“You’re sure it was him?”
“Yes.”
His heart pounded in his chest.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Impossible.
“You’re absolutely sure-”
“Harry, please do not treat me like a child,” said Katie, sitting up in the armchair opposite. “I know what I saw. It was him. I saw him. I know it was him.” She choked on the last word. Harry winced.
Impossible.
The lamp on his desk flickered with a fading light, and shadows danced around the walls, stretching their fingers, calling him, laughing.
But, Percy said…
Harry shivered and turned his back on Katie. Ginny’s glowing face caught his eye; he smiled. Why am I smiling? Suppressing the grin, he turned back around.
“Katie,” Harry began, hesitating. “Katie, I know you and Draco haven’t talked for a while, but I think it’s time we paid him a visit.” The room had fallen silent. Katie’s sobs ceased, her attention focused solely on Harry. He noticed how drawn her face was, and realised with a jolt that it was barely days since her father had passed away. All this grief and pain for one person in such a short time just wasn’t fair. But Harry knew that life itself was not fair. Despite his amazing marriage and wonderful friends, Harry’s first seventeen years had been defined by death and loss. “I need to go home first - then, I’ll join you.”
“Is my husband in danger, Harry?” Katie’s voice was barely a whisper; it was a breath, so thin, so insubstantial. She was desperate.
“Yes, I think so.”
Draco stared at the figure standing before him, flinching away from the menace in the other man’s leer. It was impossible, he was dead…wasn’t he? But Draco could not remember ever learning of the fate of the man in the long, black cloak. The fire behind him erupted into flames, and Draco jumped.
“Hello, Draco. I’ve been looking for you.”
“You know where I’ve been. Why not come sooner?”
“I think you know I have already.” The man’s smile widened; he was obviously relishing the memory of Draco’s pain, crouched on the driveway outside, clutching a burning wrist…
Draco…Draco…Do it, Draco…
“Stop it!” Draco shouted. “Stop it!”
Confusion flashed across the other man’s face, but Draco did not notice.
“Stop what?” His voice was cold and slow, his lips curling around each articulation, savouring every breath.
“The voice…his voice…”
The man’s eyes widened in surprise, and his mouth twisted upwards into a Snape-worthy sneer. Draco felt his breath become shallow; strange lights danced before his eyes. He felt he was going to…
“I have conjured no voice, Draco. That is all in your-”
“Do not lie to me!” Draco bellowed, the anger and frustration breaking through his inexplicable fear. “Don’t you dare lie to me! You have made my life hell for the past few months. You have taken everything from me. Everything!” Draco could not stop - the darkness of his life came pouring out in a torrent of grief and loss. “You have destroyed my marriage. You have destroyed me; you have destroyed what I have become. I rebuilt everything; I wanted to forget, and you have just brought it all back. I have become the person I once was - the boy I now despise - and it’s all because of you!”
Draco paused; his breaths came heavy and hard, one after the other, thumping. His heart banged in his chest - it was a clenched fist thundering to be let out.
You don’t deserve it, Draco…
He could feel Katie’s hands at his chest, her nails sharp, fists clenched and tearing at his skin, fingers gripping his red, life-filled flesh, ripping out his beating heart…
“Why have you done this to me? Why you?”
The man tilted his head slightly and continued to study Draco. His eyes were a murky green - so dark they were almost black. His nostrils flared.
“Why do you think?” He made a small movement, and Draco swiftly drew his own wand. The man smiled, but the amusement had left his eyes now. There was only hatred - only disgust. Stepping backwards against the tapestry draped across the wall behind, Draco stood, stunned. He did not like this; he did not like his own question being turned back onto him.
“I asked you first.” He flushed, realising how childish this sounded, and a sharp memory flooded into his mind, drowning out the here and now, drowning out the man before him. He remembered standing atop the Astronomy Tower at Hogwarts, wand aloft, discussing his options with Dumbledore. He remembered the fear; he remembered the panic; he remembered the desire to take up the Headmaster’s offer then and there.
“So you did.” The man’s voice broke through the waves of a regretted past and brought Draco back to the front room of Malfoy Manor. He could feel the woven fabric behind him caressing the midnight-blue robes he was wearing. The tapestry had been his mother’s favourite. Mother…
“Where are my parents?” Draco demanded. “What have you done to them?”
