Author's Note

Please forgive any spelling and/or grammar errors. I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what you think!

PS I'm not J. K. Rowling, so I don't own anything :(

Ch 9: Incentives… How Wonderful

Draco,

Remus is making me study for my O.W.L.s all of Christmas break. Can you believe it? I won't even have Hermione to help me. Gin said she's not coming to the Burrow for Christmas this year for some reason or another. At least I'll be able to sit my exams. Dumbledore arranged everything for me. Apparently, I'm just another student who was pulled from Hogwarts when all the trouble started. He stopped by the other day to explain. He made it sound like there were a number of parents that had opted for homeschooling this year.

Will you be heading home for Christmas? You haven't said…

Yours,

Lily

Draco smiled absently, grateful her dream of becoming a Healer wasn't entirely out of reach. He imagined she'd been fretting over it until Dumbledore stepped in. Of course she still had to go about living her life, and figuring out a way to do it, so naturally that would involve sitting her exams. She'd informed him months ago that her being in the past was a permanent thing. A fact that greatly relieved him.

Her casual, and easy mention of the Headmaster startled him though. Part of him couldn't believe she wasn't angry with the old man for meddling about in her mind.

He'd finally brought himself around to asking her if he was going to try again, after his botched attempt with the necklace. Lily had admitted that she had no idea because Dumbledore had erased her memory. Shocked might have been an understatement for how he'd felt upon learning that. Though it made sense given the fact she'd had to ask after his role with the necklace. And he had to admit that he didn't mind knowing this made things much safer for her.

Lily,

Granger is probably trying to avoid Weasley, seeing as he always has his tongue shoved down Lavender Brown's throat these days. Surprised no one thought to tell you about it yet.

Students have been getting pulled left and right. I'd say about fifteen so far, maybe more. It's strange. Unsettling even. I may hate this place, but to see it coming apart like this...

My presence was requested at the Manor, so yes, I'll be heading home. Let the celebrations begin…

Yours,

Draco

Her reply came the day before he was set to return on the Hogwarts Express. He'd just finished classes, and was dreading returning. His home would be crawling with Death Eaters, and Draco was positive he'd have to endure threats and unnecessary reminders of what failure would entail.

Draco,

Lavender? When did that happen? I can't picture my uncle with anyone besides Hermione. Not that I can really picture them much at all, but that's hardly the point!

If things get too bad, you are always welcome at the Burrow. I promise. I've mentioned a few things to Remus - please don't be mad - Tonks too. They're very interested in helping you. All you have to do is ask.

Please stay safe.

Yours,

Lily

She made the idea of asking for help sound so easy. As though it weren't the scariest, most daunting prospect he'd ever faced. Would they really believe him if he did ask for help? Draco hadn't given them much reason to trust that he was anything aside from a loyal follower.

Draco walked all the way to the stone gargoyles outside the Headmaster's office, staring at them as he debated asking for help.

And if they did believe him, could they really protect both him and his mother? Karkaroff hadn't escaped the Dark Lord's wrath and vengeance for his desertion. If the Drumstrang Headmaster couldn't, what hope did Draco and his mother have?

None. It was that simple.

With that, he turned to head back to the dungeons, and found himself coming face-to-face with Filch.

"What are you doing boy?" the caretaker demanded, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Nothing!" Draco huffed defensively, annoyed that everyone always automatically assumed he was up to something.

"Likely story," Filch rasped, catching Draco roughly by the ear.

"Ow! Hey, let go of me," he insisted, trying to bat the old man off of him. Bugger! The man's grip was shockingly strong. "That hurts - ow!"

"Let's just see what Professor Snape makes of this," Filch threatened, dragging him down the hall. Draco was not in the mood to face his head of house right then - not when he didn't know if he could trust the man or not.

Music and the sound of laughter and talking could be heard as they approached. It sounded like a party. What - oh, right. The Slug Club. The little group he'd been deliberately excluded from.

Inspiration struck, and Draco quickly said, "I just wanted to go to the party, but I don't have an invitation, so I was heading back to my dorm."

"Right. Bet you were trying to crash," Filch muttered, dragging Draco before his Head of House. "You students are always trying to sneak around where you're not wanted or supposed to be. Caught him lurking, Sir," Filch announced to Snape.

Draco hardly heard a word Snape said as he dragged Draco away from the party and interrogated him, offering help and questioning what he was planning. All of Draco's energy was devoted to blocking the man from delving into his mind and discovering his relationship with Lily Potter.

