All Will Be Well

The Dark Lord was missing from breakfast the next morning, and the atmosphere was much more relaxed. Yaxley came in late, looking pleased with himself. Draco noticed his mother looking at the man intently for just a moment. He didn't know why. 

After breakfast, Draco retired back to the library. He spent the day there looking through the book he'd been given. A house elf brought him lunch around noon, and Draco took it gratefully. 

Late in the afternoon, movement in one of the bookshelves made him look up. 

The squib was there again. She froze when she saw him looking. 

"What are you doing here? How long have you been in here?" he asked. He hadn't heard her come in and it unnerved him. 

"Just a few minutes ago sir," she whispered, evading the first question. As was usual, her eyes were at her feet. Draco could barely hear her. 

"Come closer," he commanded. He was suddenly very interested in this strange girl who lived in his home and barely spoke.

She obeyed, slowly though, moving carefully, like an injured animal. 

"Do you ever actually speak, or do you just whisper?" Draco asked. He wasn't trying to be mean, but her timidness annoyed him. He wasn't used to being around people like this. 

"When I need to," she said, using her voice, and looking up, meeting his eyes for the first time. Her voice shocked him. He had been expecting something weak, mousy, perhaps stuttering as well. Instead her voice was lower than he thought, and strong. Her words were clear. More than her voice, her eyes stunned him. They were bright blue. Piercing. They were not eyes that he would have guessed belonged to a lowly squib maid. 

"What is your name?" he asked. She raised her eyebrow. 

"Do you care?" 

He was once again stunned. He didn't expect her to pushback against him. She was a maid. He should've gotten angry, but instead, he was only more intrigued. 

"I do." He said simply, leaning back in his chair. 

There was a long pause. 

"My name is Amira," she said finally. A good, strong name for a pureblood. Or it would've been, if she was one. 

Draco nodded once. "Do you like to read?" 

"What?" she asked. Draco found some satisfaction in throwing her off. He was rarely ever as shocked as he had been in the past three minutes, and he was happy to return the favor. 

"You're in the library... do you like to read?" he repeated. Her eyes hardened slightly. He didn't know why the question offended her. She lowered her head again. 

"I apologize for disturbing you, I will leave you sir," she said, turning away.

"You didn't disturb me, you may stay here, if you wish," Draco said quickly. He didn't know why he cared. She looked back at him for a long moment. He couldn't read her at all. After a moment she nodded, and slowly walked back into the rows of books, out of his sight. He sat at the table watching the spot she'd left for a long time. She was so.... odd. Creepy maybe. No, that wasn't right. Draco wasn't sure what to think. 

Eventually he turned back to his own work. Soon, it was late enough that he decided he needed to go to dinner. He stopped in his room to change into his dress robes. He prayed on the way down that his mother would intercept him again and tell him it was canceled, but she didn't. He knew that was horrible of him, because it meant someone would be getting hurt, but he was still terrified to be in the presence of the Dark Lord. 

He entered the dining room first. It was set for more places than for breakfast. His mother joined him first, then Pettigrew. Then a Death Eater named Macnair swept in. Yaxley was with him. Another man that Draco didn't know followed soon after with Aunt Bellatrix. Finally, in walked the Dark Lord. With him was none other than Severus Snape. Draco looked down as he stood. Snape took the seat on the other side of the Dark Lord, across from Bella.

"It is nice to dine all together again," the Dark Lord said when they were all seated. "My closest advisors, my future Minister, and my lovely hosts."

Draco fought a shiver when his eyes passed over him. 

"I have wonderful news to share," the Dark Lord said with a smile that made Draco want to run for the hills, "We will break Azkaban in seven days."

Bella whooped and cheered, while the rest of them clapped politely. Draco was both eager and terrified. He wanted his father to be rescued from the horrible place, but he knew what was planned for him afterwards. 

"Now that the plan is complete, we need to discuss what will be needed afterwards," Snape intoned in his monotone voice. The Dark Lord nodded slowly. Draco found it interesting the way Snape was allowed to speak and make suggestions without being addressed first. It was the way his father used to be. Snape had taken his place. Just another reason to dislike the man. 

"Narcissa," The Dark Lord addressed his mother and Draco tensed, "You led the recovery of the last escape. You will do so again. What do you need?"

"Well, depending on how many we can expect, a healer or two, as well as a mind healer, though the damage shouldn't be extensive on the more recent... unless you are planning on inmates that have been there longer as well?" his mother articulated carefully. 

"There will be one or two more if we can get them, though they are not priority, I expected around ten," the Dark Lord explained, "Yaxley, get the healers here within three days."

"Yes my lord," Yaxley nodded, chest puffing at the task. 

"Anything else?" the Dark Lord asked, looking back to Draco's mother. 

