Nicole Stevens: Blood and Daggers

Chapter Twenty: Malfoy Manor

Draco led me down an unfamiliar passageway. They were all unfamiliar, as I had been sleeping when they had brought me. I wished desperately that it was all just a bad dream, but who had heard of a dream where someone dreamt about dreaming? It was a hopeless wish.

Draco kept his arm tight around my waist, which would have been welcome contact at any other time in any other world. I desired to take the sword that I held in my right hand and slice Draco's arm open, but I knew that I was no master of fencing, unlike Draco. He would have disarmed me in seconds, which was my main reason for not attempting to attack him.

This passage was long and dark, there were no lights, but it seemed that Draco was radiating a dim light, so there was no need for other light. The floor was made of dark stone, and the heels of my shoes clicked with each step I took, a sound that would give anyone a tic that had to listen to it for too long. The walls were wood-panelled; a homely effect in most places, but it certainly did not feel homely in this, which I fondly named Hell.

"This manor was built in fourteen forty-seven," Draco informed me smugly. "My family has lived in it for centuries."

"Oh, good," I declared gloomily. "My death will be in a really old manor. Oh joy, oh rapture."

Draco shrugged, his face expressionless. "I doubt my father will kill you. Enlist you in the Dark Lord's services, probably, but he wouldn't kill you. Not when you are so valuable."

"How lucky am I!" I retorted. "I'm not worthless. Oh, thank god. I thought my life was meaningless to everyone but myself." I covered my face with my hand and pretended to sob with joy, before saying, "You are a miserable cretin."

"Pity. You've reduced me to a cretin when I was exactly like my father."

"Your father is a cretin too."

"Delightful."

I shivered as we reached an ornate staircase. It led down to a large entrance room. Draco escorted me down, removing his arm from my waist and holding my hand instead. As we stepped off the staircase, a wave of coldness swept over me, and I wished I had a cloak to warm me. Draco noticed my shivers and paused behind me. He unclasped the silver chain at his throat, and took off his cloak. He wrapped the cloak around my shoulders and fastened the cloak's silver chain around my neck.

"There," he declared as he resumed his place by my side. "Can't have you shivering."

"Thank you," I said, glad that I sounded sincere. Draco shook off my thanks, taking my hand again. Maybe he wasn't so heartless after all. Wait, was I forgiving him for selling me to Voldemort because he loaned me his cloak?

Draco led me through a pair of huge doors with carvings on them. They depicted a scene that I knew I should have recognised, but did not.

"What do the carvings show?" I asked him.

"Purgatory," he answered shortly. "Between Heaven and Hell."

"So you aren't an Atheist after all," I laughed. "I had no idea you knew anything about Religion."

A faint pink tinge appeared on Draco's cheeks, a blush. "This manor was once a castle. It has a small chapel in the back. Believe it or not, my father taught me about religion early. Before I was three, I knew the Ten Commandments, and I knew instantly how different I was from my father. My father used religion as a punishment, almost. If I wasn't obedient, he would take me to the chapel and make me read the Ten Commandments aloud for hours on end. He wanted me to remember the only the things that he could benefit from, like how I was supposed to be submissive to those higher than me, him most of all. But he never thought I would refuse to kill because of it, never thought I might..." Draco sighed, "Ignore me. Just forget I ever said anything."

I had ignored where we were going as he spoke, and when I suddenly realised that we had continued walking, I stopped and looked around me at the room we had arrived in. It was undoubtedly the chapel Draco had been speaking of. There were two rows of pews, with an aisle in the middle. At the front of the chapel, there was a carving of an ancient Druid-like figure standing behind an old altar that had a large book on it.

I looked to Draco. He was staring at me with a reserved expression. I turned to look at the room once again.

"So you weren't lying," I whispered.

Draco didn't say anything. He placed his hands on my shoulders and turned me around to face him. Without a word, Draco tilted my chin up and kissed me gently. He deepened the kiss, waiting for me to react. I didn't realise it, but I had suddenly wrapped my arms around his neck, and we sank onto one of the benches. He pulled me onto his lap and his hands were tangled my hair. He leaned me back, with his hand supporting my head, so I was lying flat on the bench. Draco's tongue roamed around my mouth, tasting me, searching for a response.

I ran my fingers through his hair, his silky strands sliding between my fingers. Draco pulled his lips away from mine, his breathing raspy and hot on my skin. I twirled a strand of his silver-white hair around my forefinger, looking up into his grey eyes. His eyes sparkled with a fire that I had not seen in days. My Draco was back.

"I'm sorry," Draco whispered. "I'm sorry I betrayed you. I'm sorry I used you. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." he faded off, resting his cheek on mine.

"Draco, I'm sorry too, but you're heavy and this bench is hard," I said. Draco sat up, moving further away on the bench. I sat up, smoothing my hair.

