A/N: Please be advised that this chapter includes Biological Warfare and Biological Weapons.

Alpha and Beta love to BiscuitsforPotter and DisenchantedGlow for helping me not make Draco's blood run cold too many times in one chapter.

When Draco came to, he was in the dark. A cold, stone floor beneath his back left him stiff as he pushed himself to sit up. Wherever he was, it was quiet—free of any typical ambient noise, making it possible for him to hear distant faint sounds. Water was dripping somewhere nearby and he could hear the occasional scratching of tiny claws on the floor, making his skin crawl. Slowly, his eyes grew accustomed to the near-blackness and he took in his surroundings, barely discernible in the very dim light which drifted down a narrow staircase and through a small barred window in a thick wooden door.

This room was not so very different from the dungeons at Malfoy Manor. It was clearly far underground judging by the lack of windows and the musty smell. The stone floor felt rough under his hands as he groped along it for anything that might help him: a weapon, a wand, even just a clue as to his whereabouts.

Suddenly, the door opened, and the chamber was flooded with a pale light as someone entered. With the wave of a wand, the dungeon was illuminated and his captor came into view. "Hello, Draco."

Yaxley looked much more at ease than he had been the last time Draco had seen him. His clothes were freshly pressed, his hair neatly tied back, and a smug grin graced his face.

"I see Dolohov has promoted you," remarked Draco dryly, trying to calm his pounding heart. "Shame he didn't come to see me himself. I've missed him."

"The High Minister couldn't care less that you're here," Yaxley informed him with a smirk. "He's pleased that you were captured, of course, but beyond that, he's far too busy to deal with something as inconsequential as your punishment. He's given me complete freedom to dispose of you as I see fit."

Draco leaned back against an unforgiving stone wall. "So how many times will I be tortured before you snuff out my life in a blaze of green?"

Yaxley's pale lips curled over his yellowing teeth. "No, Draco. I have something much more… imaginative in mind for you."

Draco's blood ran cold. What could be worse than the Cruciatus Curse? Having endured it many times, he couldn't imagine a worse way to go. The idea of dying by the Killing Curse seemed like sweet relief after a few minutes at the end of the torture curse. "Imaginative…" Draco parroted slowly.

Yaxley's eyes glinted with manic glee. "We've been developing something… something the Wizarding World has never seen before. Far more effective than the Killing Curse. It's taken us a few months of experimentation, but it's finally ready. And you, Draco, you'll be the very first subject."

"Me?" Draco gasped in mock surprise. "I'm honoured."

Yaxley scowled, his wand slashing through the air quick as a whip. "Crucio."

The spell hit him before he could brace himself for it, and a scream tore through Draco's throat and it clawed its way out of his mouth, echoing through the dark chamber. Every inch of his skin had erupted in white hot flames as the curse rushed through his body. Surely nothing could be worse than this. Whatever they had planned couldn't possibly be as terrible as a few seconds at the mercy of this curse.

Draco wasn't sure how long it lasted—mere seconds or many minutes—but when Yaxley released the spell he was grinning down at the young wizard maliciously, his eyes bulging in poorly disguised elation. "Mind your tongue, boy, or I'll see to it that your mother receives your pretty little head in a box when we're done with you."

Gasping for breath, Draco felt his stomach sink to his toes as he looked up at the Death Eater. Did that mean they knew where his mother was? No, surely they would have captured her or killed her by now if they knew. But, real or not, the threat was enough for Draco to hold his tongue.

"Enjoy the night, Draco," Yaxley purred, straightening up and pocketing his wand. "It's your last."

The man turned and strode from the dungeon and closed the heavy door behind him, leaving Draco horribly and painfully alone.

Draco wasn't sure when he fell asleep, but he was awakened sometime later by the creaking of the door opening again. His eyes opened and he saw someone approaching him by the light of a wand.

"Draco?" Unlike before, this voice was a friendly one—soft and kind. He knew this voice—had known it for years.

His heart leapt. "Theo," he gasped out, his mouth dry. He pushed himself up to his knees as his dear friend's face came into view.

Theo dropped to the floor and threw his arms around Draco in a brotherly hug. Draco returned the affection, tears pricking at his eyes. He quickly pushed his emotions down as Theo pulled away. "How did they capture you?" the boy asked, sitting back to look at Draco.

Draco was sure he looked a fright after spending several hours on a dirty dungeon floor and sustaining Yaxley's Cruciatus Curse. His muscles still ached as he shifted to cross his legs and rest his elbows on his knees. "I've been working with the Order. When you all attacked Essex yesterday I was sent to help. Someone, I think maybe Jugson, was waiting for new arrivals," Draco explained, still cursing his own lack of vigilance. He wondered what had become of Ginny? Was she captured as well? Perhaps she was being held in a dungeon like this one at another Death Eater's home.

"The Order, mate?" Theo tutted. "I knew you'd gone rogue, but I never thought you'd buddy up to Potter."

Draco scoffed. "I have certainly not buddied up to Potter. Shacklebolt made me join as a condition of my immunity deal."

"I'm surprised they let you join."

"To be honest, so am I," Draco admitted. "How bad was it when Dolohov found out I'd left?"

