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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
- 5
- 6
- 7
Author's Note: Many, many thanks to my beta reader Eris R. LeBeau. Hope everyone enjoys reading this chapter and as always please do leave a comment after a chapter. The feedback is most welcome.

Chapter 6: Purebloods

"Sometimes you are nearly as difficult as your mother. Do you know that, Draco?" Lucius Malfoy spoke to his son, but did not bother to raise his eyes from the letter that he was writing. "There are times when she becomes too ambitious for her own good, and thus she must be reminded of certain…things," the elder Malfoy said as he continued to write upon the parchment that was upon his desk.

Draco wanted to argue with his father, but knew better than to defy Lucius. Instead, the younger Malfoy ignored the remarks and focused on the desk and the room in which he stood. It was a beautiful room, but one that he had rarely been allowed to enter. Along the entire length of the wall behind the desk were shelves upon shelves of books. Many of them were books about advanced dark magic, artifacts from pureblood wizarding families, Ministry of Magic information, and old wizarding history. A number of titles intrigued Draco, such as, Secrets of the Darkest Art, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, A Guide to Medieval Sorcery, and Asiatic Anti-Venoms.

The desk was a magnificent brown, mahogany wood, with gold trim in the form of snakes all around the edges and the legs. His father continued to concentrate on his work and ignore his son, who was standing in front of him. The intense scratching of the quill along the parchment was the only audible sound within the room.

Draco stood stoically, though he wanted to shout something about how Lucius had dragged him out of bed to bring him here and now had the unimaginable arrogance to ignore him. He folded his arms across his chest and allowed his mind to wander, seeking escape. He thought of things he wanted—being lord of Malfoy Manor, having other wizards wither in his presence, seeing that smug mudblood, Potter brought to his knees and taught his place.

Potter.

The thought of the name brought to mind a quick, visceral image of Potter on his knees with Draco directly behind him. The image simultaneously excited and sickened him, and every time it invaded his brain, he felt unclean. Draco quickly closed his eyelids. He lightly inhaled as he tried to force the insidious image from his mind.

The quill stopped writing as Lucius slowly looked up at his son with a raised eyebrow while folding and sealing the letter with the Malfoy crest. Draco tried his best not to blush in the presence of his father. If Lucius knew what kind of a thought had just crossed Draco's mind, he would kill him.

Lucius continued to look at his son. Finally, after a few seconds that somehow seemed like hours, he began the conversation. "I know that you heard and saw what happened last night," Lucius started, as he looked into Draco's eyes. "I want you to know that I would not hurt your mother, but, at times, she can get too many ideas into her mind."

Lucius calmly picked up the parchment and blew onto the wax that the crest had been stamped upon. "I cannot simply allow your mother to threaten me as she did last night. She knows that the Dark Lord left me without a wand, and she has used this fact in a fashion unbecoming of a wife."

"I know about your new wand, Father," Draco replied very softly.

"Oh?" Lucius leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk and steeping his fingers. His lips curled into the unpleasant smile he used to hide his temper. "And how do you know about it?"

"I know you have had it with you for some time now. It's on the inside of your cloak. You did not tell the Dark Lord about it, because…well, because you feared what he would do to us." Draco stopped himself, afraid that if he said anything more Lucius would consider it insolence.

The elder Malfoy hated being reminded of his own cowardice, and his irritation showed in the almost imperceptible twitch of his left eyelid. "Have you told your mother about this, Draco?" Lucius's hand crept toward his chest as if to confirm the presence of his hidden wand.

"No," Draco sternly replied.

Lucius sighed with relief.

"Good, then let us keep it that way." Lucius spread his palms on the table and leaned back into his chair, offering a conspiratorial grin. "I always knew that having two wands would one day be very useful for me. The Dark Lord was at times too involved with the Potter boy. He allowed himself to be distracted by Potter and the Prophecy, therefore his attention was not always where it belonged. Instead of trying to rule the Wizarding world as he should have been, he was too busy focusing his mind and energy on trying to find a way to defeat Potter."

Lucius looked down at the Dark Mark on his left forearm and Draco followed his father's eyes. Since the defeat of Voldemort, and the breaking of the spell, the mark had begun to fade, yet it was still clearly visible. "Well now, we see where that got him, don't we?" Lucius asked.

Draco instinctively reached over and lightly rubbed his left forearm as if the Dark Mark had begun to burn once again on his skin. "Yes, and it got us rid of him, too."

