Wow wow wow...34 reviews. You are all my favorite people in the world. Big thanks to fyrechild,
fuschia, kitala, lynn-chan (you're so funny!), Grania the fire witch and elissa.
Not much to say here, except that this was written last night, but my computer exploded so I was a
bit delayed. I hope you like this chapter, I had fun writing some characters that weren't Ginny
and Draco. So let me know how I did!
As usual, if you review mine, I'll review yours. Just make sure you give me a signed review so I
know who you are!
Oh, and the ..................... lines towards the end of this chapter differentiate between
Draco's dream self and his separate subconscious. Thanks, that's all.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
"Fibra."
Ginny could barely keep her voice to it's normal low whisper
as she spoke the Gryffindor password. She was absolutely exultant at the
thought that she, a nobody little Weasley, had bested Draco Malfoy in a
battle of wits. Of course, underneath all the excitement, she felt an
undercurrent of anxiety. She had seen how violent and angry he has gotten
when she had inadvertently embarrassed him...she hoped he wouldn't be even
worse now that she had purposefully humiliated him. However, she somehow
didn't think he would be. Her exceptional talent for blending in had resulted
in an increased sensitivity to the moods and thoughts of those surrounding her.
She had glimpsed something in his eyes that had truly frightened her when he threw
her across the floor, but afterwards she had seen a kind of warmth and -as hard as
it may be to believe- protectiveness when he had helped her gently to her feet.
He was a puzzle, Draco Malfoy was, and Ginny had always been fascinated by puzzles.
Lost in her rather confused, but pleased thoughts, Ginny stepped through
the portrait hole and into the Gryffindor common room. She was so distracted by her
encounter in the music hall that she forgot completely to bow her head and take the
small, silent steps that would render her invisible to the casual glance. Instead, she
entered the threshold with head up, eyes sparkling and hair glistening, with a spring
in her step and a flush to her cheeks. She really looked quite lovely, although she
would never believe it. However, she realized her error before anyone else could and
very quickly blurred herself into some semblance of a shadow.
She shuffled over to the corner where everyone's favorite trio were sitting. Out of
all of her older brothers, Ginny had always felt closest to Ron. They were almost
equal in age and, although he had never stated it expressly, she felt like he
understood her struggle for individuality the best. Therefore, since she had no friends
of her own at Hogwarts, she dutifully played the part of tagalong, pesky little sister,
always interrupting the schemes and dreams of their impenetrable friendship. Still, she
enjoyed being near them when she could. They exuded a warmth and deep affection,
but more importantly, there was such a predictability about them. You could always count
on Ron to say something ridiculous and try (in his very awkward way) to cheer you up. You
could count on Hermione to look at you in that mildly infuriating condescending manner
and tell you that all of your problems could be laid at the feet of adolescence. And Harry...
well, you could depend on Harry to look at you with those heartbreaking green eyes and
smile into your soul. That was why she had fallen in love with him. It was that he seemed to
see through her defenses and into the Ginny she kept hidden that made her feel alive, important and even
beautiful. But the bitter truth was that that was the only way Harry could look at people.
His past suffering had created in him a compassion for everyone he met that was quite unusual for boys his age.
Unfortunately, by the time she had learned that, it had been too late and she was head over heels in love.
It wasn't the sort of puppy love that one could get over with a few tearful nights and a box
of chocolates. Not only was it her first experience with the emotion, but it was the kind of
affection that strikes so hard that even years and experience will never dull it. She still
acutely felt the painful ache in her chest whenever she looked at him.
These were the thoughts that were running through her head as she knelt subtly outside their circle,
waiting and watching. She looked at Harry for a good long time, unobserved. He was truly beautiful.
Everything that a teenage girl could dream of: charming, mysterious, tragic, heroic and unendingly
modest, but he was also still a bit of a mystery to Ginny. Ron and Hermione she had figured out long
since, only updating the information she already had on them. Harry, though...she had a feeling
that she could never quite see into the hidden darkness that dimmed those emerald eyes. Her usual
favorite past time was staring into the deep pools, watching the emotion fill up and drain out of them
trying to figure them out while drinking in their beauty. Today, however, she was utterly surprised
when she found herself comparing them to a pair that were their polar opposite. Where Harry's eyes were
always dancing with life, these other eyes were stone; in color, inflection and emotion.
