All Torn Down

by Obake

Draco's world has been turned upside down, and he is left searching for a ray of light.

9. Warnings

Warnings: This fic is not for anyone under 15 years, unless you have an amazing level of maturity. Nor is it for homophobes. Herein lies slash, het, mentions of rape, torture, psychological manipulation, and coarse language. Heavy stuff, so if you don't like it, don't read it.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters and The Story So Far are property of J. K. Rowling and Warner Brothers, and I have no intent of contesting that right, especially since both have done extremely well in creating and maintaining the spirit of said characters and story. In case either one happens upon this story one day: congratulations and please don't sue me! I mean no harm.

Pleas: Reviews would be nice; flames are also welcome. I will make a spirited attempt to reply to every single one, but I can't guarantee it. Flamers be warned: I will be very logical, pedantic and probably curious in my response. It can be a nuisance, but you'll have to learn to live with it.

Thanks To: Andry, Elysa Mental (Glad you like it.), Kristy, Piri Malfoy, AlecC, VoodooDaisuke, Draco Malfoy_N_Harry Potter, Sorceress Jade, Just Forgotten, Fei, Myr, Wednesday, Penelope-Z, Mel (I know Draco needs Harry, and soon—he's making his presence extremely felt in my head at the moment. It will be soon. Just that there's a story insisting on being built first…), Tashannie, gwen (Plenty of Draco here…slash is coming. I know it's been a long wait; just a little bit longer.), arcania, S. Maldiva (Neville's grinning like an idiot over your review. ^_^ I'm not sure yet who will become the next Minister, although it's most likely to be either Arthur or Lucius.), Shattered Reality.

All Torn Down: Warnings

San Miguel Archangel, little saint

Don't be so hard, so silent,

Don't go on rejoicing in your past

When it's now I really need you.

…

Now's when the devil's beating up,

Now's when the saints, there ain't so many,

Now's when the gods are all good-byes,

And sin strolls around so easy.

…

San Miguel Archangel, little saint, little saint,

San Miguel Archangel, little saint,

Don't stand there like you're made of stone,

While I'm dragged down by disillusion.

I cry cry cry, can't sing any more.

…

Now's when Mephisto's ringing my bell.

Now's when the fat cows are growing skinny.

Now's when bribes are a dime a dozen.

And life's pushing me over the edge.

…

San Miguel, little saint, little saint….

—San Miguel Archangel, Liliana Felipe.

Draco strode through the passageways towards Dumbledore's office, aware that he was late. For once he was going to the meeting alone—Snape had given him the password earlier that day.

'Freckles,' he told the gargoyle, wondering what the word had to do with Dumbledore's penchant for sweets. The statue jumped aside and Draco raced up the stairway, pausing long enough at the top to compose himself before entering the office.

The room resembled a sardine tin. Draco caught sight of Dumbledore's phoenix clawing nervously atop a cabinet, and thought the creature must be put off by all the noise. It looked as though most of the Ministry members had turned out—at least those who weren't aligning themselves with Voldemort, and Draco was certain some must be by now. He felt a curl of dislike as he caught sight of Arthur and Molly Weasley talking with Black and Lupin.

There were a few other newcomers: Neville Longbottom had made an appearance for some reason, and was staring around wide-eyed and open-mouthed beside Harry. He paled as his eyes crossed over Draco, and he shifted around behind the Dream Team. Draco smirked a little in contempt.

Run, Squib, run...

Madam Maxime was there as well, resplendent in her bulk, and looking extremely uncomfortable. She stayed near Hagrid, nervously watching the people milling about her. Draco was surprised; he would never have pegged the women as shy.

Draco couldn't push his way through the crowd more than a few feet, so he remained hovering near the door, listening to the chatter around him. A bellow briefly drowned out the rest of the noise and the bulky wizard who had organised the Azkaban counter-attack came into Draco's line of vision across the room, shaking Snape's hand enthusiastically and speaking to him rapidly. It looked as though they were old friends. McGonagall watched the conversation with distaste from a few feet away.

Draco's eyes shifted around the room again, eventually coming to rest on Melchior, who was watching the exchange between Snape and the other man with cool interest. He turned his face slightly to smirk at Draco, as though he'd known he was being watched, and melted away into the crowd.

Dumbledore stood a few moments later, his presence calling for silence. He beamed at the crowd.

'Here we all are again,' he said, twinkling. 'I must say it's good to see the entire Order together once more. And we have another newcomer—' Dumbledore made a sweeping gesture towards Neville. 'Neville Longbottom narrowly escaped being the first student to be pulled out of Hogwarts as a result of the Dark Lord's actions. It has taken a lot of courage on his part to stay with us and I am happy to welcome him into the Order.'

A low murmur had risen at the pronouncing of Neville's surname, and as Dumbledore paused, the rest of the gathering smiled at him; a few people even clapped quietly. Draco scowled. No one looked at me like that when I first came here.

'Before we speak of anything else, congratulations are in order,' Dumbledore's eyes shifted to where Black and Lupin stood. 'There was little time to prepare a defence against the Dark Lord's Christmas attack and both Sirius and Remus handled the situation admirably.'

'Hear hear,' someone towards the back called, and there was a rumble of laughter. Snape glared at the canine pair. Draco wondered briefly where that particular enmity sprang from.

'If only old Fudge had followed their lead,' the Potions Master's friend murmured as the noise died down, just loud enough to be heard.

'Cornelius worked more than anyone to restore peace and order when the last war against Voldemort ended. He can be forgiven for not wanting that order to be disturbed again.'

'He's been walking around blindfolded,' someone snorted.

'And as I understand it, he has accepted his dismissal gracefully,' Dumbledore's voice had the slightest edge to it. There was a group shuffling of feet and clearing of throats. 'Let's not descend to mockery of a man who has done so much in the past to help us.'

'That was all you,' Snape's companion protested. 'Fudge never sneezed without your consent.'

'Why don't you register as a candidate for the Ministry, Albus?' Melchior's tones rose from the back, silken, although his face was hidden from view. The phoenix squawked, drowned out by a murmur of agreement reverberating around the room.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled wryly. 'I'm flattered that you seem to think me such a capable leader, but I have a school to run. Moreover,' he nodded at Mr Weasley, 'There are others already in the running who are just as competent as I am, if not more so. Good luck, Arthur.'

'Thank you, sir,' Arthur murmured. Beside him, the Weasel grinned broadly.

'There is much more we must attend to before the night is done. Olympe brings us good news at last.'

The huge woman cleared her throat nervously. 'Ze giants are willing to 'elp us fight 'E-'O-Mustn't-Be Named. Zey 'ave sent a treaty to sign, and once it is, will send a group to fight ze Dementors at Azkaban.'

A cheer went up. Harry was grinning and chattering with Weasley and Granger; Mad-Eye Moody and Arabella Figg shared a triumphant glance. Draco caught Snape's eye. Voldemort left the giants to us. He doesn't care...

'Zere are conditions.' Madam Maxime's voice rose over the commotion, cutting it short. 'Ze giants wish to be allowed to campaign for zeir rights at ze Ministry. Zey want discrimination against zem abolished.'

'Discrimination not wholly unfounded, Maxime,' Melchior said. She shot a warning glance at the back of the room, in the general direction of his voice.

'Zey are willing to change, if we are willing to let zem. I believe it is about time. Also, zey wish to be recognised as, 'ow to say...' She glanced helplessly at Hagrid, and he muttered something in her ear. 'Ah yes, a sapient race. Instead of being drafted as some dumb creature—'

'But they can barely—'

Hagrid cleared his throat loudly and glared around the room, and the anonymous speaker fell silent.

'If ze conditions are not met, ze giants will withdraw zeir aid.'

'Would zey—sorry, they—defect to You-Know-Who?'

'I doubt it. Zey were spurned at ze end of ze last war because zey did side with 'im. If zey leave us zey will probably be neutral, unless attacked.' Madam Maxime held up a roll of parchment. ''Ere is ze treaty. It must be signed by Albus and five Ministers, and shall be returned immediately to ze clan leaders.' She stepped forward and placed the document on Professor Dumbledore's desk.

