Fifth Year
"Remember, if the time should come, when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory."
Dumbledore's words continued replaying in Draco Malfoy's head weeks after Cedric's solemn commemoration feast. They plagued him day and night.
Generations of pureblood patriarchs campaigned for the return of rigorous magical segregation and the preservation of blood purity and yet the Dark Lord's homecoming left much to be desired for the Malfoy heir.
Lucius was made an example of for his lack of faith and fealty to the cause. Their Lord and master, who was still bitter and distrustful from the aftermath of his first campaign, would bestow upon the Malfoy's the so-called honor of hosting the Dark Lord's most loyal.
Little had Draco known the grave misery and suffering that lay ahead for him. Whatever semblance of a home he had was eviscerated. Tainted with dark souls and dark ambitions.
He dreaded Wiltshire. The thought of being surrounded by dangerous and powerful wizards lost its allure when Draco saw the lifeless body of his classmate laying in the grass. Was this how they were rewarded? Senseless death, punished for the sins of his father, at the whim and mercy of a madman?
Death Eaters by the dozen littered the grounds of the manor much to the chagrin of the Malfoys. Some of Azkaban's most wretched pureblood anarchists hallowed their halls. There was an uncompromising gloom that settled over the grounds as if the land itself knew what evil was harbored there.
Draco had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting his uncle Rodolphus and his brother, Rabastan. Speaking to the pair of them left an incessant film of slime over the youngest Malfoy's skin that no number of baths could possibly scrub off.
In a long string of French profanities the Lestrange's would spew filth and degradation about their latest conquests. There was a particular story about a pretty petite mudblood, an Imperius, and the basement dungeon of a chateau in the forests of southwestern France that had 'lovely acoustics'. Draco was unable to eat for days afterward.
The brothers shared a hotheaded temper and the same predilection for sadism. Casually offering to take Draco to a Parisian brothel for the boy's sixteenth birthday. They boasted that the establishment catered to a unique and exclusive clientele with niche tastes. Which Draco understood to mean rich Death Eaters looking to relive the thrill of past Unforgivables on poorly paid, dubiously employed witches.
"On va t'acheter un putain! We will buy you a whore, dear nephew! You will get a taste of true minou Parisienne" Rodolphus jeered.
His yellow grin glinted predatorily as he watched for Draco's reaction.
"Ça va? We can get your little Anglais pine wet!" Rabastan ribbed alongside his brother.
Well-versed in French Draco understood the lewd and frankly disturbing offer he had been made. With a refusal at the ready Draco was interrupted by an audible clearing of the throat.
"Ahem" Narcissa Malfoy's heels clicked with each purposeful step to Draco's side.
She exuded power and all those present were reminded that she was a formidable witch from a notoriously powerful family. And she had magics they couldn't even conjure up in their most vivid daydreams.
"Excuse-moi messieurs, Draco will regrettably be unable to join us this season." Narcissa tersely excused herself and her son.
Draco nearly stumbled at his mother's haste. She held his hand so tightly Draco's fingers began to get numb.
"Mother?" Draco questioned midstep.
"Hush mon etoile, you'll be going far, far away from here." Narcissa replied with hardly a backwards glance.
The two escaped to Narcissa's sitting room at a speed Draco had never seen his mother move in before. Behind her large ornate desk Narcissa found her ivory inlaid quill and grabbed the nearest scrap of parchment. The Malfoy matriarch penned an emergency owl to Mrs. Zabini.
Draco did not enjoy being kept in the dark, his hand shot out over his mother's writing quill stilling it for a solitary second.
"What about you?" Draco interrupted exasperatedly.
Narcissa looked up to her son's concerned silver eyes, "I must stay and keep appearances. It's imperative we look unified and dutiful to the Dark Lord"
"Come with me, we can go anywhere- Just us!" He bargained.
The older witch brought her warm hand up to cup Draco's cheek soothingly.
"That will raise too many questions, my love." she shunned the idea and picked her quill up again.
There wasn't a moment to spare. Her son was in profound jeopardy.
"Then you go, I'll stay. Please!" Draco pleaded. His heart broke at the thought of leaving his mother to fend for herself.
"Shh, no more of that, let me give you a modicum of protection. I've spent too long watching you suffer and that is something I will regret until I'm in the ground." his mother finalized.
Draco knew there was no arguing with her anymore. The hard set of eyes and the purse of her perfectly painted lips demanded compliance.
