Chapter 32: Sign of the Cross | Secrets and Masks by Emerald_Slytherin

Hey Y'all, this is chapter 32 of Secrets and Masks by Emerald Southern Sign of the Cross, 16th of May. Does she have to make such a mess while she eats? Yes. Didn't she catch that horse on the flight here? Yes. Then why couldn't she eat it on the flight here? Because I knew that Theodore was going to be late and I needed to keep her occupied. If she ate it on the way, then she'd grow bored and even more irritable than she already is. And do you know what Dragons do when they're irritable? Eat people. Specifically, people who get on my nerves. Although they were both wearing their masks, Malfoy could tell Zabini was rolling his eyes. Well. She's getting blood all over my robes. Then. Maybe don't stand so close to her while she's having her lunch and there's some intestine on my shoe. She's a dragon, Zabini Malfoy sighed, shaking his head as he used his wand to levitate a piece of meat from the corpse behind him. Table manners aren't exactly very high on her list of priorities. He threw the treat into the air, and Narcissa raised herself onto her hind legs to catch it. She shook her head violently as she chewed, severing the flesh like a shark does after a fresh kill. It sprayed more blood across the grass and blazed, backed away several more spaces out of the danger zone. I don't understand why you had to bring her on this mission. Blaise sneered under his breath, banishing the few barely there specks of blood from his robes with a harsh wave of his wand. There's nothing for her to do here, you heard the Dark Lord. He wants her to come on every mission. Malfoy threw another piece of meat into the air for her to catch a leg this time, no matter how small. But look at this place. Zabini waved his arm out to the side. There's nothing for her to do here. Although Malfoy didn't care for his tone, the snarky bastard was right. There really was nothing for the dragon to do here, because there was nothing here. No houses, no cars, no trees, no civilization of any kind. The only building for miles around was an abandoned church that Voldemort had ordered them to investigate. Even the ground itself was dying. The grass was yellow and brittle, and the earth was splintering, cracking itself open in search of nourishment. This small patch of land was forgotten, dead and hidden away enough for it to be a perfect hiding spot for refugees. Where is that bloody psychopath? Blaze muttered under his breath, starting to pace behind. Malfoy surely not has enough class enough decency to come when he's been called upon? I would have thought so, but Oh no. Apparently torturing the depraved souls he's captured just cannot wait until tomorrow. He'll be here soon, Malfoy said. He didn't arrive home until the early hours of this morning, and when he did, he was dripping in blood and reeked of tequila and drugs. And Salazar knows what else. Whose blood? Malfoy sharply raised his hand to cut Sabini off. I didn't ask. He wasn't in the mood for questions. I just told him to get cleaned up, get whatever substances he'd taken out of his system, and meet us here. Well, how long does it take to wash some blood out of his hair? You're rather grouchy this morning, mate. Something on your mind? Blaze stopped pacing. I just want to go home. The story is not well. Didn't want to leave her at all today. Her condition is getting worse. Malfoy's eyes flickered to Zabini before he could stop himself. I thought you upped the dosage of the potions she's on. I did. Blaze answered, voice thick and slightly hoarse. I've been able to plant most of the ingredients we need around your estate. We can grow most of the herbs and plants that we need in a healthy supply, but certain ingredients are more tricky to get a hold of and only and are only used for blood curse related illnesses. We can't grow them ourselves and we can't buy them in bulk on the black market without raising suspicions. And the last thing we need is people asking questions and possibly learning about Astoria's condition. Mouth way affirmed. I know we'll figure something out, I promise. Blaise didn't respond, but Malfoy could hear him fiddling with his gauntlets nervously. By the time Malfoy had run out of body parts to keep his dragon occupied with, Theo decided to make his entrance. Despite being over half an hour late. He made no apology for his lateness, didn't say a word, just walked past Malfoy and pushed. The church door was open. Stay out here, girl, Malfoy said to his dragon. I promise this won't take very long, Narcissa huffed indignantly, even bared her fangs at not when he looked at her before she curled into a ball and settled herself on the grass to rest. Malfi felt her eyes on him until the very moment he entered the church. The Muggle church was a striking contrast to the grand cathedral that Valdemart used as his central base. It was small