Imminent

We used to be close, but people can go, From people you know to people you don't
And what hurts the most is people can go
From people you know to people you don't
(people you know, selena gomez)

March 2006

A melancholy tune whispered its way through the library shelves. In a far back corner, part of a bookshelf was pulled open, soft firelight peeking through the cracks. Inside, a few guitars and stringed instruments sat on stands in a far corner and a piano in the opposite corner facing the floor to ceiling window. Floor to ceiling bookshelves covered two of the walls, filled with a mix of music books, loose sheet music, and records. Near the fireplace was a loveseat and chaise, both black leather, matching the tone of the dark wooded walls. 

Draco sat tall at the piano bench, his fingers smoothly sweeping across the keys. The moment he had arrived from the Potters’, he made a beeline for the music Room, sat at the piano bench and played until his fingers hurt. Two hours had now passed and the music continued to pour out. 

Time was always non-existent as he became lost while playing the piano. Every other instrument required him to focus and keep time with the notes. On the piano, he easily went through the motions without a second thought. His fingers knew exactly which keys to press; his hands knew exactly where to move. He flowed through so many pieces: Bach, Debussy, Chopin, Mozart, Beethoven, random instrumental pieces he had learned over the years. One after another flowed as hammers hit the strings. Hands dancing across the keys.

The music room was his sanctuary. While Voldemort and his rot had occupied the Manor, Draco always tried to hide away in the library under the guise of reading. His mother created the room specifically for him as a child. She was the only other person who could access it without permission. Lucius had scoffed when he had learned of the room’s existence, citing that the young Malfoy should be learning "more important things.". 

Thankfully, Narcissa ignored him and set to tutoring Draco. They spent so many hours together with Milly bringing snacks and beaming as she listened to young Master play. Milly was always most in awe when Narcissa played anything. Draco often caught the little elf swaying as she went about usual chores in the room while Narcissa’s fingers danced on the violin. Draco felt a shock when he was twelve and his mother first explained that Bach and Mozart were muggle composers. He was always told muggles were inferior, nothing compared to them, to wizards. Narcissa scoffed when he asked and said he felt conflicted.

“Your father thinks that. Have you ever heard those words pass my lips, my little one?”

Draco thought for a moment then slowly shook his head. “No. But Father has always said it.”

Narcissa smirked, “You have played their compositions for years now. You have given the utmost praise, especially to Bach. You’re going to tell me that now you’re conflicted? Will you also tell me that you refuse to play any of their sonatas now that you’re aware they are muggles? No, I didn’t think so. Now, let’s introduce you properly to Tchaikovsky. Many people think he was just a simple muggle but he was really one of the greatest magical composers. .”

The sonata came to an end. 

His hands did not stop.

 A seamless transition without thought into the next piece. 

A sinking feeling settled in his chest as the keys sang and realisation brought the locked book of memories to the forefront of his mind. 

He had given no thought to which piece he would play next but this one…it was the first song he heard her play. Draco closed his eyes as Mad World sang in his ears. A single memory slipped from the locked book in his mind. He remembered the sounds of birds, trees swaying in the breeze, the small creek nearby. The smell of fresh rain in the air. A soft sound trickling out of an open door…

Draco slowly pushed the door open, careful not to allow a single creak escape the hinges or the floorboards. Any use of magic in the house would alert her to his presence, a charm he had yet to figure out. He glanced around the entryway and noted the music was coming from further down the hall than he had been before. Barely making a sound, he stepped  down the hall as the music grew louder but still soft. 

Gentle.

Across from what he assumed was another bedroom there was no door, just an open frame. Inside was a small room, sparsely furnished: a grey armchair with a side table pushed into a corner with a small bookcase on the other side. Along the wall facing the wide window on the opposite side of the room, there she sat. Eyes closed, face turned up towards the sunshine that managed to peek through the trees and filter through the window. Her hands fluttered across the piano keys.

