Devils and Dust

Chapter Two


Though guiltless, you must expiate your fathers’ sins.- Horace.


Draco was walking at a slow and leisurely pace down the hall that led to the Potions room, when he was abruptly jerked from behind into a small room. He whipped out his wand, turning quickly, visions of Deatheaters running through his head, or worse, his father.

No matter how many times Dumbledore assured him that he was perfectly safe within the walls of Hogwarts he never got over his fear that somehow his father would get to him.

When he saw that it was only Potter and Weasley, he breathed a sigh of relief, but kept his wand raised. He had half a mind to curse them just on principle. His nerves had been raw for the last couple of months and they’d almost given him a heart attack.

“What in the bloody hell do you two think you’re doing?”

Harry rolled his eyes and a cocky remark was on the tip of his tongue, but he held it back. They needed to get on Malfoy’s good side and if he couldn’t be more cordial than Ron then they were in big trouble.

“We’re sorry Mal..er..Draco, we just needed to talk to you,” Harry said nervously, running a hand through his hair.

Draco? Honestly. Could Potter be any more obvious? It was clear that he wanted something from him. Draco looked at Ron to see if he was going to add any lines to this little comedy but he remained silent, staring out of emotionless red-rimmed eyes.

He had been like that since the first day of school. Draco of course knew the reason. He’d read in the paper about the raid on the Weasley’s house and the kidnaping of his little sister.

Seeing Ron so defeated unnerved him rather than filling him with satisfaction as he’d once thought it would, and he lowered his wand and turned back to face Potter.

“About what?”

“We need your help.”

Draco laughed. “And what on earth makes you think that I would help you?” Draco leaned forward and lowered his voice in the manner of someone unveiling a secret. “ You know, I dislike you intensely, if you hadn’t guessed.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Harry returned coldly, dropping all pretense of friendliness. This was a business deal after all, and he knew what would appeal to Draco. “But you’re the only one who can give me what I need, and I’m the only one who can give you what you need.”

Draco scoffed. “Oh I can’t wait to hear this. What can you possibly have that you’d think I would want, let alone need?”

“Five hundred thousand galleons,” Harry stated flatly.

Draco’s expression, which had been formed into a sort of amused condensation, turned blank.

Harry Potter was attempting to bribe him, and with a small fortune at that. A few months ago it would have been highly amusing and he would have informed Potter that he could buy him and sell him ten times over. But every since he had betrayed his father and subsequently been disowned and doomed to a life of poverty, money was no laughing matter. It was now something that he needed, and Potter knew it. And he hated that he knew it.

He wanted nothing more than to spit into Potter’s arrogant face and walk away, but five hundred thousand galleons would be enough to see that he lived in moderate comfort. So he swallowed his spit, along with his pride and indignation.

“And what exactly is it that you need me to do, that you’re willing to pay me such an exorbitant fee?”

“We need you to join the death eaters.”

Draco stared at him for a moment before shaking his head in disbelief. “You really have gone off of your rocker, Potter. Do you really want to kill me so badly that you’re willing to pay me to join the deatheaters so you can do it within the bounds of the law? I must say that’s taking school boy rivalry to a whole new and highly disturbing level.”

“I don’t want you to really join the deatheaters. I just want you to pretend to join them,” Harry said seriously, oblivious to Draco’s mockery.

“Oh I see. You want me dead but you don’t want to dirty your sainted hands so decided it would be best to have the deatheaters do it. You know, dueling, while somewhat commonplace, is less expensive and time consuming than this elaborate plan that you’ve worked out,” Draco drawled.

He knew of course that none of these reasons were why Potter wanted him to join the deatheaters, but he couldn’t resist irritating him. And yes, there it was, the look of constipated anger and frustration and the slight reddening of the cheeks, his favorite expression to bring to Potters face. He had to enjoy the small things now that his life was such a mess.

But for all his mockery he still had not guessed exactly why Potter wanted him to do this, although he had a sneaking suspicion. And Potter’s next words confirmed it.

“I am not trying to kill you,” Harry ground out. “I want you to pretend to join the Deatheater’s so that you can find and rescue Ginny.”

Although Draco had partially expected this to be what Potter had been going to ask him he was still amazed at the sheer gull and stupidity of the question.

“In case you weren’t aware, I gave up ten times that amount of money in inheritance so I could get away from the Death eaters. Why would you think that I would walk right back into the vipers nest I’ve finally escaped for that paltry sum?”

Harry had obviously not thought of this and seemed stumped, but Ron, cold-eyed and calm, was not.

“Because it’s your responsibility,” he said quietly.

Draco whirled to face him, a combination of disbelief and rage contorting his features.

“Why? Why is it my responsibility? Because my father is a deatheater? Does that mean I’m responsible and obliged to right all the wrongs and evil doings in the world? I chose to leave, because I am not my father, and I will not be responsible for his actions,” he shouted.

Ron continued to regard him calmly, which only served to enrage Draco further. He was about to go off into another fit of rage, but Ron’s next word’s stopped him cold and drained all of the anger from him.

“It was your father who took her...who snatched my innocent baby sister from her bed. I know because he left a note. I’d let you read what it said but my father tore it to pieces as the words tore his heart to pieces, as they did mine and the rest of my family’s. But I remember what it said, the imprint of every word will be burned into my memory forever. Would you like me to tell you what it said?”

Draco nodded slowly, unable to speak. The pain in Ron’s voice was deep and raw, and had there been anger, Draco might have been able to summon some of his own. But there was only sadness in Ron’s voice, such powerful and utter sadness that Draco could feel nothing but the reflection of it within himself.

“Arthur Weasley,” Ron stated his voice as flat and emotionless as his eyes.

“As you have stolen my son to your side and perverted and twisted his mind to your ways, so will I pervert and twist your daughters mind. I will torture and torment and rape her until she is more vicious and sick and twisted than any of the deatheaters that you and your Order despise so. I will make you despise your last born as you have made me despise my firstborn.

I will do as you have done unto me. I will corrupt and defile her until she is someone that you will be sickened to look upon. And I will make sure that you will face her one day across the battle field and be forced to kill one whose blood flows through your veins, as I will be forced to do. I shall take great pleasure in making a monster of your daughter, but the greatest pleasure I shall have will be in watching you destroy that monster and in doing so destroy yourself. Give my regards to Draco, I hope his presence at your side is worth the loss and destruction of your daughter. Sincerely, Lucius Malfoy.”

Silence followed Ron’s cold and gut- wrenching recitation. Draco had closed his eyes, each word Ron spoke digging a cold spear of guilt farther and farther into his chest.

He had denounced his father because he could not handle the weight of his fathers actions on his conscience. He could not bear to watch people tortured and raped, and he certainly could not do it himself, wether they be muggle or wizard. And now his father had effectively lain the burden of his worst crime squarely on Draco’s shoulders. And he could not bear it any better than he could bear the rest.

He would rescue this girl and he would make sure that his father could never lay his crimes upon him again. It had been foolish of him to think that running away would solve anything. There was only one way he would ever be free of his father and the repercussions of his father’s actions. There was only one way he would ever be free of the blood of innocents that stained and defiled his name.

He would do the very thing that he had refused to do, in order to save himself from ever having to do it again. He would kill his father, even though doing so would most likely destroy him. Or at least destroy the part of himself that he had been so desperately trying to save. But maybe it wasn’t worth saving. Maybe it was worth destroying himself to give others the chance to keep that precious brightness within them.

Draco finally opened his eyes, his decision made. He looked from Harry’s eyes, filled with barely restrained rage, to the hopeless and dead eyes of Ron.

“I’ll do it.”