Lucius closed his eyes momentarily and exhaled a deep breath. When he spoke next, his mouth curled into a sneer and his voice took on a note of impatience. "You still do not understand everything about the Dark Lord, Draco! There are still Death Eaters out there who have not been captured. They are still loyal to the Dark Lord and will continue his work; or at least they will try to continue his work in some form."

Draco nodded slowly, gathering courage for what he wanted to say next. A question had been gnawing at him ever since the battle of Hogwarts. He had been too afraid to ask Lucius, partly because any accusation of weakness could infuriate his father and partly because he feared he would not like the answer.

"The Ministry, Father, what about them? Will they not capture them all, and...and us as well?" Draco asked, looking down at the desk instead of his father's face. "I only did what he forced me to! He…he blackmailed me into joining the Death Eaters! He said I had to join or else he would kill us all, he said I had to kill for him, or else he would kill you!" Draco raised his chin and looked Lucius in the eyes again. "I did it to protect you, and now the Ministry will want to kill me for it!"

Draco's voice had risen to a shout, and now that the words were out, he panted, out of breath from his outburst. His mind spun with visions of being dragged before a tribunal. He imagined himself, Lucius, and Narcissa all chained, helpless as the dementors devoured their souls. Simply voicing his fears to his father had made them more real, and to his own horror, he felt a tear escape from his left eye. He tried to ignore the tear, hoping his father would not notice, but another soon followed it. The shame of crying in front of Lucius only hastened the flow of tears, and when he tried to take a deep breath it turned into a long, choking sob.

Draco expected Lucius to spew something about Malfoy men being better than this, but instead, his father calmly rose from behind the desk and came to stand to the left of Draco. His face unreadable, Lucius raised his hand and gently let his fingertips rest on his son's left shoulder. Moving slowly and cautiously, he flattened his hand and brought it across Draco's back until it cupped his right shoulder. The weight of Lucius's arm across his back and the warmth of his body felt unexpectedly soothing, and some of the fear began to recede. Draco froze, afraid that if he moved or spoke, the moment would be broken and Lucius would push him away, snarling insults.

"And now, I, in turn, must protect you," Lucius whispered. He guided Draco around the desk, removed his arm from Draco's shoulder, and gestured to the chair. "Sit down, Draco."

Draco sat down in his father's chair and slowly began to collect himself. The elder Malfoy conjured another chair and sat down beside him, waiting for his son to calm down enough to listen.

"Now, Draco, there is one more thing I have to say, and it is very important." Draco wiped his face with the back of his hand and looked into his father's grey eyes. Now that the tears were cleared away he could see with preternatural clarity, and Draco could make out the fear in his father's eyes. "The Death Eaters that are still loyal to the Dark Lord, and I am sure that by now they know of what happened at Hogwarts. They will know that your mother and I did not fight alongside them. The Dark Lord's agenda was never as important to us as the Malfoy legacy—as you. The Death Eaters will want to make us pay for our disloyalty."

"And what are we going to do about it?" Draco asked.

Lucius sighed a bit before speaking once again. "The legitimate wizarding world is not all too pleased with our family name either, but I have been assured by the Minister that protection will be given to us. Shacklebolt has given me his word."

"So...Shacklebolt is the new Minister of Magic?" Draco asked, very stunned by this news. "Father, how can we trust Shacklebolt when he was a member of the Order? How can he be in charge of the Ministry?"

"Yes, I am afraid it is true. After the battle, things have begun to change at the Ministry, and we must adapt with those changes, but never forget son, who and what you are. You are a Malfoy, you are a Slytherin, and most importantly you are my son!"

"But why?" Draco wondered. "Why would Shacklebolt help us instead of sending us to Azkaban?"

"Because I told him that I would give him reliable information and locations of the Death Eaters who were still unaccounted for. In return, I asked for protection from the Ministry, and for our family name to be restored with honor. I did it, son, to protect you and your future." Lucius covered one of Draco's hands with both of his and squeezed in an uncharacteristic gesture of affection. Draco studied his father's face and swallowed hard, not knowing what to say.

"Now Draco," Lucius began after removing his hands. "I do have plans for our family, but it will take some time for those plans to begin. These plans will benefit us and restore our name to its rightful place in the wizarding world."

As Lucius spoke he motioned for Draco to rise from the chair. He then walked with his son to the door of the office with his hand on his son's shoulder. "I want you to begin those plans by getting to know Harry Potter."

Draco felt a cold lump form in his stomach. His mouth went dry, and a sort of electric charge shot through his spine. How could Lucius ask this of him, especially after he had already proven his loyalty as a son by his willingness to kill? Potter was a Gryffindor, and besides, he was an insufferable prat, puffed up with the fame that his good luck had brought him. Now that he was the hero of the battle of Hogwarts, he would probably be even worse than he was before. Draco had already offered a hand to Potter once and had been refused. What could he, a failed Death Eater, possibly say to the famous Harry bloody Potter?