and run down, room for no more than 30 people. Inside, what looked like years of neglect chipped away at paint work and Gray dust gathered on the wooden benches. Thick cobwebs clung to every inch of the building. They hung on the curved ceiling like tapestries and covered the decorative metal crucifixes and goblets. The Lancet windows lining each wall were covered in dust and grime, and the large stained glass window at the top of the aisle was smashed, decorating the floor with broken glass at the very beginning of the aisle closest to the entrance with a bowl of water resting atop a tall stand. And when Theo noticed it, he bent over, took his gloves and mask, and bent and bent over it, not pinched his thumb, middle and index finger together and dipped them into the water gently before he touched his forehead, then the center of his chest, and then his left shoulder, and then his right. You're not seriously making a sign of the cross, are you? Blaze asked, disbelief clear in his voice as he took off his own mask and placed it on the bench. Besides mouth, boys. What? That's what you're supposed to do when you enter these spaces, aren't you? Theo shrugged, but his eyes flickered to the large decorative crucifix at the end of the aisle. I don't know what tricks these Muggles had up their sleeves before they abandoned ship. I don't want to burst into flames or something just because I didn't dab some bloody dirty water on me between you and our fearless leader, Plays said, nodding his chin towards Malfoy. You've probably killed at least 10,000 people. Do you really think a bit of holy water is going to make to going to make a difference? Theo stared at plays thoughtfully for a few seconds. He looked at the crucifix, then the bowl of water, and then back at the crucifix. Yeah, you're probably right. He placed his wand and mask on a nearby seat and went to grab either side of the bowl. Better just tip the whole thing on our heads, just to be sure. Malfoy caught his arm before he could pick up the bowl. What? Look at the water, Malfoy whispered, eyes glued on a large silver basin in question, not huffed angrily but followed his commander's instructions. The water was deadly still, until it wasn't a single ringlet appeared in the water. It started in the center of the bowl, rippling out in all directions like a tiny wave until it stretched to the edge of the bowl, a sign of movement. Something was hiding underneath. Malfoy dropped down onto his haunches and examined the basin. Sure enough, there was a switch hiding underneath. After a detection spell showed no signs of magical interference, he flipped the switch, and the stand the water bowl was resting on slid to the side, revealing a hole with a spiral staircase hidden underneath. Make yourself useful, Malfoy said, turning to naught and gesturing towards the void. Down you go. Theo looked at the hole. His grimace was strong enough to make his nose crinkle. I'm not going down there. Fucking stinks. Come on, we finally found a hole as dark and depraved as you are. Malfoy patted his friend on the back once, and a hard slap that inched Theo a little closer to the edge. You'll have a great time down there. Fuck off, he huffed uncharacteristically. Not in the mood for games. I'm hanging out my arse and you want me to go exploring a dark underground cave? Cheers, but I'll pass. You have two options, Theodore. You can either walk down those stairs willingly, Malfoy's hand slipped to the back of Theo's neck and squeezed hard enough to make Theo tense, or I can kick you down them. After a moment of hesitation, Theo batted Malfoy's hand away and rolled up his sleeves. All right, all right. Fuck's sake. I always get stuck with the shit jobs. Well, maybe if you didn't act like such a brat, Blaze muttered. Then maybe you wouldn't be treated like 1. Well, maybe if you didn't act like such a brat. Theo mocked, trying to imitate Blaze even as he stomped down the steps like a child having a tantrum. Then maybe you wouldn't be treated like one. As he descended, his voice got quieter and quieter until only faint mutterings of absolute piss. Take this is fucking wankers, both of them echoed up the steps behind him. Malfoy just shook his head before he and Blaze started their own search of the building. They checked everything on the ground, level under the benches behind the pulpit, and even emptied shelves of Bibles to search for more hidden switches and trapdoors. 