AN: Sorry this took so long! I just started another story and have been quite busy getting it off the ground! As always thanks for the reviews and thanks for looking!

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Chapter 8: Insecurities Lie Within

Mr. Malfoy

Our attack on Hogsmeade yesterday was a failure. We will discuss further plans of action tonight at your manor at 7pm.

LV.

            Draco folded the piece of paper with shaking hands. Another letter. They were becoming much more frequent. He hurried out of the Great Hall to Dumbledore's office, wondering how he would screw up this time. Dumbledore greeted him with a grim smile.

            "Mr. Malfoy? What brings you here? Certainly not more misfortune?" His cheery expression faltered as his eyes traveled to the piece of paper in Draco's hands. "What does it say?" Draco handed the letter to Dumbledore silently. He began mumbling to himself, but Draco couldn't catch what he was saying. "Very well." Dumbledore sighed. "Go to this meeting and report back here when you're done."

            Draco nodded. "Thank you, sir." He left the room quickly, hurrying to reach his Care of Magical Creatures class on time. He arrived three minutes late.

            "Mr. Malfoy, start making it here on time." Professor Fletcher snapped. Mundungus Fletcher had taken over as the Care of Magical Creatures professor after Hagrid's death. Though the man was a member of The Order, and had sided with Dumbledore from the start, he wasn't a very nice teacher. Draco supposed that many years with evil and hardship had hardened the man's character. Whatever it was, Professor Fletcher was a little like Moody: cantankerous and weary.

            "Sorry, sir." Draco muttered. He heard someone snicker and looked over to see Ron whispering something to Harry who laughed too. Not for the first time in his life, Draco longed for real friends instead of followers. He quickly shook his head to rid his mind of the thoughts. It would not do to dwell on insecurities.

            That night, Draco crept out of Hogwarts and into Hogsmeade as fast as he could. Several teachers roaming the corridors had made him rather late for the meeting. As soon as he arrived at the Manor, Voldemort came towards him, his upper lip curling with distaste.

            "Tell me, Mr. Malfoy." He sneered. "Why are you always late? And I'm also very curious to find out about your adventures during the attack yesterday. The other Death Eaters tell me that you were not seen for a very long time."

            Draco searched the crowd of Death Eaters for Crabbe. Had he told Voldemort anything? Had he said something about his concern for Ron Weasley? If he did, then Draco was as good as dead. However, as Draco scanned the gathering, Crabbe was nowhere in sight. Perhaps he has not made it this evening, Draco thought, relieved.

            "Well?" Voldemort hissed. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

            Draco searched his mind for an excuse. "Master," He began, though the word sickened him. "It is imperative that Dumbledore be deceived by me. He can not know that I am your servant or I will be useless."

            Voldemort's snake-like features contorted into an unsatisfied expression. "You're useless to me now! Perhaps you need to pay for your lie?" He taunted and at that moment Draco realized his mistake. Crabbe had told Voldemort exactly what had happened. Voldemort had simply wanted to see what Draco would say. "Crucio!"

            Draco felt the familiar burn hit him in full force. His bones, nerves, and muscles were on fire. Every fiber of his being was drowning in pain. The Dark Lord lifted the curse after a few long moments. "Are your ready to tell the truth?" He jeered. "Or perhaps another round of pain? Crucio!" Voldemort yelled, without giving Draco a chance to respond.

            Draco knew he was not strong enough. He could not last, could not take anymore. Tell him, his body screamed. Dumbledore…working for Dumbledore. Had he said that part aloud? What had he told him? Hold on…he had to hold on. Suddenly everything went black.

~*~*~

            Draco punched the wall viciously. How could people do that to themselves? How could they let their actions be dictated by this pure evil being who cared for nothing, but himself? It was absurd and yet he had thought that was the life of glory. His own father had let his decisions be manipulated by Voldemort and thought nothing of it. 

            His father was the person who made him angry the most. Draco had loved and admired his father as a child. Lucius could do not wrong in his eyes. His father, though sometimes verbally abusing, had never cursed him as some parents had done to their children. To this day, Draco still maintained that his father cared and loved him very much. Sometimes, he thought he was fooling himself. If Lucius had loved him, he wouldn't have looked on as the Dark Lord tortured Draco unmercifully.

~*~*~

            Draco worked hard to open his eyes and gradually he made progress. After a few moments of opening and closing, his eyelids began to work like normal. The only thing he could feel was pain. His arms ached, his chest felt like it was on fire, and his head was throbbing. What had they done to him?

            He could barely see in the dingy room. Only a sliver of light reached where he was hung, but he still managed to assess his injuries. It seemed that the Death Eaters had beat him physically as well as cursed him. Draco knew he had blacked out from the effort of fighting the Cruciatus Curse and he was glad that he had. Who knew what he might have said if he had been fully awake. His arms were chained to the wall high above the rest of his body, which made the aching of the bruises ten times worse. Very likely a Bone-Splitting Curse had been used on his ribs. Every time he took a breath, his chest burned. Struggling to maintain consciousness, Draco tried to think of anything but his current situation.

            Oddly enough, his mind landed on Harry Potter. He imagined that he was someone like Harry. He had best friends and was admired by all. In the darkness, tears began to pour down Draco's face as he thought of the waste that his life really was. He usually wasn't one for self-pity and weakness, but at that moment, alone and hurting, Draco didn't care.

            Soon the exertion crept over him, and he could no longer stay awake. Whether he fell asleep or passed out, Draco didn't know, but soon he was breathing peacefully, dreaming of a different life in which his friends helped him and trusted him and his ordeals were not so dangerous and complicated.

Well Whaddya think? Was it good? Did it suck? Please review! If you like this, check out my story A Different World, which goes through Harry's fifth year. And after that Harry Potter and the Fulfilled Prophecy, the sequel!