Alike in Dignity

Sally-Anne hadn't spoken to anyone on her way home. Taltria wasn't with her for the first time in years. She'd be surprised if Taltria ever wanted to speak to her again. Ron had said bye to her on his way out, but she felt the glares of everyone else. Everyone hated her. Ron just hated her slightly less, but he'd figure out that she couldn't be trusted.

Her room brought with it warmth and safety. She never wanted to leave. She wrapped herself in a blanket and clutched a pillow. Everything was better at home.

She remained that way most days. Her elocution lessons had finished the previous summer, and even those lessons had been beyond what Madame Walker normally taught, so she had nothing to do. Her dad took it upon himself to talk to her, but she offered little in the way of conversation.

Get up. Sit at the breakfast table. Return to room. Go with dad to the theatre because her parents didn't want her to be alone. Smile and pretend everything was fine. Rejoice that there were some people that didn't know how horrible she was. Return home. Eat supper. Hide in room the rest of the night. This went on for two weeks before she grew sick of her room.

On Saturday morning, she met her parents at the breakfast table.

"I'm going out."

Her parents exchanged glances.

"Are you sure?" her mum asked. "You haven't been yourself lately."

Sally-Anne thought better of telling them exactly who she was. Her former friends were right to shut her out. She was nothing but trouble.

"Never mind that," her dad said. "Where are you going?"

"I don't know. I just don't want to be inside anymore."

"I take it you'd still like to be alone."

Sally-Anne nodded. She dreaded the thought of someone trying to make small talk with her.

"Then be careful," her mum said. "Hold on a moment."

She excused herself from the table and walked into another room. After a minute, she returned with a small black canister and a whistle.

"This is mace,��� she said, handing it to Sally-Anne. "Flick this bit here to unlock it, then press down on the top to spray it." She pointed to a part of it. "This is the front, so always aim it away from you." She handed her the whistle next. "Blow into this first if you get into trouble."

Sally-Anne nodded to show she understood.

Her dad gave her mum a subtle look.

"We don't live in a bad neighborhood. That was sort of the point of living here."

"I'm not expecting a mugger to pull a knife on me," Sally-Anne said. "I'm expecting a Death Eater to pull a wand. At least I'll have a chance of fighting back."

Sally-Anne hated the Ministry. Nothing changed their minds. After their offices were littered with the bodies of a hundred students, they'd convince themselves that they needed a better janitor, and work on that instead of the underage magic laws. The past year had shown her that.

"Exactly," her mum said. "Stay safe."

Her dad stood up and hugged her. It worried Sally-Anne when her parents were so affectionate. They couldn't understand what she'd done.

After he let her go, Sally-Anne and her dad stood there for a moment. Sally-Anne rubbed her left wrist nervously.

"I'll be fine."

She gave them the smile she used to reassure people at school. They saw right through it, but it was better than nothing.

Sally-Anne left her parents' house and started walking. She had no idea where she was going, just away. Anywhere was better than just sitting around doing nothing while the world fell apart.

As she walked, the burden of her actions over the past year weighed down on her. Her ignorance… her childishness. She prided herself on being good with people, but she'd been foolish enough to believe Umbridge. And now no one would ever truly forgive her.

She was all alone. After what she'd done, she knew it was meant to be this way.

After hours of walking, she reached town. She looked around, wondering how many of them knew. No, they couldn't. They were Muggles; they had no idea how much bigger the world was. She smiled at the thought of it. They all knew nothing of her or what she'd done.

She kept walking through town. She passed a park where families were playing. Memories of a simpler time, of when she shyly clung to her dad at the park filled her mind. She'd been so afraid, all she'd wanted to do was read a book.

I wonder if Hermione was the same way.

She had a flash of Dumbledore's office. Her, Hermione, Harry, Dumbledore, Umbridge, McGonagall, and Fudge were there. Hermione was angry at her.

