A Desperate Situation

Draco Malfoy was crouched behind a column, his little sister safe in his arms. He was breathing hard and utterly terrified.

That morning, as usual, Draco's father had grown angry with him for something. Draco had been backed up against a wall, which also happened every day. This time, his father had not pulled out his wand, or grabbed a handful of coals with his dragon-hide gloves. He had pulled a handgun out of his pocket and fired. Draco had barely been able to duck, but he ran for it. Amber was halfway down the hallway he was headed to, and he reached down and scooped her up. Luckily, the gun his father was firing was a six-shooter, which meant it only had six bullets. It ran out, preventing Mr. Malfoy from reaching either of his intended targets, but that did not stop Draco from running.

Now, in the scant shelter the column provided, Draco was simply hiding with Amber, waiting until he heard the "Pop!" that echoed through the hallways when his father Apparated to work.

Finally, he heard it--"Pop!" He released Amber from his arms and stood up. He went up the stairs into his bedroom, pulled out his homework, and began to work on his Transfiguration.

Thinking about homework made him think about school. At school he had a "tough guy" reputation. He was a bully to the Gryffindors and a git to everyone else. Mentally, he kicked himself. Amber was eleven (though small for her age) and would be starting Hogwarts that year. What kind of image would it project to her if her big brother acted so mean? She'd be crushed. No, he'd have to clean up his act. Stop being so rude to everyone, even though if Father knew he'd kill him. Literally, not in some figurative sense of the word like "he'll be very angry at him". He would physically take his wand--or the handgun--and kill Draco. Draco sighed. So much for thinking about school.

Suddenly he heard another pop that could only mean one thing--his father was home early. "Oh, no," whispered Draco.

He quickly ran out of his room to protect Amber. His father saw him as he rushed to get his sister to safety. "Draco! Amber! Stay right there!" he ordered. Terrified, his children obeyed, rooted to the spot.

With his arms protectively around Amber, and her arms fearfully around his neck (he had picked her up), Draco prayed his father wouldn't shoot at them. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door downstairs.

Mr. Malfoy Apparated downstairs and apparently opened the door. Draco could clearly hear everything, including what Mr. Malfoy said next. "What do you want?" he snapped harshly.

A voice that Draco vaguely recognised answered. "Lucius, old chap, we are under orders to search your house."

The drawing room, Draco thought silently, trying to communicate it to them. Look under the drawing-room floor. That's where it all is.

Mr. Malfoy, however, did not simply smirk and open the doors wide, as though he was telling them to go ahead, they wouldn't find anything. He slammed the door in their face and locked it.

"You'll never get in!" he shouted through the keyhole. "Never! I won't allow it!"

With a pop, he Apparated back upstairs. He grabbed Amber and flung her to the floor. Draco gave a cry and started towards her, but his father grabbed him and Apparated again, this time with Draco and something else, which was in his pocket.

They wound up on the balcony, the one overlooking the drive. Draco could clearly see two of the Weasleys--Mr. Weasley and one of his boys, most likely Percy--along with about eighteen other wizards for a total of twenty. One, a really old guy Draco knew was called Perkins, had his wand out and was preparing to open the door. Mr. Malfoy, with surprising suddenness, caught Draco across the neck. Out of his pocket he pulled his wand. He moved over close to the rail and pointed his wand at Draco.

"One more step and the boy gets it!" screamed Mr. Malfoy.

Draco began struggling, pale and frightened. He understood now. His father was using him as a hostage, something to keep out the Ministry. Mr. Malfoy thought that they wouldn't do anything that might get Draco killed.

Draco's eyes widened as he realised that his father was wrong. Perkins had simply shrugged and turned back to the door...he was going to break in anyway! He didn't really care about Draco, not at all. He had paused--it seemed that he couldn't remember what he was about to do.

Mr. Malfoy saw red. He flung Draco to the ground and Apparated back inside. When he reappeared, he had Amber by the neck. Her blue eyes turned to Draco, who was just struggling up.

Help me! Amber pleaded silently.

Draco took a step closer to try and help her when his father grabbed him viciously too. Amber was flung to the cement balcony hard, free of her father at least, but now Draco was in danger again.

"Open that door and the boy gets it!" screamed Mr. Malfoy again.

Perkins couldn't hear him, Draco realised. That scared him--it meant that he was really in danger. The Weasley boy--it was Percy, he'd been right--looked up. He quickly grasped the situation and fought his way up front. He tapped his father on the shoulder and pointed up at the balcony. Mr. Weasley looked up and grabbed Perkins's arm to stop him from opening the door and signing the boy's fate.

"Let the boy go!" bellowed Mr. Weasley.

Mr. Malfoy gave an evil smile. "Have it your way!" he shouted back. He lifted Draco over the railing and quite literally let him go. Only by catching the base of the iron bars surrounding the porch was he able to save himself. Amber ran over and grabbed him desperately, trying to keep him from falling. Mr. Malfoy laughed, a high, evil sound.

