'Draco Malfoy?' Minister Shacklebolt echoed. 'It can't be!'

'It is, Kingsley, I'm sure of it.' Remus confirmed. 'I taught him when he was 13, 14 years old. He can't be much older now. 16, 17 maybe. It's him, I'm sure. He was a prisoner of the Dark Lord.'

Kingsley frowned.

'A prisoner of the Dark Lord?' He asked, musing on the point. 'Was he in the dungeons?'

'No sir.' Tonks replied. 'He was just in the house. Kingsley, please, you have to hear him. Don't let them send him to Azkaban. He's a child! Please!' She implored him informally. He may be the minister for magic but he was, first and foremost, a long standing friend.

Kingsley thought hard.

'Where is he now?' He asked.

'Held in the ministry cells.' Moody replied. 'He's safe, but he will not speak.'

'Not even to me.' Tonks added. 'I sat with him for hours. He wouldn't speak, or sleep. He won't eat, although he drank some water. Kingsley, no one has seen him for years! We don't know what's happened to him!'

'It's ok, Tonks.' Kingsley assured. 'The council will hear him.'

'I'm not sure he's well enough to answer the council, Kingsley.' Tonks frowned. 'He's so thin, and frail. When we found him he was so cold...' She stopped. She had tears in her eyes. She had never known her little cousin and she had always wanted to meet him. In any circumstance other than these.

'Remus, you and Tonks go and make arrangements for a hearing of the council. A fair, unbiased council, although that may be hard to find in this case.' Kingsley replied. 'Have a healer attend. A good one. If the boy looks sick we will postpone the hearing and transfer him to St Mungos right away.'

Tonks nodded and smiled at her friend as Remus led her away. Kingsley was kind. He wouldn't let the poor boy be sent to Azkaban unjustly.

Once they were out of sight, Kingsley turned to Moody.

'Tell me about how the boy was found, Alastor.' He instructed, needing to know the facts.

'I found him locked in a small room. A bedroom. The room was warded, likely by the Dark Lord himself, from the magical signature.' Moody began. 'The boy was inside. He was alone. He was frightened of us, although I'm not sure he knew who we were. He was wearing... not much at all.' Moody explained, in a matter of fact way. 'I thought he was dressed in rags until I looked closer. He was dressed in underwear, black lace type things.'

Kingsley's eyebrows raised in shock.

'I believe he may have been kept as... as a catamite, minister.' Alastor concluded coldly. 'Never in all my years did I expect to see such a thing. The Dark Lord! I thought him beyond such desires, but perhaps no cruelty was beyond him.'

'Are you sure it was the Dark Lord himself who kept the boy?' Kingsley asked. 'Not a high ranking death eater, perhaps?'

'He asked us where the Dark Lord was.' Alastor clarified. 'Tonks told him.'

'What was his reaction?'

'He gave none.' Moody replied.

Kingsley sighed deeply.

'We need to know more about how he came to be there.' He concluded. 'Draco Malfoy disappeared over a year ago. Has he been there all that time? The poor boy!' Kingsley exclaimed in spite of himself. He always tried hard to hide his emotions when he was on duty, even in front of trusted friends.

'It chilled me to the bone, I admit.' Mad eye confessed. 'I've seen fear, but the look on his face when I found him will haunt me to the grave. I thought I'd found a ghost.'

'How is he now?' Kingsley asked suddenly. 'He's in the cells, but how is he cared for? I want him cared for, Alastor.'

'We gave him clothes, right away.' Moody explained. 'There were plenty that had been taken from suspects who have been sent to Azkaban. The sort of thing we usually donated to charitable causes, we found him some warm things to wear.'

Kingsley nodded.

'Has he eaten?'

'Tonks has been trying, but he won't. He won't speak either, so we don't really know why he won't eat.'

'See that he is offered food. In fact, leave food with him. He may eat if he is alone.' Kingsley suggested. 'See that he has a comfortable bed, with good blankets. We let him rest until an unbiased council can be assembled to hear him. It can be a small council if needs be. We just need to know how he got there and to know how he was treated by the Dark Lord. Was he made to do anything besides what you suggest? And if so, can we help him to escape Azkaban, given his unfortunate circumstances.'

Alastor nodded. Kingsley Shacklebolt was fair, just and kind. He would show the Malfoy boy mercy, even if no one else would.

The pink haired girl had been back. She had bought more food, talked for a while and then had left. This time she had left the food behind, and alone, Draco had conceded to eat a little.

