A/N: Please answer the poll on my profile! Sorry this is so late, it's been a bitch to write and while I wanted to leave this chapter until later it just kind of happened. So, yah. Anyways enjoy and review please!

Chapter 11

Beginings

July 5th

Draco Malfoy paced his room. If anyone would ask he would tell them it was from excitement, which it was. Partly. The other half of him was worrying and paranoid it was being watched.

He had felt jittery for almost a month now, ever since his birthday in June. He had had too much energy, like he needed to be doing something. At first he had assumed it was because his father had just been thrown into Azkaban, but that feeling had changed yesterday.

It was infinitely more intense, a bundle of energy that had taken root in the hollow of his throat.

He didn't think it was nerves, he knew his mother was talking with his Lord, and he was both prepared and honored to be asked to participate in their plans. He had grown up listening to stories of the Dark Lords power and influence, and, while at first he had admired it as all children do their Hero's, now he wanted it.

He wanted the respect and influence that come from power. He wanted the immediate attention that the Dark Lord had every time he entered the room.

He was ashamed to admit that he had been spying the one time the Dark Lord had entered the Manor. No Malfoy should have to be reduced to sneaking around and peering through keyholes to meet someone. But his curiosity had been too great, and with the cunning that came so easily to his house he had hidden himself away to listen to the meeting.

He was even more ashamed to admit how much it had frightened him.

Draco hadn't been expecting the casual torture that had taken up most of the hours. He had secreted himself into a passage that allowed the viewer to see the whole room through a higher vantage. He had been expecting a boring meeting at the very most. His greatest fear had been the risk of falling asleep or getting caught.

He hadn't been expecting to be fighting the urge to retch. Draco's hiding spot hadn't allowed for escape. He would have to leave through the main room, and, occupied as it was by Death Eaters it hadn't been an option.

Instead he had been frozen, frozen as the Werewolf desecrated a child in the middle of his floor. The rest of the group had made no notice of the proceedings as they awaited their Lord.

Draco was sure that this was a regular occurrence for them.

The casual attitude of the rest of the room almost convinced him that it was okay, that the scene was normal, and for that matter, the empty cages and cells scattered around the room were simply their for decoration.

One look at his mother's face and he knew he was wrong.

It hadn't been a long look, a brief flicker in her eyes, and if Draco hadn't known her so well, or hadn't been trained in body language for as long as he could remember he wouldn't have caught it.

But the terrifying and overwhelming fear he had seen in her gaze was heartbreaking.

It's all Potters fault. He thought viciously, He got father stuck in Azkaban. Draco's thoughts turned darker with planned revenge as he moved to the open window. As he thought he realized that the only option he had was taking the Mark. The Dark Lord needed to see that the Malfoy's were still loyal; otherwise he would end up dead. Rather then be disappointed by the fact, he felt a stirring of excitement in his stomach. He had been raised for this. This was his destiny. By joining Draco would attract the attention rather then his mother, she was useless other then being able to donate funds.

But as he gazed out over the darkened Manor Grounds he couldn't help but wish he could follow the slight twinge in the base of his throat.

July 7th

Draco had to remind himself of the danger his family was in so that he didn't lash out at the unmannered beast that was currently joining them for dinner. He had been biting his tongue all evening, ignoring the underhanded insults that had been thrown his way from his father's colleagues, instead he had played the perfect host, charming and witty, with enough class to make any woman swoon.

But the werewolf who was currently tearing apart a piece of bloody meat was certainly pushing his limits of acceptance. Draco had been forced to invite him otherwise risk insulting the, the thing, but he was fighting hard to keep the disgust off of his face.

The man had waltzed in like he owned the place, preceded to get rip roaring drunk off of the Malfoy's very expensive, and very fine wine. Leered at both Draco and his mother so much that he had practically forced her to retire for the evening complaining of a headache.

Draco wondered if he could use the same excuse as he mentally sneered at the blood that now covered the mouth and clothes of Fenrir Greyback.

