Dance of The Faithless

A lone figure staggered through the dark corridors, stopping to lean against the wall once every few steps, then continuing on his shaky, unsteady way. He stumbled and almost fell a few times, but he never did land on the ground. He need to get to the Headmaster, and it was that single thought which drove him on inch by inch. The corridors were empty now, though it was not like he cared if anyone saw him at the moment. He wasn't even supposed to be in school, but explanations could wait. Right now, all that mattered was to reach the gargoyle and the stairs.

***

Dumbledore felt the school wards shudder. Someone who wasn't supposed to be in school was here. It was the summer holidays, and the school was empty but for him and Poppy. He had convinced Minerva and Severus to take their long overdue vacations down in the Bahamas. All work no play makes Jack a dull boy, he always thought. Maybe giving them a break would make them less boring in class.

But back to the wards.

They had given way to the intruder like water broke over rock, which meant that they did not detect any dark intent from the person. And judging from the ripples in the fabric of magic in the castle, the person was headed here. To his office.

Well, it was time to get up and welcome whoever was coming his way.

Getting up from his seat, he made his way down the stairs to the door. He heard something hit the wall, like a person slumping against the cold stones, and he quickly waved his hand, opening the door. Whoever had fell against the wall now fell into his arms boneless manner. He took a closer look at the pale figure dressed in black whose face was filled with exhaustion.

"Take him, Professor, I'm turning him in!"

With that, the young man struggled to stand upright, reaching for his silver cloak clasp. He ripped it off and flung it onto the floor, then grasping his wand firmly with his left hand and with a stern look of determination on his face, he spoke again.

"Finite Incantatem!"

The silver clasp shivered, and then without a warning, it turned into the prone figure of a grown man, bound with ropes and gagged. He had a wound on his temple which looked like it was relatively new. Perhaps inflicted in the past forty eight hours. Dumbledore was not prepared for this. He thought Lucius Malfoy would be safely hidden in the recesses of his Manor after his escape from prison, not lying in the hallways of Hogwarts, well knocked out. In his shock, he stood there gaping for a moment, forgetting all about the young man behind him, until he heard the rustle of robes behind him, followed by the sound of a body hitting the floor. He spun around quickly, not knowing what to make of the situation.

Draco Malfoy had collapsed in a dead faint onto the floor.

***

Twenty minutes later, the old man was back in his chair, massaging his temples and staring at the man caged behind the adamantine bars in the cell he had created inside his office. Lucius was out cold, but he, perhaps the greatest wizard alive, was still afraid to be outdone by the man's cunning. Maybe it was a ploy devised by the Dark Lord and his followers, to involve the younger Malfoy in helping his father to infiltrate Hogwarts, and by any luck, catch the Headmaster unwary. It seemed highly unlikely though, ridiculous even. To top it off, Draco was in quite a state. Dehydration, exhaustion, and quite a few serious wounds. He hadn't noticed that the young man had been bleeding under his black clothes until he noticed the red stains on his own white robe.

The last twenty minutes had made the night seem longer than its usual 10 hours of darkness. He had conjured up the cell to lock Lucius in, carried Draco down to the Infirmary to Poppy and contacted Minerva and Severus.

Carrying Draco...

The young man had felt uncannily light for his fifteen years. His usually immaculate hair was matted to his forehead with sweat, while dark circles under his eyes indicated that he had not slept for days. Poppy had been horrified by the results of the physique tracking spells she had cast on him. Broken ribs, slashes across his back made probably by a blunt object, malnutrition and most of all, magical exhaustion from maintaining the state of a spell for too long.

Probably keeping the transfiguration spell on a living human, thought the Headmaster. It was taxing to even perform the spell, which was a complex one, much more to maintain it and make it all the way from Malfoy Manor, which was a good day's carriage ride from the school. He knew for a fact that Draco had not Apparated, for his sources had informed him that he had yet to master the spell, and even if he did, given his physical state and the magical energy required to keep Lucius as a cloak clasp would have gotten him splinched to the extent of death. No, Draco couldn't have gotten to the school by Apparation.

He had walked there.

It was no wonder that the poor boy was dehydrated. It had been a hot summer, hotter than any ever experienced in the country. Dumbledore needed answers. He wanted to know why he had an escaped convict was in his office, he wanted to know the reason for the state of the younger Malfoy, he wanted to know what Lucius had done for Draco to hit him over the head and hand him over to Dumbledore. Draco, in the past five years of school, did not make any effort to conceal the fact that he thought the Headmaster was inferior to the Dark Lord in power and ideology. And couldn't he have waited for another fortnight before approaching Dumbledore when school reopened instead of putting his own life in danger? Malfoys were about self preservation, about getting the easy way out of things, about charming their way out of trouble. He was tempted to go down and shake Draco awake and demand some answers, something very out of his character from his usual composed self.

Movement in his fireplace startled him out of his thoughts. Minerva appeared, closely followed by Severus. They stood in front of the hearth, dusting off their robes and looking highly annoyed at being dragged away from the sun, the sand and the beach. That is, until they saw the cell. Minerva gave a little shriek, while Severus turned pale under his newfound sunburn.

Answers from Draco will have to wait then.

It looked like it was going to be an even longer night.

***

Draco made his way out of the Infirmary and began the walk to Dumbledore's office. It had been two whole days since he came to school, and he knew that Dumbledore would be anxious for some answers. He would give them to him, in due time. Right now, he would have to swallow his pride and ask the old man for a few favours.

