Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Darkness Within The Light	By : crimson96 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 8759 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 22
- 23
- 24
Author's Notes: Greetings from Eris and myself to everyone that is reading this story. Chapter 23 is here and finished. We hope that everyone enjoys this chapter as it really does help to sup what is about to happen, but is a very good character driven chapter. You really do see the connections between several characters forming. Please, feel free to leave comments and opinions. They are very much welcome. So enjoy until chapter 24 which is in the works as I type.

Chapter 23: The Right Decision

"Is that what I think it is?" Draco asked, pointing to the plastic ear.

"It's a surveillance device," Hermione answered as she followed Ron into the room and closed the door behind her.

"Then it's exactly what I think it is. You're sick, both of you, spying on us with your stupid toy-"

"No!" Ron exclaimed. After a moment's pause, he repeated, "No!" more vehemently and shook his head. "I wouldn't want to listen in on what happens between the two of you! Not that anything happens, er, not that it would be bad if it did, I just-"

"Molly and Arthur are arguing about you, Draco! You might want to listen to what they're saying instead of accusing us of snooping." Hermione snatched the ear from Ron's hand and thrust it at Draco, who took it gingerly between his thumb and forefinger.

Harry scooted closer and leaned toward the ear as Ron and Hermione sat down on the opposite bunk.

"-has a right to be involved! It's his own family, Arthur!" Molly's voice came out of the plastic ear, sounding weak and far away.

"We would never let one of our sons take the same risk. In spite of everything he's done, you know what Draco means to Harry..."

Draco flushed at that and looked as if he wanted to throw the ear across the room. "What did you do, Potter- hold a bloody press conference about your feelings?"

"No, of course not! No one outside this house knows-"

"Quiet! This isn't the time!" Hermione pressed her finger to her lips and then pointed to the ear.

Draco opened his mouth, then closed it and glared at the ear as Molly's voice said, "-and it's not as if we're truly putting him at risk by taking Draco to the ministry. Harry will clear his name at the trial-"

"Assuming he lives to be tried."

"Arthur, what are you not telling me? You've been acting strange for weeks now. Every time I ask you about work, you change the subject and start going on about your Muggle gadgets. Now Draco needs our help, and you're still being evasive."

"I didn't want to worry you, not with everything else, with how you've been-"

"So you didn't think I was strong enough to hear the truth?" Molly's tone reminded Harry all too much of Ginny, and he winced, feeling sorry for Arthur.

"I- I'm not sure of anything yet. I wanted to wait before I cast suspicion on anyone from the ministry."

"And what is it you suspect?"

"Someone is cutting corners, making sure that former Death Eaters get eliminated. I've seen the official list of suspected Death Eaters, and it matches too closely with the obituary page in the Daily Prophet. People from the list keep dying in strange ways- a fire, a drowning, a creature attack. Those people should have been brought to trial." Arthur's frustrated sigh carried through the ear.

"You aren't seriously suggesting..."

"That they were murdered? That someone in the ministry is afraid of Death Eaters being exonerated and is willing to bypass the trial and execute the suspects?"

"Who?" Molly asked softly. "Who would be willing to do such a thing?"

"I don't know. I don't know who to trust! That's why I can't let Draco reveal himself to the ministry. His name is on the list, Molly. That's why I have to handle this myself, with as much discretion as possible."

Draco dropped the ear. "I've heard enough, and none of it surprises me. Of course the self-righteous hypocrites at the ministry will do what it takes to clean up. If we- if the Death Eaters had won, they would have done the same. There would have been talk about fairness and justice in the morning and a knife in the back of every mud- every Muggle born and sympathizer the same night."

"No!" Hermione shook her head. "I don't believe the ministry officials are no better than Death Eaters. Arthur has to be mistaken."

"Oh? Then let's go visit Shacklebolt tonight. Clearly, I have nothing to fear..." Draco leaned forward and held out his hand to Hermione.

She folded her arms across her chest and scooted away.

Draco let his hand fall and snorted. "No one who claims to serve the greater good has clean hands, Granger. You know that as well as I do. Look at Weasley here, spying on his own parents-"

"So I could help you!" Ron interrupted. "I'd say finding out that you're on a hit list is a pretty good reason to bend the rules of decency a bit."

"Touching." Draco scoffed and rolled his eyes. "You made my point, by the way. We're all one good reason away from wrongdoing."

"And you would know that better than anyone," Hermione muttered.

The room fell silent, save for the faint voice of Arthur Weasley coming from the plastic ear on the floor. "-get a team of Aurors to visit the Manor tomorrow. I can do that without revealing Draco is at the Burrow."

Harry draped a hand over Draco's shoulder and squeezed. "You see? Arthur will get help for your mother. If Lucius and Phillipe are waiting in ambush, the Aurors will spring the trap."

"Who knew the three of you were such bloody cowards," Draco snarled. "You're afraid of my father, afraid of the ministry. Where's all that Gryffindor courage?"

"Maybe he's right-" Ron began.

"No!" Harry cut Ron off and tugged on Draco's shoulder, turning him so that they could look each other in the eyes. "It's not a question of courage. It's a question of what I'm willing to risk. I won't put you in danger."

"I'm in danger of losing what's left of my family, Potter!" Draco stood and kicked the ear across the room. "Do you know how much I loathe asking you, asking all of you, for help? It sickens me, and I hate it, but not as much as I hate the thought of my mother in that dark, dirty place he's keeping her."

"She's safe enough for now," Hermione assured him. "Think about it! If he wanted her dead, he could have killed her by now. He's using her as bait to get you to come home. That means he still needs her alive."

