Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Heart and Soul ❯ Chapter Eighteen ( Chapter 18 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
Heart and Soul
By: Tassana Burrfoot
Chapter Eighteen
November quickly turned into December, much to Draco's relief. He did not talk to Patil, preferring to stay away from her and the other students at Hogwarts. He was happy to be heading home for the Christmas holidays.
Seeing his parents alive and safe was all the encouragement he needed as he pulled his mother into an embrace. He had never missed her soft ivory scent as much as he had the past few months. He breathed her in deeply.
"She hasn't been found," Narcissa whispered in his ear.
He nodded in understanding, but said loudly, "I've missed you as well, Mother."
They ended their embrace and his Aunt Bella pulled him into another. Her embrace was short and strained. Almost as if she didn't really want to hug him. She smiled unconvincingly at him as she pushed a lock of hair off his forehead. "You have been missed by us all," she told him, though he could tell she was partially lying. She didn't miss him. "Snape's told us you've done admirably in school. And, we've got a special gift for you. One of your schoolmates is currently residing in the cellar. You should go and greet her."
Draco could tell a dismissal when he heard one. He paled. One of his schoolmates? He nodded his answer as he began to descend to the cellar. He mentally went through the list of schoolmates he had. But, he had no idea who it could be.
The cellar was dark and cold, much unlike the rest of the house. "Whoever is in there, back away from the door," he said loudly enough to be heard on the other side.
He pointed his wand to that door and it opened. He lit his wand as he stepped inside. He recognized Mr. Ollivander immediately. Though the man was pale and sickly, Draco would never forget the face of the man who made his wand. Nor forget the screams the man issued when the Dark Lord tortured him.
At first, Draco didn't recognize the girl. She wasn't as sickly as Mr. Ollivander, but she was pale and unfed. Her hair was unkempt and lusterless. However, when she spoke, Draco knew her immediately. "Hello, Draco. I don't suppose you've come to give us food? I'm all right, but Mr. Ollivander could use a little something to eat. He's awfully ill."
Even through the dirt and grime, the girl kept an ethereal sense about her. She was younger than Draco, he knew by about a year. She was strange, but held a certain odd beauty about her. She was, thankfully, much unaffected by the sudden changes the Fates had placed upon her. At least, for the moment.
"Lovegood," he acknowledged.
He ignored her request for food as he stepped out of the cellar and closed it. Though he sympathized, giving into her request at the moment would have been a disastrous mistake. He still had to play the part, like Snape and his parents did.
He returned to the sitting room, keeping his face devoid of emotion and making no comment. His aunt looked positively pleased about the circumstances as she went into detail about the changes made to the Quibbler. Potter's allies were slowly diminishing.
(II)(II)
Later that night, when everyone was in bed and sound asleep, Draco crept silently through the house. He was careful to avoid every creak in the floor as he successfully snuck food into the cellar.
"Tell no one, Lovegood," he whispered as he handed her a small loaf of bread and a bowl of sweet meats. "If anyone were to find out..."
"I promise not to tell," she cut in, graciously accepting the food. "You are kind, Draco. Much unlike your aunt."
He gave her a half smile as he tried to feed Mr. Ollivander some soup. The old man took in a mouthful hungrily. "Be careful what you say," Draco warned the girl. "I won't always seem kind. I can't."
She nodded. "Have you seen Neville? I've been awfully worried about him and Ginny. We failed at getting the sword for Harry," she whispered, taking measured bites of her small meal.
He raised an eyebrow. "I haven't seen Longbottom. What the three of you did was foolhardy. You're lucky Snape was able to send you into the Forbidden Forest with Hagrid. The Carrow siblings are Death Eaters. You know this. All three of you know this. Snape had to work damn hard to convince them that the Forbidden Forest was worse for you then the Torture Curse."
"But the sword. Dumbledore wanted Harry to have it," she protested.
He shook his head. "I understand, Lovegood. Believe me, I do. But these are dangerous times. We aren't dealing with Umbridge anymore. We're dealing with Death Eaters now."
"And I'm a member of the D.A.," she argued. "Harry trained us, Draco. He trained us well. Remember? I've fought Death Eaters. Your father and several others, including your lunatic aunt. I know the risks I'm taking, but I'm willing to take them. I won't say I'm not afraid. If we don't fight, it's only going to get worse. Besides, we have something the Death Eaters don't have."
He looked at her curiously as Ollivander took the last drop of soup. "What's that?" Draco asked.
"We have Harry Potter."
