Know That I Can't

Know That I Can't

Chapter Eight

By Michelle Malfoy

Angel's POV

I stumbled upwards at the sound of my father's voice; my eyes flickered open and met silver-gray ones identical to my own. Much to my dismay, however, those eyes were unfocused - like a drunkard - an expression that I couldn't remember having ever seen in those warm, loving eyes that I had come to associate with my father. As I blinked back to consciousness, I recognized my spectator as my dear grandfather, Lucius. A smirk slowly formed on his face, and I knew that whatever he planned to do would be extremely detrimental to my health and well-being.

Sure enough, what he pulled out of his pocket was an ink-black wand: it was shiny and smooth, not splintering against his fingers like Jenn's but not bright and glittering like Sam's. It foreshadowed hatred, cruelty, and most of all, danger. Carefully I tried to snatch it, unnoticed, from his grip, and he did indeed let go of the wand, but... his hand clamped tightly around my wrist. My heart rate sped up and fought desperately for his release, but to no avail. "Please, get off me," I pleaded.

"No," he sneered, and it was as though the word contained a world full of hatred. He had no need to really respond, though; I'd never thought he'd let me go, even when I first felt the soaring sensation of the Portkey dragging me into this accursed place.

"Bastard," I spat, and a moment later I found my head thrown roughly onto the ground, his hand wrapped all-too-tightly around my neck, and he whispered to me to clean up the sprayed mess on his shoes. "How?" I demanded, but he ignored me. Eventually I settled for wiping the mess on his sock, but he didn't appreciate that, because his hand tightened, cutting off my air supply, until -

"Let her go." I couldn't bring myself to believe it, but I recognized the voice.

Not Daddy's. Not Harry's, or any of the voices I'd expected to hear upon my rescue.

No. It was Ven.

I let out all my breath in a gasp as he approached Lucius. "Next time you get drunk," he drawled, "try letting out your anger on a muggle or Mudblood. Not our little princess here." He pried Lucius's hands off of my neck. "Next time you do it, I'm reporting it to our Lord, and then we'll see what he has to say about that."

Never before had I felt so confused.

***

Still Angel's POV

Why did he do that... what could he possibly have gained for sticking up for me... why did he act so authoritative... Questions raced through my mind, and I couldn't for the life of me figure out which one to ask first. I hoped, all too fiercely, that Ven would never return, that he would somehow transfer to the side of Light and the next time I'd see him would be in battle, looking down gleefully at Lucius's corpse, giving it violent kicks at random intervals.

Just then, though, the door banged open and in stepped...

Ven.

The last person I wanted to see.

"Malfoy." He spat the name as though it were a fast-acting poison recently administered to his best friend. Considering that his name meant poison, though, I suspected that the above stated simile couldn't quite explain the exact way he spoke my name. For some weird reason, it hurt me that he didn't care about my feelings. And I don't mean in the way that you get pissed when some stranger calls you by your last name. I mean the way it feels when your boyfriend calls you by your last name.

Not that I had any experience in the romance department, the way Katharine and Ven undoubtedly had. But I knew that without my mother, my father was utterly miserable, and somehow when Ven drew backwards away from my ear, I felt a feeling of emptiness. Then I cleared my head. This was the boy who had seduced me, tricked me, lied to me... and he was about to do it again.

"Get away from me," I hissed, shoving him away. But somehow I knew that if I could trust any of these motherfuckers, Ven would certainly be him. He was my age, and he'd battled Lucius for me... but was that out of concern or sheer fear of Voldemort's wrath?

"No, prisoner, I don't think I will," he decided, flopping down onto my bed. I edged away, and he let out a snicker. "We may Crucio you, Malfoy, but don't worry - we're not rapists. Unlike your father."

"Wh-wh-what?"

"You didn't know?" he asked gleefully. "You honestly didn't know?"

"Know what?"