Not that we have proof she is alive, Harry thought. He exchanged a glance with Ron that showed his friend was thinking the same, but for once Ron had the good sense to stay silent.

Draco appeared to accept Hermione's reasoning. He sat back down beside Harry and nodded slowly. "And Kraven should follow the order to keep her alive. He's not like Potter's wretched, senile excuse for a house elf."

Ron reached into his sleeve and withdrew Draco's wand. "You can have this back now. Right?" he glanced at Harry as if seeking permission, but before Harry could answer, Draco snatched the wand out of his hand.

Draco ran a finger up and down the wand, a faraway look in his eyes. "I'll give Arthur the chance to visit Malfoy Manor tomorrow, but if my father really has hurt her as badly as Kraven said, I'm going after him myself. Some people don't deserve a trial."

Blue eyes scanned the pages of a book, and a silver glass sat upon the desk, cradled by the long, slender fingers of Lucius Malfoy. His left hand balanced the old book as he continued reading. Concentrating on the contents of what he read, Lucius did not see the silver mist float through the study room window and coalesce upon the desk. The silver mist shaped itself into the form of a large cobra, its hood sprouting outward, and its body rising upward. The movement caught Lucius' attention, and he snapped the book shut, focusing on the reptilian specter that awaited his attention.

"Luciusss," the soft voice hissed, as the cobra flicked its tongue outward. "Arthur Weasssley and two Aurorsss are preparing to leave the Minissstry. Make hassste."

"Arthur Weasley?" Lucius dropped the book and quickly downed the contents of the glass before discarding it, too. "This is unacceptable. Delay him-" Lucius began, but the Patronus had already dissipated. "Kraven!" Lucius bellowed.

The house elf apparated into the room and bowed. "Master Malfoy has called for Kraven?"

"Yes. It appears we are about to host an unwelcome guest. Bring Narcissa to the living room, now!"

Minutes later, Narcissa stood in the large Malfoy living room, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the light in the room. The unmistakable echo of Lucius' footsteps followed by the timely crack of his cane upon the floor grew closer as she turned to look at the corridor leading into the living room. Lucius strode into the room and approached Narcissa. His tall, slender frame towered over her as he studied her like a hawk watching a mouse.

A small smirk played at the edges of his mouth, and he reached down and brought Narcissa's bound hands upward. "Ah, you have been busy, haven't you, my dear?" he emphasized his words by tapping his finger against the bonds. "That was a very bad decision, Narcissa."

"Lucius, please! The bonds- they were too tight on my wrists. My hands were going numb, I had to do something! Please, dear, I would never try to escape," Narcissa pleaded as she looked at Lucius, a single tear rolling down her cheek. "Please do not hurt me again, I beg of you."

Lucius quickly looked from the bonds down into Kraven's yellow eyes. "Is this your doing?"

"Mistress asked Kraven to loosen the bonds so that Mistress could tend to the wounds created by them," Kraven replied as his little hands twisted the edges of the old, ragged garment around his waist.

"You were supposed to tend to her wounds, not her. You despicable, repulsive…" Lucius violently swept his cane with a marksman's accuracy, and the metal tip landed solidly against the side of the house elf's head, sending the creature tumbling toward the fireplace.

"Lucius, please! Kraven was only doing what I asked him to," Narcissa pleaded, reaching for her husband's hands to stop him from taking another swing at Kraven.

"What you asked him to do? He was under a direct order not to help you!" Lucius snarled.

"And then he took a direct order from me." Narcissa smiled, enjoying that small victory.

Lucius banged the tip of the cane onto the floor in front of him, his eyes darting from Narcissa to a staggering Kraven. "Very well, punishment for this action will be severe, but it will come later. However, currently I both require your cooperation and possess the means of ensuring it, my dear."

"What?" Narcissa gasped.

"We will soon find ourselves entertaining unwanted guests. They must leave with the impression that nothing here is amiss, which means that, for now, I will release you." Lucius paused before he continued. "I do have one condition, Narcissa. Before I release you from these bonds, you will clearly understand this. If you try to escape, if you reveal any personal information, or if you make any attempt to ask for help, it would be the most regrettable decision that you have ever made."

"The only regrettable decision that I have made is marrying you, Lucius!"

With the speed of a striking snake, his hand was around her throat, squeezing like a constrictor. "How dare you speak to me in that way!" She gasped as spots began to form before her eyes, and her lungs felt as if they were on fire. Tears flowed down her cheeks as she tried to speak, but she could only produce muttered sounds. "Now, am I clear, Narcissa?" She slightly nodded her head forward.

"Good." Lucius released his grip from her throat and turned toward the house elf. "Take her upstairs to the bedroom, and get her into some decent clothing. And for Merlin's sake be quick about it!"

"Yes, Master Malfoy," Kraven said bowing low to Lucius.

"Damn!" Arthur whispered as he looked at his pocket watch. "We've been here almost fifteen minutes since the house elf told us to wait."

"What's he up to, Arthur?" The Auror standing behind Arthur Weasley asked.

"I've no idea, but I would bet you a thousand galleons that it's not anything good. I know Lucius, and he hates guests," Arthur said as he looked at the pocket watch once again. "During the last raid that I took part in here at Malfoy Manor, Lucius and I almost dueled one another. Had it not been for Shacklebolt, we would have."

The door to Malfoy Manor opened. Lucius swiftly stepped in front of the house elf, blocking the men's entrance. He met Arthur's eyes and flashed a small, tight smile.

"Lucius," Arthur said sternly as he slightly nodded his head.

