Morality

(3) Rapid Descent

Draco felt as if he had just rested his head on the pillow the moment Snape burst into his room, looking frazzled. His eyes snapped around the small room, before fixing squarely on Draco.

"Have you seen Pettigrew?" he asked hurriedly, his sneer replaced by a look of absolute fury.

"No, I haven't seen him since.." he paused, trying to sort through his sleep-muddled mind to remember. "Well, I guess since I cast a silencing charm on him before my mother and father came. I don't remember seeing him leave the room when I did. Actually, I don't remember seeing him when I was talking to them, or after they had left. Do you think maybe.." he fumbled for a possible explanation, but Severus had already spun on his heel, his cloak billowing behind him as he strode out and down the hall.

Draco stuck his head out the door, only to see the man stop at the end of the hall and shout, "Get dressed!" Following his instructions, Draco pulled on his clothes and jammed his wand into his pocket, cursing the rat of a man who had caused this mayhem.

He headed to the living room, where Snape stood, his mouth paused in an expression of malice. Draco couldn't help but feel slightly afraid as he watched Snape glance once more around the room. His eyes showed that whatever punishment that rodent received would be far worse than anything Draco could have conjured up.

"Before we leave," said Severus, his tone sharp, "I'm going to tell you what has happened and why this affects you. Pettigrew is gone. He has finally cracked and fled: from me, from the Dark Lord. I was set to watch him, and he tolerated it for a year. But now, the worst has occurred. He has gone to fulfill his life debt."

"But what does that--"

"Harry Potter. He owes his life to Harry Potter. And that is a magic far too great for your young mind to understand. But, too, you must realize that it is dangerous to us. He knows too much. You must also see that this will provide you the opportunity to redeem yourself in the eyes of the Death Eaters. The Dark Lord, being as cunning as he is, saw the likelihood of this situation to occur. So he prepared for it."

"And just how did he manage to do that?" asked Draco.

"You. He sent you to live with me, to help watch Pettigrew, because he knew that when Pettigrew ran, you could be sent into action. That is your new purpose, your new mission." Snape looked ominous.

"So I'm supposed to track...but, sir, that doesn't make any sense."

"No, you foolish boy, you are not meant to track him. You are supposed to catch him. And to do that, you must get to his destination. Meaning, Harry Potter. Dumbledore offered you protection from the Dark Lord, did he not? Well, you are to use that offer against him. Even in death, Dumbledore has proven himself to be useful to us. You are being sent to the Order, to seek their protection, from the Lord you swore your allegiance to. They will give this protection blindly, because even though they will distrust you, they will do what is right." Snape smiled a dark smile. "But, young Draco, what is right is not always what is good. You will go to the Order, and when Pettigrew arrives with his secondhand knowledge, begging Harry Potter to listen to him and pleading to repay his dept, you are to attack. Clever method or otherwise, it is your choice, but you must do it. One way or another, you are to bring Pettigrew back before he can get to Harry Potter. He has information that you cannot even begin to imagine and were that information to fall into the wrong hands, it could potentially bring down the Dark Lord. You are to stop this, at all costs. If it costs your life, you must give it, without a thought." He paused for breath, his mouth still curved in a malicious smile. "The Dark Lord has set you this task, because you are the only one who can do it. This is more specific than your last mission, as it is designed for you and you alone. This is not a mission of vengeance against your family; it is what you were born to do; our Lord knows this. He knows what you are capable of, if pushed to extremes. He also knows that you, when incited, will stop at nothing to bringing him one step closer to killing Harry Potter. Just as he knows his own hatred of the boy, he knows yours. And surely you can see why you, despite all past mishaps, have been chosen for this." Draco nodded slowly, trying to absorb this all. It was as if he was receiving a death sentence, but one that he was supposed to want. He did not want to die.

"That's why I haven't been called to explain to him yet, isn't it?" Draco asked, his mind putting together all the pieces. "Because you told him everything, and he knew just what to do with me."

"Exactly, but he knew that it would require your being here constantly to achieve it."

Draco walked to the sofa and sat. He needed some air. This was all so much -- too much. He could hardly stand the choked atmosphere that had entered the room. When he found himself able to speak, he tried again.

"How long do I have?" Snape looked at Draco, his eyes penetrating. Draco forced his eyes away.

"We leave tonight. You're going to stay at the Leaky Cauldron."

"I'm doing what?" Draco spluttered. "I would never stay there! That's a filthy hovel, that's what that is." The man glared at him.

"You have no idea of the plans yet, so I will disregard your comment. You see, the Weasleys own a business in Diagon Alley. Currently, their youngest daughter is staying there. Her parents will arrive in two days to take her home. You must meet with them, anyway you can. They will be the ones to offer you safety."

