A/N: Hi! Thank you for reading this story. You made it to Chapter 7! I'm so happy! Ily!

So Alive

by Goo Goo Dolls

"I am no man of steel

I have no heart of stone

Don't tell me how it feels

I'll find it on my own."

Chapter 7

"Why did you let her go?" Draco asked.

Silence.

They both stood on the edge of the woods, both staring at the spot where one-third of the Golden Trio, the most wanted Order member, had disappeared. The sun had begun to set, coating the trees and their skin with a brilliant buttery orange hue.

It was a couple of minutes before Theo opened his mouth to form a response. Instead of answering Draco, however, he replied with his own question.

"Why didn't you send a curse to stop her from running?"

Silence.

Draco already knew the answer to Theo's question. He had no plans to capture Granger. She was his solution. The solution to saving his mother from death once the Dark Lord found out she had lied to him. The solution to getting Potter away from them as soon as possible.

Possibly, the only person to find out what was wrong with Potter. Draco thought as he recalled his childhood rival's frail form and how little movements would cause him to take ragged intakes of breath.

Draco had been pondering on ways to get a message to the Order when he was alerted that someone had crossed the station. Theo had presented the idea of creating an alarm system surrounding Hogsmeade to tip them off in case a resistance member planned to get to the school that way. It was unlikely, but the Dark Lord had permitted Theo to act on his idea. Theo and Draco had devised a way to duplicate the essential properties of the Thief's Downfall into a handy little spell that they incorporated into the same type of magic that created the foundation of wards.

He had apparated just a second before Theo. He could not believe his luck when he saw Granger before him. Her eyes were wide with surprise at their sudden. With her wild tumble of brown curls and frightened eyes, she looked like a child.

Her brown eyes fell on his form for a moment. Malfoy shivered. He still remembered those eyes looking up to him when she was being tortured on the floor of his home. Her screams had haunted him for months.

Suddenly, Granger cast a shield charm so powerful it knocked them all off their feet. The strength of their spells blasting off the powerful shield caused the ground beneath them to tremble. His head spinning, Draco pulled himself up.

For a second, Draco had considered using some of the helpful bits of dark magic he had learned from his training session to get to Granger in an instant.

He decided against it. Slytherins were taught to never play all of their cards at once.

While he was chasing her, Draco had found himself thinking about how Granger was the perfect choice. He never cared for the bushy-haired girl and he had insulted her on various occasions, but he had no intention of serving her up to the Dark Lord on a silver platter with an apple in her mouth. Draco was going to make her his messenger. He could treat with the Order through her. With her predictable reliance on reason, facts, and logic, she was his best chance of making them believe that precious Potter was alive. At least, Draco hoped she would be willing to listen to him first. It was more likely that she would curse him beyond repair.

Through the shrubbery, Draco had seen Granger cast an impressive wandless stunning spell. Not impressive as mine, of course, but still impressive.

He had cut through the woods to wait for her on the edge only to catch a glimpse of another Death Eater, who he knew was Theo, let go of his only chance to contact the Order.

Rubbing his eyes, he pulled himself out of his thoughts and frustration to look at his friend. Theo was staring at him, waiting for him to answer his question.

The other Death Eaters crashed through the tree line. Draco ordered them to apparate back to their posts in Hogsmeade. He glanced at Theo. Both of them grimaced at the thought of having to report to their Lord that they had just let Undesirable No. 1 slip past their fingers.

They arrived at the Ministry without ceremony. Appearing before the Dark Lord, however, was another matter.

Draco and Theo entered the throne room deep in the bowels of the Ministry. They walked towards the raised dais in tandem but as they neared the Dark Lord, Theo fell back a step. Draco moved forward. They both knelt and bowed their heads as a customary display of allegiance.

"My Lord."

"Rise."

