Old Moon Fades

Old Moon Fades

Chapter 11: The Secret

Draco watched as his eagle owl soared off into the distance, its wings catching the wind as it glided higher and higher. He stood there bathed in morning sunlight until the owl faded away over the horizon. It was nearing breakfast but it was still very quiet as most of the students were still tucked soundly away in their beds. Not Draco. Sleep was too hard to come by and while he longed for the respite and diversion that it provided, he was in no way ready to face the demons affecting his dreams. Every night the horror of Lucius' death haunted him. He would wake in a cold sweat, drowning in blood that only existed in his mind. He wasn't able yet to face those demons and wasn't sure if he ever would be.

It was the first day of term and he was eagerly awaiting the distraction it would provide. He didn't know exactly what the school year would bring but he comforted himself with the hope that it couldn't get any worse than it already was. The Slytherins had declared themselves his enemies. He was fine with that. He'd never been overly fond of them anyway. Decent conversation was almost non-existent with Crabbe and Goyle as his best mates. The Gryffindors still hated him; there was no change in that. It would take some time to adjust to his new role as Slytherin outcast, but he wasn't overly worried. There were more important things hanging over his head, like Voldemort and his cronies hell-bent on his destruction.

The morning sun was dawning over the horizon, each ray gently caressing the earth. The stone floors of the West tower were covered in rotting straw that slid beneath his shoes as he made his way out of the owlry. The letter to his mother was all but forgotten by the time he made his way down to the Entrance Hall.

Very few people were up this early for breakfast in the Great Hall. He ate his meal in silence and solitude at the end of the Slytherin table. There were a few Ravenclaws huddled together laboriously comparing notes from their summer reading, their meals abandoned for study. A younger Hufflepuff student was bent over a copy of Witch Weekly eagerly examining an article while her house-mates took turns peering over her shoulder to read a tidbit or two. They were all giggling. Gryffindor Table was vacant. He was mildly surprised that Granger wasn't there doing last minute revisions over her summer homework. He pretended that he wasn't disappointed and chalked it up to the simple need for interaction with someone, anyone for that matter.

After cleaning his plate and downing his cup of pumpkin juice, Draco headed back up to his room to ready himself for the first day. He fought the urge to follow instinct and descend the stairs down to the dungeons. Slytherin was no longer his dormitory. Instead, he went up the marble staircase and down a rarely used corridor. His new accommodations were located in a nearly vacant section of the school. He felt rather important having a room all to himself but the truth of it was like a knife in his chest.

The afternoon of his arrest, after his rather long session with Dumbledore, he had gone down to the dungeons and spoken the password to be let into the Slytherin common room. It hadn't opened. He stood there for minutes on end repeating every password that he'd ever known. None had worked. In confusion he'd gone back to Dumbledore irritated and nervous. The look on the old Headmaster's face when he voiced his problem was one he'd never forget.

In all the years he'd known him, Dumbledore had never been without the spark and charisma that had endeared him to thousands of people all the world over. But, to have looked upon him then, the sadness and pain so overwhelming that Draco feared for the worst. Dumbledore had sat down heavily in his chair, for the first time in all of Draco's knowledge had actually looking defeated and worn. He met Draco's eyes with regret and told him all the things that he didn't want to hear.

Hours later he was settled into his newly appointed room. Dumbledore had seen to it to personally furnish and outfit the entire room for him. He was in too much shock from their conversation to acknowledge his appreciation. It was a small room but quite adequate for a single student. It was outfitted with a desk for study and a small bookcase. A wardrobe stood off to the side and his four poster bed took up much of the rest of the room. From his window he could just make out the Forbidden Forest and Hagrid's hut in the distance.

The reasons for him having his own room were surprising, but they shouldn't have been. To anyone besides Hermione, himself, and now Dumbledore, the truth would come as a shock. But the answer was rather simple and straightforward, though it had taken him a good while to get used to the idea of it. The Founders of Hogwarts each had very idealized views of who should be allowed admittance. For Godric Gryffindor, only the bravest ones should be allowed; for Helga Hufflepuff only those who showed the loyalty and hard-work should be admitted; for Rowena Ravenclaw only those who sought knowledge were worthy of the education that Hogwarts would provide. For Salazar Slytherin, only those of the purest bloodlines were worthy of admittance. After hearing from Lucius that he wasn't truly a Malfoy or even a pure-blood, the knowledge burned brightly in his brain. And when he spoke the words that would have opened the common-room door and let him inside, the door knew. The magic used upon it was old, as old as the school itself. Draco recalled the welcome feast when the Sorting Hat sang of the need for inter-house unity and the division that the Founders had unknowingly created amongst the students. Needless to say, Draco wouldn't ever be allowed into Slytherin Common Room on his own ever again.

