Ok. So this chapter doesn't have the wanted romance. Sorry. I just took a completely new twist with this...I guess it won't completely fall under the romance genre any more...I hope you like it...it's rather...interesting. Also, I'm going on vacation for two weeks and will be without computer...so, you'll have to wait QUITE awhile for the next chapter. Thanks for all fabulous reviews!!!
Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling, who is a genius. The plot is mine, unfortunately. (I really do need someone to blame this time, don't I?)
The Messenger and the Dragon
Chapter Eight: Am I a bad guy? Am I a bad soul?
"If we beat him down, will he stay? He's a little dizzy ... I feel it starting to take me... Where did everybody go? I need them now...to save me..." -Jimmy Gnecco
*Draco's POV*
Draco sat in a plush, silver and green chair staring numbly out the window into the bleak darkness of the night. It was Christmas. It was Hell. He was home.
His mother was now kept locked in a room in the topmost tower in their house. Sometimes, late at night, you could hear her screams. Each scream sent Draco lurching forward, caught in the intense pain she lived through. He would sometimes try to steal away to see her, but hadn't succeeded yet, because his father kept the tower well guarded, and the guards had specific instructions to lock him in there with her if they caught him trying to get in. So he had yet to devise a plan to see her, and be able to help her.
Somehow, his father had yet to find out about Hermione. Draco thought that maybe Dumbledore had something to do with this. Over the past few months, he had become rather good friends with the Headmaster. Often, he would stay and chat with the old man after Hermione had left (they visited him often to be assigned their next detention). He hadn't told Dumbledore about the fact that he was a Death Eater, but knew that, just like Hermione, he already had figured it out for himself.
Draco didn't know what he would do if his father did find out. A small voice in the back of his head reminded him that of course his father would find out. A larger voice told him what his father would do. His father didn't have mercy. He didn't know what compassion was. Obviously, he had never felt love in his life. Look at his god-damned marriage. He would insure that Draco never saw Hermione again. The most probable method would be to kill her, but then again, the Dark Lord was known to find amusement in torture. So, they might draw it out. They might treat Hermione like they treated his mother.
Draco was once again racking his mind for an idea to come to him, some fabulous way to save his mother. His mind went round and round in circles...before it settled on an entirely new idea. An idea that would destroy all of Draco's pride, but if pulled off correctly, would save his mother's life. He went up to the private Malfoy owlery, and found his owl. Sure, they had over a hundred owls, but Draco only trusted the one. Hermione had given it to him. He scrawled a quick note, and bid the owl to go towards where ever Harry Potter was staying. He was asking Harry for his Invisibility Cloak.
*The next morning*
Draco woke to the sound of his fathers' barking yell, and the whimpers of several house elves. Then he felt it on him. His owl was sitting on top of him. The big, beady, green eyes were looking intently into his own. A hastily wrapped parcel was sitting at its feet, along with a rather long note. He picked the note up first.
Draco,
That was a rather urgent message. What do you need it for? Life or Death? What are you, a melodramatic creep? Oh, wait, yeah. You've got a nice owl, though. I'm stuck with my aunt and uncle on Privet Drive, again. The point is, if you really are in trouble, owl me, and I'll find some way to help you. I'll do anything to get out of this hellhole. Ginny and I have been talking (owling, actually), and she said that you really have turned around. That's obvious, really. You're 'Mione's boyfriend, and she's our best friend, so it's our duty to help you if you need it. Anyways, you better not lose my cloak, or I'll kill you myself. Good luck in whatever it is you're up to.
Ciao,
Harry
Draco grinned, and walked over to the fire. He made sure that the note was completely burnt and hid the invisibility cloak in between his mattress and bedframe. Ok, so it wasn't original, but where else could he put it? His father knew their house a thousand times better than he did. Harry had turned out to be a pretty cool guy. A little geeky, a little slow sometimes, and he thought up the worst pranks imaginable, but a good person to have on your side.