“Questions, questions,” the man sneered. “You always were a spoiled child, weren’t you? Whatever you wanted, you received - Mummy and Daddy always protected their precious little boy, even to their last breaths.”
And now, Draco’s chest was being torn open again. Mother, Father… He could not believe it; he did not want to believe it, but it was true. They were gone. His parents were dead. It was such a harsh word - such a harsh realisation. Draco would never feel the cool fingers of Narcissa Malfoy stroking his head, never feel the strong grip of Lucius’ hand on his shoulder, guiding him, leading him into the dark…No, that was wrong, I don’t want to think that…
Draco’s lips curled up with hatred.
“You killed them?” he spat, turning his head to the side. He did not wish to look at the abomination before him - the man who should be dead, the man who was never a true Death Eater in the first place. Yet the danger in the room was apparent. The malice and spite radiating from the other man’s body was almost tangible; Draco thought he could feel the heat on his skin, on his lips, burning into his eyes, into his heart…
Working slowly to steady his breaths, Draco turned back to the man.
“You want to kill me,” he said. It was not a question - merely a confirmation, an understanding. The man opposite him smiled. Draco continued. “You want to kill me, I understand that - but before you try, I want to know everything.”
“Not a chance, little boy-” The man’s sneer had barely begun to stretch across his waxy face when he was hit by a Stunning Spell more powerful than any Draco had ever conjured before.
“Actually, you were right,” Draco said, his voice calm and even. “I always get what I want. Expelliarmus!”
The wand flew from the other man’s hand, and Draco caught it without effort.
“Tell me everything.”
Harry burst through into the cottage he shared with Ginny. His wife looked up, startled.
“Where have you been? It’s so late-”
“Ginny,” Harry began. “I can’t talk now. Malfoy’s in trouble, I just wanted to see you before-”
“Hold on,” Ginny interrupted, placing a soft, cool finger on her husband’s lips. “Malfoy’s in danger, and you’re running off to help him without any aid yourself? I’m coming with you.”
“No! Ginny, no! You don’t know what’s going on. I don’t want you to know what’s going on. I promised.” He placed a quick kiss on her forehead, took a deep breath of the most amazing floral scent, and turned to leave, but Ginny’s firm grasp continued to hold him in the kitchen. He did not have the willpower to shrug her off.
“Cut the crap, Harry. You don’t need to be the saviour of the wizarding world anymore. At least take Ron with you.” Ginny loosened her grip as she leant into him for a kiss, and Harry took advantage of the momentary release.
“Sorry, Ginny, it’s got to be me. I love you.” With that, he was gone.
Draco stood above his would-be predator and smiled.
“Now you know how it feels to be the victim. Crucio!”
The man’s howls of pain echoed throughout the parlour, bouncing of the walls, thundering in Draco’s head.
“Tell me why!”
“Why?” the man rasped. “You’re going to kill me either way, Draco. Just do it.”
Draco exploded. “Do not say that to me! Do not say that to me!” Green sparks flew from his wand, and he flinched back, surprised. Was he really ready to kill?
Yes.
Do it, Draco…Do it, or feel my wrath yourself…
center*
Katie felt the hard, cold gravel beneath her feet before she saw it. Her eyes opened slowly, fearing the face, fearing the leer… but he was not there outside. Her breaths came short and sharp, like knives, each one slicing through her chest. Feet still, glued to the ground, Katie felt she was unable to move any closer to the imposing Manor she and her husband called home. But she had to; there was no other option. It was life. Life. There was no other option.
A flash of light caught her eye; it had come from the front parlour. Suddenly, Katie found herself running, running through the stabbing knives, running toward her husband, running toward the unknown… She had never felt this scared for her own life since… but there was no point dwelling on that night anymore.
The front door seemed further away than when she arrived; her legs pumped, but no distance was gained. She cried out in frustration and ran harder. It was no use; there was some sort of enchantment around the Manor, and she could not get through. But Draco was in there, and he... She pulled out her wand and began to mutter numerous spells and charms - everything she could think of. Draco, Draco, Draco… He was in there, with him, in danger…and suddenly Katie burst through the protective enchantment; there was the door, and there was the front hall, and there was the entrance to the front room…
And there was Draco.
And there was the man from St. Mungo’s.
