A/N: Little pieces of what everyone is doing. Wah! The end is so close, I'm trying hard not to skip everything and just go straight to the final battle! Anywho, enjoy, and don't forget to review. More reviews faster I get the chapters out.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters. I only take credit for Amarnta and the Blommarians. I made that up.

WARNINGS: Draco's mild tongue and Peter Pettigrew being his disgusting self.

Obeying With Amaranta

Life in the Malfoy Manor was unpleasant, not to say that it was particularly enjoyable before, but what place would be considered "homey" when it was crawling with Death Eaters and the Dark Lord himself made frequent visits? Never before had Draco's own mansion felt like a death trap.

They still can't take this place away from me, Draco thought as he walked out into the beautifully kept gardens, tugging Amaranta by the wrist. He had managed to rescue her from certain torture and humiliation right under the Death Eaters' noses. With the Dark Lord now controlling her, she's a sitting duck for those hooligans. Even if she's a mindless puppet right now, I don't want her to be taken advantage of.

He looked at the blank face of the girl, almost as if she were bored. I'll protect you, Amaranta.

Finally, he had reached the center of the shrubbery maze in the dead center of the Malfoy gardens. It was nothing compared to the magical maze used for the Triwizard Tournament two years ago (although this one was enchanted to trap everyone, excluding Malfoy blood, from escaping, even from the skies). Here, he could keep Amaranta safe, at least until they ordered his mother or father to find him. They knew of his secret hiding spot, but believed in privacy, so never breached it unless there was an emergency.

In the middle of the maze was a whitewashed, wooden gazebo with dark green rose vines intertwined along its cherry wood beams. A beautiful porcelain fountain of a couple of mermaids, which circled one another, sprayed water in their trails. The two statues watched the two teenagers as they walked into the gazebo and sat down on the old, wooden bench. Because of the mazes enchantment, the gazebo and fountain hadn't been maintained in a long time, because no Malfoy was going to lower themselves to clean anything.

Maybe that was why this had been Amaranta favorite area in all of Malfoy Manor. It was like they entered into their own world, unaffected by time, where they could sit together on the wooden bench, his arms pulling her by the waist so that his entire right side was warm with her body heat, and just forget that there was ever such a thing as a Dark Wizard or a prophecy or a war. Now that he thought about it, this was where he had proposed to Amaranta. He had only been about six or seven then, and didn't fully understand what marriage was, just that he would get to be with Amaranta forever. And if he didn't fully understand it, then Amaranta surely didn't know the term either.

"Hey, Amaranta, do you want to be a bride someday?" Draco had asked her with unabashed curiosity.

"What's a bride?" Amaranta replied seriously.

"A bride is a woman who marries a man," Draco rolled his eyes, even he knew that. "When a man and a woman decide to live together for the rest of their lives, they get married. When that happens, the woman is called a bride, and the man is called a groom!"

"Oh, but I haven't decided to live together with anyone yet."

"Well, why don't you live with me forever?" Young Draco grasped Amaranta's supple fingers in his small hands, his eyes aglow with desire. "We've been together for a long time now, and I like you so I want to be with you forever."

"I like you, too, Draco," a light flush danced across Amaranta's cheeks, but she was very serious. "I would love to live with you forever."

"Then, will you be my bride?"

"Only if you be my groom," Amaranta's mouth widened in a tiny smile. Draco couldn't resist the urge to hug her.

He still couldn't.

However, it would be slightly more enjoyable if she would show a reaction, any reaction. He just couldn't get into the mood with her looking as bored as a two-by-four. He released Amaranta and decided to gaze at the fabulous scenery. Considering how earthy the place was, it was a wonder he never figured out that she was a Blommarian before. Who knows? Maybe this place was influenced by Amaranta's emotions from back then. This would be a good time…

"Amaranta," he said softly, it seemed odd to speak in the quiet, excluding the trickle of water from the fountain. "Move one of these rose bushes with your will."

Because of the Dark Lord's first order to her "Obey all of my Death Eaters," and Narcissa had ordered her to "Obey my son," he had as much power over her as the rest of the inhabitants of his home.

Amaranta made no acknowledgement that she had even heard him, except that her eyes lost their sleepy, inward look, and glared purposefully at the wild rosebushes. Nothing happened.

Draco couldn't help but sigh in disappointment. He hadn't expected anything to happen. But he could always hope.

"Get out NOW!" Voldermort hissed at the closed black door.

