Inrevocabilis Cantanem

Chapter 9: Manor Matters

Harry chased Hermione out of the dormitory, loudly calling her name. The two of them barreled by a confused Ginny, who was waiting in the common room by the fireplace where Fred and George had set up the Portkey. Concerned, Ginny quickly jogged up the stairs leading to the boys' dormitories.

Draco sat on Harry's bed, pulling his sweater over his head. He looked up impassively at Ginny as she approached him.

"What on earth?" Ginny asked the blond.

Draco sighed heavily and reached down to pull on his socks and shoes.

"Draco, what happened?"

Again Draco sighed. His feet socked and shoed, he looked over at Ginny. "You should be heading to the Burrow soon. Before it gets dark. You'll have everyone worried."

"Well, what about you? What about Harry and Hermione? Aren't you coming?"

"I don't think so, Ginny, no."

Ginny sat on the bed and took Draco's hand. She watched the blonde's chest hitched as he tried to hold back tears.

"Draco. What just happened?" she asked softly. "Tell me."

Draco looked at Ginny. His eyes like melting quicksilver, he stammered, "I really want him, Ginny, but I did not mean for this. I swear. He's going to think I planned for this, but I swear I didn't."

"What happened? What didn't you plan for?"

Draco exhaled sadly and slowly. He squeezed Ginny's hand.

"You'll hate me," he whispered.

"I won't."

Draco took in a deep breath and, expelling it, said, "Hermione saw Harry and I making love. Just now. I don't think either of us thought she'd come up here. I don't think either of us thought about much at all. But she ran out and Harry chased her, and I don't know where they've gone."

"Oh, my," Ginny nearly moaned. She found herself less surprised that Draco and Harry had been intimate, and more surprised that Draco had described his and Harry's intimacy as "making love." Ginny continued, "She suspected, Draco. You know that, right? You know that she suspected that you and Harry...Gods, how long has this been going on?"

Draco shrugged. "A while. Since start of term. He was so confused. He didn't want to...to hurt her, you know. And I just kept pushing. I just wanted him for myself. I just wanted him to leave her and be with me. I hated her for having him, Ginny, but I didn't want her to find out like this. I swear to you. You've got to believe me."

"I do," Ginny said, putting her lips against Draco's cheek. "I do believe you."

Ginny wrapped her arms around Draco and gently rocked him to and fro.

"Honestly, love, you should go. I'll be fine. I'm going to wait at the castle for Harry to come back."

Ginny nodded, squeezing Draco lovingly to her before standing to go.

"You'll be all right?" she asked.

Draco nodded and Ginny turned to go.

"Oh, Ginny," Draco called, "if Harry does happen to show up at the Burrow, you'll tell him I'm here waiting for him, won't you?"

Ginny smiled and nodded softly. "Of course."

As she made her out of the dormitory, Draco heard her say, "Neville," in a strained greeting. Neville returned the greeting by saying Ginny's name.

Draco rolled his eyes and muttered, "Fan-bloody-tastic."

"How'd you get in here?" Neville barked at the blond.

Draco stood, smirking derisively. "Is that the standard Gryffindor greeting or what? I should be asking you what you're doing here, Longbottom."

"This is my room," Neville spat. "My name was on the list, Malfoy. I'm staying here over holiday."

"I see," Draco nodded empirically. "So, basically, your weasel-like leader didn't want you at his house for holiday."

Neville scrunched his face. "What I do with my time, Ferret, is my business."

Draco smiled wickedly. "So, tons of masturbation, then, right?"

"Shove off, Malfoy," Neville spat.

"Yet another trademark Gryffindor phrase. You know, what you lot are lacking in wit, you surely must make up for in bravery. Or so the hat says. If that is true, what are you doing in this House, Longbottom?"

Draco laughed and turned to walk out of the dormitory.

"Real shame about your mother, Draco," Neville called. "But then again, with a son like you, I might have prayed for death myself."

Draco turned, quickly advancing on Neville. Grabbing him by his robes, Draco threw the smaller boy against the post of one of the beds. The wooden post slammed into Neville's shoulder, causing the boy to yelp in pain. Neville quickly reached for his wand, but Draco rapidly closed the space between the two of them and wrenched Neville's wand from his hand.

With the tip of the wand pressing firmly against Neville's jugular, Draco hissed, "Don't you ever talk about my mother again, you filthy fucking bastard, or I will ruin what little brains you have. Just like your worthless parents. You just remember, Longbottom, that the same man who killed my mother, like it or not, his blood runs through my veins. So, don't fuck with me. You'll end up like your grandmother."

Draco threw Neville's wand across the room, turned, and left the Gryffindor dormitories.

