Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I own a pool or air conditioning, so the heat wave that has come over upstate NY is most uncool, no pun intended.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm awfully sorry I didn't reply to some reviewers, but that was when the website was experiencing some difficulties, so for everyone out there who didn't get a reply that wanted one: Thank you for reviewing! I love you all! Oh yeah, and because my beta is on vacation (have fun Ada!), all mistakes that are made are mine, and hopefully there aren't that many of them, but I apologize if there are.

WARNING: Draco uses a bad word in this chapter, however, because it's only one, and because you can use one f-word in a pg-13 movie, I'm not changing the rating. If it offends you, don't read. Although I am not one for swearing, and I never do swear, sometimes situations just call for it, you know what I mean?

Meirta: Yeah, I just couldn't see Draco still liking Lucius if his father had killed Lukas, besides, I'm trying to make Lucius somewhat understandable. I'm glad you liked the twist
Dbi626: There will indeed be a sequel coming, and there will be more information about that in the epilogue, which will be posted shortly
Chicklepea: The sequel is coming, and I started getting ideas for it while on chapter 5 of this story, so it will hopefully be good
Lilith: Yup, this story is coming to a close (just the epilogue left), but there is a sequel!
Kely5: I'm glad you liked the chapters, and sorry this one was kind of a long wait
Beccaboo991: Happy Birthday! And I'm glad you liked the chapters. (Do you feel older?)
R2D2: Thank you very much (preens slightly in front of laptop)
Andi: Thanks! I'm glad that you like the story
QuinkyDink: lol, it's probably a bad thing that it took so long to update, summer has come and I am being a procrastinator, I mean I feel guilty that it took so long, but at the same time, not guilty enough to actually motivate myself

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Draco did not see Bill again until the end of the school year. The professor had just been released from the infirmary when representatives from the Ministry arrived. It turned out that Claire Jameson had been one of the Death Eaters captured during Bill's 'miraculous' escape and so Bill was called in to testify against her in one of the largest court cases of the decade.

McGonagall took to teaching Ancient Runes, which became one of Draco's most hated subjects in the few weeks before school let out. He began hanging out at Hagrid's more often, under the pretense of having to train Orion more, even though the thestral was very quick to learn whatever Draco taught him.

Draco missed talking to Bill, and having a friendly face on the faculty, but in a way he was also glad for it. It gave him time to think.

He had disobeyed his rules in trusting Bill, but nothing bad had happened. If anything, he was better off now that he didn't follow his code when he could have wiped Bill's memory. He could have merely taken out rule number seventeen and kept the rest of the code because they actually had been helpful, but he kept thinking about what Bill had said about the idea of a personal code, and had come to his own realizations.

The code, while useful in some situations, couldn't account for all of the possible circumstances Draco might find himself in. While a few guiding rules (or morals, as Bill would say) would be necessary, a code would only limit his options. He couldn't respond the same way to every situation, sometimes there would be exceptions to make, and he couldn't do that while following the rules. So Draco had put his journal away. He didn't really know what to do with it.

He also had other things to worry about, like the Dark Mark. The school was in an uproar during the days while Bill was in the hospital, partly because the debate, from what Draco had gathered, turned out to be little more than a way to insult people in public, and because of the fact that yet another Death Eater was working in Hogwarts. Because both teachers had been assigned by the Ministry, most of the parents were enraged and calling down curses – literally – on Fudge's head. Several mothers were arrested for threatening the Minister, but they were released later that day once Rita Skeeter got a hold of the story.

But, once the initial shock wore off, students returned to their studies with renewed vigor and exams came with much dread and sweat.

Draco passed his exams easily, though from looking at his study habits and his scores, he would appear to have been a hard working student who received better-than-average grades, but nothing spectacular. He knew he would receive straight E's yet again by owl over the summer, the only question was, where would he be? If he refused the Dark Mark, he would have to leave, but where and how?

The last day of school dawned bright and clear. Students would be leaving Saturday morning at ten, and still Bill didn't show up. Draco found that he would really like to see the professor before going home. He had received an owl earlier that week saying that Lucius himself would be picking him up at the station, which would be a first, and later that night Draco would attend the initiation.

Draco went to his classes, but didn't really pay attention to anything the teachers were saying, not that anyone was, and then wandered outside once the last school day was finished. It was hard to believe school was over already, but at the same time, so hard to believe that he had gotten on the train only nine months ago. So many things had happened, so many things had changed. Hell, he had changed, and he hadn't known that was possible.