"Regrettably, these games of power are something you've inherited. But I implore you to learn it quickly and play it well." she continued cryptically.
Narcissa snapped her fingers together to summon their house elf, Raggi, who she asked to pack a suitcase for Master Draco's trip.
The little house elf in a well-pressed pillowcase bowed and disappeared in a wink. Preparing his young Master's trunks for the following school year as well. Raggi's Mistress had forewarned him of the emergency protocol should it be needed to protect the young Master.
Draco embraced his mother for he knew time was of the essence. He only had minutes before he was whisked away by an emergency portkey in the shape of a small teaspoon.
"Do what they ask of you, play their games, be their chess piece. This is war now and we must do what needs to be done to defend our own." Narcissa's parting advice was cut short as Raggi returned with Draco's luggage.
The dragonhide bags were plentiful, Draco knew he was not going to be able to see his home in quite a while.
Wistfully, Narcissa brought her only son in for a hug. The Malfoy matriarch feared that it would only be a matter of time before Draco's loyalty would be tested. The closer he comes of age, the closer to the frontlines he gets.
Placing the shiny silver spoon into her son's hand Narcissa kissed his temple in goodbye. She watched the air crumple and fold around him, transporting Draco far from the bleak grounds of Wiltshire.
Draco was sent to stay with Blaise for the rest of the Summer in Italy. The warm, fragrant, and foreign waters of Portofino did nothing to alleviate Draco's worry for his mother, for his future, and for his predetermined adversaries.
When the burdens felt too heavy Draco would venture with Blaise to the Piazzetta. He would seek out a gorgeous witch and fall prey to their charms until the wee hours of dawn. It was a momentary lapse, a distraction, nothing that truly soothed the storm inside Draco's mind.
On their last morning before term began Draco snuck into the Zabini's Villa after another nightly diversion.
His skin felt oily and heavily perfumed, some noxious scent that reminded him of a muggle sweets shop. She was quite overly enthusiastic and left many questionable bruises. But at least she kept his mind quiet for an hour or two.
Entering the marble foyer with a wordless alohamora, Draco tried to toe his way into his room as quietly as possible. Going so far as to cushion his steps, "Molliare" Draco whispered.
Malfoy would never hear the end of it from Blaise, his own personal mother hen.
"Look what the tide washed in..." Blaise's sarcastic lilt sang from the grandly furnished sitting room.
Draco's tense shoulders slumped caught in the act. Swiveling on his heels the blonde boy turned to his friend.
Blaise Zabini was sat on the velvet bergere, smirking like a mischief making gnome. The tall, dark-haired Italian chuckled lowly eyeing the bright lovebites on the Malfoy heir's neck. Blaise tried to stiffle a laugh at his friend's state, silver hair pushed every which way and lipstick stains on his expensive collared shirt and face like a slapped arse.
"Marlena was a wildcat then?" Zabini's shite eating grin made Draco want to jinx him.
"Marlena, is none of your business Mother. Don't go picking out engagement rings anytime soon" Draco replied tritely continuing his walk of shame to his room.
The Malfoy heir was in no mood for banter. The older boy cut to seriousness and to Draco's withdrawing form stated, "You've got quite a specific type Drake."
Draco stopped in his tracks, hearing the tiniest implication in Blaise's tone.
"Don't" was all the blonde had to say.
He did not want to divulge anything to Blaise, not due to any distrust in his oldest and closest friend. Instead it was because of Draco's inability to string together the emotions he harbored.
Standing to his full height, the olive skinned Italian ambled his way closer to Draco. So as to keep their conversation away from any inquiring ears.
Draco's stormy eyes glinted dangerously and Blaise leveled with him. Trying to calm Malfoy and show his mate that he meant no harm.
"Curly-haired brunettes picked up from bookshops. Just be careful is all Drake" Blaise replied evenly.
The Slytherin prince did not have any words. He knew Blaise would keep his observations to himself. The Zabini's went to great lengths to distance themselves enough from the Dark circle without earning suspicion. Lacking a patriarch the family was mostly overlooked. Blaise and his mother preferred it as such. Draco refused to implicate him with anything remotely treasonous.
If Blaise was able to see Draco's weakness, the youngest Malfoy feared others might be able to as well.
Draco had subconsciously been chasing the last moment he'd felt wholly unencumbered, which ironically was in the arms of his enemy. Merlin help him.
