Sacrifice

Chapter 4 - Fear

I lodge in fear.

Though this' a heavenly angel, hell is here.

***

As a child, Draco had never been afraid of his father. He had never even stopped to consider that there might be a reason to be afraid. Father was someone who gave him expensive presents and taught him everything he needed to know to be a proper Malfoy. Father demanded obedience, sure, but what else was to be expected from the head of one of the most prestigious wizarding families? Draco obeyed without question, not because he was scared, but because he couldn't imagine doing anything else.

When Draco grew older, he gradually came to understand just how dangerous his father could be. But Lucius' anger and cruelty was always directed towards other people. Towards people who had been stupid enough to displease him. If Draco ever thought about it, it was just a brief, but grateful, reflection that he was lucky to have a father who'd do anything to protect his family. Draco had admired him for it.

But then everything had changed. Or rather, everything had remained the same, while he had changed. Harry had shown him that there was another way to live; that he didn't have to fight everyone, all the time; that it was alright to let people see who he really was; that being weak could sometimes make you stronger.

Of course, Draco had known his father wouldn't approve. Lucius disapproved of a lot of things. Queers were right there on top of the list along with Muggles and Mudbloods. Harry Potter was not much further down.

And Draco had learnt to be afraid. First, he had been afraid of disappointing his father. Then, when his relationship with Harry grew deeper, and the Malfoy values started losing their appeal, he began to fear for himself. What would he do when his father disowned him? Because he never doubted that would happen once Lucius found out. When the secret got out, he expected an owl from his parents, telling him never to come home again. What he didn't expect was Lucius showing up at Hogwarts in a blind rage...

***

Everyone knew.

Draco was enjoying the new sensation of walking through Hogwarts together with Harry, being able to touch him without first making absolutely sure that no one could see them. Just the fact that he could smile at Harry in public made him feel warm. Not that they were in public now. Except for them, the corridor was deserted. And that opened up the possibility for something more than a smile or a gentle touch.

Draco turned to Harry, about to make what he considered a very interesting suggestion, when angry voices coming from an intersecting corridor interrupted them.

"...and I strongly recommend you talk to Dumbledore before you do anything." There was no mistaking Snape's voice. The Potions Master sounded anxious and out of breath.

"There's nothing that old fool could say that would change my mind. I came here to get my son, and that's what I'm going to do," Lucius Malfoy answered him. There was a level of fury in his voice that Draco had never heard before. This was not going to be pleasant. What should we do? Face him? Or run? He looked at Harry and saw a desperate anxiety in his boyfriend's eyes.

"Do you want me to stay?" Harry asked.

Draco had no time to answer. A second later Lucius rounded the corner with a breathless Snape in tow.

Harry took a step closer to Draco. Whether to protect him or seek protection, Draco did not know.

"You!" Lucius hissed, brandishing his wand and pointing it at Harry.

Draco tried to move between his father and Harry.

Snape pulled Lucius' arm. "Don't do anything you'll regret, Malfoy," he said.

Lucius turned slowly, a manic rage clouding his eyes, and pointed his wand towards Snape. "Stupefy!" he whispered through clenched teeth, and Snape, taken completely by surprise, slumped to the floor.

Draco felt Harry grabbing his hand and holding on tight as Lucius turned to face them again. Draco was grateful for the contact. He had never seen his father lose his self-control like this, and it made him nervous. Lucius' eyes travelled to their entwined hands, and then to Harry, who was staring back defiantly.

"You keep your filthy hands off him," Lucius said, and then he pointed his wand at Harry again, muttering a spell Draco had never heard before.

Harry tried to jump out of the way. He managed to dodge the spell, but slammed into the wall instead. The dull thud as his head hit the wall echoed through the corridor. Without a sound he sank to the floor, clutching his right temple. There was blood gushing through his fingers.

Draco tried to reach him, but a rough grip on his robes pulled him back. He felt a sharp, sudden pain streaking across his cheek. He couldn't understand where it came from. Then he felt it again, and a moment later he realised his father was hitting him. Blow after blow landed all over his body, striking him more times than he could count. He felt every single one to the core of his soul long after his body had gone numb.

He didn't know when he'd fallen, but he was lying on the floor next to Harry when he realised the beating had stopped.

"Get up!" Lucius commanded. "You're coming with me."

"No," Draco whimpered, more in fear than as an actual answer to Lucius' demand.

"No?" Lucius' voice was full of sarcasm. "Do you still dare defy me? You won't for long. I can assure you of that. You will come with me. And you will get over this absurd infatuation. If I have to beat it out of you, then so be it. I won't tolerate you soiling the Malfoy name like this."

