04/03/2014 10:52![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
my_thestral
my_thestralAuthor's note: Yeah... I kind of had some time on my hand these last few days and I'm determined to bring this thing to an end. I don't think I've ever been writing this fast and this much in spite of all the craziness that goes around with the carnival in my country. :) The quality of work suffers, of course, but in spite of it - I'm quite proud of myself. :) I can always fix the awkward bits later, but I want this story to roll out to its rightful end and right now I'm at the point with a lot of happening (one right up my alley, I should write scripts for action movies!) and not that much emotional mumbo-jumbo - you must have noticed by now I'm complete crap at being subtle. But I can't keep on postponing my other, shorter story ideas for this one (and Art of denial), so I'm determined to round it up in the next month or so. :) It's short or the LJ would have bitched anyway, and - sadly - unbetaed. Better luck in next lifetime. :)
Word count: 5332 (this part)
Pairing: Ron/Draco
Rating: R (not this part, though)
Disclaimer: The way I'm butchering the characters makes you happy they're not mine, doesn't it? You'll be happy to know I make no money, then. :)
“Potter, you fucking idiot!”
The only thing on Ron’s mind, once he apparated next to Harry, was blind rage. He had a temper, he always had one, but not like this. For the first time in his life he felt what his mother must have felt during one of her fits – there was nothing there except a balloon of white-hot heat pressing at the veins of his forehead that made him want to murder the man at his side. Unfortunately for him – or perhaps not, because killing the Saviour might not have been beneficial to one’s life prospects – Harry expected him to have some kind of violent reaction. The second they appeared in the dinner parlour of the Manor, so did the thick black ropes around Ron’s body, effectively tying him up like a bundle. Of course that didn’t stop the redhead from trying to launch himself at his best mate, but as soon as he tried to take a step, he fell down flat. And the raven-haired youth jumped to the ceiling:
“I’m sorry… Merlin, Ron, I’m sorry! Are you hurt?! God, please tell me you’re not hurt.”
“I.Will.Fucking.Murder you, Potter!!!” came a deafening roar and Harry jumped away on instinct. God, those Prewett genes were awful! The Chosen One or not, one couldn’t help but wince in the face of such overwhelming passion. No wonder Bellatrix went down, Ron’s mother probably bullied her into dying!
“Jesus, Ron… love… please, calm down… I had to… Forgive me, but it was necessary. You were being irrational and…”
“Oh, I’m the irrational one!? Me?! Being tied up in one of Lucius Malfoy’s torture chamber because you don’t agree with who I feel in love with… and you’re calling me irrational!?” Ron’s incredulous face was so red it was close to purple and the vein in his forehead threatened to jump out and strangle Harry on its own - and for the first time since this whole madness started, Harry Potter really doubted his ability to fix this. It looked by the time he was done, Ron might have already given himself a heart-attack!
Time for action then, he can’t have his very tied up best friend bully him, he had a reputation of being fearless to uphold, for fuck’s sake! Besides, Ron had mentioned love in connection to the very wrong person and that had really rubbed Harry the wrong way.
“Calm down! Christ Almighty, you’re seeing everything distorted, just listen to yourself!” he barked at his clearly frantic best-friend. “It’s not a torture chamber… it’s a dinner parlour at the Malfoy Manor and …”
“Oh, you mean, much like the one Hermione was tortured in? Now, that’s a relief – as long as it’s not that very one, I’m sure the rest of the house is a fucking spa!” Ron spat at him, still unrelenting, his blue eyes aflame and so fucking beautiful , Harry had to fight his every instinct not to release him and kiss him stupid and beg him forgiveness. This was Ron, his Ron, and he was hurting him… But it had to be done, he was not being himself these past few days, he’ll come around and then they’ll talk and he’ll have his best mate back. It’s just… he needed him to calm down and start seeing things his way. Now, how hard was that? Apparently… next to impossible.
“Ron, will you listen to me? Just listen… please,” he tried in a calmer tone and hoped desperately it would work wonders. And he was granted a small break at last. Ron stopped squirming and looked at him straight in the face.
“Release me,” he said, suddenly in a calmer, almost professional voice and Harry’s blood really began to run cold. Ron had never used his professional voice on him before, his void-of-emotion-let’s-get-down-to-business-you’re-so-getting-murdered-you-just-don’t-know-it-yet voice he had heard him use so many times on the people they brought in as part of their work – and as much as it pained him, he realized it would be a grave mistake to release the redhead now. Possibly a lethal one.
“I can’t,” he said miserably and tried once again. “Please hear me out…”
“No, you hear me out, Harry Potter!” barked the redhead and Harry had a feeling he would have stomped his foot down if he could. “I would have liked to look you in the eye as I say this, but I can’t, since you had me tied up like a bludger in a box, as if I’m the one you have to fear… but it’s not.”
Ron’s voice softened at those last words. “Perhaps you don’t know that, but I’d rather die than hurt you, Harry. I once hoped to feel for you what I feel for Draco Malfoy now, for one very brave, very loving Draco Malfoy that’s willing to give me everything you ever refused me: respect, unconditional love, even my freedom to walk away, if I chose to. All the things you never would. And you left him to the mercy of his father who has a fucking millstone in his chest instead of a heart and who will do his best to break this fragile thing we put so much of ourselves in…
What you can’t have, you’d rather break, is that is, Harry? Because you rejected me one too many times and I gave my heart to another - will you break him and break me, so you can prove… what? That no one fuck’s with the Saviour, no one takes what is his, even if it’s a heart he had so carelessly thrown away on so many occasions? Is that who you are, Harry Potter? And you’re asking me to love you? Like this?”
“No, not like this… God, Ron… please… you don’t have to love me... though I want you to… very much.” At this point there was nothing but despair and misery etched in Harry Potter’s voice and his tone was almost pleading: “I’ve got so much to give you and I’m finally ready… I told Ginny, I’ll tell the rest of the world about us, about how long has this been going on…. Anything… I’ll do anything you want. And even if you don’t want… if I’ve missed it, what we could have had, I can live with that, just… Don’t break yourself over someone who’s not worth your beautiful splendid heart, Ron. Don’t break yourself over him, over Malfoy, who never did anything but hate you, put you down, humiliate you and now, manipulate you. How can you hope to feel something for a scum like that?! It’s not love you feel, it can’t be…”
“Oh, but it is, Harry and if you were man enough to look me in the face when I say this, you’d know the truth. It so happens, I fell in love with Draco Malfoy and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it. Even Ginny recognised it beyond any doubt and in my family, we know something about love. And because we know something about it, Harry, and you don’t, cause you grew up without it like no one ever should… I forgive you. But I refuse to be tied to you by anything but love that could have been – and friendship.”
