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The Prophecy of Absconditus	By : AndromedanQueen Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 1570 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 16
- 17
- 18
Penname: Page of Cups

Email: AndromedanPrincess@hotmail.com

Title: The Prophecy of Absconditus

Rating: R

Pairing: Ron Weasley/Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini

Summary: Wherein Draco breaks down, Draco breaks down, and Draco breaks down.
See previous chapters for disclaimer.
Chapter Seventeen: The Malfoy Manor

The sun descended beyond the horizon as they climbed to Malfoy Manor. Ron watched Draco through the journey, not only concerned for how pale he became, but for how his arms shook and fingers twitched by his thighs. When they came to the top, Ron tried to take Draco's hand, but it jerked away and into Draco's body.

"I'm sorry," said Draco.

"Don't worry about it."

"What happened?" said Harry. He turned around, leaning into Blaise.

"Nothing. Forget about it."

Harry shrugged and resumed his pacing, Blaise leading their slow drudge. Draco stepped into Ron, the wind whipping at his hair and dislodging its perfection. He dropped his head, resting his forehead against Ron's collarbone, and Draco dropped his hands to rest on Ron's hipbones.

"I am sorry, it's just . . ."

"That you're jumpy. I know. What if your mother is here? What doesn't your mother want you to know? What was your father hiding from you?"

"How do you read my mind?"

"I love you."

"I don't know what to do with that."

"Don't do anything with it. Just let it be."

"I can't do that, either."

"Of course you can."

"No, I was never good at leaving things alone."

"Excellent point. Listen, your mother isn't there. We both know that, and whatever we find, we'll handle it together. What can be worse than what we already know? Honestly, Harry's a girl."

"I've had some idea on that one."

"Very funny. I'm serious, Draco."

"So am I."

Against his collarbone, Ron felt the skin of Draco's headhead crinkle and the cheeks tighten. Ron shook his head, grinned, and ran his hand along the back of Draco's neck. The short hairs tickled his fingers and Draco sighed, rubbed his hands over the thin material of Ron's shirt, felt the wiry muscles hidden beneath.

"You're burning up," said Ron. "You should get inside and lay down. I don't like how sick you've become."

"You don't need to mother me."

"Why not? Your mother doesn't. Someone should."

"I don't want to be mothered."

Ron hooked his thumb and index finger around Draco's chin to tilt it up. He bent forward, meeting Draco's lips, and brushed over the jawline with his fingertips. As he pulled back, Draco gasped, choked on oxygen, and looked in the direction of the Manor.

"I don't want to go there."

"I know, love. I know, but we've got to."

"You honestly think she won't be there?"

"You honestly think she will?"

"I don't know. She knows I got out of Hogwarts in time. What if she thinks that this is where I'm heading? She could be waiting for us already."

"But she isn't. This is the last place she'd expect you to go. Grimmauld Place was far more obvious. That's why we got out of there, remember?"

"I wish this had never happened. I wish we were still back at Hogwarts and Voldemoasnasn't trying to take over the world."

"I wish you would all stop saying his name."

"But the way you wince is so cute." Draco smirked, cocking an eyebrow. Ron laughed, shaking his head, and punched Draco on the arm.

"Prat."

"I try my best." Draco wrapped his arm around Ron's waist. "Brave it with me?"

"I have to. You need to give me a place to sleep tonight. We should have accepted Electra's offer."

"Because it would have been so charming to spend the night with the furies. Would be a right old family reunion for Potter."

"Do you ever have anything to say that isn't snarky?"

"Not especially."

"Are you two coming, or are you going to stand there and flirt like a couple of fifth year girls for the rest of the day?" said Blaise.

"I'd prefer the flirting," said Draco. Ron groaned, pushing Draco toward the gates.

"We're coming."

"Please don't," said Harry.

"Potter, that's sick. What were you thinking?"

"You don't want to know."

"I wast gst going to say that."

The grounds were similar to the manors that came before (excluding the desolate Potter Manor). A wrought-iron gate panned the perimeter, no visible chink in theilleillery of Malfoy. Two gates loomed before them, meeting at a straight angle, with neither doorknob nor keyhole. A gravel path, which the four boys stood in the middle, led to the gates and beyond, straight to the door.

