You all know I know own anything. Characters, settings, and almost everything else belongs to J.K. Rowling.]
Heroes Shed No Tears
By VirtualFaerie
Last time on Heroes Shed No Tears:
The door slammed open, Draco standing there, his eyes glittering darkly.
The infiltrate whipped his head around to turn and see who had just entered, his hood falling from his head, unmasking his face. He blanched and his mouth opened slightly, unable to form words.
“To what do we owe this pleasure, Malfoy?” said Zabini, looking over at Draco expectantly. It wasn’t everyday that he came bursting into his office in this manner. And he certainly hadn’t ever seen Draco so…disheveled before.
Draco ran a hasty hand through his hair, as if sensing Zabini’s thoughts, and stepped through the doorway, shutting the door slowly behind him. He looked at the infiltrate with a seemingly mild interest as he approached Zabini’s desk. “I was hoping,” said Draco, “That I could borrow Pritchard for a moment. We have something important to discuss. He had said previously that we would be meeting at this time…. I was disappointed that he didn’t show up.” Draco eyed Pritchard calmly. “If I could just speak to him for a moment outside?”
Zabini lowered his eyebrows and twirled his empty cup around on his desk with nimble fingers. Fingers that were able to grab his wand out of his pocket and cast the Unforgivables in mere seconds. “Is this really that important?” He was preparing to tell me something very crucial to our position against the Resistance.”
“It’s important, Zabini,” Draco said firmly. “Lives could depend on it,” he added with a grim smile.
Zabini’s eyes carefully searched Draco’s face for any signs of deception, yet found none. He nodded shortly and waved his hand at Pritchard. “Go on,” he said. “But I better have him back in here.”
Pritchard looked to Draco, his face set like stone. He got up from his chair and followed Draco out of the darkly furnished office. Draco took care to shut the large oaken door behind them.
“Clever,” said Draco, glancing surreptitiously down the halls to see if anyone was coming. “You thought you had everyone fooled.”
“I did,” Pritchard said steadily. “I had everyone fooled: Penelope, Dumbledore, Potter, the Weasley’s and even your precious Ginny.”
At that comment, Draco flung his fist out, decking Pritchard in the jaw.
Pritchard stepped back, momentarily shocked. His brow furrowed and he cocked his fists, ready to slam them into Draco’s face. “Bastard,” Pritchard rasped, glaring hatefully at Draco.
Draco raised his eyebrows. “Me? No, I think you’re the bastard here.”
Pritchard growled and swung at Draco. Draco leaned back and stepped to the side, escaping Pritchard’s fist. He then kicked his foot up and caught Pritchard behind the knees, causing him to fall forward.
He fell onto his wrists, the sickly crunch of bones breaking echoed throughout the halls. Draco whipped his head back and looked to the closed door of Zabini’s office. He pulled his wand out quickly and muttered a silencing spell on Pritchard.
“That’s enough. I’m tired of hearing lame excuses from a sadistic bastard.”
“Mobilus,” murmured Draco. He started to walk down the hall, making his way out of the building, Pritchard’s feet hovering barely a centimeter off the ground, following him silently.
The secretary at the front desk looked up at Draco and smiled. “Good day, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Pritchard.”
Draco inclined his head and exited the building, bringing Pritchard out behind him. He had to get back to Hogwarts before Zabini realized something was up, and fast.
After he was sure that he had cleared the premises of the Head Quarters, and was well out of sight of any Death Eaters on patrol, he reached into his robes and pulled out a lighter. It was small, slim and silver, an even smaller dragon etched into its surface. He flipped the top open to reveal a small marble sitting on top of a rounded platform. It was his emergency Portkey to Hogwarts. Dumbledore had slipped it to him as he was leaving the castle an hour earlier.
He grabbed Pritchard’s arm roughly, and popped the marble into his free hand. The familiar sensation of a hook pulling just behind his navel came and his surroundings blurred, only to come back into focus in Dumbledore’s office.
Dumbledore had been sitting behind his desk, a book open on his lap, and his spectacles resting on the bridge of his nose. He calmly looked up at Draco holding onto Pritchard’s arm, as if he had been expecting them.
He smiled dryly. “I see, Mr. Malfoy, that you’ve caught our infiltrate?” His eyes flickered over to Pritchard, his deep-blue orbs shining dangerously.
Draco nodded. “I caught him right before he could reveal me. Though I’m sure they’ll know once they’ve realized I had no intention of coming back with him.”
Getting up out of his chair and walking across the room, Dumbledore pulled the latch free on his phoenix, Fawkes’, cage and let him out. The phoenix took a pre-prepared scroll from Dumbledore’s hand and flew out the window majestically.
“The others will be coming,” said Dumbledore. “I’m sure they’ll want to see who the infiltrate is.”
Draco shoved Pritchard down in one of the many chairs and release the Mobilus spell from him and instead put him under a full body bind.
“It also turns out,” Draco said, “That he personally harmed Penelope.”
Dumbledore’s eyebrows rose. “Sick-making,” he said with a slow, sad shake of his head.
