Disclaimer – Anything you recognise probably, in fact almost certainly, does not belong to me.  However the plot and the character Hazel do.  Unfortunately for me, her name does not.

Authors Note – This is a Draco Malfloy and the Dark Side centred story.  Therefore Harry, Hermione and Ron will probably not make any appearances, and might not even be mentioned (although that's stretching it a tad).  The pairing will be Draco/New Character.  If any of this is not to your liking I say give it a try at least, you never know you might enjoy it.

Summary – On what seems like an ordinary Muggle-murdering mission, Draco Malfloy is tackled by an intriguing prospect.  Read on my fellow readers, read on.

Tackled by an Intriguing Prospect.

Chapter 3 – "I didn't go to kill anyone"

Draco did not visit for weeks.  Well it could have been weeks, days or even months.  There was no way to tell the time in the dungeons.  Hazel was not neglected though.  Every morning there was a new pile of food in her cell, which stayed fresh all day.  She shared it with Dumbledore, throwing it through the bars of her own cell as close to his as she could manage, as he told her tales of the wizarding world.

She learnt all about Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, about each of the four houses, and the traits which each house represented.  She learnt its history, about the four founders and about events that had taken place there over the years.

Dumbledore described to her the feeling of flying on a broomstick ("As best he could remember") and taught her the rules of Quidditch, the wizarding game with fourteen players on broomsticks and three very different balls.  The way Dumbledore described the game made it come alive in Hazels mind, she felt that if she was given a broomstick there and then she could play as if were nothing new to her.

She learnt about The Ministry of Magic and all its departments, and Dumbledore described as many wizarding jobs as he could recall to her.  He went into great detail about the war happening that very moment, describing great failures and also great triumphs of The Order of the Phoenix.

The Order of the Phoenix.  The organisation set up to foil the plans of Lord Voldemort.  Dumbledore told her the members (most of which had names she could never imagine being able to remember let alone spell) but would not go into great detail in case the Malfloys overheard and used it to the Dark Lord's advantage.  The order was made up of the most powerful wizards of the times, including Harry Potter.  He had joined in his seventh year of school with his best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.

The stories Dumbledore told her were beyond those of books.  Stories of giant spiders and centaurs in the Hogwarts forest, stories of teachers at Hogwarts being werewolves and ghosts, magical spells and potions going drastically wrong, snake-like creatures who could kill with their eyes, it was almost like a fantasy.  It fact it was fantasy to Hazel.  She had heard so much about these creatures yet had never for one moment believed they had really existed.

She missed her own world though.  She wanted so badly to see her Mother and Father again and she even longed for the teasing of her older brothers.  She longed to be free again, she wanted to dance, and she missed her college so badly.  Visions haunted her of her mobile phone, left lying on the library floor as she had lunged to save that child.  If only she had picked it up.

But what good would that have been?  She didn't know where in the world Malfloy Manor was.  She doubted that it would even be on muggle maps, Dumbledore had told her most magical places where inaccessible to non-magic's.

And that was how Draco found her when he began visiting again.  She was sat on the floor, legs stretched straight out in front of her, with her head on her knees.  It was about the only useful stretch she could perform in her tattered jeans, they weren't exactly flexible.

"I didn't know the human body could bend that far" his derisive voice called from above her.

"Well now you do" she called back, not raising her head.  She stretched out her arms until she could grab hold of her toes.

"Impressive" he gave a slight whistle.

"I know" she replied, lifting up her head but keeping her chest on her legs, "And I could be doing a lot more if I wasn't locked in some dungeon in the middle of nowhere with absolutely no way to perform the thing I love most in the world and with no way to contact my family and tell them I love them" she breathed deeply for a few moments trying to calm herself.

"You want more space" he spoke more to himself than her.  He pulled out his wand and flicked it in the direction of the wall, shouting an incantation she didn't understand.  There was no way to describe it.  The wall just disappeared.  It was there and then it was gone.  Hazel now had the larger space of two cells, enough room to dance, to walk in fact.

"Anything else" he said, sarcasm hinting in his tone.