Draco bit his lip and walked up to the gates. He ran his palm along the narrow gap where the two gates met and increased his pressure. Nothing happened. Frowning, Draco ran his fingers along the fresh, waxy paint and stopped about three-quarters of the way down. Pulling out his wand, Draco muttered something about tickling an ickle pickle, and stood.

A low creak squealed as the gates swung into the grounds. Harry arched an eyebrow, following Draco. Once all four passed through, the gates shut again, and Draco started toward the doors.

"Did you say 'Tickle Ickle Pickle'?" said Harry.

"Don't ever speak of that to anyone."

"What is that?"

"You know how Ron's brothers make prank sweets?"

"Yeah."

"My brother makes his own spells."

"Whatever happened to Alohomora?"

"My parents protected against all known wizarding spells, so Phoenix created his own. It was how he came to see me after he was disowned."

"Is there any significance to the ickle pickle?"

"None whatsoever."

"All right."

Made of rich stone, Malfoy Manor stood three floors high with one tower at the back. The doors were large, made of oak, with heavy silver knockers in a simple, circle shape. Grasping the handle, Draco pulled open the door, which swung with ease and without any of the expected creaking its ancient hinges indicated.

The carpets were rich, plush, emerald green extending from one wall to the other. The foyer was larger than the others; Terence had a higher touch of elegance than his brother. Two iron chandeliers hung above them and lit upon entrance, casting wild shadows to jump across the walls in an exotic dance. High-arched doorways stood to the left, the right, and a corridor led straight ahead, running under the double staircase. It split off above the corridor ceiling, one rounding the left, the other right. Silver banisters lined the staircase and the balcony over the corridor, overlooking the entrance.

Harry released a low whistled and rocked on his heels.

"Quite the place you've got here, Malfoy."

"Yeah, it's great," said Draco.

Lugging their bags along, Draco gave them a brief tour of the first floor, which included the parlor, two dining halls, the drawing room, several locked doors that Draco called offices, and the kitchen. About five house elves milled around the kitchen and cowered when Draco walked in. One even went so far as to praise Harry when Draco's back turned, and then bashed itself in the head. After grabbing something to snack on, Draco led them to the library.

The ceilings were high and painted a dark, stormy grey reminiscent of the Hogwarts ceilings when it rained. Three cherry-wood tables stretched the length of the room, one end by the French doors and the other by the high, arched windows. Heavy, green-velvet draperies hung on silver rods and were pushed back, allowing the dying light to bathe the room in a glo glow. Upon entrance, the silver chandeliers lit up, illuminating every last crevice of the room, and the fireplace on the far left wall sprung to life.

Above the crackling of the fire which roared red, orange, and yellow in the hearth, Draco pulled out one of the high-back, cherry wood chairs. The legs scraped over the flagstones and Draco dropped into the chair. He slung his bag onto the table, and propped his elbow on the tabletop.

"I don't think we're going to spend much time in here so we may as well get it done tonight," said Draco.

"I'm tired," said Harry.

"And tomorrow's going to be busy," said Blaise.

"But we're going to spend all day in the town hall looking at record books. We have to get this out of the way. Believe me, it won't take long. I grew up spending my summers in the library. There isn't much here. My father sent everything he didn't want me to see down to Town Hall. They wouldn't understand it, and I couldn't be bothered with walking down there."

"So what are we looking for?"

"A trace that there is anything here. Just to skim around a bit. If we don't at least look, we could miss something, and lose valuable time coming back for it later."

Blaise grunted, turning around the library, and muttered something indistinguishable. Harry rolled his eyes, nodded, and slipped his arm around Blaise's waist. Pecking a kiss on Blaise's ear, Harry pulled him across the room and toward the wall opposite the fireplace.

Sitting at the middle table, Ron pulled out the chair opposite Draco and dropped his chin into his palm.

"I love you."

"Where did that come from?" said Draco.

"You look uncomfortable. I thought maybe you were having problems being back at home after everything that's happened. Wanted to remind you that I'm here."

A hint of a smile tickled the corners of Draco's lips.

"You don't have to do that. I'm fine."

He stood and walked over to where Harry and Blaise rooted through the shelves. He crossed one arm over his chest, rubbing at the inside of his elbow with his index finger. His free hand hung poised above his chest, fingers curled into a soft fist. The tip of his tongue peeked between his scarlet lips, and Ron licked his own, which seemed dry all of a sudden.

