Metamorphome

Chapter Seventeen: Draco's Story

Morrigan brewed the potion for a month. She experimented frequently, which meant that she had to restart quite a lot. As a result, she created several cauldrons of the same potion, tweaking each pot differently. If one ingredient seemed to work well, she used it in every potion. If she didn't, she dumped that potion and made another cauldronfull. She found that some regular remedial ingredients were stronger than others, and those were the ones that she was consistent in. It was difficult testing the potion, and she often checked it for poison. Sometimes the ingredients would combine to create a highly toxic substance, and once more, she had to begin again.

It was a long, difficult task, and sometimes she hated it. It never seemed to go forward, simply in circles. Other times she liked it, much the same as when some people like Algebra. There was a hidden variable, always constant, and if you changed one part of a potion, you had to change the other parts. Everything had to be equally distributed, or else the potion wouldn't work.

Finally, Morrigan began to understand which ingredients were working consistently, and why. She finally came out with a result that she was somewhat happy with. Although not terribly original, since she'd more or less combined two or three potions to get the result, she was confident that this could help, even though curing was rather out of the question.

Excitedly, she bottled it, brushed her hair into a ponytail, pulled on her cloak, and Apparated to the alley behind the Ministry of Magic's aboveground counterpart. Glad no one was around, she walked smartly around the building and into the telephone booth. She stated her name and business, and was dropped into the underground.

She was relieved to get off the lift--she hated those blasted things. Quickly she found Shacklebolt, who checked the potion for poison, proclaimed it satisfactory, and signed a slip proclaiming it safe.

When she finally arrived at St. Mungo's, Morrigan's excitement had built incrementally. She headed up to the Supply Office, was checked off by a Healer, and hurried to the Janus Thickey ward. She ignored Lockhart's greeting, moved past a gaunt woman whose Healer was trying desperately to get bubblegum out of her hair ("Stop fidgeting, Alice!), and finally...stopped short.

Draco was sitting in the chair by Lucius, leaning forward and helping the man eat his breakfast as a father feeding his son--only Draco was supposed to be Lucius' son.

Morrigan didn't know what to do. Should she try some other time? Should she give him the potion now?

Morrigan bristled at her weakness. Draco was just a person she knew, and his father needed this potion. The longer she waited, the more likely the strength of the potion would wane. Most potions lost potency over a long time, but with the ingredients that Morrigan had used, she should administer the potion immediately.

She braced herself, closed her eyes, covered her face with her mask, and strode forward to the end of the bed.

"Malfoy," she said curtly, nodding at Draco, who looked up, startled.

"Morrigan! What are you doing here?" he asked, his tones surprised, with a hint of frosty suspicion.

"I've been charged to make a potion for your father and administer it," she informed him icily.

Draco's expression was as blank as her own. "Why?"

"The Healers think that a bit of stronger remedial potion, he can get better."

"He's beyond cure. Surely you know that," Draco told her sharply.

Morrigan took in a breath. She'd barely been breathing. "I really must insist. This is my job, and I have to do it."

"You're a Healer?" Draco inquired skeptically.

"No," Morrigan said tightly. "I'm brewing antidotes, lackwit."

They glared at each other for a long, tense moment, when finally Lucius broke the silence by knocking his tray on the ground, spilling everything. Morrigan forgot herself and rushed forward to help. Draco's expression forced her backwards. So he really does hate me, Morrigan thought.

In fact, Draco was angry with her, but he was more so at himself. He wanted so desperately to blame her for taking Hermione's kiss out of proportion. After all, she couldn't dictate whom he kissed and whom he didn't. Still, he had let her walk away; he had closed the deal of their relationship. Even more, he'd broken his promise, and for hurting Morrigan like that, he could blame only himself.

"I'm sorry," he sighed. "I really do trust you. Go ahead, administer the potion."

Morrigan sat on the bed next to Lucius, and he stared at her nervously. Some part of him knew that he should be scared of her. She was familiar. Something about her...she almost reminded him of a woman who had hurt him a while ago. Of course, this woman had been Bellatrix, not Morrigan, but she still had black hair, with large eyes, and with that similar dark beauty.

Morrigan opened the vial and said, "Mr. Malfoy, I need you to drink this."

Lucius didn't seem to understand her.

"Dad," Draco said quietly, "Morrigan needs to give you something. Here," he said to Morrigan, holding out his hand, "Let me see it."

Morrigan handed him the vial, knowing full well that Lucius would be more likely to let Draco do it.