"Patience is a virtue," a glucose sweet voice sang from inside the bathroom.

"When have I ever been virtuous?" Voldermort rasped, boiling blood rushing through his face. Even the Dark Lord had to use the bathroom. He had torn apart his soul, not his bladder.

"You can hold it," Dianthe giggled. He could hear her humming some unnamed tune.

Voldermort growled. She was enjoying this. "The deal was that you would observe me, not keep me from using the facility! Salazar, why those stupid Malfoys only have one bathroom in their house, I'll never know!"

"Oh, they had more," Dianthe teased. "I just charmed them all away."

"You filthy, low —" Voldermort couldn't finish his sentence because the door swung open, missing his face by a hair.

"Now that's no way to talk to a lady," Dianthe smiled at him through rosy lips. She was brushing her hair.

"Avada Kedavra!" Voldermort shouted the curse on reflex. He had kept her waiting for an hour and thirty-seven minutes brushing her hair?!

She remained motionless and standing, staring at him boredly. The electric shock of the Unforgivable Curse had caused her hair to rise a bit, like two silk flags on either side of her head. "Ah, phooey, now I'll have to brush my hair again!"

"Brush your hair somewhere else," Voldemort ordered. "I need to use the loo, so get the hell out!"

Dianthe giggled, but walked towards the door anyway. "I didn't know you still had a dick, Tom. I figured it was somewhere with your nose —"

Voldemort had shot the Tongue Tying Jinx at her, and now her lips flopped about sluggishly. She spoke, but it all came out as gibberish. He slammed the door closed in her face, and answered nature's call.

Harry looked out through one of the dusty windows of number twelve Grimmauld Place. Two figures in black cloaks were wandering around suspiciously in the square in front of the house.

"Death Eaters, for sure," Ron muttered. "Reckon they know we're in here?"

"I don't think so," Hermoine said, but she didn't look all too sure. "Or else they'd have sent Snape in after us."

"D'you reckon he's been in here and had his tongue tied by Moody's curse?" Ron asked.

"Yes, otherwise he'd have been able to tell that lot how to get in, wouldn't he? But they're probably watching to see whether we turn up. They know that Harry owns the house, after all."

"How do they know that?" Harry asked.

"Wizarding wills are examined by the Ministry, remember? They'll know Sirius left you this place."

Suddenly, they heard a tap on the front door, then the clicks and grinding of the chain. Everyone seemed to turn into solid stone, as all eyes were focused on the black door. Harry pulled out his wand and moved to the shadows and waited. The door opened and a tall, cloaked figure came in.

"Severus Snape?" Moody's voice asked.

"It was not I who killed you, Albus," said a quiet voice.

The dust-figure exploded again, and the intruder came forward, but the dark cloud left behind made it impossible to see his face. Harry pointed his wand into the middle of it. "Don't move!"

Ron and Hermoine came running down the stairs, and also pointed their wands at the intruder.

"Hold your fire; it's me, Remus!"

"Oh thank goodness," Hermoine lowered her wand, as did Ron.

But Harry did not. "Show yourself!" he commanded.

Lupin moved into the lamplight, hands held up in a gesture of surrender. "I am Remus John Lupin, werewolf, sometimes known as Moony, one of the four creators of the Marauder's Map, married Nymphadora, usually known as Tonks, and I taught you how to produce a Patronus, Harry, which takes the form of a stag."

"Oh, all right," said Harry, lowering his wand. "But I had to check, didn't I?"

"Speaking as your ex-Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, I quite agree. Ron, Hermoine, you shouldn't lower your defenses so easily."

"So what happened after we left the Burrow?" Ron asked anxiously.

"Thanks to Kingsley's warning, most of the wedding guests Disapparated away in time."

"Were they Death Eaters or Ministry people?"

"A mixture, but to all intents and purposes, they're the same thing now. They interrogated who was left for hours. Of course, no one except for the Order knew you were there, Harry. At the same time, Death Eaters were forcing their way into every Order-related house in the country. No deaths," Lupin sighed, "but they were rough, to say the least. The Ministry is on the Death Eaters' side now. They've got the power to perform brutal spells without fear of identification or arrest. They managed to penetrate every defensive spell we cast against them, and once inside, they were completely open about why they'd come."

"And are they bothering to give an excuse for torturing Harry's whereabouts out of people?" Hermoine asked.

