Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor any of its characters.

I think my chapters are getting longer, this one was only half of what I ended up writing in the end. Got a little carried away. . .

Anyway, I think this chapter is quite dark and morbid and went far over the word limit I allocated for this little tidbit of plot. Nevertheless, it turned out quite well (I hope you agree! Despite the one SpaG issue you're sure to find!). I have also chosen a name with the help of MistyForestQueen's wonderful contribution, many thanks to you and all of my amazing reviewers, I actually love you all! Every time I read your reviews I'm left with a stupid grin on my face, but y'all give me the motivation to keep writing so much love to you all! :*

The rest of the A/N will be at the bottom, don't want to spoil the chapter! Enjoy m'dears.

Chapter XIV

The biting winds of winter only served to further Draco's agitation as he trekked through the fields of undisturbed snowfall. As a child, he would've been positively giddy at the sight of the endless planes of fresh, unsullied snow, wanting nothing more than to jump into every stretch of it, unwittingly ruining its perfect, untouched beauty. It seemed he had rather a penchant for that.

However on a morning such as this, he was in no sort of mood to indulge himself in his silly, childish little compulsions nor did he have the time. To an onlooker, he would've looked daunting at the very least, cloaked in his usual, preferred shade of black that sharply contrasted the white purity of the snow at his feet. His hood had been pulled up over his downturned head to shield his pained and tired eyes from the stinging brightness of the snow that threatened to blind him as he continued to forcefully push his legs through the resistance that it offered as he walked.

The hem of his cloak and robes alike were sodden and clung to his chilled skin as he moved, leeching his warmth which was lost to its bitter chill. Usually, he wouldn't have tolerated such a thing and would have already charmed his clothes to keep him warm and dry, but at this point in time he just needed to feel something, anything that might alleviate the heavy numbing sensation that he had lost himself to the previous evening.

The evidence had been brutally thrust into his face and there was no possible way that he could deny its legitimacy. It was enough to roughly jerk him from the haze of naivety and stupidity he had seemed to be immersed in, sobering him from the drunken effects that his obsession with her would inspire within him. He had been so carelessly tossed back into the tumult which was reality once again and he hadn't quite taken to it as quickly as he expected he should have.

He had decided not to return back to his home last night, settling instead for his old room within the Manor where he had tried so hard to push all thoughts of the repercussions of his actions to the back of his mind, but to no avail.

He had always been calculated and cunning, his plans were always meticulous and more often than not, they were successful. There was no problem that Draco couldn't handle, which was why the Dark Lord held him in such high esteem. He had been the one who had discovered the vanishing cabinets back in Sixth Year while no other Death Eater could think of a solution to the Dark Lord's problem. He was the one who had lured each and every member of the resistance out of hiding to bear the brunt of the Dark Lord's wrath which had ultimately led to Harry Potter's demise. It was he who had so carefully orchestrated the discovery and capture of Hermione Granger for which he had reaped the generous rewards.

And yet in spite of all of this, he had failed to think of a solution to the problem that the creature she harboured inside of her posed. He couldn't exactly let the thing live. If he did so, he was only ensuring his own doom, for there was no doubt in his mind that sooner or later, the Dark Lord would come to know of his grievous sins. It would invite the cruellest brunt of his vengeful wrath, for Draco was most likely to be named his successor and such a betrayal would mean that he would be flayed as an example. He would be cast into the deepest depths of Hell before he was even allowed to die while watching all those connected with him suffer and perish because of his treason.

On the other hand, he was no child killer. There were enough lives on his conscience already, could he really add another? His own child, no less? It hurt to acknowledge it with such a title, but it was irrefutable. Even so, was the life of this one child worth the constant stream of difficulty and hardships that undoubtedly lay ahead if he chose to give life to it? After all, it was only a half-blood child, hardly worthy of receiving the Malfoy name. Even if their world was a different one, the child would still be disregarded by modern pureblood society and he would be undoubtedly branded as a blood traitor. A label he had never dreamed he would ever bring upon himself.

