WHO: Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter WHAT: Horcrux #1 is about to go down. RATING: PGish. STATUS: Complete
Draco massaged his wrist lightly as he stared at the signet ring glinting softly against the dark wood of the desk. He was waiting for Potter to arrive before he reactivated the ring, though the coordinates were burned into his mind. Undoubtedly, his father had known they would be.
He was angry at his father for being unable to give him some warning, because this knowledge weighed heavily upon him. The map was a simple one, almost crude, but it drew heavily upon family history and the symbols which were familiar to anyone possessed of the Malfoy heritage. Teddy had recognized several of his own cognition; he had been just as horrified as Draco, but with perhaps less anger. His mind had gone to work on getting everything down, the twists and turns of the Lestrange manor gardens, the nasty little surprises of the horcrux’s final resting place.
It was not an auspicious bit of news to have to share with Potter. More than that, Draco was reluctant to tell him the horcrux location was sealed with Lucius Malfoy’s blood, as well. It would mean taking a vial of Draco’s own, if not Draco actually going himself. The gesture of blood-sealing was not uncommon among purebreds, if a rather rare and sacrosanct act, usually a primitive one by now. How reviving such a tradition – indeed, co-opting it for his own usage entirely - had pleased Voldemort, Draco could only guess, but it was a sacrifice his father had made, and one he was going to be called to repeat.
Wonderful, that.
Draco was alerted to the sound of someone else entering; he half-rose. Not defensively, but nearly in deference, until he realized whom it was, exactly. He nodded curtly and sank back to his seat.
Harry had been more than a little surprised when Malfoy had asked to meet him. They lived in the same house (though reluctantly) and he could see him at any time. It was strange to even be breathing the same air, and now he wanted to converse. Privately. More than a bit awkward, as far as Harry was concerned.
He slipped into the room as quietly as he could manage. Until he knew exactly what it was Malfoy wanted with him, he didn't want any of the others knowing about this meeting. Maybe he should've told them. If Malfoy tried to kill him or something, it'd be nice to know there was backup around.
Still, he locked the door behind him and turned to face the blond man, giving a short nod of his own. Cutting the polite small talk, Harry simply said, "So, you wanted to see me?"
Draco leaned toward the ring, tapping the small stone with the tip of his index finger. The emerald glowed for a second, a gauzy mist floating up from its depths and to the air above it. Displayed there prominently was the image which had haunted him – the map; below, on the silver above the stone itself, the runes spelling out the Malfoy family motto had changed, displaying the location in code. What you see, in the gardens’ depths ye shall find. The map shows the way. Simple enough, and directly embedded in the map itself was the Black family crest. No one else was alive to use it; certainly Narcissa Malfoy had not used it before her death. Not even Andromeda. Draco pointed to it now. “That look familiar to you?” he queried, almost laconic in his delivery of the question.
Not liking Malfoy's tone, Harry studied the image, fascinated. The map itself--well, he was just lucky to recognise it as a map. But the crest...that he knew. "The Blacks," he said simply, lifting an eyebrow. It was the ring. The ring Lucius Malfoy had mentioned. Clearly, this was the much needed clue. Harry stepped a bit closer, looking over every line and picture. "What... Where is this? Where is it leading to?" He didn't actually expect Malfoy to know the answer, and he wasn't sure if he'd rather that he did or didn't.
Draco took a deep breath; letting it out, he read the coded part aloud, translating the mix of French and Latin for Harry. "The gardens," he added, when he was finished, "are not, of course, the ones at home. The spelling here is archaic French, which indicates original placement elsewhere. That's the part of the spell which confused me at first. And then I studied the crest, and it made more sense." He pointed to the map. "These four figures, the serpent, the maid, the wolf, and the hawk, are the figures surrounding the gates at Lestrange Manor. The hawk, you see, is part of their crest, along with the serpent. And the wolf and the maid are Rodolphus' homage to a Black family story set during the plague." His mouth twisted. "It's a lovely one, about one of the family being given the choice between dying of plague or being eaten by a werewolf." He brushed past that, however, examining the map further and moving his hand along the detailed lines. "Along four different places are markers of where to enter and how to avoid the plants and the snakes which live there year round, especially - and this is important - as the property was abandoned during the time the horcrux was placed there." His hand moved again, to the very center of the map, where six small runes glittered. "They're the runes for wisdom, integrity, justice, and so on. They're Ravenclaw in origin. I don't know if they're actually Ravenclaw's possessions, but it's a strong indication that whatever is hidden there is of great import to Ravenclaw, and given that, I assumed it would be horcruxes. My father would have been entrusted with nothing less."
