Our Fathers

Chapter Five - Courage

Draco didn't sleep, despite the fact he'd be expected to attend classes the next day. Instead, he sat awake, staring out over the grounds silently. From the window, he could see the end of the Quidditch pitch, the fifty-foot-tall hoops shining under the bright light of the full moon - a place he'd certainly never show his talents again. He'd gotten one of the Beaters expelled, after all, and even if he was a fairly good Seeker, he was no Harry Potter.

Harry Bloody Potter, surrounded by gifts and get well cards from his friends and admirers... and Draco Malfoy, with nothing. Not even Snape, the man his parents chose to take their place in an emergency, had come to check up on him. Crabbe had broken two of his ribs, too - Potter just had some stupid phantom bruise.

"Um... Malfoy? Sorry I landed you in here, too. Did the cauldron explode on you?" Draco jerked around at the voice, sent into a defensive posture by his surprise. Potter's eyes were locked on him from across the room, and Draco straightened up immediately. No use showing fear in front of ones enemy.

"You didn't put me in here, Crabbe did," Draco snapped, trying to cover up his discomfiture. "Don't you bloody remember? Or has the scar addled your brains, too?"

It was purely defensive, falling back on the insults and sarcasm, but as Potter rolled his eyes in disgust and started to turn away, something unexpected stole over Draco - regret. Or maybe it was just loneliness. "Wait -" Draco stuttered, leaning forward to try to catch Potter's attention. "I didn't mean - well, I saved your sorry arse in Potions today. With that and getting Crabbe expelled, Slytherin House is probably the last place I should be, with my guard down."

The moment it was past his lips, Draco regretted saying anything at all. Potter's eyes narrowed and he fumbled for his glasses, settling them on his nose before giving Draco a searching glance. "You helped me? What happened?"

"You had a seizure. Knocked your cauldron on the floor, pushed the table over, cracked your head open on the floor - guess what, Potter, you bleed red just like everybody else." Another twinge of guilt as Potter frowned. "But - yeah, I know what to do about seizures... so I kept you from hurting yourself while Snape got Pomfrey."

"Thank you," Potter whispered.

Draco stopped cold. Potter thanked him. "Yeah. Well, no one else knew what to do. So... was it about my father?" He knew he looked pleading, but some things were more important than pride. Potter looked back blankly. "The vision. My father. The reason there's a half-completed Healing Potion pooling on the dungeon floor?" he prompted.

Potter rubbed his eyes tiredly. "The vision... yeah, it was about your father. Um... they were in a dungeon or a prison of some sort, with a tarnished silver 'H' on the wall... maybe it wasn't an 'H,' I could hardly see it. And Wormtail was there too, with Voldemort."

"Worm-who?" Draco stared blankly back.

"Wormtail. He has a silver hand... Peter Pettigrew is his real name..."

Draco gave a snort of laughter unintentionally. "Yes, there's a Death Eater with a silver hand - bloody wimp, I punched him and he fell over - but his name certainly can't be Pettigrew. I thought you knew all about '81 - Sirius Black killed Pettigrew, everyone knows that!"

Potter looked incredibly hesitant, as if debating whether or not to divulge particularly sensitive information. "Look, Malfoy..." he began, drawing his knees up to his chest, "Pettigrew isn't dead. Pettigrew was my parents' Secret Keeper, not Sirius."

Everything suddenly clicked. "No way. I don't... but even Father thought Black was a Death Eater... but that's right, Black never got a trial, and the brand on the arm isn't exactly common knowledge..."

"Sirius is innocent. He's hiding or something, I think only Dumbledore knows where. He was in charge of getting back together the Aurors who fought with him back before my parents died. He's my godfather - I'm going to go live with him when Pettigrew is caught." A smile appeared on Potter's face, though he winced and touched the spectacularly coloured bruise on his cheek. "Ow... did I hit my face on the table?"

"What happened to my father, Potter?" The Gryffindor's mind seemed to be wandering a lot - maybe a concussion? Or just stupidity?