Livid eyes with slits for pupils stared into Draco's. How many people have stared into those eyes before they were ruthlessly tortured? Mercilessly killed? A hundred? Certainly more than that. A thousand? Draco knew the Dark Lord was partial to him. He was told that they shared similarities in ambition and thirst for knowledge and power. He had hoped to make his father proud when he was younger. His younger self would have preened under the Dark Lord's attention now, to follow his footsteps and lead the crusade to bring pure-bloods back into power. Is that who I am now? Draco thought staring back into the blood-red eyes. Is this my future?

"My Lord, the Undesirable No. 1 was spotted in Hogsmeade." Draco paused. "She evaded capture."

The Dark Lord stood from his morbid throne and descended. The carved faces of the muggles contorted with seemingly agonizing pain.

"How?"

Holding the Dark Lord's gaze. Draco answered without hesitation. "She cast a powerful protego before retreating into the woods. She dueled three of our men at once. Nott and I cut across the woods to block her in case she tries to escape back into Hogsmeade but she did not cross the tree line. Apparition or portkey, most likely." If Theo reacted to the lie, he could not tell.

Draco prepared for an attack against his mental defenses but, thankfully, the Dark Lord chose to not use legilimency on him.

Instead, the Dark Lord proceeded with the cruciatus.

Refusing to fall to his knees out of his sheer will, Draco tightened his jaw and kept his eyes open. This was not the worst torture session he had endured. The only evidence of him being in pain is the sporadic tremble of his arms at his side.

Just when Draco was about to fall to the ground. The Dark Lord stopped.

"Improvement, Young Malfoy." The Dark Lord acknowledged. Draco merely nodded, faint from concealing the pain of the torture curse.

"Young Nott."

Unlike Draco, Theo fell to his knees with a grunt. He kept his head up facing the Dark Lord. Theo also did not scream.

After a few minutes, the Dark Lord returned to his throne. It was raised significantly by the imposing dais from the floor. A physical separation and representation of his power over his follower. Pure-blood wizards may be enjoying the new system, but it was the Dark Lord who ruled over the pure-bloods and the rest of the Wizarding World.

"Both of you have been punished for your failure to apprehend the mudbood." The Dark Lord did not spare a glance to Theo as he addressed him. "Young Nott, you are dismissed."

Theo bowed and moved to leave. His steps echoed within the large room. They were on the deepest floor of the Ministry, none of the busy employees can be heard. The Dark Lord did not speak until the quietness was deafening.

"Young, Malfoy. Do you enjoy our society as it is now?" The Dark Lord asked.

"Yes, My Lord."

"Ah, but are you satisfied with it?" the Dark Lord asked.

Draco let his confusion be known with a slight furrow to his brow.

The Dark Lord's almost bone-white hands toyed with his wand, twirling it between his long spider-like fingers. "Wizarding Britain is limited, Young Malfoy. We are born with great magical abilities, destined for a greater purpose in this world. Yet, our powers and capabilities are being limited. Wizards and witches are forced to hideaway and remain hidden from the rest of the world. Hidden away from muggles." The pale fingers suddenly gripped the wand. "Why do you think that is so?"

"For protection, My Lord," Draco answered. "It was signed to stop the persecution of witches and wizards."

"Yes. It was for protection. It was borne out of the desire to live peacefully with muggles." A pause. "I do not believe in that desire."

The Dark Lord continued, "There is no reason to stop with Wizarding Britain. We have liberated our home from staunch muggle lovers, but this is only the beginning. The death of the Chosen One marks a new era, Young Malfoy. I have a desire to expand our lands. Wizarding lands."

"My Lord." It was all Draco could say. His calm façade did not betray that his insides felt like ice.

"Taking control of the Ministry was just the start. I had not wanted to begin my next plan without ensuring all the members of the resistance are killed, but that is inconsequential now. I prefer them to remain trapped in the prison they had created for themselves. I could easily tear their wards down I wished it, Young Malfoy. However, I find it to my liking that I know their exact location. Eventually, they will run out of supplies. Eventually, they will come out of their hole like the vermin that they are, hungry and dirty and we will be ready for them."

"Once my final object is ready to house my soul, we will conquer the muggle Britain."

