A/n- Thanks to those who did review: OBLuvr13, ThePrincessWolf, Natural-181, Syranda, Lildaani, Dwindlingcandle, Bundibird, and Vivi Highwind.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything like that. It's all J.K's.

Summary: Did you really think I was going to let Voldemort kill him? AND, only 5 more chapters after this one!!!

The Other Side of Fate

When she moved, he moved with her; her hair as soft as silk and her body as smooth as fresh snow.

She was bare skinned, as Draco had seen her only once when he sneaked up to the girl's dorms a few months ago.

He touched the inside of her thigh and felt himself unable to breath with the weight of her lips upon him.

She was laughing, a soft mellow sound into his chest. He felt the vibrations of her throat in his heart, and his lungs opened for a warm breeze of air.

When he touched her, his arms ached; his shoulders feeling heavy- his ear felt cold. Draco brushed away the sensation as he took the small girl into his arms and watched her slow blinking eyes.

A lurch in his stomach, not unlike Portkey travel, seemed to throw him.

Her gaze was blue as crystal, and it looked as if he was staring into an effeminate mirror.

Blue and dead.

Malfoy moved his lips to speak, but ice cold water only poured from his mouth and down his front. His lungs constricted with the icy chill. The girl before him said nothing, but he noticed now how blonde her eyelashes were.

Reaching out to cup her cheeks, she was freezing.

Her skin was white, not warm.

With a lurch he realized she was dead; and not at all the woman he loved.

"Malfoy?"

Someone was killing him, he knew, someone was tearing him apart from the inside.

"Malfoy!"

He wanted them to let him be, let him die.

Draco was writhing now, but he felt himself being muffled.

"Malfoy; shut it! You'll get us killed! Malfoy!"

Someone pushed him and Draco lurched forward, his eyes snapping open. He was looking into a vacant expression and it frightened him.

He screamed at the sight of his dead mother's face, but something covered his mouth.

Draco bit down hard and blood gushed over her tongue.

"Bloody hell, Malfoy! Christ!"

Someone was holding his shoulders off the ground. At the familiar voice, Draco went limp in their arms. The blood was still on his lips, dribbling down his chin.

"Be quiet, alright?"

Draco nodded and Goyle removed his hand from around Draco's mouth. He had been quieting the boy's inner struggle. Teeth marks were indented and had broken the skin. The boy's hand was bleeding.

Malfoy tried to speak and felt the blood slosh down his throat. He choked and fell forward, suspended by his bound hands.

He was breathing heavily, squinting his eyes at the form of his mother in the darkness, haloed by the blue light emitting from the wand Goyle was holding.

They waited; it seemed like eternity. After a minute or two of complete silence, they were reassured that Draco's noise had gone unnoticed by those upstairs.

Malfoy could hear Goyle's short breaths of adrenaline. He could hear his own heartbeat. Turning away from the body of his mother, he looked at the boy.

"What are you doing here?"

Goyle grinned and twirled his wand round in his hand. Reaching into his school robes he pulled out a second object. It was Draco's Hawthorn wand.

"Funny story, that." He said matter-of-factly.

Malfoy noticed how thin the boy looked in the dark; his robes dirty and muddled. He must have been down in some dungeon for months by the look of it.

Goyle raised an eyebrow. "What did they tell you?"

"You were on Holiday, got sick. Something like that, I can't remember."

The boy moved around to Draco's hands, tapping his wand against Malfoy's wrists. The metal started to melt away.

"Doesn't surprise me they made up some kind of story."

Draco sat up straighter as the tension in his shoulders was eased. "What happened?"

"Well…I did what you asked, Malfoy. I tried to get any information. They caught me listening in on one of the Death Eater's reports. They tried to Crucio me but my father stepped in, said I was a coward and was trying to escape the Mansion. Saved my life, he did. Instead of killing me they locked me down under the house. Did you know you had dungeons below your sitting room?"

Malfoy nodded mutely as the rung he was tied to broke and splintered into metal fragments. He slumped forward onto the floor.

Goyle lay Malfoy's wand beside him, but he didn't notice. Instead, he scrambled up to Narcissa. He skidded to a stop in front of her.

Hands out, Draco's feather light touch brushed his mother's shoulder, her hair.

Silently Goyle looked on.

Malfoy turned his mother onto her back, lay her hands across her chest, closed her eyes. He reached up and covered his mouth with his palm and looked away.

She was cold.

"She's dead?"

Malfoy nodded mutely.

"I'm sorry, mate."

Shaking his head, Draco picked up his wand. It was not the time to think of sadness. "How did you get this?"

Goyle's eyes went wide.

