Draco Malfoy and the Boy Who Lived

draco's detour

"Draco?"

Draco woke with a start when he heard his name being called. His face was stuck to the pages of the book he was reading, Cursed Objects Made Easy, drool dried along the side of his face. He slowly pried himself from the book and wiped his face clean and shook his head, yawning.

"Draco, where are you!"

"Coming!" he replied drearily, getting up to answer his mother's call. When he reached the door, he paused, his hand on the doorknob.

"What are you planning on doing, Cissy?" he heard his angry aunt frantically whisper.

"Stay out of it, Bella."

"I should tell the Dark Lord! I should tell him that you came within a hair's breadth of betraying his word!"

Deciding that he didn't want to hear any more of this in order to protect his mother from the Dark Lord, a skilled Legilimens, Draco threw the door open loudly and walked out, a slight strut in his step and an effort at a smug smile on his face. His cold grey eyes gleamed unreadably as they fell upon his aunt, who stood defiantly before him. She had heavily lidded eyes and a hint of beauty around her face, a startling contrast of dark compared to Draco's mother, who came running to him as soon as he entered.

"Draco, how are you? Did you have breakfast?"

"How much did you hear?" asked Bellatrix from behind Draco's mother.

"Hear of what?" said Draco politely, cocking his head to the right, inquiringly.

Narcissa threw a dirty look at her sister behind her, and led Draco into the living room, her arm around his shoulder.

*

Much of Draco's time had been spent studying. It was almost a month ago that his mother went to talk to Severus Snape, he learned, and between now and then, not much had happened. He had received his O.W.L.s - of which he earned three O's - and was keeping up a very secure line of correspondence with an old friend from Hogwarts, Davey Montague, who had informed Draco of some very interesting information. It seemed that when those two Weasley Twins had locked him in a Vanishing Cabinet at school, he was caught in a kind of passageway that led from the school to Borgin and Burkes. Apparently, he heard conversations from both sides when he was stuck in the middle. This gave Draco some insightful ideas which he was keen to undergo, but a trip to Knockturn Alley was necessary before he could carry through with his plan. He had sent an owl to Borgin, telling him to keep the second Vanishing Cabinet in his shop on hold, at least until he could visit the shop himself. Borgin had responded that Draco had no business requesting items be held on hold for him, and at that, Draco had sent back a fairly vicious howler saying that Borgin must not know who he was dealing with, that the stupid thing was broken anyway, and that if he very much valued his favourite appendage, then he would keep the Cabinet on hold for him. In addition, just for Borgin's cheek, Draco demanded that he find someone to fix it for him. It made Draco swell with power and confidence when Borgin wrote back that even though he did not think the Cabinet was broken, he would have someone come in and look at it for him. "Although it's possible and probable that the other cabinet of the pair is broken, I'll do anything I can do to make Mr Malfoy's life easier."

In addition to the studying and constant secret owls being sent to and from his house, Draco had been sleeping restlessly. In fact, he was busy having a very private dream when he was interrupted by his mother gently opening the door to his room a few weeks after his letter to Borgin.

"Draco? Darling, we're going to Diagon Alley to buy you're school things."

He didn't answer, instead concentrating hard on not rolling over until he had satisfactorily calmed himself.

"Darling?"

"I'll be ready in a couple minutes."

He heard the door close, and Draco groaned into his pillow. As he had feared, his dream was once again of Harry Potter, though far from resembling the ones he used to have about the boy back in his first few years of school. Those had pleasantly included Draco taunting Potter and often ended with Potter looking like a fool in front of a large crowd. More recent dreams, however, had included reenactments of the first time Draco and Potter had met in Diagon Alley six years ago, though both had grown a considerable amount and instead of Madam Malkin taking measurements, it was Potter.

Hoping to press the lingering image out of his mind, Draco pressed his eyes into his head with his palms until his head began to swim. He got up slowly and pulled his cloak on over his casual yet elegant wear. He was certainly not looking forward to shopping with his mother. He had an errand to run in Knockturn Alley that would be easier to accomplish without her, but whenever he spoke of doing his shopping, she insisted on accompanying him.

He left his room and met his mother outside the Malfoy Manor, just by the door in a specific place they had enchanted for apparition of people with Black or Malfoy blood. (Otherwise, their house was completely protected from any intrusion, apparition or otherwise.) He held on to his mother's arm, ready to apparate, and with a twist, an uncomfortable yet familiar sensation, and a pop, the Malfoy Manor had gone, and Draco found himself standing in an under-crowded and gloomy Diagon Alley.

"You need new dress robes, let's do that first."

"Really, Mother, I don't need you to come in with me."

"Nonsense, I've told you a thousand times that I'm coming with you."

Draco sneered, invisible to his mother's eye, and followed grudgingly as she led him into a deserted Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. Madam Malkin came rushing out from behind a rack of dress robes with a measuring tape draped around her and her wand clutched in her hand.

"Gracious! Come in, come in, of course," she said. "What are you looking for?"

"He needs new dress robes, he's grown out of the last pair," said Narcissa, not at all showing any respect to the seamstress.

