Take my Hand You Bloody Idiot - Drarry

Chapter 23

Draco's POV.

Within seconds I've appeared in no other than the Malfoy manor.

My eyes find the pale, sunken in face of my father, who's standing near a smoking fireplace, just as another pop rings through the air.

"Harry?" I choke out.

His eyes don't leave that of my father's.

"I see you've brought your little friend for this ceremony, Draco.  
How... thoughtful of you," he bites.

Harry inhales sharply.

"I don't know what you're implying, father."

He gestures to one of the cloaked figures standing to his left and they bring forward what appears to be a small, egg-like form that is coloured a sickly grey.

"What I'm implying, Draco is that you really do know how to make our jobs easier."

The hooded figure places the unknown object on the waiting hands of 3 death-eaters I recognise that have formed a sort of circle formation on their knees.

"Draco, do come forward," he orders testily.

Almost unwillingly I step toward him.

No. Not almost unwillingly. Completely.

The familiar feeling of an imperious curse washes over me.

Another cloaked figure, one of dozens, steps forward to place a small vile on a table to the right of the circle of death-eaters supporting the grey thing.

My father steps forward slowly, calmly, and grabs a hold of a pocket watch lying on the table.

"How lovely, perfect timing," he sneers.

At just a snap of his fingers, more death-eaters step forward with a caldron.

The liquid is bubbling inside and letting out a repulsive odour that makes me want to retch.

My father carefully extracts a ladle from the pot and drops the frothy liquid into a vial.

"Draco, my boy. Perhaps you could assist us with this last step, hm?"

He soundlessly recasts the imperious curse and I feel my feet move closer to him.

In my hand he places a silver dagger with a handle that burns at the touch.

My father flicks his eyes to Harry and I'm suddenly walking his way.

My weak attempt at resistance is at most making the trip slower, but I can't do what he wants me to.

Not to Harry.

Not to the boy with dark hair and glasses who is looking at me with the most fearful expression I've ever seen.

My hand latches on to his unwillingly and the blade I'm holding raises in height.

I run a thin slice across his palm, watching him wince in pain and grit his teeth without moving his step.

Another cloaked figure moves forward to collect the blood in a smaller vial.

He walks back to the formation of the dark lords followers and puts three drops of Harry Potter's blood into the mixture.

I don't even have the strength to whisper a sorry to Harry, but that doesn't stop tears from running freely down my cheeks.

"Today! The dark lord returns to power!" The death eaters let out a cackle.

The now bright, blood red liquid is held just above the small grey orb.

They slowly pour the mixture and the ones supporting the object shriek in agony.

The grey thing begins to grow.

It gets to be about the size of a fist and then starts to let out a ring that's loud enough to make your ears bleed that slowly surrounds the whole house.

The death-eaters in the circle place the thing firmly on the ground and it begins to get even larger.

Suddenly a crack forms and the ringing scream gets louder.

No one bothers or even thinks to cover their ears.

Another crack appears with a pop and I see Harry tense up.

The thing grows more than a foot in size and another crack sounds throughout the manor's grounds.

One more crack and Harry grabs my hand.

Then another crack, but this time, it's me and Harry leaving the manor.

And I know what this means for me.

But right now I don't care.

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  . 

We appear back in McGonagall's office with a pop that seems almost quiet compared to what we just witnessed.

I crumple to the ground despite the fact that Harry is trying to support me.

Malfoy's don't cry.
Malfoy's don't show any emotion.
Wear the Malfoy mask with pride.

But I can't help sobbing into the waiting arms of Harry Potter.

Because no matter how much I don't want to be a Malfoy right now, my mother is at risk. I'm at risk.
And I lead Harry Potter right to their trap.

"Hey, shhh. It's going to be okay," he whispers in my ear.

But the tears just keep coming.
I don't even try to stop them.