"Well," Lupin said quietly and then pulled out a copy of the Daily Prophet. "You'll know sooner or later anyway."

Harry smoothed out the paper. A huge photograph of his own face filled the front page. He read the headline over it:

WANTED FOR QUESTION ABOUT

THE DEATH OF ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

Harry pushed the paper away. He didn't want to read any more of what it said. Hermoine and Ron let out roars of outrage.

"So Death Eaters have taken over the Daily Prophet too?" Hermoine fumed.

Lupin nodded.

"But surely people realize what's going on?"

"The coup has been smooth and virtually silent," said Lupin. "The official version of Scrimgeour's murder is that he resigned; he's been replaced by Pius Thicknesse, who is under the Imperius Curse. Voldemort is playing a very clever game. His puppet, Thicknesse, is taking care of everyday business, leaving Voldemort free to extend his power beyond the Ministry. Naturally, people have deduced what's going on. They whisper. They daren't confide in one another, not knowing who to trust; they are scared to speak out, in case their suspicions are true and their families are targeted. Declaring himself might have evoked rebellion: remaining masked has created confusion, uncertainty, and fear. But that's not all. Look at page two."

Hermoine handled the newspaper, flipping through the pages until she reached said page. She looked at the page with disgust, and read aloud: "Muggle-born Register. The Ministry of Magic is undertaking a survey of so-called 'Muggle-borns,' the better to understand how they came to possess magical secrets.

"Recent research undertaken by the Department of Mysteries reveals that magic can only be passed down from person to person when Wizards reproduce. Where no proven Wizarding ancestry exists, therefore, the so-called Muggle-born is likely to have obtained magical power by theft or force.

"The Ministry is determined to root out such usurpers of magical power, and to this end has issued an invitation to every so-called Muggle-born to present themselves for interview by the newly appointed Muggle-born Registration Commission."

"How are people supposed to have 'stolen' magic?" Ron said. "It's mental. If you could steal magic, there wouldn't be any Squibs, would there?"

"I know," said Lupin. "But unless you can prove that you have at least one close Wizarding relative, you are now deemed to have taken your magical power illegally and must suffer punishment."

"What he's doing right now is no different from Hitler!" Harry growled. Lupin and Ron looked at him quizzically, but Hermoine nodded knowingly. "What's Voldermort planning for Hogwarts?"

"Attendance is now compulsory for every young witch and wizard," he replied. "It's a change because that was never obligatory before. Of course, nearly every witch and wizard in Britain attended Hogwarts, but parents had the choice to either home school their children or send them abroad. This way, Voldemort will have every member of the Wizarding community under his eye from a young age. And it's also another way of weeding out Muggle-borns, because students must be given Blood Status — meaning they have proven to the Ministry that they are of Wizard descent — before they are allowed to attend."

Anger and revolt rose up within Harry. This was horrible — no sickening! He knew that Voldemort and his followers were prejudiced against any not pureblood, but this was the start of another holocaust! Was this guy that positively mental?

Draco Malfoy never left Amaranta's side, except when the Dark Lord asked for her specifically, in which case, he didn't want to go anyway. She always came out perfectly untouched. He found this extremely odd, since he found out that Dianthe was accompanying the Dark Wizard. He found this whole situation completely odd. Both of them had every reason to wish for Amaranta's death, but she remained completely untouched. Dianthe never so much as lifted a finger, just commented, and the Dark Lord simply made Amaranta torture people (not that this was a minor thing, Amaranta would probably go insane once her administered the antidote).

He supposed Snape had something to do with it. This whole thing was his plan anyway, although he did blanch at the sight of Dianthe. She always giggled at him, as if they shared a secret. Maybe Dianthe was a spy? No, she would never work for someone else. After all, she could stay by the Dark Lord's side without being under his command, an impossible feat for anyone else.

And since Amaranta didn't seem to be injured from these secret meetings, he paid them little attention. No, he had more worrying matters than what the Dark Lord did to Amaranta when they were alone, and it was called Peter Pettigrew. The sniveling little man had been watching Amaranta ever since she arrived, and as of late, he hadn't been able to tear his view away from her, except during the dark meetings in which his master was present, lest he deem his desires punishable.

Pettigrew's infatuations with his childhood friend, and soon-to-be lover if they ever made it out of this alive, disgusted him. The man was hardly something to look at. He was about Draco's height, if smaller, his two front teeth were sharp, pointed and were always exposed, he seemed to need to have his elbows bent at every possible moment, so that his hands hung limply against his chest, like a rat's, he was balding slowly, and his hair thinning, his pock-marked face was sallow and fat all at the same time. A truly disgusting creature.