Draco felt like crying. It was over. He knew he wouldn't be able to resist his father. Lucius would drag him back home, and he'd never see Harry again.

Harry...

Harry was looking at him. His eyes were dazed and full of pain, but they watched Draco intently.

"Face him standing," Harry whispered so silently that Draco could barely hear him. But that whisper was confident, full of trust in Draco's courage. He suddenly knew he could do it. He had to. Anything else would be letting Harry down.

Falteringly, he pushed himself to his feet.

He looked his father straight in the eye.

"No."

And it felt good. It felt good to refuse, to finally do what he wanted. It didn't matter that the rage in Lucius' eyes was colder than ever before. It didn't matter that his father would surely kill him for this, as he had killed so many others before. If that happened, he would die, knowing that he wasn't a weak coward after all, that Harry was proud of him.

Lucius must have felt his resolve. He raised his wand.

"Stop!"

There was a brief flash of light, and Lucius' wand clattered to the floor, as Dumbledore came striding up to them.

"Lucius Malfoy, what do you think you're doing?"

Lucius seemed to have lost some of his composure along with his wand, but he straightened and sneered at Dumbledore.

"I'm taking my son out of Hogwarts. What I do with him is no longer any of your business."

"Oh no, Lucius, you're wrong." Dumbledore pulled out a parchment from his pocket. "I have a document here that can make it my business."

Lucius' sneer faltered a little. He obviously had some inkling about what the document contained. Draco didn't, and he felt bewildered.

Dumbledore gave Lucius a cold look. Then he turned to Draco, explaining: "When I heard about you and Harry, I was afraid something like this would happen, so I had the Ministry draw this up." He gestured towards the parchment. "It's the first step in removing you from the care of your family."

Draco felt hope and relief surging through him; feelings so wonderful that he didn't dare believe they were true.

"Does it mean...?" That I don't have to go back with him? That he can't hurt me anymore?

"Yes." Dumbledore smiled, answering the unspoken questions.

"You don't really think this little ploy of yours will work, do you?" Lucius interjected. "I will fight you every step of the way. There is no way you can win this. Draco is mine, and you can't change that with a piece of parchment."

Dumbledore ignored him, still speaking softly to Draco. "Since you're over sixteen, you have the right to decide over certain parts of your life on your own. This is one of them. I need your signature on this document before I can do anything else."

"So, if I sign that..." Draco glanced at the document, before turning to glare maliciously at Lucius. "He can't touch me?"

"It's a little more complicated than that, but in effect, yes."

"Give me a quill."

Dumbledore handed him the document and a quill. Draco took his eyes off Lucius long enough to scribble his name where Dumbledore indicated. When he looked up again, both colour and expression seemed to have been drained from Lucius' face. They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. Then Lucius spoke.

"I have no son."

"Finally you're catching on," Draco answered.

***

All that had happened more than a year ago. Draco hadn't seen him since then.

And now, Lucius was standing in the hall below him, smirking nonchalantly, as if it was completely natural that they should meet like this. And worse, he was standing between Draco and his bag. There was no way he could reach the Portkey. Fear, stronger than any he had felt before coursed through him. He had to get away. He had to! The silence stretched out between them. The tension was driving Draco crazy. He needed to do something, say something.

"Father."

No! Not Father! Why did I say that? He hated the word. And he hated himself even more for saying it. But at least it had come out in a moderately sarcastic tone.

"Son." Lucius' voice was just as sarcastic.

Almost lazily, Lucius started walking towards him. He stopped at the foot of the stairs, looking at Draco with disdain in his eyes.

"Well. Are you going to stand there all day?"

Draco swallowed, trying to get his voice to work again. "No. In fact, I was just leaving, so if you wouldn't mind stepping aside..." He forced himself to take a few steps down the stairs. His heart was beating rapidly, and panic threatened to turn him inside out, but he would not show it.

"Really?" Lucius smiled. It was a thin smile, conveying none of the emotions normally associated with smiles.

Draco stopped again, not wanting to get too close.

"Mother died this morning." For a second he clung to a desperate hope that this would throw Lucius off balance. But he was sorely disappointed.

The only visible reaction on Lucius' face was a raised eyebrow. "So?" he said contemptuously.

For a moment, Draco forgot about his fear. "So?" he repeated. "Is that all you have to say? She was your wife. And now she's dead!"

"People die." This was said in a very flat voice.

Draco shook his head, finding it hard to believe that there actually had been a time when he admired this man.

"Whatever," he said, walking down the final steps and pushing past Lucius. "I buried her on her favourite hill, if anyone should care." He marched towards the door, towards his bag. Almost there...

