Call Me Psyche - Dramione

25

"It was Malfoy that disarmed Dumbledore that night," Harry said, standing still covered in fiendfyre soot outside the ruined Room of Hidden Things. "So it's Malfoy that Voldemort needs to kill first if he's going to get the Elder wand to work."

For a moment, no one spoke, the distant sound of battle growing steadily louder.

"The Elder wand," Draco said at last, "the Deathstick. It's rightfully – mine?"

Ron snarled. "See? He hasn't changed at all. Malfoys are after power. That's it. And now we've gone and told him exactly how to get it."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Hermione snapped back at him.

"It means your dear hubby's going to scarper off and try to get the Elder wand for himself," Ron said.

"He won't have much of a choice, will he?" Harry interjected. "Once Voldemort figures it out, all he has to do is call Malfoy with the Dark Mark and – "

"No," Hermione said, both of her hands clenched around one of Draco's. "We'll stay here. And we'll find Tonks. If she's come with Andromeda's Triad wand, we can use the three of them together to repel whatever calls Voldemort tries to make. We have to. As long as Draco is alive, and the wand isn't working right for Voldemort, Harry has a chance at beating him."

"But maybe Malfoy's the key to winning this," Harry said. "I'm no expert on your fairytales but doesn't the wand make its master invincible or something?"

Ron unclenched his jaw, his shoulders falling, knowing the answer already.

"No. In the story, the first brother gets his throat slit when the wand is stolen from him," Draco explained. "The wand can't be beaten by another wand but its master is still just a mortal person, vulnerable to anything you can do to them without a wand."

"Otherwise Voldemort wouldn't have needed to plant a bunch of horcruxes," Hermione finished.

Draco frowned. "Plant a what?"

There was a rumble outside, the castle walls shaking as they came under attack again. Dust was sifting down onto everyone's heads from the joints in the ceiling as the old stones ground together. The four of them fell back against the wall as Fred and Percy Weasley came running down the corridor, shouting and laughing, glowing with the thrill of chasing after invaders making their way up from the lower floors.

As they came, another voice – loud and high – was calling too. "Draco!" It was Pansy Parkinson, waving her arms. "Draco, what's left to do? Goyle said you were – "

Before Draco could answer, Fred had spun around to face the shouting. Percy didn't recognize Pansy from when she'd been a third year while he was Head Boy, but Fred knew her. She was that nasty Slytherin girl who helped Umbridge break up the DA. And now she was back for more, was she?

Draco saw the good humour on Fred's face morph into a different kind of glee. He was on the attack, raising his wand as Pansy advanced.

Without a sound to alert anyone, Draco leapt at Fred, tackling him into the opposite wall. Pansy froze in her steps and Percy was rearing up to fling a curse at Draco. "Who let a Malfoy in here?" he was shouting.

And then, as Harry would say later, the air exploded. A blast of stone and magic and shockwaves hurtled through the corridor.

Percy was the first one to catch his breath. "Fred!" Still on his knees on the floor, his ears ringing, Percy grabbed Malfoy by the scruff of his jacket and tossed him toward where Ron was labouring to sit up, holding his own head as if something had tried to rattle it off.

Draco rolled into Hermione instead as she reached for him. "Stop it. He's with me," she said.

Percy was past caring about him. Fred lay on his back on the floor, his eyes on the ceiling, his lashes dusty, lids unmoving. In an instant he was ringed by white, terrified faces.