Vonne: I know the chapters haven't been long, but hopefully this will be long enough- I really tried to make it at least 5,000 words compared to the last couple chapters that have been somewhere around 3,000. :) Once again, I'm going to get directly to the chapter rather than answer reviews, even though I am so happy to be getting so many. It's not that I don't want to address them, but I've been so busy and even now I have a lingering project that I have to do and haven't. But, anyway, I did decide to continue to update fast chapters! I wrote this one a while ago, but some of it got lost and I had to spend forever editing this. I really hope you all find it easy to understand. I tried to write this clearly so that there wouldn't be any confusion, but it is completely understandable if there does happen to be. I'll be doing review responses next chapter to clear up any confusion that any of you might have, so don't hesitate to ask questions.

Well, there is just about five more chapters after this, so here is chapter twenty five!

Chapter Twenty-Five:
Where Does the Good Go

Ron Weasley never considered taking track- not that he'd ever had to consider such a sport in his life- but as he ran fast paced along the messy forest brush it was questionable that maybe, just maybe, he would do quite well at it. Sprinting through the forest in the dark, Ron's breathing was loud and uneasy. With each long and lanky stride forward he heard his own panting. Around him he ducked and dodged, just in case Mort or Ashby had been indeed hiding in the nothingness. He could think of nothing but finding the others, locating Malfoy, and returning them all home. In fact, the thoughts came to his mind like a rhythmic melody with the thumping of his heart. Find Harry, Hermione, Ginny, and George. Thump, thump, thump. Save Malfoy. Thump, thump. Be safe, be safe, be safe. Thump.

Something slithered through the branches and Ron stumbled. Even this slight misstep couldn't break his determined thoughts. The stagger lasted only momentarily and when he managed to pull himself to a steady and balanced run, he continued to repeat the thoughts over and over in his head. His goal seemed inevitable, something he had to get done. There was no avoiding this- it was life or death, for Malfoy or every one of them. Either way, Ron wasn't ready for more sadness or pain or guilt; either way, Ron couldn't let any of that happen.

Finding the others was vital; loneliness was not an option. Even the thought of him without assistance made him loose his concentration. No, no that was not a possibility and Ron had to think positive. He would get out of this- he would and he couldn't think anything else but that. As he scooted along through the trees, he tried to remain confident in these hopeful thoughts, but there was admittedly nothing at all to be truly confident about.

It had been only minutes since Mort had disappeared, Malfoy as his passenger. The very moment they'd vanished Ron had started towards the direction he'd expected his friends to be, of course, the direction he'd chose was only the first point he'd spotted. He had been running for quite some time at a pace that was too fast and too forced. There was a dryness in his chest that made him want to stop all together. His legs felt like jelly as they wobbled on, tired. But he wouldn't stop, couldn't stop. In Ron's mind he had seen the little ray of sunshine that was an ounce of hope and, no matter what, he wouldn't let go of it. Not for anything.

The gray clouds above him drew closer and he heard the roar of thunder up above him. At once the flicker of lightening lit up the forest around him and Ron froze when the scene became nothing but a view of bold and glowing white. When the world returned back to its black state, Ron pulled himself back together, swallowed hard, and set back off.

His face was streaked with a mixture of blood, sweat, and tears. The blood pooled down his forehead, and dribbled down his front, where a massive mess of his own salty sweat had stained his collar. The tears were quite a new aspect of his current expression. As he ran, he whisked them away with the arm of his sweater, coughing. He couldn't think about the embarrassing tears that soaked his visage, couldn't think about the throbbing ache that infiltrated his skull; he had a purpose and one purpose only, and there was nothing that could sway his decision to risk it all.

There was a little whirl around him and Ron was sure that something was racing through the mess of trees towards him. He held his breath and prayed that he was mistaken. However, the sound of undoubtable footsteps dismissed any chance he'd had of safe solitude. Shutting his eyes, Ron braced himself for the sudden appearance of Ashby, hurried and ready for murder. Although, something new belted out from the bushes. "Ron!" Came the cry of the one girl he'd ever loved; the shadow of Hermione Jean Granger burst through the cluster of trunks, her arms outstretched. She looked terrified and relieved all at the same time. She was messy and her face was streaked with tears as well. Dark eyeliner ran down her pink cheeks like little twinkling constellations, her messy hair was the top of the hovering trees the way it sat on top of her head in a fluff. Hermione Granger represented the life that the forest lacked as she hurried on towards him. Her sobs bounced as she ran towards him in a way that Ron only saw in slow motion. "Ron!"

