Chapter Text
I need a father.
I need a mother.
I need some older,
wiser being to cry to.
I talk to God, but the
sky is empty.
- Sylvia Plath
Then
Little Draco Malfoy, barely 15, barely able to see through his father’s lies. The world is clear cut, our Lord will rise, we will be pure. We will be faithful servants- you won’t act improper, you are a Malfoy. We will head his word- you will excel in all your endeavors no matter how tired you are.
Servant and student, a hard balance. A necessary balance. If one were to grow too great the other would certainly crumble. And if either were to crumble Draco would surely be swept under the rubble and left to breath out heavily as the weight on his chest finally subsided with a final cry.
When his father first told him that He was back, Draco’s ears went numb. He had suspected as much, what with Potter so certain of it, but he never dared ask. It had been months since the Triwizard Tournament came to its calamitous end. His father had been missing from the mansion so often lately that Draco was almost glad the Dark Lord had risen again. Almost, because his mother seemed sadder than ever. Almost, because he knew his fate was sealed.
He didn’t hear another word said for the rest of the day, a pleasant buzz in place of any auditory input. The first sound that managed to pierce the veil was an odd gurgle, bringing him back to his reality as he noticed for the first time that he was at a table. His father sat to his left, his mother to his right. They both looked scared, only his mother sorry. Neither would meet his eyes.
When he recognized the gurgle again, this time as a clearing of the throat, he slowly raked his eyes to the glossy figure that sat at the far end. Bellatrix was fawning over it, practically drooling. The red eyes that met his were shallow and ugly and Draco couldn’t look away. It was pale and slimy and so snakelike it made his skin crawl. Then it spoke and he had to accept it was a person, as close to one as a monster could get.
“Malfoys,” he hissed in greeting. “You look nervous, Lucius. What ever is the issue? You have told your family of the deal you so hastily jumped upon at our last meeting, have you not?”
A thin sneer sat on his lips as he taunted Draco’s father who seemed to be sweating now. He traced his face for what it was that was making him so nervous. Fear? No, they were always scared. What then? Regret?
His father slipped up, meeting his eyes for a sliver of a second, pupils dilating before he quickly looked away. Draco’s breath hitched in his throat, suddenly he could hear his heartbeat in his ears. It wasn’t quite regret, but it wasn’t completely not either. Some strange in between feeling pooled in his father’s eyes and Draco was quite afraid.
Yes, as Voldemort stood up to change seats, finding one directly across from Draco, he was certainly afraid.
“Hello, little Malfoy.”
Shivers. That’s all he could feel- the fear lapping in his chest.
“Look at you, so young,” something he said made himself chuckle. “Though that is the point, I suppose.”
Draco waited reticently.
“You see, I too used to be a handsome young man. And while this appearance does work to incite terror, I am rather looking to feel like myself again- to inflict relation between me and those who teeter on the edge. I was reborn a man in snake’s clothing, but if I had my old looks back how could they resist my promise at a better world? So, are you ready?”
Draco wanted to ask, but his father responded for him. He almost sounded eager now, a new hunger replacing his almost-regret.
“Of course, my Lord.”
The Dark Lord reached out for Draco’s hand, grabbing it tight in his own. He wanted to wriggle free but resisted.
“I doubt your father has told you of my soul, that would be rather reckless with your allegiance still unpledged. But know that this horcrux will not kill you. Now, are you ready to kill for it?”
Draco’s mind was reeling. Kill? He couldn’t possibly expect-
“He’s just a boy.” His mother called out, sounding so frightened that Draco flinched. “You- you can have his soul! But please, please don’t make him lose that part of himself yet.”
“And,” she added hastily, “a pure soul will do you better than a corrupt one.”
There was a long bat of silence before the mulling was done.
“I see you are correct. A pure soul. That does sound rather delightful. Leave then, it is time.”
The was no resistance from his parents, or Bellatrix, or the two other people he hadn’t bothered to recognize. His mother did give him one final glance, mouthed I love you my son and then the door fell closed with a loud bang.
His hand was still trapped, as his body seemed to be. He couldn’t move for the pure panic coursing through his veins.
He held back a flinch as a person appeared in a chair at the end of the table, bound and clearly confused.
Her screams were muffled by a gag, her whole body convulsing.
Draco’s eyes widened as the man he could hardly call man pulled out his wand. The world went still.
It was green everywhere.
For a moment Draco could pretend he was in a forest, staring up at the canopy of trees, taking in the fresh air. He could believe that his mother and him were living a quiet life away from the wizarding world and the war. There was soup on inside, his mother calling him in to wash up before a supper they would share on the back porch of their tiny cottage. It overlooked a waterfall and sometimes the mist would create the illusion of a rainbow.
The vision faded as quickly as it came, leaving only the small waterfall flowing from Draco’s eyes. He didn’t have time to take in the corpse or the gratuitous sneer of the man holding his hand hostage. The pain ripped through him like a hot knife, stabbing at every cell in his body until he felt he was gripping the Dark Lord’s hand just as hard as he had been gripping his.
He didn’t know how long he convulsed for, fighting against the sensation of his soul being split in half, but eventually he was back in his body, head slumped uncomfortably against the table. His hand was free now but he could not move it.