"That's the funny part. I just woke up this evening and the door to my room was cracked open. Both our wands were sitting there."

"Lumos." Draco murmured, and the already present light in the library was doubled by a second beam. He sighed, contemplating, his mind racing. "That's not good thing, Goyle."

Who would release Goyle?

Who would be that stupid?

Who would betray the Dark Lord?

The boy shrugged where he knelt on the stone. "I knew I had to come and find you. Someone wanted you to get out, didn't they? Your wand was there, wasn't it?"

Draco weighed his wand within the palm of his hand. It felt so good to have to have it back; he felt whole again.

"Malfoy?" Goyle got to his feet. "We have to get out of here."

Laughing piteously, Malfoy looked from his dead mother to the boy hovering over him. "We won't be able to, they'll kill us."

"But I've looked!" The boy wrung his hands and a lead weight seemed to drop into Malfoy's stomach. "We can make it out the back from the kitchens, travel along your orchard. They don't patrol those areas much."

Draco looked away. He didn't want to; he wanted to stay and sleep and just lie down for a while.

"I saw Pansy." Goyle whispered suddenly into the silence. Malfoy's head snapped up. "She's tiny, was hangen on Blaise's arm." This made Draco feel sick.

"But… aren't they all in school?"

"Ended early with Dumbledore dead. Nearly all the Slytherins are here now. What'd they do to Pansy? What's Blaise done?"

The blank face of Narsissa's scared look was burned into Draco's mind.

Zabini killed your mother! His brain screamed. He killed her when he ratted you out!

"Mate?"

"Let's go." Draco said suddenly, standing up. Wobbling, he thrust a hand out to the wall to steady himself. Goyle took a step forward but Malfoy held out an arm to stop him. "I'm fine, let's just go."

"But-"

"But what?!"

Goyle looked apprehensive. "I just; I don't know what's going on." Draco noted how the boy was cradling his hand, the blood having stopped dripping from it.

"I'm sorry." The blonde started. He motioned to his fellow Slytherin's hand. "And Zabini's taken control of our House. Now Pansy kneels at his feet and the other boy's treat him as if he's been born from Voldemort's right arm. He's delusional. He betrayed us." He watched understanding dawn over Goyle's face. "Now can we get out of here?"

Draco waited for Goyle to lead him out but he soon realized that no one was moving. With a sick feeling, Malfoy remembered that they were in his house; Goyle expected Draco to know more about the Manor then he did.

"Right. Follow me. Nox."

"Nox."

The lights were snuffed out as they moved to the Library doorway.

Draco never looked back at his mother's body.

.o.o.o.o.

The hallway to the kitchen was long and narrow, the walls on either side jutting up to the level above.

Both the boy's pressed their bodies against the dark side of the wallpapered surface so that, from above, they couldn't be seen.

Twice they had to step around the columns of blood orange light that spilled in through the high hallway windows.

It was dusk, and the sun was setting over the orchard trees.

Voices could be heard upstairs and once Goyle nearly sent a jet of red sparks from his wand when a loud screech from above them issued suddenly.

Draco yanked the boy's wand from him.

"Shh, it's only the birds."

A bone-white peacock drifted in front of the window on its accent to the roof.

"You've got strange taste, Malfoy." The boy whispered.

Draco was glad it was dark, for his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

They moved further down the hallway.

"Where are the maids?" Draco whispered as they passed the downstairs washroom and found it empty.

"Used for killing practice."

Malfoy choked on his own air.

"What?"

Goyle made a small noise. "Mostly they're down in the rooms below the house, but sometimes they kill 'em for fun."

"That's disgusting."

Goyle shrugged. "They aren't wizards or witches, are they?"

Deep down, Draco remembered that Goyle was still Slytherin, still sympathetic to the Dark Lord.

It was then that he realized this could all be a setup.

"Goyle…"

"No." The boy said as he shook his head. "I wouldn't lock myself in your house for my own amusement. I'd rather do Potion's homework."

Draco grinned.

"You're a good friend."

The boy snorted as they paused under a large portrait of Draco's mother.

"What about Crabbe?"

"Zabini's right hand man, apparently." Malfoy answered.

"And Pansy's his play thing?" Silence. "Well, we all knew Blaise had a bit of an ego problem."

They went still when the pounding of feet could be heard down the staircase.

Someone- no- a group of someone's were coming downstairs.

"Here, quick."

The pair pushed open the kitchen's swinging door and scurried inside, laying against the floor, under the center island.

"Malfoy?" Goyle said quietly.

"What?" Draco responded as he slid across the stone towards the door.

"I'm going back."

