A/N: Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, half of the books would be fluffy, drarry, awesomeness.
I've had this idea for a while now, and I was listening to some FATM, and I just got really inspired to write it, so…here goes nothing! The main idea, is that Voldemort needs a way to lure Harry to the point where he can destroy him, but little does he know, the answer is sitting across from him... NOT A HAPPY STORY! Rated T because I have no idea how this works. There is mention of sex, but not very descriptive, so... if you think I need to change it please let me know!
This is my first story, so feedback is appreciated!
Draco fidgeted anxiously in his seat at the long dark table. He was never entirely comfortable here, around these ex-criminals and invalids. He shivered slightly as he looked over to Bellatrix Lestrange, to find her eyeing him hungrily. His father stiffened beside him and turned slightly, as a warning to his son. The younger blonde became as still as a statue, listening to his Potions Master's proposal to the Dark Lord.
"My lord, the boy is strong." Snape said coolly, never showing emotion. Draco wondered briefly if he had been like this his whole life. His mark tingled as the Dark Lord stood up.
"Are you suggesting that I am not, Severus?" He scanned the room and picked out a newly recruited Death Eater. He had only joined a few days ago, and Draco had not bothered to learn his name.
"You, up." Voldemort commanded.
The man obliged meekly, giving a small bow in the presence of his leader. Voldemort stretched out his hand, purely for dramatic effect.
The man's mouth opened wide in a silent scream as he was lifted off the ground. His eyes rolled back into his sockets and his graying hair stood on end as Lord Voldemort threw him into the wall over and over again. Each resounding "thump" echoed in Draco's head as the man's head began to ooze crimson blood.
"I never have doubted you, my Lord," Severus Snape continued with a touch of disgust evident in his nasally voice as he watched the gray-haired man slide down the wall in a crumpled heap for the last time, "But the Potter boy should not be taken lightly. He will not merely come to you and fight; we will have to find a way to get to him." He paused.
"I could offer at Hogwarts to…" The black-haired man began, going over the speech he had practiced with Dumbledore, but he was interrupted by the pale man.
"You, boy, you attend Hogwarts, is that not true?"
"My Lord, I hardly think…" Severus tried to cut him off. This was not where this conversation was supposed to be going, he had a plan and…
"Severus I was asking the boy and not you. You will hold your tongue unless you desire to join Gerivoche." He motioned to the gray-haired man in a lifeless heap on the cold stone floor. Severus held his tongue.
"Yes, my Lord." Draco answered shakily. Voldemort continued.
"Then your task is to get closer to him," He said icily, "Become friends, learn his secrets, what we can use to our advantage."
The blonde boy hesitated, and the Dark Lord raised an eyebrow, or rather, where one should have been. "Unless, you are already friends…" He said, almost knowingly.
Draco shook his head forcefully, "Not friends so much as acquaintances," He said, albeit rather unconvincingly, becoming more and more agitated under the Death Eaters' collective stares.
"You lie," Voldemort whispered, practically gleefully. He held his wand level with Draco's chest threateningly. Draco's heart was in danger of beating out of his chest. They couldn't find out, they wouldn't…
"Now, Draco, how exactly is it that you know Harry Potter?" Voldemort seethed, obviously getting some sick pleasure out of this.
"We barely know each other," Draco said carefully, through gritted teeth.
"Liar!" Draco felt himself being thrown suddenly backwards. He hit the wall with a loud "Crack" and suddenly registered that his head was oozing burgundy liquid. He tried to pick himself up, but found that he had not the strength to do more than lift his head.
Even in his weakened state, he felt Voldemort's presence, starting to creep in at the edges of his mind.
Draco tried to remember what Snape had taught him about Occulemency. He pictured himself playing Quidditch, and let the image fill up his entire mind, leaving no route for the Dark Lord to invade. The man obviously could not get past the block, and the Dark Lord slipped out of Draco's mind leaving behind him an awful feeling in the back of Draco's mind, like some slimy creature had just crawled its way out of his skull.
Voldemort smiled evilly. "So the boy is fighting me. Why?" He turned to Narcissa and Lucius, who wore identical expressions of horror at the sight of their only son weak and bleeding on the floor. Their mouths opened and closed rapidly, like fish out of water.
Voldemort turned back to the prone figure on the floor.
"Crucio!" He shouted, and Draco erupted in pain. It radiated from every nerve in the young man's body, burning and stabbing. He screamed in agony as he swore he could feel a long dull knife slide in between his ribs.
His breaths came raggedly as he felt a wand at the side of his head. He took a deep breath in. No one defies the Dark Lord and lives through it, and this was it. This was his end.
But after a moment, there was no shouted "Avada Kedavra", no green light, and Draco finally understood what Voldemort was doing. He writhed away from the older man, who laughed as Draco's silvery-blue memories clung to the tip of his wand.
"Severus, the pensieve." The Dark Lord commanded the Potions Professor, who looked, if possible paler than usual. The greasy-haired man obliged, setting it down on the center of the long banquet table.
Voldemort smiled as he slid the memories off the wand into the swirling bowl, whose contents swirled with anticipation.
"So boy," He said cruelly, "What are you hiding?" He motioned to everyone at the table, "I'm sure we'd all like to know." Some of the Death Eaters jeered, a few just looked viciously at him, Bellatrix cackled.
They all stood in unison, looking down into the pensieve, Voldemort pulled up.
"I think the boy will come with us." He smirked, as he levitated Draco's weak body next to his fathers. The blonde boy felt a rush of air past his face, and found himself standing next to his mother, Bellatrix and the others in the hallways of Hogwarts. He looked down, remembering what was coming.