Harry was sitting on the bed in Sirius' old bedroom. He had drawn comfort that this was where his Godfather had hidden away from his family in his youth. The red and the gold décor felt like a warm blanket that was both familiar and comforting to Harry.

After being hit by Voldemort's killing curse in the Forbidden Forest, Harry had felt unbearable pain that scorched his body. He knew then that he was wrong. Dumbledore was wrong. A simple killing curse could not destroy a Horcrux. It would only anger that piece of soul and cause it to fight back. He had not told Mrs. Malfoy that he knew what caused his slow death. She had brought a healer who restlessly worked on Harry. He was falling in and out of consciousness for two months before he finally was declared to be in a somewhat stable condition. The healer had told them that the ink-like wisps that decorated his arms and the shadows underneath his eyes were merely the effects of prolonged exposure to whatever dark curse that festered in his body. Harry knew better. He was still a Horcrux and he was in poor health.

Even if he managed to get physically better, his magic had abandoned him.

He had let down those he cared for.

"Potter."

Harry did not realize that he had been staring at his arms, watching thin black strands dance across the surface of his skin. He looked up and saw that Malfoy was standing by the door. Silently asking for permission to enter. Harry pulled down his sleeves.

"Malfoy. Come in."

It had been a few weeks since they had sat down and formed a delicate truce over tea. True to his word, Malfoy had carried around in his person a letter that he was to give to an Order member when the opportunity arises. Harry was grateful but he still could not look past how being a Death Eater suited his former school rival. Gone was the annoying ferret that strutted along the halls of Hogwarts. There was no sight of the boy who was cloaked with privilege and pride, the boy that spoke too much and offered too little. This Malfoy looked like had seen unspeakable horrors and had lived through them. His stride was confident, his eyes were calculating, and he wore his cold hard mask like an armor. With a start, Harry realized that this new Malfoy reminded him of the young Tom Riddle he had encountered in the Chamber of Secrets.

As the pale-blond wizard neared him, Harry noted that beneath the composed and imposing aura, Malfoy looked tired and pained.

"A few months ago he asked me to look into different facets of ancient dark arts for him," Malfoy said as he stood at the end of the bed. Harry did not need to ask who he was referring to. "He asked me about Horcruxes."

Harry took a deep breath. His hand trembled, hidden beneath the feather-down pillows. "He's planning to make more?"

"More?"

Harry's mouth tightened before he replied. Mentally filing away the fact that Voldemort did not tell his Death Eaters that he had split his soul in exchange for immortality. Maybe he did not want his followers to create Horcruxes of their own.

"He split his soul seven times." Eight, although he did not intentionally make the last one.

"Fucking monster," Malfoy whispered.

Harry agreed. "A diary, a ring, a locket, a cup, a diadem, and Nagini. We destroyed the first five."

Malfoy sat down on the chair beside the bed, the one his mother always occupied when she visited. He looked contemplative. "Longbottom hacked the snake's head off with a sword."

"Neville?" The Sword of Gryffindor! Harry felt a surge of pride course through him. He had told Neville to get the snake before he went into the forest.

"There are no more Horcruxes left then?" Malfoy asked.

"No." Yes.

"If he is killed right now, he will stay dead?"

"Yes." No.

"Potter, he's planning to make another one. Something different. He wants to create one that cannot be easily destroyed."

Harry frowned. He had already considered the possibility that Voldermort might make new Horcruxes but he had not realized that he could create a better version of it. He tried to still his trembling hand.

"He's not going to stop, Potter. The Dark Lord is planning to take over muggle Britain." Harry clenched his fist. He watched as his knuckles turned white over the taut skin.

"Potter!" Malfoy snapped. He had stood up with an alarming speed that the chair had toppled over.

Harry looked up at Malfoy, surprised "What?"

"Why aren't you saying anything? The Dark Lord is planning to burn muggle Britain to the ground and raise a new society where he is worshipped and muggles are as good as dead." Malfoy pinched the bridge of his nose. He continued, more calmly this time. "Why don't you want to face them yet?"

