Chapter Text
Draco was irritable as he entered the bank. He should be in school right now, not off handling his father’s banking. This was a little more serious than that, of course, but it was what he was focused on grumbling about. He certainly couldn’t let anyone know that the Dark Lord was at home with his mother held hostage until he brought a certain artifact from his father’s vault.
“They’ll just need a drop of your blood, young Malfoy,” Lord Voldemort had hissed at him. “With your father in Azkaban, it is only natural that you would be accessing the family vaults. And since you say he has never taken you to have your wand keyed in, they’ll be able to do it easily with blood.”
The memory almost made him lose control and shudder as he walked slowly past the lines of goblins watching his every move. Theirs was an old vault, under the tightest security. He had to go all the way to the back of the bank to speak with the correct goblin. Draco pulled hard at his occlumency walls. His godfather would be furious if he knew of Draco’s momentary lapse. He felt like it had been years since they had a conversation that didn’t involve a reminder to hold his walls so no one could see in.
He stepped in front of the last counter and stood to his full height. “I am here to access my family vault.”
The goblin looked him over and rolled his eyes. “Your wand, boy?”
“My wand has not been keyed to the vault as yet. I was instructed you would need my blood.”
There was a pause, then the creature stood and put out its hand, waiting for him to put his own in it. Draco didn’t want to touch the loathsome thing, but there was no other choice. Why couldn’t his father have brought him here to have his wand keyed years ago? What else had the man bollocksed up when none of them realized it?
He was even more disgusted when he was pierced by the goblin’s long, sharp fingernail and several drops of blood were allowed to fall onto a key before it waved its hand and the small puncture was gone. The key was morphing to the appropriate shape as he watched. The goblin nodded once, gave him a queer look, then said, “Come with me.”
The ride down was fun, Draco had to admit. He hadn’t entirely kept his cool, grinning like a fool through much of it. In a way, it rivaled flying. He was sad when they arrived at their destination. Only, he realized very quickly it was not their destination.
“Not the Black vault! I need the Malfoy vault!” he angrily rounded on the goblin.
It gave him that odd look again and said, “It won’t work, but we can go there if you like.”
“Of course I would like. It’s what I’m here for!”
Another long ride brought them to the proper vault. It hadn’t seemed as much fun this time, no doubt due to his irritation. This time when he got out of the cart, he took his key up to the door, though he was smart enough to let the goblin push it in for him. He had no desire to get sucked into the vault and left inside for ten years.
“I’m sorry, sir. The key will not go in.”
“What? Why?” Draco demanded.
“It only works for your family vault, sir.”
“Mr. Malfoy, not sir. This is my family vault and you will let me in.”
“As you can see, Mr… Malfoy, the key will not fit. This is not your vault.”
A cold sweat broke across Draco’s brow, his irritation draining as he thought about what would happen if he returned home empty-handed. “I don’t understand. You took my blood.”
He tried to keep his voice steady and a little bit angry, but he realized it was instead shaking just the tiniest bit. Snape would be livid with him for losing so much control. Even knowing that, he rather wished his godfather were with him. He would set the goblins straight.
“Would you like me to take you back to your family vault or shall we try all the other vaults in the bank before you understand which one is yours?” the goblin asked with irritation.
“There has to be some mistake,” he tried.
“Yes,” the goblin said drily, “It appears there was.”
Draco stared at the creature. What the bloody hell was he saying? “Then I demand you fix it!” he stated, channeling as much of his father’s pride and arrogance as he could muster. He did a good job, he thought.
The goblin snickered. “The only way to correct that kind of mistake is with a sword.” Draco was almost certain he also muttered, “Would make the world a better place.” What did that mean?
Draco realized after a pause that the goblin was waiting for him to say something, but he had no idea what to say, what demand he could make that would make this better. Perhaps his master would be pleased with something from the Black vault, though he doubted it. The man had demanded nothing but a black book, an empty diary, of all things. But for some reason it was in the Malfoy vault.
“Let’s visit the Black vault and then I would like to recheck my blood when we reach the top.”
That odd look crossed the goblin’s face again and he bowed. “As you say, young sir.”
Inside the Black vault, Draco felt a nervous kind of energy. There were piles of gold and jewels. Shelves full of what were likely dark artifacts. There were boxes filled with papers that he probably should take a close look at. All he could really think, though, was what might be useful if he and Mother had to run. If he could even get her away from Lord Voldemort, what would they need? Money, of course, but they had that. But what if they didn’t, a voice echoed in the back of his head. What if this was the only opportunity he would have to secure some of the wealth he was entitled to? Well, he wasn’t even sure he was entitled to this vault, but that was all the more reason to take from it while he could, right?
