Corpse Roads
T.A 3001
Draco smiled as a cold breeze blew through the walkway, he was still a Slytherin at heart, preferring the cold dark of the dungeons compared to the bright heat of the sun. He twisted the Slytherin ring around his finger, remembering the green and silver of the common room and beds.
He had honoured his house with the choice of colours of his current robes. The elves had arranged for new robes to be made for him, seeing as he had nothing but the tattered black shirt and trousers he appeared in, and he had asked for it to be in greens and black. There was more green than black when they showed him his new wardrobe, Arwen had told him then that black was a rare colour to be worn around in such a peaceful place as Imladris, for it was a cruel reminder of the dark lord, Erestor being the only exception.
Draco had swallowed the knot in his throat and cursed himself for forgetting that, it seems in both worlds black signified the dark lord, but Draco was used to dark colours being the primary colour in his eyes, his house was dark, his school was dark, his rooms and all his clothes were dark, and despite his efforts he himself was tainted with darkness, the only things that weren’t dark about him were his skin and hair.
When he walked into the great hall, eyes no longer followed him as he moved like they had when he first stepped into the halls. The residents of Imladris had gotten used to his presence and went on about their day as if it was any other day.
He walked straight towards where he knew the Lord would be with his family only to be greeted with a sight that stopped him dead in his tracks with eyes wide as his right hand twitched towards his wand, he only just barely stopped himself from pulling it out and alarming the elves.
Draco knows he must look paler than usual, like he had just seen a ghost. Draco was almost sure he did.
Sat beside Lord Elrond was an old man in grey robes and long white hair and beard, an image of Dumbledore’s face framed with a green glow flashed before his eyes, then it was gone. Draco took a few deep breaths, placed his hand back to his sides and continued towards Lord Elrond.
“Ah Draco, come and sit, are you feeling better now?”
Draco sat down beside Elrohir, opposite Arwen who was beside Elrond. “Yes, the bath was helpful.”
When Draco looked over at the man who wasn’t Dumbledore, his face was scrunched up and he was eyeing Draco’s left forearm. Draco shifted in his seat uncomfortably.
“Let me introduce you to Gandalf the Grey, he is one of the Istari.” At this Gandalf’s eyes went to Draco’s face, and his frown turned into a smile, “Ah the young wizard that Lord Elrond has told me about, a pleasure to meet you.”
Draco nodded but did not smile, this man knew something about him, or at least was suspicious about something he would rather no one in this new world know. “A pleasure.” He returned, though it was anything but.
“Have you been injured with Dark Magic Draco?” Draco furrowed his brows, this man wasted no time with pleasantries. He decided to play along and see what the wizard would say, he nodded.
“Ah, I thought so. I feel the residual of it on the wound on your arm.” The old wizard’s eyes went over Draco’s left arm again.
Draco tensed infinitesimally, there was no wound on his left arm, the only thing the old wizard could have felt was –Merlin forbid- the Dark Mark. How does one even feel dark magic? Draco had to be cautious, the magic here was different evidently.
“Ah I see.” Was all Draco said in hopes that would end that topic of conversation, it did not.
“May I inspect the wound?”
Draco had to remind himself to be polite rather than reacting like he usually did, sneering would do him no good in trying to stay on their good sides. “It’s already healed.” He replied off-handedly and took a bite of the bread he covered in butter, not looking at the old wizard.
“Now Gandalf, it is hardly proper to talk about wounds over breakfast, tell us about your upcoming visit to Bilbo for his birthday.” Elrond who was quiet throughout their little dark magic talk suddenly spoke up, Draco could tell the Lord had sensed Draco’s discomfort and helped him out. He was really liking this lord more and more.
The rest of breakfast was filled with pleasant talk and light banter, which Draco did not participate in. He excused himself early and for the rest of the day he tried his best to avoid the old wizard, not wanting a repeat of their earlier conversation.
Draco walked around one of the gardens, watching the flowers and small fountains gleam under the pale moonlight. He did not want to sleep.
The dreamless sleep potion was taking longer than he thought to brew, and if he did not want to wake up again as he had that morning he just had to avoid sleep for a few more days. He had done it before he could definitely do it again.
He walked in silence, the rest of Imladris should be asleep, prancing in their happy dreams of cheer and joy.
Draco sighed, being bitter will do him no good.
He walked towards the library where the Quenya books were kept. Draco found it weird that they had a library with open air, were they not afraid of rain getting in and ruining the books? Maybe elves’ magic kept them dry, well it wasn’t his problem, he would just make use of it and read under the moonlight and forgo lighting a candle.