********************

Draco's stay at Grimmauld Place was brief. The morning after his second night there, Dumbledore and Tonks appeared in the doorway to the room in which Draco was staying. Draco was lying on the bed reading something. When he heard the door open, he quickly tried to hide the book he held in his hands.

Smiling softly, Dumbledore approached the boy. He reached for the book Draco had tried to conceal.

"Ah, yes," Dumbledore smiled, turning the book around in his hands. "The Count of Monte Cristo." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Are you getting ideas on how to escape your captives, Draco?"

"I..." Draco cleared his throat. "I'm not to read Muggle literature. I thought you'd be angry." His face grew contemplative. "Wait a minute. He escapes?"

Dumbledore realized that Draco hadn't had a chance to mark his spot. "Ah. Well, I have ruined some of it. Maybe only a bit of it, however. Keep reading."

"You've read this, then?" Draco asked. He watched as Tonks packed his trunk. She seemed to have been crying.

"This and dozens more. Interesting storytellers, Muggles are," Dumbledore smiled, handing the book back to Draco.

Draco nodded in agreement. He asked, "Tonks, what are you doing?"

Tonks finished with Draco's trunk and straightened up. Smiling sadly at her cousin, she said, "You're gonna spend the rest of the summer at Hogwarts. Dumbledore's arranged it. You'll take a Portkey to the castle. You'll...you'll be safer there."

"Now, now, Tonks," Dumbledore smiled. "You may visit with Draco any time you wish. He is not a prisoner. He is not Edmond Dantes." Dumbledore winked at Draco.

Tonks nodded, her smile brightening some. "We still have to get you your owl," she chirped.

Draco said goodbye to Tonks and Molly Weasley. They were the only two aside from he and Dumbledore at the old mansion. Mrs. Weasley packed Draco a large lunch, which made Dumbledore smile. He assured her that Draco would be well fed, but she insisted that he take it anyway. She seemed to want to gather the boy in her arms, but simply wrung her hands and smiled at him in her motherly way. Conversely, Tonks had no problem hugging the boy tightly and planting kisses on his face. Though he and she had only spent a couple of days together, Draco had finally let down some of his guard and grudgingly befriended the peculiar witch. While she lavished affection on him, Draco found that his arms had a will of their own, and wrapped tightly around Tonks' slender body.

The Portkey took them to the Great Hall. Once the tugging stopped, Draco found himself standing behind the professors' table holding a goblet with Dumbledore. He looked around him and found that two places were set at the table. Dumbledore helped Draco place his belongings aside and motioned the boy to sit with him.

"I told Molly we would have plenty enough," Dumbledore grinned as he sat to eat, "but let us see what she packed anyway."

As he and Dumbledore ate, Draco stared around the empty Hall. How many meals had he eaten in here? It seemed different in many ways. For one, it was completely barren of the noises and conversations of his classmates. For another, he was sitting at the professors' table with a man who said enigmatic, quirky things, and made little sense to the Slytherin.

After Dumbledore and Draco finished eating, Dumbledore helped Draco with his belongings, and the two of them headed toward the Slytherin Dungeons. It was amusing, Draco had to admit, to watch Dumbledore walking through the dank underground, his bright, colorful cloak clashing with the dismal dungeon.

Draco turned and begun heading toward the boys' dormitories.

"No, Draco," Dumbledore smiled, "this way."

Confused, Draco followed the tall, lumbering figure of the headmaster. They were heading toward Professor Snape's office and private rooms. Draco shuddered a bit, thinking that he'd have to stay with Snape for the remainder of the summer. Though he liked Snape, he didn't want to share a room with him. Gods, what if he saw Snape in his underwear or, even worse, nude? Again, Draco shuddered. The door to which Dumbledore was leading him, however, was just past Snape's door.

Dumbledore pushed open the door to reveal a fairly spacious room. There was a bed, a wardrobe, a chest of drawers, and a rather antique-looking desk. For the dungeon, this room was rather warm and somewhat cheery.

"Come in, Draco," Dumbledore smiled. "This is to be your room."

"For the summer?" Draco asked, placing his trunk neatly at the foot of the bed.

"For the remainder of the time you spend at Hogwarts."

"I get my own room? Why? Only Head Boy and Girl get their own rooms."

"I have my reasons," Dumbledore said mysteriously. "There is a Muggle saying: 'Do not look a gift horse in the mouth.' Why anyone would look any horse in the mouth is beyond me. I think what it means, young Draco, is take the room and do not ask questions about it." Dumbledore smiled. "Now, get comfortable. Once you are settled, do come to my office and have some tea with me. The password to my office," Dumbledore looked around as if someone would hear, then lowered his voice, "is 'candy apple.'"

