Alone
Draco is sitting in the Grand Hall when his owl swoops down and begins to peck at his hair. A few students give him a funny look. Her mottled brown feathers twitch slightly as he glares at her and unties the parchment tied around her claw. She stares back. “What is the matter with you?”
His eyes catch sight of the scratchy, slanted handwriting on the sheet, and he stiffens. It’s from his father.
I am making a visit to Hogwarts shortly. I expect to see you in the Courtyard Corridor after your last class today.
Draco freezes. As a flurry of owls begins to descend, and everyone reaches for their mail, he stands and makes his way outside. The cold air nips his face, but he ignores it, still staring at the small fluttering piece of parchment.
His mind scatters to all of the possibilities. He clenches a jaw and digs his nails into the scarred, rough skin on his hip.
Thinking of the what-ifs won’t be any help here.
He heads to class.
___
The sky is still clear and bright after his last period. As he heads toward the corridor, he feels almost unreal. His body moves of its own accord. His thoughts cover themselves in a heavy fog.
___
His father’s eyes harden the moment he notices the boy, and his lips, almost indistinguishably, form the spell Draco is so familiar with. Muffliato. Draco halts to a stop, and Lucius grabs him by the collar. He yanks the boy forward, his lip curling as Draco stumbles.
Lucius lowers his mouth to Draco’s ear and hisses. “Did you really think the Dark Lord wouldn’t know?”
Draco startles. “What?”
His father shoves him away with a kick and grits his teeth. “I don’t expect much of you. Draco, the reason you are attending Hogwarts is to keep an eye on Potter. Do you understand?”
He stares blankly back at Lucius. “Yes, but I have no bloody idea what you are talking about.”
Lucius snaps out his wand and flicks it, the expression on his face unchanging, “Crucio.” Draco’s body writhes, and he gasps. His back arches and his limbs twitch violently, but he keeps his eyes open and fixed upon his father. When the spell is released, ice-cold needles shoot through him, stealing the strength from his legs, and he kneels to the ground.
“You know better than to speak with that attitude, boy,” his father spits. His hand closes around Draco’s throat and pulls him up to his feet. Draco weakly claws at his neck, trying to gasp for air. Lucius lets go and wipes his hand on his robes.
“The Dark Lord has informed me that Potter has managed to destroy something precious to him.” Lucius glares at him. “Do you know where it was kept?” It’s less of a question and more of a statement.
Draco shakes his head wordlessly.
“The Chamber of Secrets.” His father stares at Draco and waits for some sort of recognition to dawn on his face. When Draco looks blankly back at him, Lucius snarls. “What is wrong with you?” He shoves Draco back.
Draco stumbles over the hem of his robe and slams into the wall behind him.
“The Heir of Slytherin. Sounds familiar? That was Potter. Do you recall the letter you sent, speaking of his attempt at drawing information out of you?” He pauses in thought. “Of course, that was rather stupid. No one wanting any reliable information should go to you.”
Lucius laughs to himself, but as if remembering something, his eyes darken. “Potter opened the Chamber and destroyed something of importance to the Dark Lord.”
“What?” Draco’s voice comes out shaky.
“Speak clearly, Draco.”
“What does this have to do with me? I didn’t do anything.”
“Exactly. You didn’t do anything.” Lucius glares at him. “You knew Potter was curious about the Heir of Slytherin. He came to you for information. Yet you didn’t do anything when he went into the Chamber and–”
The sound of footsteps clicking in the hallway interrupts him. They both freeze. Lucius is the first to move. He whips out his wand and points it at Draco. “Silencio.”
Draco lowers his eyes, turns around, and opens the closet door behind him. He knows what to do by now. He steps inside and hides.
___
It’s cold. He shivers and pulls his robes tighter around him, swallowing thickly and wincing at the effort it takes. After the heated conversation outside quiets down, he steps outside.
“Mr. Malfoy,” Potter’s voice shouts only moments later. Draco stops dead. “Mr. Malfoy! I have something of yours.”
He creeps closer to the corridor, trying to listen to their conversation.
“Mine? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lucius speaks in such a tight, quiet voice that Draco can hardly hear it.
“I think you do sir. I think you slipped the diary into Ginny Weasley’s cauldron, that day at Diagon Alley.”
“You do, do you?” Lucius asks. Draco knows this voice. Condescending. Harsh. Playful. “Why don’t you prove it.”
The corridor is silent. Has Harry gone quiet? Draco bites back a sigh. He doesn’t care who talks back to his father, just so long as someone does it. Honestly, he wishes Potter would do something.
Draco hears the footsteps of his father receding and steps into the corridor. Potter stands there, staring at Dobby. He doesn’t seem to notice Draco.
“Open it,” Potter says, still speaking to Draco’s house elf. The creature is holding some strange, old, withered book. He opens it slowly. Draco peers closer. It has a sock in it.
He almost smiles.
“Dobby!” Lucius calls.
Dobby squeaks back. “Master has given Dobby a sock!”
“What? I didn’t gi–” Lucius turns and stares incredulously at the house-elf, who is holding the filthiest sock Draco has ever seen.
“Master has presented Dobby with clothes!” Draco catches a glimpse of the expression on his father’s face. He’s noticed him. Draco backs away and around the corner slowly. “Dobby is free.”
Lucius glares at Potter and screams. “You lost me my servant!”
Draco winces. It’s a comment directed to him, he’s sure. He hears a sharp crack and a thud.
No.
He sprints around the corner, his wand out and his chest heaving. To his surprise, Potter is still on his feet, unharmed. It’s Lucius who is on the floor, and the house elf stands in front of him, his hands thrown out. Draco stares as Harry leaves. His father gets to his feet and walks towards him. Draco starts forward and pulls his arm back. Lucius snarls.
“What is it, boy? When we asked you to keep an eye on him, you couldn’t be bothered to even try. Now, you protect him?”
Draco shrugs listlessly. Maybe it’s because Potter stood up to Lucius. Or because he didn’t want anyone else to experience that kind of pain. He couldn’t find the words to explain. Even if he did, he wouldn’t know how to say them, let alone want to say them.
His father scoffs. “You look pathetic Draco.” He spins around on one heel and strides away.
___
The sky remains clear. The sun shines bright. The world moves on.
Something in him breaks, and a heaviness pours over him.