He went to the shelves at the back, he had the dictionary in one hand to translate, now all he had to do was to pick out an interesting book that wouldn’t bore him mid-translation. His hand was pulling out a book about runes when he heard footsteps and voices, were there still people awake at this time?
“Mithrandir, why is it that you discomfort my guest so? Arwen has told me he spent the day hiding away, in hopes of not running into you.” It was Lord Elrond’s voice, but who was this Mithrandir?
“Lord Elrond, you cannot honestly tell me you do not feel the darkness from the boy. I had only wished to ensure it was a residue of the wound and not the boy himself.” Gandalf, it was Gandalf’s voice, why was Lord Elrond calling him Mithrandir? Did he have a double name or something?
Draco silently cast a disillusionment charm over himself and set the books back onto the shelf, if they were talking about him then he had a right to listen.
“The child has come to us injured and bleeding, he has been thrown from his own world into ours by the Valar, I do not think the Valar would wish any more darkness upon Middle-Earth.” Draco had learned that the Valar were some sort of gods for the elves, except that it was no religion and their existence were very real. The rulers of life on Middle-Earth, under their creator Iluvatar.
“I would rather be sure than to blindly trust someone.” Draco knew what Gandalf said made sense, but he still couldn’t help but hate the old wizard a little for disturbing what little peace he had managed to enjoy here.
Draco heard Lord Elond sigh, “He has nightmares, he tosses and turns in his sleep, this morning I woke him from screaming himself hoarse, he said words that I wish no child ever had to utter, I do not think anyone who suffers so much could be evil.”
Draco wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, Lord Elrond was too kind. He knew the Lord had seen countless wars, took and lost many lives, but he was still so kind, how did he do it? Why couldn’t anyone like that have existed in his old life?
“Regardless, I will watch him for a while more, you of all people should know evil does not present itself until the most opportune moment.” Gandalf said, his voice final in his decision.
Draco was wondering why Lord Elrond was still standing there even though Gandalf had already turned to leave when the lord called out to him. “Draco.”
Draco twitched, how did Lord Elrond sense him when even Gandalf the Istar couldn’t? Nevertheless he dropped the disillusionment charm and walked forward into the moonlight. “Lord Elrond.” He greeted.
“It is bad manners to eavesdrop.” Lord Elrond chided him, frown disapproving.
Draco shrugged, “You were talking about me, I had a right to hear it.”
Elrond sighed, unable to argue the point. “He is careful and on guard, these are dark times Draco. But rest assured I will ensure he does nothing untoward.”
Draco chewed on his bottom lip and struggled with himself, but ultimately came to a decision. “I will tell you.”
Lord Elrond turned surprised eyes to him, clearly shocked at his sudden declaration. Draco had always been tight lipped about his past, only letting bits and pieces through that couldn’t ever be pieced together into a bigger picture.
“You have been a gracious host to me Lord Elrond, I am very thankful to you and do not want to bring you trouble.” Draco said. He then conjured up two chairs and dropped himself elegantly onto one, folding a leg over the other.
“Sit please.” Draco gestured to the other chair. “I will tell you of my life, and you may choose to disclose whatever you wish to Gandalf.” Draco trusted Lord Elrond, however short the time since knowing him, it was just a feeling and how the lord had defended him earlier.
“Draco you do not have to if you do not want to. There are other ways to appease Mithrandir.” Elrond reassured the boy as he sat. If he were honest he would like to know, but with the intensity and frequency of which Draco suffers from his night terrors the wounds are obviously very fresh for him. It would only hurt Draco more to dig at it, and Elrond would wish no harm upon the boy.
“It’s fine Lord Elrond. It is the least you deserve for having been so kind to me despite not knowing anything about me.” Draco gave the lord a minute smile.
“I’ve told you there was a war, but I never went into details. There was a dark side and a light side, as there is to every war. The dark side was made up of the dark lord and his followers, their ultimate goal was the eradication of all who were not pure-blooded. The Dark Lord wanted to rule over both the wizarding world and the muggle world. The light side was obviously those who were against those ideals.” He took a pause to ensure Lord Elrond was still following, the elf gave a nod and he continued.
“Pure-bloods are us witches and wizards who are descended from purely magic families, those who are born to either half a non-magical parent or both non-magical parents are considered half-blood or mudbloods.”
“You are pure-blooded then?” Lord Elrond asked.
