𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐏𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐒

XXIII

Act XXIII.

Vivere disce, cogita mori.
            
To learn how to live, remember death.

"Harry, Narcissa Malfoy died yesterday," the old wizard explained gently, his voice soft and sorrowful.

“What?” Harry gasped, horrified. “No! How?”

 Albus sighed wearily as he rubbed his forehead. “It is a long, drawn out story but ultimately what happened was this; Voldemort found out that Narcissa was actively helping her son and so he ordered her husband to kill her.”

“Oh god!” Harry’s hand flew up to cover his mouth. He was appalled beyond words at Voldemort and Lucius’ cruelty. “That’s sick!”

“Yes, and you can imagine the pain that Draco will have to endure once again when he finds out.” Albus put up a hand as Harry made to interrupt him. “No, I will not keep this from him like I did his confrontation with Lucius. Although I’m convinced he’ll have great difficulty coping with the news when he hears it, I am unwilling to lie to him about something of this magnitude.” Albus sighed once more. “But I fear for him, Harry. He has been through so much already.”

Feeling a surge of sympathy at Dumbledore’s obvious distress over Draco, Harry felt himself soften towards the old wizard. The Headmaster cared for the blonde. That much was clear as day and Harry couldn’t help but be moved by the man’s evident concern. Merlin knew Draco needed as much love and sympathy as he could get, especially now. Hastily Harry nodded. “Yes, he’s had enough suffering to last him a lifetime. I never thought I would say this, but Draco doesn’t deserve this.” He shook his head sadly. “Any of it.”

“I take it the two of you are friends now?”

Harry smiled wanly. “More or less.” He shrugged. “The ‘more’ portion is on my part really.”

Albus nodded knowingly. “He will need you when this is over, especially during the times when I cannot be there. Can you do that, Harry? Are you willing to stand by him?”

“Of course, I am!” Harry reassured him. “He needs his friends now more than ever and I’ll make damn sure I’ll be right there with him, whether he likes it or not!”

Albus nodded, smiling at Harry’s enthusiasm for the task at hand. It was more than he had hoped for. He was about to go on and make more definitive plans with the boy when suddenly a loud explosion disrupted the air.

Alarmed, both of them shot up from their seats and bolted towards the commotion, worry and distress weighing heavily in their hearts.

--------------

Severus walked briskly away from the heavily warded door, his jaw clenched tight, his steps a hard staccato against the hardwood floor. He lifted his eyes only once throughout his hurried escape from the chaos he had inadvertently caused. His eyes met anxious blue ones and with a jerking nod to the Headmaster, he whispered hoarsely,

“It is done.”

And then with a swirl of dark robes and fading footsteps, he was gone.

--------------

“Oh my child.” Albus gasped as he stepped into the room that he was using as his study. “What have you done?”

Almost everything in the room had been reduced to a burned, charred mess. The thrum of dark magic pulsed strongly through the stale air and it swirled around like a thick coat, enveloping the figure at the center of the room. Albus’ eyes widened in horror as he took in the boy’s appearance. Clothes torn and in disarray from the violence of the spells he had cast, the Slytherin vibrated with pure fury and dark magic. His blonde hair was disheveled and his shirt was ripped to shreds so badly that the curse scar on his chest was visible. The mound of tortured flesh that formed the loathsome word was raised and throbbing angrily.