Potter frowned, appearing to concentrate on something fleeting. "Umm... Voldemort used Cruciatus on Wormtail to punish him for letting you get away in the forest. Then your dad taunted him - Voldemort, that is - about being so old. He got a Cruciatus to shut him up, but he kept taunting him until Voldemort lost his temper and started hitting your dad. In the face, and the arm - and wait, why are my bruises in the same places -"

"Madame Pomfrey said something about your scar connecting you to the victims. I listened in at the keyhole," Draco admitted without a bit of guilt. "Professor Lupin was there. They asked him if they could use some strong potion on you. Oh, and McGonagall got all snippy with Dumbledore about your aunt and uncle. Snape said they'd make you into the next Voldemort, but... sorry, Potter, I just can't see you with the glowing eyes and the murdering and all."

"Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon make me into the next Dark Lord?" Potter smirked, then burst out laughing. "They're lousy relatives... but make me evil...? That's just too much..." Potter rubbed at his bruised face, still snickering. "Ow, my cheek..."

"Well, at least you have relatives to take you in. Mine are dead or in Azkaban. Sure makes for a cheerful family reunion." Draco straightened the sheets, making to turn over in order to keep from meeting Potter's eyes.

"Draco...?" He couldn't help himself. It was probably the first time Potter had addressed him by his first name. He glanced over in shock, meeting eyes filled with pity. "Draco, I'm sorry about your family - about your mum and dad. I really am. I know what it's like, to not have parents."

He couldn't stand pity and - "My father isn't dead, damnit! You don't know a fucking thing, Potter. You don't even remember your parents - I watched that sodding bastard slit my mother's throat!" Potter looked taken aback by Draco's sudden burst of temper and ready to throw a comment in, but Draco rushed on, filled with the sudden urge to pull Potter off his high horse. A cruel smirk plastered itself into place almost without thought. "But hey, I guess we are in the same place. Snape doesn't want me... and nobody wants you, either! Dumbledore asked your aunt and uncle to come be here when you woke up, and they told him to shove it up his arse. And Lupin told everyone he wouldn't ever take you in, and the Weasleys couldn't possibly afford you! Guess being the Boy Who Lived isn't so hot after all!"

The look of shock and betrayal on Potter's face was enough to assure Draco he'd done the insult right - it had been ages since he'd gotten that sort of reaction out him. The smirk was wiped clear off his face by Potter's furious response, however. "At least my parents died fighting evil, rather than wallowing at Voldemort's feet. They had friends who wept when they died. No one's going to weep for your father, but you. No one's even going to bother to save him."

Seething, Draco restrained himself from launching to his feet and attacking Potter where he lay. It hurt - because Potter was right. No one would save him. No one could save him. No one even knew where he was.

Except for Draco.

"They were in a dungeon or a prison of some sort, with a tarnished silver 'H' on the wall..."

Not an 'H' - an 'M' in a curling script. The dungeon of the 800-year-old Malfoy Manor. They always went for the best... the family crest was on the wall. And no one knew the dungeons better than a Malfoy. Draco set about planning silently, waiting carefully for Potter to fall back asleep before making a break for it.

Someone would attempt to save Lucius Malfoy, even if he died trying.

Draco moved quietly through the brush, the stolen Hogwarts broomstick slung over his shoulder. The outline of Malfoy Manor glimmered through the trees of the patch of forest shielding the manor from prying Muggle eyes. To any common passerby, it would look as though the lord of the manor was hosting a party. Almost all of the lights of the many rooms of the posh home were twinkling in the near darkness, giving a cheerful feeling to a place that was normally near deserted. The manor had only three human inhabitants, plus a small army of house-elves who saw to the cleaning and maintenance of the many unused portions of the house.

Ducking behind a topiary at the edge of the gardens, Draco set aside the broomstick. There had been movement up in the manor, at one of the upstairs windows. He watched carefully as a figure paced in front of a window and disappeared. Proof, then, that someone had taken the manor - Aurors after Lucius' disappearance or Death Eaters holding him. While it was possible that the silver mark Potter had seen on the wall had indeed been an H rather than an M, it was incredibly unlikely. However, one had to be sure of the foe one faced before rushing into battle, and plan accordingly - Draco hadn't been Sorted into Slytherin purely for his good looks and impeccable pedigree, after all. He was as crafty and cunning as the next.