(III)(III)
Draco had not been comforted by Luna's haunting words. He silently applauded her for her undying faith, but he felt it somewhat hollow. Where was Potter?
He found that he couldn't sleep. He kept tossing and turning in bed. Every time he thought of Luna's words, he thought of Potter. Thinking of Potter made him think of Hermione. Where was she? Was she all right?
His mother had said no one had found her, but that did little to ease the turmoil in his heart. He remembered the dream he had had. She had reassured him in the dream that she would be okay. That didn't help him much either.
Finally finding he wasn't going to get any rest, he decided to get up. He had been wanting to ask his parents about the dream. The early morning hours was as good a time as any. Possibly the only time they would have.
He got up and put on his housecoat. It didn't take him long to tiptoe silently to his parents' bedroom. He had often times wandered to his parents' room in his youth after a particularly nasty dream.
He slipped soundlessly into their bedroom and gently shut the door. Even the door was silent. He whispered the Muffliato spell on the door to ensure they would not be disturbed and crept to the bed.
In the early morning, before the crow of the rooster, the room was painted black. However, this did not deter Draco. He knew where every bit of furniture was. He remembered his childhood nights of terror. He would find solace in the arms of his parents. His mother would whisper a Latin lullaby as his father held him protectively in his strong arms. All the while, both of his parents would assure him of his safety.
He did not need light to tell him what was in this room. Next to his own room, this room was one of his favourites in the manor. He was able to easily maneuver across the room without even a drop of light. He had done so countless times in the past.
As he approached the bed, he knelt down and gently touched his mother's cheek. "Mother?" he whispered.
Her reaction caused him to stumble backwards, losing his balance. She jumped into a sitting position and grabbed her wand. "Lumos!" she hissed.
"What is going on?" his father asked. "Narcissa, put that light..."
"Draco!" she snipped, her wandlight shining on her fallen son. She clutched her chest. "Son, that is not the way to check my blood pressure. You nearly scared me to death. What are you doing in here?"
Draco got to his feet and dusted himself off. "I need to ask you a question," he told her, moving to sit on the bed.
Lucius sat up and raked a hand through his tussled hair. "Can't it wait, son?" he asked as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
Draco shook his head. "I need to know now," he told them. "We might not get another chance to talk. I saw her not to long ago. She was there, in a dream."
His parents looked irritated. They were not morning people. "You woke us up to tell us about a dream?" Narcissa snapped. "Go back to bed!" She tried to worm her way back under the covers.
"No, it wasn't a dream," the boy insisted. "I mean, that's how it started, then it changed. She was there. Really there. I actually felt her, held her. She told me Potter had been on the tower the night Dumbledore died. She's not angry with me."
"What are you rambling on about?" Lucius sneered as he reached for his housecoat. Now that he was awake, the older man knew he wasn't going to get any more sleep. Especially if his prodigal son had anything to do with it.
Draco almost said it. Right as it went to slip off his tongue, he caught himself. Instead, he sputtered, "My wife! I think we are connected. Through the rings."
Lucius stared incredulously at his only child. "Pectus pectoris quod animus," he muttered under his breath. He straightened his throat and said with a sigh, "Of course you are connected."
Now the older man did seem agitated. He got out of bed and, borrowing his wife's wand, began lighting the candles. "It's old magic. And it's not something that's been done in this family in centuries."
Once all the candles were lit, he returned the wand to his wife before going to his bookshelf. He was careful about the selection he made before he pulled out a very large, very old tome. He brushed the dust off the book and handed it to Draco. "When you are alone, away from everyone, especially your aunt and the Carrows, I want you to read that," Lucius instructed.
Draco accepted the heavy tome and nodded. He then followed his father to the hearth, which was now roaring with a cheery fire his mother had cast into it. There were three large, overstuffed black leather armchairs circling the fireplace. Lucius took the middle one, the largest, while his wife sat in the one to his left and his son sat in the one to his right.
This was another tradition Draco was quite fond of. Anytime his father wished to tell a story, either of the family's past or whatever, they would sit in these armchairs. The chairs were positioned in such a way that the three Malfoys were able to look at each other comfortably while still basking in the warmth of the hearth.
"Approximately five hundred years ago, there were four friends," Lucius began his tale. "Julius Malfoy, Patrick Potter, Jordan Smith, and the beautiful Evalon O'Reilly. At the age of eleven, the four friends were bound for Hogwarts, as you can well guess. Potter and Malfoy were purebloods. O'Reilly was a Half-Blood. However, Smith was a Mudblood.
"Julius ended up in Slytherin, obviously, while Potter and O'Reilly were set to Gryffindor and Smith in Hufflepuff. However, they did not let their separate Houses separate their friendships. They remained good friends throughout most of their time in Hogwarts.
"Now, Julius had fallen in love with O'Reilly. As I'm sure you don't know, O'Reilly's first name, Evalon, is derived from the word 'Avalon', which was supposedly King Arthur's final resting place."
"Who?" Draco asked, confused.
Lucius pointed to the book in Draco's hand. The teenager read the cover: Le Morte D'Arthur. He gave his father a quizzical glance, to which the older man sighed, "Read the book. There you'll find a most interesting account of the life of King Arthur. Our family has deep roots within those pages. I, myself, was named after a Roman emperor from that book."
Draco briefly remembered the conversation with Martha Jones. She had spoken of a Roman emperor named Lucius. Was the legend of Arthur a Muggle legend?
"Julius and Evalon had fallen in love," Lucius continued. "It wasn't a secret to anyone. He loved her so much that he was often found writing her love notes instead of paying attention in class.
"But there was another who loved her as well. Smith. And Smith believed that a pureblood should have no interest or rights with someone who has a Muggle parent.
"It was also common knowledge that many purebloods, like today, hated Mudbloods. Course, the feelings were mutual. The only reason Smith had liked Potter was because Potter protected him. Smith hated Julius, not just because of Julius' love for Evalon, but also because Julius was a wealthy pureblood.
"Smith had slowly poisoned Potter's mind of Julius. The two pureblood friends had slowly become enemies, for who would want to be friends with a Slytherin? Then, one night, all Hell broke loose. Evalon had come running into Julius' arms bloody and bruised. She had been raped. Angered, Julius demanded the name of her rapist and then chased down Smith. But, Smith had Potter's protection. Potter did not believe Julius' story.
"After that incident, Julius had forged the Everlasting Heart to protect Evalon. Evalon had, in turn, forged the Everlasting Soul, to alert Julius for when she was in danger. When they exchanged the rings, they spoke their love in words neither of them understood. The Heart and Soul united and formed a special bond that could only be broken with the end of true love. The rings also connected their souls to one another.
"Through this old and powerful magic, Julius and Evalon were able to communicate when they were apart. If something was bothering one or the other and they were separated, they could still come in contact with one another. They could go into a dreamlike state and they would become one.
"When Evalon passed the rings onto her son, she had explained to him about the powers of the rings. Unfortunately, he was never able to use the telepathic-like ability the rings possessed. Nor had any other Malfoy since. It became, as one would think, a fairytale."
Draco calmly took all of this in. What his father said made sense. Though, he hadn't asked for a story about the feud between the Malfoys and Potters, he understood the necessity of the story. He also began to realize there was more to his relationship with Hermione then he had expected.
"It's being repeated," he commented, to his parents' surprise. "Not entirely, but it still is. Slytherin is at war with Gryffindor. All the while, one of pureblood and one of Muggle blood have fallen in love. The rings have been exchanged. Heart and Soul have been melded into one. Potter and Malfoy are mixed into a feud that has nothing to do with them."
Narcissa gasped, "You don't think Weasley will..."
Draco shook his head. "Even if he wanted to, he can't. The ring protects her, remember?" he informed. "Besides, it's not in Weasley's nature."
He could tell his mother wished to comment, but thankfully she did not. Finally, he voiced the thoughts he knew his parents shared, "She's the one. She is Evalon, I believe. That's why the connection works. She's Evalon."
Lucius disagreed, "Evalon died centuries ago. Besides, she was Half-Blood. Your filthy little wife is a Mudblood."
"Don't call her filthy," Draco snapped. "There's nothing filthy about her. And I didn't mean she was physically Evalon. I meant spiritually, theoretically. She and Evalon have a lot in common. They are the same in virtually every way."
Again, Lucius argued, "Evalon was a beauty beyond measure. She was everything a man could want and more. Her smile alone could cause men's hearts to melt. She was a kind and patient mother. The only woman to ever bear a Malfoy a daughter. She grew up in a time when Half-Bloods and Mudbloods were scorned by most magic people. She fell in love with what should have been her enemy. She..."
"Is everything my wife has become," Draco finished quickly. "With the exception of children, my wife hasn't conceived any children yet. Everything else? You might as well say my wife's name in place of Evalon."
Tired of hearing her husband talk of a dead woman as if she were some well remembered lover, Narcissa broke in, "I agree with Draco. The circumstances are too similar. His wife is Evalon."
