Minutes to Midnight

Author's Note
Assume that Snape is known to be a spy and a traitor, though Voldemort still keeps him for minor information on Dumbledore.
But everyone on the Dark Lord's side knows he's a traitor.

Chapter One
The Consequences

It all started around the end of Sixth Year.

"Letting a traitor like Snape do your dirty work now, Draco?" Lucius hissed. His sleek white-blond hair was pulled tightly back in a ponytail, his hand clenched tightly around the tip of his elegant cane.

Draco stood at eye level with his father - he had grown in recent months - and felt the disappointment, the shame, washing over him in a rush. He felt the desperate urge to explain himself, to excuse himself for making a fool of the Malfoy family in front of the Dark Lord.

"Father, it was never my intention to - "

"To what - fail us? To make a mockery of our family?" Lucius whispered.

Draco closed his eyes and dutifully fell to his knees in front of his Head of House. He would beg for forgiveness if he had to. He needed his father to understand, and not to disown or kill him.

"Forgive me, Father. I have disappointed the Malfoy name and our lord."

"Oh you have done more than disappoint us. You have disgraced us."

Draco dropped his gaze to the floor, and saw the cane rising from the corner of his vision, before it smacked against the side of his cheek. His head snapped to the side as a sharp pain bloomed where the cane touched him. He clenched his jaw shut and ignored the bright white spots that suddenly appeared behind his eyelids.

"I was weak. But I will never be weak again, Father." Draco rasped.

"I should kill you," Draco's breath hitched. "But unfortunately, you are my only heir. So instead, I will let the Dark Lord deal with your dishonor."

Lucius dismissed himself, leaving Draco cold and breathless on the dungeon floor of the Malfoy Manor. A few minutes after his father left, he heard the heavy door of the dungeons swinging open and closed. Draco remained on his knees, well aware of who had entered.

The Dark Lord.

Draco lowered his head.

"My, my Draco. It seems you have upset your father." the Dark Lord said, sending a chill down Draco's spine.

"I have displeased him, my lord." he whispered.

"Yes, you have greatly displeased him. But you have also displeased your Master." the Dark Lord said coldly.

Draco remained silent, his dry tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

"You had a mission, Draco, a special mission that I assigned to you alone. I gave you my Mark because I thought you were worthy of it, worthy of representing me and your fellow Death Eaters, but you only proved yourself a coward."

"Your assignment was to kill Dumbledore. You failed three times. You failed with the necklace. You failed with the poisoned mead. You failed when you finally confronted him, even when he was defenseless and open for any kind of attack. You will pay for this failure, Draco."

Draco listened to the Dark Lord speak, feeling each harsh word cutting deeply into his skin. His father and his Lord were right. He failed. He was a coward. He didn't deserve the Mark.

"I usually punish my slippery followers with a simple Crucio but I believe your punishment should be much more personal, Draco. You showed an expected and unwelcome weakness. Your father and I agree that you must be... re-educated."

"I accept whatever punishment you see fit, my lord." Draco said without hesitation.

"Then rise, Draco."

Draco pushed himself to his feet, his head still obediently bowed and waited for some kind of pain. Instead, he felt the cold touch of the Dark Lord's touch on his chin, forcing him to look up. Draco dragged his gaze up until he was staring into the fathomless red eyes that squinted at him without emotion. The Dark Lord's grasp on his chin tightened until the nails of his fingers dug into his skin. Draco welcomed the pain.

"Follow me." the Dark Lord ordered. He turned around brusquely, his blood-red robes sweeping majestically around him.

Draco followed quietly behind through the dungeon corridor where all the prison cells were. The Malfoy Manor had an impressive unit hidden underneath. It was never touched by light, never heard by anyone outside the dungeons, and was bone chillingly cold, all the time. The Dark Lord used them to hold his prisoners - usually followers of Dumbledore or some unfortunate civil servant - and seldom did these prisoners ever come out. They lived and died in their cells.

As they passed each empty cell, Draco forced himself to get a grip on himself. Images of abuse and torture that he was once forced to watch surfaced to mind. He had witnessed more horror than the average person, and with a sickening realization, Draco realized he would be next.

They stopped at the last cell, the cell that was reserved for the most hated traitor or prisoner. It reeked of the dead, and hid in the deepest shadows of the dungeon. The Dark Lord flicked the door open with his hand and beckoned Draco to follow him inside.