"Well, well," Lucius started. "You, Weasley have a nasty habit of turning up at the wrong time and in the wrong places. Just like a common housefly that will not go away." Lucius inhaled deeply before he continued. "What is it this time, Arthur? Are you here to search for more of the Dark Lord's possessions? Or are you here for yet another raid?"

Arthur could feel his face turning red as his blood began to simmer. He wanted to reply to Lucius' verbal jab, but instead he chose to use a business-like tone. "Actually, Lucius, I'm here to ask for your help with an investigation. If I could ask a few simple questions of you and the rest of your household, it would be immensely helpful."

Lucius surveyed the two Aurors who stood behind Arthur. "Do you always travel with bodyguards? A new Ministry policy, is it? Or are you too scared to come here alone?"

Arthur swallowed hard, once more electing not to trade quips with Lucius. "They are with me on official Ministry business."

"Ah, indeed so. You may enter, Arthur. These two will stay here. Your Ministry muscle is not needed inside these walls."

"Very well, Lucius. It is your home." Arthur turned toward the two Aurors and spoke briefly to them before walking inside Malfoy Manor.

"Narcissa, you will find, is in the living room, doing something to pass the time," Lucius said, as he lead Arthur Weasley down a long hallway.

Portraits of the members of the house Malfoy lined the walls of the corridor. Many of the occupants in the portraits hissed and cursed as Arthur walked past, a number of them rushing into the next frame to hurl more insults at him. Others crossed their arms and turned their backs on him while muttering about how disgraceful it was to have someone like Arthur Weasley setting foot inside Malfoy Manor.

Arthur looked down, ignoring the dead Malfoys' invectives. Even the floor beneath his feet was a gaudy testament to wealth and egotism. Stretching the full length of the hallway was a thick, rich carpet patterned with a repeating motif of silver serpents on a field of deep green.

The hallway ended, and Arthur followed Lucius down two steps into a living room with a polished marble floor. On the far side of the room, a spiral staircase wound its way up to the higher floors, and a fireplace nearly the size of Molly's kitchen blazed with heatless, illusory flames. Narcissa sat on a large, green sofa with an embroidery hoop on her lap. Her right hand moved slowly, working a long needle with a strand of silver thread. Frowning, she jiggled the hoop with her knee, repositioning the fabric before making her next stitch. Lucius sat down beside her and stretched his arm over the back of the couch.

Arthur studied Narcissa carefully, recalling the house elf's vague description of her injuries. Most of the cuts had stopped bleeding by the time Kraven was ordered to clean them. Mistress Narcissa had a broken arm, and her face- If Narcissa had any cuts, they were hidden by her clothing, healed, or concealed with a glamour. Her face had a thin, haggard look, and she sported dark circles under both eyes, but Arthur could see no swelling or bruises, other than a mottled patch of skin on her left arm.

"Narcissa." Arthur politely nodded, and she replied with a brief glance upward and a curt nod of her own.

"You had questions, Arthur? Ask, and be done," Lucius said as he gestured for Arthur to sit in the chair to his left.

"Yes." Arthur cleared his throat and removed the cap from his head as he sat down in the uncomfortable chair. "You will not object to me writing down what I learn, will you?" Arthur asked as he took out a quill, parchment and his glasses from his breast pocket.

"Dear?" Lucius asked as he glanced toward Narcissa from the corner of his eyes.

"No, I have no objections," Narcissa replied as she pulled the thread taut.

Arthur rested his parchment on the arm of his chair and leaned toward Narcissa. "Molly does embroidery," he lied, keeping his voice casual and friendly. "She uses both hands, though."

Narcissa shrugged, and Arthur caught a tightening around her eyes as her left shoulder rolled back. "Perhaps she was taught differently. But you didn't come here to ask about my needlework."

"I was only making conversation," Arthur replied flatly. He positioned his left leg on top of his right knee, and placed the parchment into the crook of his left knee. Arthur knew that he was about to ask a number of difficult questions, and he tried to adjust himself comfortably upon the hardened cushion. "I came here to ask about a certain dark wizard."

"Is that correct, Arthur?" Lucius slyly asked. "When did you begin taking an interest in the Department of Magical Law Enforcment's responsibilities?"

Arthur smiled. "I am doing this as a favor for the Minister. With the rebuilding of Hogwarts still ongoing, there are very few members of the D.M.L.E who have the time to come here." Arthur could feel a single bead of sweat form on his brow, as Lucius fixed him with a cold stare. "The Minister has personally asked me to come here tonight."

Lucius relaxed into the sofa as he raised his right hand upwards, and then let it fall back to the arm of the sofa. "Well then, if the Minister of Magic, personally, asked you then by all means…carry on. We would not want the Minister upset, now would we?"

"Agreed," Arthur replied as he wiped his brow before continuing. "Are you familiar with a dark wizard named Phillipe Moreaux, Lucius?"

"No, but I have heard of him before, Weasley," Lucius replied while folding his left leg and placing it on his right knee, matching Arthur Weasley's body posture.

"Narcissa?" Arthur asked while writing down a note on the parchment.

"My husband speaks the truth," she said while slowly placing her right hand over Lucius' left hand, and casting a sideways glance at Lucius. "Neither of us knows of him. We've only heard stories and rumors about the man."

"A few Death Eaters briefly spoke about him," Lucius said before Arthur could continue with his questions. "Why do you ask, Weasley?"

"We have had unconfirmed reports that Phillipe may be back in England. We do know that he is no longer being held a prisoner inside of Nurmengard."

Lucius again waved his hand toward Arthur. "Honestly, Weasley. You dare to come into my home and accuse us of dealing with such a low-life! Even the Dark Lord refused to help him escape when he killed Grindelwald. Why would we even consider associating ourselves with such a morbid character?"