Was this child worth all of the lives that would be lost upon its discovery? He didn't think so. What's to say the child itself wouldn't be killed, deeming any sacrifice a waste. The costs far outweighed the benefits, and it was bearing that thought in mind that he reached his verdict. Personal feelings aside, this child could not be allowed to live. The sooner he was rid of it, the better off he would be.

At this moment however, such thoughts were inconsequential, for he was a man on a mission. Some days ago, he had deposited Greyback somewhere amongst these fields so he would have some memories that the Dark Lord could see to validate Draco's cover story when the wolf was brought before him. Even though the werewolf no longer had his sight- courtesy of Draco- there were still memories that could be harvested and with him being so weak, there would be little resistance he could offer against the Dark Lord's brutish mental intrusions.

It wasn't long before Draco's wand buzzed inside his robes; the locating charm finally kicking in, meaning that Greyback wasn't far which Draco was quite pleased about, for it meant he could get back to Granger quicker and get this mess sorted out and off his mind. Another skeleton he could add to the closet.

He paused in his tracks, his emotionless slate coloured orbs meticulously scanning the surrounding area for any sign of the pathetic waste of skin the Dark Lord seemed quite fond of.

"Homenum Revelio." Draco muttered quietly as he felt the magic seep from his veins, through his wand, before being distributed in all directions around him. He closed his eyes and stood stoically until the familiar pull overcame him, indicating the spell's success. He opened his eyes which were immediately drawn to a small collection of trees that lined the edge of a neighbouring field.

His usual self may have allowed a self-satisfied smirk to spread across his features, accompanied by a few moments of dark amusement. But it seemed any semblance of emotion had left his troubled soul since the happenings of the previous night, to the extent where he didn't even want to have his final moments of fun with Greyback before handing him back to the Dark Lord.

Without any trace of a reaction, he rotated slightly and continued in his walk towards where the traces of magic pulled him, growing stronger and stronger the closer that he got. He moved in an eerily silent manner, the only noise being the slight crunching of the snow beneath his boots. He was like Death himself, wandering in search of his next unwitting victim to ensnare into his own cold and domineering grip.

Upon closer inspection, the area to which the spell was leading him wasn't as still and serene as his previous surroundings. There were strange prints left in the snow, as though someone had staggered - crawled even, as if in an almost fatal state of inebriation. They were not aligned like one would usually expect, but drifted all over the place, sometimes going back on themselves. He had no doubt as to whom they belonged to.

The magic grew stronger as he followed the trail of disturbed plants and shrubbery that had had the misfortune to fall in Greyback's path as he had blindly navigated through the woodland. His blood ran cold when he began to see smatterings of blood smeared across various tree trunks as well as dotted in the snow at his feet. Of course, he cared nothing for the werewolf himself, but since he had so dutifully offered to retrieve him for the Dark Lord, it would be on his head should Greyback turn up dead.

The traces of blood increased in volume and frequency as he made his way deeper into the woodland and Draco began to fear that perhaps he had left it too long before coming to retrieve him.

The sound of a twig breaking underfoot caused a gasp that was not his own to resound through the silence. The magic was stronger than ever now. He could feel it with every beat of his heart, every pulse of his blood as it sizzled in every cell and nerve ending. Draco stopped and listened carefully, the sound of ragged breathing filling the air.

"I know you are there, werewolf. Reveal yourself." Draco called out, cringing inwardly at the sternness and hatred dripping from his tone. He needed to act convincingly since this would most likely be the first memory that the Dark Lord looked through and Draco's behaviour would be heavily scrutinised.

"Who's there?!" Came the startled voice, still sounding rather off due to the missing teeth. Draco followed the sound of the voice and found the pitiful form curled up in the hollow of a tree trunk away from overexposure to the cold and snow. His eyes looked as though they had been welded shut and were now swollen and purple, nothing like the piercing blue they once had been while still intact. His raggedy state of appearance only eluded to the hardships he had endured which unsurprisingly failed to inspire even a single sympathetic or remorseful thought in Draco's mind.

"Merlin..." Draco gasped, laying it on thick with the shock of what he had found. The Dark Lord could find no connection between the two of them prior to today, it was crucial. "It matters not who I am, know only that I am an ally. No harm will come to you." He spoke in as much of a reassuring voice as he could muster, restraining the urge to laugh ironically.