Bloody Were, Draco thought as his hand twitched towards the concealed wand at his wrist. The rest of the dinner party ignored the wolf used to his behavior. The conversation was light and gossip filled, everything from the recent scandals to the ones that occurred over twenty years ago.

The young blond was repulsed and frustrated by the lack of actual conversation that was happening. He had been taught since before he could talk that business was never discussed over dinner but he wished beyond hope that someone would forget their manners and spill something. Just enough to let him know that his father was still okay and that there were plans to free him.

He curled his lip at Greyback whom he would assume didn't even know the word shower; some on the other hand he wished would gain manners.

He glanced around to see where everyone was with their meals. At his direction the elves would vanish the plates to replace them with the next course. All the prominent Dark families were there; Nott, Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson and Zabini. At the other end of the table there were to conspicuously absent chairs, one seated to the right of the table, his fathers chair. Another at the very center, more symbolic then anything else, decorated with silver serpents and ancient runes.

A simpering laugh cut him off from his musings and he discreetly motioned for the next course to start.

Merlin, I hate them all.

July 12th

Draco knelt. Never before had he been so afraid, so terrified, or so alone. But still, no matter how frightened he was, this was his moment. His moment to prove himself, to show that the Malfoy name was still useful and strong, Draco caught his breath when the cold voice in front of him called his name.

Rising, Draco faced forward with all the poise ten years of tutors can give you.

"Draco Malfoy." The voice almost purred. "I trust you know why I have asked you here?"

Draco nodded, anticipation curled his stomach, what came next would not be pleasant.

"Very well. Step forward." Draco did and lifted his eyes to meet the ruby red ones in front of him. He shivered involuntarily.

Then he was in pain, constant, agonizing pain.

Draco had always considered himself a fair hand at Occlumency, his Godfather had taught him after all. But nothing could have prepared him for this. This was torture. This wasn't simply the Dark Lord reading his thoughts and intentions to make sure of his loyalty, this, this was rape.

And Draco had consented to it.

He could feel his every thought, every memory gone over with a fine-tooth comb, leaving an oily, slick feeling behind. Never had he felt so dirty or revolted with himself.

Eventually he couldn't take the pain any longer and he found himself once more on his knees. Draco gasped for breath but he remembered to lift his head and he could see the sadistic amusement in the red eyes and twisted grin. But he was speaking and Draco wasn't paying attention like he should have been.

"-Take the mark with the others before you board the train. I'll have further instructions for you then." Draco nodded, not trusting himself to speak yet.

He rose on unsteady feet and barely remembered to bow before he left. He opened the door slightly before the cool voice called him back.

"Don't forget," Draco froze, "I know everything about you now. After all, you wouldn't want your mother to find out about your…Perversions, would you?"

Draco shook his head slightly before bowing again. He left the room calmly, but as soon as the door shut he took off running down the halls.

Later that evening Draco lay in bed and tried to erase the oily feeling from his memories, but no matter how many times he meditated or rebuilt his Occlumency walls the texture wouldn't go away. His eyes stung with unshed tears, and his stomach felt heavy and full of sand.

He reminded himself that this was what he wanted. What he was raised for. This was his future; this would make his parents proud. A little bit of pain was nothing compared to the glories he would receive in the future.

Somehow it wasn't a very good consolation.

July 18th

The night air was warm and humid as Draco wandered across the grounds. In one hand he clutched his treasured broomstick and with the other he wiped the sweaty hair back from his face. He had almost forgotten how good it felt to fly, how natural and right it felt. The broom under his hands had leapt to his biddings with nary a thought, following his every instinct.

He was relaxed now, almost completely at ease; all the paranoia and worry that he had been feeling for the last month had ebbed away to a small corner in his mind. The oiliness hadn't gone away, but it didn't cling to his new memories either so he was thankful for that fact.

Half dazed he walked with a spring in his step towards the manor. A slight thump brought him from his musings and he looked up in time to see a figure jump from his bedroom window and land lightly on their feet.