He looked at him straight in the face, as much as his bonds allowed it, with unmistakable sadness in those deep blue eyes, then focused on the ropes that bound him, stretched his long fingers flat and quietly spoke the word: “Incendio!”
The ropes started smouldering immediately and his face contorted in pain. The expression on Harry Potter’s face was one of pure alarm.
“No, Ron! Stop, you crazy fuckwit, stop, what the hell are you doing?!”
“Showing you, what love feels like, Potter. I’ll do anything for my man. I’ll burn, if I have to. I would have done it for you in a heartbeat, like I’m doing it for Draco now, but you would have let me burn and still wouldn’t let me have your fucking heart! God, this shit hurts!” he howled in the end and closed his eyes not to lose a grip on his wandless magic. By the end of his words, Harry’s voice was mad with panic:
“No, Ron, please… stop, I’ll release you… please, just don’t hurt yourself! Here, Finite…”
But he got no further than that. All of the sudden he seemed to have frozen mid-sentence and without a warning he collapsed flat on his face like a cut down log, his green eyes still wide open in shock. At the same moment Ron’s bonds disappeared and the redhead’s first instinct was to dive towards Harry and check for signs of life.
“Sweet Merlin, Harry, are you alright? C’mon, mate, wake up, talk to me...”
“He can’t,” a pleasant cool voice of Narcissa Malfoy answered from behind his back and Ron turned abruptly and fumed at her.
“What did you do to him!? I swear to god, woman, if you hurt him...”
“Calm down, Mr. Weasley. I’m afraid I must insist that you do, or I can’t hope to answer any questions you might have. Oh, my, what an unfortunate temper! You really do your Mother credit, you know! Not to mention the wonderful display of wandless magic – a brilliant move there, if I say so myself! Please accept my congratulations – and my sincere apologies. I have thought you... well, perhaps incompetent is not the right word, but wanting in skill for years, it was beyond my comprehension what you could have possibly contributed to the victory of our precious Saviour here, but I see myself mistaken now. You truly are quite a gifted young man, aren’t you? No wonder my Draco fell for you so spectacularly!”
“For Merlin’s sake, woman, quit chattering and help me out here, can’t you see he’s hurt!? Perhaps flattering will get you places if you’re a life-long Slytherin, but I really don’t need your sweet words right now, I’d much rather have your help, if you don’t mind!”
“Quite,” said Narcissa with a small smile playing at her lips. “Efficient as well. Yes, I definitely see the potential...And in addition to your rather obvious... physical attributes, I can see why my son never stood a chance... But you are right, of course, time is of value here, so do allow me to let you in on my little plan for the night, if you please. If I make you a promise, that I am absolutely on the side of my son and consequently on your side, will you let me speak without interruption?”
With a single haughty eyebrow raised, she watched him try to put reins on his temper and couldn’t help thinking that her son could have done a lot worse for himself. The young man here was clearly competent, fearless, soaked with integrity – a true son of Arthur’s then – and judging by his own admission, he loved her son beyond doubt. She meant to ask him about that, she trusted her motherly instinct she would have been able to pass the judgement of this man’s true feelings for her son – but after a rather gryffindorish action of self-sacrifice, this hardly seemed necessary. It would do Draco a world of good to share his life with someone capable of such passion and compassion. And those muscles, oh my... one could almost forgive him for being a redhead, especially because it did bring his lovely eyes forward most appealingly... She was woken up from her dwellings by his harsh voice.
“Alright, then. But only because you’re his mother and I know Draco thinks most highly of you. Speak then, explain yourself and... this,” Ron finally spoke, pointing out at Harry. “Though I don’t see how you can. But for god’s sake hurry up, my boyf... your son has been stuck with that monster you call a husband for far too long.”
“I would appreciate it if you stopped insulting my family, Mr. Weasley, I believe I have yet to speak derogatively of yours, yes? Now, where we? Oh, yes. The small matter of Mr. Potter here being unconscious. I’m afraid for now it must remain so, it is absolutely vital that he has no recollection of what will take place tonight – and after tonight I will entrust it upon you to bring him to his sense when it comes to your... relationship with my son. I assure you he will awake tomorrow morning with nothing graver than a headache, but right now we need Harry Potter out and out flat, do you understand me? Do not, by any means, try to revive him or make him aware of himself and of what we’re about to do. Do I have your word?” She stared at him, sharp blue eyes testifying of her cold intellect focused upon him and he merely nodded his acquiescence. Draco’s mother was far scarier than Draco’s father ever was.
“Good. I will trust it on your Gryffindor honour that you will keep your promise, though unspoken. Now, here’s what we’ll do...”
~
“There’s not much to say, Father,” Draco did his best to speak as impassively and as coldly as the very man in front of him had tried to drill into him for years – but his hands holding on to the utensils tightly enough to turn the knuckles white betrayed him. He knew he was not fast enough to go for his wand as Lucius clearly had his ready – and what hex could he hope to fire at his own father in the middle of the prestigious restaurant, really? Half of the world would be most pleased to find out that the Malfoys finally jumped at each other’s throats and they’d put them both away gladly!
His only hope was to keep his composure and deal with whatever this merciless man had in stock for him. He could apparate away – but that would only delay the inevitable and speak volumes of the discomfort, even fear, he couldn’t help feeling in the presence of his father. But this was as good opportunity as any to stand up for himself, for them, if they ever hoped to have a future together – Ron has done it, hasn’t he and anything one Gryffindor could do, he could do better! So basically – it was now or never.
He looked his father directly into the stormy grey eyes and spoke as conversationally as he could, hoping his father will chose to remain civil in so public a place:
“I would have mentioned my... attraction to the younger Mr. Weasley to you years ago – and believe me, there has been one present for over a decade now – but I had little hope to find understanding with you, didn’t I? Therefore I chose to keep it private – I never really expected anything to come out of it in any event, not until I was recently offered a very fortunate opportunity to turn things in my favour. But judging by your demeanour, you are displeased, as I very well expected you to be, and possibly a little bit... thrown out of balance, shall we say, by this revelation. I’m sure you must have questions, so please, do not hesitate to ask me anything you want and I will do my best to answer your fatherly concerns as honestly as I can.”