Draco nodded. “I am the heir- well, the head of the Malfoy family now, not that it means much of anything here.” He shrugged.
Lord Elrond laid a comforting hand over his, to which Draco gave a weak smile of thanks.
“Anyways, I… I cannot ask you to promise me not to react badly but I’d like you to keep in mind that pure-blooded family politics are very, how would you say, convoluted. Things are never as easy as it seems.” Draco looked into Lord Elrond’s eyes and begged him to understand, he didn’t want to hurt anymore for things he had done and were forced to do.
“I will try my best Draco.” The lord reassured him.
“Most of the Dark Lord’s army consisted of pure-blooded families.” Draco paused and swallowed visibly, hands tense. “Mine included.”
Draco could physically feel the air tense after he said that. “I never wanted to though!” He quickly added in an attempt to ease and tension.
“You best explain quickly Draco.” Lord Elrond’s clipped tone made Draco’s chest squeezed hard.
“I was always taught that pure-bloods were better, I used to think it was just the way it was. I’m not proud of the things I had done under that assumption, but never did I wish the harm of death upon anyone like the Dark Lord did.” He unclenched his hands to allow blood to flow and crossed them to stop himself from digging his nails into his palms.
“The Dark Lord is cruel, he demanded your loyalty or you were dead. All pure-blooded families were made into servants, if you resisted you were either tortured to insanity or death. Please you must understand, there was nothing we could have done, it was either join him or die.” Draco had rarely ever pleaded in his life, and only ever to the Dark Lord to spare his father. But now he pleaded for Lord Elrond to understand, they had only wanted to survive.
“What about the opposition?” Lord Elrond asked, voice still terse and back straight. He could see genuineness in Draco’s eyes, but he was a ruler of his people before a person himself, the safety of his people came first.
Draco laughed miserably edging on a sneer, “Them? They would sooner hex us before they listened us. We couldn’t turn to them for help, and to go against the Dark Lord yourself was madness.”
Draco sighed, rubbing his hands over his face in exhaustion, he really didn’t like reliving these feelings that he had so neatly compartmentalised away.
“I was 16, he invaded our home and my father had failed an assignment given to him. The Dark Lord made sport of torturing those who fail him, I just- I couldn’t just stand there and watch my father go insane. So I pleaded with him, to let my father go and let me take his place.”
Draco sat up straight and rolled up his left sleeve, “He branded me as a loyal servant and told me to prove my loyalty to him. It was an impossible task, but one I couldn’t fail anyways, if I did then…” Draco closed his eyes and shook his head.
“What was it?” Lord Elrond asked after a moment of silence to allow Draco to collect his thoughts, “The impossible task.”
Draco looked away and down below the balcony, too ashamed to look the lord in his eyes. “I was tasked with killing the leader of the opposition.”
He turned his head back to look at his clenching hands, still unable to meet Lord Elrond’s eyes, “I tried many times and failed many times. Even until the end, when I finally cornered him and had unarmed him, I couldn’t make the final move. My godfather did it for me, he had made an unbreakable vow with my mother to protect me, and if I had failed at the task the Dark Lord would have killed me.”
The image of Dumbledore’s faced framed in the sickening green light flashed across his mind, the fear he had felt at that moment, the craze from the desperation of failing for months. What had it all been for? His father was still thrown into Azkaban and he and his mother both suffered under the Dark Lord for so long, and in the end his parents still died and he was here, alone.
“The things I’ve done, the things I’ve had done to me, it plagues my dreams every night.” Draco shivered as he remembered the pain, the humiliation, the sheer fear in the face of the Dark Lord. He didn’t realise it but he had clenched his eyes shut and had folded his arms over his chest, as if it could protect him from the memories. Nails dug into his arms, his breath hitching as he remembered that slimy disgusting smile, the way he had loomed over him with his father’s wand in his hands.
Draco jerked when he felt a hand over one of his own, almost falling off his own chair. “Draco…” Lord Elrond’s hand came again, slower this time and Draco didn’t move away from it.
“You have to understand, I never wanted to do it, I wish I had been brave enough to choose death over it but I wasn’t. I had only wanted for my family and I to live. Is that so bad?” Draco turned his imploring gaze upon the lord who now stood over him, his vision blurred with unshed tears.
Lord Elrond sighed and enveloped him into his chest, Draco went willingly into the embrace, circling his arm’s around Lord Elrond’s waist. He quietly sobbed as the lord soothed his hand over his back, muttering reassurances.