This chapter has been reviewed and edited by the lovely MyPrivateInsanity! They will actually be going back through my previous chapters as well, to freshen up some punctuation and grammar errors. No plot changes will be made. Have a lovely day!

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Draco had hardly slept in the days that had passed since the battle at Hogwarts. He only ate when forced to; the Dark Lord, among a handful of Death Eaters, dined with the Malfoys for each meal. The Manor was overrun with Death Eaters every second of the day. Some came and went; some seemed to bask in the luxury the Manor provided.

Draco was constantly summoned to the Dark Lord's side; he feared the Dark Lord was attempting to train him to be Bellatrix's right-hand man. So far, he had avoided directly torturing any of the hostages that were brought into his home, but having to watch as Bellatrix or Greyback did their worst was just as nauseating.

He could not bring himself to message Hermione. He would hardly let himself think about her for fear of being caught by anyone who could perform Legilimency. At night, however, he let his mind wander as he practiced his walls over and over. Would she still be able to forgive him? Would she still want him? He was worried she wouldn't be able to look past all the despair he was unfortunately a part of. As the days stretched longer, and more time passed, he was more afraid of sending a message; surely, she would ignore him.

By the time a week had passed, he knew she would be worried. He knew the train herding the students from Hogwarts back home was due to depart the next day, Saturday. Through the murmurs of Death Eaters, he heard that today was Dumbledore's funeral; then the students were to be shuffled home. There had been talk of a possible attack on the Hogwarts Express which had made Draco's heart clench. Luckily, though, the Dark Lord had shot that idea down, as he apparently had other plans.

After dinner on Friday night, the Dark Lord asked Draco to stay behind. Draco instantly began strengthening his inner walls and placed a detached look upon his pale face. Once all the others, including his parents, had left the dining hall, Draco turned toward his master, but kept his eyes downcast.

"My Lord?"

"Yes, young Malfoy," His Master began. "I have not had you participate in the revels that have been held here at the Manor in the past week. However, I feel that now is time you take part. I expect to see…enthusiasm at the next gathering."

Draco felt his heart sink but nodded his acquiescence. The Dark Lord waved a hand and Draco exited the dining hall at a quick pace. He maintained composure in the common areas of the Manor, but by the time he made it to his room, he was shaking. He ran to his bathroom and vomited into the toilet. Once he was finished, Draco leaned against the wall, his head hanging between his knees as he attempted to control his breathing.

He knew he had to stay sane, and stay strong; he had to hold out hope that Potter could end this war… Draco hoped that whatever Dumbledore had been teaching Potter was enough and that he was able to convey everything he needed to before he died. Thinking of Dumbledore caused another bout of retching and when he was finished, he dragged himself to the shower to rinse away the sweat on his body.

The more he worried about participating in revels, the more he thought about Hermione, and what she would think of him in the aftermath of the war, if they made it through. He knew he should contact her; she had to be worried sick. But what could he even say? They had been naïve; they had duped themselves into believing they could remain normal in the end. This would never turn out how they anticipated.

The next morning, Draco rolled out of bed and stood, stretching. As he glanced around his room, he noticed his black robes and Death Eater mask laid over his desk. A quick glance at the clock told him it was only nine in the morning, and he hoped he wouldn't have to participate in any type of revels this early in the day.

He had donned his Death Eater robes but carried his mask in his hand as he entered the dining room for breakfast. A quick glance showed him that only his father and the Dark Lord presided over the table.

"Draco, sit." Lucius barked at him.

"Young Malfoy, as I had told you last night, you are to participate in a mission today. I expect proficient results as this will not only show your loyalty to me; it will also prove your loyalty to your family."

Draco kept his eyes on the table, but every hair on his body stood at attention. His father spoke next.

"Today, my son, we will be rescuing your mother and avenging the wrong that was done by the Order when they kidnapped her in the first place."

Draco's head shot up, silver eyes locking onto his fathers identical orbs. "You've found her, then?"

"Indeed. It appears the Order has a highly unreliable member. A small amount of pressing and…Mundungus simply cracked. He is still in the cellar if you would like to inflict any of your own pain for the theft of Malfoy kin."

Draco swallowed hard. Mundungus has sold out a safehouse of the Order… Draco resolved himself to tell Hermione. Today. He must finally contact her, if only to warn of the breach to protect Hermione and his own mother. He looked from his father to the Dark Lord and nodded.

"When do we leave?"

The Dark Lord gave a ghost of a smile. "In an hour. First, I want to see what you make of the swine in the cellar. Wormtail!" he called the last.

Peter Pettigrew appeared from behind a panel in the wall at our Master's command. "Wormtail, please escort young Malfoy to the cellar. He wishes to visit our guest."

Wormtail nodded jerkily and motioned for Draco to follow him as the former scurried quickly along the thin corridor hidden behind the wall paneling.

Draco followed Wormtail through the secret passage, around bends and down narrow stairwells until finally they arrived in the dimly lit cellars beneath the Manor kitchens. Draco nodded at Wormtail as the unwashed man pointed his silvery hand toward an equally unwashed lump on the floor in the corner.

As Wormtail disappeared, Draco stalked closer to the lump, pondering how to proceed. Once he was sure his escort had truly gone, he lifted his watch to his sight, staring down at the face of it as he gathered his thoughts. He held his breath as he sent his short missive. Once he was sure the message had transferred successfully, he resumed his approach toward the wizard that had so easily sold out the Order. Not only had this wizard sold out the Order, but he had endangered Draco's mother as well.

If his father and the Dark Lord found her… Narcissa would not be safe. She was not as practiced at Occlumency as Draco. He debated on what route to take with the man before him as he twirled his wand in his fingers. He had already come to the conclusion that he could not be a murderer, even when under threat of death… but now, it wasn't just himself, nor just his mother. Hermione was a new variable in the equation. What would he do to save her?

He raised his wand slowly, making up his mind, his mouth forming the spell he needed…