His first question to Dumbledore had been about the Sorting Hat. If the restrictions placed upon the Houses were so strict, then why did they Sorting Hat place him in Slytherin? Dumbledore had calmly replied that the Sorting Hat can only read what's in the mind, not in the blood. In his mind Draco had been a pure-blood of the highest pedigree. It had been an easy placement. There had been no doubts then of his parentage. Indeed, there were no questions now about his true blood heritage.

Why would anyone even think that he wasn't really a Malfoy? They would be shocked, to say the least, to find that the pure-blood elitist was truly a half-blood. It was a complete turnaround from his previous way of thinking. The idea that he was now ranked among the lowest of wizarding society by standards that his family had upheld for generations was appalling. In his heart he knew that he wasn't low or beneath anyone, in fact he still held himself with the highest of regard. It was the dichotomy of it that was so confusing to him. In one hand he had his beliefs of elitism and blood status; in the other he knew that if he were to be judged by that same standard he would be the one found lacking. And that wouldn't do. So, part of him wanted to cling to the beliefs he'd held since birth and the other part wanted to toss them out and make up some new kind of hierarchy, one that he would easily be at the top of.

He could almost hear Granger in his head whispering, "I told you so..." It was actually quite annoying. So he ignored all the feelings of inadequacy that swelled like the rushing tide in his heart. He forced himself away from the thoughts of regret. He wanted to pretend that none of it happened, that his father was still alive and that the sadness and pain that had followed simply didn't exist. But, he pushed all the regret aside. The hollow feeling he had in his chest when he tried desperately to forget it all was pointless. It made no difference and it never would. All that was left now was the courage to face the morning as an outcast and attempt to live as normal a life as possible.

Today was the day that all sixth year students would begin their N.E.W.T. level classes in their chosen career paths. Draco hadn't had much say in the matter of his own path, but he had no real conflict with his father's decisions for him. Diplomacy wasn't such a bad choice, in fact it was a quite natural career path for the head of one of Britain's foremost wizarding families. He'd have to go through rigorous classes and make top marks on his N.E.W.T.'s, but as he predicted his social life to be non-existent for the next year, he believed he'd have plenty of time to study. Who knew what the future held, as a diplomat for the Ministry maybe he'd reform wizarding society or something equally as grand.

Resolution bolstered his confidence and the quashed feelings of defectiveness were hastily pushed aside. He strode across his small bedroom and took out the books he would need for that morning's lessons. The hallways were steadily filling with students as he walked to the Arithmancy classroom.

The classroom was nearly empty when he arrived. Only a few students were scattered about the room. The class rarely had many students but it seemed that even fewer planned on taking it at N.E.W.T. level this year. He took a seat by the window on the far side of the room away from the other students and waited for Professor Vector to arrive.

A plump blonde girl that he didn't recognize was chattering eagerly with a house-mate about their chosen career paths. Her companion began listing the Ministry jobs she hoped to obtain upon graduation. Draco was momentarily pulled into their conversation when the door swung open and Granger walked in. She noticed him immediately and her face heated as she remembered their encounter in the library from the previous night. She ended up taking a seat as far across the room from him as possible.

It was then that Professor Vector entered the room. She took her place at the head of the classroom and surveyed the students coolly before speaking.

"Good morning students. I'm pleased to see so many of you have decided to continue your studies in Arithmancy. As you may have already figured out, you all have chosen Ministry career paths with emphasis on diplomacy. Look around you; these will be your classmates for the remainder of your schooling here at Hogwarts and upon graduation, your colleagues at work." She paused and smiled at them.

Draco looked around the room then. There were only about ten students in the classroom all of which were eagerly surveying the others. Granger looked quite disturbed by this revelation and was pointedly ignoring him.

