Slytherin's angel

Chapter 29- The interrogation

He only needed a few things, he reminded himself as he looked at the shop window, and then he would go to find his mother at Bellatrix's.

It had been nearly a week since he left Hogwarts and he was finding the constant need to move around irritating and somewhat terrifying. For the past several days he had stayed in the shabby apartments above the Hog's Head, hardly getting any shut eye due to the sketchy wizards and witches that looked him over as he climbed the stairs to his dingy room. He lay there, expecting one of them to burst through his room, hexing him into oblivion and turning him in. But he had been too prepared for that, he sat up against the wall, wand clutched tightly to his chest, never daring to move his eyes from the door.

But not even they would touch a Death Eater.

Draco stared at his distorted reflection in the dingy mirror, looking at his pathetic reflection. He was paler than usual and he could see dark bags start to sink underneath his eyes. Glaring at his miserable appearance, he burst through the door before he could think about it twice.

Borgin strolled through his dark hole in the back, startled by the sudden outburst.

"Mr. Malfoy?" He frowned, "What are you doing here? School hasn't let out yet, has it?"

"I'm taking personal leave, you git!" Draco shot darkly, "My father was murdered, I obviously have to take care of things!"

"Of course, Mr. Malfoy, of course." He bowed, making sure to give Draco enough clearance as he strolled through his shop towards the fireplace, "Anything you need, I am sure to be of service."

Draco glared at him, hastily grabbing a pinch of Floo Powder and throwing in into the fire place. Warm flames encompassed him as he stepped through, his parlor surrounding him as he landed on the white rug.

The emerald flames cut out, leaving the fireplace empty and the room completely quiet. He stood there for a moment, unnerved by the hairs standing on the back of his neck.

"Yes, I understand Alf, but we were told by Fudge not to leave unless we came back with something else." A gruff voice argued tiredly.

"Fudge is a mad hatter; we've combed this house dozens of times and haven't found anything new. We can't exactly contact the boy either; his mother never gave us permission to question him."

"Where is she? She hasn't been taken in."

"No, haven't been able to find her either." The second voice sighed.

"Perhaps they're together." The first one said.

"Are you stupid? He's at school!"

"Oh, yes, right, right." The first voice laughed awkwardly, "How could I have forgotten?"

Aurors, Draco thought to himself, panic quickly settling in.

He had to get to his room and the marble staircase outside the parlor doors was obviously blocked, so he had to find another way.

Draco exited quickly through the door to the left, finding himself in another grand sitting room. Passing the door to his father's office, he went into the sun room, where white couches reflected the light of the early morning. He went to the bookshelf, pulling out a rather inconspicuous beaten red spine, stepping back to let the bookcase slide over to reveal a dark, hidden staircase.

"Lumos." Draco said, watching his wand flicker with the blue light. He grimaced as the old stairs creaked loudly, knowing that the Aurors couldn't hear him on the other side of the mansion, but wanting to act as quickly as possible. He ascended the narrow stairs quickly, pushing on the door to reveal his parent's room.

It was the grandest room in the entire house. A very large bed rested against the far wall, framed by dark mahogany, holding cream cushions and down blankets. On the wall that contained the hidden stairwell, a large mirror, running half the length of the wall hung above a fireplace, framed by large couches and a sitting chair. His mother's vanity was to his left, in between two large windows, her perfumes and hair pins organized neatly on the table.

Without further ado, Draco made his way for the door, opening it slowly to hear the voices of the Aurors still arguing by the front doors. Draco peered over the stairwell, watching as both of them mindlessly looked around on the floor, checking underneath the tables that held the vases, even going as far to check in the vases themselves and behind the mirrors above them.

Taking advantage of their distractions, he ran quickly down the length of the balcony, quickly opening his bedroom door and closing it as quietly as he could.

He scrambled for a bag, finding one halfway underneath his bed. He only needed a few things: a change of clothes, a blanket should he get stranded and a wad of money that he kept stashed in his top dresser drawer.

He was about to exit his room when a movement near the head of his bed caught his eye. He moved towards his dresser, looking at the moving picture in a silver frame. His heart sank as he picked it up, looking at himself and Ashley in a tight embrace, smiling up at him as snow fell in the background. He remembered then: it was their first day of Christmas break and Ashley had awoken him early to play in the first snow. He stared at her face, mesmerized by her beauty and dazzling smile as she laughed silently, kissing his cheek, looking up into Draco's eyes as she stared at him from her frame. He dropped his bag, turning the frame over to rip off the black velvet backing, shoving the picture in his pant pocket, knowing it was the only thing he had to remind him of her.