Draco made a sound of frustration in the back of his throat.

Madam Malkin clucked approvingly as she observed the hems of Draco's cloak, and shepherded him to behind the rack from which she had earlier emerged. She threw a long, handsome set of dark green robes over his head and summoned a pin cushion which slid onto her wrist. She started folding and pinning and Draco stood for what he believed to be a significantly ample amount of time, when he said, "I'm not a child, in case you haven't noticed, Mother. I am perfectly capable of doing my shopping alone."

Madame Malkin clucked again. "Now, dear, you mother's quite right, none of us is supposed to go wandering around on our own anymore, it's nothing to do with being a child--"

"Watch where you're sticking that pin, will you!" She had just pricked him lightly on the ankle, and her incompetence along with his mother's stubbornness was beginning to irritate him greatly. He stepped away from behind the rack and went to observe himself in the mirror, fairly pleased with the result. His handsome robes gleamed with needles around the hem and the sleeves, but other than that, the green flattered his features. His narcissistic moment was interrupted, however, when he saw three faces over his shoulder reflected in the mirror, one of which made his stomach give an uncomfortable lurch. Trying to hide his discomfort, he narrowed his eyes.

"If you're wondering what the smell is, Mother, a Mudblood just walked in," he said.

"I don't think there's any need for language like that!" said Madam Malkin. Draco turned around to face them in time to see Potter and Ron Weasley pull out their wands as Madam Malkin came out from behind the dress robe rack. "And I don't want wands drawn in my shop either!"

"No, don't, honestly, it's not worth it..." said Hermione Granger to the two boys.

"Yeah, like you'd dare do magic out of school," Draco sneered. "Who blacked your eye, Granger? I want to send them flowers," he added, noticing that a large bruise had indeed formed around her eye.

"That's quite enough! Madam--please--" Madam Malkin looked helplessly over her shoulder towards Draco's mother, who strolled out from behind the rack.

"Put those away," she said to Potter and Weasley. "If you attack my son again, I shall ensure that it is the last think you ever do." Draco tried not to flush at his mother's defensiveness.

"Really?" said Potter. He had grown a lot since Draco had last seen him, and was now almost as tall as Narcissa. He was really growing into a man... He took a few steps forward and starred defiantly in the face of Draco's mother. "Going to get a few Death Eater pals to do us in, are you?"

A squeal diverted Draco's attention once again to Madam Malkin who was clutching her chest. "Really, you shouldn't accuse - dangerous thing to say - wands away, please!"

No one moved, but for an unpleasant smile that slid across Narcissa's face.

"I see that being Dumbledore's favourite has given you a false sense of security, Harry Potter," she said. "But Dumbledore won't always be there to protect you."

Draco's stomach clenched. Potter looked around the shop sarcastically. "Wow ... look at that ... he's not here now! So why not have a go? They might be able to find you a double cell in Azkaban with your loser of a husband!"

In anger, Draco tried to reach Potter. He wanted to wrap his long, pale fingers around Potter's neck, but he stumbled over his untrimmed robes and, embarrassingly, Weasley gave a loud shout of laughter.

"Don't you dare talk to my mother like that, Potter!" he said viciously to him, instead.

Narcissa put her own white hand on Draco's shoulder, restraining him from doing anything rash, and said, "It's all right, Draco. I expect Potter will be reunited with dear Sirius before I am reunited with Lucius."

Potter's wand rose higher, and Draco could sense the angry tension build up.

"Harry, no!" moaned Granger. She tried to push Potter's arm down to his side. "Think. ... You mustn't. ... You'll be in such trouble. ..."

There was a moment where no one moved. The air seemed to freeze with the hatred emanating from both groups. Draco's gaze continued to linger on Potter, and as much as he tried to harden his gaze, he had the distinct impression that it wasn't coming off as spiteful as he wished. Suddenly, Madam Malkin fussed toward him, acting as though nothing were happening.

"I think this left sleeve could come up a little bit more, dear, let me just--"

"Ouch!" Draco slapped her hand away. His heart had stopped beating for a few moments, afraid that perhaps Madam Malkin would lift his sleeve and see his left forearm. He shook himself mentally and continued, "Watch where you're putting your pins, woman! Mother - I don't think I want these anymore--" He pulled his robes off over his head and threw them disrespectfully at Madam Malkin's feet. His left sleeve certainly did not need to come up any more.

"You're right, Draco," said his mother. She looked at Granger with a sneer on her handsome features. "Now I know the kind of scum that shops here. ... We'll do better at Twilfitt and Tatting's."

As they made their way to exit out the door, Draco knocked into Weasley as hard as possible, avoiding all eye contact, and the two Malfoy's left the shop and made their way towards Twilfitt and Tatting's. The door closed just in time for Draco to hear Madam Malkin say, "Well, really!" before it slammed shut.

They passed the half-giant Rubeus Hagrid on their way out, but paid him no more attention than if he were a rat on the cobblestones. Neither Draco nor Narcissa said anything to each other.