"We have enough rooms prepared, enough food, and supplies, I think we are ready," she nodded. 

"Think?" the Dark Lord snapped.

"I know we are ready, I apologize my lord," she said, and then looked down. Draco relaxed as the Dark Lord nodded and looked away, seeming pleased. He immediately stiffened when the Dark Lord looked back at him. 

"Draco," he said, trailing the 'o' out too long, "Bella tells me she's started you on Occlumency."

Draco nodded, "Yes my lord."

"Good, I don't need the old goat poking around in your head when you go back to school next year," he nodded. Draco felt a relief at the confirmation that he would be going back to school. He hadn't even fully realized that he had been worried about that. "You're going to have a lot to be keeping from him."

"Is your plan still to mark the boy?" Snape asked. 

"Yes," the Dark Lord said, "Is that a problem?"

His tone made it clear that he was not open to arguments, and that any opposition would be met with pain. Draco would have stayed silent. Snape was braver than Draco though. 

"No, just that Dumbledore has made comments that he would be checking seventh year's arms. He hasn't considered Draco yet, as he is only sixteen, but Moody will be at the school to look at others, and he might look at Draco, considering his.... alert tendencies." Snape explained. The Dark Lord looked at him thoughtfully. He turned back to Draco. 

"I will consider this," he said, and then turned to Bella, "I will be testing his Occlumency a week after the break. He better be showing signs of sufficient progress."

"Yes my lord." Bella said eagerly. Draco swallowed discreetly. 

"As for the rest, you will be joining us tonight. I know you don't have practical experience, but you will begin observing all of our sessions," the Dark Lord commanded. Bella squealed with excitement and Draco shoved down his dread. 

For the rest of the meeting, Pettigrew discussed his findings of spying on Diagon that day. It wasn't much but he wasn't punished. When dinner was cleared, they stood, and Bella gleefully ran over to take Draco's hand and lead him down to the basement. 

It was dark and gloomy as he trudged behind his aunt down the halls. They reached the main cells and Draco swallowed when he saw a person, naked and already strapped to a table in the center of the room. The torches cast eerie shadows upon the various horrific looking tools on the wall. 

There was blood spattered on the ground, the walls, and the ceiling. Draco tried not to think about what methods would cause such marks. 

“This is Johnny.” Bellatrix crooned over the body, “He’s a little bitty muggle.”

Then she spun around to face Draco. 

“He’s worthless, normally we wouldn’t waste our time, but Master wouldn’t let me take a mudblood yet,” she whined, and pouted at the Dark Lord who was standing in the corner of the room, observing. 

“Now, now, Bella, there will be plenty of that later,” he assured with a horrible smile. The other Death Eaters in the room jeered and smirked in anticipation. 

“For now, let us demonstrate to young Draco some of the more basic techniques,” the Dark Lord suggested. 

Draco would never forget the screams of the young man that first night. Bellatrix had been merciless with the cruciatus curse. She’d then taken to a knife, and then went back to some hexes that Draco didn’t even know existed. Eventually the man’s heart had simply stopped from the strain. 

The whole time, Draco stood, horrified and paralyzed, and forced himself to appear interested and attentive. He could feel the Dark Lord’s eyes on him the entire time. He had laughed appropriately with the other Death Eaters. He had smiled. It made him want to puke. 

He had puked when he had returned to his room. He laid in bed that night, wide awake, for hours and hours while the images and sounds plagued his mind. 

The next morning Draco found his thoughts on Potter. He wondered what Potter was doing this summer. He was home with adoring relatives he was sure, or maybe he was at the rundown Weasley shack. Regardless, he was definitely having a better summer than Draco. Though he might be mourning his godfather, he was getting to be a teenager. He was getting to relax. Draco was having dinner with the Dark Lord, and witnessing horrors beyond anything he had ever imagined, with the promise that it was going to get far worse, at a far larger scale. Draco was on the dark side. He was on the side that didn't have the moral high ground. They would do anything to achieve their goal. And he believed in the goal. He did. He believed that purebloods were superior. He believed they were losing their culture to mudbloods and muggles. He believed they needed to preserve tradition and take back power. He hated Dumbledore and he hated Potter and all they stood for. 

Still, deep down, he wondered what it would be like to be on a side where you could stand by your actions. Where you didn't have to shove down guilt, and erase images of the blood that ensured your victory. Where death was a tragedy and life was valuable, and where you could be the hero. 