*

Ron sat in the dusty corner, head leaned back against the coarse stone wall. He stared into the vacancy of his closed eyelids, but something rustled, and he stared up through heavy eyelashes.

"Why are you being so difficult?"

Ron winced, raking his fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes, all too aware of their pounding, and he cried out. There was no answer to his agony. When he opened his eyes again, Bade crouched before him, and Ron wished nothing more than to scratch that look from Bade's face. It was contorted, sneered, and Ron sighed, rolling his head onto his shoulder.

"I'm sorry."

"No, you aren't. If you were sorry, you'd do it."

"I am sorry. I'm sorry you're upset with me, and I'm sorry I let it go so far."

"I thought we were agreed. We all agreed to this."

"No, we didn't." Ron pulsated, the pounding in his ears, eyes, and down to his fingertips. Pushing off the floor, dust rustled around him, and he stood. "We didn't all agree to this. I never agreed, but you told Alecto I'd do it."

"So what now? We've come this far. Whether you do it or not, this city is going to collapse. We've come too far for you to back down now."

"I am not going to be the cause of more casualties. If I do this, then Absconditus is only the beginning. I am not going to be responsible for that. I'm not going to be selfish."

"We aren't done here. This isn't what we set out to accomplish."

"It isn't what you set out to accomplish."

"Ryan!"

Ron turned his head, meeting the blazing eyes of Alecto. Hero sat behind her, slunk against Lorenzo, picking at the tattered slip hanging from her thin shoulders. As he looked away, Hero caught his gaze and shook her head.

"You're disgusting," she said. "How dare you do this to us?"

"Thank you," said Bade.

"You shut up. I wasn't talking to him. I was talking to you." Hero pushed away from Lorenzo, got to her feet, and stalked to Bade, grabbing him by his collar. "It's you who got us into this mess in the first place. If it weren't for you, we'd never even be here. It's your mother who set it up. It's your influence that made Ryan go along with the preliminaries. We all knew he didn't approve, but you guilted him into it. You guilt him into everything."

"Hero, leave him alone," said Lorenzo. He groped out, his eyes blank and unseeing. Ron felt his stomach clench and the bile rose in his throat. Grasping at his stomach, Ron's eyes watered, blurring the world but for the pain writhing through his body.

"I won't leave him alone. We could have died, forgotten about Alecto's prophecy, and been on with it. We didn't have to play savior. We could have let Larrissa and Reynaldo take over, but we all decided that was wrong. We all decided that. What's left now? Dying and taking down the city with us. Well, Ryan had a problem with that one, didn't he?"

"Where are you going with this, Hero?" said Bade.

"Only that you've manipulated him into spreading his magic when you knew he didn't want to be reborn. He's not going to be bound. Ryan won't consent to that. It's time you realized that. And now we're dying for nothing."

"Alecto, what do you think?" said Bade. "You know more than any of us here."

"You could have left the government corrupt, but it would have brought true evil to the world. The only option, however, was to set things straight, and unless you're reborn, that would require more time. Lorenzo could have helped us on that one, but it would've been impossible to orchestrate with the security on your cell. By coming this far, however, and not doing the bind . . . the scales are thrown off. Your gifts won't be taken, but the process isn't complete."

"So we have to do it," said Bade. "We have to do it or everyone dies and the future is ruined more than it was before. And that's our doing, now. Not someone else's."

"I don't want to do it," said Ron. "If I do it, everything's going to happen again. I don't want more people to die because of me." Ron coughed, buried his face into his shoulder, and tried to scream. Choked sobs strangled him, and he fell to the floor.

"Ryan?" Bade fell to his knees, pulling Ron into his arms. Outside the window, lightening severed the sky. Perspiration slimed onto Bade's skin. Ryan�s ashen blond hair hung in heavy, wet clumps.

"He's dying," said Alecto. "It's starting."

Ron's eyes went wide and then there was nothing but black.

*

Clouds swirled in Ron's head and he blinked them away, searching for something to focus on. Too many voices echoed. Buzzing nagged him to an unbearable irritation. His eyelids felt like weights, falling down on their own account and refusing to lift again. Forcing a breath, Ron choked on oxygen, and his stomach ached as he coughed, tears flooding his limited vision.

"Love, you okay?"

"Maybe he should lie down."

"He's starting to creep me out."

