Title: Spelling Death

Summary: Death is what the Dark Lord hands you when you fail him. But Draco Malfoy defied that, and now he's back in Hogwarts for his final year with a fresh purpose in life. Bring down Voldemort and pay his life for his parents' death. Even if it means joining forces with the people he hates the most.

Rating: T for sexual content and violence

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and its characters and settings to not belong to me, only the liberty of playing around with them.

"The Dark Lord does not tolerate failure, Draco."

The words were quietly spoken, as though dropped with no consequence. But the entire congregation shivered, half horrified, half anticipated at what actions would follow this quiet statement of displeasure.

"You failed to kill Dumbledore like I ordered you to. You failed me Draco."

The dim light from the green bowl of flames next to the ornate armchair briefly illuminated the pale, skeletal face and merciless death defying snake eyes. The hooded figures forming a circle around the family of three in the precise middle shook again.

"I did not." The fire flickered, illuminating a handsome face framed by silvery blonde hair, "I did not fail you." The audience drew in a shocked breath. The tall male tightened his grip on the teenager's shoulders, and the beautiful woman clutched her husband closer to her frail body.

"You did not?" the hissing voice was deadly now, with the coldness of ice. Red met the numb silver eyes, "You say that you did not fail me? Please Draco, do explain."

"I found a flaw in the protections around the castle." The words lacked emotion, as though this young man had lost almost everything that kept him going, "I brought in your followers. Dumbledore is dead. Is this not what you have ordered?"

"Ah, Draco, Draco. I said that you must be the one to kill Dumbledore. And why do you say 'my followers'? Surely, everyone here is your comrade?"

A practiced sneer broke the stone haunting the young man's face, "Those people are no comrades of mine. They're your slaves." Gasps sounded all around at his boldness. Lucius moaned, "Oh Draco, why? You've doomed us all!" Narcissa whimpered.

The Dark Lord was smiling with his slash of a mouth. His eyes of death gazed into the ice gray of Draco Malfoy's. He knew the boy knew that he had no option left. He knew that the boy was willing die. And, ah, such a beautiful death the Dark Lord would grand this foolish one.

"Tie the boy up. Take his wand."

The circle closed in like wolves on prey. Lucius and Narcissa screamed, begging their master not to do this to them, begging them to spare Draco's life. But long ago, the Dark Lord had renounced himself of his humanity, of his ability to listen to these cries. Draco was hanging like a marionette from magical bonds as the circle reformed to include him as a link, leaving only his parents in the middle.

Narcissa's beautiful eyes sought out his now frantic gray ones. One thin hand reached out as though to caress his face, "Draco, you must live! Do you understand me? Live, and live without these lies Lucius and I have buried ourselves with!" a black boot smashed down on her small hand, crushing it with its weight. Draco watched with silent horror as the heel of the boot ground into the delicate bones, snapping them. Lucius screamed like a madman and lunged for the attacker, but someone else held him down. Narcissa, crying now, managed to yank her hand back and cradle it in her lap.

An ordinary boy would be begging long before now, begging for mercy, for relief for his mother's pain. But Draco Malfoy had lost every bit of 'normality' left within him this past year. He had finally realized that caring and love only got you into trouble, into pain. So bit by bit, stone by stone, chip by chip, he had built of his fortress. A wall so high none could see the real him. A wall so thick made of broken dreams, a predetermined future, and silent pain that only a miracle could break through all that rock and ice to reach into that dark fading soul.

The Dark Lord rose in one graceful, fluid motion. He smiled sinisterly down at the pale couple, frightened, despairing, every last bit of glamour gone from them. It was hard to believe that they had once been the ones calling the shots, that they had been the ones sneering down at the rest as though commons were no better than dirt. Voldemort loved their humiliation. He raised his wand with a lazy motion.

And the curse fell from his lips.

"Imperio."

Lucius Malfoy's went blank, went mad, wonderfully, blissfully, hideously mad. Narcissa screamed as her husband for one last time laid hands on her body, around her white neck, closing off the oxygen that enabled life. How ironic, Draco managed to think though the fog burning though his vision, his mind, soul and heart. The love of his mother's life was choking the life out of her.