By: Tassana Burrfoot
Chapter Eighteen
November quickly turned into December, much to Draco's relief. He did not talk to Patil, preferring to stay away from her and the other students at Hogwarts. He was happy to be heading home for the Christmas holidays.
Seeing his parents alive and safe was all the encouragement he needed as he pulled his mother into an embrace. He had never missed her soft ivory scent as much as he had the past few months. He breathed her in deeply.
"She hasn't been found," Narcissa whispered in his ear.
He nodded in understanding, but said loudly, "I've missed you as well, Mother."
They ended their embrace and his Aunt Bella pulled him into another. Her embrace was short and strained. Almost as if she didn't really want to hug him. She smiled unconvincingly at him as she pushed a lock of hair off his forehead. "You have been missed by us all," she told him, though he could tell she was partially lying. She didn't miss him. "Snape's told us you've done admirably in school. And, we've got a special gift for you. One of your schoolmates is currently residing in the cellar. You should go and greet her."
Draco could tell a dismissal when he heard one. He paled. One of his schoolmates? He nodded his answer as he began to descend to the cellar. He mentally went through the list of schoolmates he had. But, he had no idea who it could be.
The cellar was dark and cold, much unlike the rest of the house. "Whoever is in there, back away from the door," he said loudly enough to be heard on the other side.
He pointed his wand to that door and it opened. He lit his wand as he stepped inside. He recognized Mr. Ollivander immediately. Though the man was pale and sickly, Draco would never forget the face of the man who made his wand. Nor forget the screams the man issued when the Dark Lord tortured him.
At first, Draco didn't recognize the girl. She wasn't as sickly as Mr. Ollivander, but she was pale and unfed. Her hair was unkempt and lusterless. However, when she spoke, Draco knew her immediately. "Hello, Draco. I don't suppose you've come to give us food? I'm all right, but Mr. Ollivander could use a little something to eat. He's awfully ill."
Even through the dirt and grime, the girl kept an ethereal sense about her. She was younger than Draco, he knew by about a year. She was strange, but held a certain odd beauty about her. She was, thankfully, much unaffected by the sudden changes the Fates had placed upon her. At least, for the moment.
"Lovegood," he acknowledged.
He ignored her request for food as he stepped out of the cellar and closed it. Though he sympathized, giving into her request at the moment would have been a disastrous mistake. He still had to play the part, like Snape and his parents did.
He returned to the sitting room, keeping his face devoid of emotion and making no comment. His aunt looked positively pleased about the circumstances as she went into detail about the changes made to the Quibbler. Potter's allies were slowly diminishing.
(II)(II)
Later that night, when everyone was in bed and sound asleep, Draco crept silently through the house. He was careful to avoid every creak in the floor as he successfully snuck food into the cellar.
"Tell no one, Lovegood," he whispered as he handed her a small loaf of bread and a bowl of sweet meats. "If anyone were to find out..."
"I promise not to tell," she cut in, graciously accepting the food. "You are kind, Draco. Much unlike your aunt."
He gave her a half smile as he tried to feed Mr. Ollivander some soup. The old man took in a mouthful hungrily. "Be careful what you say," Draco warned the girl. "I won't always seem kind. I can't."
She nodded. "Have you seen Neville? I've been awfully worried about him and Ginny. We failed at getting the sword for Harry," she whispered, taking measured bites of her small meal.
He raised an eyebrow. "I haven't seen Longbottom. What the three of you did was foolhardy. You're lucky Snape was able to send you into the Forbidden Forest with Hagrid. The Carrow siblings are Death Eaters. You know this. All three of you know this. Snape had to work damn hard to convince them that the Forbidden Forest was worse for you then the Torture Curse."
"But the sword. Dumbledore wanted Harry to have it," she protested.
He shook his head. "I understand, Lovegood. Believe me, I do. But these are dangerous times. We aren't dealing with Umbridge anymore. We're dealing with Death Eaters now."
"And I'm a member of the D.A.," she argued. "Harry trained us, Draco. He trained us well. Remember? I've fought Death Eaters. Your father and several others, including your lunatic aunt. I know the risks I'm taking, but I'm willing to take them. I won't say I'm not afraid. If we don't fight, it's only going to get worse. Besides, we have something the Death Eaters don't have."
He looked at her curiously as Ollivander took the last drop of soup. "What's that?" Draco asked.
"We have Harry Potter."
