All Kinds of Directions

Draco woke the next morning still wincing at the bludgeoning his privates had suffered. He was trying to decide whether to risk the food his Father’s former house-elf had offered when the door opened and Potter walked in like he’d never heard of privacy.

“Ever heard of knocking, Potter?” Draco snapped. “You kidnap me, hold me prisoner, and then don’t even grant me the courtesy of—”

Potter’s wand appeared in his hand. “Bindus Vox,” he said, and Draco’s voice was again stolen. “I don’t have the time or the patience to bother listening to you rant, Malfoy,” he snapped, collapsing into a chair at a small round table and smirking nastily at Draco’s furious face. “So have a seat until you’ve calmed down and just listen.” Potter shifted a bit, and Draco noticed that he was still holding his wand. Odd… the Weasleyette had said that no one was allowed in the room with a wand. Maybe Potter thought he was too great to have to worry.

“I’m also not going to spend any time trying to justify myself to you,” Potter went on. “I could care less whether you’re grateful or furious over what we did; all I care about is what you can tell me about Voldemort.”

Draco shivered at the name. Sensing that Potter was waiting, he realized that nothing else would happen until he sat down as Potter had ordered. He considered briefly refusing, but decided it wouldn’t gain him anything… and anyway his legs were a bit weak from hunger. He sank lightly onto the other chair at the table. Potter nodded slightly, and removed the hex binding Draco’s voice. “And you just expect—” Draco started.

Potter held up a hand. “How about some breakfast?” he said casually. “Dobby!” The same house-elf appeared. “Breakfast for the two of us, please.”

An enormous meal was laid out for them, easily the equal of anything Hogwarts ever did. Potter started right in, but raised his eyebrows when Draco didn’t move. “I know you’ve got to be hungry—you haven’t eaten since you got here!”

“I knew you’ve been spying in on me!” Draco shot back. “And I have no intention of eating what’s undoubtedly poisoned food!”

Potter sighed. “We haven’t been spying on you, for Merlin’s sake! I know you haven’t eaten because Dobby told me you haven’t touched the food he’s brought you! And in case you didn’t notice, I’m eating from the same dishes you would be.”

“All the more reason not to risk your contamination,” Draco sneered.

Potter ignored that. “If I was going to poison you, I’d just Stupefy you and drip poison down your throat,” he pointed out. “Or better yet, use the Petrifying Hex so you’d be awake when I did it.”

Draco had to concede that that was true. It didn’t take long before the mouth-watering smell of the food overwhelmed his objections, and he began piling food on his plate. Potter smirked, but didn’t comment.

Draco ate in silence, and Potter didn’t seem inclined to stop him eating to talk. What is this? If it were me, Potter would be starved in order to weaken him…The Dark Lord will do the same! Am I supposed to be miraculously ingratiated to him? Fat chance! Eventually Draco couldn’t stand it any longer. “I thought you said you didn’t have time to waste,” he said scathingly. “And yet you’ll sit here in silence watching me eat?”

Potter shrugged. “I said I didn’t have time to listen to you rant, because it doesn’t help either of us. But you have to eat, so I’ll wait for that.”

“How polite,” Draco drawled. “Not that you cared about being polite when you barged in like you owned the place—”

“I do own the place,” Potter interrupted smartly. “It’s mine, legally.” He paused, and then reluctantly added “But you’re right…this room is really yours, so I shouldn’t just burst in without knocking. It’s not right.”

“How very Gryffindor of you,” Draco sneered. “And I suppose once your remarkable politeness has overwhelmed me, you’ll start in with the interrogation?”

“Actually I thought I’d better explain the facts of the situation before anything else,” Potter said annoyingly. When Draco peered incredulously at him, he smirked. “Considering what you tried to get Pansy to reveal, you must be just itching for some information.”

Draco saw red. “How the hell did you trick Pansy into—”

“I didn’t trick anyone,” Potter interrupted hotly. “Pansy came to me. And she did it for you—you treated her like crap when she gave up her entire life for you! Never forget that.” He shrugged when Draco scowled, clearly feigning indifference. “Believe what you want. It doesn’t matter to me…or to Pansy any more, apparently.”

“Go to hell, Potter!” Draco shouted, standing up so fast his chair almost fell over. “I’m never going to—” He stopped when Potter pointed his wand again. “A bit hex-happy, aren’t you? I bet you’re just dying to pay me back for all the havoc I caused for you over the years.”