Narcissa's body thrashed, and her mouth gaped. Her eyes held unimaginable pain as her lover forced her soul out of her parted lips. After what seemed like hours, her body fell backwards, face fist toward Draco, her beautiful golden hair a wild mass of groping fingers on the dark carpet. A single trickle of blood dripped from her lips.

Draco couldn't speak, he couldn't feel. Inside his walls, that ice heart cracked evermore. But with a twitch of his wand the Dark Lord retraced his curse. Lucius screamed, howled, at the ceiling, trying to find an answer, a reason. His own wife, his tender love, dead by his own hands. A derisive snicker sounded through the Eaters at his pain, initiated by Bellatrix, Narcissa's own sister.

The Lord's slashed and twisted mouth smiled again, or at least twisted into a semblance of that expression. He conjured a silver knife and handed it to Lucius. Gently, almost lovingly, he once again murmured "Imperio."

And Lucius, his wife's blood fresh on his hands, accepted the gift with gratitude. The silver slice of moonlight was all Draco could see for a while. In and out, it weaved a tantalizing dance through the pale skin of his father. A spurt of crimson regret from here, a drip of scarlet remorse there, blood came in torrents from his father. The Death Eaters backed away from the rain of blood, from the blade that gave pain but not death. It was only when there could not possibly be more blood, when Lucius Malfoy's demise had surely come; the Dark Lord lifted the curse. Lucius blinked down at himself, at the blood running in rivers down his skin, and he turned to his son, pale thin lips mouthing the only apology he ever made in his life.

"I'm sorry…."

And Lucius Malfoy was no more.

Draco did not know when he was released from his bonds and dumped unceremoniously onto the ground. He crawled though the river of blood sinking into his robes on his hands and knees, dirtying his skin, got his fingers tangled in his mother's now blood red hair and took his place between the only woman he had any love for and the only man he had any respect for. Like a little child, he buried his head into his mother's bosom. He could hear the Death Eaters laughing at him, but he didn't care. His mother's skin was still soft and warm. He ought to be screaming out his grief, letting it out with the tears people cried…but he couldn't quite remember how.

"Now, for you…"

Draco Malfoy closed his eyes, welcoming the end that the Dark Lord would gladly provide for him.

"Crucio."

Pain, Malfoy could take. God, or whatever the hell was out there, knew that he had had more than enough of this sensation in sixth year. The Cruciatious Curse was painful, but he had learned to control the pain, to enjoy it even. Pain was a common thing in his world now. No screams made it past his burning throat. The agony ripped in with its shadow claws, but his body did not thrash.

He was a corpse.

He remembered when he had received the Dark Mark on his left forearm. Merlin, how it had hurt. He'd screamed, cried and carried on for hours to come, making his mother soothe him over and over like he was a little child. What a coward he had been. What a pathetic being. Now, he had grown, he had matured. He was now able to take the pain…and accept it.

Displeased and slightly disturbed, the Dark Lord finally withdrew the curse and thoughtfully twirled his wand for a moment.

"Have your way with him."

Daggers were drawn from hilts. Footsteps were coming closer. But he curled his arms more tightly around his mother and ignored it all.

The blows and stabs on his body were nothing but a stone on the cobbled and broken pathway of darkness, of relief. The Eaters, frenzied with the need to hear him scream, to hear him beg, did all they could to break him. Kicks and punches broke and bruised his body. Flashing daggers nested inside him, only to be redrawn and made to find a new home. But after what seemed like hours, the followers all stepped back to their proper places.

The carnage was truly and amazing thing to behold. Three lives, ended here tonight. All of them painful, horrible, gruesome beyond belief. Blood was an ocean, staining the darkness. Many wrinkled their noses at Draco's mangled body. It was hard to believe that he could still be alive after so much torture.

The Dark Lord turned away, his thin slash of mouth still held up in a grotesque smile, "Severous, dispose of the body. Leave the wand there too."