With a careful eye on the manor, Draco left the broom behind and slipped through the shadows of the garden path to a closer perch. His goal was the large front window of the parlour, from where he could keep a closer eye on the invaders to count their number and plan a suitably cautious entry to his ancestral home. As a Malfoy, he could conceivably enter the manor without alerting the Death Eaters, so long as he stayed out of sight - the ancient Malfoy wards protecting the validity of the Malfoy bloodline would counter any wards they'd put up.

He darted from behind a hedge to beneath the window and levered himself up to peek over the windowsill. The size of the Death Eater contingent in the parlour was worrying - it seemed that his home had been taken as the central locale of Death Eater interaction, from the sheer number of black robed individuals moving in and out of the room. Draco caught sight of MacNair, Avery, Baker, the elder Crabbe and Goyle, all the regulars... at least fifty in the one room alone.

"Headquarters of the bloody Dark Army," Draco hissed softly, backing away from the house again and stifling a yawn. He still hadn't fully recovered from Crabbe's attack - he should be sleeping in the Hospital Wing, not running about on a damned Gryffindor stunt.

He glanced up to track the movement of the moon as it traveled to set in the fall sky. It was probably nearing midnight. He'd been missing from Hogwarts for seventeen hours, though it was quite likely he hadn't been discovered gone until twelve hours ago. Search parties would be combing the Forbidden Forest, but Potter would surely be bright enough to realize what he'd gone to do. Snape himself would likely head out to cut him off. He had perhaps five hours before the fighters for the Light figured out a way to locate him right in the jaws of the enemy - only five hours to cement a plan of attack and save his father before it was too late.

Impossible.

Draco slipped back toward the garden and put several shrubberies between him and the manor. He curled up on the ground, pulling his cloak tighter, and set about devising a way to make it to the dungeons, armed with only Light magic, luck, and Malfoy blood. It was his father's only chance.

He drifted off an hour or so later with a half-formed plan in his mind, unable to stay conscious. He was still sleeping when a silver-pawed rat scampered through the garden near dawn.

Rough hands seized Draco and roused him from his sleep. He jerked from a dream, eyes snapping open in a panic only to find himself nose to nose with a balding man who was muffling his cries with a cold silver hand. "Pettigrew," Draco murmured with a start of recognition. Or, would've murmured, had his mouth not been clamped shut.

"You sh-shouldn't have left the s-school! Y-you were s-safe there! S-stupid boy, why did you get involved?" the man stammered, yanking Draco to his feet as he did so. "It w-was a waste - do you really th-think your bastard of a f-father is worth dying for?"

Unable to answer, Draco growled audibly and merely glared. The tree where his stolen broomstick was stashed was barely fifty metres away. If he kicked Pettigrew in the shin hard enough, he could conceivably gain enough time to make it there. Pettigrew was still talking, though his words seemed directed toward someone other than Draco.

Taking the opportunity, Draco slammed his foot into the Death Eater's knee, scrambling to his feet as the man howled and dropped him. He started a mad dash, fumbling through his pockets for his wand so as to quiet Pettigrew and give himself a second chance to go in for his father.

The shout came from behind him. "Expelliarmus!" Draco found himself thrown bodily into a tree trunk as his wand was ripped from his hand. His head was spinning in pain and he fought to keep conscious. Pettigrew should still be whimpering in pain, so whom-

A masked Death Eater grabbed hold of the back of Draco's collar, choking him as he was brought to his feet. "Malfoy's brat?" the man said, turning his head to glance over his shoulder. Draco caught sight of Pettigrew crumbled to the ground, bent over his knee. "Wormtail, looks like you might survive the day after all. Lucky break... shall we present him to the Dark Lord?"

"Get your hands off of me," Draco hissed, sending his foot smashing into the man's shin and pushing him away with all his might. The Death Eater let out a yelp of pain but, instead of releasing Draco, collapsed forward, trapping him against the tree trunk. His own cry of pain was cut off as he found the man's hand wrapped around his throat, cutting off both sound and air.

"Honestly, Malfoy, you're not getting out of this one. Sorry it had to be this way, mate, but I'm glad it's not my family." Draco finally recognized his voice - David Avery, from Durmstrang, one of the candidates who hadn't been chosen as Triwizard Champion the year previous. He went limp in Avery's grasp, hoping he'd at least be allowed to breathe again.

