Eve

Nearly a week after Dumbledore's death, the Dark Lord successfully infiltrated the Ministry. Scrimgeour was now Minister of Magic, replacing Cornelius Fudge—who had resigned after multiple threats from the Death Eaters and was now in extensive hiding. 

We found out from the Daily Prophet, because someone had left the newspaper lying on the kitchen counter and Scrimgeour's grinning face as he waved to a hidden crowd of paparazzi had been the first thing we'd seen. Draco and I leaned over the printed paper together to read the headline, both of us squinting in the fading afternoon light. We'd spent nearly the entire morning upstairs together and hadn't even come down for breakfast, so this was the first time we'd left Draco's bedroom in search of something decent to eat.

Of course, we found something much more upsetting than stale cereal. 

"I didn't think it would happen this soon," Draco admitted quietly without looking at me, gently flattening out the paper with his right hand. "I thought he'd wait a little longer, I dunno...especially after Dumbledore's death."

I nodded without saying anything, because I honestly didn't know what to say. The fact that the Dark Lord hadn't bothered to wait more than a week to infiltrate the Ministry after killing Dumbledore really showed that things were changing quickly—and it looked like it was only going to get worse. 

Draco told me to sit down so he could make the coffee, and I didn't bother to protest since he seemed upset after seeing the newspaper. I lifted myself onto a counter stool and pulled the Prophet closer to me so I could read the article, watching Draco carefully out of the corner of my eye as he filled the pot with water. After reading the article for a quiet minute, I looked up and asked, "Do you think he's influencing the papers, too?"

"I'd be surprised if he wasn't," Draco said reluctantly, leaning beside the stove across from me as the water slowly began to steam. "Why, does it sound like it?"

I shrugged, tilting the newspaper up again and reading aloud, "'Rufus Scrimgeour expects to place a number of new laws and restrictions on the Wizarding World in order to better our communities and societies themselves. It is widely believed and anticipated that this new minister will change our world and the non-Wizarding world for the better.'"

Draco scoffed and leaned forward slightly, reaching across the space between us to take the paper from me. He shook his head as he scanned the article, his eyes flicking back and forth across the paper quickly. "How can they expect people to believe any of this? Everyone knows Scrimgeour's a Death Eater, it's not even a secret anymore. There's no way they'll buy this bullshit."

I didn't say anything as Draco angrily crumpled the newspaper, knowing he was probably more upset than angry as he threw the printed paper into the bin. I rested my elbows on the edge of the marble countertop and watched Draco carefully from across the kitchen, my eyes following him as he removed the boiling water from the stove. While he was getting two mugs from the cabinet, I asked worriedly, "This...this probably means the police have been infiltrated as well, right?"

His back was to me as he poured the coffee into the mugs, and he replied tiredly, "Yeah. I heard Lucius talking to Yaxley a couple days ago, and I guess Dolohov is going to be appointed head of the Aurors."

My stomach sank, but I tried not to look upset as Draco crossed the kitchen and slid one of the mugs over to me. I wrapped my hands around it hastily, feeling the warmth from the hot ceramic seep into my bones. If the Aurors were influenced by the Dark Lord, there was no way they'd be making arrests of people who had actually done something illegal - in fact, they would almost certainly be going after people who didn't support the Death Eaters.

"Apparently they've already started arresting some of the older Aurors who were openly angry about what happened to Dumbledore," Draco continued after taking a seat next to me, and for a second I thought he'd been reading my mind. I couldn't see his expression as I stared down into my cup nervously, but his tone was much more careful as he told me after a long moment, "I know you're worried about your aunt."

I played with the smooth handle of the cup as I asked with a tiny laugh, "Is it that obvious?"

"It's not a bad thing to be worried for someone you care about, Eve."

"I know, it's just—" I broke off, the worry suddenly pushing its way up into my chest and making it difficult to piece my sentence together. "It's—it's like now she doesn't even have a chance. You know? Now that the Ministry's fallen, the new Aurors and police will be after people like her. How is she supposed to hide when the people who should be helping her are trying to kill her?"