He held his breath and watched with concern as Greyback's brows furrowed over empty eyes. This was the moment of truth. Magic of the mind wasn't exactly Draco's forte, but while he was moderately talented, there was still room for improvement. Should the false memories he had so painstakingly created and implanted into the pliant mind of the werewolf remain dysfunctional, he would have to delay in his mission which would only serve to irk the Dark Lord - something that Draco could not afford, for the Dark Lord was growing impatient already.

Greyback cowered at the sound of the probing voice, for it was one that he was sure he knew and yet he couldn't quite place. It evoked fear that stirred beneath the remaining shreds of his hard exterior and so he racked his brains for any sort of connection he could forge.

Nothing. He could find no logical explanation for his body's fearful reaction and so accepted the help of the familiar stranger tentatively.

"I...I was attacked by Muggles. They did this to me, the filthy creatures! I-" the werewolf began to explain before Draco cut him off, satisfied that his false memories were intact and functional. He exhaled deeply with relief.

"Save your strength, the Dark Lord will no doubt want to hear your account of what happened here. Although you'd better have a very good excuse for getting yourself in this state, for he will not be pleased otherwise." Draco said stonily, helping Greyback out of the tree trunk with not quite the force he wished to use, before pulling him up. Without his sight, Greyback's footing was uneven and he struggled to stand upright and retain his balance as he was pulled with quite some force. His muscles were still weak and lax, so as soon as he put his weight on his feet, his knees gave way and he crumpled, falling forwards into Draco's arms.

Draco shuddered with revulsion as the smell of putrified flesh washed over him as a result of the infected wounds on the stumps of Greyback's arms which were clinging tightly to him, ensnaring his torso in a firm grip. He squashed down the strong urge to sneer with disgust and remove the werewolf from his person, as though his very touch was offensive.

Draco inhaled deeply and began to hold his breath, taking out his wand and disapparating the both of them to Riddle House in haste.

~*:*~

He landed with a practiced elegance, materialising from the air as his black robes swirled around him, meanwhile his counterpart fell rather ungracefully to the floor at his feet. With a roll of his eyes, a gloved hand roughly reached down and pulled the werewolf to his feet by the fabric of his tattered clothes. He stumbled as he tried to balance himself, only avoiding another fall as Draco's hand steadied him, in spite of himself.

The Dark Lord was resting in his usual high-backed armchair that faced away from them and towards the roaring fire whose warming effect didn't quite reach the corner of the room where they stood. The air was damp and cold, the smell of mould permeating the air, although it was favourable in comparison to the stench of decay that wafted from the werewolf.

"Where've you taken me?" Greyback rounded in the direction he presumed Draco was in. Only to be answered by the crackling of the magical fire in the hearth. "Speak!" He demanded with a trembling voice. Something wasn't quite right with this new environment. The smells disagreed with him and tension hung heavy in the air, whispering of the dangers it concealed. He began to sweat profusely despite the dreaded chill that had settled over what was left of his body, curling slowly in his stomach. He felt as though he were being watched and his instincts told him that the observing eyes weren't friendly.

"Silence, you fool!" Draco hissed in a reprimanding tone, wishing to do nothing more than aim a well placed kick towards the werewolf's behind that would no doubt send him flailing helplessly to the ground.

Without so much as a word of warning, the Dark Lord rose from his seat and slowly swept across the room, the red slits of his eyes focused solely on the state of Draco's companion. When he stopped before them, Draco bowed respectfully, remembering that the fool of a wolf had no eyes - no thanks to himself- and so curled a hand around the back of his neck and forced him into a bow, eliciting a gasp.

"No, this will not do." The Dark Lord spoke with disapproval dripping from his tone as his eyes took a mental note of each of Greyback's injuries.

"M-m-m'lord?" Greyback stammered in a slightly higher pitched voice.

"A commendable job, Draco. Where did you find him?" The Dark Lord's eyes did not once move from Greyback as he began circling him, eyeing him like livestock at a market, weighing up his potential.

"The rest of his hunting party claimed to be investigating a lead on a reported Mudblood sighting roughly 20 miles north of the capital. I used the location they provided as my base and worked outwards from there." Draco reported.

