A/N: I do not own Harry Potter or any characters/locations related to the franchise. That all belongs to J.K. Rowling. I hope you enjoy the only thing I do own...the plot. Also M rating for language and possible sexually explicit scenes (really just wanted to be safe with the rating).
Draco paced the hall outside of the large doors leading to the meeting room. It had been nearly a month since the Battle of the Astronomy Tower. Draco had been staying with Severus, as there were Aurors who were convinced that he would be at the Manor. Those Aurors had repeatedly dropped in for a spot of tea at random times during the past few weeks. Right now, Draco Malfoy was a wanted criminal. Implicit in the death of one Albus P. W. B. Dumbledore.
They had prepared for this though. Narcissa and Draco had known that no matter how the night had turned out Draco wouldn't be able to come home. She had sent some of his clothes to Spinner's End, and had told the Aurors nothing but the truth. Her status alone kept her from being brought in and questioned under Veritaserum. Snape's house was under a weird Charm that Draco didn't know that prevented it from being found.
Staying with Snape had been relaxing…well as relaxing as anything could be at this moment. His professor had made him help with potions. Malfoy took notice of the number of sleeping draughts, healing potions, and other salves that Severus was making. It seemed that his professor was preparing for the war ahead.
During his few weeks of blessed silence Draco memorized as many potions as he could. He studied the way his godfather deviated from the recorded recipes in the potion books, and made notes in the margins of an extra copy that Snape had. On a couple of occasions, Draco thought he had seen Snape smirk at his book, but he decided to leave it be.
It wasn't long until the summons came. It didn't come via an owl, or a floo call…that would have been too simple. The summons came through the Dark Mark that had been burned into Draco's skin before his sixth year.
Both he and Snape were monitoring a very finicky section in brewing a calming draught when the summons came. The pain was blinding, Draco fell immediately to his knees, releasing a grunt. His hand immediately clasped his forearm, instinctually trying to remove the object burning him, but what could he do when the burn was coming from his own skin? After several seconds of pain as if a hot brand was searing his flesh the feeling dissipated, leaving behind only a dull throb. Draco noticed that Snape had barely moved other than a grimace.
"He has called you." Snape intoned, adding a slice of crocodile heart to the boiling liquid.
"Did-" Draco gasped out from the ground, "Did you feel that?"
"Yes." Snape drawled tiredly, with a wave of his wand the potion was placed under stasis. "I felt it. It gets easier the longer you've had the Mark. Get your cloak." Draco nodded, still trying to catch his breath. Standing on shaky legs he crossed to the coat rack positioned by the door and grabbed his cloak.
"How good are you at Apparating?" Snape asked, coming to stand behind him. Snape snatched his cloak, clasping it around his neck with a flourish.
"I passed the test." Draco sniffed, pulling the petulance he carried as a child around him like a shield.
"Now is not the time for your insolence, Mr. Malfoy." Snape snapped at him, "Do you remember what I told you? You are a faithful servant." Draco lowered his head for a second, before grunting an affirmative. "Good. Remember your Occlumency walls. He is at the Manor." With a sucking noise followed by a pop! His potions professor was gone. Draco took a deep breath before holding his wand in hand and turned on his heel.
Now, Draco stood, having stopped his pacing, outside the doors. He could feel his stomach roll every few moments with nerves as he realized what lay behind the strong walnut door. A flickering thought that he should just run away skirted the inside of his mind, but before he could act on the impulse the door swung open.
Wormtail stood on the other side. His large front teeth perched above his lips, a sneer residing on his thin mouth. The balding man's hair was matted to one side, and he held his hands towards his face as if he intended to clean his cheeks. Draco couldn't help the look of revulsion that crossed his face at seeing this man. He had clearly spent too much time as a rat. Of all the Death Eaters that Draco had come across, he disliked Peter Pettigrew the most. No matter what way he looked at it, Draco couldn't justify the way the man had betrayed his friends. When it came down to it, Wormtail was nothing more than a coward.