"Yes, my Lord." Severous Snape stepped forward and retrieved the still, bloody thing lying between the bodies of his parents. With a look of disgust he levitated it and took it outside.

000

Brown eyes were anxiously looking into the sky, and pale fingers twisted themselves into a complex knot as Hermione Granger waited for her owl. The owl from Hogwarts that would either make her year or break her heart.

She sighed. She knew it was stupid to worry. She had the top grades in almost all her classes, and her behavior was below complaint. Of course she had the Head Girl position.

After much debating, she, Harry, and Ron had decided to go back to Hogwarts. What else could they do? They had no clue where to look for the other Horcruxes, or what they might be. She had no books, no information. Harry himself was at lost for what he wanted to do. And she really, really wanted to take her NEWTs, no matter how selfish the desire was. Besides, Hogwarts was probably the best place to start looking.

She checked her watch and sighed. It was 10 AM now. It was time to leave this empty house forever and meet up at Grimmauld Place. Her eyes filled with tears at the thought of the parents that had been beside for seventeen years of her life, of the parents that she had had to send far, far away with no memory of the daughter they'd raised. But what mattered was that they were safe now, far away from the dark clutches of Voldemort.

She picked up the bags she had packed long ago. She was ready. Ready to throw herself completely into the darkness. Ready to stand with Harry and fight till the end.

With a graceful twirl of her petite body, she was Apparating to her destination.

"Hermione, Hermione!" Ron ran up to her the moment she appeared in the dank hallway. She dropped her bags and felt her face break into a smile at the sight of her month long boyfriend.

"Hello Ron." She gave him a hug. He returned it briefly and began pulling her down the hallway. Now that she looked, she realized that there was a strained expression on Ron's face.

"Ron? What's – oh my God!"

They had entered the room. And there, lying on the bed was none other than the notorious Draco Malfoy.

But this wasn't Malfoy, how could it be? No one could live through such wounds, yet his chest rose and fell with every strangled breath he took. Deep scratches were dug into his arms, as well as deep knife wounds in his stomach and chest, where blood rose and ebbed like a wave. His pale chest was purple and black, as was his face. His hair was nearly a crimson red from the blood that dyed it. Both arms were bent at strange angles, and one of the bones stuck through his flesh, a startling white, more blood streaming from the rent in his skin. It was also obvious he had broken ribs, as here and there, another piece of bone peaked out to meet the light. Hermione felt her eyes go wide and tear up as she tried to contain the nausea.

Harry was hiding in a corner. He went to her and placed his arms around her, pulling her and Ron aside as Molly, Arthur, Tonks, and Lupin ran in, wands held high, bottles of various potions in their hands. Molly saw the three of them standing there, transfixed at Draco's mangled body and ordered them out, which they immediately did so, closing the door behind them.

Hermione's face was white, and her hands were shaking. Ron pulled her into himself and gave her a kiss she did not feel. Harry began talking.

"Tonks found him in the alley not far from here when she was taking a walk. She found a note on him that said 'To whoever may find this pitiful bastard, let it be known that he is a failure and a disappointment to the Dark Lord and this is his punishment' and his wand was in his hand. She immediately brought him here and called Mrs. And Mr. Weasley. She and Lupin were staying here until they'd gotten their wedding together. We don't know what to do with him."

"What do you mean?" whispered Hermione.

"Well, he's a Death Eater. But it's obvious he's been kicked out. Tonks and Lupin want to see if they can get him to answer any of their questions about Voldemort. But we don't even know if he will live," said Ron quietly.

"If he will live," repeated Hermione dully. "He only has wounds that can be healed, right? Broken bones, and cuts?"

"We don't know the full extent of the damage." Harry sighed, messing his hand though his hair. He wasn't quite sure what to feel. That was a childhood enemy lying there, as well as a Death Eater. But after seeing him like that…he wasn't sure what to think about it.

"Slimy git," mumbled Ron, slightly remorseful, "Always making trouble."

"How dare you say that!" gasped Hermione, "he's could die!"

"Evil doesn't die!" growled Ron, "It just sleeps!"