15 minutes into their search, they had swept the entire building twice and found nothing. Not a thing. This mission is a little beneath us, Blaze said, using the tip of his wand to brush the torn tapestries aside and check for anything unusual. He couldn't bear to touch the Muggle artifacts with his own hands, even if he did have gloves on. Surely some black masks could have done this. They could have, Malfoy answered. But the Dark Lord asked us to do it, so here we are. He felt Blaze staring at his back. Why the sudden importance on Muggle churches? He never cared to check them before because they destroyed another one. The Order. Yes, the bloody order. Who else would I be talking about? Malfoy dragged a hand through his hair, patience thinning. By the 2nd there was nothing here. But if Malfoy turned up empty handed, the Dark Lord would have his head. They found and destroyed another Horrocks. There's only two left now. The Dark Lord is growing weaker, and you know that only makes him angrier and much looser with the Avadas. We can't afford to fuck up right now, so please just do as I say and search the bloody church so we can go home. Yeah? Blaze was quiet for a few moments while they continued their search, but when he spoke again, his voice was barely more than a whisper. The Horcrux they destroyed. It was the diadem, wasn't it? Malfoy put down rosary beads he was expecting. Inspecting. Yes, it was. So he wants us to raid all the churches in the country because they have a bell tower. Slowly, Malfoy sighed and nodded. And bridges with lakes underneath them. Another nod. He thinks the visions, my visions, are coming true. Blaze's voice trailed off, and when Malfoy turned around to face him, he was staring at the floor, lost in thoughts that Malfoy knew were horrific, nightmarish. It doesn't mean anything. Just because the Order found the diadem, it doesn't mean that you have the gift of foresight. Blaze raised his eyes to meet Malfoy's, doesn't it? An awful lot of the things I've seen in these visions have become reality coincidences, that's all. I was right about Potter finding the diadem, wasn't I? I was right about Granger being on the field that day in Dover. Please, said, speaking over Malfoy as though he hadn't even heard him. The only reason you were on standby for that mission and were able to capture her was because I said she was going to be there. Sabini's words started to tumble out faster. The calm edge he usually spoke with was gone. His voice was tense, panicked, his control slipping. The Dark Lord didn't believe me. But look what happened. The Order intercepted the attack, just like I saw in my dream. And Granger was there, just like I said she would be. I told him Potter would get the diadem. I showed him my vision. He didn't believe me. And now look what's happened. They've destroyed it. I thought you didn't believe in all this vision Bullshit. I don't. I didn't play. Squeezed his eyes closed and shook his head. My mother always said I had the gift, and I always thought it was bollocks. But just lately, it's like everything I dream comes true. Malfoy didn't know what to say, had no words, so he said nothing. Instead, he folded his arms across his chest and leaned back on the empty Bible stand behind him. If I truly have the gift of premonition, then I do not want it. I'm afraid to sleep at night. I'm afraid that every horrific thing I see in my nightmares will happen when I open my eyes. Physically, Zabini was fine, but he looked in so much pain, more hurt than Malfoy had seen him in a long time. His shoulders heaved as he breathe as he breathed faster, fingers straining around his, the wand in his hand. What if everything I see really does become reality? What if the Dark Lord wants to see all the premonitions I've had? It looks as though Blaze was struggling to breathe. He clutched his chest, hand trembling as he spoke. He'll see. He'll see Astoria. He'll figure out that she's ill. He'll see the vision I had where she He isn't going to ask to see the rest of your premonitions, because they aren't premonitions. Malfoy pushed him himself off the shelves and took hold of Blaze's face. He shook him lightly, forcing him to look at himself, willing him to calm down. Astoria isn't going to die. You're going to find a cure for her, and you're going to be fine. You're going to grow old together and have children and continue making me want to Wretch with your bloody ridiculous need to be attached to one another every second of the day. All right? Blazed you a deep, shaking breath and nodded. His eyes were swimming with tears as he was trying to hold them back. Foresight isn't real. Seeing the future isn't a real talent. The Dark Lord is just old and superstitious, Malfoy said as calmly as he could manage. That generation is different. He's obsessing over these visions because he relied on them so heavily in the past, but none of it is real. You just got lucky with the diadem prediction and Granger being in Dover that day. But that's it. It was just blind luck. And what about what happened to your mother? Malfoy felt the blood drained from his face. He dropped his hands. She was loyal to the Dark Lord for years. She offered him her home and money to support his regime. So how could I have predicted that she would betray him? How could I have known that she was going to lie to