Courage to Find Cowardice

Courage to Find Cowardice

Chapter Three - Dusty, Mouldy and Old

***

I lay in bed later that night pondering how life could suddenly turn everything upside down. No caution, no warning - just chaos. The faint light from the moon cast long, menacing shadows into my room, swaying and swinging in the light breeze. For such a strange day, I thought, the night was eerily calm, almost contemplative.

I disrupted the silence suddenly by laughing - A strange, strangled sound that I hadn't heard in years. I don't know what it was exactly that I found amusing. Maybe it was the way my father's eyes had gleamed in an evilly gleeful manner as I had entered back into the ballroom; the way my mother had watched on with a look of pride lined with pity or the way Pansy Parkinson, stationed beside her father, had looked so sad and forlorn when she realized she no longer had a chance with me. Or perhaps I just didn't like the silence?

And it had all started with one little announcement that my father had failed to mention to me beforehand - I was engaged.

Yes, engaged. Engaged. The idea was yet to sink in; my limbs weren't made of lead and I still had a strangely good outlook on life in general - or, well, it would be better to say a good outlook on life as a Malfoy. But still, when it finally does start to weigh me down with the responsibility, I imagine I will be spitting gravel and dirt. I was not going to go down without a fight on this one.

***

"You're engaged, Draco, and I will not hear another word about it!"

"Yes, father." Damn. So much for not going down without a fight. I remained quiet all throughout the rest of dinner, ignoring the calm and smirking looks that my father shot down to the other end of the table at me and the looks of nostalgic that Mother also sent my way. Maybe she was sad that I appeared to be growing up? Well, if I had my way I would stay this age or perhaps even skip this decade altogether, heading straight for the thirties and an age where I would be respected and would not be forced to marry people!

"What was that Draco darling?" mother asked, her head whipping up to look me in the eye. It appeared I had said that last part aloud. She continued to stare at me wide-eyed and scared - for me or for her I have no idea.

"Nothing mother," I answered, almost horrified that I had allowed myself to speak out of turn in front of my father. Glancing up at my Father I took in his look of amusement and swallowed the sudden surge of anger that threatened release.

"It's a sign of insanity, talking to one's self you know, Draco," Father drawled, smirking at me. Then of course, there was that. Perhaps if I did it enough, I would be able to get out of this whole botched up marriage thing?

I almost hit myself over the head with my dinner plate at that point. I actually thought I was losing my mind. Talking to yourself to get out of marriage? You've gone crazy! For one thing, I would never allow people to think me insane. That would be absurd - Malfoy's don't do absurd. And for another thing, if I were to announce my 'disengagement' to this woman it would bring shame upon my family and my Father would not be pleased. To bring shame upon the family name was the highest thing on Father's list of 'things not to do'. Also up there somewhere was the 'Don't lose to Potter at Quidditch' fixation, something he reminded me of constantly.

It was pointless, arguing. I would be married - no, shackled - to this girl the minute I left Hogwarts at the end of the year and there was only one thing that my Father or I would allow myself to do; grin and bear it.

I suppose, in a way, that that was the Malfoy motto (not that Malfoy's would ever sink as low as to have an official motto. Of course not) Grin and bear it. It embraced everything about my life to date. Father is a Death Eater - Grin and bear it. My life has been dictated since the moment I was born - Grin and bear it. I will probably never beat stinking Dotty Potty at Quidditch - Send a few hexes his way but still, grin and bear it. Being forced to marry a strange girl that I don't know - Grin and bear it. No wonder my mouth hurts terribly a lot of the time.

"We're going to Diagon alley tomorrow, dear," Mother informed me as the house elves came to take our empty plates, one squealing as Father hit him over the head with his fork. "We need to begin looking at robes and such for you and your best man."

Robes. "But the wedding won't be for months," I commented icily, not taking my eyes from hers.

"I realize that, darling, but one must make arrangements." She began to fidget with the cuffs of her expensive robes and looked over at Lucius, pleading for him to back her up.

"The boy is right, Narcissa," he snapped, shocking both my Mother and I, though neither of us showed it. "Do not coddle the boy into choosing what he is to wear at such an early date. I believe his time would be better spent getting to know the bride."

"But," Mother argued quietly, looking down at the now empty table before glancing back up at him looking somewhat like a doe trapped in headlights, "This is to be the biggest event of the year! A Malfoy getting married is no small happening. Surely you remember our own wedding, dear?"