Ginny was the first to enter, her eyes scanned the room, only to rest on Pritchard. “Bane?” she half-whispered. She brought a hand up to her face and looked at Draco, “You’re sure it’s him?”
“Well,” Draco said woodenly. “He was in Zabini’s office when I reached the Death Eater head quarters, so yes, I think so.”
Ginny blinked and looked over at Pritchard with obvious distaste in her eyes. “That’s awful,” she said to Bane. “I thought you were better than that.” She shook her head. “To think that such a sweet girl like Sara has you for a father.”
A quick flash of approval flickered in Draco’s hardened grey eyes.
The door opened again and Hermione and Neville stepped in. Neville’s eyes widened as he looked at Pritchard. “It’s him?” he said breathlessly.
“Yes, Mr. Longbottom,” said Dumbledore.
Hermione shook her head disbelievingly. “This is amazing. To think that we all thought you were noble, and a kind father… you were so gentle with Sara….” she trailed off and shook her head.
Draco sighed quietly and looked over at Dumbledore. “I’m leaving,” he said. “I think I’ve helped plenty today.”
Dumbledore inclined his head. “Rest, Mr. Malfoy.”
Draco nodded shortly and left the office. Ginny looked after him, then to Dumbledore. “I’m going to see Sara,” she said. “I won’t tell her anything, but I want to check on her and make sure she’s ok.”
“Go ahead, the others will be arriving shortly.”
--
Ginny hiked up the stairs leading to the dormitory that she shared with Draco. Sara had been napping on the couch with a big book across her lap. Ginny grabbed a throw blanket from a nearby chair and draped it over Sara. Sara shifted comfortably underneath the blanket; Ginny smiled and gently brushed a few stray strands of Sara’s hair back from her face. “Rest well.”
Pushing open the door to their room, Ginny saw Draco pulling a robe over his head. He straightened it, looking in the mirror. He tensed when he saw Ginny’s reflection standing behind him. “Weasley,” he acknowledged.
Ginny took in the appearance of the robes he had just put on. They were slightly darker than his other black robes – the shade more rich. There was also a small silver dragon embroidered on the hood. He had a piece of limp black cloth hanging in his hand. It was his mask.
“You’re going out?” she asked hesitantly.
“Yes,” he said shortly, turning to face her.
“Where?”
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business, Weasley.” He walked over to his bed, sat down, and started to tug his shoes on, lacing them tightly.
“You’re going out to do your Dragon of Hope thing, aren’t you?” she asked playfully, a small grin tugging at the corner of her lips.
Draco looked up at her sourly. “It’s not a thing
Heroes Shed No Tears
By VirtualFaerie
Last time on Heroes Shed No Tears:
The door slammed open, Draco standing there, his eyes glittering darkly.
The infiltrate whipped his head around to turn and see who had just entered, his hood falling from his head, unmasking his face. He blanched and his mouth opened slightly, unable to form words.
“To what do we owe this pleasure, Malfoy?” said Zabini, looking over at Draco expectantly. It wasn’t everyday that he came bursting into his office in this manner. And he certainly hadn’t ever seen Draco so…disheveled before.
Draco ran a hasty hand through his hair, as if sensing Zabini’s thoughts, and stepped through the doorway, shutting the door slowly behind him. He looked at the infiltrate with a seemingly mild interest as he approached Zabini’s desk. “I was hoping,” said Draco, “That I could borrow Pritchard for a moment. We have something important to discuss. He had said previously that we would be meeting at this time…. I was disappointed that he didn’t show up.” Draco eyed Pritchard calmly. “If I could just speak to him for a moment outside?”
Zabini lowered his eyebrows and twirled his empty cup around on his desk with nimble fingers. Fingers that were able to grab his wand out of his pocket and cast the Unforgivables in mere seconds. “Is this really that important?” He was preparing to tell me something very crucial to our position against the Resistance.”
“It’s important, Zabini,” Draco said firmly. “Lives could depend on it,” he added with a grim smile.
Zabini’s eyes carefully searched Draco’s face for any signs of deception, yet found none. He nodded shortly and waved his hand at Pritchard. “Go on,” he said. “But I better have him back in here.”
Pritchard looked to Draco, his face set like stone. He got up from his chair and followed Draco out of the darkly furnished office. Draco took care to shut the large oaken door behind them.
“Clever,” said Draco, glancing surreptitiously down the halls to see if anyone was coming. “You thought you had everyone fooled.”
“I did,” Pritchard said steadily. “I had everyone fooled: Penelope, Dumbledore, Potter, the Weasley’s and even your precious Ginny.”
At that comment, Draco flung his fist out, decking Pritchard in the jaw.
Pritchard stepped back, momentarily shocked. His brow furrowed and he cocked his fists, ready to slam them into Draco’s face. “Bastard,” Pritchard rasped, glaring hatefully at Draco.
Draco raised his eyebrows. “Me? No, I think you’re the bastard here.”
Pritchard growled and swung at Draco. Draco leaned back and stepped to the side, escaping Pritchard’s fist. He then kicked his foot up and caught Pritchard behind the knees, causing him to fall forward.
