Chapter 11
Draco bit the inside of his cheek until the metallic taste of blood hit his tase buds. Even then, he didn’t stop. Or else his teeth would clatter, as uf he were freezing to death. But it was only his nerves that made him shake. Just like his hands, that he clenched to fists to keep them as still as possible. How did everything go so wrong?
They had taken the gag out already. It was a relief, before he realized it meant that they wanted him talk. Sing and blab like a little song bird, no doubt. They didn’t let Bill talk before him. Of course they wanted to hear him talk first.
This time, no one offered him Veritaserum. How would he get them to believe him? What could he even say?
His dark mark burned as a reminder that he was a prisoner of the enemies now. The only good thing was that Bill was the only one who knew the dark truth. The bad thing was that Bill could tell on him anytime. And that wasn’t even a far-fetched idea, given that Bill might face torture if he didn’t comply. He was surrounded by friends and family, all on his side. Who wouldn’t give in then?
Draco stood before a long table in a room that was probably the dining room. Everybody who caught him in his- in Regulus room took a seat around it. Loads of scrolls were pushed carelessly to the end of the table where nobody sat anymore.
He stared at the floor. It was better than to look at those all too familiar faces. He didn’t know where Severus sat, or why he was here. He didn’t know where Bill was, or Potter, or Longbottom. Fucking traitor.
What felt even worse was that Severus had not stepped in to help him. Didn’t raise his voice a single time to suggest to maybe forgo the gag. He hadn’t felt that betrayed by anyone. But as soon as they locked eyes in Regulus room, he felt like his life was thrown around once again. It just didn’t make sense to see him with Dumbledore supporters and they didn’t even try to kill him.
“Draco Malfoy,” piped up one of them with a gruff voice and made Draco jump a little. It sounded like Moody. Thankfully nobody snickered. “This is a serious matter. Pay attention.”
Draco made an effort to pull his teeth out of his gum. “Yes, Sir.”
“How did you get inside this house?”
“I can’t say, Sir.” He couldn’t inform on Bill; he didn’t deserve that. Not after everything he’s done for him.
“Are you saying that you don’t know, or you don’t want to tell us?”
The floor he fixed his gaze on was as clean as a whistle. Kreacher did a good job cleaning it.
“I can’t tell you, Sir.”
The answer was a long sigh. “Let me tell you then that you have no business to be here. Answer me one question: Why shouldn’t we take your memories and throw you out onto the streets?”
Draco gulped. “I don‘t know, Sir,” he replied once again, while the pain in his chest increased. He tried to concentrate on the taste of blood in his mouth.
“You‘re not getting far with this technique, Moody,“ cut in Mrs Weasley, “why don’t we give him Veritaserum?”
Moody’s answer was a growl. “Somebody took our entire stock, so no, Molly, that is impossible.”
A murmur went through the crowd. Draco thought back to when Bill placed the little bottle of veritaserum in front of him. He definitely had some… Draco searched for Bill with his eyes. He sat right next to Mother Weasley. His face betrayed nothing.
“Maybe he is a Death Eater,” proposed Potter all of a sudden and Draco’s heart stopped for a moment before dropping into his trousers.
It was dead silent until Mr Weasley took the floor. “That is a serious allegation, Harry,” he said quietly and leaned forward, “what makes you think that?”
“I mean, it’s kinda obvious. His mother kills Glenda Flume, and suddenly Malfoy shows up in the headqua- you know what.”
“I don’t know if I’m the only one, but I’m not connecting the dots here.” Tonks snorted.
"It’s just weird, don’t you think? He could have gone anywhere. Heck, he probably would have been safe in the manor. So why would he leave?“ Potter looked around and dropped his voice to a serious whisper. “He’s been sent to spy on the order.”
“And Bill helped him?” snickered someone.
“Well, yes. That part is kind of obvious.”
Bill let out an exasperated sigh. “Harry, you’re spinning lies about things you have no idea of.”
“Malfoy has been sent to spy on us,” said Potter loudly, disregarding Bill completely, “because his mother killed someone and is in hiding and her son has to prove his loyalty to Voldemort now.”
Draco flinched hard at the mention of the name of his Lord. The Dark Mark hissed and writhed and sent waves of pain through his arm. He pressed his bound arm against his back trying to relieve the pain.
He was scared. It didn‘t take much to admit it.
“We can just check his arm!” Potter proposed.
Draco forgot how to breathe; eyes wide. “Don’t touch me!” he snarled.
The twins got up anyways. They were lanky, but also very tall and livid. He could tell from the way they held themselves.