"Well" she begin, listing on her fingers, "A bed, pillows and a duvet, new clothes, clothes I can dance in and to go home"

"Five out of six" he replied.  After a few moments of wand-waving there sat a small bed with white pillows and a thick white duvet in the corner of her cell.  On top of it was a neatly folded pile of clothes identical to those she wore now, light blue jeans, a beige velour top and beige trainers.  Next to them was…a tutu?

Hazel's mouth fell open and after the initial shock subsided she began to laugh.  Draco looked confused, staring at her and then the items he had conjured.  He tired of her mockery quickly though.  Striding toward her he dealt her a heavy blow across the face.

For minutes she held her head in her hands, shaking.  When she finally looked up tears flowed down her face like water in a rushing brook.  She couldn't stop them.  They came and came, blurring her vision.  The shock of Draco hitting her again combined with everything of the past few weeks and she broke down completely.

Her body shook so hard that at first she didn't feel an unsure arm creep round her shoulders.  He pulled her into his chest slowly, whispering to her, soothing her.  She cried into the black robes he wore, almost soaking them through.  His hand reached up and stroked her short hair, greasy though it was.  Finally the sobs began to subside.  She pushed him away roughly and shot toward the bed.

"Is there anything else you want?" he said, breaking the silence, as if that was his way to make up for upsetting her.

"I want a bath" she began, "And I want to see my parents"

He sighed and stood up.  Pointing his wand at the rotting wall behind her he whispered a long incantation.  Hazel heard a rushing sound, like water and whipped her head to face the wall.  There sat her Mother and Father, in her living room at home.  It was as if she was watching them on a television.  They sat on the couch holding hands.  Her Fathers head was bowed and her Mother was crying openly, not trying to wipe away the tears that clung to her chin.

"Mum" she whispered, reaching out to her.  All she felt was cold stone against her hand.  Her brother, Joey walked into the room.  He held two mugs and following him was a man Hazel had never met before.  He sat opposite her Mother, and she could see they began to talk, although she could not here the words.  Joey handed her Mother and Father the steaming cups and then left the room quickly.  Hazel noticed his eyes were bloodshot.  The image began to fade, until all that was left was the faint image imprinted in Hazel's mind.

"No, please don't go" she whispered to them, turning to Draco.  He looked paler and was sweating slightly.  Concern crossed her face but she pushed it away, turned her expression to stone.  He said nothing.  He just flicked his wand and a bathtub appeared, complete with already ran bath and shower curtain.

"Thanks" she said, and then her voice hardened again.  "I can't dance in that," she said shortly, pointing toward the tutu.

"But I've seen those muggle dancers were those before" he argued, "Father took me to the theatre once to-"

"Kill innocent people I presume.  And Ballet dancers wear those for performances.  I just want a pair of loose pants and a vest top."

"Fine" he muttered and a pair of black jogging pants and a black vest top appeared next to her on the bed.

He looked at her for a moment and then whispered, "I didn't go to kill anyone" and then he disappeared.

She sat in silence for a few moments.  Staring at where Draco had just stood.  Then she shook herself and walked to the bath.  She pulled over the shower curtain and undressed slowly.  Draco had even left towels for her one the side of the bath, a large fluffy green one and a smaller matching hand towel.  She tested out the water with her toe first and finding it pleasantly warm she sank into its depths.  She dipped her head under the water, letting it run over her, cleansing her.  She stayed under until she could no longer breathe and surfaced again.  Resting her head on the bath, she relaxed into the warmth of the water.

Draco collapsed straight onto his own four-poster bed.  The spell he had conjured for Hazel to see her parents had tired him.  His hands were still shaking slightly, a fact he had managed to conceal from her.  She had noticed his pallor though; he had seen that look of concern cross her features.  He had felt hurt that she had forced it away so quickly.

He sat up staring round his plain but exquisite room.  Why couldn't he kill her?  Why did he feel so attached to her?  He was never this weak.  Killing a few lowly mudbloods had never bothered him before yet every time he raised a hand to her he felt ill afterwards.  He was Lucius Malfloys son, most trusted servant of Lord Voldemort and he was housing a mudblood.  If anyone found out about her, he would be killed.  Murdered by his Father more than likely.

He turned round and slammed his fist into the wooden headrest of his bed.  The wood splintered slightly and he came away with bleeding knuckles.