He could make out the scream of his mother as she reentered the room, the snap as a house elf got rid of the body, and the maniacal laugh of Tom Riddle who suddenly looked 18 again.
Draco tried to say something, his words lost even on himself, before his eyes drifted shut and he fell into a fitful sleep where he dreamed he was stuck in a pit of snakes, being carefully bitten until he had no more blood to give.
Now
If Harry Potter was an intelligent person, and he liked to think that he was, he surely would be able to deduce if his biggest schoolyard rival had the dark mark, but Hermione was making it incredibly difficult.
“I’m telling you! Madam Malkin was trying to roll up his sleeve and he jerked away mad fast!”
Ron rolled his eyes as Hermione added flames to the fire.
“I’ve stated my opinion on the matter already, Harry. There’s no way to know for sure but I for one don’t think he would stoop so low! He’s a Hogwarts student afterall.”
“He’s Malfoy,” Harry sighed, exasperated. “And his father’s one!”
It was just under two months into their sixth year and the signature blonde haired brat still hadn’t shown up.
“It is odd he’s missing, mate. I’ll give you that.”
“It’s more that odd, Ron. If he wasn’t going to go come to school, why was he in Diagon Alley buying robes?”
Neither could give him an answer to that, just turning back to their potions homework.
Harry tried to do the same, but he couldn’t force his mind to focus. He decided he needed some fresh air and left them to prepare for the upcoming History of Magic exam.
Once outside, Harry fancied himself a trip to the edge of the forest. He’d been in it so many times now that the name Forbidden seemed more like an invitation than a warning.
He was passing the idea of entering it back and forth in his mind. On one hand, he had grown rather fond of taking strolls through it lately. On the other, he more often than not had to face some sort of trouble on those walks- be it faeries or his own thoughts- and he wasn’t sure he needed that at the moment.
Just as he was mentally berating himself for letting Malfoy lead his thoughts earlier, he did so again.
He could’ve sworn he saw a flash of blonde in the distance, but he shook it off. A Malfoy wouldn’t be running through the Forbidden Forest in the mid afternoon heat.
He sighed and forgave himself for being so paranoid. It was just that the boy had always been so rude and now he had the audacity to just… not show up? What was Harry supposed to do without the snide remarks, the sideways jabs?
He saw the flash again, and this time he stopped walking. His eyes narrowed through the tree line, but his vision was becoming hindered as the afternoon began to fade into dusk.
As he inched closer, he began to hear a breathy conversation led with a seriously unfriendly undertone.
“You cannot just leave!” he heard a woman cry in mania. “Hogwarts can’t protect you! The manor is the only place-”
“The only place what? That I’m safe?”
The pain in the voice was unrestrained and implacable, but he knew immediately that it belonged to Malfoy.
“Yes.”
Harry knew it was wrong to eavesdrop but he had every suspicion that Malfoy was up to no good, so really this was for the greater good of his school and the wizarding world at large.
“He is always there! Always asking for more, more than I want to give. Are you really going to tell me that that absolute hell hole is safer than Hogwarts? I can’t even look in the mirror anymore! I see him everywhere, I’m going to go insane-”
“He’ll kill your father, Draco. You can’t, you simply cannot want that.”
Harry held his breath, trying to follow along despite his confusion. He was beginning to feel a little guilty, a little embarrassed, at his invasion. But mostly he was curious and eager to stop whatever this plot was before it could begin.
“For the longest time, Mother, the longest time I grappled with what I wanted. This whole summer- hell, all last year, I wondered if I valued my life over his. And then today, when I couldn’t bare to meet my own eyes in the mirror for fear of the atrocities that lay there, I had a moment of clarity. I remembered that he sold my soul to the devil- literally gave up his child to satiate his ridiculous need for power and his insurmountable fear of the repercussions of his failure! There is not an ounce of will left in my being that could make me stay for him.”
For a few moments, all that filled the air was heavy breath and an untouchable tension.
“What about me?”
Harry could almost feel Malfoy’s hesitation.
“I would do anything for you, Mother. You are the only thing I find place in my heart to care about, and if you asked me to kill myself, I would. But I cannot do this anymore. So, what are you asking me?”
“… Son, you’re not-”
For a moment it was so silent that Harry had to hold his breath in fear of being discovered over the eery quiet. He was scared at the situation, and confused, and all at once began to remember glimpses of blonde from dreams that has seeped into his from Voldemort’s mind. It was unclear, but Harry had a distinct feeling that Draco was in deeper than any of them had realized.
“I would never ask that of you.”
“Really? Because I’ll kill myself before I go back there.”
Harry wanted to gasp, to yell out, to do something, because standing there doing nothing was absolutely tormenting, but he steadied himself and listened.
“You’re not serious, Draco. You wouldn’t be brave enough for that.”
There was some movement, some snap of a twig.
