Chapter 22 – Tickle the Pear
Ginny had been dozing in and out of a restless sleep for hours. She was chilled to the bone and the rumblings of her empty stomach echoed against the walls of the tiny chamber. Due to her anticipation of reuniting with Draco, Ginny hadn’t been able to eat a proper breakfast that morning. More than 24 hours had passed since her last meal and she was paying dearly. She closed her eyes remembering how Fred and George would bring up goodies from the kitchen to the Gryffindor Common Room.
She was pulled from those thoughts as the latch on the heavy door sounded. Ginny’s eyes whipped open in fear and she struggled to sit up - she wanted to be fully alert in order to deal with whoever it was, but her exhaustion and lack of food were taking their toll on her. Her only defense consisted of pulling her knees to her chest – the tiniest bit of protection she had.
The door opened slowly and Ginny gazed up with a startled expression at a gray-haired woman entering the chamber. Ginny had never seen this woman before and couldn’t imagine what her reason for visiting her would be. Her only contact thus far had been with Voldemort.
She didn’t have to wonder long, for just then her eyes fell on a tray of food in the woman’s hands and Ginny felt her stomach lurch forward as if jumping toward the scent. As badly as she wanted to deny herself any of the woman’s hospitality she knew that her willpower would not let her turn down a much needed meal.
As the woman approached Ginny, she carelessly waved her thin hand causing a table to appear directly in front of Ginny’s face. She set the food down and spoke to Ginny in a soft, somewhat caring voice. “I’m sure that you’re quite hungry. May I tempt you?”
Ginny didn’t answer. She just stared at the food while her stomach made loud and rather obscene noises.
“Yes, well I can certainly tell that you need some nourishment. Eat, dear…before it gets cold.” As the woman slowly turned, Ginny could tell that she was greatly affected by rheumatism, but with another wave of her hand a small stool appeared ready to seat the woman’s feeble body. She eased herself onto the stool and spoke again. “You may call me Nadella. How are you holding up, Miss?”
It wasn’t in Ginny’s nature to be rude when someone was being so polite to her, but instinct told her to be careful of this kindness. Ginny said nothing, but stared at Nadella, unable to make up her mind as to whether she should accept this woman’s generosity. Yet, after several moments had passed, Ginny lost all of her resolve and extended her hand toward the tray. She seized the closest thing to her – a small bread roll - but couldn’t get over how heavy it felt. All at once she dropped it back onto the tray, her limbs unbelievably raw with pain.
The woman’s feet shuffled as she worked her way back toward Ginny, the tiny stool following of its own accord. She took her seat again to the right of Ginny and picked up the bread, motioning for Ginny to open her mouth. As Ginny bit down on the bread she thought that she’d never tasted anything so good. She was absolutely famished and desperately needed her strength back. As she chewed the bread slowly, the woman approached Ginny’s mouth with a spoon full of soup and she accepted it gratefully. After several minutes passed, Ginny began to feel less weak and her stomach seemed to sigh with relief.
“Feeling better, Miss?” Nadella’s concern didn’t stop there. “Would you like a blanket?”
It was time for Ginny to get to the bottom of Nadella’s hospitality. “May I ask why it is that you’re being so nice to me?”
“Why shouldn’t I be nice to you?” A blanket appeared out of practically nowhere and Nadella began to tuck it around Ginny as though she were the woman’s long lost daughter.
Ginny just stared at her until the woman looked away. There seemed something familiar in her eyes. She shook the thought from her head and answered, “Because you’re obviously working for him – and look at the state he’s put me in. I can barely move.”
“He’s punishing someone. Nothing comes between the Dark Lord and his punishments.” Her words were short - as though she had been angered by Ginny’s statement. However, the soft smile returned to her uneven face and she offered Ginny a sip from a goblet. Ginny shook her head to refuse the offer but Nadella was persistent. “You have my word that this will help you. Your body needs its strength and this will help you sleep.”
Ginny was reluctant, but sipped from the goblet and was surprised at how full of life she felt, yet so calm and relaxed at the same time. It reminded her of the remedies her mum always made for Ginny and her brothers when they were ill. Perhaps this old woman knew similar tactics.
“May I get you anything else, Miss?” Nadella lightly waved her hand to vanish every trace of Ginny’s meal.
Ginny shook her head no for the second time whilst Nadella stood carefully and spoke again. “Your bruises need witch-hazel…but I dare not use it. He will know.”