“I’m just reminding you I won’t put up with ranting any more,” Potter said with a shrug. “Don’t think it didn’t occur to me to enact some revenge, though—it’s pretty damned tempting, sitting here with you defenseless. But that’s your way of doing things, not mine. Besides, I’ve learned some things that made me reconsider.” He raised his eyebrows. “Not everyone in our…group knows the things I know; right now, I’m the only one keeping you from being hexed by all of them. There’re protection charms on the other side of the door too, you know.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed. “Why the hell would you protect me?” he asked.

“Maybe for the same reasons I thought it would be a good idea to kidnap you?” Potter retorted.

“You already said you kidnapped me for Pansy!”

“No, I said that’s why Pansy came to me,” Potter corrected in a smarmy, superior tone. “I made it clear to her that we wouldn’t even consider trying to free you unless we had solid evidence that you weren’t as evil as we’d thought.”

Draco snorted. “Solid evidence? That’s a laugh. What did you do, take a poll of Death Eaters?”

“Well, I had a nice conversation about you with Moaning Myrtle a few months back,” Potter said casually.

Draco went pale. He’d said some truly humiliating things to that stupid, air-headed ghost. “Um…”

“Not to mention that I was on the Tower that night,” Potter continued blithely. “I saw everything that happened, heard every word that was said between you and Dumbledore.”

Draco swallowed. “That’s not possible,” he croaked. “We were alone…”

“I was under my Invisibility Cloak,” Potter said. “Dumbledore had… Well, it’s not important. What is important,” he said, far too calmly for Draco’s liking, “is that right before those Death Eaters showed up I saw you lowering your wand. Whatever else you did or were going to do, you weren’t going to murder Dumbledore. You don’t have it in you to kill.”

Draco fell back into his chair. “I’ve tried,” he muttered vaguely. “Merlin knows I’ve tried, the Dark Lord made me try, he even—but the Unforgivables… They just don’t work for me.”

“Because you have to mean it,” Potter said, nodding. “I know. I tried to use the Cruciatus Curse on Bellatrix Lestrange.”

Draco choked. “You? The side of the Light’s Chosen One tried to cast an Unforgivable?”

Potter scowled. “I’d just seen Bellatrix Lestrange murder my godfather Sirius Black—damn straight I tried to use Cruciatus on her! But it didn’t work—as much as I hated her, I knew what that curse was like and I couldn’t wish it on anyone, not even someone as insane as her.”

“When have you ever felt Cruciatus, Potter?” Draco growled in disbelief.

Potter looked at Draco like he was being unforgivably stupid—in fact, in some ways his expression was eerily reminiscent of Snape’s. “You think that Voldemort killed Cedric Diggory and then invited me to sit down for tea?” he snapped. “I’ve felt my share, Malfoy!”

“But… but you were only fourteen then….” Draco stammered.

“That’s right,” Potter said bitterly. “Fourteen years old, getting blast after blast of Cruciatus while your dear old dad and his fellow cronies watched and laughed.”

“Bet you were thrilled at the chance to get back at him by killing him, then!” Draco yelled.

“What do you expect? He was trying to kill us! I’m not proud of it—I didn’t mean for him to die. But I’m sure not sorry he did.”

Draco fumed, but didn’t respond; he had, after all, been thinking very similar things the very night Potter’s group had snatched him.

“I know a bit more about you than I’ve said, Draco,” Potter continued, and Draco noted the use of his first name. “I know about your mother’s trip to visit Snape during last summer. I know all about the Unbreakable Vow.”

“Whoop-de-do,” Draco grumbled. “So Snape lived long enough to tell you about it, I suppose. Why didn’t you turn over his body to the Ministry along with my Father’s, Potter?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Potter said, just a bit too fast to be believable. He considered Draco for a moment. “Your mother believed you were ordered to try and kill Dumbledore in revenge for your father’s failing to get the prophecy from me at the Department of Ministries.”

“How the hell do you know that?” Draco squeaked.

Potter didn’t answer. “Everything I’ve learned has convinced me that you don’t really support Voldemort, Draco; you were only going along with his order because you were afraid he would murder your parents. And yet you’re still acting like you want him to win.”

“If it means seeing you and Mudbloods like Granger dead or enslaved, then of course I do,” Draco sneered.

Potter threw up his hands. “Why do you insist on pretending?” he snapped. “You know Voldemort’s insane! Why would you choose someone who threatens your family’s life over those who go out of their way to protect your family?”

“Is what you did to my father what you consider protection?” Draco retorted.

“I already told you I didn’t mean for him to die,” Potter muttered, sounding very tired. “It was an accident. He was trying to kill us and I still only Stunned him—it was just bad luck his head hit that rock. Whereas Voldemort set you an almost impossible task, knowing you’d fail, as revenge for your father’s failure. And when your father dies on another incredibly stupid mission, rather than offer you condolence, he blames you! He even punished you again, didn’t he?”