“If I go back there, he’s going to make sure I do something I won’t be able to live with. He’s not satiated with what he has of my soul. He wants all of it. I’m like a game to him, and you can’t understand what that feels like because you just look on from the sidelines, but you let that monster into our home. You let Lucius let him in, and while I think it is the most horrid thing you could’ve done to me, it was also the kindest. Because at least now I understand what’s wrong with this world. It’s not those with un-pure blood. It’s those with un-pure hearts. And anyone who thinks that- that creature is saving us must surely be un-pure. If you hadn’t thrown me to the snakes I thought I’d known all my life, I wouldn’t be able to die in such peaceful clarity.”
As Malfoy paused for breath, so too did Harry. He didn't think he’d ever heard Malfoy speak so long consecutively, and he certainly couldn’t believe that these hateful and relatable words were coming from the same boy who had paraded around wearing ‘Potter Stinks’ buttons less than two years ago.
“Harry Potter will save this world.”
His breathe caught in his throat now, at hearing his name come out of that boys mouth in a way that was anything apart from hateful.
“I might have to die for him to do so. All I want is for that to be an option. At Hogwarts I can live, at least a little longer, but back there there’s no escape except for death. And I know all paths lead back to it, but I’d prefer to get a little more school in before then. Maybe talk to some old friends, if they’ll still hear me.”
“You can’t hide from him.”
“He won’t come to Hogwarts.”
“He will-”
“He won’t come now. He’s not strong enough.”
“I’ll have to return with this news. How will you live with yourself if they kill me along with your father?”
Harry almost cringed at the condescension. If what he could deduce from this conversation was correct, shouldn’t his mother want Malfoy’s decision to be easy? Harry’s mother had died for him, was Narcissa not willing to do so for her own son when that was what true love was supposed to be? Had he not just heard Malfoy say he would die for her?
“Mother,” the plea in his voice was heartbreaking, even for someone who couldn’t understand what getting that chance felt like. “Are you ordering me not to go?”
Narcissa’s cry was almost audible now.
“If I do so, am I killing you?”
Malfoy sighed and Harry could only assume that the crunching he heard was the gap being closed between mother and son- guard and captive.
“I am a dead man either way.”
“But… what happened to staying safe- with me?”
“You of all people should know. Only those afraid long to be safe.”
“And, what, you’re suddenly not afraid anymore?”
A dry laugh sounded.
“Hell no. I’m more terrified than ever. But now that I’ve been thrown into that fear I can face it head-on and see that it’s not fair to place it on other people. I was dead the second you let that door shut two years ago, but if you hold it open for me this time I can live what little time I have left pretending to be a normal student at a school that doesn’t know what’s coming to it.”
“And when he sends countless trials your way?”
The angle of Malfoy’s voice changed and Harry quickly threw on his invisibility cloak in precaution.
“I’ll handle them. Or I’ll die.”
“My son, how can you live with such sorrow? You talk too much about death-”
“Actually, this is the most alive I’ve felt in a long time. Knowing you’re dead does that to you.”
“You can’t kill yourself.”
“If I don’t, Potter will have to, and he’s not cruel enough for that. Don’t worry, I’ll write you a letter.”
“Merlin, you make me sound so heartless!”
“I love you, mother, but I must go now. Don’t tell father of this, he’ll spill it all to the Dark Lord. I want you to stay safe, so tell them you couldn’t catch me before I apparated. When they find out where I am, tell them it’s the last place you thought I would go.”
She didn’t say another word after that, and Harry recognized she was not being cruel. Saying ‘I love you’, in her eyes, would be a goodbye, and he knew that was the worst thing a mother could realize of her child. The telltale sound of disapparation filled the air and Harry knew it was over. This messy family/war/whatever-the-hell drama had not been what he needed to clear his head.
Only momentarily was he lost in thought before Malfoy rounded a tree unsteadily and Harry got his first clear look at him. He had definitely gotten taller since last school year, but with it he seemed much leaner, like he hadn’t been fed to accommodate his new growth. Apart from his almost concerning figure, he also seemed to ache with the weight of a thousand melancholies, his face set in disappointed scowl.
Harry couldn’t take his eyes away as they scanned over the boy, eventually landing on his left arm. What he found there, if he had seen it moments ago, before his perception of Malfoy had been incredulously challenged, would have solidified his suspicions. The dark mark on his forearm seemed to hide in the shadows of his disheveled cloak, and Harry stared at it in anger. This was supposed to be simple. He was supposed to be proud in his rightness, he should've been running to gossip with Ron and Hermione in disdain, but something about this felt different.
He watched curiously as Malfoy stopped himself from having a breakdown, barely containing the tears that were fighting at his eyes. He leaned up against a tree for a moment, muttering curses.
“Fuck,” he sighed, then jumped up, alert, as if realizing he was not in a safe place.
Just like that he hastened for the castle, and Harry had half the nerve to follow in his footsteps in case anything were to suddenly appear from the forest chasing after him.
He lost Malfoy then, but he was never planning on following him around all night. When he was finally back in his dormitory everyone was asleep and he crawled into his canopy in barely contained confusion. He was right- Draco Malfoy had taken the dark mark. But, did that make him inherently bad, or was what he just witnessed proof against that?
It was too much to decide in one night, and so Harry fell into a fitful sleep, waking up periodically to pains in his scar and with rushes of anger that were not his own that left him feeling as if he had just lost something most precious to him.