Harry brushed off the part about Malfoy's father. As far as he was concerned, the man was cold, cruel, and nothing he said mattered so very much. Instead, he walked the rest of the way to the map, following Malfoy's hands with his eyes, trying to memorise the words, the lines, everything his eyes could see. "The four Houses," he murmured, remembering Helga Hufflepuff's cup and Salazar Slytherin's locket, as he'd seen in Dumbledore's pensieve. Dumbledore hadn't known with any certainty what the others could be. The dagger was obviously Godric Gryffindor's. And now, it seemed, Rowena Ravenclaw's contribution to Voldemort's attempt at immortality had been found. "Ravenclaw. But...it's at the Lestranges', then?" he questioned, eyeing the map warily. Somehow, he'd always suspected he'd have to confront the witch who'd killed his godfather before it was all over. He had just been hoping it wouldn't be until the very end of all things, surrounded by his friends and mentors. Now, he was looking at facing it alone, or with one or two others. That was it?
"Not just at the Lestranges.'" Draco sighed at the obtuse nature with which Harry had ignored the main point. "In the gardens. Which my dear old aunt has indubitably loaded with lots of pleasant surprises." He looked tersely at Harry, and added, "You'll need more of my blood for this."
It was close enough, wasn't it? Oi, Harry would never understand rich people. Gardens, house, didn't they link to each other? Wasn't it all the same? Though the so-called pleasant surprises didn't bother him so much. Between his lessons with Remus and his preparations for the Triwizard Tournament, he was fairly up on his defensive magic. "More?" he questioned, turning to glance at Draco, finally.
Draco nodded, somewhat tersely, tapping the ring to close the map. "I will load this onto a Pensieve for you, though perhaps your best bet is to memorize it and then let me destroy the ring. I will have a facsimile made so as not to arouse suspicion.” Much as it would pain him to do so, but he ignored that and pressed on. “Blood is necessary to open and seal enchantments of this kind. Taking mine will allow you to touch the horcrux, at least long enough to get it out of the gardens. You'll probably want to take Granger - or," he amended, for Teddy's sake, "someone with her caliber of memory. Actually, I will go with you. It will spare us the unnecessary awkwardness of having to transfer that memory over." He decided as he spoke, knowing that Potter was probably going to refuse him. The mission as he described it would probably put the Order in an uproar; at the very least, his uncle would throttle him. But some things he could not entrust Potter alone, and he certainly wasn't going to risk Hermione in this situation. Not when Teddy's happiness rode on her survival.
But Dumbledore hadn't entrusted the Horcruxes to Hermione, or to the Order at all. He'd told Harry, and only Harry. Harry was the one who had the final say, whether anyone else liked it or not. And he, on the one hand, truly couldn't care less if Draco Malfoy put himself on the line. It was better than, say, Hermione doing so. Or Ron or Teddy. Harry had always expected he'd be in life threatening scenarios. He hated thinking of his friends doing it. Malfoy, on the other hand...
"Fine," he said simply, shrugging his shoulders. "The entire scenario is vile and disgusting, but it's got to be done. If you're so willing to volunteer? Come right on, then, I've no problem with it." And, though he was reluctant to admit it, it would be nice to have someone around who knew what he was doing and where they were going. Harry wasn't enjoying the idea of trekking out there alone.
"Which part about it disgusts you most? Or do I even want to know that answer?" Draco queried sarcastically, before his fist closed about the ring. He didn't enjoy Potter's cavalier attitude about the whole affair, much as he understood it.
"Oh, I don't know, blood, where it’s located, the fact that I've got to drag you along?" Harry paused, realising he was insulting one of the only people who could help him through this. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, nearly incoherent. If there was anything he hated, it was apologizing. Especially to him. "I didn't mean that."
His face was cold now, remote, as if Potter's words only had the effect of making him hate harder. Perhaps part of him did, but the rest of him was too busy attempting to figure out a plan. "Insults aside," Draco said, as neutrally as he could, "we'll need a plan for this. I've some ideas, but no doubt you'll want to formulate something concrete before you present this to your Order."
Harry had no intentions of bringing it up to the Order, and he told Draco so. His Order? Hardly. "Why?" he questioned, lifting his chin defiantly. "They don't run me, Malfoy. I make my decisions in this. So long as someone knows where I'll be, and I intend to tell someone, then really, there's no reason to be worrying. No reason to put anyone in harm's way who doesn't need to be. There'll be plenty of that later, I'm sure."
Draco very nearly wanted to groan in frustration. At that moment, perhaps more so than any other, he wondered how Snape could have put up with a mostly-Gryffindor Order. Did none of these people think before they did anything? No wonder Potter continually landed himself into scrape after scrape. "I didn't mean," he said, the neutrality disappearing from his tone abruptly, "that they ran you, Potter. I rather meant that they ought to be apprised of the situation and form a diversion strategy, or at the very least be given the time to start formulating a rescue plan should something go wrong." As for what Potter had said about not wanting anyone in harm's way?
Draco knew that sometimes, it was necessary. And then other times, stealth was required, which brought him back to the subject at hand. He studied Potter suspiciously. "It's been said you've an Invisibility Cloak. Is that true?"