As these thoughts and questions swirled in Draco's mind, a familiar image forced its way back through. This time the image was not still, but moving, responding eagerly to Draco's imagined attentions. Draco shook his head in order to refocus upon his question to his father.

"Get to know him, Father?" Draco replied, his voice rising with incredulity.

"Yes, I know it goes against everything you have been taught as a Slytherin, but I think he can be a very useful ally for us. It would present our name in a whole new light, and the wizarding world would respond favorably to us. What better person to align ourselves with than 'The Chosen One'?"

Lucius opened the door to the study. Draco turned one last time to look at his father and nodded reluctant agreement, unable to refuse him. Lucius had turned on his fellow Death Eaters in order to protect the Malfoy family; Draco could do his part in turn.

As Draco made his way back to his room, he brooded over the prospect of meeting Harry again, trying to think of something, anything, that he could say or do that would not make Potter laugh at him or hate him even more. By the time he reached the door, he had begun to form a plan.

Molly Weasley had seen and been through quite enough in her lifetime. She knew the horrors of war and the emotions that came at its expense. Families were never quite the same; people were not quite the same ever again. Some would be able to cope better than others, but a number of wizards and witches would simply fail. As a young witch she had made a promise to herself that she would survive at all costs, and that later, once she had a family, they too would survive and move forward even if another war ever were to occur. Now that the war had come to pass, Molly found herself struggling to keep her promise.

She had lost a son in the battle, and she had regained a son too, yet the loss and pain in her heart would never cease. The best she could do now would be to keep her family moving forward, and not to look back upon the past. The funeral had come and gone for Fred, and the family had begun to rebuild itself; except for Ginny, who spent an unhealthy number of hours at the window, watching for owls.

Molly knew of her daughter's relationship with Harry Potter, and while she approved of it, she was still very cautious about it. Her motherly instincts told her that something had happened to her daughter's boyfriend because of this war. Harry's isolation and refusal to communicate with anyone told Molly that even though he had vanquished Voldemort, that there was still plenty of weight on Harry's shoulders; maybe even more than before.

The fireplace roared forth with its green light as Ginny Weasley stepped out of it and brushed the soot off of her shoulders. "Mum, I'm home!"

"Up here dear," her mother replied from a distant room upstairs. "I'm in the bedroom."

Molly Weasley had just finished dusting the bedside table with the Muggle feather duster. The dust hovered in the air, tickling Molly's lungs with each inhalation, and she coughed as she watched the bedroom door open. A breeze blew through the now-open door, and Ginny's loose, red locks were swept into the room an instant before Ginny herself followed, swiping at her face and tucking the wayward strands behind her ears. A lump rose in Molly's throat as she remembered brushing those same locks and braiding them into neat pigtails.

"Ah Ginny, just in time, love. Be a dear and help me with the bed sheet," Molly said as she stifled another cough. "Goodness know how long it has been since this room has been properly cleaned."

Ginny rolled her eyes in disgust but took the corners of the sheet and helped pull it across the bed. "Mum!" Ginny groaned. "Why can't you just use your magic?"

Molly shrugged and forced herself to smile. They had had this conversation before, and with Ginny's stubbornness, they probably would again. Even so, Molly did not feel like explaining how her magic felt tainted now that she had used it to kill. If pressed, she would say that she had decided that Arthur was right, and doing things the Muggle way was fun. In a way, that was true. The simple, physical process of dusting the table, smoothing the sheets, and stuffing the pillows into their cases was soothing. It gave Molly time to think about things without having to revert to using magic. Next, she might try kitting a sweater with her hands.

"How are George and Ron?" Mrs. Weasley asked as she tucked the corner of the blanket around the bed. "Still making plenty of money there at the shop?"

"Yes, Mum. They both are doing well and send their love to you," Ginny replied as she began tucking the opposite corner of the blanket.

"That's good. Did Ron say if he was going to come over this weekend and go to the Chudley Cannons game with your father? I know they both have been looking forward to that for some time now."

"He said that he hoped to, but it will depend on how business is at the shop. They are doing quite well now, and have a new series of products that they've just finished."

Molly Weasley just shook her head in acknowledgment, as she had finished with the bed and was now attending to the curtains in the room.