When her body met his, all he could do was give her a little grunt. The rest of her words mushed together inaudibly, but Ron interjected in a chorus of language that sounded a little too much like a mix of something rather foreign. She was saying rapidly, "oh, Ron, you scared the living hell out of me! I just woke up and you weren't there-- g-gone! Harry, Ginny, George, and I, we've have been looking for you for hours! We hadn't even known you'd gone off until we saw your empty sleeping bag!" She had completely forgotten about Malfoy's absence in all her worry. Instead, she pressed her face deep into Ron's heaving chest and sighed as if to calm herself, an attempt that truly did her nothing spectacular. Up against him, she fiddled with his shirt and then, upon opening her eyes closer to him, she finally seemed to spot the dots of bright scarlet blood. "Ron Weasley!" She cried, her hand instantly flying over her open mouth, "who hurt you?"

"Hermione!" Ron cried out breathlessly, "Hermione!" But it was all that he could manage to get out, for she had tackled him into such a tight hug that he had to physically choke for her to even begin to back away. "Something horrible is going to happen," he did cough, however, when she'd let him free. At his sudden warning, Hermione's face fell. She looked as if he had just socked her in the face the way all her happiness drained so quickly from it. No longer did her visage resemble the fabulous night sky, but rather the face of a sad and solemn storm.

"Ron," she said fearfully in a whisper, "what are you talking about?" Although Hermione had clearly heard him, she dared to ask him again anyways, despite not truly preparing herself for the reality of it. Her sinking heart had went from a joyful soar to a horrified fall in a matter of moments. She stood waiting to hear his story, panting breathlessly, and let her obvious disheartenment show excessively. All she had been trying to do was find Ron, to know he was safe. In fact, she had been searching for him ever since she had discovered him missing and this wasn't exactly the greeting she'd been expecting.

Nonetheless, Ron was determined. He didn't seem to notice Hermione's discontent. He made a hasty grab for her open hand and intertwined his fingers around hers like thin white vines. Once he'd locked into her, he pulled her along the forest, talking fast and hurried. He looked forward into nothing but the night, desperately hoping they'd run into Harry and the others and quickly be on their way. He said, tripping over his own words, "they found us in the woods- Malfoy and I. And--" but his sentence was shortened by the sound of his own tired breathing. When he'd finally mustered up the strength to continue, he said sadly, "they've taken Malfoy!" and Hermione whisked her hand instantly out of his palm. At the disconnect, Ron whirled around. When he came face to face with her, he found that she was holding an expression that was somewhere between being both horrified and confused.

"Ron," she said, her thick hair flying around her pretty little face, "what are you talking about? Who took Malfoy?"

Ron wasted no time to respond to her. His thin chest heaved up and down as he pondered on how exactly to explain the situation to Hermione. Ron's mind raced anxiously and when he found that there would be no way he could possibly explain it rationally to her, he started off on a whim. What his ranting had resulted in came out as nothing more than a jumbled bunch of mashed sentences. "Ashby took-- well, it was Mort, really, but only not really... Mort took Malfoy. I think Ashby's going to... Malfoy said that Ashby's been trying to," but he couldn't get the remainder of his sentence out. Kill him? The idea seemed rash and preposterous, but after all he'd seen, Ron was inevitably sure of it. He shook his sweaty head and set off in a ramble that was faster than ever. "The point is," Ron said as he tried to keep himself calm, mainly for Hermione's sake, "we've got to find Harry and get back to the center. We're in a lot of trouble!"

But Hermione's interjection came only after Ron had realized he'd been rambling. She said rushed, "who told you this?" And Ron made his way towards her hand once again. This time she didn't pull away as he led her through the bushes. When he'd told her what he'd been told by Malfoy, she listened with quiet attention and, when he did finish, her hand in his was dripping with nervous sweat. She gaped for something to say on the verge of tears, but couldn't come up with anything helpful to say. In fact, she'd allowed Ron to pull her swiftly through the forest as she paced along, utterly astounded. Bumbling about nothing comprehensible, she managed only to let Ron drag her further along through the brush in a determined stride. The two were a stumbling, staggering, uneasy pair, and they scooted along without much of an idea towards a plan.

But in Ron's head, the same rhythm of chanting overtook him and all he could hear was his deepest goals over the horribly rushing wing. Be safe.

"Be safe," he pleaded over and over again. The idea of another death, another loss, it broke his entire focus and he stumbled ever so slightly causing Hermione's feet to stagger on rashly behind him. Their faces were dripping with sweat and they called out for the others in voices that were horribly desperate. However, Hermione's head seemed to be more focus than Ron's. As she allowed herself to follow Ron's questionable lead, she raised her wand up into the night sky and shouted something high.