As I've told Professor Umbridge, the former created the lie about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named returning to hide the fact that he was sneaking about in the Forbidden Forest, after curfew, with his girlfriend Ellie Langley, whose memory has since been wiped of the incident, and the latter went mad after being subjected to the Cruciatus Curse and subsequently losing her friend Rose Peta-Lorrum, who herself was mad.

Tears filled her eyes as she watched herself speak. She had no emotion, because Umbridge hadn't wanted someone to think for themselves. Sally-Anne had just been a quiet little slave.

After everything Rose did for you! You're alive because of her!

Sally-Anne shook her head. She looked longingly at the families in the park, wishing she could've had a normal life. After another minute, she forced herself to tear away from the sight of happiness and moved on. She didn't know why she was walking, or if she were searching for something. It felt like she was, but she didn't know what. What did she want?

Memories she'd thought lost filled her mind as she walked through town. She walked past the theatre were she'd gone to see plays countless times. Past shops where she'd quietly followed her mum. Past a bookstore she'd been inside hundreds of times.

Sally-Anne found herself in front of the church she'd attended with her parents before Hogwarts. The place she'd heard of happy endings, justice, and acceptance. It didn't matter who you were or what you looked like in there. Maybe that was where she wanted to be. Somewhere she wouldn't be judged. Somewhere that she wasn't guilty of unending crimes.

She pushed the large doors open and walked into the chapel. Her footsteps echoed through the empty room. It'd always felt cold, but she couldn't tell anymore. Everywhere felt cold to her.

She walked down the center aisle. Echoes of the past filled her head. Ghosts filled the rows of pews. Hymns that sounded far more somber than they ever had drifted around the empty chapel.

She stopped when she reached the altar and stared up at the large cross hanging over it.

"Do you know why I'm here?" she asked.

"I'm sure he does, but if he tells you, let me know. It'd be a first."

The new voice didn't bother her. Like every other emotion, shock had long since left her.

"Hello, Father Michaels."

"Hello, Sally-Anne."

Sally-Anne had never been sure how old Father Michaels was, but he didn't look older than 40. He smiled at her with kindness she didn't deserve. He wore his usual uniform. She'd wondered before if he owned any real clothes.

"How long has it been since you were last here?"

Sally-Anne shook her head.

"I don't know. I can't remember."

He nodded as if he understood. Sally-Anne hated it. He couldn't possibly understand.

"Why come here?" he asked.

"I don't know. I sort of ended up here while walking through town."

He looked over her, then nodded to the mace strapped to her pack.

"Expecting trouble?"

She shifted it around in a feeble attempt to hide it.

"No, but it always finds me anyway."

He raised his hands.

"I'm not going to hurt you. You just look lost."

Sally-Anne looked down, keeping Father Michaels in her periphery. It was impossible to know who she could trust anymore.

"Your dad said you had a tough year at school," he said. "Would you like to talk about—"

"No."

She shifted away, hiding her pack behind her. She didn't know why, but the thought that there was still one person in the world that didn't hate her gave her some comfort. Someone that didn't think she was a traitor. It also occurred to her that protecting her pack was just instinct instilled by Rose.

"Sometimes, the people we trust turn out to be liars. It can be hard to recover from that, especially after they made you do bad things."

Sally-Anne's heart picked up.

"How could you possibly know about that?"

"I don't, but people don't carry mace unless they're expecting trouble. I'm a priest, so I know what guilt looks like on almost everyone. And I know you like helping people. I have since Mrs. Willis hurt her back, and dropped the offering cup. I would've expected you to have picked up the offering. You weren't one for speaking… at all, but you asked her if she was okay."

Sally-Anne frowned at yet another old memory.

"That was… I was six."

Father Michaels nodded.

"People come to me for help a lot, but they rarely tell me why they need help. I've got to work it out sometimes."

Sally-Anne knew the feeling all too well, but something in her said not to say anything about it.

"That sounds frustrating."