Picking up his bag, he made his way back to his parents' room. He was so focused on keeping an eye on the Aurors, that he didn't watch his bag as it grazed a vase of flowers on a table. He jumped when the vase had crashed on the floor, making the Aurors look up at him suddenly.

"Hey!" The first one yelled at him, "Stop right there!"

Draco dropped his bag, dashing back down the hall, dodging jets of red that hit the wall, striking a mirror above him, narrowly missing him as he dived to miss the shower of glass.

He scrambled into his parents room, tripping over the leg of the couch. Panicking, he crawled his way into the open bookcase, knowing that if he was able to get back to the stairwell, he could run back to the parlor and leave the Manor.

He heard the door open, the two Aurors bursting through. Before Draco could point his wand to defend himself, he watched as a red jet hit the center of his chest.

Then all went black...


***

"You what?" A shrill voice shrieked.

"He was tampering with evidence ma'am." The first voice from the Manor pleaded.

"And did you ever think to arrest him, instead of jinxing him? Now we'll have to wait until he wakes up!" She growled.

"No ma'am." The first answered simply.

"He's no longer a minor, Delinda. We were perfectly within our rights-''

"Can it!" She snapped, "I think he's waking up."

Draco's head lulled and he forced his eyes open. Everything was blurry at first, especially the three people looking at him warily. The room was bright and plain. He was sitting on a chair; Delinda sat across from him, her hands folded neatly on the metal table. The two men looked at him with suspicion, standing behind her chair.

Delinda leaned across the table, shoving something in his face, "Who is this?"

Draco jerked his head back to focus on what she was holding. When he saw that it was his picture of himself and Ashley, anger forced him awake immediately.

"That's none of your damn business you wench!" Draco growled, snatching the picture back from her, "If I had my wand, you'd be sorry!"

"My name Mr. Malfoy is Delinda Fleagle. And you don't have your wand, so your threat is rather empty." Delinda droned. Draco glared, staring at her brown eyes through her rectangular glass frames, looking over her brown hair that was pulled into a twist on the back of her head. She was definitely Ministry, he could tell by the smart black robes she was wearing, with the Ministry crest pinned onto the left side of her chest.

Draco frowned, tapping his pants for the missing wand in his pocket.

"You can't do that!" He stood up quickly, knocking his chair back.

The two Aurors jumped, pointing their wands at him in the ready. Delinda looked at him, unfazed.

"Sit down, Mr. Malfoy." She told him. "And yes, we can, actually. You were in a crime scene, we are perfectly liable to search you for any dangerous weapons you may have on you."

"A wand? A wand?" He scoffed, "That's a wizard's right!"

"And yet you just threatened me with it, confirming my suspicions that as soon as you woke up that you could have used it for harm. Sit down Mr. Malfoy and we can talk."

"Give me my wand first." Draco narrowed his eyes at her.

"I'm afraid I can't do that until you've been released." Delinda told him, "Its Ministry policy."

Draco looked about the room, as if an escape route would open somewhere in the wall.

"You can't get out of here, Mr. Malfoy." Delinda peered at him over her glasses, "And a wizard can't do much without his wand. So you may as well sit here and answer some questions."

Draco glared at her, slowly picking up his chair and sitting back down, eyeing the Aurors carefully.

"Fine." He spat, "But I don't want them in here."

They started to object, but Delinda motioned them out of the room. The two men looked at Draco with threatening glares all the way out until the door had clicked behind them.

"I didn't do anything." Draco growled.

"I'm not saying that you did," she opened a file on the table that he didn't remember seeing before, "and I'm not saying that you didn't."

She flipped within his file for a few moments. Draco grew slightly uneasy as he saw at least a dozen pages contained within it. Was that normal?

"So, you decided to skip out on your last three months of your education?" Delinda raised an eyebrow.

"My father just died." He growled at her, "I took a personal leave."

"And how are you planning to graduate?"

"The homework's is owled to me every day." Draco answered.

"Where?" She asked, looking up at him.

"Irrelevant." Draco hissed.

Delinda shrugged off his tone, asking, "Are you planning to take the rest of the term off?"

