Summary: Love's not a bed of roses...
there's also pain, betrayal and heart-break.
A lonely and neglected girl. A stubborn young Order member. A sarcastic Healer. Hermione's been trusted with a secret. But with knowledge comes danger...
Againster a backround of prejudice, family ties and surpression, two powerful love stories are playing themselves out. But the clock is ticking against them...
Categories: Alternate Universe Characters: None
Warnings: Alternate Universe, Character Death
Challenges: Series: None
Chapters: 13
Completed: No
Word count: 43265
Read: 47343
Published: 06/19/07
Updated: 12/11/08
Chapter 9 - New Beginnings by Phoebe Gruzelier
Author's Notes:
For Alesha Dixon, winner of 2007's Strictly Come Dancing, because her beautiful dancing and bubbily personality have cheered me up during the depressing winter months.
Chapter Nine â“ New Beginnings
In each family a story is playing itself out, and each family's story embodies its hope and despair.
Auguste Napier
At about the same time as Cho was sitting in the library, Draco flopped onto a sofa in the Living Room of Malfoy Manor. It had cushions in a tasteful shade of dark green, with elegantly carved legs made from mahogany. Heâd just eaten a huge three-course dinner, the sort they had when important guests dined with them. Except it had just been Draco and his parents, with enough food â“ and table â“ to last them for a week. Perhaps he should have eaten slightly less; he was starting to feel a bit uncomfortable.
But there was always room for chocolate. His mother had given him a box of Fondant Fwoopers after the meal, and sheâd be upset if he didnât have one or two. Of course, he didnât really want any, but seeing as his mother had gone to the trouble to get them, he should be grateful. She was always giving him presents at the moment. The excitement of seeing a wrapped box was beginning to wear off.
The same went for living here. When it had been decided Hogwarts had to close, Draco had been celebrating. No more too-hard Transfiguration homework, loosing to Gryffindor or Potter-worshipping. But it was early November now, and heâd pretty much run out of things to do. It wasnât like the holidays when his mother made sure she was available, and his father took time off work, so they could take him out. His father was out at the Ministry, and his mother was busy. So, for once in his life, Draco had been left entirely to his own resources. And theyâd completely run dry. For months heâd been spending most of his days wondering about the house trying to keep himself amused. If only something would happenâŚ
The door to the hall opened, and his mum put her head round it. âOh, Draco,â she said, coming in and shutting it behind her. âI thought I might find you here. I need to speak to you.â
Not knowing what to expect, he budged up on the sofa to give her some room to sit. Instead, she seated herself in an armchair opposite him. In private, his mother always seemed to want to make herself as small as possible, as though she was afraid someone might step on her. Draco didnât understand why, as she was really rather pretty.
She had fine, pure-blooded features, which could be mistaken for haughtiness by people who didnât know her. Her skin was almost white, with only the tiniest blush of carnation pink. She had high cheekbones, a pointed chin and an oval face. Maybe the lines of her jaw were a little too sharp, but they were hidden well by her abundance of hair. His mother had white-blonde, silken locks, falling only slightly short of her waist. Her hair was almost straight, but it had a slight ripple to it like running water. She tucked a wisp behind her elf-like, pointed ear.
âIâm going to make a request, which is probably going to seem strange to you.â
Draco had only just noticed she was holding a letter in one hand. She twisted it nervously in her lap as she spoke, but he could make out some of the writing. It was thin and slanted, which made it difficult to read upside down. He could only make out one word in the mass of squiggles. Was it âprophecyâ? Or perhaps âportkeyâ?
âYou mustnât think Iâve gone mad, or anything like that. But I canât explain why I want you to do this.â
Trying to relax, Draco ate another chocolate. âJust tell me, mother!â
âOf course.â She bit her wine-coloured lip. âI â“ your father and I â“ want you to â“ go to Hogwarts. To see Dumbledore.â
If Draco had been standing up he would have fallen over. As it was he had to be content with dropping his box of chocolates. âBut Hogwarts is being used for the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. Theyâre not exactly going to let a Death Eaterâs son wander in!â
His motherâs voice trembled as she spoke. âItâs all arranged. Dumbledore sent me a portkey for you to use.â
âArenât you even going to consider asking me? Maybe I donât want to go!â
She got to her feet. Every muscle inside her was trembling. She fixed him with a tragic look from her bluebell-coloured eyes. It should have made him feel guilty, but today it just made him more annoyed. Draco jumped up from the couch. He focused his small, grey eyes into her large, deep ones.
âItâs not my decision. If you have any consideration for me or your father, youâll go.â
âWhy should I when you wonât tell me anything about what Iâm going to do?â
âI told you, Draco. I canât.â
He folded his arms huffily. âYouâre always making decisions without me. Iâm never allowed to do what I want. Itâs not fair.â
She blinked rapidly, but her eyes were filling with tears. They collected at the bottom of her eyelids, then spilled out onto her cheeks. His anger dissolved, he could never stand seeing her cry. Forgetting their argument, he put an arm round her shoulders and sat her down on the sofa. Most women looked awful when they cried, but his mother looked as beautiful as ever. He passed her a tissue, and she wiped her eyes.