"It is, but I can see it plainly on your face that you thought you were helping people, but someone lied to you. You probably figured out you weren't actually helping people, tried to leave, and now you think they're after you."

That's not inaccurate.

"Would you like to talk about it?"

"No."

He nodded.

"Well, then, there's not much I can do for you. But do find someone to turn to."

"There isn't anyone."

He smiled again. She wished he'd stop doing that.

"There must be someone."

Sally-Anne found it odd, the people that popped into her head that moment. It wasn't her parents, or most of her old friends. No, her friends were still mad at her, save maybe Ron. But it wasn't Ron that popped into her head. It was Draco.

Of all the people to think of, he was the least likely to keep her secrets, but possibly the most likely to understand.

"I will."

She sounded noncommittal, but she meant it. She didn't know how she'd contact him. It couldn't have been a good idea for him to receive a letter from a Muggle-born. Nonetheless, she decided she'd find a way. She didn't have any other friends.

Draco followed his mum into the hidden lower level of Malfoy Manor. He concentrated on his breathing and Occlumency shields, all to keep himself calm. A storm of emotions raged in his head. Part of him was excited. He was about to be inducted into the Dark Lord's ranks. He'd be the youngest active Death Eater, possibly the youngest ever. Take that, Potter!

He could sense his mother's fear. What was she so afraid of? He wasn't going to make a mistake; he was a Malfoy, and Malfoys didn't make mistakes. He would impress the Dark Lord, rise through his ranks, and retain the power Draco's father held. It was the reason for his existence: to carry on the Malfoy name and replace his father.

Don't you want to be more than that?

He blocked out thoughts of Sally-Anne. She didn't know anything. He was a Malfoy, which meant he didn't have a choice. Her way felt better, but it wasn't an option. His parents had even been pushing him to get back with Parkinson. As always, Draco's opinion meant nothing.

As they drew nearer, screams caused his mother to flinch. Draco kept his focus on his mind, suppressing the fear that it might be him next.

"I beg your forgiveness my lord!" a desperate voice wailed.

His mother tensed up, and Draco realized he knew the voice. It was Auntie Bella. Why was she being tortured of all people? She was the best there was.

His mother opened the door to the hidden chamber and the screams of his aunt filled the corridor. It was a wretched, pathetic sound, but he still felt a twinge of pity for her. She'd always shown him kindness in her own way. Tales of Auntie Bella's kindness would've left Sally-Anne appalled — more proof she didn't understand — but it was some of the only kindness Draco knew.

He kept his face and mind blank as he surveyed the room. The table in the middle of the room was lined with people. Voldemort himself stood at the head, his wand held on Bella. Lux sat to his right, his father to the left. The rest of the occupants kept their faces blank, lest they risk drawing any unwanted attention to themselves. The only one who showed any emotion was Lux. She looked amused.

Draco didn't like Lux. That look in her eye she got when she was surveying a scene reminded him of something, but he couldn't think what it was. Then there was the fact that Lux took every chance she got to knock Bella down. No one knew what Lux's grudge against Bellatrix was, but she never let up with it. Most of them figured she just wanted to be the Dark Lord's favorite, and saw Bellatrix as an obstacle to that.

Draco tried to ignore his aunt's screams. She begged and pleaded for Voldemort to stop, but that only made it worse on everyone.

The Dark Lord's arm finally got tired, and he released Bella from the curse.

"Now you all see what happens when you fail me," he said.

He looked at Draco, and Draco realized that it had been in part a demonstration for him. Maybe even for his parents. The Dark Lord wanted them all to know what would happen to Draco if he made a mistake. No, not a mistake. Simply if he didn't meet the Dark Lord's expectations.

Voldemort beckoned him to approach. Only then did Draco finally feel fear.

"Draco."

The sound of his name being uttered by that icy voice caused another surge of fear. He quelled it with a reminder that he was a Malfoy. They didn't feel fear; they didn't lose; they didn't make mistakes. His father was still one of the highest ranking Death Eaters. Even though Auntie Bella had made a mistake, he wouldn't.