In the following fall of Fifth Year Draco was encouraged to keep a keen eye on the Golden Trio. Lucius harked on about how it was Draco's duty as a Death Eater legacy, that his cooperation and service would please the Dark Lord immensely.
If Draco played his cards right he'd usher the Malfoy name safely back into the inner fold of the Dark Lord's circle. The Slytherin prince was subsequently pushed to join the Inquisitorial Squad, headed by the nauseating Professor Umbridge.
Grouped with other junior Death Eaters Draco was watched and studied by his peers. It was crucial now more than ever that Draco's mask of superiority and indifference did not slip just as he'd promised his mum.
Draco's self-preservation always surmounted his morals. Morals got you killed like poor Cedric Diggory.
Draco had his mother's life to fret about now, one misstep and the only woman who's ever loved him unconditionally would vanish. It was better to be the right hand of evil than in its path.
When Christmas came about Draco was ordered home to the manor by his father. It had been six months before Narcissa was able to embrace her son again, alas that joyous reunion was hindered by the new additions to Voldemort's ranks.
If the young boy believed his uncle Rodolphus to be the dregs of society, his aunt Bellatrix made him look like bloody Mother Teresa.
There was a faded kind of resemblance between the Black sisters, but Bella's was merely a faint echo of beauty and elegance.
The years in Azkaban were etched into the hollows and lines of her face and time was unkind. It was most evident in her manner. She spoke in rhyme, riddle, or pure nonsense. The majority of people see a mad nutter. But that was simply a ruse, Bella was just as sadistic and cruel as she was unhinged.
Entertaining the eldest Black sister was like tiptoeing barefoot around a floor of broken crystal. Draco had learned that the hard way on a damp English afternoon in his own drawing room.
"Drake darling come sit with me" Bella sing-songed, reaching her hand towards her nephew.
Her porcelain hands resembled talons and had a slight tremble to them, like a constant tic. A strong indication of one too many Crucios. It was established the night before that Bella wanted her nephew to play a more active role in the organization, creating friction between her and Narcissa that resulted in the formal dining room having one less chandelier.
With some trepidation Draco went to sit alongside her on the chaise.
"I want to give you a present, my little dove," Bella smiled as sweetly as she knew how.
Cautiously Draco turned toward her watching for any shift in her expression.
"Of course Aunt Bella" Draco obediently replied.
"You are the future of both your houses and as such it is in your best interest to be educated in the Dark Arts. Your mother is too soft, I see much of her in you. That unfortunately will not do" Bella looked like she was contemplating what to do with a poorly trained dog.
He understood what she wanted to hear, she wanted him to be a good little soldier for the Dark Lord. Anything less than complete loyalty will brand him as a traitor in Bella's eyes.
Draco could not falter in his fealty to the cause. Without any more hesitation he gave Bellatrix his answer.
"Teach me" Draco responded knowingly. With a feral glee Bella clapped her hands together.
The dark witch ushered the boy to his feet with a strong pull.
Bella's grin stretched to show her sharpened teeth, "Lesson one Drake, your mind must become a fortress".
With his back straight and arms to his side he braced himself for a stunner or a hex. Maybe even a physical attack with her favored dagger or hand to hand combat.
What he hadn't expected when he locked eyes with his deranged Aunt was the ripping pain he felt at the sides of his temple. It made his eyes start to water.
The heat radiated to consume his whole skull with cold fire. Draco screamed as he fell to the ground clutching his head. She was violating his mind with her magic. Legilimency.
Draco could feel her racing inside his head searching for ineptitude, failure, pain. Anything she could use to incapacitate her opponent.
She whizzed through cuts, bumps, bruises, sicknesses and all of a sudden she caught a whiff something.
Bella found the memory of the first time Lucius cast a stunner on him and how much it hurt.
Green light... the cold of the marble floor... crippling guilt... fear... Mother please help me... it's dark...
"SOFT JUST LIKE YOUR USELESS MOTHER" she yelled over his anguished cries.
"IT'S FUCKING PATHETIC, BOY!" Bella barked insults as Draco lay squirming on the marble.
He could feel angry fingernails tearing through his thoughts and his memories. The unnatural pace of his pulse made him feel like his heart would expire.
A pained groan escaped his clenched teeth. Draco was drowning underneath the weight of Bella's power, he could not find the latches to the gates of his mind. He was searching for a way to close it.
