With so many of them apparating together, the arrival was messy. Fleeing from an attack, they appeared in the room with the long table, stumbling, and falling unceremoniously over one another, out of breath after the chase, flushed and sweaty. Bellatrix looked thoroughly exhilarated and Wormtail looked disgustingly pleased with himself, especially when he noticed the terrified Draco beside Snape.

Voldemort sat alone at the head of the long table, in his throne-like chair.

'Where is the beautiful family he was meeting with...? Draco wondered, looking about him, dazed and confused, by many things.

'It is done, my Lord!' Bellatrix cried joyously. 'It is done!'

'It is done, by Severus's hand.' Wormtail added.

Voldemort nodded. He had not yet noticed Draco as the death eaters were still something of a disordered rabble. Snape stepped forward.

'That is so, my Lord.' He confirmed. 'Dumbledore is dead.'

There was a cheer from the crowd.

'Killed by one of your many devoted followers, my Lord.' Bellatrix said with a smarmy, sickly smile.

'Not by the one who had the first chance to do it, though, my Lord.' Wormtail added. 'One who caught him off guard, and had him defenceless for some time before Severus arrived.'

'What are you talking about, Wormtail?' Barked Voldemort, displeased by Wormtail's cryptic ramblings.

Wormtail stood back and grabbed Draco, thrusting him forward.

'Draco!' Said Wormtail triumphantly. 'Draco had Dumbledore at his mercy, stood before him, wand drawn! But he would not harm the old man, my Lord. Such is his lack of devotion to you!'

On setting eyes on Draco, and hearing this news, Voldemort leap to his feet and rushed forward, grabbing Draco's arm, his eyes a blaze with anger.

'Leave!' He commanded the death eaters. 'Leave, and celebrate the victory however you will.'

They looked a little taken a back, except Bellatrix and Wormtail, who exchanged devious smiles, imagining how Draco would be tortured after they left.

'Go! Leave us!' Voldemort roared, and his followers obeyed with haste.

The room empty he turned to Draco. His ferocious red eyes and his ragged breathing betrayed his rage. Draco could only once recall seeing him look so angry, the night he had first taken him from the manor. Draco was very frightened, and knew he had good reason to be. He had failed the Dark Lord, just like his father had done. He would be punished for his failure. He was punishing himself already. 'You don't deserve his attentions any more, you never did! You have no right to be with him if you can't do what is required of you. You deserve any punishment you get!'

'What the HELL were you doing!?' Voldemort shouted, grabbing hold of Draco's shoulders and shaking him so hard that he couldn't possibly have answered, even if he had known what to say.

'What the fuck possessed you to confront Dumbledore?' Voldemort shook with anger and fear at the very thought. The only wizard he had ever feared, in conflict with the only one he had ever cared about, he struggled to breath as he imagined what could have happened. Draco was not supposed to have even been there!

Draco could not speak. Somehow all the trauma of the night so far hit him all at once. He opened him mouth to try to give a response but no sound came. His eyes wide with fright, he stared at Voldemort. Voldemort was so angry, but Draco was confused, more so than ever... It didn't seem like Voldemort was angry that he hadn't killed Dumbledore...

Exasperated by Draco's silence, Voldemort raised his hand and struck Draco across the face. He struck him hard and the only reason Draco remained standing was because Voldemort still had hold of one of his shoulders. Draco would have screamed in pain, but he couldn't make any sound.

'I told you to keep safe!' Voldemort shouted at him. 'After Potter injured you, I told you to keep safe. You PROMISED you would! You disobeyed me!'

He struck Draco again, this time knocking him to the floor. Draco was in so much pain now, he could hardly think straight. He felt dizzy and sick. He could hear Voldemort's words, but was unable to answer him, as he couldn't form a sentence or order his thoughts.

He scrabbled on the floor and tried to stand up. He looked up at Voldemort who towered above him. He had his wand drawn!

'At last.' Draco thought. The pain in his head was so intense that he thought death would at least release him from it. 'I hope it will be quick.' Tears filled his eyes. If he was going to be killed, he wanted it to be by Voldemort.

Voldemort grappled with his anger, with his fears, and with other emotions he was by no means accustomed to. He did not want to do this, but Draco had disobeyed him, he needed to be punished. How else would he learn? If he wasn't punished he might put himself in danger again. He could end up... Voldemort couldn't bear to think of it.

'Crucio!' He shouted, and a jet of green light hit the trembling boy in front of him.

Draco had been hit by the cruciatus curse before, but not like this. Voldemort could cast this spell with a force hither to unknown by Draco. He had never known pain like this. His whole body seemed at once to be on fire, internally, externally. Every millimetre of his skin felt like it was being slashed by razors. Every muscle spasmed, every internal organ convulsed. Blunt spikes drilled into his brain. His whole body felt like it was being ripped apart. Draco had no concept of how long the spell lasted, it seemed to go on and on forever. He writhed on the floor, his voice returned to him and he screamed, sobbed and choked in agony. Then the pain became so great he was hardly able to draw breath and he felt himself begin to suffocate.

