CH-6

This is a ridiculous assignment. Why the bloody hell would Lord Voldemort be interested in a dagger?

I've checked all the bedrooms already. It's only a matter of time before someone comes and finds me here. I'm actually surprised that a member of the Order hasn't stumbled across me already. Isn't there supposed to be a patrol here?

I reenter the bedroom and rummage through the drawers yet again.

If only a Summoning Charm would work on that damned dagger.

I was only shown a picture of it, and I don't know anything about its history.

What's the point?

Then I see something glinting from the corner of my eye. Could it be under the bed? Can't believe I missed that before.

I take a knee and pick up the short, sheathed dagger. The hilt is golden, with a ruby and an emerald set into each side. The sheath also has precious stones embedded in the gold. It looks valuable, but since when has the Dark Lord ever been interested jewels and wealth?

I hear tentative footsteps in the hallway outside of the bedroom. Someone's trying to sneak up on me.

I tuck the dagger into an inner pocket of my robes and pretend not to notice, standing up slowly as though my attention is still on the ground.

Then I spin around and Disarm the intruder before he has the time to react.

Blaise?

I catch his wand and ask, "How did you know I was here?"

"I didn't. I'm just passing through."

"You're here alone?"

He nods.

"The Order doesn't have a patrol here?"

"Why aren't you killing me?" he asks, ignoring my question.

I wonder if he recognizes me behind the Death Eater mask.

"Because I can't," I say, going for the truth. "I couldn't then, and I can't now."

A pause.

"Draco?"

I tug down the collar of my shirt to show him the beginning of the thick, ropy scar that twists down and across my chest, the scar that he gave to me.

"You're still alive," he says quietly. "I haven't heard your voice for… years."

I nod. "It's been a while."

"Why don't you show me your face?" he asks.

We can't take our masks off unless we're at secure locations. New orders, but I honestly don't see the point. Rather stupid, actually. Some of us are recognizable by our voices anyway.

"I can't tell you," I reply. "I trust you won't kill me."

I toss his wand up in the air and watch as it flips a few times. I catch it by the tip and hold it out to him. He grips the handle and takes it from me tentatively.

"Why are you doing this?" he asks. "Even if you can't kill me, you could still capture me."

"What, and watch my best friend be tortured into submission or death? I did that once, and I won't do it again."

"Which of the two happened to Theo?"

I maintain a mask of indifference as I reply, "He was always his father's son."

Blaise nods, understanding. "I guess I would have expected that."

"Yeah."

"How's Vincent? And Gregory?"

I shake my head. "Oafs, the both of them. They're all right."

We share a laugh, and for a brief moment I wish that none of all the shit between us had ever happened.

I want my best friend back.

"I have to go," I say, walking past him and down the hall toward the living room. "It'd be best if we never mentioned this."

"Draco, wait."

I stop, but don't turn back to face him.

"Why don't you join us?" he asks. "Come to our side. I know that this wasn't what you wanted."

"You don't know that," I say shortly.

"You haven't let the war change you. That much is proof enough," he says.

"I can't do it. You know why."

"Then don't switch sides openly. Give us information. We need it, desperately. This war isn't getting any easier to fight, and without Snape—"

"I won't do what he did. My godfather died when he didn't have to," I say.

"Don't make him out to be a fool. You know why he did what he did."

"Yeah, that's right. He fell in love with a Mudblood."

"Well, you're not much better yourself."

Oh no, he did not.

I turn around, taking my time, and flick my wand once. Blaise tries to block my spell, but nothing happens when he waves his wand, and he's slammed backwards against a wall.

"Why can't I use my wand?" he asks, alarmed.

"I have powers that are greater than you'd think."

"Fine, then. Kill me."

"I already said that I couldn't," I say through gritted teeth. "So spare me your laugh-in-the-face-of-death speech. I am nothinglike my godfather."

"That's right, you just keep telling that to yourself. But I know the truth."

I glare at him.

Maybe I don't miss my best friend so much.

"Would you do it for her?" he asks in a low voice. "You've already risked everything once. If you had the opportunity, I don't think you would hesitate to do it a second time."

I think about it, weighing the possibilities.

I'm naturally talented in Occlumency—I've long since surpassed Aunt Bella's abilities, and I'm sure I can do at least as well as my godfather against the Dark Lord's Legilimency. It'd be very difficult for them to catch me at work.

What would I have to lose?

The love of my mother, most likely. My father… I'm almost certain that that madman never loved me. And dear Aunt Bella, she'd try to gut me if she found out that I was even considering this. Oh and of course, I could always lose my life.

But is there anything to gain?

I'd certainly like to see Voldemort die. Or beg for mercy. That'd be a sight. But I don't think Potter has it in him to torture anyone, even if it is the Dark Lord.

And her.

I don't even want to think her name.

But even as I try not to think about her, she crowds out all of the other thoughts that are jammed inside my mind. Her face blocks my vision—small chin, full lips, petite nose, rosy cheeks, and those rich brown eyes…

Fucking hell.

That woman will be the death of me, and she doesn't even know it.

"All right, then," I finally say.

Fuck. This is the moment I'm going to regret when I'm staring at the end of Voldemort's wand, waiting for my execution. I just know it.

"Tell Potter that I want to meet him in private."

"Do you have a location in mind?" Blaise asks, moving toward me.

.

.

.

Subscribe to me Patreon for more advanced content ...🎉

patreon.com/Fictiontopia 🎉