And this creature longed for his woman. He could see the lust in the rat Animagus' eyes. He had caught him leading Amaranta into one of the many rooms in his own manor, and had quickly stolen her away. He had to be very careful about he did things. He couldn't openly oppose Pettigrew, lest it give the other Death Eaters a reason to release their bloodlust on him, or Amaranta. They're excitement at having a new toy to torture was quickly dimming, since they were so busy trying to find Harry Potter. And since Pettigrew was so useless, he was left here.

"Don't obey any of Peter Pettigrew's orders," he had demanded of Amaranta one day.

"I cannot," she said bluntly. "It will contradict my Master's order: 'Obey all of my Death Eaters.'"

"Dammit," he cursed under his breath. "Ok., then, never be alone in a room with Peter Pettigrew."

"As you command," Amaranta bowed her head slightly, but her face remained placid.

He tried to think of any loopholes Pettigrew would use to get past this one. "Never allow Peter Pettigrew to touch you or make contact in anyway," he said after an idea struck him.

"As you command," her robotic voice complied.

Draco frowned. He was going to go insane if Potter didn't show up soon. It wasn't like Amaranta hadn't been like this before, but this time was so much more extreme. Not a single spark of revolt would flash in her eyes, not any look of disgust or hatred. Not even that mischievous look she would have when planning something. There was simply nothing. Her eyes were a void. Two blank orbs sitting in her head, merely tools used for sight. He couldn't stand it anymore. He needed some reaction, some small glimmer of the woman he loved back.

"Amaranta, kiss me," he ordered darkly.

"As you command," her robotic reply came and she took a step forward and placed her lips on his. And that was it.

"That's not a kiss!" he shouted angrily, pushing her away. "That's just merely touching lips! This is a kiss!"

He grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and pulled her to him in a passionate kiss, making it as erotic and enticing as his smooth Malfoy moves could muster. He pulled back studying her for any reaction.

"I apologize," she said, her breathing even, despite his heavy breaths. "Next time, I shall use my tongue."

"No, no! That's not what I meant!" He screamed in frustration. "Never mind! Don't kiss me; you don't seem to be able to do it. Damn potion." He froze when he felt a gaze upon them. He flicked around to find two yellow eyes watching them from the crack in the doorway.

Noticing that he had been found out, Peter Pettigrew stepped out into the open, a crooked smile on his face.

"Pettigrew," Draco spat. "Don't you have anything better to do than stalk a mindless puppet, or does the Dark Lord not deem you worthy enough to give you a mission."

The grotesque man blushed indignantly and his only reply was: "Amaranta, Bind him!"

Before Draco could do anything, ropes jumped out of Amaranta's wand and wrapped around him. He fell against the wall, immobile. Draco growled angrily. Damn Death Eater.

"My father won't take to kindly to you doing this to me," Draco threatened.

"I do not fear your wandless father!" Pettigrew chortled.

"You can't do anything to her, I —"

"I know of the orders you issued her," he turned to look lustfully at the blank-faced girl. "And even if I can't touch her, I can still watch. And we're not exactly alone, either. Amaranta, undress."

The blood rushed to Draco's cheeks. Damn that nasty rat, and damn himself for not seeing this loophole.

"Amaranta, stop what you're doing right now!"

Amaranta, who was halfway through taking off her cloak, looked to see Severus Snape standing in the front door.

"S-Snape!" Peter choked out. "Aren't you supposed to be at Hogwarts?"

"The Dark Lord has asked for my audience, though where I go and why is none of your business," the newly-appointed Headmaster said with contempt. "Amaranta, un-Bind Draco Malfoy. Wormtail, you couldn't get any women in the past, and you still can't get this one, even if she has to obey your commands. Amaranta, you are not to harm or use any offensive magic on Draco Malfoy, is that clear?"

"Yes," Amaranta bowed her head, buttoning her cloak.

"Good, now, Mr. Malfoy, take more precautions in protecting her, and Womrtail, get out of my sight, and I so much as find Draco Malfoy in any harm, well, lets just say the Dark Lord will be short one useless minion."

With a final glare, Snape walked out of the door, his robes billowing behind him. Whenever they got out of this, Draco swore he'd give half his fortune to Snape.