*

With much difficulty, Draco had managed to distract his mother at Twilfitt and Tatting's by leading her towards a closet filled with elegant witch's dress robes. Mr Tatting, who noticed her observing the expensive fabrics, rushed over to her and proceeded to hold her attention long enough for Draco to slip out the door silently, and run back down Diagon Alley towards Knockturn, where he had intended to go all along.

He wearily ran down the street, only pausing to look over his shoulder at the only bright display on the streets, sporting the words "U-No-Poo", before continuing off out of sight. Draco had reached the entrance of Knockturn Alley, and gave a quick, precautionary glance around. Seeing no one, he slipped into the dark passage. He spent no time dawdling, not because most of the shops were empty, but because it had become dangerous to be seen buying or selling dark artifacts. Right before entering his target shop, he composed himself in order to better get his point across, straightening out his robes, and entered the shop, Borgin and Burkes.

Mr Borgin was standing behind the counter observing a sinister looking greenish-opal jewel through an eyepiece, when he looked up at the sound of the bell above the door. His hopeful and greedy expression, however, fell immediately into one of mingled resentment and fear when he saw who it was. Draco merely smiled.

"Afternoon, Borgin. I'm sure you remember what I'm here for." Draco looked down uninterestedly at the necklace Borgin was inspecting. Seeing that his eyes had faltered down, Borgin lifted his wand, pointed it at the necklace, and levitated it back to it's appropriate pedestal near the front of the shop before its label stating that it was cursed.

"Yes, Mr Malfoy. I remember our last correspondence vividly."

It was true, the last owl Draco had sent to the old man was less than friendly. "Good, then I'm assuming you've spoken to someone?"

"I must say, to you, Mr Malfoy, however, that the person who came in to inspect the Cabinet said that it was in perfect shape and functioned perfectly. It must be the other one you are planning on using that is broken."

"...And you know how to fix it?" This whole situation had Draco very stressed and he was getting increasingly antsy by the minute. He had come up with the idea on how to resolve the task set upon him by the Dark Lord, but carrying it out was a completely different story, and the oaf before him was certainly not making matters easier, despite his sniveling promise to do so.

"Possibly," said Borgin annoyingly. Draco rolled his eyes at the man's seeming unwillingness to help. "I'll need to see it, though. Why don't you bring it into the shop?"

"I can't," replied Draco irritably. "It's got to stay put. I just need you to tell me how to do it."

Borgin licked his lips in a nervous manner. "Well, without see it, I must say it will be a very difficult job, perhaps impossible. I couldn't guarantee anything."

"No?" Draco sneered. "Perhaps this will make you more confident." Taking a great leap of faith, Draco shoved his sleeve up his arm and showed Borgin the black burn vividly contrasting against his sheen white skin, the Dark Mark. It consoled him somewhat to see Borgin's eyes widen in fear. "Tell anyone, and there will be retribution," said Draco smugly, pushing his sleeve back down, having made his point. "You know Fenrir Greyback? He's a family friend. He'll be dropping in from time to time to make sure you're giving the problem your full attention." Arrangements could be easily made.

"There will be no need for--"

"I'll decide that. Well, I'd better be off. And don't forget to keep that one safe," he pointed to the other Vanishing Cabinet of a pair that stood near the front of the store, "I'll need it."

"Perhaps you'd like to take it now?" Borgin was certainly not doing a good job of masking that he did not like to be a part of such shady business, and Draco did not take to it kindly.

"No, of course I wouldn't, you stupid little man, how would I look carrying that down the street? Just don't sell it."

"Of course not ... sir."

Draco smirked proudly as Borgin bowed. At last, he was receiving the sort of treatment and respect as his father had been given, and that alone, livened his spirits. He hastily wiped the smile from his face, however, when Borgin looked back up, not wanting to seem unaccustomed to such treatment.

"Not a word to anyone, Borgin, and that includes my mother, understand?"

"Naturally, naturally." He bowed again.

Draco avoided the temptation to smirk once again, and walked out of the shop, feeling slightly elated and with a hint of less weight on his shoulders. The bell above the door tinkled and Draco made his casual way back over to Twilfitt and Tatting's, passing by a wall he could have sworn made a whooshing sound when he walked by it, though nothing was there.

*

"Where were you? I was worried sick! What are you thinking to go wandering off in times like this alone?"

"We're the ones every one is afraid of, Mother. Nothing happened to me."

Draco found Narcissa wandering the streets of Diagon Alley in a panicked frenzy, and they had fallen into a row the moment he had walked up to her, insisting nothing had happened to him. After she had reassured herself that he was, in fact, perfectly fine, she began to yell at him. Too elated by his small but recent victory to be quite bothered by it, he gave her the courtesy of yelling herself hoarse at his "recklessness" and "lack of respect for all those who were risking their necks to save him!" until they got back to the Malfoy Manor where he retreated to his room and fell onto his bed, his head resting on his hands, a wide smile spread across his face.

It wasn't long before he fell asleep and began to dream a dream that he would greatly regret in the morning, involving a somewhat skewered recollection of his last encounter in Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.