A light red firework lit up the sky like wildfire. With a loud boom the little firework rained down overhead like burning rain, and it littered down over them as they scooted along. And all the while Ron's mind pestered him restlessly. Above everything, it sang around him, "Be safe. Be safe..."

Please, God, be safe.

Draco Malfoy was laying on his back in a pool of which he only could hope was sweat. The lumbering shadow that stretched over him stood as if it were waiting, but it didn't have to wait much longer. On the floor, Malfoy felt an instant pressure at the center of his chest and he opened his eyes to come face to face with the tip of Ashby's long, wooden wand. His first words were monotonous and his face was dripping with sweat when he said, "don't move." And, as the sting of sudden fear raced through Malfoy's body hit him horribly, Malfoy obliged, no questions asked. But Ashby only shrugged his broad and hefty shoulders, "not that you could even if you tried," and then gave one tired, yet accomplished little laugh.

"You know," he was smiling despite it all as he pointed a finger towards the center of Malfoy's pale face, "you have proven to be a slippery little snake, you know. I mean, after I studied up on your files I knew you'd be a tough one, but damn!" And once again Ashby's face lifted. "You, you here-- you are actually quite the accomplishment, dear boy, I hope you realize that." He stopped, as if waiting for Malfoy to speak up, though Malfoy did even consider even trying to do so; he remain still, watching the wand as if it were a loaded gun. "Don't get me wrong, I never expected you to be an easy catch; I'd studied your little files long enough to know you're a hard headed little brat."

Ashby continued with a shake of his massive head, "what surprised me was that Harry Potter was a lot easier than you were!" Although this time Ashby stepped forward just a little and he bent down to meet Malfoy at an even closer level. His voice was now more soft and sympathetic when he spoke up again and there was a caring and earnest sparkle in his large eyes. "Of course, you just haven't heard me out," he said soothingly. "Would you do that for me, Mr. Malfoy? Would you hear me out?"

The office was just as Draco had always seen it, but there was a frightening darkness that overtook it now. The windows were tightly closed and the curtains were drawn over each. The only light that leaked on him was the slight trace of moonlight that shone brightly in the dark night sky. Thunder roared through the room, followed by a bust of bright lightening, but Ashby seemed oblivious to the impending storm. His eyes were locked on Malfoy and on Malfoy only. The intensity behind his glare was almost unbreakable. Though, as he remained motionless, Malfoy's eyes watched Ashby's every move, praying for mercy. He felt the blood seeping through his nice white button up and his stomach did flips. He remembered being on the floor, Ron standing over him, and that was it. How did this happen? How could he let his happen? And despite himself, he found that he was worried about the others as well. Although, voicing his concerns was definitely not an option. As he watched Ashby with a hazy vision, Malfoy was almost too scared to move a single muscle.

Instantly Malfoy was ashamed of his vulnerability, however, his shame didn't keep him from remaining completely still. He focused on not moving a muscle and tried to keep the composure that he truly didn't have. Once again Ashby tried to reason with the boy and, tilting his head, he said with more anger than the last time, "Will you hear me out?"

Malfoy's gulp was his only sufficient answer because, truth be told, his mind wasn't running correctly with such a threat pointed between his eyes. Cross-eyed all the way to the tip of Ashby's wand, Malfoy watched the therapist lean back, smile at the thought of Draco's complying behavior, and tilt his head with a burst of pressing glee. At once, due to the undeniable nerves that floated through Draco's entire torso, he managed a half nod. "Oh, good," he said again, "because I didn't exactly want to do this the hard way!" And he backed off, releasing his wand from the surface of Malfoy's skin. After a brief moment had gone by, Ashby pulled himself into a comfortable position and started up again with one big excruciating sigh. "The truth of the matter is that I haven't been very honest with you... but I couldn't, not right off the bat, of course."

"Don't get me wrong," Ashby drawled on, "I am a therapist, but only on the side. And before you ask, no, I'm not a Death Eater." Instantly Ashby whisked up his sleeves and revealed two bare and pale forearms. "Not that I didn't admire the man, because I did. He just was doing it all wrong, you know? Sneaking up on the Wizarding World like that." Ashby lowered his voice to that of a little whisper and pressed his head back downwards, "want me to let you in on a little secret, just you and I? If Voldemort wanted to get anywhere, he would have done it by gaining the Wizarding World's trust! Trust! You see why a therapist is the perfect career? No one expects a thing-- your father sure as hell didn't. All I had to do was send Mort over to the Ministry. The very second I mentioned your name, therapy was, understandably, an accepted idea. I mean," Ashby nodded, "you'd be surprised at how many people seem to think that you're one fucked up kid." Then Ashby scrunched his face as if in disgust, although he instantly regained himself. "But that is far beside the point."

