A/N – This chapter features Tonks’ POV. Honestly, it can’t be easy, being caught between the Blacks, the Malfoy, and the muggles. Also starring Half-Naked!Neville, for all you closet fan girls. You know you want it.
Disclaimer – I don’t own any of the canon characters or concepts. Don’t sue.
Chapter 12
“You’ve heard the news, Tonks?” It was the first time Draco had ever addressed her without a disdainful sneer – but no doubt he was too upset to be so concerned about such petty slurs.
“Yes,” she said cautiously. “Life in Azkaban.” She couldn’t bring herself to commiserate – she wasn’t capable of that sort of hypocrisy.
For a moment, it seemed as though he were uncertain, indecisive – even lost. But…surely not. His composure reasserted itself, and the familiar sneer returned. “He was a fool. To be captured by fools and Potter’s little friends – he deserved everything he got.”
“Don’t you even care? Just a little?”
He was in complete control of himself and his reactions now. “No. Why should I?”
And then, as if it were a promise to more than just himself: “I’ll never make the same mistake…”
**************************
That had been twenty years ago. Since then, he had made good on his promise – in a wild, occasionally perilous, always controversial life, he had succeeded in avoiding Azkaban and his father’s mistakes. He had proven himself to be a brilliant, trustworthy and – before his unfortunate disgrace – honourable asset to the fight against Voldemort, and his relationship with Ginny Weasley had bade fair to binding him irrevocably to the Weasleys and the side of the light.
But then it had all ended, and any chance of gaining control over Draco Malfoy had vanished.
Despite his exemplary behaviour during the war, Tonks had never quite shared Ginny’s faith in Draco. She had known him too long to think he was any better than the rest of his Slytherin peers – especially now, when he was under attack – and so when Ginny did not return within the hour of her visit to Shadowlands, Tonks raised the alarm.
Surely it was only common sense.
*****************************
“You just let her go?” Ron Weasley exclaimed incredulously, voicing the thoughts of most of the gathered team. “Without any backup, and without even informing us? What the hell were you thinking?”
Tonks scowled. “She was sure that she could persuade him to listen to her. I tried to talk her out of it, but she pulled rank on me.” She thought it best not to mention Ginny’s certainty that Draco would never hurt her – there were some things elder brothers neither needed nor wanted to hear.
Ron looked like a volcano about to explode, but Carlisle seemed to be inordinately pleased. There was an air of secret satisfaction about him, as if some long cherished ambition had finally come to fruition – and Tonks found that she mistrusted that look, and all of its possible implications.
“Well,” Carlisle said softly, “he has shown himself to be hostile. Clearly, there is no more to be said – we must move before it is too late.”
Moody spoke for the first time. “And what, precisely, do you mean by ‘move’, Carlisle? What are your priorities?”
There was a short, fraught silence.
“Naturally,” the Unspeakable said gravely, “I am not insensitive to the danger of Miss Weasley’s position. But I have the greatest faith in her ability to handle anything Malfoy may throw at her: in the past, she has proven herself an extremely capable Auror…”
Ron turned an alarming shade of purple.
“I think that we must be realistic here. We cannot take the chance that Malfoy will escape this investigation and survive to spread his fatal illusions elsewhere, on other, unsuspecting victims.”
His face was shining, evangelical, caught up in his words and in his purpose. Tonks noted that he said nothing of brainwashing and revolution: around the table, she could see that others had also caught the same point, and were watching their superior officer curiously.
Malfoy had been one of them, once.
Whatever else he had done in the time since, whatever else he had become, this much was true: once, he had been an Auror; once, he had stood and fought shoulder to shoulder with them against the darkness…
Once, they would never have believed Carlisle’s and Moody’s accusations.
“Are you saying that catching Malfoy is more important than my sister’s life, Carlisle?” Ron demanded.
“But Mr. Weasley, your sister has spent many years in the field, and her past interactions with the subject will give her an extra edge. Besides, I don’t believe that Mr. Malfoy would be so foolish as to actually kill her.” An appeasing tone, a wise, saintly smile, and an evasive, contradictory answer. “We will use the extra time she has granted us to make our trap absolutely foolproof…”
Tonks wondered when it had become established that they were, indeed, going to make a move on Shadowlands.