“Well, not questions really, just one... one question,” hissed the elder Malfoy, his eyes almost anthracite colour in barely suppressed rage as he leaned further with a clear purpose of intimidation: “Are you out of your bloody mind?! Arthur Weasley’s son!!! Of all people!!! His son, boy! It would have been bad enough if it was the daughter of the darned blood-traitor, but this is his son, we’re talking about! A man! How could you ever hope to take this anywhere!? And how dare you make a public spectacle out of this farce of a relationship?!”
“Yes, well, yes... I have long ago noticed this specific trait of his anatomy. Sadly, Ronald Weasley seems to be very much a man and unfortunately, I have discovered myself with a preference for that particular gender. Or perhaps, it was just him... Not that it matters now – I have followed every one of your wishes, I married and produced an heir to the Malfoy name, I cannot possibly see the problem in wishing to pursue my true interests from now on.”
“By Salazaar’s beard, you will stop with this nonsense and stop with it directly, boy! I demand that you return with me to the Manor at once, where - might I remind you - your son awaits your return most eagerly, and forget this Weasley business this minute! I am willing to forgive your... transgressions and we will speak of it no more, though Merlin knows, others will and it might take us years to undo the damage of your foolish actions!”
“Or else?” Draco interrupted coldly. Sometime during his father’s speech a Black defiance flared to life inside him and his carefully concealed temper dangerously approached the boiling point. “What, Father?! You will kidnap me like Potter did my man and then what?! Take me to the Malfoy dungeons and torture me until a break? We both know you are barely allowed to use your wand to light a fireplace without supervision and should any dark curse be fired from it, you will have earned yourself a lengthy visit of Azkaban! Also – kindly be reminded that I am of age and have been so for a considerable number of years and I will not be intimidated by my own father, thank you very much!”
“If you believe that I would ever hex my own son, you are very much mistaken! As much as it pains me to see you so disobedient and defiant, your mother would murder me in my bed should I ever lay a finger on you. But I can take from you what is mine – and I will.”
He looked him coldly in the eyes and waited for his words to sink in.
“Father...” Draco Malfoy leaned across the table to demonstrate how very pissed off and unafraid his father’s words have left him: “Let’s get one thing perfectly clear... Are you threatening to disown me? Is that what this is all about?”
“I am and it is. You will be left with nothing. Effective immediately, should you refuse me.”
“Oh, in that case... Oh, how fortunate. Do come in, Antoine, if it is not a bother. I believe you do know my father, yes?” The elderly waiter who entered to check if the esteemed guests had everything they needed at their disposal, paled visibly at the sight of Lucius Malfoy. He looked at Draco in confusion, certain that the person he had earlier admitted into the private lounge next to young Malfoy was not this man – but stranger things have happened in the wizarding world, perhaps the man had been polyjuiced for whatever obscure reason and in any event – it was not his place to question these things. He just knew that Lucius Malfoy was a person who did not enjoy being introduced to the staff as if they were his equals and he struggled hopelessly to resolve the inconvenient position he found himself in. As it was, he barely managed a civil reply:
“I... of course, I have met Mr. Malfoy on numerous occasions, Sir. Your parents were somewhat our regulars before... for the longest of time,” he barely managed to avoid a snake-pit of mentioning that blasted war. At this point he was quietly cursing Malfoy Junior for having dragged him in the middle of this impossible situation and cursing his own stupidity for not taking a day off after yesterday’s scandal. His nerves were frayed enough at all that unwanted publicity and that blasted Skeeter woman all but raped him with her obnoxious Quill! And now this... The rich and their mind-games were slowly but surely taking a considerable toll on him and this was just one of those moments when he promised himself for the millionth time that he will start looking for a less stressful position, though he could never hope to see the tips he regularly received anywhere else. But it was what it was for now and he had to do his best to get out of the unpleasant situation, hopefully with his job still unscathed.
“Excellent, no introductions are necessary, then,” said Draco Malfoy in a pleasant voice, but his eyes, silver with a feral glow, never left his father’s face. “ You see, Father, I was here with my lover yesterday, hoping to enjoy a private dinner in peace, when Mr. Potter interrupted us most rudely and we were forced to leave without paying for the lovely dinner we never managed to consume. I’m afraid the events of last night are likely to repeat themselves: Mr. Potter had yet again stormed in, effectively kidnapping the lovely Mr. Weasley, who promised to pay for my dinner. Now, Antoine – ” he turned to the hapless waiter who would clearly rather be at any other place but here. “Since I can barely ask my father here, who strongly disapproves of my liason with the said Mr. Weasley, to pay for our dinner and I have - very unfortunately indeed - found myself disinherited quite suddenly and with no prospects to visit this lovely place again – I would like to conclude our professional relationship by paying with the only thing I have left.”
With these words he removed a massive silver signet ring of the House of Malfoy from his right hand and put it straight into the pocket of a flabbergasted waiter.
“There. I believe that should be more than enough to cover the costs of both dinners and a hefty tip on top of it as I am told it is priceless. I’m sure my father here would be most happy to purchase it from you after we’ve concluded our lovely family conversation. After all, there is nothing more valued in my father’s eyes than our heirloom. The pure blood. The name. The ring. All of it – worthless to me, because I chose a heart instead... but I suppose I did not get disinherited without a reason, did I?”
For a second, the expression on his father’s face was so worth it. Grey eyes, so alike his own, were lit with infernal rage and for a moment there Lucius’s fingers contracted viciously around the holder of his walking stick, concealing his wand... but then an old aristocrat managed to get a hold of himself and silently stretched out his arm with the open palm towards the waiter without even looking at him. No words were needed. Antoine put the precious ring into the palm of his hand obediently and as swiftly as if it was made of hot coals and Lucius spoke most chillingly:
“Thank you. Put it on my tab. Now get out!”
Antoine didn’t need to be told twice. He ran as if the fiendfyre was behind him, ready to swear on everyone he loved that this was the last time he had served any of the capricious Malfoys; the bloody lot was mad, every last one of them!
