Draco Malfoy's Perspective

Chapter 30

Stepping into Draco's bedroom, she sat at his desk and pulled a sheet of parchment onto the empty space.

Dear Vincent,
You'll see that I wasn't on the train. I apologize. I didn't stay at Hogwarts. They sent me Mum's finger and told me to prove my loyalty. I cannot stay with you any longer. It's for hers and Dad's safety as much as my own and yours. I must sever all ties with the Order, and therefore with you. It isn't that I care more about something here than you–please understand that I do love you. But here I am needed, not hidden. And here I may be loyal to those whom I believe are doing the right thing.

She knew that he would infer the Dark Lord, and didn't attempt to explain otherwise.

When those in the right prevail, maybe then we shall see one another again. Until then, thank you for the summer and the holidays. I will cherish your gifts and your companionship forever.
Violet

Folding the letter, she sealed it and gave it to Draco's owl. "Vincent Ramsey," she said. "Don't stop. Don't let anything intercept you."

And it was gone. She sat there for a moment, staring at her hands which now had ink on them. She'd been sloppy while she wrote.

Hastily she grabbed her wand and cleaned them, then looked at herself in the mirror. She needed to hide that she felt any distress; Draco's parents were downstairs, and already she and Draco had risked their lives by talking so freely; she didn't need to open up another conversation of the like.

Downstairs, she pulled out a chair and sat beside Draco, who was talking with his father about business. They abruptly fell silent when she walked in. She smiled. "Good morning, Mr. Malfoy."

"Please, Lucius," he said kindly, offering her the smallest of smiles. She nodded once.

"What kept you?" Draco asked. "You took longer than usual."

"Just had to write a letter." She smiled politely, and Draco observed her for a moment. He could see that something was bothering her.

"Excuse us, Father. I need to speak with Violet." He pushed his chair back and stood up, holding his hand out. She took it and rose.

In the hall, he leaned down close to her and whispered as loudly as he dare, "What is it?"

"I made a choice."

He frowned. "To whom did you write?"

"It doesn't matter. I'm hungry, Draco. Let's go eat."

Her tone was suggestive of her dislike of the topic. "Vincent?"

She set her jaw.

"What did you do?" he hissed.

"Nothing," she spat back. "Now, let's eat."

She didn't wait for an answer, but walked around him. He sighed through his teeth. He was ruining her life. First his family kidnapped her parents, now she cut herself off from her brother. Who was left that she could speak freely with because she trusted them so...oh.

For a moment he stood there, but then he realized that she was alone with his father and walked in. As he sat down he whispered, "You shouldn't have done that." She didn't respond, and inversely, he didn't stop asking about it, although he waited until they were alone. She was stubbornly silent for the first ten minutes. Then she turned sharp eyes on him.

"I made a choice," she snapped.

"A choice to remove your brother from the situation? He won't let this go. He will read that and come here looking for you."

"I'll refuse to see him. That will send a message."

"To whom?"

This stopped her. She stared at him quizzically. "Excuse me?"

"To whom are you sending a message? The Dark Lord, who spared your life only because he found you useful, or the Order, who will not allow you to know anything more after losing their trust in this way."

"It is already done. Accept it, Draco." A look overcame his face that she recognized as fearful resignation and guilt.

"You say you can protect yourself," he said, his voice quiet as he brushed her cheek gently. "But you've just signed your life over. He'll come. He won't recognize the danger he's putting you in. You won't see him, and you'll lose your advantage. Your leverage. The Dark Lord will come. He'll ask why he needs you anymore. We won't have an answer. He'll kill you."

"I'm a Pureblood. He won't kill me."

He shook his head. "No, you're wrong. You know too much; you pose a threat as a leak. He'll call you a collateral damage. I won't be able to stop him, and now neither will Vincent. You're going to die, Violet."

"You don't know that."

"I've always known. That's why I sent Vincent that letter. I'd hoped he'd protect you. I've always known how this would end." He sighed and closed his eyes. "My own selfishness has put you in danger. You were safe. If I'd just stayed away..."

"I'd have ended up pushing harder. I don't mind, Draco. You've made my life a thousand times brighter." She smiled. "If I die, I'll die happy. And that's as perfect a death as I can imagine. Happy, having been with the one I love, and knowing that I did everything I could to improve my life and yours."

"I can't see you die," he said.

"Then close your eyes. We both understand now what I've done, and I wish I hadn't done it, because we wouldn't be facing this. But who knows. Perhaps Vincent will accept my decision and not come."

He chuckled. "You have a wonderful imagination, Vi. But you've seen how much he hates me. He won't consent to your decision without coming to see you."

She nodded. "I know. There's a way around this. I'll see him, explain everything, and he can go without anyone knowing that anything has changed."

"No one will allow a known Order member in here without him becoming a prisoner or being watched with a wand at his neck while he speaks with you. They may not have given you the impression," he gestured back to his house, "but they do care deeply about me and those I care about. No one would allow you to be alone with him."

"You could be the one there."

"No." He shook his head. "I'm not so trusted."

"We'll find a way," she promised, following it with, "But if we don't, know that I love you and I didn't die without living."

With that, she walked inside and avoided the living room, going straight to the music room. Draco followed only to lean on the wall and listen to her play. But this time, she was composing. It was even more endearing.