"Ah, that's right. You can't know. Your father raped your mother, Angel. And you're just like him. Or, you're going to be. All his lies about kindness and good intentions? There's lies. Complete, utter pieces of fucking bullshit. He's planning on Legillimencing you, making you just like him. He hates his father, and the Dark Lord - but only because they're competition. Don't get me wrong, Angel. He isn't evil - just twisted."

I refused to believe this until a decisive hand backhanded me across the face. Stinging tears of pain dripped from my eyes, but Ven showed no mercy or pity - only loathing and greed. He wanted to see me suffer, and most of all he wanted to be honored by his Lord. "Alchohol again, Acerbus?" I sneered, refusing to let him see my pain, but another sharp slap quieted me.

"On your knees, Malfoy."

I did as he said, not wanting to be slapped again. Of all the things I'd see in my life - tears, laughter, half-smiles - I'd never, ever been hit before. Not by anyone. "Good," he sneered. "Now put your hands palm-down on the ground, then lower your head to rest between them."

Sniffling, I did so, eyes stinging with mortification. Just when I began to wonder why he wanted me in this position, the door swung gracefully open and in stepped The Bastard and his Master. (Lucius and Voldemort.) Voldemort looked me over approvingly, as he had done before, and turned to Ven. "You harmed her, Acerbus?"

"Yes, my Lord," he murmured, kneeling briefly and standing up quickly afterwards. "But only for lack of cooperation, you see. She refused to cooperate with me." It struck me as odd how he seemed to manage fabricating the truth to his whims while sneering so very cruelly at me.

"I see," the Dark Lord mused. "However, Venenum, I fear that you may severely harm her, in which case you will be fully responsible for her complete healing. Including mentally," he added. Well, Voldie. Nice to know you care about my mind remaining as intact as well as everything else.

Ven slapped me again, for no real reason as far as I could tell. Lucius and Voldemort stayed still, and neither made any motion to stop him. "Angel," the Dark Lord taunted, "your father is on his way. Did you know that? Did you know he plans to defeat us all for you, sweetheart?"

Something about hearing my father's pet name for me increased my rapidly mounting fury and caused me to lift up my chin defiantly and spit in his face. Like the intoxicated Lucius I'd come in contact with hours earlier, he didn't appreciate this in the least. He snapped his fingers, and Ven kicked me onto my back, placed one foot on my chest, and directed his wand right at my face.

"What'cha going to do, Acerbus?"

He didn't answer me. All he said was "Crucio."

It was complete pain, nearly the exact amount of pain I'd felt when Lucius first cast it on me. I rolled side to side on the ground, howling in agony, not caring at all whether my screams caused me to be mute for the remainder of my life, not caring if I deafened Ven, who, while untrustable, was admittedly my only hope out of this place.

Aside from Dad, who, for all I know, was already dead. Up with mum, like he'd always wanted to be. With Ginevra Molly Weasley, the apple of his eye, the person he'd always wanted to spend the rest of his life with. My mother. His girlfriend, then fiancée, and then finally, wife and lover. So now he was up above with his darling angel. Angel. Angel. Angel. Angel. Angel.

"ANGEL!" I looked up and saw cold red eyes glaring at me. Voldemort. "Get up, girl," he snarled. "Follow Venenum."

Ven beckoned to me to follow and, with a sweep of that silver-blond hair identical to my father's and grandfather's, he was gone, down the corridor. Lucius shoved me forwards onto my stomach, for I had formerly been on my knees at Ven's wishes, and I hurriedly went to follow the boy I'd once trusted.

It was about a week ago, yes, but it seemed like a lifetime.

***

Draco's POV

Oh, where is Angel?

I know where she is, yes, but my memories of the place are vague. That's one of those charms Father's always had on the second Manor: the Memoir charm, scrambling people's memories pertaining to the object or person on whom the spell was cast. Brilliant, yes, and had it not been my father's charm, used against my daughter and me, I would certainly honor the originator of it. However, my thoughts were far from respecting my father at the moment.

Now I needed to find my daughter.

Carefully, I reached for a piece of parchment, scrawled Harry: Get the hell over here ASAP and roughly shoved it into my owl's talons. Throwing it out the window, I sighed and formed that delicate picture of Ginny once more in my mind, recalling a certain incident in which I made a huge mistake.