"The point is that I've found out very much about you- I think I know very much about you, in fact I think I know more about you than you do yourself!" Then Ashby whisked himself away by flicking his own wrist. He managed to excite himself, however, quickly after. "Your dear father came in and told me each and every concern he had about you, you know. Says he knows you've been having nightmares recently." Draco's face drained of any little color it had left. "He also told me you're distant, forlorn. Oh, and that you cry at night sometimes? He said he's heard you do so on often occasions." At once, Draco's face flushed red, obviously embarrassed. "But it is alright, everything is alright once you look at in in the big picture. I see you in the big picture, Draco. I understand you more than I think you understand yourself."

Ashby let himself drawl on. He said anxiously with bursts of excitement, "once I found out you were coming to me, it was all quite easy-- I did my studying. I don't think you're the coward that you seem to think you are, you see. No, I think anything but. Because Voldemort was what truly scared you- his plan, not him as a being. You're a smart boy, Draco, you knew that his attempts were fruitless. That's why I had to deceive you, at first. Using Legilimency was always my original plan; I had found out a lot from my research, don't get me wrong, but seeing directly into your memories, your thoughts-- you don't even understand how immensely that helped me. Draco, you may be vulnerable, but who isn't? It's not vulnerability that is the issue, it's how you handle it."

He waited for Malfoy to say something, but the only thing that the boy could muster was a nervous question. Malfoy's eyes found Ashby and, horrified, he asked, "I'm bleeding?" The tips of his pale fingers found his bloody mouth and the taste of iron was as strong as ever.

Ashby blinked and then managed another laugh. "Believe it or not," he said beaming, "that was Weasley, actually." Though the small tangent didn't seem to faze Ashby like it did Malfoy, who left his hand pressed up against his mouth. Without skipping a beat, Ashby let himself continue out loud. The excitement that filled Ashby's voice was unmistakable. His smile was a glowing expression of desire and knowledge. "After all my work, after all my research, I knew I was correct. Draco, you possess power that I have never seen, power that I'd never imagined to see. You can pick up where the Dark Lord left off. You can have everyone at your knees in just moments and I will be your first of many supporters. Mort here will undoubtedly be the second." At once Ashby's attention was brought to a tall and lean shadow in the dark room. Irwin Mort had been standing completely still the entire time and then, at the mention of his name, only his eyes made movement. He looked as distant and gone as ever and when he made eye contact with the pudgy therapist, Ashby said again in a mocking sort of tone, "won't you, Irwin?" The lingering shadow gave a brief little nod and then returned to his stoney state.

Draco did not dare move, for Ashby had not yet given him permission to do so. Of course, he was rather fearful to do anything that might anger the frantic man. He tried to ignore the intense pressure that stung him at the back of his throat. The aching sensation of burning tears that threatened him made his face flush and he prayed that he could show something that Ashby would see as strength. But Ashby did not seem to notice Malfoy's discomfort and he seemed to rather think that Malfoy wasn't too put off by the idea. The therapist's smile remained plastered to his face and he appeared to be waiting for Malfoy to deliver some sort of response. However, as he remained still on his back, he said to know one but the ceiling, "I d-don't w-ant to kill anybody."

This absolutely amused Ashby, who snorted with excitement. He laughed carelessly and then responded with a casual tone of voice, "oh, killing is necessary, but it's not a main priority. When the Wizarding World sees the power you possess, there won't be many that oppose..." Ashby's nonchalant attitude made Malfoy stiffen. On the floor he let out a shaky breath and pressed his eyes shut, praying that reality wasn't truly happening. However, at the constant sound of Ashby's amusement reminded him that there was no escaping his predicament. On his back on the floor, Malfoy tried his best not to completely break down.

There was tenseness in his voice when he said it, but Malfoy's response came as a slow and shaky question. He shook his head and, as he did so, he felt the sweat leak down his face. It was dark and cold in the dimly light office, but Malfoy was burning hot with embarrassment. "I d-don't understand."

"There's nothing to understand," Ashby said, rushed, "it's quite simple. You are all powerful. I saw if for myself. I've been testing you this entire time and I've come to the conclusion that you can take this world by storm. Because it couldn't be Harry Potter, like everyone seems to think. No, Potter's power came from some other source-- a deceased source. You, Draco, have a power of your own. It has to be you! It's always had to be you."

