Seven Minutes | dramione

Chapter 5

Over the next week Draco met Hermione two more times. They didn't talk about anything but Transfiguration. He sat down at her table, and she taught him for two hours. Then they left. They didn't tell anyone where they had been, and they never brought it up outside of the library.

It was a good system, given that they still hated each other.

Draco's mark in Transfiguration was improving steadily. In class, he began to understand concepts. Once, when McGonagall called on him, he knew the right answer. She had nodded approvingly, then moved on to the next part of the lesson.

They were now into the first week of October 1996.

Draco's time was completely used up. When he wasn't in class, he was getting tutored, or working on the cabinet.

He was getting nowhere on his task. He spent hours into the night working on that blasted cabinet, but he was just as far from finding the answer as he was in June.

And everybody seemed to know it.

About a week and a half after his first tutoring session with Hermione, Draco received news.

He was walking down the seventh floor corridor when the owl arrived. It was a majestic owl, tawny brown. Attached to his leg was a letter. Draco Malfoy was written on it in an elegant scrawl.

He recognized it immediately as his mother's handwriting.

He ripped the letter off of the owl's leg. It ruffled its feathers, and took off immediately. Draco watched it fly away.

He opened the letter with shaking hands. His mother hardly ever sent him messages.

Something must have gone wrong.

My dearest Draco,

He is displeased. He has given you the year for your project, but has hopes that you would finish sooner than later. He has been making his displeasure very clear lately.

Work hard, my boy. Go to Severus for guidance.

You know what is at stake. You know who is at risk.

Good luck.

-Narcissa

That was all that was written. Narcissa couldn't risk writing anything else.

Draco stared at the letter without moving for several minutes. His heart was pounding. He felt tears sliding down his face. He took a deep breath. He needed to calm down. He couldn't cry. Malfoys never cried.

He was displeased. The Dark Lord was displeased. And he's been making it clear. That could mean anything: torture, imprisonment, threats, danger. No matter what it meant, his mother was on the receiving end.

If he succeeded in his task, he would get never ending glory, a place in the ranks, and power. However, if he failed, the consequences would be too terrible to think of.

It had never been completely stated, but he knew. The Dark Lord didn't let failures go unpunished. And if Draco failed, he wouldn't be the only one to feel the wrath.

He saw his mother in his mind. The only person who had always cared about him. The person he loved the most in the world. In his mind, a green light flashed and she fell to the ground.

Draco was no seer, but he knew this was a possibility in his future. If he failed, his mother would die. He would die too, but that didn't matter. Narcissa was innocent. She was a decent human being, and did not deserve this fate.

Draco sunk to the ground. He couldn't help the tears the shook his body. It was too much. He was sixteen years old for fuck's sake. He couldn't have his mother die. He couldn't have it be because of him.