“Who would have said you have such a flare for theatrics, my dear Draco,” Malfoy Senior smirked at his fuming son and something in his predatory demeanour made the hairs on Draco’s neck rise in alert. “Bravo! I would have applauded your performance, but it does seem inappropriate since we’ve both lost so much. So you have given it all up for Weasley... Congratulations, you must think yourself such a romantic hero! Let’s hope your considerably poorer blood-traitor of a lover can keep you warm at night with what little he owns. And he does have two children of his own, I’m told. Very well, then, perhaps you can drill some of Malfoyian spirit and manners into those insolent brats as you are never likely to see your own son again.”
“What do you mean?! Where is Scorpius? What have you done with him?!” A sudden onslaught of alarm that washed over Draco erased all traces of victory and left the blond with nothing but an over-powering feeling of helplessness and frenzied panic.
“I’ve done nothing I don’t have the right to,” Lucius snapped at his son. “I believe I have demonstrated successfully over the years that I would never hurt my own flesh and blood… not outside the boundaries of appropriate, or course,” he smirked coldly and Draco felt as if a freezing hand squeezed his heart solid at a sudden memory of a tiny boy left shivering in one of the many dungeons of the Manor for the night, simply for having disobeyed his father. The boy was himself once, many years ago, but what if it was to be his precious baby as well?! He found the thought unbearable.
“But you disappoint me yet again. I was certain I have drilled the laws of magical inheritance into you better than that. Surely you remember that every pureblood house is entitled to an heir if it is able to produce one. And should an heir waiver his right to his heirloom for whatever reason, the next in line is to be appointed an heir and all the inheritance is magically transferred to him. By waivering your inheritance, you bind your son as the next heir to the House of Malfoy – and you have no right to him. Not anymore. Not from the moment you chose to give it all away. But I, as the current master of the House of Malfoy, very well do. He belongs to me now, the inheritance will be passed from me directly onto him and you are, as of this moment, nothing. I hereby ban you from ever entering the Manor again. You are stripped of all your possessions that come with the name of Malfoy, including your son. I have the legal right to him now, I have the right to raise him, he is mine until he is 17. Plenty of time to teach the boy manners, to teach him that it would not do to crave contact with his outcast father. “
“Give me back my son.” The voice that came out of his strained throat was barely recognisable. That was the only thing on Draco’s mind. Gone was the proud youth standing up to his father for the first time; the need to hold and protect his own child was so overwhelming he could think of nothing else. He felt as if all of his insides pulsated as one giant heart, filled to the brim with love and fear for his son and at that moment there was no urge more powerful than that to be with his baby and save him from this monster.
“Too late, Draco. You have forfeited it all, your name, your inheritance, your precious son. I will raise him as my own. And I will be sure to make a better job out of it than I have done with you.”
“Please... Father... Dad...” The urgency in his son's voice was so overwhelming, his voice so full of despair and almost child-like, that Lucius knew for certain he had broken him. And then there was this word… He had never called him “dad” before. It was something unheard of, something Malfoys didn’t do, yet it seemed to touch something inside of him that he didn’t even know was there and prompted him to move on even more brutally to overrun the urge to give into his son’s pleas. Lucius Malfoy had a heart. He just rarely chose to follow it.
“Unless, of course... you are willing to be reasonable,” he took pity of him at long last, after he was sure he had made his point. “You will come to the Manor with me at once and you will make the Unbreakable Vow with your mother as a witness that you will never go near that Weasley spawn again. And I mean never! And you will leave your... job... disgusting... and you will be a proper father to your son and a husband to your wife and once I am gone, a Lord of the Malfoy Manor. Then you may do as you please. As long as the Vow still holds,” he smirked at him ruthlessly and stared at his ashen white son with no remorse, no compassion for his obvious distress.
“You’re killing me,” said Draco quietly, his voice barely above the whisper. “And you will not rest until I’m dead. Why do you hate me so? What have I ever done to you but followed your every order, went against every instinct I had to save you and Mother from that monster, gave your precious house an heir – and still you won’t let me keep anything of mine. Must you have my heart as well? Because I will die without it, surely.” He stared down his father’s unrelenting eyes, and though there was a slight quiver inside them as if his words reached past the hard shell around this man’s soul, Lucius Malfoy never backed down.
“Very well,” Draco said, sounding every bit defeated. “You made me chose and this is my decision...”
He never got farther than that. With a sudden soft pop of apparition, Narcissa Malfoy appeared in the lounge and the look on her face was one of alarm.
“Narcissa, darling! Is there something the matter? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost!”
“There has been a most… unfortunate development. Someone attacked Harry Potter in our dinner parlour and he’s lying there unconscious with that Weasley person gone! I have personally seen Potter tie the man down before I went to tuck Scorpius in bed, so it could not have been him – but someone has clearly done it and we’ll be to blame!”
“Merlin, woman… are you sure?! Who could have done such a wretched thing!? Hardly anyone has access and…”
“But we had to lower the wards to let that Weasley boy in, didn’t we?! Anyone with a bit of skill, good information and foul intent could have done it! We might have kept it quiet, but perhaps something of our intentios... slipped Potter, the foolish Gryffindor that he is! Perhaps who ever's done it is still at the Manor! You must come with me at once! Should anyone find an unconscious Harry Potter in our home, the consequences would be disastrous!”
The Lord of the Manor paled considerably at these words: “Indeed!” he murmured and looked at his son sharply: “Draco…”
“For Merlin’s sake, have you gone mad!? Leave him be! He can’t come! Everyone knows he’s at odds with Potter for messing about with his best friend, we can’t have him implicated! Regardless of who had done it – he will be the one to blame and I won’t allow it! He is still our son and I won’t see him taken to Azkaban for something he couldn’t possibly have done! But if you leave him here, he can hardly hope for a better alibi than to spend his evening in this place seen by as many people as possible!”
“I suppose… you’re right, as always, darling,” Lucius admitted begrudgingly. “Let’s see what we can make of this impossible mess! Draco – be kind enough to call that... person, that waiter you seem to be on such friendly terms with – have him witness your presence after I’m gone and do not presume to take leave yourself! I shall be back promptly and I expect to find you here. And you will live to your part of the agreement, do you hear me?”
“I hear you… Father…” Draco’s voice was barely audible and so broken Narcissa just about stopped herself from poking a fork through her husband’s ear for making her baby so miserable. But she kept her face impassive as she took hold of her husband’s arm and allowed herself to be side-apparated away.