He knew he should feel terrified about having to take the Dark Mark, or having to deny it, but he was oddly detached and calm about it. He still had no clue what he was going to do, but he wasn't worried. If he wasn't Draco Malfoy, he would have said he felt peaceful, at rest with himself, but the idea of Draco Malfoy being peaceful was preposterous.

Just to prove to himself how preposterous it was, he went into the library to find something extremely difficult to read to challenge himself. He ended up with the Portkey book Claire had been looking at and began to skim it over. It actually looked interesting, so he disengaged the property marker in the spine, put it in his bag, and walked out with it. He would return it the next year.

Down in the Slytherin rooms, most everyone was packing up. It only took two flicks from Draco's wand, and all of his belongings were shoved neatly away in his trunk, and once again, he had nothing to do.

He caught sight of his journal lying on top of his clothes and had half a mind to take it outside and burn it, but somehow it just didn't seem fitting, so he merely shoved it in his school bag along with his books to read on the train ride home and went to visit Buckbeak for the last time and say his good-byes.

He got up early Saturday with a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. Today was the day. He pulled on some clothes and was out the door by the time the other boys were beginning to stir for breakfast, taking his school bag with him with hopes to read more in the portkey book in a quiet nook somewhere to calm his nerves. He wandered the castle, inevitably winding up by the Ancient Runes classroom. He had expected it to be empty, but there was someone inside.

He pushed open the door to see Bill Weasley cleaning out his desk. and he looked up when Draco entered and shut the door behind him.

"Heya, Draco," he said, grinning widely.

"Hello," said Draco, looking Bill over critically. The teacher looked much better than the last time Draco had seen him, much more at ease, and it was impossible to tell that a few weeks before he had been tortured by a madman.

"Sorry I haven't been around," said Bill, taking a break from emptying his desk. "I was going to grab you after breakfast to say hello, but you found me first."

"Don't you mean good-bye?" asked Draco, letting his bag drop to the floor and perching on a desk. "How was the trial?"

Bill made a face. "I hate lawyers," he said

"I used to want to be a lawyer," Draco mused.

"You'd be good at it," said Bill. "Loud, obnoxious, think they know it all."

"But that's why I'd make a good one," said Draco, "I do know it all."

Bill laughed, and sat on a nearby desk. "I don't suppose you've come up with any inspirational insights on the Persian Runes than, have you, Mr. I-do-know-it-all?"

Draco shook his head. "Lend me a few scrolls and give me a few months and maybe," he said.

"It's a deal," said Bill. He jumped off his desk and began searching around his boxes before pulling out a few notebooks and handing them to Draco. "I thought you might want to keep working on the runes so I made these for you. They have everything we've done so far on the runes plus all the references to keep you going for a while."

Draco took the notebooks with a smile of anticipation. "Thanks," he said, opening his bag to put them in and spotting his journal that he had shoved in there. "I have something for you as well," he said, pulling out the small leather-bound book and handing it to Bill.

"What is it?" asked Bill.

Draco shrugged. "You seemed convinced that my code idea was wrong and I realized that you had a point." He watched Bill open the journal and skim over the rules. "So I figured, since you were responsible for changing my view, you could have it."

It was a rather sentimental gesture and the first of any kind Draco had ever made and he felt slightly awkward afterwards, but Bill looked as if he were holding the staff of Merlin.

"Thank you," said Bill, looking up at him with his sincere hazel eyes.

Merlin, Draco would actually miss Bill and his sincerity, his caring, and he knew, that if he got the Dark Mark, he would never see Bill again. He wouldn't let himself see Bill again because, if he did get the Dark Mark, he might have to kill him. That thought was sobering and he could feel that tightening of his throat he hated so much.

He walked abruptly to the window, facing away from Bill because he couldn't quite get control of his facial muscles. He should have remembered how observant Bill was.

"What's wrong?" asked Bill, coming to stand behind him, but far enough away to give him space.

"Nothing," said Draco, his voice coming out slightly strained.

"Bull," said Bill. "You can't lie to me anymore."

Draco sighed, resting his head on the cool glass. "Did you know I've been scheduled to get the Dark Mark since the year began?"

He could hear a sharp intake of breath behind him and he managed to smirk.

"Didn't know you were befriending such a dangerous person, did you?"

"You're not getting it, are you?" asked Bill.

Draco shrugged.

"How can you even consider it?" asked Bill.

"Not like I really get a choice," said Draco, feeling much more calm about it now that someone else was worked up.

"You don't have to go Draco," said Bill. "I'll help, the Order will help and…I suppose you've already thought this through."

Draco turned at that, smirking slightly at Bill. "You keep forgetting I'm a genius, don't you?"

"Just because you're a genius doesn't mean you know best," Bill returned gently.