'Does anyone have any justifiable objections to the treaty?' Dumbledore said. A few wary glances were thrown at Hagrid and Maxime, but no one spoke. 'Right,' the Headmaster said cheerfully. 'Silly to wait, then...if five members of the Ministry would care to step up...'

He raised a quill and, dipping it in a pot of green ink, flicked his signature over one of the lines at the bottom of the page. Arthur Weasley was the next to sign, then a group of men Draco didn't recognise. Melchior slunk from the back of the room to fill in the last line. As the quill left the parchment, the treaty itself rolled up again and vanished with a faint hissing noise.

'Thank you for persisting in your negotiations, Olympe. I know it took a great deal of effort to persuade the giants to our side.'

Madam Maxime acknowledged Dumbledore with a nod.

'Now—more news, but not such glad tidings from Durmstrang.' Ears perked up at the Headmaster's grave tone. 'Since Professor Karkaroff's disappearance, his deputy and Victor Krum have been managing the school—Victor has dropped his Quidditch commitments to shoulder that responsibility.'

There was a disappointed murmur; Ron looked dumbstruck.

'It is certainly a sad loss, but losing the school would be far worse. And, friends, that seems a possibility. Borshkov and Krum are doing their best, but Durmstrang is foundering. Many of the teachers have left; resources have been cut. I received a letter from the Bulgarian Minister for Magic earlier today requesting our help.'

'Ah,' said Mrs Figg. 'And has our dear Mr Oblanksovic deigned to tell us the whereabouts of his dear school?'

'Not as yet.'

She threw her hands in the air. 'Then how can we be expected to help?'

'We can let them know that when they're prepared to let us, we're prepared to oblige,' Snape said, watching Professor Dumbledore.

'Why should we?'

'Because the Durmstrang faculty and students have a greater understanding of the Dark Arts than we do. Because if they fall to You-Know-Who...' There was a cold silence. 'I vote we help them.'

'I say nay,' Melchior said. 'Why let ourselves be bullied around?'

Dumbledore's phoenix flapped its wings, agitated. Draco glared at it. What on earth is wrong with that bird?

'Ayes?' Dumbledore said. There were a few coughs, exchanges of eye contact, and hands began to rise. The Headmaster's lips moved silently as he counted them. 'Very well. The nays?'

Hands rose quickly; Draco counted about half the room and bit his lip. It was close.

'The ayes have it by a whisker,' Dumbledore sighed. 'I will send a message tomorrow morning to let Oblanksovic know.

'Finally, there will be another meeting among the Death Eaters next week. Professors, you all know what to do. Keep a look out for any sign of students using Dark magic; I want to begin pulling them out of Voldemort's fold as soon as possible. Severus, Draco—good luck. Take care.'

'Sir,' Snape said. Draco ducked his head, nodding.

'That is all, except for one thing. Children, would you mind staying behind a moment?' Draco frowned, puzzled, and glanced at Snape, but the man didn't seem to notice. 'Thank you, everyone. I bid you good night and a safe journey home.'

As the rest of the Order shuffled out, the phoenix dropped from its perch on the cabinet and went to its master's shoulder. Draco took a few steps closer to the centre of the room, moved a little towards Dumbledore, and hesitated. Neville and the Dream Team looked just as confused as he. Dumbledore simply smiled at them and gestured for them to move forward.

'I assure you I am no ogre,' he said, and they clustered around his desk. Draco found himself wedged somehow between Harry and Ron, and tried not to make the fact that he was leaning toward the former too obvious. The Weasel scowled at him.

'You have all shown great courage of one kind or another to have been accepted in the Order of the Phoenix,' Dumbledore began. 'But, alas, courage alone will not defeat Voldemort. I'm sorry, Neville.'

The boy had squeaked at the mention of the Dark Lord's name. Draco bit back an urge to laugh.

'You might have wondered why Alastor Moody and Remus Lupin always attend these meetings, even though they don't work at Hogwarts any more and could as easily be notified of events by owl post. There are two reasons. One, they are both skilled in and dedicated to fighting the Dark Arts. The second reason is that you can all learn a great deal from them, and from a select number of teachers at this school.'

'Don't we already?' Weasley said.

Dumbledore smiled. 'You learn basic magic skills from them, now, yes. But I doubt any of you know of the Great Arts.'

Granger's brow creased. 'Isn't that what the Aurors use, sir?'

The Headmaster chuckled. 'I stand corrected; Hermione, you are a marvel.' She blushed. 'Yes, the Great Arts are used by the Aurors. They consist of the most powerful magic capable of fighting the Dark Arts, and it is time that you began to be trained in their use. Your Heads of House will tell you when and where to go for your lessons. Your teachers will be Professors Moody, Figg, Snape, McGonagall, and Lupin. Pay careful attention to what they tell you; it may later save your life. I expect all of you—' He paused to look directly at each of them in turn— 'All of you to work together as closely as possible. Good luck.'

'Thank you, Professor,' Harry said. His breath brushed Draco's ear.

'Good night, everyone.'

Draco was the first to leave; he was tired and the glares that Weasel kept throwing his way were irritating. He paced through the halls and, on reaching the end of the tunnel, spun neatly into his room.

The layer of dust that normally permeated the place was gone; the tepid water had been removed and the linen on the bed was fresh. His mended robes lay on the mattress, folded neatly. There was a short note pinned to them, in a crooked, inexpert scrawl:

Master Malfoy,

As Mats Master sees, everythying is in order. Dobby expects two Sickles at end of the week. Good knihgt night, sir.

Dobby

P.S. Harry Potter says thaynk you for the present, whoever it is from.

Draco smiled, putting the note and the robes aside. He wondered who helped Dobby write the note as he changed into his pyjamas and slid between the clean sheets. Draco pulled the linen around him and closed his eyes, a small smile softening his face.