"You!" Draco called out, running forwards, "YOU, STOP!"

The figure jumped at his voice and took off running towards the trees, Draco cursed under his breath and took off after the figure. A moment later he cursed again and stopped to mount his broom.

He chased the body until he reached the forest that lined their property. Dismounting he drew his wand cautiously.

I'm acting like a Gryffindor. He realized with a shudder. Charging headlong into danger with no plan.

Draco turned back to the mansion it would make sense to go get help, he didn't know the first thing about who he was facing, and whoever could get past the wards would be a powerful Wizard. But at the same time Draco didn't know what the person had been inside to do, and if they had stolen something they could be gone before he had time to get back. Not to mention that he wanted to prove he was on par with all the adults.

Decision made Draco turned to the manor and sent up green sparks followed by red. As soon as someone saw them the alarm would be raised and they would come and investigate. Draco faced the trees once more and edged slowly into the forest, every broken twig sounded like a bludger hitting a bat and he couldn't help but wince at the noise.

He wandered in further taking care to keep an ear out for any sign of the intruder. A snap sounded to his left and he froze. Turning slowly he faced the sound.

"Show yourself!" Draco brandished his wand. "I've sent for help."

The only sound he received was silent. "If you give yourself up now the Dark Lord may be merciful."

Again there was silence and impatiently he bit out, "Look. If you don't come out I'll leave you to Bellat-" Draco was blown off his feet before he could finish his sentence.

"What the Hell!" He cried and fumbled for the wand that he had dropped at the force of the collision. He opened his mouth to cry out for help and a large hand clamped over it, Draco began struggling in earnest against the body holding him down. Merlin I was stupid, I should have gone for help.

"Stop moving!" An accented voice ordered. Draco stilled. "I'm not going to hurt you!"

"Lumos," The voice said again and the man's face was lit up by the soft glow. Draco's breath caught at the handsome face looking down at him. The man's skin was slightly lighter then Zabinis, and long dreadlocks hung over his shoulder to tickle Draco's face, the mans eyes were a warm brown and his face was open and inviting.

"I know you won't believe me, but I'm not here to hurt you so can please you not shout?" Draco nodded and the hand slowly moved away from his mouth.

"Who sent you? Was it Dumbledore?" He immediately asked, the man looked like he would be part of their side, no Death Eater had a face as honest as that.

"Who? No." The man shook his head, "No one sent me, I didn't even know who you were."

The man was straddling his waist, one hand had pinned his hands above his head and as Draco took stock of their position he couldn't help but blush. He hardened his eyes and turned back to glare at the man whose expression had changed to something akin to awe.

"Who are you?" Draco demanded. But the man was ignoring him.

"A natural Dobrico." He whispered.

"Hey!" Draco squirmed underneath him, "Listen to me!"

The mans gaze snapped back to his own, "Who are you?" He demanded again.

"Sorry," The man ducked his head in the semblance of a bow and continued pompously "Thorstein Myrrdin Aro Alaviti at your service, and you my Dobrico?"

"I belong to no one, let alone you, and I'm not this Dobrico you keep talking about." Draco sniffed, "And my name is Draco Lucius Malfoy, heir to Lord Malfoy."

The man, Alaviti, Draco corrected himself, looked amused, "A Lord, hm?"

Draco nodded, "Exactly, so get your filthy commoner hands off me."

The man chuckled, "Certainly not, my Lord Heir, for you would only run."

Draco struggled again, "My parents will see the sparks I sent up soon enough."

"They might but I'm counting on something to make you talk to me."

Draco froze and for the first time fear entered his blood, "If you're going to imperious me someone will find out."

"No, no." Alaviti laughed again, Draco wanted to punch him, no man should look that handsome when kidnapping him, "Nothing as drastic as that, I can simply give you answers."

"What kind of answers?" The blond asked curiosity piqued.

"Who you are, what you've been wanting since your birthday," The man slid warm fingers to the base of his throat, right where Draco could feel a heartbeat that was not his own, "Why this second heart beats so irresistibly."

