Never A Memory

A/N: 'Allo! I'm excited about this chapter. We finally begin to see 'Devious Draco' again. What's he got hidden up his sleeve? He has seemed awfully calm these past few months, despite it all. Is there a reason for his resolve? Read on to find what wheels are beginning to turn in our favorite Slytherin's endearingly manipulative mind!

Mwahaha.

Enjoy.




~Of Ploys and Holy Water~

"But God said.
'I will have a purer gift;
There is smoke in the flame;
New flowerets bring, new prayers uplift,
And love without a name.
Fond children, ye desire
To please each other well;
Another round, a higher,
Ye shall climb on the heavenly stair,
And selfish preference forbear;
And in right deserving,
And without swerving
Each from your proper state,
Weave roses for your mate...'" A Celestial Love, Emerson

Later that afternoon...
***

After Harry's visit, Snape had come to chaperone Draco's lunch dosage, and Harry, narrowly escaping undetected, disappeared within the bowels of the Ministry; most likely to make himself scarce until the following day. Snape hadn't bothered asking Draco about the column, fearing that there would be some truth to the scandal, and had let it be for the time being.

Scowling as usual, Snape watched carefully as Draco drank the Markaghirelle, nodding to himself when the platinum blonde handed back the empty vile. Then, Snape handed Draco a small envelope.

"What's this?" Draco inquired, taking the envelope and inspecting it.

"Potter asked me to give this to you this morning. He asked me not to open it."

Draco looked up at his godfather, plainly expecting him to leave.

"I said I'd give it to you," Snape said shortly, "provided I would bare witness to what it was upon arrival."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Fine." Draco opened the envelope and pulled out a scrap of paper folded in two, something small and glittering escaping from the parchment and falling onto the floor. Draco stooped to retrieve it, discovering that it was a silver chain with a small, Chinese silver dragon pendant hanging from it. His fair, white brows shot skywards in surprise as he unfolded the scrap of paper.

Scribbled on the parchment in Harry's scrawling hand read:

"I know its two months late,
But I didn't want you to think I forgot.

Happy Be-lated Birthday.

~H"

Chicken shit, Draco thought, understanding that through all Harry's bravado, it still must have terrified the young Auror senseless to give the Slytherin Pureblood a birthday present himself.

A soft smile ghosted Draco's pale mouth as he refolded the scrap of paper and slid the chain over his neck; and said smile vanished immediately when he turned to face his scowling godfather. "It's only a necklace. You may go."

Snape stopped himself from rolling his eyes and left the Suite, muttering to himself indiscernibly under his breath.

After his godfather departed, Draco resumed his seat behind the desk in his bedroom, resolving himself into finding a solution that would aid Harry on the morrow and fingering the pendant at his throat. Without help, Harry's chances at the hearing looked grim. True, the young Auror had made a few bad decisions, but the one thing that could merit his suspension was the affair. If asked directly, Harry would have to admit to it. All witnesses were instructed to take a dosage of Veritiserum to make sure their claims were honest and direct.

Harry would have to prove his place in this case as a necessity. It was, of course; but Harry had to prove it. Draco didn't think it would be too difficult. However, Draco suspected that they would fire back at him with his inability to bring the source of the warrant to justice, which was his first, and primary, objective before the Prophecy exploded in their faces.

Draco smirked, a sudden thought beginning to formulate in his mind as he continued to finger the pendant. The thought then formulated into a plan. Draco rose and sauntered into the foyer, commanding one of his guard to go and retrieve Blaise Zabini.

~*~

"Anin tells me you caused quite a fuss when Michael was being interrogated."

It took Blaise a full minute to decipher that Draco Malfoy had meant Maximus Cure. The pale Slytherin, who stood facing a charmed window and had his back to Blaise when the golden-eyed Wizard had entered the Suite, had first met Maximus Cure when he was using the name Michael Deans.

True, Blaise had had enough when the interrogation of Maximus Cure had turned physical, frustrated Aurors at their wits end with this entire case and the wily Cure plucking at their nerves. The possibility of Harry Potter being removed indefinitely from Malfoy's case had everyone high-strung. Many believed that if the Ministry removed the rock and foundation of the Malfoy Case, everything would go to shite in a heartbeat. It still bewildered Blaise how much utter and immoveable faith so many had in Harry Potter, despite his precarious and numerous blunders.

In any case, suffice it to say that when Blaise heard Cure's body hit the ground from outside the interrogation room, followed by an angry shout and a collection of thuds that were unmistakably kicks in the gut, Blaise had burst in the room and bodily thrown off both interrogators. If Ronald Weasley hadn't intervened, pushing himself between the Aurors and Blaise, jerking the front of his shirt down to reveal the Order of the Phoenix tattoo etched into his pale, freckled chest as a blatant warning to the two Aurors, Blaise would probably have done something he'd have regretted.

"They were being a bit rough," Blaise replied, being deliberately ambiguous.

Draco continued to gaze out of the charmed window, watching the simulation of a vast and deep valley, shadows darkening with the late evening sun. "Frankly, I'm a little surprised that you would give a damn."

Behind him, Blaise smiled, though Draco couldn't see it. "No, you're not," Blaise admonished softly. "Nothing anyone does ever surprises you."

Draco watched a pair of blue birds flitter past the window. "Hm." The birds disappeared into the deep, deep valley. "Some things do. The shock never lingers, though."

Blaise felt something squirm in his gut. "You've always been too clever for your own good."

The myriad of greens of the valley were all colors Draco sometimes saw in Harry's eyes. "Michael is a good man. I wish I had known him better." The pale Slytherin's shoulders shifted and Blaise recognized the silent chuckle. "You should have him make you dinner one day. Call him a Betty. That should do the trick."

Blaise frowned. "What's this all about, Draco?"

Draco's gray eyes flashed silver as he reached up to finger the pendant at his throat. "I'm calling in a boon, Blaise."

Blaise's golden eyes burned dangerously as his eyes narrowed. "What boon?"

"I know what you've done, Blaise," Draco murmured, still facing the window. "You were so quick to point out that few things escape me. You really think I didn't know?"

"I can explain--"

"I don't need you to."

"But I think you should know why--"

"I don't want to know why, Blaise. That does not interest me. I want to know what you'll do for me now."

Blaise took in a deep breath, held it, steadied himself, and then let it out slowly. Redemption. "What do you need?"

So deep. So green. So vast. Draco fingered the pendant. "Two things. First, I want you to find out who forced Hermione Granger into confessing to the Daily Prophet. I've a few hunches. I don't care how you find out, just do it before the hearing tomorrow."

Blaise raise a dark brow. "And the second?"

Draco finally turned away from the window and squarely faced Blaise Zabini.

And Blaise flinched as he watched the tell-tale cruel smile slowly curve Draco Malfoy's lips.

~*~

That night, Father Ernst Alt came to visit Draco Malfoy.

Draco hadn't bothered rising from his seat at the kitchen table, his mind working frantically with the ploys he had set in motion earlier that day. Father Alt took a seat across from him and waited to be acknowledged by the pale young man.

Seconds stretched into minutes and minutes stretched into a full half hour. Finally, Draco glanced up, his eyes sharp and questioning. "So what's your diagnostic, priest?"

Father Alt leaned back in his chair. "That you are quite rude."

Draco smirked. "That goes without saying. Now, about your professional opinion...?"

The chair screeched as Father Alt pushed it back and stood, reaching into the folds of his black habit. Then, before Draco could blink, the priest unstopped a small vile and splashed holy water into Draco's face. "Maul," Alt murmured, staring deep into Draco's piercing eyes. The cold gray flashed to unfathomable black before returning to the slate color of Draco's eyes.

Draco blinked and began to tremble fiercely, jerking away from the priest and standing to his feet with a shout.

"Why the bloody hell did you do that?!" Draco demanded as he attempted to reign in his shivering limbs. Father Alt moved past him and into the living room, taking a seat on the plush sofa and pulling a small black book from his habit.

Draco wiped his sleeve over his face before following the priest into the living room. Glowering, he stood over the priest and watched him open the small book to a certain page with an ink drawing of a pale woman sitting astride a dragon with seven heads.

"Take a seat, junger zauberer," Alt murmured, his dark, steady eyes gazing up at the pale Slytherin. "I had to make sure our conversation would remain private. Maul does not like his secrets told so much that even he forgets them. It would not due for him to remember."

Draco's pale brows shot skywards as he favored the old priest with a surprised look that rarely twisted his features. "You know something about Maul."

"Sit," Alt repeated, gesturing to the cushions beside him.

Draco sat, feeling once again like a rapt student.

"I read your file," Alt murmured, flipping the page and watching the pale, pointed young man lean closer and squint as he tried to read the fine-printed script.

"I don't know this language well," Draco said, pointing at the script. "I've studied Gaelic to better understand the Runic language, but this...this is the old Roman dialect, isn't it? Latin? But this...and this...I don't recognize this at all."

"Your father's name," Alt continued, ignoring the young man's interruption, "caused me to look twice at the Prophezeiung and this Tulpa that inhabits your body."

"What is this language?" Draco demanded, pointing again at the strange marks on the old document.

"Aramaic," Alt muttered distractedly. "Now listen, please."

"I've seen it before." Draco frowned, trying to remember. "No. No, I haven't. But I feel like I remember something about it. It's pulling at some obscure memory..."

"Junger mann," Alt said sharply, finally getting Draco's attention. "Lucius, your father's name."

Draco scowled darkly. "What of it?"

"Look here," Alt flipped the page again, revealing another inked drawing, this time with a frightening, fiery demon prowling in the foreground and with more odd marks, different from the pages before. "This is der Morgenstern and this...this is the Morning Star. Luzifer."

Startled, Draco looked into the priest's gnarled and worn face. "The Morning Star? Doesn't sound like the name of a demon to me."

"He used to be an angel."

"Really?" Intrigued, Draco peered back down at the book. "What happened?"

"Luzifer challenged God for the Throne of Heaven. After the Great War of Heaven, God cast Luzifer down to Hell and gave Him lordship over those burning lands."

Disappointed, Draco sat back and crossed his arms. He had heard hundreds of stories like that from a dozen different religions. It was nothing new.

All it did was give clarification on the origins of his father's name. Neither of which was all that profound to him.

"Originally," Alt continued, "I came here thinking this was just another ridiculous, ungodly, Wizarding blunder. But then I was told of your Prophezeiung and that it was rumored Maul resided within you."

"And He does," Draco muttered irritably. "Tell me something I do not already know, or get the hell out."

Alt pursed his lips and looked steadily at Draco, ever the patient one. "Maul is the son of the Morning Star. My faith has a Prophezeiung too. We call him the Anti-Christus."

Draco opened his mouth to reply and then shut it.

Alt went on. "It is said that a woman mates with the Dragon--in this case, Luzifer--and begets a powerful, pure-bred son that arises with such political power as to be feared and respected. From this throne of power, the Anti-Christus takes control of the world and the End of Days marks the beginning of the end."

As Draco tried to digest this, Alt continued. "Your father's name translates to 'Morning Star of Foul Faith'. What do you think your name translates to?"

"I was named after a constellation," Draco said stiffly. "And if you knew my father, you would know how ridiculous you sound. Lucius Malfoy was a slimy, power-hungry git who marked his son for a demon, followed an illegitimate Half-Blood of a Dark Lord whimpering out of fear, and stood idly by as Voldemort murdered his wife! He was a simpering, ponce of a man and if this is what you want me to believe Lucifer is like, than I'll take my chances with his son, Priest."

"You're misunderstanding me," Alt murmured, shaking his head sadly. "Your father is not Luzifer like you are not Maul."

Draco looked away.

"You cannot deny the similar context--"

"Fine," Draco grated, continuing to avert his gaze. "So what now?"

"The Sword of Godric Gryffindor cannot kill Maul," Alt stated. "Nothing can; save for the might of Christus himself."

Draco snorted. "So what's the bad news?" he asked nastily.

Alt sighed. "But it can weaken it."

Draco looked up.

"And if Zauberer Potter can force Maul out of your sphere of energy after the Inversion Enchantratem takes effect, Maul can be cast back to Hell."

Draco's gray eyes looked suspicious. "How can you be sure?"

"Because it's happened before." Alt turned the pages of the small book, pointing out small scripts here and there. "For thousands of years," Alt murmured softly, "Maul has hungered for human form and fought to set fore-told prophecies into motion. This is why Exorzists exist, young magician. It is our job to cast Him back to the depths of the Underworld."

Draco was no longer looking at the little black book, he was studying the old priest, watching the sadness and guilt seep and engulf his dark, brooding eyes. "You failed once?"

Alt looked up, the burning guilt bright in his dark eyes. "No, Dragon of Foul Faith. I lost a little girl who chose to suffer for the sins of others. I mourn her."

"You were blamed for her death?"