“What?” Draco said sharply. “What did you say?”

“Ron told me that when he found you in that Death Eater hideout, a Dementor was going for you.” Potter clearly noticed Draco’s shudder. “He said that you were alone and couldn’t stop it, but that you didn’t call for help and no one came to your aid.”

“Shut up,” Draco whispered.

“So I was figure that you were… the victim of revenge again,” Potter went on relentlessly. “That Voldemort was angry that your father had failed to kill me and died himself.”

“Shut up!” Draco snapped, his voice wavering and cracking.

“Voldemort set Dementors on you, and told the other Death Eaters not to help you—”

“All right!” Draco screamed. “He locked me up with Dementors for a month, Potter! An entire month with those things sucking out every bit of my happiness! He let them do anything they wanted except kill me! Are you happy now? Thrilled that I got what was coming to me? Or won’t you be satisfied until a Dementor’s sucked out my FUCKING SOUL?”

Potter was gaping in shock. “Th—that’s sick,” he stammered. “I can’t believe—” He stopped, and his face hardened. “Yeah, actually… I can believe it. That sounds like exactly what Voldemort would do.”

Draco’s fury seeped out of him as quickly as it had arrived. He sat down heavily (he didn’t realize he’d stood). “I—I get why you were so scared of them during third year, Potter,” he admitted reluctantly. “They were obviously more interested in you, and you were barely competent even for a thirteen-year-old wizard.” He looked up and peered intensely at Potter. “I heard that you drove off a hundred Dementors that year,” he said, not bothering to hide his skepticism. “That animal you made at the hideout to kill those two Dementors, that deer—”

“Stag,” Potter corrected.

“Whatever. That was what you used, isn’t it? It’s what you threw at me, Crabbe, Goyle and Flint at that Quidditch match. A spell that can kill Dementors.”

Potter nodded. “The Patronus Charm. Professor Lupin taught it to me third year, because like you said, the Dementors affected me more. Lupin said it was because there were ‘horrors in my life my classmates could scarcely dream of.’” He shrugged. “I’ve got a handle on it now, so Dementors don’t worry me much. I thought it was fairly well-known, though… I’m kind of surprised you’ve never heard of it.”

“The Dark Lord would hardly want anyone other than him knowing how to threaten the Dementors, would he?” Draco pointed out mockingly.

“Oh… Right,” Potter said, grimacing.

“Could…?” Draco started, and trailed off. He couldn’t believe what he was about to ask, but considering that no Death Eaters had even mentioned the Charm to him, it was unlikely they’d be willing to show him how—even assuming he ever got away from Potter. “Could you teach it to me?” he asked.

Potter’s eyes widened. “You’re joking.”

“No, I’m not,” Draco replied sharply. “I don’t ever want one of those things near me again, ever! Consider it a way to ingratiate yourself to me and convince me to spill what I know about the Dark Lord.”

“I hardly need to worry about that,” Potter said, reaching into a pocket and fishing around. He pulled out a small crystal vial with a clear liquid inside. “Do you know what this is?”

Draco shrugged. “Poison?”

“Veritaserum,” Potter said, and the corner of his mouth twitched when Draco gasped. “I guess you’ve heard of it.”

“Where in the name of Dumbledore’s purple thong knickers did you get Veritaserum?”

Potter wrinkled his nose. “Thank you for that image, Malfoy. And we made it, of course. Three drops of this, and I wouldn’t have to worry about ingratiating myself to you.” He put the vial away. “I don’t actually want to do that, Malfoy.”

“Well then you’re a bloody idiot,” Draco said bitingly; the knowledge that Potter had a truth potion as powerful as Veritaserum was almost more frightening than being his captive.

“I’m starting to think so,” Potter said pointedly. “But I decided I’d at least give you the option, so I will. This is what I meant about explaining the facts of the situation.” He leaned forward on his elbows and stared earnestly at Draco. “You are in a location that will never be found by Voldemort—it’s under the protection of a Fidelius Charm. This place has a constant stream of our people going in and out. You might have wondered why I felt safe coming in here with a wand that you could try to steal? It’s because if anything happened to me, there would be nothing to keep all the others from beating you to a bloody pulp and then blowing your head off like your darling Aunt Bellatrix’s. I trust you’re not stupid enough to risk that.”

Mutely, Draco shook his head.

“That also means that we can keep you safe from Voldemort in here,” Potter continued. “And for the moment, that’s what we intend to do. Right now I can only see two ways for this to go. The first way is this: you give me the information I ask for—and I mean let me extract your memories to support what you say. I know it’s distasteful, but be honest—would you trust anything I said without some extra backup?”