Draco shook his head after the old wizard had closed the door. He was a crackpot, Draco decided, but he understood why he was one of, if not the most popular headmaster Hogwarts had ever had. During Draco's few days at Grimmauld Place, Dumbledore had gone through various extremes to see that the young man was comfortable and had everything he needed. What Draco needed and wanted most of all, however, was his mother. Molly Weasley had told him one evening when she stopped to check in on him that it was probably best not to contact his mother - to let her contact him.

Draco sighed and begun unpacking his things. His mother had tucked in his traveling cloak the book he had been secretly reading, for his father would have killed him had he known that Draco was reading Muggle literature, and a small, framed picture of the two of them. He placed the picture on his desk and sat on his bed, staring longingly at his mother. He had decided that he had to trust her. She had said she had been wrong. Wrong about what, Draco wondered.

After what seemed to be hours of staring at he and his mother, Draco pulled himself off of his bed and grudgingly walked out of the dungeons and to the entrance of Dumbledore's office.

"Candy apple," he muttered unenthusiastically.

Draco ascended the stairs to Dumbledore's office, sighing heavily. He looked around for Dumbledore, but did not see the old wizard. Next to a staircase, Draco noticed, was a phoenix. Draco slowly made his way over to the bird, whose head drooped and whose feathers lacked much sheen.

"Ruddy bird's as old as Dumbledore," Draco thought to himself.

The bird caught fire on its perch. Draco watched with fascination as the ashes settled themselves beneath the perch.

"Curious," Draco heard Dumbledore's at the top of the stairs, "that both you and Harry met Fawkes for the first time when it was a burning day."

Dumbledore stood next to Draco and watched with him as the newborn Fawkes poked his beak out of the ashes.

"I've never seen a phoenix before," Draco said. "I've read about them."

"They are fascinating."

"Yes," Draco agreed, using his finger to gently rub Fawkes's head. The bird cooed. "He is beautiful, sir."

Dumbledore nodded. "Indeed he is. And he is, Draco, much older than I." Dumbledore chuckled and patted Draco affectionately on his head.

Draco cast an embarrassed smile at Dumbledore, and then noticed for the first time what Dumbledore was wearing. He wore, instead of his customary robes, a pair of shorts that just barely covered his knees ("American Muggles call these 'jams.' They were rather stylish a decade or so ago. I find them to be fairly comfortable."), and a white, sleeveless shirt of some sort ("Apparently, this is called a 'tank top.' I have not yet figured out why. I would, myself, have called it a 'cool top.' They keep you marvelously cool."). He waved an amused Draco over to him and settled himself comfortably on some pillows on the floor. Draco followed suit.

"All right, my young serpentine friend," Dumbledore chuckled, "I want us to play a game."

Draco furrowed his brow. "What kind of game, sir?"

"I learned it from a Muggle friend of mine. The game is traditionally played for money, but since his money is of no value to me, and mine none to him, I suggested that we play in trade. If I lost, I had to do something for him. If he lost, he had me do something."

"Well," Draco began, "that's really not logical. Whether he won or lost, you still had to pay."

Dumbledore looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well, I'll be." He chuckled softly.

"So, do the same rules apply, then, if we play?" Draco asked, suppressing a smile.

"Was that a joke?" Dumbledore grinned. "Ah. He lives. No, Draco, you and I shall play fairly."

"What's the game called?"

"Muggles are funny people. Interesting, but strange. They have named a card game after an instrument they use to stoke their fires. It is called 'poker.' Let me explain."

Draco listened attentively while Dumbledore explained the rules to him. This was his type of game. Dumbledore decided, however, that he and Draco would not play for money. They would instead play for secrets. They could each bid up to three secrets, and the other had to match. The one who lost the hand had to reveal to the other some secret, big or small. Dumbledore swore to not be angry at any rules Draco had broken, just as long as his rule breaking hadn't put anyone in peril. The exposed secrets were to stay between the two of them. Dumbledore promised he would charm them both so that they could never reveal what had been said while they played poker. Draco agreed to the rules, and Dumbledore dealt the first hand.

"And no cheating," Dumbledore teased.

"What do you think I am, sir," Draco smiled, "a Slytherin?"

Dumbledore laughed, and the two began their game. The first hand resulted in a win for Draco. He had bid two secrets.

"Okay," Dumbledore smiled, conjuring some tea and biscuits for the two of them. "The first secret is that during my fifth year here, I liked to pee off of the top of the Astronomy Tower and see if I could get it to land on the heads of unsuspecting passersby. The second secret is that sometimes, just every once in a while mind you, I still do that."

Draco's jaw dropped. He roared with laughter. Tears streamed down his face as he got a mental image of the headmaster of Hogwarts standing atop of the Astronomy Tower and peeing on people below. It was disgusting. It was revolting. It was highly unprofessional. Draco loved the man for it.