Draco risked a glance down. He was dangling right over the crowd. No one was paying attention to him--they were all busy staring at Mr. Malfoy--except for Percy. Percy pointed his wand at Draco and said something. Draco felt himself lifted back over the railing. As soon as his feet touched concrete, he grabbed Amber and ran for the door.

When he got there, he realised his mistake. The door was sealed shut. He couldn't get off.

He whirled around when he heard a bang. The doors to the manor had been flung open. The crowd could get in.

Mr. Malfoy swore. He didn't bother Apparating. He blasted the sealed glass doors and ran in. Amber and Draco followed. It was safer than being trapped out on the balcony.

Inside, downstairs, the entrance hall. The safest place, as the two knew, was right behind the columns. Quickly, they ducked behind a wide marble pillar. They were safe, yet they could see and hear everything.

Mr. Malfoy had put his wand back in his pocket. Eyes flashing, he reached into a hall closet.

"I was saving this to use on Draco," he screamed, "but I'll use it on you now!" He pulled the thing out.

It was a sniper rifle. Draco felt goose pimples rise on his arms. His father had planned to use it on him...that could've been bad. Of course, he had a feeling it was going to be bad now too, but it would've been worse for him.

Mr. Malfoy snapped off the safety and opened fire.

Mr. Weasley went down first. The bullet went through him to his son, but only grazed Percy's side. Mr. Weasley wouldn't survive, but by falling on Percy he saved him from greater harm than the bad wound he already had. Draco felt a huge wave of sympathy for the Weasleys, who were very nice (though he'd never been very nice to them) and extremely poor. Amber choked back a sob.

Amos Diggory, whose own son had been killed by Voldemort at the end of the last school year, after the Triwizard Tournament, went down next, followed by Perkins, Ludo Bagman, and many others. Wait a second--Ludo Bagman? Bagman was the Head of Magical Games and Sports--what was he doing here?

Draco couldn't stand it anymore. Out the window, he could see the Ministry task force coming to take control, but by the time they got there it would be way too late. Percy would be the only one left. (Actually, he was, but Draco didn't know that.)

Something clattered across the floor to Draco's feet. He picked it up. It was his father's six-shooter, fully loaded, safety off. Draco couldn't help it. He stood up and squeezed the trigger.

The gun fired, hitting his father in the shoulder. He dropped the rifle and fell, groaning, to the floor. There was silence, except for his father's groans. Draco dropped the gun. He couldn't believe what he'd just done.

Amber gave him a hug, and he understood. He'd done something good: he'd saved them. Who knows what his father would've done next? He just hoped the Ministry would see it that way.

The Ministry task force came in and stopped. "Oh--" said Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic. He never finished his sentence. What came next is anyone's guess, but Draco was willing to bet it wouldn't have been "Dearie me."

Draco and Amber came out from behind the column.

"What is going on here?" someone demanded.

Draco didn't answer just yet. He went over to where Mr. Weasley was and gently pulled him off of Percy. Draco helped Percy to sit up, groaning. Then he straightened up and faced the Ministry.

"They came for a routine raid," he said, gesturing around him at the chaos. "Dad didn't want them in the house. Everything's hidden under the drawing-room floor, by the way."

Weakly, Percy continued. "Mr. Malfoy showed up on the balcony with Draco. Threatened to kill him if we came in."

"Hostage situation?" gasped another member of the Ministry.

Percy nodded feebly.

"So what happened here?" asked a third person, gesturing around the room with a sweep of his arm.

"Dad mowed them down with a sniper rifle," replied Draco quietly. "Percy only got clipped in the side, but I think everyone else is dead. Those rifles pack quite a punch."

"And he committed suicide?" asked the first Ministry official, kneeling down to examine Mr. Malfoy.

Draco shook his head. "I did that," he stammered, even more quietly.

The Ministry stared at him. Amber spoke up, startling the Ministry--they hadn't known she was there.

"He had to do it. Otherwise he would've shot everyone again, and then he'd have come after us, and the handgun was right there, and it did everyone a favour. Draco didn't do anything wrong. Really." She looked up at him, bright blue eyes wet with unshed tears. "Please."

"Don't worry, child," soothed Fudge. "We're not going to do anything to your brother. If your father survives, he'll be the one in trouble. You may have just done everyone a favour."

Mr. Malfoy groaned as they picked him up and handcuffed him. Fudge surveyed the scene and sighed. "I'll send Retrieval for them," he said, nodding to the masses of dead bodies around the entrance hall. To Draco and Amber he said, "Take care of young Mr.--uh--Winterberry here. We'll be back." With that, the whole group disappeared.

Draco stared in disbelief at them, then turned to Percy. "Winterberry?"

"Mr. Crouch called me Wetherby," he said softly. "I guess that's all Fudge could remember my name being, and he couldn't quite place Wetherby."

"Wetherby?" demanded Amber.

"I assume he couldn't remember Weasley," shrugged Draco. He knelt down next to Percy. Got to keep him talking...keep him from losing consciousness. "How many brothers have you got, anyway?"

