Author's Note: Hi everyone! So this is my new story. I know, I know. I'm in the middle of my other story, Black and Grey, but I really wanted to try my hand at Dramione fanfic. So this story starts the summer of year six. Everything else is fair game, so if I go out of canon, just roll with it. I have a good feeling about this one, y'all. I hope you enjoy it.

1.

Of all of the species of venomous snakes in the entire world, only thirty of them have venom potent enough to kill a human being.

He sat on his bed, straight up, shoulders back, constantly trying to swallow down the vomit that crept up his throat every thirty seconds. He was sure that his face was the same shade of green as his bed sheets as he heard the gut-wrenching clicking of heels climbing the stairs, and the sickening hissing sound his aunt made when she was giddy. If you would even call it that. He was not sure if his aunt was even able to feel regular human emotion anymore. Honestly, he was not sure if he was either.

His door creaked open slowly and his mother stood in the doorway, straightening out her white, wool pea coat and gesturing him to stand with her petite, gloved hand. Her sister stood behind her with her untamed black hair and wearing a blood curdling grin across her face. Draco looked in his mother's eyes as he stood, his features made completely of stone. He recognized she tried to mock his emotionless expression, but she let her lip quiver just slightly as he brushed past her and closed his bedroom door behind him.

He strolled through the sitting room and into the entry hall, his footfalls echoing off of every surface and reverberating against the twelve-foot ceilings. His father stood at the double doors at the front of the hall. Draco's shoulders tensed and he clenched his jaw as Lucius Malfoy reached out to touch his arm, as if he were attempting to extend a loving, fatherly gesture to his son. Draco turned away from him and locked arms with his mother. Lucius's face turned even paler than it had been. He had dark circles under his eyelids and he slumped over in fatigue. He attempted a smile at Narcissa, but she only looked forward and gripped Draco's wrist as they turned on a dime and disapparated from the manor.

Their feet met the hard, cobblestone street of the alley, and Draco's mother wobbled slightly as they stood in the shadows. She rubbed her thumb across the back of his hand gently, and he pulled away and headed toward Knockturn Alley. Bellatrix was skipping in front of him, humming something that barely had a tune and twirling in circles. Had any other person been acting this way, it would look sweet, charming, and maybe even a little whimsical. You would think that it was a good day. But when Bellatrix Lestrange acted this way, it was maniacal, disturbing, and it was not a good day for anyone with a soul. Draco looked away from her, disgusted at her mock girlishness. She was terrifying.

They stopped at a small store with dust covered windows and a broken door handle. He had been here before a few years ago, and frankly, he had no desire to ever go back. He felt the vomit rise in his throat again as they stepped inside and a stench of old blood and dirt filled his nostrils. He knew the smell of Fenrir Greyback. Bellatrix traipsed over to the front counter and dinged the bell annoyingly, and Greyback stepped out from behind a shelf.

"Ah, there he is. How's it, Draco?" He said as he strolled over and slapped Draco on the arm. Narcissa took a tiny step to her left, inching behind Draco's shoulder and looking toward the ground as she pursed her lips, pretending to examine a scuff on her tall, black boot.

"Greyback," he said emotionless. "I did not know you would be here." He pushed his shoulders back, puffing out his chest, aware that his mother was hiding behind him.

"I figured I would show up, considering I am a part of this little plan," He said with a low growl. Bellatrix rang the bell again, much more aggressively this time. "And what a clever plan it was. I'll have to congratulate Severus on his little idea next time I see him."

Narcissa stepped out from behind Draco. "And where is Severus?" Greyback looked toward her and a predatory flash raced behind his black eyes.

"He was needed elsewhere." He said, and a man emerged from the back of the store, hobbling toward them and breaking Fenrir Greyback's voracious stare.

"Ah, Borgin, so good to see you," Lucius said, breaking his attention away from an enchanted mirror and greeted the store owner, as if he were greeting an old friend.