"Strictly business, Lucius," Arthur replied as he scribbled on the parchment. "The Ministry is questioning all Death Eaters, or people who may have any information regarding him."

Lucius scoffed. "You won't find that information here, Weasley."

Arthur could feel the muscle in his jaw tighten, and the pulse in his temple increase as he looked over his glasses at Lucius. "I was only asking a standard question, Lucius. It was not meant to accuse you, Narcissa, or your son of anything."

"And you have your answer. Neither I nor my family has anything to gain by lowering ourselves to wallow in the filth that a man like Phillipe Moreaux creates! I strive only to restore my name, to prove myself through service-"

"Save it, Lucius!" Arthur paused to collect himself before continuing in a calmer tone. "We are not inside the Ministry, and I am not in the mood, nor do I have the time to listen to another one of your bureaucratic speeches." He quickly put his glasses back on the tip of his nose and resumed his inquiry. "Now if you will allow me I have just a few more questions to ask."

Narcissa and Lucius exchanged a glance.

"Yes…here we are," Arthur began as he circled something on the parchment, "Is Draco here, Narcissa?"

Narcissa swallowed and closed her eyes for a moment. When she answered, the words came in one breath, as if they were so painful that she had to get them out all at once. "Draco is not here right now."

"That's a bit odd, isn't it?" Arthur asked while holding the tip of the quill under his chin. "Why would your son not be here in his own home, and with his own parents, when it is very dangerous to be out in the world by himself?"

"My son," Lucius started as he raised his voice to a mild roar. "My son, Weasley, is a Malfoy. He is strong enough to be out on his own; which is more than I can say for your brood."

"I will thank you Malfoy, not to make personal quips about my family," Arthur said raising his voice to match Lucius. "This is strictly Ministry business. Many of us within the Ministry are concerned that a former Death Eater's son would make an inviting target, especially in light of the fact that your family has an upcoming trial in a matter of days," Arthur said as he waggled the quill at both Narcissa and Lucius. "So Draco is not here, at present?"

"He's gone," Narcissa quickly answered before Lucius could speak.

"Why is he not here?" Arthur asked as he firmly marked something on the parchment.

Lucius opened his mouth to reply, but before he could speak, Narcissa said, "A few nights ago we had a … a family argument."

"Oh?" Arthur looked up from the parchment. "What sort of an argument?"

"That is a personal matter, Weasley," Lucius hissed. "Do I ask what goes on in that hovel that you call a home? Ministry business or not, that question will not be answered."

"Very well, Lucius," Arthur said while circling something else on the parchment. "However, tell me, what happened after the argument?"

"How dare you, Arthur! You presume to continue to ask me about personal-" Lucius started.

"Lucius and Draco had a row, and Draco left after that." Narcissa interjected before Lucius could finish. "I-I have not seen my son since that night."

While Arthur scribbled on the paper, Lucius raised his hand and glanced at an empty corner of the room. "I suggest you end this discussion, now, Narcissa," he growled through clenched teeth.

Arthur sighed. Whatever else Narcissa Malfoy was, she was a mother, just like Molly, and she had a mother's worry for her son. He longed to tell her that her son was safe and with friends, or the closest thing to friends that he had ever known. Instead, he focused his attention on her one obvious injury, reminding himself that it was the real reason for his presence.

"Forgive me for noticing, Narcissa, but that is a very ugly bruise that you have upon your left forearm there," Arthur said.

"What? Oh yes, that," Narcissa said, looking down. Arthur noticed Lucius' hand squeezing his wife's right hand tightly. "You see, after Draco left home, I found myself working in my garden, trying to pass away the time.

"The next morning, after their row, I went to Draco's room hoping that he would be there. His bed had not been slept in, so I went to my garden. Tending to my flowers has always seemed to help occupy my mind when I am worried." A brief sincere smile quickly flashed across her face at the mention of the flowers. "Then, sometime that day, a spider startled me while I was pruning my rose bushes. I tripped and fell onto the pathway, breaking my left arm here." She lightly placed her right hand onto her left arm tracing the area from her wrist toward her elbow. "The bruise is what is left from the injury."

"A very nasty injury, if I may say, but surely you or Lucius would have mended the bone and magically healed the bruise?" Arthur asked as he wrote on the parchment.

"Indeed it was," Narcissa replied. "However, I chose to allow the bruise to heal naturally. It is a reminder of how fragile we all truly are. Sometimes we need to remember what a bit of pain feels like, just to remind us that we are all human. Wouldn't you agree, Arthur?"

Arthur did not reply as his memory immediately went back to the night inside the Great Hall, as he held the dead body of his son, Fred Weasley. "I find that life provides us with enough reminders, Narcissa. We don't need to make our own."

He rolled up the parchment and placed it into his pocket. "That takes care of all of the questions. Unless either of you would care to accompany me to the Ministry…" He stood up from his chair and held out a hand to Narcissa, mentally pleading with her to take it, but she recoiled as if he had threatened to strike her.

With a sigh, he let his hand fall to his side and turned to leave.

"Arthur," Narcissa called. He turned to see Lucius looking down upon his wife, daggers glowing in his clear blue eyes. "If Draco is a -if he is out there, and if you should see him, please tell him that I love him, and that eleven will always be his lucky number."

Arthur paused for a moment, pondering the cryptic statement.

Finally, he simply nodded his head and placed the wizard's cap back onto his balding head. "Don't bother showing me the way out, Lucius. I can manage on my own."