~ End of Part 13 ~
Next: ( Choices, Part 14 )
See also:
( Choices, Part 1 )
( Choices, Part 2 )
( Choices, Part 3 )
( Choices, Part 4 )
( Choices, Part 5/1 )
( Choices, Part 5/2 )
( Choices, Part 6 )
( Choices, Part 7 )
( Choices, Part 8/1 )
( Choices, Part 8/2 )
( Choices, Part 9 )
( Choices, Part 10/1 )
( Choices, Part 10/2 )
( Choices, Part 11/1 )
( Choices, Part 11/2 )
( Choices, Part 12 )
Word count: 5332 (this part)
Pairing: Ron/Draco
Rating: R (not this part, though)
Disclaimer: The way I'm butchering the characters makes you happy they're not mine, doesn't it? You'll be happy to know I make no money, then. :)
“Potter, you fucking idiot!”
The only thing on Ron’s mind, once he apparated next to Harry, was blind rage. He had a temper, he always had one, but not like this. For the first time in his life he felt what his mother must have felt during one of her fits – there was nothing there except a balloon of white-hot heat pressing at the veins of his forehead that made him want to murder the man at his side. Unfortunately for him – or perhaps not, because killing the Saviour might not have been beneficial to one’s life prospects – Harry expected him to have some kind of violent reaction. The second they appeared in the dinner parlour of the Manor, so did the thick black ropes around Ron’s body, effectively tying him up like a bundle. Of course that didn’t stop the redhead from trying to launch himself at his best mate, but as soon as he tried to take a step, he fell down flat. And the raven-haired youth jumped to the ceiling:
“I’m sorry… Merlin, Ron, I’m sorry! Are you hurt?! God, please tell me you’re not hurt.”
“I.Will.Fucking.Murder you, Potter!!!” came a deafening roar and Harry jumped away on instinct. God, those Prewett genes were awful! The Chosen One or not, one couldn’t help but wince in the face of such overwhelming passion. No wonder Bellatrix went down, Ron’s mother probably bullied her into dying!
“Jesus, Ron… love… please, calm down… I had to… Forgive me, but it was necessary. You were being irrational and…”
“Oh, I’m the irrational one!? Me?! Being tied up in one of Lucius Malfoy’s torture chamber because you don’t agree with who I feel in love with… and you’re calling me irrational!?” Ron’s incredulous face was so red it was close to purple and the vein in his forehead threatened to jump out and strangle Harry on its own - and for the first time since this whole madness started, Harry Potter really doubted his ability to fix this. It looked by the time he was done, Ron might have already given himself a heart-attack!
Time for action then, he can’t have his very tied up best friend bully him, he had a reputation of being fearless to uphold, for fuck’s sake! Besides, Ron had mentioned love in connection to the very wrong person and that had really rubbed Harry the wrong way.
“Calm down! Christ Almighty, you’re seeing everything distorted, just listen to yourself!” he barked at his clearly frantic best-friend. “It’s not a torture chamber… it’s a dinner parlour at the Malfoy Manor and …”
“Oh, you mean, much like the one Hermione was tortured in? Now, that’s a relief – as long as it’s not that very one, I’m sure the rest of the house is a fucking spa!” Ron spat at him, still unrelenting, his blue eyes aflame and so fucking beautiful , Harry had to fight his every instinct not to release him and kiss him stupid and beg him forgiveness. This was Ron, his Ron, and he was hurting him… But it had to be done, he was not being himself these past few days, he’ll come around and then they’ll talk and he’ll have his best mate back. It’s just… he needed him to calm down and start seeing things his way. Now, how hard was that? Apparently… next to impossible.
“Ron, will you listen to me? Just listen… please,” he tried in a calmer tone and hoped desperately it would work wonders. And he was granted a small break at last. Ron stopped squirming and looked at him straight in the face.
“Release me,” he said, suddenly in a calmer, almost professional voice and Harry’s blood really began to run cold. Ron had never used his professional voice on him before, his void-of-emotion-let’s-get-down-to-business-you’re-so-getting-murdered-you-just-don’t-know-it-yet voice he had heard him use so many times on the people they brought in as part of their work – and as much as it pained him, he realized it would be a grave mistake to release the redhead now. Possibly a lethal one.
“I can’t,” he said miserably and tried once again. “Please hear me out…”
“No, you hear me out, Harry Potter!” barked the redhead and Harry had a feeling he would have stomped his foot down if he could. “I would have liked to look you in the eye as I say this, but I can’t, since you had me tied up like a bludger in a box, as if I’m the one you have to fear… but it’s not.”
Ron’s voice softened at those last words. “Perhaps you don’t know that, but I’d rather die than hurt you, Harry. I once hoped to feel for you what I feel for Draco Malfoy now, for one very brave, very loving Draco Malfoy that’s willing to give me everything you ever refused me: respect, unconditional love, even my freedom to walk away, if I chose to. All the things you never would. And you left him to the mercy of his father who has a fucking millstone in his chest instead of a heart and who will do his best to break this fragile thing we put so much of ourselves in…
What you can’t have, you’d rather break, is that is, Harry? Because you rejected me one too many times and I gave my heart to another - will you break him and break me, so you can prove… what? That no one fuck’s with the Saviour, no one takes what is his, even if it’s a heart he had so carelessly thrown away on so many occasions? Is that who you are, Harry Potter? And you’re asking me to love you? Like this?”
“No, not like this… God, Ron… please… you don’t have to love me... though I want you to… very much.” At this point there was nothing but despair and misery etched in Harry Potter’s voice and his tone was almost pleading: “I’ve got so much to give you and I’m finally ready… I told Ginny, I’ll tell the rest of the world about us, about how long has this been going on…. Anything… I’ll do anything you want. And even if you don’t want… if I’ve missed it, what we could have had, I can live with that, just… Don’t break yourself over someone who’s not worth your beautiful splendid heart, Ron. Don’t break yourself over him, over Malfoy, who never did anything but hate you, put you down, humiliate you and now, manipulate you. How can you hope to feel something for a scum like that?! It’s not love you feel, it can’t be…”
“Oh, but it is, Harry and if you were man enough to look me in the face when I say this, you’d know the truth. It so happens, I fell in love with Draco Malfoy and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it. Even Ginny recognised it beyond any doubt and in my family, we know something about love. And because we know something about it, Harry, and you don’t, cause you grew up without it like no one ever should… I forgive you. But I refuse to be tied to you by anything but love that could have been – and friendship.”
