Fate
Chapter One:
Disarmament
The Malfoy manner lay deep in a secluded mountain ravine, guarded on all sides by steep mountain walls covered my thick, evilly twisted, forest trees and vines. The grounds were an eerie, unsettling, place to walk upon. Although the forest stopped dead 1000 feet from the manner on all sides the shadows of the mountains themselves cast the grounds in a permanent twilight. To make matters even more chilling ever single patch of ground around the manner and high up into the forest was covered in a thick fog. The manner itself was made mostly of sturdy, black marble which only enhanced the eerie mood of the grounds.
Currently it was shortly before 3 A.M. and the house was still well light with cold iron torches and lanterns. This was nothing uncommon for the desolate place. To look at it one would expect the place to be full of soles to tortured, evil, or dead inside too sleep well. While this was the case for some of the would be good hearted house elves and a few other members of the household it was not the current reason for the effective lighting of the house. The Malfoy family had just finished one of their famously long and productive business dinners with the usual death eaters, dark lord worshipers, and other malicious characters. Lucius himself was waving politely to a fellow death eater as the descended the steps, his mammoth black oak front doors being slowly closed behind the man by a old scared house elf that kept up his strength by fear of punishment, death, or maybe something worse.
Once the large doors had shrieked back into their door frames Lucius's pleasant smiled contorted into a hideous scowl and his gaze fell to his family house elf of almost one hundred years. "What are you still doing here?" he spat with venom and the characteristic holier-than-thou attitude of a proper pureblood. The poor creature suppressed a frightened yip and, after a deep bow to his master, he scurried off down a cramped slave passage. With his grand entrance hall clear of the unworthy life form Lucius turned his piercing gaze onto his wife and son who, at the moment, stood straight and respectfully side by side, returning his stare. Both, like himself, were formally dressed. Narcissa in a glittering, flowing, peach evening gown, and his son in his formal dress robes for Hogwarts; a simple reminder to his friends that indeed their influence was even in the most well protected places.
"Narcissa, you may go to bed now," he said coolly with a curt, barely visible nod. Narcissa bowed her head respectful, her body also slightly inclined with the movement, before she glided silently away out into the hallway and to the left. Draco also bowed and made to turn when his father's voice stopped him. "Not you, Draco. I have something to discuss with you in the dungeons." Draco arched a high, questioning pale eyebrow, but followed his father anyway.
The inside of the Malfoy manner was anything but an improvement from the outside. It was nearly all black marble, black wood, dark and dismal formal setting were even the light from the fireplaces seemed reluctant to spread very far, and almost never warmed. The entrance hall was nearly five stories tall with sweeping church like arch ceilings and doors. The hallway was no better. Nothing in the manner was any better. While only one story it was long and windowless with torches spaced intermittently that, like the firelight, did little to dispel the darkness of the place. Draco walked, head high as always, albeit silently behind his father. As they passed closed door after closed door the only sounds about them were the quite whispers of the flames, the clacking of their shoes on the hard marble floor, and the snapping of their cloaks moving in the breeze they created.
All the while Draco asked nothing and said nothing. After all these years under his father he knew when to speak and when to keep his mouth shut. His father had something to tell him, probably about his upcoming initiation into the death eaters shortly after his 17th birthday (After graduating from Hogwarts of course), and it was best to let him do it his way. Draco was so preoccupied he just barely noticed when his father stopped before a heavily cast iron bolted door that lead to the expansive dungeons of the Malfoy manner. Stumbling a bit, he managed to keep up as they started down the long corkscrew staircase that, for the lack of any light, save the small lantern Lucius had garbed from a shelf near the door, seemed to be floating, unsupported in a void.
The dungeon, is possible, was even worse than the rest of the house. It had no lighting of it's own, save with well fueled lanterns left on a shelf near the door by house elves. Everything seemed sharply cold, damp, and isolating. A place made not of marble like the rest of the house, but cracked old stone. A place built sole for privacy, potion making, and the breaking of prisoners spirits. When, after what seemed like miles of depth, they touched down on a rough stone floor Lucius didn't pause once, but continued steadily down one of the oldest passageways in the manner. It was so old, the stone's more cracked and blackened then the rest, that it might be the one remainder of the vast underground torture chambers that existed, even before the Malfoy family had taken up residence in this light forsaken realm. The passage they entered was small and cramped, a reminder of times long past when people were supposedly not as tall as they could often be today, in the shape of a gothic arch.
Whatever his father had to talk to him about, Draco had realized some time ago, must have to deal with one of their resident prisoners. Although Voldemort had more than enough of his own storage space for his own victims, betrayers, and (as he called them) toys, he had a taste for spreading them out among his death eaters. For their enjoyment, no doubt, and to keep the victims confused. It was a known rule never to leave a prisoner in one place too long. Some of the most stubborn being could gain hope from the simple fact that their prison was a constant in their current lives. Always the same walls until they were rescued or died. The dreaded dark lord offered, not even that comfort to his victims. The Malfoy manner was an exceptional place to store prisoners. The utter darkness of it, while constant was suffocate ding and almost as good as any of the forbidden curses, so Draco was quite aware of the comings and goings in his the depths of his home. He'd frequented to basement, potions lab, and torture chambers since he was quite young, no doubt part of his father's plan to ready him for his fate as a high ranking death eater.
