Title:Game Without Tears

Disclaimer: I do not own, wish I did, but I don't. I only own my plot line. Full disclaimer, first chapter.

Author: ShaeLynn Teelle

All other information: See first chapter.

Polite constructive criticism welcome. FLAMES WILL BE FED TO THE DRAGON IN MY BED.

Chapter 2: Everything Takes So Much

"We have a traitor in our midst. MacDougal is to be taken care of the moment this traitor arrives!" Voldemort sneered and the group of Death Eaters shifted their heads, each wanting to be the first to see the traitor and earn favor.

There was a soft swish of a cloak and then, a shorter Death Eater stepped through the group eagerly, "My Lord, I have news from Hog—"

"The sport has arrived!" Voldemort screeched from his throne.

There was a scrambling of hands to wands and then, screams filled the air as MacDougal became the victim of curses and hexes from every direction. The least of which was a skinning curse that slowly filleted the skin from the body while it was kept awake through a perpetual consciousness charm. Off to the side stood one Death Eater that did not participate in the punishment. His empty, cold gray eyes took in the proceeding with no emotion at all.

"You have done well, my darkness. How is the Concealment Salve coming along?"

"I have all the ingredients ready and a secure room to brew it in. I am starting on the potion this evening. It will take just over a month until it is completed. It will be ready before Christmas Holidays, but I will need time to be absolutely thorough throughout the brewing process," the Death Eater said from his position at the right hand of Voldemort, his cold tone revealing nothing as he bowed to the throne that Voldemort ruled from.

"Very good. You may go, my loyal follower. I want the pleasure of finishing this traitor." Voldemort stood and pointed his wand at the mass of breathing, bloody flesh lying before him, "Avada Kedavra!"

\/\/\/\/\/

Harry woke with a strangled gasp, his scar throbbing and sweat rolling down his face. He grabbed his glasses off the night table and searched through his pack next to his bed for a quill and parchment. Quickly he wrote down everything that he could remember from the dream.

It was only afterwards that Harry realized he had never seen the face of the Death Eater that had been talking to Voldemort, not even the color of his hair. All he had seen were the cold gray eyes through a half-mask that even thinking about them now sent shivers down his spine. Harry knew he had never met or heard anyone speak with that cold, emotionless voice outside of these visions, yet, after the previous summer, he was aware of whom the Death Eater was, though he could not prove it. Even Voldemort himself held emotion in his voice when he spoke, whether it was hatred or malice, it was still emotion. But this Death Eater had none.

Finishing the letter without signing it, Harry folded the parchment into thirds and sealed it with three drops of wax from the ever-burning candle he had bought at Hogsmeade near the beginning of the year. He tapped the parchment with his wand, muttering a charm under his breath and the sealed parchment disappeared. Then, he lay back down, tempted to force himself to sleep, but knowing that he wouldn't succeed after such a vision.

Harry had finally learned Occlumency on his own and through Dumbledore to the point that Voldemort could no longer manipulate his mind. He couldn't block out the visions he got through the connection, but at least he could trust what he was seeing to be real and not what Voldemort wanted him to see. And the visions still haunted his mind months later as the meetings Voldemort held seemed to be more violent every time Harry was forced to watch one.

After an hour of lying there, willing for sleep to come, Harry finally got out of his bed in the Gryffindor tower. Searching through his trunk, he pulled out his toiletries, grabbed a clean uniform and went into the shower room down the hall. He stood under the hot spray for a long while after he had washed up before he quietly went down to the common room. Harry sat in one of the armchairs near the dying fire and stared into the dancing flames, his thoughts turning inward to an event that had happened over the summer, but he had told no one about.

It had been a particularly rough day for Harry. For the most part the Dursleys tended to ignore him during the summers since Sirius had died, especially with the Order's threats—though it didn't last long. But if there were guests of any kind Vernon would wake Harry at five am and send him out of the house with a list of chores that needed to be done that morning. He was given food only after he had completed whatever chores he had to do outside. Then, when he was done eating, Petunia gave him a list of chores to do inside the house before Vernon returned home that night with the guests.

Harry had made the mistake that day to not quite finish everything before Vernon returned. He had still been in the kitchen cleaning the cupboards, not like the guests would really see them, when he heard the front door open and Vernon's loud bellowing laughter coming from the sitting room. He put away his things and tried to sneak up the stairs without his uncle seeing him, but he wasn't quite so lucky. The guests had already been settled into the sitting room and Dudley had come into the entranceway to put the coats into the front closet when he saw Harry slipping up the stairs.

"You're going to get it now. Just wait until I tell Father that you were down here when the guests were here," Dudley had said and went back into the living room with a proud smile on his face that would tell Vernon everything he needed to know before Dudley actually told him.

Harry had silently climbed the stairs to his room, glad that he had sent Hedwig to Ron for the last four weeks of the summer holidays. Dumbledore had told him that it was better if he would stay at the Dursleys' for the entire summer as all the Weasleys would be in one place at the same time and Voldemort might try something. So here Harry was, still at the Dursleys' when in the past he would have already been at the Weasleys'.

Later that night, after the guests had safely left, Harry listened to Vernon stomp up the stairs. He stayed in the chair he was sitting on, working on his potions essay, hoping that Vernon would just yell at him, but his hopes were rarely if ever answered when it came to the Dursleys.

