Set Fire to Rain

It was morning by the time I arrived back at the Malfoy mansion. Unfortunately the charms on the house allowed one to disapparate from the inside, but there was no apparating inside of the home. Unless you were Voldemort, who was the single exception to everything. My nerves were a mess and my eyes were swollen, puffy, and red. It had taken trip walking from the outskirts of town to the street the Malfoy’s lived on to rid my body of it’s anger. I had cried nearly the entire walk.
My feet were bleeding, but I didn’t care. Blisters plastered the bottom of my soles, but the soles of my feet is not the soul I was worried about. I was an emotional mess, and I didn’t know how to contain or handle the terror that was rising in my chest. I could return to this home, and Draco could be dead. They could all be dead.
I waved my wand at the gate, causing it to open without hesitation. I picked up my speed was I walked into the yard, adrenaline pounding. I needed to see Draco. I needed to make sure that I had not made the largest mistake in my life, that I had taken a risk worth taking. I was almost positive when I had left that I could keep them both safe, but suddenly I wasn’t so sure.
I threw open the door of the Malfoy manner, startling the house elves silly in their place. One dropped and shattered a tea set, squeaking in horror and scrambling to clean the mess. “Where is Master Draco?” I demanded, causing the three elves in the room to flinch again. They fumbled and didn’t answer me. “Where is Draco?!”
The scream echoed throughout the house, reverberating back to me. I sounded like a madman, and I knew that above all, I should have not shouted like that. Everyone in the house would be awake- but I got the feeling that the house was empty. That is, until footsteps could be heard lightly in the hall.
Narcissa turned the corner, face white and worried. She looked confused upon seeing me in such a tattered mess, but relief flooded her face and she let out a breath of air, saying, “Where have you been? And why are you screaming? You’re lucky no one is home.”
“Where is Draco?” I demanded, ignoring her chastisement. She furrowed her brows. “What’s the matter?”
“Where is he?” I begged, tears ready to spill over my face.
“He’s off with the death eaters, freeing those from Azkaban. There not expected back until tomorrow. Reagan what is the meaning of this?”
“Is he safe?” I asked her, grabbing her hands. Her blue eyes searched mine and she nodded, still confused.
“I suggested him to the Dark Lord myself, telling him that Draco needed to get his courage up before his task. Just as we’ve planned, I’ve been encouraging Draco to be a Death Eater.”
I don’t know why, but I cried then. The relief was so great that I wobbled slightly, nearly falling. Narcissa steadied me, obviously still concerned but I was so ashamed and so relieved that I could barely make coherent sentences as I explained that I simply had a nightmare. I couldn’t tell her about Harry and I definitely could not tell her about what I had done. I could not imagine the look on her face when I told her I had not put her son’s life before my brothers. Because isn’t that what true love was? Putting them before anything else? I had thought so once. I wasn’t so sure anymore.
I spent the day lying in bed, trying to calm my mind. All I could think about were the different ways Voldemort could be killing off Draco. A simple fall off the tower. A killing curse. A dementor’s kiss. The meanings of an end were forever existing, and the thought of them made me so sick that I spent an hour in the bathroom retching.
Sitting on the tile floor, forehead against the cold porcelain, I began to think on myself. This is what I had come too, for choosing a side. I had come to a weak little girl, making rash decisions and then crying about them, making myself sick over what may or may not be. The old Reagan would have picked me off the floor and ripped me apart with ease.
But the old Reagan was fueled by hatred, I reminded myself. And it was true. My former self had been pushed by nothing more than a hatred for my brother and a hatred for a world I thought I had understood. Now it was driven by something else entirely; it was driven by love, and I think love made you crazy. Or at least, the type of love I was experiencing.
As hours passed, I finally let myself call upon a house elf to help heel my feet. It was the small, squeaky one that I had screamed at in the hallway, which had come to bandage my cuts and heel the open wounds. Before, I would have never been able to tell the difference from one elf to another, but now it was like my eyes were open to every detail of life.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” I said, as he was finishing up. He paused in his work and his large ears twitched, but his big eyes did not look up at me. All he had ever known was torture and abuse. “I’m sure you’ve never had a wizard apologize to you before, so you wouldn’t know how to respond. But I am being genuine, if you can believe that.”
“T-thank you, Miss Potter.”
“If I do something for you,” I said quietly. “Do you promise not to tell the other house elves? That you will just do it?”
“My job is to serve you, Miss Potter.” The elf’s voice was shaking.
“Good, pardon me for a moment.”
I ran into my room and over to the dresser. I still don’t know what compelled me such an act of kindness, but something told me that I must do it, as an apology. Something also told me that I had done more than yelled at this elf in the past, that he had been a subject of my anger. Yes, I think it was he, all these years.
I pulled a scarf from my drawer and ran back to the bathroom, hidden behind my back. The elf trembled upon my returned and looked as if he were bracing himself for punishment. I felt terrible inside, to know that this thing still could not believe me.
Kneeling, I took the scarf from behind my back, presenting the small creature with an article of clothing. It looked at it with it’s large, glassy eyes, not sure whether this was a real token of freedom, or a test. “Take it,” I urged, placing the scarf into his frail hands. His hands closed around the fabric tightly and tears dripped down his face.
“You release me?”
I nodded. “It’s my token of gratitude and apology. Go quickly before anyone notices you’re gone.”
“Thank you, Miss Potter. You’re not really as bad as they all say.”
I smiled, thankful for the compliment. “But I used to be. Good bye, sir.”
With a delicate pop, the house elf was gone, and with it, some of my grief. Tomorrow Draco would return home, and we would leave for Hogwarts and return for the last month. It was a relief; to known I would be out of this house in a day. I also clung to the belief that Voldemort would not worry about Narcissa living anymore, with her newfound support in her son.
If I had any inclination of what was coming, I would have ran.