Just as they moved to grab him, his brain shut off. He winded out of the loose grips and dove full length to the door. Someone stood in front of it, blocking his escape route. Right as he slammed into them, Draco caught a peak of their face. It was Longbottom. He was tackling Longbottom – and it felt really good. When Draco threw him to the floor, he didn’t care at all if Longbottom got hurt. Dumbass had hurt himself way too often to complain now.
“Petrificus Totalus!“ Moody slashed his wand in the air, the spell hit Draco and he went stiff and heavy. His eyes were all that was left movable.
Longbottom shook him off, so he rolled off the side and landed on his back. His bound hands stabbed into his skin and bones. He felt a scream coming up, but nothing left his mouth. His heart pounded so hard it was ready to leap out of his chest.
Moody appeared next to him. Draco could only stare up, watch as he bent down to roll Draco over again. Tears shot into his eyes as his face was pressed into the hard wooden floor. He was defenseless.
They were going to find the dark mark any second and then Draco was done for.
He could feel the brush of a calloused hand against his arm as his sleeve was pulled upwards.
Cold fingers lingered on his bare skin. Draco pressed his eyes shut.
The moment felt like eternity.
Finally, the hand left.
„Harry is right.“ Moody huffed. Chairs scratched against the floor as multiple people stood up and hurried to them.
He could feel their eyes gazing over his dirty figure until they rested on his arm.
In a moment like this he was glad Father was in prison and Mother dead, just so he could spare them another humiliation.
“What are those scratches?” someone asked. He couldn’t pinpoint who.
Then, the charm was lifted. They dragged him to his feet with his head lolling around. Draco could barely keep his eyes open.
“Snape, inform Dumbledore immediately,” said Moody.
‘Opportunity to kill Dumbledore?’ asked his brain. Then he lost the floor under his feet.
When Draco came to, he was laying down on comfortable cushions. He was immediately thrown back to his time at Bill’s flat.
It took some time to remember where he was and what went down. His back hurt enough to remind him.
The only question was… why wasn’t he locked up in the cellar? Instead, they granted him comfort. It had to be a trick. A test. For what, Draco didn’t know.
Carefully, he opened one eye to take a sneak peak.
Sure enough, he was in a room he didn’t recognise.
And he wasn’t alone. To the wall across from him sat an old man. Although at first he was still too groggy to connect the dots, he seemed familiar.
The man moved his head a little, clearly noticing that Draco’s woken up.
His blood froze in his veins. It was Dumbledore, the white long beard unmistakable.
“Hello, Mr Malfoy,” he said quietly and readjusted in his seat. It looked very comfortable, thick cushions everywhere.
“Would you like to drink something?” He pointed at a tea pot on a little table and two cups beside it.
Now that Dumbledore mentioned it, his throat was scratchy and dry. How long has it been since he had a drink? Or a meal, he thought, as he felt a familiar sickness come up.
Still, he didn’t give in.
Draco had been wary of Dumbledore since childhood. His parents portrayed him as an old lunatic, but he was too aware of the slight nuances in their voices that gave away just how powerful Dumbledore actually was.
And he would not forget it now.
But maybe… just maybe… he could hear him out. Mother reached out to him, so perhaps Dumbledore wasn’t so bad.
He shook his head slowly. Dumbledore pursed his lips and smoothed out his cloak. In that motion, his left hand caught Draco’s eye. It was black. Burnt looking.
“Help yourself.” He said.
What happened to Dumbledores hand? It looked… dead.
“I can’t say I’m happy to be here,” his gaze wandered across the room, “but I certainly know that it’s necessary.”
Draco didn’t reply but ruffled his hair and sat up. He didn’t feel like talking to the old man lying down.
“I heard you’ve become a Death Eater.”
Draco swallowed hard and looked up at Dumbledore. All the friendly wrinkles around his eyes were gone.
“Yes, Sir,” he said, hoarse. There was no point in hiding it anymore.
“Can you show it to me?”
Draco did.
Dumbledore inspected it from a distance. Leaned forward but didn’t get up.
“Do you have anything else you want to tell me?” he asked.
Draco shook his head no.
“Okay, well,” Dumbledore leaned back and made himself comfortable, “I expect you understand that we all would like to know what exactly you’re doing here.” He regarded him from over the top of his glasses. “The details, if you will. Bill already told us quite a few things.”
“What did he say?” Draco found himself asking.
“Not much. You appeared in his flat and sought refuge. He then brought you here because you were in danger. So tell me- what danger are you running from, Mr Malfoy?”
Draco pinched his eyebrows. “My mother went to see you, Sir. Shouldn’t you already know?”
“That is correct. With the slight difference that I don’t know what happened afterwards. Why Mrs Malfoy killed Mrs Flume, for example. Or why you ended up running away. You would be a great help to figure it out.”