Each day for the rest of the summer saw Draco in the headmaster's office for hours with Dumbledore playing poker and exchanging secrets. Draco's secrets had started out small, but his trust in the old wizard growing, he began revealing things that he had never told anyone. By the second week of their poker games, Draco found himself making idle conversation with the headmaster and confiding in him even when he hadn't lost. He slowly came to the realization that his mother had indeed been wrong. So, he decided, had he. Dumbledore was the farthest thing away from a crackpot Draco had ever encountered.

"Professor?" Draco said one afternoon near the end of the summer while playing poker.

"Yes?" Dumbledore said, scrutinizing his cards carefully. Draco noticed that Dumbledore seemed to have an endless supply and variety of both jams and tank tops.

"That day at the Manor...that day when...when...he...broke my fingers...Well, I was thinking about Potter, sir."

"Oh?" Dumbledore said. "Two, please."

Draco dealt Dumbledore two more cards.

"I was, sir. I was thinking that...that I was worried about him."

"Worried why?" Dumbledore asked. "Ah ha! Three of a kind!"

"Straight flush. Because my father - Lucius - he wanted him dead. I think...I think he wanted me to do it. I think he wanted me to kill Potter."

"And you would not have?" Dumbledore asked looking Draco straight in the eyes, though he knew there wasn't any reason to. Draco had ceased lying to and deceiving him weeks ago.

"No. I don't think I could have. I threatened him. Just months ago. I threatened to take his life, but I...I don't really think I could, sir." Draco's voice hitched.

"Nor do I. But Draco, do not worry about Harry. He is safe. He wanted to spend the summer with the Weasleys, but I was afraid that with Voldemort about, the best place for him was with his family, whether he likes them or not. He is safer there without as much wizarding intrusion."

"Tonks loves him. She just goes on and on about him all the time. Everybody loves him."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "He is a loveable young man, Draco."

Draco nodded sarcastically. "Like a fire crab."

Draco and Dumbledore both turned their heads as they heard Dumbledore's office door opening. Tonks strode in, smiling brightly, and tripping over a chair leg. Draco jogged to her side to help her up, and she took that opportunity to hug her cousin tightly to her. She ruffled his hair a bit before letting him go.

"Hey, Baby Dragon," she smiled.

Draco smiled back. "That's what Aunt Jolie used to call me."

"I know," Tonks grinned. "I'm stealing you away today. Can I, Albus?"

Dumbledore smiled softly. "Of course you may."

"Wicked! You up for a bit of floo travelin,' my friend?"

Draco nodded.

"Getcher cloak," Tonks suggested. "It's a bit chilly out."

"Okay, I'll be back," Draco said, dashing out of Dumbledore's office.

Dumbledore stood and held Tonks gently by her shoulders. "You do realize that you must keep a very close watch over him."

"I know, Albus."

"I just received a letter from Lucius Malfoy. In it, he threatened the life of his son, as well as my life. My concern is not for myself. My concern is for Draco. Promise me you will keep a close watch on him."

Tonks nodded soberly. "I'd risk my life, Albus."

Dumbledore smiled. He pulled Tonks into his arms. "I know you would."

Draco and Tonks arrived in Diagon Alley to find it full of Hogwarts students fulfilling their school lists. Draco's eyes darted about. It took him several minutes to figure out for whom or what he was looking before it suddenly dawned on him: Harry Bloody Potter. Each store they perused or walked by, however, failed to turn up the black-haired boy.

He did happen to bump into Potter's git of a friend, Ron Weasley, walking with Granger. The two of them were awfully cozy, Draco noted. Draco smiled wickedly at Ron as Molly Weasley fussed over the blond, her countenance motherly and concerned.

Tonks and Draco went into the Magical Menagerie, and when Draco reemerged with a beautiful black owl that he named Persephone, he saw Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle looking at a vampire bat through the window of the Magical Menagerie.

"Oy, you two," Draco called, smirking. Now, he thought, Tonks would see how much power he had over his friends.

Crabbe and Goyle turned to Draco.

"Blood traitor," Goyle hissed.

Crabbe laughed, and the two of them walked away leaving Draco standing there dumbstruck.

"Come on, Baby Dragon," Tonks soothed, "let's get you back home. I'm starving, aren't you?"

Draco numbly nodded his head. Slowly following Tonks through Diagon Alley, his head slightly down, he came to the slow, sad realization that, aside from Dumbledore, he was going to have no friends at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

********************

"Harry! No!" Draco screamed, sitting up quickly in bed and looked around his room.

His breath coming in and out so quickly that he thought he might hyperventilate, Draco tried to remember what he had been dreaming. Harry was at Malfoy Manor. Lucius and Ron were torturing the black-haired boy mercilessly. Draco was magically bound and lay at Harry's feet. Unable to move, he could only watch as Lucius and Ron systematically took Harry's life.