"Were you downstairs this evening after I brought the Goyles here?"

"I was cleaning the kitchen cupboards when I heard you return and came up without anyone seeing me… Did you just say the Goyles?"

Harry's mind was still working overtime, trying to decide if he could find out if they were the parents of Gregory Goyle of Slytherin house, when Vernon grabbed him by the back of his shirt and pulled him off the chair. Harry just managed to keep his head from hitting the corner of the desk when he went down and he worked on calming his breathing, knowing what was coming next.

He heard the whisper of leather sliding through trouser belt loops and couldn't help but tense. Then, the first strike came and with it Vernon's reminder once again of the new rules that had been laid down the past two summers.

"You are not to be anywhere but in this room when there are guests over and you are not to ask any questions about my guests. You do not talk to me unless I ask you directly and you only say the minimum to answer the question. You do not elaborate, you do not ask questions, AND you will not leave this room for a week!"

Vernon shouted and brought the belt down one last time. Then, he turned and left the room, not caring that his nephew was lying on the floor with several streaks of blood sliding down his back and silent tears soaking into the thin rug on the floor.

Harry just lay there, trying not to breathe deeply or move so the wounds wouldn't open anymore. When he had thought that the bleeding had finally stopped he carefully crawled along the floor to the loose floorboard that he stored things in from summer to summer. Since he was now allowed to have his trunk in his room, locked with a padlock, he could get to his books and assignments simply because he had begged Fred and George Weasley to teach him how to pick Muggle locks. Still, he kept the items he prized the most underneath the loose floorboard until the day before he returned to Hogwarts.

He pulled out a small vial of pale blue liquid. He removed the stopper and gulped it quickly, glad of the fact that the potion had hardly any taste. He immediately felt the wounds on his back begin to close. Harry knew that they would leave scars and it would be painful for a while, as if the wounds hadn't healed, but at least now he didn't have to worry about them opening up again. He replaced the floorboard and returned to the desk, putting away his assignment before lying down on his bed and trying to get some sleep. He managed to fall asleep, but the peacefulness didn't last long.

It was only later that Harry realized that this vision was not like the rest, but more like a distorted dream. Instead of finding himself in darkness, only hearing what was happening, or looking out through Voldemort's eyes, Harry found himself inside one of the Death Eater's minds.

He stared out through the man's eyes and saw the assembled men in black robes, white masks covering their faces from being seen. The man turned and Harry found himself looking directly at Voldemort.

"Dorchadais, your initiation will not be like the others. The position you desire to hold in my following has had a bad reputation. You must prove your complete loyalty in a way that will ensure you can never betray me. Bring her in!" Voldemort called out to the circle of Death Eaters.

The doors to the right were flung open and a pale woman was walked in, two guards at her side. She wore a simple white dress and her waist length pale blonde hair hung loose. Harry felt the man suppress a gasp and force himself to keep his face and eyes blank of any emotion as his mother had taught him as he watched the woman be paraded to the center of the Death Eater circle as one thought went through the man's head. 'Mother, I'm sorry.'

Harry then recognized the woman as she held her head proudly and stared directly at Voldemort before turning to look directly at Harry. Harry became increasingly angry as he realized that he was in the mind of Draco Malfoy and this was his initiation into the Death Eater circle. Draco turned and looked to Voldemort for instructions.

"Cruciatus."

Draco pulled out his wand and pointed it at his mother where she stood defiantly, "Crucio."

It took a few moments for Narcissa to succumb to the effects of the Cruciatus Curse and Harry wondered briefly if Draco was not powerful enough to send a stronger Cruciatus. Then, Narcissa fell to her knees and screamed, her body twitching violently. Voldemort finally told Draco to lift the curse five minutes later when Narcissa finally fell to the ground and started to thrash about. Harry caught another fleeting thought as Draco watched his mother. 'I'm sorry, but we both knew this would happen someday. You are so strong, Mother, so strong.'

"That is why few women are ever allowed into my Death Eaters. A woman can withstand more pain then men depending on their stubbornness. Narcissa Malfoy is of no use to anyone anymore. Pledge me your loyalty completely, and kill her. I want something that will prove you will never betray me."

Draco nodded at Voldemort and spoke without hesitation his voice emotionless, "When her soul dies it will become yours if I ever betray you."

Draco turned to Narcissa where she now kneeled, watching him. Draco pointed his wand at her and Harry saw the twitch of one of her eyes and felt Draco's barest of nods in return, "Good-bye. Avada Kedavra."

Harry had watched in shock as the green light shot out from Draco's wand and went straight towards Narcissa. She never screamed. Her body tightened, then, fell over, never making a sound. Harry heard, 'I will see you at home, Mother.'

Then, he'd woken up without a sound. He wrote down the entire dream, realizing as he did so how different it had been from any other vision he had ever had concerning Voldemort. When he was done, he hid the parchment. Harry didn't know why, but something in him was telling him that he couldn't tell Dumbledore about what he had seen in the vision. It had been two days later that Hermione had sent him a copy of the Daily Prophet.

Narcissa Malfoy Reported Missing From Home, No Leads

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