Secret Keeper

Chapter 4 -- We Wear The Mask

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to JK.

Author\'s Note: A different format for a chapter, but I like it. Poem is by Paul Laurence Dunbar. I made up a name for Malfoy\'s eagle since I don\'t remember JK ever specifying one for him; Thanatos means death in Greek.

Yes, I have found a beta. Three to be exact.

All of the chapters have now been beta\'d.

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We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes, -

Draco walked quietly between his mother and father as they proceeded through Kings Cross, pushing a trolley carrying his trunks and his eagle owl, Thanatos. His parents had never accompanied him to the station after first year, instead preferring him to portkey, so this was unusual. He knew why his mother was here (or he could guess), but his father was a mystery. Father had meetings to go to today, security measures and transportation to set up, both of which took up the entire day previous; that explained \'their\' preference to have \'their\' meetings at night or in the late evening hours.

\"Hold on there, sir.\" A customs agent spoke up, placing himself in their path. Eyes glancing towards the head-bobbing Thanatos, he began spouting an applicable rule. \"It clearly states in chapter 4, section 3, paragraph 1, line B, that no wild animals may travel on the --\"

\"Please.\" Draco\'s father interrupted in a liquidly arrogant voice. \"We have already come through the baggage searches with no trouble. Don\'t you think that if the rule truly applied they would have stopped us?\" he paused and slowly raised an eyebrow. \"Unless you doubt the capabilities of your fellow agents?\"

The man blinked, confusion apparent in his puckering face. \"Well, no, no, of course not. It\'s just that --\"

\"It has already been verified that it is, indeed, not a wild animal, but hand-raised by us after we found it abandoned in a nest.\" His father continued absently. \"It would be a shame to deprive our son Draco of his one companion; wouldn\'t you agree?\" He placed a hand upon Draco\'s shoulder who, in turn, gazed up at the agent with the most pitying look he could muster.

\"Well, I - yes, of course, I remem-\"

\"Then surely it would be all right if we were to slightly bend this rule and allow my sons bird through?\"

The man blinked, scratched the back of his neck and finally gave a shrug and a bashful nod of compliance. \"Sure, fine, go ahead. Enjoy your trip and sorry for the inconvenience.\"

This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.

\"A great wizard will control another persons mind without giving themselves away as I just demonstrated,\" his father said a few minutes later on Platform 9 3/4. \"Muggles present no challenge, of course, but it is best to not fall out of practice.\"

\"Yes sir.\" he replied, placing his luggage in the correct compartment and giving Thanatos a fleeting stroke on the head through his cage.

A hard hand forcefully whirled him around and he was suddenly staring into icy silver eyes. \"Do not dismiss what I say so easily. I do not talk to you because I enjoy it, --\"

\"Dear, please...\" His mothers voice simpered into existence.

\"-- I talk to you because you need to get your head straight. You have always been too headstrong for my liking and that has led to many disappointments.\" Draco stared into the chilling pools, mesmerized by the strength of will within and the silken words that accompanied them. A cloud of fog began to creep into his mind, wisping about his thoughts, feelings and memories, blurring the lines between reality and fantasy. He felt as if he were walking on another plane, another dimension, where if he simply listened to his father and obeyed him, everything would be all right. He was barely cognizant of his mother hovering behind his father\'s shoulder, blue eyes alight with worry and frustration. \"This is your year to turn that around, son. You will not lose your Quidditch matches, you will beat that pathetic mudblood in academics, and you will give yourself to the Lord on Christmas and reach your fate. You will not disappoint me this time.\"

He is trying to hurt you, hurt you... They weren\'t actual words, but the urgent feeling that welled up made it seem so. There was something wrong, very wrong, with the way this fog curled through his mind and hid everything, his desires, his emotions. He wanted to speak up to his father, say that Potter was a natural at flying - that it would always give him just enough of an edge to win, say that the mudblood was smarter than him, that he was scared to be given to the Lord, afraid that he would lose himself in the process, but this fog curled around these thoughts, drowned them in --

Suddenly he was wrenching himself out of his fathers grasp, sweating and panting hard as if he had just run from one end of the Manor to the other. He turned his back on his once-beloved father, placing his hands on his knee\'s for some sort of relief from the fatigue his body felt. After his fathers attempt to place him under Imperius, he seemed to feel all of his emotions threefold and it was a struggle to keep them in check. He couldn\'t afford to blow up at his father in public. \"I can\'t... believe you... did that...\" he said through clenched teeth, his chest heaving for air.

Why should the world be over-wise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them see only us, while
We wear the mask.

