The Lion and the Serpent

It took Minerva and Hermione a good hour to calm everyone. Calixa and Layre were shaken up the most, it seemed, but at this point, Draco didn\'t care. He just sat at the table, dressed and ready to go, fidgeting.



“Let\'s go,” Draco muttered, yet again. “Hermione? Please?”



The Phoenix Rod enabled them to Apparate directly into the Malfoy Manor. The moment the Manor registered their presence, multiple sources of light came on around them, and Draco could tell that Hermione was stunned at the indulgent splendor of their surroundings. He then noticed a look of recognition on her face, then compassion. She looked like she was about to say something kind, but he would have none of it.



“Don\'t,” he cut her off, before she even opened her mouth.



This was the room where Draco\'s father had conjured the Mark of Promise on him. Of course, they had to Apparate to this one, he thought resignedly. Then again, with Hermione holding the Phoenix Rod, and having no conception of any other room in the Manor, where else would they find themselves?



“Sorry,” she said weakly.



“Whatever,” he snapped, a little more sharply than he had intended. “Shall we go?”



She nodded and looked to him expectantly, waiting for him to lead the way. He was about to move, but suddenly, there was a presence around him, ancient, cold, alien, its venom drawn to his chest and his abdomen, pulling at his Mark, attempting to somehow penetrate it, and enter it. The Mark had not budged, but neither had Draco. He just stood there, unable to find the strength to take a step forward, feeling Voldemort\'s essence brush against him.



Hermione studied his face with alarm.



“Draco?” she murmured.



“Nothing,” he said. He could tell she didn\'t believe him, but she didn\'t press.



“Let\'s go then,” she said, and nudged him towards the exit. He walked out of the room without looking back, leaving the venomous presence behind him.



Once they had cleared the room, the rest was easy. He strode into his study, opened the potions cabined, and pulled out a vial filled with crystal-clear liquid that had just a faint green tint to it. He tested the stopper on it, to make sure it was sealed, and stuffed the vial in his pocket.



Absently, he scanned the walls of his study room and noticed an old family portrait that hung there. He was only five years old in this portrait. His father was holding him in his arms. His mother was standing close, smiling faintly. He stared at their faces, so aristocratic and noble. Who could have guessed just by looking at their benign expressions that Lucius had his son marked as Voldemort\'s sex slave, while Narcissa stood by, knowing everything, doing nothing?



Voldemort had them killed in the last battle. And it\'s not that they were disloyal to him. Certainly, they never tried defecting to the side of Light. But ultimately, they were not good enough for Voldemort, and he had disposed of them. Draco was surprised at how little regret he felt at the thought of their passing.



Hermione followed his gaze, but misjudged it. “It\'s important to know that you were loved.. at least once,” she said with quiet conviction. “To have a memory of the arms that once held you.”



He shrugged apathetically. They used to say they loved him, he remembered that. But the serpentine Mark resting its head against his heart suggested otherwise.



“Let\'s go,” Draco said.



--

Back in Harry\'s quarters, Draco showed the vial to Harry.



“Good,” Harry said. Draco was certain he had heard a note of relief in his voice.



“I felt something back at the Manor,” Draco volunteered. “Voldemort\'s presence.”



Harry nodded. “I am not surprised.”



Draco looked at him questioningly.



“Voldemort\'s essence is drawn to some locations more than others,” Harry explained. “Locations that are imbued with memory of him. Places where significant events had taken place.”



“There are other locations like that,” Draco whispered, understanding. “You\'ll need to find one of those... for what you intend. That\'s what you meant when you had said you want my Mark to lead you to Voldemort.”



“Yes,” Harry agreed. “The stronger the pull of the location, the better. We have compiled a list of possibilities...”



“Yes, Sir,” Draco said, automatically falling into the old formal way of addressing his owner. He was thankful that Harry\'s voice was as impassive and unemotional as ever. Last thing Draco wanted right now was to break into tears, or start begging for something unattainable.