The coward relieved Draco of his wand before grabbing him by his upper arm. He led him deeper into the room before flinging him into an empty space in the center.
"Draco," A soft malicious voice whispered through the room. Draco felt sweat prickle at the back of his neck as the voice slithered its way into his stomach. The voice alone could give Draco nightmares, and that had nothing to do with the 'man' the voice belonged to. Voldemort. "Come here." Draco forced himself to move forward. One foot in front of the other. Towards the throne and its occupant.
Taking a quick glance around the room Draco found it relatively empty. His mother stood to the side, next to his father and Severus. Severus had told him that Voldemort had freed his father from Azkaban as a 'reward' for his success. This was the first time Draco had seen his father in almost a year. His father's blond hair was weighed down with grease, and his eyes had dark circles underneath them, but at the sight of his son a light flickered within. His father raised his shoulders a little with beaten down pride, and gave his son a small encouraging nod. The simple gesture helped Draco gain a bit of courage to move closer.
On the other side of the room his Aunt Bellatrix stood next to her husband Rodolphus. Rodolphus' grey hair stood up on end, and his face had a short beard standing guard against his chin. His black eyes watched beadily as Draco continued to move deeper into the room. He had never cared for his Uncle Rodolphus, and now staring at the man Draco got the feeling that the dislike was mutual.
Standing just behind the Lestranges, much to Draco's displeasure, stood the werewolf Fenrir Grayback. The werewolf was cleaning his teeth with a piece of something that looked suspiciously like cracked bone. He gave Draco a toothy grin as the blond made eye contact with his soulless brown eyes. The grin caused an eruption of shivers to race down Draco's spine. Draco quickly looked away but couldn't help but wonder why the werewolf was here. He remembered that the werewolf had been there the night of the battle, and made quick assumption that it had to do with the debriefing.
The room that the Dark Lord had claimed for debriefing was large. Draco remembered that it used to be a study. His grandfather had used this room before his death when Draco had turned 9. It was the worst birthday present he had ever received. Abraxus Malfoy used to play hide and seek with him. Taking the time from his many business meetings and documents to chase the young boy through the study, tickling him mercilessly when he found him. When the youngest Malfoy had gotten older he had just sat in the study with his grandfather while reading, his grandfather occasionally helping him pronounce a word, or understand a phrase.
Then, suddenly…he was dead. Draco had heard whispers of poison, but was too young to grasp what had happened. It wasn't until he was older that he realized that the whispers were mentions of foul play, with his father at the helm of suspicion. With no way to prove it, however, no action was taken against the new Malfoy head of house.
Besides, Draco sneered while staring at the crisp white walls, it was not as if his father had actually done it. It was just rumor. Just a way for bored pureblooded wives to spend their time gossiping like the old crows they were. His grandfather had died of Dragon Pox, as his mother had told him. Draco ignored the dark pit in his stomach that echoed inside his chest when he thought about the time it took for Dragon Pox to actually kill someone and how quickly his grandfather's death had occurred. Those were thoughts best not dwelled on.
The old desk his grandfather used was gone now. As was the loveseat that Draco used to claim as both his reading spot, and the spot for the best blanket forts. The only thing that remained within the pale walls was a large leather winged back chair that now held the Dark Lord. Otherwise the room was empty. Sconces flickered along the walls, reflecting off of the polished wood floors. There was a fireplace in the corner that used to bring warmth and comfort to Draco not so many years ago, but it now stood empty, with no fire inside. No comfort to be found.
"Ah, young Master Malfoy," The Dark Lord sneered, "Welcome home. The Aurors have finally stopped hounding your dear mother every day and moved on to your friends. Now, we may discuss that night without interruption." The room dropped several degrees as Voldemort spoke. Draco came forward a couple more steps before kneeling before the pale faced man. Voldemort's eyes seemed to glow red under the low light. One pale hand rested on his darkly cloaked knee, the other on his wand. He waited patiently for Draco to speak, his bald head resting gently on the back of the chair.