Ginny was confused. “He? Do you mean Voldemort?”
Nadella gave a slight nod of her head and slowly made her way toward the door.
“But won’t he know about the blanket? He’ll surely see it when he returns. Nadella?”
Nadella said nothing and lifted the iron latch.
“Wait!” Ginny desperately wanted the old woman’s company. “Please stay.”
Nadella turned to face Ginny once more. “I must leave you for now, Miss, so do try and keep your chin up. I know you will see him again.”
Ginny spoke as quickly as she could. “Who? Who will I see again?”
But the old woman left as quickly as she had come…
XXXXXXXXXXXX
Once the group’s plan had been formulated Draco insisted on finding out if his mother was safe. They knew that Dumbledore would expect them to try and flee Hogwarts tonight so it was no surprise that the corridors were thick with Prefects. Owl post wasn’t an option either, as Draco had promised not to correspond with his mother by means of a letter. After several minutes of bad suggestions, Granger had very reluctantly told him about his family’s former house-elf, Dobby, working in the kitchens. He couldn’t come up with any better ideas so he agreed to go and have a word with Dobby. Perhaps if he were somewhat polite the house-elf would Apparate to the Manor to speak with Blinka. At this point, it was the only hope he had.
And so Draco found himself in the Entrance Hall holding a parchment with directions in his hands. Granger had written detailed instructions for him to follow and he was reading them to himself. He stepped from the last step of the Grand Staircase and, turning left, entered a small room at the back of the massive hall. Draco remembered being in here a few times - intentionally running late for class in order to exchange a quick kiss with Ginny. He’d always thought the room just dead-ended, but as his eyes adjusted to the lack of light his gaze landed on a flight of stone steps at the end of the room. He walked swiftly down them and entered a brightly lit corridor whose walls held paintings of various foods.
Granger’s instructions specifically said to look for a tapestry with a bowl of fruit and Draco’s eyes scoured the walls for it. It wasn’t until he reached the end of the corridor that he found it, however. He stared at the parchment once more and read:
“Tickle the pear.”
Now what in bloody hell is that supposed to mean? Draco looked over his shoulder to make certain that he wasn’t being watched and reached out to touch the pear. Nothing happened.
Draco read the parchment again. Yes…it said tickle the pear. He felt ridiculous. His first thought was that the Trio were concealing themselves behind a suit of armor somewhere - ready to jump out and laugh at his being so gullible. However, given the seriousness of the situation, he didn’t feel that they would be pulling tricks on him. So, despite how ridiculous he felt, he reached out with his finger again and gently tickled the pear. Draco jumped as the pear giggled and turned into a green door handle. Well, I’ll be…
He grasped the handle, glancing down the corridor once more, and opened the door. Once inside he couldn’t have concealed his amazement if he’d tried. The room was simply enormous with very tall ceilings and a massive fireplace. Dozens of house-elves were at work preparing meals for the following day. Mounds of vegetables were being chopped on cutting boards - crates of eggs were being beaten in giant bowls. A dozen carrot cakes, lined in a row, were being decorated with cream cheese icing. The entire kitchen worked like a well-oiled machine.
However, Draco hadn’t come here to admire the efficiency of the kitchen. He needed to locate Dobby and do his best to persuade him. The problem was - all of the elves looked the same to Draco. Looked pretty near the same with the exception of…clothes!
Draco spotted a creature wearing baggy trousers that looked as though they had been cut off at the knees. Mismatched socks were on his feet and two or three knitted hats sat atop his head. He was fully aware that Dobby no longer served the Malfoys because of Potter’s sly trick to give him clothes. After a closer look, Draco was certain that Dobby was the oddly dressed elf assembling a deep dish of Shepherd’s Pie at one of the long counters.
Draco carefully approached Dobby and cleared his throat before speaking softly. “Dobby?”
The house-elf didn’t respond and Draco tried to hold back his frustration as he raised his voice to a more audible level. “DOBBY?”
Dobby spun on his heel and, with a rather shocked expression, promptly dropped a bowl of peas all over Draco’s shoes. The sudden silence in the kitchen gave the impression of having razor-sharp teeth. Draco held his breath, fearing that if he moved something might bite his head off.
“M-master Draco?” Dobby’s fear was quite evident in his voice and Draco needed for him to relax.
“Just Draco, Dobby. You needn’t refer to me as Master anymore, remember?” He pocketed Granger’s instructions that he was still holding and gave his full attention to being polite to Dobby. The other house-elves went about their business as though the interruption had never occurred.
“Y-yes sir, m-mast…Draco. Is you needing something, sir?” Dobby seemed slightly less afraid and Draco decided it best to cut right to the chase.
“Dobby, I’m - I’m desperately needing your help and…” Draco sighed at the thought of what he needed to say per the Trio’s request, but he took a deep breath and continued. “…and Potter thought that you would do us this favor.” He tried to hide the scowl on his face and study Dobby’s all at the same time.
“Potter? HARRY POTTER, sir?” An enormous smile spread across Dobby’s face and Draco fought back the urge to roll his eyes. Potter’s fame had even spread to house-elves? This was utter bollocks!
“Yes, Harry Potter,” Draco answered rather haughtily. Dobby narrowed his eyes slightly and Draco knew that he needed to be more careful about letting on how much he disliked Dobby’s apparent hero. Draco moved the conversation away from Potter and onto the subject at hand. “Dobby, the reason I am here is because…well, my mother could be in a lot of trouble.” Dobby gasped slightly and Draco felt that their chat had taken a fortuitous turn. “Harry and I can’t get from the castle tonight to check on her and we need someone who is able to Apparate to the Manor to see if she’s alright. I was hoping that you’d do me the honors and speak with Blinka for me. I must know if mother’s alright.”
Dobby took all of three seconds to process the information before he asked, “How is it that the Mistress has come to be in trouble, sir?”
Draco feared that Dobby would ask that question, yet felt the desire to be honest with him just the same. He cleared his throat. “Um…the Dark Lor—er, You-Know-Who was there earlier and – well, he has reason to be angry at her because of something I’ve done.”
As Draco had assumed, Dobby’s eyes grew wide with fright. “Y-You-Know-Who? He is there with her, now? But what if…what if M-Mistress turns Dobby over to him, sir? Mistress isn’t liking Dobby anymore and might—“
“Dobby, nothing of the sort will happen.” Draco was becoming more and more impatient, but he could honestly understand the house-elf’s fear. “Mother would never do that - you know that she never treated you in the same manner that Father did. Besides, I’m not asking you to speak to her. Apparate to the kitchen and ask Neezle and Toshy to find Blinka for you. Blinka will give you the information you need, I know she will.”
Dobby hesitated, looking down at the peas covering Draco’s shoes. Draco spoke again to offer one last dose of assurance to ease Dobby’s fears. “Father isn’t there, Dobby – and I promise you that no harm will come to you at Malfoy Manor. I don’t have anyone else who can help me and I promised Mother that I wouldn’t send any post.” He gave a short pause before wrapping up his plea, hesitating at the next words out of his mouth. “Please do this for me, Dobby. I must know if she’s alright and you’re my last hope.”
Dobby looked up into Draco’s eyes and gave a rather triumphant smile. “Yes sir. Dobby shall go to the Manor and make sure that Mistress is safe.”
Draco didn’t even try to hide his excitement. “Dobby, THANK YOU! You have my word that you will be safe…and I promise to make this up to you in some way.”
Dobby beamed. “Shall I leave now, sir? And once Dobby returns should he come to M-mast--young sir’s dormitory to give him the news?”
“Yes, Dobby – leave straight away so that you can give me the news as soon as you possibly can. I’ll be in my dormitory and you may find me there once you’ve returned.”
Dobby nodded his head yes in answer and gave Draco one last smile before he vanished with a “pop.” Draco was left standing alone, peas still covering his shoes, while the other house-elves still took no notice of him. There was nothing else he could do but return to his dormitory and wait.
XXXXXXXXXXXX
Draco’s footsteps resonated through the empty Entrance Hall as he approached the door leading to the dungeons. It had been the longest day of his life. No, the worst day of his life. He wanted to feel Ginny’s touch so badly right now that his heart ached. It was barely beating as the reality of it all began to settle in his head once more.
He couldn’t seem to stop imagining what Voldemort might be doing to Ginny. The mind games, the living conditions, the curses… His father had subjected him to the Cruciatus Curse many times throughout the years and he knew the unbearable pain that it caused. Draco could hear the words in his head as though his father were standing right there – speaking them at this very moment…“It’s necessary for you to know what it feels like, Draco. Stop sniveling and be a man.” Yet Draco hadn’t sniveled. He hadn’t done anything at all. He’d just stood there and taken the abuse that his father had repeatedly put him through. And each time, the hatred he felt for his father had grown. Lucius knew this and yet continued to “teach” his son in the same manner that he, himself, had been taught. The abundance of visions that filled Draco’s head were torturing him, unspeakable thoughts of what Ginny might be going through. It was growing harder by the hour for Draco to walk in his father’s footsteps. With every day that passed, he discarded yet another piece of Lucius Malfoy that lived in him.