Draco held out the vial, and pressed the tip to Lucius' mouth. Happily, the man drank the whole thing. Morrigan watched in bright anticipation, hoping something would happen. Lucius' eyes dilated and his face flushed, but nothing seemed to happen. In fact, after a moment, he turned back to the bedside table, took the crayons that were lying there, and began doodling again.

"I'm sorry, Draco," Morrigan said, "I tried to--"

"Draco?" Lucius piped up, furrowing his brow. "Draco, Draco, Draco..." he muttered, then turned to Draco himself. "Draco," he said, pointing at his son's chest.

Morrigan could feel tears coming to her eyes. "Yes, that's Draco."

"Draco's my son," Lucius said happily, then resumed coloring.

Draco looked up at Morrigan with surprised, but thankful, eyes. "Thank you," he said quietly. "That's the first time he's ever recognized me."

"Narcissa is going to join us, Draco," Lucius said, his face still toward his fingers and the surface of the table. "We will go to the Parkinson's for brunch. How do you like that?"

Draco didn't say anything. He couldn't tell if this strange belief that things were as they had been when Draco was ten was good for Lucius, or horribly worse. Anything close to the real Father is good, he decided firmly.

"Where is Narcissa, Draco?" Lucius said, turning to Draco.

"She's gone, Father," Draco croaked.

"Don't be stupid, Draco. She's not gone. She had tea with Madonna, today," he said, referring to Madonna Rookwood.

"I'm sorry, that was a long time ago, Father," Draco said firmly.

Lucius looked up sharply. "What do you keep calling me father?" he asked Draco. "I'm not your father. My real son is coming to get me soon, and then we're going to the Parkinson's for lunch. Who are you?"

Draco sighed and Morrigan felt horrible. The potion, however strong, would never be strong enough to bring the real Lucius Malfoy. Even worse, a small part of Morrigan thought that this was perhaps for the best. If the former Death Eater, proud Pureblood, saw Draco as an Order-member and traitor against Voldemort, he would certainly throw a fit, and Lucius wouldn't be insane to Draco--Draco would be dead to Lucius. Morrigan shuddered to think of how Lucius would react to Draco snogging Hermione. No doubt Lucius would personally kill Draco.

"I'm sorry, Draco," Morrigan said, putting her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. She was in no disposition to hate Draco anymore. It took too much effort.

"You did your best, Morrigan," he said, trying to put on a brave smile. "That's the very best anyone can say. You're the first person that even tried anything."

"Well, don't give up just yet. I'll keep feeding him the potion, and meanwhile I'll hopefully be able to figure out a stronger one. I bet it's possible--"

"Morrigan, no potion is going to save my father. He's locked in his mind because he wanted to be. You of all people should understand how it works."

Morrigan nodded, But still, she thought, I have to try. Draco really does need it--to know that I'm trying my hardest to get his father back to him in working order, that anyone is trying at all.

Draco shook his head and leaned back. "He'd be so ashamed of me," he thought aloud.

Morrigan looked up at him. "For what?"

"For everything," Draco sighed. "I'm too weak for him."

"Obviously you're a right bit stronger than him," Morrigan said sharply. Draco's eyes flickered angrily. "Sorry," she remedied, "but you've done nothing wrong."

"What he wanted and what was right were two very different things, you're right," Draco agreed. "But still, all children want to know that they're living up to their parents' standards."

"I think my parents would be jolly bothered if they saw me now," Morrigan said cheerfully.

Draco snickered, but said nothing. "Draco, what happened to you?" Morrigan asked. "You were a Death Eater, too, but you changed. Why?"

Draco hesitated. He'd never really told anyone his "story" before, mostly because no one had seemed interested enough to inquire--a formidable task which required a fair amount of intrigue

With an inward shrug, Draco said, "It mostly started with Dumbledore. There are quite a few things that Dumbledore had over Voldemort. For one, you had to validly earn his trust. A five-minute torture session or disposing of a loved one is considered barbaric among Dumbledore's folk.

"He was right there, when I tried to kill him. He was so weak, I could have punched him in the nose and he would have died immediately. But he started to taunt me, to stall. He began to speak of protection and helping my family, when I realized that if this situation was placed before Voldemort, he would be speaking of disposal and punishment. Honestly, the more appetizing route seemed to be Dumbledore's.

