Child Of Stars

T.A 3001

Draco had been in Middle-Earth for a few months now, his hair had grown longer and he thought not to cut it to fit in better with the elves. His skin got healthier, the pale grey steadily gaining their golden glow back. He had gained more friends, got better in his Sindarin –he could read it well enough and speak like a snail crawls-, understood more about Middle-Earth and its histories, and about the darkness that was slowly re-emerging.

Draco didn’t want to get involved, one war was already one too many for him, but he might not have a choice considering the importance of the people he keeps for company.

Aragorn was a king, albeit one that didn’t want the throne but still a king all the same.

Lord Elrond was a powerful Elf Lord who was there when Isildur had failed to throw the ring into the fire, and the shards of Narsil was in his keep, he would obviously be very deeply involved in the war.

Arwen was connected to the war through Aragorn and the fact that she was leaning towards a mortal life that depended on the destruction of the ring, so yes very involved in the war.

Well, at least he wasn’t on the other side, with the dark lord, one lifetime of service to a horribly uncompassionate cruel dark lord was plenty enough. He would just stay with the elves and do his best to stay behind the fighting lines, like a bystander.

True to his words, Lord Elrond had never asked Draco to talk of his past and he had also managed to make Gandalf stay away from Draco about that certain topic. Thought when he would be practicing his magic off somewhere quiet, he could sometimes feel another’s presence near him, he was quite sure it was the old wizard, come to spy on his potential enemy, Draco had more than once sent a wandless and nonverbal stinging hex his way, served the old fool right for spying on him.

Draco had often thought of telling the family about his past, because if it was up to Draco he would have tortured it out of whoever was trespassing on his lands. But they had been more than patient about it, about him, and he figured it was time to reward that patience.

Draco now stood on a balcony that the moon seemed to shine on perfectly, it sort of looked like a stage, perfect for storytelling. Earlier that day he had informed the family –Aragorn included- to meet here for a little chat, he assumed they knew what he meant.

He had conjured comfortable couches and a love seat for Arwen and Aragorn –so she had someone to lean on- and was ready to put up wards after everyone had entered the circle. After Elrond, Elrohir, Elladan, Arwen and Aragorn sat down, Draco put up the imperturbable charm and sat down dramatically.

“I know I have never revealed much of myself to all of you and I'm very thankful for the patience you've shown me by not asking me about it. But I think it's time I repaid your kindness. At the end, whoever you decide to tell is up to you, but I understand that not all races in Middle-Earth believe in the Valar, so I would advise to tread carefully.” Draco looked around as their eyes bore into his being, eager eyes and ears that had waited in silence and in respect of Draco’s privacy, trusting him only on the words of their lord and father.

“In my world, called Earth, we’re separated into magical and non-magical beings. Non-magical beings would be the animals and humans. Then we have the magical beings, wizards, witches, vampires, werewolves, centaurs, house elves, goblins and plenty others.”

“Why are they called house elves?” Elladan asked, curious as to the specific name. 

“House elves are very different from elves in Middle-Earth. House elves are short, with big eyes and ears, highly unsightly, they live to be servants.” Draco could see furrowed eyebrows and decided to ignore it, it would only be normal to feel a little bit odd to have a creature share the same name as you but be total opposites.

“Wizards and witches are divided into three. The purebloods, our family lines are devoid of any non-magical blood. Then there are the half-bloods, where either one parent is a wizard or witch and the other is of non-magical descent. Lastly are the muggle-borns, where both parents are non-magical humans. Half-bloods and mudbloods are usually looked down upon by most pureblooded wizards.” Or that was what Draco grew up knowing.

“Mudbloods?” Elrohir asked with distaste, telling someone they had mud in their blood doesn't sound too pleasant.

“Ah, Mudbloods are what the pure-bloods call muggle-borns, I suppose it’s an insult. Slip of the mouth, sorry.” Draco shrugged with a wince, he had gotten so used to calling them that that it was difficult to change.

“We have schools for magically gifted children. There we would learn basics of being wizards and witches, casting spells, brewing potions, magical plants and beasts, broomstick flying, among others.” Draco watched the wonders in their eyes, he sighed as he was about to absolutely crush that wonder.

“All of that aside, it wasn't the main point. It is just the basics to be able to understand our war.” A cold breeze blew over them, as if nature was setting the stage for Draco.

