Authors Note: Thank you so much to everyone who followed and favourited my story after only reading the prologue! It was also very nice to get a few reviews. Reviews are always helpful, both to keep the motivation flowing but also to sort out issues with the story or to gain inspiration! I do appreciate all of you.

This chapter is a bit longer than the prologue, and is written from Draco's point of view. There is still no romance going on, and there won't be for a little while, but at least in this chapter they meet, although under quite horrible circumstances.

Please read and review! It would make me very happy :D

Disclaimer: I still do not own any of the characters or this wonderful world.

Chapter 2

«Crucio!»

The man in front of him started vibrating as if every cell in his body tried to escape from their place. He knew how it felt like. He had been there on the floor himself, several times, being the subject of torture. This was just the same, but somehow it was also so very different. Draco had been tortured to learn, to strengthen his mind and body. Someone who could endure the cruciatus curse could endure anything.

Or so he had been told.

The man at his feet was not there to learn. Not anymore. Rowle, according to what Draco knew, had been successful in locating Potter, Granger and Weasley somewhere in London at the end of last year's summer. He and Dolohov had, obviously, failed to retrieve them and had somehow been obliviated in the process. The Dark Lord had been furious and had locked them both up in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor.

Voldemort had been successful in retrieving lost memories from an obliviated witch in Albania, through torture, and had decided it should be possible with these wizards as well. What they hadn't anticipated was the strength of the spell that had been cast on the men. Dolohov had died after five months of daily torture, Draco guessed that he had starved himself to death, while Rowle was a larger guy and could apparently sustain more injury. Or he was just less intelligent. Probably the latter.

Draco had been forced to visit the manor every weekend in addition to the holidays this year. At first, he was unsure of the reason why, but it became evident when his aunt, Bellatrix, had started to train him. She had told him that he needed to be ready for what was to come. Every weekend she had used the cruciatus curse on him, trying to make him fight it. So far it had been unsuccessful.

During the weekdays he had daily sessions with the headmaster, Professor Snape, who was teaching him occlumency. Apparently, Draco seemed to be a natural. His aunt kept telling him that his strength at occlumency could greatly improve on his ability to withhold the torture curse, that he should be able to keep it at bay with his mind, but so far it hadn't worked at all. And he knew that she was being kind to him. She could have inflicted so much more pain on him if she had truly wanted to. But had she done that, Narcissa would have murdered her in her sleep. Draco was grateful for his mother. She wasn't as headstrong and crazy as her sister, but when it came to her son, she would do anything to protect him.

His dad was a whole other story. The man he had once cherished, the man who had been the Dark Lord's most faithful servant, had deteriorated into something unrecognizable. After fifth year when his father had been arrested, presumably for trying to kill Potter and his friends or something, everything had changed for their family. Lucius Malfoy had been truly broken in Azkaban. Draco had a feeling that he had finally understood the danger of serving Voldemort, as he had taken the consequences. Did Lucius feel regret for what he had done? Probably not. The man had been selfish his entire life and had gained a lot through being exactly that. What Lucius regretted was the fact that he had been caught. Not only did he have to serve in Azkaban, with dementors draining him of all happiness and maybe part of his soul, but he had to face the Dark Lord and all of his followers, branded as a failure. On top of that, he had failed his family.

Yes, the Malfoys still had all the money in the world, as well as several amazing and huge properties spread across Europe, but their position in society had deteriorated. Before Voldemort had taken control of the ministry, their family had been banned from participating in any affairs, and all their donations had been cancelled. The worst part, however, had been when Voldemort had turned to his son.

Draco understood it now.

The fact that he had been chosen to kill Dumbledore was not because he had been skilled, or that he had been closer to the late headmaster as he went to Hogwarts. No, the reason why he had been chosen for the task was because Voldemort expected him to fail. He expected Draco to fail his mission, thus giving him a reason to kill him, or at least to make his life a misery. All that was just to punish Lucius. It had never been about Draco at all. He understood now why his mother had made an unbreakable vow with Professor Snape, although he had hated it at the time. At the time, he had been stupid. At first, he had actually thought that the Dark Lord had chosen him because he had believed in him.

He had probably known all along, deep inside. But a part of him had wanted the power, had wanted to be seen as someone capable of an important mission. Someone to be feared and respected. He had wanted to be seen as his own person, and not someone overshadowed by his ancestors.

He had, for a small amount of time, wanted to kill Dumbledore.