Hermione pushed him off of her, "You're so cruel!" her cry was so loud, Mrs. Black woke up and started to scream. Hermione took advantage of their distraction and ran up the stairs, to the room she used to sleep in. no one else was in it, so she assumed that Ron was the only one that came with his family, although she couldn't imagine why.

She threw herself onto the bed and buried her face in the musty pillow.

God, that sight had shaken her to the core. Yes, Malfoy was a bastard. But even a bastard did not deserve that. She was sure of it. So what had he done?

000

Malfoy let out a low moan and forced his dry eyes to crack open. The bright light stabbed his sensitive pupils so violently he closed them again. Was he dead? Merlin, he hoped he was.

"So, you're finally awake."

He snapped his head to the side, eyes fully open now. Shock shook through him. Lupin the werewolf sat there, grayish brown hair hanging in his face.

"You!" Malfoy spat out. He jerked himself upright, and then hissed in agony as his body protested. The covers flew off his naked chest and he took in the bed he was lying in and the bland room they trapped him in. Lupin stood up and forced him back down. "What am I doing here? Why am I not dead?"

"We found you, nearly dead from blood loss in an alley. Please don't move. We managed to heal most of you, but I'm sure there's still damage…"

"Bloody fuck, you should have let me DIE!" the last word was howled out with so much emotion and pain that Lupin back away uneasily. But as soon as the last echo of his voice died away, Malfoy stopped fighting and dropped his head, curing his knees up and wrapping his pale arms around himself. After a moment, he looked up again, chilling Lupin with the silver gray eyes of his.

"Well, werewolf. Do tell. Where am I and why am I here?" he dropped his vulnerable stance and flopped back into the bed with all the grace of a lord telling his servant to clean his manor. Lupin tensed but still answered politely.

"We found you in an alley. This is Grimmauld Place, and you are – "

"In the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix," interrupted Draco in a curiously dead voice, "I know. Snape spilled his guts. Am I allowed to leave?"

"You are not. Most likely, Voldemort thinks you're dead. If you leave you will be killed."

"My wand? Where is it?"

"We can't give it to you. But it's safe."

Draco turned away from him and stared at the blank wall. After a while, Lupin quietly exited the room leaving him alone to deal with the dark demons raging inside of him.

Draco heard the door close behind himself and he swung out of the bed, attempting to stand up. Pain stabbed his legs from the healed dagger wounds and mended broken bones, but he didn't care. And perhaps it was an after effect of that Cruciatious Curse Voldemort had used on him. He swayed a bit as he stood, but he managed to stumble over to a table forgotten in the corner of the small, drab room. A pile of black folded robes lay upon it, and he put them on grimacing at the course feeling. He was used to silk and such other soft materials. But no matter. He had to devise an escape plan. It was useless to try to Apparate, he knew. They would have prepared against that.

He pushed up the sleeves of his robe and looked down at his once flawless white arms and smiled bitterly. Scars of every shape and size covered him. They were just as pale as the rest of him, but they stood up, raised against his skin. He traced one of them, and wished that it was pouring out blood, pouring out his red blood.

Now, he wondered why he had always fussed over blood purity. The people the Dark Lord had forced him to torture; their blood was just as red as his. Bright crimson, the Muggleborns and even Mudbloods had. It wasn't black, it wasn't brown. It was red. Just like his. Just like his mothers as she lay there, just like his father's as he cut himself to death. Draco laughed bitterly, an edge to the sound.

These scars were fitting of him, Draco finally mused. Scars of his sins. Scars of his life. His penance as he lived, proof of the fact that he had escaped the spelled death Voldemort bestowed on him. The careless bastard. He had forgotten to Avada Kedavrahim, so great was the Dark Lord's jubilance at his pain.

But his mother and his father, Draco would never be able to gain back no matter what he did as payback. Their blank eyes, one set blue, one set gray, would haunt him forever more, taunting him as they seemed to whisper 'you failed us, you failed us Draco'.

He closed his steel eyes and did his best to ignore the waves of agony that lapped the walls of his iron fortress.

Hope you enjoyed the first chapter of Spelling Death. Please leave a review. Until next time.