Draco went over to his closet. It was made of wood charmed to naturally be black, with specks of silver, and stripes of green. Draco realized that even though it was incredibly expensive, he thought it was a hideous piece of shit. He opened it up, and groaned inwardly. There was only one halfway decent robe in the entire closet. He dragged it out. It was shimmery, and silver, and flowed through your hands like water. It fit him perfectly, of course. He checked his reflection in a large oval mirror with ornate silver framing. He smoothed his hair down and tried to get that haunted look out of his eyes. Today his father was holding another Death Eater rally. Draco, of course, had to be present. It would go well into the night, and by the time it was over, Draco would feel thoroughly sick. He always did. They talked and laughed about murder over dinner like it was a sport. He knew that they would tease him about his failed attempt to kill that lady, and that he might even be forced to complete another task. He didn't know what he would do if they asked him to. He certainly felt no love, nor loyalty to Voldemort. He now felt quite loyal to Dumbledore. Well. It wasn't like he had a choice at the moment.
He walked quietly down their main winding staircase, into the kitchen. He had just sat down to a meal of pancakes, sausage, bacon, and tea, when the first Death Eater arrived. He could hear his father greeting him from the front hall. When he realized who it was, his blood ran cold.
"Severus! How nice to see you. As you may have noticed, you are the first one to arrive, so make yourself...at home. Draco is in the kitchen at present, I believe. Have you eaten breakfast, yet?"
"Hello, Lucius. It feels wonderful to be back here. How long has it been? Ten years? Twelve? I do believe I've lost count! I've already eaten, but I wouldn't mind some tea. Thank you." A house elf took his cloak.
"Staunchy, guide Mr. Snape towards the kitchen." The house elf motioned for him to follow.
Draco swallowed. Snape could give it all away. Did Dumbledore know? The lying, filthy piece of scum! Draco felt his heart beat quicken, and realized that his stomach was churning quite violently. Suddenly pancakes just didn't seem very appetizing. The footsteps grew closer. Tap, tap. Tap, tap. Then he was in the doorway. He looked sinister. Draco quickly hid any emotion from his face. He stood up, and walked towards his teacher. Well, he might as well let the game begin.
"Hello, Professor. Nice to see you. Would you like some tea, pancakes, sausage or bacon?" He was tempted to hold out his own half eaten plate.
"Hello, Draco. Tea would be nice. Having a nice Christmas?"
"Er, yes. Splendid."
Snape took a seat. His father walked in.
"Well, show him your arm, boy! He wasn't there for your initiation, after all. You two can swap stories, I'm sure." Then he left again. Snape was looking expectantly at him.
He swallowed, and rolled his sleeve up. Snape looked at it briefly, nodded, and looked away.
"How long?"
"Since before school."
"And...um..." Snape looked quickly around him, then glared at Draco in what was supposed to be a meaningful way. Draco, however, was not on the same wavelength.
"Well...I didn't actually kill anyone in the initiation. I- it was rather pathetic, actually."
"Ah, I see." Then Snape performed some sort of spell, and said, "what does she think of it?"
"What did you do?"
"It will only last a few minutes. No one can hear us. They can see us speaking, though, so be wary. Does she know?"
"Of course. My mother is very proud." Draco knew this wasn't who he meant.
"No...Hermione. What does she think?"
"What you would expect her to think. She is, after all, of Muggle lineage." Draco was very confused by Snape's concern. "How could you weasel around Dumbledore so easily? No one is able to betray him."
"Draco, stop playing games. I'm like y-" Then his speech abruptly stopped because the spell had worn out.
Draco's eyes grew a bit too wide, and he just stood staring at Snape for a few minutes, before his father came back in. He wasn't sure what to believe anymore. He vaguely wondered if this was some huge trap.
"So what have the two of you been talking about?"
"Well, the Professor has been explaining to me our assignment over break, and giving me a few hints to get me ahead and help me become top of the grade. We talked for a bit about our initiations, of course. You know, father, that I don't like to talk about it for long, though. It is really quite embarrassing for me."
"Yes. Well, I do believe you will soon be getting a chance to set that right."
Draco lazily raised an eyebrow, pretending to be interested, when really he was shocked and now panicking. "Really?"
"Yes. I will speak personally to the Dark Lord on your behalf. Of course, he may give you a much more difficult task..."
"Yes. I understand. I'm perfectly capable. Thank you, father. The Professor was wanting to see our land. I offered to give him a tour, if it's all right with you, that is."
"Yes. That would be an excellent way for the two of you to pass time until the other guests arrive."
"I hope I don't pose an inconvenience, Lucius."
"Oh, no, not at all. I really must get on, now."