Flashback: A year after Angel's birth, No POV

Draco met Ginny's eyes, imagining the gaze that she might survey him with had she known the real things that had taken place in her life regarding Draco prior to that Memory Charm. He remembered hatred, oh, yes, and one might even go so far as to call it loathing. But unlike the criminals who excelled in the "art" of deception, he had done it as a so-called 'crime of passion,' and had certainly fought his conscience. He planned to tell her tonight, and prepared to see her face shatter, to see her dive for Angel, protecting her...

"Ginny? Can I speak to you for a moment?"

It was one of their little jokes. Never had he considered that his beloved would deny him her time, and nor had she thought that Draco might refuse her any time of his. Without saying a word - she didn't need to, of course - Ginny followed Draco into their bedroom, Angel rocking back and forth in her father's arms.

"What I'm going to tell you may make you scream," he warned her, and planted a kiss on Angel's delicate, as-of-yet-unmarked forehead. "You may hate me, and I understand perfectly. You may want to abandon me, and I shall not complain. I love you with all my heart, Ginny. I love Angel as well. Are you prepared to hear what I have to say and still love me?"

"Of course," she whispered, pulling her cardigan tightly around her shoulders. A sharp gust of wind had infiltrated the room, and Draco hastened to add a blanket to Angel's covering. Ginny raised an eyebrow at her husband's actions, but decided that considering his miserable manner and obvious bitterness at having to say whatever it was he felt he needed to confess, this was not quite as strange as it might have been.

"Ginny..." Draco whispered, "Do you remember anything about me - before the Memory Charm?" His voice was strained, and he was absently twirling a strand of Angel's scarlet hair around his fingers, biting his lip.

"N-no," Ginny replied, shivering from the bitter February cold.

"Ginny," he said, "I've always loved you. I've done horrible things to you, all before the Charm, and out of g-guilt, I O-Obliviated you." He stumbled out of his seat and knelt at his wife's feet. "Please, Ginny, please forgive me. I never meant to hurt you, and I-I-I love you. I really do." His eyes darkened, and then fear struck him. "B-but please! I'll do anything, just stay with me! I'll call your brothers by their first names, I'll give you another child... I'll do anything! I'll even be your slave if you'll still love - or even act like you love me!"

Ginny's tone was cool, unemotional. "What did you do to me, Draco?"

"P-p-please, Ginny," he begged, kissing her feet as he had seen his father do to Voldemort. "D-d-don't..."

"You owe me that much, Draco Malfoy."

"I-I-I r-raped you," he whispered, nearly inaudible. "And before that, we'd hated each other. Always had. B-b-but, Ginny, I l-love" -

"You raped me?!?! Draco Malfoy, how could you possibly have raped me? You're the most sweet and loving person in the world... but... oh."

"Yes. It was hard work, the façade after all that hatred, but I knew I loved you and I had to do it. Please, Ginny, would you still love me?"

She pulled him forward, her lips brushing across his in a passionate kiss. "I love you, Draco, and you never cease to surprise me," she whispered.

"Even after I did that to you?"

"Draco," she said, laughing, "you gave me this wonderful daughter, this terrific job, and this beautiful life."

"You should hate me."

"Hate you?" she laughed. "I could never hate you.*"

"Oh, Ginny," Draco whispered, hugging her tightly. "I promise I will never leave you."

"Or Angel?"

"Or Angel."

"I love you," she whispered, but Draco knew, deep down, that something was not right.

She didn't understand what he'd done to her. The Memory Charm was not to be lifted, and she couldn't possibly know how much of a crime he'd commited to her. She'd never know, and he didn't know - or want - to tell her. So, sighing, he allowed her to pull his shirt over his head, tumbling towards their king-size bed.

End Flashback: Draco's POV

And thus was the reason that I knew I had to always watch over my daughter. So as my owl came speeding back into the room with Harry's reply, I opened it unhesitatingly.

I never imagined what lay inside.