The pink haired girl was his cousin, or at least she said she was. This vexed him as he did not remember having a cousin. Had they not ever met, or had he forgotten? He worried he had lost his mind. He sat with his eyes closed and tried hard to picture his parents faces. He focused, concentrated, trying to bring them into his mind as clearly as if he were looking at a photograph. It got harder and harder every day. It had been 6 months since he had seen so much as a photograph of them. He remembered aspects of them. His father had blond hair, like his own, but long. His eyes were dark grey. His mother had dark brown hair and greenish eyes. She was beautiful and looked like a china doll. He tried hard to see them, however, it was merely a list of facts that Draco remembered now, not a real visual image.

Perhaps he had lost his mind. It was entirely possible, after everything he'd been through. After being alone all that time. He had tried so hard to keep his mind strong. He recited poetry inside his head. Counted in 2s, 4s, 7s... Remembered songs, made up songs. Studied his hands, memorising the lines and trying to recall them exactly when he looked away. Anything to stop himself from going crazy, when perhaps going crazy would have been the easiest option. Why didn't he remember his pink haired cousin?

She had told him lots of things while she had been with him. Useful things. The world had changed. It had changed dramatically and he had seen nothing of it. The Dark Lord was gone, his followers apprehended. Hogwarts was in ruins. Potter was hailed as a hero, even a god. An auror called Kingsley Shacklebolt had replaced Cornelius Fudge as minister for magic.

Draco was to go to a hearing, like everyone who was thought to have allegiance to the Dark Lord. The hearing would decide what would happen to him. Azkaban or freedom. Whatever freedom looked like. He couldn't remember that either.

This meant he could speak at last. His mind was functional enough for that. He could think and he could feel. At long last, after more than a year, he could finally tell somebody what had happened! Then they could punish him in the best way. Perhaps punishment was for the best, he decided. After all, there was surely no redemption without penance.

A small council had assembled. Kingsley, presiding over the events. Minevera McGonagall who had some pastoral history with the boy. Cornelius Fudge, as a high ranking official. Miriam Merryweather, a noted healer, with particular skills in treating victims of trauma and spell damage. Aarion DeLacy a high ranking ex-auror turned judge who had been involved in many of the more complex death eater trials. Aarion was a good man, kind and complex, with an innate ability to see a situation from all sides. He would be fair, but he would ask the questions that others would shy away from. Tonks and Remus, Moody and Sadler were there also, as witnesses to the discovery of the boy.

The first thing Kingsley noticed was that Draco was no child! Yes, he was young, he may even have looked younger than his years due to his thinness, but he certainly could not be considered a child. Dressed in long black velvet robes which were slightly too large for him, he looked very pale and very under weight. However, he was immaculately clean and tidy. Whatever comforts he may have declined in his cell, he had certainly washed himself and had brushed his white blond hair which fell softly around his shoulders and into the hood of his robe. It was unfortunate perhaps that his robes were black and hooded. It spoke of the death eaters, and a less sensible jury would have been swayed by this alone. They should have dressed him in pale blue, Kingsley thought. That would have matched his eyes. His wide, frightened, yet surprisingly clear eyes.

Draco Malfoy was escorted by two guards to a chair in the centre of the circular room. McGonagall gasped in shock as she saw him, much as Remus had done. The boy sat down and stared up at his jury, awaiting the questions.

He saw his pink haired cousin, only today she had blue hair. Perhaps he really was going crazy after all? He saw the ones who had found him, the three men. The one he recognised and one he did not know, one he was not sure about. He saw an elderly lady who he knew from somewhere... She must be form school, he decided. There were other people too, people he didn't know. And overseeing it all was a handsome, dark skinned man, Kingsley Shacklebolt, the new minister for magic. He would cast the final judgement. He looked stern, but he looked kind also. Draco wondered if he would be kind during the trial. But what would kindness look like? Draco did not know how he would plead, what he would ask for. He couldn't decide. Could you ask a jury for redemption, or did you simply have to ask the gods?

The council stood, and Draco followed suit, not sure if this was protocol, but he was used to reacting quickly to non verbal commands which he often guessed at. It seemed he was correct to do so as the minister spoke.

'Draco Malfoy.' His rich voice rang through the chamber. 'You have been missing for over a year, presumed dead until you were discovered at the family home of the late Tom Riddle, otherwise known as Lord Voldemort.'

Some of the council flinched at the name. Draco did not.

'This is not quite like a formal trial, Draco.' The minister continued. 'For now, all we need to know is how you came to be at the home of the Dark Lord and where you have been this last year.'

There was a silence.