"After he died, and we retreated, things were so chaotic, and Dumbledore's words were ringing in my ears. 'Imagine,' I thought, 'A master I don't fear--myself.' This was so much on my mind, I barely made it onto the grounds without being cursed. While everyone else Apparated from Hogwarts to Parselart, I Apparated to London, immediately running to Diagon Alley, my mind on hiding. Instead of entering the Leaky Cauldron, though, I decided to go to the Ministry and tell them everything. The only person present at the time was Arthur Weasley."

"Ron's father."

"Yes," Draco affirmed. "They're quite a close family, the Weasleys," he mused randomly, and Morrigan raised a delicate eyebrow at him. Draco went on. "I confessed everything, explaining what Dumbledore had said to me, and that I didn't kill him. I didn't mention that I hadn't been able to kill him out of spineless inhibition. I simply allowed him to believe that I was meaning to help him. Weasley, of course, took me straight to the Order and locked me in, wandless."

"You took that risk out of pure faith that they would believe you?" Morrigan asked him skeptically, putting her face in her hands, her elbows resting on her knees.

"Yes," Draco affirmed, as if trying to reassure himself.

"Ah. Go on."

"After Dumbledore's funeral, the Order came back to Headquarters, and immediately they questioned me furiously, getting every detail they could. I was so overdosed on Truth Serum, they almost had to call a Healer. Hermione stepped in, telling them they were bordering on inhumane treatment." He shook his head, thinking about Hermione's angry defense over his shaking body. He could still see her finger pointing down at him, her face pale in fury. He had never felt closer to another human being in his entire life--and not necessarily an endearing close, but more like a claustrophobic closeness that threatened to suffocate him. His mind had slid fuzzily from her enraged words to her livid face, until finally he had collapsed into an unconscious shock. Hermione had healed him efficiently, much to the surprise of the interrogators (Moody and the now-dead Gregori Peterson). Indebted to her, Draco had never been more spiteful of her then than he'd ever had.

Lucius turned and stared at Morrigan, then touched her hair. She smiled at him, but pulled his sticky fingers from her hair, placing them firmly in his lap. Bored, Lucius began coloring again.

"She healed me, and then after more questioning, I was allowed to go. Instead of leaving, though, I requested to join the Order. There was a lot of debate, until finally, on the grounds that this was probably what Dumbledore had wanted, they let me into the Order and asked me to spy on Voldemort, giving me just enough information to return."

Morrigan shifted in her seat, her nose wrinkled. "Go on," she urged him.

"Well, you know the rest," Draco said dourly. "I came back, gave Voldemort the information and told him that I had left to make amends for my weakness. He accepted the excuse and allowed me to live. My mother, however, was killed and my father tortured to insanity. You, of course, remember this."

Morrigan nodded sympathetically. She had heard about it.

"Anyway, you know the rest."

"So, that's the traitor's story," Morrigan said bemusedly, biting her lip and shaking her head piteously. "I really am sorry. I don't understand how all that made you change, though."

"You already know why," Draco replied stiffly.

"Well, my transformation...it was so much more difficult. Yours was just a quick adjustment to the right side. You hadn't proved that you'd changed."

Draco sighed. "I had to change. I forced myself to do it, because I'd never have lasted long in the organization. And how would I have gone back to them if I still believed what Voldemort said?"

Morrigan flinched.

"You know, you can say his name."

"I'm not that brave," she snorted, and changed back to the original subject. "I don't think I can ever be that brave, or devoted to anything, as to change my views for some organization."

"You did, though."

"No, I didn't. I changed my views because you had convincing arguments that yours were right."

"Hm..." Draco said, gazing at his father. They're never coming back, he wondered with a start. Never--oh God, what have I done? I can only hate myself...

"Best not dwell on that," Morrigan told him kindly, and he realized with a start that he had said that out loud.

"I think it's a good idea to have it memorized, don't you?" Draco shot at her. Morrigan flinched.

"It doesn't help you move on, though, Draco. You can't hate yourself, so please don't." She tried to keep her voice warm, despite the fact that his words were cool.

"Because you know so much about it. Of course, I wouldn't forgive my parents, either, if one died on me, the other made me endure torture, and the other beat me. It seems it didn't do the trick, though, did it?" This time, his words were aimed with careless malice, and Morrigan sat back in shock. What had she done? Taking this as her cue to leave, she stood, then turned and walked out of the ward. Draco gave his father a hasty hug, and followed her out the door just as fast as he could.

She was going quickly down the hall. "Morrigan, wait," he called, and she stopped without turning around. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--"

"Yes, you don't know what you're saying," she said in a cool voice, finally faced him, and bridged the gap between them. "It wasn't enough that I'd ignored the past few months, trying to be kind, pretended that those months didn't exist. But it wasn't enough. It's amazing--you really do hate me."