Draco thought most of that mindset was naive, and bad strategy. To be at the top you had to be willing to do bad things. His father always told him it was better to have power than be liked. Fear breeds respect. Draco believed that entirely. He wasn't so sure that the blood-thirsty antics of his aunt and master were what he had been taught. He tried to ignore the pleasure that more than half of the Death Eaters he had seen displayed when causing others pain. He didn't want to question his side. But here he was, day dreaming about what it would be like to be liked, and good. He would be weak, but maybe he would be happier. Ignorance is bliss, he supposed. 

He shook himself, and berated himself for the thoughts he was having. His Occlumency was nowhere near good enough to be having thoughts that were so close to bordering on traitorous.. He swung himself out of bed and prepared for breakfast. A quick glance in the mirror showed rare circles under his eyes. They weren't dark, but their presence at all was different. Draco did his best to look polished despite it. 

The Dark Lord was missing from breakfast again, as were the other Death Eaters. It was just him and his mother. They sat in silence. Draco barely touched his food. The images of last night were too present in his mind. The sounds were in his ears. He was startled when his mother reached over to hold his hand for a moment. He looked at her. She was looking at him neutrally, but Draco could see the faintest flicker of concern. 

"All will be well," she mouthed. Draco nodded jerkily. She stood, and left. Draco didn't want to sit in the large dining room alone. He knew the Dark Lord's snake, Nagini, liked to be there, and Draco didn't want to have an encounter. He made his way to the library. There, he started working through the last half of the Occlumency textbook. He wondered if he would see Amira there today. He didn't. That night after dinner, much to his dismay, he was commanded to join them again in the dungeon. 

This time it was a woman. The Dark Lord didn’t stay. Bellatrix had gotten more creative and more detailed. There had been a skin flaying hex. A horrible one that turned the woman inside out, piece by piece until she died. Draco’s only relief was that the night was shorter than the previous one had been. He fell into bed that night, exhausted, and horrified. 

Draco woke up gasping, a scream choked in his throat. After several moments to calm himself, he looked around to determine the time. It was just starting to dawn. Draco decided that he did not dare go back to sleep to be confronted with the dreams from the last two nights he'd witnessed. He needed air. He hadn't even stepped outside since he'd been home. He donned his outdoor robe and headed through the silent castle to the garden outside.

His mother kept a flower garden on the side of the Manor where she had been able to see it from her rooms, which were directly above Draco's. Draco would not dare venture to the otherside of the Manor where the Dark Lord would be able to see him from his windows. Draco pushed open the doors downstairs and relished in the cool morning air that hit his face. The sun was barely peeking through, and there was a light fog over the grounds. Draco walked to his favorite nook of the garden. It was hidden from any of the Manor windows, and it was where he used to hide as a child when he was upset with his parents. 

He sat down on the bench there and sighed. In this spot alone, he could forget about the takeover of his home. He could forget about the impending war. And he could forget about his part in it. He just sat and breathed. He began to meditate naturally, and fall into his Occlumency exercises. 

They calmed him. They made him feel safe. He enjoyed his time there, and vowed to make this a part of his mornings, though perhaps not as early. 

Suddenly, he felt eyes on him. He opened his and looked around quickly. At first he almost didn't see her. She was blending into the shadows so well, it was only the gentle wind through her hair that gave her away. 

"You like to sneak up on me," Draco said quietly, "How long have you been there?"

"Not long," Amira answered. She stayed in her corner, but spoke clearly. 

"Well, you might as well come sit," Draco offered. He didn't know why he was offering to sit with a squib. He put it down as wanting to sit with someone his own age. She came cautiously, and sat down at the far end of the bench. "How old are you?"

"Fifteen." she answered, "Just turned."

Draco was slightly surprised. He'd honestly thought she was older. It was the way she spoke, the maturity that showed through. She was over a year younger than him, considering he had been sixteen for a while. 

"Why are you up so early?" he asked. 

"Why are you?" she asked back. Draco was not about to admit that he had been shaken by nightmares. He found himself curious to know why she wouldn't tell him though. 

"So what do you do all day?" he tried. Apparently she was not as opposed to this question. 

"Not much, not anymore," she admitted, looking up at the flowers.

"Oh?" 

"I used to do chores for my father," she said, "Your mother informed me the house elves would do that here."

"Your father, or your uncle?" Draco asked before he could stop himself. He put it down to lack of sleep. 

"If you're asking, you already know," she responded. She didn't seem bothered by it. She sighed then, "Mostly I just try to stay out of the way, but I keep running into you. It almost seems like you're doing the same thing."

"Stay out of the way?" Draco checked. It was true. He didn't want to be around anyone here, except his mother. "I suppose you're right. I do stay out of the way."

"I don't blame you," she said quietly, and looked down. 

"Careful," Draco warned. "Someone like you can't be saying things like that."

To his surprise, she laughed lightly. The feeling was getting too common for his liking. 

"Maybe," she nodded, "But you're not going to get me in trouble."