Malfoy turned around. In the peach light filtering through the tall windows, a shaft of fell across Goyle's face. He looked scared, frightened, yet, determined and set.

It was as if the stupid sluggish weight had melted off him; he looked worlds older.

"Why?"

"Pansy. I need to get Pansy. She doesn't deserve this. You know that."

A pang in Draco's heart felt like he was loosing a kinship. He knew it would be nearly impossible for Goyle to make it back in and then out again alive.

"I'll see you, then." Malfoy said stiffly, his chin tilted up a fraction. Goyle grinned and scooted backwards.

"Don't wait up."

"I won't."

"Give Potter a good thrashing for me, eh?"

"I will."

The door to the kitchen opened again.

"See you."

"Good luck."

The door swung closed again.

Malfoy swollowed hard looked at the deserted kitchen. He took another quick breath and stood; a hand on the counter top.

Freedom was so close, wasn't it?

All he had to do was walk not ten paces, skirt the small servant's table, open the French doors, and step out onto the veranda.

His Hawthorn wand shuttered.

Sprinting to the back door, he touched the silver door handle. It was icy. Praying no wards had been put against it; he clicked the lock open and swung the door backwards. It didn't creak, no alarm was sounded.

How ignorant his father's people were.

Looking out at the dead orchard, he noted how the forest had encroached upon the ground. He could make it into the dense woods; he could escape from his own house. He knew a path; it went deep into the dense thick.

Draco closed the kitchen's back door behind him, stepped along the creaking wood porch, and then down the steps onto the dead lawn.

The rosebushes, his mother's rosebushes, were dead in their boxes next to the gravel path. Taking a deep breath, Draco could smell the natural rot. Overhead, the moon shone through the darkening mist of sunset.

Around him, insects buzzed and the onset of summer, with its warm night winds, buffeted his white blonde hair, caressed his bare arms.

It was dangerous to cross such open land, but, Draco had no other way to pass to the orchard's edge. He ran to the trees and crouched down among the brush. There, he waited out the time in which it would take, if anyone had seen him, to raise alarm.

Nothing happened.

In the gloom, he pressed his belly against the hard earth and slowly crawled over the weeds. Past the forth or so twisted tree, he caught a glimpse of the weathered path he had marked out as a child, the one who's exit was far across the rolling hills behind the manor.

Briefly, nostalgia gripped him in a wave of sickness, a feverish thing.

Draco remembered his mother coddling him; taking his hand along the orchard's rim. They use to pick apples, in the front orchard, pears in the back. Malfoy had no indication that those fruit trees were living or dead either.

His father never took him fruit picking. But, Draco remembered that long before, when he was still just a small child, that the maids would follow his mother and he out to the trees.

Before the mass hysteria of Voldemort and the like, Draco liked to believe that his mother had not been such a harsh and vile pure-blood fixated women. He wanted to believe that it had been his father that had robbed his mother of her youth, her vitality, and her strength.

Malfoy was to the tree line now. He pushed himself off the ground and started running.

He had only taken a few steps when a noise halted him in his tracks.

It was a scream; neither female nor male.

It froze the blood in Draco's heart.

It was a scream of rage.

Malfoy smirked, a malicious grin that bled hate. They must have found him missing. He had to hurry, Voldemort was most likely furious.

But then, another noise, a scream of fear.

Goyle.

He couldn't leave him, he had to go back.

Retracing his steps, Draco ran to the edge of the tree line. There, he paused, unsure of himself, wanting to run to the dying sound of his friend's voice, yet, he wanted to save himself also.

Throwing caution to the soft summer wind, Malfoy bolted forward.

"Avada Kedavra!" A cold voice screamed. "Avada Kedavra! Crucio! Avada Kedavra!"

Green light erupted from the windows on the lower level.

Malfoy, half way back to the veranda, froze.

Goyle was gone, he was gone, he was dead. He had to be.

"Bloody hell." He whispered, his wand out. He was shaking.

"Get him! Get him! I want him for myself! Find the boy! Find him!"

Malfoy turned on the spot and ran as fast as he could back to the trees. He was nearly to the first oak when a curse hit the tree in front of him. The bark splintered and the tree cracked as if it had been hit by lightning.

Ducking, Draco ran sideways. He tripped on a root and sprawled forward. His palms stung as he fell upon them. He got up only to fall again from overbalancing.

"Immobulus!"

Draco couldn't move.

"We found him!"

He was going to die

"Over here!"

He hadn't even made it into the safety of the forest.

There was a rushing sound and Draco knew he was surrounded.

"My Lord!" A woman yelled.