'How strange,' she thought 'that Malfoy's eyes should remind me of Harry's. They're really nothing
at all alike.' And she set her mind on the conundrum. She retraced her every move and word of the last
24 hours and she remembered everything he said to her. As she recalled their mini adventure of that
afternoon, some of the life and color she had obscured on her entrance into the Common Room crept
back into her cheeks, unbeknownst to her. Eventually, her usual mask of effacement dropped away completely
and Harry, who had let his gaze stray from his two companions, caught a glimpse of a thoroughly transformed
Ginny.
"Hey, Gin! Did you just get here? We were talking about the next Quidditch game against Slyterin." Harry's
rather clumsy attempt at courtesy called her thoughts back to the present and her heart gave a
painful little thump in her chest as she briefly met his eyes..
'I know.' she thought sadly to herself. 'I've been here all along.' She wasn't referring to the conversation.
"Yeah, I just got here." she said softly to him, but by then he had turned away.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Draco walked back to the entrance to the Slytherin's dungeon entrance. For the first time in ages, he simply walked.
No swagger, no anger, no pain. He walked with a thoughtful look that didn't quite fit on his aristocratic
features. Ginny Weasley was a mystery to him. Moreover, his reaction to Ginny Weasley was a mystery to him. That is
to say, she infuriated him as much as any other Weasley, what with her handmedown robes and tattered books defaming
the name of wizard. But there was something in the way her eyes met his. It was a ridiculous thing to think, but he
could swear that she saw him for more than face value. Obviously, that was completely without reason...but still.
And then there was the fact that, although she had humiliated him several times in the last day, the inborn rage that never failed to
assert itself onto the source of such disrespect was disturbingly absent. A lot had changed about Draco Malfoy since the summer, but some things
were so constant that he didn't think anything short of death could change them. Well, death and a certain annoying red
head. He wasn't even aware of the slight smile that quirked his lips as he thought of the way she had glared up at him
back in the music room. The little Weasel throwing a temper tantrums was one of the funniest things he had ever seen. His
mind quickly glossed over the fact that, at the time, she had been no little intimidating.
"Eerzucht."
Draco had reached the entrance to the dungeon common room and quietly spoke the password, the smile still haunting
his face. The serpent that protected the Slytherin lair swiftly uncoiled and wriggled around the wall in a previously
unnoticeable outline. When it had made a full circuit, the oval it had traced swung silently inward and the green light that
was ever present in Draco's home away from home poured into the darkened hallway. He stepped through silently, taking a few
moments to observe his housemates. Most of them were talking in animated conversation, some were lounging lazily on the several
sofas. Suddenly realizing that he hadn't blanked his face of emotion upon crossing the threshold, Draco let his smile die.
Pansy noticed him first and, with a widening of her eyes, fell silent. Then, one by one, they all turned to stare up at him
until the room seemed to echo in silence. One day he expected they would all stand up and perform some ridiculous salute. That was the way he wanted it.
He couldn't imagine the consequences if even a single one of them learned of the events five months ago. It could be disastrous.
Fixing a sneer that felt much more comfortable than the half smile, Draco waved them all aside like so much trash and strode arrogantly
to his dorm room. He slammed the door and turned to face the only place that felt like home these days, taking in it's simple decor all
done in green and silver, as was fitting. Looking out the window, he surmised that he had spent at least two hours in that hole with
the carrot topped brat, as it was now fully dark outside. Suddenly exhausted, Draco dropped onto his bed, only bothering to remove his
shoes. Having to deal with his house mates was getting to be more and more difficult as his disgust for them and the servile attitude they possessed mounted.
He still had to be the leader on the outside, the epitome of a future Death Eater, ever the impeccable Slytherin. But the disturbed dreams
that kept repeating the events of last summer kept the memories fresh in his head and he couldn't force himself to forget. How easy it would
be to chalk everything he had seen and heard up to his imagination, to make the words that haunted him disappear and to go on as he had before,
blissfully unaware and sure that his future was set securely in front of him.
He missed knowing who he was. He missed other people knowing who he was. Maybe that was why the penetrating looks of Ginny Weasley
affected him the way they did. Why they had him following the brat down hallways and into secret rooms, had him throwing her around and
then helping her to her feet...had him smiling for the first time in months.
Unable to take the strain of confusion, his mind shut down and Draco found himself fast asleep.
..................................................................................................................................................................
The door to his father's study was closed, the mahogany gleaming faintly in the dim candlelight.
.................................................................................................................................................................