Draco quickly stood and paced about his room. He wrung his hands together. He wondered how long he had been sleeping and whether Harry had returned or not.

As he reached toward the bureau for his watch, he was startled to see an owl sitting next to Persephone, who was perched serenely on Draco's bureau.

"Hi, darlin'," Draco said softly to his owl.

The other owl extended his leg. Draco took the rolled-up parchment from the owl's leg and turned to walk to his bed as the owl flew off.

Draco

Harry is at Hermione's. Her parents sent word to Mum and Dad. It doesn't sound real great. Neither the Grangers nor Harry, it seems, will be coming to the Burrow for holiday. Tonks is pitching one hell of a fit because you aren't here. Frankly, so am I. Please don't spend Christmas alone at the castle. We really want you here. I know you can't legally apparate yet, but you're of age, and we all know you know how to do it. Please come. You've got loads of presents and people wanting to see you.

Love, Ginny

Draco smiled softly. He would really love to see Tonks and the Weasleys. He felt a little better knowing that Harry was safe and not at Malfoy Manor. That dream had been so vivid.

Draco decided that he would indeed apparate to the Burrow. It was, after all, Christmas Eve. He could use some holiday cheer. He grabbed a small bag from his wardrobe and tossed it on his bed. It wasn't until then that he noticed all of the parchment on his bed.

When he had come back to his room from Gryffindor Tower the day before, he had read and reread all of the letters his mother had sent him. Maybe, he thought, that's why he had dreamed of Harry at the Manor.

Sighing, he began picking up the letters to put them back in his drawer. He stopped, his eyes scanning over his mother's neat hand.

Furrowing his brow, Draco gently placed the letters in his drawer. He would go to the Burrow, he thought, but he had another stop to make first.

********************

Draco left his bag next to a large tree. Holding his broom, he looked around. He could just make out Malfoy Manor from where he was standing. It loomed in the distance, a haunting specter.

He sighed, mounting his broom and slowly approaching the Manor. Being that it was Christmas Eve, he figured that Lucius would be out making his rounds to the houses of his higher-ups. That and the fact that he had the cover of darkness gave the blond some security, but he knew he would have to be quick in his endeavors.

A quick flight around the Manor left Draco satisfied that no one was within. Placing his broom out of sight, Draco slowly made his way to the front door. Lucius had various wards up. Draco smiled.

"Pitiful fool," he muttered as he quickly but meticulously removed each of the wards.

Lucius, it seemed, was a creature of habit. Draco was pleased to find that the wards and their magical strength hadn't much changed from when he was a younger teenager sneaking in and out of the house.

He hastily made his way into the house, closing the door silently behind him. He wrinkled his nose slightly. A woman's scent mingled with what he knew to be his father's. But vaguely, just underneath that, Draco could smell his mother. Her scent still permeated the house. It met his nostrils, tunneled into his nose, and brought tears to his eyes.

"Mum," he said softly and sadly.

Regaining his senses, Draco surreptitiously made his way though the house. He rushed to his mother's room and raised his hand, palm facing the door. Lucius had warded this room, too.

Growling with impatience, Draco began removing those wards as well. Suddenly he stopped, his brow furrowing and his mouth fixing itself into a tight frown. This wasn't Lucius's work. Whoever had placed these wards was much more powerful than Lucius. Maybe, Draco thought, it was the woman he smelled when he entered.

Working diligently, Draco finally managed to break though the wards that were placed on his mother's room. He walked through the door and breathed deeply.

Unlike the rest of the Manor, the scent of his mother was strong and unfettered in her room. Draco walked over to her bed and laid down, his head upon her pillows, weeping softly. He pulled one of the pillows into his arms and held it tightly to him. He rubbed the soft satin between his fingers.

"Okay," he chided himself after some time, "pull yourself together, and get out, Draco."

He reluctantly removed himself from his mother's bed and began looking around the room. He searched her wardrobe, and then her bureau, looking for anything she might have kept hidden from his father. Just as he thought that Lucius had removed everything that might incriminate him from Narcissa's room, Draco noticed a floorboard under her bed that looked suspicious.

Crawling halfway under the bed, Draco pried at the board. When he finally managed to get it loose, he slid further under the bed, his wand in hand.

"Lumos," he whispered. He peered into the gap that the missing floorboard made. Inside were a book and a small box. Draco quickly removed both. He replaced the board, sat on the edge of his mother's bed, and directed the light that was emitting itself from his wand at the box.

He opened it slowly. Inside the box were a large white feather, a small, amethyst jewel with the initials "J.M." carved into it, and a diary. Draco pressed the diary to his chest.

Draco's heart raced as he flipped through the diary. Knowing he didn't have enough time to read it there, he quickly placed it back in the box and tucked it into the pocket of his cloak.

He turned his attention to his mother's diary. He pressed it to him much the way he had Joliet's. He let the diary fall open into his hands. His mother had been keeping the diary since the day Draco was born, or at least that's when it started. He flipped through, his eyes quickly scanning the pages and filling with tears. He noticed that some of the pages were dog-eared. He turned to the first dog-eared page and read:

June 23, 1987

Something terrible has happened today. I returned from my sister's to find Lucius very upset. He disapproves of Andromeda, and does not want Joliet or Draco spending time with Nymphadora. They both love her so, however, and she them that I cannot allow myself to keep them apart. He started a nasty fight with me about the whole situation. He said that he would prefer, if I am to associate with any of my sisters, that I take our children (as he has begun referring to Jolie as his child as opposed to his sister) to Bellatrix's home. Just as I was consenting to never take the children to Andromeda's again, Joliet burst into the room and began screaming at Lucius. She called him a horrible father. She told him that he was ruining Draco. She told him that she knew everything that he was and was not. She continued screaming at him, and he at her, until the most...dear Gods how do I explain it...incredible thing happened to Joliet's beautiful face. This angel of a child that I have almost personally reared became hideous to see. Her face elongated. She looked more bird than human, and Lucius, staring at me with such terror in his eyes, as if I were to know something I wasn't to know, grabbed her, rushed her from the room into his study, and slammed the door. I went to check on Draco. As I was sitting with him, I heard the most horrific scream. I told him to stay where he was, and when I entered Lucius's study Joliet was dead. I swore to him that I wouldn't tell a soul. I have to write it for me. I have to make it right somehow for me. My husband just hours ago killed his sister.

Draco raised his head with a snap. He heard the front door open and close. Lucius Malfoy was speaking loudly, and a woman laughed raucously at whatever it was he was saying.

Draco quickly put the box and his mother's diary into his pockets. Walking slowly to the door, he opened it cautiously, peering out into the hallway. He could hear his father and the woman talking in his father's study.

Draco shuddered to think of the many long hours he had spent in that room with his father. He had, he thought, most likely stood in the very spot that Joliet had lay dead.

He pulled the door closed quietly behind him. He didn't have time to replace the wards. He kicked himself as he thought about the many magical signatures he had left throughout the house just by coming in. Unless Lucius was used to his son's magic and ignored the signatures, Draco realized that there was no way that Lucius would not know that he had been in the house.

Pressing himself against the wall, Draco slowly made his way to the front door. He could hear his father and the woman laughing drunkenly in the study. His curiosity getting the better of him, Draco walked to Lucius's study.

"I love your mind, Lucius. This boy seems perfect. He's a Pureblood, right?" came the woman's voice.

Draco chanced a peek around the door. His father sat at his desk in his chair. On his lap was Draco's mother's sister, Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Mmm hmm," Lucius nuzzled Bellatrix's neck. "This boy, the boy who has it, will give it much more strength than Voldemort was ever able. Bellatrix, my love, we'll be indestructible."

"If he can be convinced." She busied her hands in Lucius's lap.

Lucius chuckled. "He's closer than I'd ever dreamed. A little cocky. A little too sure of himself. He can't seem to stay out of Potter's hair. Or Draco's, for that matter."

"I don't understand, darling, why Draco was never able to feed the Amulet. I know that Voldemort couldn't because he wasn't Pureblood. Why wasn't Draco able to?"

"Because Draco lacks determination," Lucius spat. "Draco is a waste. I have a new son," Lucius laughed.

Draco's face began to burn. He wanted nothing more than to do what he had attempted to do a year ago: kill Lucius. It would be so easy, he reasoned. Both Lucius and Bellatrix were soused.

"Speaking of," Lucius said. "Speaking of my blood traitor of a son..."

Draco tensed. Lucius had gotten out of his chair and was slowly walking toward the door.

"What of him?" Bellatrix asked distractedly. "Come back over here, love. I'm not through with you," she giggled.

"Mmmm," Lucius purred. "But I have to deal with something first. Seems as if someone's been traipsing around my house."

********************

"Ron, please come downstairs and take a bit of cake," Molly Weasley appealed to her youngest son.

"I'm fine, Mum. Leave me be," Ron called back down.

Mrs. Weasley huffed impatiently and continued cutting the cake she had made.

"Yeah, Mum," Fred said, kissing his mother's cheek, "leave Percy, Jr. be."

Mrs. Weasley smiled and swatted her son affectionately on the rear.

Tonks and George sat cozily on a chair. George held a sprig of mistletoe over Tonks's head and repeatedly kissed her. Arthur Weasley, sitting nearby them, began asking about the Muggle customs concerning that particular practice.

Handing the three of them plates, Mrs. Weasley joked that her husband was gullible, and that George and Tonks were just looking for an excuse to snog.

