I came from...
A chill ran down Draco’s spine. Who is this talking to me?
"Do not kill him, but pray that he lives a long life," the voice went on inexorably, "for he will suffer a million times more through that life than he would in the one moment of terror before his death." Her smile mingled superior knowledge and smug satisfaction. "After his death, of course, is another matter altogether, but leave that to me. Your best revenge is to let him live to see his master defeated, and to give him to know that you were the agent of that defeat. Can you do that, my son?"
"I think I can manage that much," Draco drawled in his best pureblood tones. "Mother."
"Good." Blue eyes closed, and the woman beside him exhaled a long sigh. "Well," she said after a moment’s silence. "That was unusual."
"Oh, you mean you’re not used to being taken over by ghosts?" Draco purposely made his voice as astonished as possible, and got a laugh for his troubles. "Used as an otherworldly courier service? I never would have guessed!"
"Bothersome brat." Mum swatted his shoulder lightly. "Now, were you looking for me for some purpose, or did you simply want my company?"
"Your company, first of all." Draco leaned into her side for a moment, then sat up. "But I had some questions about... you know. Things." He directed his eyes towards the door behind the high table, then sketched the sign of protection on the tabletop. "This, for one. Is there any way someone in the world I came from could know about it?"
"Yes, indeed. Several." Mum stood up and beckoned him to follow her. "Shall we talk about that over breakfast, and continue the conversation elsewhere when we are finished?"
"Sounds good to me."
Late that same afternoon, Draco leaned against the wide lip of a small fountain made from white marble, watching water spill from the higher basin down a miniature flight of stairs into the lower. Above him soared what would have been a vaulted ceiling if it had not shared the enchantment of the Great Hall, which lay just beyond the door, to show the soft blue of the spring sky. Nearby, Aurora Black burbled cheerfully to herself, waving her hands through the different-colored puddles of light among which she sat.
Draco picked up the leatherbound book lying beside him and read the page he had marked once again. The tradition it described, and that to which this room was dedicated, was older than any he had grown up with, though he could see its stamp on many of the things the purebloods of his original world took for granted.
And it makes sense of Aunt Andromeda knowing it. She was born pureblood, but she’s good, and this is really just a way of declaring yourself for the good side of things. Promising you’ll fight evil the best you can, both in the world around you and in your own heart.
Draco watched as Professor Riddle entered the room by a small door to one side and draped a white cloth over the table which sat on the dais in the front. After making a respectful bow to the engravings on the far wall, he turned and walked down the steps to the seats which filled most of the room, passing between the two main sections and scooping Aurora off the floor as he came. "Draco," he said with a nod, setting his granddaughter on his shoulders.
"Sir." Draco traced a pattern in the grain of the marble with one finger, sparing only a scrap of attention for Aurora’s gleeful gurgles or Professor Riddle’s murmured greetings. The voices which returned the greetings drew more of Draco’s attention away from his thoughts, which was a good thing as a small, hurtling body struck his legs at high speed almost immediately. He would have fallen into the water if he hadn’t seen the living missile coming, and staggered back a pace as it was.
"Take it easy, there, Dragon," he protested, prying the boy off him and returning the boisterous hug. "This isn’t the place for playing rough."
"Yes, and you know that, or you should," said Danger, following her son inside with Jenny in her arms. Moony was behind her, Nicki clinging to his hand with wide eyes as though she had never been in this place before, though Draco knew she was here often. "Take your sister to look at the paintings and the statues, and do it quietly."
"Can we light a candle?" Dragon asked, taking Nicki’s hand in his.
"If you’re good," said Moony. "Go on, now."
The two trotted away, Draco watching them up the side aisle before he returned his attention to the adults. "I have to decide today, don’t I?" he asked.
"No," said Danger firmly. "Tonight is only the traditional time. If you’re not sure, wait until you are."
"Our offer stands no matter what," Moony said. "We’d be proud to sponsor you, whenever you decide."
For a moment, Draco was tempted to take the way out they were offering, to say he wasn’t ready, to back away from this level of commitment and finish as he had begun, a free agent, not beholden to anyone...
Now wait just a minute here. Who do I think I’m fooling? I was never a free agent! I had a piece of Dark magic on my bloody soul when I showed up here, and I was going to be either mad or as Dark as it was within a year! I know what Dark magic does, I’ve experienced it firsthand, and I’m through with it. Done. Finished.
What better way to make that clear than to join the other side all formal-like?
"I’m in," he said, looking up. "I want this."
"How wonderful." Danger kissed him on the cheek. "And it means we finally get a real claim to you, too. You’re expected for dinner at least twice a week, now, no excuses."
"Have you chosen a name?" Moony asked.
Draco nodded. "It’s hard to explain," he said. "But if you have some time..."
"Nowhere to be but here." Danger’s hand took in the entirety of the snug, wood-paneled room with its sweet-smelling air. "Explain away."
"I want it to be Luke. Not because of Luke Skywalker, though that’s fun all by itself." Draco grinned, inviting the Beauvois to share the joke, and felt his heart warm when they both chuckled. "But because it’s so close to... my father." He hadn’t called Lucius that to mean it in months, and it came surprisingly easily to his tongue. "Because he wasn’t, he isn’t, all bad. There were good things about him. There still are, even now, when he’s let his fear and his self-centeredness take him over."
"And you want to remember those good things," said Moony, nodding. "But let the bad ones go."
"If I can." The fingers of his left hand flexed open and closed at his mental command, a breath slower than his original hand would have but still obedient to his mind’s bidding. "I don’t know if I’m strong enough."
"If you’re not, you will be." Danger bounced Jenny in her arms as the little girl showed signs of waking. "That’s what this evening is for. Shall we go start getting you ready for your vigil, then, young squire?"
"Didn’t the little ones want to light a candle?" Draco looked around to see if he could spot Dragon and Nicki, and found them together near the front, looking up at a statue of a smiling woman.
"They did, and we can do that now," said Moony, getting up. "And then go and help you prepare for your big night." He grinned. "Pun fully intended."
Draco and Danger groaned in two-part harmony.
Warning, do not look up the lyrics to that song Remus was teaching the kids if you are easily offended. It is rude, crude, and disgusting. Also very funny, but that’s beside the point. Next time: Draco has messages to deliver when the Easter holidays end, but will they be believed? Or even received? Find out in the next chapter of Be Careful, coming soon to a website near you!