Not because he hated the man, as much as he didn't like him, but because he would have achieved something. He had worked so hard on that project for almost a whole year. At the same time, he had almost intentionally failed. He could have easily gotten the cursed necklace to Dumbledore if he had truly tried. He could have definitely been able to conceal the poison in the mead a lot better, had he truly wanted to. That whole year had been a failure.

And he couldn't tell his father about it.

Oh, how ignorant he had been.

And now there was no way out of the situation he found himself in. The excitement had left his person. Even the fear had started to subside. The only thing left was his will to survive, and his will to protect the only person left in his life that he actually cared about: his mother.

"You're not concentrating, Draco." The voice was cold, and almost like a whisper. Draco let go of his train of thought and lowered his wand. Rowle's screams turned into muffled grunts of pain.

Draco felt the long fingers of the Dark Lord touching his shoulder. "I do not approve of your state today. When I get back from my journey, I expect you to be back to normal. Do you understand?" there was not a hint of anger in the voice, but also no compassion. It was simply calm. Which made it even more terrifying. Draco nodded his head, not showing any emotion what so ever. Apparently, the Dark Lord liked his lack of response, is lack of fear, because he gave a smile. "You have been using the cruciatus curse for several hours now. Finish him off, and get some rest." The Dark Lord swiftly moved behind Draco, awaiting the young man to do what he had been told. "Yes, my Lord." He lifted his wand.

"Crucio"

Again, the screams echoed through the Manor, this time even louder and filled with even more pain than previously. This time, Rowle lasted only for a few minutes before blacking out and collapsing on the floor in a puddle of his own vomit.

"Well done." The Dark Lord moved out of the cell and snapped his fingers. Not a moment later, Draco's aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange, appeared in front of them. She lowered her head. "Yes, my Lord?" she said, her voice filled with adoration. "I will be leaving now. Draco will be your responsibility until my return. Keep teaching him, and keep him practising what we have been working on all year." Just after Bellatrix had nodded in response, Voldemort disappeared in a cloud of black smoke. Only he was able to disapparate from, or apparate to, the Malfoy Manor. Not even Lucius, the owner and head of the house, was allowed to do that. It didn't sit well with Draco in all honesty, but it had to be accepted.

Draco called for a house elf, and just a second after he had closed his mouth, a little house elf appeared by his feet. It was bowing low, his bat-like ears almost touching the floor. "At your service, Master," it croaked. "Clean up this mess, and make sure the man gets some water. He needs some strength back for tomorrow's session. And change his clothes as well. I am pretty sure he spoiled himself when we rounded the second hour." As he was talking he could hear Bellatrix chuckle behind him. She was obviously having a great time thinking about what had transpired in the room.

Draco couldn't care less. He had been torturing the man for so long that it had simply become routine by now. The first few weeks had been horrible though. He had only been forced to use an unforgivable once before his training had started, and that was the day he had been branded a death eater. He had stored the memories of that day somewhere far away in his subconscious, as he couldn't bring himself to re-live them. All he had decided to keep was the feeling of hate that had started to grow inside him that day. A hate for Voldemort, a hate for his father, but maybe even more so: a hate for himself. He had, in many ways, let it happen. He had wanted to become a death eater. He had wanted the power that came with. But he hadn't realised what it actually meant. And not to mention how it would change his entire world, his entire person.

"You are coming with me. I want to show you something nice! A gift if you will." Bellatrix stroked Draco's back, almost compassionately, as she lead him down the dark hallway. The last time he had received a gift from his aunt, it had been a shrunken head of some house elf that used to care for him as a little child. He had, of course, pretended to be ecstatic. In other words, he wasn't very excited about what awaited him this time. They made their way down to the cell furthest from the stairs that lead down to the dungeons. As the door opened, and Bellatrix skipped into the room, his eyes moved towards the silhouette hanging chained up at the wall. He didn't recognise the young woman before Bellatrix clicked that stupid contraption she had been carrying around for weeks after capturing the Weasel. Weasley. Whatever.

There was no mistaking the massive head of bushy curls, and her small frame. He had almost forgotten that she was still here. Somehow Bellatrix, who was in charge of her interrogation and torture, had kept the girl to herself. The girl was unmoving. Draco wasn't sure if she was passed out, sleeping or just oblivious to who was standing in front of her now. Or maybe she had simply given up and had lost her ability to care anymore. If his calculations were right she had been in the dungeon for about three months. His eyes moved to the floor. He couldn't look at her.

