Footprints 19 (pt 1)
Ginny watched Draco’s back as he walked off, arrogance and elegance in every line of his body. She could also see the pride, and the fundamental strength of will – stubbornness, if you will – that would not allow him to admit that he needed aid. He swore that he could do it alone, that he could balance everything himself, but she herself was not so sure…
“Draco, don’t be a fool,” she shouted after him, perhaps not very tactfully. But she thought they had become sufficiently close to allow her the familiarity. “Why won’t you accept help? I know this talk of indebtedness and devoting yourself to only one cause is true enough, but they’re not the only reasons, are they?” He stopped walking, but didn’t turn around. She continued on, softer now. “What else aren’t you telling me?”
She came up beside him, walked around him to look up into his face, his still, impassive, shadowed face. Once again, she put her hand on his arm, felt him start again, but relax almost instantaneously. Somehow it pleased her, to know that he trusted her enough to let her touch him, even in such a chaste manner. “Draco?” she asked again, unconsciously imploring.
Finally, he lifted his eyes to meet hers. “This is not the first offer I have had, Ginny,” he said softly, using her name for the first time. The significance of that nearly overshadowed the import of his words, but she had been a student of his for too long. Her eyes widened.
“Surely you’re not thinking of…”
He made a sharp, negative movement. “Of course I’m not. But I can’t refuse, either…”
“They’ll kill you, Draco. You know this.” She tightened her grip on his arm, and he did not draw away. “You can’t play your father’s games anymore…”
He looked away, sought to free himself from her grasp. “I can’t refuse them –“
“With what did they threaten you?” she asked, finally understanding. What did they threaten that would make Draco Malfoy hesitate? She thought she knew, and reached up to turn his eyes back to hers. This time, he didn’t flinch.
“Something that should be an impossibility.” The words were dragged out of him.
“Then why are you so afraid?”
***************************************
The offer, and the threat, had come from Vincent Crabbe, but he had not made the mistake of underestimating its significance because of its messenger. The games with Theodore had ended, and the true testing had begun; Nott, and his Lord, were pulling no more punches.
His mother had written him a letter, the week before she married Nott, recounting her visit to Lucius in Azkaban, and of the last grace she had granted him, and that he had refused. It is over, she had told his father. The Malfoy lands are closed off from the outside, and all those capable of opening the Veil are hidden from Death Eater eyes…
Why then do you hesitate?
Why indeed.
Draco was not Trelawney, to believe in foresight, in visions of the future. But as he had read those words, as he had looked into Vincent Crabbe’s eyes and heard him threaten to destroy everything the Malfoy held dear, a frisson of some nameless foreboding had seized him, and he had gone cold…
*************************************
“Dobby” he heard someone say, as if from a great distance, “now.”
And then the world faded…and reassembled, in an entirely different place…
And there was nothing left but the Other’s will, nothing left of Dobby but a distant, screaming whisper, scrabbling at the edges of reality, watching helplessly while his body went through the motions he had been taught – that all his kin had been taught – as their right, as part of their heritage, because they were House Elves in service to High Clan Malfoy, and they would never, ever betray their Family…
He had already betrayed his Master, his Family once, for the sake of Harry Potter, whom he had held in higher esteem than his own Master, his own Place. But he had never intended to betray them again…
The real Dobby watched in despair as the Veil shifted, and shimmered, and dissolved, and finally cleared, to reveal a lush green valley, ancient dark forests, snow capped mountains, and dominating all, the great stone fortress of the Malfoy.
There was a bone chilling laugh from behind him, and a voice intoning ancient, forbidden words – a flash of green light, a moment of pain and darkness, and then…
Nothing.
****************************************
Lucius Malfoy stiffened, lifted his head and turned to the west, to the land he saw every night in his dreams, the land he had spent all his life protecting and preserving. He had passed the responsibility of the Covenant over to Draco, yet even so he still had a strong connection to the land, strong enough that he could feel, even at this distance, even in this place, the shadow that passed through the Veil and set foot on the green, innocent grass…
But there was nothing that he could do. Because another shadow walked, quietly, malevolently, stalking through the misery and pain and horror of Azkaban, soft, soundless footsteps echoing inexorably as they had in his dreams, coming for him…
Everything has a price.
His son’s life, his own life, the life of his land and his people…
And now it was time to pay.
Drawing himself up, centring himself, he called upon every ounce of skill and experience he had ever gained, and drew from his sleeve the one genuine, unselfish gift his wife had ever given him. A painless death, yes, but also a very, very slim chance at another life…
*****************************************
Draco gasped, choked, cried out and crumpled, falling heavily to his knees as he fought desperately for breath, his eyes wide, blank and horrified. Ginny, caught completely by surprise, tried to catch him as he fell, going to her knees with him and grasping him tightly around the waist, giving what little support she could against this unexplained attack.