Scoffing, Harry had a difficult time hiding his annoyance. He was tired of the entire world knowing about him, but him clearly knowing nothing. "Yes," he admitted reluctantly. Godric, why didn't anyone understand he just wanted this done? And over. Definitely over. And the longer it took them to call Order meetings and set up plans and work through details, the longer it took for them all to have a normal life. He wanted to give his goddaughter a real life, one different than what they'd all been living. And she'd never get that chance if he didn't end this war and soon.
There was no one else who wanted that war over more, except for entirely different reasons. The birth of his little cousin, in the grand scheme of things, was important, yes. But Draco wanted something that not even the war’s end would grant: a return to normal, to the way things were. It was something which would never be achieved, so the closest he could achieve was the end of his family’s fears. The end of all their agonies – the end of the war.
If that meant working with Potter, then so be it. “You’ll need it,” he stated, ignoring the flicker of jealousy that ran through him. It was a familiar feeling where Potter was concerned, one that Draco loathed more than anything, except Voldemort himself. “And wandless magic? Are you capable of that?”
"Yes, I'm capable of it!" Harry snapped, though he wasn't about to tell Malfoy that he'd only accomplished it somewhat recently. Apparently Snape hadn't let on, and if he hadn't, Harry certainly wasn't going to. "What are you getting at?"
"Forgive me if I touched a nerve," Draco stated, his face utter seriousness even if he did want to laugh. It might have been a wee bit out of order, and for once, he held himself back where Potter was concerned. "I don't know anything about your fighting skills, Potter, and if I have to risk my neck, I'd rather not have it go wrong. The cloak will be required for the first layer of warding enchantments on the Lestrange property. No doubt it's been updated in recent months, but if I know Bellatrix's preferences, she will have gone for the simple shield charm which is bypassed only by invisibility or outright incorporeality. Since we'll be headed to the relatively unused portions of the house, I'd think it would be enough for a start. I don't want to draw wands to deal with the rest of the wards. Wandless magic attracts less attention."
By that point, it felt more like Malfoy was babbling. Harry's head was starting to throb. At first he was afraid of interference from Voldemort, as the wizard sensed his plans. But it only took a moment to realise that it was just Malfoy driving him mad. "Well," he said, closing his eyes for a brief moment. "This ought to be a fun little adventure, then, shouldn't it."
"Indeed," Draco said dryly. How much of his words Potter would actually retain was certainly up for gambling. And the fate of the world depended on this. On them, the unlikeliest partners in its history. "Suffice it to say you have two options." He glanced at the clock. "If we leave now, we gain the chance that the Lestranges will be asleep. Or we could wait until whichever day you prefer." It was very hard not to insult Potter in that moment by adding 'whatever Your Gloriousness wishes' or 'howsoever The Boy Who Lived chooses.'
Harry could hear the slight jilt in Malfoy's tone, but he didn't find himself caring. "What happened to needing the approval of the Order, hmm? Weren't we supposed to arrange a back up plan or recovery mission or...however you put it exactly?" Eyeing Malfoy, he shrugged. "And you do have some say in this. I can't exactly take you by force."
"Whether or not I want to go along on this suicide mission," Draco replied, "is irrelevant. My blood is necessary." He put the idea of Felicity out of his mind. "Let's just say that I want this over with, Potter, and the faster it's accomplished, the less we have to talk about it to anyone. I will leave a letter for Teddy with our intentions, if that eases your mind."
"It does," Harry admitted. If all went quickly, by the time anyone noticed they were gone, they'd be done and back in their beds and acting as if it had been a simple walk through a garden.
Which it was. Just without the simple part.
What he wanted was to scribble a note to Ginny. If anything happened to them, she deserved to know he hadn't gone into it completely blind. Even if he sort of had. But Malfoy was right. The sooner it was over with, the better. "Alright," he said, decisively. "Let's just do this. I don't want to linger on it. I'd rather be home before anyone's got a chance to worry or anything." He didn't mention that it was optional for the other man to be joining him. There were other ways to get his blood, after all.
Ways which Draco was not going to contemplate. He had set his mind to doing this, and given his past failures at keeping his word, he was not intending on repeating that example. Ironic that he was now going in the opposite direction – destruction of Voldemort, instead of Voldemort’s enemy. “Fine.” Draco reached for some of the parchment on the desk. “Do you have the cloak with you, then?” It was not intended to get Harry out of the room while he was writing – but at the same time, it sort of was; the last thing he needed was Potter around while he was attempting to be cogent and not dissolve into emotional writings dictated toward his remaining family.
Whether Harry understood that or not, he wasn't going to let on. Instead, he took several steps backwards and nodded. "In my room. I'll go get it." And quickly. They needed to hurry. Dawn would get there much sooner than either of them would like.