And then Lucius was between him and freedom again.

"You can't leave yet, Draco." His voice was silky and teasing. "We have a guest."

"I'm not exactly in the mood for entertaining guests right now." Yes. Sarcasm. That's a good weapon. He was beginning to fear that it was the only weapon he had. "So, if you would just make my apologies to whoever it is. Tell them I'm mourning my mother."

Lucius threw his head back and laughed as if it had been a joke. Draco felt sick.

"This particular guest doesn't like being kept waiting," Lucius said. His amusement had disappeared in an instant. Now his whole appearance was coldly threatening. He gestured towards the parlour and Draco had no choice but to follow him.

Inside, Voldemort was waiting for them, comfortably seated in one of the large armchairs.

Lucius bowed slightly to his master, but Draco stood rigid. He couldn't help staring. He had seen Voldemort once before, the summer after his fourth year at Hogwarts. Then, the Dark Lord had been an obscure figure, cloaked in shadows. The man sitting in front of him now looked... almost normal. His dark hair was neatly combed and he was clean-shaven. He wore simple, but expensive looking robes. His whole appearance was one of immaculate elegance. Voldemort was a handsome man; there was no question about it. But in every movement, in the way he held his head, in his eyes, there was a hint of something not human.

Draco would have preferred it if he had looked like a monster. Like the monster he was. This... thing... in front of him was a travesty. His mere existence was a mockery of humanity.

"So..." Voldemort said. He was observing Draco intently, but speaking to Lucius. "This is the son you've raised so well."

Lucius cowered at the insult.

"Come here, boy!"

Before he realised what he was doing, Draco had taken several steps forward in response to the command. Voldemort stood and extended one of his hands towards Draco's face. Draco was struck by the image that those well-manicured fingers were just an illusion. Any moment now, the deception would fade; the hands would become gnarled and blackened, and the nails would grow into claws. Claws that would tear at his throat, scratch his cheek, rip out his eyes.

Some of what he was thinking must have been visible in his eyes, because Voldemort chuckled quietly, before grabbing hold of his chin. Draco felt his head being roughly yanked from side to side, so that Voldemort could look at him from all angles.

"Pretty," Voldemort commented. "Too pretty. He won't be of much use." He was speaking to Lucius again. "But it might be amusing to do something about that sweet little face when I have no further need for him."

Draco flinched, trying to get away, but couldn't. It felt like Voldemort's fingers were permanently lodged around his face.

Voldemort turned his full attention to Draco again. "Oh yes, you'll be a nice little disparity in my line of Death Eaters."

This time Draco did break free from his grip. "Never!" He fought off the panic, and straightened his shoulders. This is how Harry would do it, isn't it? Never showing fear, never budging an inch. He wasn't as brave as Harry - he was very aware of that - but he would do everything within his power to defy Voldemort.

The Dark Lord chuckled mirthlessly. "Oh? That's what you think?"

"I chose sides long ago. And I'd rather be dead than on yours." Now, where did that come from? Draco could hardly believe it was his own voice, sounding so cool and calm.

"Yes, that could still happen. But I have an offer for you that you might find interesting." From the look on Voldemort's face, Draco got the impression that he really didn't want to know the Dark Lord's definition of interesting.

He rolled his eyes at Voldemort. "Well, get on with it then. This is getting boring."

Voldemort stepped towards him, coming far too close for comfort, but thankfully, not close enough to touch him. "You will join me, boy, because otherwise your little friend will die." The way he said the word friend, made it perfectly clear, who he was talking about.

Draco forced himself to laugh. "Harry? Now, remind me, how many times have you tried to kill him already? And he's still alive!" He sneered. "I trust you'll forgive me if I don't take that threat seriously." But inside he was trembling. If Voldemort somehow got to Harry... No! Don't even think about that. Don't think at all. Just fight him!

"Growing a backbone, are we?" Voldemort's voice was smooth and unpleasant. "Maybe you'll be some fun, after all. And when I get tired of you, I might give you to my Death Eaters to play with. They always like to get their hands on a traitor. What do you think of that?"

"I think you're a big fraud. I think that if there was any chance you could hurt Harry, you'd be doing it, and not standing here, making vague threats."

"Sit," Voldemort said, gesturing towards one of the chairs. Then he sat down in the other.

"I prefer to stand."

"Sit!"

Draco was in the chair before he realised he was obeying the command. He tried to make it look like he was sitting down because he had decided he wanted to after all.

"Lucius, show him the book."

Draco looked up, startled, as Lucius placed a large book in his lap. He had been so focused on Voldemort that he had almost forgotten they were not alone. He started reading the page Lucius indicated.