For months, Draco had been teaching himself Occlumency. Determined that he would be able to protect Lily's existence from the Dark Lord. Everyone said Snape was the second most accomplished Legilimens alive. Even better than Dumbledore.

This was a test - whether he was ready or not. But perhaps this was a blessing. If he succeeded in blocking Snape, he'd be able to shut out the Dark Lord.

By the time Snape let him go, Draco felt confident in his abilities. At least Lily would be safe. If nothing else.

Draco had barely stepped foot inside the place that should have felt like a sanctuary and had, before it'd been invaded, when he was called before the Dark Lord. With no small amount of trepidation, Draco made his way into the drawing room, feeling like a prisoner within his own home. He hated it. More than words could express.

"Why have there been no further attempts?" the Dark Lord demanded without preamble.

Draco swallowed, truthfully answering, "I can't get close to him. He's never around anymore." There were long stretches of days when the Headmaster wasn't seen at all. More and more meals passed without the old man gracing the Head table. Rumors abounded that he wasn't even at the castle during those times. Instead of protecting the remaining students, he was off gallivanting around Britain.

"Perhaps you are lacking proper motivation. An incentive may be required, yes?" the Dark Lord said conversationally.

"No. That's not -" Draco began, tempted to fall to his knees and beg, for all the good he knew it would do him.

"Greyback? Bring her in," the Dark Lord said lightly, almost amused by Draco's desperate pleas. Was he truly so without pity or compassion? Was this whom his father idolized and wished to emulate?

Greyback's hands roved over his mother's resisting frame, and Draco felt vomit work its way up his throat at the sight of her being manhandled in such an undignified manner. It was revolting.

Draco made to go to her, intending to intervene, to put a stop to the proceedings, but he was frozen where he stood, unable to move a muscle. Helpless. Impotent.

When the filthy werewolf licked his mother's staining throat, Draco begged, "Stop! Stop, please."

He knew it was useless, but he needed to try anyway. Greyback just chuckled, bending to bite her shoulder as his claws raked over her side, drawing blood for both places. His mother's agonized screams filled the room, mingling with his own protests.

The sight of Greyback lifting his hand to his mouth, his sickly wet tongue darting out to lick the blood from his twisted talons was too much for Draco. "I know what to do!" he shouted, an idea coming to him in his desperation.

"Oh?" the Dark Lord prompted, waving a hand to indicate Greyback should halt momentarily.

"I can't get anything in - it's all checked, but the professors can," Draco said hurriedly, rattling off his explanation, and hoping the Dark Lord would find it satisfactory. "And liquids in bottles aren't checked. I heard it mentioned recently."

"I will not risk Severus losing his position," the Dark Lord said warningly, peering at Draco with a slightly disappointed expression, as though he'd expected better from him and was only just realizing his time had been wasted. "I need him should you fail."

"Not him. Slughorn," Draco said in a rush, speaking before the Dark Lord could give Greyback permission to harm his mother further. "Poisoned mead for him to give to Dumbledore for Christmas," Draco gasped, scanning the Dark Lord's face for any hint of approval.

"Creative. And should Slughorn be accused… Well, it was his mistake to turn his back on us," the Dark Lord finished, nodding slowly. It was the closest thing to praise he'd ever received from the serpentine man.

"Yes," Draco agreed, feeling a twinge of guilt for making Slughorn an unwitting accomplice - even if he did detest the man.

"I knew you just needed a little prodding. See that it's done by the end of the day. Slughorn is regularly visiting Hogsmeade. That should make it easy for you," the Dark Lord said casually, proving that he was always aware of his enemies' movements. A warning in and of itself not to dare cross him. "Greyback, go with him. See that he does it."

The plan was enacted with little fanfare. One of the best bottles of mead was brought up from the Malfoy's cellar, and Draco added a draft of poison that the Dark Lord provided personally. After that, Draco returned to the Three Broomsticks and once again cast an Imperius Curse on Madam Rosmerta, instructing her to handle the details with Slughorn.

It was all rather simple. Disgustingly so. Even if it was still a feeble attempt. And as he watched his mother's wounds refuse to heal, the bane of having been inflicted by a werewolf, he waited for unfortunate news to come of Dumbledore's death.

It never came.

Not on Christmas. Or the day after. Or the one after that.

The Dark Lord was furious to have been thwarted yet again, and his Aunt Bellatrix began raging against werewolves with a visceral so extreme, that Draco knew it didn't bode well for any inflicted with the Lycanthrope Curse. She'd not appreciated her family being tainted, and made sure Draco knew the fault rested squarely on his shoulders.

Lily,

Meet me in the orchard tonight. I need to see you. Alone.

Yours,

Draco

She was waiting outside for him already when he arrived at the Burrow, and when he saw she was wearing the necklace he gave her, his heart beat faster.

Without preamble, she launched herself at him, throwing her arms around him, and burying her face in his neck. He felt her lips press a soft kiss to his pounding pulse, and for a second, Draco forgot how to breath.

"Lily," he breathed, amazed by how perfectly her petite form fit in his embrace.

"Draco," she replied, amusement dancing in her voice.

When he kissed her, it was even better than the first time. Her flowery scent surrounded him, filling him with peace and so many hopeful, happy emotions that he felt ready to float away, lighter and freer than he'd felt in months.

She was so soft and pliant in his arms, her vibrant red hair even longer than it had been before, cascading all the way done to swirl about her hips. Draco was struck with the thought that she appeared to be a fairy sprite, with her elfin features and flawless, porcelain skin. Perfection didn't begin to describe her.

His words at the start-of-term, 'I've seen better,' were more true than he'd realized. There wasn't another witch at Hogwarts better-looking. Of course, he may have been biased.

"What's happened?" she asked, touching his face gently as she frowned. Was he so easy to read? Or was she just so adept at it already?

"He hurt my mother. I had to try again," he admitted, averting his eyes. He couldn't bear to see the censure written on her face in reaction to his words. Somehow, it felt as though he'd betrayed her. Maybe he just knew he'd let her down.

"Draco…" she breathed, a wealth of emotion surrounding his name, so many layers he was reminded unexpectedly of an onion.

She hugged him suddenly, holding him tightly, and he clung to her, a life raft in the middle of the ocean, no land or salvation in sight. Only her. He pulled her closer, determined not to let go. Draco had no wish to drown.

"Your mum?"

"Greyback hurt her. He…" he broke off, choking on a sob. It was lodged painfully in his throat.

"Oh, Draco," she murmured, holding him tighter, and he let her, accepting the comfort she offered.

"It didn't work. We'd have heard something by now if it had," he confessed, filtering the words through her hair, inhaling the scent of amber and jasmine while he could. The memory would have to be enough to sustain him in the coming months.

"Did he figure out what you'd done?" she asked uncertainly, trying to keep her tone light rather than accusatory. Not that he deserved the consideration. He appreciated it nonetheless.

"Must have," Draco muttered, wondering how he'd been lucky enough to earn the reprieve. It seemed too good to be true.

"Will your mother be punished again?" Lily asked quietly, a tremor in her voice at the idea of such a thing happening. The evidence of her fear made his eyes close, a vane attempting to wrest the notion away.

"I don't know. So far she hasn't been," Draco said hesitantly. He didn't know why the Dark Lord hadn't. The suspense of waiting to see only made things that much worse. But then, perhaps that was his plan.

"What will you do now?" she asked, running her fingers gently through his hair. The action caused his scalp to tingle pleasantly.

"How much did you tell Lupin?" he asked cautiously, not actually intending to go to the werewolf, especially after what Greyback had done to his mother, but wanting to have all of the information possible regarding his options.

"Only that I'd been in contact with you. He found one of your letters," she admitted, biting her lip as she tentatively met his sharp gaze.

"And?" he demanded, eager to learn what the wolf had made of their association.

"That he'd do what he could for you, should you ever want his help," Lily said, reiterating what she'd already told him.

She looked so hopeful right then, that Draco hated to disappoint her. But going for help wasn't an option. Not for him. That conclusion had already been cemented in his mind. The mixture nearly dry to the point it'd crack if he dared deviate from his set path.

Besides, Draco found it hard to believe that the wolf hadn't had more of a reaction than that. He'd not cared much for Draco that year he'd taught at Hogwarts. Probably out of loyalty because of Draco's very public rivalry with Potter. And now, here he was carrying on with who amounted to being the werewolf's grandcub. In all likelihood, Lily had had to do some fancy talking to bring the older man around - not to mention convincing him to keep the knowledge to himself.

"What about her…" Draco asked suspiciously, remembering his cousin on the train. What did she think of everything?

