Disclaimer: If I didn't own the first chapter its' unlikely I own the rest.

Chapter 9: Sacrifice

Draco was draped on his bed in the grimy room which had been assigned to them. He listened to Weasel's rather lurid description of how he had come across Ginny measuring Hermione's breasts, to make sure that the twins charm hadn't done any permanent damage. "You ought to have seen it mate," he said, in his boorish manner, ignoring the fact Potter was blind and couldn't have see Mudblood's drooping breasts, though why anyone wanted to see them was beyond his understanding.

"Yeah," Potter said, with about as much enthusiasm as someone going for a dental appointment. "And they were happy to see you?"

"Well..." Weasel struggled, until the room door burst open. Mudblood, followed by Weaslette, walked into the room looking like rampaging trolls.

"Ronald Weasley, you and I need to talk," she said, striding in as if to hex him. Draco was surprised that she did not have her wand out and ready. However, she paused when she saw that she had an audience, and taking a deep breath, calmed visibly.

"Can we talk about something else?" Weasel said faintly, as if wishing himself anywhere else but there. "Anyone with any new topics?"

"I have one," Draco spoke up, surprised that he had actually spoken. "I want to know, -what was it like, the Chamber of Secrets?"

"Why do you want to know?" the Weasel snapped.

"It's an important discovery, for everyone, not just the Slytherins. But no one was interested in exploring it after they opened it. They just sealed it up and let it be."

"Well, what do you expect people to do, go get killed by rock falls and..." Weasel started his usual rant.

"Ron, he's right," Mudblood interrupted. "There could have been something important there which we never discovered. It wasn't like Harry looked around to see if there was anything important."

"Try being attacked by a giant snake and having a near death experience Plus, a dark lord in his boy hood form," Potter said dryly, as he lay on his bed in the middle, his eyes closed, his hair in it's usually disarray. Draco swallowed hard and tried to get his mind to focus; a difficult task when Potter was lying flat on his back, in a t-shirt that rode up to reveal his bare midriff, his legs spread open a little, his hands on his side. If any one else had posed for him like that on a bed, Draco would have put it down as an invitation and jumped on him in a second. In Potter's case, looking like sex on legs was probably an unfortunate accident of birth.

"There's supposed to be hidden treasure for the heir," Mudblood said knowingly. "And also the reason as to why Salazar Slytherin left the school."

"I thought that was because he was having it off with Rowena Ravenclaw and she decided to ditch him for Godric Gryffindor," Weaslette said, in her irritating manner. "There's supposed a room dedicated to her covered in gold."

"Actually, I think was the other way around," Potter said, still on his back with his eyes closed. Why didn't he move? Close those legs or something. He had tilted his head back so his hair, which was a little long, spread over the pillow and fanned out so his neck looked like temptation. "There was a little plaque next to the Inner chamber door which said 'Salazar Slytherin loves Godric Gryffindor'."

"Harry, you can't say things like that about the founders," Mudblood said in a shocked voice, but the Weaslette smiled and her brother started to laugh.

"Are you sure it didn't stand for Serverus Snape loves Godric Gryffindor?" Draco asked his lips twitching. If Potter was in the mood for making jokes, then he probably was open to a little sex later on. After all, they hadn't had any time by themselves after the last day at the Burrow. Draco tried in vain to forget that day in the midst of company. After all, it would not look good if he was to get an erection in sight of the Weasleys and Mudblood; who'd have thought it was possible in the first place?

His mind kept wandering back to that moment, with Potter's hair, soft but springy, brushing against him, the way he had smelled and mostly about how his breath tickled the hair on his chest as he spoke. The way his body had fitted against him, when they had sat on the bed. Despite what most people thought, Draco did not believe in sleeping around, not because it was against his moral belief but because, as a Slytherin and a Malfoy, he knew that everything had its value. Anything given too freely always lost its value.

Why sleep with someone when a hand job or a good blow job could get the same thing done? If you didn't catch the snitch and wanted to stay on as a seeker for one more year, all you had to do was corner the Captain in the showers and make him feel like God A back rub and a blow job was enough, and a promise of something more, if his name was on the team when the list came up.

