Chapter Seven of 'A Dream of Running Water'- A Desire
Chapter Six.
Title: A Dream of Running Water (7/10 or 12)
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.
Pairing: Eventual Harry/Draco
Warnings: Minor character death, violence, angst, AU after HBP
Rating: R
Summary: Driven nearly mad by his bitterness against the Dark Lord, Draco becomes a spy for the Order of the Phoenix. The device they sneak him to aid in his reports has unpredictable side-effects-like allowing Draco to dream of a landscape with a river running through it. That would be soothing, if Potter wasn’t there.
Author’s Notes: This will probably be a fairly short fic, maybe ten or twelve chapters. It will be updated every Tuesday.
Chapter One.
Thank you again for all the reviews!
Chapter Seven--A Desire
"Draco." The Dark Lord's voice was deep and soft, and he moved in a prowling circle around Draco's crouching body. "You will tell me why I should remove the Aging Curse from your mother, instead of merely inflicting it on you for having the temerity to question my judgment."
Draco huddled. He could feel the Dark Lord's footsteps on the hem of his robes, on his outer boots, sometimes on his fingers. He didn't dare move. He could feel, for one thing, Nagini lovingly echoing all her master's movements, down to the looping circle of her body where it wound about Draco. He shuddered.
But it was important for him to remain close to Nagini, and to get the Aging Curse taken off his mother at the same time.
"I can offer you an amusement in place of the amusement that you received from inflicting the curse on my mother, my Lord," he whispered.
"Can you?" The Dark Lord came to a stop and cocked his hand by his ear in a listening posture. "What is it?"
Draco lifted his head and looked into the Dark Lord's eyes. His voice shook, and he no longer worried about the hatred that the Dark Lord might see in his face. He would probably find the hatred funny, too. "I wish to work with your snake, my Lord." That desire burned pure and true and sincere, at least.
Nagini came to a stop when the Dark Lord reached down and placed a long, pale hand on her head. "My Nagini?" the Dark Lord murmured, aware and polished, intent, as he leaned over Draco. "Why is that, I wonder? You are not a Parselmouth yourself. You will not tell me that you possess this rare gift?"
Draco shuddered, just imagining the chaos that would explode if he was a Parselmouth and had been hiding that from the Dark Lord. Seeing it reflected in his eyes, the Dark Lord chuckled and shook his head.
"No, you are not. And you would provide only one meal for her, which you would become in any case if I commanded it." The Dark Lord casually stroked down the back of Nagini's neck, eyes still testing and teasing Draco. "Therefore, why?"
Draco shuddered and remembered some of the spells he had cast at Elwood's direction on the Muggles and wizards waiting to be siphoned into his machine. "My Lord, I think Harry Potter will come after her."
The Dark Lord froze, with a lack of motion that Draco thought only a wild animal could have echoed. And then he reached out, one hand curling under Draco's chin and dragging him up to his feet with only that hold. Draco struggled instinctively against the pressure of the Dark Lord's fingernails on his windpipe, and then he went still again when he felt a long rustle of scales by his feet, and saw how they got wrapped up. Even his tremors felt as if they were being sucked back into his body.
"What do you know?" The Dark Lord shook Draco hard enough to make his eyes water. "How do you know it?"
"My Lord," Draco gasped, and the Dark Lord finally seemed to realize that Draco was having trouble speaking in his present position, because he tossed him contemptuously to the floor. Draco bent over so his lips scraped the stone, although not enough to block his speech, which would be even worse. "I know that Harry Potter is a Parselmouth. I was thinking about that. No one else seems to take note of it, except your majestic self. What if he comes after this beautiful lady here?"
It took more effort than almost anything else to call Nagini "beautiful," to think of what she did that way. But when he looked down, Draco could see the flat shimmer of firelight on her scales, and that was beautiful in its own way. He wasn't going to say that she was ugly, at least.
The Dark Lord paced slowly towards him. "You think he might?"
"There were rumors that he killed a basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets in our second year," Draco gasped. Those rumors had existed, and anyone the Dark Lord questioned about them--at least, anyone who knew about the state of affairs in Hogwarts--would be able to confirm the truth. "He seems dedicated to ridding the world of magical snakes, instead of cherishing them as you do. I was thinking last night, and the notion troubled me. I hoped that--I hoped that I might be chosen to protect your lady."
That was the best reason he had been able to come up with, but then, it was hard to think of another one when he only had the steady conviction that he had to come up with a way to be near Nagini, instead of a reason why. The desire had been pounding in his blood all morning. What he would do with it, he hadn't known until now.
The Dark Lord was silent. Then he turned and cast Floo powder into the fire, calling out, "Severus!"
Draco ducked his head further. He had done what he could, and now Nagini herself slowly made the circle around him, hissing threateningly into his ear. He hoped that the Dark Lord might lift the curse if Draco proved himself devoted enough, or amusing enough. It would probably have to be the latter.
And he was close to Nagini, if this succeeded. He had no idea what he would do now, but one purpose was accomplished.