He shakily opened the bag he had brought to hide the Dark Lord’s diary. It wasn’t as big as he wished, but it would have to do. He decided quickly that he would take a few galleons, but they were too bulky to take a lot. A quick look through some papers showed him it would take hours of reading before he understood what they referred to. He knew better than to touch any of the artifacts without knowing what they were. He looked around at the jewels, not really sure of their worth.
“Goblin,” he called, having not really paid attention to the creature’s name. When it came to the door of the vault, he beckoned it to his side. “I wish you to tell me the jewels that are worth the most among the ones you see.”
“Why would I do that?” it asked him.
Draco felt his temper flare. “Because I am a Malfoy and I said you would!”
“I require a bit more of a payment than a demand, sir. Lucius Malfoy did not teach you very well how to handle such things.”
It was the first time he had been mentioned, and Draco’s cheeks flushed at the insinuation that he wasn’t able to manage things the way his father would have. Hoping he didn’t sound as young and naive as he apparently was in this situation, Draco asked, “What payment would be sufficient for your assistance?”
The goblin smiled greedily. He turned in a circle, looking around the vault. His teeth showing through his grin, he hooked a long chain with one fingernail, holding up an ugly old locket with an S on the front of it. In the other hand, he held a golden bracelet covered in diamonds. “These would do, young sir.”
Curious, he almost asked what they were worth, but decided he didn’t want to know. “You can have them. Tell me about the rest of these.”
A couple of hours later, they were back in the cart, speeding along the tracks on the way back up to the lobby. Draco shrieked as they sped under a waterfall of some sort, soaking him completely. He could hear the goblin laughing as the cart suddenly spun and moved in a different direction. Was this normal? He wasn’t sure but it felt wrong somehow.
The cart suddenly came to such an abrupt halt that he was thrown from it. His body rolled across the ground until he hit a wall. It almost disguised the sound of bars slamming down in front of him. He sat up fast enough that his head spun, but he could still see the goblin on the other side of the bars.
“What are you doing?” he screamed at the goblin, but the creature was just laughing.
“Those who try to trick Gringotts with glamours don’t get to leave, boy.”
“What?” Draco was baffled. “I wasn’t using any glamours!”
The goblin grinned. “I actually believe you weren’t, but it doesn’t change the procedure when someone with glamours comes in.”
There was a sinking feeling in his stomach. “What’s the procedure?”
“To leave you here until you die. Or possibly let the Aurors come collect you. It depends on what they decide upstairs. Goodbye Draco Black.”
He felt sick. And miserable. And utterly confused. Would Mother come for him? Surely she would when he didn’t return. The Dark Lord would want him back. They were going to Mark him on his birthday. It wasn’t something he wanted exactly, but he was proud that he would be able to follow in his father’s footsteps. And better that than dying here.
A light breeze drifted through his cell and Draco shivered, realizing for the first time how cold it was down here, especially soaked through as he was. There were no blankets down here. Nothing at all, in fact. He realized then that his bag was gone, too.
Draco ran his hand over his face in frustration, then paused. Something like fear screamed through his veins. His face didn’t feel the same. Without a mirror, he couldn’t be sure, but he thought the bone structure might be a little bit different.
He was shaking from more than just the cold now. What the fuck was going on?
It was obvious, actually, what must be going on, but Draco had no desire to admit it. As he yanked at his hair, he suddenly realized something else. Jerking as hard as he could, he came away with three strands of hair.
He stared down at them - absolutely black. Nothing like the platinum he had seen in the mirror that morning.
Hours later, Draco was sitting against the back wall of his prison. He had screamed and eventually cried when no one had come. Occasionally he heard carts moving high above him, but none came close enough to see. He wasn’t sure he would ever see anyone again.
The goblin’s goodbye earlier had sounded pretty final. Were they even going to feed him or just leave him here to die? He was starving, having not eaten since breakfast this morning. It had to be getting late now. At least dinner time, probably later. Would Uncle Severus notice him missing and do something about it?
Would his godfather even accept and help a boy who might look completely different?
He had no idea what he looked like besides a complete mess. His fancy clothes had finally dried, but they were wrinkled and dirty from his tumble across the floor. He could feel his hair sticking up all over the place, but there was not a thing he could do about it.
In the time he had been down there, he had admitted to himself the horrible truth: Lucius Malfoy was not his father.
Draco wasn’t stupid. He knew the only reason he had friends in Slytherin, any friends at all really, was because he was a Malfoy. If he wasn’t, would anyone speak to him? What if Uncle Sev wouldn’t? What if he came for him but left when he realized the brat in the cell didn’t belong to his friend?
Panic welled in his chest, but what was he going to do? Nothing. There was absolutely nothing he could do.
He was crying again when he heard footsteps. Maybe they were going to feed him after all! He dried his tears as best he could and tried to look nonchalant instead of desperate.
