We were strangers
Starting out on a journey
Never dreaming
What we'd have to go through
Now here we are
And I'm suddenly standing
At the beginning with you

"But surely," she said quietly, "Surely, this is the Mudblood girl? This is Granger?" Bellatrix laughed cruelly, dragging back her left sleeve. As she was about to press her forefinger against the Dark Mark, she froze, her eyes fixed on the sword in the Snatcher's hands. She muttered a few incoherent words before saying in her usual, loud, menacing voice, "Take them to the cellar. All except… except the Mudblood. My dear nephew can deal with that."

Draco Malfoy, who was looking down at his feet uncomfortably, glanced upwards nervously as his aunt addressed him. "Come, boy," she sneered beckoning him over. It took a few moments before Draco found his feet, and he shuffled to stand by his mother's deranged sister.

Bellatrix Lestrange flicked her wand, and in an instant, she was clawing at the neck of a girl Draco knew all too well, a girl – a Muggleborn girl – Draco reminded himself, that he had grown up overshadowed by. Though now, he could not help but feel such pity for her it was overwhelming. She whimpered softly as Bellatrix's long fingernails pierced her neck. Though Draco could not see the said neck or hand, he was sure that behind the wall of deep, honey blonde hair, blood was being drawn.

A vice-like hand clawed at Draco's wrist, and tugged him forward roughly. Before he knew what was happening, he was standing in his family drawing room. It was dark inside, and somehow cold, even though there was a fire roaring in the marble fireplace at the end of the room. The deep purple walls made Draco feel claustrophobic, and the crystal chandelier the hung from the room was laced with spider's web. Draco shivered, but not out of cold.

Weasley yelled out in anger as Bellatrix threw the girl to the floor. "HERMIONE!" he roared. Bellatrix whipped around, her flyaway black hair giving the impression of madness. The perfect perception, thought Draco numbly. His hands were tingling with anxiety of what was coming.

"SILENCIO!" screamed Bellatrix, her eyes flashing, pointing her wand at the red-haired boy. "Take that blood traitor filth to the dungeons! And take the half-blood swine with it!" Mulciber and Nott shuffled forward obediently from the shadows of the room, grabbed Potter and Weasley, and dragged them down to the cellar.

There was only silence, except for Bellatrix's furious panting, and the muffled sound of footsteps on stone. The two Death Eaters climbed back up the stairs, and re-took their positions by the walls.

Granger lay in the middle of the room, directly under the dusty chandelier. Draco's mind spun back to when he was a young boy, before he went to Hogwarts. He would run into this room, tear open the curtains, and lie right under the chandelier, right where Granger now was. He would look up at all the crystals, gleaming in the sunlight, twinkling and winking at him. He would feel so happy he felt like he was floating up there with them, like he was so far off the ground that nothing could touch him.

And then he would hear the front door slam, and Draco would leapt from the floor, sprint to the windows, pull the curtains shut, and hurtle from the room into the foyer to greet his father as he came home from a day out in the world. If Draco was out of breath when they greeted, Lucius would be suspicious, and send the house elves to inspect the rooms for anything unusual. If the curtains had blown slightly open during Draco's speedy exit, or there was a mark from the bottom of his shoes on the floor, Draco would be severely punished. His father hated light.

After Draco had gone to Hogwarts, Lucius had ordered the elves to board up the windows and permanently stick the curtains together so Draco could never enjoy the light drifting onto the beautiful crystals ever again. Lucius hated light, and Draco bought much of it to the Manor, much to his father's dismay.

Draco opened his eyes, the memories swirling away from his mind's eye. All he could see now was darkness. Dark and dim, the way all the Death Eaters, especially Lucius, liked it. Bellatrix had calmed down significantly, and her mouth was moving as she faced him, though Draco heard none of it.

"DRACO!" yelled Bellatrix, brandishing her wand. Draco felt a sharp burn on his right arm, tugging him back into reality. "Did you listen to a word that I said?" she snapped. Draco was not game enough to talk back to his insane aunt, so her merely hung his head and shook it. She huffed haughtily, and said smoothly, "You are to torture this vermin until she cracks and tells everyone where she stole the sword from!"

The blonde haired boy shook his head vigorously and moved back into the shadows, as the girl from the floor whispered something softly.