Once again Draco's response was rational and unreliable. He shook his head in sheer disbelief and remained still. "Please," he said shakily, "I-- I..." But Malfoy's voice trailed off and he shut his eyes yet again. Only then, however, Ashby seemed to truly get the hint. He strode forwards once again, though this time he was slightly more unjust. With his hands out in front of him, he reached Malfoy's nearer side and bent down low.

Ashby's voice was careful and modest. In an earnest and caring tone he said, "oh, get up. Make yourself comfortable." At once Malfoy turned to pick himself up, in hopes of trying to please Ashby. What he managed to accomplish, however, was to bring himself to a sitting position, where he stared at the dark room with evident horror. Even in the blackness he looked an absolute mess. A dried trail of drool ran down the corner of his jaw and ended at the brim of his white shirt. The glistening wetness in his eyes was in the form of oncoming tears that Ashby could not quite make out. On the ground, Malfoy coughed and then wiped his running nose with the sleeve of his already messy shirt. At that moment he felt more like a child than he had in a long time, and the idea of it scared him. The tenseness in his chest tightened and he struggled with himself relentlessly.

He allowed himself a slight amount of bravery when he said, "you've been hurting me. I know you have," and then pulled his eyes away from Ashby's, as if staring at the man would bring him more pain. But Ashby didn't take Draco's accusation too harshly. Another beaming smile broke over Ashby's face and he pulled himself even closer to the miserable blond boy.

"Ah, yes," he said truthfully, "sorry about that. It's nothing personal," he added, "it's just the effects of the spells I've been using. You'll be using them too, soon. They're very powerful spells, but I wouldn't worry about it if I were you, I have no doubt that they will come quite easily to you." As Ashby continued to speak, the hefty excitement in his voice was unmistakable. His eyes glistened with every word and he seemed to close in on Malfoy. The throbbing ache that flowed through Malfoy's entire body was undeniable and he sniffed with a groggy moan. "Everything I did here was in your best interest, you know. Even showing Potter an altered memory of yours." At this, Malfoy's head snapped and he felt his chest involuntarily sink.

Malfoy's voice was a little whiny, but he didn't seem to mind his complaining tone. Miserably, his shoulders dropped and he said immaturely, "that was you?"

"Yes," Ashby continued, "but with good reason. Turning the others against you gave you motivation. Animosity is when committing a homicide, Draco, makes the business a whole lot easier-- not that it won't get easy over time. Of course, as I'm informed, you and Weasley seem to have gotten off on a little bit of a smooth start. But that's alright, I'll deal with Weasley; I know how much you want Mr. Potter to yourself." At this, Ashby gave the blond boy a little wink and a cold chill went up Malfoy's spine. Butterflies flew inside his stomach and he prayed for a way out, something to do, but nothing brilliant came to him. In fact, he remained sitting very still, his mouth open and his eyes wide. The rhythm that repeated in Malfoy's mind was nothing but the song of utter disbelief. "What do you say, Mr. Malfoy?" Ashby said finally and he thrust out a large, lumbering, and strong hand.

Draco's eyes found Mort, who stood under the Imperious Curse as a statue. He wondered what had happened to the others that had denied this man and then at once tried to push the thoughts out of his buzzing mind. He was trapped and scared and all the while he stared gaping at Ahsby's steady palm. A single tear made its escape from Malfoy's watering eye and it slid down his cheek, but Ashby remained waiting. Everything whirled by him at once and the room seemed to spin, though he was sure the illness wasn't being caused by Ashby this time, but it was only due to his own fretting anxiety.

And maybe it was because he didn't want to loose control, didn't want to loose himself, that he managed to straighten his posture on the ground; Ashby noted this and let his smile broaden. The grown anticipation showed in the man's twinkling visage. "What do you say, Draco?" Ashby said again, with more thrill than ever before.

Draco, however, didn't say a word. Fear gripped him relentlessly. Silently he lifted his hand and then thrust it in to the open palm of Ashby's. In the darkness, the therapist's smile shone like a pumpkin in the outlandish night.

Vonne: Review!!! I can't wait to hear from you. Hopefully I'll have chapter twenty six updated fast, so please submit all your reviews or questions. I will be sure to address them all. Thanks so much, guys! You have no idea how much I love hearing from you. You all just make my day! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I really enjoyed writing it.

Again, ask away, it's not an issue! Thank you all so much!