'No.' Draco's unconscious mind begged. 'Please, not again.' But his plea fell on silent ears and he found himself being inexorably pulled forward.
...................................................................................................................................................................
Upon closer inspection, Draco's dream form could see that the door was cracked just a hair and he could hear muffled voices coming
from inside. One belonged to his father, hard and crisp. The other was slightly slurred and unctuous. Draco didn't recognize it.
.................................................................................................................................................................
"Please!" In his dorm, his sleeping form made pathetic whimpering noises.
.................................................................................................................................................................
Back in the dream, Draco put his eye up to the crack of light and listened carefully, unobserved.
"Well, Peter? What is it you want? What is it that was so urgent that you had to disturb me in the middle of the night?"
"I'd be careful if I were you, Lucius." said the newly identified voice. "Blessed am I who was our Master's most loyal and obedient servant. Need I remind
you that the Great Lord still does not look kindly on his supposed 'followers' who abandoned him just when his need was the greatest? I do not think
I do. But that is precisely why I am here."
.................................................................................................................................................................
'Peter Pettigrew...Peter...no, please no more.' Draco pleaded in his subconscious.
.................................................................................................................................................................
"What are you talking about? Do you dare to threaten me?" But Lucius' voice was not so commanding and sure as it usually was, in fact, he sounded...afraid.
"Our Master demands...amends." said Peter. "He is allowing you out of all of the Death Eaters that have forsaken him one final chance to enter again into
his good graces. This chance is not to be taken for granted. It has recently come to the Great Lord's attention that your son, Draco, I believe?" he paused
for confirmation. "Yes, Draco. There has been a prophesy that has long troubled our master, a prophesy of the defeat of darkness at the hands of light. Of
course, it is as cryptically phrased as all prophesies. 'When the light of the sky pours upon the dark of the sea' and all that none sense. However, there is
one line which has just recently been interpreted by the magical world's premiere soothsayer. The line goes something like this:
'When the moon brings forth the son
And the dragon's fire wreaths the sky
Thus shall the light of good join together
to triumph over evil'
Here, Peter chuckled. Peering into the room, Draco could see his father's face. TO his surprise it was quite paler than usual. Only Draco, who knew his father
well, could tell that Lucius Malfoy was doing his best to hide immeasurable fear behind that stony exterior.
"Silly, isn't it?" Peter continued. "Of course, it's been translated through several languages, so it's a bit distorted. But you get the idea. To get
back to the matter at hand though...This prophetess attached a name to the son of the moon and, wonder of wonders, she came up with your young Draco.
Therefore, the Great Lord is offering you the chance to win back his favor by a simple action. You must continue training Draco as though he will be initiated into our ranks
on his 18th birthday. When the night of the induction comes, however, he will instead be sacrificed by yourself in a manner that will not only rid our Lord of a dangerous
traitor, but also help him in regaining his previous power. What do you say to that?"
Draco's heart was pounding in his chest. This couldn't be true...he...he would never betray his master. He had been taught by his father's fists and feet
that betrayal could be deadly. He had never had a choice about what would happen to him. If he didn't join the ranks of the Death Eaters, he would die. Since
anything was preferable to dying, Draco had put all of his energies to be the best damned bad guy he could be. But now...now this man was asking his father to
kill him no matter what. 'Damned if I do, damned if I don't' he thought crazily as his mind reached for answers amid the swirling questions. All of this in the
split second before he saw his father begin to open his mouth. Then Draco listened with all of his might.
'Surely now Father is going to tell this man that I would never betray the Great Lord, that I am the epitome of a future Death Eater and that he certainly can't
kill his own son.' Lucius Malfoy had never displayed any type of fatherly tenderness towards his son, in fact, he had shown Draco quite the opposite. But their
must be some sort of bond buried under the layers of hate that would prevent the cold, cruel murder of his heir. This hopeful thought lasted as long as it took
Lucius to gather breath before he stated his answer.
"Well of course if the boy is a traitor he must be...got rid of." Draco's stomach lurched at the speed and surety of his Father's response.
"Please tell the Dark Lord that I am thrilled and thankful to be allowed to show my allegiance in such a way as will benefit our cause and restore the
rightful master to power." Lucius said smoothly, causing Draco's head to swim. He swayed from side to side, dizzy from the shock.
"I'm sure he will be...pleased...to hear..." Peter's voice cut off as both men snapped around at the thump from outside the door, drawing their wands.
"CRUCIO!" they both cried in tandem.
