Breaking In, Never Breaking

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe belongs to the lovely JK Rowling. I do not receive any profit from this story.

Summary: Set post HBP, non-DH compliant. Draco Malfoy is faced with the decision of his life: follow in his family's footsteps, or carve out his own path? How will his decision be received, and is he ready for the consequences?

Chapter 1: Decisions and Contemplations

Malfoy. So much was embodied in that one name. Six letters held so much power, so much meaning, and so much feeling. Mention that name in the wizarding world and immediately everyone would conjure an image in their heads. An image of wealth, arrogance, and power. Of cruelty, harshness, and intolerance. Of tradition and purity. Of evil, and darkness. Oh yes, Draco Malfoy knew what people thought of him. He knew they would have thought it of him from his very conception. "Oh, that Malfoy child will be just like the rest of them", they'd whisper and hiss. Draco had never truly cared what people thought of him. Why should he? He was Draco Abraxas Lucius Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy Estate and all that came with it. Let them talk, it wouldn't do them any good, and it couldn't touch him. He was above all of it, safe in his bubble of purity and power.

Safe.

Ha. Shivering in the damp cave, he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt safe. Oh yes, he was entitled to everything that came with being a Malfoy, including being a Death Eater. Draco stared at the mark on his arm, the blot that tainted his beautiful skin. He'd nearly pissed himself when he'd gotten it, overwhelmed by the pain and the meaning. He'd barely managed to walk away from the Dark Lord, his legs had been shaking so badly. Sure, he'd gloated about his blood purity, and sure he'd made sure to torment the mudbloods at school but… he'd never been all gung ho about the whole Death Eater thing. Why did one have to actually kill the dirty little things? Torment them: yes. Crush them: yes. Discriminate against them, make their lives hell: yes. But kill them…?

Snap. Draco was yanked out of his reverie by the reappearance of the man he'd come to fear and need: Severus Snape. Draco had never before feared the man; why should he when he could easily count on his father for protection? But then again, his father was no longer around for that. His imprisonment in Azkaban had made everything suddenly so real, so very, very real. Draco was left with no one to take care of him, except Snape; and Snape hadn't been all that friendly of late… Yet Snape was his ticket to freedom. They'd been in hiding for two weeks now, and Snape had decided Draco would have to seek asylum through the Order, and join them. Draco's subsequent spluttering had been swiftly silenced by a hard look. Snape was right, and Draco knew it. The Dark Lord had no use for him, and would kill him on sight. The Order was his only chance now; he had no idea how Snape planned to get them in now, but he didn't question the man, sensing that he shouldn't pry. Snape said they needed to stay out of sight for a while longer, until the members of the Order get over their immediate grief, else they would kill them both without hesitation. Draco understood this as well, but it didn't mean he had to like the prospect of spending another two weeks in hiding. Now, with about a month in the cave, Draco near his snapping point, and the fact that it was raining outside was not helping his spirit.

"Professor? Sir, I'm hungry and I'm cold", Draco said unhappily.

Snape barely spared him a glance as he drawled, "And you are telling me this, because…".

Draco blinked, thrown off for a second before replying, "Well, it's just that…well…I thought you'd gone off to find food or something…".

"Correct Mr. Malfoy", Snape said sarcastically, "But as you see, I have returned empty-handed, which obviously means I could uncover no sustenance. Honestly, boy, use your powers of deduction".

Draco bit back the angry reply in his head, instead asking, "Well, if you're not going to feed me, can you at least find any wood?"

"I beg your pardon?", Snape said quietly.

Something told Draco that the man didn't give a rat's ass whether or not he had his pardon, but he decided to keep that to himself. " I mean for a fire, sir. You know, some firewood? Will you go find any? As I said earlier, I am rather cold", Draco reminded. They had managed without fires thus far, but then again, it was summer and it hadn't yet rained.

Snape's eyes narrowed down to little slits, his dark eyes glittering through. "Oh yes, because Merlin forbid young Master Malfoy be cold. That would certainly mean the end of the world", he sneered, "Well, dear boy, get used to the cold and the damp. There will be no such fires here, unless you want our position discovered by someone. We are laying low you fool. It would seem that you've spent six years at Hogwarts, and yet you've gained no idea of common sense."

Draco flushed with anger, retorting, "I'd watch it if I were you! You just wait, I'll…I'll…"

"You'll what? Go crying to daddy in Azkaban? That's were we'll both be if we get caught! Or perhaps you'd like to go to the Dark Lord? Tell him all about your failure to kill Dumbledore, hmm? You need me boy, and you would do well to remember that. Now cease your whining, before I give you something real to cry about!", Snape finished darkly.

Draco paled quickly, remembering that first, terrifying night on the run. Snape had quickly been driven to the edge by Draco's incessant hysterical babble, and had hexed him to get him to shut up; it had hurt, a lot. Draco glared at Snape instead of replying, then looked away, grimacing. The man was gaunt, and paler that usual. His normally horrid hair was absolutely lifeless. Always looking older than he was, the man now seemed to have aged even more. He had been ill soon after they had found the cave the first night. Thrashing about and moaning incoherently, racked with pain. It was the Soul Reaving that came with murder of someone as great as Dumbledore had been. The illness had lasted for a week before it abated, leaving Snape looking haunted and near broken. Unfortunately for Draco, it also made him meaner and moodier than ever. Draco noticed Snape clearing his throat to get his attention, and looked back up.

Snape stared at him, for a minute more before breaking the silence. "We will be going to Headquarters tomorrow, to face the Order. I was able to attain information that they are all gathered there at present when I was out". Snape paused, and drew his eyebrows together. "Prepare yourself for anything, including torture. This is war boy, and they will treat it as such. Moody, Shacklebolt, Lupin, Potter…they will not be pleased to see us, to say the least. You will speak when spoken to, or when I say you must. Otherwise, be silent. No insults, no sneering, nothing. Our lives will be virtually in their hands, and you need to realize that. Hold nothing back and be completely honest. Moody has a way of sniffing out lies, and they will probably use Veritaserum at any rate. It will not do for you to get caught in a lie. Go to sleep now, you will need your rest", he said lowly. His eyes were boring into Draco's fiercly, daring him to respond unfavorably.

But Draco kept silent, too scared to say anything. He was terrified out of his mind. They would see nothing but a Malfoy, and sentence him to death. They would not have mercy on him, and did he blame them? He had tried to kill Dumbledore, and it was his fault he was dead. He had let in the Death Eaters, he had orchestrated it all. Sure, he had done it because he was scared of the Dark Lord, not because he had wanted to, but would that matter to them? They didn't know that he had wavered, that he had been unable to kill the old man. All they knew was that he was Draco Malfoy, and that was all they would care about. He didn't know how Snape was planning on getting them to listen, but he was certain he was going to his death, either by the Order's hands, or by Azkaban.