Opening the Gate

Opening the Gate

~ Chapter 4 ~

I lay me down tonight

much further down

- A.F.I. (Girl's not grey)

Draco stood outside the door for a few minutes just taking in the silence. It drove him nearly mad to be a simple pawn in Ginny's game of love. He felt so used, and that was one thing a Malfoy should ever be, used.

"Draco, are you coming?" called Lupin from the car.

"Sure," Malfoy let go of the doorknob and walked over to the beaten up old ride.

As he sat down in the back seat he couldn't help but remember the conversation he and Ginny had yesterday.

"Who ever said you could come?"

"You did"

"When?"

"Last night when I was escaping from Hermione."

"Oh, you came to get away from her."

The car came to a halt outside of the alleyway.

Why did he suddenly care why Ginny was coming, she was a Weasley of all people, and he was a Malfoy. Things just didn't add up. Malfoys were naturally superior to Weasleys. There had always been a seething hatred between the two families since the beginning of time, except for that one time...

The black ribbons of the gate began to wind themselves together to create a strong iron passageway, the entrance to his home. Where he belonged. Today it was no longer raining, thankfully. Many people from the village were hanging around outdoors. Edrid's Block was actually an extraordinary town, full of hags and witchlings, werewolves and vampires, and dozens of other types of people. A town where no one judged you by the fact that you were a Malfoy, very few towns were like this one.

Draco shoved his hands into his pockets as he walked down the well-trodden dirt path. There was a cluster of highly attractive witchlings hanging around the broken statue today. A pretty blond one suddenly looked over her shoulder and spotted Draco. She poked at one of the other witches, never taking her eyes off him. Before he knew what was going on the whole group had crowded around him.

"Oh Mr. Malfoy -"

"- poor baby -"

"- and now he's gone -"

"- great man -"

"Nice ass."

"Okay!" Draco said loudly as one of the witches slapped his hindquarters. "I don't even know you."

The tallest of the witchlings stepped forward. She had long raven hair and bright red lips.

"Good day Mr. Malfoy," she spoke elegantly.

She was very attractive, but Draco couldn't help but feel that there was something wicked about her.

"Crystilla Feldswamm," she said holding out a hand, but he didn't take it and kiss it, as she wanted him to. She couldn't manipulate him, "But you don't need an introduction Draco."

She giggled and placed a cold finger on his temple and slid it down his face. He quickly grabbed her writs and a creepy smile spread across her face. She quickly leaned in and kissed him.

She tasted as if pain had a taste; sharp, evil, like nail was digging into you. She was vicious, like a wild beast, but Draco enjoyed the rush she gave him. He kissed her back with the same killing force she did unto him. It felt dangerous and wrong, he liked that, but there was something missing and that was what caused him to draw back.

As if Crystilla knew what had just gone through his mind she spoke.

"Very well," she stepped back, "good day.

Malfoy just nodded and walked away. As he continued on up the path he realized what he desired in that kiss, and what it was sent chills down his spine.

***

Ginny was sitting in the living room where her mother was attempting to give Ron a haircut.

"Stand still Ron or you might be missing an ear by the time we're done," she scolded.

"Mum, do we have to go to the funereal?" he asked.

"For the hundredth time, Ronald, yes!"

"But mum," he protested, "we all hate Malfoy. Besides it'll be a whole bunch of Death Eaters there and that can't be good for Harry's health at all."

Ginny's attention wandered from her bickering brother and mum to the window. It was rainy, reflecting her mood perfectly. She had spent the whole morning up in her room crying from Malfoy's hate-filled words. The way he said them still left a severe scar in her heart. True this was Malfoy, but that doesn't mean his words couldn't hurt.

Hermione and Harry were playing outside in the rain. That's the weird thing about love, you acted as if you were five again. Playing games like mercy and keep away, games you've become too "mature" to play otherwise. Ginny watched them both longingly, she just wanted Harry to at least give her one kiss, he was so perfect, loyal, and sweet. Ginny could feel the tears welling up in her eyes again, but the loud chiming of the grandfather clock in the hallway suddenly broke her thoughts.

Mrs. Weasley looked up from her quick swishes of her wand that were steadily making a few clumps of red hair fall to the floor.

"Ginny dear, would you mind making lunch please?" said her mother sweetly.

Ginny just nodded and slowly made her way to the dreary kitchen.

Was Malfoy just being mean or was that how people saw her? Constantly chasing after something she couldn't have, pathetically following him around just to hear him say her name.