Draco's world exploded in a white hot pain.
fuschia, kitala, lynn-chan (you're so funny!), Grania the fire witch and elissa.
Not much to say here, except that this was written last night, but my computer exploded so I was a
bit delayed. I hope you like this chapter, I had fun writing some characters that weren't Ginny
and Draco. So let me know how I did!
As usual, if you review mine, I'll review yours. Just make sure you give me a signed review so I
know who you are!
Oh, and the ..................... lines towards the end of this chapter differentiate between
Draco's dream self and his separate subconscious. Thanks, that's all.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
"Fibra."
Ginny could barely keep her voice to it's normal low whisper
as she spoke the Gryffindor password. She was absolutely exultant at the
thought that she, a nobody little Weasley, had bested Draco Malfoy in a
battle of wits. Of course, underneath all the excitement, she felt an
undercurrent of anxiety. She had seen how violent and angry he has gotten
when she had inadvertently embarrassed him...she hoped he wouldn't be even
worse now that she had purposefully humiliated him. However, she somehow
didn't think he would be. Her exceptional talent for blending in had resulted
in an increased sensitivity to the moods and thoughts of those surrounding her.
She had glimpsed something in his eyes that had truly frightened her when he threw
her across the floor, but afterwards she had seen a kind of warmth and -as hard as
it may be to believe- protectiveness when he had helped her gently to her feet.
He was a puzzle, Draco Malfoy was, and Ginny had always been fascinated by puzzles.
Lost in her rather confused, but pleased thoughts, Ginny stepped through
the portrait hole and into the Gryffindor common room. She was so distracted by her
encounter in the music hall that she forgot completely to bow her head and take the
small, silent steps that would render her invisible to the casual glance. Instead, she
entered the threshold with head up, eyes sparkling and hair glistening, with a spring
in her step and a flush to her cheeks. She really looked quite lovely, although she
would never believe it. However, she realized her error before anyone else could and
very quickly blurred herself into some semblance of a shadow.
She shuffled over to the corner where everyone's favorite trio were sitting. Out of
all of her older brothers, Ginny had always felt closest to Ron. They were almost
equal in age and, although he had never stated it expressly, she felt like he
understood her struggle for individuality the best. Therefore, since she had no friends
of her own at Hogwarts, she dutifully played the part of tagalong, pesky little sister,
always interrupting the schemes and dreams of their impenetrable friendship. Still, she
enjoyed being near them when she could. They exuded a warmth and deep affection,
but more importantly, there was such a predictability about them. You could always count
on Ron to say something ridiculous and try (in his very awkward way) to cheer you up. You
could count on Hermione to look at you in that mildly infuriating condescending manner
and tell you that all of your problems could be laid at the feet of adolescence. And Harry...
well, you could depend on Harry to look at you with those heartbreaking green eyes and
smile into your soul. That was why she had fallen in love with him. It was that he seemed to
see through her defenses and into the Ginny she kept hidden that made her feel alive, important and even
beautiful. But the bitter truth was that that was the only way Harry could look at people.
His past suffering had created in him a compassion for everyone he met that was quite unusual for boys his age.
Unfortunately, by the time she had learned that, it had been too late and she was head over heels in love.
It wasn't the sort of puppy love that one could get over with a few tearful nights and a box
of chocolates. Not only was it her first experience with the emotion, but it was the kind of
affection that strikes so hard that even years and experience will never dull it. She still
acutely felt the painful ache in her chest whenever she looked at him.
These were the thoughts that were running through her head as she knelt subtly outside their circle,
waiting and watching. She looked at Harry for a good long time, unobserved. He was truly beautiful.
Everything that a teenage girl could dream of: charming, mysterious, tragic, heroic and unendingly
modest, but he was also still a bit of a mystery to Ginny. Ron and Hermione she had figured out long
since, only updating the information she already had on them. Harry, though...she had a feeling
that she could never quite see into the hidden darkness that dimmed those emerald eyes. Her usual
favorite past time was staring into the deep pools, watching the emotion fill up and drain out of them
trying to figure them out while drinking in their beauty. Today, however, she was utterly surprised
when she found herself comparing them to a pair that were their polar opposite. Where Harry's eyes were
always dancing with life, these other eyes were stone; in color, inflection and emotion.