The next few hours were a blur in Draco\'s mind.



Dawn came, but the sun did not come out. The thick grey clouds hovered overhead, allowing some light through, but it still felt like it was late evening, rather than morning.



Draco and Hermione Apparated from one dreary location to another. Draco was confident that each place had a history of Voldemort\'s activities, because each time, the presence of his venom assaulted Draco, beating against his Mark, trying to gain access to him. And each time, Hermione stood before him, a picture of absolute calm, looking at him, asking him questions that he could scarcely understand, as his thoughts were becoming more and more disordered and clouded.



When Hermione said, “This is the last one,” Draco could barely believe her.



As they arrived at their final destination, Draco looked around him and frowned. He didn\'t expect anything so desolate, so remote, as this modest piece of land, with small patches of dried grass and shrubbery, surrounded by woodlands.



Hermione opened her mouth to ask him the question again, but Draco stopped her.



“This is it. This is the place.” The raw impersonal force pulled on him, and burned against him, raging at the invisible barrier that separated it from Draco. He walked around, attuning himself to the malevolent presence, and finally, took off his scarf and tied around a small patch of grass on the ground.



“Here,” he said.



Hermione did not look surprised.



“Just as Harry guessed,” she murmured, her voice barely heard. “I though it would be Gordic Hollow, for sure.. But he said it would be here. Right where Voldemort had struck him with the Killing Curse the second time. I suppose that was as close to victory as Voldemort ever got...”



Draco listened quietly.



“Just as well that it\'s here,” Hermione said firmly. “The area is secluded enough... we will just need to clear this section of the Forbidden Forest from all the magical creatures... there will be no Unicorn blood for Voldemort to drink, no-one to kill to create hortcruxes... Just a patch of land, empty and shielded from the rest of the world.”



“So that\'s why he\'s got Layre reading the chapters on sentient magical creatures,” Draco said with satisfaction. “And that\'s why the others are practicing shielding spells...”



Hermione nodded. “Once he\'s ready to proceed, he doesn\'t leave anything to chance.”



When they made it back to the quarters, Draco kicked everyone out of the dining room, and started working on crystallizing the potion in seclusion. It was almost relaxing to page through the alchemy manuals, figuring out the proper dose of the substance, and finally, researching the spells to create appropriate crystalline structure. Almost - when Draco managed to make himself forget what he was working on, and why.



It was late in the afternoon when he finished his work. Twenty small identical dark-green crystals glistened in a vial. Just as he was done, Draco heard the familiar footsteps behind him.



“All done?” Harry asked.



“Yes, Sir,” Draco said reluctantly.



“How much is here?” Hermione asked softly, standing in the doorway.



Draco almost jumped off his chair, and all too gladly, shoved the vial with crystals into her hand. She received it without reservation.



“One lethal dose, exactly,” Draco said. “Causes death in 100% of the cases.”



“Right,” Hermione murmured.



“It will activate as soon as it touches human skin,” Draco continued, surprised at his own composure. “The rate of release grows exponentially. Once it starts, thirty minutes to unconsciousness, forty-five minutes to death. We\'ll be good to go tomorrow.”



Hermione nodded thoughtfully and looked to Harry.



“Not tomorrow,” Harry said. “Tonight.”



Instantly, Draco\'s calm was gone. Panicked, he looked at Harry pleadingly, to bargain for just one extra day. Harry\'s severe glance stopped him.



“I am not ready for tonight,” Draco said defensively. “I still don\'t know how to bind the crystallized pieces to your skin without the chance of you just ripping them off or spelling them off the moment you become Voldemort and decide dying isn\'t such a great idea...”



For a moment they glared at each other, but then Hermione\'s gentle voice put an end to the argument before it even started:



“Leave that to me,” she said quietly, still standing in the doorway. “Maybe my Healer Apprenticeship hasn\'t been a total waste, after all.”



---- To Be Continued -----------------------