Draco gasped as the man leaned down and pressed chapped lips to his throat. For a moment his heart stopped beating and he moaned.

Then his brain started working and he restarted his struggle in earnest. "No! Get off me!" The man stopped and looked at him with warm eyes.

"You want me to stop?"

"No! I mean YES. Stop, just, stop." Draco's mind wasn't making sense, this felt right, more right then anything else he had been feeling for the last few days, so why was he rebelling? No stop that, better question, why aren't I rebelling more?

"I will not force anything Dobrico." Alaviti said and nodded sharply, Draco breathed a sigh of relief. "But you will meet with me."

Draco considered for a moment. He was at a significant disadvantage at the moment but if he could turn their future meeting towards his then he could get both the answers he wanted and still turn him in if needed.

"Very well." He spoke calmly. "Meet me in my room in tomorrow night, I assume you know where that is?" Alaviti nodded, well at least Draco knew that his breaking and entering was good for something, "I have a meeting with my Lord in the evening so whatever you do, don't come in until later."

Alavitis face brightened and Draco was once more left speechless at the heart-stopping smile.

Without another word the pressure of another mans weight in him was gone and Draco was left flat on his back and feeling as though he should be gasping for breath. He wasn't sure how long he lay there before he wearily got to his feet to find his wand. Crouching, he fumbled under a bush before pulling it out victoriously.

As he left the forest and made his way back to the manor he realized that no one had followed his sparks. He wasn't sure whether this was because no one noticed or because no one cared. He strongly suspected the later.

July 19th

Draco groveled at the feet of the gilded throne. He didn't have the mark yet but it was only a matter of time. Until then he was left crawling on his knees to kiss the hem of his Lords robe. Merlin he felt degraded.

But it wouldn't be long before he took his fathers place. Once he proved that he could follow the plans he would be standing with the inner circle. His own Dark Mark proudly displayed on his arm.

The meeting had started an hour ago and Draco wasn't sure if it could even be called that, most of what the Dark Lord did was posture for praise and torture Muggles and Creatures. After he had stopped feeling as though he was about to be sick Draco had started growing bored with the proceedings.

It was repetitive.

His Lord shouted about Potter and alluded to future plans, then grew angry and shot a curse off towards a cage, then he asked for news from his spies and informants, grew angry again at the lack of information, cursed them, then tossed the Quaffle and repeated the play.

At the moment the Dark Lord was yelling about some prophesy that he had lost. Draco allowed his mind to drift to the letter he had received from Blaise that morning. This proved to be a bad idea because in the next moment he found himself writhing on the ground in pain.

"-Your father-All his fault-Azkaban-All my pla-" Draco couldn't comprehend the words. All he could feel were his nerves set on fire and left to burn. His arms and legs jerked in a twisted parody of a dance and his head cracked against the stone floor.

Suddenly the pain was gone and Draco could understand the laughter that now surrounded him. He leaned over and spat out the puke he had in his mouth (when had he done that?) and waved his wand shakily to banish it from his robes and the floor. He remembered though what he had seen all the others do and he returned to his kneeling position. His hands were still unsteady and he clenched them into fists to disguise it.

He cautiously raised his eyes and realized that the gathering had already moved on, because to them, this was normal. This was how every meeting went, everyone was tortured, and the Dark Lord made it seem like a bloody gift.

But Draco had known this, or, at least, had suspected it. So why was it so different now?

After his torture and subsequent questioning of everything he knew the meeting was over relatively quickly. Still twitching slightly, and bleeding slightly from the crack his head had taken to the floor Draco wearily made his way back to his room.

Draco opened the door enough to maneuver in and quickly shut it behind himself and erected a lock and ward to keep eavesdroppers away and visitors out. When he turned back he was met with the worried gaze of the potential thief/murderer.

"I'm not up to games Alaviti so tell me what you want and get out."

In response a hand was raised to prod his head, "What happened?"