"Are you ready?" Voldemort asked.

As his parents had instructed him to do, Draco dropped to his knees.

"I am, my lord."

Draco returned to his room later. His arm was still sore from when the Dark Lord had pressed his wand into it. No one tried to talk to him, which was just as well. He was in no mood to speak to anyone.

Regret began to creep into his mind. What if he'd been wrong about joining the Dark Lord? No, he couldn't have been. His parents insisted it was for the best. Auntie Bella practically worshiped the Dark Lord. Even Professor Snape had been a Death Eater once, although what he was up to now, Draco didn't know.

If you treat them with dignity, they'll be loyal.

Draco remembered Sally-Anne's words. Obviously, no one had told Voldemort that. He ruled through fear, not respect or trust. They were required to trust him, but he needn't trust them. No, he trusted their fear. What if Sally-Anne had been right? That loyalty was better than fear.

I sound like a Hufflepuff.

A shiver ran down his spine when that thought entered his mind.

He laid down on his bed and stared at the ceiling. At least there was no one to bother him. It was just him, alone in the dark. There was no one to talk to, no one to listen to him, and no one to back him up. It was just as well; it wasn't as though his father had any friends either, and he was just fine.

My friends call me 'Princess' or 'Sally-Anne', not Perks.

Sally-Anne had been driving him mad for days. What was her game? Did she care? No one cared what Draco wanted, but she apparently did. If she was up to something, she was taking her time with it. What would she have wanted from him? Umbridge had made her the most powerful student in school. A position that Umbridge hadn't offered him. Draco was glad his father had ordered Ins to investigate. It served Umbridge right for favoring a mudblood over him.

No, not a mudblood. Sally-Anne.

Draco shook his head. She was a mudblood! Nothing! They weren't friends! She was the enemy! A threat to their power and security!

He picked up a pillow and hurled it across the room. Rage boiled up inside him. What was wrong with him? What was that girl doing to him?

"Master Draco, is something the matter?"

He hurled another pillow at Dobby when he appeared. The house-elf squeaked and dropped to his knees.

"Dobby is begging your forgiveness, Master! Dobby is being sorry!"

As was his way, Dobby threw himself at the wall. Draco glared and watched Dobby hurl himself at it again and again, screaming about being sorry.

They pick up on more than they let on. If you treat them with dignity, they'll be loyal.

Dobby was the closest thing Draco had ever had to a friend. The one person in Draco's life that he knew wasn't out to get him. Dobby never worked an angle, he just served them. It was a certainty in which he'd always found a strange comfort.

"Stop!"

Dobby froze halfway between launching himself against the wall.

"It's… it's alright, Dobby. I… I forgive you."

Dobby slowly turned around and hunched over. His big eyes grew even bigger. Draco swore he saw them sparkling.

"Really?"

"Sure." Draco thought for a moment. "I need to ask you something, but you mustn't tell anyone else."

Dobby nodded excitedly, his large ears flopping around.

"Do you remember me talking about a girl called Sally-Anne Perks?"

"Oh yes, Dobby remembers. Master Draco mutters about Sally-Anne Perks a lot. He is saying she is being odd, and a Muggle-born, and sometimes he even complements her when he is thinking Dobby is not hearing."

Draco blushed and hurled another pillow at Dobby.

"I do not complement her!"

Dobby dropped to his knees.

"Dobby is being sorry, Master Draco!"

Draco calmed down a moment and realized that Sally-Anne had been right (again). Dobby picked up on a lot more than Draco would've thought. If he'd overheard that much from Draco, how much had he picked up from all of their guests?

"Do you know who Aurora Lux is?" Draco asked, an idea forming in his head.

Dobby nodded, his ears flopping around.

"Dobby is knowing Mistress Lux. She is not coming out much. But Dobby is seeing her sometimes. She is not being very nice to Mistress Bellatrix."