Time seemed to pass very slowly as Lucius stared silently at Narcissa until they heard the sound of the front door being shut. At the sound of the latch clicking, Lucius exhaled deeply.

"Well, Narcissa, I must say that you gave me quite a shock there. That was most ingenious of you to send Arthur that little message of yours. Do you honestly believe he understood what you said?"

"In due time, Lucius, the answer will become known," she said as she got up from the sofa and walked over toward the fireplace, sniffling.

Lucius walked over and firmly grasped her quivering arms as he pressed his chest against her back. "I was afraid, for a moment, that you were going to force me to do something that I did not want to do," he whispered into her ear. "For a second, Narcissa, I had my doubts about your performance."

She turned on the spot, and gazed into his face, fighting back the tears as she tried to remain strong under his demanding force. "Where is our son? If he's truly dead, then let me bury him. Let me say goodbye, Lucius! Not even you could be cruel enough to deny me that."

The muscles in his jaw clenched tightly, as the words forced their way to the tip of Lucius' tongue. "For the moment, our…son is where you want him to be. With Potter!"

Narcissa quickly closed her eyes and said a silent prayer of thanks. It was interrupted by a violent burst of pain that centered on her jaw. Her eyes jerked open as she felt Lucius' strong, vice-like grip squeezing her lower face. "Fear not, though. You'll have a chance to bury him soon enough," he softly hissed into her ear, and then with his right hand motioned to the same empty corner of the room that had occupied his attention during Arthur's visit.

Narcissa heard a light ruffling sound, and was forcefully turned to watch. A shock of dark, greasy hair and a pale forehead seemed to float in the air. Soon a face appeared, and then the neck and torso attached to that face. Within seconds, the empty corner was filled with a large wizard, the folds of what must be an invisibility cloak tangled about his feet. His wand pointed directly at Narcissa, and she realized she was looking at Lucius' means of ensuring her cooperation. The wizard flashed a smile filled with crooked yellow teeth.

"You violated our agreement, Cissy," Lucius told her. "I asked you not to reveal personal information, and you betrayed my trust. Phillipe?"

"Crucio." Phillipe's dark, husky voice filled her ears as the pain of the curse filled her body. Moments later Narcissa blacked out and collapsed to the floor.

"One, big, happy family, my dear" Lucius said, as he drew his wand.

Arthur Weasley stepped out of the green flames and into the arms of his wife.

"It's late dear, I was beginning to worry," Molly Weasley said as she brushed away the last big of soot. Arthur kissed his wife on her plump cheek and sat down at the kitchen table.

"I am sorry, Molly," he said, taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger and gently rubbing.

"It's past midnight. You look exhausted, Arthur. Let me get you a cup of hot tea."

"Thank you, dear, that would be perfect. If we have any fire whiskey, add a drop into it in as well. Is everyone upstairs asleep?"

"I checked not too long ago and everyone was sound asleep," Molly replied as she poured the tea and added a drop of fire whiskey to each cup.

"Good. Then I suppose it is safe to speak without any Extendable Ears being around?"

"Yes, I planned ahead and cast a silencing charm over the kitchen, as well as a locking charm on the bedroom doors. I will remove it all once we go to bed," Molly finished as she handed her husband the cup of tea.

Arthur smiled and hugged his wife's midsection with his arm as she stood beside the chair. "That's my Molly-Wobbles."

"Oh, Arthur," Molly replied as she sat down across the table from her husband. "By the look on your face, I take it things did not go well with Lucius?"

"No, Lucius was the same smug, arrogant, lying… person that he always has been," Arthur said as he sipped his tea. "It's everything else that has me so worried."

"What about Narcissa?"

"She was there, in the living room, when I entered. From what I could tell she did not appear to be injured in any way, save for a small bruise on her left arm. She told me that happened in her garden when she fell. I never saw her use that arm, but if it were broken, there should have been more swelling. "

"So the house elf was lying?"

"That's the question. Do you believe a Death Eater's house elf, or a Death Eater and his wife, whose son is now staying in our home?" Arthur took a long drink of his tea before continuing. "Is the house elf lying on a direct order from Lucius, or did Lucius somehow stage this little conversation. Quite frankly, at the moment, I am willing to believe the house elf. I can't place my finger on it, but something seemed a bit off tonight when I was there in Malfoy Manor."

"Off? What do you mean, dear?"

Arthur finished his tea with a hard gulp, and placed the cup down on the table. "Narcissa didn't appear to be under any spells or curses. Yet there seemed to be this feeling between the two of them that something wasn't quite right. Narcissa seemed afraid, and Lucius kept glancing at an empty corner of the room. I hate to tell Draco, but from a Ministry standpoint there is nothing that can be done. There simply isn't enough proof that Lucius has done anything wrong."

"Arthur, you can't tell him that! You saw how he reacted to the house elf when-"

"Yes, I recall his temper tantrum, but Molly, what would you have me say to him? I can't lie to him, even if I don't entirely trust him."

"Arthur! How can you say-" Molly hissed, but was interrupted.

"Molly, please, I don't want an argument with you tonight. After visiting Malfoy Manor, I find it hard to trust anyone from that place. I can't imagine a child growing up there without ending up damaged. You've seen Draco's behavior; at best, he's barely under control."

Molly folded her arms across her chest and shook her head. "I've also seen the way Harry looks at him, and the way he looks at Harry when he doesn't think anyone's watching."

"That doesn't mean he's safe or trustworthy!" Arthur sighed and massaged his temples. He had also noticed Draco staring at Harry, and he was not entirely sure whether the Slytherin's slate-blue eyes were filled with desire or malicious intent. In either case, Arthur disliked the thought of Draco sleeping under his roof in the same room with Harry.