Draco took several deep breaths. He knew that the longer he waited to speak, the less patient the Dark Lord would be. He took a moment to gather his thoughts and organize them in tight little boxes before shifting them around in his mind. A flash of twinkling blue eyes filled his brain as he opened the box inside his mind that stored the memories of the Astronomy Tower, and with a heavy heart looked up at Voldemort.
Voldemort ripped through his mind using Legilimancy. Draco fought back a scream as the man tore through every ounce of memory he could grab hold of. Voldemort's consciousness felt like razors cutting through his mind, and Draco knew from experience that Legilimancy only hurt if you wanted it to.
The Dark Lord always wanted it to.
Voldemort casually reviewed the conversation that Draco had held with Dumbledore over and over again. Draco felt a rush of shame while he relived the memory from under a month ago. It wasn't like it actually mattered. Voldemort would have already reviewed the memories of all the Death Eaters from that night, but still the younger wizard cringed. Draco could feel the Dark Lords unsurprised disappointment when Snape arrived and cast the final curse that killed Professor Dumbledore.
"It seems, Master Malfoy," Voldemort's sing-song voice echoed coldly through the room while he exited Draco's mind with one final tearing sensation, "that you not only failed to dispatch the Headmaster, but that you hesitated when you had your chance." Draco knelt before the Dark Lord, unsteady on his knees like he could topple forward at any moment. He knew he was going to die now. He had hesitated. It wasn't like he had wanted to hesitate, but when brought with the chance to murder someone who he had known for six years…even someone he had disliked, he just couldn't utter those two words. "Severus." The old potions master stepped forward slowly, his face a blank slate of emotion.
Snape cocked one dark eyebrow slightly. The dark hair stood out starkly on his pale face, his voice slow and steady, "My lord?"
"I thought you told me that you couldn't allow the boy to take what you so adamantly wanted. A chance to be rid of the old fool. You never mentioned he had hesitated." The last word slipped between Voldemort's teeth slowly. Every syllable was spoken with elegance and in a timber that spawned ice in Draco's veins.
Draco was struck with the sudden thought that not only had he doomed himself, but that he potentially doomed his godfather as well. The one person who had looked out for him all through sixth year. That was something that Draco would not be able to live with. Something that would eat away at his consciousness for as long as he lived.
Before Draco could stop himself the words tumbled forth from his mouth of their own volition, and even after they left he could hardly realize what he said, "He didn't know. He didn't know I hesitated. The blame falls on me, and me alone My Lord." At least he would no longer have to answer to this madman, he inwardly scoffed. Visions of a bright green flash filled Draco's mind followed by mind numbing peace. The only thing that still caused a shiver of fear in him was that he would no longer be able to protect his mother.
"Ah," The Dark Lord crooned, "taking full accountability for your lack of action? That is very noble of you Master Malfoy." Draco winced as the Dark Lord made his way down to where he was kneeling. The dark cloaks surrounding Voldemort seemed to flow and ripple even with the absence of wind, a lingering effect of the dark magic that surrounded the madman. "Self preservation is a trait that you might want to focus more energy in." The voice was so close to Draco's ear that he flinched in reflex. The pale hand of the Dark Lord patted him twice on the head, in some form of sick comfort, before the monster backed away a couple of steps towards the throne. Draco heard a sharp intake of breath from his left, and knew instantly that it was his mother. He wished he had a chance to tell her how sorry he was for failing her. For failing them all.
"I am, however, a merciful Lord. Your actions with the vanishing cabinet did grant access to those loyal to me to Hogwarts. You were able to do half of what I asked. So, I will allow you live," Draco allowed himself just a moment to breathe. Was he going to let him go? Maybe just a short round of the cruciatus as punishment? That was something Draco could live with. The smooth voice continued, "I will allow you to live…as half a wizard."