Something flickered behind Theo's eyes and he looked down at his knees. "I've never seen him so angry. He tried to burn the Manor down. It took us hours to put out the flames. Your room got the worst of it."

Draco's heart clenched at the thought of his home going up in flames. How many of his beloved things had been lost forever?

"That's why Rookwood and Lestrange were still there when the Ministry raided it. Dolohov set the place ablaze and then fled, ordering us to clean the place up and get the classified papers out. Those two were supposed to be right behind me when I left, but they never showed."

"Where are we now? Is this the new headquarters?" asked Draco, glancing around at the long shadows that Theo's wand light was casting on the stone walls.

"No, this is just a temporary safe house. We move around a lot."

"But you've been okay? Dolohov didn't take my desertion out on you did he?"

Theo waved his hand dismissively. "Nah, I'm fine. You know me, I'm good at keeping my head down. Pansy was livid, you know."

"Yeah?"

"I think she was hurt more than anything. She's always held a candle for you, I think. But she was so angry. She's been asking for all sorts of missions just to keep her mind off of it."

Draco frowned at the thought of Pansy taking on a more important role in the Death Eater regime. What sort of missions had Dolohov been sending her on?

"Tell her I'm sorry, will you? I didn't mean to hurt her when I left… either of you," Draco intoned miserably.

Theo nodded, his eyes solemn. "I will."

"How's William?"

Theo's eyes fell to the floor. "He's alright, all things considered. He's just a kid."

"He's older than I was when I took the mark," Draco pointed out.

"Yeah, but his heart's just not in it."

A pang of guilt ran through Draco. He'd hardly spared a thought for William when he left. He'd always liked the boy, but he'd just left him behind. "Look out for him, will you? He's a good bloke."

Theo nodded. "I'll do my best."

Draco felt slightly relieved, knowing that Theo would watch over William. "Who's taken over my job?" asked Draco out of sheer morbid curiosity. He wondered who was hunting Granger now that Snyde had been captured. "Do you know?"

Theo shook his head. "I know Dolohov has been training someone, but I'm not sure who."

Draco nodded, thinking back to his months of training under the High Minister. Whoever it was had their work cut out for them. Dolohov was extremely strict and unforgiving in his lessons. He could only imagine what this new, more effective way of killing was going to be like.

"So do you know what they're going to do to me?" Draco asked.

Fear filled Theo's eyes and he looked away from Draco.

"Please, Theo," Draco begged. "If I'm going to die tomorrow, I have a right to know how."

Theo took a deep breath, his eyes filled with pity as they flickered back to Draco's. "They've been working on something—a potion, I think—that turns to vapor in the air and kills everyone that comes near. The potions team has been testing it on house elves for a few weeks and the results have been… awful. They've… they've designed it to be as painful as possible."

"A potion," Draco said thoughtfully. "Is there an antidote?"

Theo hesitated and then shook his head. "Not exactly. They've been working on one, but it isn't fully developed."

Stomach dropping like a stone, Draco nodded.

"I can't help you escape," Theo said regretfully. "They've got the whole place warded. No one, not even Death Eaters, can get in or out without special permission from Yaxley or Dolohov."

"So he's here?" asked Draco. "Dolohov, I mean."

"He came in when he'd heard you'd been captured," Theo said with a nod. "I think he wants to be here when they execute you."

A thud from above had both of their heads snapping up. They listened intently before finally turning back to each other. "I'm not even supposed to be down here," Theo said. "Dolohov would skin me alive if he knew I was talking to you."

"I don't want to get you into trouble. You should go," Draco urged, though it made his heart ache to say it.

Theo reached out, his hand coming down on Draco's shoulder firmly. He looked like he wanted to say something, but couldn't find the right words. Draco couldn't blame him. What could one say to their dear friend who was about to be executed?

Draco clutched Theo's arm hard and they shared a look that said more than they could put into words. With a heavy heart, Draco gave his friend a reassuring nod and Theo pulled his hand away from Draco's shoulder and stood up. He sent the blond a broken smile before leaving by the light of his wand, leaving Draco alone in the dark once again.

Draco spent the rest of the night shuffling through the dark, his fingertips brushing along the rough walls until they were raw as he searched for a way out of his prison. After several hours of careful exploration, he found that the only openings were the door, which was locked and heavily warded, and a small vent at the bottom of the far wall, which was far too small to squeeze through—despite his best efforts. He checked the floor. There were several drains, but they were no larger than his fist.

He made his way back to the door, feeling the magic of the wards as he tried the knob time and time again. He summoned his magic, letting it flow through his palms and press against the door in the hope of a miracle, but without a wand he would never be able to find a way out of these wards. He was trapped. And come sunrise, he would be put to death in the worst way imaginable.

Pale daylight began to trickle down the staircase beyond the door and Draco's stomach tightened worse than ever. He made his way back to the vent. Despite having tried to squeeze into it dozens of times already, he was just desperate enough to try again. Both of his feet fit through and he was able to wiggle in past his knees, but his hips stopped him. With a sigh, he gave up. Even if his hips had fit, his shoulders certainly would not have.

