Chapter Text
Draco sits at his family's dining table, back straight and shoulders squared. Previously, this room was only used for dinner parties due to its size. Currently, its purpose is hearing out the Dark Lord's bidding.
His father sits further down the table, seated to the right of Voldemort, wearing a calm, controlled expression. Lucius had managed to schmooze his way back up the ranks, even after his cock up at the Ministry the year prior and Draco's more recent failures. Evidently, the Dark Lord isn't opposed to a balanced combination of arse kissing and Galleons.
Draco, even to a keen observer, appears alert and attentive. The ever-dutiful servant of this psychopath that's taken over his home.
In reality, he's occluded himself within an inch of consciousness. His betrayal hidden behind layer upon layer of carefully crafted barriers.
Truth be told, he's in such a state more often than not these days.
He'd learned and near perfected the skill out of desperate necessity after his father's intrusion. It's proved even more imperative since Voldemort has taken over Malfoy Manor. Doing so without a shred of resistance from Lucius, who was more than eager to hand over his precious birthright to the noseless git and, soon after, his heir. All in the name of blood purity.
Purity Will Always Conquer...what a crock of shit.
If Draco hadn't been disillusioned with his father and his bullshit beliefs years prior, that certainly would have done it.
Being branded under threat really puts a damper on the father-son relationship.
"Severus will bring us more information on Harry Potter's movements in the coming days. His trace will be lifted within the week..."
Voldemort continued to prattle on about Potter, pacing back and forth across the room. His arms make fluid movements with his words like a bloody ballerina.
The man could go on about Potter for the remainder of the meeting, and no one would be surprised. His obsession was well-known and ran deep.
Draco could understand that. Had he been murdered by an infant, he'd develop a bit of a complex too. It's about the only thing Draco could make sense of the half-man-half-snake zealot.
"...Dolohov, have you completed your task? I had expected an easy retrieval of the mudblood's parents. Yet here we are, days later, and nothing."
Now, this is of interest. Enough for Draco to ease up on his occlumency slightly. The haze clears like a thin layer of cobwebs brushed aside.
Voldemort had offered favor to any of his followers who were able to find and kill the family members of Muggleborns. Particularly those that were especially troublesome to his cause. Making an example of them. Encouraging others to quietly accept his fast-moving influence over the Ministry. This is a common enough horror at this point, but usually a task too minimal for a marked death eater.
Draco glances at Lucius, who is already looking his way. He can see the almost imperceptible tightening around his eyes and mouth. His father's unease confirming that this might be what he's been waiting for.
He turns his attention to Dolohov next, who looks as nervous as a death eater can manage. Draco is quite familiar with the feeling. He's suffered under Voldemort's disappointment a number of times before.
"The house was empty, my Lord," he responds.
Voldemort stops his pacing and looks down the table at Dolohov. Disapproval seeps into his eyes. "I'd hoped you'd have the good sense to go further than knocking on the girl's door. I didn't send one of my most experienced Death Eaters to handle this with such thoughtlessness. Surely I don't have to explain her significance to you. The message this would convey."
Her...her...her. A significant Muggleborn. Just give me a fucking name.
Draco's hand clenches and unclenches on the table in front of him. His eyes cut to his father's again. Lucius meets his stare with a hardness in his features, his anger building.
His mental shields, willfully brushed aside moments earlier, are aflame now. He has been waiting to hear something new concerning the Gryffindor trio since he left Hogwarts.
Draco looks down at the signet ring on his right hand, Malfoy, meaning bad faith. He gives the ring a few slow turns before smirking at his father. Lucius has fought hard to keep his heir in line and to maintain their family standing. He'd soon find out how true to his surname Draco could be.
"Of course not, my Lord. I used every spell possible. I tore the house apart, looking for any hint of where she's hidden them. I spoke to her filthy neighbors, but no one knew a thing." Dolohov swallows audibly. Voldemort's displeasure quickly turning to seething rage. The sinister feel of his power creeps through the room. "I'm not the first you've sent to look. She is known for being clever...brightest witch of her..."
"Crucio," Aunt Bella has her wand raised. Dolohov's babbled excuse is cut off by his screams. His head slams into the table just before his shaking body falls to the floor.
Draco relaxes back into his seat, raising his fist to cover the beginnings of a smile.
Granger putting grown wizards to shame yet again gives him remarkable satisfaction. Her cleverness, the cause of decades worth of bigotry to be screaming on the floor of his Manor.
He takes a moment to sure up his mental barriers. Carefully sectioning off as much as he's able. He can't bungle this in the final hour. Granger hid her parents beyond Death Eater's reach. His chance to choose for himself is more attainable now than it's been in years.
Antonin is removed from the room soon after he's fallen unconscious. Just as the door closes, Draco slams the hand covering his smile, now a smirk, down onto the table. Voldemort turns to him immediately.
Admittedly, he's feeling a bit chaotic as he sets things in motion. With any luck, he will be in a room with Granger within hours. Apology ready, and his explanation irrefutable. She'd be wary initially, but he just needs time to prove himself. Prove that his loyalty was not as it had seemed.