"Are you saying that I'm going to have to get cozy with the Weasleys?" Draco questioned, his eyes wide with surprise.

"Yes, though I feel you are oversimplifying. You see, as parents, they will feel it is their obligation to help any child they find. And, while you are officially of age, they will still house you."

Draco snorted. "They hate me as surely as Britain never wins a World Cup. How am I to be sure they won't hex me on sight?"

"Because the Dark Lord knows their kind, and they won't. You have been offered protection by their once-leader. They will honor that. Now, if we're finished here, and I do believe we are, I'll take you to the Leaky Cauldron."

Within an hour, Draco found himself in the aforementioned pub, sitting at a table and watching the barkeeper fetch him a drink. He handed the man a couple coins from the bag Severus had given him and took the drink. It was well after midnight, and Draco's table was the only one occupied. He found himself reviewing the details of the night's events in his head, going over each point individually. It seemed as if this was all too sudden, although it wasn't any quicker than it had been last time he'd been sent on a mission. If anything, it was far better planned out, yet the method of delivery was still nondescript. The barkeeper returned to his table, handing Draco a door key.

"You'll be staying in the first room down the hall," he said, gesturing. "If you need anything, just come in here and I'll take care of it. There are no other guests, so you should be quite undisturbed." Draco nodded silently, his eyes fixed on the bubbles bursting in his drink. The man took his silence as a cue to continue speaking. "Might I inquire as to the young master's business in Diagon Alley? We don't see many visitors anymore, unfortunately, what with all the uproar about safety. Not that I'm ungrateful to have a customer, of course."

"I'm only in town for a short while. A couple days at best."

"Ah, well that's a pity. I miss this place bustling like it used to. Do you have any bags or chests that you'd like me to carry to your room?" he asked, his eyes searching the boy for any sign of friendliness. Draco only shook his head. "If you need anything, then, you know where to find me." He returned to his post behind the bar and continued washing the cups, but Draco could feel his eyes still lingering. Unable to take the silence anymore, Draco headed to his room, and fell into a deep sleep.

In his dreams, he saw a dark figure looming above him; the Dark Lord's voice seeping from behind a closed door. And then Wormtail running through a forest, looking panicked. It was nearly noon when Draco awoke. He fumbled for his wand to light the room, which was pitch black with the curtains closed. His eyes darted around the room as he struggled to remember where he was. In a few seconds, his panic subsided, and he could breathe easily again. Those few moments uncertainty were nothing but stress-induced worries.

Sitting up in bed, Draco leaned back against the headboard, his heartbeat still quick, but subsiding. He had a day. One day, until it would be time for him to begin his rapid descent into unfamiliar territory. Never would he have thought he would have to ask the Weasleys for help, but times had changed. That was something he realized he would have to get used to -- or he would end up dead. Adaptation was the word.

He climbed out of bed slowly. The rough stone floor against his feet was cold. Thinking back, Draco retraced his steps and found his shoes. Then he headed out into the pub, where Tom the barkeeper stood, looking useless. His aged face twisted into a grin when he saw the boy, and he hurried to his side.

"Does the young master need anything this afternoon?"

"Not now, thank you. Maybe later." Draco headed out into the alley behind The Leaky Cauldron, and was immediately assaulted with the vision of a completely deserted street, where there should have been a hundred people or more shopping and eating ice cream and laughing. "Times have changed," he muttered to himself and this was just one more reminder of that fact.

Jamming his hands into his pockets, Draco meandered around, feeling quite as if he had no purpose at all. Flourish and Blotts was closed today, he noticed. Much like every other store, to be honest. Madam Malkin was absent from her shop, as well. He mentally ticked off all the shopkeepers' names and their respective stores, realizing that the Dark Lord had a wide reach, even without doing much at all. Minus the several killings scattered throughout Britain, the Death Eaters and their Lord still remained relatively quiet.

Up ahead, a bright-haired girl sat outside a shop, her face mirroring what he was feeling. A Weasley, he thought hollowly. She was staring absently at the cobblestone street, her arms around her knees. Too young for all of this, and yet not a year younger than himself. But he felt nothing for her but a deadened resentment. Her family, bloodtraitors of several generations, did nothing for the wizarding community. They merely spoiled the good name of purebloods. As if anyone could even call them that, from the way they consorted with half-breeds and mudbloods, Draco thought viciously. Somewhere on the family tree that hung in his manor, there should have been a distant connection to the Weasleys, but their entire lot had been blasted off ages ago.

