A/N: This is the penultimate chapter, and the last chapter from Draconis' POV. It gets very dark from now on, so I warn you that it'll provide *very* harrowing reading.

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We are living in uncertain times. But whichever way it goes, I cannot see how either way my family can win. Lord Voldemort is angry with my Father. I saw his red, ugly head in the flames, raw and glistening with blood and sweat, evil radiating from our fireplace.

"Lucius, my slippery friend."

I did not stay to hear the rest. I could not bear to hear the catch in my Father's voice. That voice that was usually so strong and calming and reassuring, I could not bear to hear it waver. I saw my Father's face set rigid with worry, a look I have never seen before. He could not look me in the eye. He was shut away in his study for hours, not moving. I hesitated outside his door, confronted by the silence within. I longed to run into his arms, but I could not place this extra burden upon him. I longed to have him tell me things were going to be alright, that we would survive. Yet this time I knew deep down that he would be unable to find the words to lie to me.

Naively, I believed that the Dark Lord would protect us, that there would be a place for me by his side upon his return to power. Though my Father is deeply out of favour with his master, our greatest threat would be if he were to be destroyed. Dumbledore, the Weasleys and people like them - the next generation of wizards that will graduate from Hogwarts at the same time as me - are already suspicious. They have pried into our secrets, and it is only the incompetence of the ageing Cornelius Fudge that is preserving our heritage. The power of the Death Eaters is under threat, this new breed of wizards is increasing its stronghold over the Ministry. Soon, our veneer will be stripped away, our secrets exposed, the Malfoys will be laid bare to the mercy of the Gryffindor. And I am frightened.

I hardly ever stay at Hogwarts now. I have started to miss lessons as they hardly seem important in the face of everything else. I cannot bare to leave my Father's side, even to go to School. I am loosing my grip on Hogwarts. Potter and the Gryffindor are growing in strength and numbers, and faced with their ascendance cracks are appearing in the foundations of Slytherin's might, and I can feel everything we have built up slipping through my fingers. I struggle to keep all the plates spinning - the Quidditch, the Prefect system, all the different games I have to play, it's like a complicated chess game with many interlocking layers. With each manouvre I have to outwit the teachers, the staff, the ghosts, the portraits - I cannot keep an eye on everything at the same time! Potter is too strong, she has Dumbledore, McGonagall, and all sorts of underground resistance fighters she has managed to unearth. Everywhere there are traps for me and my Father to fall into. It was my responsibility to keep everything under control. It was my responsibility to spread our influence and form allegiances, and to thwart our enemies. I was supposed to regain our position in Lord Voldemort's court and smooth a path to his new success. But I have failed. I have failed our master, our founder, and my Father.

I sit on my Father's lap, unable to move. He holds me as tightly as I hold him. He needs me. He clasps me so close to him because he is seeking comfort from me too. That scares me. I am not used to it. All my life I have looked up to my Father, his strength had been infinite, he could protect me from anything. Now I see he has limits. I am loosing him.

My teeth are chattering. We have been like this for so long it has grown cold and we are frozen in place. With Lucius Malfoy gone, our family will fall. We will either be killed, or we'll die out. I am my Father's only child, and I have no one with whom to continue our great heritage. That heritage is all for nothing now. We had not reckoned on Voldemort's wrath, we had not prepared for Harriet Potter's power. We have found ourselves without a place, without a home to go to. When my Father goes, there will be no *home* for me, neither at Voldemort's right hand nor by the side of a husband. Nobody will want me. I will be utterly alone.

I burrow myself closer to my Father's chest, trying to press next to as much of him as possible to warm us both up. He is very still. I am too exhausted to cry. I have given up, crushed by the futility of it all. I see nothing but emptiness, I cannot perceive any way out. Maybe if I had found somebody, maybe the son of a fellow Death Eater, someone in Hogsmeade, or even from my trip to Durmstrang, but there had been no one. No one who could offer me what I needed, nobody who could ignite the flame of passion within me, nobody who could excite my body or thaw my frozen little heart. No one who's arms were as strong as my Father's. Not knowing what the future holds is the worst. Not knowing where I'm to go or what I'm to do. I need someone. But the only man I have ever loved is dying. There is no one. I cannot find them and there is nowhere left to look. I am so frightened I cannot breathe. I am so frightened, so terrified, so alone.