"I planned on it."

"What do you plan on doing after you graduate?"

Draco shrugged, "Didn't have time to think about it, other things got in the way obviously."

Delinda grunted, scribbling down notes on a piece of paper. Draco frowned, wondering what she was writing.

"Where were you the night of March 27th?" She asked.

"I came home before I went to another location for spring break," He told her, "Lucius arrived only after we left."

Delinda stared at him, "So you're telling me that you grabbed your things, left and then you father happened to die by someone else's hand minutes later?"

Draco stared at her, "Yes."

"You have no idea who the culprit could've been?" She cocked an eyebrow.

He was a good liar, but she was a good detective.

"Did your father have any enemies?" She tried again.

Draco laughed, "Are you joking? He was Death Eater. The whole world knows that. His list of enemies is endless."

As Draco uttered those words, he looked down to his left sleeve, the edge of his thin wrist peeking out of his jacket pocket. He pulled it down self-consciously, wondering if they had done a physical search while he was unconscious to see that he bared the Mark as well.

"You're wasting your time." He told her, "Why do you even care? He's gone now; he won't cause the world anymore trouble."

He regretted it as soon as he said it. Delinda scribbled down something hurriedly on her notes. He knew that he was talking like a suspect and had probably confirmed her suspicions.

"What sort of relationship did you have with your father, Mr. Malfoy?" She asked, readying her quill to write his answer.

Draco shrugged, "We didn't get along."

She nodded, writing it down.

"Look, this isn't what it seems." Draco told her quickly, trying to peer over at her notes.

"I haven't said anything, Mr. Malfoy." She told him, sliding her notes further away from him. "Was your father physically abusive?"

Her answer struck a nerve.

"I want to leave; I have other things to do."

"Like what, Mr. Malfoy?" She snapped, "You're out of school, your father's body has been taken care of according to his wishes and your mother isn't around. What else could you possibly have to do?"

Draco narrowed his eyes, "I don't have to explain anything to you."

"If not me, then to the Board of Investigation." She sneered, glaring at him. "This is going to go much bigger than you think and you would do well to tell me everything that happened."

"I told you already!" He shot at her, "I wasn't there! I don't know who finished the old bloke! Just because I don't care doesn't mean I did it!"

Delinda stared at him, "You are clearly psychologically damaged by your father, whose lack of support has caused you to excel in school, hoping that he would give you the least bit of approval, a pat on the head perhaps. However, due to lack of social knowledge you have chosen to drop out. I'm going to recommend you for counseling-''

"SHUT UP!" He slammed his hands on the table, rising in his seat. "I've had enough of you! It's not my problem your blokes are so incompetent that they can't find out who did it!"

"Mr. Malfoy, sit down-''
"This conversation is done." He sneered, walking towards the door, "If you want to ask me any more questions, you can contact my lawyer. Give me my wand back."

"You have to get it from the front desk." She glared, scribbling furiously down in her notes.

As he laid a hand on the door handle, she asked coldly, "Who is the girl, Mr. Malfoy? It was obvious the picture was taken at your Manor. I'm assuming she was there that night as well."

"She's none of your business." He snapped.

"Oh, she will be Mr. Malfoy," she rose, closing her file, "unless you release her name and her relation to you."

Draco stepped up to her, towering over the shorter woman.

"My father may be dead Mrs. Fleagle, but I still have friends in higher places." He raged, "You would do well to remember that."

"Is that a threat?" She thundered.

"It's more than a threat," He hissed, "it's a reality that I will make happen if you even go near her."

The cold metal of the door handle was on his hands when she told him, "I do not fear threats from a seventeen year old boy, Mr. Malfoy. Do not think you can outsmart me, for I already know that you've joined them. I've studied your kind for years. Although I cannot convict you now for your lack of crime record, I will be watching you."

Draco turned on his heel angrily, spitting, "If you have an ounce of common sense in that ridiculous hairdo of yours, you wouldn't be so ready to run head on into a bunch of Death Eaters, which is headed by the Dark Lord, if you've forgotten so easily."

Delinda narrowed her eyes at him in challenge, but before she could say another word to him, he walked out, nearly running into the two Aurors who had their ears pressed up against the door, listening intently.

"Out of my way!" He growled, making a beeline for the desk that was further down the hall.