There was only one thing for it.  He would have to kill the muggle.

He watched her as she slept, the duvet he had conjured tucked around her.  His wand cast an illuminating glow on her features as he stepped closer.  Her short, choppy brown hair was spread about her face and around her on the pillow, her skin glowed in the light his wand cast.  She wasn't like the skinny, anorexic looking women who usually wanted to date him.  The ones who starved themselves to stay thin.  She was slim, but muscled and toned, a dancer.  She stirred in her sleep and he froze but soon she became peaceful again.  He stepped closer; close enough to touch her face.  Her hand shot up and grabbed his were his fingers had gingerly grazed her skin.

"Going to kill me while I sleep?" she muttered, rolling over to look up at him.

"Yes" he hissed, venom in his words.  "You muggles are all the same, pathetic lowly creatures.  I don't know why I was so enthralled by you, you're just a plain, disgusting muggle whore."

Her hand shot up and slapped him across the face.  It just angered him though and he shook out of her grasp.  He grabbed both of her wrists and pulled her out of the bed by them, flinging her onto the floor.  She hit the stone floor in a heap, and kicked out at his legs as he strode toward her.  He swore and clutched at his shin.  She pushed herself up and dived at his legs, dragging him down to her.  She refused to go without giving him a fight.

He landed with a thud and she dived on top of him, nails raking through any flesh she could find.  He roared and pushed her from on top of him.  She rolled on to her back and looked into the end of his wand.  She didn't hear what he whispered, just felt the searing pain throughout her whole body.  She doubled up, pressing her knees to her chest.  Tears leaked from her creased eyes.  She screamed, painful loud, cries.  Her body felt as if it was being torn in two.  Then as quickly as the pain had come it stopped.  She tried to push herself to a crouching position but she was too weak, her arms ached.  She saw Draco's black boots stop in front of her face.  She wrenched her aching arms up to cover it as his boot swung toward it.  It connected with her arms with a sickening crack and she screamed again.  And she ignored all pain and threw herself to her feet, lashing out at air and human all at once.  She hit out and out at Draco, connecting with flesh and nothingness.  She saw his arm out of the corner of her eye and grabbed it.  His robe had been ripped and through it she could see something, red, an emblem.

She stopped suddenly and slowly rolled up the sleeve.  Draco stopped to, watching her.  She stared at the mark emblazoned upon his arm, a frightening skull with a serpent protruding from its mouth.  It was slightly raised from his skin and painful looking.  She ran her fingers over it gently.  He flinched slightly at first but then his arm grew steady.

She pulled him towards the bed and they both dropped onto it.

"What, what is it?" she asked, not taking her eyes from it.

"The mark of my Master." he replied, "The mark of the Death Eaters."

She touched it once more, "How do they, how do they brand you?" she spat out the last few words.

He ignored her comment, "It is a very powerful spell.  It is burnt onto your skin, and will never fade."

"It hurt didn't it?" she said, lifting her gaze to search his eyes.

He nodded.  "I was only five when my Father performed the spell.  All I can remember is the feeling of fire consuming my whole body."

"I'm sorry," she said, touching his face with her hand.  He pulled away from her touch and the mask was back up.

"Don't be.  It is the mark of my Master.  It links me to him."

She breathed in sharply then noticed the bleeding nail scratches on his arms and face.

"You're bleeding," she said, reaching out to touch him again.  She drew her hand away quickly though.  "Sorry."

"It doesn't matter, " he said, "Is there anything you need?" she said shortly.

"Well, I was wondering" she began awkwardly, "Whether you would conjure a bed for Dumbledore.  I feel mean lying on mine in here when he is so old and just sleeping on the cold floor.  Please Draco," she pleaded.

He sighed.  "Ok" and he waved his wand in the direction of Dumbledore's cell.  Hazel heard Dumbledore's cry of astonishment.

"Thank you" she said, "And I'm sorry for hurting you."

"It was less than what was going to do to you" he replied, getting up.  "I'll visit again soon," he said, keeping his back turned to her as he disapparated.

Hazel stumbled to the bars of her cell.  Dumbledore stood at his looking worried.  Then his old, tired eyes crinkled into a smile.