The Way

Chapter Six ~ The Way To Unholy Silence

*Pansy*

That night I slept terribly, tossing and turning for no apparent reason. I had a chaotic array of nightmares, but every time I woke up screaming from one, I would forget it. I wasn't sure why I was sleeping so horribly; usually it was from nerves or fear, but what was I to be nervous or afraid of?

It wasn't until dawn broke that I began to feel the stirring of sleep, but I still could not lay my head down to rest. Thinking that if I kept myself busy all day, I'd surely be able to sleep well that night. I thought about it for a while and resolved to spend the day with my mother. After Draco had left abruptly yesterday, she had disappeared into her room and didn't come out all evening. I tried to ask her what was wrong, but all I got was a choked command for me to go to my room.

Shaking off my mother's suspicious behavior, I hopped out of bed and headed for the shower.

*Draco*

I woke up very early the next morning, determined to find my mother and demand an answer out of her. But to meet with my mother in nothing but night clothes was simply out of the question. Since childhood, she always made it clear that neither her or my father would be an audience unless I was decent for a public eye. Needless to say that when I had nightmares when I was only a boy, I was left to deal with them myself.

But I would be ready for her today. Just before the sun had broken through the night sky I was already showered and dressed in an ordinary ensemble. Once she noticed that I had disregarded the designer wear and had donned nothing but black trousers and a shirt, she would know I was serious. But my mother was never available until eight o'clock, so I was forced to wait in my room until the time arrived. Not a second past the chiming bell, I raced down the main staircase and into the study, positive that I'd find her sitting at the desk with piles of paperwork in front of her and a quill poised at the ready. Without my father around, my mother had become head of the business needs in no time flat.

Not even remembering the courtesy to ask if she had time for me, I barged into the room and slammed the door behind me, anger rising in my cheeks. Startled, my mother looked up from what she was doing and swiftly removed her reading spectacles.

"Draco Meleagrant Malfoy, I expect some sort of explanation for this unseemly behavior so early in the morning!" she cried out, throwing down her quill as well. I groaned audibly, hating my Arthurian middle name in agony. My parents had already named me Draco; had they need to embarrass me more with a middle name like Meleagrant?

"Yes, I do in fact have an explanation for my intrusion, mother," I replied, stressing her title just far enough to make it sound mocking. "What was all that about yesterday with Mrs. Parkinson?"

To my surprise, my mother only leaned back casually in her chair and stared at me lazily through lidded eyes. She looked so much like my father then that I was almost caught off guard when she spoke gently to me and not with a harsh command as he would have. "What are you talking about, my son?"

"You know what I'm talking about," I said calmly. "Mrs. Parkinson wanted to tell her daughter something and Pansy and I both saw you deliberately stop her from saying anything. What are you two hiding?"

My mother gave a laugh then; a cold, brittle laugh that cut my flesh where it lay exposed. "My clever little boy, I would have thought you knew that it is not 'two' who know something, but much, much more."

"What do you mean?"

She locked eyes with me. "I mean that when the Dark Lord commands his Death Eaters to do something they very well must do it for their safety and the safety of their family. You know this, as your father has always been a faithful supporter and has yet to falter under our Master's gaze."

Losing patience with her discreetness, I walked towards her until I was directly in front of the desk and then leaned forward, bewildered by my sudden aggressive acts towards a mother I had never disobeyed before. "Stop beating around the bush, my mother, and tell what all of this has to do with our dear Master?" I asked, a slice of ridicule hovering over every word I said. In challenge to my disrespectful ways, my mother stood up from her seat and looked down at me with distant eyes.

"It has everything to do with our Master, Draco. Are you aware that, in an act of great importance, it is a lethal sin to the Dark Lord to waver even the slightest ounce? Take, for example, the little episode taken place in the Department of Mysteries this year."

My throat went dry by the sheer tone of her voice.

"That event was crucial to everything our Lord had been planning since his rise last year, and if anything were to go wrong during the mission, everything we had worked for would have gone up in smoke. Well, needless to say that everything did go up in smoke, though it was that damn Harry Potter's fault, again.