"Yes, yes, hello, Lucius, and hello Draco! The man of the hour," Borgin said as he ignored Lucius's outstretched hand and patted Draco's shoulder. "Severus told me you would be by. Come, come. I keep it in the back." He gestured the lot to follow him and they snaked through the store, past severed hands in jars and mystical looking artifacts, and even a dark, mahogany box that appeared to be singing in Welsh. Draco reached out to touch it as he passed, but Borgin swatted his hand away. "Mustn't touch that one! There's a banshee in there. I just managed to get her to stop wailing a few hours ago." Draco furrowed his brow as he dipped his hand into his coat pocket.

They reached a doorway that was covered with a worn out, red Venetian curtain. Borgin gestured for them to enter the small room and inside was a tall, dark oak cabinet, that looked like it had just been polished.

"We came across this nearly twenty years ago. The owners, I must say, vanished without a trace just a few days before. That lovely opal

necklace over there belonged to them, too, but, I don't see that they will be using any of this stuff now. It needs to be repaired and all but—"

"How long?" Bellatrix interrupted harshly. Borgin looked taken aback. "How long until it is in working condition?" Borgin stuttered for a moment, fumbling for words to give her a response. "Answer me, you daft twit!"

"A few months!" He said shakily. "Maybe seven or eight. This is old magic. It will take time and skill to—"

"Well then I expect you to get to work as soon as we step foot out of this shop. If this cabinet is not in working order by the time we need it, I will not be the one to come after you, Borgin. He will." An eerie smile crept across her face that was a disgusting shade of yellow. Borgin nodded frantically in her direction, muttering 'yes ma'am,' and 'of course, right away.' Draco curled his lip at the sight of the shopkeeper. He was such a coward. Draco knew as much as anybody that you never let anyone see you being a coward.

They left the shop and headed toward Diagon Alley. Draco could tell his mother was a little more at ease now that the shadows of Knockturn Alley were behind them and they were now surrounded by people with non-murderous agendas.

"Alright, dear," she said with a sigh as she brushed some dust off of Draco's blazer. "Let's go into Madame Malkin's and get some new school robes for you. I swear you have grown a foot since last year!" She said, mustering as much of a smile as she could manage.

Draco huffed and walked quickly down the road, dodging people left and right. "Alright, but let's make it quick. I'm not in the mood to talk to anyone from that blasted school today."

"I can't believe that Mudblood girl!" Narcissa said in a huff as they apparated into the entry way of Malfoy Manor. "To think she would even speak to you." She threw her hands over her head and walked into the sitting room, her heels clicking across the hardwood pine floor, echoes trailing behind her.

"Yes, she is quite the know-it-all, self-righteous twat," Draco said as he draped his new robes across the arm-chair. Narcissa scoffed.

"You know I don't like it when you use such language, Draco. But I'll look past it today. That filthy Granger girl. Wouldn't it be nice if they would just take all their wands away and then burn them?"

"Burn their wands or burn the vile Mudbloods at the stake?" Draco joked.

"Either would do, really. The latter would be most suitable to me."

Narcissa made her way to the top of the staircase and her head began swimming as she grabbed the wall to steady herself. She hurried into the washroom and flung her head over the toilet bowl, waiting for the contents of her insides to spill out of her mouth. She wanted them to. She heaved for a moment, but the toilet water remained clear, untainted by the guilt she wanted purged from her stomach. She felt disgraceful. A single tear stained itself on her skin as it ran down her cheek and dripped into the toilet, a drop of black dispersing through the water from her mascara. She stood up shakily and gripped the sink, avoiding glancing into the mirror. She saw the bar of soap sitting in the holder on the edge of the sink. She remembered many years ago when she would make Draco suck on it when he said swear words in her presence. She wanted to put it in her own mouth, but she knew that would not make her feel any better. The words she said to Hermione Granger, and later to her son about Hermione Granger, tore her up from the inside. She had no cruel intentions toward muggle-borns, and pretending to be so hateful to another human being, especially one as pretty, level-headed, and bright as that Granger girl, made her wretch.

She found the courage to look herself in the mirror, to face the shell of a woman she had become; the woman who married a prejudiced bigot and raised her son, a brilliant, handsome young man, to hate instead of love. She wiped the tear stain from her porcelain cheek, and exited the bathroom, the clicking of her heels echoing in her ears and around the entire house.

