Draco Malfoy and the Mirror of Ecidyrue

Part 6: Draco Malfoy and the Prisoner of Nurmengard (1)

Summary:

WHORE. BLOOD TRAITOR. MURDERER.
I will accept no restitution but your life.

Those are the words Theo sent Draco, once Draco Malfoy and now Draco Black. The words Draco will never tell anyone that Theo sent. As Draco enters into that fatal sixth year, those are the words that hang over him as he tries to protect his friends, his new family, his godfather. As he tries to protect the boy he loves from the boy he once loved, whose life he ruined with one curse. But Draco has another word now: Dantanian. The key to his wand, to his blood, to the past, to three mirrors, and to his aunt waiting to take her own forfeit from him. The pursuit of Dantanian will take Draco beyond his own past, to truths too horrifying to accept, and acts too evil to speak. To the Prisoner of Nurmengard.

: Dragonslayer

Chapter Text

The first time Draco was allowed to use dark magic in a practice duel with Sirius was the first time he won. It nearly killed his uncle, but that was a small price for a win.

He faithfully kept a running tally of their results, in preparation of showing Severus once he got back to Hogwarts. Not that there wasn't far more reason than just impressing his godfather to push himself at dueling. There was the small matter of Bellatrix Lestrange, no doubt thirsting for a rematch. And that phrase she and Mother had thrown at him, Dantanian Noir, maybe a name and maybe not, which no one around him seemed to know a thing about at all. Aunt Bella knew that weakness of his, and he didn't. Which meant that he couldn't have any other weaknesses.

"Vipera relashio," Draco kept telling Sirius as they exited their dueling room. "The counter-curse is Vipera relashio, obviously. I used Serpensmorta on Aunt Bella and she just cast Vipera relashio and kept on against me, this isn't helping if you can't replicate what she-"

"Draco," Sirius gasped, while Hermione and Remus rose from the table in alarm at the sight of his scale-indented throat. "I know you lost a duel to your aunt and you're upset about it, but I nearly died, could you give me a second?"

"Aunt Bella won't give me a second," Draco sulked, "If we ever duel again," and watched Remus start up the kettle while Hermione eyed them disapprovingly.

"I told you so," Hermione said, and Sirius gave her a look while massaging his throat, like he regretted that blanket permission to stay over. She and Draco intended to make use of it until Harry hopefully passed his test and came to stay permanently. Weekly dinners over with the Grangers were the one night Sirius and Remus had to themselves. "I told you it wouldn't be so easy to keep beating him if you let him use dark-"

"He's vicious with it," Remus said quietly. "And you take that as a compliment, don't you, Draco?" He looked to find little humor in the situation, and ignored Sirius's puppyish whining to come kiss his neck better. Sirius was left calling forlornly after him, still vainly showing off the snake marks, but that was Sirius for you. He couldn't be any more whipped if Charlie Weasley started lending them dragontamer tools.

"He's our Frankenstein, of course," Hermione sighed. "Stop beaming, Draco, it's like you want people to think you're a rising dark lord. How many times do I have to tell you it's not like winning a pageant-"

"It is much safer to be feared than loved, if one has to lack one of the two," Draco quoted, earning a look that made him wilt into his chair. "What? You're the one who gave-"

"I don't know what I was thinking," Hermione sighed, "Giving Draco Malfoy Machiavelli."

She only realized her mistake when the room went silent. The only sound was the shrieking of the kettle, like the name had let loose some unspoken pain into the air.