"True," Draco allowed.

Bill studied him for a moment. "There are circumstances, aren't there?" he asked. "Things that are making you stay."

"There are."

"You don't know what you are going to do."

It was a simple statement, but one that summed up everything.

"Life isn't supposed to be this complicated," said Draco reflectively.

"I suppose it depends on how complex your mind can actually see things," said Bill.

"Interesting theory," said Draco.

"When are you…scheduled?" asked Bill.

"Tonight," said Draco.

"Tonight?" asked Bill. "As in, today?"

Draco felt his lips twitch. "That's the one."

"You, but, I mean…," Bill trailed off, or more like cut himself off before he started babbling. He tried again. "That's a shock, not to mention rather, uh, soon."

"Yeah," said Draco quietly.

Outside in the halls they could hear students running down to get to breakfast before the carriages left to take them to the train station.

"I think that's my cue," said Draco, picking up his bag. "It's been nice, Bill." He held out his hand to shake, but Bill pulled him into a hug. Draco stiffened at first, an involuntary action, but then he relaxed and returned the embrace awkwardly.

Bill pulled back, still holding onto his shoulders, and looking him in the eyes. "You be careful, alright?"

"Sure," said Draco.

"And no matter what happens, and I mean no matter what, you can always come if you need help, got that?"

Draco smiled. "Thanks."

"No problem, and happy early birthday."

Draco grinned at that and walked out the door, leaving the Professor staring after him with a concerned look in his eyes.

The train ride was relatively uneventful, unlike other ones in the past with run-ins with the Golden Trio. Blaise did stop by his compartment to say hi accompanied by his Gryffindor friends, but Draco just wasn't up to being spiteful, and they seemed to sense that something serious was happening because they didn't say anything either.

They reached the station in the late afternoon and Draco changed out of his school robes into the black pants and trousers. He glanced out the window when they finally pulled in and saw that Lucius was indeed there to pick him up, gathering looks of disgust from some of the parents, but as usual, he was completely unaffected, and his cold, cold gaze was enough to make the most lethal of glares turn away from the intimidation. Not Draco though.

Just last summer he had felt unease and apprehension when he was the object of his father's stare, but now, he felt no anxiety, no slight tinge of fear. He knew why. He had grown this last year; he was his own man and Lucius had no power over him. So when he stepped off of the train, dragging his trunk behind him, and Lucius' steely eyes turned to him, he felt nothing.

He felt like laughing in elation, though the impulse was easily stifled. He was careful to keep his expression guarded as well so Lucius wouldn't know anything had happened. His father knew anyway. With one look into the grey eyes that were so similar to his own, Lucius knew that his son was different. He was stronger, independent, mature. And Draco knew that Lucius knew.

"Come," said Lucius. "We're eating out today, at the Zodiac."

Draco raised an eyebrow. The Zodiac was the most expensive, most stylish restaurant in Diagon Alley. He handed his trunk to the house elf who had accompanied Lucius, and the elf and trunk disappeared with a pop! and did not return.

The trip to Diagon Alley was made in silence, in fact Lucius said nothing to him until they reached the restaurant and were shown to their table which was set off slightly from the rest.

"How was school?" Lucius asked, idly looking over the menu.

"Tolerable," said Draco.

"I hear that you did not take part in the debate," said Lucius, again idly, but Draco knew that it was a specific question that he had better answer right.

"The debate was nothing more than two hours of public insults," he said. "You have raised me better than to take part in such displays."

Flattery will get you most anywhere, though Lucius still studied him carefully.

"You need a haircut," he said finally.

Draco brushed his hair out of his eyes and figured he probably did. His hair almost hit his shoulders.

"I trust your grades are acceptable?" asked Lucius, drawing his gaze back to his menu.

"Mostly E's," said Draco, feeling a fleeting sense of deja vu.

Lucius must have felt it as well because he glanced up, his eyes narrowed. Draco wondered if for a split second he figured it out, but the grey eyes turned back to the paper he was holding. Once the food was served however, he turned his attention back onto Draco.

"Our lord is looking forward to seeing you again later tonight," he said. "Others will be there as well to enter into his service."

"Who else?" asked Draco.

"Nott's boy, Crabbe and Goyle of course, and a few others from Durmstrang."

"Pansy?" asked Draco, trying to sound casual.

"No," said Lucius. "She is apparently going into politics, though she will be at the ceremony."

Draco smiled at that; Pansy was a clever girl. The Dark Lord never marked those who would be going into the Ministry as it was too obvious; however Lucius would never let him get away with eluding his duties to the Dark Lord like that.

"You'll be seventeen tomorrow."

"Yes, father," said Draco.

"That means the money in your personal vaults will be yours at midnight."

Draco nodded.

"Then we will have to go down to the offices tomorrow so you can learn what we are doing there, and of course, stop by Gringotts and put you in as an adult heir instead of a minor."

Not if I'm gone, thought Draco, but he nodded again.

"Is there anything specific you wish to do tomorrow?" asked Lucius suddenly.

Draco looked up at that, his brows furrowing.

"You are, of course, turning seventeen, so I decided to take off of work if you wished to go anywhere."

"Go anywhere," repeated Draco, not quite comprehending.

Lucius shifted so minutely Draco almost didn't catch it.

"I realize that I have been absent for most of your birthdays," he said, "but since I haven't seen you much for these past two years and because it is a rather large milestone to turn seventeen I thought we should do something. We could take a trip to France or across the Mediterranean if you wish."

"I would like that," said Draco, feeling a spear of pain in his chest. The one time Lucius would be there for his birthday, and he had no clue where he would be. His father had simply come too late. "I would like that a lot."

They didn't speak much for the rest of the meal, and then they Floo-ed home, Lucius telling Draco to be ready by dark, which, since it was early summer, would be somewhere around nine o' clock.

Draco went straight to his wing of the manor, entering his huge bedroom and finding that the house-elves had unpacked his belongings. He flopped onto his bed, glancing at the bedside table which held a picture in a silver frame. It was of him when he was five and he was clinging onto Lukas' back. He remembered that day fondly. It was the middle of summer and they had gone on a picnic. Lukas was running with him on his back, pretending to be a 'horsey' and had a passerby take their picture. They were both smiling and waving at the camera and the Muggle had no idea that the camera he was holding took moving pictures, and so he had thought it was strange that they kept moving for the shot, but he had been good-natured about the whole thing. It was the only photo Draco had of Lukas.

Draco rolled onto his back and stared up at his ceiling. It was relatively simple what he had to do, at least, the idea was relatively simple. He needed to remain Mark-free until midnight to gain the 25 million galleons he had in his personal vaults and then he needed to get away. The complications were that no one could know that he wasn't going to take the Mark, or Lucius would cut him off.

He supposed he could find some way of keeping Voldemort talking until past midnight, but then he needed to get away, and fast. Apparating was out of the question, since the wards would be up, so that left a Portkey.

He sat up suddenly, his mind lighting on an idea that was ridiculously straightforward. He didn't need to wait past midnight, he just needed to guarantee that Lucius, and preferably the rest of the Death Eaters, couldn't leave past midnight.

Of course, setting up a ward that would keep a hundred or so Death Eaters in one place would be absolutely ludicrous. First of all, even Draco doubted he could have one last as long as he needed to, secondly, he would have to do it completely unobtrusively, which would be impossible. However, pulling down the wards at Hogwarts was impossible as well, but Stevick had still managed to cause havoc by merely manipulating the wards. Draco would have to do the same. He sprang off the bed, running to his wardrobe and pulling open the hidden drawer. He had Dark Magic books in here, ones that should tell him how to manipulate wards that were being cast, and then he would need a portkey, a rather complex portkey, but he had stolen that library book, so he should find what he needed in there.

Draco risked a glance at the clock. It was seven o' clock; he had two hours.

As it turns out, he didn't even need the full two hours. The Portkey had been easy to make, which was a pleasant surprise. As for the wards, well the tricky part would not be putting them up, because he theoretically would not be setting them up, but merely manipulating them. The trick was changing them so the caster did not notice. Of course, after that was the fact that he could only maintain the wards for so long when he wasn't inside of the field, so he would have to stay as long as possible to keep the Death Eaters in one place. That way, Lucius couldn't contact anyone to nullify his personal vaults.

He walked down the hall into his own private study. He had converted the back of the room into a potions lab and he had quite a few ingredients on hand. The difficulty to this would be timing.

He left the room and quietly made his way across the mansion to his mother's room and opened the door, spotting his mother lounging on her chaise with half a dozen wine glasses around her. She was drunk, and most likely high as well. It was better this way.

"Mother," he said, coming into the room.

Narcissa Malfoy rolled her head in his direction, the sapphire eyes focusing somewhere to the left of him. It was astounding how beautiful she was even when completely wasted. Her hair was still gold, her cheeks still rosy, her eyes as bright as ever, and her lips cherry red. She looked like an angel.

It was said that Draco looked exactly like his father, but Draco had his mother's long fingers, the tendency to be on the skinny side, and the bewitching, captivating smile that was capable of ensnaring even the most hardened of hearts. Of course, Draco rarely smiled, so no one made the connection.