him? Malfoy drew a deep breath and forced himself to swallow, because there was no way anyone could have guessed that Malfoy certainly hadn't. No one could have predicted the way that his mother would betray Voldemort at the last second. No one could have predicted that her loyalties would suddenly switch, and that she would almost hand the order their victory. No one could have predicted it, not unless they'd seen it, dreamt it, prophesied it. If I was right about your mother, then I could be right about everything else. Blaze rushed through the words, hardly pausing to breathe. It was as though he thought if he spoke quickly enough, he might somehow sway Malfoy to his way of thinking. The lake, the gun, the church, for it's all connected like loose edges of a fabric. I can see it. I just can't see what pulls it all together. But if I'm right about the Dark Lord's victory, then I must be right about Astoria. Stop at Sabini. You're starting to spiral, Malfo. His hands bawled into fists at his sides. We can't do this right now. I've got the Dark Lord breathing down my neck every bastard day. I have an insubordinate gold mask who's out of control and refuses to follow instructions. Blaise stared at him and took a deep breath, fighting to regain his composure. I've got a spy leaking in valuable secrets and no fucking clue who they are, and every time I think I'm getting close to weeding them out, the trail goes cold and I'm back to square one. He started twisting the rings on his finger, a nervous habit he wished he could weed out himself. The Dark Lord is relying on us and I can't have you crumbling. We need to be strong together. It's the only way we're all going to make it through this war alive. Do you understand? It took several minutes, but Blaze managed to get his breathing to a more natural rhythm. Once he'd calmed, Malfoy stepped back and began to search the church again. Are you sure those are the only things you're worried about? Malfoy's brow furrowed. What's that supposed to mean? Let's say, for argument's sake, that some of the things I've seen in my visions are correct. Blaze's eyes drifted down while he fiddled with his cufflinks. Let's say that upon his victory, the Dark Lord does order you to execute Grainger. Are you going to be able to do it? A cold, foreign feeling swept through Malfoy at the mere thought of it. He looked away, pulled out a packet of cigarettes and placed one in his mouth. It won't come to that, he breathed. She's too valuable. But if we win the war, he'll have no use for her. Malfoy ground his teeth together as he lit the cigarette. If he wins the war, she and Potter won't be a threat anymore, so he'll have no reason to kill her either. But what if he does? He won't. But what if he asks you to kill her? Then what are you going to do? Malfoy whirled around and snarled the exhale, fanning a wall of smoke out of his mouth. Then I suppose I'll just have to kill her, won't I? I'll have to kill her, just like I have to fucking kill everybody else. Blaze's expression fell. He stared at Malfoy with wide eyes. You're lying. You've grown a soft spot for the mud, blood, haven't you? Malfoy felt his face twist into a scowl as he took another drag. Of course I fucking haven't. Yes, you have. I can see it on your face. Blaze's eyes hovered over Malfoy, taking him in from head to foot, observing everything. If he orders you to kill her, you won't be able to do it. Malfoy shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, ignoring the way his fingers shook slightly. You're losing the plot. These visions are messing with your head, mate. After years of service to the Dark Lord. After all the executions and mass killings he'd carried out, death should have meant nothing to him. Her death should have meant nothing. Just another notch on his death toll, another drop of blood and his already dripping Ledger. But it didn't mean something. Fuck knew why. Just thinking about it made him feel sick. The mere thought of her being bound to a post, hands tied behind her back, and fire looking at her skin made him want to punch the wall beside him until his knuckles bled. You're a hypocrite. I can't believe this. You tell me to keep it together, to be strong, and then you do this. Blaze shook his head, fury creeping into the corner of his eyes. If the Dark Lord finds out you feel something for her, he's going to kill us all. You do know that, don't you? The only thing I feel for her is fucking resentment. The bloody woman is a nightmare. She's insufferable, a fucking know it all. Who thinks she's clever enough to kill me? Malfoy scoffed the cigarette, drafting smoke across his face with each word. Trust me, Granger is much more likely to stab me than she is to kiss me. Well, I imagine that makes it all the more exciting for you, Draco. You always did get thrills from doing dangerous things, dancing on the edge of a sword just to