There was the man whose menacing smile had haunted her through the night.
The man who should be dead.
The man who was never found after the final battle.
The man who wanted to kill her husband.
There was Pius Thicknesse.
Draco saw Katie first, and his mouth popped open in surprise - then came the fear…
“Katie, don’t-” Draco had not noticed as Thicknesse lunged for the wand in his hand; Katie opened her mouth to utter ‘Protego,’ but it was too late. There was a flash of purple light; Katie felt something strange slash across her chest. Her eyes closed, and her mind closed, and then there was just nothing.
Draco’s shriek of frustration and pain reverberated throughout the entire Manor. It was the cry of a dying man; it was the cry of a man watching the woman he loved, the woman he had hurt beyond any point of forgiveness, fall.
“Expelliarmus!” he screamed, but Thicknesse blocked the spell. A spark of green flew past Draco’s ear, and he retaliated with full force. Yes, he was ready to kill.
“You won’t get the better of me, little boy!” cackled the former Minister of Magic. “I have been waiting for this moment for five years!”
Draco ducked behind a glass cabinet and sent curse after curse hurtling through the parlour, but the man kept leaping out of reach. Katie’s lifeless form lay by the door, like a fragile, porcelain doll, and Draco felt a surge of pain in his stomach. Had he been hit? No, it was the sight of her lying there, because of him, because of his past, because of his family, and because of the choices he had made as a naïve sixteen year old school boy. Had he always known something like this would happen? There was always that seed of doubt - the possibility that, no matter how hard he tried, there was never an escape from the Death Eaters, from the Dark Lord. It was branded on his wrist; it was branded on his heart.
The room fell silent. Draco continued to crouch behind the cabinet and tentatively peered out from behind and into the parlour. He could not see Thicknesse. Where was he?
“Where are you hiding, little boy?” came a voice from across the room. By the front window?
“Sonorus,” whispered Draco, wand at his throat. He did not want Thicknesse to know his position. “As if I’m going to tell you.” His voice echoed throughout the parlour from every direction. Good.
“Clever!” called the Death Eater. “You are inept at suppressing your emotions, I’ll admit, but you are clever. That is why I must kill you. That is why you are a threat - you and your parents both.”
Draco could not breathe; this was it; he had to know.
“Tell me why, Thicknesse. Tell me everything.” He thought he could hear movement from by the window, and fear coursed through his veins. Had the man figured out where he was hiding? Draco looked around, but there were no other places to hide without revealing where he was first.
“How could I reunite the Death Eaters? How could I have the power of the Dark Lord when there were others, others with more influence, such as your father, and you, and Rookwood, to take the leadership from me? No, I had to get rid of you all if I wanted the glory. And I do.”
He was mad, he was insane. Draco did not want to reunite the Death Eaters; he did not want to become the next Dark Lord. He wanted life; he wanted love; he wanted Katie and a future.
“You’re mad,” he called out into the room. “I don’t want any of that; in fact, I would have done my best to stop you from any sort of uprising. Not for personal gain, but for good. I’m not the boy I was, and my parents weren’t the same, either. You wasted your time; you wasted their lives!”
“The promise of power is much more enticing than you think, little boy. I could not be sure that the lure of such things would not tempt you back. And with you in the picture, with the Malfoy name, I would have no hope at all.”
Katie moaned. Draco’s heart leapt in his chest, but he did not dare move.
“You’re not even a Death Eater,” said Draco. “You were under the Imperius Curse. Why would you want to reunite the Dark Lord’s followers?”
Thicknesse sighed in irritation. “I was under the Imperius Curse at first, yes, but after a while I learned to fight it; after a while, I was acting of my own accord. I liked the fear I held over others; whenever I walked into a room, it was as if a Silencing Charm had been conjured. I could do what I wanted; I could make people hurt; I could control them. And the pure-blood prejudice I had grown up with was no longer a taboo at the Ministry…”
Draco flinched inwardly; he understood, but he did not want to understand. Pure-blood supremacy, an ideal he was raised with, was an internal war he had fought for so long after the final battle, before he had met Katie, before love.
Katie…
There was a crunching of glass to Draco’s left, and he ducked back around behind the cabinet, wand at the ready.
“Crucio!”
Draco suddenly felt the pain of a thousand burning wrists.
Draco…