The weight of the steel

The flat of the blade

How does it feel

To kneel at defeat?

To kneel at defeat

At the choices you make

Chapter 1: Oh, How the Mighty Have Fallen

In the basement of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, Draco Malfoy sat slumped against the wall in the first cell on the right. It was poorly lit, musty, and the sticky air seemed to cling to everything. The stone floor was caked with layers of dirt and grime centuries old, except for Draco's cell, which had been swept clean.

Draco Malfoy coughed loudly; the noise amplified by the large and mostly empty area. His hair was streaked with dirt, and his pale skin looked almost iridescent in the dark. A mattress with a crumpled blanket was pushed up against the wall, and a beaten old armchair was tucked in the corner. On the first day he was imprisoned here, he had thought, perhaps foolishly, it was something that he could endure; until he realized that he was nowhere else to go. There was no difference between night and day in the dark basement, that he had nowhere else to escape his thoughts and his unreal reality. He watched as everything he once knew, slipped through his fingertips.

He had been captured and brought to the Order of the Phoenix two weeks earlier by Mad-Eye Moody and two other Aurors. Draco preferred being captured by Dumbledore's crusaders to being captured by the Dark Lord and his sadistic followers - Dumbledore's coterie at least wouldn't kill or torture him, at least not yet. In fact, they hadn't even so much as interrogated him. As far as he was concerned, the bars of his cell protected him from the dangers of the wizarding world. Being locked away in the recondite location of the Order of the Phoenix was perhaps the safest place in evading the Dark Lord.

The last thing he remembered before waking in a cell was trampling through the underbrush of an unnamed forest, attempting to evade an infuriated centaur. Snape had left him in a forest with a few supplies, a warning, and the promise of return, and within the span of an hour he had become a fugitive from both the Dark Lord and the Order of the Phoenix. He had failed to kill Dumbledore; in doing so he had failed the Dark Lord, and returning to the Death Eaters would cost him his life. He had only two allies: his mother and Snape. To the Order of the Phoenix and the rest of the wizarding world, he was wanted as an accomplice to the murder of their unofficial leader, Albus Dumbledore, as well as planning the attack on Hogwarts.

When he finally awoke some time later in the musty basement, a stout witch informed him that he was in the Order's detention facility, and he would remain here for an indiscernible amount of time. Also, he would be guarded at all times. Personally, Draco Malfoy thought that the guards served a useless purpose as he didn't have a wand and escape was probably near impossible. No one wanted him, and no one would help him.

He never bothered to talk to the guards, and they never bothered to talk to him. Occasionally, they would cast a pitying glance at him. Draco hated it. He had seen contempt and hatred directed towards him, but never pity. No one pitied a Malfoy; however, there was nothing he could do, for was their prisoner, after all. He knew his actions completely ostracized him from the rest of the wizarding world; and in the stronghold of the order, the name Malfoy held no regard. He had nothing else behind the bars to take the focus off his constant stream of thoughts, some good, some bad, but mostly nostalgic, all contributing to his depressive state. Childhood memories, memories of Hogwarts and happier times… seemingly unimportant moments flitting around and moments that seemed cemented in his mind.

He thought back to something his father had told him. Draco, if you're going to dig yourself into a hole you had better be able to find your way out. If you are not able to, then you are not a Slytherin. You are not a Malfoy. He was quite certain that he could not climb his way out of this particular hole. He had not fully realized what was asked of him when he accepted his task from the Dark Lord, though it was not as if he had a choice. His father, however, had realized, and his father knew it was a hole. To refuse, back out, or worse turn traitor to the Dark Lord would cost him and his family their lives.

The night before returning to school for his sixth year, his father had called him in to the drawing room. Though he had not been in Azkaban long, his demeanor had changed since his return. He stood there, calmly looking at Draco without speaking.

"Father, you wished to speak with me," Draco asked quietly.

"Yes, I did," Lucius began slowly, as if he was focusing on the precise implication of each word, "I wished to tell you something before you return to school."

Draco's mind jumped once again to his task, the one that the Dark Lord had entrusted only him to do. At the time, it seemed like a privelidge, as if he was being done some sort of favor. His heart quickened, unsure of what his father could have to say of the role he willingly accepted; Lucius had not yet touched on the situation and Draco thought it was only a matter of time before they had a discussion. Their discussions were far from open.

"Yes, father?"

"I never wanted for you to be a part in all of this. I expected great things from you, Draco..."

Draco cut Lucius off, protesting. "Father, you will see great things from me. I believe the Dark Lord has given me the chance to prove myself worthy." Draco was surprised to say the least at uncharacteristic disclosure, and more than a little concerned at his father's expression.

"Listen to me, Draco." He replied, his voice full of intent.

"I… you must understand… I was drawn to the Dark Lord, at the prospect of such great power at my disposal, to a young man barely out of school. I, too, was looking to prove myself worthy of achieving such an honor, to devote myself to a worthy cause. As of late, the Malfoy name has become tarnished, and it cannot be denied that the fault belongs to no one else but myself."

Draco watched in stunned silence as he took a breath, as if wondering how to phrase his next though. Questions raced through his mind – was this man before him really his father? What had Azkaban done to him?