prove you could blaze snarled, lip curling back in disgust. Does it make it fun for you, knowing that she's going to try and kill you every time she's given the chance? Do you get a thrill not knowing if each time you see her she'll kiss you or put a bullet in your brain? You think I enjoy this? Do you think I enjoy having her in my fucking head all the time, watching my every move, making sure she's cannot? She hasn't concocted another plan to kill me or kill herself? He laughed bitterly, a mixture of festering anger and nicotine heating his cold chest. If she dies while the while the Dark Lord still has use for her, he'll kill our entire family. So you know what my first thought in the morning is? Her. Has she found a way to strangle herself in the night? Or what if the charms on the windows have failed and she's thrown herself out of 1? Blaze's eyes narrowed in suspicion. He opened his mouth but mouth while he cut him off before he could speak. My last thought before I go to sleep is her. What if the elves left a fucking butter knife laying around and she's managed to slit her throat with it? Mouth, voice, fingers squeezed his cigarette tightly and the bud snapped in half, both pieces falling to the floor and leaving little smoke streams from the from their descent. It's just her, her, her. Do you know how fucking frustrating that is? Do you know how much more convenient my life would be if I could wrap my fingers around her throat and just? He raised his hands in front of him and squeezed, suffocating the ghost of air in front of him. So fucking her last night was what? Blaze hissed furiously, quirking a brow. I hate Fuck, and I can't kill you, so I'll fuck you instead, Is that it? The impulse to lash out flared. Malfoy drew his wand, but then a loud, crashing noise erupted from the entrance blaze and Draco spun around, wands aimed, crackling with green magic. Theo had materialized from the underground, and he wasn't empty handed. He had a quivering man of the cloth clutched in a tight headlock under his arm, the poor bloke's face red and eyes bulging from the lack of oxygen. The decorative gold plate that Theo had undoubtedly been trying to steal just dropped and was rolling across the floor loudly, like nails scraping on chalkboard. He had a nun's headpiece on top, his head which was crooked at an odd angle and a bewildered look on his face. He was staring at Malfoy as though he had suddenly sprouted his second head, eyes blown wide and mouth hanging off his hinges. You fucked Grainger. Malfoy pinched the bridge of his nose. Oh, for the love of you, fucked Grainger. The fit of laughter that erupted from Theo could only be described as hysterical. He doubled over himself, briefly released the priest from his headlock to fold his arms over his stomach. The young priest seized his opportunity to make a run for it, but a set of a chains exploded from Malfoy's wand and secured around him before he could reach the exit. They pinned his wrists together and wrapped around his knees like a Python, And he fell onto his face with a loud thud. Hopefully broke his fucking nose. Malfoy turned to glare at Blaze. I hope you're pleased with yourself. Oh my Granger, Seriously. God, that's the funniest thing I've ever heard, Malfoy thought. Theo's laughter was starting to subside, but when he looked up at Malfoy, he just burst out laughing again. Twice as loud as before. Oh, I've been in a shit mood all morning. He managed to choke out through fits of laughing, but that's cheered me right up. Holy fuck, I needed that. He slapped his hand across his mouth and turned to the priest. Oops, sorry. Forgive me, Father, How did you even know about that Blaze? Shrugged the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. Astoria told me he's married to the biggest gossip in wizard in Europe. If Astoria knows you fucked Granger, then of course she's going to tell him. Theo chuckled, straightening and weight wiping the tears from his eyes. That woman knows everything. Don't you remember the time and 4th year when she caught Professor Trelawny stealing Snape's herbs for medicinal purposes? As he spoke, he made little air quotes by crooking his fingers. A story I had that shit passed around the school and the Ministry before Trelawny had even gotten a buzz. Suddenly Theo's expression dropped. Wait, wait. This was last night. Malfoy narrowed his eyes, which was apparently confirmation enough for Theo. But Astoria told me that the Mud Blood shot you last night. She did shoot him, Blaze answered. The priest flinched when Malfoy's hands flew into the air because of him. Can that fucking wife of yours not keep anything to herself? So which is it? The OS? Blaze, speaking as though Draco wasn't right there. Did she shoot him, or did he fuck her? She shot him, Blaze answered. And then he fucked her against the stone pillar in the drawing room. Theo's mouth dropped open, not in the same drawing room that his aunt Bella tortured her in. Blaze nodded, and Theo almost dropped to the floor, howling with laughter. Furious, seething Malfoy grabbed his mask by the horns and stormed towards the entrance. He kicked the door open furiously, the wood splintering under his boot, and snarled over his shoulder. We're done here. Bring that sniveling mess with you. She shot him, and then he fucked her. Theo shook his head and then threw an arm around the priest, pulling him in close so he could lead him out of the church. How many Hail Marys do you reckon that brought him, Father? 