She opened up all of the cabinets in search of a plate to put the sandwiches on. Finally in the last one she found a plate, she clumsily grabbed it and pulled it off the shelf. Apparently she did not have a good enough grip on the plate and it crashed to the floor.

She looked at the broken pieces of the white plate on the floor, shattered. Shattered like her heart. Ginny slowly lowered herself to the floor and began to cry.

***

Draco was inside his old bedroom, first time back there since his father died and they took him away from here. The walls were a smoky black and grey color, and there was a gigantic fireplace in the center of the room. He looked over at a corner where a torn Death Eater outfit laid, the thing that started the whole argument.

His father had given him a gift for his sixteenth birthday. When he had opened it his spirits sunk. Inside the box was a Death Eater cloak and mask. His father must have though his look of disgust was a look of confusion.

"My master - our master, thought that it would be time for you to become a Death Eater," said his father beaming.

Draco wanted to say "I never asked to be a Death Eater, what are you going to do if I don't join? Are you going to force me into it like you did mother?" but all he could manage to say was "Why?"

"Why?" laughed Lucius nervously, "why not? The Dark Lord handpicked you Draco. You're perfect for this, your exceptional breeding, your natural maliciousness. You were born a Death Eater."

He felt like they were treating him like a dog; checking him out, making sure his was a pure-breed and then forcing him upon his new master.

After his father left he ripped up his "gift" and then threw it into the corner. He laid down onto his bed, listening vaguely to the yelling of his father and to his surprise his mother too. His mother never stood up for herself, she'd state her opinion and his father would yell and scream at her. She would quietly mumble "yes Lucius" and go and do whatever he said, never sticking up for what she believed. There was no love between his mother and father.

Within moments of their argument his father would be dead, his mother gone, and he would be ripped away from his home. And no one would even know it was his birthday.

Draco looked down at his hands, pale and plain, but oh so capable of evil. Like the time when he used his hands to point the wand at Potter to make a snake appear. Or the hands that made the "Weasley is our King" badges. These were the hands that cursed Granger to have abnormally large teeth. The hands that had done so much wrong.

He drew his attention off his hands and back to cleaning. There was a sword mounted on top of the fireplace. There were swords all over the Manor, his father had been a collector of swords, usually ones with great importance and history- as in one that were most likely involved in the dark arts.

Draco remembered his father telling him the history behind this sword. It was one of eight "Judgment Swords". This one was pure silver but the blade had a red tint, and the hilt had black diamonds encrusted in it. Hundreds of years ago, before Voldemort and his Death Eaters, there was another group of dark wizards that killed off Mudbloods. Legend has it that the group would kill all unworthy members with this sword and this sword alone.

He picked up the sword and playfully tossed it into his other hand. Then he swung it around a bit, he had always fancied himself good with a sword. Then something rather odd happened.

As Draco was articulately handling the sword he suddenly brushed it, accidentally of course, against his right hand and hit began to bleed. He quickly dropped the sword and grabbed the cut. It was pretty deep and was bleeding profusely. He had never cut himself while handling a sword before. The cut hurt like hell but Draco didn't cry, he hadn't cried since he was five years old...

***

Malfoy was inside the Black House sitting on the stairs, it was six thirty in the morning and no one else was awake yet, but he couldn't sleep. His right hand was bandaged up. He had refused to let Mr. Weasley- or anyone for that matter- heal it.

Draco clutched his head in agony; he had such a searing migraine. Today was his father's funeral; he would have to see him again. He would have to face everyone again. What would they say when they saw him? What would they say when they saw who he came with? Did he even want to know?

As he sat there contemplating the situation. He felt something brush past him. Draco looked up and saw that it was Ginny.

"Not going to say hello?" he asked her.

He could see her tense up. When she turned around she looked furious.

"Now why should I do that?" she said angrily.

He shrugged.

"It's a polite gesture."

"You don't deserve politeness from me," Ginny's hands were in tight little fists.

"Oh why?" mocked Draco. "Did I hurt your feelings?"

"Draco Malfoy you are such an ass! Is all you think about yourself and how to make everyone around you miserable? I hate you and now I see why everyone else does too!"

"So they've got to you too then. You know what, maybe I'm different from everyone else here, but I tried to help you. And if the only reason that you talked with me and helped me was because of them, then I don't care if you hate me. Just me leave out of your stupid games."

Ginny shrugged angrily.