Draco opened his mouth to respond, and he was just starting to say something to me when someone entered the kitchen behind us, causing him to pause and twist in the seat to see who it was. I knew it was Lucius when Draco let out a quiet groan of annoyance, and I held my cup silently as his father came around the side of the counter.

            "I'm sure you've heard the news," Lucius said easily as he made his way across the kitchen, and I felt sick as it became clear his tone was cheerful. "Scrimgeour's finally in place. The Ministry is in the hands of the Dark Lord."

Draco's jaw visibly tightened as his father helped himself to the half-empty pot of coffee, and I gently brushed my knee against his so he wouldn't lose it. Lucius had his back turned to us, so he couldn't see Draco's furious expression as he asked in a tight voice, "Is Fudge really in hiding, or have we killed him as well?"

Lucius scoffed at this, and I could see his smirk as he turned back around to face us with a mug in his hand. "No one cares about Fudge anymore, Draco. He was a fool."

I kept my eyes cast down at the counter, because the growing tension in the tiny kitchen was getting to be stifling and I was too nervous to look up. Hearing the quiet clink of spoon against ceramic as Lucius stirred the coffee, I listened as he continued casually, "Has your mother told you about tonight? The other Death Eaters are coming here to celebrate our success with Scrimgeour."

My stomach dipped at his words, but Draco automatically stood from his stool angrily. "What? They're coming here to celebrate?"

"Yes, that is what I said," Lucius drawled, sounding very bored.

"You've got to be kidding me—"

"Don't use that tone with me," his father snapped coldly, and that was what made me finally look up again. Lucius had straightened up from the counter and was now standing only a few feet from Draco, glaring down at his son with a cool expression. "What makes you think they'd be celebrating anywhere else? This is a good thing, Draco. The Dark Lord is extremely pleased that things are finally going his way."

Draco shook his head furiously, and I knew he was getting more worked up by the second. I stood up hastily then, one hand clutching the handle of my mug and the other reaching for Draco's arm. His voice was tightly controlled as he forced out, "We'll be leaving, then. We'll get out of the way of your 'celebration'."

"Not this time," Lucius seethed before Draco could even try to turn me towards the doorway, stopping us as quickly as he could. "You two are staying tonight. The others will think that neither of you are happy about the Ministry if—"

"What makes you think we are?" Draco exploded, throwing his hands up at his father angrily. "It's not like either of us wanted—"

"I hate to break this to you," Lucius interrupted coldly, "but it doesn't matter what either of you want."

There was a sudden silence as Draco's mouth closed abruptly, his father's words hanging in the air and causing a chill to settle in my bones—because he was only reminding us of how badly things were spinning out of our control. Lucius drew himself up higher and said in a cool voice, "They will be arriving in just a few hours. Try to make yourselves presentable."

He glanced over at the low-riding waistband of Draco's sweatpants and my oversized shirt that Draco had let me borrow, and I tried not to shrink away from his criticizing gaze. Draco didn't even attempt to argue again as Lucius brushed past us without another word, disappearing from the kitchen and leaving us with nothing but a sticky silence. 

"It's okay," Draco told me after a long moment, his voice barely concealing the fact that he was still impossibly angry. "We can show up for the first five minutes and then go somewhere else."

"Are you sure?" I asked carefully, taking Draco's empty cup from him and setting it gently on the counter—mostly because I was worried he wanted to throw it against the wall. "It wouldn't be so bad if we stayed longer, right? It might be a good idea to make them think we're, you know, happy about Scrimgeour."

Draco shook his head quickly, saying, "I don't want you around them tonight. Not when more than half the Death Eaters will be so drunk they can't even stand on their own."

I decided not to protest again, since he still seemed on edge and I knew better than to bother him—besides, spending time alone with Draco sounded a thousand times better than pretending to celebrate with the rest of the Death Eaters. So I allowed him to lead me out of the kitchen and down the hallway, heading back upstairs so we could change before anyone could get to the Manor and see us in nothing but our pajamas. 

~*~

We ended up staying downstairs for much longer than five minutes. 