There was one thought, however, that kept Draco from going to pieces entirely; the knowledge that Ginny would not be raped. He was fully aware that Muggle rape was a common practice amongst most of the Death Eaters. He also knew that the Death Eaters considered purebloods to be sacred and, as a result, they were never raped. Ginny would keep her purity. It was that thought, and that thought alone, that was keeping his sanity intact.
Draco took a long breath as he fought his overwhelming frustration and grasped the doorknob to his dormitory. He entered quietly so as not to disturb the others. His eyelids felt heavy, but he was afraid of the dreams that were sure to haunt his sleep. Instead, he crossed the room to his four-poster and opened the lid of his trunk, listening to Goyle’s heavy snoring all the while. After digging around for a good bit, his hand closed onto Ginny’s Prefect badge and he pulled it from the trunk. The light of the moon shone through the open window much as it had done the night before he’d gone in search of the potion. Draco stood so long near the window thumbing the emblem on Ginny’s badge that he wouldn’t have been surprised had he rubbed the Gryffindor lion clean away. After all, her badge and his memories were all that he had left to comfort him.
For the past twelve hours he had gone from confused, to concerned, to shocked – and now the full impact of what was happening hit him head on. Draco’s body slumped against the foot of his bed; he couldn’t bear it any longer. As he balled up his fists to release the emotion, tears began to roll down his cheeks. This was the first time Draco could ever remember crying. Not just shedding a tear, but really crying. With Ginny, he wasn’t just another Malfoy…he was Draco. His heart skipped a beat each time he saw her just as her touch filled him with a sensation he could never have imagined. That girl brought out whatever goodness he had in him and he liked it that way. And it was because of his carelessness that she was in danger. Greater danger than any of his nightmares could have conjured. Draco knew that even if he died trying he was going to get her back.
And leave her alone, once and for all…
Ginny had been dozing in and out of a restless sleep for hours. She was chilled to the bone and the rumblings of her empty stomach echoed against the walls of the tiny chamber. Due to her anticipation of reuniting with Draco, Ginny hadn’t been able to eat a proper breakfast that morning. More than 24 hours had passed since her last meal and she was paying dearly. She closed her eyes remembering how Fred and George would bring up goodies from the kitchen to the Gryffindor Common Room.
She was pulled from those thoughts as the latch on the heavy door sounded. Ginny’s eyes whipped open in fear and she struggled to sit up - she wanted to be fully alert in order to deal with whoever it was, but her exhaustion and lack of food were taking their toll on her. Her only defense consisted of pulling her knees to her chest – the tiniest bit of protection she had.
The door opened slowly and Ginny gazed up with a startled expression at a gray-haired woman entering the chamber. Ginny had never seen this woman before and couldn’t imagine what her reason for visiting her would be. Her only contact thus far had been with Voldemort.
She didn’t have to wonder long, for just then her eyes fell on a tray of food in the woman’s hands and Ginny felt her stomach lurch forward as if jumping toward the scent. As badly as she wanted to deny herself any of the woman’s hospitality she knew that her willpower would not let her turn down a much needed meal.
As the woman approached Ginny, she carelessly waved her thin hand causing a table to appear directly in front of Ginny’s face. She set the food down and spoke to Ginny in a soft, somewhat caring voice. “I’m sure that you’re quite hungry. May I tempt you?”
Ginny didn’t answer. She just stared at the food while her stomach made loud and rather obscene noises.
“Yes, well I can certainly tell that you need some nourishment. Eat, dear…before it gets cold.” As the woman slowly turned, Ginny could tell that she was greatly affected by rheumatism, but with another wave of her hand a small stool appeared ready to seat the woman’s feeble body. She eased herself onto the stool and spoke again. “You may call me Nadella. How are you holding up, Miss?”
