He hated leaving her. Absolutely loathed the idea. Especially since she was pregnant, and he knew there was a chance he might not return.
But, if nothing else Draco felt he owed it to his mother. Narcissa who had loved him, protected him, and guided him through his childhood. She was probably the reason there was something inside of him Ginny could love, and he could never explain that very well. Lucius Malfoy was important to Narcissa, and for that Draco would at least try.
As he entered the gates outside of the Malfoy summer mansion, Draco couldn't deny the cold chill he felt. He could remember the torture chamber his father kept beneath the first floor wine cellar, a small room with chains and medieval devices used for pain. He'd first experienced them the summer between his second and third year. He'd lost the Slytherin Quidditch match to Potter and the Gryffindors, and in Lucius eye's it was sufficient reason to introduce the young boy to manacles and a whip.
Stop it, he silently commanded himself. There was no point in thinking of it now. It was more than ten years in the past, and part of Draco hated that his father could still evoke such emotion in him. His hand tightened around his wand as the front doors opened before he even reached the steps. "'Ello?" he asked.
No answer.
Of course, he hadn't been expecting one. "Right then."
Draco shoved his right hand into his pocket, grabbing on the wedding ring, willing Ginny to give him strength. He only wanted to return to her, and if this was what he had to do, then he might as well get it over with.
"To father," he murmured. With a flick of his wrist, Draco appeared in his father's study.
The elder Malfoy looked up at him, over the top of his reading glasses. "Draco."
"Lucius."
"I'm still your father, boy."
"You haven't been my father in a long time, Lucius." Draco took a step closer, coming fully into the light. "You killed my mother, and then you became dead to me."
Lucius's eyes flashed, but his mouth thinned. "Why did you come here?"
"You have one more chance, one more opportunity I suppose, to turn Voldemort over. You know his fall is imminent, I would hope you would be smart enough to get out before you fall as well."
"Fall?" Lucius questioned. "He will not fall. He's the most powerful wizard of all time, boy. Not even Dumbledore has more power."
Draco studied his father carefully. "Do you honestly believe that?" he questioned. "Do you believe everything he tells you, Father? He's lying to you, and one would think you were smart enough to notice it."
"How dare you slander my Lord. Just because you were stupid enough to be pulled to the other side, doesn't mean I will be. I tell you, boy, when Potter and Dumbledore are defeated, I will enjoy hurting you." Lucius stood from behind the desk, picking up his wand as he went. "Oh, I won't kill you, don't worry. Not at first. No, first I'm going after that pretty little whore of yours."
"You will not touch my wife," Draco said through gritted teeth.
"She is not your wife!"
"Well I say differently, and since I'm the one who is married to her, I think that's what matters."
"The only thing that matters about your marriage is that it will soon be over. You will have returned to our ranks, Draco, and you will enjoy it."
"I'll never come to you."
"Then I'll kill you," Lucius said softly. "It's a very simple solution. I'll just kill you."
"And with that you take the line of Malfoy." He watched the older man with cautious eyes, mentally preparing himself to combat any curse he might throw at him.
"I can have more children," his father said softly. "I'm not too old for mating. I'll gladly find another wife among the ranks of my Lord and my new child will have everything that was once yours."
"You can't replace a child with a child!" Draco yelled, outraged. "You can't just kill one, then have another. It's not right."
"Who are you to decide?" Lucius's mouth twisted into an evil grin, his white teeth showing just slightly. "You'll be dead, anyway."
"Virginia is about to give birth to the Malfoy heir."
"There will be no 'Virginia' when I'm through with her. Though, I might enjoy taking your son and raising him as my own. With him I will not make the same mistakes as I did with you."
Lucius lifted his wand then, ready to utter the killing curse at any moment. "Just so you know, there's a portkey in my pocket at this moment. As soon as I'm finished here, I'll be going to Malfoy Manor to take care of your red-headed-bride."
Draco was so angry he could hardly see. He blindly lifted his wand and pointed the tip straight at his father's heart. "Avada–"
As he finished the curse, Lucius was able to get off one of his own. "Obliviate," he commanded.
"–Kedavra." A green light shot from the tip of Draco's wand, piercing his father's heart. Lucius fell backwards, reaching for his son as he tumbled.
The memory charm seemed to wrap itself around Draco's mind as he fell, no matter how he tried to find it. His wand fell from his left hand, as his right slipped inside of his father's coat. He could only think of getting to Virginia as he searched for the portkey his father had mentioned.
His last conscious thought was his fingers wrapping around a small wooden object, before the world turned inside out and he was pulled into it.