Draco shuddered as he entered the cell. Rusted chains hung on the walls, and dried blood stained the stone floor. The Dark Lord stood in the center, his red eyes gazing over every detail in the cell, until stopping at Draco's lean form. He stepped towards the chains and took them in his hands. The links rattled loudly against each other.

"Take off your robes, your dress shirt, your shoes, and your socks." he ordered.

Draco slowly slipped out of his robe, and dropped it carelessly to the ground. Then he took off his shirt, his shoes, and his socks - leaving him in only his black pants. Goosebumps rose where his skin was exposed.

"Put these on, Draco."

The Dark Lord held his spindly hands out to Draco and offered him the rusted chains.

Draco stared at them, unable to move any of his limbs. He urged himself to move, knowing that refusal would warrant severe punishment and disapproval from the Dark Lord, but the idea of imprisoning himself was unimaginable.

After a moment's pause, Draco reached out and took hold of the chains. He backed himself against the wall, and weighed the chains in his hands. He slid down into a sitting position and took a cuff. He opened it, took a deep breath, and shackled it to his left ankle. He winced as he felt the cuff adjusting its size until it sat uncomfortably tight against his skin. This was the purpose. Never let the prisoner forget who he was.

He felt the Dark Lord's eyes watching him as he shackled his right ankle, than his left arm. With every shackle, he felt his magic receding inside of him. The cuffs made the prisoner's magic less powerful, to never give the prisoner a chance to do wandless magic and escape.

Draco stared at the remaining cuff. His left arm was already bound, leaving him with only one arm. He couldn't cuff the other hand by himself. Humiliated, Draco looked up at the Dark Lord.

"My lord..." He trailed off.

The Dark Lord gracefully dropped to one knee and took the last cuff. Draco hid his surprise. The Dark Lord never took a knee for anyone. But he simply opened the cuff, and locked it into place around Draco's wrist. Draco jerked in surprise when the chains suddenly slithered towards the wall until they bound Draco's arms together tightly behind him.

"You will remain here until your father or I decide to come see you." the Dark Lord said.

"Yes, my lord."

The Dark Lord retrieved Draco's clothes and turned to leave the cell. He could see a sliver of the Dark Lord's face through the bars of the cell, from the faint light of a far-off wall torch that flickered precariously. The Dark Lord took a step into the hall, and waved his hand through the air. The torches immediately blew out, leaving Draco in absolute darkness.

Draco almost cried out, hating the feeling of the black around him, but forced himself to calm. He deserved this. This was a lesson. He strained to hear the footsteps of the Dark Lord as he led himself out of the dungeon. Then, Draco heard the slam of the dungeon doors. It sounded so final, so permanent, that Draco began to feel real fear.

He tugged futilely against his shackles, and was rewarded with a slight pain. If he kept tugging, the cuffs would chafe his skin raw, leaving him bloody and scarred at the ankles and wrists. Draco had seen it all before. He would not let himself do the same.

Draco squinted into the darkness. The dark did not soothe Draco like it usually did. He was a child of darkness. He craved small corners and holes as a child, hiding in desk knee-holes and wardrobes when he could. But this kind of darkness, it was scary. Draco closed his eyes - and saw black. Draco opened his eyes - and still saw black. For a moment, it confused him. Weren't his eyelids open? Why couldn't he see anything?

Draco believed he would go delirious if he was left here too long. Perhaps sleep was the best option at the moment. Draco tried to lean back against the wall, to support his head and nod off to sleep, but his tightly bound arms got in the way. Draco tried a few positions before finding that huddling on the ground on his side was the most comfortable.

After a day, or so Draco thought, the chains loosened magically, giving him about a foot's distance between his two wrists and two ankles. Draco tried to familiarize himself with the room, groping the walls like a blind man. When he had to use the bathroom, he used the far corner where he would smell everything the least.

Eventually, Draco's stomach began to convulse with hunger and thirst. His throat was completely parched, his mouth dry, and his stomach empty. He lost all sense of time, and forced himself to sleep even when he wasn't tired because it was the best way to ignore the pain, loneliness, and hunger.

About five days later, Draco jerked awake to the sound of a slamming door. The wall torches flared to life, leaving Draco temporarily blinded by the unexpected light. He blinked furiously and shaded his eyes away from the light to protect his eyes.

As the footsteps drew nearer, Draco forced himself on his knees to greet the Dark Lord. He heard the door to his prison clanging open.