He looked at him straight in the face, as much as his bonds allowed it, with unmistakable sadness in those deep blue eyes, then focused on the ropes that bound him, stretched his long fingers flat and quietly spoke the word: “Incendio!”
The ropes started smouldering immediately and his face contorted in pain. The expression on Harry Potter’s face was one of pure alarm.
“No, Ron! Stop, you crazy fuckwit, stop, what the hell are you doing?!”
“Showing you, what love feels like, Potter. I’ll do anything for my man. I’ll burn, if I have to. I would have done it for you in a heartbeat, like I’m doing it for Draco now, but you would have let me burn and still wouldn’t let me have your fucking heart! God, this shit hurts!” he howled in the end and closed his eyes not to lose a grip on his wandless magic. By the end of his words, Harry’s voice was mad with panic:
“No, Ron, please… stop, I’ll release you… please, just don’t hurt yourself! Here, Finite…”
But he got no further than that. All of the sudden he seemed to have frozen mid-sentence and without a warning he collapsed flat on his face like a cut down log, his green eyes still wide open in shock. At the same moment Ron’s bonds disappeared and the redhead’s first instinct was to dive towards Harry and check for signs of life.
“Sweet Merlin, Harry, are you alright? C’mon, mate, wake up, talk to me...”
“He can’t,” a pleasant cool voice of Narcissa Malfoy answered from behind his back and Ron turned abruptly and fumed at her.
“What did you do to him!? I swear to god, woman, if you hurt him...”
“Calm down, Mr. Weasley. I’m afraid I must insist that you do, or I can’t hope to answer any questions you might have. Oh, my, what an unfortunate temper! You really do your Mother credit, you know! Not to mention the wonderful display of wandless magic – a brilliant move there, if I say so myself! Please accept my congratulations – and my sincere apologies. I have thought you... well, perhaps incompetent is not the right word, but wanting in skill for years, it was beyond my comprehension what you could have possibly contributed to the victory of our precious Saviour here, but I see myself mistaken now. You truly are quite a gifted young man, aren’t you? No wonder my Draco fell for you so spectacularly!”
“For Merlin’s sake, woman, quit chattering and help me out here, can’t you see he’s hurt!? Perhaps flattering will get you places if you’re a life-long Slytherin, but I really don’t need your sweet words right now, I’d much rather have your help, if you don’t mind!”
“Quite,” said Narcissa with a small smile playing at her lips. “Efficient as well. Yes, I definitely see the potential...And in addition to your rather obvious... physical attributes, I can see why my son never stood a chance... But you are right, of course, time is of value here, so do allow me to let you in on my little plan for the night, if you please. If I make you a promise, that I am absolutely on the side of my son and consequently on your side, will you let me speak without interruption?”
With a single haughty eyebrow raised, she watched him try to put reins on his temper and couldn’t help thinking that her son could have done a lot worse for himself. The young man here was clearly competent, fearless, soaked with integrity – a true son of Arthur’s then – and judging by his own admission, he loved her son beyond doubt. She meant to ask him about that, she trusted her motherly instinct she would have been able to pass the judgement of this man’s true feelings for her son – but after a rather gryffindorish action of self-sacrifice, this hardly seemed necessary. It would do Draco a world of good to share his life with someone capable of such passion and compassion. And those muscles, oh my... one could almost forgive him for being a redhead, especially because it did bring his lovely eyes forward most appealingly... She was woken up from her dwellings by his harsh voice.
“Alright, then. But only because you’re his mother and I know Draco thinks most highly of you. Speak then, explain yourself and... this,” Ron finally spoke, pointing out at Harry. “Though I don’t see how you can. But for god’s sake hurry up, my boyf... your son has been stuck with that monster you call a husband for far too long.”
“I would appreciate it if you stopped insulting my family, Mr. Weasley, I believe I have yet to speak derogatively of yours, yes? Now, where we? Oh, yes. The small matter of Mr. Potter here being unconscious. I’m afraid for now it must remain so, it is absolutely vital that he has no recollection of what will take place tonight – and after tonight I will entrust it upon you to bring him to his sense when it comes to your... relationship with my son. I assure you he will awake tomorrow morning with nothing graver than a headache, but right now we need Harry Potter out and out flat, do you understand me? Do not, by any means, try to revive him or make him aware of himself and of what we’re about to do. Do I have your word?” She stared at him, sharp blue eyes testifying of her cold intellect focused upon him and he merely nodded his acquiescence. Draco’s mother was far scarier than Draco’s father ever was.
“Good. I will trust it on your Gryffindor honour that you will keep your promise, though unspoken. Now, here’s what we’ll do...”
~
“There’s not much to say, Father,” Draco did his best to speak as impassively and as coldly as the very man in front of him had tried to drill into him for years – but his hands holding on to the utensils tightly enough to turn the knuckles white betrayed him. He knew he was not fast enough to go for his wand as Lucius clearly had his ready – and what hex could he hope to fire at his own father in the middle of the prestigious restaurant, really? Half of the world would be most pleased to find out that the Malfoys finally jumped at each other’s throats and they’d put them both away gladly!
His only hope was to keep his composure and deal with whatever this merciless man had in stock for him. He could apparate away – but that would only delay the inevitable and speak volumes of the discomfort, even fear, he couldn’t help feeling in the presence of his father. But this was as good opportunity as any to stand up for himself, for them, if they ever hoped to have a future together – Ron has done it, hasn’t he and anything one Gryffindor could do, he could do better! So basically – it was now or never.
He looked his father directly into the stormy grey eyes and spoke as conversationally as he could, hoping his father will chose to remain civil in so public a place:
“I would have mentioned my... attraction to the younger Mr. Weasley to you years ago – and believe me, there has been one present for over a decade now – but I had little hope to find understanding with you, didn’t I? Therefore I chose to keep it private – I never really expected anything to come out of it in any event, not until I was recently offered a very fortunate opportunity to turn things in my favour. But judging by your demeanour, you are displeased, as I very well expected you to be, and possibly a little bit... thrown out of balance, shall we say, by this revelation. I’m sure you must have questions, so please, do not hesitate to ask me anything you want and I will do my best to answer your fatherly concerns as honestly as I can.”
“Well, not questions really, just one... one question,” hissed the elder Malfoy, his eyes almost anthracite colour in barely suppressed rage as he leaned further with a clear purpose of intimidation: “Are you out of your bloody mind?! Arthur Weasley’s son!!! Of all people!!! His son, boy! It would have been bad enough if it was the daughter of the darned blood-traitor, but this is his son, we’re talking about! A man! How could you ever hope to take this anywhere!? And how dare you make a public spectacle out of this farce of a relationship?!”