It was that smile that Narcissa turned in his direction.

"Michael?" she asked, seduction practically dripping from her voice. "Is that you?"

"No, it's me, Mother," said Draco. "I came to say good-bye."

"Who?" asked his mother, one hand drifting in the air in a lazy attempt to dismiss him. "Go away; I don't want anything."

Draco sighed, not knowing why he had even bothered. He had time to spare and it had seemed like something he should do, after all, he may not ever see her again, but right now, he thought that never seeing her again might be best for the both of them.

He went back to his room, putting the Portkey in his pocket and pulling on black robes. He took both his unregistered wand (the one that he had used to make the Portkey) and his real wand in his pocket and surveyed the room. This was it.

The clock in his study was just sounding out nine chimes when he poured water into three small glass vials and then put in powdered dragon scale. He corked the potions tightly and put the vials in his pocket as well and then ran downstairs to meet his father in the Great Hall.

His father was waiting for him and wordlessly held out his hand, the white mask already on his face. Draco suppressed a shiver at the blank white stare but took the proffered hand and Lucius Apparated.

Draco was used to Side-Along Apparation, but that didn't mean he liked it. They appeared in a ragged, overgrown lawn in front of a large white house, the Riddle House.

Death Eaters had already gathered, though Voldemort was yet to arrive. Draco could count maybe twenty of the masked followers and two others who were like him, bare-faced. New recruits. Lucius dropped his hand and went off to converse with a large shape and a curvy one Draco knew to be Nott, Sr. and Bellatrix. He took the opportunity to steal away slightly from the group and slipped the vials from his pocket onto the grass below, spreading them out slightly.

Once done, he casually walked back to the group as if he had just been meandering aimlessly and joined Nott, the sixth year, and the other boy. More Death Eaters arrived in the space of ten minutes and by quarter after, all had assembled. Draco waited anxiously for Voldemort, knowing that the vials would go off soon, and Voldemort needed to be there.

Another minute past and Draco was practically holding his breath when the Dark Lord appeared with a crack, almost invisible in his black cloak, though his pasty face and red eyes glowed unnaturally.

"Greetings my loyal servants," he hissed grandly, though he was interrupted by a pop! as if someone had just Apparated, but no one appeared. The Death Eaters all started, looking around nervously. Water and powdered dragon scale, when mixed together, create a gaseous build-up. The gases had expanded within the vials until the corks were forced off with a sharp noise. Another pop! sounded right afterwards and then another. Voldemort whipped out his wand, pulling up anti-Apparation wards.

This was the moment. Draco to advantage of the distracted gazes and mutterings to cast his own spells on the wards, muttering quietly and using the unregistered wand. Voldemort was too worried about Aurors to notice the fact that the wards were changing.

"Adfectio solidus. Adfectio compingo."

He kept up the chant for as long as Voldemort set up the wards, breathing a sigh of relief when Voldemort finished and he remained undiscovered, that is, he was relieved until he came into full understanding of what he had done. He had just locked himself in with a group of Death Eaters. He had half a notion to leave right then, screw the 25 million, and portkey away and run straight to Bill, but it was 25 million. He couldn't walk away from that.

"Everyone unmask so we can find the spies!" Voldemort was screaming, but very few people moved to comply.

"Milord," said Nott, "the initiates have yet to swear fidelity."

"Not a problem," Bellatrix growled, grabbing the nearest recruit and throwing him to his knees. She conjured a black cloth and tied it around the recruit's eyes. "Don't move," she ordered.

Immediately Draco and the rest of the bare-faced members were forced over to the blindfolded young man, who was sweating and trembling visibly, and shoved to their knees as well while blindfolds were tied tight around their heads, plunging them into complete blackness. The night became that much darker, and that much more frightening.

He could hear noises around him. Orders given from Voldemort and crucio and a scream following when the order wasn't obeyed fast enough. He could hear the ragged breathing of the other recruits and the pleas of the rest of the Death Eaters. Who wanted that for a life?

He had no idea how long the search lasted, but finally Voldemort was satisfied. He tried to think back to see if he could judge how much time had passed, but suddenly there was motion near him and he jerked slightly as a piece of silk brushed his cheek. Sweet Merlin, that was Voldemort's cloak. He tensed, trying to sense the motion, resisting the urge to rip off the blindfold.

"Do not cover your faces, my servants," Voldemort commanded his Death Eaters. "They will remain this way while the pledges are given individually."

Draco heard a recruit behind him gasp and stumble to his feet as something light dropped to the ground. He reached back to feel a blindfold on the ground. So, that recruit was to be the first initiate.