"My lord," said Draco softly.

"Draco, we've come to deliver your punishment."

Draco shuddered.

"Yes, my Lord."

"But first, I think your father would like to have a few words with you."

Lucius stepped forward and began to speak in a low voice.

"Draco, you are my only child. As my only child, I believe I have spoiled you greatly."

There was a slight pause.

"When you were a child, I was excited for your future. I knew you were intelligent, cunning, and could do great things. I expected you to be the best. But then you started Hogwarts, and everything changed. You never could be the best in your class. Instead, you were outranked by a Mudblood. And worst yet, you could never beat a Potter - always losing the snitch to the Dark Lord's enemy. How do you think that makes me feel, Draco? And yet, I never did punish you. I didn't discipline you enough when you made mistakes. I just hoped that you would do better next term. Every failure you made that I never addressed led to your greatest failure yet - the failure to complete the Dark Lord's wishes."

"Tonight, you will experience pain for your past transgressions." Lucius said gravely.

"Do you wish to say anything before we proceed?" asked the Dark Lord.

Draco shook his head.

"No, my lord." he said.

"Good." said Lucius, and snapped his wand at the chains on the wall.

They moved, stretching Draco's arms out to the ceiling. His feet were spread shoulder's width apart, firmly planted on the ground. He faced the back wall, leaving his back completely exposed to the Dark Lord and his father.

The first blow was unexpected, to say the least.

A hot flash of pain burst on the center of his back without warning, leaving him breathless and disoriented. He couldn't tell if it was a belt or a whip, but it hurt... a lot. More blows came, harder each time. He had never in his life been physically punished this way before. Because of this, his pain tolerance was short. Draco threw his head back and shrieked at the tenth whip, unable to bite his lip in silence any longer.

The shriek seemed to trigger his father's anger.

"Why can't you do better than a Mudblood, Draco?" he vehemently asked.

Crack.

"I-I'm not s-smart enough, father." he choked out, his chest heaving up and down.

"Wrong, Draco! You are smart enough. You just don't work hard enough! You take advantage of the Malfoy name! It's not enough Draco! You have to work harder!" He screamed, ending his sentence with another vicious lash.

Draco howled, the force of the blow rocking him forward.

"Why can't you catch the snitch, Draco? Why does Potter win every time?"

Crack.

Draco strained at the shackles keeping him in place, desperately wishing they would give and let him sink into the ground.

"I-I don't practice h-hard enough, F-father." he said through clenched teeth.

Crack.

Draco arched his back and shrieked again.

"Correct, Draco. You don't practice hard enough! You make excuses, instead of honing your talent. I got you excellent new brooms to get you on the team, and this is the way you show your gratitude? By losing?"

Crack.

"I'm sorry, Father." Draco sobbed, hating himself for letting the hot tears escape his eyes.

"Sorry isn't enough in our world, Draco. You have to be the best and the strongest."

"I will, I will." Draco rasped repeatedly. Please believe me, he thought.

Crack.

It was a whip, Draco suddenly realized. He had felt leather strap wrap around to his side, leaving him burning hot on his back and sides.

"This year at Hogwarts, Draco, you will be the best. You will rank number one in your classes and win the Slytherin Cup."

Crack.

"Ah! Yes, yes father." Draco said hoarsely, his throat sore from screaming.

Behind Draco, the whip exchanged hands. The Dark Lord stood poised behind Draco while Draco's limp body hung loosely from the chains, unable to keep himself up properly. He breathed heavily, sobbing.

"What did you think, Draco, when I Marked you?" the Dark Lord asked.

Crack.

Draco gasped. The Dark Lord had a much harder hand than his father did.

"I-I was honored, m-my Lord."

The Dark Lord made a noise of disgust in his throat.

"Such lies, Draco." he spat.

Crack.

"What were you really thinking, Draco?" he asked again in a threatening voice.

Crack.

Draco shrieked. He took a full minute to answer, unable to think outside of the pain.

"F-fear." he whispered. It was the most he could say at the moment.

"Ah, fear. Yes. Most of my followers fear me. And what did you think when I assigned you the mission, Draco?"

Draco shook his head. He would not reveal this one to the Dark Lord.

"No, Draco?"

Crack.

Crack.

Draco gasped and urged himself to speak quickly.

"S-suicide. S-suicide m-mission. Y-you wanted to k-kill me."