The Dark Lord barked a laugh. "That would logically be the first place to look, no?" He asked, not allowing a moment for Draco to answer before continuing. "So why is it that not a single man I assigned this task brought the werewolf back while only you prevailed?"

Draco bit his tongue. "Aptitude, my Lord." He replied arrogantly, studying the Dark Lord carefully. "Dedication and persistence." He added as a quick afterthought. "He was found some miles from his last known location, it seems whoever had the intelligence ask around and discover his previous whereabouts hadn't explored the area thoroughly enough. I found him cowering inside a dead tree like this in a rather desolate area of woodland, my Lord."

"Who did this to you, Fenrir?" The Dark Lord asked emotionlessly. Draco's throat tightened as Greyback drew breath in order to speak.

"Th-the Mudblood we were after..." He stuttered. "He had some...some Muggle torture device. He stole my eyes!" Greyback began to whimper, running his infected stumps over his swollen eye sockets.

"And the rest of your party? How was it that they evaded the same fate?"

"They fell behind as I was in pursuit."

The Dark Lord sighed and turned away from Greyback before pacing slowly in front of the fire, his silhouette illuminated by the flames.

"This is a disgrace." The Dark Lord announced suddenly. "How could you allow your filthy inferiors to do such things to you? How did they acquire the means?" He pondered silently for a moment, seemingly unaware of the rapt attention that he had drawn as the two others in the room waited to see which way his mood would swing.

"Who is this Mudblood you speak of? I would very much like to meet him." A sinister smile curled the Dark Lord's thin lips which chilled Draco's blood. He hadn't thought this far ahead, thinking that the Dark Lord would take little interest in this mysterious Mudblood. It seemed he had far underestimated just how seriously the Dark Lord would take this matter.

Draco's lips struggled to draw the words from his throat as he racked his brains for a name he could put forth. His eyes shot to Greyback whose face was crumpled in confusion. His cover was slowly slipping. The Dark Lord was hardly stupid, he would pick up on such signs in a heartbeat if he failed to act swiftly.

"Dennis Creevey, my Lord." Draco gushed, unable to stop the words tumbling from his mouth. The Dark Lord's concentrated gaze shifted from Greyback and fell on Draco once again.

"You're familiar with this Mudblood, Draco?"

"He was a few years my junior at Hogwarts, my Lord." Draco affirmed, digging his fingernails into his palms as punishment for letting the one name that mattered to her slip.

"You are certain? Make no mistake that whomever is responsible for this will suffer under my hand." The Dark Lord vowed, continually shooting glances at his destroyed little pet who stood quietly, head craning each time a voice pierced the silence as his blood dripped in steady drops to the floor.

"Absolutely. I checked his memories when I found him, it was a face hard to mistake." The lies spilled from his lips unrestrained as he dug himself deeper and deeper into the hole he was creating.

Draco's eyes widened in horror as the Dark Lord drew his wand and entered Greyback's mind. The werewolf cried out at the brutish intrusion, for his mind was nearing a pile of mush after the continued magical abuse, not that Draco cared much for his suffering. He was deeply concerned however, for the Dark Lord was an expert in magic of the mind and would be able to detect the damage to his brain which would raise several questions, the answers to which would tighten the noose around Draco's neck.

Greyback's screams were loud and piercing initially, eventually dwindling to drawn-out, agonised moans of pain as the Dark Lord rummaged about in his mind, finally withdrawing after what seemed like an eternity to both Draco and Greyback alike.

With a sneer, the Dark Lord raised his wand again.

"Avada Kedavra."

The green light shot in jagged beams, ripping through the musty air before slamming into Greyback who let out a yelp as it bombarded his body, suffocating his heart and stopping it forever. His body slumped to the ground and the Dark Lord turned away, since Greyback evidently meant nothing more to him now.

The shock must've been evident on Draco's face, as the Dark Lord seemed to pick up on it.

"A pity, he was a useful weapon at one time." He said, almost wistfully. "Alas, he has outlived his usefulness. Aside from that, I confess myself disappointed in you, young Draco."

"My Lord?" Draco replied, his blood chilling with horror.