'How strange,' she thought 'that Malfoy's eyes should remind me of Harry's. They're really nothing
at all alike.' And she set her mind on the conundrum. She retraced her every move and word of the last
24 hours and she remembered everything he said to her. As she recalled their mini adventure of that
afternoon, some of the life and color she had obscured on her entrance into the Common Room crept
back into her cheeks, unbeknownst to her. Eventually, her usual mask of effacement dropped away completely
and Harry, who had let his gaze stray from his two companions, caught a glimpse of a thoroughly transformed
Ginny.
"Hey, Gin! Did you just get here? We were talking about the next Quidditch game against Slyterin." Harry's
rather clumsy attempt at courtesy called her thoughts back to the present and her heart gave a
painful little thump in her chest as she briefly met his eyes..
'I know.' she thought sadly to herself. 'I've been here all along.' She wasn't referring to the conversation.
"Yeah, I just got here." she said softly to him, but by then he had turned away.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Draco walked back to the entrance to the Slytherin's dungeon entrance. For the first time in ages, he simply walked.
No swagger, no anger, no pain. He walked with a thoughtful look that didn't quite fit on his aristocratic
features. Ginny Weasley was a mystery to him. Moreover, his reaction to Ginny Weasley was a mystery to him. That is
to say, she infuriated him as much as any other Weasley, what with her handmedown robes and tattered books defaming
the name of wizard. But there was something in the way her eyes met his. It was a ridiculous thing to think, but he
could swear that she saw him for more than face value. Obviously, that was completely without reason...but still.
And then there was the fact that, although she had humiliated him several times in the last day, the inborn rage that never failed to
assert itself onto the source of such disrespect was disturbingly absent. A lot had changed about Draco Malfoy since the summer, but some things
were so constant that he didn't think anything short of death could change them. Well, death and a certain annoying red
head. He wasn't even aware of the slight smile that quirked his lips as he thought of the way she had glared up at him
back in the music room. The little Weasel throwing a temper tantrums was one of the funniest things he had ever seen. His
mind quickly glossed over the fact that, at the time, she had been no little intimidating.
"Eerzucht."
Draco had reached the entrance to the dungeon common room and quietly spoke the password, the smile still haunting
his face. The serpent that protected the Slytherin lair swiftly uncoiled and wriggled around the wall in a previously
unnoticeable outline. When it had made a full circuit, the oval it had traced swung silently inward and the green light that
was ever present in Draco's home away from home poured into the darkened hallway. He stepped through silently, taking a few
moments to observe his housemates. Most of them were talking in animated conversation, some were lounging lazily on the several
sofas. Suddenly realizing that he hadn't blanked his face of emotion upon crossing the threshold, Draco let his smile die.
Pansy noticed him first and, with a widening of her eyes, fell silent. Then, one by one, they all turned to stare up at him
until the room seemed to echo in silence. One day he expected they would all stand up and perform some ridiculous salute. That was the way he wanted it.
He couldn't imagine the consequences if even a single one of them learned of the events five months ago. It could be disastrous.
Fixing a sneer that felt much more comfortable than the half smile, Draco waved them all aside like so much trash and strode arrogantly
to his dorm room. He slammed the door and turned to face the only place that felt like home these days, taking in it's simple decor all
done in green and silver, as was fitting. Looking out the window, he surmised that he had spent at least two hours in that hole with
the carrot topped brat, as it was now fully dark outside. Suddenly exhausted, Draco dropped onto his bed, only bothering to remove his
shoes. Having to deal with his house mates was getting to be more and more difficult as his disgust for them and the servile attitude they possessed mounted.
He still had to be the leader on the outside, the epitome of a future Death Eater, ever the impeccable Slytherin. But the disturbed dreams
that kept repeating the events of last summer kept the memories fresh in his head and he couldn't force himself to forget. How easy it would
be to chalk everything he had seen and heard up to his imagination, to make the words that haunted him disappear and to go on as he had before,
blissfully unaware and sure that his future was set securely in front of him.
He missed knowing who he was. He missed other people knowing who he was. Maybe that was why the penetrating looks of Ginny Weasley
affected him the way they did. Why they had him following the brat down hallways and into secret rooms, had him throwing her around and
then helping her to her feet...had him smiling for the first time in months.
Unable to take the strain of confusion, his mind shut down and Draco found himself fast asleep.
..................................................................................................................................................................
The door to his father's study was closed, the mahogany gleaming faintly in the dim candlelight.
.................................................................................................................................................................
'No.' Draco's unconscious mind begged. 'Please, not again.' But his plea fell on silent ears and he found himself being inexorably pulled forward.
