Chapter 1 – Entrée

A/N: Alright, folks, this is my very first own story here and it is just a thought that mooched in my head and I decided to write it down. End of story xD. As I have written in my profile, English is not my mothertongue, but I just wanted to see if I could manage this beautiful language, known perfectly well by all you english-native-speakers, who I desperately beg to correct me whenever necessary and possible. Please forgive me my unintended maltreatment of the English language, from time to time. Critiques, both positive and negative, are welcome. Thank you  .

Disclaimer: Come on, if I really owned Harry Potter, would I be sitting here, writing a Fanfic on my own novel? Really, that would be weird... .

Usually St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries was crowded with people: more or less severely injured witches and wizards strolling around the floors, visitors of course... sometimes wondering where they should head and always busy healers in lime green uniforms, running around, studying a patient's file or diagnosing the strangest of maladies. As well as crowded it was usually lit by sunlight falling through high windows on the corridors and patients' rooms, which sometimes had floating, shining crystal bubbles clustered at the ceiling, illuminating.

However, now, in the middle of the night, it was not. In fact, it was as dark as a vampire's cave and just as eerie, at least for those not used to muffled moans of pain or a desperate cry here and there caused by both horrid jinxes or a simple fever.

The only audible sound right now came from Florence's heels clicking on the floor as she walked her way, led by her wand, lit by the Lumos spell, through the halls of the fourth floor of St. Mungos. During her training here she naturally became used to the atmosphere present at day as well as night, but still, she might add, she favoured the former. For now it was quiet, an hour ago she had been called to an emergency patient, brought into the hospital because he kept rambling on about tap-dancing teakettles threatening to burn down his house, while his extremities had a mind of their own, cramping and winding uncontrollably. Obviously he had suffered several curses and had been obliviated, so that he could neither tell the staff his name nor who attacked him.

To be honest he didn't even have to tell Florence who attacked him for she already knew. Everyday people were brought in with horrible injuries, some have lost their minds and some, the worst case, were just there to be pronounced dead. Sometimes she thought she couldn't stand all the blood, cries and pain, but then again, are there any better possibilities to help people in times of war, than to ease their pain and calm them down, giving them a save place to sleep after they experienced Merlin knows what kind of inhuman and unmerciful maltreatment ?

The horrifying condition some patients were in spoke for themselves, for they just left no space for doubts that Death Eaters had to do with most of the victims delivered to St. Mungo's.

Whenever there was somebody brought in with he slightest hint of having suffered a Death Eater's attack, the healers had to inform the Ministry about it. Horrible enough, a few seconds later a whole bunch of people would apparate and rush around, asking the poor patient dozens of questions to get up-to-date information where they should look next for those belonging to the evil kin of Death Eaters.

It seemed as if the only chance of getting to lock them up consisted of more and more injured people, it seemed as if the Ministry clung to every patient as if it was the last straw to grasp at in order to find those, who frightened the wizarding world for over 2 miserable years now. How macabre, really.

Florence walked down the corridor and listened closely, if she could hear anything unusual, but as usual Mr. Flibber from Room 251, in stationary treatment due to a very severe form of dragon pox, snored like a woodcutter and from outside she heard a few owls hoot.

She turned right into the room where all necessary potions and pills were stored, right next to the library. Her wand still illuminated her surroundings, but she would have known her way around even without light.

She silently hummed a merry tune while checking for an anti-snoring potion for Mr. Flibber, when suddenly someone grabbed her from behind. She gasped for air but her mouth was immediately covered by a large, leather-gloved hand. "Not one word if you know what is good for you" a deep male voice said into her left ear. The man behind her was awfully close, tall and obviously much stronger than she was. She could smell the clean smell of soap over a musky, male scent and didn't like it at all. Another voice, maybe a few meters away muttered Expelliarmus and she was disarmed. She couldn't move. She couldn't scream.

He sat in an armchair in the corner of the salon, watching the people around him. His mother, tall, slim and elegant stood next to her sister, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. She said something to Bellatrix but he couldn't understand what it was. His aunt's eyes stared into space, he could not tell if she heard her sister's words or not. He watched her closely, the still insane expression in her eyes worsening the way they were widely opened, because of fear, excitement or pure lunacy, Draco didn't know. She held a glass of expensive, dark red wine in her shaking hands but hadn't touched it yet. He took a sip of his own and saw Professor Snape talking to Avery in a hushed voice. Avery listened with a stern expression on his face, obviously concentrating on what he was told. They stood next to one of the huge windows, framed by a heavy dark green curtain. Obviating a little, he could see the full moon outside that threw a tiny amount of light into the salon, which was dimly lit by a floating chandelier. Although everyone tried to act naturally he could still feel the tension in the air. He looked back at his mother who now went over to the tray to fill her own glass when they heard a mark shattering scream from upstairs. Immediately, Bellatrix threw her glass against the wall and started to scream as well. "Help him... Help him!" she shrieked and flung towards the door but Snape was quicker, moved in front of her and grasped her by the shoulders. "Stop it, Bellatrix. You can't go upstairs, we will have to wait until Lucius and Dolohov return. I gave him a potion against the pain but he was severly injured, now sit down!" he ordered in a harsh, inpatient voice and shook her. How often did Draco hear those words from Snape in the last 30 Minutes, but Bellatrix was too off-the-wall to understand. Narcissa reached her sister, put an arm around her shoulders and led her towards the corner where Draco sat. She guided her next to his armchair and set her, with a gentle push, down on the sofa. Draco stood up and went to fill a new glass with wine for his aunt. Although it seemed like a caring gesture, he didn't really want to sit one second longer than necessary next to this madwoman. His mother looked at him with an appreciating expression on her face, her eyes softening, as he handed her the glass. Narcissa took it and placed it in Bellatrix's hands.