"Draco," a voice hissed from beyond the door.

He turned, seeing Theo gesturing to him frantically through the tiny barred window. Scrambling to his feet, Draco hurried over to his friend.

"Take this, quick," Theo ordered, thrusting a tiny phial through the bars.

"What is it?" Draco asked as his fingers closed around the glass that was filled with a shimmering orange liquid.

"The antidote. Hurry."

Draco hesitated. "I thought you said there wasn't one."

"There isn't. Not really," said Theo, glancing over his shoulder to the top of the stairs. "It's not finished. It might not work at all, but maybe… Maybe you won't die." His fearful eyes met Draco's. "I hope you don't."

Draco eyed the potion warily. It was untested, unfinished. It could kill him. But he supposed that if it did, he wouldn't be any worse off. Perhaps it would be less painful this way than with the potion Yaxley had planned for him. He was sure it wouldn't work, but with nothing to lose, he pulled the cork from the end of the phial and poured the potion down his throat. It burned like acid the whole way down and Draco gagged and coughed.

After the burning had subsided, he passed the phial and cork back to Theo who thrust it into his pocket. "I'd better go," he murmured. He reached his hand through the bars and Draco grabbed hold of it, sure that this would be the last time he was touched by a friend. "Good luck," Theo whispered before releasing Draco and disappearing up the stairs.

Draco remained at the door for several minutes, hoping against hope that Theo would reappear at the top of the stairs with a miraculous escape plan. Or that the Order would arrive to rescue him. Instead, two burly Death Eaters ambled down the stairs. They opened the door effortlessly and grabbed Draco roughly by the elbows to pull him up the stairs.

Blinking against the blinding daylight, Draco took in his surroundings. They jostled him down a narrow hallway and into a vast ballroom. On the floor there was a marble inlaid 'S'. Snyde? Selwyn? It mattered very little now whose house he was in. It wasn't like he would be able to tell the Order after he was dead.

Death Eaters stood all around the room, jeering and taunting him with malicious glee as he was escorted through the crowd. Against the far wall was a glass box, large enough for several adults to stand inside comfortably. Inside the box was a corked vase filled with a dense, black liquid. Dread seeped into Draco's veins, causing him to dig his heels into the floor. He struggled against the hold of Dolohov's henchmen, who may as well have been dragging a child for how much his fighting hindered them.

They pulled him toward a thick glass door and forced him through, sealing the door magically once he was inside. Draco struggled against the door as the men backed away laughing.

"Draco Malfoy," came a cool voice, magically amplified through the ballroom. Yaxley had moved to the front of the crowd, his eyes dancing with vicious excitement. "You stand accused of treason against the High Minister and his regime. The sentence for this crime is death." He paused, his lips curling back in a bone chilling grin. "Do you have anything to say?"

Draco moved to the front of the glass enclosure to observe the dozens of Death Eaters who had gathered to watch his execution. Dolohov stood near Yaxley, his dark eyes regarding Draco with unbridled hatred. Draco refused to give them the satisfaction of begging for his life. He knew them well enough to know that it would do no good. Instead he just sneered at all of them. "Here's to all you fuckers. Mindless followers to the very end."

Yaxley's lips curled viciously, and with a flick of his wand, the vase next to Draco shattered and the black liquid spilled out onto the floor.

Draco stumbled back as the potion oozed across the marble. It hissed and bubbled, releasing thick curls of black smoke that filled the air. The acrid smell had him covering his mouth and nose, but it was no use. The potion was already seeping into his lungs. He coughed as the smoke choked him and blinked rapidly as his vision began to blur.

His lungs constricted, forcing him to take short, rapid breaths and take in even more of the poison. He coughed and gagged as the pain began to set in everywhere. In his chest, in his stomach, in his eyes. Pain at least as terrible as the Cruciatus Curse, made even worse by the inability to take a full breath of air. Surely his lungs were collapsing.

Heart quickening to an impossible rate, Draco felt his muscles weaken and he swayed where he stood. The room was beginning to swirl around him, blurring the faces of the audience of Death Eaters. He convulsed violently and the floor surged upwards, slamming into his knees as his legs buckled beneath him.

Leaning forward on his palms, he vomited onto the marble. When he sat back up he could no longer feel his hands… or his feet… or his tongue. The numbness spread quickly, encompassing all of his body as the convulsions sent him slipping sideways to the floor in a puddle of his own sweat and drool.

The paralysis was numbing the pain a bit now, but he could no longer feel his chest and it seemed he had forgotten how to breathe. Choking and gasping for air, his eyes began to darken. While his heart had been racing mere seconds ago, it had now slowed to a glacial pace, thudding like a dying drum.

Thud.

The antidote had not worked.

Thud.

He was dying.

Thud.

What would his mother do once he was dead? He could only hope that she would stay far away.

Thud.

He would never see her again. Never have another warm embrace from his mother. Never hear her call him her 'Dragon' again.

Thud.

Never see another friendly face… or any face at all. Not Theo, or Pansy. Even Granger…

Thud.

The world around him descended into darkness.

The pain ended.

Everything ended.

A/N: Updates every Monday. Next chapter posts on May 4th.

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