"I want my wand back." He snapped.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy." The receptionist said, turning in her seat to wave her wand at a locked box. It snapped open, his wand the only one in it.

He turned on the two Aurors, who were glaring at him.

"You will not trespass in my house anymore. I am the heir of that Manor. If you so much as step foot on the grounds, I will press charges. You would do well to tell Miss Fleagle and the rest of your band of idiots that, too."

He grabbed it out of her hands, shoving it in his pocket as he made his way out of the wing. His black shoes clicked noisily on the marble floors. The draft made him button up his black jacket, smoothing the wrinkles on the sides.

He glared at anyone passed, no matter young or old. He watched as some of his father co-workers greeted him, mumbling quiet condolences, but he gave them no greeting in response.

"Stupid pricks." He mumbled to himself, finally coming to the main part of the Ministry, the familiar statue of the wizard, witch and elf trickling water out of their mouths and wands came into view. He shoved past people, eager to get to the fireplaces, where wizards were entering in a uniform, timely fashion.

"Move!" He shoved the next wizard out of the way at the nearest fireplace.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" He asked angrily.

Before he could grab for Draco, he shouted, "Malfoy Manor!"

The warm embers led him back into the parlor.

"Stella!" He called, brushing off the light film of ashes on his black jacket.

The doors opened and closed again, Stella's short stature hiding behind the couch until she rounded the corner.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy?" Her voice squeaked.

"Did they take anything while I was away?" He asked her, strolling around the parlor, making sure that everything was there.

"No, sir. Stella and Keely made sure of it!" She answered, puffing out her chest.

"Good." Draco looked at her strangely. He walked past the Elf, walking into the main entrance hall, looking up at the broken mirror and vase behind the stairwell rail.

He looked back down at her in her dirty pillowcase, her brown mousy hair falling in between her eyes. She was rather dirty, although he didn't know from what, the house was spotless. For a split moment, he wondered if he should give her something else to wear, deciding against it quickly, knowing that giving her any other uniform would grant her freedom.

"No one comes in this house without my permission." He instructed her, "Except for Narcissa."

Stella nodded quickly, "I'll go tell the others, sir!"

She dashed through the doors to the kitchen, her high voice squeaking to the others as pans clanged together and running water sloshed in the sink.

Draco sighed, quite unsure of what to do. He made his way towards the stairs, calling, "Episkey!" to the mirror and vase, which instantly restored themselves. He picked up his bag off the ground, securing the drawstrings once more.

He descended the stairs quickly; an odd feeling of letting someone know where he was going came over him. But there wasn't anyone anymore. His father was gone and his mother wasn't the rightful owner to the house. He was. He was the Master of the Manor. He looked up at the high windows, the marble staircase and mirrors and tables and vases that framed the large, white double doors to the front yard. He could hear a faint call of the peacocks and a quiet splashing of the lake far off in the distance.

It was all his.

And he had no one to share it with.

This sudden realization stopped him, making him collapse on the last stair.

He would be alone. He could understand why she would never want to stay in the house again. It was where she and Lucius had started a life and where his had ended. It was the place where he had been born and the place where he would die. He had nowhere to go now, he couldn't pack up and leave, he felt as if he had too much of an obligation to stay.

He rubbed his face tiredly, exhausted already from the week's events. He started to worry about Ashley, how she was holding up and what she was doing at that very moment.

Reluctantly, he took out his photo of them. He didn't want to, half of him already wanted to forget about her, forget about her love and the pain that came with leaving her. He tried to keep himself moving, so he couldn't allow himself to think about her. But as he looked at the door, where he had been slumped up against, hexed out of his mind, he could remember seeing her run down the stairs, the shadow of his father coming up behind her.

He thumbed her face, as if touching her skin could bring the cool smoothness back to his fingers. Her blue eyes sparkled up at him with utter happiness and contentment. He wondered if that sparkle still burned within her.

Sighing heavily, he placed the picture back into the inside pocket of his jacket

He walked back into the parlor, taking note that his Floo Powder was running low as he scraped the bottom of the clay pot.

"Lestrange Cottage!" He called, the warm flames engulfing him once more.

An instant chill came over him as he stepped into a dingy sitting area. The room was dark and depressing; the couches had holes in them, dark with stains and dirt. He shivered as he exited the room quickly, calling out, "Mother! Are you here?"

He walked down a dark hallway, practically void of all light. The floorboards creaked underneath his weight.