"Lord, Zabini, catch up. Potter and I have been creeped out for awhile."

"Honestly. You mean the fact he can suddenly read Latin doesn't creep you out?"

"Creeped me out."

"You know what I mean."

"Actually, now that you've said that, I'm even more confused."

"You're always confused, blondie."

"Blondie? What is that? Never use that again."

"Shut up," said Ron, rubbing at his teary eyes. Water moistened his fingers where he spooned it from his eyes, and he cracked them open to find Harry, Blaise, and Draco sitting by him. Draco's arm wrapped around his shoulders, and he gave Ron's shoulder a squeeze. Some of that conversation was starting to make sense.

"We noticed you were having a vision," said Draco. "You freaked Blaise out. He hadn't seen you in one before."

"Malfoy freaked me out," said Harry. "It didn't occur to me that he had."

"Are you okay? I was worried. You started to look feverish."

"I'm all right. Ryan was not."

"One of those,� said Draco. �What happened?"

"I don't want to talk about. Not just yet. That okay?"

Draco frowned, but nodded. "Sure."

"I'm tired. Mind if I lay down?"

"Actually, we should all be going to sleep. There's nothing here. Nothing important anyway. Just some basic Mage legend stuff that I think once belonged to Phoenix and might even be where he got everything. Some old articles my father must have kept. Nothing big. Come on. I'll show you where you'll be sleeping."

Draco led them out of the library and back into the foyer. Taking the staircase, he passed the second floor, where he explained the servants slept. The third floor was lined with rich, cherry-wood doors ornamented with spectacular molding and glass doorknobs. Leading them through corridors, Draco stopped in the middle of the corridor and turned.

"You'll stay across the hall from us," said Draco, directing his eyes to Harry. "I recommend you be careful about what you touch. This used to be Phoenix's room."

"Professor Valmont," said Harry, as Draco tapped the knob with his wand.

"Yes, him." He pushed the door open, and led them inside. "To get in, all you have to do is tap the knob once. Try to make yourself comfortable. Don't break anything."

A large four-poster bed stood against the far wall, heavy black velvet draperies surrounding it, which hung from silver rods. The duvet was black, of rich heavy cotton, and immaculate. If the pillowcases were any indication, the sheets were black silk. Large, cherry-wood shelves covered one wall, piled with textbooks and unusual instruments that Ron often saw in places like Dervish and Banges. The rolltop desk was opened, and papers spilled from it onto the chair, whias nas not pushed the whole way in.

"Don't touch Phoenix's papers," said Draco, trying to shove the chair in. "He hasn't been here in ages, and I'm willing to bet it was mother who made such a mess. Still, he visits once in a while, and I don't think he'd appreciate it."

"He certainly likes his books," said Blaise, picking one off the bureau.

"Yeah. Don't touch those either. And don't have sex in my brother's bed."

"Right. Sure. We won't."

"Potter, I don't like that tone."

"What tone?" "Pot"Potter . . ."

"Didn't you say something about going to sleep? I know I'm very tired. Goodnight, Malfoy. We'll see you in the morning."

Harry shoved Ron and Draco back into the corridor, the door slamming in their faces. Draco frowned and looked to Ron.

"They're going to have sex in Phoenix's bed."

"Probably."

"That's gross."

"For Phoenix or them?"

"Both."

Ron laughed, pulled Draco into his arms, and kissed the space between his eyes. Draco looked at Ron and sighed.

"I'm tired. Not physically tired. My mind is tired. My emotions are tired. My heart is tired."

"Come on. Let's get you in bed."

Draco nodded, pulling Ron across the hall, and opening the door. The chandelier burst to life, and bathed the room in a soft light. Draco hissed, told the lights to dim, and then there was just enough light to maneuver around the desk,eau,eau, and high-back chairs. A fireplace crackled to the right, and two sets of doors stood to the left. A small table sat between the door and bed, and Draco fell past it to collapse in green, satin sheets.

Ron crawled under the sheets and wrapped Draco in his arms.

*

A loud smash pulled Ron from his dreams, one of the pleasant ones where he wasn't Ryan and You-Know-Who wasn't out to have him for dinner. The room was cold; the fire died in the hearth and simmered on the embers. Ron pulled the comforter up to his chin, hoping Harry and Blaise would tone it down. He didn't get much uninterrupted sleep these days and he didn't need them contributing to the trend. Sleepy haze clouded Ron's mind as he snuggled toward the center of the bed, groping for Draco. His eyes sprung open as his fingers curled around the edge of the mattress.