With a rushing sensation Draco was picked up off his feet and thrown. He hit a tree sideways and fell onto his stomach.

"My Lord, the boy is-"

"Enough!"

Draco shook his head to rid himself of the pounding within it. Above him, through the orchard trees, the moon shown like powdered milk.

He could hear Voldemort coming closer, a group of Deatheaters in his wake.

"Get up! Lord Voldemort commands it!"

Standing, Draco looked up into the face of the Dark Lord. Behind Voldemort, the men and women Deatheaters had created a semicircle.

Something gripped Draco and he was pushed back against the tree.

He couldn't breath.

His wand was ripped out of his hands. Wormtale was at the Dark Lord's side. The squat man snapped the Hawthorn shaft and tossed it onto the ground at the Dark Lord's feet.

Malfoy made a squeak of a moan.

Long white fingers encircled Draco's neck as the man's wand levitated him off the ground.

Malfoy was choking to death, his windpipe constricted. His hands clamored around his attacker's wrists, scrabbling for a way of release.

"How dare you defy Lord Voldemort!" The Dark Lord screamed at him. "I will kill you!"

Malfoy hiccoughed. The edges of his vision were blurry. His hands went slack.

Voldemort's grip tightened and Draco kicked out his legs, yet found no ground beneath him.

Fleetingly, Malfoy wished Hermione was there, holding him, rocking him back and forth. Back and forth.

"Malfoy… Malfoy, come back to Lord Voldemort."

Air rushed into his lungs.

"Ah, Draco. I had forgotten… for I must tell you before I kill you…"

He was choking again. He could see the group of Deatheaters around him.

"I never knew how deeply you had betrayed us."

Malfoy's eyes went wide as Voldemort lifted a clenched hand in front of his captives' watering eyes.

From between the slim white fingers something sparkled. As the fist uncurled, Malfoy saw his Slytherin ring resting neatly upon pearly white skin.

"Ah, yes, Draco. We found this."

A snake.

A snake with green eyes.

Perpetual cannibalism.

The Dark Lord leaned in so he was inches away from his prey. "So sad, Draco, that it has come to such a time where your life should be the forfeit for your idiocy."

With a rush of terror and adrenaline, Malfoy swung his arm up and cuffed the pale man around the cheek bone.

He had hit him.

He had punched Lord Voldemort.

A few in the crowd gasped, uttered 'My Lord!'. Voldemort's head snapped to the side.

Slowly, the man's face turned back to his victims'.

Horror coursed through Malfoy.

He was dead.

Voldemort's face was livid. He was seething.

"Stupid boy!"

With the force of a good push, the hand was tightened around Draco's throat and the ring pressed forcibly onto his neck.

For a moment, Draco felt nothing. Then, as if iron had been poured down his side, his neck burned.

He could feel his skin bubbling white hot.

The ring was on fire, was burning him.

Voldemort was branding him with his own cast off symbol of Slytherin stupidity.

Draco tossed his head back against the tree, and with what air he had left in his lungs, screamed into the night. His hands pulled, scratched at Lord Voldemort's robes.

A few of the Deatheaters turned away as the boy's pitch grew higher, the ring pressed more firmly onto the skin.

Malfoy saw nothing, nothing but white and pain and death looming.

Straining, he kicked out and hit the man in the side.

Cursing, Malfoy was dropped to the ground, his head hitting the tree trunk.

Pain.

All around him…

A curse hit the tree above him as Draco scrambled to his feet.

"Don't stand there! Kill him!"

"Accio wand!" Draco choked.

"Kill him!" Voldemort yelled.

The broken Hawthorn shaft flew into his palm.

"Kill him!"

Someone was screaming.

"Crucio!"

He was running.

"Reducto!"

He was at the orchard.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The tree he had run past burst into shards and Draco was blown off his feet and onto the ground.

He had to get away.

Clutching his broken wand, the two parts held together by the sinew of its composition, an idea came to him.

But, he had never Dissaperated before…

He had been too young to take the test.

But he had to do something.

He was on the ground, couldn't stand to preform the spell.

Draco envisioned himself in his mind, turning on the spot.

Destination...

Think of a safe place, a safe place.

Determination...

Think of anywhere but here, anywhere but here.

Deliberation...

A broken wand…

"Sectumsempra!"

With a crack Draco Dissaperated as the last hex hit him in his side.

a/n- WOW I am so so so so soooo sorry about the lack of updates.

I have no excuse to give, other then the first week of school being a bitch, my car bring wrecked (not really, but it feels like it), and me being really lazy.

I am so sorry! I'll try and update more regularly, but because of school it might have to go to a two week update thing. I hope not.

Anyway, please review!