mirrorball

chapter nineteen

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Clara and the others were shoved up glamorous stone steps into a long hallway lined with portraits. The all too familiar faces loomed over Clara as she followed the group quietly. 

"Follow me," said Narcissa, leading the way across the hall. "My son, Draco, is home for his Easter holidays. If that is Harry Potter, he will know."

Clara looked at Hermione in alarm. Hermione bent her head toward Clara and whispered: "Do you think Draco will tell them?"

"I- I don't know," whispered Clara. Harry turned his head back to her for a split second. His puffed face was impossible to read. Did he need reassurance and comfort? He should know better than to look to her for that after his behavior for the past few weeks. Without so much of a raised eyebrow or a frown, Harry turned back again and continued walking slowly behind Narcissa Malfoy.

The drawing room dazzled after the darkness outside; the wide proportions of the room made the group seem unimportant and tiny, like flecks of dust in the air. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, more portraits against the dark purple walls. Two figures rose from chairs in front of an ornate marble fireplace as the prisoners were forced into the room by the Snatchers. 

"What is this?" 

The dreadfully familiar, drawling voice of Lucius Malfoy fell on Clara's ears. She was now panicking, her blood rushing through her ears. She could see no way out. With Lucius present, the chances of Draco helping them were slim to none. 

"They say they've got Potter," said Narcissa's cold voice. "Draco, come here." 

That's when Clara finally lifted her head fully. She saw Draco, rising from an armchair, his face a pale and pointed blur beneath white-blond hair. She caught his eyes and unlike Harry, Draco's intact face was easy to read. The alarm in his eyes, though flashing for only a moment before he regained his composure, was evident as he took in Clara's appearance. 

Greyback forced the prisoners to turn again so as to place Harry directly beneath the chandelier. Clara's head was forced away, her vision now focused on an enchanting fireplace. Narcissa walked into her view, standing silently by the roaring flames. "Well, boy?" rasped the werewolf.

"Well, Draco?" said Lucius Malfoy. He sounded avid. "Is it? Is it Harry Potter?" 

Clara held her breath as she hoped, prayed, and begged, for some miracle to save them. "I can't— I can't be sure," said Draco. 

"But look at him carefully, look! Come closer! Draco, if we are the ones who hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, everything will be forgiv— "

"Now, we won't be forgetting who actually caught him, I hope Mr. Malfoy?" said Greyback menacingly. 

"Of course not, of course not!" said Lucius impatiently. Clara heard sharp footsteps that she assumed was Lucius making his way towards the group. 

"What did you do to him?" Lucius asked Greyback. "How did he get into this state?" 

"That wasn't us." 

"Looks more like a Stinging Jinx to me," said Lucius. There was a small pause of silence. Clara could feel Hermione grasping at her hand, and Clara opened up her fingers, gripping Hermione's fingers tightly with her own. "There's something there," Lucius whispered. "it could be the scar, stretched tight. . . . Draco, come here, look properly! What do you think?"

"I don't know," he said, and he walked away toward the fireplace where his mother stood watching. Draco met Clara's eyes again and she tried her best to speak without words, but she could tell her pleading wasn't being understood through Draco's confused eyes. They weren't connected in that way, he would never be able to understand her through simple movements. Still, Clara continued to try to communicate with him, raising her eyebrows furiously. She looked incredibly delirious.