"It means he's human," Molly said softly. "It means he has a heart."

Arthur stood from the table and walked over to his wife. "Come dear, it's late and we should go to bed. Let's speak to Draco on this in the morning."

Instead of waking in his usual groggy stupor, Draco found himself jolted awake by some half-remembered dream involving his mother's screams and his father's cane. His heart pumped hard, cleansing all traces of sleep from his body. In the dim predawn light, he could just make out Potter's face with its stupidly gaping mouth. He considered throwing something at the Gryffindor so that he wouldn't have to be the only one awake, but that would mean putting up with Potter, and it was too early for that. He tossed aside grainy sheets and musty wool blankets and rose to his knees so that he could peer out the window beside his bed. Outside, a steady downpour came from the clouds above as a low rumble of thunder echoed across countryside. Draco gazed out at the raindrops as his memory traced back to a childhood day that seemed so far in the past.

He was standing outside in his mother's garden, the rain lightly falling upon his hair. This younger version of Draco was four years old, his mind incapable of perceiving the darkness in the world. He could see his mother tending to her flowers, an umbrella magically hovering above her while she snipped and pruned. Draco could see himself running as fast as his legs would carry him as he zigzagged, and ran in loops and circles, his arms held out from his little body as if he were flying on a broom through the sky.

"Mother, look!" the small voice squealed with delight. "I can fly through the raindrops!"

Narcissa turned from her flowers and watched her son, her heart beating with pride and happiness. "That's wonderful, Draco!"

"You think so?" He asked as he came to a stop directly beside Narcissa.

"I know so, love," she said as she lightly ran her fingers through his wet, blond locks. "Someday you will be a great Seeker for Slytherin. Nobody will be as fast or as good as you."

"And one day when I grow up, I will make you and Father so proud of me," the younger Draco said as he leaned close and kissed Narcissa on her cheek. "I promise you that, Mommy."

A singe tear of happiness formed in her left eye as she gently hugged Draco for what seemed like eternity. "Yes, I know you will," she said wiping away the tears upon her face. "Now let's go inside before your father returns home from work."

"Draco?"

The sound of his name brought Draco's mind out of the past. He turned from the raindrops to see Harry sitting up in the bed and putting on his glasses. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm watching it rain outside," Draco scoffed as he pointed at the window.

"I meant what are you doing up? Go back to sleep."

"Sleep?" Draco hissed as he scrubbed at his eyelids with the backs of his hands. "My eyes feel like some clawed animal has been scratching at them all night long! And the bed! I can't sleep in this bed; it feels like it's stuffed with straw, and that's not the worst part about sleeping here. The worst part is hearing Weaselbee snoring and shouting about spiders through these bloody paper-thin walls!"

"That's enough!" Harry made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a yawn, and it sounded far too close. A moment later, Draco felt Harry's hands on his shoulders and sensed the heat radiating from his body. "The Weasley's have been kinder to you than you deserve, and you know it." Harry slid his hands down Draco's arms and back up again. "I know you're worried about your mother, but if there were any urgent news, Arthur would have woken you. I'm sure she's fine."

Draco froze in place, simultaneously planning to push Harry away and imagining what it would be like if he didn't. His face burned remembering how he had humiliated himself by crying into Potter's lap. Harry's hands had moved so gently through his hair and over his back that Draco had lost himself in the moment until Weasley had come knocking. It would be easy to let it happen again, and this time there would be no one to interrupt. Hating Harry for making him do this, he swung an elbow hard, hitting Potter in the ribs and eliciting a grunt of pain and surprise.

"Go back to your own bed," Draco growled. "And stop telling me my mother is fine. You don't know that!" He continued to stare out the window, not bothering to watch Potter slink back to his own sorry excuse for a bed.

"You really want to know what you problem is, Draco?" Harry asked. "You have no control over the situation, and that scares you. It makes you feel weak and powerless."

"I am not weak, Potter!" Draco turned to glare at Harry, who had returned to his bed. Planting his elbow in Harry's chest had required super-human self control. He marveled at the strength it had taken for him to make the right decision when every fiber of his being screamed against it. If Draco were weak, Potter would still be in bed with him, and he could add "sexual deviant" to his list of personal descriptors along with "Death Eater," "mad man's son," and "failure." He couldn't say any of that out loud, of course. Turning back to the window, he whispered, "I am anything but weak."

Harry slipped off his glasses and lay back down in the bed with one of his loud, over-dramatic sighs. "We all have vulnerabilities, Draco, even you."

"Harry? Harry!"

The cheerful but unwelcome voice cut through dreams of soft hair, deep kisses, and entwined bodies. Harry stirred under the blankets, now half awake, his consciousness torn between dream-Draco's clinging embrace and real-Ron's insistent shaking.

"Huh? What?" Harry muttered as the shaking stopped. He uncovered his head, and could see a blurred form with red hair and long arms standing beside the bed. Once Harry had donned his glasses, Ron Weasley's grinning face came into sharp focus.

"Morning, Harry," Ron said. "Mum wanted me to tell you that breakfast is almost ready. Oh, and you probably should come and do something about Malfoy."

"Yeah, do something about Malfoy," Harry repeated dully, shaking his head to clear away the remnants of the dream. He rose up in bed, forgetting to notice the morning bulge that showed through the covers as he did so. Ron snickered as Harry quickly changed positions in the bed, trying to hide his embarrassment.

"Bloody hell, Harry!" Ron began, but unable to contain his laughter, "I guess that was a good dream!"

Harry's face ran through three different shades of red. "Sorry, Ron."