Granger raised her hand hesitantly and asked, "So, we are to take all our classes with these students for the rest of the year?"

"Well, not all your classes. You will still have History of Magic with your house and some classes will be combined with students from similar career paths. This is all outlined on your schedules, I believe."

At that nearly everyone in the room dove for their schedules. Sure enough, it was there, written out at the bottom of the parchment, "Classes will now be determined by career paths unless otherwise stated." Draco skimmed the schedule, "History of Magic with Slytherin House."

He looked up again as Granger raised her hand again. "But, Professor, we've always taken classes with our Houses. I don't see why..."

"Ms. Granger, I'm sorry, but this is the way we have always done things at Hogwarts. If you'd read your schedule more carefully you would have known this."

"But..."

Professor Vector raised her hand for silence. "No more questions, we really must begin. There is but a finite amount of time before your N.E.W.T.'s and I mean to cover the material adequately." She turned toward a series of charts hanging on the wall and began class.

Draco took a moment to glance over at Granger again while no one was paying attention. Her cheeks were red and she looked upset. Straightening, she squared her shoulders, took out some parchment, and began taking notes.

It turned out that they had the following class together also. At the break for lunch he watched from across the Great Hall as she told Potter and Weasley her "unfortunate" news. Potter looked over at him as she spoke and a silent staring contest ensued. Soon however, the bell rang announcing the end of lunch. Draco pulled out his schedule to see where he went next.

Double Defense Against the Dark Arts with Auror and Law Enforcement students. Until dinner. "This day is just getting better and better," he thought acerbically.

* * *

Harry watched Malfoy from across the Great Hall the next day at dinner and continued to watch him over the course of the following weeks. There was a change in him that simply wasn't due to the death of his father. There was something else, something Harry couldn't place. He'd questioned Hermione once after dinner as they sat in the common room in Gryffindor tower doing homework. She denied knowing anything about what had happened to Malfoy, but Harry believed she knew more than she was letting on. He hadn't pushed her for information; he knew that if she had any idea of the secrets that he was keeping, that she'd stop at nothing to find out what they were. He still hadn't told anyone, not even Ron, about the prophecy. He felt guilty not telling them but he felt the burden of the prophecy was his own. He didn't want to share it and bring more danger upon his friends. Voldemort would stop at nothing to destroy him if he ever found out the full extent of the prophecy. No, Harry couldn't tell anyone.

It was also rather odd not having all his classes with Hermione and the other Gryffindors now. Since they had all chosen varying career paths their course loads were different. They still had Defense Against the Dark Arts and History of Magic together, but other than that their schedules were completely opposing. He still wasn't sure quite how he and Ron had scraped the marks on the O.W.L.'s to be allowed into the Auror program. They'd talked about that, the three of them, and decided that Dumbledore or McGonagall had to have stepped in and said something to Snape.

It was also apparent that the Order wanted someone of their own inside Hogwarts. Nymphadora Tonks was made DADA teacher for the year. On one hand, Harry was glad to see a friendly face in the classroom after the tortuous year with Umbridge the previous term. But, he also didn't want to see her shoulder the curse that so obviously held claim over the seat of the DADA teacher.

Several weeks into the year, once everyone was quite settled into their new routines, Hermione casually asked him about that night at the Ministry. The common room was nearly deserted, only he, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny remained. He felt the blood drain out of his face and his palms begin to sweat when he heard her next question.

"Harry, what was in the golden sphere?" She looked at him with wide open eyes from across the table. "The one with your name and Voldemort's?"

He glanced up to see Ron and Ginny also intently focusing on him. Ginny still had a hold of her quill; the ink began dripping down onto her homework as she waited for him to answer. Ron watched him wearily and glanced back at Hermione as if knowing that she was pushing him too hard. Harry looked back to Hermione then. Her skin was flushed and he noticed then that she'd lost weight. Her eyes seemed rather hollow and her cheeks were sunken. She stared at him with pleading eyes, silently begging him to appease their curiosity. He couldn't. He wouldn't tell them. Let her keep her secrets about Malfoy, and he would keep his own.

It was Ron who spoke next. "Hermione, just drop it, he doesn't want to talk about it. Leave it alone."

"No, Ron! I won't." She looked back at him, tears forming in her eyes. "Harry, please. What was in that sphere? What are you keeping from us?"