Draco's hair was ruffled from where my fingers had run through it. His cheeks were feverish, and his breathing was heavy.

"Did I hurt you?" Draco asked, lowering his eyes. "If I did, I really didn't mean to."

"No. I'm fine. I feel better than I have in days," I said. It was half-true.

"Oh, all right. Well," he stood up and extended a hand to me, "come here. I want to show you something."

I accepted his hand, and he led me to the front of the chapel. He took me behind the altar, and opened the old book there. It was an ancient Bible, I now saw. Draco put his finger on a line of print.

"The grass withers, the flower fades, but the Word of our God stands forever," Draco quoted. "Very true."

"I agree," I said. "So what are we doing here?"

"Waiting," was all he said. I watched as Draco silently mouthed the words of the Bible, his lips forming each syllable. He became lost in the ancient scriptures, and I decided to explore the small chapel. I left Draco standing at the altar and began making my way through the aisle down the centre of the room. Looking at the stained glass windows, I saw that dull light shone through. It was morning.

"Draco," I said, turning around, "what are we waiting for?"

He looked up, shaken out of his semi-trance. "We're waiting for my father and the Dark Lord."

"Oh, so they're coming to have Sunday school with us?" I asked in mock-politeness. Draco smiled slightly, but shook his head.

"I don't think Voldemort is much into the Bible," Draco replied. "We have to wait for them; Lucius said he'd show you how to wield your sword." I raised the sword, and its blade reflected the dim morning light.

"How long have I been gone from school?" I wondered aloud.

Draco looked at the silver watch on his wrist. "About ten hours."

"Wonderful. Do you know if--" I froze as I heard the audible sound of the chapel's door opening. I turned around slowly, and saw the two men whom I hated most. The Dark Lord and Lucius Malfoy. Lucius stood in the doorway as Voldemort strode forward to meet me in the middle of the room. He stopped a pace in front of me, and I stared insolently up into his red snake-like eyes.

"Miss Stevens, what a lovely young lady you have grown to be."

"Lord Voldemort, nice to see you again. I do hope that since I am a lady now, you will treat me like a lady, and not a child."

"I do not think you want for me to treat you like a lady," Voldemort hissed. "It would be far more painful."

"The more pain the better," I growled. "You certainly didn't spare me any pain last time we met."

"That was a mere test of your endurance."

"Oh, nice. So would you like to tell me about your plans? I remember last year that you tricked Harry into coming here, but do you intend to do the same this year? I'm not sure, but I don't think he'd fall for that again."

"Let us sit and we shall discuss the matters at hand. If you have any questions once I have explained, please, do not hesitate to ask me." He gestured towards one of the pews, indicating that I should sit.

"Have no doubt that I will," I said, sitting as he had instructed.

"Where should I begin?" Voldemort mused. "Hmm...I think I should probably tell you about my childhood, so you can further understand why you were brought here. When I was born, my name was Tom Marvolo Riddle. My mother was a witch, and she died giving birth to me. My father, Tom Riddle, was a Muggle. He left my mother as soon as she had told him what she was. He would not raise me, instead choosing to leave me on the doorstep of an orphanage.

"For many years, I lived there, being used and abused by older children at the orphanage. When I received my letter, telling me what I was, I thought that salvation had finally come to save me. Later, when I arrived at Hogwarts, I learned about my lineage. I discovered that I was the last remaining heir of the famous--or infamous--Salazar Slytherin. I sought to learn his ways, Parselmouth and the Dark Arts. As I discovered more of my ancestry, I began to see how powerful I was. I could control and distort the minds of others, altering them.

"Then I learned about the famous Chamber of Secrets, a chamber allegedly containing a magical serpent that could kill with a glance. I learned how to access the chamber, and gained control of the monster. I caused it to harm Muggle-born students, the filthy slime who did not deserve to learn the magic that they had no right to know of. When it finally killed a girl, I knew I must shift the suspicion and blame onto a fellow student, Rubeus Hagrid. He had a particular fondness for violent and deadly creatures, and so he was the perfect scapegoat. I had him expelled, and let the Basilisk become dormant again.

"During all of this, I had recorded my thoughts into a diary that I had bewitched to record events and keep my image alive in. It could not reveal my secrets, because the ink immediately was soaked into the pages, thus enabling me to write my innermost thoughts without fear of being found out. But Albus Dumbledore, the Transfiguration teacher then, always suspected me, though I was Head Boy and a particularly good student. He tried to convince the headmaster, Professor Dippet, that I was guilty of murdering a fellow student and of petrifying many others. But there was little proof to support his theory, so Dippet dismissed it.