Draco turned to face her, "Why not?"

She looked at him. Her blue eyes seemed to pierce right through him. 

"Draco Malfoy," she said, "You are not one of them. You are not cruel."

"I am one of them," he argued. 

"You might try to be, you might be successful," she said and looked back at the flowers, "For your sake, I hope not."

Draco's head spun, trying to decipher what she meant. How did this squib know that he did not share the same venom as the others in this house? He had kept his face and his emotions in check... hadn't he? 

"Don't worry, none of them know that, except your mother of course." she consoled, "You're doing quite well."

"Are you a seer?" 

She laughed again, "No, not at all."

"Why are you saying these things?" Draco asked. He didn't want to give any confirmation that she was right. 

"Because," she paused, "I know what it's like to be alone."

That's not what he had meant. He wanted to know how she knew these things, but he couldn't let her know the accuracy of her words. That would be incredibly dangerous and foolish. There was a rustling near the entrance of the garden. Amira stood. 

"I think it's only your mother, but I should go," she said. Draco looked to the noise, and sure enough, his mother appeared through the rows of tall flowers. Draco looked back, and Amira was gone. 

"Good morning Draco," his mother greeted. She sat down close to him. 

"Good morning Mother."

"Needed some air?" she asked neutrally. 

"Something like that," he nodded. She placed a hand on his knee. 

"You're doing so well," she said, "It's going to get much harder."

He didn't ask what she was referring to. He knew soon he would have to be an active participant in the sessions in the dungeons. He didn't know if he had it in him. From what he knew, one had to really mean the spells, and he just didn't want people to hurt that bad. Potter... maybe. Maybe Dumbeldore. Not the random muggles that they held down stairs. They hadn't done anything. 

"When Father gets back-"

"I will speak to him, but I doubt he will have any power to change anything," his mother said quickly. 

"He was his right hand," Draco argued. 

"And he messed up," his mother said in a hard tone, "More than once."

Draco looked at her. He'd never heard his mother talk about his father in that judgemental way. 

"How?"

"It isn't important. We just need to be careful," she said. 

Draco felt that his father's mistakes were extremely important but he didn't argue anymore. That sat in silence until it was time to go in for breakfast. 

Amira wandered away from the garden when the pair was done speaking. She felt no guilt in eavesdropping, Draco knew she was near. She didn't envy the Malfoy heir's position. Anyone who was truly looking could see how lost he was. His whole life had been turned upside down in a matter of weeks. The cushy lifestyle he had grown accustomed to was turning cold. He didn't know who to trust, or what to do. There was a war being waged inside himself, that was obvious. He did well hiding it from the others. It was only in his moments alone that it was evident on his face. 

She didn't know why she was talking to him. She was bored of course, but that wasn't new. Amira wondered if it was because she could read him so well. It was rare that she had access to witnessing the lives of anyone but her uncle. She steered clear of the other occupants of this house, but Draco was different. He was a teenager. He was still innocent. And deep down, he was good. He felt safe somehow. She berated herself for that feeling. Soon enough, he would change, and he would be just as evil as the men who came before him. Narcissa would mourn the loss of her good son, and Lucius would rejoice. She at least assumed that would happen, because most likely Lucius was no different from the rest. 

Amira kneeled down and looked around before she crawled into a small gap in the flowers. She was a small girl, not very tall or big. She could fit into the space. Inside, there was a little grass space. It had a canopy of flowers. It was only big enough for her, and maybe one other person if they were close together. She spent most of her days here. Or in the library. That was more dangerous because she had to be sure that no one else was inside. One time, she had been in the room when the Dark Lord had come, and she had been trapped in the corner for hours until she left. She had stood, holding her breath and not moving until he left. 

There were also a few nooks up on the fourth floor. That floor was mostly deserted. The only one she'd seen there was Narcissa. It wasn't an attic, it was much too nice. But it was just a series of small, empty rooms. The attic was above it, and that was nice as well, if a bit dusty. The difficulty with the attic was that it was so far from her uncle's rooms. If her bracelet turned hot, she had to sprint to make it to her uncle before he would be angry. He didn't have patience. She would've liked to spend sometime on the second floor, with all of the big windows, but she didn't want Draco to think she was stalking him too much. Besides, the screams were the quietest outside, or up in the attic. 

Here though, in what she deemed "her" piece of the garden, she could be at peace. She was safe here. No one would touch her here. She'd had a place like that back at the old house as well. It hadn't been nearly as nice though. Yaxley didn't have an appreciation for flowers. She laid down on her side carefully, more out of habit than anything. She wasn't super sore today. Of course, she was never pain free, but she was used to it. Slowly, her eyes fluttered shut, and gave her the much needed rest that she could never get at night.