"Nah, it's alright Harry, perfectly natural. Besides it happens to all of us, especially in the morning." Ron walked back to the door, slightly giggling. "You'd better quickly douse your fire, and then come deal with 'blondie'. He's being a real prat this morning."

"What's he doing?" Harry asked, rubbing absently at the sore place to the right of his sternum. He had had enough of Draco's sharp, bony elbows, and he promised himself that the next time Malfoy used them, he would get cursed for it.

"Nothing. He won't say anything to anyone. He just sits there at the table ignoring us all. Mum is about to have a right fit. I guess he's not a morning person is he?"

Harry smiled, remembering their pillow fight in the hotel and how angry Draco had been about being woken early. "Yeah, you're right, Ron, he isn't. I'll be down shortly."

Harry marched down the stairs and found Draco sitting at the kitchen table, his lips curled into a tight sneer.

"Good morning, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said brightly, although the words came out of his mouth sounding forced and hollow.

"Morning, Harry, dear," she replied without turning around. She kept her back to the two as she tended a pan of sizzling sausage and eggs.

Harry whipped the chair next to Draco out from under the table, causing it to scrape harshly against the floor. Grabbing Draco's elbow very roughly, he pulled the young wizard toward him.

"What do you think you're doing?" Harry hissed. "After everything the Weasley's have done for you, the least you can do is to be civil. You're acting like a prat!"

"Hands off, Potter!' Draco replied as he pried Harry's fingers off one by one. "And don't accuse me of being a prat. I haven't said a word to anyone this morning."

"Exactly my point! Harry renewed his grip on Draco's upper arm. "It's common courtesy to greet your hosts and make polite conversation, or didn't your-" he bit his tongue to stop from saying "your mother," and continued, "—didn't you learn how to behave like a human being?"

Hermione, Ron, and Ginny entered the kitchen at that moment. Hermione let out a small gasp as she sat down at the table, Ron and Ginny sitting down beside her and exchanging looks with one another.

"Harry!" Hermione pleaded, "Let Malfoy go. Don't make a scene at the breakfast table, please."

"Hermione," Harry whispered through gritted teeth, "I am not letting him off until he promises to behave himself. He is being disrespectful."

"Still, it's no reason to-" Hermione began, but was interrupted by Ginny leaning across the table.

"Malfoy!" Ginny said aloud. "You may not like us, and that's fine. Honestly, I don't like you either. But know this; you are in our house now, and here, you are outnumbered."

She slowly slid back to her seat, agate-brown eyes meeting Draco's icy blue ones, neither person daring to blink.

"Ginny!" Hermione scolded, frowning in disapproval.

"Now, that's enough of all of this talk," Mrs. Weasley said coming over to the table with a wooden spatula in her hand. "I am putting an end to all of this right now." She eyed the four at the table, and none of them dared to raise their eyes up to look at her. "Draco, I am sorry if you did not sleep well last night. Today, I will do what I can to the bed so that you rest better tonight."

Draco did not say anything, but only nodded his head.

"Now for the rest of you, there will be no more threats at the breakfast table," she said waving the spatula at Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione before returning to the oven to continue with preparing breakfast.

"Mrs. Weasley," Draco spoke, but the words were barely audible.

"Yes?" she asked turning around and giving Draco a warm, motherly gaze.

"Did your husband say anything about my mother last night?"

She stood still for a moment, her smile suddenly gone. "Arthur arrived late last night. He was tired, and he came to bed shortly after coming home. He will be up shortly, and you can ask him then."

Minutes later Arthur Weasley entered the kitchen and quietly greeted his wife before sinking into the chair beside Ginny. "Good morning," he muttered, briefly making eye contact with everyone but Draco.

"Good Morning, Mr. Weasley," Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny replied while Draco uttered the words under his breath.

"Mr. Weasley?" Draco spoke up. "What about my mother?"

Arthur looked at Draco from the head of the table and shifted slightly in his chair before flashing a tired, unconvincing smile. "We will discuss that after breakfast. The first rule of thumb at the Weasley household is no business will be discussed while sitting at the table. Meals are set aside as time for family…and friends," he finished as Mrs. Weasley set a full bowl of scrambled eggs in the center of the table and a plate of sausages beside it.

Breakfast passed without any confrontation; the only sound was that of forks and knives clinking against the breakfast plates. Draco picked at his food, like a cat that was being particular about which individual piece of food to eat. He was greatly surprised at how delicious the food tasted, but with his stomach knotted up, he could only force down a few bites.

Once they had finished with breakfast, Arthur Weasley wiped his mouth clean before speaking to Draco. "Alright Draco, come into the living room with me."

"Mr. Weasley…" Harry objected.

Arthur flashed a brief smile toward him, before motioning for him to join them. "Alright, Harry you as well, but the rest of you-"

"Blimey, Dad, you know that Harry is going to tell me and 'Mione what's said, and Ginny will probably have the Extendable Ears somewhere."

"Alright, Ron," Mr. Weasley exhaled deeply. "Everyone come into the living room, but don't interrupt."

Draco and Harry sat on the small two-seat sofa while Arthur sat in the chair to their left. Molly Weasley sat in the chair to the right, while Ron, Hermione, and Ginny squeezed onto the sofa that was against the far wall.

"Alright Draco, here is what I witnessed last night. I did not observe the injuries that Kraven described. When I arrived, Narcissa was in the living room doing some type of embroidery work," Arthur started.

"So, no broken arm then?" Draco relaxed into the sofa, allowing himself to feel some small spark of hope.

Arthur and Molly exchanged a glance. Molly raised her eyebrow and folded her arms across her breasts, causing Arthur to flinch and sigh before answering Draco's question.