Draco kept quiet for a while, unsure what to say. Dumbledore just smiled.
“Take your time,“ he said. “I will be here when you‘ve got something to say. But let me warn you, Draco, sooner or later the ministry will hear of the news. They will want to bring you in for questioning. I cannot help you then.“
Draco cocked his head. He heard the underlying threat, knew what it implied.
“I want guaranteed safety in exchange for information,“ he demanded.
Dumbledore considered it. His old eyes excruciated him. “Draco,” he said softly, “I can guarantee safety under one condition. I need honesty from you. Do you understand?”
Draco swallowed nervously. “Yes, Sir.”
Dumbledore made himself comfortable, clearly waiting.
It didn’t take long before he revealed the gruesome events of the past weeks. It wasn’t like he trusted Dumbledore, but he held the whip hand. If someone could help him, it was that old man and his order.
He still withheld certain information. He didn’t say a word about his special task, for example. Or the torture he received. What role Severus played in the Death Eater ranks.
Some things better stayed a secret.
—————
Hours later, Draco sat at the long dining table he stood opposite to during the questioning, along with the Weasley‘s, Potter, Longbottom and Granger. Several members of the order have left already.
Severus didn‘t even deign to look at him when he swept out of the room. He seemed displeased at best. Draco was still wondering what he was even doing here.
This was one of the most tense dinners he ever had. Molly Weasley splat some bangers and mash on his plate with a sour look on her face. He made sure to thank her.
Nobody was talking. Draco’s never felt this out of place before. He was torn between the urge to cower before these people to get across that he meant no threat, and to stand up for himself and have some sort of backbone, just like a true Malfoy heir.
Draco chose the easy option that might earn him bonus points later – he gave way, meek and subdued. It felt all too easy to slip into this role his father had demanded from him when he was in trouble.
So, he waited for permission to eat.
He folded his hands in his lap, sat up straight and tilted his head downwards.
Everybody around him started digging in, but he didn’t. Yet nobody addressed him. He just caught a few glares that were thrown at him.
„May I eat, Ma‘am?“ he asked, feigning nonchalance. His ears started burning with shame as he once again remembered that he shared a table with the golden trio.
He got a few weird looks before Molly Weasley rose from her seat, gripping the cutlery like a weapon. „Stop the nonsense. You‘re only here because Professor Dumbledore put in a good word for you, so have some decency and drop the act!“ She snapped. „You can be thankful we don‘t believe in starving people.“
Draco looked up at her, from two rows away. „I am thankful, Ma‘am, but- “
„Quit calling me Ma‘am!“ she shouted. Draco shrunk back, staring at his plate full of food. He just meant to ask if he could eat to be polite. Of course they didn’t buy it. Probably thought he was making fun of them. If only he kept up his wall of arrogance.
“Mom, sit back down please,” said Bill.
“You, Bill, aren’t off the hook either. But we’ll discuss that later.”
“Yes, I know. Can we just eat now? Please?” his voice sounded pleading.
“We haven’t stopped eating,” snorted Weasley.
Granger sighed. “Ron! Not the point.”
The jokes lightened the atmosphere. They suddenly seemed to have something to say, talking and laughing. Draco felt like he was forgotten, so he eased up and focused on the food.
After dinner, when everybody busied themselves clearing the table, Mr Weasley waved him over. He stood in front of a cupboard with all sorts of fancy glasses inside, with his arms crossed.
Draco followed the command.
“Listen,” he said quietly and guided him out the door, “no matter what Professor Dumbledore says, we can’t help but perceive you as a threat. I think you understand that.”
“Yes, Sir,” said Draco, mouth suddenly dry. He was still no older than the golden trio, he didn’t say. How could he be a threat? But of course he knew what Mr Weasley meant.
“We’ve taken the liberty to move your things to the third floor where you will be staying from now on. Molly and I, as well as our twins, are staying on the same floor. We are just doors apart. So, if you do anything out of the norm, we will know. Is that clear?”
“Wha- anything? What if I... never mind that.” Draco twitched uncomfortably. They were monitoring his every move. How, he didn’t know.
Mr Weasley stopped dead in his tracks and turned around on the landing of the staircase. “Last thing: if anything happens to Neville, we will have to take different measures.”
“Why, uh, why Neville?”
“He’s going to be your roommate.”
Draco’s mouth dropped open. “You’re not serious-“
Mr Weasley’s raised his hand to keep him from talking. “I’m dead serious.”
Draco was glad he only blinked once violently when saw the hand coming towards him. It expressed power and stability.
Nonetheless, his next words were no more than a squeal. “Do I have to...?”