The Dark Lord laughed darkly.

"Perhaps. But if I really wanted to kill you, I would have done that in many other creative, painful ways. But you see, Draco, I was testing you."

Crack.

"I believed that you would be able to do it. What stopped you? You were almost there. You had his wand and could have killed him easily enough. He was already sick, didn't you know? So I ask again, what stopped you?"

Draco groaned and his eyeballs briefly rolled to the back of his head. He could feel the outer edges of his vision darkening, but he would not let himself black out.

"Was it compassion, Draco? Did you have compassion for the poor, sick Dumbledore?" the Dark Lord sneered.

Crack.

"NO!" Draco screamed, arching his back again.

"THEN WHAT?"

"I WAS WEAK!" he yelled. "I was weak." he repeated, his voice ragged.

"Yes, and that moment of weakness has caused your family some grief from the other Dark families. They all knew of our plans, and looked forward to a performance. Instead, you allowed a traitor like Snape to finish the job. Most disappointing."

"I know, my lord."

Draco's face was contorted in pain, tears running down his cold cheeks.

"P-please," he whispered.

Crack.

"What is it that you are begging for, Draco?"

"I'm s-sorry." he croaked.

Crack.

"Do you feel you have been punished enough?" his father asked quietly.

"N-no, father." Draco groaned.

Lucius waved his wand at the chains again, which promptly unclasped themselves from Draco. Draco cried out as he fell to the ground in a great, gasping heap. He got on his knees and laid his forehead against the cool surface of the ground.

"Come here, Draco." the Dark Lord demanded.

Draco lifted his head and got a quick glimpse of a thin leather whip. He shuddered violently and began to crawl pitifully towards the Dark Lord. His knees scraped against the hard stone floors, as he stumbled down once or twice.

"M-my l-lord."

The Dark Lord stared down at Draco with cold eyes.

"Crucio."

Draco screamed hoarsely and seemed to curl into himself. His limbs convulsed as his body was laced with pure, unadulterated pain. It went on for less than a minute, but for Draco it seemed like an eternity.

"From here on starts your second chance, Draco." the Dark Lord said firmly, and left the father and son.

Draco remained on his knees in front of his father, too weak to do anything else.

"I don't forgive you yet, Draco, but maybe one day I will." he said simply.

"T-thank you, father. Thank you." Draco said meaningfully.

His father gripped his upper arm and helped him to his feet. Draco staggered and leaned heavily against his father for support. Lucius leaned Draco against a side wall and waited to see if Draco could stand.

He couldn't. Draco's knees buckled and fell hard to the floor.

"I will be right back." said Lucius, and quickly left the dungeons.

He returned with a large thick blanket, a towel, and a tray of water and soup. Lucius put the blanket on the floor and helped Draco sit on it.

"The Dark Lord has ordered me to let your wounds heal naturally. This means I can not give you anything for the pain, or heal it, but I can wash the blood off."

Draco only heard a few words, as he was lost in a pain-induced delirium, but nodded anyway.

"Lay on your front." he ordered.

Draco moaned in pain but lay carefully on his front. Lucius soaked the towel in warm water and began to dab at the edges of the wounds, trying to wash off the blood. Draco hissed in pain when Lucius touched the wounds. Underneath the blood was bruised and broken skin where the harsh whip had licked him. Visible whip marks wrapped all the way around to his ribs. It would take weeks for the skin to heal, and he would be left with an impressive set of scars.

"Leave your back uncovered. It will be extremely painful to bandage or cover it." Lucius explained, but Draco never heard him.

He faded into a murky sleep, more than happy to lose consciousness. Lucius hated to do it, but he shook Draco awake. Draco groaned and blinked his eyes open.

"Don't sleep yet. There are a few things I must explain to you." said Lucius.

Draco only nodded and continued to lean the side of his head against his arm.

"Yes, father." he said, his voice tight with pain.

"The Dark Lord has spoken, and he wishes for you to remain here for a bit longer. You will stay here, and I or another Death Eater will come by every day to give you food, water, and books. It is expected that you work hard on your studies, no matter where you are or what condition you are in. Understood?"

"Yes, I understand father." said Draco.

"Try to get up, so you can drink some water."

"I-I don't think I can." Draco said nervously, but began to slowly push himself up. He propped himself on his elbows, then took a deep breath as he got into a sitting position. He cried out in pain and tightly clutched the blanket.