It was not as if he was a blushing virgin; perish the thought, but all in all, he was happy enough if he could get certain things done without resorting to actual sex. He didn't really enjoy the feeling of someone who wanted to boast that he or she had actually had sex with a Malfoy, groping all over him, to get the full benefits of sex. For him, it was a solution to a problem and nothing more; a messy solution at that, which required him to take a shower afterwards - but Potter presented a different issue. He wasn't sure why he wanted Potter apart from the fact he just did.

"What?" he asked, realizing that everyone was staring at him; which meant they had been talking to him and he had been in his own world.

"I just said that Voldemort...oh, get over it Ron...probably didn't get most of the hidden secrets in the chamber of secrets since he seemed to have been more obsessed with leaving bits of himself behind," Mudblood declared grandly and waited to see if Draco would agree.

"Wouldn't these secrets be sealed for anyone other than a very powerful wizard?" Draco queried half heartedly. He was not in the mood for these arguments. He didn't want to continue, although he had to maintain his friendly façade.

"You mean a pure blood, don't you?" the Weasel snarled, almost as if Draco had insulted him. Draco didn't know why he even bothered to put up with it sometimes.

"No, I meant a strong wizard," he snarled back. "I know the Dark Lord is a half-blood so forget it. A pure blood doesn't necessarily mean a strong wizard and you know that."

"True," Mudblood agreed. "So you mean Voldemort ..." that woman enjoyed rubbing their noses in it, didn't she? "...is a strong wizard?" She pretended to think for a bit. "Personally, who's the most powerful wizard around?" she asked in general.

"Vol...you-know-who," said Ron. "Dumbledore," said the Weaslette.
"Harry Potter," said Draco.

"What!" said Mudblood, Weasel, and Weaslette in synchronization.

"It's true," Draco said softly. "Dumbledore is dead and the Dark lord is a power hungry maniac who tortures his followers for fun. Potter is strong enough to apparate through wards and blow up a room when he looses his temper."

"Does that mean he'll be able to apparate into Hogwarts too?' Weasel asked.

"Ron, how many times have I told you, in Hogwarts the History ..."

"...you can't apparate inside the school," all three Gryffindors finished her sentence.

"They are old wards, so they're probably a lot stronger than what you have at the Burrow. It really doesn't help when you have a whole lot of people telling you that you can't do it," Draco observed lazily. "Nothing is more detrimental than the negative attitude of friends."

He waited for the inevitable explosion, but none came when Potter, from his look-at-me-but-don't-touch pose spoke. "Malfoy, if you think a half blood is stronger than a pure blood, do you think that Muggleborns aren't too bad either?"

Well, he hated Mudblood Granger on principle; she was bossy, prissy, and fussy. She was also Potter's best friend, intent on keeping him away from those who might actually be helpful.

"I think that muggleborn children should be taken away from their parents and raised by ..."

"I've heard that argument before," Potter said dryly, turning on his side and looking at Malfoy through sightless, but none the less, disturbing green eyes. "Would your family take in a muggleborn witch as their own from childhood and treat them as their own, if given the circumstances."

"No, but there could be an institute..."

"You mean a wizarding orphanage..." Potter interrupted him and Malfoy could see that Potter was getting angry. "I was brought up by my mother's sister, and she treated me like vermin. You seriously think the wizarding world is going to be any better? You think anyone can love their child more than their own mother and father?"

"Of course, Malfoy's parents aren't what you would call model parents now," the Weaslette said in a malicious voice, which made Draco freeze in his bed. He could feel the room closing all around him as blood rushed to his face.

"Ginny," Potter said slowly. "That was not a nice thing to say."

"But it's true," the Weasel said in a whinny voice.

For some reason, it irked Draco that Potter had risen to his defense before he had even realized what had happened. He struggled to his feet angrily. "I don't need to defend my family to..."