"Hate you?" Draco asked incredulously. "How could I hate you?"

"It seems that you know the perfect way to hurt me, to shoot me down," she growled. "You make promises you can't keep, you reject me, you criticize things that I've tried to change, and I'm just kind of here, standing in the shadow of you and Hermione, and I'm wondering, now what? Am I supposed to get new friends, am I supposed to not have friends?"

"Of course not, I'm your friend," Draco said, shocked.

"Yeah, and you've been so friendly the past few months," Morrigan returned coolly. "Last I checked, your promise was pretty much friendship."

"Don't be ridiculous, I haven't broken a promise," Draco protested hotly, but Morrigan cut him off.

"Yeah? Where were you? Were you holding my hand when I most needed you? No, you were sulking. You didn't know what to say to me, so you pretended I wasn't there."

"I knew you were there," Draco grumbled.

"Oh, so you told yourself that I didn't want you to talk to me, then," Morrigan laughed humorlessly.

"Well, you walked away from me," he said sheepishly.

"Ohhhhhh!" she groaned loudly. "You're so daft. You were spewing your words of wisdom, and all the while, it didn't mean shit." She grabbed his hand, held it up to his face, and dropped it, lifeless. "This didn't mean shit." She shoved him. "That didn't mean shit. It's all shit. Everything you told me--utter shite. So, what is it, Draco, what is your real policy?"

"What are you talking about, you madwoman!" Draco shouted back at her, pushing her, too. "I tried! Every time someone really wants to talk to you, you close them off! You didn't want me to get the answer out of you that night. You just wanted someone to come and comfort you, to say, 'There, there, Morrigan, it's all right, you're not a jealous bitch at all.'"

"I wanted you to earn it!" she yelled at him. "You can't just say, 'What's wrong?' and expect me to immediately spill my guts, Malfoy. You have to make me want to tell you! I mean, why should I just tell you when you don't want to know too terribly? I mean, if you really cared, you would have followed me, made sure that I really was okay!"

"Oh yeah? You didn't exactly tell me where you were going."

"Gee, Draco, maybe I went home? Wouldn't that be the obvious answer? And if I wasn't there, then I really didn't want you to follow. Honestly, you think you're clever, and so fabulously wise, but you're nothing when it comes to relationships."

"You're right," he hissed at her. "Which is why I didn't like you or Granger in the first place."

"Well, you don't have any problem sticking your tongue in her mouth!"

"Why do you care where I put my mouth?" he asked her coolly, leaning back and crossing his arms.

Morrigan sputtered incoherently before she spit out, "I don't, besides it makes it uneven," she lied. It sounded true enough. "If you and Hermione start seeing each other, then our circle will be weighed toward you two. Where will that leave me?"

"I don't know, but things happen, Morrigan, and you just have to deal."

"Why?" she demanded. "Why should I deal with the break of the circle, my only friends?"

"Because Hermione and I have other friends," he snapped, regretting it instantly.

Morrigan's face went slack, but suddenly she replied, every bit as nasty, "No, correction, Hermione has other friends. Harry and Ron hate you every bit as, or more than, they hate me. In fact, I daresay they've taken a liking to me."

"You're insufferable!" Draco bellowed, no longer feeling guilty.

"You're an ass!" she shouted back.

A Healer came out of the ward beside them and snapped in hush tones, "Be quiet, will you, or I'll kick you out of the hospital!"

Both of them stared at her angrily, so she backed into the ward.

"I wish you didn't want me to hate you so," Morrigan whispered, looking down at her feet.

"I don't want you to hate me, Morrigan," Draco sighed, lifting her chin to look at her.

"Then what is it you want, Draco?" Morrigan asked tiredly. "I can't ever make you completely satisfied with me, and that's all I wanted to do in the first place." She gave him one last glance, then spun away from him, down the hall, turning at the stairs for a hasty retreat.

Morrigan could feel her shoulders crumple as she went out of sight. She didn't want to break down here, in public. It was mortifying. She tried not to think about the circumstances with which she was leaving. He entreated her with every action to despise him, but she honestly couldn't bring herself to do it. She wanted to care for him, to be friends with him, but she didn't know if it was possible when he so obviously loved Hermione.

Draco watched her leave with such a crushing disappointment in his chest. It was like losing complete hope in everything. He didn't understand why her back was so terribly ominous to his life. He wanted her to be a part of his life, but he didn't understand what she wanted.

Worse, he didn't understand what he wanted.