"Of course I remember our wedding!" Father growled, becoming angry. "Don't ever assume that I forget anything, Narcissa. I know what this wedding will be like, I know who will be there and the influence it will have over the rest of the Wizarding community. Why on earth do you think I arranged it?" As quickly as it had come, the fire in his eyes turned to ice - back to his icy cold demeanor. He took the time to glare at me, daring me to question his motives - the motives of his Master - before getting up from his seat and exiting the room, leaving nothing but the swish of his cloak and the clunk of his boots as he walked further and further away.

And again that night I couldn't sleep. I had a strange idea that it had nothing to do with the impending wedding - like a dark demon that was hiding just beyond the horizon and the worst thing was that you knew it was there, giving you a sense of foreboding and a reluctance to advance into the future. I wasn't scared - far from it. I was tired, elusive, reluctant, even a little bit intimidated by the idea of being bound to someone for the rest of my life. In all seriousness, who wouldn't be? But no, that wasn't what was keeping me awake, making me restless.

I got out of bed and traipsed over to the French doors that led out to a balcony and overlooked my Mother's pride and joy - the garden. It had taken Mother years to finish it and now that it was done she did nothing during the day but sit outside and admire it. Then again, that was what she had always done anyway. You could hardly call all her years of 'hard work' hard work when all she had done was lounge around and supervise house elves, shouting commands every now and then. Not that it bothered me; it kept her out of my hair.

But I had to admit, there was something alluring about the garden - something sinister yet drawing about it. Not even bothering to dress I stepped out of the doors and onto the balcony, breathing in the fresh air and faint smell of flowers that hung in the air. I don't know what it was, something intoxicating no doubt, and it addled my brains enough to bring me to jump from the balcony and swing from the trellis that scaled this side of the manor - a feature that Mother had insisted upon so that the roses may grow up along it. I traversed down and dropped the last metre, landing with cat-like grace onto the soft grass below. Glancing around the garden I found myself being pulled, almost as if by an invisible string, into the large maze at the end of the garden.

I had passed through this maze often enough - usually in escort of my Father who seemed obsessed in ensuring that I knew the maze off by heart - and I had often suspected he kept something hidden within the maze, what though was an entirely different concern and one that I wished to keep well away from.

I walked through the maze trance-like, not pausing to notice anything and walking as if in a daze. I needn't have even looked to see where I was going; I already knew. Something had told me, something that I had no notion of what it was but I knew it existed. It existed here, in this maze, this night, with me. And strangely enough, I wasn't scared.

"I knew you'd come," a female's voice wafted over to me on the breeze, not startling me in the slightest - I knew she was here already.

"I could hardly not come," I answered, frowning slightly at my own knowledge that I couldn't have resisted the pull if I'd tried. "You can't possibly be human," I continued, turning of my own accord (or at least I think so) to look into the girls face. Her hand reached up to cup my face, my blood racing from the cold contact that numbed the skin where she touched.

"What would make you say something like that?" Lamia asked, pulling her hand away slowly and smiling at me, her perfect white teeth glinting at me.

"You know what made me say it," I answered quietly, smirking at her. "There is no way that you can be human with teeth like those."

"You like my teeth," she chuckled, her eyes glinting with amusement and something else. Something else I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to identify. "It's funny; everyone likes my teeth... They're just dentures."

"But they're so much more," I told her, staring at the perfect white orbs that presided within the rich, blood red lips. Her deep, tinkling laugh full of mockery and amusement woke me up and I pulled my gaze away from her mouth. Frowning at her, I growled. "Stop it!" I snapped. "Whatever this little game is that you're playing, it stops now!"

"Oh, but games are so much fun, Draco," she replied, running her fingers through her long hair. I knew what she was doing - she was powerful but not powerful enough to hide of from me.

"Listen, mind games are all well and good, but not when you're playing them on someone who knows what you're doing." I glared defiantly at here and she stood, her mouth clamped shut and look of disappointment in her eyes.

"It was a bit of harmless fun, Draco," she cooed, regaining her composure. "Nothing would have come of it."

"You say that," I advanced upon her, leaving her little room to maneuver around me, "yet I am finding it very hard to believe."

Her eyes flashed dangerously and she scowled at me. "I never lie, Draco. Never. It's not within my nature to lie to someone."

"Good, now that we have that straightened out," I answered sarcastically and rolled my eyes. "If this is ever going to work, Lamia, you'll have to save your funny little mind games for someone else!"