Lucius poured a cup halfway with water and offered it to Draco's chapped lips. Draco licked his lips then parted them, sighing in relief as cool water flowed into his mouth and down his throat. Draco took a few sips before leaning back, indicating he couldn't drink anymore. Lucius put the drink down.

"Thank you." Draco said softly.

"Don't thank me yet." he said quietly and showed Draco the chains and shackles. Draco's vision momentarily swam as he felt a sick feeling rising in him, but he squelched the feeling.

"You have a choice. You can put the leg and arm shackles on, which are very hindering in movement, or you can choose to put on the neck collar." his father said, and waved his hand towards another part of the wall.

Draco had never noticed it before, but on another part of the wall there was a wall mount chain with a menacing steel collar on the other side.

Draco looked away and closed his eyes, willing himself not to cry. What to do? Realistically, the collar would be a better option because at least he had free range of motion. He would just be restricted to a certain distance if he had the collar.

Draco sighed.

"The collar, please." he murmured.

Lucius nodded and picked up the neck collar and extended the chain so it could reach Draco.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

Draco closed his eyes and tried to feel his magic. It was there, vibrating with life right underneath his skin. He would miss the feeling.

"Yes, father." said Draco.

Lucius lifted the steel collar to Draco's neck and clamped it shut. It magically sealed itself, leaving a smooth round circle around his neck with a tiny loop at the back where the chain connected. Draco instantly felt his magic retreating, and was saddened by the feeling. Draco lifted his hand up to his neck and touched the collar. It was a snug fit, not uncomfortable, but it was still slightly heavy.

"I'll be back tomorrow. Sleep." he commanded.

"Goodbye, father." he said softly, and laid down on his stomach.

When Lucius returned the next day, Draco was still face down on the blanket, his arms cushioning his head.

"Draco," he said, and put his hand on Draco's shoulder. Draco jerked awake and blinked warily at his father.

"Can you get up?" he asked.

Draco nodded and sat up, wincing in pain. His back didn't look much better than yesterday. During Draco's restless sleep, many wounds had split open, leaving small traces of blood on the dark green blanket.

"Eat this." he said, and offered Draco a bowl of warm soup and a piece of soft bread.

"Thank you." Draco said, and gratefully took the warm bowl into his hands. The dungeons were freezing, his breath coming out in puffs of smoke, and he still only had his pants on. He dipped the spoon into the soup and gently lifted it to his lips. He savored the mildly sweet soup, as it was his first bit of food in almost a week, and continued to eat very slowly. Halfway through, he stopped eating, though he still held the bowl in his hands for warmth.

"If you're finished, lay down so I can wash your back again. It would be very unpleasant if your wounds got infected." he said. Draco obediently set the soup down on the tray and laid down on his stomach. He clenched his fists in pain as his father cleaned his wounds.

"I brought down your 7th year books, all of them, so it should keep you preoccupied for the coming weeks. I'll be down later tonight to give you dinner."

"Thank you. I won't disappoint you this time, father." Draco said.

"I sincerely hope so, Draco. I would hate to have a repeat of yesterday night." Lucius said coldly.

Draco shuddered and shook his head.

"No, never again, I promise."

Two Weeks Later

"Get up!" Bellatrix yelled and threw an ice cold bucket of water on the sleeping form.

Draco gasped awake; his eyes peeled wide open, and shook his head.

"It's time for your bath, dear." she said wickedly, and pulled Draco up by his hair. Draco groaned and yielded to her touch, knowing that there was nothing in his power he could do to stop her.

Draco stood, his arms covering his bare chest in a futile attempt to keep himself warm.

"Tsk tsk. Keep your arms at your side!" she said, as if she were chiding a young child, and refilled the bucket with her wand.

Draco shivered uncontrollably as he forced himself to put his arms down. He clenched and unclenched his fists as his sides, gasping and heaving for air. Bellatrix threw the bucket of ice cold water at him.

"Such a filthy child. We best get you cleaned up!" she exclaimed, and aimed her wand at him to cast a domestic charm. It was a spell that busy mothers used to scrub their children in the bath. A thick wooden brush with bristles on the end appeared in mid-air and began to attack Draco, furiously scrubbing until Draco's skin was raw and red.

Bellatrix laughed as Draco cried out, doubling over in pain as the brush attacked his back. Draco fell to his knees and tried to shield his back with his hands, but the brush seemed to have a mind of its own and slapped Draco's hand away.