A grunt of contempt and the retreating clop-clop of dress shoes on the stone platform was his reply. He closed his eyes and hung his head, a few locks of gelled hair falling about his face. Kind words and gestures of remorse hadn\'t been expected, but his fathers response was still a serious blow; if you could call such a thing a response. Studiously trying to ignore the hovering presence behind him, he opened his eyes and raised his head, looking around the platform.

Mothers, some crying quite loudly, clasped their struggling and red-faced children to them; fathers shook the hands of their sons and gave them one-armed, thumping hugs, while pulling their daughters into massive two-armed embraces. All had pride shining in their eyes. He sighed and slowly stood up. He couldn\'t remember the last time he had seen anything but cold disapproval in his fathers eyes and their latest interaction had only proven to Draco that there was no respect heading his way either. Of course, he\'d be damned if father had ever respected him.

Soft arms enveloped him from behind, sending waves of his mothers perfume washing over him. \"I swear I didn\'t know he would try to use Imperius on you.\" Her quiet, dulcet tones tickled the hairs on his neck.

He sighed and leaned back slightly, placing his hands on the fine bones of her wrists. He knew she hadn\'t known; her opinion was just about as worthless as his own. Father didn\'t tell her anything these days instead doing whatever he thought would give him the end results he wanted. \"I know, mother.\"

We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries,
To thee from tortured souls arise.

\"You aren\'t angry with me then, right?\" Her arms instinctively tightened around his torso and her head moved to rest on his shoulder, breath wafting over his ears.

\"Of course not, mother. Don\'t be silly.\" He tilted his head so that it leaned against hers. \"I know you couldn\'t have stopped him.\" But sometimes I wish you would stand up for yourself.

\"Perhaps not, but I\'m afraid that one day I\'ll lose you.\" Her grip tightened all the more until he was forced to take shallow breaths. He would let her have this though; these were the rare moments when they could display their affection for one another, an affection that hadn\'t dimmed or died since the Change. The warmth of her body slowly withdrew. \"Now I think it\'s best you find your friends, darling. Be safe.\" She turned him around and gave him a hug and a brief kiss on his cheek before walking away.

Silver eyes turned stormy as they watched her disappear off the platform. \"You too,\" he whispered, desperately hoping she wouldn\'t get into trouble for taking so long to get back to his father. Casting a quick tempus, he saw that he still had about ten minutes left before the train would leave for Hogwarts. Plenty of time to find his friends, or at least Crabbe and Goyle.

He grumbled impatiently as he tried to get through the building crowd of families, trolleys, and pets. His height helped him navigate through it, however, since he towered over most of the others. Spotting Crabbe and Goyle out of the chaos, he caught their eye and jerked his head for them to come over. Mostly afraid they\'d lose sight of him and partially afraid he\'d fall over a first year, he stayed where he was, content to simply survey his surroundings.

We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet and long the mile;

That was when he had spotted Potter, all by his lonesome. Sure, at some point this summer he had told himself that he wanted to be the better person and let their petty rivalry go, but old habits died hard. Smirking, he immediately started for Potter, expecting Crabbe and Goyle to follow without a word. Weaving his way through the masses and winding around to the side of his prey -- Prey? -- so as to be undetected, he came up behind the taller, dark-haired boy and gave him a shove, delighting in the undignified squack that was issued.

\"Oh, excuse me, Potter.\" He drawled, looking down on his vanquished rival. Robes splayed open and showcasing the defined stomach gripped in a tight blue t-shirt, messy black hair and bewildered green eyes almost hidden behind his glasses... this was the way he liked Potter. At his mercy, defenseless... submissive. He barely restrained the impulse to lick his lips. \"Didn\'t even see you there. Although...\" he tilted his head, admiring the body on display, \"that position does suit you better.\" Chuckling, he abruptly left, leaving Potter to his confusion. Almost out of hearing range, outraged exclamations reached him, sending him into another small fit of laughter. How predictable.

\"That was funny, Draco.\" Crabbe said from behind, the tone of his voice obviously seeking reassurance; he was the one who usually spoke up, Goyle content to remain silent. They probably thought they had failed him in some way, since they hadn\'t done anything in the confrontation with Potter.

\"Thank you, Crabbe; Goyle.\" He replied and stepped onto the stairs to their train compartment. Finding some first year Slytherin in his seat, he huffed and grabbed the youngster by the collar, dragging him out and sending him on his way. \"I appreciate your support.\" he continued and sat down, the other two on his left. They grinned at him, reassured of their place in his life.

But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask.