A/N: This story is currently under construction!

After much editing, and two extraordinarily long plane rides, I'm happy to say that Heartbeats is finally COMPLETE! But rather than eff everything up by trying to replace all the existing chapters, I'm just going to start (mostly) from scratch. Because Lord knows I'd screw something up if I didn't. The current plan is to post somewhere between 5-7 chapters a day until the whole thing is up (mostly to avoid spamming inboxes with a million updates).

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter...yes, please pick your jaws up off the floor. It's not that shocking.

Warnings: This story contains a slash pairing which will involve mature content, so if that sort of thing bothers you thennnnn you're probably clicked on this story by accident. The main pairing here is Draco/Harry, but there are also some references throughout of Draco/Snape (nothing too in depth though). There will also be a decent amount of violence, some mild depictions of torture, and major and minor character deaths.

All mistakes made here and after are my own. Please enjoy!

** Day 1 - Draco ***

Draco Malfoy was walking to the drawing room in Malfoy Manor—a room he must have walked to hundreds of times in his life. He knew everything about that room; how it smelled, how the air felt when the sun poured through the windows on a warm spring afternoon, how scratchy and stiff the carpet felt beneath bare feet, and how the stench of bourbon still clung to the dark stain on the corner of his father's desk. His feet knew the way without a spare thought, which was fortunate since he didn't want to think right now. Thinking, above all things, was dangerous. Thinking was what had gotten people like Snape and Dumbledore killed, and Draco had gone through too much to be killed now—he'd crawled through too much blood, and he'd vomited up too many vows.

But all of that was over now. He'd made all of the right choices. He'd chosen the winning team. The Death Eaters had overcome Hogwarts, and it was only a matter of time before the rest of the dominos fell. They'd won. And Harry Potter was gone. Harry Potter was…

"Good evening, Draco."

Draco looked up, his heart flying into his throat as his feet slammed to a sudden stop. Somehow, he'd entered the drawing room without even realizing. Lord Voldemort was reclined on one of the sofas near the hearth, one foot propped up on the cushions while the other dangled near the floor. His long white arm was draped along the back, the sharp nail of his index finger scraping at a loose string. It was a far cry from the cold, calculated poses the Dark Lord usually favored, but he somehow managed to make it look menacing all the same. His crimson eyes slid across the room towards him while Draco's immediately fell. The Slytherin dipped into a deep bow, glad that his robes were loose enough to cover the trembling in his knees.

"You summoned me, my Lord?"

"Yes," the Dark Lord drew out the 's' with a spine tingling hiss. "Do come in, dear boy, and close the door behind you."

Keeping his hands as steady as he possibly could, Draco shut the door behind him. The newly stilled air seemed to take on a deathly quiet.

"Do you know why I called you here today?"

Draco didn't, but he very much doubted that the Dark Lord wanted an answer anyway. He rarely asked questions he actually wanted answers to, and Draco had seen more than enough people learn that the hard way.

"You've done something that very few of my followers have managed to do," he continued, his words slow and cool, like ice water dripping down the edge of a glass. "It's not that odd, I suppose, considering the incompetence I deal with on a daily basis, but even so, I do believe that this is something truly worthy of…commemoration. Do you know what it is that you've done for me, Draco?"

Again, Draco didn't respond.

The barest hint of a smile curled on the Dark Lord's thin lips. "You surprised me."

At this, Draco's eyes flicked up, and red irises held him like a rat caught in a snare.

"I'm sure you're under no delusion as to why I gave you the task of killing Dumbledore. I was assured you would fail, and in the end I suppose you did. However…" With a fluid grace, he folded his limbs together and stood, his black robes billowing behind him like smoke as he glided towards Draco. "In the end your failure rewarded me with something so much greater."

Draco watched the Dark Lord's hand dip into his pocket and pull out the Elder Wand. The white wood looked thin and overly pale against his Lord's greyed skin. It was odd seeing that wand in any other hand but Dumbledore's.

"You gave me a great gift. You—a mere boy—figured out what none of your superiors could. You figured out the secret to mastering the Death Stick, and what more, you figured out that the master of the wand did not have to die in order for the wand's loyalties to be transferred. How ironic it was that the only thing required to give me this power was not death, but a simple disarming charm—Harry Potter's own trademark spell. Because of you, the wand obeys me now. You, Draco, gave me this when no one else could."

Draco's throat hurt, like he'd just swallowed something that wouldn't go down. It was true—he had figured the wand's riddle…but not in time. Not in time to save Snape.

"But that's not all you gave me. In fact, I consider the Death Stick a pale comparison to your other gift. In return I'd like to honor you above all other Death Eaters. In return…I'd like to grant you a task that I trust with no one else."

For once, Draco couldn't keep the words down. There was a dread growing deep within him, dark and foreboding. "What's that, my Lord?"

The Dark Lord's eyes flashed a blood-searing red in the darkness. "I'm not sure if you've heard yet, but…we've captured Harry Potter."