"Filthy little mudblood…"
"Men of extraordinary power are inclined to extraordinary cruelty... "
"Remember Cedric Diggory"
Draco could taste his own tears, his throat felt hoarse. His teeth would be ground into powder with how hard they chattered. It felt like days, weeks, and months had passed.
Pain, so much pain…
Bella ceased her Legilimency for a split moment.
"STEEL YOUR MIND, YOU RADIATE FEAR AND WEAKNESS!" Bella spat to the floor as if the words were acid and she couldn't bear to taste them.
She doubled back her efforts and began pulling more memories. More personal ones. Dangerous ones.
In a panic Draco grunted in effort trying to erect a mental block around his mind as quickly as possible. He could not let her see.
For the name of Merlin and Morgana, Bella could not get a hold of this. These were treason and outright mutiny to everything he was raised to believe in.
Chestnut colored curls… moonlit stairwells… blue silk dresses with satin sashes… amber colored eyes… a heartfelt thank you... Fuck.
It had physically hurt Draco to extract Bella from his mind and pry her claws from his memories.
He just needed a moment long enough for him to slam the gates to his mind.
Bella had to take a breath in her strain to break open her nephew's memory vault. That was when Draco was able to find the foothold to bolt down the latches to his memories. He felt the gates vibrate and ring.
When Draco came to he was still on the floor, adrenaline coursing through his veins and his body ached like he'd crashed into the Whomping Willow broom first.
Bella loomed over him with her black skirts swishing.
Her pale face looked the faintest bit impressed at her nephew.
"A natural Occlumens. We may make a wizard of you yet, boy." She smirked like a wild animal, who'd tasted first blood.
Draco struggled to get his breath back and his head spun like he'd been portkeyed halfway across the Atlantic. He wanted to fall into a week-long slumber.
Sorely tempted to just fall onto the floor again and pass out, Draco's knees nearly buckled at the thought.
The young Malfoy progeny was barely recovered when Bella hauled him up to stand on shaky legs.
"Again" Bella commanded pulling her curved wand out.
Why in the name of all four founders was it always her? Draco grimaced.
Umbridge finally caught Potter and his band of do-gooders in the act. No doubt Granger was the brains behind the whole operation. This was extremely treacherous territory.
Draco watched Crabbe's grubby hands on Granger's arm. He was holding her tight enough to cut off circulation. The blonde perceived the discomfort in Granger's flushed face. And he itched to hex Crabbe's fingers green and gangrenous, a curse Bella taught him during his Winter stay at Malfoy Manor.
Umbridge threatened to Crucio Potter and everybody in the room tensed. Draco saw Hermione's pained and worried expression, the crease between her brows was deep. He knew the cogs were turning in that big bushy brilliant head of hers.
Her shiny doe eyes widened when Umbridge shifted into a dueling stance. Aiming her wand at a defenseless Harry Potter.
"Tell her Harry!" Hermione finally bursted out.
"Tell me what?" Umbridge questioned.
Umbridge's wand was still trained at Harry's head. Potter looked genuinely at a loss like Professor Vector told him to recite the textbook of Numerolgy and Grammatica in Finnish.
"If you won't tell her where it is— I will." Granger kept her tone as even as she could manage.
She's lying, Draco realized it immediately, but kept tight lipped.
Granger had manipulated Umbridge to get her and the Boy Who Wouldn't Die out of that gaudy pink office. Divide and conquer, there was more Slytherin in her than I give her credit for, Draco applauded the Golden Girl's tactics.
The Inquisitorial Squad were given instructions to keep watch of the others. Draco knew there was a mission tonight, his father and Bella had both been summoned by the Dark Lord for a mission. Whatever this night had in store spelled trouble for the Order.
Draco acknowledged the best chance Granger had of surviving this damned conundrum is with her band of bumbling idiots. He hadn't risked his neck for her this long only to have her perish at the end of his aunt's wand.
The Golden Girl was the epitome of light, empathy, and compassion, traits that are scarce and rare in Draco's miserable world.
Which was exactly why the Slytherin prince did not warn Montague that the Weasley girl was reaching for her wand. It was concealed discreetly in the band of her ratty muggle trousers. Draco could see the faint outline of it, having been trained in defensive combat he'd become well attuned to every potential threat in any room.
Draco waited for her to fire the first spell to create enough of a distraction so that Longbottom could just so happen to stumble out Draco's grasp. Subsequently, escaping to aid Boy Wonder and Co.
"EXPELLIARMUS!" Ginny disarmed her guard and hurriedly ducked behind Umbridge's desk.