"You've probably never heard of Death Bonds before." Voldemort's voice washed over him, confirming what he was reading. "They are rare, created only when a very strong killing curse, like Avada Kedavra, fails. But those curses were never designed to fail. A bond is formed between the caster and the victim, and this bond strives to complete what was left undone. Because of this bond, I can kill Harry Potter without even getting close to him. It's a complicated spell, dependent on rare items, and it only works at certain times. But I have what I need, and in less than three weeks everything will be perfectly aligned for me to perform the spell."

"No..." Draco couldn't believe it, wouldn't believe it. "This can't be true." He pushed the book away. It hit the floor with a thud, and a few loose pages scattered over the floor. Lucius hurried to pick them up, frowning malevolently at Draco.

"Oh, it's true." Voldemort said. "In three weeks, I'll be able to kill Harry Potter with just a flick of my wand."

"So what do you want me for?" Draco stood up again. He couldn't think sitting down.

"Do you know that he's not very happy with you at the moment?" Voldemort said, going on as if he hadn't heard Draco's question. "He actually seems rather irritated. He thinks you've been ignoring him."

"Ignoring?" Draco had no idea what Voldemort was talking about.

"Yes. It appears he gets very upset when he doesn't hear from you for a few days."

"But I've written..." Then Draco understood what Voldemort was hinting at. "You! You've been stopping my letters."

Voldemort only grinned maliciously. "All to make it easier for you..."

"And he has probably been writing to me too..." When Draco thought about it he realised he hadn't gotten any letters from Harry. That should have told him something strange was going on. But, fool that he was, he had been too busy with his mother to notice.

"Oh, did you want those letters?" Voldemort asked, his voice dripping with fake innocence.

He handed Draco a large box. Far too large and heavy for a few letters. Fearing the worst, Draco peeked inside. A soft white shape lay in the box. Hedwig! He didn't need a second glance to see that she was dead. How am I going to tell Harry? Draco forced down a scream of rage and sorrow. Not Hedwig! Harry loved her.

"Why?" he whispered.

"Makes a nice present, doesn't it?"

Draco breathed deeply, trying to get himself under some sort of control. He couldn't let Voldemort push him off balance like this.

"What do you want with me?" he asked again.

Voldemort leaned back with a very pleased expression on his face. "Contrary to what you fools believe, my greatest ambition in life is not to kill Harry Potter. He's a child, an annoying one - I'll grant him that - but still a child. He's no real threat to me. Oh, I'll kill him, when opportunity arises, but now I have a more important goal."

"What?" Draco croaked. His throat was dry.

"You." A dangerous glint appeared in Voldemort's eyes. "How do you think it looks? The son of one of my most loyal supporters betraying me, literally sleeping with the enemy!" He got up from the chair and started walking slowly towards Draco. "You will become a Death Eater..."

"No," Draco whispered, taking a step backwards, away from Voldemort.

"...and you will renounce those fools publicly..."

"No." Another step.

"You'll tell all of your so called friends that you've changed sides."

"No, please don't." Draco kept walking backwards, but Voldemort followed relentlessly.

"Once a traitor, always a traitor, right?"

"No. I can't."

"But you will. Or Harry will die."

"No!"

"Yes, he will die. And you will watch and know you could have stopped it, but didn't. It will be your fault."

Draco's back hit the wall, and suddenly everything seemed to stop. He buried his face in his hands, no longer bothering to hide his fear. There has to be a way out of this! But there wasn't. If only I could think of something. I need to think! But he knew no thinking would help.

He had lost.

I didn't matter what he did. He would lose everything.

Oh, Harry... There was no way he would be able to live if Harry died. I'm so sorry...

He looked at Voldemort. "I'd do anything - anything - for Harry! But how do I know you won't kill him anyway?"

"You'll just have to trust me." Voldemort seemed amused.

"Not good enough." Draco straightened again, and stared at him challengingly.

"You're bargaining with me?"

"If I have to." Funny how much easier it was to stand up to Voldemort when he was doing it for Harry.

"So, what do you have in mind?" Voldemort asked indulgently.

"I want a Promise Keeper." He had come upon the concept last year, when Harry had been somewhat obsessed with learning about Secret Keepers. Promise Keepers seemed to be much rarer, and every mention of them was vague and surrounded by cautions.

"Ah!" Voldemort sounded delighted. "It's quite a painful spell. A bit messy, and almost impossible to undo. No one likes being made a Promise Keeper. It's risky..."

"Doesn't matter. We'll use him." Draco pointed at Lucius.

Voldemort smiled.