𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐏𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐒

VI

Act VI.

Alea iacta est

The die is cast

"Father." Draco stood as he inclined his head towards the Patriarch.

Without even bothering to greet his son back, Lucius motioned imperiously with his cane, "Come Draco. We leave now. I trust all your things are packed? You need not stay here a second longer."

"But the Leaving Feast-" Draco started to ask, hoping he could stall the inevitable.

"Is nothing but wash! Don't mean to tell me you want to attend such an insipid service? Besides you know very well there is somewhere we must be." Lucius snapped, irritation lining his face at being delayed on his task.

"Yes, Father." Draco replied wearily, his head bowed as he moved away from his house table, following slowly after his father and feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders. Draco willed himself to be numb, to slip on the mask he had donned since he was small. He almost managed it until he made the mistake of looking up and his silver gaze instantly locked on earnest emerald eyes that were staring at him and he was lost. Those eyes were saying something that had already been said. Don't go! Don't follow him! You’re worth more than that! And for some reason they had reached him where saving words had failed to. Suddenly he felt like he could do this. If Potter could stand up to the Dark Lord year in and year out, how could he not find the strength to say 'no' to his father in this instance? Those jade eyes that burned with desperation had fueled his courage and his resolve to finally do something he had only thought of within the relative safety of his dreams.  

"No." A soft voice whispered and in the silence that had prevailed since Malfoy Senior's appearance, it carried over and was heard by all and sundry.

"What do you mean "no"? Hurry up now! We have somewhere we need to be!" Lucius scowled and prodded his son a bit more with his cane.

"What I meant to say, Father, is that I cannot go with you. I know that the 'place' you are taking me to is not somewhere I want to be." His voice soft and although his grey eyes were flashing with defiance, he still took pains not to implicate the older Malfoy. The man was still his father after all.

"I have no idea what you're prattling on about, son." Lucius gritted through his teeth. "I merely want you to go with me and visit your frail and ailing mother. She does seem very anxious to see her only son. Do you wish to forsake her needs for your frivolous activities?"

Ignoring his father's blatant lies, Draco shook his head ruefully. "Father, you misunderstand. I am making a choice. Something I have been forestalling since earlier this year. Something that I have recently found the courage to do." His voice clear and a sad smile on his lips. "I trust you to take care of her in the event that I cannot." He whispered softly and it was a plea, a promise and a threat all at once. It broke his heart to watch his father’s face become etched in disappointment and twist into anger by what he would consider as his heir’s betrayal.

Raising an eyebrow, Lucius admonished him, his nostrils flaring in anger. “Might I remind you that you are still not of age and my son. You will do as I wish!”

“Père, comprenez s'il vous plaît!” Draco cried out in desperation, switching to his native tongue. His pride unwilling to let the entire Great Hall become privy to matters that weren’t anybody’s business but their own. If he must beg to be given a chance to carry out his choice then he would take it but he will not suffer airing their family’s business so crudely. It wasn’t meant for secrecy by any means for surely more than a handful of people that were currently in the Great Hall could speak French or could cast an effective Translation Spell but rather to save as much dignity as he could, no matter how small. At least the majority of the populace would be robbed of seeing his downfall first hand.