369 This is the only thing you found in the Church? Yes, my Lord. Are you absolutely sure there wasn't anyone else there? The priest whimpered quietly as Theo dragged him forward, making him kneel at Voldemort's feet. Yes, my Lord answered, bowing his head respectfully, trying not to flinch when he felt dark magic sweep through the air. He didn't need to look up now to know that Voldemort's wand was poised, itching for deadly use. We checked it a half dozen times. There was nothing else there. Very well then, Zobini Bellatrix picked up a hostage in Devonshire. The Dark Lord said after several very quiet, very tense moments of silence. He will not talk. Claims he is impervious to physical pain, so he requires your particular skills set to extract information. Blaise accepted his task with a gracious nod. Malfoy, and not you will interrogate our hostage until he reveals something useful. And tomorrow you will search the next church, and then the next, and then the next, of course, Malfoy said in a low voice. He straightened out of his bow and folded his hands behind his back. We will do everything in our power to secure your victory, the priest shrieked when not grabbed hold of the back of his neck and flashed him a sinister grin. Come on then, Father, we're going to have such a good time. I can already tell you're going to be a screamer. I don't know anything, I swear. The man sobbed desperately, clutching the gold cross across his neck like it was a life raft in the ocean. Please, please let me go. Loud pop of apparition cracked through the cathedral. Romy had materialized beside Malfoy with a distressed look on his face, and a half second later Quinsil appeared, looking just as frightened. Sir, Sir, you must come quick. Romy shrieked, his small hands flapping about in the air. You must all come quick. Romy and Quinsil needs help. There's been an accident in the manner immediately. Blaze and Theo flew to the elves. What type of accident? Is Granger A right? Was the first question Malfoy wanted to ask, but his teeth caught before his tongue had the chance to curl around. The name. It is Miss Astoria, Romy said quickly. She was walking around the house and Romy told her not to wear such high heeled shoes. Romy told her not to wear them, Sir. He said that she would fall and hurt herself, but she did not listen. Malfoy's chest tightened as though some one had stamped on it with a boot. She fell and banged her head on the stairs. Sir. No. There was so much blood. Blood everywhere. No, no, no. Romy and Quinsel tried to fix it, but Miss is very weak. This couldn't be happening. Miss does not have many blood replenishing potions left. She does not have many potions left at all. Miss was going to brew more when Master Zabini got home, but she fell. We does not know what to do. We has tried everything, but we cannot stop the bleeding. Not now, not ever. Not again. Her blood cur, her blood makes us queasy, Sir Quinzel cut in, and Malfoy could only pray that Voldemort hadn't picked up on Romy's almost slip. So we is coming to get you. Because Romy and Quinzel is not good at this type of healing magic. We used what little potions we had in stock, but they has not worked, and Miss Granger does not have a wand, nor magic is Grainger with her now. Malfoy rushed, unable to stop himself a second time. Out of the corner of his eye he caught blazes, Panicked, stare. Flicker to him. Yes, she is. Quinsil answered. She has been helping to stop the bleeding with Quinsil paused. Her eyes drifted to her hands nervously. Muggle methods. I will not leave my wife in the care of a mud blood. I will go. Blaze started, only to be silenced by Voldemort. You will go nowhere, Zabini, the Dark Lord hissed, raising himself off of his throne slightly. I have not dismissed you yet, and I have a task that needs that I need you to complete urgently. I'm afraid it is likely that you will not see your wife at all tonight. I'll go then. Theo offered, wand already drawn, ready to operate. You will do no such thing. Voldemort's voice was venomous, loud, almost a screech. The elves cringed away from him. I have given the three of you tasks, and you will not leave here until they are completed. We are on the cusp of victory. Now is not the time to get careless when there is so much work that