She reminded him of the old days. Of Hogwarts. When his biggest complaint had been schoolwork, Dumbledore and Saint Potter and his friends. That was all gone now. He didn't have to do schoolwork anymore, as the Dark Lord had practically signed him out of school to focus on his training ever since Easter break. He didn't even need to take his NEWT's as his future was already settled for him. Dumbledore was dead, which was mostly Draco's own fault. Potter had been missing for weeks. Weasley was… well. He didn't really know what Weasley was these days. And here, right before him, was no other than Hermione Granger. The brightest witch of her age. A mudblood. An annoyance. But also a very powerful witch. Even the Dark Lord had been unsuccessful in retrieving Rowle's memories, and it was only after Draco found out that it was the witch before him who had cast the spell that he understood just how skilled she really was. He had always known that she had been top of the class, the only student to beat himself, but she had surprised him then. Memory charms were complicated, intricate, and required a lot of training. There was a reason the ministry had a whole department working on memory modifications. Although the focus of that department had changed drastically after Voldemort took over. They mostly worked on obliviating or modifying the memories of people who knew more than they should. Or imprinting false memories to throw the order off track, and sometimes simply to create chaos. Chaos, according to the Dark Lord, was power.

He was half-oblivious to his aunt's words, as she had moved over to Granger and lifted her head. Draco decided he would keep his eyes on the floor for the time being.

"Go on, Draco. Show me what you have been taught."

At once, he lifted his silver eyes to the girl in front of him. She was staring at him. He could tell that she was terrified, but she hid it well. Draco looked over at his aunt, calmly stating: "I have been at it for three hours, aunt Bella. I would much prefer to get some rest if you don't mind." There was only truth in his words. He was exhausted after his training session with the Dark Lord. Using the cruciatus curse was difficult enough, but using it for hours was near impossible. He knew he wouldn't be able to hold it for much longer. Bellatrix looked at him, studying his features, trying to tell if he really was as exhausted as he let on. She decided he was telling the truth, and sighed. "Very well. That was not the reason I brought you here, anyway. You see, Miss Granger here has been left for me to do with whatever I please. And as you have been working so hard this year, I have decided to give you the same pleasure!" the woman gave out an evil giggle. Draco forced a smile.

"She is a mudblood, but there is no denying she is still quite pretty, don't you think?" Draco didn't reply, his eyes fixated on his aunt. He didn't like where this was going. "So I figured, if you wanted, you could have your way with her," the woman added, her smile growing even bigger. "Or at least you could use her for practising your curses. Rowle is not much of a challenge, as he is already half-dead." That sounded more like it.

Draco gave her a bored expression. "Fine. I'll practice on her. You are quite right when you say there is no challenge in Rowle anymore. At least Granger might put up a fight. Which makes it so much more satisfying to break her." His words were carefully picked. He couldn't care less about breaking the mudblood, or saving her for that matter, but he knew that his words would satisfy his aunt. The quicker she was satisfied, the faster he could retreat to his mother and eat supper. He was starving.

"Very good, Draco! I am sure you will find her to your liking. She has been great fun so far and still hasn't revealed any information. She seems to be quite skilled in occlumency." Draco nodded in understanding. "And if you ever wanted to, feel free to torture her in… other ways." Draco sighed. "You mean rape her?"

He could see Granger twitching in her chains by the wall as he uttered the words. "First of all, that is disgusting. She is a mudblood, auntie. And I have no problems getting laid if I so desired. Also, rape is not really my style." He said it all so calmly as if he was almost used to this type of conversation. The witch shrugged. "Fine. Do as you wish, darling." She walked over to Granger one last time, running one of her long fingernails down the girl's cheek. Draco could easily see that she had been crying. "At least give me the pleasure of one little curse, Draco. I know you have been practising your wandless magic. Make her hurt just a little? I haven't had time to take proper care of my little plaything today."

With a sigh, Draco nodded and Bellatrix moved away from Granger with a look of anticipation. Draco met the pleading brown eyes of his schoolmate. Only seconds later, Granger's scream filled the room as several deep cuts started to appear in random places on her body as if she had been cut with invisible knives. Blood started dripping from her wounds, making runny patterns across her bare face, soaking her robes. A pool of blood started to form on the floor underneath her body.

"Well done Draco! I am impressed with your skills. It is definitely not easy to perform such precision with a nonverbal, wandless curse." Her voice sounded soft, or as soft as her voice could sound, and it made Draco's stomach twirl. He had no interest in hurting Granger, but he knew that there was no other option. He had to get his aunt out quickly though, so he would be able to heal the girl's wounds before she bled out. "Thanks, Auntie. I am famished. Could you go tell mother to get supper ready? I'll clean up here. I'll be with you in a few moments." The older woman smirked, gave her nephew a kiss on the cheek, and left the room with light steps.