...................................................................................................................................................................
Upon closer inspection, Draco's dream form could see that the door was cracked just a hair and he could hear muffled voices coming
from inside. One belonged to his father, hard and crisp. The other was slightly slurred and unctuous. Draco didn't recognize it.
.................................................................................................................................................................
"Please!" In his dorm, his sleeping form made pathetic whimpering noises.
.................................................................................................................................................................
Back in the dream, Draco put his eye up to the crack of light and listened carefully, unobserved.
"Well, Peter? What is it you want? What is it that was so urgent that you had to disturb me in the middle of the night?"
"I'd be careful if I were you, Lucius." said the newly identified voice. "Blessed am I who was our Master's most loyal and obedient servant. Need I remind
you that the Great Lord still does not look kindly on his supposed 'followers' who abandoned him just when his need was the greatest? I do not think
I do. But that is precisely why I am here."
.................................................................................................................................................................
'Peter Pettigrew...Peter...no, please no more.' Draco pleaded in his subconscious.
.................................................................................................................................................................
"What are you talking about? Do you dare to threaten me?" But Lucius' voice was not so commanding and sure as it usually was, in fact, he sounded...afraid.
"Our Master demands...amends." said Peter. "He is allowing you out of all of the Death Eaters that have forsaken him one final chance to enter again into
his good graces. This chance is not to be taken for granted. It has recently come to the Great Lord's attention that your son, Draco, I believe?" he paused
for confirmation. "Yes, Draco. There has been a prophesy that has long troubled our master, a prophesy of the defeat of darkness at the hands of light. Of
course, it is as cryptically phrased as all prophesies. 'When the light of the sky pours upon the dark of the sea' and all that none sense. However, there is
one line which has just recently been interpreted by the magical world's premiere soothsayer. The line goes something like this:
'When the moon brings forth the son
And the dragon's fire wreaths the sky
Thus shall the light of good join together
to triumph over evil'
Here, Peter chuckled. Peering into the room, Draco could see his father's face. TO his surprise it was quite paler than usual. Only Draco, who knew his father
well, could tell that Lucius Malfoy was doing his best to hide immeasurable fear behind that stony exterior.
"Silly, isn't it?" Peter continued. "Of course, it's been translated through several languages, so it's a bit distorted. But you get the idea. To get
back to the matter at hand though...This prophetess attached a name to the son of the moon and, wonder of wonders, she came up with your young Draco.
Therefore, the Great Lord is offering you the chance to win back his favor by a simple action. You must continue training Draco as though he will be initiated into our ranks
on his 18th birthday. When the night of the induction comes, however, he will instead be sacrificed by yourself in a manner that will not only rid our Lord of a dangerous
traitor, but also help him in regaining his previous power. What do you say to that?"
Draco's heart was pounding in his chest. This couldn't be true...he...he would never betray his master. He had been taught by his father's fists and feet
that betrayal could be deadly. He had never had a choice about what would happen to him. If he didn't join the ranks of the Death Eaters, he would die. Since
anything was preferable to dying, Draco had put all of his energies to be the best damned bad guy he could be. But now...now this man was asking his father to
kill him no matter what. 'Damned if I do, damned if I don't' he thought crazily as his mind reached for answers amid the swirling questions. All of this in the
split second before he saw his father begin to open his mouth. Then Draco listened with all of his might.
'Surely now Father is going to tell this man that I would never betray the Great Lord, that I am the epitome of a future Death Eater and that he certainly can't
kill his own son.' Lucius Malfoy had never displayed any type of fatherly tenderness towards his son, in fact, he had shown Draco quite the opposite. But their
must be some sort of bond buried under the layers of hate that would prevent the cold, cruel murder of his heir. This hopeful thought lasted as long as it took
Lucius to gather breath before he stated his answer.
"Well of course if the boy is a traitor he must be...got rid of." Draco's stomach lurched at the speed and surety of his Father's response.
"Please tell the Dark Lord that I am thrilled and thankful to be allowed to show my allegiance in such a way as will benefit our cause and restore the
rightful master to power." Lucius said smoothly, causing Draco's head to swim. He swayed from side to side, dizzy from the shock.
"I'm sure he will be...pleased...to hear..." Peter's voice cut off as both men snapped around at the thump from outside the door, drawing their wands.
"CRUCIO!" they both cried in tandem.
Draco's world exploded in a white hot pain.