***
All around him, all he could recognize was the noise. A noise he didn't recognize, from some place he didn't recognize.
Where was he?
More importantly, who was he?
Why did everything seem so… fuzzy? None of it made any sense.
The young man pushed himself up from the dirty alley, wiping blindly at the dirt on his cloak. He could feel the soft cashmere beneath his fingers and he gripped onto that. The cloak was obviously expensive, so he must have been someone important, right? Maybe he was…
Try as he might, he had no idea who he was.
After taking a moment to orientate himself, the silver-haired-man was able to stumble his way out of the dark alley. The lights of the city were blinding, as he looked up into the dusk. The sun would be setting soon, but it still didn't give him any idea where he was.
"I don't understand," he muttered.
Wait. Was that an accent? Or wasn't it? He… he wasn't sure what kind of accent it might be, though. It was very… proper. Perhaps that was the best way to describe it.
He saw a man in a blue uniform helping an elder lady with her groceries and decided to follow him. If he was kind enough to help the lady, it was entirely possible the man would take pity on him as well.
After walking across three blocks, the man turned into an old brick building. The blonde looked up and read the words NYPD and sighed in frustration. He was sure that meant something, but he just didn't know what.
He wondered slightly if this was some kind of joke. The man looked around, waiting for someone to jump out and yell, "Surprise!" at him at any moment. Except no one came.
Another moment passed before he followed the blue-uniform-man into the building. The lighting was harsh, and there were more than just one blue uniform people now. He studied each of them carefully, trying to pick out the one who helped the lady. Unfortunately it was useless. He couldn't tell one apart from the other.
When someone finally noticed him, it was a pretty lady sitting behind a desk. "Can I help you sir?"
The young man sighed deeply before approaching her. "I…" He couldn't continue. In truth, he wasn't sure what to say.
"Yes?" the blue-uniform-lady prompted.
"I think I'm lost."
She smiled then. "Judging from that accent, you're a long way from home. I can never tell a British from Australian, though. So, which is it?"
He stared at her, confused. "What?"
"Sydney or London?" she asked again.
The young man studied her, his eyes finally coming across a bad. DAVIS it read it all capital letters. "Ms. Davis, I'm not sure what you're asking."
Her brow wrinkled. "Where are you from?"
"I'm… not sure. I can't remember anything beyond fifteen minutes ago."
"What do you mean?" Surely this was some kind of joke. It was now her time to look around, as if waiting for someone to jump out with a "Surprise!"
"I mean," he announced clearly, "that the first memory I have started fifteen minutes ago, when I gained consciousness in some dark alley. Will you tell me where I am?"
"New York City."
"And where is that?"
"America."
"Are London or… Sydney, did you say, in your America?"
Officer Davis shook her head. "London is in England, Sydney is in Australia."
"And we're in America?" he asked for clarification. Once she nodded, he asked, "And you're sure I'm not from here?"
The police officer shrugged. "You could be, I guess. You're accent definitely isn't native, though."
His brow furrowed further. "I don't understand."
"Do you now your name?" she asked, this time there was a patience and understanding in her voice.
"No." He reached up and placed his right hand on the desk.
When she spotted his wedding ring, she smiled. "Let me?" Officer Davis asked. "Perhaps it will give us some clues." He allowed her to tug the ring from his finger, all the while knowing it was wrong. She was right, though. The inside of the ring was inscribed with Draco and a date. August 1, 2001. "I suppose your name is Draco then," she said finally.
He—Draco—shrugged. "I guess. But that still doesn't tell me who I am."
"Do you have anything in your pockets?"
He reached into the trousers and sighed as his fingers came into contact with a cool metal. He pulled it from inside and frowned when he saw it was a ring matching his own. "Wouldn't my wife have this?"
Officer Davis shrugged. "Who knows? Let me see it." She studied the inscription carefully, finding the same date along with the name Virginia. "Do you remember her?"
Draco shook his head. "No."
She could feel the headache coming and it frustrated her. Finally, she pulled the proper paperwork from the file and attached it to a clipboard, handing him a blue ink pen. "Go sit in those chairs and fill as much of this out as possible. If you don't understand something, then I'll glad help."
He mutely accepted the clipboard and went to the chairs where she'd directed him. The hard plastic wasn't comfortable at all, but he didn't really have a choice. Sitting down, he studied the paperwork carefully. He didn't know any of these answers.
Finally, he gave up and sat the clipboard in the chair beside him. Reaching into his pocket, he again pulled out the second wedding band. For some unexplained reason, it felt important. As if there was a promise attached to it, something that he should remember but couldn't.