Draco was standing at the end of the hall, his hands in his pockets and a stoic expression on his unflinching face. She hoped he could not tell that she had been crying. That a sliver of her humanity had escaped from her always statuesque façade. She opened her mouth to speak when Draco grabbed her and pulled her close to him. At first, she was a little startled and was stiff as he held her, but as Draco pulled her close to him her, being nearly a full foot taller than she was, she relaxed in his arms, and returned his embrace. Though it was the first, and probably only time he would embrace her like this, she relished in it. Her son loved her. He loved somebody, and that made her feel a little bit better. A small light in the middle of an endless pitch black, cloudy night. She thought she heard a muffled sob from Draco, and with that, he released her and went to his room, slamming his door behind him.

Draco kicked the trunk that set at the foot of his king-sized four-poster. His room was one of the biggest in the whole manor, but he felt like the walls were closing in on him, and he felt claustrophobic. He ripped his shirt off, trying to relieve the choking sensation he felt, like removing his pompous outfit would alleviate the suffocation he was feeling. The air was so thick and hot, he felt like he might pass out. Sweat gathered above his brow as he went to the window and flung it open. The air outside was dense and humid with summer, but it chilled him to the bone as the faint breeze drifted across his face. He felt his face become hot and he could feel the emotion of his situation rising up through his chest and into his neck. His vision became blurry but he blinked the tears away. He was not a coward. And if he was, he would not let it show, not even to himself.

There was a knock on Draco's bedroom door. He grabbed his shirt off the floor and threw it on, only managing a few buttons before the door flew open, and a wild-eyed Bellatrix stood in the doorway.

"Bloody hell!" Draco said, his voice cracking slightly as he attempted to smooth his hair down.

"I knocked," she said as she strolled into the room.

"Yes, but you don't just barge in!" Bellatrix shrugged as she walked up to him, straightening out the collar of his shirt as he fumbled with the rest of the buttons.

"Such a handsome boy," she said as she patted his cheek and licked her teeth. "Shame though." She turned her back to him and began fingering little trinkets on his shelves. Draco cleared his throat.

"What's a shame?" He said, this time controlling his tone.

"You're a coward, Draco," she sang impassively. Draco blinked a few times, wondering if he had really heard her correctly.

"Excuse me?" He said, taking a few steps toward her.

"I said you're a bloody coward!" She turned to him and shouted in his face, her wretched breath resting against his skin. "You think I don't see you, moping about the halls, dragging your feet, wandering around like a lost puppy. It makes me sick!" She spat. Draco looked straight ahead. Bellatrix was the same height as his mother, and he stood a whole head above her, but there was nobody who could make him feel smaller. More insignificant. Like less than a person.

"You're wrong," he said, unflinching.

"Then prove me wrong!" She continued to shout. "You will kill that awful, sanctimonious man and you will bask in it. You will bathe in his death. You will sit at the Dark Lord's side and he will look upon you in gratitude. Or you will die. And I will be the one to kill you." Draco swallowed hard as Bellatrix circled him. "You are my nephew, Draco, and although I adore you like all aunts adore their nephews, there is no place in the ranks for cowards." Her last word was like a knife she dug into his side and twisted around. She gave one last hiss in his ear and then swept out of the room like a phantom. Draco gripped the rail of his bed and leaned against it, unable to keep himself steady as the walls closed in even more on him.

Narcissa closed her bedroom door quietly, the latch clicking into place with a light clunk. She reached her hand between the mattress and the bed frame and pulled out a small, leather-bound book with paper spilling out of it. She sat on the edge of the bed, stifling a sniffle, and rifled through the loose papers in the book. She rested her hand on an envelope that said 'Cissy' on the front written in delicate cursive handwriting. She ran her fingertips over her name and the gently pulled the letter out of the envelope. She carefully unfolded the paper, whose inky words had been smeared and nearly worn away from the many times she had done this ritual, reading and rereading this letter time and time again. She covered her mouth as she read the letter one more time, wondering if this time she would finally reply to its sender.

Author's Note: So there was the first chapter. I'm trying to paint a picture here people. The things Draco went through during the summer of his sixth year. So anyways, between this story and my other story, I will have my work cut out for me! Just be patient with me and review, review, review!