The Closing Gambit pt. 2
Somewhere in London, Draco overlooked the Ministry atrium with Severus. They both wore their masks, despite all workers having been evacuated as soon as the Minister had been assassinated.
“You know what’s next.” Severus said, his voice coming through tinny and strange through the silver.
“I do,” Draco replied. He’d personally done the ward spells, putting all the time he spent working on the Vanishing Cabinets to use, “You’ve put down the taboo?”
“I have,” Severus drawled, “You know there’s no way to guarantee his safety.”
Draco simply stared out over the Ministry, nothing but an empty calm in his mind, “I know, but I trust him to know what he has to do.”
“You’d trust him that far?” Draco didn’t need to see his godfather’s face to hear the surprise and doubt.
“He’s Blaise Zabini, and my fiancé, if he can't handle himself now, then we really are doomed either way.”
Severus sighed, “And what would he think if he knew what you were doing today?”
Draco paused, thinking of the necklace he’d retrieved earlier in the week, and the way it seemed to burn through his pockets as he took it back to Grimmauld Place.
He wasn’t an idiot, The necklace reeked of The Dark Lord, even without smell, he could see the same aura of black that surrounded them both.
“I think he could find it in himself to understand.” Draco said finally.
He had to hope the words were true. There was nothing else, if not Blaise, and Draco’s foundations had been so chipped away that he was no longer sure if he could trust anyone anymore.
As horrible as it sounded, it was less genuine belief in his fiancé’s character, and more the desperate delusion of a mad man holding onto a single thread, hoping it would turn into a rope.
Draco believed in Blaise’s loyalty and love because he had to. If he didn’t, all was lost.
Tuning back into the conversation, Draco turned to face Severus, “Are you ready?”
Not bothering with a verbal reply, Severus only held out his arm. Draco looped his hand through his godfather's elbow, and they were off.
They landed in a field, and the chaos of the evening was evident. There were guests running and screaming left and right.
Instead of the crushing panic of his first few raids as a Death Eater, Draco felt only calm, and the smug satisfaction of knowing he was going to win a fight.
Without words, he and Severus turned on their heels and began to walk in opposite directions, closing the perimeter.
Draco walked for only a few moments, just outside the wards of The Burrow, before he felt Severus’ spells take effect. It was only a few moments more when he encountered another wizard.
It was one Remus Lupin, leading a pack of people Draco didn’t recognize. Most likely distantly related Prewetts, ousted from the main bloodline.
It was comical, watching recognition dawn on Lupin in two fronts, first, as a Death Eater, and second as a Malfoy.
It wasn’t like Draco was well disguised, even wearing his mask, he’d opted to leave the hood of his robes down, making his white hair incredibly apparent, especially with the bright moon over them.
Lupin shuffled the party of wedding guests behind him, raising his wand. Lucius’ sudden departure from Britain was a tightly guarded secret, only open to those in the inner circle.
He had always looked too much like his father.
Draco thought he might have been more afraid, once, facing another werewolf after Greyback permanently mangled his leg. But in all honesty, that night was a distant memory, overshadowed by far more horrific crimes.
He didn’t have his cane now, but he’d taken several ill-advised potions, on top of the ones Severus required he take for the crucio damage.
Draco looked at the group huddled behind Lupin, completely ignoring the werewolf.
“Go.” He said, jerking his head.
Lupin’s eyes squinted, and realisation dawned a third time.
He looked to the side, calculating, and also jerked his head.
Some guests looked ready to argue, but Lupin repeated Draco’s words, “Go.”
So they went, and it was just Draco and his former professor.
Lupin still didn’t lower his wand, so Draco lowered his mask, smiling.
“There's no need to be scared Remus, you’re family.”
Lupin paled, and Draco took sick satisfaction in it. It felt once again like his anger was alive, trying to claw its way out of his chest, shredding his heart and lungs and throat, leaving a hot red glow over everything.
No, Draco would never forgive anyone in that room, that day they suggested he help desecrate his family home.
He would be angry forever, it felt like. A never ending torrent of all the hate he’d ever spewed directed back into his face.
Draco rarely felt anything these days, and when he could remember feeling anything at all, it was usually anger, or cruelty, or spite.
“I need to leave a mark, you understand, don’t you?” Draco asked, still smiling lightly.
Lupin only looked at Draco, eyes roving over his face, before he answered, “I do.”