Draco speaks out confidently, "My Lord, if the mudblood is Hermione Granger, I think I can serve you well in this task. I went to school with her for 6 years. I know her. I know her well enough to know how she thinks." Voldemort cocks his head to the side in interest. "I'll leave as soon as you command it, and you'll have her filthy muggle parents by nightfall." He says it in an almost pleased tone. Hopefully, everyone assumes he's eager to prove himself the bloodthirsty Death Eater or itching for revenge on an old rival.
His father knows otherwise, of course, but that makes no difference now.
"Draco, how wonderful to see you so motivated. See to it the mudblood doesn't best you again. I'd hate to see any further shame brought to the Malfoy name."
He stands immediately with a nod to Voldemort and one for Lucius as he exits the room.
You brilliant, beautiful fucking Witch.
Draco can do nothing to restrain the genuine grin taking over his face as he walks quickly to his room.
He didn't doubt her skill or cleverness for a second. As such, he'd been preparing for this.
He slams the door open in his haste. Moving to the back of his heavily warded closet. At one point, it held several muggle items. He'd acquired most of them exploring London the summer after third year. The only thing remaining now is a black leather bag. Draco opens it, removes a house-elf-sized shirt with the letters AC/DC across the front, then zips it closed again.
Casting a notice me not on the Muggle bag before throwing it over his shoulder, the shrunken potions inside clink together.
"Mippy!" he calls.
pop
"Yes, Master Draco."
Draco tosses Mippy the shirt. "It's done, and it's time to go. Get her to the house we agreed on, and stay with her until this is over."
Mippy catches the shirt and dons it quickly. "If you be needing Mippy, Draco can always call for her." A loud pop again, and she's gone. No time for drawn-out goodbyes. They have minutes to make a smooth exit. He prefers to not give Lucius any time to act irrationally.
Draco is almost to the main door as Lucius follows after him. His rage is dangerously apparent now.
"Needing something Father? I'm in a bit of a hurry, as you can see." If only he could disapparate out of his own bloody house. Thanks to ole Voldy's wards, only he could move freely about.
So to the property line he goes.
Lucius, unamused by his flippant attitude, barrels after him. Once he's past the front doors, Draco finds himself slammed into the side of the Manor. A heavy breathing Lucius holding him to the wall, forearm pressed against his chest.
"How very Muggle of you, Lucius." Draco sneers, taking a bit of pleasure in his father's unrestrained anger. "Threaten as you see fit, but this will be your last chance, so make it good."
Lucius pushes his arm down harder, holding him in place. "You'd betray me for a mudblood?"
Draco stares him down. Now equal in height, where his father once towered over him. "I want to make this unmistakably clear to you, Father." He speaks low and steady. "I'd betray you for a Sickle. And we both know I have plenty as is" He shoves his wand into Lucius' side, pushing him back enough to move out of his grasp.
"You'll have nothing after this. Not a single Knut to your name."
"Maybe not to your name Father, but I'm also a Black. Speaking of, Mother is leaving as well." He notices the distinct feel of his mother and Mippy passing across the Malfoy blood wards as he speaks. The corner of his mouth pulls up. "Timely as ever, and protected, finally. From you and this bloody psychotic regime you've tied us to."
Lucius reacts minimally to the news of his wife's betrayal. Instead, he takes a final jab at his son. "She hates you, Draco. You've tormented her for years...a marked Death Eater. Your mudblood will never accept you. Even the Black inheritance won't be enough to gain forgiveness for the things you've done."
Draco walks backward, giving his father one last look. "I don't know about that. It's true. My Witch can't be wooed with Galleons. But I'll use every bit I have to help end this war in her favor. She will have my time, my devotion, and my vault. Your pureblood heir at her disposal. And there isn't a damn thing you can do about it." He lifts his face to the sky as he crosses the wards. "Best of luck with your Lord."
He apparates away from the Manor feeling freer than he has in years.
Draco stumbles from his overly eager exit into his best mate's room. Catching himself on a gaudy reading chair, he shouts the moment he's stable. "Theo! Let's go!"
A lanky brunette leans out of the connecting bathroom. "Now, Drake, that's not much of a greeting, now is it? What would Mother say?"
Draco takes a moment to stare in disbelief, then with irritation. "Fucking hell, Theo. Not the time…and don't call me that. Grab your shit, and let's go."
"Alright, keep your knickers on." He's grinning ear to ear now as he pulls his wand from his pocket. "Let's go."
"That's it? You've packed nothing?" His adrenaline-filled optimism now fades into a familiar annoyance.
Theo takes a coat from his closet and turns back to Draco. "What could I possibly need? You no doubt have that poncy bag full of enough shite for the both of us."
Draco pinches the bridge of his nose. "Alright, Polyjuice, then the DMLE. We find Tonks, then head to the address I gave you, yeah?"
"Then..." Theo pauses. Draco waits. "We get you to your lovely, little bird. Who's sure to fall easy prey to those fancy pureblood manners." The prat takes a dramatic bow. His hand extended as if to ask for a dance.
Rolling his eyes, Draco grabs two potions from his bag and returns them to their original size. Dropping one into Theo's extended hand. The brunette grins, holding it up in a silent request to clink vials.
Draco ignores him as he downs the potion. Promptly smashing the vial onto the floor.
Theo's laughter is the last thing he hears as he disapparates from Nott Manor to The Ministry.