“Yes, well, yes... I have long ago noticed this specific trait of his anatomy. Sadly, Ronald Weasley seems to be very much a man and unfortunately, I have discovered myself with a preference for that particular gender. Or perhaps, it was just him... Not that it matters now – I have followed every one of your wishes, I married and produced an heir to the Malfoy name, I cannot possibly see the problem in wishing to pursue my true interests from now on.”
“By Salazaar’s beard, you will stop with this nonsense and stop with it directly, boy! I demand that you return with me to the Manor at once, where - might I remind you - your son awaits your return most eagerly, and forget this Weasley business this minute! I am willing to forgive your... transgressions and we will speak of it no more, though Merlin knows, others will and it might take us years to undo the damage of your foolish actions!”
“Or else?” Draco interrupted coldly. Sometime during his father’s speech a Black defiance flared to life inside him and his carefully concealed temper dangerously approached the boiling point. “What, Father?! You will kidnap me like Potter did my man and then what?! Take me to the Malfoy dungeons and torture me until a break? We both know you are barely allowed to use your wand to light a fireplace without supervision and should any dark curse be fired from it, you will have earned yourself a lengthy visit of Azkaban! Also – kindly be reminded that I am of age and have been so for a considerable number of years and I will not be intimidated by my own father, thank you very much!”
“If you believe that I would ever hex my own son, you are very much mistaken! As much as it pains me to see you so disobedient and defiant, your mother would murder me in my bed should I ever lay a finger on you. But I can take from you what is mine – and I will.”
He looked him coldly in the eyes and waited for his words to sink in.
“Father...” Draco Malfoy leaned across the table to demonstrate how very pissed off and unafraid his father’s words have left him: “Let’s get one thing perfectly clear... Are you threatening to disown me? Is that what this is all about?”
“I am and it is. You will be left with nothing. Effective immediately, should you refuse me.”
“Oh, in that case... Oh, how fortunate. Do come in, Antoine, if it is not a bother. I believe you do know my father, yes?” The elderly waiter who entered to check if the esteemed guests had everything they needed at their disposal, paled visibly at the sight of Lucius Malfoy. He looked at Draco in confusion, certain that the person he had earlier admitted into the private lounge next to young Malfoy was not this man – but stranger things have happened in the wizarding world, perhaps the man had been polyjuiced for whatever obscure reason and in any event – it was not his place to question these things. He just knew that Lucius Malfoy was a person who did not enjoy being introduced to the staff as if they were his equals and he struggled hopelessly to resolve the inconvenient position he found himself in. As it was, he barely managed a civil reply:
“I... of course, I have met Mr. Malfoy on numerous occasions, Sir. Your parents were somewhat our regulars before... for the longest of time,” he barely managed to avoid a snake-pit of mentioning that blasted war. At this point he was quietly cursing Malfoy Junior for having dragged him in the middle of this impossible situation and cursing his own stupidity for not taking a day off after yesterday’s scandal. His nerves were frayed enough at all that unwanted publicity and that blasted Skeeter woman all but raped him with her obnoxious Quill! And now this... The rich and their mind-games were slowly but surely taking a considerable toll on him and this was just one of those moments when he promised himself for the millionth time that he will start looking for a less stressful position, though he could never hope to see the tips he regularly received anywhere else. But it was what it was for now and he had to do his best to get out of the unpleasant situation, hopefully with his job still unscathed.
“Excellent, no introductions are necessary, then,” said Draco Malfoy in a pleasant voice, but his eyes, silver with a feral glow, never left his father’s face. “ You see, Father, I was here with my lover yesterday, hoping to enjoy a private dinner in peace, when Mr. Potter interrupted us most rudely and we were forced to leave without paying for the lovely dinner we never managed to consume. I’m afraid the events of last night are likely to repeat themselves: Mr. Potter had yet again stormed in, effectively kidnapping the lovely Mr. Weasley, who promised to pay for my dinner. Now, Antoine – ” he turned to the hapless waiter who would clearly rather be at any other place but here. “Since I can barely ask my father here, who strongly disapproves of my liason with the said Mr. Weasley, to pay for our dinner and I have - very unfortunately indeed - found myself disinherited quite suddenly and with no prospects to visit this lovely place again – I would like to conclude our professional relationship by paying with the only thing I have left.”
With these words he removed a massive silver signet ring of the House of Malfoy from his right hand and put it straight into the pocket of a flabbergasted waiter.
“There. I believe that should be more than enough to cover the costs of both dinners and a hefty tip on top of it as I am told it is priceless. I’m sure my father here would be most happy to purchase it from you after we’ve concluded our lovely family conversation. After all, there is nothing more valued in my father’s eyes than our heirloom. The pure blood. The name. The ring. All of it – worthless to me, because I chose a heart instead... but I suppose I did not get disinherited without a reason, did I?”
For a second, the expression on his father’s face was so worth it. Grey eyes, so alike his own, were lit with infernal rage and for a moment there Lucius’s fingers contracted viciously around the holder of his walking stick, concealing his wand... but then an old aristocrat managed to get a hold of himself and silently stretched out his arm with the open palm towards the waiter without even looking at him. No words were needed. Antoine put the precious ring into the palm of his hand obediently and as swiftly as if it was made of hot coals and Lucius spoke most chillingly:
“Thank you. Put it on my tab. Now get out!”
Antoine didn’t need to be told twice. He ran as if the fiendfyre was behind him, ready to swear on everyone he loved that this was the last time he had served any of the capricious Malfoys; the bloody lot was mad, every last one of them!
“Who would have said you have such a flare for theatrics, my dear Draco,” Malfoy Senior smirked at his fuming son and something in his predatory demeanour made the hairs on Draco’s neck rise in alert. “Bravo! I would have applauded your performance, but it does seem inappropriate since we’ve both lost so much. So you have given it all up for Weasley... Congratulations, you must think yourself such a romantic hero! Let’s hope your considerably poorer blood-traitor of a lover can keep you warm at night with what little he owns. And he does have two children of his own, I’m told. Very well, then, perhaps you can drill some of Malfoyian spirit and manners into those insolent brats as you are never likely to see your own son again.”