Draco only knew that his past—and possibly his future—lay in the hands of this Virginia.
Whoever she was.
But, if nothing else Draco felt he owed it to his mother. Narcissa who had loved him, protected him, and guided him through his childhood. She was probably the reason there was something inside of him Ginny could love, and he could never explain that very well. Lucius Malfoy was important to Narcissa, and for that Draco would at least try.
As he entered the gates outside of the Malfoy summer mansion, Draco couldn't deny the cold chill he felt. He could remember the torture chamber his father kept beneath the first floor wine cellar, a small room with chains and medieval devices used for pain. He'd first experienced them the summer between his second and third year. He'd lost the Slytherin Quidditch match to Potter and the Gryffindors, and in Lucius eye's it was sufficient reason to introduce the young boy to manacles and a whip.
Stop it, he silently commanded himself. There was no point in thinking of it now. It was more than ten years in the past, and part of Draco hated that his father could still evoke such emotion in him. His hand tightened around his wand as the front doors opened before he even reached the steps. "'Ello?" he asked.
No answer.
Of course, he hadn't been expecting one. "Right then."
Draco shoved his right hand into his pocket, grabbing on the wedding ring, willing Ginny to give him strength. He only wanted to return to her, and if this was what he had to do, then he might as well get it over with.
"To father," he murmured. With a flick of his wrist, Draco appeared in his father's study.
The elder Malfoy looked up at him, over the top of his reading glasses. "Draco."
"Lucius."
"I'm still your father, boy."
"You haven't been my father in a long time, Lucius." Draco took a step closer, coming fully into the light. "You killed my mother, and then you became dead to me."
Lucius's eyes flashed, but his mouth thinned. "Why did you come here?"
"You have one more chance, one more opportunity I suppose, to turn Voldemort over. You know his fall is imminent, I would hope you would be smart enough to get out before you fall as well."
"Fall?" Lucius questioned. "He will not fall. He's the most powerful wizard of all time, boy. Not even Dumbledore has more power."
Draco studied his father carefully. "Do you honestly believe that?" he questioned. "Do you believe everything he tells you, Father? He's lying to you, and one would think you were smart enough to notice it."
"How dare you slander my Lord. Just because you were stupid enough to be pulled to the other side, doesn't mean I will be. I tell you, boy, when Potter and Dumbledore are defeated, I will enjoy hurting you." Lucius stood from behind the desk, picking up his wand as he went. "Oh, I won't kill you, don't worry. Not at first. No, first I'm going after that pretty little whore of yours."
"You will not touch my wife," Draco said through gritted teeth.
"She is not your wife!"
"Well I say differently, and since I'm the one who is married to her, I think that's what matters."
"The only thing that matters about your marriage is that it will soon be over. You will have returned to our ranks, Draco, and you will enjoy it."
"I'll never come to you."
"Then I'll kill you," Lucius said softly. "It's a very simple solution. I'll just kill you."
"And with that you take the line of Malfoy." He watched the older man with cautious eyes, mentally preparing himself to combat any curse he might throw at him.
"I can have more children," his father said softly. "I'm not too old for mating. I'll gladly find another wife among the ranks of my Lord and my new child will have everything that was once yours."
"You can't replace a child with a child!" Draco yelled, outraged. "You can't just kill one, then have another. It's not right."
"Who are you to decide?" Lucius's mouth twisted into an evil grin, his white teeth showing just slightly. "You'll be dead, anyway."
"Virginia is about to give birth to the Malfoy heir."
"There will be no 'Virginia' when I'm through with her. Though, I might enjoy taking your son and raising him as my own. With him I will not make the same mistakes as I did with you."
Lucius lifted his wand then, ready to utter the killing curse at any moment. "Just so you know, there's a portkey in my pocket at this moment. As soon as I'm finished here, I'll be going to Malfoy Manor to take care of your red-headed-bride."
Draco was so angry he could hardly see. He blindly lifted his wand and pointed the tip straight at his father's heart. "Avada–"
As he finished the curse, Lucius was able to get off one of his own. "Obliviate," he commanded.
"–Kedavra." A green light shot from the tip of Draco's wand, piercing his father's heart. Lucius fell backwards, reaching for his son as he tumbled.
The memory charm seemed to wrap itself around Draco's mind as he fell, no matter how he tried to find it. His wand fell from his left hand, as his right slipped inside of his father's coat. He could only think of getting to Virginia as he searched for the portkey his father had mentioned.
His last conscious thought was his fingers wrapping around a small wooden object, before the world turned inside out and he was pulled into it.
All around him, all he could recognize was the noise. A noise he didn't recognize, from some place he didn't recognize.
