The Dream Trilogy Book Three: What Dreams May Come (A Harry Potter FanFiction)

Chapter Fifty Six

Chapter Fifty Six

   Draco had to use every ounce of will he had to shield his thoughts from Voldemort as he lay on the floor of his father's study. Kill himself, could he do it? Never mind 'could', he realised. The real question was 'how' – how could he manage that with his arms and legs bound and his wand and sword lying tauntingly on the desk in front of him?

He tried to breath in slowly to stop his head from spinning. His broken fingers throbbed distractingly with pain and his skin was vibrating from the numerous Crucio curses Bellatrix had inflicted on him. Was this the answer, was there any other way?

No, he resigned himself. Not unless he knew the Horcrux had been destroyed, anchoring Voldemort in Limbo and giving him his advantage over anything Draco might throw at him. And unless he knew for sure it was gone, Draco couldn't risk the attack, or losing the element of surprise. Someone with such a towering sense of self preservation would never guess Draco's suicidal intent, and that would be his advantage.

Bellatrix was grumbling as she mixed ingredients carefully into a small cauldron. "She had help," she was saying. "I know she did, all those Rhansyk out there. Not fair-"

"This is not a race," sighed Voldemort patiently, looking down at Draco with a smile that did not reach his eyes. "We are on the precipice of history, the worlds will never be the same again. When eternity stretches before us, we can afford to take a little time to ensure success."

Draco grunted and managed to shift his weight so he was sitting. Bellatrix flicked her wand at him without even looking up from what she was doing. "Stay still," she barked.

"Why?" Draco snapped back. "I can't go anywhere, and if you're going to highjack my body, I'd rather I was standing with what remains of my dignity."

Voldemort chuckled; a genuine, chilling sound. "Let him stand," he said placatingly to Bellatrix and she scowled and fired another spell at her potion again. The Dark Lord turned to Draco as he awkwardly gripped a shelf on the nearest book case and heaved himself upwards. "Surely Lucius' son can see the glory of my scheme?" he said as if he was asking Draco where or not he liked the colour of his new robes.

"Just because I can't escape," said Draco with a sneer. "Doesn't mean I have to like it. And I know there are people out there who'll do anything to stop you."

Voldemort's mouth twitched into a sad smile. "And when we are joined, I shall know these people too, and dispose of them."

Draco's inside's ran icy, but he kept his face neutral. "I won't help you willingly, anything you get from me you'll have to rip out."

Bellatrix's face looked up from her work at this, eager.

Voldemort shook his head and paced across the little study. Draco dared take a step back towards the desk, but neither of them seemed to notice. If he could just get a few feet closer...

"You are much more like your mother," said Voldemort. "Compared to the Draco I knew in my world."

"You killed my mother," said Draco as calmly as he could. "Twice."

"She was weak," replied Voldemort dismissively.

"No," shouted Draco, the hatred boiling up in him. "Not in my world, she broke free, from you, from my father, we did it together. I know who she really was, and that's why you killed her." Draco took a shuddery breath, a mad smile on his face. "Because she was strong."

Am I that strong? a small voice challenged him. Can you do what she did, throw yourself on your sword for the people you love?

In that split second of thought, Hermione's face drifted in front of his mind's eye, and his stomach contracted physically. She was alone, possibly dying, he would never see her again – could he really leave her?