Draco felt his heart drop into his stomach. Suddenly, Fenrir Greyback's presence in the room made more sense. The punishment was decided long before Draco had ever entered through the old doorway.
Half.
The world echoed through his mind along with the wails of his mother from behind him. She shrieked and begged fruitlessly from the other side of the large space. Draco allowed his grey eyes to raise to her blues for one second. He wanted one moment to see his mother before the punishment was carried out, and he would see her through new eyes. His father was clinging to her tightly, keeping her from running to her only son, even as she fought against his hold. Draco tried to convey the words he couldn't say into his eyes. That he would be ok. That at least he was alive.
For a second Draco wondered if his father would be able to help him. Lucius was no longer in favor with the Dark Lord, but the Malfoy's still maintained a heavy coin purse. Maybe his father could present a case in favor of his son. Convince the Dark Lord that this was a poor path to take, and that there was more ideal punishment.
His eyes then flicked to his fathers, and Lucius Malfoy's slate gaze tore into his son's for just a moment. Two men who were so similar stared at each other before the older Malfoy turned away, pain etched into his normally placid features. Any hope that his father would stand up for him fluttered from the room at that moment.
"My Lord?" The voice was small and meek. So different from when she was blowing up huts and tearing through castle glass. Every eye turned to Bellatrix. "If I may?"
"Your wisdom is always welcome, Bella." The Dark Lord inclined his head, blood red pupils eyeing Bellatrix with mild interest.
"Draco, while a failure," Draco reeled back at those words but listened carefully, "Is the last male heir of two very noble houses. The Black's and the Malfoy's. If he is to be soiled," Bella's cold black eyes flicked to Greyback who snarled in response, "It leaves the possibility that these houses will die out." Draco could have kissed his aunt. She was actually trying to help him. Her reasonings were fucking stupid-caring only for the purity of the blood line-but at least she was trying. That was more than his father was doing. Draco raised his eyes to watch the exchange. Voldemort seemed to weigh her words before turning and stalking back to his throne.
"Of course you are right, Bella." Draco's heart fluttered for half a second before the last ray of hope was squashed from his soul, "But that just means that you and Narcissa will need to begin taking fertility potions. Will it not?" No one bothered to mention to the Dark Lord that only one heir could be born to the Malfoy line each generation. As it had been for 700 years, since the curse that was placed on his family by a scorned Muggle-born witch. Voldemort, of course, already knew this. They all just muttered their assent, Narcissa's agreement through thick tears. "Fenrir. If you would."
Fenrir grunted happily before he marched forward, grabbing the collar of his robes and dragging Draco to a stone door on the other side of the room. The door led to a small cellar. This was where his grandfather had kept potions ingredients, and his favored Cognac and Firewhiskey. His grandfather had told him that muggles might have been lower than them, but they could distill bloody good spirits. Draco knew, that it had recently been converted into a dungeon of sorts, and had just enough time to realize what was happening before he was thrown through the doorway and onto the cold stone floor.
"You know Malfoy," Fenrir began, taking off his clothes as he spoke, "I 'ave 'ad to take this blasted Wolfsbane potion for a week so I wouldn't kill ya tonight." The wolf sighed, stretching his muscled arms over his head. His accent was thick and improper, making it hard for Draco to understand. "I don't reckon you feel sorry for me though." Malfoy scoffed before backing away to the corner. It wasn't as if being in the corner was going to help the young wizard, but he felt safer nonetheless.
"Don't worry, it wont 'urt. Long as you don't fight me." The werewolf flashed Draco a wicked grin, his teeth already beginning to elongate. "Moons almost up. Won't be long now." Moving his head back as if he could sense the rising moon the wolf released a shuddering breath. Malfoy closed his eyes…praying the night would be swift, the wolf would be relatively gentle, and that he would survive. He only got one of those wishes.
Sorry that it has taken me so long to update. I was actually diagnosed with Corona Virus. This paired with an infection in my lungs has left me pretty weak. Here is the next chapter and I hope you like it!