Draco sneered. "Why should I tell you? Filthy Mudblood like yourself wouldn't understand."

Alaviti's brow rose, "What's a Mudblood?" He asked.

Draco gapped at him, and was stunned enough by the question that he didn't resist when the dark skinned man led him to the bed and sat him down. "How do you not know what a Mudblood is?" He finally burst out.

Alaviti shrugged, "Not from around here." The unidentifiable accent was enough proof of that, but still.

"Surely you know about the war?"

At this he looked surprised, "There's a war?" His fingers paused in their fiddling at the pouch on his belt and he looked at Draco appraisingly.

"There's a wa-Of course there's a war! Bloody moron. What do you think those screams were? Us dying of laughter?" Draco breathed heavily, "The bloody Dark Lord was just down the hall and you didn't even know about the war?" For whatever reason Draco was panicked at the thought of Alaviti finding himself in danger.

Alaviti shrugged again. "I can handle myself."

Draco laughed bitterly, "Not against him." He spat the word out.

"Was he the one who did this?" He prodded the wound with his finger.

Draco hissed and nodded, "Bashed it while I was under Crucio."

"The torture curse?" The tone was surprised, but not judgmental.

"That's the one." He said with weary cheer. Draco was struck with a sudden urge to change the subject from his previous torture, "So why are you here?"

Alaviti drew a small pot from the pouch and unscrewed it, "You're my Dobrico, my Beta. I was led to you." He dapped some type of paste to Draco's skull and surprising even himself Draco allowed it, "If you had been, aware? No. If you had known to follow them, your instincts would have led you to me as well."

"And the heartbeat?"

"Our Kalina. I believe you say Submissive?"

Alaviti was placing the pot back in his bag and Draco knew he should be feeling something. Panic perhaps, that he was a Creature, or that this strange man was his mate. But he wasn't. Because this felt like the final piece in the puzzle that made up Draco Malfoy, he felt like he was finally whole, and the fight, just, left. Alaviti sat down next to him on the large bed, they weren't touching, but they were close enough that if one of them moved, even slightly, they would brush.

"I can't leave here."

Alav-No, he should call him by his first name now, Thorstein nodded as though expecting that response. "It is not time yet. You will know when it is."

Draco didn't believe him, nothing was more important then serving his Lord, and, even if he wanted to he could never leave now. But he nodded anyways, because for the first time since his birthday the relentless pulling in his chest was gone. He felt unconditional acceptance, and he briefly wondered if the hit on his head had done something to knock a screw loose because he should be doing something more then just sitting there in calm acceptance.

"You'll have to hide, you know. The Dark Lord would kill you."

"I can hide."

"And I want more explanations, if I'm a Creature where did the blood come from? My family line is full of purebloods, I don't think we've had Creature blood for generations."

"I'll explain more later Dobrico, but you need to sleep." Thorstein said almost sadly, and he gently pushed Draco back down on the bed. And, Draco, let him. When Thorstein turned to the open window Draco reached out and grasped his sleeve.

"Don't leave? Please?" He asked softly.

Thorstein nodded and climbed back into the bed. He wrapped his arms around Draco who silently began to shake. The box he had Occluded the meetings memories and emotions to broke open and Draco was awash in the fear he had hidden himself from for the past few hours. The warm arms that held him consumed any arguments that this was wrong, or that he couldn't accept help from anyone. Draco allowed himself a full release and he shook from the shock of it.

For the rest of the night neither of them spoke for there were no words to be said and Draco took comfort for the first time in his life.

July 20th

Draco awoke to an empty bed and at first he thought he had dreamed the whole thing until he noticed the open window, and he allowed himself a small smile before he began to get ready for the day.

When he finally left his room it was with his mask firmly in place. If the Dark Lord grew suspicious and wanted to rape his mind again Draco would have no chance of hiding Thorstein, who would either be captured and killed or captured, tortured and then killed.

But he allowed himself a spark of hope for a new beginning.

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