Draco had to admit he had a point. “And the other way?” he asked casually, trying to suggest that he had grown bored of the conversation.

“The only other way I can think of is for me to force-feed you this potion and get the information anyway,” Potter said simply. “I don’t want to do that, and I’ll try to figure something else out first, but if it comes down to it…”

“Not exactly a great encouragement to go against the Dark Lord, Potter,” Draco said sardonically. “You have no idea what the Dark Lord is capable of, not really. His power stretches further than you can imagine!”

“Pansy told us you said that,” Potter scoffed. “You really believe that Voldemort has followers in the Muggle government?”

Draco cleared his throat, and did a surprisingly good imitation of Voldemort’s voice: “Why, even the Muggle counterpart to the Minister of Magic holds my immortality safe.”

Potter snorted. “Said that, did he? And it never occurred to you that he was just talking big to make himself sound more important?”

“I have no idea,” Draco said pointedly, dropping back into his normal voice. “But let’s just say I won’t be surprised when the Muggle Minister suddenly starts ordering all Muggles to shove knives through their eyes.”

For some reason that comment made Potter give Draco a sharp look; he didn’t address it, however. “You just think about what I said,” he responded instead, standing up. “I’m going to be thinking about this for the next few days, but if in that time I don’t come up with anything and you haven’t come around…” he patted his pocket where the Veritaserum was.

Draco glared at Potter’s back as he walked over to the door and did something to let himself out through the protection spells. “But in the meantime,” Potter said, “I’ll see if I can’t figure out how to arrange some lessons for you in the Patronus Charm.” And he walked out, leaving a very surprised and confused Draco behind.

*****

“I would say that’s a very unexpected coincidence,” Hermione said thoughtfully, staring at nothing. “First Seamus mentions three separate comments linking Voldemort to the Muggle Prime Minister, and then Draco Malfoy offhandedly relates a comment from Voldemort himself about the ‘Muggle counterpart to the Minister of Magic’. There’s certainly no question he meant the Muggle Prime Minister.”

“ ‘…holds my immortality safe’,” Ginny repeated. “To anyone else that might sounds like a political comment, or boasting. But knowing what we do about Voldemort’s Horcruxes…”

“You shouldn’t have laughed at me about a Horcrux being in the Prime Minister’s office, since one obviously is,” Ron teased, and Ginny stuck her tongue out at him.

“How reliable do you think Draco’s claim to that quote is?” Hermione asked.

“Pretty reliable,” Harry said shiftily. “I, er… I used a bit of Legilimency on him while I was in there. Just some subtle stuff to tell if he was lying or not. He believes Voldemort said that, at least.”

Hermione gave Harry a disapproving look, but didn’t mention it. “Then one thing seems certain,” she said. “The fact that Voldemort himself mentioned the Muggle Prime Minister gives us a very good reason to believe he’s in danger. The question is, do we do anything about it or not?”

“We have to, don’t we?” Ron asked. “I mean, think of the kind of trouble Voldemort could cause if he was controlling Muggle government! Okay, he couldn’t make all the Muggles stab themselves like Malfoy said, but still, he could cause tons of chaos and keep our Ministry running themselves ragged doing cover-ups!”

Harry nodded in agreement. “Not to mention there might be ways Voldemort could affect Muggle law that would harm Muggle-born wizards and witches,” he added. “It’s simply too much power, too much of a risk to leave it alone.”

“I think we should go see him,” Ginny said, surprising everyone.

“What…you mean us, go and see the Prime Minister?” Hermione asked incredulously.

“Sure, why not?” Ginny asked. “We could ask him a few questions while we’re there—maybe he’s heard some things we haven’t. He might not know what Death Eater activity looks like, but we would.”

“Huh… That’s an idea,” Harry said. “Merlin knows we could use more information; if we could determine that the Prime Minister wasn’t under Voldemort’s control, he might be able to help us.”

“But why would he?” Ron asked skeptically. “Why would he trust you?”

Harry shrugged. “We know that Fudge filled him in on stuff sometimes, right? And Scrimgeour’s smart enough to at least warn the Prime Minister, and maybe set some protection…” His voice trailed off as he considered what he’d just said.

“That could be dangerous for us,” Hermione said, clearly having noticed what Harry had, and echoing Harry’s thoughts. “Scrimgeour’s protection might not like us very much.”

They all thought about it. “I think we should risk it anyway,” Ginny said eventually. “Ron’s right, it’s too much power for Voldemort to have. If nothing else, the Prime Minister deserves a warning about what we’ve heard—we have to assume the Ministry doesn’t know about it. And you know…if he appreciates it, it wouldn’t hurt to have the Prime Minister owing us a favor.” Everyone smiled at that.