Fred, who was helping his mother serve the cake, gave plates to Charlie, Bill, and Ginny, and then sat with them to look through his photo album and talk about the past year of his and George's travels.

"Molly, sit and join us," Mr. Weasley said to his wife.

"I will," she smiled.

As she was walking to put some of the dishes in the sink, Mrs. Weasley happened to glance at the clock. She had added both Harry's and Draco's pictures to the clock, and suddenly became alarmed when she saw that the hand that showed Draco's face was pointing to "in peril." She gasped as the hand began to travel to "home."

As she was running to the front door to let Draco in, he apparated in front of her. She collided with the Slytherin's body, and then quickly gathered the shaken boy into her arms.

"Where have you been? What on earth?" she repeated again and again, running her fingers along Draco's body to check for broken bones or any other damage that may have been inflicted upon him.

Everyone quickly jumped up and ran to where Mrs. Weasley and Draco were standing. Draco stared at Tonks, venom swimming in his gray eyes.

"You knew! Dammit, Nymphadora, you knew and you never told me," Draco screamed at his cousin.

"Whoa," Tonks said, her face confused. "What did I know, Draco?"

"You knew that Lucius killed my aunt! Why did you never bloody tell me?" Silent tears streamed down Draco's face.

"There, there," Mrs. Weasley said, gathering the boy into her arms again. "Let's go have a little chat. Tonks?"

Tonks nodded numbly, her eyes, too, filling with tears.

"Arthur, dear," Mrs. Weasley began, "why don't you warm up some supper for Draco?"

Mr. Weasley nodded softly, reaching out to touch the blond hair affectionately before turning toward the kitchen. He asked the Weasley children to help him in order to give Mrs. Weasley, Tonks, and Draco some time alone.

Mrs. Weasley took Tonks and Draco into another room. She sat Draco down, and then sat beside him, gently rubbing his back.

The two women waited patiently for Draco to speak. After some time, he reached into his pockets and removed both Narcissa's diary and Joliet's box.

"I got these tonight," he said softly. "My mother's and Joliet's diaries."

"From where?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"The Manor."

"Merlin's beard, Draco!" Tonks nearly shouted. "What were you thinking? You know that's like walking into certain death."

"Yeah," Draco agreed. "It was. Lucius almost caught me. I apparated right before he stepped out of his study. But my broom's by the house and my bag's not far away, not to mention my signature, which is how he knew I was there to begin with."

"You reckless kids," Mrs. Weasley breathed angrily. "Why can't you ever just let us handle these things? We set up all of these precautions and security measures, and you just do what you want. I don't understand you lot."

Mrs. Weasley stood and started out of the room, still muttering about the idiocy of children when she closed the door behind her.

Tonks sighed heavily. "Look, Draco, I didn't tell you because I wasn't completely sure myself. What would it have mattered? Never mind. A great deal. It would have mattered a great deal. I'm sorry."

Draco nodded softly. "We used to know each other? I mean before I met you? My mother said I'd never met you before the day she sent me to you."

Tonks smiled sadly. "Jolie was five years older than me. We went to Hogwarts together. She was the first and only Malfoy ever to be placed in Gryffindor. Your father hated that. Your mother and my mother, despite disagreements about blood purity, got on well. She visited sometimes and brought you and Jolie." Tonks sighed heavily. "I told Dumbledore that I didn't want you to know that. I didn't want your ideas about Jolie to be...I dunno...spoiled. Joliet fought for what she believed in, Draco. She wanted you to be able to do the same. She...died for you."

"So did my mother," Draco said.

"Okay," Mrs. Weasley said, reentering the room. She was holding a tray. "Tuck in, Draco. Every bit. Honestly, you kids. Bill and Charlie are going to get your broom and look for your bag."

Draco nodded soberly. He tried to eat, but his mouth felt dry. He couldn't swallow. Putting the tray on the floor, Draco fell onto Mrs. Weasley's bosom and wept.

Molly Weasley, utterly surprised, looked over at Tonks. The expression on Tonks's face was one of both concern and elation at seeing Draco reach out. She stood and walked over to the two of them. Sitting by Draco's side, she gently stroked the Slytherin's back.

"Aw, Baby Dragon," she calmed, "you've had quite the past couple of days."

Draco nodded softly, his head buried in Mrs. Weasley's chest. She gently played with his hair.

"Molly?" Draco choked out.

"Yes, love?"

"Do you think that the prophecy is true? Do you think that Harry and I are to be together?"

Molly Weasley looked over Draco's head at Tonks, who smiled softly at her.

"Well, darling, that's what it says," she said softly, kissing the blond gently on his head.