“There was a wizard called Tom Riddle, he had a bitter past that shaped him to become a cruel and powerful man. He valued blood supremacy and wanted all who weren’t pure-blooded dead, he became our dark lord.” Draco looked at everyone, Lord Elrond had already heard the tale once, so he wasn’t much affected, but the others were disgusted and horrified by one who valued an ideal so much that they were willing to kill for it, Draco agreed.

“The Dark Lord reigned terror and gathered followers called Death Eaters, they were all hand-picked and loyal to him.” Draco chose to leave out the fact that most pure-blood families were part of his followers.

“Then there was a prophecy of the defeat of the Dark Lord. The prophecy said that he would be defeated by a child born before the seventh month dies, but Lord V-“ Draco paused and took a deep breath, he could do this, he was no longer under his thumb, he was free and no longer in his grasp.

“The Dark Lord Voldermort decided to kill the child before he grew up. What he did not expect was that when he killed the child’s mother who was protecting the child, she had activated an ancient magic, and when Lord Voldermort sent the killing curse his way, it rebounded and killed him instead.” There was a collective gasps from his audience.

“But he wasn’t dead yet. Voldermort had split his soul…”

And so Draco had told them the brief history of the war, leaving out his involvement, replacing them with vague comments of “There was an insider who let the Death Eaters into heavily shielded school” and “Dumbledore got assassinated by the Death Eaters”, he’d left the hardest for the last.

“… and before the war was over, I fell and landed here.” Draco let out a sigh of relief when he finished, waiting for the others to ask their questions before he told them the inevitable.

“So you do not know the outcome of the battle?” Aragorn asked what everyone had on their mind.

Draco shook his head, “I do not know, but I think, whichever side wins, the world will be in shambles all the same.”

Everyone looked at him with a curious expression, “Why? Will the good side winning not bring peace?”

Draco smiled grimly, “The light side does not have compassion while the dark side is cruel, one reign will lead to disarray while the other will lead to fire and ruin.”

Aragorn leaned forward in his chair, “Why do you say so?”

Draco sighed and looked down at his hands, he had been fiddling with his wand, wanting something to do with his hands while he told the story. A hand came over his own causing him to look up. Lord Elrond smiled warmly at him, “In your own time.”

Draco nodded and gave him a weak smile, yes, at least there would be one person here who accepted him if all the others decided he was not worthy of redemption.

“Most of the purebloods were Death Eaters. The Death Eaters left carnage wherever they passed, we had burned, killed, and tortured both muggles and wizards and witches alike. Our job of instilling the fear of Lord Voldermort into the hearts of muggles and magical beings alike was a very successful campaign.” He paused, letting his words sink in and for them to get what he was trying to convey.

He watched as realisation dawned upon them, then he looked back down at his hands, he doesn't dare watch as their perception of him changed, it would be too painful to lose the easy friendship he had built with them.

Elrohir and Elladan sounded pained as they asked him, “Why?”                    

Potter hadn’t asked why, all he did was whip out his wand and threatened to hex him to bloody hell if he didn’t leave, no one had asked him why he did the things he did.

He looked back up at them, trying to keep his own heartache from showing, “My family is a pure-blood family, the ideal of pure-blood supremacy is ingrained in my being. I am heir to the Malfoy bloodline. My grandfather had been a Death Eater, my father was a Death Eater, and I was brought up to think as a Death Eater does.”

Conflicted miens stared back at Draco. Aragorn was the only who looked at him with pity because he could emphathise, he himself knew of the pressures of familial duty. “Was there no other way?”

Draco shook his head, “My father had failed the mission Voldermort had given him and he was caught then sent to Azkaban, the tightest prison a magical being could enter, and the gravest. The Lord called for me, bestowing me a way to redeem my family, or watch as he tortured my parents to insanity.”

Draco sighed, “I suppose I could have chosen death over becoming a death eater but I was selfish, I wanted to live and to save my parents.” 

“I was tasked with killing Dumbledore.” He watched as their eyes widened, but he continued without pause, “I tried three times, I failed all three times. But I did manage to smuggle in fellow Death Eaters, and when he was surrounded, I couldn’t deal the final blow. I backed down, and my godfather who had made an unbreakable vow with my mother to protect me, killed Dumbledore, because if Dumbledore was not dead, I would be.”

"I could not kill him because he gave me a chance. He offered protection to us, and I would have taken it had we not already have been surrounded by Death Eaters." 