"But are you also aware that one Death Eater threatened the failure of that mission before Dumbledore's stupid Order came into the picture? And are you aware that the consequences for such a threat are the testing of loyalties?" The color drained from my face, and she knew the pieces were fitting together in my head. "Yes, Draco; you are aware of the testing. To test a Death Eater is to ask him to put what he cares for the most into jeopardy. Put his most prized possession into jeopardy for the Dark Lord and then you're in the clear once more."

I gripped the desk's edge hard, hoping that it would sustain my weight if my knees gave out by the anger and horror searing through my veins.

"And do you know what that Death Eater's name is, dear Draco?" she asked me, turning away to face the window behind her. Without looking up, I could still see, almost feel, the terrifying grin spreading across her face. "Parkinson."

*Pansy*

That morning I spent a long time in the shower, trying to reawaken my entire body with the scalding streamline. As I cleansed myself, I had the oddest feeling that something was terribly wrong. It was as if my troubled night and horrid morning were mere introductions to an even worse presentation soon to come. But it couldn't be; I was safe in my own home with no one inside save for my mother and the many servants who were more than faithful to the entire Parkinson line. But as hard as I tried to rid myself of it, the haunted feeling remained with me.

Now, with my fears of absolutely no origin continually mounting, I hurried out of the shower and changed quickly, throwing my robe over my simple clothes to keep me warm from the sudden cold in our house. I had just sat down to my vanity to begin brushing my hair when a small weight knocked against my knee from one of the many pockets of my robe. Reaching in to find out why it was freezing cold, I withdrew the small, purple vial encrusted with the Parkinson crest.

*Draco*

"You're enjoying this," I said quietly, trying hard to contain the rage slowly building up inside of me. My mother said nothing for a while, deciding to keep her face away from mine and to continue staring out the window. Once again, it had begun to rain. "You're enjoying this like some sick, deranged murderer."

"I am not the murderer here, Draco," she began, but I cut her off abruptly.

"You're as good as one by letting Him hurt them! I just--...I don't understand how you can stand here

and let all this happen without lifting a finger to at least help. I'm not asking you to go against your 'master', but I'm also not asking you to just stand to the side and let their lives fall at risk."

There was a silence then, one in which I looked up and could see my mother's face reflected in the glass of the window. She was not smiling anymore.

"I don't enjoy it," she said, crossing her arms against the sudden chill in the air. "You know that I love that family as much as you do, but I will not stand in the way of the Dark Lord no matter what the consequences. It is his decisions that control our lives, not our own."

I closed my eyes in disgust, for a moment hating the side I had been born into. But what could I do against the most powerful Dark Wizard alive?

"So what now, mother?" I asked, straightening up to stare at the back of her head. "What is the Dark Lord going to do to Mrs. Parkinson?"

But the answer she gave was the last thing I thought I'd ever hear at that moment. She laughed. Not the sneering laugh she had used earlier, but one far worse by comparison. It was one that was basically telling me that I was in for a very nasty surprise.

"Do you actually think that our master would risk the life of a valuable supporter just to test the loyalties of another? Do you think he would jeopardize the life of an obedient follower as punishment to a coward? Think about it, Draco. Our dear Zhyerra has done nothing but the Dark Lord's wishes since she was ordained a Death Eater and her alliances are much too great to put her life at stake. And though Parkinson loves his wife dearly, she's still second in line to another."

I watched her then, with wide and horror-struck eyes, as she turned around and faced me.

"Now listen carefully, son. Why would Lord Voldemort, soon to be Supreme Ruler of the magical realm, aim for the more valuable secondhand ruby when he could just as easily strike down the more expendable, priceless diamond? Who do you think is Parkinson's most prized possession, the apple of his eye and his favorite little girl?"

And it took everything I could find within me to answer her back, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Pansy."

*Pansy*

I sat for a while, setting the vial down on my vanity and staring at it. It was an extraordinary present; that was for sure. My father had never given me as much as a hairpin in the category of girl things, and he hated when I wore perfumes of any sort. Fragrances of all kinds aggravated him, so he usually denied my request for the many exotic potions and concoctions I found in stores. So why the sudden turn of events with this imported potion from India?