"I do!" Harry said indignantly. "I asked Mrs. Malfoy to send out letters to Andromeda in hopes of getting word to them that I'm not dead! I even had to ask you of all people to tell them I'm alive."

Malfoy stared at him. Harry felt uncomfortable under his stare. His hand trembled again, but this time it lay exposed on his lap. Well within the view of Malfoy. The pale-blond wizard's gaze fell to his hand and up to his arm where his sleeves had ridden up. Black streaks were visible against his pallid skin.

"Potter, I saw you come to the rescue of a cowardly Gryffindor when I took away his Remembrall. I know you faced the Dark Lord in a graveyard when were fourteen and lived to tell the tale. I was there when you came to Granger's rescue when she was.." Malfoy trailed off. Harry glanced at him curiously. "Look, what I'm saying is that if you wanted to get to the Order, you would have crawled your way out of here. Even if you had to drag yourself bleeding to the gates of Hogwarts. It how you were built as a Gryffindor."

"I want to defeat Voldemort, Malfoy," Harry said. "I just… I should not have gone to Voldemort to be a bloody martyr. I failed them. I failed them when they needed me. I'm failing them now. They need me there with them and I can barely move without feeling like shit. How can I face them like this?" His throat felt dry from what he admitted to the Slytherin. Most days, he could not even admit it to himself.

He glanced at Malfoy. He was glad that there was no pity in Malfoy's eyes. Only that calculating look.

"I'll find a way to contact the Order." Malfoy finally said.

The green-eyed wizard breathed a sigh of relief.

"On the condition that when you kill that son of a bitch, when all of this is over, you'll grant the Malfoys full pardon for our crimes."

During the weekend, instead of heading to the fighting ring, Draco found himself walking along the muggle entrance of King's Cross station. There have been sightings of muggleborn runaways in this area. It was suspected that they would be picked up at this location by a friend of the Order to be taken to safety. The Dark Lord had ordered them to keep the place under constant watch before but the muggles crowding the place did not appeal to high-ranking Death Eaters and the lackeys had to deal with it. Truth be told, they did not keep a vigilant watch over the area.

Draco wore a black dress shirt and pants in an attempt to blend in. He stood on the corner of the street with his arms crossed in front of him. A group of girls in what looked to be like muggle school uniforms had stood beside Draco and giggled incessantly. He did not spare them a glance. If they knew what he was capable of and the sort of monster he served, they would run away screaming.

Looking up and down the street, Draco could not find anything out of the ordinary. He did not even know what he was looking for. He shook his head.

Draco knew why his mother had helped Potter. Narcissa had answered all his questions the day after he found out she had saved the Boy-Who-Was-Supposed-To-Be-Dead. It was because of hope. Hope for him. In those hurried moments in the Forbidden Forest, Narcissa had decided that it was not too late for her to hope for a better life for her son. That there was still a chance to make things right. So she had lied to the Dark Lord. When Longbottom slashed at the snake, she had concealed Potter's face and levitated him back to the forest for her house-elf to retrieve later. All without ruining her perfectly coiffed hair.

Draco did not blame his mother for taking a risk that could endanger their lives. Draco lost himself in thought as he reflexively rubbed at his left arm. As much as he disliked Potter growing up, and he disliked him immensely, if Potter was their only chance at defeating the Dark Lord. He wanted to help him. What he did not want is to be a killing machine for his master.

In the moldy kitchen of Grimmauld Place, Potter had told him that Draco had a choice. Draco had thought about it long and hard. He was never told he had a choice before. At eleven years old, his father had declared that he should be top of the class, captain of the Quidditch Team, and Head Boy. At sixteen years old, the Dark Lord had branded upon him the Dark Mark.

Only Potter had given him a choice.

He could only hope that he chose wisely.

Realizing that he had been standing in the muggle street for hours, Draco walked away to find an abandoned alley to apparate. He came back the next day and the next. He kept coming back despite reason telling him that it was fruitless.