Draco silently pleaded for them to understand, to see that there was no other way for him, it was kill or be killed. Maybe it was a coward's way of rationalising his actions, but Draco had survived in the end anyways. 

Three pairs of eyes looked away, two remained on him. It hurt him but he understood their feelings too, it was already good enough that they still stayed to listen to the rest of his story.

“Technically I had failed, just like my father, and there were consequences. Death Eaters make sport of torturing, the Lord made us an example.”

Draco shuddered at the memory, the heat of the knives on his bones and the screams, just like in his nightmares.

“There are three curses that are banned because they are the most powerful and sinister spells of all. One of them is the Cruciatus Curse for unimaginable pain that would drive the sanest person insane if exposed to it for too long.”

Draco dug his nails into his arms to stop them from shaking. Nobody spoke and Arwen and her brothers still weren’t looking at him. It wasn’t enough, he had to, he needed them to understand.

“The Cruciatus Curse was their favourite. It feels as if knives were repeatedly driven into you, dragged across your skin and scraping against your bones as it split your flesh from it, as if your head were being hacked open with a blunt dining knife, bright burning light against your unblinking eyes as if being scorched alive, every bone in your body being snapped and ground to dust an-“ Draco broke off in a sob, blood pooling at the crescent shapes his nails had dug into his arms as his body shook, he drew his knees up to his chest, desperately wanting to feel like he was not falling apart. Arms wound around his shaking form and softly caressed his hair in comfort.

“Why did you not go for help? Would they not aid you and your family escape such torture?” Aragorn whispered, his arms around Arwen who was still looking at the ground and not at her friend.

“I did.” He lurched forward in desperation of an explanation, only held back from falling by the lord beside him. “I went to them thinking they could save us from him, but they pointed their wands at us and told us to leave or they would hex us where we stood.” His tone becoming hostile despite the tremble still present at the anger and indignation he felt. "Though at the end Dumbledore had offered his protection, it was too late."

“That is why I say they are uncompassionate.” Draco's voice shook as he spoke.

"I do no say my piece with ease, I truly regret my actions these past years. From the bullying to thinking the Dark Lord's ideal was ever a goal to achieve. Before I knew it I was in too deep and there was no way out." There is silence after that as they took their time to digest everything that Draco had imparted on them.

“Oh Draco,” Arwen’s arms wound around him tightly as her tears dripped onto his shoulder, they were both a sobbing mess as Draco had returned her tight embrace. "I do not condone your actions but I understand the desperation that must have drove you to them, I would not think you evil for trying to survive." 

Arwen held on to him for a moment more before giving way to the twins. Their eyes were filled with grief and resentment, anger at the thought of what had been done to Draco. They both laid a hand on each of his shoulder, gave him a slight squeeze, and they went off without a word.

Aragorn came before him and pulled him into a hug, “I thank you for sharing your past with us. I hope that Imladris will provide for you the healing and peace that it had for me.” He said before pulling back and giving him a gentle kiss on the forehead in comfort.

Aragorn then turned to link his hand with Arwen’s, “Come Arwen, it is time to rest, we shall give Draco time to settle his grief.” Arwen gave a teary-eyed encouraging smile to Draco before turning to leave.

Elrond lifted the boy’s face to meet his eyes with the boy’s broken gaze. “Do not worry over Elladan and Elrohir, we are elves, we feel very strongly.”

Elrond gave a gentle comforting smile and wiped a tear away with a thumb, “Their mother, my wife, Celebrían, was captured and tortured by Orcs, she had her will to live taken away, she has long since sailed for the Undying Lands, where her soul will heal and be whole again.”

Elrond sighed, “I have seen much death and am familiar with the grief, but they are not. It had hurt them and I fear they would never recover from it. They feel anger for those who have hurt you, and sad that you did not confide in them earlier, for they would surely share your burden and help you heal. We all would.”

Draco stared into the Lord’s eyes and all he could see was sincerity in those grey depths. His heart warmed and tears threatened to spill again.

“I understand, thank you for telling me.” Draco said and gave a weak smile.

“It is no problem dear one. I will advise Gandalf again regarding his behaviour. You have suffered much from people who would not help you, I will not allow us to do the same, you are welcome here Draco.”

Right, Draco had forgotten about Gandalf in the tearful storytelling, he had purposely omitted from telling the old wizard anyways as he did not care.

“You may tell him the rest of it however you see fit, I do not care for the thoughts of those who do not care for me.” And it seems, that was where their tiring night ended.