Disclaimer: Wish I owned it, but alas, I do not. Harry Potter and all associated characters belong to J.K. Rowling. That lucky woman...

A/N: This is my second fanfiction story ever so please be nice :) . It's the full-length prequel to "Their Final Summer". Thanks to my beta, nycegurl, and Oscar for extra beta work.

Warning: This will eventually be slash!

"Of Summer, Fate, and Circumstance"

Chapter 1: The Prisoner

It was pitch black. A thin teenage boy slowly opened his gray eyes and noticed that fact immediately. There was no difference between what he could see with eyes open and eyes closed.

His blonde hair, normally groomed to perfection, was thick with sweat and flattened unceremoniously against his delicate skull. He felt absolutely disgusting and automatically wondered how he had let himself go so quickly.

Deprived of vision, the boy inched his head upwards to take an identifying whiff of his surroundings and immediately grimaced with regret. The air was frigid and dank, smelling like breath so rotten that it could only belong to the dead. The stench was unbearable, but more than that, he found that it was incredibly difficult for him to lift his head. He also found that he could not feel much of his body.

Bewildered and frightened, with no memories to help explain the situation, the boy tried to shrug his shoulders, to twist his hips, to move his legs, anything at all that could produce movement.

My legs are tied! Realization dawned brutally.

Frantic, he tried flailing his arms and realized that they were tied as well…above his head.

I'm hanging from something…what's this…from a hook!

The beautiful boy, of dignified and pure-blooded breeding, was hanging in a most undignified way.

I'm a prisoner!

Panic taking over his delicate body, he opened his full lips and tried to scream, to yell for help. However, he found his throat parched, and that he could only rasp out a few whispers before collapsing into a vicious coughing fit.

He panicked for hours, regaining feeling in all his body parts as he attempted to free himself, albeit quite in vain. Eventually, the boy ran out of energy and ran out of hope.

No one is going to come…

He let his body relax, sweat pouring down his forehead and thin (but toned) arms in rivulets as he hung with despair in the air that smelt of the same emotion.

The boy let his head loll to his right shoulder as best he could, considering his range of motion was rather limited. He began to drift off into a fitful sleep…

Click. Click. Click.

He immediately raised his head at the familiar sound.

Click. Click. Click.

That sounds like footsteps made by an impatient foot…a foot in boots with a steel heel, clicking against a cement floor.

The boy heard a squeaking noise as a rusty door suddenly opened and a sliver of light from the outside hallway escaped into the dungeon prison.

The sliver of light illuminated the visitor, a tall man with a wide forehead and platinum blonde hair. He carried himself with an air of superiority, his long thin nose thrust high above and pursed pale lips protruding from the angular face. His eyes appeared silver in the light and colder than the dungeon temperature.

"Draco Malfoy", a silky but threatening voice uttered from the pale lips of their pale owner.

"Father?!," Draco exclaimed as best he could with whatever was left of his voice.

"Well, well, well," Lucius Malfoy tutted, still dangerously enunciating every syllable.

"F..fa..father! Someone is holding me prisoner! Please, get me down, we must go after them!"

The older man shook his blonde head, a frown permanently frozen on his pursed lips.

"You always manage to disappoint me, Draco. A simple task, it was. He was practically dead anyway."

Like a wave breaking upon the surface of the ocean, it all came crashing back to Draco Malfoy.

The astronomy tower…Dumbledore…I couldn't kill Dumbledore. But…why am I here? And where am I?

"W…where am I?" Draco managed to stutter.

"Why, Malfoy Manor, of course. Or have you forgotten your many pleasant nights in this dungeon, as a child, when you failed at everything I asked of you?"

Draco's throat slowly filled with bile as the memories of his childhood clouded his eyes. He gave a visible shudder, to which Lucius finally allowed a cruel smile to grace his face. The smile did not reach his eyes, unfortunately.

"Of course you remember", whispered the deadly voice. "And I see you've decided to continue your childhood trend".

Draco stared at Lucius in utter incomprehension. He opened his mouth to ask his father exactly why he was in the dungeon of Malfoy Manor, hanging from a hook, but he was abruptly cut off by the cold cruel voice of the Death Eater.

"You have disgraced the Malfoy name for the last time, dear son. You are in the Dark Lord's clutches now, and I dare say he will teach you quite a lesson, a lesson I'm disappointed to say that I will not be able to teach you myself. You will learn to never disobey us again. Enjoy your stay", Lucius hissed vehemently at the boy.

Lucius Malfoy took one steel-heeled step towards his son and spat in his face, a disgusted look passing over his iced features. Seconds later, he whirled around, an impassive mask replacing the unusual display of emotions that had marred his face just moments before. Gracefully, the prominent Death Eater strode to the door, pausing with his hand on the knob.