He paused, choosing to sit on a bench and watch the girl for a while more. If she continued staring at the pavement as she was currently, the Weasley brat would not see him. Draco watched as she tilted her head, still watching the stone as if it would eventually reveal something important. Apparently unsatisfied with this, she stood, starting to make her way back into the shop. As she turned, her eyes caught him and her face quickly transformed into an expression of shock. And anger, he realized as she glared at him before running inside. It was a good time to leave, he decided quickly. Draco stood, turning to go, but just as he did, two voices called out to him.

"Malfoy!" Shoulders sagging, he faced them. The Weasley twins, and the girl, Ginny, stared at him, their faces all reflecting a deep hatred for him.

"What the hell are you doing, showing your face in public?" Draco started to open his mouth, but they continued.

"You're not going to get away with what you did, you know. You might as well just surrender yourself now, because there is no where for you to run that you won't be found," one of the twins shouted. They all had their wands directed at him. Draco held out his hands, palm up. His wand was in his back pocket, but he doubted they could see it.

"You don't understand," he murmured, stepping forward. He kept his hands extended: a gesture of innocence that was as purely untrue as the night was black.

"Of course we bloody understand! You're evil, and you betrayed your school. And for what? So you could be You-Know-Who's little lapdog? You're disgusting, Malfoy. I used to think you were just a git, but now, everyone knows the truth. You're nothing but a purebred scumbag." Gritting his teeth, he took the insults without flinching. Then he cast off his pride as best as he could.

"I swear to you, I know that it was wrong. It was terrible, what I did. And I need.."

"Shut up, Malfoy. This isn't about you. This is about Dumbledore and all the people that got hurt from your stupid Death Eater friends. I bet You-Know-Who was pretty pleased with you, getting all his minions inside the school, wasn't he?"

"No, actually, I've been cast out of their circle. But now," Draco said, letting his voice crack dramatically. "Now they want me dead. I need you to -- I know, you have protections. The Order--" He broke off, hearing voices behind him.

"Oy, over here, Remus!" called a twin. Draco felt his wand disappear from his pocket.

Behind him, a voice said, "Mister Malfoy, if you would please come with me." He felt hands wrapping around his upper arms as he was steered into the Weasley shop. He was pulled into a back room, shoved into a seat and bound to it. Hostage it was, then. He recognized the man, a previous professor of his, as Lupin, the werewolf.

"Do you have a story to tell?" he asked, his eyes showing distaste.

"You must believe me -- I didn't...I had to! The Dark Lord forced me into his service, saying it was a family debt. I didn't want to do it. I couldn't resist him, he's too powerful. But I never thought he would make me...I couldn't do it! There was no way; I was never that strong. He made me work for him, and I, I.." Draco broke off and let his chin sink forward onto his chest. He felt Lupin watching him, and wondered if he was playing his part well enough. "Snape killed Dumbledore because I couldn't do it. I wouldn't. It was too much, and I didn't want to. Never. I wouldn't. And Dumbledore said, he said that if I needed protection, I could go to them, to you, and I could have it. He said that he could protect me from them. They want to kill me for what I've done. And I just want to run. I thought that if I did it, he would let me go from his service but...it burns. He won't let me go. So I ran. And now, now I don't have anywhere to turn. I had to come to you, to the Order." The words spilled out in a rush, and he raised his eyes to the man's face. Lupin watched him; Draco could tell that he was having many misgivings.

"Yes. It is known that Snape killed Dumbledore. However, it was you who let the Death Eaters into the castle. And I knew, of course, that Dumbledore would offer protection to you."

"Please, please, you must. I can't keep living like this. They are looking for me. I know too much to be let go."

"That may very well be, but you must prove yourself to the other members of the Order before any decision is made." Lupin looked at him for a few moments before speaking again. "Were it not for the fact that Dumbledore offered you protection, I would gladly turn you over to the Death Eaters and let them have their way with you."

"I know. I understand."

"You should." Lupin's eyes snapped up to the doorway. "Ginny, might it be a good idea for you to go upstairs? You know, when your mother arrives, she might be very displeased that you--"

"I won't go upstairs, thank you very much," Draco heard her say defiantly. "Especially not with this traitor sitting here." Suppressing a smirk, he instead furrowed his brow, trying to look repentant. This was a new facial expression for him, so it took him a few tries before he felt it was right. Finally, he chanced a few words.

"I'm sorry for all the pain I've caused."

"Yes, I'm sure you are," the girl said caustically. "I'm also sure that you're a Death Eater who almost got twenty people killed and managed to get Dumbledore killed, so you seem to have caused plenty of pain, that's true."

She turned to go but as she did, he said, "And I'm sorry for what my father did, for him giving you that thing. That book. The one that was his." Her gasp was audible and satisfying. "But he got what he deserved," Draco finished. He heard her footsteps as she walked out of the room, and then receding up the stairs, before he again found Lupin's gaze directed at him.

"Perhaps," the man mused. "Perhaps."