“What do you mean?! Where is Scorpius? What have you done with him?!” A sudden onslaught of alarm that washed over Draco erased all traces of victory and left the blond with nothing but an over-powering feeling of helplessness and frenzied panic.
“I’ve done nothing I don’t have the right to,” Lucius snapped at his son. “I believe I have demonstrated successfully over the years that I would never hurt my own flesh and blood… not outside the boundaries of appropriate, or course,” he smirked coldly and Draco felt as if a freezing hand squeezed his heart solid at a sudden memory of a tiny boy left shivering in one of the many dungeons of the Manor for the night, simply for having disobeyed his father. The boy was himself once, many years ago, but what if it was to be his precious baby as well?! He found the thought unbearable.
“But you disappoint me yet again. I was certain I have drilled the laws of magical inheritance into you better than that. Surely you remember that every pureblood house is entitled to an heir if it is able to produce one. And should an heir waiver his right to his heirloom for whatever reason, the next in line is to be appointed an heir and all the inheritance is magically transferred to him. By waivering your inheritance, you bind your son as the next heir to the House of Malfoy – and you have no right to him. Not anymore. Not from the moment you chose to give it all away. But I, as the current master of the House of Malfoy, very well do. He belongs to me now, the inheritance will be passed from me directly onto him and you are, as of this moment, nothing. I hereby ban you from ever entering the Manor again. You are stripped of all your possessions that come with the name of Malfoy, including your son. I have the legal right to him now, I have the right to raise him, he is mine until he is 17. Plenty of time to teach the boy manners, to teach him that it would not do to crave contact with his outcast father. “
“Give me back my son.” The voice that came out of his strained throat was barely recognisable. That was the only thing on Draco’s mind. Gone was the proud youth standing up to his father for the first time; the need to hold and protect his own child was so overwhelming he could think of nothing else. He felt as if all of his insides pulsated as one giant heart, filled to the brim with love and fear for his son and at that moment there was no urge more powerful than that to be with his baby and save him from this monster.
“Too late, Draco. You have forfeited it all, your name, your inheritance, your precious son. I will raise him as my own. And I will be sure to make a better job out of it than I have done with you.”
“Please... Father... Dad...” The urgency in his son's voice was so overwhelming, his voice so full of despair and almost child-like, that Lucius knew for certain he had broken him. And then there was this word… He had never called him “dad” before. It was something unheard of, something Malfoys didn’t do, yet it seemed to touch something inside of him that he didn’t even know was there and prompted him to move on even more brutally to overrun the urge to give into his son’s pleas. Lucius Malfoy had a heart. He just rarely chose to follow it.
“Unless, of course... you are willing to be reasonable,” he took pity of him at long last, after he was sure he had made his point. “You will come to the Manor with me at once and you will make the Unbreakable Vow with your mother as a witness that you will never go near that Weasley spawn again. And I mean never! And you will leave your... job... disgusting... and you will be a proper father to your son and a husband to your wife and once I am gone, a Lord of the Malfoy Manor. Then you may do as you please. As long as the Vow still holds,” he smirked at him ruthlessly and stared at his ashen white son with no remorse, no compassion for his obvious distress.
“You’re killing me,” said Draco quietly, his voice barely above the whisper. “And you will not rest until I’m dead. Why do you hate me so? What have I ever done to you but followed your every order, went against every instinct I had to save you and Mother from that monster, gave your precious house an heir – and still you won’t let me keep anything of mine. Must you have my heart as well? Because I will die without it, surely.” He stared down his father’s unrelenting eyes, and though there was a slight quiver inside them as if his words reached past the hard shell around this man’s soul, Lucius Malfoy never backed down.
“Very well,” Draco said, sounding every bit defeated. “You made me chose and this is my decision...”
He never got farther than that. With a sudden soft pop of apparition, Narcissa Malfoy appeared in the lounge and the look on her face was one of alarm.
“Narcissa, darling! Is there something the matter? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost!”
“There has been a most… unfortunate development. Someone attacked Harry Potter in our dinner parlour and he’s lying there unconscious with that Weasley person gone! I have personally seen Potter tie the man down before I went to tuck Scorpius in bed, so it could not have been him – but someone has clearly done it and we’ll be to blame!”
“Merlin, woman… are you sure?! Who could have done such a wretched thing!? Hardly anyone has access and…”
“But we had to lower the wards to let that Weasley boy in, didn’t we?! Anyone with a bit of skill, good information and foul intent could have done it! We might have kept it quiet, but perhaps something of our intentios... slipped Potter, the foolish Gryffindor that he is! Perhaps who ever's done it is still at the Manor! You must come with me at once! Should anyone find an unconscious Harry Potter in our home, the consequences would be disastrous!”
The Lord of the Manor paled considerably at these words: “Indeed!” he murmured and looked at his son sharply: “Draco…”
“For Merlin’s sake, have you gone mad!? Leave him be! He can’t come! Everyone knows he’s at odds with Potter for messing about with his best friend, we can’t have him implicated! Regardless of who had done it – he will be the one to blame and I won’t allow it! He is still our son and I won’t see him taken to Azkaban for something he couldn’t possibly have done! But if you leave him here, he can hardly hope for a better alibi than to spend his evening in this place seen by as many people as possible!”
“I suppose… you’re right, as always, darling,” Lucius admitted begrudgingly. “Let’s see what we can make of this impossible mess! Draco – be kind enough to call that... person, that waiter you seem to be on such friendly terms with – have him witness your presence after I’m gone and do not presume to take leave yourself! I shall be back promptly and I expect to find you here. And you will live to your part of the agreement, do you hear me?”
“I hear you… Father…” Draco’s voice was barely audible and so broken Narcissa just about stopped herself from poking a fork through her husband’s ear for making her baby so miserable. But she kept her face impassive as she took hold of her husband’s arm and allowed herself to be side-apparated away.
~ End of Part 13 ~
Next: ( Choices, Part 14 )
See also:
( Choices, Part 1 )
( Choices, Part 2 )
( Choices, Part 3 )
( Choices, Part 4 )
( Choices, Part 5/1 )
( Choices, Part 5/2 )
( Choices, Part 6 )
( Choices, Part 7 )
( Choices, Part 8/1 )
( Choices, Part 8/2 )
( Choices, Part 9 )
( Choices, Part 10/1 )
( Choices, Part 10/2 )
( Choices, Part 11/1 )
( Choices, Part 11/2 )
( Choices, Part 12 )