***************************
Neville woke to find himself flat on his back, lying between cool cotton sheets that smelled faintly of sandalwood and other exotic spices. Not being as familiar with Draco Malfoy’s aftershave as his partner Ginny, he did not immediately make the connection – and for this, perhaps, he could be forgiven. It was not until he turned his head to see two familiar, serpent shaped silver cufflinks on the bedside table that he realized he was actually lying in Malfoy’s bed – and that the clock showed half past ten in the morning.
Ginny had been due for an appointment at nine.
Horrified, he jerked upright, cursing his weakness in giving in so easily to Malfoy’s torture. He swung his feet out of the bed, and realized for the first time that he was wearing nothing but a shirt – a white silk shirt, hand-tailored, and worth more than he made in a month – and his own socks.
What the hell was going on?
“Ah, you’re awake.” A rough, Cockney voice came from the doorway. “How do you feel?”
Neville looked blankly at Higgins. The last time he had seen this man he had been screaming in agony and begging to confess all that he knew.
“I feel,” he began angrily, and then stopped. “I feel…fine.” He looked up in incomprehension. “I don’t feel anything; no aches, no pain…”
“Ah.” Higgins nodded. “That’s good. I was hoping there would be no ill effects.”
“But…how? I could have sworn there would be no way to heal…”
Higgins laughed ruefully. “Ah, well. Mr. Malfoy is a master of illusion, you know. Not all the dreams spun at Shadowlands are harmless fantasies… The only real physical damage we had to fix was your broken nose; the rest was all in your own mind.”
All in his own mind? But it had been so real.
Not all the dreams spun at Shadowlands are harmless fantasies.
He gasped. “What happened to Ginny?” Had he jeopardized everything with his confessions? Malfoy would know, now, that she had lied to him – that she had been lying to him from the beginning. Would she be all right? “If you’ve hurt her…” He clenched his fists helplessly and tried to stand up, not caring that he was half naked.
“No, no,” Higgins said soothingly. “Nothing’s happened to Miss Weasley. In fact, she’s the one who’s concerned for you – that’s why I’m here, to bring you to see her. She won’t be satisfied until she sees that you’ve come to no harm.”
Neville snorted, scowling darkly, and Higgins grinned. “Yes. Well. Come on then,” he walked into the room and grabbed Neville’s hand, pulling him to his feet. “Get dressed, and we’ll go satisfy Miss Weasley’s demands. Then we can all start planning.”
“Planning?” Neville repeated, accepting the pair of slacks – casual black silk, once again, and no doubt shockingly expensive – that Higgins handed him and pulling them on. He remembered Kelly stripping him of his clothes sometime during the night before. That had not been illusion. “Planning for what?”
“Why, the Auror raid. We all know it’s coming. That bloody bastard Carlisle will stop at nothing to kill Mr. Malfoy – and unfortunately, he now has the perfect excuse.”
“But that’s… Me?” he said, thinking it through. “And Ginny? But how would he know?” He slipped into a pair of Malfoy’s black leather loafers.
Higgins was silent a moment, pawing through the sets of thick, luxurious robes that hung in the closet. He pulled one out, held it out to Neville – severe, stark, and elegant dark grey, no doubt they were devastating with Malfoy’s slender, pale blonde colouring. On Neville’s solid frame, and with his mousy brown hair, they would only look like someone else’s clothes.
He sighed, but put them on. They were better than nothing.
“Miss Weasley says that she told Mr. Malfoy’s cousin where she was going, and for what purpose. She says that Auror Tonks would have raised the alarm by now.”
“But I still don’t believe that they’ll attack Shadowlands – we haven’t a shred of evidence that there’s anything smoky even going on here. They can’t get a warrant for a raid if there’s no evidence.”
“Ah,” Higgins said, nodding sagely, “Aurors can’t conduct a raid if there’s no evidence. But it’s very different for Unspeakables… Have you finished putting on those robes? Need anything else? No? Right, let’s go then…”
And he ushered Neville, protesting, out of the room, ignoring all of his sputtering arguments on the way.
********************************
“Neville!” Ginny said, rising from her seat and hurrying over to greet him. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”
He glanced sidelong at Draco, who was watching him with heavy-lidded, amused eyes. For an endless moment, he felt a rush of primal, instinctive fear as he remembered those eyes watching him writhe… but he fended Ginny off with an unconvincing smile and assurances that he was unharmed.
“Draco said that you were unharmed,” she said laughing. “I didn’t believe him – but here you are…” She turned back to smile ruefully at Malfoy, an apologetic smile that she had ever distrusted him in such a way. This time it was Neville who watched Malfoy ironically – he wondered how long that rueful, furtive delight in Ginny’s eyes would last if Neville were to tell the truth.
