A/N: In all honesty I have no idea what I'm doing, but I hope you're enjoying what I've put out so far. I was honestly really anxious to put this first chapter up, nervous to see what people think but also excited to know if anyone likes it. This chapter is shorter than I hoped it would be but it writing it was like introducing you to a POV that I'll be using throughout this fic. I really hope you enjoy the first chapter, and don't forget to leave me some feedback! -Ade
Disclaimer: Unfortunately I don't own anything but the plot. The world and all the characters belong to the wonderful and amazing J.K. Rowling.
It was still night when the Malfoy Manor loomed across the lawns. The regularly tan stone looked black and deadly in the cloud covered skies. The snatchers were back, and in hand were the entire Malfoy family's ticket back into the good graces of the Dark Lord. The moonlight caressing the frost tipped grass reflected onto the pale, slender fingers that rested on the window sill; underneath, the dark hawthorn wand guarded safely, ready to be grasped. Smooth pale skin creased, a smirk crawled upwards as the door to survival opened once more. Pearly blue eyes followed the silhouettes of the captured Golden Trio; not bothering to turn away from the crystallized window letting in cold that snaked it's way into the already freezing manor. There may have been a moment of rejoice upon seeing another chance at life. But, that moment didn't last long and the feeling was far from relaxed. Only when the bedroom door opened did the icy stare of blue eyes turn away from the window, now turning a steel grey in the darkness. He lightly softened his expression when he saw who had interrupted his peaceful state. The woman in the doorway smiled sadly at him, her features near identical to his. Her gaze wasn't lost in translation, she was worried about him. They stood in silence for what seemed like ages, savoring the only break from the terror called their lives. With a shake of her head, she cleared her throat gathered herself up.
"They're here, and your father needs you to confirm it's truly them." She spoke coldly, not directed towards him, but at the circumstances of what awaited them downstairs.
His hardened face faltered for a split second before he gave a curt nod and brushed past her. The long hallway taunted him as he walked down it, shadows grabbing after him. Two sets of footsteps echoed, alerting him that his mother was behind. If not for the circumstances, having his mother near him after being summoned by his father would be comforting. Reaching a set of two large intricately designed oak doors, he paused, took a breath, and cleared his head, then pushed them open and walked through. There was no room for fear or doubt. Raising his head, he looked around his surroundings, meeting his father's harsh stare. No time was wasted before he was addressed.
"I do believe you will do well to recognize your classmates, hm?" Lucius Malfoy all but spat. "We don't want anymore mistakes with the Dark Lord now do we."
"No, Father." He stood straighter, aware that he was being addressed by his mistake rather than him.
With an unfaltering expression, Draco Malfoy turned to the heap of limbs that lay on the floor of the entry room. He didn't have time to enforce his stand of how it was distasteful they were even in his home. Naturally a comment about how the blood spilt, any of it, was dirty and was disgraceful it even touched anything near anything Malfoy. But, he only saw things as if it were slow motion. The mudblood and the blood traitor being yanked up backwards and the swollen faced boy being held by the witch with hair even more unruly than him. There was a slow cackle that sped up as the room fell more silent.
"Come here, sweet boy, is this him? Can we call the Dark Lord?" The light, euphoric, pitch could've broken glass. She held out her hand, her hooded black eyes filled with years of hatred and insanity. She grinned sinfully as Draco let her grab his own hand, and be pulled forcefully towards the repulsive swollen face.
"Is it?" Her voice got higher, "Draco, is it Potter?"
Her eyes got wild, "I can't be certain. His face is too swollen." Draco softly confessed, a force behind the words yet still emotionless.
The one open emerald eye pierced what seemed like glowing gray ones. Lucius took a step towards his near identical son but stopped short when Bellatrix screeched.
"Where did you get that?!" She snarled, pointing her wand at one of the snatchers who was holding what looked like an impressive sword. Silver and red, goblin-forged steel with a rich red ruby studded hilt. Draco could recognize value in anything, he lived in value.
The snatcher shrugged and everything blurred together. Looking back towards the ground where Harry Potter was forced on his knees, all he saw was confusion. No hate, it caught Draco off guard, but he had no time to question anything before the boy he was looking down on was yanked up and forced down to the cellar with the blood traitor. In the events Draco missed, his back to the snatchers, his deranged Aunt Bellatrix had stunned the majority of the group in a matter of seconds. This left Narcissa and Lucius standing slightly behind Draco, and the mudblood being approached by the psychotic witch. He took a step backwards when she became nose to nose with the last of the three prisoners.
"I'll have a conversation with this one. Girl to girl!"
Draco stood stiff, he knew what the consequences put on his family if he failed the Dark Lord one more time. It wasn't just a price on his head, but his mother's as well; and since his father had abandoned everything for his duties to the Dark Lord, he was responsible for his mother's protection. He wanted everything to be over, power and pride were the only things he had wanted out of becoming a Death Eater, following in his father's footsteps. All that had caused, was chaos and shame on his family's name, and now he wished he would've chosen differently. Maybe if he had broken the cycle of worshipping everything his father did, his mother wouldn't be in constant danger and he wouldn't have to worry about the trials of recovering the broken social status of the Malfoy name. Wishing was something for children, and Draco was not a child. So, he stood straight and expressionless, standing by the morals he had chosen.
The last thing he saw before turning away, was his aunt grabbing Hermione Granger and throwing her to the ground, a wicked gleam of teeth as a wide and sinister grin crept on Bellatrix Lestrange's face.