"Draco?"

Another smash issued from the hallway and Ron bolted up, the sheets collecting around his waist. Swinging his legs over the bed, Ron shoved the blankets off and hissed as the cold air hit the bare skin on his legs. Pulling his abandoned T-shirt on, Ron pulled the door open and darted into the hall.

"Draco? What's going on? Where are you?"

More smashes and bangs came from leftleft at the far end of the hallway. Ron raked a hand through his mussed hair, which hung in his eyes as he made his way down the hall. A door on the right stood ajar, and a thin sliver of light shone from the sides. Low, sullen sobbing wafted from the crack and into Ron's ear, and another crash issued.

Ron rested his hand on the doorknob and turned, inching it farther into the room. He peeked through, sucking in oxygen. His head felt heavy.

Draco sat in the middle of room, collapsed, his arms wrapped around his body, hands clutching at his head. His blond hair stuck up in odd angles as if he somehow acquired the Potter hair gene by spending too much time around Harry. The pale skin was bright pink, shiny, and scratched at some places. Shallow cuts covered the backs of his hands and his fingers.

Tables lay strewn about the room. Perfume bottles lay smashed on a long bureau and on the floor. The full-body mirror that stood in the corner was smashed in several places and splattered with blood. Papers lay strewn about the room and the bed was disheveled.

"Draco."

Draco's head snapped up and turned toward Ron. His pale, blue eyes were wide and tear-stained, bloodshot. He choked on a sob and pulled father into his body.

"What do you want?"

"Come on, Draco." Ron crossed the space littered with glass and pulled Draco to his feet. He had to support all of Draco's weight as Draco made no effort to stand on his own. Pulling Draco close into him, Ron showered his face with kisses. "Let's get you out of here. You should have these cuts cleaned out."

"I hate her."

"I know you do, love. Come on."

"I don't want to."

Draco pulled away, resisting the grip, but Ron held on. Draco screamed, trying to claw at Ron's face, but only succeeded at giving himself a headache. Fastening his arms around Draco's and clutching his own wrists at Draco's back, Ron pulled them tight against each other.

"You need to relax. Breathe."

"I hate her."

"I know you do, Draco, but you need to come with me, okay? We need to get you cleaned up."

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

"I really hate her, Ron. I do."

"Come on."

Draco collapsed against Ron and allowed Ron to lead them from the room. They walked back toward the bedroom, and the door to Harry and Blaise's room creaked open.

"Whass goin� on?" said Harry, sticking his head out.

"Nothing. Go back to bed. We had a slight incident but we're okay now."

"Malfoy all right?"

"He's fine. Go back to bed."

Harry nodded and disappeared, the door clicking into place.

"You should have told him the truth," said Draco. He pulled away from Ron, wrenched open his door, and entered. Ron followed behind and watched as Draco disappeared through one of the doors on the far side of the room. In the dim light, Ron followed, stepping into a bathroom where Draco stood, staring at himself in the mirror.

"What was that supposed to mean?"

"That you shouldn't have lied. You know I'm not fine. I'm crazy. I'm a mess. There's no hope for me."

"What are you talking about?"

"I've gone and made a fool of myself and lost my composure. You can tell me. It won't be the first time I've heard it."

"Don't be an idiot." Ron grabbed the washcloth from Draco's shaking hands and worked at the wounds. "I don't think you've got any glass in it."

"I'm sorry."

"Shut up, Draco. Don't apologize. Everyone garners the right to freak out once in a while. I do it all the time. And don't talk to me about composure. I'm an expert at losing it."

"Why do you take such good care of me? When no one else has?"

Ron didn't answer, patting at the scratches along Draco's hands and forearms. His throat felt tight, and Ron wondered how this came to pass. Only the second week of November and here he was at the Malfoy Manor, bandaging Draco Malfoy, and so din lin love he had drowned long ago.*
*

"What do you mean confidential?" said Draco, slamming his fists on the counter. Ron winced, looking away.

"Those files are confidential," said the man behind the counter. His hair was thin and graying, and he wore a shabby pair of khaki trousers with a navy blue, collared shirt. He winced, his fingers itching, waiting for the fight that was coming. "Only the undersigned are permitted access. You aren't on that list."