Lucius continued. "I cannot deny, my apprehension in joining the Dark Lord once again after his return, for all my efforts to keep the Malfoy name from losing every good grace it once had would be surely wasted. I knew it would mean that I was sacrificing everything once again. However, I made my choice many years ago, and returned to the Dark Lord after 14 years of blessed respite, knowing, that in order to protect myself and my family; there was no other option. As I'm sure you know, Igor Karkaroff did not last long."

Lucius paused, his eyes scanning Draco's face. Not knowing what to say, Draco continued to stare back at his father, barely disguising his confusion at the words. He had never heard his father talk to him in such an unguarded manner, and was taken aback by the sensitive nature of the information his father was disclosing. It felt as if a great black curtain had fallen in his mind, but slowly the confusion gave way to burning anger, though he concealed it with strength he did no know he had.

"Do not think me a fool, boy, I know these words come as a shock most terrible, and the fault is my own. I… I have raised you like this. I have given you no choice. I have put my family and the Malfoy name at the brink of peril and dishonor. You were given this task, I am certain, as punishment to me; and should you fail, you know the consequences. You are far too young to be involved so deeply, and although it pains me to say, this is not what I had hoped for you, Draco. The life of a Malfoy is worth more than a bargaining tool." His eyes closed for a moment as he sighed deeply. "That is all."

Draco wanted to argue, to say that he was going to be the youngest inducted into the Dark Lord's ranks, that there was no higher honor. Lucius, however, had turned his back on him and faced the window, indicating that there was nothing more to say. Draco had stormed out of the room in a fit of rage, that his father was still not impressed with him. He thought his father weak for not being more eager to make up their family's losses to the Dark Lord. He was angry that his father doubted his competence.

That was the last time he had seen his father. Sitting in the dank cell, Draco realized it was an apology of sorts. His father would never apologize to anyone without great personal gain, and at the time he was too naïve to realize he was witnessing the one exception. His father knew he would not return to the Manor. His father knew he would not be able to kill Dumbledore, and therefore forfeit his own life. His father knew there was no choice. His father's last words to him, though he had not known it at the time, meant everything… They meant that at some point he had been worth something.

Sometimes he could hear the commotion of the Aurors returning from a raid. Nothing specific was ever audible, but he could hear people bustling back and forth in the house on various errands. He sighed, as at this very moment he could hear the effects of a recent Death Eater raid, and as he heard footsteps approaching his cell, he hoped his mother was safe. A wooden chair landed perhaps a little harder than necessary in front of the cell, causing Draco to jump.

Harry Potter surveyed the cell that contained Draco Malfoy with a look of disgust on his face. He had been called back from hunting down the remaining horcruxes for guard duty. Apparently, the raid and the Order needed the help of every available Auror. He had no leads, so begrudgingly he admitted that the same work could be done at Grimmauld Place, for now at least. He wasn't allowed to take full part as an Auror; so had been left to baby-sit Draco Malfoy, a task he was none too pleased about to say the least.

"So, where's your buddy Snape? Or are you no longer welcome in his presence either?"

Draco looked up and let out a hollow laugh. Harry Bloody Potter was taunting him. Just what I needed, and to think things were going so smoothly. Draco didn't even bother looking at him, stretching out on the mattress staring up at the stone ceiling.

"Oh, believe me, Potter, if I knew where he was, you'd be the first to know," Draco said sarcastically, hoping that Potter would stop talking to him. He had no advantage trapped behind the bars. He would not welcome humiliation.

"Shut it, Malfoy. You're nothing now," Harry spat, "You know, you've gotten yourself into a funny situation. The only person that could have saved you is dead. "

"I'm still better than that Mudblood friend of yours," Draco replied scathingly.

Harry whipped out his wand and pointed it at Draco.

"You are the world's biggest git, Malfoy! She's a whole lot better than you are and you know it. I don't know why Dumbledore gave you the chance to choose another path before you set him up to die. You never deserved anything more than to be where you are right now.

Draco said nothing in response, for once. He was a spectacle, trapped behind the bars of his cell, he was filthy, and he looked a shadow of his former self. He had been given everything, only to lose it all. Taunted by the ever-righteous Potter, the death of his 'leader' adding fuel to the already blazing fire between them. He would rather go back to his memories, he would be stuck with Potter for long enough.

Potter looked him up and down and turned away with grimace. He dragged the chair back behind the only other piece of furniture in the basement, a desk. Out of his bag, Harry pulled a worn brown text and began to read, whilst Draco pointedly ignored his presence. After an hour or so without talking, a blood-curdling scream carried down into the basement over all the sound of movement upstairs. Harry stood up and pulled out his wand in one fluid movement, and the book fell clattering to the floor. Harry eyed Draco and the stairs, uncertain of what to do. Coming to a decision, Harry ran for the stairs.

"A wise decision, Mr. Potter," Draco called after him, trying to pretend he had some fight left.

The book Harry was reading lay a foot away from the cell. Draco stretched forward on all fours and reached through the bars to grasp it.

"You've… you have to be kidding me," Draco said to himself as he read Hogwarts, A History emblazoned on the front cover below the Hogwarts crest. "What would Potter want with this?"

Draco pulled himself off the floor, heading towards the shabby armchair. For the first time in weeks, he had something to take his mind off his failure.

The brief intro are lyrics to Massive Attack's Flat of the Blade

A BIG thank you to my two wonderful betas: MaraudingManaged and Ex Mentis!