"Why do I feel so wretched, then?" Draco murmured. "I'm so mixed up. I thought it was Voldemort 'cause I sort of helped Harry. I think I sort of, you know, gave him something out there in the courtyard. Now everything's falling apart around him, and I feel like I can't help him. I feel as if I knew what the prophecy said, and I made things happen that way. I took him from Hermione. Before I wouldn't have cared. Now...now I'm so worried about him."

"Do you honestly think," Tonks began, "that you really manipulated him?"

Draco shrugged. In many ways, yes, he did feel as if he had manipulated the situation with Harry. Then he thought about the weeks prior when he and Harry had no communication. He thought about how the Gryffindor skulked through the castle and stared at him as if he wanted Draco to say something, anything, to him - as if he wanted nothing more than to be touching Draco.

The door opened slowly. Mr. Weasley walked into the room. He again affectionately touched the blond head before he spoke.

"Charlie and Bill are back," he said softly. "They've found your bag. Your broom was...was destroyed. I'm sorry, Draco."

Draco nodded his head, sitting up. He said, "I'm pretty tired, I guess. Maybe I should get some sleep."

Mrs. Weasley nodded in agreement. "As should we all. Big day tomorrow. Loads of presents to open. Come, Draco. You don't mind sleeping on the sofa, do you?"

Draco shook his head, standing and following Mrs. Weasley out of the room. The living room of the Burrow was quiet. Ginny sat curled on the sofa reading a book. Fred, George, Bill, and Charlie were scrutinizing Draco's broom.

"Bit beyond repair, mate," Fred said softly.

"Just toss it," Draco muttered.

Mrs. Weasley shooed Ginny off of the sofa before lying pillows and blankets out for Draco. Everyone said their goodnights and headed to bed. Ginny remained downstairs.

She sat in a chair, demurely watching Draco undress. He removed his sweater and neatly folded it. Removing his pants, he neatly folded those as well and set them on top of his sweater. He then settled onto the couch, emitting a long yawn. He slid into the far corner of the couch and, looking at Ginny, held the blanket up, inviting her to join him.

Ginny lay facing Draco on the sofa, her body pressed into his and her head nuzzled beneath his chin as he arranged the blankets around them.

"Are you all right?" she asked sleepily into Draco's chest.

She felt his head move up and down as he nodded.

Draco smiled softly, reveling in the feeling of Ginny's long body pressing into his. She was comforting. There was a time, he thought, when he would have taken advantage of this situation. How easy it would be to deftly move his hand from the small of her back to her front, gracefully parting her legs and using his fingers to explore between them. How he could maneuver his hips so that he was lying between her thighs and slip easily inside of her. He thought of Harry. He wished that Ginny were Harry. He reflected on the black-haired boy, and how, were Ginny Harry, he would use the quiet stillness of the Burrow as an excuse to stroke Harry to erection. How Harry would sneak down from wherever he was to be sleeping and climb onto the couch with Draco to make slow, quiet love in the living room of this sleeping house. The thought made him harden.

Ginny smiled. "What are you thinking about, Draco?"

"Nothing."

Ginny pressed her pelvis into Draco's erection, and Draco moaned softly in spite of himself.

"Exactly," Ginny said.

"You're worse than I am," Draco muttered, pressing his lips into Ginny's hair.

"Not possible," Ginny said softly.

Draco pressed his hand insistently against the small of Ginny's back. He pulled her closer to him, his erection digging into her inner thigh.

She sighed contentedly, her hands running up and down Draco's bare back, and said, "You don't want this to happen, Draco. It's not for me."

"What's not for you?" Draco said into the top of Ginny's head.

"That raging hard-on you're sporting."

Draco laughed softly. "How do you know that?"

"Because if it were for me, you and I would have done this a long time ago."

"And why haven't we?"

Ginny smiled into Draco's chest. "Because you've always wanted someone else. He's who brought it on. He's whom you want to make it go away. Not me."

"But I'm sure you'd do a great job," Draco said seductively.

He put his finger under Ginny's chin and tilted her face upward. He pressed his lips against hers gently. He felt her briefly return the kiss before her lips spread into a smile.

"What?" he asked softly.

"It's just funny. You and Hermione both. You want Harry, but you can't have him at the time you want him, and I become his substitute."

"Hermione? Really?" Draco asked.

Ginny simply nodded. She wrapped her arms tightly around the blonde's taut body and said, "Draco, I'd love to shag you rotten. The problem with that is that you're in love with someone else. If you and I did what the lower regions of your body wanted us to do, it would cause so many problems. He'll be back. Aside," she smiled, "you'd be ruining my ego because I know you'd be thinking of him the whole time."

Draco sighed. He held Ginny tightly to him.

"What if he doesn't come back to me?" Draco said softly.

"He'd be a fool," Ginny replied.

As the two of them drifted off, Ron stepped out of the shadows, a sly grin on his face. So it was all true, he thought. He couldn't wait for second term to start.