"But I'm their son! And Lucius is dead!"

"As long as Narcissa is alive --"

Draco's hands clenched into fists and he turned, storming out through the double doors. Harry, Blaise, and Ron looked from the swinging doors to the man and scampered after Draco.

After last night's commotion, Draco hadn't been able to get back to sleep, and spent most of the night lying soundless in Ron's arms. A sleepless Draco led to an irritable Draco, and today wasn't going well. The house elves provided breakfast, but Draco failed to hold his composure in the dining room, and had to retreat out onto the grounds of the manor for the first half-hour. Once he relaxed, they dressed in Muggle clothes (as Malfoy City was a Muggle town), and headed for Town Hall, which was where they were now.

Standing in the courtyard that surrounded Town Hall, Ron sat on one of the benches and looked up at Draco.

"What do you propose?"

"I can't believe they won't let me have my family records! I'm of age. My father's dead. It isn't like he'll ever know. Who cares if my mother is still alive? Those are mine, too, an'm h'm heir now that my father's gone. I get everything, not her."

"Calm down."

"I'm with Malfoy on this one," said Harry. "That's rot. You're a Malfoy and you're the one who owns everything now. Who cares about your mother?"

"Maybe they don't believe Daddy dearest is dead," said Blaise. "After all, they don't exactly get the Daily Prophet, now do they?"

"What are we going to do now? They have my books, they have my journals, and they have my map."

"Trying to access your records, are you?" broke in a new voice.

Draco spun around, and Ron leaned to the side, catching glance of a girl standing behind him. Her lank, blonde hair was separated into two plaits, tied at the bottom with string. Largaggyaggy pants hung from her thin waist, and a ratty old t-shirt draped from her shoulders. Dirt smudged her cheeks and under her eyes, which were deep brown, sunken in, hollow.

"Dawn."

"I heard you were here. Thought you were away at school this time of year."

"How did you know I was here?"

Her eyes met his for a moment, and then she turned her head, looking back to a row of trees lining the courtyard. Standing behind one and peeking out was the little girl in rags from the day before. Like yesterday, she was covered in dirt, her hair hanging in messy clumps that framed her small, round face.

"Nora said she saw you yesterday. She said you were dressed like the bad people who took Leanne away."

Ron's eyes grew wide, looking to Draco.

"Who's Leanne?" said Harry. "Who's this girl? What's going on, Malfoy? We're a little pressed for time, or maybe you didn't notice."

"Shut up, Potter."

"What's the hurry for?" asked Dawn.

"My business is my own matter."

"But it involves your records. I can help you get at them. I know a back way in."

"And what do you want for such valuable information?"

"Some valuable information in return."

"Which is?"

"I want to know what you aren't telling me. I want to know where my sister is."

"What makes you think that I know? Because your sister says she saw me yesterday dressed strangely?"

"No. Because you didn't seem surprised when I told you someone took Leanne away. You've been away at school, and you didn't come down to the city over holiday. How else would you have known?"

"Maybe my father told me."

"Your father hasn't been around for a few years now. Your mother would never know, nor would she care. I've never even seen her in the city."

"So what if I do know what happened to Leanne?"

Draco crossed his arms and stepped back. Ron glanced from Draco to Dawn, and rested a hand on Draco�s upper arm. He brushed it off.

"I want to know where my sister is. You want your records. I'll help you if you help me."

"Who are you?" said Harry. She turned, looking him up and down.

"Who are you?"

"ThatPottPotter. Ignore him."

"Where is my sister?"

Ron slipped an arm around Draco's waist, playing with the waistband of the jeans. The material felt so foreign on Draco's body, who Ron had never seen wear anything as common as jeans before. Draco's breathing was labored, but you'd never be able to tell from where Dawn stood. He could barely hear it, but Draco's body heaved beside him, and Ron's heart pulled, wanting to do the job for him.

"If you know where her bloody sister is, just tell her and get it over with," said Blaise. "Harry's right. We don't have time to waste. Every moment is precious and we need what's stored in that building. If your father wasn't already dead, I'd kill him for this."

"Leanne's dead." Draco's head hung toward the ground. "I can't tell you who did it, and I can't tell you how, but she's dead."