After another lifetime of walking they came to another door made of old, near petrified wood. Draco's brow climbed towards his hairline again as his father paused before the door, raised the lantern to face level, and with one short puff extinguished the flame. Darkness. At first that's all there was. The kind of thick sticky darkness that can drive you insane after a while, although Draco would have an advantage over normal people. Being surrounded by this darkness all his life he was more than used to it. Then, as his vision adjusted he was able to see the outline of the old wooden door illuminated by some white/blue magical light from inside the chamber beyond the door.
"There's something very important I must show you Draco," came his father's silky voice from beside him in the darkness. There was a brief moment when his father's arm came in front of him, block portions of the light to unlock the door, and then the door was open. As one they stepped inside the dimly illuminated holding cell and what sight greeted Draco's eyes was, in all his years of school and forbidden privileges that came with his families …connections, like nothing he'd ever seen before.
In the very back corner of the tiny cell was…some strange form of magical creature he'd never seen before…in the form of a woman. In her human appearances nothing seemed unusual. She seemed young but ageless at the same time, almost like an elf. Her hair was brown with some red, it clearly fell down to her knees, even though she was huddled in the corner, her eyes were a mix of blue/green, and her skin seemed a shade darker then the pale aristocratic skin that ran in his family, but still very much an English complexion. She was dressed in a rather elaborate silver evening like gown who's sparkles only added to the light. The light, that was the very bizarre thing. That and her eyes. The light was soft but strong and seemed to be coming from her, and her eyes… they were deep and seemed to hold an oceans depths of knowledge. She looked like a cross between a human and a ghost but the aura she had around her and the feel of the air in the room immediately alerted Draco that she was not human. She was indeed a magical creature of some sort. Rare and powerful.
"This thing," his father began slowly, "is called a Mystic. A magical creature, as I'm sure your experience has alerted you. Fathomlessly powerful it was thought they were nothing more than a fairytale until recently. It was said that they knew the intimate workings of the universe and could control and change a mans destiny with their actions and guidance. Lord Voldemort came upon this creature once during his travels in the forbidden forests of your school. Then he was still recovering, drinking unicorn's blood to stay alive. He could not capture it then, but now, with his return to power he was able to return and take it. He's tried to reason with the poor wretch but it won't see reason. To add to the frustration his usual methods of persuasion have done nothing. He can only assume that this is due to how little we really know about this creature. So he has trusted our family, his most highly trusted allies, to find… other methods of convincing. Since the matter has fallen in vain to all others under me I am trusting you to prove that I at least you at competent enough to deal with the matter. That I must not do everything myself.
Draco nodded, noting the tone his father used left no room for failure. It wasn't a surprising request. He'd been watching, supervising, and even helping in the torture of the victims as long as he'd been coming there. Just training. It was just more training. With a particularly nasty snarl he observed the magical beast closer. Through rips and tears and several healing wounds he could see someone usually most effective in such matters had tried, but failed to do enough to truly shake the creature. There was far too much peace and contentment in her-no, it, keep it impersonal- its eyes. It looked almost as if it'd never been touched if you were too look into its eyes. With a small stretch of his shoulders Draco brought his wand front and center and muttered a highly advanced spell meant to have the impact of falling of a cliff on it's victim. It wasn't exactly a forbidden curse, but close. He wanted to see how really difficult it would be to get the creature to cry out. The bright magic flew from the tip of his wand and impacted on the mystic. Draco paused and eyed the creature. Nothing had happened. He bit his bottom lip, a nervous habit he thought he'd left behind him, when the creature didn't even flinch. He could practically feel the tension of his father's mounting anger behind him. That was not good. That was not good at all. The a breath drawn shakily in he began a merciless onslaught of curse after curse forbidden and not. Anything and everything seemed to have no effect, and as his nervousness grew the came in faster and faster secession.
Just when Draco was really started to panic, inwardly, he noticed a shift in the creature. The Mystic's eyes were no longer contented. Although not a muscle in her face was twisted in pain her eyes revealed the truth. The saddened and watered with pain. Draco let out a mental sigh of relief. He as getting somewhere, he just hoped it would be fast enough.
…Mr. Potter…
Draco faltered a little in his attacks when the first, single drop of blood formed in the center of the Mystic's chest, staining her already ruined gown. He could have sworn he'd just heard it speak. Just the faintest whisper… "What are you waiting for? You're finally getting somewhere. Show that thing what real pain is!" his father snarled when he paused. Draco shook his head and continued the assault. Though the creature never even flinched it's tears were flowing freely know, a painful lost look glazed over it's eyes, and blood was flowing rather liberally from the wound just over it's heart. Draco smiled wickedly, without humor, as his curses began to have more and more effect. It wasn't until he felt a feather light touch on his shoulder that he stopped the onslaught.