The graceful, black-robed figure appearing in the corner of Draco's eye a moment later proved that Professor Snape had arrived. He fell at once to his knees, and Draco experienced a moment's weary conviction that he would never do that as gracefully, himself. "My Lord? You desired my presence?"
And Professor Snape even sounded absolutely loyal and committed. Draco was starting to think he should have asked for lessons in acting, all these years, instead of Potions.
"Yes," said the Dark Lord, and Draco saw the shadow of one pale finger jab at him. "Young Malfoy claims that rumors circulated of Harry Potter's defeat of a basilisk in his second year. Is that true?"
Professor Snape was silent for long moments. Draco knew why. He wanted to know how to twist this situation to his best advantage, or how to survive it. What the best thing was to say, and what the right thing.
"Yes, my Lord," said Snape at last. He could hardly have replied otherwise, Draco knew. He had heard the rumors from Professor Snape himself, although only in the context of ridicule directed at Potter and the exaggerated ideas of his prowess as a hero during one of their private Potions lessons. "The claim was that he had descended into the Chamber of Secrets when the basilisk took the Weasleys' youngest child and rescued her by slaying the basilisk."
"How was he supposed to have accomplished this feat?" The Dark Lord sounded as though he was speaking through an iron wall, but Draco still twitched, although keeping his eyes fervently fastened on the floor. There was something in that tone, iron wall or not, that he had never heard before.
Something that sounded like a whisper of fear.
"Dumbledore's phoenix, my Lord," said Professor Snape, which was more detail than he had ever given Draco. "He brought the Sword of Gryffindor to Potter, and with the Sword, he killed the snake. The phoenix also wept on a wound that he had received from the basilisk, and apparently stopped the venom from consuming him."
Of course that's the way it happened. Bloody Potter. Draco felt weariness creeping like a disease through his blood. Potter had all the luck, and Draco could have used only a fraction of it, and it was denied to him. His parents suffered because Potter couldn't share the bloody luck or defeat the Dark Lord when he should have.
"Then it is not rumors," said the Dark Lord harshly. "It is truth."
"So Dumbledore confirmed it before I slew him, my Lord." Snape spoke the name with loathing.
"Crucio," snarled the Dark Lord, and Snape flew to the floor, struggling with the pain curse. Draco crouched there, and didn't look up or tremble or allow himself to show sympathy. He had already learned that such signs would only make the Dark Lord exacerbate the torture, because he claimed that all his followers should be "strong," not "weak" enough to feel for someone else.
Except that he also wants us to be weak enough to fear him, Draco thought, and bowed his head further. Or sometimes he wants us to watch while he tortures the others, so that we can understand and envy his supreme power.
For the moment, the Dark Lord neither indicated that he wanted Draco to watch or stopped torturing Snape. It was much longer than Draco was comfortable with until he actually go to that point, and when he lifted the spell, Draco heard soft whimpers coming from the professor. That made him close his eyes, because he didn't want to humiliate Snape by looking at his disgrace, his moment of weakness.
"You should have told me this at once," the Dark Lord hissed, pacing back and forth in front of Snape. "I should have known that my enemy was such a powerful Parselmouth that he could fight a basilisk and win!"
Draco kept his mouth shut. Even though he had used that as part of his lie, he actually had no idea how being a Parselmouth would have given Potter an advantage in killing a basilisk. Maybe you could listen to it while it muttered about eating you, but you knew it wanted to eat you anyway.
Of course, he hadn't had to come up with a justification. The Dark Lord's paranoia had done the rest.
"I apologize, my Lord." Snape's voice was steady, and already the whimpers were gone as if they'd never been. He rolled back onto his knees and bowed, like Draco was doing, his teeth against the stone. "I should have done so. I did not. The fault is entirely mine."
The Dark Lord paused, wavering. Draco held his breath. Sometimes tactics like the one Snape was using worked to appease him, and other times he suspected the appeasement and lashed out all the harder.
For now, though, he seemed to have accepted that Snape meant it. He nodded once. "You will report any other rumors concerning Potter down his Hogwarts years to me," he demanded. "You will compile a list of them and give it to me by nightfall."
"Yes, my Lord," said Snape, but made no motion to rise until the Dark Lord gestured with an impatient snap of his fingers. Then Snape stood, backed out of the room, and came to a stop at the door, bowing again before he left. Draco wondered why he didn't go back through the Floo, but he reckoned that perhaps Snape meant to and would just do it when he was out of the Dark Lord's line of sight.
Then said Dark Lord turned around again, and Draco cowered, feeling no need to pretend to fear as it squirmed through his belly.
"You, boy," said the Dark Lord, and he gave Draco a terrifying grin that showed long, slender front teeth like a viper's fangs. Draco didn't know when that had happened, since the last he knew, the Dark Lord had normal teeth, but he wasn't about to question it. "You will have the position you begged for. You are in charge of protecting Nagini, and I will be waiting if someone gets past you."