Her wild curls were up today. In a messy ponytail, high on her head with some rebellious curls framing her face. He could see that she didn’t look as tired as before. The cut down the right side of her face was finally a faint line, blending into her now tanned skin. She continually refused to tell him what had happened. It agitated him to not know.. The jumper she wore was still too large for her frame. He was adamant she needed to eat more, not understanding how she couldn’t when she had an entire kitchen to herself…

Draco leaned against the doorframe, content with watching and listening. She was an enigma to him. Always had been really. And he was content for her to remain one, learning all her quirks for the rest of his days if she let him.

When he would visit to report, rarely was she off-guard. Always watching, constantly looking out windows. She never gave an indication of what she was expecting, what she was anticipating. He thought that by now, she would return to trusting him like before but he knew it wasn’t him that she was wary of. Something else occupied her thoughts and made her restless. Not fearful, not scared. It was as though Granger had no fear anymore. She would barely bat an eye or show much emotion when he would present news to her. Every time he tried to question, she changed the subject or dismissed him. It was frustrating but enticing…

“It’s rude to stare. Also, rude to sneak into someone’s home.”

She kept her eyes closed and continued to play but he noticed the smirk that appeared.

“The front door was open, I would hardly call it sneaking in,” he scoffed playfully and crossed his arms but didn’t move.

“Uh-huh,” she finished out the last notes then turned towards him, her smirk still set in place.

He gazed into the honey pools that he found himself wanting to drown in. He couldn't help the frown as he noticed a new cut was on the left side of her neck, disappearing up into her hair. 

“You didn’t alert me you were coming. Something happen?”

“Hmm,” he nodded, eyes scanning the rest of her face and arms, taking note of anything else that was new. It didn’t help that she wore an enormous jumper and loose trousers but he could see faint bruising on the tops of her hands. 

“Malfoy,” she growled and crossed her arms, her brow raised in agitation. 

She hated when he scrutinised her, having voiced it loudly to him several times already. But that didn’t deter him. Draco snapped his eyes back to those pools.

“He was able to secure dragons. They’ll be here in the next few days. I just learned about it today. If the information is correct, it should only be three.”

She shook her head and rubbed the back of her neck, her irritation deflating, “Oh. I take it that’s all you know so far? No locations or anything?”

Draco shook his head and pulled a folded parchment from inside his jacket pocket. He held it out for her to take.

“As usual, I wrote down everything I heard, so you can pass it on.”

She stood and walked a few steps forward to take the parchment. He immediately caught how her back was stiff, her left leg barely lifting to step. He could see the strain from her trying to walk and stand as normal as possible. Her sleeve pulled up a minute amount and he could see the faint bruise extended further. Good god, what had happened to her? He had just seen her a few days ago and she had seemed perfectly fine.

“Draco,” her tone had a warning and he forced his gaze back to her eyes, “I told you to stop doing that.”

“Hermione,” he matched her tone to attempt lightening their moods, “If you would just tell me-”

“We’re not going to have this argument again. I’ve asked you to let it go.” She sighed and moved to step around him but he stopped her with an arm coming around her waist. “Please.”

“I won’t say I’m sorry for worrying. I don’t like that you won’t let me help with whatever is going on.”

“One day. One day when this mess is finally done, then I’ll tell you everything,” she whispered as he pressed his lips to her forehead.

His fingers slipped and he slammed his fists on the keys, the loud discordant tones echoing. His breathing turned erratic and his skin crawled. Draco felt the tears pooling in his eyes but blinked furiously to hold them back.

Breathe…1, 2, 3…breathe…4, 5, 6…breathe…

He couldn’t get past that point in the memory. In any of them. Once he started noticing the bruises, the cuts, the dark circles under her eyes, her tanned skin paling…it ate at him. When the guilt or frustration became too much, an impending panic attack would force him out of the memories. Something had been happening to her and he still didn’t know what it had been. She kept so much from everyone.