"I left Hogwarts, discarding my filthy Muggle father's name, and using the name that I had created for myself: Lord Voldemort, a name that would become feared and hated in wizarding homes all around the globe. I killed my father--" he said it without any emotion, as if teenagers killed their parents everyday--"and gathered followers, whom I knew would be ever faithful to me, and then I struck. I killed many whom I knew to be followers of Dumbledore. And that was how I lived for many years."

"But why did you want to kill Harry, who was only a baby?" I asked, almost too stunned to speak. Voldemort had just poured his life's history to me. Why?

"He was--and is--very dangerous. His power is too great, and there are only two people who know exactly how great his power is, Albus Dumbledore and I," Voldemort answered. "I knew that I could not risk being overthrown by Harry Potter when he was older. If his emotions were ever strong enough, he could cause devastation. His mother died for him, also increasing his power. I did not want to kill her. She was only a girl."

"Well, why would you show pity for one young woman, and not for others?" I queried.

"I killed only those who had no future but to grow old."

"What about James Potter? If Lily Potter had a future, then would her husband not also have a future?" I speculated.

"A very good question indeed. Yes, he had a future. He was very intelligent. His lie would have been useful to the world, but you must understand that while I had no mercy for James Potter, I did not intend to kill him that night."

"Comforting," I muttered. "So, tell me about last year, this year, and your plans for me, and for Harry."

"Last year, I had been plotting to use you in my efforts to get at Harry Potter. It worked, in the end, but not as I had planned. I learned many things, but I also did not manage to kill Harry Potter. But I did hurt him. I reminded him of the fact he has been trying for so long to ignore: so long as he has friends, they are forever in danger of being victims.

"This year is different, very much so. Harry Potter is more powerful this year than he has ever been before, because he has learned more about himself, and the real world. He has matured, part of which comes from the fact that he was betrayed, bewitched, and bedazzled. He also has been experiencing one of the most conflicting emotions ever to be felt: love. Not the flimsy love of boyfriends and girlfriends, no. He has encountered the biggest barrier he will ever face. He does not want to face it, but he knows that if he wants to live with himself, then he must confront his deepest fear. What he must do, I will not reveal, but be assured that when he decides to deal with his emotions, you will know."

I nodded, pondering what he had said. "So what part do I play in all of this?"

"You will also have to make a very big decision. You must decide what your next move will be." I suddenly thought of a chessboard. "You can decide now or later."

"What do you mean?" I asked suspiciously.

"Do you want to take the burden of defeating Harry Potter, or would you rather stay here, and try to puzzle out an escape route?"

"If I chose to face Harry, what would I have to do?"

"You would have to kill him."

I gave him an extreme-question-mark look.

"Tell him you love him, and then kill him."

"I don't know what I want to choose," I admitted, even though I was fairly certain of my decision.

"Then should I let you alone for a while to decide?" he asked.

"Yeah, that would be nice."

"How long do you need?" Voldemort questioned.

"An hour," I answered.

Voldemort stood, bowed, and walked out of the chapel, his black robes billowing out behind him. Lucius smiled his snake-smile at me, before trailing after.

"Come here, Draco," I ordered wearily. He came to sit beside me, looking sympathetic. "I don't want to kill Harry."

"I don't blame you."

"Would you help me escape from here?"

"It would take too long to get back to Hogwarts," he said. "And there are all sorts of traps, and--" he bit his lip in a nervous way, "--and, er, enchantments, magical beasts. It's a veritable menagerie of danger; it even has impassable labyrinths of man-eating shrubs and the like. There's no way to get out."

"Thanks for being my bright beacon of hope," I snarled derisively. Draco took on a hurt, puppy-dog expression. "Sorry, Draco, but...this just isn't helping." I wanted to throw a chair out the pretty stained-glass windows, but there were no chairs at hand.

"Well, there are anti-Apparition charms on the manor, and the standard silver rings Voldemort gives out don't work here, they go haywire if used around here."

I muttered a colourful expletive under my breath. My last chance of escape was gone. My luck was just lovely.

"You would need a Malfoy to get you out, and I can't because I'm working on a potion with my father...I don't think Jade is competent enough to get you out, and who else is there?"

"Well, there is Somnus," I suggested.

"Right, then. I'll just run off to fetch him then and you'll be off in a snap," his voice was mocking. He snapped his fingers and smiled. "You think Somnus would help you? Why?"

"I don't know...he might, though. Would you ask him?" Draco crossed his arms and arched an eyebrow. "Please?"

"What do I get for it?"

"I don't want to play games right now."

"Too bad. What do I get?"

"You get my extreme gratitude and a goodbye kiss."

"Good enough." His smile widened, and he stood and escorted me out of the small chapel.

"You owe me one," he said as we walked.

"You owe me two." We grinned slightly at each other, and kept walking, as I tried to forget that I was in Malfoy Manor being kept by the Dark Lord and that I might possibly be making a horrible mistake.