He fell onto his wrists, the sickly crunch of bones breaking echoed throughout the halls. Draco whipped his head back and looked to the closed door of Zabini’s office. He pulled his wand out quickly and muttered a silencing spell on Pritchard.
“That’s enough. I’m tired of hearing lame excuses from a sadistic bastard.”
“Mobilus,” murmured Draco. He started to walk down the hall, making his way out of the building, Pritchard’s feet hovering barely a centimeter off the ground, following him silently.
The secretary at the front desk looked up at Draco and smiled. “Good day, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Pritchard.”
Draco inclined his head and exited the building, bringing Pritchard out behind him. He had to get back to Hogwarts before Zabini realized something was up, and fast.
After he was sure that he had cleared the premises of the Head Quarters, and was well out of sight of any Death Eaters on patrol, he reached into his robes and pulled out a lighter. It was small, slim and silver, an even smaller dragon etched into its surface. He flipped the top open to reveal a small marble sitting on top of a rounded platform. It was his emergency Portkey to Hogwarts. Dumbledore had slipped it to him as he was leaving the castle an hour earlier.
He grabbed Pritchard’s arm roughly, and popped the marble into his free hand. The familiar sensation of a hook pulling just behind his navel came and his surroundings blurred, only to come back into focus in Dumbledore’s office.
Dumbledore had been sitting behind his desk, a book open on his lap, and his spectacles resting on the bridge of his nose. He calmly looked up at Draco holding onto Pritchard’s arm, as if he had been expecting them.
He smiled dryly. “I see, Mr. Malfoy, that you’ve caught our infiltrate?” His eyes flickered over to Pritchard, his deep-blue orbs shining dangerously.
Draco nodded. “I caught him right before he could reveal me. Though I’m sure they’ll know once they’ve realized I had no intention of coming back with him.”
Getting up out of his chair and walking across the room, Dumbledore pulled the latch free on his phoenix, Fawkes’, cage and let him out. The phoenix took a pre-prepared scroll from Dumbledore’s hand and flew out the window majestically.
“The others will be coming,” said Dumbledore. “I’m sure they’ll want to see who the infiltrate is.”
Draco shoved Pritchard down in one of the many chairs and release the Mobilus spell from him and instead put him under a full body bind.
“It also turns out,” Draco said, “That he personally harmed Penelope.”
Dumbledore’s eyebrows rose. “Sick-making,” he said with a slow, sad shake of his head.
Ginny was the first to enter, her eyes scanned the room, only to rest on Pritchard. “Bane?” she half-whispered. She brought a hand up to her face and looked at Draco, “You’re sure it’s him?”
“Well,” Draco said woodenly. “He was in Zabini’s office when I reached the Death Eater head quarters, so yes, I think so.”
Ginny blinked and looked over at Pritchard with obvious distaste in her eyes. “That’s awful,” she said to Bane. “I thought you were better than that.” She shook her head. “To think that such a sweet girl like Sara has you for a father.”
A quick flash of approval flickered in Draco’s hardened grey eyes.
The door opened again and Hermione and Neville stepped in. Neville’s eyes widened as he looked at Pritchard. “It’s him?” he said breathlessly.
“Yes, Mr. Longbottom,” said Dumbledore.
Hermione shook her head disbelievingly. “This is amazing. To think that we all thought you were noble, and a kind father… you were so gentle with Sara….” she trailed off and shook her head.
Draco sighed quietly and looked over at Dumbledore. “I’m leaving,” he said. “I think I’ve helped plenty today.”
Dumbledore inclined his head. “Rest, Mr. Malfoy.”
Draco nodded shortly and left the office. Ginny looked after him, then to Dumbledore. “I’m going to see Sara,” she said. “I won’t tell her anything, but I want to check on her and make sure she’s ok.”
“Go ahead, the others will be arriving shortly.”
--
Ginny hiked up the stairs leading to the dormitory that she shared with Draco. Sara had been napping on the couch with a big book across her lap. Ginny grabbed a throw blanket from a nearby chair and draped it over Sara. Sara shifted comfortably underneath the blanket; Ginny smiled and gently brushed a few stray strands of Sara’s hair back from her face. “Rest well.”
Pushing open the door to their room, Ginny saw Draco pulling a robe over his head. He straightened it, looking in the mirror. He tensed when he saw Ginny’s reflection standing behind him. “Weasley,” he acknowledged.
Ginny took in the appearance of the robes he had just put on. They were slightly darker than his other black robes – the shade more rich. There was also a small silver dragon embroidered on the hood. He had a piece of limp black cloth hanging in his hand. It was his mask.
“You’re going out?” she asked hesitantly.
“Yes,” he said shortly, turning to face her.
“Where?”
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business, Weasley.” He walked over to his bed, sat down, and started to tug his shoes on, lacing them tightly.
“You’re going out to do your Dragon of Hope thing, aren’t you?” she asked playfully, a small grin tugging at the corner of her lips.
Draco looked up at her sourly. “It’s not a thing
To Be Continued.
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This story is a favorite of 8 members. Members who liked Heroes Shed No Tears also liked 355 other stories.
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