"I hate you."

With that she went into the kitchen where you could hear the noisy clanging of Mrs. Weasley preparing breakfast.

Draco sat back down on the stairs. It was breakfast time but he wasn't hungry. He felt so alone in this house; it was like he was back home again. He had tasted what if felt like to have someone to talk to, and now that he lost that person he felt empty. He lost the one person who tolerated him.

He decided that it would be a better use of his time if he got ready for the funeral. So he got up and went up the stairs into his room. When he got in there to his surprise someone had laid out the suit he chosen to wear and the dress cloak next to it. Draco stripped off his clothes and then got into the suite. Lastly he did the clasp to the cloak he was wearing. It was black with a silver lining and a fancy letter M in one of the corners. Black and Silver, his family colors.

Draco also had to write a eulogy to read at the funeral so he went over to a table and pulled out a roll of parchment and dipped his quill into some ink and paused before it touched the paper. What was he going to say? What he would have loved to write was:

Here's to my father, we all knew him well, especially you ladies. If you ask anyone they would say he was a great man, but that's probably because he blackmailed them to say that. He was full of wealth, which he used to buy all of his friends and even buy his son a place on the Slytherin Quidditch Team, because he had no faith that I could get in on pure talent. He never fails to disappoint his fellow Dark Wizards in the D.W.H.S. (Dark Wizards High Society) with having some brilliant plan, but of course he lets a bunch of dunderheads execute it so it goes up in flames. Perhaps if he did it all himself the plan would have worked.

He might have been a loving husband at one time, but I never saw any of that. He was always bringing in you ladies and my mother knew, but never said anything. And the one time my mother did say something he put her under the Cruciatus curse. And she is now in St. Mungos. Now that's love.

Draco stopped. It was seven forty-five, he had barely fifteen minutes to create a eulogy about his father so he quickly dipped his quill into the ink and started to write. It took a lot of effort to try and find the "good" in his father but he did manage to write something at least halfway decent by the time Lupin called him downstairs.

As he ran down the stairs he tucked the paper into his pocket and he met up with the group at the bottom of the stairs.

"Is everyone ready to go?" asked Lupin. They all nodded.

"Off we go then."

They had managed to borrow a portkey from the ministry to get them to Malfoy Manor. Everyone was huddled around an old smelly sneaker. Draco looked up at Ginny who simply ignored his gaze, but before he could think anything of it he was being pulled up by the portkey.

He had always hated traveling by portkey; it was an awful sensation. With a bump the ride was thankfully over. They were just inside the gate at Malfoy Manor. Lupin quickly shrunk down the sneaker a pocketed it while Draco began walking up the pathway.

He hoped no one was there yet, he couldn't bear having all of his father's friends, and his own few relatives tease him and mock him for who he came with. As the path forked off he took the trail on the right, the lesser used one, the one that lead to the Malfoy cemetery.

As they came up over the hill they could see down where the burial ground was. It had a simple fence around it and a gigantic tree in the middle. There were dozens of tombstones and underneath the tree was a gigantic memorial.

But right now, pretty close to the tree a podium was set up, with an open casket and a hole next to it. There were one or two townsfolk there already, but no one he was really familiar with. As they entered the cemetery Draco was thankful that Lupin, the Weasleys, Granger, Potter and all the others found their own place away from him and where the others would probably be.

Draco stepped up to the casket and looked inside. There his father lay, still as stone. His long blond hair was neatly combed and he was wearing his nicest suit. They had laid his serpent cane next to him his wand still attached. Knowing that they would bury his father with his wand made Draco sort of uneasy, but there was no time for that because the place was soon filling up with more people.

Malfoy took his place behind the podium allowing other visitors to come up and see his father. He could see his cronies Crabbe and Goyle up front next to their parents. Mr. Harington and his fiancée were in the back, looking suspiciously at Lupin, but not showing any signs of knowing who he was. There was also Macnair, the Notts, the Averys, Pansy Parkinson's distant cousin Bud, and many others. But the last guest was the one who really surprised him, Crystilla. She took a quiet seat in the back and smiled at him.

He wished he could call out and ask her why she was here but everyone was looking expectantly at him. So he cleared his throat and began.

"Lucius R. Malfoy, father, friend and husband. Widely known, perhaps not widely loved but rarelyare any of the most brilliant minds are favored by all."

There was a mutter of agreement to that statement.