"Yes."

Draco thought for a moment. "Is there a chance I can survive this?"

Alt nodded. "Annaliese chose to suffer the torment of her demons. You fight yours. There is a chance you could survive." Alt paused. "However, Maul will leave His handprint on your soul."

Draco closed his eyes. "He's told me as much."

"Has He?"

Draco nodded. Minutes passed before Draco spoke again. "Will you perform the exorcism?"

"I was asked here only to give my opinion," Alt said, looking away. "I was told I would not be asked to do anything. I am no longer an Exorzist."

Draco regarded the elder man, his eyes soft and thoughtful despite the coldness of his gaze. "Yes, you are."

Alt bent his head but did not return Draco's gaze.

"You can atone for the guilt of her death, Priest, by saving my life," Draco said softly. "If you walk away, you would never be able to forgive yourself. You are an Exorcist, this is what you do. Choose in."

"Junger mann, you do not know what you ask of me."

"Choose in, Priest." Draco's gaze never wavered.

"I was not strong enough to save Annaliese, Zauberer. I may not be able to save you."

"I have faith in you, Priest." Draco smiled sardonically. Bad faith. Foul faith. So be it. "Choose in."

"My soul is too heavy."

Compassion. It was a strange feeling for the Slytherin Pureblood, but if filled him up until he was dizzy with it.

"Then lighten it, Priest." Draco's smile turned kind. "Choose in."

Alt finally looked into Draco's cold, gray eyes, strangely finding a warmth there he hadn't felt in a long, long time. Alt wondered if that world-weary, young, black-haired Auror was drawn to that same warmth beneath the icy exterior of this pale, pointed man. Alt wondered if this was why he protected him so fiercely.

God's love is cruel and just.

Redemption.

So be it.

~*~


A/N: Thank you to all those who reviewed. I truly, truly appreciate it even though this story is quite looooong. Your reviews fuel updates and it is especially necessary now that we're nearing the end. It keeps me inspired. :)

Lilith: Yeah, you know? I kinda debated whether or not to have Harry experience the Plagues with Draco; but I finally decided against it because it seemed unnecessary. Harry has enough to contend with, I think. And the Ten Plagues idea was just to set up for this chapter's revelation.

True, Draco needs to hear it; but they both know that there is something deep and profound to what is not said, and rather, acted upon. If Harry fails in removing Maul, the Ministry will step in and give Draco the Dementor's Kiss; and the possibility of the Kiss claiming Harry's life as well, through the Horcrux Scar, is a reality that they also don't like to speak of (Remember how Harry Harry felt his life draining away the night Draco slit his wrists?).

So, one has to wonder, is this the game Draco has been playing from day one? Or, is this all chance and recovery. Food for thought. :P

Thanx for your review, Lilith. I truly appreciate them! And I hope you enjoyed the update!




paigeey07: Thank you! I hope you enjoyed the update!



thrnbrooke: Your review was fantastic! Lol, thank you! I hope you enjoyed the update!



Mangacat: *grins wickedly* Thanx. I'll have this chapter up soon called "Weep Not for the Memories" that digs really deep into their memories. It'll be super-swet--if I do it right--and every time I think about that chapter, I start tearing up. It is, quite frankly, why I wrote this story. That one single chapter. It should directly follow "The Hearing" chapter(s) and will, hopefully, pull everything together--including the very title of the story. I can't wait to write it.

I think that, despite it all, and even without this work of fiction, Rowling's story gives her characters enough bad memories to cause insomnia in later years. And there is always something bittersweet about remembering a glimpse of happiness directly before facing a new challenge.

Thank you so much for your review and I hope you enjoyed the update! Oh, and P.S., after reading all of Father Alt's dialogue in this chapter, was there anything you saw that could be written in German without confusing the readers? Something that would add to Alt's character and serve as a reminder that Alt is a native German? I wasn't able to email you the dialogue before I posted, but I'll change whatever the second you let me know and email you further dialogue from Alt (hopefully) before I post. Thank you so much!



QueenBoadicea: Great insight and thank you for your review! Fortunately, pain in the ass as he is, Draco has insurance against just this sort of thing. The next few updates should reveal what that insurance is. :)

Lol, yeah, sleeping with Draco was a bad idea from start to finish; however, if Harry always did the right thing, would we really have a story? :P I hope you enjoyed the update and thanx again for reading and reviewing!