It wasn’t in Ginny’s nature to be rude when someone was being so polite to her, but instinct told her to be careful of this kindness. Ginny said nothing, but stared at Nadella, unable to make up her mind as to whether she should accept this woman’s generosity. Yet, after several moments had passed, Ginny lost all of her resolve and extended her hand toward the tray. She seized the closest thing to her – a small bread roll - but couldn’t get over how heavy it felt. All at once she dropped it back onto the tray, her limbs unbelievably raw with pain.
The woman’s feet shuffled as she worked her way back toward Ginny, the tiny stool following of its own accord. She took her seat again to the right of Ginny and picked up the bread, motioning for Ginny to open her mouth. As Ginny bit down on the bread she thought that she’d never tasted anything so good. She was absolutely famished and desperately needed her strength back. As she chewed the bread slowly, the woman approached Ginny’s mouth with a spoon full of soup and she accepted it gratefully. After several minutes passed, Ginny began to feel less weak and her stomach seemed to sigh with relief.
“Feeling better, Miss?” Nadella’s concern didn’t stop there. “Would you like a blanket?”
It was time for Ginny to get to the bottom of Nadella’s hospitality. “May I ask why it is that you’re being so nice to me?”
“Why shouldn’t I be nice to you?” A blanket appeared out of practically nowhere and Nadella began to tuck it around Ginny as though she were the woman’s long lost daughter.
Ginny just stared at her until the woman looked away. There seemed something familiar in her eyes. She shook the thought from her head and answered, “Because you’re obviously working for him – and look at the state he’s put me in. I can barely move.”
“He’s punishing someone. Nothing comes between the Dark Lord and his punishments.” Her words were short - as though she had been angered by Ginny’s statement. However, the soft smile returned to her uneven face and she offered Ginny a sip from a goblet. Ginny shook her head to refuse the offer but Nadella was persistent. “You have my word that this will help you. Your body needs its strength and this will help you sleep.”
Ginny was reluctant, but sipped from the goblet and was surprised at how full of life she felt, yet so calm and relaxed at the same time. It reminded her of the remedies her mum always made for Ginny and her brothers when they were ill. Perhaps this old woman knew similar tactics.
“May I get you anything else, Miss?” Nadella lightly waved her hand to vanish every trace of Ginny’s meal.
Ginny shook her head no for the second time whilst Nadella stood carefully and spoke again. “Your bruises need witch-hazel…but I dare not use it. He will know.”
Ginny was confused. “He? Do you mean Voldemort?”
Nadella gave a slight nod of her head and slowly made her way toward the door.
“But won’t he know about the blanket? He’ll surely see it when he returns. Nadella?”
Nadella said nothing and lifted the iron latch.
“Wait!” Ginny desperately wanted the old woman’s company. “Please stay.”
Nadella turned to face Ginny once more. “I must leave you for now, Miss, so do try and keep your chin up. I know you will see him again.”
Ginny spoke as quickly as she could. “Who? Who will I see again?”
But the old woman left as quickly as she had come…
Once the group’s plan had been formulated Draco insisted on finding out if his mother was safe. They knew that Dumbledore would expect them to try and flee Hogwarts tonight so it was no surprise that the corridors were thick with Prefects. Owl post wasn’t an option either, as Draco had promised not to correspond with his mother by means of a letter. After several minutes of bad suggestions, Granger had very reluctantly told him about his family’s former house-elf, Dobby, working in the kitchens. He couldn’t come up with any better ideas so he agreed to go and have a word with Dobby. Perhaps if he were somewhat polite the house-elf would Apparate to the Manor to speak with Blinka. At this point, it was the only hope he had.
And so Draco found himself in the Entrance Hall holding a parchment with directions in his hands. Granger had written detailed instructions for him to follow and he was reading them to himself. He stepped from the last step of the Grand Staircase and, turning left, entered a small room at the back of the massive hall. Draco remembered being in here a few times - intentionally running late for class in order to exchange a quick kiss with Ginny. He’d always thought the room just dead-ended, but as his eyes adjusted to the lack of light his gaze landed on a flight of stone steps at the end of the room. He walked swiftly down them and entered a brightly lit corridor whose walls held paintings of various foods.
Granger’s instructions specifically said to look for a tapestry with a bowl of fruit and Draco’s eyes scoured the walls for it. It wasn’t until he reached the end of the corridor that he found it, however. He stared at the parchment once more and read:
“Tickle the pear.”
Now what in bloody hell is that supposed to mean? Draco looked over his shoulder to make certain that he wasn’t being watched and reached out to touch the pear. Nothing happened.
Draco read the parchment again. Yes…it said tickle the pear. He felt ridiculous. His first thought was that the Trio were concealing themselves behind a suit of armor somewhere - ready to jump out and laugh at his being so gullible. However, given the seriousness of the situation, he didn’t feel that they would be pulling tricks on him. So, despite how ridiculous he felt, he reached out with his finger again and gently tickled the pear. Draco jumped as the pear giggled and turned into a green door handle. Well, I’ll be…
He grasped the handle, glancing down the corridor once more, and opened the door. Once inside he couldn’t have concealed his amazement if he’d tried. The room was simply enormous with very tall ceilings and a massive fireplace. Dozens of house-elves were at work preparing meals for the following day. Mounds of vegetables were being chopped on cutting boards - crates of eggs were being beaten in giant bowls. A dozen carrot cakes, lined in a row, were being decorated with cream cheese icing. The entire kitchen worked like a well-oiled machine.
However, Draco hadn’t come here to admire the efficiency of the kitchen. He needed to locate Dobby and do his best to persuade him. The problem was - all of the elves looked the same to Draco. Looked pretty near the same with the exception of…clothes!
Draco spotted a creature wearing baggy trousers that looked as though they had been cut off at the knees. Mismatched socks were on his feet and two or three knitted hats sat atop his head. He was fully aware that Dobby no longer served the Malfoys because of Potter’s sly trick to give him clothes. After a closer look, Draco was certain that Dobby was the oddly dressed elf assembling a deep dish of Shepherd’s Pie at one of the long counters.
Draco carefully approached Dobby and cleared his throat before speaking softly. “Dobby?”
The house-elf didn’t respond and Draco tried to hold back his frustration as he raised his voice to a more audible level. “DOBBY?”
Dobby spun on his heel and, with a rather shocked expression, promptly dropped a bowl of peas all over Draco’s shoes. The sudden silence in the kitchen gave the impression of having razor-sharp teeth. Draco held his breath, fearing that if he moved something might bite his head off.
“M-master Draco?” Dobby’s fear was quite evident in his voice and Draco needed for him to relax.
“Just Draco, Dobby. You needn’t refer to me as Master anymore, remember?” He pocketed Granger’s instructions that he was still holding and gave his full attention to being polite to Dobby. The other house-elves went about their business as though the interruption had never occurred.
“Y-yes sir, m-mast…Draco. Is you needing something, sir?” Dobby seemed slightly less afraid and Draco decided it best to cut right to the chase.
“Dobby, I’m - I’m desperately needing your help and…” Draco sighed at the thought of what he needed to say per the Trio’s request, but he took a deep breath and continued. “…and Potter thought that you would do us this favor.” He tried to hide the scowl on his face and study Dobby’s all at the same time.
“Potter? HARRY POTTER, sir?” An enormous smile spread across Dobby’s face and Draco fought back the urge to roll his eyes. Potter’s fame had even spread to house-elves? This was utter bollocks!
“Yes, Harry Potter,” Draco answered rather haughtily. Dobby narrowed his eyes slightly and Draco knew that he needed to be more careful about letting on how much he disliked Dobby’s apparent hero. Draco moved the conversation away from Potter and onto the subject at hand. “Dobby, the reason I am here is because…well, my mother could be in a lot of trouble.” Dobby gasped slightly and Draco felt that their chat had taken a fortuitous turn. “Harry and I can’t get from the castle tonight to check on her and we need someone who is able to Apparate to the Manor to see if she’s alright. I was hoping that you’d do me the honors and speak with Blinka for me. I must know if mother’s alright.”
Dobby took all of three seconds to process the information before he asked, “How is it that the Mistress has come to be in trouble, sir?”
Draco feared that Dobby would ask that question, yet felt the desire to be honest with him just the same. He cleared his throat. “Um…the Dark Lor—er, You-Know-Who was there earlier and – well, he has reason to be angry at her because of something I’ve done.”
As Draco had assumed, Dobby’s eyes grew wide with fright. “Y-You-Know-Who? He is there with her, now? But what if…what if M-Mistress turns Dobby over to him, sir? Mistress isn’t liking Dobby anymore and might—“
“Dobby, nothing of the sort will happen.” Draco was becoming more and more impatient, but he could honestly understand the house-elf’s fear. “Mother would never do that - you know that she never treated you in the same manner that Father did. Besides, I’m not asking you to speak to her. Apparate to the kitchen and ask Neezle and Toshy to find Blinka for you. Blinka will give you the information you need, I know she will.”
Dobby hesitated, looking down at the peas covering Draco’s shoes. Draco spoke again to offer one last dose of assurance to ease Dobby’s fears. “Father isn’t there, Dobby – and I promise you that no harm will come to you at Malfoy Manor. I don’t have anyone else who can help me and I promised Mother that I wouldn’t send any post.” He gave a short pause before wrapping up his plea, hesitating at the next words out of his mouth. “Please do this for me, Dobby. I must know if she’s alright and you’re my last hope.”
Dobby looked up into Draco’s eyes and gave a rather triumphant smile. “Yes sir. Dobby shall go to the Manor and make sure that Mistress is safe.”
Draco didn’t even try to hide his excitement. “Dobby, THANK YOU! You have my word that you will be safe…and I promise to make this up to you in some way.”
Dobby beamed. “Shall I leave now, sir? And once Dobby returns should he come to M-mast--young sir’s dormitory to give him the news?”
“Yes, Dobby – leave straight away so that you can give me the news as soon as you possibly can. I’ll be in my dormitory and you may find me there once you’ve returned.”
Dobby nodded his head yes in answer and gave Draco one last smile before he vanished with a “pop.” Draco was left standing alone, peas still covering his shoes, while the other house-elves still took no notice of him. There was nothing else he could do but return to his dormitory and wait.
Draco’s footsteps resonated through the empty Entrance Hall as he approached the door leading to the dungeons. It had been the longest day of his life. No, the worst day of his life. He wanted to feel Ginny’s touch so badly right now that his heart ached. It was barely beating as the reality of it all began to settle in his head once more.
He couldn’t seem to stop imagining what Voldemort might be doing to Ginny. The mind games, the living conditions, the curses… His father had subjected him to the Cruciatus Curse many times throughout the years and he knew the unbearable pain that it caused. Draco could hear the words in his head as though his father were standing right there – speaking them at this very moment…“It’s necessary for you to know what it feels like, Draco. Stop sniveling and be a man.” Yet Draco hadn’t sniveled. He hadn’t done anything at all. He’d just stood there and taken the abuse that his father had repeatedly put him through. And each time, the hatred he felt for his father had grown. Lucius knew this and yet continued to “teach” his son in the same manner that he, himself, had been taught. The abundance of visions that filled Draco’s head were torturing him, unspeakable thoughts of what Ginny might be going through. It was growing harder by the hour for Draco to walk in his father’s footsteps. With every day that passed, he discarded yet another piece of Lucius Malfoy that lived in him.
There was one thought, however, that kept Draco from going to pieces entirely; the knowledge that Ginny would not be raped. He was fully aware that Muggle rape was a common practice amongst most of the Death Eaters. He also knew that the Death Eaters considered purebloods to be sacred and, as a result, they were never raped. Ginny would keep her purity. It was that thought, and that thought alone, that was keeping his sanity intact.
Draco took a long breath as he fought his overwhelming frustration and grasped the doorknob to his dormitory. He entered quietly so as not to disturb the others. His eyelids felt heavy, but he was afraid of the dreams that were sure to haunt his sleep. Instead, he crossed the room to his four-poster and opened the lid of his trunk, listening to Goyle’s heavy snoring all the while. After digging around for a good bit, his hand closed onto Ginny’s Prefect badge and he pulled it from the trunk. The light of the moon shone through the open window much as it had done the night before he’d gone in search of the potion. Draco stood so long near the window thumbing the emblem on Ginny’s badge that he wouldn’t have been surprised had he rubbed the Gryffindor lion clean away. After all, her badge and his memories were all that he had left to comfort him.
For the past twelve hours he had gone from confused, to concerned, to shocked – and now the full impact of what was happening hit him head on. Draco’s body slumped against the foot of his bed; he couldn’t bear it any longer. As he balled up his fists to release the emotion, tears began to roll down his cheeks. This was the first time Draco could ever remember crying. Not just shedding a tear, but really crying. With Ginny, he wasn’t just another Malfoy…he was Draco. His heart skipped a beat each time he saw her just as her touch filled him with a sensation he could never have imagined. That girl brought out whatever goodness he had in him and he liked it that way. And it was because of his carelessness that she was in danger. Greater danger than any of his nightmares could have conjured. Draco knew that even if he died trying he was going to get her back.
And leave her alone, once and for all…
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