Draco closed the door behind her and hurriedly got to work. There was only one way to heal the wounds caused by the sectumsempra curse, as he had experienced hands-on in his sixth year, and it had to be done precisely. He knew he could do it, as he had tested the curse several times already during his practice with the Dark Lord and had always been able to heal the subject back to perfection, but it was still a bit of a challenge.

Draco quickly moved towards the young woman bleeding out in front of him, his wand raised, and snapped his fingers to call a house elf as he started with the incantations. "Vulnera Sanentur" he whispered, guiding his wand over her wounds, watching the bloodstream slowing down. A house elf appeared a second later. "Get me some essence of dittany, a blood replenishing potion and a clean cloth. You should be able to find all of it in my study. Quickly." The house elf disapparated immediately. "Vulnera Sanentur" he chanted again, his voice sounding like a soft song, almost like a lullaby. Her wounds started to heal. The third time, the once deep cuts in the girl's pale skin closed up completely, leaving bloody and raw scar tissue. "The dittany will prevent any scarring, so don't worry. You won't end up looking like me." It sounded funny in his head, imagining Granger with short, blonde hair and silver eyes, but the girl in front of him did not provide him with any reaction.

The house elf appeared with all the requested items, and Draco quickly got to work with the dittany, starting with Grangers exposed arms and face, using the cloth to spread it out evenly across her skin. She didn't even flinch at the touch. It didn't go unnoticed by him. He knew that the dittany stung immensely when it came in contact with a wound.

He moved his hands underneath her robe, healing all the wounds he could find. He chose to ignore the tingling feeling rising in his core at the touch of her exposed flesh. He didn't look at her though. Not because he was disgusted with her, no. He was disgusted with himself. He had done this to her. He could have just told his aunt off, but once again he had to go try and impress her. He had been playing this role of torturer for so long that his mask had now almost melted into one with him. It frightened him to think that he might be as bad as he pretended to be.

Shaking off the unpleasant thoughts from his mind, his focus went back to the girl in front of him. The wounds were all in the process of being fully healed by the dittany, but she had lost a lot of blood. She was definitely not passed out, as he could sense her eyes opening and watching him. Draco reached for the bottle of blood-replenishing potion, and turned his eyes towards hers, reaching his hand to lift her chin again. "Open up, Granger."

Nothing happened. She just kept staring at him with those eyes. There was not a hint of fear left in them. Only hate. Deep and pure hate.

He couldn't blame her.

He would have hated himself too had he been in her position.

His grip on her face became harder, and he almost had to force her mouth open before she gave in. She wasn't stupid. She knew that she had suffered blood-loss, and would need the potion to be able to survive. For a moment he had thought she had given up. "You know," he started, "the first time I ever experienced that spell," he started pouring the potion into her mouth. She didn't fight it anymore. "was when I was attacked by no other than Harry Potter in a bathroom about a year ago." His voice was not angry, but not compassionate. It was simply calm. He realised the similarity with Voldemort and hesitated for a moment.

No.

He was nothing like Voldemort.

He felt the girl twitch a little at the mention of her best friend's name. "I almost died that day," he continued. "If professor Snape hadn't arrived when he did, I would be dead. And your dear Potter would have been a murderer. You see, murdering someone is simple. It only takes a stupid child, a weapon and a little dash of fear or some anger." He wasn't really sure where he was going with this, but somehow it felt nice to just say it. "Anyone can murder someone, Granger. That doesn't mean they are cold-blooded killers. It doesn't mean they want to rib someone of their right to live. Potter didn't try to kill me that day. Just like I have no intention of killing you. Do you understand me?"

Granger had swallowed the last bit of the potion, and nodded carefully, her eyes not leaving his. "The difference between me and Potter is that he was simply acting out of hatred and curiosity, while I am in full control of my actions. I know what I am doing. I wouldn't have cast that curse on you had Snape not taught me how to heal it." He could tell she was listening carefully now. "All that matters, Granger, is to stay alive." He let go of her face and turned towards the house elf that was still stood in the corner of the room.

"Clean this up, and give her some more of that potion in two hours. Oh, and grab her a new robe, this one is soaked in blood. It's going to stink if it's not taken care of."

With that, Draco Malfoy left for supper, as if it was just a normal day, although his mind was spinning. Why he had felt like sharing his thoughts with Granger, was beyond him. But done was done, and as he had learned the last year, he now had to live with the consequences, however severe they might be.