"Tell me, my servant," hissed Voldemort. "What is your name?"

"O-own Myserie, s-sir," came the trembling voice.

"What do you see when you look across my followers?"

There was silence while Owen tried to format a response. "D-death Eaters?" came the reply.

"Crucio!"

There was a scream and the sound of a body falling. The curse ended and Owen was left gasping.

"Tell me, Owen," said Voldemort, "what would you do if I asked you to murder?"

"Murder?" asked Owen, his brain still not catching up with the question.

"Crucio!"

Another scream.

"What if I asked you to kill your family?"

There was a pause, obviously too long of one.

"Crucio!"

A sob now.

"What if I asked you to kill yourself?"

"Wh-what?"

Wrong answer. Another curse and pleading now.

"I demand obedience Owen," said Voldemort. "Always remember that."

And then there was a searing hiss, the smell of burning flesh, and more screaming.

"Rise, Owen, as a faithful servant to your lord."

Draco could make out unsteady footsteps as Owen Myserie joined the ranks and then another recruit was taken.

"What is your name?"

"Theodore Nott."

"What do you see, Theodore, when you look across my followers?"

"My future," said Nott firmly, with only a slight waver of fear in his voice. From the absence of a curse, he had answered correctly.

"What would you do if I asked you to murder?"

"I would do it, milord."

"If I asked you to kill your family?"

"I would do it, milord."

"If I asked you to kill yourself?"

"I- I would do it, milord."

"Crucio!"

Body falling. Piercing scream then gasps then nothing.

"I demand complete devotion. No hesitation."

The searing hiss and burning flesh, though the scream was half-bitten back, and Nott Jr. joined the ranks. Another recruit was taken.

"Tell me, my servant, what is your name?"

"Dienda Maynor."

"What do you see when you look across my followers?"

"My future."

"Crucio!"

A scream.

"That was what Theodore Nott saw. What do you see?"

And so it continued. Some recruits managed to get away with only one crucio, others failed every question, but Draco knew that his time was coming any minute, but every time he was passed over and the fear in his stomach only increased. Finally, he felt footsteps behind him and the blindfold was removed his face and he was pulled to his feet, blinking in the dim light.

He was the last recruit to be taken, and he could tell from the height of the moon that it was still too soon to leave the wards. He had to stall for time, for as much time as he could manage.

He was turned around to face the crowd and found himself staring eye-to-eye with the Dark Lord. Voldemort pulled back, studying him intently, and then slowly began to circle him.

"Tell me, my servant, what is your name?"

Draco tried not to fall into the temptation of following the Dark Lord with his eyes and stared straight ahead.

"Milord already knows my name," he said calmly, though he was fighting to keep from trembling.

He could hear Voldemort stop behind him, and dead silence fell over the gathered Death Eaters.

"What makes you say that?" asked Voldemort, still behind him.

"Milord knows all," said Draco, putting a tone of reverence in his voice.

"True," said Voldemort. "Very true. Now tell me your name."

"Draco Malfoy, milord."

"And Draco, what do you see when you look across my followers?"

Draco paused slightly. "Power, milord."

"Power in numbers, do you mean?"

"No," said Draco, hearing the shocked silence growing, if that was possible, and seeing the faces of the Death Eaters staring up at him.

"Explain," said Voldemort.

"You and your followers are outnumbered drastically, and if the rest of the country were to rise up they would surely defeat you, but they do not. They are afraid and weak. You have created an army and given them your cause. You have empowered your servants and they do your bidding."

Voldemort was silent and then Draco could hear him take a step so he was directly behind him. The hot, putrid breath washed over his neck as Voldemort spoke.

"You have seen correctly. I have made these men strong. Without me, they fall and are weak."

Voldemort pulled back and walked in front of him, regarding him severely.

"What would you do if I told you to murder?"

"I would ask milord how many he wished dead," said Draco.

Voldemort chuckled slightly. "And if I asked you to kill your family?"

Draco was silent for a moment. There was no way he could kill his father, and although he could lie about it, he had a feeling Voldemort was smart enough to pick up on the falsehood.

"I would ask milord to do it for me," he said, keeping his tone even.

Voldemort's eyes narrowed. "And why is this?"

"The only reason you would wish my family dead is if they betrayed you," said Draco. "And who am I to take your revenge?"

Voldemort's red eyes gleamed slightly. "And if I asked you to kill yourself?"

"I would ask you how you wished me to die."

Voldemort regarded him silently, and Draco kept his eyes focused straight ahead and not into the red ones, but even so, he could feel the faintest brushes of Legilimency but his shields were already in place.