Draco led Snape far away from the house, towards the edge of their massive property. He looked briefly around, then stared his teacher straight in the eye.
"You were saying earlier that you were like me...what do you mean?"
"I see you at school. Don't deny that you're in love with that...with Hermione. It's plain to everyone who has seen you. I see you talking with Dumbledore. Quite frequently for hours on end. You are not the same Draco Malfoy who came to Hogwarts five years ago. You have grown up, and you are no longer gray. I watched you for years, wavering between dark and light, and for a while I was afraid that the darkness had found you, but at your darkest moment the light came. It is the same for me."
"But...then why...are you here?"
"I cannot tell you the reasons. I will keep it to myself...because I don't want any one else to be questioned...They cannot know..."
"But when were you...when did you become?"
"Years ago. I was seventeen. I was for a long time. But before the Dark Lord fell, I realized the error of my ways. I have been..." At that moment Snape's head shot up, and he looked quickly around him. "We are not alone. Come on, we must go back now."
"What do you mean? What do I do?"
"Follow the Dark Lord and his ways. I'm certain you will triumph over any opposition if you follow this path..." Snape gave Draco a meaningful glance, and, this time, Draco understood.
"I suppose I'm just rather...ashamed...because I didn't kill the bitch."
"Yes. Well, the Dark Lord has been merciful, and since you are at such a young age, I'm sure he will continue to show mercy. You must be strong, Draco."
That was the real answer to his question. He had to be strong. He had to be strong...
*That Evening*
Draco had changed out of the silver robes, and into much thicker ones. Into ones with could easily hide the fact that he had the invisibility cloak wrapped around himself underneath the robes. He had put a spell on the cloak to hold it up, and he would simply take the spell off when he needed it.
This was definitely the largest Death Eater rally he had ever been to. However, it wasn't until he saw that Voldemort was in HIS house, that he really began to worry, and to wonder. Voldemort never came to these Death Eater dinners. He had watched everyone enter. Every single Death Eater was present. A huge silver and green throne had been prepared for Voldemort. His father sat at the opposite end of the table, with Draco next to him. His father did not look happy about something. Snape was way down at the other end of the table, smooshed in between two large, burly guys that looked a lot like Crabbe and Goyle.
Surprisingly, everyone ate in relative silence. Draco found that this was even worse. Voldemort just watched on, because he had reached such a 'height of immortality' that he was 'beyond food'. Draco thought this was bullshit. He had a little theory that maybe Voldemort wasn't as immortal as he made out to be. Anyways, his father kept glowering in Snape's direction, and the Death Eater directly opposite him kept giving him menacing looks. Draco also noticed with shock that everyone was scarfing down their food-almost looking like they were anticipating something. Did he miss out on something?
Suddenly he heard a cry of pain echoing from outside the dining hall. The other Death Eaters looked up in pleasant anticipation, and Voldemort rose to speak to them.
"As you all know, last summer Lucius' son, Draco, joined us. His initiation did not go very smoothly. Instead of him killing our captive, the captive almost killed him. However, I decided to let him be a Death Eater despite the fact that he was unable to complete his task. I have spoken with Lucius, and we have realized that it would be...unfair...of us to not give him another chance to redeem his pride and standing amongst us. So, we have set up a second task for him to complete. Bring them in." Voldemort sat back down, and wheeled his great thrown around. Everyone stood up, and with a flick of a wand, the table and chairs were pushed to the side. Everyone made a half circle enclosing the door. He watched Pettigrew come forward and open the door. His human hand was shaking. His father opened the other door. When Draco saw what was beyond those two doors, his worst nightmare was confirmed.
Voldemort rose again from his thrown. "We have given you a choice. You can spare one of them. We all know that in recent months Narcissa Malfoy has become increasingly disobedient, and has reached a point of maddening insanity. She is a danger to this household, and we must be...rid of her." Voldemort took a breath and rubbed the palms of his snaky hands together. "We only decided a few hours ago to add in this second individual. One of our members informed Lucius that you have been...well, involved...with a mudblood. This is most disgraceful. You are putting not only your whole family, but this whole community to shame. It will not be allowed. So here is your choice. It will be easy. They will be tied up, and all you will have to do is say the curse. If you refuse to...well, not only will you be revoked of position in this circle, and this mansion you call home, but you will...be dead, dear little Drakie..." Voldemort let a slithery grin spread across his face.