From him. 

He thought she trusted him enough but maybe he was mistaken. Maybe she was never going to trust him again after what he did. 

But that first night...when they were fully together again…wasn’t that a sign that they had returned to how they were? How they were when they were at school and meeting and pretending life didn’t exist beyond those moments?

He stared out of the large window, up at the stars. He wished he could just go back and stay…stay at the little house with her, forget everything else going on. 

Why, whenever something good came into his life, was it always ripped away? 

Draco rubbed his face and pushed his hair back, his fingers pulling loose the cord that held it back. It fell and crested the top of his shirt collar. A single thought echoed in his mind as he stared up at the waning gibbous moon.

Come back to me…please…come back to me…

Narcissa Malfoy was not a patient woman, if truth be told. She was especially not patient when her son was extremely late for their mid-afternoon lunch. The petite woman would have crossed her arms in a huff after glancing at the clock again if she hadn't been raised to be such an aristocrat. Instead, she settled on smoothing out the non-existent creases on her dark blue dress. 

They always met at three-thirty for their four o'clock meal and here it was nearing a half hour later and still no sign of her son. She sighed delicately and took a drink of her lemon tea before looking out at the gardens from her greenroom windows. The roses were still blooming and the hydrangeas were numerous this year. Tall trees of oak and cedar were scattered across the grounds. The gardens of their estate in France, her pride and glory. Other than her son of course. 

Her son, who finally sauntered in with a slight huff.

“I apologise for being so late, Mother. There was a break-in at the Ministry,” he kissed her cheek before settling across from her.

“A break-in? But there was nothing in the papers about such a thing?” Narcissa raised a brow as she smoothed down her dress again. “Did they catch whoever was responsible?”

“No, but there’s a very good assumption as to who it is,” he watched as she snapped her fingers and an elf appeared with their lunch before quickly vanishing. “I’m not really supposed to be discussing it with you, you know.”

“And that has never stopped you before,” she smirked, taking a bite of her salad, “Any news on the whereabouts of Miss Granger yet?”

“No. Theo’s been trying to figure out a spell to track her. He nearly lost an eyebrow the other day when it backfired.”

“I’m sure you’ll make progress soon. Theodore is an exceptional wizard. Developing new spells is a tricky business.”

“If she were here, we’d have it figured out already,” he smirked.

Narcissa resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “If she were here, my dear son, we would all breathe a little easier and this wouldn't even be a topic of conversation. Now, there is something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about-”

Draco sighed, “If you’re about to go off on how I’m nearing 30–which might I remind you is still four years away–and should be focusing on finding a wife, the answer is no. “

“Oh, hush boy. I’m not worried about you finding a wife, although I would like you to. I already know you have your heart set on Miss Granger and am merely waiting for you to find her so you can stop your sulking and cheer up for once. Or am I wrong in my conclusion that you intend to marry her should she ever turn up?” Narcissa raised a delicate brow and smirked at her son’s scowl as he stabbed at his food.

“Well, as that may or may not be my intent, it would really depend on her and whether she wants to be with me. You know as well as I do, feelings toward things or people can change with time. And I don’t know what her feelings were-” He stopped talking when his mother reached across the small table to grab his hand. He hadn’t even realised it’d been shaking til then.

“Draco, you put yourself down too much. True, you may have been horrid to some people when you were younger, no doubt due to your upbringing and I deeply apologise for that, my son. But you’ve changed into a wonderful young man. You’ve made a new name for our family. Your charities are flourishing. You’ve managed to become friends with none other than Harry Potter. That itself is a massive feat that you could’ve only managed if you were a good person. And you are a good person, Draco. I’ve no doubt that Miss Granger feels the same sentiment for you. Stop being so hard on yourself,” she withdrew her hand from his and straightened out one of her rings.

“Thank you,” he said softly, a smile gracing his lips, “I needed that today.”