Avery released him, raising his wand and letting Draco slump to the ground. "Wormtail," he called over his shoulder, eyes never straying from his captive, "would you stop wallowing and give me a hand? That contraption of yours should be enough to keep him from running, if you'd only watch his legs."

"I don't think that contraption of his will be of any help to you, Avery."

Draco glanced up in shock, only to find his godfather and Lupin towering over Pettigrew's trembling form, wands raised. It was Snape who had spoken, as he continued, "Just lower your wand and hand it over. I'd rather not send you crashing into a tree as you did to Mr. Malfoy, but I will if you feel like putting up some paltry fight."

"Traitor!" Avery snarled, though he did in fact toss his wand to the ground.

Snape gave a snort. "Accio wand. Call me traitor all you want, but you'll be the one in Azkaban at the end of the day. And I suppose Mr. Pettigrew will be accompanying us as well, though I loathe doing anything that will aide Sirius Black... Draco, for God's sake, get up. You appear to be uninjured."

"Yes, sir," he murmured, rubbing at his throat. While the bruises were likely to rival Potter's in colour and size, the anger flashing in his guardian's eye was enough to silence any complaints. In the background, the lights of the manor twinkled on as the sun rose over the line of the trees. "Professor, we can get him out now - I know where he is, it was in Potter's -"

The professor sighed, stepping over Pettigrew to join Draco. Avery stood to the side, face hidden by the mask. "Draco... we knew he was there. We still can't get him out. It's a trap - one that you nearly sprung. I'm sorry, but there's nothing -"

Suddenly, Avery turned on Snape, yanking the wands from his hand. Both went flying across the garden, though claiming his wand didn't seem to be Avery's goal. Instead, he gave Snape another shove, sending the thin man stumbling into a tree, and dodged past Draco's tackle, making an escape toward the Manor. "Lupin -" Snape snarled.

Draco scrambled back to his feet, turning just in time to see Pettigrew's gleaming hand reach for his old professor. Gleaming silver. His werewolf DADA teacher. "Professor, Pettigrew's hand -"

Lupin let out a wolf-like howl of agony as the silver hand wrapped around his bared ankle and dropped his wand, collapsing back to the ground as a loud hiss, as of something burning, cut through the garden. Out of the corner of his eye, Draco caught sight of Snape diving for his wand but before he could do anything, the unthinkable happened - Pettigrew shrunk to the size and form of a rodent and scampered across Lupin's chest, leaving another silver-burn on the werewolf's chest with every step, and went leaping off to scurry into the garden.

Draco didn't hesitate. Scrambling to his feet, he dashed after the escaping rat, ignoring his godfather's shouts. Ready to make a grab for the Animagus, Draco made the mistake of glancing up. There, running from the house, were more than a dozen Death Eaters. Armed.

"Professor!" he shouted, turning to alert Snape and Lupin, "Professor, there are more of them!" Draco left off pursuit of the rat and jogged back to his godfather's side.

Snape was kneeling beside the fallen form of the werewolf, who seemed to be having trouble breathing. "The silver is poison to him. Damnit, I hate Apparating with more than one other person - Draco, grab my shoulder, I'll take us to Hogsmeade. We'll have to hurry up to the school."

Draco did so, taking a moment to look up at the outline of his home silouhetted against the sky. He'd failed - and it might cost Lupin his life.

And then Malfoy Manor was gone, replaced by the gates of Hogsmeade. Draco backed away from the professor and the werewolf, as Lupin was dragged to his feet and helped to toss an arm around Snape's shoulders. "Damnit... I don't think I can get up there, Severus..." the werewolf murmured, slumping forward and nearly collapsing, but for Snape's quick action.

"Draco, take his other side. Hold on, Lupin... I'm not letting that rat be your murderer as well."

Though confused, Draco ducked under Lupin's arm and helped to hold him steady. "I thought a poison had to get into the bloodstream to do anything... um, I'm sorry I ran off."

Snape shot a glare at Draco behind Lupin's bowed head. "Pettigrew clawed him. The silver touched skin and blood. He needs to get to Hogwarts, and fast. Oh, and you're grounded."