Draco looked wildly around him. He was surrounded...They were closing in. They were excited...there was promise of blood. He thought wildly. He couldn't. He wouldn't. He loved them both. He had the cloak. Did he have anything else? Three people in this entire room were on his side. Two of them were chained. The third...well, Draco wasn't sure he would forfeit his mission to save them...
What could he do? He could die brave...he could die a hero...
He turned and faced Voldemort. "If you kill me, will they be spared?"
Voldemort simply laughed. "Spared? You idiot! You weakling! No one is spared...no one..."
"Oh." Draco turned back around to face his mother and his lover. He hadn't looked at them yet.
His mother was pale, bruised, thin to a startling degree, and dirty. The only clean place on her entire body was a few streaks down each cheek, from tears. Now the tears even seemed to be gone. He saw her struggling to fight her bondage, and saw her fight between recognition of her son and complete oblivion. Hermione was healthy and strong, and still in her pajamas. Her hair (he loved her hair) was pulled roughly back, with a few stray curls. She had a livid, red gash across her left cheek, and there was an unshed tear in her right eye. She had dirt on her knees and hands, from struggling and being dragged along, and she was looking at him with a mix of fear and love and understanding. She held her head high, as always, and when a man beat her, she flinched only once, then stood tall and brave, only giving away any sense of hurt and anger by the fact that she was grinding her teeth.
The Death Eaters were growing restless. Pettigrew was massaging his silver hand, his very own father was waving his wand, Voldemort was moving this way and that on his throne. They were ready for action.
Who was he? He was a Malfoy. He was Draco Malfoy. He had an overflowing vault in Gringotts with his name on it. He had aristocratic bastard written all over him. He himself had said he was bad. He was told that part of his soul was already Voldemort's...he had already made the decision. Being a Malfoy, he wouldn't have to face consequences. And feelings were for idiots, right?
Well, then he was poor, and obviously not a Malfoy, he was no longer bad, and no part of him belonged to that fucking half snake. Love was the strongest thing there was...right?
Snape stepped forward. "My Lord, we haven't got all day. If he is refuses to, then please, let me. I have reason to prove my loyalty as well, you know."
Voldemort eyed him up and down. "Who do you wish to kill?"
"I wish to kill all three of them, my Lord."
Voldemort stifled a yawn, and waved his hand. "Go ahead, then."
Snape stepped forward. Hermione's eyes grew wide, Narcissa started mumbling something about how he couldn't possibly, and Draco started screaming complete nonsense, along with the word 'traitor' spread throughout.
He grinned. He used a powerful curse to slam Draco against the wall, then gave him another of his meaningful looks as he muttered very quietly 'Avayda Kedavra'. The pronunciation was only slightly different, but it had an entirely different effect. Its effect was one of a prolonged sleep, where one appeared dead. Snape almost grinned at his own cleverness. He had come up with it himself. He was going to have it patented, and move out of his old rickety apartment in the slums of London into a nice, suburban house.
Next he moved to Hermione. She tried to kick him. He spat in her face, then muttered, even more quietly, those same words. 'Avayda Kedavra'.
Then, he was up next to Narcissa. He put on a real show. "I'm sorry, 'Cissa, I really am. You just always pick the wrong kinds of guys, now, don't you? Avayda Kedavra!"
Voldemort rubbed his hands together. "Well, thank you, Severus. However, I'm still a little confused about your loyalty. A fellow Death Eater is accusing you of double-crossing us. I was going to give you the Dementor's Kiss, because they really are the worst, but since you have proven your loyalty so well, I might just kill you..."
"B-But my Lord...have you any proof?"
"No. But I don't need proof, Severus. You were always flighty. You've left me before. You were reluctant to come back. Took a long time to think about it. I just can't have those kind of people working for me."
"I'll do it my self." He muttered his own curse, and fell in front of everyone.
"Strange bird, he was. Pity I didn't get to kill him. I think I rather would've liked it...Send them by Portal Key to Dumbledore. With a little 'Merry Christmas' card attached, of course."
'If we beat him down, will he stay? He's a little dizzy. I feel it starting to take me...Where did everybody go? I need them now, to save me...' ~ 'Dizzy' by Ours
Well...I really am leaving you hanging...now, we have four people whom everyone will think are dead...how on Earth will they survive? Will they be buried? How will the wizarding community react? Hmmm...anyways, I hope you enjoyed, and after my lovely vacation in Michigan and then New York, I will write more for all of you!!! Hugs, Lily
Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling, who is a genius. The plot is mine, unfortunately. (I really do need someone to blame this time, don't I?)