Dawn choked on a sob and the little girl, Nora, ran from the tree into Dawn's legs.

"Are you sure?"

"Unfortunately," said Draco, rubbing at the inside of his forearm.

"Why . . . who . . ."

"My father orchestrated the kidnapping. I don't know what happened after, only that she died. I've already shed my tears over her."

"Draco --"

"I'm sorry for your loss."

Ron teased Draco's fingers with his own, and Draco grasped Ron's hand. His hand ached from the force, but Ron ignored the throbbing, far more focused on the set of Draco's jaw.

"There's more. I know there is. Who were those people? Why . . . there's something strange about it, Draco. Why were they dressed that way? Why were you?"

Dawn frowned, almost whined, and tightened her grip around Nora. The little girl clutched to her sister�s legs, sobbing.

"I can't tell you that. It's not my place."

"But --"

"It has something to do with my family, and something to do with my school. And not everyone is bad. It isn't a cult."

"If you could hold up your part of the bargain now --" said Blaise. Draco glared.

Dawn nodded her head, weak and bobbing on her neck without much structure. She led them around to the back of the building, numb, unmoving, and cracked into one of the doors with a hairpin.

"It's old, and they never reinforce this door. Staff uses it regularly. Sometimes it isn't even locked." Pushing the door opened, she stepped away. "Records are in the basement. Head down until you can't head down anymore." She paused, reaching out to touch Draco, and then pulled back as if thinking better of it. Her eyes focused on Ron's hand in Draco's. "I'm going to go . . . whatever you�re doing probably isn't any of my business . . . Does it have to do with --"

"With what I'm not telling you. Sort of Leanne, too." She nodded, gripped Nora by the shoulder, and directed her away. "Dawn?"

She paused, turned, but Nora went on walking and Dawn made no attempts to stop her.

"I didn't mean for it to happen."

An odd sort of confusion passed over Dawn's face, but she nodded.

"I know."

Dawn turned, following in Nora's footsteps. Draco buried his face into the crook his arm, hacked through a series of coughs until his eyes watered, and heaved.

"Are you okay?" said Ron, twining an arm around Draco's waist.

"Fine."

"Draco --"

"I'm fine."

"Who was that girl?" said Harry.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"You often have cryptic conversations with Muggle girls?"

"He doesn't want to talk about it," said Ron. Harry stared, blinking. "Let's just go, all right? Before someone catches us sneaking in?"

Ron brushed by Harry and Blaise, going down into the old staff entrance. He took the stairs to the left, descending down, and followed until he couldn't go any farther. Footsteps pattered on the steps above him, and Ron didn't stop to see how close they followed. He creaked open the only door and pushed in.

The walls were lined with bookcases. Heavy, leather-bound volumes that were falling apart sat on these shelves, collecting dust. A door toward the back of the room was marked private, and wouldn't budge when Ron gave it a push, but after a simple Alohomora, they were in.

The piles of books Ron expected to see along the shelves were not there. Only one, simple bookcase stood along the far wall. Its shelves were almost bare, little more than a few old books with broken bindings and stained pages. Draco dropped his bag on the solitary, wooden table, which creaked with the added pressure and swayed as if preparing for a spectacular defeat any moment.

"What have we got here?" said Harry.

Ron crossed the room, standing before the bookcase, and Draco's arm brushed against his as he joined Ron�s side. Plucking a worn, leather book from the middle shelf, Draco pulled it open to where a thin piece of twine marked the pages.

"It's Terence's journal," said Draco.

"Well?" said Blaise.

Flipping through the pages, Draco paused, and pulled out a sheet of parchment.

"Where are the other map pieces?"

Blaise pulled open Draco's bag, rummaged through the books inside, and pulled out the three map pieces and a roll of Spellotape. Earlier that morning, while Draco sulked on Malfoy grounds, Blaise taped together the first three pieces. Now, he spread it out, and Draco smoothed out the parchment, laying it in the empty space. In the bottom corner, beneath where the river ran off the page, were the initials 'RSA' in Ron's untidy scrawl.

"Suppose that's it, then," said Harry, as Blaise began to tape the last piece in.

"Not yet," said Draco.