His eleven year-old self smiled smugly in front of the boy-who-lived and stuck out his hand. "I'm Malfoy." He said nasally, "Draco Malfoy."
Ron snickered, and the younger Draco whirled on him. "Think my name's funny do you? I don't even have to ask who you are. Red hair, hand-me–down clothes, you must be a Weasley." Ron's ears went pink, and eleven year-old Draco focused his attention back on Potter.
"Why don't you come over to the Slytherin Common Room?" He asked the small bespectacled boy, "Wouldn't want you making friends with the wrong sort." His gaze flicked to Ron, but only for a second before Harry replied scathingly.
"I think I can determine the wrong sort for myself, thanks." He whirled around and strode towards the other Gryffindors, leaving Draco alone with an all-too evident expression of crushing disappointment on his face.
A few Death Eaters laughed, and his memories quickly became a blur. He caught flashes of him arguing with Harry, of him cursing Harry, and embarrassingly, a few of him following Harry around the castle, hoping he'd look back and talk to him, or at least glance at him, notice him, something.
One of the younger Death Eaters grinned, noticing Draco's growing shame. "Just acquaintances, I see, I think you must have meant, 'Oh, I just stalk him through the corridors from time to time,'"
They found themselves in the next memory, a time Draco remembered well. He and Potter had been partnered together for a 6th year Potions assignment, and neither was terribly happy about it.
"Potter!" Draco shouted after the hastily retreating black-haired boy, who was barely out of the awkward gangly teenager stage. Harry turned around and glared at the blonde.
"What?" he growled and Draco recoiled slightly.
"What is your big problem with me?" Draco asked exasperatedly, "We just have to get this one project over with, it's not the end of the world, you don't have to whine like it's going to kill y…"
"Well maybe if you were less of a prat! Or less distracting…or…" he cut himself off, like he hadn't meant to say the last part.
"Distracting?" Draco tried to sound amused, but felt his stomach swooping as he considered all possible meanings of that statement.
"I meant, I…" Potter stuttered, a deep blush creeping onto his cheeks. He muttered something under his breath and walked quickly away.
The end of this memory brought on more jeers from Voldemort's followers, and Voldemort himself smiled cruelly. "And this isn't the end yet." He said.
They were thrown into the next memory, almost angrily so, seeming to match the mood of the scene. Harry and a sixteen-year-old Draco were arguing under a tree on the edge of the grounds.
"You humiliated me in front of the entire school!" The blonde screamed at his crush of nearly six years.
"I'm sorry! It was an accident!"
"Oh right, a bloody accident that I started levitating upside-down in the Great Hall, and that everyone saw my…" He flushed profusely, unable to continue.
"It's not my fault you decided to go commando." Harry muttered.
"I wouldn't have if I had known it was going to be on public display!" Draco roared.
"Shame," Harry muttered, loud enough for Draco to hear clearly, "it really was quite nice…"
Draco stopped. "What..?" Harry looked up at the taller blonde boy.
"You heard me. I, Harry Potter, like dick. You have a problem?" he said defiantly.
"Only that you haven't told me sooner…" Draco growled and crashed their lips together in a rough kiss. Harry was caught off guard, and didn't respond for a few seconds, but soon compensated for that when he fought his way into Draco's mouth, and pinned him roughly against the tree.
He trailed kisses down the other boy's collarbone, sucking and nipping in places that had Draco moaning.
"This never happened, understand?" Harry said breathlessly between kisses.
"What never happened?" Draco said slyly.
The Death Eaters were silent. Lucius looked down at his son, not with horror, but understanding. He saw in his son, himself at Hogwarts. He remembered his stolen moments on the grounds, with an entirely different black-haired Gryffindor running his hands through Lucius's hair.
He looked up for an instant, to nowhere in particular. Heaven, he supposed, was where he'd be, if it existed. His own forbidden memories came flooding back, and he remembered the pain of leaving his love behind, to rot in Azkaban.
"I'm sorry Siri." He prayed silently, as the other Death Eaters seemed to snap out of their coma and began; now not only jeering at his son, but throwing hexes at him, until the boy's face was no longer recognizable due to the immense number of boils springing up on it.
"You disgusting little blood-traitor." Voldemort said scathingly. "You deserve a fate worse than death." Draco's mind throbbed as they slid into the last memory. They were in the room of requirement, it was dark, that was all Draco could tell. He searched his mind confusedly; not remembering when he had…it came to him suddenly, like a bolt of lightning had hit him. No, they couldn't, this was private! This was… he fought to stand on wobbling legs, but fell to the ground in a crumpled heap.
He was almost grateful he couldn't see the reactions on the other's faces when they heard the gasping and moans of pleasure coming from the far corner of the room, where Draco assumed, Harry was leading him to the large burgundy covered bed.
"Are you sure?" Harry asked one last time.
"Merlin Harry, please…"
The moans intensified until Draco was practically screaming, mostly Harry's name, over and over and…
Draco wanted to die of shame as the other Death Eaters stood before him, staring down at his pathetic scum-ridden body.
"Shall we dispose of this disgusting thing, my Lord?" Bellatrix stood over the young Malfoy's body, wand raised.
"No," The Dark Lord smirked and Draco's blood went ice-cold as his heart plummeted into his stomach at the realization of what was to come. Voldemort put his wand under Draco's chin and lifted the boy's head so his eyes were gazing into the black pits in the Dark Lord's face.
"It seems we have found a way to get to Potter."
The End
(R&R!)