The Messenger and the Dragon
Chapter Eight: Am I a bad guy? Am I a bad soul?
"If we beat him down, will he stay? He's a little dizzy ... I feel it starting to take me... Where did everybody go? I need them now...to save me..." -Jimmy Gnecco
*Draco's POV*
Draco sat in a plush, silver and green chair staring numbly out the window into the bleak darkness of the night. It was Christmas. It was Hell. He was home.
His mother was now kept locked in a room in the topmost tower in their house. Sometimes, late at night, you could hear her screams. Each scream sent Draco lurching forward, caught in the intense pain she lived through. He would sometimes try to steal away to see her, but hadn't succeeded yet, because his father kept the tower well guarded, and the guards had specific instructions to lock him in there with her if they caught him trying to get in. So he had yet to devise a plan to see her, and be able to help her.
Somehow, his father had yet to find out about Hermione. Draco thought that maybe Dumbledore had something to do with this. Over the past few months, he had become rather good friends with the Headmaster. Often, he would stay and chat with the old man after Hermione had left (they visited him often to be assigned their next detention). He hadn't told Dumbledore about the fact that he was a Death Eater, but knew that, just like Hermione, he already had figured it out for himself.
Draco didn't know what he would do if his father did find out. A small voice in the back of his head reminded him that of course his father would find out. A larger voice told him what his father would do. His father didn't have mercy. He didn't know what compassion was. Obviously, he had never felt love in his life. Look at his god-damned marriage. He would insure that Draco never saw Hermione again. The most probable method would be to kill her, but then again, the Dark Lord was known to find amusement in torture. So, they might draw it out. They might treat Hermione like they treated his mother.
Draco was once again racking his mind for an idea to come to him, some fabulous way to save his mother. His mind went round and round in circles...before it settled on an entirely new idea. An idea that would destroy all of Draco's pride, but if pulled off correctly, would save his mother's life. He went up to the private Malfoy owlery, and found his owl. Sure, they had over a hundred owls, but Draco only trusted the one. Hermione had given it to him. He scrawled a quick note, and bid the owl to go towards where ever Harry Potter was staying. He was asking Harry for his Invisibility Cloak.
*The next morning*
Draco woke to the sound of his fathers' barking yell, and the whimpers of several house elves. Then he felt it on him. His owl was sitting on top of him. The big, beady, green eyes were looking intently into his own. A hastily wrapped parcel was sitting at its feet, along with a rather long note. He picked the note up first.
Draco,
That was a rather urgent message. What do you need it for? Life or Death? What are you, a melodramatic creep? Oh, wait, yeah. You've got a nice owl, though. I'm stuck with my aunt and uncle on Privet Drive, again. The point is, if you really are in trouble, owl me, and I'll find some way to help you. I'll do anything to get out of this hellhole. Ginny and I have been talking (owling, actually), and she said that you really have turned around. That's obvious, really. You're 'Mione's boyfriend, and she's our best friend, so it's our duty to help you if you need it. Anyways, you better not lose my cloak, or I'll kill you myself. Good luck in whatever it is you're up to.
Ciao,
Harry
Draco grinned, and walked over to the fire. He made sure that the note was completely burnt and hid the invisibility cloak in between his mattress and bedframe. Ok, so it wasn't original, but where else could he put it? His father knew their house a thousand times better than he did. Harry had turned out to be a pretty cool guy. A little geeky, a little slow sometimes, and he thought up the worst pranks imaginable, but a good person to have on your side.
Draco went over to his closet. It was made of wood charmed to naturally be black, with specks of silver, and stripes of green. Draco realized that even though it was incredibly expensive, he thought it was a hideous piece of shit. He opened it up, and groaned inwardly. There was only one halfway decent robe in the entire closet. He dragged it out. It was shimmery, and silver, and flowed through your hands like water. It fit him perfectly, of course. He checked his reflection in a large oval mirror with ornate silver framing. He smoothed his hair down and tried to get that haunted look out of his eyes. Today his father was holding another Death Eater rally. Draco, of course, had to be present. It would go well into the night, and by the time it was over, Draco would feel thoroughly sick. He always did. They talked and laughed about murder over dinner like it was a sport. He knew that they would tease him about his failed attempt to kill that lady, and that he might even be forced to complete another task. He didn't know what he would do if they asked him to. He certainly felt no love, nor loyalty to Voldemort. He now felt quite loyal to Dumbledore. Well. It wasn't like he had a choice at the moment.