“And now,” Ginny continued, “let’s get down to business.”
**********************************
Disclaimer – I don’t own any of the canon characters or concepts. Don’t sue.
Chapter 12
“You’ve heard the news, Tonks?” It was the first time Draco had ever addressed her without a disdainful sneer – but no doubt he was too upset to be so concerned about such petty slurs.
“Yes,” she said cautiously. “Life in Azkaban.” She couldn’t bring herself to commiserate – she wasn’t capable of that sort of hypocrisy.
For a moment, it seemed as though he were uncertain, indecisive – even lost. But…surely not. His composure reasserted itself, and the familiar sneer returned. “He was a fool. To be captured by fools and Potter’s little friends – he deserved everything he got.”
“Don’t you even care? Just a little?”
He was in complete control of himself and his reactions now. “No. Why should I?”
And then, as if it were a promise to more than just himself: “I’ll never make the same mistake…”
**************************
That had been twenty years ago. Since then, he had made good on his promise – in a wild, occasionally perilous, always controversial life, he had succeeded in avoiding Azkaban and his father’s mistakes. He had proven himself to be a brilliant, trustworthy and – before his unfortunate disgrace – honourable asset to the fight against Voldemort, and his relationship with Ginny Weasley had bade fair to binding him irrevocably to the Weasleys and the side of the light.
But then it had all ended, and any chance of gaining control over Draco Malfoy had vanished.
Despite his exemplary behaviour during the war, Tonks had never quite shared Ginny’s faith in Draco. She had known him too long to think he was any better than the rest of his Slytherin peers – especially now, when he was under attack – and so when Ginny did not return within the hour of her visit to Shadowlands, Tonks raised the alarm.
Surely it was only common sense.
*****************************
“You just let her go?” Ron Weasley exclaimed incredulously, voicing the thoughts of most of the gathered team. “Without any backup, and without even informing us? What the hell were you thinking?”
Tonks scowled. “She was sure that she could persuade him to listen to her. I tried to talk her out of it, but she pulled rank on me.” She thought it best not to mention Ginny’s certainty that Draco would never hurt her – there were some things elder brothers neither needed nor wanted to hear.
Ron looked like a volcano about to explode, but Carlisle seemed to be inordinately pleased. There was an air of secret satisfaction about him, as if some long cherished ambition had finally come to fruition – and Tonks found that she mistrusted that look, and all of its possible implications.
“Well,” Carlisle said softly, “he has shown himself to be hostile. Clearly, there is no more to be said – we must move before it is too late.”
Moody spoke for the first time. “And what, precisely, do you mean by ‘move’, Carlisle? What are your priorities?”
There was a short, fraught silence.
“Naturally,” the Unspeakable said gravely, “I am not insensitive to the danger of Miss Weasley’s position. But I have the greatest faith in her ability to handle anything Malfoy may throw at her: in the past, she has proven herself an extremely capable Auror…”
Ron turned an alarming shade of purple.
“I think that we must be realistic here. We cannot take the chance that Malfoy will escape this investigation and survive to spread his fatal illusions elsewhere, on other, unsuspecting victims.”
His face was shining, evangelical, caught up in his words and in his purpose. Tonks noted that he said nothing of brainwashing and revolution: around the table, she could see that others had also caught the same point, and were watching their superior officer curiously.
Malfoy had been one of them, once.
Whatever else he had done in the time since, whatever else he had become, this much was true: once, he had been an Auror; once, he had stood and fought shoulder to shoulder with them against the darkness…
Once, they would never have believed Carlisle’s and Moody’s accusations.
“Are you saying that catching Malfoy is more important than my sister’s life, Carlisle?” Ron demanded.
“But Mr. Weasley, your sister has spent many years in the field, and her past interactions with the subject will give her an extra edge. Besides, I don’t believe that Mr. Malfoy would be so foolish as to actually kill her.” An appeasing tone, a wise, saintly smile, and an evasive, contradictory answer. “We will use the extra time she has granted us to make our trap absolutely foolproof…”
Tonks wondered when it had become established that they were, indeed, going to make a move on Shadowlands.
***************************
Neville woke to find himself flat on his back, lying between cool cotton sheets that smelled faintly of sandalwood and other exotic spices. Not being as familiar with Draco Malfoy’s aftershave as his partner Ginny, he did not immediately make the connection – and for this, perhaps, he could be forgiven. It was not until he turned his head to see two familiar, serpent shaped silver cufflinks on the bedside table that he realized he was actually lying in Malfoy’s bed – and that the clock showed half past ten in the morning.
