Draco stepped through the grand, imposing doorway into his home, Malfoy Manor. It was at the break of dawn, and the early sunlight was just beginning to trickle into the room. The manor was quiet. Almost too quiet. Draco could hear his own heart thumping as he stepped forwards, trying to see into the gloom ahead of him. He couldn't see any people – his mother or his father, no house elves – no one. Something was wrong.

The events of that night were still replaying in his mind. Him, trying to bring himself to murder his headmaster, whilst shaking and crying – willing himself to carry out the deed. The arrival of the Death Eaters – Aunt Bella, Greyback…and then Snape. His old potions master.

He had killed Dumbledore.

They had run, sprinting over the Hogwarts grounds – running somewhere they could apparate from. Draco could remember his bursting lungs, him stumbling in the darkness, the fear that they would be stopped – and sent to Azkaban.

Snape had taken him, by Side-long Apparition, to Malfoy Manor. Why, Draco didn't know – Snape had apparated away after leaving Draco here. Draco had a bad feeling about all of this.

He walked further into the Manor, footsteps echoing, he could practically hear his heart beating wildly. Something was seriously wrong.

"Draco!"

He jumped, and span around, pulling out his wand at the same time. He relaxed. It was his mother, dressed simply in a long blue dress, her hair done up elegantly. On first glances, she looked perfectly fine, she was smiling warmly – she stepped forwards and hugged him closely. When she drew back, however, Draco noticed that she was paler than normal, dark shadows were under her eyes, and she was shaking quite violently.

"Mother, are you alright -?"

She shook her head, motioning him to stop.

"I'm perfectly fine, Draco, thank you. At this moment in time, I'm more worried about you".

She looked at him, a sad smile on her face.

"I know you didn't kill Dumbledore, Draco. And while part of me is, truthfully, glad you're not a murderer – I – well – you do know there are going to be consequences, don't you?"

He opened his mouth to speak, heart hammering in his chest. The Dark Lord was going to kill him. He never forgave, and he never forgot. He didn't expect failure, even from a teenager.

"The Dark Lord -"

"- is here, Draco".

"What? Here?"

Draco looked around wildly, half expecting Lord Voldemort to appear from behind the shadows, a sneer on his face, wand raised to deliver the final Unforgiveable Curse.

"He's in the drawing room, Draco."

If the situation had not been so serious, Draco would have burst out laughing. Lord Voldemort – in the Drawing room? Was this a social call? But he didn't laugh. Instead, his heart just sank even lower.

"There's a Death Eater meeting, darling. They're waiting for you. Severus has just arrived".

Draco went cold. A Death Eater meeting? He would be expected to give a full account on the events of tonight, he knew. He would have to admit that he was a coward. He would have to tell them all that he had failed in his task, and Snape would take all the glory while Draco lay on the floor – perhaps tortured, perhaps dead.

Inside, part of Draco was screaming at him to run for it, escape from this world in which he had no part. He was surely going to die tonight, and he was terrified.

However, his body was not under the control of his mind anymore – and he was only dimly aware of him turning to his mother, saying goodbye, kissing her on the cheek – and walking towards the drawing room door. He was scared senseless. His whole body was numb.

He stopped outside the door, smoothed his hair, straightened his suit – and then knocked once. He pushed the door open, and stepped into the Drawing room.

The room was the same as it always had been – large, grand, with huge bay windows overlooking the estate. However, all the furniture – the sofas, the piano, the bookcases, the tables – they had all been pushed back against the walls, leaving a huge space in the centre of the room. This space was filled with a circle of hooded figures, all wearing black cloaks. There was a space in the circle – a gap for one. Draco walked forwards, and completed the circle. He was surprised his feet didn't give way underneath him.

"Draco Malfoy".

He looked up, and saw with horror, the Dark Lord – standing right in front of him. His red eyes were cold and merciless, his face was set in an expression of anger, but he was smiling – a smile of pure evil.

Draco fought his immediate instinct to run. He bowed shortly, and spoke – voice wavering somewhat.

"My Lord"

"I hear you disobeyed me tonight, young Malfoy. You must know that I do not tolerate failure".

"I – I just -"

Draco struggled to find the words.

"You were just too weak, too cowardly?"

Draco managed to shake his head feebly. He was going to die. There was no doubt.

He was going to die.

"I brought the Death Eaters into the school, my Lord", he managed at last, praying that this would save him.

"A feat I previously thought impossible – truly remarkable, yes – but yet, you failed me in the astronomy tower didn't you? You are very lucky Severus was there to take over matters."

Draco didn't answer, but instead concentrated on the flicker of a nearby candle – he must not betray fear – he must not show any emotion – he must close his mind.

"You're very lucky, Mr Malfoy. Very lucky. I'm going to give you another chance. I do not give many people second chances when they have disobeyed me".

Draco had never felt relief like that before. Happiness flooded him, and he found that he was breathing once again. The room seemed lighter, and the figures making the circle seemed less sinister. He wasn't going to die! He could see his mother and his father again.

"However – to make sure you don't disobey me again – you will have to have some punishment – the Cruciatus Curse I think..."

He had been expecting it. He knew he'd never get off so lightly, and the torturing of followers was one of the Dark Lord's favourite pastimes. He'd never been subject to it before; he'd never even seen it performed on anyone, unless you counted a spider in Defence against the Dark Arts. He braced himself, ready for the excruciating pain that was surely to follow.

The Dark Lord kept him hanging there for a few minutes, watching Draco get more and more agitated, as he waited for the stabbing knives and agony. Draco closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe slowly. It would all be over soon, any minute –

Pain.

Pain like he'd never experienced before.

Knives were stabbing over and over again, he couldn't breathe. He couldn't even scream - the pain was too agonising. He fell onto the floor, and started to thrash about, the pain has to stop – he couldn't take it –

He screamed. And once he started, he couldn't stop.

His body was tearing apart; he was being crushed, being cut all over. The pain seemed endless, if it didn't stop soon – he'd kill himself -

And then it was over. Draco looked up shakily. He was lying on the floor, watched by all the Death Eaters. He was still trembling. He looked up into the cruel eyes of Lord Voldemort, and saw no pity. No regret. Just satisfaction.

Draco passed out onto the stone cold floor.

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