(III)(III)
Draco had not been comforted by Luna's haunting words. He silently applauded her for her undying faith, but he felt it somewhat hollow. Where was Potter?
He found that he couldn't sleep. He kept tossing and turning in bed. Every time he thought of Luna's words, he thought of Potter. Thinking of Potter made him think of Hermione. Where was she? Was she all right?
His mother had said no one had found her, but that did little to ease the turmoil in his heart. He remembered the dream he had had. She had reassured him in the dream that she would be okay. That didn't help him much either.
Finally finding he wasn't going to get any rest, he decided to get up. He had been wanting to ask his parents about the dream. The early morning hours was as good a time as any. Possibly the only time they would have.
He got up and put on his housecoat. It didn't take him long to tiptoe silently to his parents' bedroom. He had often times wandered to his parents' room in his youth after a particularly nasty dream.
He slipped soundlessly into their bedroom and gently shut the door. Even the door was silent. He whispered the Muffliato spell on the door to ensure they would not be disturbed and crept to the bed.
In the early morning, before the crow of the rooster, the room was painted black. However, this did not deter Draco. He knew where every bit of furniture was. He remembered his childhood nights of terror. He would find solace in the arms of his parents. His mother would whisper a Latin lullaby as his father held him protectively in his strong arms. All the while, both of his parents would assure him of his safety.
He did not need light to tell him what was in this room. Next to his own room, this room was one of his favourites in the manor. He was able to easily maneuver across the room without even a drop of light. He had done so countless times in the past.
As he approached the bed, he knelt down and gently touched his mother's cheek. "Mother?" he whispered.
Her reaction caused him to stumble backwards, losing his balance. She jumped into a sitting position and grabbed her wand. "Lumos!" she hissed.
"What is going on?" his father asked. "Narcissa, put that light..."
"Draco!" she snipped, her wandlight shining on her fallen son. She clutched her chest. "Son, that is not the way to check my blood pressure. You nearly scared me to death. What are you doing in here?"
Draco got to his feet and dusted himself off. "I need to ask you a question," he told her, moving to sit on the bed.
Lucius sat up and raked a hand through his tussled hair. "Can't it wait, son?" he asked as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
Draco shook his head. "I need to know now," he told them. "We might not get another chance to talk. I saw her not to long ago. She was there, in a dream."
His parents looked irritated. They were not morning people. "You woke us up to tell us about a dream?" Narcissa snapped. "Go back to bed!" She tried to worm her way back under the covers.
"No, it wasn't a dream," the boy insisted. "I mean, that's how it started, then it changed. She was there. Really there. I actually felt her, held her. She told me Potter had been on the tower the night Dumbledore died. She's not angry with me."
"What are you rambling on about?" Lucius sneered as he reached for his housecoat. Now that he was awake, the older man knew he wasn't going to get any more sleep. Especially if his prodigal son had anything to do with it.
Draco almost said it. Right as it went to slip off his tongue, he caught himself. Instead, he sputtered, "My wife! I think we are connected. Through the rings."
Lucius stared incredulously at his only child. "Pectus pectoris quod animus," he muttered under his breath. He straightened his throat and said with a sigh, "Of course you are connected."
Now the older man did seem agitated. He got out of bed and, borrowing his wife's wand, began lighting the candles. "It's old magic. And it's not something that's been done in this family in centuries."
Once all the candles were lit, he returned the wand to his wife before going to his bookshelf. He was careful about the selection he made before he pulled out a very large, very old tome. He brushed the dust off the book and handed it to Draco. "When you are alone, away from everyone, especially your aunt and the Carrows, I want you to read that," Lucius instructed.
Draco accepted the heavy tome and nodded. He then followed his father to the hearth, which was now roaring with a cheery fire his mother had cast into it. There were three large, overstuffed black leather armchairs circling the fireplace. Lucius took the middle one, the largest, while his wife sat in the one to his left and his son sat in the one to his right.
This was another tradition Draco was quite fond of. Anytime his father wished to tell a story, either of the family's past or whatever, they would sit in these armchairs. The chairs were positioned in such a way that the three Malfoys were able to look at each other comfortably while still basking in the warmth of the hearth.
"Approximately five hundred years ago, there were four friends," Lucius began his tale. "Julius Malfoy, Patrick Potter, Jordan Smith, and the beautiful Evalon O'Reilly. At the age of eleven, the four friends were bound for Hogwarts, as you can well guess. Potter and Malfoy were purebloods. O'Reilly was a Half-Blood. However, Smith was a Mudblood.