Draco never understood the relationship between his aunt and uncle. There was no sing of love, affection or at least attraction between them. Neither he discovered hatred or disaffirmation but it seemed, as if they simply ignored each other. He guessed, Rodolphus knew that Bellatrix would never be able to feel anything for her husband, but obviously he didn't care at all and, if he believed his father, had a lot of distraction in the shape of half a dozen blood young, pretty girls waiting in their beds for him.

That is, why he was deeply wondered by her behaviour. Of course, Rodolphus had been severely injured by one of those damned Aurors and it really didn't look good, but he would have never expected this kind of emotion coming from his aunt, who actually only cared about herself and most of all, her beloved Voldemort, who she fanatically admired. But obviously she did care for her husband's welfare.

The plan had not worked out as they would have hoped. Although the Order tried to entrap them by using Polyjuice-Potion to transform some of them into six other Potters, they still weren't fooled and the real Potter, being as empty-headed as he usually was, quickly revealed himself by using Expelliarmus. Sometimes Draco really wondered about some people's stupidity. Even Shunpike figured out, that he was the real one. However, the Dark Lord had tried to kill him, but there were too many Aurors protecting him, along with that idiot of a half-giant. As far as he knew, the Dark Lord still managed to get one of them killed, but he couldn't tell who it was.

Lucius didn't want him to go with them, but to stay at the manor. If something, contrary the expectations, went wrong, he wanted Draco to accompany Narcissa to Belle Lumiere. Although they had Imperiused several members of the Ministry, it was better to be careful.

When they returned, Yaxley and Goyle carried a barely conscious Rodolphus, who left a blood-trail behind him, while the others went straight into the salon and reported what has happened. They had brought Rodolphus upstairs into one of the guest rooms and Snape had immediately followed them to treat his wounds.

The Dark Lord had floated into the room shortly after. Although he moved with the same grace as usual, his dark thin robe that hid the unimaginable body underneath, waving around, his movements and facial expression revealed utter rage. Everyone in the salon immediately raised from their seating and kneeled down. Silence. The tension unbearable. Although Draco didn't exactly feared him, he still couldn't manage to look up, look into those red eyes that now glistered madly. The Dark Lord had walked in between his loyal kneeling servants, some of them kissing his robe when he passed them and started to speak in a hissing, quiet voice.