That was when I received the sudden feeling of woe upon me once more, and for a second it hovered around the vial. But what nonsense that would be! My father loved me, against all assumptions from other families. To him, I was the closest thing that could get in the way of my father's devotion to the Dark Lord; and at times it could be seen as a grand thing or else a very unpleasant thing.

Telling myself that I was getting worked up about nothing, I grabbed the vial back up and yanked the gold stopper free.

*Draco*

"It is called many things," my mother explained, seating herself once more in her chair behind the desk. "But we know it as the Lotus. The origin is either Greek or Roman, but the gypsies stole the formula long ago and have since been the makers of it to this very day."

"What does it do?" I asked through clenched teeth, holding myself back long enough to hear the dreaded fate of the one person I had ever learned to care about.

"Exactly what its name stands for, though the outcome has become much more painful than before. In myth, as the Lotus flower was the magic for eternal sleep, so is the poison sent from India into the hands of our dear Pansy Parkinson."

She looked straight at me, nothing in her eyes to reveal any emotion set on the current situation. I figured that we were two very different people then. The reason I looked impassive was because I could feel too greatly and was plagued with emotions. The reason my mother looked impassive was because she had learned to feel nothing and was empty inside.

"One sniff and the fragrance takes to work on the entire body. She will begin to feel weak and lost, her vision clouding over and body not responding to what she commands it to do. Soon the agony that her body is being ripped to shreds will take over, and her heart will find it difficult to continue beating. Even sooner, the agony will be too great, and she will fall into an unholy slumber. It is not death; no, not at all. It can be cured, yes; but only if it is attended to right away. That is the jeopardy the Dark Lord will put dear Pansy into: will someone discover her in time to save her, or will she die alone and cold by a sleep that could last ages? The hardest test, I must say, for any parent to put their child through. I couldn't imagine the decision I'd make if it were you, my son."

And by the emotionless look in her dead eyes, I knew there would never be a hesitation for her to give me the Lotus had she need to prove herself to Voldemort.

"Well then," I started, backing out of the room, my eyes slitted in fury. "I guess I'll just have to do something about this, won't I?"

But it seemed my mother hadn't anticipated this, for she looked surprised by my sudden need to leave.

"Draco, where are you going? Child, I demand that you stay here at once!"

"Don't wait up for me tonight," were my last words to her before I sprinted out of there and towards my room where the Portkey to Parkinson Manor sat waiting on my dresser.

"Draco!" my mother called again, her voice slowly dying as I moved farther and farther away from the study. "Draco, I do not want my son interfering with this. Come back here this instant!"

But I heard nothing more from her as there was only one thing filling my mind:

*Pansy*

The moment I pulled the stopper free a ghastly fragrance was released from the vial. It was the smell of fresh apple blossoms, but different somehow. The smell was mussed by another thicker substance, one that clouded my head and filled my lungs with fog.

As quickly as I could, I shoved the top back into the vial, setting it down on my vanity once more. The fragrance was making me extremely dizzy, and I wondered for a moment if I had been poisoned. But no, my father would never do that to me! Never.

I decided some fresh air would do me good, so I stood up from my vanity and headed towards the window; but the window was rapidly becoming much to far for me. My eyes weren't working right, and all I could see were blurs around me. Panicking, I started to call out for one of the servants, but my body was growing weak. I had changed paths from the window to my door, desperate for human contact in anyway. But I was lost in my room; in a room that suddenly expanded to the entire world plunged into darkness. I couldn't see and I couldn't move, and all the while, as I struggled to find where I was, I wondered in hopelessness if my father had meant for this to happen or not.

*Draco*

The stupid Portkey wouldn't work fast enough. The moment I burst into my room I snatched the silver fang off my dresser and was soon on my way. The arctic wind rushing past me as I traveled seemed to taunt me with my dilemma, taking joy in the blood rushing in my ears as it whipped by singing 'too late' as it passed.

What felt like years later, I stopped in the entrance hall of Parkinson Manor, finding it empty of any of the servants. Odd, they usually were up and about at this time of day. Sure they made themselves scarce, but there wasn't a sound in the grand mansion, and it didn't put my ill thoughts to rest.