The room door swung open and Mrs. Weasley came bustling in. She never walked and she did not seem to be able to do anything slowly, but her nervous disposition did not make them feel any better. Her eyes rested on Draco for a moment, then she signed. "I'm sorry dear." For a change, her voice was almost kind. "There's a visitor for you... you need to go meet him downstairs."

Draco realized that something was wrong, the moment he walked down the staircase and saw the familiar black robed figure of his potions mater standing stiffly at the bottom. His hands were clasped behind him, his face averted. Draco paused as the gang of Gryffindors he had been with trooped down past him as if the visitor was there for them. He noted that the Weasel was dragging Potter by his upper arm, with little regard for his blindness, so that he tripped frequently before Mudblood took over the job with very little improvement. He wondered what would happen if there were physically challenged Gryffindors. After all, theirs was the House of Bravery and Action. Someone who was incapacitated would have no room in it.

"Professor," he said, as he walked down in measured steps, past his raving aunt who could be heard weakly as the silence bubble wore off. He finally reached the end of what felt like the mile and half long downward spiral.

"Draco," the man's voice was kind and compassionate.

"You were with them all this time," he said dully, as the Werewolf stood looking as if someone had hit him on the head with a silver bat. He was looking very resolutely at anything but Snape, as if the man was a boggart.

"I serve which ever side that'll help me save myself," Snape said truthfully, ignoring the Gryffindors who looked as if Snape had said something truly terrible. Didn't they smell it in the air? The fact that something was wrong and screamed to be fixed.

"Why did you want to see me?"

"I have a message for you from your mother," he said softly. "She said 'now you are free'"

For a moment the world tilted, then straightened, as the werewolf leaped to grab his upper arm. His mouth felt dry and his body felt leaden. It wasn't happening. All the pain, all the sacrifice, and all of it for nothing. It couldn't be for nothing. She was supposed to be safe; they were to run off together after he had brought Potter to his father...

When he spoke, his voice was calm, almost emotionless, "Can you tell me what happened."

When Narcisaa was a small girl she had been proud of her blond hair. It made her look like a fairy while her sister had looked pale. Despite her good looks, there had been something wrong with Bellatrix; the need to hurt house elves, the need to squeeze Narcissa's hand a little too hard. All those small things which should have been noticed, but over looked, by her mad mother and dotting father.

When she had married Lucius, she had been over the moon She was marrying a pure blood family with a good name, an even better Ministry connection. All she had ever wanted to do was this. To leave her drab, dark house, and her sister she was secretly scared of, and live her life as she had always wanted. But how stupid she had been she thought, as she reached her destination.

Her destination was a small dome shaped house in a corner of the Malfoy Estate, well maintained, but not very frequently visited. She kept her hand on the stone slab which served as a door and it swung open smoothly on oiled springs. She lit her torch, the only magic she could do without a wand and the only magic she had left after it had been bled out of her by her husband, then started to descend into the dark, following a stone staircase. The staircase was shallow, each step longer than it was tall, and the faint stirring of air made her shiver.

But she was not afraid. She had come here often; mostly during the time when Draco was at school. This was where she found her refuge from her husband and his associates. This was where she came to reflect upon her life. Lucius did not mind her wandering inside the Malfoy Estate, knowing there was no way out. He regarded her visits here as some form of eccentricity that needed to be indulged in. Little did he know this was where she found the courage to go on.

She reached the last step and mounted her torch on a metal ring fixed to the wall for that very purpose. The room she had walked into came to life in a burst of light and shadow, as small stone coffins, laid neatly in rows became visible. This was the Malfoy tomb for the children. Generations of children had come to rest here.

Despite what the outsiders thought, Draco had not been her only child. She'd had four more, or had it been five. She wasn't sure if the last had been twins or not. What she did know was that black magic had its effects. Malfoys had been practicing Dark Arts for the better part of their lives; magic so corrosive, it settled in their bones and flowed in their blood. She sometimes thought that was what warped their unborn children. Warped until they were nothing more that twisted little monstrosities, beyond recognition They fought for every breath as they were born, dying before they were a week old. Something Lucius blamed her Black origin. It could have been the contamination building up inside her since Draco had been normal. All the abnormal children had been born after her husband had started practicing those midnight rites on her. It could be all the torture she had had to endure; all those spells and potions.