"You can't do that!" Draco snapped, glaring back. "I went to rescue my father, and you're certainly not him!"

"I'm your guardian, and you're not leaving the castle until you're forty! You'll also have a detention - with Filch, if I can convince him to put up with you - and you should be damned glad you're not to be expelled!" Snape rearranged Lupin's arm on his shoulders, visually checking to make sure he was conscious. "I told you it was impossible to get Lucius out, and I meant it."

Draco's eyes flashed in indignation. "I couldn't just leave him!"

"Oh, so walking into Voldemort's hands was a better idea? Are you a Slytherin or a Gryffindor?" Lupin coughed and frowned in Snape's direction. "Oh, don't deny it, Remus - you and Potter and Black would've charged in and gotten yourself killed."

"Could you stop arguing, please? I'm in a great deal of pain," Lupin snapped back.

The trio passed by the Three Broomsticks, and Draco gave a longing glance inside. If Snape had his way, it would be the last time he'd see it until Voldemort was dead. "Why not levitate him up to the castle? It seems more work to lug him around."

"As lycanthropy is a magical curse rather than a real disease, using magic on the results of the curse may just speed up the progress of the poison. Lupin, don't you dare faint on me, you may not wake up." Snape walked faster, nearly causing Draco to fall behind. They turned onto the path leading past the lake, past the Quidditch Pitch.

Headmaster Dumbledore himself was standing in front of the great door waiting for them. He gave Draco a searching gaze before stepping aside to allow the trio to make their way toward the Infirmary. "Severus, Remus... what happened?"

"I'm sorry we didn't wait for your okay, Headmaster, but Lupin here went in to talk to Potter about an hour ago and noticed that Draco wasn't there. He hadn't been in class today, either, and had not returned to his dormitory this morning. Potter told Lupin everything, and we decided Mr. Malfoy had forgone sane courses of action in an attempt to rescue his father. We left for Malfoy Manor immediately and found Draco about to be taken in to Lord Voldemort. Pettigrew was there - Potter was right, he has a silver hand. He clawed Lupin and escaped."

Dumbledore made a low noise and frowned. "Mr. Malfoy... what you did was foolhardy. Marching into the fortress of Lord Voldemort is hardly an action for a fifteen-year-old boy, despite the nature of his headquarters."

"I know, sir." Draco sighed, looking away. As if losing his father wasn't enough, he'd be forced to listen to rants on his actions. He did feel the need to defend himself, however. "It's just, no one was planning to rescue my father, and I knew where he was. I wasn't just going to leave him there!"

Another low sound from Dumbledore. "Mr. Malfoy... Draco, even an army of Aurors would not be able to retrieve your father before Lord Voldemort could point his wand and kill him. I am sorry for your loss. I am even more sorry that he still suffers... but there is nothing we can do. He is lost." Draco looked over and caught a slight smile breaking onto the Headmaster's face. "I must say, however - it was an action worthy of any Gryffindor."

Both Snape and Draco looked scandalized, Snape going so far as to let out a snort of indignation. "Albus, he's a Slytherin. You can't still be suggesting -"

"There's absolutely nothing wrong with being a Gryffindor. I'm quite fond of the color red, myself. Ahh, here we are - the Infirmary." The Headmaster favoured the Slytherins with a bright smile, shuffling them - and their nearly unconscious charge - over to a bed. Poppy Pomfrey came bustling out, snapping instructions at Dumbledore. Snape and Draco were promptly ignored.

Draco stepped back and turned to leave, but his godfather's hand caught him on the shoulder. "Draco... please, don't do something that daft again. I'm not always going to be able to save you." Stern black eyes bored into him, reminiscent of Potions class rather than a parental heart-to-heart.

Brushing Snape's hand away, Draco took another step back. "Maybe next time it would be better if you weren't. I wouldn't want to inconvenience you, after all." He sent a dark glare at his guardian and turned on his heel, shoving open the Infirmary door and making an escape from the Hospital Wing. Snape called after him, but Draco ignored him.

Whatever was waiting for him in the Slytherin dorms he'd face gladly. Anything would be better than another moment of Professor Snape, the man who couldn't care less if Draco died.

He'd failed.