'Do you understand, Draco?' Kingsley asked.

Draco nodded.

'Can... Can you speak?' Kingsley asked tentatively.

'Yes. Yes, minister Shacklebolt, sir.' Draco said, as if to prove it.

His voice was light and clear, but a little shaky.

'Let us start at the beginning, Draco.' Kingsley said gently and he bid them all to be seated. 'Tell the council all you can. Remember you can ask for leave, should you have need of it. You are not declared a criminal yet. But know also, should any of the council have cause to believe you are lying, you may be questioned under veritiserum. Do you understand this, Draco.'

'Yes minister Shacklebolt, sir.' Draco replied softly. 'I have no intention of lying to anyone.' His said eyes closed for a second and he hung his head.

'Well, good.' Kingsley replied. 'Begin then, where have you been this last year, Draco Malfoy?'

Draco swallowed hard.

'I have been in the service of the Dark Lord.' Draco said simply.

There was a sharp gasp in the room, followed by a rush of hushed whispers.

'May I interject here sir?' One of the guards spoke up.

Kingsley nodded.

'The boy claims he has been in the service of the Dark Lord, yet as his guard and as junior healer who attended him on his arrival, I can confirm absolutely that he does not bare the dark mark. This boy is no death eater, sir.'

Many in the room looked confused.

'Thank you, Horroway.' Kingsley replied. 'Draco, is this correct? Your guard says that you are not a death eater.'

'That is true sir.' Draco said, an odd calmness in his voice. 'I am not a death eater.'

'Yet you claim to have been in the Dark Lord's service. If you were not a death eater Draco, tell me, how were you of service to him?'

'I was his lover.' Draco replied.

There was a stunned silence in which time seemed to stand still. McGonagall gripped her chair tightly in shock. Tonks covered her face with her hands. Moody shook his head sadly and looked down. Nothing about the scene he had walked into implied that they boy had been any kind of consensual lover!

Kingsley frowned and leaned forward, looking closely at the boy who so far had betrayed no emotion.

'How did this situation come to be?' He asked calmly, needing more information, more facts to make sense of this bizarre revelation.

Draco sighed deeply. He remembered it well:

Following the disastrous hunt for the prophecy in the department of mysteries, Lucius Malfoy was arrested. No one was surprised. They were however, surprised when Narcissa Malfoy was also arrested. The cynical amongst them speculated that she had contrived to be arrested and put in Azkaban with her husband, purely for her own safety, to keep herself out of reach of the wrath of the Dark Lord. It wouldn't have been an all together stupid move, but for one problem. Her arrest, along with her husbands, meant their 15 year old son, Draco Malfoy, was left completely alone to face the consequences of his parents failings.

Draco was afraid. He had never been the bravest boy at the best of times. Yet he was proud. Proud of his family, their name, their reputation and standing. Now they were disgraced and he was the only one left who could rectify that. This was his intention and he would make that clear when he met with the Dark Lord. He wanted to serve, to win back his family's dignity. He wanted redemption.

They met one evening. It was a Friday. Draco dressed smartly. He wore a fearless expression which he had practiced. He had expected an audience, yet it transpired that they met alone.

Voldemort sat in a large imposing chair at the end of a long room. Draco had been invited here by port key, being not yet old enough to apparate. Queasy from the journey and from his growing anxiety, he steadied himself and approached the chair and made a low bow.

'My Lord.' He said sincerely. 'It is my honour to serve you.'

Voldemort's eyes ran over the boy before him. He had seen photographs of Draco at the Manor. He had thought him striking. In the flesh, he was more so. In the flesh, he was beyond beautiful, confirming Voldemort's plans for him.

'Do you truly wish to serve me, Draco Malfoy?' The Dark Lord hissed in a snake-like voice.

Draco shivered at the sound.

'I wish to serve you and to redeem my family, my Lord. My father has shamed us. I wish to win back our honour.' Draco recited the words he had rehearsed 100 times.

Voldemort stood up and approached the boy. His movements were light, quick and unpredictable.

'Your father has fought for me, he has murdered at my command. Can you do that for me, Draco? Can you?' Voldemort hissed angrily.

Draco, eyes wide, swallowed hard. He had only suspicions until now. He had never wanted to think it was true. His father, it seemed, really was a killer. In truth, Draco didn't know if he could do that.

'I... I could try to, my Lord...' He managed, a sick taste in his mouth.

'No Draco.' Voldemort spat. 'No, you could not. Besides, I have warriors in my army already. Vicious, experienced fighters. People who kill for pleasure...'