He walked quietly down their main winding staircase, into the kitchen. He had just sat down to a meal of pancakes, sausage, bacon, and tea, when the first Death Eater arrived. He could hear his father greeting him from the front hall. When he realized who it was, his blood ran cold.
"Severus! How nice to see you. As you may have noticed, you are the first one to arrive, so make yourself...at home. Draco is in the kitchen at present, I believe. Have you eaten breakfast, yet?"
"Hello, Lucius. It feels wonderful to be back here. How long has it been? Ten years? Twelve? I do believe I've lost count! I've already eaten, but I wouldn't mind some tea. Thank you." A house elf took his cloak.
"Staunchy, guide Mr. Snape towards the kitchen." The house elf motioned for him to follow.
Draco swallowed. Snape could give it all away. Did Dumbledore know? The lying, filthy piece of scum! Draco felt his heart beat quicken, and realized that his stomach was churning quite violently. Suddenly pancakes just didn't seem very appetizing. The footsteps grew closer. Tap, tap. Tap, tap. Then he was in the doorway. He looked sinister. Draco quickly hid any emotion from his face. He stood up, and walked towards his teacher. Well, he might as well let the game begin.
"Hello, Professor. Nice to see you. Would you like some tea, pancakes, sausage or bacon?" He was tempted to hold out his own half eaten plate.
"Hello, Draco. Tea would be nice. Having a nice Christmas?"
"Er, yes. Splendid."
Snape took a seat. His father walked in.
"Well, show him your arm, boy! He wasn't there for your initiation, after all. You two can swap stories, I'm sure." Then he left again. Snape was looking expectantly at him.
He swallowed, and rolled his sleeve up. Snape looked at it briefly, nodded, and looked away.
"How long?"
"Since before school."
"And...um..." Snape looked quickly around him, then glared at Draco in what was supposed to be a meaningful way. Draco, however, was not on the same wavelength.
"Well...I didn't actually kill anyone in the initiation. I- it was rather pathetic, actually."
"Ah, I see." Then Snape performed some sort of spell, and said, "what does she think of it?"
"What did you do?"
"It will only last a few minutes. No one can hear us. They can see us speaking, though, so be wary. Does she know?"
"Of course. My mother is very proud." Draco knew this wasn't who he meant.
"No...Hermione. What does she think?"
"What you would expect her to think. She is, after all, of Muggle lineage." Draco was very confused by Snape's concern. "How could you weasel around Dumbledore so easily? No one is able to betray him."
"Draco, stop playing games. I'm like y-" Then his speech abruptly stopped because the spell had worn out.
Draco's eyes grew a bit too wide, and he just stood staring at Snape for a few minutes, before his father came back in. He wasn't sure what to believe anymore. He vaguely wondered if this was some huge trap.
"So what have the two of you been talking about?"
"Well, the Professor has been explaining to me our assignment over break, and giving me a few hints to get me ahead and help me become top of the grade. We talked for a bit about our initiations, of course. You know, father, that I don't like to talk about it for long, though. It is really quite embarrassing for me."
"Yes. Well, I do believe you will soon be getting a chance to set that right."
Draco lazily raised an eyebrow, pretending to be interested, when really he was shocked and now panicking. "Really?"
"Yes. I will speak personally to the Dark Lord on your behalf. Of course, he may give you a much more difficult task..."
"Yes. I understand. I'm perfectly capable. Thank you, father. The Professor was wanting to see our land. I offered to give him a tour, if it's all right with you, that is."
"Yes. That would be an excellent way for the two of you to pass time until the other guests arrive."
"I hope I don't pose an inconvenience, Lucius."
"Oh, no, not at all. I really must get on, now."
Draco led Snape far away from the house, towards the edge of their massive property. He looked briefly around, then stared his teacher straight in the eye.
"You were saying earlier that you were like me...what do you mean?"