His father did not look at him, however. He merely crossed in front of him to stare the creature down. "So you do bleed after all? I think that speaks little of the current death eaters if a mere child can bring you to this sorry state." Draco bit his lip again. His father still called him a child. Nothing he ever did was enough. At least until he joined the death eaters he was a child. After that he'd be a man. He'd get respect from his father then, and bring that filthy Potter to Voldermort himself. And the creature in front of them, it would help them or be added to their list of victims. He didn't care what the means as long as they met there goal.
It was still bleeding hard, but hand not so much as batted an eyelash to its tears of moved its hands from its lap to block his attack. It was just looking up at his sneering father with sadness and deep hurt in it's eyes… and something else… pity? No, he had to be wrong, no victim of the Malfoy dungeon would have the audacity too…
Lucius's hand whistled threw the air and contacted sharply with the creature's face. "How dare you look at me as thought I was the one in need of pity here. If it is anyone, it is only you!" The creature was at least intelligent to keep it's eyes downcast this time. Lucius glared at it for another good minute or so before turning sharply on his heels and heading out. "Come Draco. I must report this to our Lord and I do believe that you have some shopping to do before the school train tomorrow.
"Ah yes," Draco thought as he turned, "School book list came bloody late again. Good thing this manner is so well stocked or I'd be hard pressed to meet the train." Draco had just gotten to the door when he hear it again…
…Mr. Potter…this…this isn't right…it's not your destiny…
Draco spun on his heel and stared at the creature wide eyed. He'd definitely heard it speak that time. No he'd definitely never seen a creature like it. After a torture session that would have brought any person within an inch of their life it sat calmly with it's legs folded under it, one hand over it's wound that caused blood to streak between it's fingers, and silent eyes that seemed to bore into his soul. The cocktail of pain and hurt was still their too, deep and nearly palpable in the air…
"DRACO! Come I will not wait for you!" roared his father from the doorframe.
"Coming!" Draco said sounding a little more shaken than he would've liked as he scurried out of the room. His father relight the lantern, took care to lock the cell door securely with powerful magic, and strode off quickly back the way they had come. Draco had to nearly run to keep up, but he was about to be left behind with her- It, dammit! IT!. They back seemed to pass much more quickly and before Draco knew it they were back in the long, dimly light hallway.
"Off to bed with you," came an order from Lucius.
"Yes father." Draco replied with a respectful bow and headed off back towards the entrance hall while his father continued further down the hall towards his private office. Just before the doors that lead into the entranceway Draco slid into a nearly hidden passage and began climbing stairs. Stair way after hallway after stairway. His room was probably the most difficult room to get to in the entire manner and he was thankful for it. It gave him a lot of privacy. Even his scrutinizing father only made the trek up there once a month or so. When Draco finally got to his room, the highest in the west tower he sloppily tossed his cloak onto a nearby chair and made a beeline for his balcony, not even bothering to summon up a fire.
It was dark up here too. From his viewpoint Draco could see the sheer walls of blackness that surrounded his house, making him feel even more like he was trapped in a void. It wall all so unsettling, the darkness, that girl…it…whatever. Confused and a little shaken he turned his head to the heavens pleased to find the sky clear. Yes, even here in one of the worlds most dismal places, the stars still shone to guide the lost souls home. When Draco was little, often after he'd been forced to endure something to harden him against the tasks of a death eater, he'd come out here and gazed out at the stars all night for comfort. He hadn't done that in a long…long time… Maybe he just grew up and stopped hoping things would change… whatever it was was fairly irrelevant at the moment.
Nothing a victim had ever done had shaken him so badly, even when he was barely five and new to the scene of torture. He was almost positive that she'd…she'd been addressing him, but…she'd called him by… by that filthy wanna be hero's name. As if he would be part of…that family… The name wasn't even the worst part…it was her choice of words… He remembered after he'd seen his first person killed, his fifth birthday, was the very first night he'd spent on the balcony seeking comfort in the heavens. He'd cried for hours telling himself this wasn't right…. This couldn't possibly be his destiny… but with time those feelings had faded and with conditioning he became almost a robot at his work. Insult, trick, smirk, torture, kill; all those words came forefront in his vocabulary. It had been a long time indeed since he'd allowed himself to acknowledge feeling vulnerably… but now he felt like he had no choice. Despite all his training… all his walls…he felt vulnerable… and he didn't like it…
For the first time in eons of immunity he stayed out on the balcony, looking at the lights in the dark until they began to fade… Then with a sigh he pushed himself off the balcony floor and shoved the Malfoy mask right back into place. Not all things were right with his world just yet… his mask no longer fit the contours of his soul, but at least he felt comfortable enough to get it on. With a quick shower and change he slid between the cool Black and green satin of his bed sheets. He was not really expecting rest to find him, but at least he could unfocused and lie still until the house elves came to call him down…down to what was his destiny, weather he was ready for it or not…
Authors Notes: ^_^ I know most fics at least have some Harry action in ever chapter but Draco's character seemed neglected to me so I thought I'd give him some special attention, really let you see his background and home life, that sort of thing. Don't worry though, there's a lot more action and a lot more Harry coming up! ^_^