"Tonks? She's happy that you're trying to change," Lily said lightly, a smile flirting with the edges of her soft, pink lips. The sight captured Draco's attention. Suddenly, there was nothing in the world he wanted more than to taste her again. "How badly was your mum injured?"

"I don't want to talk about it. Can I just kiss you instead?" he asked, completely unabashed at the pleading note dominating his question.

"Yes," Lily agreed easily, eagerly meeting him halfway.

His toes, ears and nose were completely numb by the time they broke apart, and he found he couldn't care less. The taste and feel of Lily's mouth was well worth a bit of discomfort.

"You're not alone, Draco," she reminded him, knowing he'd need to leave soon or they'd risk discovery. Already they'd pushed it far more than was wise. The words struck a chord in him.

"Can I trust Snape? He keeps trying to help me, and - what? Why are you smiling like that?" he demanded, watching the way her eyes lit with delight at his question.

"My brother is named after him. Albus Severus Potter," Lily said easily, tossing out a crumb of the future with reckless ease.

It was no wonder the Headmaster took most of her memories. She'd have inadvertently destroyed herself if he hadn't. The girl really needed someone to look after her. Her life and upbringing had obviously not prepared her for the secrecy and intrigue necessary to navigate this time of war.

Then her words registered. Albus Severus Potter. No. It wasn't possible...

"You're kidding," he stated flatly, feeling his jaw loosen as he studied her. He expected her to laugh and say, 'Got you!' at any moment. Except, she didn't.

"No. I'm rather not, actually. I'll let you decide what that means," she said vaguely, displaying at last a touch of caution on the subject.

"I can't believe…"

"Who did you think taught me to excel at potions?" she added with a coy smile.

He'd have never guessed…

That put a whole new spin on things.

"Another failure, Draco? How disappointing," the Dark Lord said, sighing loudly. It was rather overdone and drawn out, but then, that was the point.

Draco said nothing. He simply waited, knowing what was about to occur.

"Crucio," the Dark Lord hissed, aiming his wand directly at Draco.

The pain was sudden, fierce, excruciating. Every muscle in his body seized and twitched, his knees slammed brutally into the marble floor of his family's drawing room. The sound of them cracking loudly was the last thing he heard before the sound of his screams filled the room.

Every muscle spasmed as his legs gave out, unable to support his upright body for more than a second after the curse began. He hardly even noticed the pain of colliding with the solid, stone floor. Everywhere else hurt worse. It lasted for hours, years even, though in reality it was likely actually only a few seconds.

"How have you fared in devising a means to get my loyal followers into the castle?" the Dark Lord questioned, sneering over his supine form.

Draco panted, trying to make sense of the question, to decipher meaning through the red haze of lingering pain that surrounded him. Impatience flashed through the narrowed slits of the Dark Lord's red eyes, and Draco forced his mouth to work. Sluggishly, his lips shaped the letters, heaving the words, "The vanishing cabinet. It's a way in through Borgin and Burke's. I've been trying to repair it."

That wasn't exactly true. He'd thought of it last summer when the Dark Lord mentioned wanting a way in, but he'd not actually tried to fix the broken cabinet. Guess now he'd have to find a way to do it. Quickly too.

"When do you expect your work to be completed?"

"Soon," Draco gasped, his tongue thick and swollen from having bitten it when his 'Master' cursed him. The tang of salt and copper was thick in his mouth, blood pooling and filling it nastily.

"Let's go ahead and plan to have it ready by May. Is that soon enough for you?" he asked coldly. Draco wasn't foolish enough to believe he really had a choice.

"Y-yes, Sir," he agreed, swallowing a whimper when his arm twitched feebly, electricity seeming to linger in his veins, zapping him painfully from the inside out.

"Draco…make it a priority, would you?"

"Yes," he bit out, failing to mask his outrage at the unfairness of the situation.

The Dark Lord's eyes widened at his tone, but he merely smiled. An expression so chilling that Draco instinctively shrank back from it, cowed once more. "No more failures. I will not tolerate another, so this will be your final chance. Incentive, since I know how well you respond… Crucio."

The pain lasted much, much longer this time.

I don't normally beg for reviews, but I stayed up most of last night to finish this, and the next chapter in each of my other fics since today is my birthday (my present to anyone reading). If you feel up to taking a moment to let me know what you think, I'd consider it the greatest birthday present ever! Thanks :)