On the thirteenth day of waiting in King's Cross, Draco was on his way to a dark alley when he was almost hit with a stunning spell. It was only out of pure instinct that he had managed to evade the spell.

The Order!

Quickly, before his attacker could think about escaping, he flicked his wand and sent a cloud of black smoke to the mouth of the alley. It thickened until it blocked their only physical exit.

Now, what is the best way to get them to listen to me?

His opponent disillusioned himself. This person knows advanced magic. Draco raised a brow and did the same.

Both invisible, it was almost as if the alley was empty.

Suddenly, a stunning spell shot from somewhere from his right. Draco twisted and shot a spell of his own. His spell bounced against the garbage bins. It exploded. Wet trash rained on them.

Draco's eye caught pieces of garbage hanging from an invisible body. He sent an incarcerous but it missed.

Draco fired successive stinging hexes.

To his surprise, a dark curse was sent his way. He blocked it easily.

"My. That some harsh magic for a member of the light side." Draco taunted.

Tired of playing games, Draco easily sent his opponent flying to the wall with a sweep of his hand. The body fell to the ground with a thud.

He approached the prone body. He placed his wand in a holster. Kneeling down, Draco tugged on the cloak that concealed his opponent's face. Greasy black hair was revealed. Pushing the body over, Draco looked into the unconscious face of his dead Godfather.

Severus Snape,

What the fuck. Is everyone I thought dead, alive?

Upon seeing Severus, Draco had let surprise take over and his guard down. Unexpectedly, dark eyes flashed open. Severus lifted a hand that still gripped his wand hit Draco in the chest with a spell.

Draco fought to stay conscious. Before letting the darkness take him, he saw Severus's face beginning to morph.

Draco only had one thought in his mind.

Why is it always dark alleyways?

"Rennervate."

Draco's eyes flashed open. He was in and dark room with no windows. The only source of light was a floating blue flame above his head. Illuminating his face. He looked down and saw that he was sitting on a wooden chair. Draco's hands and body were tightly bound by thick rope. He pulled against his bindings. Non-magical bindings, he noted amusedly.

A voice broke the silence.

"Why do you keep coming back to King's Cross?" The person who had woke him stood behind him. The voice was magically altered, so Draco could not identify who was speaking to him. Though there was something oddly familiar about it.

"Who are you?" Draco asked, ignoring the question. He had to make sure that this person was with the Order.

"Why were you outside King's Cross?"

"You are not Severus Snape."

There was a short pause. Draco imagined the person behind him smiling smugly. "No."

"Those were some nasty curses you threw at me," Draco said, taking a different approach. "What does your little Order say about using magic like that?"

"You knew nastier," The voice replied. "and darker."

"I am a Death Eater. You are a not." Draco silently worked on the ropes that bound him.

It was a long moment before the person spoke.

"Why did you let Granger go?"

Draco froze. Did the little swot think it was him that let her go? "Is that what she said? I was not the one who let her go."

"But you did not stop her."

Draco frowned. A memory tugged at Draco's mind. There was something familiar about their conversation.

"Why were you outside King's Cross?"

"Why were you?"

"I told them it was useless to get you to talk." He heard the person mutter under their breath. Draco heard pacing behind him. "I should just obliviate you."

Draco cast a quick wandless spell under his breath. Homenum Revelio. A gust of wind flooded the room.

The pacing stopped. Draco smirked softly at the darkness.

"Can you get a message to the Order?" Draco asked.

"Why do you think I'm a member of the Order?"

"Aren't you?"

"No."

Liar. "Then why is the leader of the Order listening from the crack on the door?"

Before his jailor could react, Draco smirked wider. With a click of his fingers, he disappeared in a gust of black smoke swirling around him. The ropes he was bound with fell uselessly to the floor.

As the smoke cleared, all that was left under the glow of the blue light was a letter addressed to Andromeda Tonks.

"We have always held to the hope, the belief, the conviction that there is a better life, a better world, beyond the horizon."

– Franklin D. Roosevelt