"L-Lestrange, s-stop it!" Draco gasped, and screamed as all his scabs ripped open.

"If you say so, Draco!" she said, and conjured scalding hot water into the bucket.

Draco recognized the charm and backed away, his face contorted in horror. Bellatrix threw him a sneer before splashing him with boiling hot water. Draco screamed, his head thrown back in pain, as he felt his skin bubbling with painful blisters.

"You should learn to obey the Dark Lord from now on, Draco!" she said, and stormed out of the dungeons. Draco was left kneeling in the center of the cell, sobbing as his entire body burned.

"Oh, God." he kept moaning to himself.

One Month Later

Draco pulled the blanket around himself tighter as he read his 7th year Potions textbook. He occasionally jotted notes down on his parchment notebook. It was like a muggle notebook, except the pages were made of parchment paper. It was easier than using parchment rolls.

Draco knew he only had a few hours left to write and take notes. When a Death Eater came to deliver his breakfast, they let him use a quill, but at lunch they took the quill away so he wouldn't be able to use it as a weapon. That gave him approximately five hours to study, do his written assignments, and take notes.

He estimated that it had been about a month since his whipping with the Dark Lord. He hadn't seen him since, but his days were kept busy with the Death Eaters. Most viewed Draco's failure to kill Dumbledore as the worst kind of betrayal, and made their views known to him whenever they came down. They slapped, pinched, and kicked him around, making him feel like shit during the process.

The good days were when his father came. His father still didn't forgive him, but he treated him better than the others. He tried to take care of the injuries he procured from the other Death Eaters, though he was never allowed to heal them. It was the Dark Lord's rule.

By now, the wounds on his back were almost healed. It would have been a quicker heal if the Death Eaters hadn't messed around with his back so many times.

Draco's line of thought was interrupted when his prison door was slammed open.

"Lunch." the Death Eater said gruffly. He was very big and buff, but he was one of the Death Eaters that treated Draco normal - if normal meant being ignored. He never touched Draco.

He put a tray down next to Draco and casually leaned against the wall. Draco was thankful that this Death Eater didn't make him beg for food. A lot of the Death Eaters taunted Draco, forcing him to beg for his breakfast, lunch, or dinner. In the beginning, Draco had refused to do so, choosing to starve instead. But after a few days, his hungry stomach reminded him that he was indeed human and needed food, so Draco had to beg shamelessly.

Draco reached for the chicken sandwich without putting his book down, and continued to read while chewing. When he was done, Draco reluctantly put the book down and began to eat his soup.

The Death Eater noticed that Draco was done and took the tray from him.

"Quill." he said, and put his palm out. Draco sighed and reluctantly put the quill and ink bottle in the guard's hands.

"Hello, father." Draco said in a monotone voice and rose to greet his father. The chain rattled as he moved.

"Draco." his father replied, and quickly moved towards Draco.

Draco flinched as his father put his hand out, but instead of a slap, his father removed the steel collar. He felt a rush of magic enveloping his entire body. Draco opened his mouth in surprise and rubbed at the skin underneath. It was smooth and unmarred, unlike the skin around his ankles and wrists. They were lined with scars from being shackled tightly.

"Father?" Draco asked, and looked questioningly at Lucius.

"Today you leave this place." he said, sweeping his hand around the cell. Draco felt his heart skip a beat.

"R-really?" He stammered, unable to believe he was actually leaving his prison cell.

"Yes. But the remaining month will be different, even if you are out of the dungeons. The Dark Lord considers you a flight risk, so he has requested that you remain on Manor grounds with this on."

Draco looked down at his father's hand and saw a thin silver bracelet.

"This is a location bracelet. It will monitor where you are, and what you are doing at all times."

Draco grimaced as he looked at the necklace. Another restraint. Another way to keep him under control.

"But I'll give this to you later, when you're in your rooms. Take your books, and let's go." his father said.

Draco quickly bent down and picked up his books and parchment notebooks. He silently padded out of the cell, for the first time in a month and a half, and followed his father down the passageway and up the stairs. Draco trembled as he reached the heavy door. He pushed through and blinked quickly as natural sunlight hit him in the face.

"Welcome home."

---

I know this has sort of been an intense chapter. Review, please! And just as a warning, this is not a happy story. It will be difficult for Draco throughout most of the story. Everyone will hate him.