"She had a bruise on her left arm, and she didn't use her left hand for the embroidery, but no, I don't think she had any broken bones, or even the cuts that Kraven described."

Draco snorted. "Even I know you can hide injuries with a glamour, and if you never saw her use the arm, you don't know whether it was broken or not!"

"I asked, Draco. Your mother said she had an accident in her garden."

"Was he there?" Draco demanded. "Was my father there when you asked?" Arthur nodded, and Draco continued, "Then you can't expect her to answer honestly. She's terrified of him; she always has been! If I had a galleon for every 'accident' she's had in the garden or the kitchen or the washroom, I'd be richer than my father."

"Be that as it may, Draco..." Arthur shifted in his seat and placed his right hand over his left sleeve as if preparing to draw his wand. "She refused to leave with me, and I can't order the ministry to remove her by force."

"Then order my father detained!" Draco snapped.

"It's not that easy. Lucius has cooperated with the ministry since he was notified of the impending trial. Arresting him now would violate the law and possibly undermine the trial itself. As far as anyone can prove, your father has committed no crimes since the demise of Voldemort."

"No new crimes?" Draco repeated incredulously. "What about sending that escaped convict, Phillipe, to hunt me down? Isn't that enough reason to arrest my father?"

"I'm not sure, and right now it wouldn't be a good idea to go to the Ministry and begin searching around for information about Phillipe. I can't reveal the connection between your father and Phillipe without exposing your location. For now, Draco, and I am very sorry to say this, but for now, there is nothing more I or the Ministry can do to help your mother."

"What!" Draco snapped as he sprang from the sofa, suddenly furious.

Arthur held up both his hands, palms facing outward. "Please, hear me out. And sit down."

Draco sat back down on the sofa, his arms crossed. Harry tried to inch closer to him, but Draco shoved him away with a shoulder. "Alright, Mr. Weasley," Draco huffed, "I'm listening."

"Thank you," Arthur replied while wiping away a bead of sweat from his face. "The way that I see it is like this. One possibility is that Kraven was sent here by your father as a way of enticing you back to Malfoy Manor by using your mother as bait. The second possibility is your father sent Kraven here as a spy, and with direct orders to lie to you. The only way to know for sure is by Veritaserum, and that has to be Ministry approved."

Arthur leaned forward to the edge of the cushion, pressing his hands together so that they formed a steeple. "I cannot go to the Minister and ask for an inquiry based upon what one house elf has said. I must have absolute proof. Currently, that does not exist," he said as he raised a finger to stop Draco's protest. "I know what you are going to say, that your father has cursed you and Narcissa with an Unforgivable. I trust that when you are saying this, that it is the truth, but with only your word…"

Arthur scooted his chair close to the sofa and reached forward, covering Draco's balled fists with his warm, rough hands. "Draco, please, I am speaking to you with your best interest in mind. Your family has a trial upcoming in a few days. From what I have seen, your mother is not in any immediate danger. Don't go to Malfoy Manor! More than likely, it is a trap by Lucius to get you there, and then who knows what he may do. Please, stay here where you are safe, at least until the trial. Remember, you are being hunted not only by your father, but by Ministry Aurors as well."

"Draco," Harry said as he touched Draco's shoulder, "please, listen to him." The combination of Arthur's touch and Harry's was cloying, and Draco felt suddenly claustrophobic. He was tired of being pawed and patronized, and for a moment he thought he would have preferred the Cruciatus curse to all of this hand-holding and shoulder-patting. At least Voldemort had trusted him, which was more than Arthur or Harry was willing to do for Draco.

"I won't be safe until Father is locked away, forever," Draco sternly said as he pulled his hands away from Arthur's gentle hold. "And my mother isn't safe now."

"Very well, Draco, if that is your view of it all," Arthur sighed in defeat. "I cannot stop you from doing anything. I can only give you my advice. Should you decide to leave this home, you will be on your own."

Arthur glanced over at the trio that struggled to squeeze onto the sofa. "Now, as for my children, you two will not assist Draco, should he decide to leave. Is that clear Ginny? Is that clear Ron?"

"Yes, Father," they both robotically answered.

Arthur turned back to Draco, to plead with him one last time. "Draco please, don't try to be a hero. Wait for the trial, and there you can testify against Lucius. Once the Veritaserum is administered, there will be no hiding the truth."

Draco sighed while looking down at the floor, his hands clinched together. He brought his gaze to meet Arthur's and then glanced at Harry, who tightened his grip on Draco's shoulder.

"Draco, please," Harry's voice dropped to a barely-audible whisper. "I don't want to lose you."

Draco felt himself wavering, and of its own volition, one of his hands moved up to cover Harry's hand on his shoulder. "Mr. Weasley, are you sure- have you told me everything about my mother?"

Arthur looked down at the floor like a child caught in a lie. "There is one more piece of information. Something she said to me that made no sense. She told me that if I saw you, I should remind you that she loves you and that eleven is your lucky number. Does that mean anything to you?"

Draco heard Harry's cry of pain before he realized that he had squeezed down on Harry's hand. He relaxed his grip and closed his eyes for a moment, reeling as a memory washed over him. "No," he lied. "It means nothing to me."

He turned away from Harry and looked at Hermione, Ron, and Ginny sitting across the small room from him. "I leave tonight," Draco said. "I will rescue my mother, with or without your help." He pushed himself up from the sofa and started up the stairs.

"Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley cried. "You can't just let him-".

"Molly, it is his choice." Arthur sighed. "I only hope he has made the right decision."
- 22
- 23
- 24
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Darkness Within The Light