"He could talk his way in or out of any situation and knew just the way to get what he wanted. He kept everyone below him in line and everyone above him on their toes. He had a great respect for family history and lineage. He was loyal to who he liked and loyal to hating who he didn't. He had a respect for money and never was frivolous with what he had. But now," Draco paused, "but now this wizard is gone. My father, a member of the DWHS, a governor of the school board, a part of the Pure-blood Society, part of the Wizards Elite Club of England (W.E.C.E.), a proud member of the Heritage Society, and a graduate from Slytherin house. He was brilliant and it's a pretty dark day for some of you to know he's gone. Thank you."

Draco stepped of the podium and watched as Crabbe and Goyle Sr. closed the casket and magically lowered it into the hole beside it. Then a blond witch came up and performed a spell that made the earth close up over the hole. Then she did another charm and a rose bush sprouted up next to the headstone. There was a moment of silence when they all just stood there for a bit taking it all in, but then people began to mingle and the heavy weight on Draco's shoulders was soon lifted. As people started to get up and mingle a lot of them would go up to him and introduce themselves.

"Bud Parkinson, I was a fellow member of your fathers in the DWHS, well actually I was a whole floor below him in the DWS, but I admired your father's speeches. Just as I admired your own."

"Thank you," said Draco as he distractedly shook his hand.

After Bud there was the blond witch, Shirley Field, who began to sob all over Draco's cloak. Then there was Mr. and Mrs. Brigham, fellow members of the Heritage Society. Then the Crabbe and Goyle families came up and patted him on the shoulder with a little grunt. Followed by a big guy named Dylan Henshaw who ranted on and on about hunting with his father, which ended up not being true because someone informed Draco that Dylan was drunk. But the last people to come up and talk to him were a man in his early thirties with a brown haired woman on his arm.

"Draco Malfoy," the man took his hand and shook it, "Haven't see you since you were seven. I'm your, well I don't actually know, but I think it's a distant cousin."

Draco looked skeptically at this man; he was probably drunk too.

"Bartlett? Bartlett Malfoy the XX?"

"Oh!" said Draco quickly, his father had always told him about the three branches of Malfoys. There was the Malfoys, the branch he belonged to. The Slytherin-Malfoys, the Malfoys with Slytherin blood in them, but that branch died off in the eighteen hundreds with Lycantis Malfoy. Lastly there was the Bartletts, who are still around.

"Yeah, haven't seen you for what nine years? Wow, I was only 25 when I saw you, Cassie and me are married, we were just going out the last time you saw us. Damn, what have you been up to?"

Bartlett was incredibly nice and very upbeat for someone at a funeral. Draco told him how he would be starting his sixth year at Hogwarts in the fall, how he was going to be Head Boy (most likely), and was a Seeker for Slytherin's house team."

"Incredible," replied Bartlett in awe. "Yeah I've been working around Dragons in Romania with a couple of the guys; Stefan Circa, Dalton Griff, Claire Burns, pretty strong girl, um... Gregory White, Clinton Short, oh yeah and Charlie Weasley."

"Weasley?" said Draco in shock.

"Damn, don't tell me you bought into all that Malfoys hate all Weasleys crap," Bartlett said harshly. "My dad brought me up hating everyone below his family, especially Weasleys, and if I listened to him I would have missed out on the best friend a guy could ever have."

Draco just stood there silent for a little while, but then Bartlett leaned in closer.

"I hear they sent you to live with the Order," he whispered.

Malfoy nodded.

"How 'bout you come stay with Cassie and me?"

Draco thought about this, he'd be away from all of them, even Ginny. For some reason that thought hurt, just a little, he kind of wanted to stick it out with her.

"Uh, no thanks," he said.

"What?" Bartlett replied a little confused, but then smiled. "Oh! Seeing out what's happening across enemy lines, smart."

Now it was Draco's turn to be confused.

"No, that's not it. Wait. You're on His side?"

"Sure, why not?" shrugged Bartlett.

"But you're friends with Weasleys."

"Hey, Weasleys are Pure-Bloods too. Got to go Draco, see ya!" called Bartlett as he left.

Malfoy stood there stunned, Weasleys were Pure-Bloods? There was something he wouldn't have expected.

"Draco?" Mr. Weasley put a hand awkwardly on his shoulder. "Ready to go?"

"Sure," replied Draco.

Lupin took the sneaker and put it back onto the ground and everyone clustered around it. Draco was squished in between Tonks and Ginny. Draco smiled, just a little.