I do not own the people, places, or really any of the references found in this work. It is all the property of JK Rowling and no profit is being made from it.
Betrayed. I felt betrayed. After the fiasco that occurred at Hogwarts which ended in Dumbledore's death, though not by my hand. My world fell apart, now that I didn't know who to turn to, and I began to question my entire life. Is there even hope for hope?
The Dark Lord was looking at me. I could feel his red eyes glaring at me, at the back of my neck, which was the upper most part of my body. I was bowed to the floor, and shaking in fear. There was a time when I would have said that Malfoys don't ever shake in fear. I was wrong. In the last two days, since my Godfather and I had fled Hogwarts I had learned the meaning of fear.
I had, for the first time, felt the all consuming pain of the Cruciatus Curse. You learn a lot about yourself when you're being tortured. All the things that you say you'll never do or would do in a situation…it all becomes meaningless.
Grudgingly, I began to respect the people that I had witnessed before bearing the curse.
Even Potter.
God, I hate that. Potter. And I still hate him. But I am also beginning to respect someone who deals with this pain, and still keeps to their beliefs. Comes back for more. What was that ridiculous muggle phrase…oh yeah… 'takes a licking and keeps on ticking'…
"Rise."
I rose. What else could I do?
"I have not yet determined what your punishment will be. You will be escorted to a guest room…" and here he paused for effect… "until I decide what to do with you. Wormtail, escort the young Mr. Malfoy to a room."
Shaking and stumbling a bit, I allowed myself to be led away by the rat man.
The room we went to was small and smelled of dust and mold. But it was quiet. There were some blankets in a pile on the floor. Turning, Wormtail left me in the room, locking the door behind him. Alone at last, I collapsed onto the pile of ragged blankets. Cold, shaking, and alone…
Damn it, I'm a Malfoy.
I can't believe that I ever thought that I was doing the right thing, joining the Death Eaters. I mean, I still agree with the…politics…I think that Mudbloods are bad news and the wizarding world would be better off without them in it, but I am beginning to doubt the…sincerity of the Dark Lord.
It was a startling revelation for me. After all, I had been conceived, born, and raised amidst belief in the Dark Lord.
I don't know how long I lay in that room alone. I know I dosed off. After all, there had been multiple bouts with the curse. And other curses. I woke to the sound of footsteps in the corridor, and again I started shaking. God, had he decided on a punishment for me?