Draco bowed himself and murmured thanks again, and then stood, painfully. Not as painfully as Snape had, though, or as his mother would right this minute. He thought of begging for his mother's release from the curse again, but he didn't. He would have to hope that the Dark Lord was well-disposed enough to him to--
"I will release your mother from the Aging Curse," said the Dark Lord, striding for the door. "I do not want you distracted as you guard Nagini." He added something else in Parseltongue that made the great snake lift her head and look at Draco in a straightforward way that he knew snakes seldom did. Her tongue came out thoughtfully.
"You will be her meal in the event of something going wrong," the Dark Lord said, and vanished.
Draco murmured his thanks, and then bent his gaze on Nagini, who considered him with a subtly flicking tail.
How did one entertain a snake?
*
"You've managed to get close to Nagini?" That was Potter's tone of surprise, Draco thought, and he turned around to face him with a haughty little lift of his chin. He had given his most important news while looking out over the river. For one thing, he was the one who had come up with and executed this plan, even if he couldn't remember why he had done it when he was doing it. Let Potter come up and sit beside him and catch his eye for once.
For another, he wanted to see if Potter would actually remain pleasant if he was the one who had to do most of the work. But it seemed he would. He sat down next to Draco on the bank of the river and shook his head in wondering amusement that Draco could see even when he was mostly looking away.
"That's wonderful."
Draco breathed in exactly as if the air of this twilight country possessed some remarkable cleansing property like its water, although he didn't think it did. He hadn't realized, until he heard them, how long part of him had been waiting to hear Harry Potter say something like those words to him, and mean it.
"So," he said, turning to Potter. "The one thing I don't think I can do is get her out of here. You're going to have to come up with some way to get into the Manor. How's your quest for those other objects going?"
"We have a few of them now." Potter darted a look at him, then around the grey country and trees. Draco rolled his eyes.
"I told you, the Dark Lord would have found out about this now if he could find out about it. And you can trust Snape."
"Can we?" Potter muttered, but shook his head before Draco could protest. "I know you're right. It's--a lot more complicated than I thought it was, the way he killed Dumbledore." He looked at Draco. "How about your mum?"
"She's still in pain, but he lifted the Aging Curse." Draco leaned over to dip one hand in the water. "Don't think that means I hate him less, Potter. I still plan to help you defeat him and kill him." If I can.
Potter nodded once. "Well. We have two more of the objects now, and we're trying to come up with a way to destroy them that's safer than the way we had to use with the diadem, which killed Moody." He sighed and turned to Draco. "I suppose you don't know safe ways of utterly annihilating Dark objects?"
Draco shrugged. "Not safe. I know plenty of ways of annihilation, now." He couldn't even analyze the tone in his own voice. It was blank and neutral, maybe. "If I wanted to get rid of something dangerous and make sure it never came back, I'd use Fiendfyre. But that's not safe."
"What 's Fiendfyre?"
Draco stared at Potter. He wanted to ask how Potter had come this far in life without hearing about it, but when he considered, he supposed it was the sort of incantation that Dark families were a lot more likely to show their children than Light families. And Potter, growing up in the Muggle world, wouldn't have heard of most of the magic not taught at Hogwarts.
"It's an incantation that calls a kind of demonic fire," Draco said, and coughed into his hand. He hoped Potter would take his disbelief for something else. "The fire forms all sorts of shapes, beasts and faces, and it's very hard to put out. You have to be careful when you use it."
"Obviously," Potter muttered, but he still sounded intrigued, not sarcastic. "Well, maybe someone in the Order will know a good way to handle it." He touched Draco's hand, a darting touch that thrilled Draco inexplicably, even more than the night he and Potter had sat there with clasped hands. "Thanks, Malfoy. You're still being helpful. I don't suppose you know any more about what Elwood is doing with the machine?"
Draco shook his head, staring at his hand and wondering when it would stop tingling. Not that it had a right to tingle in the first place. "No. Just that he's moved on to suspending red jewels from the chains that make up most of it." Draco had almost said "rubies," but he didn't know for sure that the small red jewels were rubies, and he had learned a lot in the last few days, from Elwood's lectures, about how much different kinds of gems could affect magic. They could change its nature completely, for one thing.
"All right. Again, a member of the Order may know more." Potter hesitated and stood up. "Can you get in the habit of feeding Nagini and making yourself pleasant for her to be around, do you think? It would help a lot if we could just poison her or something. I doubt we'll get the chance to cast Fiendfyre in Malfoy Manor."
"I would be angry if you did," Draco said, with a glare, although he knew if it came down to a choice between the destruction of his ancestors' legacy and the survival of the Dark Lord, he would accept the former and all its consequences. "Yes, I'll try. Last time, feeling the intense desire to get close to her was enough. I fed the Dark Lord a line about you being a Parselmouth and Nagini being in danger because you destroyed the basilisk."
"Well, I did, that's true enough," said Potter, with a shrug that made Draco tingle again for a moment. "Thanks again, Malfoy."
He trotted away. Draco watched him go, and then faced the river and shut his eyes tight, sealing himself into a dream within the dream, determinedly repeating his wish over and over to himself.
I need to make myself pleasant to Nagini. I want to do it so she won't eat me. I need to make myself pleasant to Nagini. I want to do it so she won't eat me...
Chapter Eight.
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