It was later at night now, and there was a large crowd of Death Eaters in the parlor, all standing around laughing and talking with each other—and in the kitchen, there were more bottles of firewhiskey than I had ever seen in my life. Draco stayed close to my side the entire time, usually making sure he was the one to answer any questions whenever someone would come over to us. Lucius was always somewhere nearby, so we hadn't gotten a chance to sneak away yet. I could tell Draco was getting more anxious by the minute as the other Death Eaters continued to drink around us.

"I'd offer you a glass, but I don't fancy Lucius cursing me," Dolohov told us in a slightly slurred voice, winking at me and causing Draco's jaw to tighten. The half-empty glass of firewhiskey was held precariously in his loose hand, and a few drops sloshed to the floor below as he nearly dropped it. "Oops, pardon me. This probably isn't nearly as enjoyable for you two being sober."

Draco rolled his eyes and glanced around the rest of the room, most likely seeking an excuse to step away from Dolohov. If things hadn't been so serious, I probably would have been laughing; it was strange for me to see all these Death Eaters drinking like this with each other, and the annoyed and slightly disgusted expression Draco had been wearing all evening was a little amusing. 

I was just opening my mouth to excuse us when Draco took my arm suddenly, turning to Dolohov and saying hastily, "Yes, sorry, you'll have to excuse us for a minute—"

We were starting away from him hurriedly when I realized Lucius was having a heated conversation with Amycus Carrow, his back turned to us as he listened intently to the other man. Draco and I slipped through the groups of Death Eaters towards the kitchen, side-stepping past Lucius as quickly as we could and hoping he wouldn't notice us leaving.

No one stopped us, and it became much easier to breathe once the kitchen door was shut behind me. The room was empty, occupied only by an array of empty glasses and a large stack of crates filled with firewhiskey bottles in the corner. The sounds of laughter were muffled now as Draco started for the door on the other side of the kitchen, glancing at me over his shoulder. He exhaled dramatically, saying, "Thank God that's over—did you see the way Yaxley couldn't even stand on his own?"

I giggled, trying to hide it with the back of my hand. "Please, let's just get out of here. I couldn't handle it anymore."

"You and me both," Draco told me, rolling his eyes again. "We can go up to the roof, it'll be quiet up there."

"Okay," I said shyly, surprised he hadn't thought we would just go up to his room like usual. I was following him to the second kitchen door when he stopped beside the stack of crates, reaching inside the opened one on top and pulling out a bottle of firewhiskey. My jaw dropped as Draco tucked it under his coat, staring up at him in shock when he grinned cheekily at me over his shoulder. With a smile already pulling at the corners of my mouth, I spluttered, "What are you doing? You're insane—"

But Draco only laughed and took my hand in his, tugging me towards the door and saying, "Just follow me."

So I did. I held his hand and allowed him to lead me up several flights of stairs to the top floor, the two of us laughing like stupid schoolchildren whenever Draco would twist his head to look at me. Being away from the Death Eaters downstairs was making us both feel a lot better than we had in weeks, because it felt good escaping away from any responsibilities we had—even if it was only for a little while. It felt like my heart was in my throat as Draco paused to open the nearest window, peering out over his shoulder to see the flat span of the rooftop.

 He helped me out the window after crawling over himself first, holding my arms as I jumped down from the windowsill shakily.

The night air was dark, and I gripped Draco's arm tightly as the cool wind swirled around us. I refused to let go of him as he started away from the window, and I latched onto him fiercely and protested, "Don't go near the edge, there's no railing—"

"Relax, we don't have to," Draco laughed, stopping in the center of the flat rooftop and keeping a few feet back from the edge. "We'll just sit here."

I nervously sat beside him, finally releasing my death grip on his arm once he was seated beside me. He pulled the bottle out from his jacket, and his tone was teasing as he said, "I didn't think you were afraid of heights."

"I'm not scared of heights," I retorted, "I'm scared of falling off a four story building."

Draco snorted as he twisted the cap off of the bottle, the resounding pop echoing strangely through the quiet night air. I could see his grin in the dark as he held it out for me, saying to me, "Ladies first."