"Citrus Mentos."

The old man had discovered the joys of muggle sweets, and after sherbet lemons, he was willing to try anything from them. But of course, pureblooded Draco knew nothing of these, still it wasn't like he cared. He was on his way to finding out all things muggle. He had made a decision, and even though it would leave the Wizarding world with its jaw at its knees, he was a Malfoy and he didn't feel the need to explain anything. Walking into the office, he saw Dumbledore smiling at him. It was strange. Just slightly more than a month ago, the smile would've sent him sneering muttering insulting remarks, now all it did was make him feel safe. Still, he stiffened his shoulders unconsciously out of nervousness.

He saw his father in the cell, but he did not feel the slightest twinge of guilt. Bastard had it coming, he thought grimly to himself. Then he noticed that his father was still unconscious, and he mentally made a note to ask Dumbledore about it. The holidays had been utterly horrid, and he was glad to be here, emancipated and broken, but safe.

"Hello Mr Malfoy. I trust that you're feeling better?"

"Yes sir. Thank you for helping me the other night."

Draco decided there wasn't any point in beating about the bush, so he launched straight into what he had to say.

"Sir, I know you want an explanation for my unanticipated turn up, and I assure you that I will give you one in good time. but at the moment I have a few requests which I hope you will acquiesce to."

"Speak then, my boy."

"I would like to take this case to the Wizengamot, and there I would prefer if I was questioned under Veritasereum. I want to leave no doubt of my motives and leave the council with no question of why I did what I did. I hope you would respect my decision in not telling you what happened first, because I doubt I can bring myself to repeat what I will have to say. I'm hoping for a fair trial, and I'm sure I would get one."

"Very well then, I would try to arrange it for you as soon as possible. In the mean time, you will rest and recover."

"Thank you sir. But I still have a couple of things to ask for. I hope it isn't too much."

"I will try my best."

"After the trial, assuming that nothing goes wrong, I would like to take a break from school. Not to say I want to miss out on my education, but I wish to complete the work via correspondence with the school. Perhaps it would be incorrect to say I want a break from school. I wish to take a break from the Wizarding world. I'm sure you would understand after attending the trial and hearing what I have to say. I will return when I feel fit enough to do so."

"I cannot promise this now, but after the trial, I will give you an answer. What else is there, my boy?"

"Fair enough. My next request is that you do not try to look for me, and keep track on my location if you do consent to my departure. I in turn will promise you that I will contact you regularly and inform you of my welfare, for I know that you care about your students. And lastly..."

Draco broke off for a moment, a little apprehensive of how to phrase his next words. He raised a hand to sweep a blonde lock off his forehead, thinking of how to continue. But the encouraging look from the Headmaster took away his hesitation.

"I hope that I would be allowed to return to school at anytime I wish to."

Dumbledore smiled.

"The gates of Hogwarts will always be open to those with good intentions."

Draco relaxed visibly. He would still have a place he could return to then. He slipped his hands into his pockets, feeling the rustle of paper, he remembered what he almost forgot. He pulled out the papers and stared at them for a moment.

"Actually there's one more thing."

"Out with it, then."

"As the next Lord of the Manor, I have to deal with some matters regarding my family fortune. As I would be leaving soon, I was hoping I could hand the deeds and statements to you and have you take care of my finances for me. I know it's a big request, but I'll make it worth your while. The Manor has an extensive collection of... shall we call them resources? In terms of the Dark Arts. You and the Order will have full access to it, and I am certain it would assist you greatly in bringing the Dark Lord down. I would also allocate part of the fortune to you as funds for the Order. Do we have an agreement?"

Dumbledore considered the request. It would be extra work in dealing with the assets, but Draco was right. Know thy enemy. Having an extensive collection of Dark Arts materials at hand would help the Order greatly. And as for the galleons...

"You have a deal, Mr Malfoy. But I don't need your money. The Order is well funded."

The two men shook hands like business partners, and after letting go, Draco yawned.

"I think I'll go catch a few winks."

"You go do that. I'll contact the Wizarding courts and let you know the results as soon as possible."

Draco turned and made his way out, and as he passed by the cell, he turned back to Dumbledore.

"How do you keep him in this state anyway? I'm sure I didn't hit him all that hard."

"Magical comatose. Plus I got the adamantine idea from a muggle movie," the old man said with a smile. "Cool isn't it?"

Draco managed a weak laugh. Things were looking up.

***

Five days later, Draco slung his newly bought duffle bag over his shoulder and stuck his hands into his straight cut jeans. This really isn't too bad, he thought to himself. He knew it was running away, but he had used up his courage in the past few days. As he expected, Dumbledore agreed to his requests and even helped him prepare for his trip, buying him clothes and other things he needed to survive. He even prepared him a portkey to keep that was activated at a word if he ever felt like returning to Hogwarts. And what was most impressive of all, he had set up a network for Draco to communicate to his teachers, through a muggle contraption called a laptop which Draco had learnt how to operate in a day given his intelligence. It was magically modified, of course, but it was still thoroughly muggle.

So many things had happened in the past few days. He had knocked his father out, faced the Wizengamot and made it out like he had hoped to, and his father was to be given the Kiss.

Yes, things were just swell.

Without a second thought, Draco walked out of the school gates and headed for the muggle world.