It was too much, keeping it all alone. He did the only thing he felt that he could. He pushed away from the table in a rage and screamed. "What secrets are you hiding Hermione?! I've seen the way you watch him and the way he watches you! Something happened at Malfoy Manor that you aren't telling us about! WHAT SECRETS ARE YOU HIDING, HERMIONE?!"

She was crying freely now and yet he didn't want to stop screaming at her. It was easier that way, to make her feel the pain that he felt. He wanted her to share it, all of it.

"Harry! Stop! It's not like that!" Her entire body was shaking with the tears. She stood slowly and moved towards him, her arms open, pleading with him. "I can't tell you. It's not my place... I want to, I do, but I can't!"

His voice was trembling in rage, and was deadly quiet in the silence of the common room. She stepped closer to him. She was still crying. He jumped back as she crowded closer. "Get away from me! You're keeping his secrets now is that it?! You've chosen HIM over me, over US?!" He gestured wildly to Ginny and Ron who were staring open mouthed at the two of them.

Ginny pushed away from the table and shook her head, "Don't drag me into this, Harry. This is your fight."

"Forget it. I'm going to bed."

He grabbed for his books and parchment and hastily gathered them up. Hermione moved to speak again but he brushed past her and up the stairs to his dormitory. He slammed the door behind him heedless of his roommates. Ron pushed the door open only moments later. Ron's face was red and angry but he didn't say a word. Harry grabbed a towel and headed for the showers. He emerged awhile later with a slightly cooling temper. He climbed up into his bed and moved to close the curtains around him when he heard Ron's voice from across the room, livid and hard.

"What did you mean when you said that you've seen her look at him? You didn't mean Malfoy?"

"Yeah, Ron. I did." Harry sat up and in the dark he could barely make out the silhouette of his friend. But the anger radiating off of him pulsated across the room.

"So, they've been watching each other. Since the beginning of term."

Harry didn't answer. He didn't need to. Ron was angry and nothing he said now would calm him. He wanted to feel guilt for instigating this fight between his two best friends, but he didn't. Instead he drifted off to sleep. Content momentarily that he wasn't the only one feeling pain.

* * *

Ginny stayed at the table for a moment after Ron stormed out. Hermione sank onto the couch in the common room. After the tears had dried and she began breathing normally again, Ginny sat down next to her on the couch and gave her a light hug. She didn't want to push her friend about her secrets. Hermione would come to her when she was ready and not a moment before.

"Ginny, I don't think I can keep this a secret anymore. I don't want to lie to you and Harry. Or to Ron. But, it's not my secret. I wanted to tell you. I just don't think I can keep it to myself anymore."

"I won't make you tell me. But, if you want someone to talk to, then I'm here. I'll listen. Ron and Harry will come around. They'll get over this. It can't be that bad."

"Oh, Ginny. But, it is. It is that bad." Hermione stopped and took a breath before beginning. "Do you remember that day we went to visit my parents at St. Mungo's?"

Ginny nodded.

"Well, I thought about telling you then but I stopped myself... You have to promise never to say a word of this to anyone. If this gets out then Malfoy's life is ruined."

"I won't tell anyone. I promise."

"When I was kidnapped, Malfoy wanted to kill me. I could tell. I could see it in his eyes. He hated me. He probably still hates me. But he couldn't do it. He couldn't kill me. He tried. He held a knife to my throat and tried to slit it. But he couldn't. Lucius was so angry. When Malfoy refused to do it Lucius attacked him. I was sure that he would kill him and then me too. But, he didn't, something happened and then Lucius fell over dying. It was like he'd been cursed with dark magic but there was no sign of it. I realize now that Malfoy did wandless magic, though I don't know if he meant to or not. But Lucius was dying. And then he told Malfoy that he wasn't really his father."

Ginny gasped. Her heart was racing. "Go on."

"Right before he died he called Malfoy something. I don't know what it means. I've been researching it in the library but I can't find it in any book. It's like it doesn't exist."

Hermione paused but Ginny squeezed her hand reassuringly and asked, "What did he call him?"

Hermione looked up into her eyes, the fear and reluctance evident in her face.

But, she steeled herself for the onslaught of guilt at the telling and continued, "He called him the Half-Blood Prince. Malfoy is the Half-Blood Prince."