Date: February 11th, 1999

Time: 21:49

Location: Kennith Village - Alleyway

Darkness. That's where Draco found himself. The concept wasn't new to him, and strangely he found it somewhat comforting. Even at a young age, Draco knew that darkness meant safety. It meant being hidden. Things born in the dark were never meant to see the light. That included him.

But now, 20 years later, he found himself trapped. Ensnared between his past and his future. Stuck inside a endless cycle of death, destruction, and hatred. Thrust into a war he was barely trying to survive.

Darkness was in his mind, his soul, and coincidentally, this alleyway. He found himself pacing, back and forth, repeatedly checking his watch. He'd been waiting for almost ten minutes for his contact to arrive, some nameless Deatheater soldier. He had been summoned two days ago for a council meeting, and was told they'd be going over newly discovered Rebellion plans. Of course, these plans would most likely be the forgeries they had recently planted to uncover a mole, but one could never be too sure. Draco was expecting a dull, uneventful meeting with nothing to report back on. Except, of course, what was waiting for his "colleagues" afterwards.

He knew they were gathering right outside a little village called Kennith. But, he also knew that with wards up, he wouldn't be granted access to just waltz right in. Although with a vague destination, it was enough to give the Rebellion some intel and help plan an attack on the border. Once he was inside the wards, he would activate the tracker. Then, Remus and the rest of the team would be able to hone in on the precise location. The only way to get to the precise location was with the portkey.

He had been to various council meetings before, all boring as well as unnerving, and never in the same location. All he wanted was to complete this mission, do his part, and then maybe, maybe attempt to get some semblance of a good night's sleep. Hell, at this point it didn't even have to be good, as long as it was something. He'd been up the last few days at ungodly hours going over different plans and strategies for this mission.

Not to mention, any time he even had a chance at sleep he'd been plagued by nightmares of a warm face no longer with him.

He was lost in thought, properly bored, when he heard more so than saw someone creep around the corner and into the alleyway. Wand immediately raised, Draco watched silently from his post in the darkness as they came closer. Only then did he notice the Dark Mark on their arm, not even bothering to have it covered. His heart rose to his throat at the sight of it, and he felt his own begin to sting.

"Draco Malfoy, I've been assigned as your portkey." His voice was light, young, almost as if it was on the brink of cracking.

Draco simply nodded. The man - boy? - extended his marked arm and smiled, a sickly grin bearing his teeth in the moonlight. He reminded Draco of a small pup, growling and desperate to look like a grown wolf. When Draco didn't mirror his expression, his sneer, one Draco had previously worn on his face countless times before, fell along with his hand. Instead, he cleared his throat, and extended his arm once again.

Draco brought his hand halfway towards the boys before pausing. Typically, the soldier would present a cloth bag, with an enchanted object inside. This soldier had no bag, instead he offered only his marked arm, outreached and expecting.

His heart skipped a beat.

He had heard of this before. It was a twisted sense of security developed by the Deatheaters. A one time use for very high level clearance meetings. Some hopefuls even volunteer for the chance, but most are brainwashed, or have been Imperiused. A living, breathing portkey, in which after being used, the host immediately dies.

The ultimate failsafe.

It made Dracos blood crawl, and the fact he'd have to use one tonight … he didn't want to think about it.

If it was anyone else, they would have stopped, backed out, refused. But Draco - Draco wasn't that person. He never would be. He was never brave enough or strong enough to do what was right.

Unless, of course, it was hidden, in the shadows, aiding a cause while everyone only saw him as a snake.

He stopped reaching towards the boy. His thin, painfully pale fingers were just brushing the mark. Quickly, eyes flitted up to meet another pair, darker, almost black. Quick as a whip he replied with a hopefully believable and smile "Quite right, thank you for your service."

The boy nodded eagerly (Draco was now convinced he was a volunteer, there was no glassy look in his empty eyes.) "We have the honor of helping capture some of those scum agents. The downfall of the Rebellion as we know it. It will be my greatest duty to serve the Dark Lord."

It felt as if a rock had landed in the pit of Dracos stomach or maybe his heart, if he still had one. He blinked, once, twice, three times, before - "Right, could you give me a moment please?" For just a second, he saw the boys eyebrows furrowed in confusion and then - "petrificus totalus!" He fell right on his back, stiff as a board.

Draco slicked back his hair in one swoop, taking a short breath. He knew the team would already be on their way, most likely waiting for his tracker to be activated. He sifted through his brain for something, anything, to get them this message, that they were walking into a complete trap. Normally, like any other member, he'd have one of their messaging coins, but they'd all deemed it too dangerous if it was found on his person. They never accounted for something like this to happen. He'd always been playing two sides, smuggling messages and bits of information with him. He never expected that he could have been wrong. And how foolish he was to think so.

And then it hit him. It was a desperate kind of thought, but he clung to it, gripping it with his cold hands and heart. He raised his wand, never feeling more empty than in that moment, and said "expecto patronum!"

He closed his eyes, sifting through his memories (only of which a handful were happy). Never having to perform a Patronus charm before, he was completely at a loss of what to do. He'd seen it done, of course, in war, and also learned in school, but it was something he felt he never needed (or couldn't do) until now.

Now, it was a matter of life or death.

So he thought of his mother. He thought of her smiling face, her soft hands, and her constant heartbeat. He remembered her reading to him in the garden, of her singing him to sleep, and her overall being good. He thought about what she'd say now, how he didn't know if she'd be proud or not, mostly just worried that her little boy was caught in the middle of it all. As if he ever had a choice.

And like that, it appeared. A dull glow in the dark but still visible, was a butterfly. At first, Draco was in awe, while it wasn't bright, and flickering in and out, it was there. But then he was confused.

A butterfly?

At first he felt as if he should be offended. Him, Draco Malfoy, with a butterfly Patronus. Of all things… he shook his head, still in shock, but there was no time to lose. He knelt down, at a loss for what next, but simply spoke into the fluttering form as he had seen so many others do. "Retreat. It's a trap, I repeat: Retreat, do not infiltrate." He wove his wand once more, unsure of who exactly to send it to, but decided on both Remus and McGonagall, just praying (although to who, he wasn't sure) that it would reach them in time.

With the dimming form flitting away, he stood back up, straightened out his shirt and rose his wand again. He looked at the boy, lying on the ground, eyebrows still furrowed. He took a short breath, and closed his eyes, only for a moment. Then he went over and crouched next to him, the dark mark on his arm still plain as day.

The boy still seemed to have a cruel smile on his face, and Draco looked away, hit by memories of his own, younger, lips curled in a similar way. "Obliviate." He said, watching as the boy sat up, rubbing his head, looking around confusedly.

"What happened?" He asked.

"You passed out." Draco deadpanned.

The boy sprung to attention, blinking quickly, and coming to, looking almost embarrassed. He glanced around, and then looked back to Draco, coming to an understanding, not even questioning it. Dracos grip tightened on his wand.

It took a great deal for him to pull back on his aura of haughtiness and self importance. "Well, let's get to it. You know how busy a mans schedule can be, with wrecking havoc and purifying the Wizarding nation and what not."

"I'm ready." The boy said instead, extending his arm out once more.

Draco gave him one more look, and couldn't help but feel a pain in his chest for a boy, so ready to serve, that didn't know he had another choice.

Instead, his throat closing, he wrapped his cold hands around the boys dark mark and vanished.