Her shouts of alarm drew the others running, Dumbledore concerned, Moody infuriated, Snape and Harcourt increasingly pale as they watched Draco try to claw his way to the west-facing window, and began to realise what was going on. Harry’s face was drawn, haggard and completely grey, he clutched the scar on his forehead desperately as alone out of all of them, he shared something of what Draco was seeing…
And then, ashen face drawn into agonising lines of anguish and helplessness, Draco screamed…
Ginny watched Draco’s back as he walked off, arrogance and elegance in every line of his body. She could also see the pride, and the fundamental strength of will – stubbornness, if you will – that would not allow him to admit that he needed aid. He swore that he could do it alone, that he could balance everything himself, but she herself was not so sure…
“Draco, don’t be a fool,” she shouted after him, perhaps not very tactfully. But she thought they had become sufficiently close to allow her the familiarity. “Why won’t you accept help? I know this talk of indebtedness and devoting yourself to only one cause is true enough, but they’re not the only reasons, are they?” He stopped walking, but didn’t turn around. She continued on, softer now. “What else aren’t you telling me?”
She came up beside him, walked around him to look up into his face, his still, impassive, shadowed face. Once again, she put her hand on his arm, felt him start again, but relax almost instantaneously. Somehow it pleased her, to know that he trusted her enough to let her touch him, even in such a chaste manner. “Draco?” she asked again, unconsciously imploring.
Finally, he lifted his eyes to meet hers. “This is not the first offer I have had, Ginny,” he said softly, using her name for the first time. The significance of that nearly overshadowed the import of his words, but she had been a student of his for too long. Her eyes widened.
“Surely you’re not thinking of…”
He made a sharp, negative movement. “Of course I’m not. But I can’t refuse, either…”
“They’ll kill you, Draco. You know this.” She tightened her grip on his arm, and he did not draw away. “You can’t play your father’s games anymore…”
He looked away, sought to free himself from her grasp. “I can’t refuse them –“
“With what did they threaten you?” she asked, finally understanding. What did they threaten that would make Draco Malfoy hesitate? She thought she knew, and reached up to turn his eyes back to hers. This time, he didn’t flinch.
“Something that should be an impossibility.” The words were dragged out of him.
“Then why are you so afraid?”
***************************************
The offer, and the threat, had come from Vincent Crabbe, but he had not made the mistake of underestimating its significance because of its messenger. The games with Theodore had ended, and the true testing had begun; Nott, and his Lord, were pulling no more punches.
His mother had written him a letter, the week before she married Nott, recounting her visit to Lucius in Azkaban, and of the last grace she had granted him, and that he had refused. It is over, she had told his father. The Malfoy lands are closed off from the outside, and all those capable of opening the Veil are hidden from Death Eater eyes…
Why then do you hesitate?
Why indeed.
Draco was not Trelawney, to believe in foresight, in visions of the future. But as he had read those words, as he had looked into Vincent Crabbe’s eyes and heard him threaten to destroy everything the Malfoy held dear, a frisson of some nameless foreboding had seized him, and he had gone cold…
*************************************
“Dobby” he heard someone say, as if from a great distance, “now.”
And then the world faded…and reassembled, in an entirely different place…
And there was nothing left but the Other’s will, nothing left of Dobby but a distant, screaming whisper, scrabbling at the edges of reality, watching helplessly while his body went through the motions he had been taught – that all his kin had been taught – as their right, as part of their heritage, because they were House Elves in service to High Clan Malfoy, and they would never, ever betray their Family…
He had already betrayed his Master, his Family once, for the sake of Harry Potter, whom he had held in higher esteem than his own Master, his own Place. But he had never intended to betray them again…
The real Dobby watched in despair as the Veil shifted, and shimmered, and dissolved, and finally cleared, to reveal a lush green valley, ancient dark forests, snow capped mountains, and dominating all, the great stone fortress of the Malfoy.
There was a bone chilling laugh from behind him, and a voice intoning ancient, forbidden words – a flash of green light, a moment of pain and darkness, and then…
Nothing.
****************************************
Lucius Malfoy stiffened, lifted his head and turned to the west, to the land he saw every night in his dreams, the land he had spent all his life protecting and preserving. He had passed the responsibility of the Covenant over to Draco, yet even so he still had a strong connection to the land, strong enough that he could feel, even at this distance, even in this place, the shadow that passed through the Veil and set foot on the green, innocent grass…
But there was nothing that he could do. Because another shadow walked, quietly, malevolently, stalking through the misery and pain and horror of Azkaban, soft, soundless footsteps echoing inexorably as they had in his dreams, coming for him…
Everything has a price.
His son’s life, his own life, the life of his land and his people…
And now it was time to pay.
Drawing himself up, centring himself, he called upon every ounce of skill and experience he had ever gained, and drew from his sleeve the one genuine, unselfish gift his wife had ever given him. A painless death, yes, but also a very, very slim chance at another life…
*****************************************
Draco gasped, choked, cried out and crumpled, falling heavily to his knees as he fought desperately for breath, his eyes wide, blank and horrified. Ginny, caught completely by surprise, tried to catch him as he fell, going to her knees with him and grasping him tightly around the waist, giving what little support she could against this unexplained attack.
Her shouts of alarm drew the others running, Dumbledore concerned, Moody infuriated, Snape and Harcourt increasingly pale as they watched Draco try to claw his way to the west-facing window, and began to realise what was going on. Harry’s face was drawn, haggard and completely grey, he clutched the scar on his forehead desperately as alone out of all of them, he shared something of what Draco was seeing…
And then, ashen face drawn into agonising lines of anguish and helplessness, Draco screamed…
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