Narcissa nodded and gingerly took a drink of her wine. Draco noticed a near-imperceptible tremble, telling him that she was upset or nervous about something. He had a haphazard guess as to what.

“You’ve heard about Pans, I take it?” The thinning of her lips was his answer. “She’ll be alright, Mother. The best of us are looking after her and James. Plus, she’s married to Potter.”

She nodded solemnly.  Draco waited patiently, giving his mother time to gather her thoughts. Conversations around anything to do with Death Eaters–current or former–was difficult enough for Draco. He could only imagine the inner turmoil his mother was experiencing.

“I know we’ve discussed a bit before about things that happened while that horrid thing was in our home…but I still just don’t understand why the threat is against Pansy? If Greyback wanted to harm you like he threatened during the war, then why not threaten me?”

Draco looked shocked for a moment before composing himself. “I wouldn’t want either of you to be threatened. I know you’re only saying this because you’re upset for Pansy. You know he’s trying to get under everyone’s skin. Including Potter’s.”

“You don’t think…you don’t think your father has anything to do with this recent one? Do you?” Narcissa’s voice trembled for a moment, fear creeping through.

Now Draco understood what she meant. Maybe the threat to Pansy was actually meant to terrify his mother. Lucius was psychotic enough to do something as depraved as sanctioning a threat towards someone close to his wife to instil fear in her. Draco wouldn’t put it past the sad excuse for a man to do it. Being locked in Azkaban, it would be extremely difficult to orchestrate, but not impossible. There was always the risk of a leak in the system.

“I will look into it, Mother,” Draco reached and held her hand, not letting her pull it back. “You have nothing to worry about.”

She smiled widely, “Of course, my dragon.”

Draco was stone-faced, Occlumency walls built high for the impending meeting. The wind whipped around him as he stood before the doors to the prison. The tall black building loomed over him while the waters below crashed against the rocks.

He despised this place. 

It had been his home for months after the war had ended. His only solace during that time was knowing his father was also suffering somewhere in the prison. 

Azkaban was never the same after the breakout and the dementors defecting to Voldemort. Most of them had returned, the promise of regular meals too good to pass. The Ministry decided to follow some muggle ideas for punishment and now each level was designated to the varying degrees of crimes. The dementors occupied the lowest levels, where the waves crashed and continuously kept the cells damp.

Draco descended the stairs behind the burly troll of a man that had ushered him through the door. With his mental walls firmly in place, he was unbothered by the black-cloaked spectres that inched closer. The dementors still had no care of who they were supposed to be feeding on–a meal was a meal. Draco made sure to stay just inside the Patronus bubble that encased him and the burly man. He thought his name might’ve been Todd. Or maybe Bob? He really couldn’t be bothered to remember. He wouldn’t be returning here anytime soon.

They stopped outside a cell, the slapping of their boots against the water echoing against the walls. Tucked away in the far reaches of the lowest part of the prison was none other than Lucius Malfoy. The only Malfoy to be barred from redemption due to the grave he dug for himself. Draco withheld the grimace as he looked through the bars at the man he once proudly called Father. 

Lucius’s once full blond locks now hung damp and limp against his sallow cheeks. His eyes were depressed inwards and grey around the edges. Bloodshot from endless nights awake, screaming. The once proud smirk now a grotesque grin of black and yellow. He was no longer a proud tall man–now he was curled up, emaciated, and cackling like a madman.

Draco again withheld a grimace as those eyes landed on him and the grin spread wider.

He truly might vomit this time at the sight.

“My son,” Lucius drawled, “My lovely, foolish son. Finally deigned to visit his father after all these years, I see? Better late than never? Why grace me with your presence, hmm?”

Draco said nothing, content with letting Lucius babble, hoping he would give him the answer he needed.

“Oh, is it what I’ve read about in the papers? You still haven’t caught him, have you?” A giggle of glee scratched Draco’s ears. “Oh, I know you haven’t. And it eats at you. Oh, how wonderful, you despicable waste of space.”