"I sense pride in you, young Malfoy," said Voldemort finally. "There is no place for two lords. Crucio!"

Fire. That was what he felt. White hot burning flames tearing over his skin and through his body. He tried to bite back the scream, clenching his teeth together so that the cry was half-strangled. He wasn't even aware that he had fallen to the ground until the curse ended and he found himself gulping in air while staring at the grass.

"Rise, Draco."

He struggled to his feet, only to see Voldemort's wand pointed at him again.

"Crucio!"

He fell back, again biting off the scream as the fire returned, blotting out everything else in existence and this time it was held on longer.

"Rise, Draco," commanded Voldemort, once he took off the spell.

Draco could still feel the curse, could still feel the fire running up and down his limbs, but he forced himself to stand.

"Crucio!"

This time the scream didn't even make it past his lips before his mouth was shut, smothering the cry as he desperately tried to get away from the pain. He was shaking when the curse was lifted, shaking and sweating, but Voldemort was commanding him to rise again. He was momentarily confused when the red eyes rested on him with no malice as he stood on unsteady feet, but he suddenly understood when Voldemort raised his wand again.

This time when the curse was cast, he threw himself forward, catching himself on his hands and knees even as his jaw locked, preventing him from screaming, so that he was not face down before the Dark Lord. He was as risen as he could be under the strain of the curse; Voldemort was testing him. The curse was lifted almost immediately and Voldemort knelt beside him as he gasped in air, trembling so hard he felt he would collapse at any moment.

"No tears," said Voldemort in wonder, tipping his chin up and looking into his eyes. The spider-like white fingers brushed at his face tenderly and it was all Draco could do not to gag. "There is no room for two lords, Draco, but every lord must have an heir."

Voldemort was grabbing him then and pulling him up. Draco swayed slightly, once he was on his feet, but a few deep breaths helped steady him.

"Well, young Malfoy?" asked Voldemort. "What do you have to say to your lord at the honor of being chosen as my heir?"

Draco's eyes slid to the gathered Death Eaters, all looking up at him with awed expressions on their face and then he looked up at the moon. He turned back to the Dark Lord.

"Just this," he said. "Fuck you."

He registered the shock in Voldemort's face right before he plunged his hand into his pocket. His fingers touched the cool metal of the picture frame from his bedside table and then there was a jerk from behind his navel and he was gone.

He appeared in Hogsmeade, stumbling slightly because he wasn't exactly in the best of shape but managing to catch himself. He Apparated, appearing on a quiet street and walking over to the house on the left. He had to pick the lock and then avoid a few rather clever wards but he managed to get in and then lit the candles in the house. The clock said it was eleven thirty which meant that the Death Eaters would get out of the wards in about forty five minutes.

He rummaged around the desk in the study and pulled out a sheet of parchment, a bottle of ink, and a quill. He took the things to the kitchen table so he could watch the clock as he wrote.

It was twelve-ten when he heard the front door opening, and he frowned. His calculations had been off. He went back to writing the letter, not minding the owner of the house who appeared in the hall with a wand pointed at him.

"Hello, Professor," said Draco, finally looking up.

Severus Snape lowered his wand. "Why am I not surprised to see you here?"

Draco shrugged, then wondered why Snape didn't seem more shocked to have him at home. He vaguely wondered if Snape knew that Draco knew he was a spy. Snape went to a pantry and pulled out two glasses and a bottle of firewhiskey. He poured a good two inches in each tumbler and then handed one to Draco, taking a seat at the other end of the table.

"It was an impressive stunt you pulled," he said.

Draco took a few rather large swallows of the firewhiskey, knowing that the alcohol would help his muscles loosen and recover from the Cruciatuses he had received. He then signed the letter and folded it up.

"I would like you to give this to Bill Weasley at your next Order meeting," said Draco, sliding the letter over.

Snape nodded, making no move to take the parchment. An owl tapped on the window and Snape got up to open it and took the letter, reading the address and then handing it to Draco.

Draco quickly opened it, reading the inside information with a slight smirk.

To Mr. Draco L. Malfoy,
This is a notification from the Gringotts back informing you that the money held in the joint accounts of Mr. Lucius Malfoy and yourself have been moved into private vaults for your own personal use. Please stop by the bank at your earliest convenience so that funds and trusts can be discussed.
Sincerely,
Grimley Hordans, Bank President

He stood up, draining the remaining whiskey in the glass and setting it down on the table.

"Well, good bye, Professor," he said, pocketing the bank letter.

Snape walked him to the door and Draco left, but turned back to the Potions Master.

"I would like it if you kept what happened at the meeting between you and me," he said.