Where was he?
More importantly, who was he?
Why did everything seem so… fuzzy? None of it made any sense.
The young man pushed himself up from the dirty alley, wiping blindly at the dirt on his cloak. He could feel the soft cashmere beneath his fingers and he gripped onto that. The cloak was obviously expensive, so he must have been someone important, right? Maybe he was…
Try as he might, he had no idea who he was.
After taking a moment to orientate himself, the silver-haired-man was able to stumble his way out of the dark alley. The lights of the city were blinding, as he looked up into the dusk. The sun would be setting soon, but it still didn't give him any idea where he was.
"I don't understand," he muttered.
Wait. Was that an accent? Or wasn't it? He… he wasn't sure what kind of accent it might be, though. It was very… proper. Perhaps that was the best way to describe it.
He saw a man in a blue uniform helping an elder lady with her groceries and decided to follow him. If he was kind enough to help the lady, it was entirely possible the man would take pity on him as well.
After walking across three blocks, the man turned into an old brick building. The blonde looked up and read the words NYPD and sighed in frustration. He was sure that meant something, but he just didn't know what.
He wondered slightly if this was some kind of joke. The man looked around, waiting for someone to jump out and yell, "Surprise!" at him at any moment. Except no one came.
Another moment passed before he followed the blue-uniform-man into the building. The lighting was harsh, and there were more than just one blue uniform people now. He studied each of them carefully, trying to pick out the one who helped the lady. Unfortunately it was useless. He couldn't tell one apart from the other.
When someone finally noticed him, it was a pretty lady sitting behind a desk. "Can I help you sir?"
The young man sighed deeply before approaching her. "I…" He couldn't continue. In truth, he wasn't sure what to say.
"Yes?" the blue-uniform-lady prompted.
"I think I'm lost."
She smiled then. "Judging from that accent, you're a long way from home. I can never tell a British from Australian, though. So, which is it?"
He stared at her, confused. "What?"
"Sydney or London?" she asked again.
The young man studied her, his eyes finally coming across a bad. DAVIS it read it all capital letters. "Ms. Davis, I'm not sure what you're asking."
Her brow wrinkled. "Where are you from?"
"I'm… not sure. I can't remember anything beyond fifteen minutes ago."
"What do you mean?" Surely this was some kind of joke. It was now her time to look around, as if waiting for someone to jump out with a "Surprise!"
"I mean," he announced clearly, "that the first memory I have started fifteen minutes ago, when I gained consciousness in some dark alley. Will you tell me where I am?"
"New York City."
"And where is that?"
"America."
"Are London or… Sydney, did you say, in your America?"
Officer Davis shook her head. "London is in England, Sydney is in Australia."
"And we're in America?" he asked for clarification. Once she nodded, he asked, "And you're sure I'm not from here?"
The police officer shrugged. "You could be, I guess. You're accent definitely isn't native, though."
His brow furrowed further. "I don't understand."
"Do you now your name?" she asked, this time there was a patience and understanding in her voice.
"No." He reached up and placed his right hand on the desk.
When she spotted his wedding ring, she smiled. "Let me?" Officer Davis asked. "Perhaps it will give us some clues." He allowed her to tug the ring from his finger, all the while knowing it was wrong. She was right, though. The inside of the ring was inscribed with Draco and a date. August 1, 2001. "I suppose your name is Draco then," she said finally.
He—Draco—shrugged. "I guess. But that still doesn't tell me who I am."
"Do you have anything in your pockets?"
He reached into the trousers and sighed as his fingers came into contact with a cool metal. He pulled it from inside and frowned when he saw it was a ring matching his own. "Wouldn't my wife have this?"
Officer Davis shrugged. "Who knows? Let me see it." She studied the inscription carefully, finding the same date along with the name Virginia. "Do you remember her?"
Draco shook his head. "No."
She could feel the headache coming and it frustrated her. Finally, she pulled the proper paperwork from the file and attached it to a clipboard, handing him a blue ink pen. "Go sit in those chairs and fill as much of this out as possible. If you don't understand something, then I'll glad help."
He mutely accepted the clipboard and went to the chairs where she'd directed him. The hard plastic wasn't comfortable at all, but he didn't really have a choice. Sitting down, he studied the paperwork carefully. He didn't know any of these answers.
Finally, he gave up and sat the clipboard in the chair beside him. Reaching into his pocket, he again pulled out the second wedding band. For some unexplained reason, it felt important. As if there was a promise attached to it, something that he should remember but couldn't.
Draco only knew that his past—and possibly his future—lay in the hands of this Virginia.
Whoever she was.
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