Living A Lie

Lucius

The once handsome, and suave pureblood wizard looked haggard and very weary as the aurors roughly dragged him out of his cell. His gray and black striped Azkaban uniform hung on him like a grave shroud, and he looked both emaciated, and sickly. He saw Pius Thicknesse, and Antonin Dolohov waiting for him, and Thicknesse used his political acumen to breeze through signing the legal paperwork necessary to free him from this hell hole.

Seeing sunlight for the first time in a month, made him shield his eyes as his two deatheater escorts led him out of the gated area of the prison that was his own little circle of Hell for three years.

"Are you ready to leave, Mr Malfoy?" Thicknesse asked him, his prissy, politician's voice already grating on his nerves.

"Yes, but first, I want a suit, and a decent dinner," He ordered, hating how weak and tired his voice sounded. "If you get me those two things you can apparate me wherever the fuck His Reptilian Highness wants me to go. But if we have to hurry up, then he can go fuck himself, because I refuse to look like shit when you bring me back to headquarters."

Dolohov smirked, "I think we can swing it, Pius. Personally, I'd be wanting some trim about now in your shoes, but we'll do what you want, Lucy."

Lucius growled, "Fuck you, Anty. I'm not going anywhere near that skinny vampire psychotic fuck without being fed, and looking like a gentleman, instead of this derelict."

Thicknesse held out his arm, and both Dolohov, and Lucius disapparated with a loud pop. True to their word, Lucius was able to buy a nice designer suit. He also sat down to a lovely French dinner, and had a nice shave, and hair cut. He still had scars on his body from his time at Azkaban, as well as the tattoos. But at least, he looked himself again in the mirror once more.

He allowed his escorts to apparate him home to Malfoy Manor, but what he did not anticipate was seeing that Voldemort ensnared his most famous prisoner yet: Albus Dumbledore himself, along with Harry Potter....

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Harry

The inferi prevented their escape from the cave, and oddly enough, were ordered to detain them, not kill them. But when the deatheaters surrounded them at the entrance to the cave, and they were apparated to Malfoy Manor, Dumbledore looked almost relieved? Was that the right word? He had no way of knowing. All he knew was that he didn't have Hermione and Ron to get him out of this jam, and he had a sick wizard to contend with in the bargain.

Dumbledore and Harry were thrown into the same cell in what was once the Malfoy wine cellar, and left them alone for two hours.

Dumbledore sagged against one of the walls, and idly ran his fingers over his wand. Harry was disarmed of his own wand, and he watched in horror as it was snapped in half, rendering it a useless piece of wood.

"I'm going to die any way, Harry," Dumbledore said, and coughed. "No matter what they do to me, it will come to nothing but an exercise in power for Tom Riddle."

"Don't say that, sir!" Harry snapped. "Surely, Snape is on our side. Heck, you offered his mum a membership, and--"

"And she can do nothing to assist us, Harry," The older wizard pointed out. "She is pregnant, and unable to apparate, because of the risk of splinching her child."

Harry paced about the dirty cell, restless, and getting angrier by the second. "I can't believe she could let herself do...that with Snape! The guy looks like a gargoyle."

Dumbledore laughed, but it came out like a wheeze as he coughed once again. Blood coated his lips. He wiped at them, and looked at his own blood absentmindedly.

"Ah, the curse is doing its insidious work," Dumbledore remarked. "It's far too late for the blood transfusion. Oh, well. Harry, I don't have time to debate about Severus Snape's love life. I went to destroy Merope Gaunt's ring, and broke into her grave to retrieve her family ring. As soon as I touched the ring, I felt a sort of itching burning in my left hand. I took it back to my office, and...I was an arrogant old fool, but I put the ring on, and I managed to use the sword of Gryffindor to destroy the ring. But...how familiar are you with the Tou Jours Pur Curse, Harry?"

Harry drew up a blank on that one. Hermione would know, of course, she was the one who studied in the Restricted Section all the time in Hogwart's library.

"Um, it means something pure?"

"Essentially, it is a curse that was created to protect family heirlooms from being touched by non family members, or non purebloods," Dumbledore explained. "It can only be cured in the early stages by a blood transfusion from a pureblood witch or wizard. And what pureblood would help a potential thief?"

Harry understood then. "So...if Snape kills you, then--"

Dumbledore coughed up more blood, "It will be what the muggles call euthanasia, or a mercy killing. Tom Riddle wants my death to be public so no one can question his authority over the wizarding world. Yours too, I would think, since you are the Chosen One, after all. I--"

Wormtail came down the stairs, and gave them their trays of gruel on it. But then Draco Malfoy followed the rat faced wizard, and he stunned him, and his memories obliviated.

"I got you guys some pop tarts," Draco offered. "I can't free you guys, but I thought you might want some Pepsi's and something better than gruel."

Harry took the aluminum packaged pop tarts, suddenly feeling skeptical, "You or Snape poisoned these."

Draco rolled his gray eyes. He opened one of the plastic 20oz bottles, and took a sip. He made a show of gasping for air, and laughed, "Shit, Potter. My father was imprisoned for three years, and he's not as paranoid as you are. Just take the soda and snacks."

Harry ate a strawberry pop tart, and it was cold, but tasted heavenly after his horrors at the cave earlier. "Thank you. But why are you doing this...Draco?"

Draco shrugged his shoulders. "Well, that's just a mystery for you to find out, if you get out of here, that is. Merlin knows that you have a nasty habit of sticking your nose in where it's not wanted. I'm sorry, about all of that poisoning and curse stuff, Professor. My hands were tied in that."

Dumbledore stumbled to the bars of the cell. "Take my wand, you will need it," He then whispered something in Draco's ear Harry couldn't make out, but Draco's eyes widened, and he stepped back, a look of determined understanding on his face.

He tucked the knobby wand on his person, and made sure it was hidden. "Thank you, Professor, I will treasure it. I have to go, I'm standing in for my mum tonight at the c-ceremony."

Dumbledore nodded. Draco left them alone, and Dumbledore chuckled when Harry handed him his Pepsi and pop tarts. "Ah, love is in the air, indeed. How lovely. Miss Granger is unaware just how much she has charmed the Malfoy heir."

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?? HERMIONE WOULD NEVER DATE DRACO MALFOY!!" Harry shouted.

Dumbledore laughed, "Oh, Harry, hush. I think it's a lovely match, and would bring unity into the Sacred 28. I'd go for him myself if I were much, much younger. I always did have an affinity for blondes, even at your age."

Harry found himself grinning, "You're gay?"

"Is that what they call poofs in your generation, Harry?" The older wizard asked.

"Uh, yeah."
"Then yes, I am."
"Oh. Soo...why tell me now?"

"I'm dying any way, I might as well," Dumbledore shrugged. "But even if you were of that inclination, I'm far too old for you."

Harry blushed. "Well...I kinda like both, sir. And you're right, you are. I saw younger pictures of you in Hogwarts, you were cute."

Dumbledore winked, grinning. "Thank you, Harry. I'm flattered."

"No problem."

Dumbledore soon curled up in a ball, and fell asleep. Harry paced about the cell like a caged animal, and waited while the deatheaters held their own little party upstairs, and prepared for the death of the Chosen One at long last...