"Of course," said Snape. "I was a little afraid you would take his offer for a minute there."

Draco frowned slightly. "Why didn't you ever say anything to me?" he asked. "About not taking the Mark?"

"I figured that if you were smart enough to get straight E's every year, you were smart enough to figure out that the Dark Lord is not the way to go," said Severus.

Draco started, but Severus merely gave a thin-lipped smile and shut the door. Draco shook his head at that, then Apparated away.

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Bill couldn't concentrate on anything for the rest of the day. It was a miracle that he even managed to get all packed up he was so distracted. His mind kept drifting to a certain blond kid and a red-eyed man and his stomach would clench, giving him a faintly nauseas feeling.

He took the Floo back to the Burrow, then headed over to Grimmauld Place where the Weasley family would be staying for awhile.

His distraction was noted during dinnertime when he merely pushed his food around his plate and kept glancing at the clock.

"Are you okay, Bill?" asked his mother, getting a concerned look in her eyes. Ever since he had escaped from Voldemort she had been particularly protective of him.

"I'm fine," he said, giving her a reassuring smile. "I just have a headache."

A few of the Order members arrived later that night as they were to have a meeting early tomorrow morning due to the fact that Severus informed Dumbledore that afternoon that there was to be an initiation in the Death Eaters. Bill, of course, already knew about it.

He didn't sleep at all that night and he got up before anyone else and started the coffee. Gradually the other members woke up, and a few more arrived, and then Snape was there and the meeting was started.

"Six new recruits," said Severus without preamble. "Theodore Nott, Crabbe and Goyle, Owen Myserie, Diendra Maynor, and Pieter Jordans."

Not Draco, thought Bill, he didn't say Draco. He was relieved and, at the same time, even more worried. Did that mean something went wrong? Was Draco hurt?

He stared at the Potions Master, wanting to know more, but Draco's name was never even mentioned. The meeting was over in a few minutes as no one wanted to dwell on dark things when summer had just started. Bill stood with the rest as the members began saying good-bye, or grabbing one last piece of toast or cup of coffee before heading back to their home.

"Bill," said Severus, coming up to him and nodding. "How are you today?"

"Good," said Bill, knowing that Severus would know what had happened to Draco. "By any chance, was Draco Malfoy at the meeting last night?" He kept his voice low to keep from anyone over hearing. That would only lead to some difficult questions.

"He was," said Severus, looking at him a little curiously. "But he left early and caused quite a commotion."

"So he's alright," said Bill.

Severus paused for a moment, as if trying to figure out what exactly he should say. He finally gave up and pulled a letter out of his pocket, handing it over to Bill.

"He asked me to give that to you," he said.

"What does it say?" asked Bill, wanting to know right then what had happened.

"I don't read Ancient Runes," said Severus, "so I wouldn't know."

Bill unfolded the letter and smiled at the hieroglyphics across the page. "Might take me a while to translate this," he remarked.

"Not quite as smart as Draco, then?" asked Severus, prying slightly.

Bill looked up at that, wondering how the Professor had known. "Not even close," he said truthfully. "When did you-?" he let the question hang.

"The end of third year," said Snape. "Straight E's three times in a row? Not a common occurrence. Good-day, Bill."

"See you Severus," said Bill. He watched the spy leave and then went straight to his room, pulling out his green book with his notes on the Syrian dialect and pulling out parchment, ink and quill to translate the message. It took him half an hour and he sat back and read the translation.

Bill,
No doubt you didn't sleep at all last night, with you and your Gryffindor tendencies to worry far too much for your own good, but you can relax. I'm completely tattoo-less, but you already figured I would say 'no', didn't you? And just so that you won't continue fretting, I'm fine, and that's the truth, although by 12:30 this morning I'll probably be disinherited and on my way to being disowned, which has never happened to a Malfoy before, but then again, a Malfoy has never befriended a Weasley either, so I guess I'm just all full of firsts. Before you get the urge to try to contact me and offer me your unwavering support and any help I may need, I should warn you that I'm leaving the country for a while. By the time you get this letter, I'll be on my way and I will be fully untraceable, so don't bother even trying. However, since I know it will make you feel better, I'll write every week to let you know I'm still alive and send you the progress I'll be making on the runes. And Bill, don't worry too hard – I am a genius.
Draco

p.s. Thanks.

Bill smiled at the letter, chuckling slightly at the derisive tone that was apparent even in the written words. He folded the letter and translation up and shoved it in the bottom of his trunk where he kept the small leather bound journal, then went downstairs to join the rest of his family.

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Well, one more chapter! And information on the sequel will be posted then. Please review!