His jaw set, an accepting look crossing his face as he lowered his wand.
“Tell Sirius I say hello,” Draco grinned, “ Stupefy.”
After watching Lupin fall, landing harshly in the dirt of the field, Draco removed a knife he’d stolen from his aunt, leaning down and slashing a quick gash over his former teacher’s face.
But something felt missing. Like a chord not played till its last note. So Draco surveyed Lupin, looking for a solution.
It wasn’t only Lupin who’d made an enemy of Draco, in fact, it was another of his so-called family that he truly aimed to hurt.
Carefully picking up his once-professors left forearm, directly under the elbow where his own mark laid, Draco carefully began his carving.
Perfected under months of Bellatrix’s teaching, the words were perfect, looping delicately in Draco’s pureblood handwriting.
‘ The Noble House of Black sends its regards.’
That done, Draco continued to circle the perimeter of the house, keeping an eye for any more Order members.
Soon, he reached the exact halfway point, a predetermined location.
Casting a quick tempus, Draco confirmed Severus should be exactly across from him, on the other side of the grounds. He quickly began laying the new wards, careful to place them just outside the bounds of the pre-existing Burrow ones, preventing any movement in or out of the house.
Anyone with half a brain would be out by now, but it was more a front than anything else. None of the Death Eaters actually cared about taking the Burrow, but it was a strong show of power.
Once he was done, Draco simply aperated away, leaving the loose ends to be tied up by newer members that could still be tricked into thinking they could climb the ranks.
He landed in the woods outside The Manor, not inside as any others likely would have done, but he wasn’t alone as he thought he would be.
No, instead Draco was faced with his aunt, tall and cruel, smiling at her nephew.
“Draco, dear, I feel like we haven't talked in ages,” Bellatrix pouted, twirling a loose strand of hair around her wand, further musing the already messy curls.
“Probably because I’ve been terribly booked,” He sighed, resigning himself to a pointless and nonsensical conversation.
Flowers bloomed in the clearing, bright Narcissus and purple Columbines.
Bellatrix grinned, “Oh, but dear, we both know it’s more.” She began circling, walking clockwise around Draco.
Draco had no choice but to move with her, keeping his aunt in his line of sight always. No one with half a brain would let Bellatrix Lestrange in their blind spot.
“So sorry, but I’ve no idea what you-”
Bellatrix’s wand was under his chin in a moment, “You can’t lie to me, little bird. You know that, I know it,” She pulled back slightly, “We’re the same! You can’t lie to me, and I can’t lie to you!”
Draco swallowed his initial words, he did know what his aunt was on about, but only vaguely, spoken about by his parents in hushed and panicked whispers.
The oldest child of two powerful bloodlines, he would be an idiot not to put it together. His own blood hummed in response to his aunt’s, two twin stars.
But he also knew something in his aunt was wrong in a way Draco himself wasn’t. More tightly controlled in a worse way, bound, rather than controlled.
“I don’t see what that has anything to do with this.” Draco responded, sliding his own hand along his wand.
“Because!” Bellatrix cried, throwing her arms up, “You! Have taken my place! And I don’t care for it!”
“I’ve not taken anything I’m not owed.” He shot back, hoping desperately blood loyalty would carry him though.
Bellatrix’s mouth curled upwards into a grin Draco knew he shared, “Little bird, if you are owed anything, I am owed it tenfold.”
Her gaze darkened, “ I am the eldest Black.”
Draco was genuinely surprised, though he supposed he shouldn’t be, “You want the title?”
“No,” Bellatrix answered simply, “It’s too late for that, and I am but a silly woman,” her tongue came out to lick at her teeth, “I had what I wanted, but I suppose I’m past my prime! You are my successor! But in order to succeed . . .” She trailed off.
Draco put the pieces together, “If you can’t have it all-”
“Then I will have nothing.” His aunt finished, “If it had been anyone else, I might’ve fought,”
Draco relaxed, an unconscious tension leaving him.
“But it’s you, my little bird, and I rather think we should settle this traditionally.”
Bellarix cackled, nearly bent over with the force of her laughter, “So! What do you say? One last bonding moment with your dear old aunt?”
Draco considered for a moment, but what other choice did he have? Things were nearing their natural conclusion soon anyways, he had no reason to deny his aunt.
“Alright, we’ll duel.”