"I see you at school. Don't deny that you're in love with that...with Hermione. It's plain to everyone who has seen you. I see you talking with Dumbledore. Quite frequently for hours on end. You are not the same Draco Malfoy who came to Hogwarts five years ago. You have grown up, and you are no longer gray. I watched you for years, wavering between dark and light, and for a while I was afraid that the darkness had found you, but at your darkest moment the light came. It is the same for me."
"But...then why...are you here?"
"I cannot tell you the reasons. I will keep it to myself...because I don't want any one else to be questioned...They cannot know..."
"But when were you...when did you become?"
"Years ago. I was seventeen. I was for a long time. But before the Dark Lord fell, I realized the error of my ways. I have been..." At that moment Snape's head shot up, and he looked quickly around him. "We are not alone. Come on, we must go back now."
"What do you mean? What do I do?"
"Follow the Dark Lord and his ways. I'm certain you will triumph over any opposition if you follow this path..." Snape gave Draco a meaningful glance, and, this time, Draco understood.
"I suppose I'm just rather...ashamed...because I didn't kill the bitch."
"Yes. Well, the Dark Lord has been merciful, and since you are at such a young age, I'm sure he will continue to show mercy. You must be strong, Draco."
That was the real answer to his question. He had to be strong. He had to be strong...
*That Evening*
Draco had changed out of the silver robes, and into much thicker ones. Into ones with could easily hide the fact that he had the invisibility cloak wrapped around himself underneath the robes. He had put a spell on the cloak to hold it up, and he would simply take the spell off when he needed it.
This was definitely the largest Death Eater rally he had ever been to. However, it wasn't until he saw that Voldemort was in HIS house, that he really began to worry, and to wonder. Voldemort never came to these Death Eater dinners. He had watched everyone enter. Every single Death Eater was present. A huge silver and green throne had been prepared for Voldemort. His father sat at the opposite end of the table, with Draco next to him. His father did not look happy about something. Snape was way down at the other end of the table, smooshed in between two large, burly guys that looked a lot like Crabbe and Goyle.
Surprisingly, everyone ate in relative silence. Draco found that this was even worse. Voldemort just watched on, because he had reached such a 'height of immortality' that he was 'beyond food'. Draco thought this was bullshit. He had a little theory that maybe Voldemort wasn't as immortal as he made out to be. Anyways, his father kept glowering in Snape's direction, and the Death Eater directly opposite him kept giving him menacing looks. Draco also noticed with shock that everyone was scarfing down their food-almost looking like they were anticipating something. Did he miss out on something?
Suddenly he heard a cry of pain echoing from outside the dining hall. The other Death Eaters looked up in pleasant anticipation, and Voldemort rose to speak to them.
"As you all know, last summer Lucius' son, Draco, joined us. His initiation did not go very smoothly. Instead of him killing our captive, the captive almost killed him. However, I decided to let him be a Death Eater despite the fact that he was unable to complete his task. I have spoken with Lucius, and we have realized that it would be...unfair...of us to not give him another chance to redeem his pride and standing amongst us. So, we have set up a second task for him to complete. Bring them in." Voldemort sat back down, and wheeled his great thrown around. Everyone stood up, and with a flick of a wand, the table and chairs were pushed to the side. Everyone made a half circle enclosing the door. He watched Pettigrew come forward and open the door. His human hand was shaking. His father opened the other door. When Draco saw what was beyond those two doors, his worst nightmare was confirmed.
Voldemort rose again from his thrown. "We have given you a choice. You can spare one of them. We all know that in recent months Narcissa Malfoy has become increasingly disobedient, and has reached a point of maddening insanity. She is a danger to this household, and we must be...rid of her." Voldemort took a breath and rubbed the palms of his snaky hands together. "We only decided a few hours ago to add in this second individual. One of our members informed Lucius that you have been...well, involved...with a mudblood. This is most disgraceful. You are putting not only your whole family, but this whole community to shame. It will not be allowed. So here is your choice. It will be easy. They will be tied up, and all you will have to do is say the curse. If you refuse to...well, not only will you be revoked of position in this circle, and this mansion you call home, but you will...be dead, dear little Drakie..." Voldemort let a slithery grin spread across his face.
Draco looked wildly around him. He was surrounded...They were closing in. They were excited...there was promise of blood. He thought wildly. He couldn't. He wouldn't. He loved them both. He had the cloak. Did he have anything else? Three people in this entire room were on his side. Two of them were chained. The third...well, Draco wasn't sure he would forfeit his mission to save them...