The redhead who appeared around the corner was not who he expected. A fucking Weasley? At least it was one of the older ones. He had heard they were smart and resourceful. And good. All the Weasleys were on Dumbledore's pathetically good side. And maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing after all. Maybe Dumbledore even sent him.
“I’m Bill, head cursebreaker. I’m not usually in charge of this, but the goblins weren’t really sure how to handle a kid,” he smiled at Draco disarmingly.
He hated to admit it, but Draco thought the guy looked pretty cool. His hair was long, he had a fang earring, and he was wearing an impressive leather jacket. He still couldn’t help feeling defensive.
“I’m not a kid,” Draco said, though his voice wavered pitifully.
Bill raised an eyebrow but then nodded. “I shouldn’t have said it that way. I meant that people whose glamours come off are typically adults, and criminal adults at that. You aren’t one of them, but the goblins can’t quite decide what to do with you.”
“Have they… have they owled my mother?”
“They didn’t need to. She arrived a little while ago with a couple of… friends. They seem very interested in making sure you come back with them. They haven’t treated the goblins very well. But I hear you didn’t either.”
“Are you letting me go?” Draco asked. He was ashamed of how hard his voice was shaking, but he really couldn’t read Bill.
“Not exactly,” Bill told him. The man pursed his lips and leaned forward to study him. “We’re waiting for the Head of House Black to arrive.”
Draco blinked. “I’m the last of the line,” he informed the curse breaker.
“But you weren’t named as heir, so the Head of House Black is now someone who was blood adopted.”
“Well that’s just-“
“I suggest - strongly - that you remember your fate rests in this person’s hands,” Bill said sternly.
“Yes, sir,” Draco mumbled.
The man stood there staring at him a moment, seeming to debate something. “If I were to ask you - without mentioning who exactly came with your mother - if you thought it would be better for her to come see you and the Head of House Black without them, what would you say?”
Draco felt a flicker of hope for something he hadn’t even known he wanted. His instincts, a part of him he had mostly been suppressing for years, screamed to take this offer. If they were both in the bank without any of Voldemort’s men, they were safe. No matter who he himself turned out to be, he and mother both belonged to House Black and could throw themselves on the Head’s mercy.
But he had been taught to be suspicious, so he shoved the hope back down and said, “Would I be getting free that way?”
Bill watched him for a moment. “It would have nothing to do with your freedom.”
He bit his lip, thinking. Was this really something he needed to debate about? There were undoubtedly details he was missing, but separating his mother from Voldemort’s men was always a positive. “She should come without them. But we may not be able to leave the way we came in.”
The first real smile he had seen came his way when that was said.
**********
Draco found himself in handcuffs behind his back as he was led through a series of tunnels until they came to a small office. It looked very homey but wasn’t as impressive as Draco would have expected. He realized suddenly that they were in the redhead’s office.
Two goblins came in, leading his mother. She looked worried, then elated to see him, then her eyes widened and nostrils flared.
“As we have said, ma’am, there is no need for us to explain what he did wrong. You can see for yourself,” one of the goblins said.
Narcissa began shaking as she looked at him. Finally, she managed to say, “it’s not his fault. I did it to him when he was a tiny baby. Before Lucius ever even saw him.”
“And you expect us to believe that a 15-year-old boy didn’t know his own identity until now?” The other goblin asked, glaring at her.
“I didn’t!” Draco spoke for the first time, unable to contain the words that had so badly wanted to tumble from his mouth. He felt Bill place his hand on Draco’s shoulder, squeezing it in a silent command to keep quiet.
“There was no reason to tell him. I would have kept the secret to my grave if it weren’t for this. I had managed to convince Lucius the boy wasn’t responsible enough to go down to the vaults. I’m sorry, Draco!” she said, turning to him, “So sorry for all of this but especially that I made it seem like I didn’t trust you when I do. You’re a brilliant boy! And always so sweet until your father… well, Lucius, got a hold of you.”
“Who’s my real father?” Draco choked out. Ignoring Bill and practically forgetting the goblins were even in the room with his desperation to know.
“I can’t tell you that, darling. I’m so sorry,” Narcissa said, clearly feeling sorrowful.
“If you want your son to leave here alive, that is vital information,” one of the goblins threatened, but Bill stepped in.
“I think that will be up to Lord Black to decide. No matter what other house he belongs to, the boy does fall under the jurisdiction of the House of Black.”
“When will he be here?” One of the goblins grumbled.
“Someone had to go fetch him,” Bill stated with some amusement in his tone.
Was the Head too old to come on his own? That would make for an ancient wizard — or witch — if they were so feeble. Draco waited impatiently, then the knob started to turn, the arrival of their Head of House imminent.