“Lucius-”

“I AM STILL FATHER TO YOU, YOU UNGRATEFUL SPAWN!” Luciusbellowed as he ran forward and grasped the bars. His spindly fingers like claws around the slick cold metal. He spat the words out so hard, spittle flew as well, “You dare to address me as anything but ‘Father’? You disgusting-”

“Oh, do shut up,” Draco’s nose scrunched up in disgust and annoyance.

Draco felt a small amount of satisfaction at the brief look of shock on his former father’s face. Being locked away for so long seemed to have made Lucius forget who it was that kept him in his place for years at the manor. Draco wasn't going to let him forget now.

“How could I be ungrateful for being born to a parasite such as you? How Mother ever managed to stomach allowing you to touch her is beyond me, let alone consummate anything,” he sneered, unbridled disgust evident on his face. This role was too easy to play. “I don’t know why I even bothered wasting my time coming here. Clearly you’re as useless now as you were when your precious lord was trying to gain power.”

“You have no right to speak of him,” Lucius growled to Draco’s satisfaction. He was about to break. “You think I’m useless? Me? I was one of his top commanders and you say I’m useless?!?”

“You forget that I was one of those commanders too, Father,” Draco masked his face with a bored expression, “and to think I wasn’t even seventeen when he requested me to join. Must’ve been so frustrating for you and Bella, wasn’t it?”

Lucius growled, “You think so lowly of me but you forget that I was the one who monitored Fenrir for all those years. I was the one he had to report to. I knew everything he did. I know everything he does now.” He started to crackle again, pressing his face against the bars, the loose skin pulling back tautly. “Oh yes. I know all about the threat against your precious Pansy. Stupid whore of a girl. Married fucking Potter, didn’t she? The Dark Lord had decided she was to go to Greyback but no, she murdered her own father. Yes, she did. Now she’s birthed Potter’s fucking spawn. Oh, just wait until the wolves get their paws on her and that little brat. Not even your precious Granger is going to be able to stop them.”

“What did you say?” Draco’s lip curled and he could feel his control start to slip at the mention of Granger. There was no way Lucius could have any knowledge about her. “What did you just say?!”

Lucius giggled maniacally, “Oh! Oh! Oh, you don’t know?! Oh, how precious. He has no idea!”

Draco seethed, using all his strength to keep his composure. He couldn’t—wouldn’t— let Lucius win and see his control break. Even by mentioning Granger. The fact that Lucius knew that the mere mention of her could cause some sort of reaction was concerning. He would investigate that more later.

Right now, he needed his father to tell him everything he knew.

Draco glared at the sickly man before him, waiting. It was a sick game of chess between the two of them. Lucius was twisted enough on his own. He was practically salivating at the chance to humiliate his son in some form. Even though his mind was clearly unravelling as this progressed, Draco knew not to use kid gloves with the deranged man. If he gave him too much, it would ruin the entire plan.

“Oh-ho-ho! This is just too good. You didn’t know? You didn’t know that your precious Golden Girl was tied to Fenrir? So much for being such a high commander,” Lucius scoffed but kept his giddy laughter. “The Dark Lord clearly didn’t trust you with everything. Oh, but of course she would keep that a secret from you, wouldn’t she? And I bet you haven’t found her yet, have you? Of course you haven’t. You lot probably thought she’s been dead all these years.” 

Lucius’s sneer grew as he continued to laugh at Draco’s expense. 

“Even for a mudblood bitch, she was insanely more intelligent than my own son. Talent wasted on such a foul creature. If only she would’ve joined when Fenrir made his offer.”

Nausea roiled through Draco’s stomach. Greyback had made an offer to her? When? Why hadn’t she ever said anything to him about it? How did he never know? He knew she was always more interested in Greyback’s whereabouts and plans but he always assumed that had to do with her friendship with Remus, not with…

Lucius’s insane giggle brought him back to the present. He glowered at the insipid man before him. If Draco had any less resolve, he would have spat in Lucius’s face and walked away. Self-control was second nature to him, thankfully, and he stood tall as he took the abuse from the man he once called father. 