Draco's blood ran cold in his veins. Why had he ever thought he could do this? However 'bad' he wanted to think himself, he knew deep down, he was no killer. If he were honest, he didn't even like putting pixie poison down in the manor grounds.

'I have no room in my army for foolish little boys who want to 'try' to fight for me.' Voldemort concluded sharply.

Draco looked down at the floor, his face flushed with shame. He had failed before he had even begun.

'However, I do need other things besides fighters, Draco.' Voldemort hissed, with a slightly softer tone in his voice than previously.

Draco looked up.

'I will do whatever you require of me.' He answered, desperate to do and say the right thing.

'Will you?' Voldemort smiled. 'I have needs that you might not be aware of, which you could fulfil.'

Draco looked perplexed, unsure what Voldemort meant.

'You are so young, Draco Malfoy.' Voldemort hissed, standing mere inches from the nervous boy, towering over him, and casting him into shadow. 'So young and fresh and innocent.' The Dark Lord whispered, his cold hand touching Draco's face, lifting his chin and Draco finally began to realise what was about to be asked of him.

'My Lord?' He replied nervously.

'Do you think a monster like me is beyond noticing such things?' Voldemort asked.

'I... I don't know.' Draco answered, still unsure of what was happening.

'I am still human, at least in part.' Voldemort whispered. 'I have... human needs. I need... contact. I need... touch.'

His cold hand caressed Draco's face, fingertips tracing his lips.

'What... What do you want from me, my Lord?' Draco stammered, afraid that tears were forming in his eyes.

Voldemort turned away from Draco. He did not want to see horror and repulsion on the boys face.

'I want you to be my lover.' He said in a cold, hard voice.

'You went to him willingly and offered to be in his service?' Aarion asked, recovering the ability to speak before the others.

Draco nodded.

'My family were gone. I couldn't face going back to Hogwarts. I thought I had nowhere else to go.'

Aarion nodded.

'You were a fool to go there, weren't you?' He asked.

'I was never otherwise, in my whole life.' Draco confessed, maintaining eye contact with the attractive man who was questioning him.

Aarion looked at Draco with pity in his handsome, swarthy face. However, pity or not, it was his job to interrogate the suspect.

'You couldn't kill, he knew that, didn't he? And so did you, really?' Aarion continued.

'I didn't know for sure until he put it to me, and told me that my father had done...' Draco stopped and gripped the arms of the chair, screwing his eyes shut for a moment. It was the first sign of emotion he had shown. Even as he described the scene, he had remained impassive.

'What happened next?' Aarion asked. He had clarified his point to the crowd. Draco was no death eater, not in his eyes. He was simply a foolish and misguided child who had acted in fear and had paid a terrible price.

Draco braced himself to remember the scene once more:

'I want you to be my lover.' Voldemort had said in a cold, hard voice.

At first Draco said nothing, his heart hammered inside his chest. What did this mean? Was he too weak to fight and this was all he was good for? This would not redeem his family honour! Surely this would bring more shame upon them!

'You will come to me once a week, every Friday, starting tonight.' Voldemort continued, still with his back to the boy. 'You will come to me willingly. You will give me your consent. You will come to my bed and let me have you however I please... I will not hurt you.' He added in a cross, yet slightly softer tone.

'You... you wont...' Draco echoed, his head spinning with confusion. He had expected taunting, expected humiliation, expected pain as he took the dark mark... He had expected to be given a task that scared him... But not this one!

Voldemort turned back to him.

'No. I will not hurt you. That is not what you are for. I have other people I can hurt when I want to. I want you, Draco, to meet my other needs.'

He stepped close to the boy again and Draco looked up at him. He really looked at him, for the first time. His skin was grey, his eyes were red. His face, though distorted and snake-like, was not altogether unattractive. Once, once he must have been handsome, Draco thought. Handsome, perhaps even beautiful... Up close like this, yes, he actually was still a little bit human. Must he be terribly lonely to make this request?

'You will let me touch you. Your warm skin, your young body. Your purity, your innocence, you will give them to me. You will take no other lover and you will tell no one.' Voldemort commanded.

He waited for Draco's response.

Draco shook with fear. What choice did he have? He had no choice at all. He had come to serve and had already said he would do whatever was required of him, not imagining for a second that this would be what was asked.

Was it worse, really, than what could be asked of him? It shamed him, certainly. It meant that he was weak, he was girlish, he was a coward. Yet this was not how the proposition had been put to him. Voldemort had not told him this was all he was good for, had not laughed, had not humiliated him. He had asked him alone, insisted he told no one. Perhaps this was not only about Draco's weaknesses...