I rolled my eyes and took the bottle from him, tilting it up to my lips and feeling the burn of firewhiskey race over my tongue and slide down my throat. Handing it back to him, I swallowed hard and raised one eyebrow at his cheeky expression. I watched as he lifted up the bottle, the moonlight tracing his jawline as he drank for much longer than I had. I shook my head as he brought the bottle back down, trying not to giggle at the way his face screwed up from the burn. "I can't believe we're doing this. Lucius will throw me out if he sees."

"No way," Draco said, handing it over to me again. "He never comes up here. Besides, he'd have to kill me before he could ever kick you out."

I decided not to answer, because it upset me how badly Draco got along with his father. So we were quiet for a minute, the silence of the night air pressing against our ears as we passed the bottle back and forth. When I glanced at Draco out of the corner of my eye, he was looking out past the edge of the roof at the tree tops in front of us, his expression carefully blank. He told me in a quieter voice, "I used to come up here all the time. Like when I was younger and there was a meeting with the Dark Lord. Or just...when I needed to be alone. You know?"

"Yeah," I said in a soft voice. "It's nice up here."

"It is," he nodded, tilting back the half-empty bottle again and taking another drink. He looked over at me then, and even in this darkness I could see how flushed his cheeks were from the alcohol. His voice was low as he told me in all seriousness, "You're perfect. You know that, right? You're just...you're perfect. You really are."

I stared over at him, his grey eyes glinting against the moonlight, and felt the breath catch in my throat at the way he was looking at me—like I was the only person in the world to him. But the thing was, I would never come close to being as good a person as Draco Malfoy.

After a second I managed to let out a tiny laugh, shoving his shoulder and teasing, "You're more drunk than I thought. You'd better give me the bottle, I think you've had too much to drink—"

The seriousness was gone and we were both laughing as he tried to hold the firewhiskey out of my reach, leaning away from me when I tried to grab it from him. "You can't even let me give you a compliment, I take it back—"

I was laughing so hard at his expression that my ribs hurt, and Draco tried to twist himself away from me to hide the bottle. He was laughing too much to hold onto it for long, and I finally managed to wrestle it from him. He pretended to be upset as I cheekily drank from the bottle, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "I can't believe this. I brought us up here to spend time with you, and you're drinking all the firewhiskey."

I laughed again because even he couldn't hide his grin, and I was opening my mouth to say something more to him when there was a loud bang from downstairs, followed by muffled laughter. I was suddenly reminded of why the Death Eaters were here in the first place, and the smile slipped away from my face almost as quickly as it had come. I set the bottle down in between us gently and turned my face towards the flooring of the roof, saying in a much quieter voice, "This doesn't feel right. The Ministry's fallen, and here we are celebrating."

"We aren't celebrating," Draco said easily, his grin slightly lopsided as he lifted the bottle to his lips, "we're forgetting."

I looked over at him, taking in the image of him as he leaned back on the heel of his left hand, his other hand tilting the nearly empty bottle farther up and the smooth skin of his neck shining in the soft lighting. And I realized then, why he'd brought me up here; it wasn't just to be alone with me, it was so we'd have a chance to escape even for a little while. Up here on the rooftop, just the two of us with a bottle of firewhiskey and the night air swirling around us, I felt more at peace than I had in a long time. He'd wanted to do this with me so that we could forget about everything—just for a little while.

And damned if I wasn't falling even deeper in love with him for it.

Eventually the bottle was empty and we were laid on our backs, Draco's right arm tight around me and my head resting on his chest. We looked up at the stars together in silence for a little while, the alcohol swimming in our veins and warming our skin.

"One day," Draco told me in a quiet voice, "we'll get away from all this. It'll be just you and me, no one else."

He was looking up at the blackened sky embellished with specks of silver, his arm holding me impossibly close against him. The firewhiskey must have made it easier for him to say what he'd probably been thinking about for months now, and we were both nearly asleep. But I still heard every word as he mumbled softly, seconds before he fell asleep, "I swear, we can get through this. Someday it'll all be over, and then it can be just the two of us. I don't want anyone else. I can promise you that one day, when this is all over, we'll be alright. You and me, we're going to grow old together."

I fell asleep under the stars, entangled with Draco Malfoy and knowing I was finally somewhere I belonged.