Whatever the reason Draco, had been her one and only normal child. The rest had been too mutated to live, though she wondered if her second born son who had died in their nursery had been that weak; she hadn't questioned it then. She couldn't question it now. She had been selfish, living in silence, as magic warped her children and as her husband molded her only living child, to something she no longer recognized.

If she had been honest, she could have forsaken all the Malfoy gold and run while Lucius had been in Azkaban; but she hadn't. She had let Draco get marked, even if it had been a preliminary mark, when she could have hidden him somewhere safe; she had let him go on a mission to kill an old man when she could have warned the old man and brought a halt to the entire proceedings. She had let her husband torture her only living child while she had sat in the next room listening to the screams and drinking tea because she had been brought up that way. She was a pure blood woman to the hilt, someone who supported her husband through imperio, or a dark lord, because that was expected of her.

But as she looked at the row of coffins, one of them a suspected squib who had been killed in his sleep, she knew what she had to do. She was finally going to do something for her son, who had done all he could to keep her safe. After all, Draco had sacrificed his happiness and his free will to make his mother safe. Now she was giving him a way out. It might be too late but it was all she had.

Snape walked into his room after the Death Eater meeting scowling at the world in general and stopped. He did not usually bother to lock his door; it was a useless gesture since any Malfoy could walk in without invitation. His room was dark, the curtains drawn but candlelight filled the room. On the sofa, the very same sofa on which Draco had bled, Narcissa Malfoy lay draped, dressed in a small white dress with thin straps, smiling at him.

For a moment he thought it was a very crude seduction attempt from her; she knew about his preferences and it did not stray to blonds but as he moved closer, he noticed that she was deadly pale.

"Severus, darling," she intoned softly. "You came. For a moment there, I thought you were going to be late and I'd have to leave a note for you."

"What are you doing here?" he asked angrily, as he moved forward.

"They say you are a double agent," she giggled softly. "Is it true?"

"Not that I know of," Snape said brusquely.

"I want you to go to my son and tell him something," she said sitting up, looking very serious. "Tell him I'm free. It's time he became free as well."

Suddenly the words sank into him and Snape looked up at his collection of potions. He was running to his collection of antidotes, pulling the drawer open, and looking at an empty collection of vials. "What did you take, you stupid woman!" he screamed in frustration.

"Severus," the voice was already weak. "Sit beside me."

"Narcissa..."

"I've been alone all my life, I don't want to be alone now."

He moved to sit by her, gently cradling her head on his lap. "Why did you do this?" he asked, but he knew. Magic was a useful weapon for inflicting pain without leaving scars. He knew she suffered and he had been unable to help her. They had been close at school, even though she had been a couple of years older than him and he had watched Lucius snuff out the light in her eyes without even trying.

"You were always a good friend," she said softly and smiled. "Remember to tell Draco..." she inhaled sharply. "...he's free."

"Let me help you..."

"Let me die in peace," she said softly, her lips turning blue. "Let me do one thing of my own free will."

So he did. He held her as she stopped breathing and her body grew cold. He held her until Lucius walked in, took one look at his dead wife and laughed.

"Will there be a funeral?" Draco asked, stiffly standing upright while the werewolf hovered by his side.

"I don't think you'll be attending," Snape said, while the rest of the people in the house were ushered into the kitchen by a bossy Mrs. Weasley. He watched with a detached eye as Potter argued about something with her, his hands flying in all directions, as he tried to emphasis his point.

"She's dead," he said and felt the werewolf embrace him. His eyes felt dry, but he turned around and buried his face in his chest, the same way Potter had done to him, smelling him, feeling comforted.

"Draco, I'm sorry..."

"She's free," he said stiffly, pulling free. "I think I'll go up to my room now." He turned around and walked up the stairs past the portrait which was louder, but he did not go to his room. Instead he went to the bathroom and threw up.

Then he wondered what the heck he was going to do with his life, when the one thing he had to live for had been taken from him.