Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, if I did I would be rich, and I'm not rich am I? So I can't own Harry Potter cause I don't have movie rights or book rights or anything else I'm not rich and ... and. Deep breath Okay, I'm better. No I do not own Harry Potter or the universe he resides in... So I made my own.

Chapter 1

Voldemort Has Fun

Draco Malfoy stood upon the balcony outside his room at Malfoy Manor watching the gray clouds drift by with the breeze. His eyes; the same color as the clouds passing overhead, were unfocused in thought. As usual they were about Harry Potter; Dumbledores' Golden Boy. Draco's perfect face contorted into an unconscious sneer. Potter could do no wrong, in anyone but Professor Snapes' eyes. Severus Snape believed wholeheartedly that Harry Potter was an arrogant, foolhardy idiot. He didn't necessarily agree with this assessment himself, he did believe Potter was arrogant and foolhardy, just no idiot.

Draco wished he could show Potter up just once. Yet he was never without the mud-blood half-breed Granger and the Weasel. Thus, well protected. Of course, he really had no idea what Potter was capable of. He'd never actually seen Potter do any of the things he claimed he had. Granger and the Weasel always swore by what Potter said, as if Potter could never lie. As if they could be believed without question.

A streak of lightening split the sky overhead, illuminating his platinum hair that now hung to his shoulders. Over the summer his mother had decided it was time he truly began to look like a Malfoy. It would improve his relations within Slytherin House and his schoolmates. Draco hated it. It made him look more like Lucius and he truly did not want to look like the cold-hearted man.

He loved his father very much, but he wasn't the most attractive man in the world.

"Draco, darling," his beautiful golden-haired mother said from the door to his room. Turning towards her he wondered yet again why he couldn't have taken after her side of the family. With his pale skin he would have been irresistible with that haunting shade of gold.

"Yes, Mother?"

"He's here," she said softly. She never raised her voice. She didn't have to. Even Lucius paid attention when Narcissa Malfoy spoke. In fact, only Voldemort seemed unafraid of his mother. Draco had noticed, however, that Narcissa was equally unafraid of The Dark Lord. Draco wished he had his mothers' cold reserve. If he did, he would not be trembling inside at the mere thought of His name. With The Dark Lord now here, he felt nauseous. Lucius was still trapped in Azkaban and could not act as a buffer between his master and his family.

The Dark Lord was here now because he wanted something from his parents and Draco was afraid. Afraid that Voldemort wanted him.

The room was dark. There were torches along the wall, but they did nothing to alleviate the unadorned darkness in the room. The torches showed that the room was round, however and that served to terrify Draco even more. He did not know where in the Manor he was or how he had gotten here. He only knew that he could hear a soft papery rasping somewhere in front of him. He tried to control his breathing, to stay calm and to keep from begging to be taken back to the comfort of his father's library. He may not be a Gryffindor, but he had his own brand of bravery, his own reasons not to beg, anyway.

The rasping sound grew closer. His arms where stretched above his head, hands gripping the chain that held them. He still could not see, and without a wand, he could not conjure light. He jumped, in spite of his resolve not to, when he felt the dry, silky skin of a snake brush under his robes across his ankle. Then he heard a cruel and harsh cackle of laughter from directly in front of him. With the sound came light. Draco screamed.

Sitting before him was a man unlike any other Draco had ever before seen. His eyes were red, and slitted like a snakes. He had a flat nose, like a snake as well with slits for nostrils and he was pale, paler than Lucius was. He was tall, very tall and thin. So thin his robes seemed to be too large for him. His hands were steepled in front of his face, under that strange nose. His voice, when he spoke, froze Draco's heart.

"Did my Nagini frighten you boy?" Draco stared at Lord Voldemort with mounting horror. How could he answer? Then he remembered that Voldemort could always tell when someone was lying.

"Y-yes m-My Lord, I was not expecting it," Draco was surprised he was able to control his voice that much. At least he didn't squeak with his terror.

"Her."

"Excuse me, My Lord?"

"Nagini is a her, not an it," Voldemort sounded impatient.

"Yes, My Lord, my Mother told me, I meant I was not expecting the touch," Draco was feeling a little more confident, nothing horrible was happening yet, and his arrogance was beginning to surface.

Voldemort rose, in one stride he was in front of Draco. Long, spider like fingers gripped the16 year olds chin and forced him to look up, into his own baleful eyes.

"Do not believe you can use that Malfoy tone on ME, boy," Voldemort said with a hiss. "Do you know why you are here, boy?" Draco shook his head no, his voice frozen in his throat.

"Your father is free from Azkaban, does that please you?" Draco tried to say yes, but he was only able to mouth the word.

"And do you know what the price for that freedom is?" Draco stared hopelessly into Voldemorts' evil eyes, breathing his stench and gulped in utter terror.

"Well, do you?" He shook Draco slightly as he asked again. Draco merely shook his head in denial as despair filled him.

Voldemort, The Dark Lord of the Death Eaters released the handsomely pointed face of Draco Malfoy and began to pet his platinum blond hair.