"Aunt Bell?" He called, pushing open the door to the kitchen.

"Draco!" His mother exclaimed, rising quickly from her seat and hugging him tightly. He hugged her back, worry for her draining out of him as she saw that he was okay. He pushed her away, grabbing her by the chin to examine her face. There were still bruises, but they were faint and nearly healing. Narcissa pushed his hand away in annoyance.

"I'm fine." She dismissed.

Draco looked to Bellatrix, who was looking up at him mischievously, twirling her crooked wand in her hands.

"Draco." She drawled, "I believe you owe me."

Narcissa narrowed her eyes at Bellatrix, "Bell, don't!"

"I rid you of that pathetic excuse!" She roared, rising from her chair, "You owe me as well, Cissy!"

Narcissa's eyes flooded with tears.

"What's this?" She hissed, rounding the table to look square into her younger sister's eyes, "Tears? From a Black? You stain the name!"

"I'm a Malfoy." Narcissa shot back.

"That name died with the bastard that kept you prisoner in your own home!" She boomed, her heavily-lidded eyelids popping against the whites of her eyes.

"Shut up, Bellatrix!" Draco growled, stepping up to his aunt. Bellatrix's heavily lidded eyes widened in surprise.

"How dare you-'' She reached for her wand.

"They know that we did it." Draco spat at her.

"What?" She screeched.

"I just got back from the Ministry." Draco looked to his mother, who looked devastated, "They know that I didn't do it, but they know I know who did."

Bellatrix grabbed a handful of his cloak, a fire in her eyes. Draco didn't put up a fight, but glared straight back at her.

"You better not have told them anything!" She spit, "Or so help me-''

Draco shoved her off hard, "I didn't do anything. I'm not that stupid."

He made his way over to his mother, helping her off the mildewed couch she was sitting on.

"You can hold this over my head, but you won't hold it over hers." Draco warned.

Bellatrix raised an eyebrow in interest, completely forgetting her anger towards her nephew, "A bargainer? The rotten apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

She giggled maliciously. He wasn't sure whether to be afraid or resent her. If she could do something so easily to his father, what would she be willing to do to him and his mother?

"Who was it?" Bellatrix questioned him, crossing her arms over her chest.

Draco looked at her, somewhat reluctant to release the woman's name, knowing she was too ignorant to know what was coming for her.

Bellatrix looked as though he had slapped her in the face, "What's this? After everything that I've done for you and you're not going to tell me the bitch's name?"

Draco swallowed hard, "Delinda Fleagle."

Bellatrix threw her head back, cackling, "Ol' Fleagle's as it again? Oh, Merlin! Bitches never learn, do they Draco?"

"Who is she?" He asked her.

"A fool who thinks that she can outsmart those closest to the Dark Lord." Bellatrix drawled, "She's been hunting us for years. And yet, she's never found one of us, has she?"

"She says she's coming for us." Draco informed her.

"Empty words." Bellatrix waved his comment off, "Let me worry about her. What you should be worried about is repaying me."

"Fine, I owe you." Draco told her exasperatedly, "What do you want?"

Bellatrix smiled evilly, putting her hand to her chin, dragging out the attention she was getting from her only nephew.

"Bellatrix." Draco said forcefully, trying to get her to stay on track.

"There are some things in your father's vault." She decided finally. "And I want them."

"What are they?" Draco eyed her.

"Things." Bellatrix smirked at him, starting to prance around the kitchen, "Your father would've never given them to me, but now that he's gone, I want them!"

"If he didn't give them to you, why should I?" Draco frowned at her. He was starting to grow uneasy with the way the conversation was going, but what choice did he have? He hated his father, but knew that the man had some sense about him. There was a reason that Lucius had locked them up in the safety of Gritgotts.

Bellatrix turned on him, her playful mood evaporating, "Don't think you are beyond me, boy! You are a product of that slimy bastard!"

"He is also a product of me!" Narcissa narrowed her eyes, stepping in between the two. "You would do well not to harm him."

Bellatrix smirked at her, intrigued by the idea of dueling her well practiced sister.

"An interesting prospect." Bellatrix mused for a moment, but quickly shook the idea, "Nevermind that."

She turned back to him, "Do we have a deal?"

"Do I have a choice?" He asked her.

Bellatrix let out a cackle, "No, not really!"

"Then let's go." He growled.