"You've become lazy in your abilities. Fenrir's memories looked as if a Muggle had been unleashed in his mind, there is little that is salvageable. Your work was sloppy, at best." The Dark Lord reprimanded him, his sharp eyes narrowing to slits which remained unmoving from Draco. He reigned in his fear and tried to appear stoic and dutiful as the Dark Lord would expect, though he could feel the beads of perspiration collecting on the back of his neck.

"I will not tolerate incompetence amongst my followers!" He hissed, his calm demeanour shattering. "Not even from you, Malfoy. You had best clean up your act, for I am starting to lose my patience." Draco was so shocked by the Dark Lords swift change that he failed to notice the elder wand as it gracefully swept through the air, poised for only a moment before blinding pain crippled him.

The curse took him off guard and so he crumbled to the ground beside Greyback's dead body as wave after wave of unrelenting agony singed his nerve endings. He could feel the rawness of the Dark Lord's anger that was conveyed through the intensity of the pain that he inflicted mercilessly on Draco's body which twitched and spasmed about the rotting floorboards.

"So weak. Just like your traitor mother." The Dark Lord criticised him continually, twisting his wand which only served to add new dimensions to Draco's torment. It got to a stage where he could no longer contain his screams which eventually dissolved into reluctant and shameful tears as the exceedingly brutal magic wormed its way into each and every cell, igniting them with a spark which spread like wildfire through every single nerve and capillary, scorching his entire being until he was completely engulfed in the depths of never ending suffering.

He had surrendered control of his body, completely unaware of every cramp, spasm and twinge that overcame him briefly between each bout of pain. His nails quickly began to claw at every inch of exposed skin they could find, dragging their sharp edges down the soft surface until blood oozed from the multitude of shallow gashes left in their wake, as if it were a way of releasing the pain from his person somehow.

When the pain finally stopped, Draco stole a huge gulp of air, his lungs burning, greedy for the solace that only oxygen could provide. He lay still, his limbs leaden and stiff which continued to involuntarily contort and spasm with the lingering aftershocks of magic that still remained. The self-inflicted gashes on his cheeks were damp with blood which cooled as it dried on his skin, mingling with the tears that had escaped in his moments of unrestrained weakness and frailty.

"I should have let the vampires have you, perhaps you would have served me better." The Dark Lord sighed impatiently. "Perhaps it is time I seek another heir." He muttered dismissively as he twirled his wand between his bony fingers deep in thought, ignoring Draco's limp form that trickled with blood.

"No..." Draco groaned weakly, mustering all of his strength to aid him as he pulled himself to his feet, stumbling slightly as the blood rushed from his head, some of which dripped from his nose and onto his lips, seeping between the point at which they parted so that the metallic tang filled his mouth. "I will not disappoint you again, my Lord." He promised hoarsely, knowing that it was only his status that kept his father alive.

"I have been lenient this time. Give me any reason to doubt you again, and I will not hesitate to deliver to you the same fate that befell your comrade." The Dark Lord warned, gesturing in Greyback's direction. Draco stared at the body through his blurry vision, and despite his immense pain, he allowed himself a small taste of satisfaction, for revenge had been cruelly served.

By the time he tore his gaze away, the Dark Lord had vanished without a word, leaving Draco standing speechless. He limped over to the body, restraining the deep compulsion to destroy Greyback in the most demeaning and disrespectful way, but instead settling for reaching into his robes and taking the wand he had so skilfully slipped into the werewolf's clothes as they had disapparated.

He pocketed the now unowned piece of wood and left Riddle House behind, not once looking back.

Hello again! Just a few notes about this chapter.

Firstly, I'm sorry! I know most of you are just itching to see what Draco does about the baby and I promise that it'll be in the next chapter which is already written but just needs editing.

Secondly, in this chapter I was trying to convey how Draco is slowly slipping with Voldemort. It was something I felt this story needed because most other works similar to this always make it so that Draco is practically untouchable and that the Dark Lord is blind to all of his schemes and misdemeanours which doesn't seem realistic to me, after all, Voldemort was very intelligent even if he was a nutcase sociopath.

'Till next time m'dears.

~*c*~