"You know," Lamia snapped irritably, "For someone as smart as you, Draco, you are stepping incredibly close to death. More than you would care to realize!" I rolled my eyes again and leaned against the large stone pillar in the center of the little cove that was the middle of the maze, crossing my arms and smirking at her.

"Oh, please, do tell how close you are to wringing my throat right at this moment."

Lamia stared at me in disbelief for a moment before she started laughing. I almost started laughing myself at the absurdity of the situation yet I couldn't bring myself to do so.

"No, really. You said I was dancing with death in a few more words and I would like to know the meaning of that particular comment. Was it a threat or a promise?"

"That depends," she sobered and watched him warily, "which would you prefer it to be?"

"Well," I answered, crossing my legs at the heels and leaning my head back to look at the sky, "It would be neither smart not beneficial to threaten me - Malfoy's do not respond well to threats, and if you meant it as a promise then I must remind you that any promise made to or by me must be kept. I will make sure of it."

Then Lamia smiled. "You know, I couldn't have come up with a better answer myself. Under the circumstances I would say it was meant more as a warning, and I would keep it that way."

"Indeed. How strangely neutral of you," I smirked, not expecting the sudden flash of teeth that appeared as she smiled at me.

"Neutral is my middle name," she told me, gliding over and sitting down on the grass beside me. "Anyway, about this whole 'marriage' thing," she ventured, patting the grass beside her and I slid down the stone pillar and to the ground. "Do you really want this?"

I studied Lamia's face and she looked back at me unblinking, a look of reluctance in her deep, black eyes.

"No," I answered sullenly, wondering if perhaps I had just made some huge mistake in telling her I didn't want this marriage. I instantly gave up that worry as she let out a sigh of relief and smiled wryly at me.

"That's good. Because I most certainly don't want to be married to some stuck up, arrogant, ignorant, pompous jerk."

Ditto. "Thanks."

Again she smiled, it seemed she didn't stop. "You know it's true."

"Well, if neither of us want to, what are we going to do about it?" I asked, a strange feeling sparking up inside, one that I'd never cared to feel before. Was that... hope? Nah, couldn't be. No way. It must have been the pasta that had been served up at dinner. I always knew pasta was dodgy.

"What can we do?" she asked incredulously. "Your father will see to it that we will get married if he has to drag us up the isle kicking and screaming in front of every one of his little Death Eater friends."

I shot my head back to look at her and saw her wide-eyed surprise at my reaction. "Death Eater friends?" I asked maliciously, glaring at her.

She sighed and looked skywards, an expression of concern passing over her face before she looked at me. "Draco, I knew he was a Death Eater long before you did. I knew he would become a Death Eater. Hell, I even knew you would too."

Shocked, I stared at her, mouth hanging open as if I were trying to catch flies with it. "What?" I asked quietly, my voice barely a whisper. "What?!"

Lamia glanced either side of her and looked shocked at herself. She stood quickly and turned to leave the maze only my hand grasped tightly around her wrist stopped her.

"What did you mean by that?" I growled, bringing myself to my full height and glaring down at her. She refused to be intimidated, however, and just gazed back up at me with her deep black eyes looking as if she wanted to have never said anything at all.

"I... look, it doesn't matter. You aren't a Death Eater now, are you?" she asked, knowing the answer anyway.

"No, I am most definitely not!" I retorted heatedly. "Tell me what you meant!"

"I can't. It would mess everything up."

I stood silently, my arms crossed and glaring at her, willing her to tell me. "Then mess."

"Draco, you know as well as I do that I should never have said anything in the first place and--"

"--And now you need to rectify your mistake by telling me everything."

"It would take years to explain!" she argued, "And we don't have years."

"What we do have is an untruth hovering over us. I thought you said you didn't lie, Lamia."

"Malia," she corrected, "And I don't lie."

"You don't lie?" I concluded incredulously. "You don't lie and you just told me your was, in fact, Malia, not Lamia?"

Lamia let out a cry of frustration and looked as if she wanted to hit me before composing herself and looking at me levelly. "Do you promise not to tell a soul?" she asked me, making even more reluctant to find out the truth.

"Promise not to tell a soul what, exactly?"

"Well, if you promise, then I'll be able to tell you, won't I?"

I sighed and the slump of my shoulders told her I had given in. "Very well. I promise."

"My name is Malia Natilisa Prewett. I was born in the year 1943." She stopped for a moment to send me a look that told me to be quiet or she would refuse to tell me more. All I did was start choking.

"I was born the same year that Tom Riddle ala Lord Voldemort reportedly opened the Chamber of Secrets, something that was only proved a mere five years ago and something that I have known for almost forty years now."