"Dear me, the state of this room, I don't know how I ever let it go this long without a good cleaning." Molly muttered, scowling at the cobwebs which flourished in the folds of the drapes. They had collected an impressive amount of dust. "Simply filthy!" She flapped her hands, beating ineffectively at the fabric and succeeding only in raising clouds of dust. "Gin, hand me that duster, please."

Ginny handed the Muggle duster to her but did so with a loud, noisy sigh that conveyed her irritation. "Mum, please stop working so I can talk to you," Ginny pleaded. "Diagon Alley is really beginning to look like its old self again. You should come and see it. All of the businesses are back, even Ollivander's! It would do you a bit of good, Mum, to get out of the house for a bit."

"That's wonderful dear," Molly muttered as she pretended to ignore the last part of what Ginny had said. She saw that Ginny had sat down on the edge of the newly-made bed, clutching one of the pillows to her chest. Her brow was furrowed, and her eyes looked unfocused. Ever since the battle of Hogwarts, Ginny seemed to slip in and out of these reveries, bubbling one moment and brooding the next.

"Mum?"

"Yes, dear?" Molly sighed, brushing her hands on her skirt to clean them.

"I ...I want to talk about Harry."

"Oh, Ginny, I know you miss him very much," Molly said as she sat down on the bed beside her daughter and took Ginny's hands in hers. She sighed for a moment before she started to speak. Molly had been waiting for this conversation, but not looking forward to it.

"Mom, I think I loved Harry, but now...now I don't know," Ginny said as she looked Molly in the eyes. "It's like another part of me is saying that I don't love him, yet I know that I do! I just feel so confused right now. I've tried to give him time, but he doesn't respond to any of our letters. Often times I've wanted to just go to Grimmauld Place and demand to know why he isn't speaking to us, especially to me!"

The tears had begun to stream down the young Weasley's face. Molly just held her daughter close to her bosom. She rocked with her daughter back and forth trying to comfort her just as she had done when Ginny was a small child.

"Yes, I know Ginny, love. I know that you loved Harry, and that for a time he loved you as too. I've known it for years now especially in the way you both would look at one another, and act around each other. It was puppy love at its finest. Then...well then you both started to grow up. You took an interest in other boys while Harry was busy dealing with You Know Who, and all of the horrible things like that."

Ginny broke apart from her mother's embrace with a mild, surprised look upon her face. "You...you knew, Mum?"

Molly beamed a smile at her daughter as she wiped away a tear that had flowed down Ginny's cheek. "Of course I knew. Harry...he loved you too. Just look what he did in the Chamber of Secrets for you! He risked his life for you, and then again when he asked you to stay out of the battle. He was showing you his love; maybe not in a kiss, but with his own words, and feelings."

"Why will he not answer any letters, then?" Ginny sobbed.

"Dear, honestly I don't know. War changes everyone. It is one of the most horrible things a person can live through. Sometimes I wonder if the dead truly are the fortunate ones, and we, the survivors are the ones that have to suffer the most."

Ginny's eyes widened, and she shook her head in disagreement. Shock seemed to staunch the flow of tears, and after a long, defiant sniff, she said, "That's a terrible thing to say, and it's no excuse for ignoring me!"

Molly squeezed Ginny's shoulder and smiled, glad to see some of her daughter's fire rekindled. "I cannot tell you if things between you and Harry will ever be the same. Even if you do love each other, there are different kinds of love, and one can change into another." Molly could see tears beginning to from in her daughter's eyes once again, but Ginny held them back for now. "I can only hope that he does contact us soon, and that you two can pick up where you left off."

"I'll make sure we do!" Ginny agreed. "And I'll make sure he tells me what's kept him away for so long."

"Ginny," Molly said as she squeezed her daughter's hand, "I don't believe that forcing Harry to open up and talk to us is the right thing to do. He will speak to us when he is ready. Forcing things with him will only push him away. When he's ready, we must be here for him, with our arms open for him. Then, when that happens, we all can move forward hopefully as a family."

Ginny looked at her mother and then hugged her. Molly Weasley knew that her hopes had little chance of being true. Somehow she knew already, but could not bear to tell her daughter.

The last bit of ink fell from the quill onto the parchment as the letter was completed. The breath gently blew down onto the parchment to dry it so that there would be no stain or smudging of any kind. Eyes scanned it one last time for any errors, and then the parchment was rolled neatly and tied with the string. The contents of this letter were extremely important to the parties involved, and would begin to set in motion a new series of events. Looking down at the owner of this letter was the large, brown owl with its golden-yellow eyes.

"You know where to take this to, and whom to deliver it to?" The owl looked at its owner and hooted. "Excellent." The window opened and the owl took flight.
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Darkness Within The Light