"Five," said Percy slowly. "Bill...and Charlie...and Fred and George...and you know Ron, of course...and then there's Ginny...but she's my sister."

"How old is she?" piped up Amber hopefully.

"Fourteen," said Percy, his speech slurred slightly.

Draco smiled at Amber, who was looking a little downcast. "And all of them have red hair?"

Percy nodded slowly, as though it hurt greatly. "Bill had blonde hair when he was little...I've seen pictures...but it went red as he got older. And Ginny's hair was jet black when she was born, but it all fell out when she was two months old...in early September." A small smile spread across his face. "It grew in this pale, firey orange...like fire...and it must've grown in quickly, because when we got a picture of our playgroup at the beginning of September, she had hair."

"Your playgroup?" queried Draco, puzzled.

"There were..." Percy paused, counting silently in his head. "Eight of us," he said finally. "We got together during the day at each other's houses, and we'd play together..." He smiled again at the memory. "The older kids would hang out together, then the younger kids, and of course the two babies would sit together."

"Who was in your playgroup?" asked Amber, interested.

"Well, there was me, of course," said Percy slowly, remembering. "I played with Cho Chang and Cedric Diggory...poor kid," he added quietly. "Then Ron would play with Harry Potter and a Muggle girl...what was her name? Hannah...no, Henna...no, it was Hermione. Yes, that was it. Hermione Granger, that was her name."

"Hermione Granger?" repeated Draco, flabbergasted. "Why, she's in my year!"

"Oh, yes, that's right," said Percy vaguely. "Well, Ginny hung out with another Muggle kid...something like Calvin...Carlos...Colin. Yes, that's it...Colin Creevey."

"He's in Gryffindor too, isn't he?" said Draco. "He's that kid that's always following Harry around, snapping his picture."

"Right," said Percy.

He was fading, Draco could see that. Where was that ****ing Ministry? "So, when is her birthday?"

"Let me think..." said Percy, glancing at the ceiling. "Well, Mum's birthday is January eighteenth...Dad's is Valentine's Day...Fred and George's is April seventeenth...Bill's is May first...Charlie's is June thirtieth...Ginny's is July fourth. I remember that...Charlie was nine at the time, and he was upset because he didn't get a birthday party."

"What about your birthday, and Ron's?" inquired Amber.

"August fourteenth," said Percy. "We have the same birthday..." He smiled at the memory, for the third time in as many moments. "I remember telling Dad, when he came home that day and told me that Ron had been born, that it was the best birthday present I'd ever been given."

Draco smiled too. He and Amber had the same birthday, and he'd said the same thing when his father had told him he had a sister. Still had the scar to prove it.

There was noise outside, and someone knocked on the door. "Amber, go get the door, please," said Draco. Amber scuttled off. He heard her voice. "Good afternoon. How may I help you?"

A voice that also sounded familiar was heard answering her. "I've been asked to tend to an injured person."

"Come right in," said Amber, turning back to the two boys. She ran over. "It's a lady to help you, Mr. Weasley," she announced.

"Call me Percy," Percy said weakly.

A woman rounded the corner after Amber. Draco jumped up in surprise. "Hello, Madame Pomfrey," he said.

"Hello, Mr. Malfoy," said Madame Pomfrey, barely sparing him a glance. She looked at Percy and sighed. "Oh, that's no big deal." She put something on his side and touched her wand to it. Percy winced, but Draco saw the hole in his side heal up almost instantly. As she was doing this, Retrieval was scooping up dead bodies for identification and Apparating with them. Madame Pomfrey took no notice of them.

"So what did that?" she asked, as she helped Percy stand up. "Sparks? Flipendo? Avada Kedavra?"

Percy looked at Draco. "What the heck was that?"

"A sniper rifle," replied Draco. "Very fast, very deadly. The barrel is grooved, and the bullet has ridges, so it spins when it comes out. It has the farthest shooting range of any gun ever. It was originally developed for war--" Draco stopped as he noticed that both Percy and Madame Pomfrey were staring at him. He sighed. "It's a metal stick that Muggles use to make a loud noise and send small, round objects into each other's chests. It's kind of a non-magic substitute for a wand."

"Oh," said Percy and Madame Pomfrey at the same time.

Madame Pomfrey bustled out to where a Portkey waited. Percy could Apparate, but he hesitated a minute before he left.

"Thanks, Draco," he said quietly. "Maybe I'll see you soon. And I'm sorry about your father."

"Don't be," Draco replied. "He was an abusive scumbag. But I'm really sorry about what he did to yours."

Percy nodded. "It's not your fault," he said. He gave each of the Malfoy children a hug, then wearily Apparated, presumably to go home.

Draco pulled two mops, a bucket, and a bottle of Mop-N-Glo. He filled the bucket with water and the cleaning solution, then handed one of the mops to Amber. Silently, without another word, the two began to mop the blood off of the floor of the entrance hall.