Draco dismissed the idea of using Dobby to get revenge on Lux. He'd have to do it himself, as always. Still, he wondered how much Dobby knew about their operations. Dobby was in and out all the time, even being as terrified as he was to go anywhere near Voldemort. That one house-elf could potentially hold the power to tear down the Death Eaters with what he knew.

"T-Thank you, Dobby," Draco said.

The words sounded strange to him. Was he supposed to say thank you?

In her own room, Sally-Anne stared at her own ceiling through the dark. Ever since she'd returned from town that afternoon, she'd been reciting the same question.

Who have I still got?

She knew she was lying to herself, because she already had an answer to it. She just wasn't sure of the answer. Could Draco actually be her friend? She'd been trying to be friends with him for years, or at least to get him to back off.

Of all her friends… no, she told herself, they weren't her friends anymore. Hermione, Harry, and Ginny were all still cross at her. They hadn't removed the rune, so they weren't completely cross, but she was sure it had been Ron that insisted on letting her keep it.

She'd thought about using the rune to talk to them a few times, but figured she'd only be bothering them. They didn't want anything to do with a traitor like her.

Who have I still got?

She wanted the answer to be Alex, but after what she'd said to her, she'd be lucky if Alex ever spoke to her again. No, she'd burned most of her bridges. Everyone in Gryffindor and Hufflepuff hated her over the Crimson Insurrection. Ravenclaw hated her because of Umbridge. Slytherin hated her because she was a Muggle-born. The staff hated her because she'd sold everyone out to Umbridge. Anyone with a scrap of ambition hated her for being Umbridge's favorite. She still hadn't sorted out why Umbridge had liked her so much. Was it just because she knew how the students ticked? Umbridge must've known Sally-Anne would turn on her eventually.

No, she thought, that's why she did it. Umbridge had trusted her because Sally-Anne was naive. She'd always been a little too gullible, too eager to help. Now she was paying the price.

Who have I still got?

She'd considered writing to Ron, but she was sure he didn't want to talk to her. He had other problems to worry about. She's also given thought to writing to Draco, but was sure that would only end in disaster. If his parents found out they were friends — or whatever it was they were — they'd be furious with him. His life was hard enough without her making it worse. She'd already given him problems by convincing him to dump Parkinson.

A faint pop distracted her from her current turmoil. She flipped on the light on her nightstand, her left hand at the ready. If it was trouble, she could always get a hold of her old friends. Surely Hermione or Ron would have someone they could send… or they'd just enjoy her fear.

"Hello?" she whispered.

"Is you being Sally-Anne Perks?"

She caught the outline of a small human, but with big ears.

"I am," she replied. "Who are you?"

The house-elf stepped into the light. He looked old, older than Dripty, but not quite as old as Kreacher or Atrien. He wore a pillowcase for clothing.

"Dobby."

She frowned. She recognized that name.

"The Malfoys' elf?"

Sally-Anne glanced around as if one of the Malfoys were about to pop up.

Dobby nodded, looking just as worried about it as Sally-Anne was.

"Is it alright for you to be here?"

Dobby shook his head.

"No one must be knowing that Dobby is talking to Ms. Sally-Anne Perks. But Master Draco was asking about Ms. Sally-Anne Perks, so Dobby thought he would go and check on Ms. Sally-Anne Perks."

Sally-Anne smiled. She had a friend. Of all the people, Draco Malfoy was the last person she thought she'd consider a friend, but there they were. Her last friend. He'd tried to kill her once, as her former friends had never tired of reminding her. It was funny how things worked out.

"That's very sweet of him… and of you, Dobby. Thank you so much."

An idea crossed her mind. The solution to her problem was standing right in front of her.

"Can you come back tomorrow evening? Just for a minute. I promise, no one will ever know you're gone."

Dobby gave the idea some thought. He looked like he was terrified just being there, never mind the possibility of actually getting caught.

"Dobby is thinking he can do that."

She smiled again. For the first time in weeks, she felt happy.

"Brilliant."