The redhead fired a bat-bogey hex at Bulstrode that had the Slytherin girl shrieking loud enough to wake Inferi.
Draco saw his cue and shoved Longbottom towards Crabbe and Goyle. Neville pitched forward and stupefied the two dolts before they could even get their wands up.
Draco had not so much as budged to reach for his Hawthorne. Bracing himself for a swift Stupefy Draco had to commend the She-Weasel for having a proper bloody jinx.
The slip into the familiar dark slumber of the stunner was a welcome change from the dark spells that have been hurled at him in the past months.
"Bless the Mother and the Maiden that you're safe 'Mione" Ginny smiled at her friend.
Hermione Granger was tucked into a white cot at St. Mungo's well after the battle of the Department of Mysteries. Antonin Dolohov hit her with a hex to the chest, and she had to get her internal vitals checked by a Healer.
She would be left with some nasty scars, but at least she escaped with her life. Which is more than enough considering they'd lost Sirius.
Harry was bereft and Remus was inconsolable. With no body to mourn over or bury, the despondent twosome took turns sharing memories about dear, old Padfoot over mugs of spiced warm cider spiked with a Calming Draught. Courtesy of Hermione Granger of course, before she was stubbornly carted off to St. Mungo's.
"I'm glad you are too Gin. How did you lot manage to get away from Malfoy and his goons?" Granger queried sipping on her pumpkin juice.
In the bright, sterile room Hermione watched Ginny's brows knit together in consternation. The younger girl looked like she was still turning over the events of that night.
"It was the oddest thing, Malfoy didn't even seem to put up a fight" Ginny confessed in hushed tones.
Now that was unusual. The brunette witch was sure whatever abnormal peace treaty she and Malfoy shared last year was forgotten when he'd joined the Inquisitorial Squad. He had actively participated in getting her and the D.A. caught red-handed by Umbridge.
"Curious..." Hermione responded barely louder than a whisper.
"Neville could've sworn Malfoy let him up to disarm Crabbe and Goyle." the youngest Weasley relayed.
"... and curiouser..." baffled yet again Hermione let the information linger.
The two witches deliberated quietly for a moment.
"Why do you think he did it?" the older girl asked.
"He must have figured he was outnumbered and tried to save his entitled pureblood arse" Ginny offered as an explanation.
Something about that did not sit well with Hermione. Draco and his posse had the upper hand, he knew he did. And yet he'd let them free. More questions than answers in true Malfoy fashion Hermione turned over.
Lucius was caught by a team of Aurors and swiftly sent to Azkaban following the Department of Mysteries. Draco's joy was extremely short-lived. Just shy of seventeen he was now the acting Head of House for both the Malfoy and Black bloodlines. As such Draco must take his father's place within the ranks of the Dark Lord.
He was summoned to the grand ballroom of his own home by their imposing master in the dead of night. Draco steeled his nerves and hardened his jaw. The heavy oak double doors of the room opened for him.
The entire space felt polluted with sin. Draco wanted to run, he wanted to race as far as humanly possible from the vile and reprehensible evil that was sitting in that room.
The place was full of Death Eaters in their intimidating black robes and wearing silver engraved masks to conceal their identities. They were so still and so quiet Draco thought they were all mannequins.
At the head of the room on a raised podium was his mother. She was pale as a sheet mouth set in a serious line stood next to death and destruction incarnate.
Draco had never laid eyes on the Dark Lord before and as the Malfoy heir stepped closer the air seemed to get denser with the scent of decay.
There was a low hissing at the base of the Dark Lord's seat. Draco dared not blink.
The Dark Lord was anthropomorphous, a true snake in a faintly human form. Beady eyes that looked ready to strike and with an easy glide to his movements that magnified a brutal grace.
On the Dark Lord's left was Bellatrix chortling with poorly contained mirth, undoubtedly proud of her only nephew and brightest pupil.
Draco kneeled in front of the Dark Lord, head bowed in subservience. Staring at the feet of his new Lord and master Draco noticed the glimmer of large, black, iridescent scales that belonged to an unaturally massive snake. The normally composed blonde gulped trying to swallow down his fear.
"Welcome to your initiation young Draco" a haunted raspy voice wrapped around him licking at his skin.
Author's Note: Please don't pelt fruit at me, I come offering 4.4k words of reparations. Also wanted to re-state that I rewrite chapters from time to time because I am an anal-retentive perfectionist asshole.
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