Though the current creature disgusted him, Draco still yearned for the man he’d admired growing up. The one who taught him to ride a broomstick. Who had taken him to get his wand. Who had watched proudly as the dragon heartstring core accepted him. That man had descended into chaos ever since that diary arrived at their house. Dobby had taken the brunt of the abuse for both Draco’s and Milly’s sake. Milly was forever heartbroken when she learnt of the little elf’s death.

Draco returned from his internal musings as Lucius got his girlish cackling under control. He already let one outburst through, he couldn’t allow another one. So Draco stood stony and silent as Lucius spat his vitriol towards him. The crazed man would eventually give Draco all the answers he had come for, without needing to ask a single question.

“It’s really no wonder she left you, you know? I knew it that night at the manor. When Bella had perfectly tortured her on our floor. I saw how you couldn’t look at her. Silly me, for a moment I thought you were disgusted by the Granger girl. But no. You were in love with her, weren’t you? It’s another disappointment from you so of course you were.

You didn’t lift a single finger to help her though, did you? No, you hid behind your mother’s skirts like the little scared brat you are. Such a disgrace. You disgust me even more now. You loved her, yet you would’ve let her die on my floor. Sully my manor. How uncouth of you. Before you left me here to rot, I received the most wonderful message from Fenrir. He found your precious little mudblood. Did you know that? No, you didn’t. You don’t really know anything do you?

Yes, he found her. Not too long after our dear Lord perished. Said he caught himself an elusive little fox,” Lucius’s grin stretched further if possible as he continued to grip the bars, “Odd as I thought she was a lioness but she was always a sneaky brat—much like you. You want to know the best part? He said she tasted absolutely divine. Like a forbidden heaven.”

Draco could feel the heat of anger rising in him. His fistsremained clutched inside pockets of his coat, hidden. He could feel the nails biting into his skin. 

Tasted her? Surely he couldn’t be implying…

“Though I’m sure you know that could mean several things,” Lucius kept his eyes trained on Draco, crinkled in delight. “He could have tasted her pain, her screams, her blood. Or maybe it was heavenly to taste that sweet cun- “

 Lucius’s words were cut short. He clutched his nose and screamed as he stumbled away from the bars. Blood ran in spurts down his face and puddles on the floor. His nose was completely crushed. Draco seethed as he pulled his arm back and put his hand back in his pocket. Lucius was wailing in pain and causing a frenzy for the dementors. 

Draco decided his time “visiting” was over and walked away without a glance back. He felt nothing as the screams continued to echo down the hall. Felt nothing as the screams turned hysterical and gut-wrenching as the dementors descended upon Lucius’s cell. He wasn’t in danger of losing his soul yet; the dementors were never allowed contact close enough or long enough for it.

Lucius confirmed he was somehow still in contact with Greyback but not necessarily pulling strings. Draco hadn’t been expecting to hear anything about Granger. The words that slithered out Lucius’s mouth felt like poison and Draco was half-hearted to believe them. 

It burned him to know that Lucius had known how Draco felt towards Granger all those years ago. It explained why Lucius had egged Bellatrix on in her torturing. The rest though…

Greyback made her an offer? Had somehow captured her? Was she still captured or had she escaped? Was she truly dead now?

Just as Draco reached the doors to return to the outside world, he stopped abruptly as a flurry of thoughts slammed to the forefront of his mind. What had he said?

Caught himself an elusive little fox. 

Always thought she was a lioness.

It seemed oddly attentive to the flock of Wizards that bustled about. Yet, it made no move to fully hide. The little creature tilted its head to the side, as if watching him intently. Its black ears flicked forward and its eyes held his in a staring contest.

Those eyes. 

They unnerved him.

Those eyes…