What could he do? He could die brave...he could die a hero...
He turned and faced Voldemort. "If you kill me, will they be spared?"
Voldemort simply laughed. "Spared? You idiot! You weakling! No one is spared...no one..."
"Oh." Draco turned back around to face his mother and his lover. He hadn't looked at them yet.
His mother was pale, bruised, thin to a startling degree, and dirty. The only clean place on her entire body was a few streaks down each cheek, from tears. Now the tears even seemed to be gone. He saw her struggling to fight her bondage, and saw her fight between recognition of her son and complete oblivion. Hermione was healthy and strong, and still in her pajamas. Her hair (he loved her hair) was pulled roughly back, with a few stray curls. She had a livid, red gash across her left cheek, and there was an unshed tear in her right eye. She had dirt on her knees and hands, from struggling and being dragged along, and she was looking at him with a mix of fear and love and understanding. She held her head high, as always, and when a man beat her, she flinched only once, then stood tall and brave, only giving away any sense of hurt and anger by the fact that she was grinding her teeth.
The Death Eaters were growing restless. Pettigrew was massaging his silver hand, his very own father was waving his wand, Voldemort was moving this way and that on his throne. They were ready for action.
Who was he? He was a Malfoy. He was Draco Malfoy. He had an overflowing vault in Gringotts with his name on it. He had aristocratic bastard written all over him. He himself had said he was bad. He was told that part of his soul was already Voldemort's...he had already made the decision. Being a Malfoy, he wouldn't have to face consequences. And feelings were for idiots, right?
Well, then he was poor, and obviously not a Malfoy, he was no longer bad, and no part of him belonged to that fucking half snake. Love was the strongest thing there was...right?
Snape stepped forward. "My Lord, we haven't got all day. If he is refuses to, then please, let me. I have reason to prove my loyalty as well, you know."
Voldemort eyed him up and down. "Who do you wish to kill?"
"I wish to kill all three of them, my Lord."
Voldemort stifled a yawn, and waved his hand. "Go ahead, then."
Snape stepped forward. Hermione's eyes grew wide, Narcissa started mumbling something about how he couldn't possibly, and Draco started screaming complete nonsense, along with the word 'traitor' spread throughout.
He grinned. He used a powerful curse to slam Draco against the wall, then gave him another of his meaningful looks as he muttered very quietly 'Avayda Kedavra'. The pronunciation was only slightly different, but it had an entirely different effect. Its effect was one of a prolonged sleep, where one appeared dead. Snape almost grinned at his own cleverness. He had come up with it himself. He was going to have it patented, and move out of his old rickety apartment in the slums of London into a nice, suburban house.
Next he moved to Hermione. She tried to kick him. He spat in her face, then muttered, even more quietly, those same words. 'Avayda Kedavra'.
Then, he was up next to Narcissa. He put on a real show. "I'm sorry, 'Cissa, I really am. You just always pick the wrong kinds of guys, now, don't you? Avayda Kedavra!"
Voldemort rubbed his hands together. "Well, thank you, Severus. However, I'm still a little confused about your loyalty. A fellow Death Eater is accusing you of double-crossing us. I was going to give you the Dementor's Kiss, because they really are the worst, but since you have proven your loyalty so well, I might just kill you..."
"B-But my Lord...have you any proof?"
"No. But I don't need proof, Severus. You were always flighty. You've left me before. You were reluctant to come back. Took a long time to think about it. I just can't have those kind of people working for me."
"I'll do it my self." He muttered his own curse, and fell in front of everyone.
"Strange bird, he was. Pity I didn't get to kill him. I think I rather would've liked it...Send them by Portal Key to Dumbledore. With a little 'Merry Christmas' card attached, of course."
'If we beat him down, will he stay? He's a little dizzy. I feel it starting to take me...Where did everybody go? I need them now, to save me...' ~ 'Dizzy' by Ours
Well...I really am leaving you hanging...now, we have four people whom everyone will think are dead...how on Earth will they survive? Will they be buried? How will the wizarding community react? Hmmm...anyways, I hope you enjoyed, and after my lovely vacation in Michigan and then New York, I will write more for all of you!!! Hugs, Lily