He placed the book on the table, his fingers shaking as he pulled his hands away. Tucked into the book was an old, worn parchment. The handwriting was unmistakable; the Absconditus map was covered in it. Even the 'RSA' was scrawled into the corner. On the page after the insertion was the note:

Was tucked into map piece in vault door. Cane thinks this is the original prophecy. The letters 'RSA' are on both the map and prophecy. RSA: Ryan Sloan Alcor?

Draco held out the paper in which Ron's handwriting scrolled out the words.

"What does it say?" said Harry. "Ron?"

"Why are you asking me?"

"You're the one who can suddenly read Latin."

Ron sighed, grabbing the parchment from where it lay.

"Shed not innocent blood; death is sweet but revenge is sweeter. Such is the mantra of this city, and so it shall be. A time approaches where the Mages will rise againseekseek revenge on those who have wronged them. The blood of a new life will make the Mages rise, more powerful than ever before. The time approaches; the end of Absconditus is near."

"Alecto's prophecy," said Blaise.

"What d'you reckon we do now?" said Harry.

"Well we've already figured out where Absconditus is, haven't we?" said Draco. "Everything's pointing us to our vault doors; the Slytherin twins picked our Manor locations because of unnatural cal cal surges. Abscond is is below Malfoy City. All we have to do is get in."

"And how do you propose we do that?"

"Blood," said Ron. "Everything�s pointing to blood, and you saw the Zabini vault door. Lorenzo's symbol was marked into the metal."

"So what? We prick our fingers and smudge it onto the doors?"

"I'd say that isn't far off. I had a vision --"

"No surprise there."

"Why does Weasley get all the visions?" said Blaise. "It'd be nice to know what's going on once in a while."

"Would you rather I not tell you what I've seen?" said Ron. "I'd be perfectly happy to hand them over. They give me headaches, and they're turning out to be more of a curse than a blessing. You'll understand if I'm willing to just hand them over."

"No need to get tetchy," said Draco, resting his hand on Ron's forearm. Ron bared his teeth, ripping it away.

"I hate it. I get them about everything whether I want to or not. They make me sick, and I don't like knowing what's going to happen. I don't like spacing out and seeing things through Ryan. I wish it would all stop. If you all want to fight over who gets to be the Seeing freak, feel free."

"Ron --"

"Shut up, Bade, I don't want to hear it."

Harry arched an eyebrow, looking from Ron to Draco. Blaise's lower lip curled beneath his teeth and they nipped at the skin.

"Let's not talk about it," said Draco.

*

Sun set below the horizon on Malfoy City as Draco, Harry, Ron, and Blaise finished dinner and dressed. Pulled tight around their shoulders were warm cloaks and scarves wrapped around their necks as shields. Draco coughed, refusing Ron's insistence that he take some sort of potion before they set out.

The dungeons were colder than they were in Zabini Manor. They seemed to go down forever, but unlike at Zabini Manor, the walls were not covered iss oss or mildew. In fact, the Malfoy dungeons gave off a dusty appearance as if their use was abandoned only recently. Ron swallowed, trying to ignore this as Draco led the way by wandlight. As they reached new corridors, torches burst into life along the walls and diminished once the contingent passed.

Blaise carried the Absconditus map in one hand; the other fastened around Harry's fingers. They hung behind, straggling as Draco referred to the Malfoy dungeon map. He made it halfway before consulting the map, and they wound through a labyrinth of corridors until they came before the round, iron door.

Reaching into the folds of his robes, Draco whipped out a small pocket-knife, encrusted with emeralds and engraved with a dragon. The blade glistened, reflecting the flames that licked at the walls. As the shadows bounced, Ron squinted, and his eyes made out the double serpents wound about each other on the vault door. A low hiss caught his attention, and Ron snapped his eyes to Draco.

Scarlet bled across the knife blade, and it beaded at t bet before secreting from the wound Draco marked into his palm. Brief thoughts of tetanus and hepatitis passed through Ron's mind as Draco pressed his palm flat against the door between the serpent heads. Low clicks echoed against the walls, metal squealing in agony as if it had long lost habit of use. The door sprung inward, cracking ajar against the weight of Draco's hand, and a shiver passed through his body as he ripped it away. The blade dropped to the floor with a clang.

"Instinct," said Draco.

Walking forward, Draco pushed against the door with his shoulder, heaving. Ron came beside him, adding to the weight, and hinges screamed as it swung in.

"So," said Blaise, "who's going first?"
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The Prophecy of Absconditus