Ginny had been due for an appointment at nine.
Horrified, he jerked upright, cursing his weakness in giving in so easily to Malfoy’s torture. He swung his feet out of the bed, and realized for the first time that he was wearing nothing but a shirt – a white silk shirt, hand-tailored, and worth more than he made in a month – and his own socks.
What the hell was going on?
“Ah, you’re awake.” A rough, Cockney voice came from the doorway. “How do you feel?”
Neville looked blankly at Higgins. The last time he had seen this man he had been screaming in agony and begging to confess all that he knew.
“I feel,” he began angrily, and then stopped. “I feel…fine.” He looked up in incomprehension. “I don’t feel anything; no aches, no pain…”
“Ah.” Higgins nodded. “That’s good. I was hoping there would be no ill effects.”
“But…how? I could have sworn there would be no way to heal…”
Higgins laughed ruefully. “Ah, well. Mr. Malfoy is a master of illusion, you know. Not all the dreams spun at Shadowlands are harmless fantasies… The only real physical damage we had to fix was your broken nose; the rest was all in your own mind.”
All in his own mind? But it had been so real.
Not all the dreams spun at Shadowlands are harmless fantasies.
He gasped. “What happened to Ginny?” Had he jeopardized everything with his confessions? Malfoy would know, now, that she had lied to him – that she had been lying to him from the beginning. Would she be all right? “If you’ve hurt her…” He clenched his fists helplessly and tried to stand up, not caring that he was half naked.
“No, no,” Higgins said soothingly. “Nothing’s happened to Miss Weasley. In fact, she’s the one who’s concerned for you – that’s why I’m here, to bring you to see her. She won’t be satisfied until she sees that you’ve come to no harm.”
Neville snorted, scowling darkly, and Higgins grinned. “Yes. Well. Come on then,” he walked into the room and grabbed Neville’s hand, pulling him to his feet. “Get dressed, and we’ll go satisfy Miss Weasley’s demands. Then we can all start planning.”
“Planning?” Neville repeated, accepting the pair of slacks – casual black silk, once again, and no doubt shockingly expensive – that Higgins handed him and pulling them on. He remembered Kelly stripping him of his clothes sometime during the night before. That had not been illusion. “Planning for what?”
“Why, the Auror raid. We all know it’s coming. That bloody bastard Carlisle will stop at nothing to kill Mr. Malfoy – and unfortunately, he now has the perfect excuse.”
“But that’s… Me?” he said, thinking it through. “And Ginny? But how would he know?” He slipped into a pair of Malfoy’s black leather loafers.
Higgins was silent a moment, pawing through the sets of thick, luxurious robes that hung in the closet. He pulled one out, held it out to Neville – severe, stark, and elegant dark grey, no doubt they were devastating with Malfoy’s slender, pale blonde colouring. On Neville’s solid frame, and with his mousy brown hair, they would only look like someone else’s clothes.
He sighed, but put them on. They were better than nothing.
“Miss Weasley says that she told Mr. Malfoy’s cousin where she was going, and for what purpose. She says that Auror Tonks would have raised the alarm by now.”
“But I still don’t believe that they’ll attack Shadowlands – we haven’t a shred of evidence that there’s anything smoky even going on here. They can’t get a warrant for a raid if there’s no evidence.”
“Ah,” Higgins said, nodding sagely, “Aurors can’t conduct a raid if there’s no evidence. But it’s very different for Unspeakables… Have you finished putting on those robes? Need anything else? No? Right, let’s go then…”
And he ushered Neville, protesting, out of the room, ignoring all of his sputtering arguments on the way.
********************************
“Neville!” Ginny said, rising from her seat and hurrying over to greet him. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”
He glanced sidelong at Draco, who was watching him with heavy-lidded, amused eyes. For an endless moment, he felt a rush of primal, instinctive fear as he remembered those eyes watching him writhe… but he fended Ginny off with an unconvincing smile and assurances that he was unharmed.
“Draco said that you were unharmed,” she said laughing. “I didn’t believe him – but here you are…” She turned back to smile ruefully at Malfoy, an apologetic smile that she had ever distrusted him in such a way. This time it was Neville who watched Malfoy ironically – he wondered how long that rueful, furtive delight in Ginny’s eyes would last if Neville were to tell the truth.
“And now,” Ginny continued, “let’s get down to business.”
**********************************
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