With Darkness There'll Be Light

Twelve - As It Crumbles Down

Once you have seen death, death because of you, death in your hands, you are no longer a person who can think of only sunshine and daises. You're a changed person, your entire being alters. The death adds darkness to your heart; you can either overcome it, or embrace it. Or you can diminish because the weight of taking someone's life weighs so heavily on your heart.

The boys of the nearly fallen fellowship stopped looking at one another and fixed their eyes on the large number of evil men in front of them. There would have to be a lot put into consideration before the attack. Like, how many people to a Death Eater, and what kind of curses were acceptable to use.

As Aurors, they had a free license to perform an Unforgivable on Death Eaters. Not on normal public, of course, because that could severely backfire…but they had free will to perform what curses they would need.

Before they left for the mission, they did have to get clearance from the Ministry, however. Loads and loads of paper work had to be completed. Something both Draco and Ron loathed equally; Harry and Hermione were the only Aurors who didn't complain about paper work.

Gregory Goyle took a step forward, his wand raised ready to disarm…but Lucius held him back; a few more words needed to be spoken.

"You do understand, Draco," said Lucius calmly and abruptly.

"Understand what?" growled Draco, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

"That there is no way out. There is no escape." He paused, his eyes clouding over the sarcastic happiness to be replaced with pure hatred. "You did expect this, I imagine. You were always a smart boy, even though you are extremely foolish."

"There were no expectations," replied Draco solidly.

"You did not expect me to attempt to kill you? Dear boy, I must have given you far more credit than you deserve. Ever since the day you deceived me, you betrayed your own father, your name has been on the top of my list."

"The top of what list, Father?" Draco asked coolly.

"The hit list, Draconis," Lucius answered, his voice now a low growl, his eyes mere gray slits.

"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, Lucius," Draco snarled, "but you won't be killing me."

Lucius laughed, looking from the boys to his men, then landing back on Draco, who stood like a stone wall. "I won't be killing you," he wiped a fake tear from his eye due to mirthful laughing. "What a very funny statement, Draconis---"

"Don't call me that," Draco cut in. "And do NOT act so condescendingly towards me. I am just as powerful as you, old man, maybe more. I am your equal, I am your son…you will treat me with the respect I deserve."

Lucius looked taken aback for a moment but regained his composure and air of evil sarcasm. "You sound like me when I was young." He stared at Draco harshly, "Pity, really, as you are no son of mine."

That was the last straw for Draco. Without alerting his fellowship in any way, shape or form, he lunged. He flew towards his father, his wand outstretched. His words, when they came flying from his mouth, were loud and shrill, "AVADA KEDAVRA!!!!!!!!!"

Lucius fell to the ground in a very rigid manner.

Surprised, the Death Eaters all took steps back, watching as Draco landed on top of his father's crumpled body. "I, as much as you, wish I was not your son. Make no mistake about that." With the last snarling words, he pried his father's wand from his hand and broke it in two. In just seconds, Lucius' body dissolved into a puff of lucid green smoke. Draco landed on the cold floor with a soft thud.

He stood up quickly. "If any of you try anything, I promise your deaths will not be as quick and painless as that."

No one moved for several minutes. Some of them were frozen in fear; some in plain surprise, some just didn't know what to do. The latter was true for the remainder of the fellowship.

Harry stepped forward and put a hand on Draco's shoulder. "Drac…"

"Don't," snapped Draco angrily, "Don't do this right now. We have to deal with them before Voldemort shows up for the party."

"You'll not get away with this," came a voice from the far back of the ranks.

"Oh really?" Draco said, amused, "I'd like to know why not."

"Because," a cold voice uttered from the doorway, "When one of our own is killed, we simply just don't approve."

Draco turned around, looking at Voldemort face to face. He hadn't seen him live and in person for several years, not since fifth year at the earliest.

"Yeah?" Draco replied curtly, "Well I don't really like it when one of my friends is kidnapped, tortured and…maybe even dead, I don't know." His voice was direct and very short. Ron, Harry, George, Fred and Seamus watched the scene in front of them, mutely.

"The Mudblood was your friend, dear Draco?" Voldemort asked, his red eyes gleaming as he took a step towards him. He waved the Death Eaters back against the wall, covered in darkness. The Fellowship stood in a line, this time facing the other direction, in the middle of the room. "Since when do Malfoys cohort with Mudbloods?"

"Seriously, don't call her that," Draco retorted, clearly annoyed.


"If I didn't know better," said Voldemort, his voice as slippery as oil, "I'd say you had a thing for her."

Draco snorted, "It's none of your business either way."

"Actually," Voldemort replied, lacing his fingers together and resting his chin upon them, "I'd be greatly interested to know how you felt about her. Because, the more you like her, the more fun it is for me to torture her and make you watch."

Draco rolled his eyes, "All talk, no action."

"Muggle phrases," Voldemort blanched, "Please tell me you're not living with Muggles."

"I'm not," Draco said, "But I also don't agree with you about anything, anymore."

"I am sorry we lost you," Voldemort stated, sighing heavily and dramatically, "You would have been so good on our side. When I met you as a little baby, I always knew you had spirit and strength…much like Potter over there," He cast a withering glance at a very livid looking Harry, "I never wanted to kill you, Draco. I always knew you'd do great things, however I had hoped they'd benefit me."

Draco raised an eyebrow, "You hope everything benefits you. Everything you do is for yourself. You're the most selfish person I've ever met! And that's really saying something, because I have met myself."

"Draco," hissed Ron, leaning over, "You just put yourself down."

"I know," said Draco, his voice strong and proud, "I'm not blind to my own faults. Like some people."

"Enough of this blabbering," muttered Voldemort, waving his hand around a little, "You're only prolonging your life and there's no need for stalling. I promise that this won't hurt a bit…as long as you don't struggle. You see, Draco, I intend to kill you last now…even though at first I was going to save that for Potter." He looked at Harry, rage evident in his very red eyes, "However, since you have killed my best Death Eater, I must make you watch your friends die and then…then you shall go."

Voldemort raised his wand, the tip pointed directly at Seamus, who was standing solidly at the end of the line on the left, and his cold laughter rang through the large chamber. "I would like nothing more than to kill Potter first, but I think that's far too easy for him, because then he won't have to see his friends scream in agony as they die. So, I shall start with you, the only Mudblood in your little gathering. Any last words, Finnigan?"

Seamus opened his mouth, his eyes large and scared, but was cut off as the door behind Voldemort was blasted open. Unfortunately, the door did not hit him as it soared off its hinges. It fell just short of him, the breeze only making him waver slightly on the spot.

"Yeah, you know what?" Said a woman's voice from the doorway. The voice was deep, strong and very, very cold. "I don't think so."