Abandoning the mystery of the household help, I darted up the grand staircase towards Pansy's room on the top floor, hoping against hope that I hadn't in fact come too late.

*Pansy*

In and out, in and out; that was the pattern of my vision. One moment I'd find myself looking directly at my wooden door and the next I'd be thrown head first into darkness. I was dragging myself against the cold stone floor, the need to stay conscience long enough to find someone outstripping the dead weight of slumber poisoning every inch of me.

What was going on? What was happening?

But just as I was about to give up and give into my sudden yearnings for sleep, I felt my hands close around the cool metal of the door handle. I was about to pull all the strength I had left into pushing the door open, but was stopped immediately from doing so.

Cruel and undeniable pain shot through my entire body, whipping its way up my spine and through my skull. I let out a terrified cry then, though I was almost certain no one would hear it. It felt as though someone and taken a sword and was slashing me from the inside with no mercy behind every swing.

I had never felt true pain before but had always sneered at others for wincing the slightest bit when they were hurt in anyway. A punishment towards me sent unknown for all the brutal acts of derision I had inflicted upon others.

For a moment the pain dulled slightly, just enough to throw my weight against the door and feel it swing open under my hands. Also to my sheer relief, I found that I could just barely stand, but that my vision was slowing down between in and out but had alternated to slowly dying out on me. Taking in breath in huge gasps, I staggered my way to the top of the main staircase, leaning heavily on the rail post and looking around wildly. No one. No one was around to hear me cry, to help me if I fell...to help me if I died.

But wait, what was that coming up the stairs? It was something dark yet light, a person perhaps or maybe just my imagination. My vision was tunneling and I could feel a warm encasement surround me. The someone called out my name, though they sounded far and distant now.

Then there was another even worse jolt of pain, and I was aware of my heart beating in my chest. It hurt to hear it beat, and with every sound it made I could feel a swift spasm of pain on my entire body. I let go of the rail then, and fell forward down the staircase into a complete and excruciating darkness.

*Draco*

I heard her before I saw her. A high-pitched cry of suffering filled the empty manor and rang hard in my ears. I pressed upward, trying to ignore the words my mother had told me not two minutes ago.

"Will someone discover her in time to save her, or will she die alone and cold by a sleep that could last ages?"

No, I would find her in time and I would save her. To die cold and alone would be a fate she never would know. But was I already too late?

Then I saw her as I looked far up into the staircase. She was leaning heavily against the stair post, her robe draping over her shoulders and her hair hanging limply down her back. Even from this distance I could see that her eyes were unfocused, as if she was blind to everything, and she was a nasty pasty color. She was struggling for breath, her low gasps sounding pained and forced. Her entire body was shivering rapidly, and the grip she held on the post was loosening.

"Pansy," I called out, bounding up the stairs two by two now. For a moment I thought she heard me, but was greatly disappointed when she let out another agonizing cry, her body seizing up and her grip lost on the post now.

I reached her just in time. She fell silently forward as I came to meet her, catching her in my arms before she hit the ground. To my rising anger I could easily lift her, as her weight was hastily declining at that very moment. I carried her back onto level ground, calling out for anyone as I did so.

To no big surprise, no one came.

I hurried her to her room, laying her back onto the bed and praying against hope that I wasn't too late. But no, I couldn't be; she was still breathing quickly. If her breath thinned out to slow-and-steady I would know that I had lost her.

"Pansy," I said loudly to her, leaning over her deathly light frame. "I know you can hear me. Listen to me and listen to me carefully: stay alive. I don't give a damn on how you do it, but just stay alive."

I left her side then, snatching the purple vial off her vanity. I threw open the closest window and tossed it out, whipping out my wand and aiming a very well spent Reducto Curse at it as it flew into the air. The tiny bottle burst into thousands of glass shards. But as I heard the entrance door open downstairs, the shards transformed into the most beautiful array of white Lotus petals; and as I tore from Pansy's lifeless side to find Mrs. Parkinson returning, they fell to the earth one by one, each one shriveling into nothing but dark, black ash.