The Daughter of Sirius Black

Chapter 106

The second Draco had been summoned by his deranged aunt, he knew something was wrong.

His aunt never summoned him. And never to the dining room.

A horrid place it was.

It made Draco's skin crawl.

The only reason he was still alive and breathing was because of his secret communication with his cousin over the radio. A muggle code, Morse code, was taught to him by her before that night in the Astronomy tower when Dumbledore was killed. And that was how they spoke.

It wasn't often, but, without her encouragement, Draco would've ended his life already.

His father was back, and able to care for his mother, so no one would miss him if he were gone.

Living in his own skin, skin branded with a mark of pure evil wasn't something he wanted to do anymore.

Living in constant fear of being killed wasn't something he wanted to do anymore.

Living with no hope for a brighter tomorrow, living in constant agony, wasn't something he wanted to do anymore.

But his cousin had hope.

And she'd made it her mission to infect him with it. And being stuck in Grimmauld Place gave her plenty of chance to do it.

But now, as he walked into the dining room, he'd already made his decision, as he'd already made his peace with dying.

"Well?" his aunt hissed from the floor as she gripped a boy by the hair, the boy's face swollen and puffy and almost unrecognisable.

But not to Draco.

He recognised the person beneath the jinxing spell.

And even if he didn't, the company the boy kept, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, gave him away. But not to the adults.

Lucius, Narcissa, Bellatrix and the Snatchers who nabbed them, were unaware of their real identities. Hermione's especially.

It was terribly dangerous for her to be here, inside a house filled with death eaters who were purebloods and murdered mudbloods, the ones who were muggle-born.

Draco had never had a proper conversation with his cousin before that night she cornered him in the Astronomy tower. He didn't know how she could read him like a book and see through the mask that no one else questioned.

But he was incredibly glad that someone did.

It made him feel a little less alone in the terrifying, choiceless, joyless life that he lived.

"I can't be sure," Draco said, voice even as he tried to hold his nerves at bay.

Even more so when fear hammered in his heart as his father's cold hand clasped his neck, his breath reeking of the wine he gorged himself on. He'd finished the last of the firewhiskey last night.

"Draco, look closely, son," he whispered, Draco's mark burning as he clenched his hand into a fist. "If we are the ones to hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, everything would be forgiven," Lucius pointed out.

By that, he meant the mistakes he made.

The whole point of Draco being given a seat at the table in the first place was to punish his father for his mistakes.

And here Lucius Malfoy was again, using his son to try and wipe clean his slate with the Dark Lord.

Lucius then dropped his hand as he moved to stand in front of Draco rather than at his side.