"What was that, Mudblood? Have something you want to share with us?" mocked Bellatrix. Hermione pushed herself up off the floor, so she was sitting on her knees, and looked, furiously, at Bellatrix.

"I said," she stated angrily, pronouncing each word punctually, "That I, nor Harry or Ron, stole anything." Bellatrix looked ready to explode. Wrong move, Granger, thought Draco.

"HOW DARE YOU LIE TO MY FACE, YOU PATHETIC PIECE OF SCUM!" screeched Bellatrix, wielding her wand like a cat-o'-nine-tails. "CRUCIO!"

The girl on the floor wriggled and tossed like an alligator was attacking her, and Draco could see she was trying with all her might not to scream. She was biting down on her bottom lip so hard it was close to drawing blood. Bellatrix released the curse, and danced around a little, panting almost as much as Hermione. Bellatrix had a look on her face of pure excitement and joy, and the thought that causing pain like that to an innocent person was 'fun' make Draco want to vomit.

"Does that hurt, you dirty little pest?" called Bellatrix, high off her twisted moment of happiness. Hermione didn't answer, and the mad woman in front of Draco laughed loudly and cruelly. Her laugh was not jubilant, but bitter and evil, cutting through the air like an army of knives. "Bombarda Maxima!" yelled Bellatrix, blasting the ground next to Granger to smithereens. Luckily, she managed to roll out of harm's way. "Diffindo!" she yelled, and Granger, yelled out as her clothes were ripped and her skin was cut open by an invisible force. "Draco! Get her! Cruciatus Curse!" called Bellatrix mercilessly.

The blonde-haired boy once again shook his head and pushed himself further away from the crazy woman, too frightened and disgusted to speak. "Cat got your tongue, boy?" ridiculed Bellatrix, laughing her demented laugh again. "You will torture her! You will get the truth out of her! It's time to become a man, Draco, just like your father! IMPERIO!"

Draco cringed as the Imperious Curse collided with him. Every emotion was stripped from his mind, all the uneasiness, and all the fear gone. He felt light and oddly happy. A voice was talking, and the words wove into his head. Walk to the Mudblood, ordered the voice.

Immediately, Draco shuffled forward until he was standing over Granger. His eyes were unfocused and staring off into space. Torture her, ordered the voice coldly. Why? Another voice had popped into his head, and Draco recognised it as his own. What has she ever done to me?

Torture the Mudblood, Draco. The voice had changed. It was now crooning and oddly sweet: it did not suit at all. The words sounded forced and, though it was said almost tuneful, it was dark and fiendish. Very deep down, Draco knew that he would have to be stupid to trust the mystery voice and do its bidding, but he couldn't resist. It was as if his body was obliged to follow the orders, while his mind was uneasy.

Torture the Mudblood, Draco, it said yet again. Draco felt his hand moving toward his wand. NO! screamed Draco inside his head, but it was useless, his hand was now holding his blackthorn wand in his hand, the tip of it pointing at Granger.

Crucio, the voice encouraged, and the word was laced into his mind. Crucio, crucio, crucio, the strange voice chanted gleefully. "C-crucio," whispered Draco, his heart not in it. But the words seemed to be enough, in spite of the fact that the wizard who had said it did not want it to happen. It was more like the voice wanted it, and Draco was just being used. Which is true, Draco's brain thought miserably.

"Well done, Draco!" screeched Bellatrix, euphoric. The voice and the happy feeling were gone, replaced with Draco's dismay and anxiety once more.

"Now didn't that feel great, my darling nephew?"

Draco was too shocked to speak. He had done the Cruciatus Curse on an innocent person; on a girl; on someone his own age; who was fighting for the greater good.

"Again, Draco! Or shall we need some more encouragement?" As if to emphasise the word, Bellatrix brandished her wand at Draco, once more placing the Imperious Curse on him. The light feeling washed through his body again.

Crucio, came the voice.

"Crucio," said Draco, eyes fixed on a spot on the floor. Hermione wriggled and twisted on the floor, pitifully whimpering.

"Where did you get the sword from, Mudblood?" whispered Bellatrix dangerously.

"W-we found it!" insisted Hermione, tears streaming down her face like a waterfall. She was telling the truth, Draco could tell. He wanted Bellatrix to stop; he wanted to scream at her, to say that Granger was telling the truth. Internally, he wished he could cradle the vulnerable girl, who was now silently bawling.

Again, Draco.

"Crucio."