"Good Merlin! I'm marrying a bloody fifty five year-old!" I cried, stepping away and looking at Lamia or Malia or whatever the bloody hell her name was as if for the first time in years. "You don't look at day older than seventeen!"

"That's because it was my seventeenth birthday when It happened."

"It?" I asked, not entirely convinced that I should be hearing this. I think somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew. There was only one thing that could cause such life, one thing that would give her the qualities she possessed; the dark hair, blood red lips, perfectly white teeth, skin so porcelain that you could almost see through it, so cold to the touch that a persons blood shied away from her and a silence that followed her like a cloud of death.

"I was bitten."

She was a vampire.

***

"Vampire is such a harsh word," she whispered to me the next night as we sat in silence in the forest that surrounded that Manor. Reluctant as I was to go out into the night with her ever again, she assured me I was quite safe with her. She promised. And of everything else, I supposed, she was not a liar.

"It seems pretty fitting to me," I answered arrogantly, not looking at her. "Sucking off people's necks every night and reveling in silly little mind games. That strikes me as exactly how one would define a vampire."

She glared at me and I glared right back with loathing. There was no way I could marry this creature, this being. No way. I would have to tell father.

"You promised," she said as she turned her head from me. "You said you'd never let anyone break a promise, least of all yourself."

"I didn't know what I was getting into when I said that," I snapped, despising the fact that she was right. "But I won't tell anyone, I gave you my word. What I am going to do is fight this. There is no way that I will marry you now Lamia. No way."

"Malia. And you don't have a choice on this, Draco. The decision has been made for us."

"I don't understand this at all," I announced, suddenly confused. "How did you get pulled into this if your parents died a long time ago?"

"No one said they were dead," she answered matter-of-factly. "You simply assumed they were."

"Well if they aren't dead then they can't be far off!" I snapped, beginning to lose my patience with her. "Are they... Well, I mean... are they.."

"Like me?" she finished, smiling devilishly at my reluctance to accept it. "No. Of course not. I was bitten."

"And they still do that?" I asked curiously. "Bite, I mean." She laughed at me then, her twinkling, innocent and childlike laughter ringing through the air.

"Yes, Draco, we do. And No, Draco, we don't kill. We feed, we learn, we pass on our knowledge but we don't kill. Never kill."

I suppose I could take some reassurance in that. They didn't kill. But passed on their knowledge? I wasn't going to even ask what that meant.

"You aren't going to... Erm... pass on your knowledge to me are you?" I asked, glancing shiftily about the forest floor for something good to club her over the head if she gave me the wrong answer. And again, there was the laugh.

"Draco, you are anything if not amusing. I would not wish it upon you. You would be much better off dead. I don't think you could handle being like me."

My ego bristled. "I could handle being like you!" I insisted, standing up and narrowing my eyes at her. "I can handle a lot more than you think, Lamia," I hissed and then I turned and stalked further into the woods. Further away from her. And further away from what she was.

***

"I would like to speak to you if you don't mind, Mr. Malfoy."

"Of course, Mrs. Prewett. How may I help you?" he asked courteously, pulling out a large, comfortable looking seat for her to sit on. He watched as her frail, old figure creaked down into the chair, gripping her purse tightly with withered old fingers.

"I have come to speak about that boy of yours," she informed him primly. Merlin, Lucius thought angrily, if that boy has done something he will regret...

"What about him, Ma'm?" he urged, smiling politely. My how he hated being polite to old biddies such as her. And she could hardly open her mouth in criticism of his son when her own granddaughter had gone off and married that damned muggle-lover Arthur Weasley. And then, had the audacity to bring more of the damned things into the world! Mini Weasely's! Ack.

He was waiting for another one to pop out any day now, they seemed to breed like rabbits. How many was it now? Six boys? Seven? And that little she-devil of a Weasley last of all... left him pondering as to whether they had been aiming for a girl all along. He almost laughed at the obvious misfortune of having six sons before getting to the girl they had really wanted.

"It seems that he's somehow found out about... well... Lamia's misfortune. He's apparently become quite cold towards her. Nasty even."

"Don't worry about it," Lucius answered, smiling politely. "He'll warm up to the idea." When I'm through with him, the threat hung in the air as obviously as the old woman's stale smell that followed her wherever she went. Mould and dust, Lucius concluded as she left the room satisfied. Mould and dust and old. She'd lived a few too many years more than she ought have, he thought.

***