"Wormtail will be here shortly with your meal. And then…well…I'm sure the Dark Lord is anxious to have a few words with you."

With those ominous words, Lucius Malfoy left his son in dungeon darkness, shutting the door and taking with him the precious light Draco had never fully appreciated before.

Draco felt the warm spit slowly sliding down his face as he grimaced with disgust. His stomach turned suddenly and he retched, catching his insides on his weakened chest instead of the floor.

His father's words hung in the frigid air, threatening to freeze the room over. Draco thought about, realizing with dread the urgency of the situation.

He was a prisoner in his own house, a prisoner of his father, and a prisoner of Lord Voldemort. He had failed at the one task that could have secured his future as the Dark Lord's second right hand man. But why? Why couldn't I kill Dumbledore?

Draco remembered the old man with disdain. Those twinkling blue eyes had never turned warmly to him, not like they did to the other Hogwarts students, not like they did to the Golden Trio.

Draco wiped his dripping mouth on his shoulder as best he could, feeling the saliva build up again underneath his pink tongue. Sure I disliked him, but I never hated him enough to kill him. I couldn't do it. Or maybe…maybe I'm just weak.

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Draco blinked in the darkness. He had heard a strange shuffling sound and an odd squeaking noise, but the door had not been opened again. The blonde stared about him in vain, straining to see if there was someone new in the room. His gray eyes had not yet adjusted enough, although he would require much more light if he wanted to see anything even when they did adjust.

As he turned his head to gaze in the general direction of where the noise came from, two beady eyes blinked in his direction.

Draco scowled, trying to maintain an aristocratic Master-of-Malfoy-Manor presence in front of the rat-like person that he knew was usually too frightened to approach him.

"Mm..Mm…Mister Ma-alfoy. I have your meal." Wormtail shuffled closer and lit his wand.

Draco saw a platter in his small chubby hand, containing a bowl of some sort of gray gruel with a glue-like consistency.

The young Malfoy sneered. "Always the lackey, huh Wormtail? No matter what you do, you're still just his lapdog" he spat at the small man, who jumped at the sound of the cold Malfoy drawl.

Wormtail frowned at the bait, but he didn't bite.

"I suggest you eat, Mr. Malfoy" he squeaked with as much courage he could muster as he cast a spell to make the spoon self-feed the prisoner. "You shall need your strength."

Draco opened his mouth with trepidation to accept the hovering spoon and immediately regretted his decision. He spat out the foul-tasting mouthful at Wormtail's feet. Wormtail trailed his small beady eyes down towards where the gruel lay by his leather shoes and shrugged. He turned on his heel and walked towards the wall nearest to the door. Whispering the counter spell to turn off the dim light coming from his wand, he gave a small wave to the boy hanging in the dungeon and then there was blackness.

Draco, however, did not hear the door open or see any light enter the prison cell. There must be a mouse hole somewhere along that wall.

The young Malfoy boy sighed and refused to take another spoonful of the unappetizing gray matter. The spoon began to vibrate when he didn't open his mouth, almost in anger. Finally, it reeled back and pelted Draco with the mess, not caring whether he received it in the mouth or not.

He blinked and hung his head, resigned to waiting for his inevitable fate.

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After what seemed like hours, the door opened for the second time that night to admit a very unwelcome visitor. The prisoner did not raise his blonde head this time, already knowing what was in store.

The air around Draco grew colder as the visitor made careful measured steps towards the boy hanging in the dungeon. He felt his breath freeze on his lips and his nipples grew sensitive and erect in response to the harsh environment. And then, a biting voice whispered from inches away from his face.

"Draco Malfoy" pronounced the voice with double-edged amusement. Draco shivered involuntarily.

A long shriveled finger reached out to grasp Draco's pronounced chin. He recoiled at the touch but the finger held fast, digging a sharp nail into the side of the prisoner's face.

"Look at me, boy" the voice commanded as his finger pushed up the boy's face.

Draco opened his eyes to stare into the pitiless glowing red slits of Lord Voldemort.

"The time has come, sweet boy, for you to take responsibility for your …actions" Voldemort chuckled mirthlessly. "Oh I know you were scared; I can practically smell the fear still radiating from your unblemished pores. You will learn to never be afraid again, not when I present you with a task. Do you understand?"

Lord Voldemort pressed his nail deeper into Draco's flawless skin, drawing a small line of blood. He pushed the boy's chin into a nod and then took a step back.

Draco saw the intent in the dark wizard's poor excuse for eyes and his heart stopped. He watched Voldemort raise his wand.

"Crucio!"