why so tense, potter? | drarry |

| 5 |

There was a change in Draco's demeanor. He didn't know what sparked it — perhaps his family's name resting on his shoulders — but he had grown cold. Yes, he had always been cold, but he felt like an entirely separate person whose sole purpose came down to one action. And one person stood in the way of his redemption.

He was sick of Hogwarts, Dumbledore, Potter, and everything that stood against his father.

But perhaps the most accurate reason for his cold attitude was the loneliness that plagued him.

"They said this was Slughorn's new hiding spot," said Narcissa. She strode to the arched door as Snape and Draco stood back. There were no lights on in the house, and the only sign of someone living there was a recently potted plant by the doorstep.

"Alohomora," Narcissa whispered as her wand produced a click that came from the doorknob. She tried it and the door swung open with ease. They entered the foyer, where hats and trench coats sat — ironed — on chrome wall hangers. Draco lifted his wand, but Snape beat him to it. Snape held his out as he whispered, "Lumos."

An orb of light emerged from the wand, illuminating the living space. Snape led them into the first room, his robes billowing behind him.

Nothing stood out of place. Draco felt certain no one had been there for quite some time.

"Are you sure he's here?" Draco mumbled. Snape held a hand out, stopping Draco in his tracks. He bent and waved his wand over the carpet. Draco could just make out the imprint of, not two, but three marks left by distinct shoes. A clump of mud sat by one.

"He had company," Snape drawled. His tone was cold.

Narcissa leaned over the dirty footprints that were left in the otherwise immaculate white carpet. Draco shook his head. The least they could do was clean up after themselves. This was a rookie mistake.

"The Dark Lord won't be pleased to hear Horace has sided with Dumbledore," said Snape.

Narcissa snapped her gaze to his. "How would you know?"

Snape scowled. "Isn't it obvious? He came here with Potter to recruit Slughorn."

Draco's blood simmered at the mention of Harry. He always had to be one step ahead of Draco. The thought made him crazy.

Narcissa tilted her chin upwards. "That's a brave assumption."

"Dumbledore would be a fool not to, and you and I both know Dumbledore is anything but a fool. I took the pleasure of picking up the hints he left for me," replied Snape.

"For you?" Narcissa glowered at his words. Snape said nothing. He flicked his wand to put the light out and left the room.

Draco looked at his mother, who had her fingers pressed against her temple as she shook her head. She eyed him from the side.

"Take over for me?" she asked.

Draco snickered at the suggestion. "Afraid not."

He, too, left the room. He didn't want to be there in the first place, though he felt bad for his mother being partnered with Snape. Draco would never understand why Voldemort took such a liking to him.

As he exited the abandoned house, a thought slammed into Draco's mind like a brick. He quickened his pace to reach Snape's side.

"Dumbledore left those on purpose, didn't he?" Draco probed. Snape said nothing, but that was enough to give Draco an answer. He laughed to himself in pity. The man was ancient yet brilliant, as always. The scales tipped further downward for Draco as Dumbledore's skyrocketed. Not that he ever had a chance. Yet, maybe he did.

He pivoted on his heel to wait for Narcissa. Her back faced him as she closed the door and locked it.

She turned towards Draco. He smirked.

"Back to Borgin and Burkes?"

***

The store was the same as they had left it. Draco paced the creaking floors with a thumb over his lip in contemplation. Borgin waited for him to choose the cursed object he would find best fit.

He stared at a necklace made of turquoise stones.

"How powerful is the curse?" Draco questioned. Borgin twiddled his thumbs behind his countertop and shrugged.

"Powerful enough to put one in a coma, perhaps kill them if not tended to," he replied. Draco smiled. That was just what he wanted to hear.

He hovered his hand over the object. Voices rose up to him, speaking in a sharp and foreign tongue. A chill raced down his spine. Borgin pushed his hand away.

"You don't want to be that person," Borgin remarked. Draco wrinkled his nose as he looked down at the man.

"Don't touch me," he snarled. Narcissa placed her hand on his shoulder, but he shoved it away.

"Forgive me, sir." Borgin scrunched his head between his shoulders.

"What do I use to carry it?"

The shop owner ducked under the counter and reappeared with brown wrapping and a box. He placed them in front of Draco before shying away.

"Use the wrapper-"

"I'm not thick," snapped Draco, cutting him off. He wrapped the cursed necklace and placed it neatly in the velvet box before setting down three golden coins beside it.

Narcissa stayed behind as Draco walked out, the box secured in his hand. He felt lighter already, like he was finally swimming above water. He had a plan.

His mother came out of the store carrying a glass bottle wrapped in the same brown paper. When she noticed him staring, she said, "A backup."

"You think I need a backup?"

She quirked an eyebrow at her son. "It wouldn't hurt."

Draco softened and smoothed his wrinkled blouse. There was no need to be harsh.

Besides, he was feeling more confident by the minute. He would make his father proud.

...