"Julius ended up in Slytherin, obviously, while Potter and O'Reilly were set to Gryffindor and Smith in Hufflepuff. However, they did not let their separate Houses separate their friendships. They remained good friends throughout most of their time in Hogwarts.
"Now, Julius had fallen in love with O'Reilly. As I'm sure you don't know, O'Reilly's first name, Evalon, is derived from the word 'Avalon', which was supposedly King Arthur's final resting place."
"Who?" Draco asked, confused.
Lucius pointed to the book in Draco's hand. The teenager read the cover: Le Morte D'Arthur. He gave his father a quizzical glance, to which the older man sighed, "Read the book. There you'll find a most interesting account of the life of King Arthur. Our family has deep roots within those pages. I, myself, was named after a Roman emperor from that book."
Draco briefly remembered the conversation with Martha Jones. She had spoken of a Roman emperor named Lucius. Was the legend of Arthur a Muggle legend?
"Julius and Evalon had fallen in love," Lucius continued. "It wasn't a secret to anyone. He loved her so much that he was often found writing her love notes instead of paying attention in class.
"But there was another who loved her as well. Smith. And Smith believed that a pureblood should have no interest or rights with someone who has a Muggle parent.
"It was also common knowledge that many purebloods, like today, hated Mudbloods. Course, the feelings were mutual. The only reason Smith had liked Potter was because Potter protected him. Smith hated Julius, not just because of Julius' love for Evalon, but also because Julius was a wealthy pureblood.
"Smith had slowly poisoned Potter's mind of Julius. The two pureblood friends had slowly become enemies, for who would want to be friends with a Slytherin? Then, one night, all Hell broke loose. Evalon had come running into Julius' arms bloody and bruised. She had been raped. Angered, Julius demanded the name of her rapist and then chased down Smith. But, Smith had Potter's protection. Potter did not believe Julius' story.
"After that incident, Julius had forged the Everlasting Heart to protect Evalon. Evalon had, in turn, forged the Everlasting Soul, to alert Julius for when she was in danger. When they exchanged the rings, they spoke their love in words neither of them understood. The Heart and Soul united and formed a special bond that could only be broken with the end of true love. The rings also connected their souls to one another.
"Through this old and powerful magic, Julius and Evalon were able to communicate when they were apart. If something was bothering one or the other and they were separated, they could still come in contact with one another. They could go into a dreamlike state and they would become one.
"When Evalon passed the rings onto her son, she had explained to him about the powers of the rings. Unfortunately, he was never able to use the telepathic-like ability the rings possessed. Nor had any other Malfoy since. It became, as one would think, a fairytale."
Draco calmly took all of this in. What his father said made sense. Though, he hadn't asked for a story about the feud between the Malfoys and Potters, he understood the necessity of the story. He also began to realize there was more to his relationship with Hermione then he had expected.
"It's being repeated," he commented, to his parents' surprise. "Not entirely, but it still is. Slytherin is at war with Gryffindor. All the while, one of pureblood and one of Muggle blood have fallen in love. The rings have been exchanged. Heart and Soul have been melded into one. Potter and Malfoy are mixed into a feud that has nothing to do with them."
Narcissa gasped, "You don't think Weasley will..."
Draco shook his head. "Even if he wanted to, he can't. The ring protects her, remember?" he informed. "Besides, it's not in Weasley's nature."
He could tell his mother wished to comment, but thankfully she did not. Finally, he voiced the thoughts he knew his parents shared, "She's the one. She is Evalon, I believe. That's why the connection works. She's Evalon."
Lucius disagreed, "Evalon died centuries ago. Besides, she was Half-Blood. Your filthy little wife is a Mudblood."
"Don't call her filthy," Draco snapped. "There's nothing filthy about her. And I didn't mean she was physically Evalon. I meant spiritually, theoretically. She and Evalon have a lot in common. They are the same in virtually every way."
Again, Lucius argued, "Evalon was a beauty beyond measure. She was everything a man could want and more. Her smile alone could cause men's hearts to melt. She was a kind and patient mother. The only woman to ever bear a Malfoy a daughter. She grew up in a time when Half-Bloods and Mudbloods were scorned by most magic people. She fell in love with what should have been her enemy. She..."
"Is everything my wife has become," Draco finished quickly. "With the exception of children, my wife hasn't conceived any children yet. Everything else? You might as well say my wife's name in place of Evalon."
Tired of hearing her husband talk of a dead woman as if she were some well remembered lover, Narcissa broke in, "I agree with Draco. The circumstances are too similar. His wife is Evalon."