âOh Draco,â she put a slim hand on his cheek, âI donât want you to leave me, any more than you want to go. Iâm scared Iâll never see you again.â
âIs it going to be really dangerous?â
His mother dropped her gaze to the floor. Staring at her feet, she said, âNo â“ nothing like that. Iâm s-sure youâll be fineâŚâ
Draco shook her arm until she looked him straight in the eye. âMother, just tell me. Will it be dangerous?â
She nodded, and then burst into tears again. He waited as patiently as he could while she cried into the arm of the couch. Eventually, she sat up and wiped her face with her hands. âI w-wish I could protect you, but itâs t-time for you to go out into the world, and do things y-yourself.â
âI agree entirely.â
âYou do?â Her face lit up with rays of hope. âSo youâll go?â
âI suppose,â said Draco, finally resigned to the fact he was going, so he may as well try to be pleased about it. âBut what are you going to tell father?â
âOh, he knows,â she replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. His mother glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece, and gasped. âQuarter to eight? Draco, we havenât got much time before the portkey leaves. Iâve packed for you, but you need to check, just in case thereâs anything else you want to take.â
Without waiting a moment longer, he ran out of the room.
***
Nearly fifteen minutes later, Draco came down the grand marble staircase clutching his school trunk. He gazed around him, at the dark mahogany panelling, the glittering chandelier, the expensive crimson stair carpet. How long would it be before he saw all this again? A shiver fluttered up his spine like a frightened bird. If he ever came back here.
There was a voice coming from the Living Room. Abandoning his trunk by an oil painting of one of his ancestors, Draco crept silently and stealthily towards the door. If no one was going to tell him what was going on, heâd have to find out for himself.
It was a heavy door, made from mahogany like the wall panelling. Draco thanked his stars that heâd left it slightly ajar. If it had been closed, he wouldnât have been able to hear anything. He crouched down on the floor, and peeped through the slit of light.
His mother and father were standing together in the middle of the room. In a rare moment of informality, she was crying on his shoulder. He was trying to calm her down, stroking her hair as he did so.
âItâs for the best,â he murmured, more gently than Draco had ever heard him speak before.
âWhy does he have to go?â she wailed. âI donât want him to leave me.â
âDumbledore will need him to be there. He has to go, Cissa.â
âI know. I always tried to remember we would only have him for a short time.â
âAnd heâll be much happier.â
âDo you think Dumbledoreâs going to tell himâŚabout Lily and James Potter?â
âI donât know,â his father said, clutching his wife to him. âI just donât know.â
Draco stood up. He felt a sick feeling rising from his stomach. What had Potterâs parents got to do with him? He desperately wanted to ask his mother and father, but he wasnât supposed to have heard in the first place.
Wanting to rip someoneâs head off with frustration, Draco grabbed his trunk and knocked on the door. He waited for his father to tell him to come in, then entered.
His mother was sitting in an armchair with her back to the fire. She was holding a tissue in one white hand. When she saw her son, she whimpered, and put a hand to her face. At the fireplace, with his face half-hidden by shadow, stood Dracoâs father. He motioned for him to come closer. When his son was within armâs length, he held out a hand.
Completely confused, Draco picked up the silver ring he gave him. It had a lionâs head carved into it, with miniature rubies for eyes.
âWhatâs it for?â
âThatâs your Portkey to Hogwarts. When does it leave, Narcissa?â
âTen minutes past eight.â
Draco looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. It was difficult to read in the flickering firelight, as it was made from some stone or other that was as black as the deepest depths of the sea. He didnât know why they kept it, but his mother said it had been a wedding present from some great-aunt or other. They had about two minutes left.
âGoodbye, Draco.â His father shook hands with him. âI hope you make me proud.â
âIâll try.â
He nodded, and went to his mother. She jumped up and threw her arms around him, enveloping him in the sweet smell of jasmine. âKeep yourself safe, darling! Donât do anything reckless. Listen to Dumbledore. And donât fight anymore than you need to!â
âIâll do my best for you, mother.â
She held onto him tightly, not wanting to let him go. Draco could hardly breathe. âI donât know when weâll see you again, but I hope itâll be soon. If youâve left anything behind Iâll send it to you. but donât-â
His fatherâs voice cut in sharply, âNarcissa, the portkey. Itâs almost time for him to go.â
âGoodbye, Draco!â
âBye.â
He grabbed his trunk and held the portkey tightly in the other hand. His parents were holding each other closely, both trying to smile and failing miserably. What did it matter to them, they still had each other? Draco turned away from them. He didnât want to see the people who were sending him off into the unknown. His parents didnât care about him at all.
They waited a few more seconds, before Draco vanished, the portkey taking him far away, leaving a grieving father and a sobbing mother.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.