"Ah, my friends... today was not a lucky evening for us. As you have witnessed, Potter slipped from my hands when I almost had him. But, as I unfortunately must add, that would not have been, if you would have proven your loyality." He turned around and raised his voice: "Where were you, Nott? I told you to stay behind me. Now, did you do as you were told?" He stopped in front of Nott, who kept his head down, but Draco could still see he had become white as a sheet of paper as soon as the Dark Lord had said his name. "N-No,my Lord." he answered, his voice shaking. "And why, I might ask?" Voldemort asked further. Nott did not answer immediately. "I was distracted by ... Shacklebolt I think. He tried to stupefy me, I had to fight him. I am sorry, my Lord, deeply sorry". He kissed his robe. To Draco it had been a mortifying, highly distasteful image. If he could not stand one thing, it was humiliation of grown up pure-bloods, like Nott was. I just was not right, considering Nott's blood status, which was the same as everyone's present, to be this humble towards any other person. "Do you consider this ´loyal´?" the Dark Lord asked darkly. "No, my Lord." Nott answered, his voice almost cracking. He knew what was coming. Sensing his servant's fear, the Dark Lord continued: "Oh no, don't worry, I will not kill you. " Nott exhaled deeply. "You are one of the oldest wizarding families known in England, my dear Nicholas. Besides you have a beautiful wife capable of bearing many heirs, killing you would be a tremendous waste of blood, wouldn't it?" he turned his lipless mouth into a cruel, wicked smile. "Thank you, my lord. You are too gracious." Nott was about to relax a little, when Voldemort turned around to keep on walking between the still kneeling, remaining Death Eaters. But then, he unexpectedly turned around again in the quickest of motion . "Crucio" he bellowed, pointing his wand at Nott, who immediately fell on his side, screaming and winding in pain. Draco looked aside towards his mother, who had closed her eyes, brows furrowed. After several long minutes, the Dark Lord stopped and Nott lay still, not moving an inch. Voldemort took a few steps towards Nott, turning him on his back with a bare foot, cruelly smiling down at him. He chuckled. "You must understand, my dear Nicholas. I have to set an example. Otherwise, soon everyone here will do as he wants and won't follow any orders of me, whom you all –", he turned around and spoke to all present, "took an oath to." No one dared to breath or to move. The Dark Lord stood in front of one of the large windows and looked outside for a moment. Finally he spoke: "That is it for now, my dear friends. I will summon you all soon again." With that, he turned around and started to walk towards the door, when suddenly Bellatrix raised, ran at his side, threw herself on her knees, taking his robe in her hands and rubbing it along her cheek. "Please, my Lord, let me come with you. You know I am not like them, you know, I would do anything for you, my Lord, please don't leave me here!" she begged. Draco had to concentrate on Quidditch in order not to turn red with anger, this woman was really unbearable. Voldemort looked down, smiled again, but not that cruel this time. It was almost that kind of a smile a father gives his children when they beg him not to go away: gentle, amused, but still not taking them seriously. He put a thin, long-fingered hand under her chin and made her look into his eyes. He gently stroke her cheek. "Yes, my love, I know. But you have to stay here. I want you to stay here. And did you not just tell me, you did everything I asked you to do?" "Yes, my lord. Indeed I did." Bellatrix answered, her voice trembling of emotion... lust, love, submissiveness. The Dark Lord chuckled, turned around and left. Bellatrix still sat on the floor like a child, pouting, with a tear or two sliding down her cheek.

All of this had happened almost an hour ago. After the Dark Lord had left, Snape came downstairs again, only to announce that they couldn't manage to stop Rodolphus's bleeding and he needed medical attendance. Lucius and Dolohov quickly decided to apparate to St. Mungos to "fetch" someone and with a quiet pop they disapparated.

After Narcissa had helped her up, Bellatrix now sat on the edge of the sofa, a calm, almost dreaming expression on her face, staring at the wall. Sometimes she would open her mouth as if to say something, but closed it again. "My Lord", she whispered, "I am terribly sorry you didn't get what you want". Draco raised an eyebrow at her soliloquies and stood up to go into the library, when he heard someone call his name from down the hall. He slowly walked towards Snape, who stood near the grand staircase. "Yes Professor?" he answered. "The two of us will go upstairs to look after Rodolphus, your father and Dolohov will return any second now, and there may be a little help needed."

He silently followed the potionmaster upstairs. "It looks pretty bad. Whoever hit him, did a good job. I stil haven't figured out who it was, but apparently he knew how to use Sectumsempra. He lost a part of his nose and three fingers of his left hand. He needs medication and has to be cast under a shock spell that can only be done by healers. All we can do is wait." Snape said grimly. Draco nodded and turned right into the room Snape pointed at.

It was dark, but smelled horribly after burned flesh and blood. Draco illuminated his wand and pointed it at the bed were Rodolphus lay. He had do keep himself from backing away from the sight. Rodolphus face was just a bloody pulp and the sheet he laid on was covered in blood, as were is robes. . Draco saw three gaping holes on the knuckles of his left hand, where his index-, middle- and ring finger had been. His right leg stuck out in a weird angle and he did not move an inch, probably unconscious.

"Do you think he will make it?" he asked Snape, not concerned or even caring, but merely curious if there was any chance left, he and his mad aunt would soon return to their own house. "I don't know" Snape muttered, looking down at Rodolphus. Neither of the two said anything more. After a while, they heard two faint plops and turned around, pointing their wands at them, to illuminate the room. Draco saw Dolohov and his father, who held a struggling, whimpering figure, his hand clasped over his or her mouth, from where only muffled cries could be heared.

Oh Jesus, another A/N: Okay, first of all, thank you for reading my very first chapter of my very first story. Or maybe you just scrolled down to see if, beyond all this mess, there was anything to win or something ;) . Maybe I'll become rich one day and you can write me a postcard saying you read my fic and I'll send you a reward. Up until this I would very much ask for your opinion, thoughts and expectations of what I wrote. If you like, please review this story or contact me otherwise. I have a few questions to ask, for I have absolutely no clue on how to write a good, pleasing, thrilling story: Do you prefer longer chapters, not regularly updated, or the opposite, shorter chapters, more often updated? I really plan on updating this story but I can hereby promise that I won't be able to update long chapters regularly, that is the problem xD, that is why I am asking.

Please tell me your ideas of how the story could continue and what you expect of this, I do have a plot formed out in my head but still, I'd like to hear (read) your thoughts.

That is it for now, hugs and kisses,

Nina

P.S. : All spelling mistakes were done on purpose, to increase the reader's entertainment.