The Dark Lord had told him he would not hurt him if he came to his bed willingly. He had no need to have told him this. He had told him purely to reassure him. He had offered him this task, quite genuinely.

What were the other options? Were there other options? Death? Torture? Trying to learn to kill...?

'Once a week?' Draco echoed. 'E - every, F - Friday?' His voice shook.

Voldemort smiled a sinister smile.

'Starting tonight.' He confirmed. 'I must admit, you acquiesced more readily than I thought you might. This pleases me, and confirms, you will never be a fighter, Draco Malfoy...' He drawled, his hands back on Draco's face.

'I... I came to serve you.' Draco managed.

'And so you shall.' Voldemort hissed coldly. 'Once a week. Every week. And you will have no other. And you shall tell no one about this.'

'Yes, my Lord.' Draco whispered, one single tear rolling down his cheek. He felt desperately alone in the world.

Voldemort frowned and crossly wiped away Draco's tear.

'Willingly, Draco. You come willingly.' He hissed, taking Draco by the arm and leading him towards the door.

The shocked silence in the round courtroom was deafening and once again it was Aarion who spoke first.

'You said yes. You had no choice really, did you?' He prompted.

Draco was looking down at the floor and this time he did not look up.

'I didn't think I had a choice, no. At least, not at that point. It was Friday and my first act of service was required. I couldn't refuse him.' Draco almost whispered.

'And did it happen that very night?' Aarion asked, asking the questions no other wanted to ask.

'Yes.' Replied Draco still looking at the floor.

There was a moments silence before Draco recovered himself.

'It happened that night, and, no, I had never done it before.' He confessed, looking up at Aarion now, his voice clear again as though he had mastered any rising pain. 'It happened right then and there, in the room where your aurors found me. I did everything he told me. I went with him willingly, I gave him my consent, and he, for his part was true to his word. He didn't hurt me, not any more than could be helped, at least. Afterwards, I dressed again and he let me leave, after reminding me that I would return in 7 days and do the same.'

'He let you leave?' Fudge interjected now. 'He let you come and go of your own free will? That is certainly not the behaviour of a captive, minister!' He looked at Kingsley. 'That is the action of a follower, is it not?'

'I told you I served him.' Draco said coldly. 'I was not a prisoner. Not at that point. Yes, I could come and go as I was required.'

'Did you not think to get help once you left the place?' Aarion asked.

'Who would I tell? I was so ashamed.' Draco replied and his sentiments were understood by all in the room.

'Where did you go?' Aarion asked with genuine curiosity.

'I went to the manor.' Draco answered. 'I know you searched for me there, but I know that house well. I know it's secrets. I hid from you until you decided the place was deserted and it was left to fall into decay.'

'Why did you hide from the aurors, Draco?' Kingsley asked gently.

'You had taken my parents to Azkaban. I hated the aurors, and the ministry at that point. Plus I was scared. I was scared if I was found and my actions discovered I would be thrown into Azkaban as well. The Dark Lord was only one man, and he had kept his word and had not hurt me. Would the inmates of Azkaban do the same?'

Kingsley thought about this. Draco may have announced himself to be foolish at the start of his confession, but clearly he was not stupid!

'Draco, Mr Malfoy...' Professor McGonagall spoke at last. 'These events took place shortly after your parents were arrested, am I correct?'

Draco nodded.

'Can you tell me then, how old were you at the time?' She asked anxiously.

'I was 15.' Draco answered straightforwardly.

The troubled whispering started up again.

'Minister...' McGonagall began. 'Mr Malfoy may be a young man now, but at the time he was a minor, a child! He was ordered to give consent which he could not legally give. Minister, I implore you, the boy is no criminal, but a victim. Yet another victim of the Dark Lord's control. Must we hear him in this setting like he is on trial? I'll not condone it, I simply won't!'

Kingsley was quiet for a second before he replied.

'Your concerns are upheld, Minerva. I share the same feeling. This is not the correct way to hear this boy.' He looked to the others who seemed largely in agreement.

Draco sat in silence, watching and listening, wondering what they thought of him and how they would decide to punish him once the whole story was known.

'Draco.' Kingsley addressed him at last. 'Your guards will return you to your room while we discuss how best to hear you. We must consider what you have already told us and decide how we must proceed.'

Draco nodded.

'You have been brave by speaking to us as you have done, Draco.' He concluded. 'There is more we need to know from you, but for now, you may return to your room.'