The spell was weak by Voldemort's standards. He did not want to cast it, but how else could he make him learn? He felt his spell falter, he could not hold it, it broke his heart to have to punish Draco. Voldemort lowered his wand, gasping for breath himself.

It was a moment or two before Draco regained enough cohesive thought to realise that Voldemort had stopped torturing him, and that he was somehow still alive. He tried to move, he managed to raise his head ever so slightly.

'He could have killed you!' Voldemort cried, choked with emotion. 'Don't you realise? He could have fucking killed you!'

Draco tried to make sense of the words and remember to what they related. Some strength returning, he managed to get to his hands and knees. He glanced at Voldemort. He no longer had his wand drawn.

'I told you to stay safe, you promised you would!' Voldemort shouted at him as he staggered to his feet.

'I'm... sorry...' Draco stammered.

'What happened, what did you do?' Voldemort asked, still shaking with anger and wanting to know exactly how the situation had come about.

'They attacked the school...' Draco answered shakily, recalling events slowly. 'I went to his study and I disarmed him...' Draco's head swam and he scrambled for more memories.

Voldemort reeled in horror. Draco had gone there on purpose! It hadn't been some kind of accidental chance encounter. He had sought him out! Had gone looking for him, deliberately!

'How could you be so stupid!' Voldemort screamed and he lunged at Draco, right hand raised and struck him harder than ever before. He could not recall ever having been so angry and afraid.

At the force of the impact, Draco fell back down, but he fell badly, spinning round as he did. He was aware at first of a great pain where Voldemort had hit him, then of a second as he landed. The throne-like chair on which Draco had caught his head, now obscured him slightly from Voldemort's view as he lay on the floor.

Adrenalin coursing through him, and his heart rate racing, Voldemort tried desperately to calm himself. Draco must have some explanation for this. If he could only stay calm enough to find it out... He looked down at Draco laying on the ground. Draco was not moving.

Draco was not moving. Not at all. Not making any sound, not a sob, or a drawing of breath. Voldemort's heart stopped still. Draco was NOT MOVING.

Suddenly anger disappeared and was replaced by pure cold dread and disbelief. This could not be happening.

Voldemort rushed to Draco's side, Draco was face down on the floor and Voldemort gave a shriek of horror when he saw the pool of blood which was flowing from Draco's head, caused by the impact with the chair.

He flung himself down beside the boy and pulled Draco into his arms. Draco's eyes were closed, he was losing blood rapidly. Voldemort grabbed his wand and uttered a spell to fix the wound, to at least prevent any further blood loss, but was it too late? Healing spells had never been his forte.

His robes were soaked with Draco's blood and he held Draco close in a desperate embrace. His eyes felt like they were burning, his face was wet... He was crying. Voldemort could not remember crying before.

'Oh, God's Draco, please don't be dead!' He sobbed into Draco's hair, kissing him on the head over and over.

'Please wake up, Draco please! I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry my love. Please, please don't die. Please, not like this, I need you, please.' He gasped incoherently, rocking Draco back and forth in his arms. He would not let go of him. If he didn't let go, he could believe that there was a chance that Draco would take a breath... any moment now...

Draco felt as though he was being held underwater. He could not breath in, he could not see and he could not make sense of anything around him. He could not move, could not feel his body. But he could hear a voice, talking to him, pleading with him... It was a voice he recognised, it was someone he wanted to talk to...

He gasped deeply, drawing a frantic breath the way a swimmer does when they surface after a long time under the water. Panic stricken and nearly starved of oxygen, he took deep, violent breaths of air.

Voldemort hardly dared to believe that his prayers would be answered, and he stared in wonder as Draco drew breath. But it was clear that Draco was not yet out of danger, not by a long way.

He tried to remain calm. Stroking Draco's hair back he whispered,

'It's ok, Draco, my darling. It's ok. Stay with me, I will get help.'

Laying in Voldemort's arms, Draco opened his eyes. He was disorientated, as if he had just come out of a deep sleep, but at the same time he felt like he had not slept for months and greatly needed to let go of consciousness for a while. Opening his eyes, he saw Voldemort above him. He was crying.

Draco did not know why Voldemort was crying. He did could not recall why he was in such pain, why he was on the floor, where they were... but he knew it was Voldemort who was holding him and he gave a faint smile, which took great effort.

This prompted a deep sob from Voldemort, who held him yet more tightly.

'You'll be ok, honey, just stay with me. I am so sorry, please forgive me Draco!' Voldemort wept.

Then Draco knew he was dying, in his mind he was sure of it. He had thought he was going to die after Harry had hit him with the Septum Sempra spell, but this was different. He was ready for it now. He was with the one person he needed to be with and so somehow it was all ok. He could feel his consciousness slipping away, could feel blankets of mist creeping in and wrapping around him... But there was still something he needed to say.

Summoning every last scrap of his strength his lips parted and he looked up into Voldemort's eyes and managed to whisper softly,

'I love you.'

before his head fell back and his eyes gently fluttered closed.