needs to be done. Blaze stared at their master with a horrified expression. But my Lord, my wife, if she's fallen, I should be there too. Your wife has completed her education at Hogwarts, did she not? Voldemort asked, running his snake like tongue across his crackling lips. Yes, blazing. Swallowed nervously. Her final two years were cut short due to the war, but she had tutors and passed every course on the curriculum. Then a simple healing wound on her head. Then healing a simple wound on her head will do be nothing for her. It's child's magic. Child's magic that she's too weak to do on herself, Malfoy wanted to say. A little tumble down the stairs is nothing. The elves are exaggerating. She will have barely more than a scratch on her little head. Her condition made her bones brittle and weak. A little tumble down the stairs could crack her skull open. It should take nothing for her to heal that herself, but she couldn't even do a glamour charm without getting out of breath. She will be fine. She does not need you. Fuck, fuck, fuck. But my Lord, Blaze tried to plead, the broken edge slipping back into his voice. If you would just allow me to go home and check on her. Your presence is needed here, Zabini. I will hear no more of this. Not unless you want to be replaced. He said the last word. A threat? He leaned forward in his chair. A menacing green light crackled at the edge of his elder. Wont. If you do not think your wife is capable of such simple magic, then maybe her family aren't as strong as I thought they were. Maybe I should just let the last green grass die, let that last flower wilt, and be done with the wretched line for good. Blaze stopped moving as though he had been petrified. He looked frozen with fear. Then we shall go back, Quinsil said as she took Romy's elbow. We can. Actually, that will not be possible. I will need you 2 to stay here as well. It is feeding time for Nagini, and all my elves and servants are out doing other tasks, so you will need to do this for me. Romy and Quinsel's ears drooped submissively. Of course, Sir, Quinsel said quietly. She bowed her head and grabbed Romy to make him do the same. Romy's entire body shook as he tried not to sob out loud. Malfoy's chest got tighter, another stomp on his sternum when Blaze and Theo turned to stare at him with panic. Dies, pleading and desperate. They were fucked, backed into a corner, looking for him for guidance. A way out, and Malfoy didn't fucking have one. Slowly, so carefully, that the Dark Lord missed it. Malfoy shook his head. Because one thing their master valued and his followers above loyalty, above wealth, was strength. He loathed fragility, cut it out of his ranks like a cancer. If they disobeyed him, if they left to go help Astoria, it would surely mark her as weak and he would kill her. He would kill them all. Assume one tainted apple had rotted the entire orchard and Avada, the lot of them. The only option they had was to stay here and hope that they could complete their tasks quickly. Hope that Granger could keep Astoria alive until they were released from their duties. So with a hollow ache in his chest and a deep inhale, Malfoy closed his eyes and focused on the shards of glass and icy walls. He imagined his emotions, his fear, his pain, his empathy. He imagined them all, pictured them as tangible substances, Something he could grasp with in his hand, feel in his palm. And then he imagined ripping them out of his chest, throwing them over the wall he'd built and sealing the gap. A cold chill washed over his spine, a familiar numbness sweeping into the chest where his heart used to be, and when he opened his eyes, he felt no trace of himself. Even inside his own body. He was anesthetized with numbness, desensitized to the screams of the priest as Malfoy grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, dehumanized to the priest's nails scraping across the flagstone as he dragged him into the interrogation room. But despite the roaring of blood in his ears, despite the slam of the door behind him, Malfoy heard another voice, soft and clear as a bell. It's our job to protect the others. Draco. He had to do this. I'm the oldest, but you're the strongest. He had to do this quickly. We need to protect. We need to keep this family together. We need to be the ones who make the difficult choices and do the things that others can't, by whatever means necessary. We need to keep them safe. Promise me that no matter what happens, we'll always do that. Because he made Daphne a promise. A promise to always protect their family. Do whatever the Dark Lord asked in order to keep them alive and together and safe. He'd broken it once when he let Daphne die, and now he refused to lose another sister. And that's the end of the chapter. Hope you guys enjoyed. If you aren't already following along, please do that. And don't forget to rate the podcast Talk soon.