'Thank you for keeping it, Harry.'

~~~*~~~

The class gathered close together, eyeing the crates Hagrid had laid out on the lawn. A few people flinched as one of the boxes jumped. The half-giant grinned.

'Now, don' be scared. They'll be jus' the same little rascals yeh all know an' love once they're out. A bit more docile too, prob'ly, now they've had their kip.' The group began to relax at that. 'Now, when I open the boxes, yeh're each of you to find yer imp and don't annoy it. They'll be actin' a little strange, since it's the breeding season, and this is what'll happen: each imp will be lookin' fer a mate, and no one's ter get in their way, understand?' Heads bobbed. 'Good. Whoever's imp they pick, that's the person yeh'll be working with fer the rest o' the year, right? Right. Let's get on with it, then.'

As the first crate was pulled open, Draco prepared to run. 'A bit more docile' coming from Hagrid's mouth was only small reassurance. Several people around him seemed to be doing the same thing.

The lid fell away with a soft thud. Nothing emerged from within. Hagrid bent down, peering inside. 'Let's see...ah, still sleepin'. We've got a maroon one in here, a dark grey and a black. Those sound like anyone's?'

Draco edged forward with the small number of students who had imps of those colours. Most of them turned away when they peered into the box, but a couple stooped down and picked the slumbering imps up. The black imp was the only one left when Draco looked inside.

It was curled up in a little hollow of straw, even smaller than Draco remembered. Its ears were furled over its stubby little nose; fluctuating with each breath, and one tiny fist was jammed into its mouth. The placid look on its face made it almost unrecognisable, but it was his.

Carefully, Draco picked the creature up and let it lie in the palm of his hand as he moved away to allow Hagrid to open the other boxes. Looking down at it, he wondered if all its bad temper was just tiredness. It seemed impossible that something so apparently guileless could be responsible for all the mayhem he remembered.

The imp lifted one ear and slowly sat up, blinking in the light. It looked up at Draco and smiled. Without really realising he was doing it, he smiled back. The imp got to its feet and staggered toward the edge of his hand.

'Careful with 'em,' Hagrid called out, and Draco looked up to see a couple of girls trying to catch their runaway charges. Too late, he registered the sharp pain in his thumb. Draco hissed and pulled the imp from his hand. It hung from his fingers by its ears, squealing in malevolent glee.

'You evil little sod.'

It poked its tongue out and in a few seconds a familiar squeakiness began to rise from its heaving lungs. Draco deposited it in his palm.

'Well? Are you going to find one of your own kind to pester, or am I the sole beneficiary of your affections?'

The imp glared at him and wriggled under his sleeve before he could stop it. Draco shook his arm wildly in an effort to dislodge the creature as tiny claws pierced his skin, marking its journey to his shoulder. He grunted as the vicious teeth found their way into his flesh again, and held his arm still. It seemed like the least painful way.

The imp's head emerged from the collar of Draco's robe. It squatted on his shoulder and surveyed the rest of the class over the curve of fabric, muttering to itself. Draco watched its eyes twitch from imp to imp as its scowl deepened.

'Don't like the merchandise?'

It turned to glare at him, but the snarl died halfway up its throat. Its gaze shifted past Draco. The scowl was replaced by an evil grin.

'Found something?'

The imp whistled loudly and propelled itself from him, racing off somewhere behind. Draco turned to see it bowl into a green imp, and groaned. Not again.

'Weasel, get your imp away from mine!'

Ron had been talking to Hermione a few feet away. He turned sharply at Draco's cry and stared at the two creatures rolling around on the lawn. 'Just can't keep a hold, can you, Ferret?'

'I don't see you watching your imp's every movement.' Draco stalked to the two blurs, who seemed to be containing themselves to a few square feet of ground this time. Ron met him from the opposite side.

'I only looked away for a minute,' he muttered. Draco snorted. They glared at each other, then down at their imps.

'Now that's something new,' Draco remarked, watching his pull handfuls of grass up and throw it at the little green devil, which spun about. It paused in its whirling to emit an ear-throbbing, keening cry.

'Ah,' Hagrid said, striding over. 'Looks like a couple have found their way ter each other. Good on 'em.'

Ron stared at the imps. They were bowling each other about again, but not with the viciousness of a fight. His voice was flat. 'You're kidding.'

The imps paused in their rough-and-tumble. The black one was spread-eagled over Ron's, holding its counterpart's forelimbs down. It smirked and pressed their faces together.

'But they were fighting like rats over cheese before!'

'You'd know,' Draco murmured. The Weasel glared at him.

'Sorry, Ron,' Hagrid said firmly. 'It's yer imp's choice, not yer own.' Another keening cry rose across the way and the man smiled, misty-eyed. 'Jus' listen to 'em, would yeh...'

Casting a sympathetic glance at Weasley, he headed away. Ron knelt down and poked his imp in the ribs.

'Come on. You've had your fun, now let's go...' The imp merely snuggled in closer to Draco's, which scowled up at Ron. Draco saw the warning sign, but decided not to comment. Ron's voice turned gently cajoling. 'Look, you hated this one before; what's so different now? Just come away...'

Draco squatted down, watching his imp's growing agitation and Weasley's apparent obliviousness to it with interest. 'Could be a hormonal thing. Hagrid said something about 'damn hormones' when they got into that fight last term.'

'Oh, shut up. Look, there's a class full of imps out there. You can have any of them—just not this one—ah!' Ron had been trying to extricate his imp from the tangled embrace they had fallen into, but the black devil flipped forward and latched its teeth into the fragile skin betwixt thumb and finger. 'Malfoy, control this thing, will you!'

'Seems to be behaving perfectly well to me.'

Draco watched the Weasel's fruitless efforts to pull it off with amusement. Ron said something that would have earned him a detention if Hagrid hadn't been trying to cope with an unhappy situation involving Longbottom and Bulstrode several metres away.

'Watch your mouth,' Draco snapped, feeling himself flush with anger and embarrassment. 'That's disgusting, Weasel; where do you come up with those things?'

Ron growled, and Draco rolled his eyes, forcing himself to bite down on his temper. He held his hand out with extreme distaste. 'Here.' Suspicion hooded Weasley's expression, causing Draco's scowl to deepen. 'I'm hardly going to try anything with you. Do you want it off or not?'

Ron abruptly shoved the assailed hand into Draco's. 'Hurry up.'

Draco took hold of his imp, still firmly attached to the Weasel's flesh. It gave a whining growl, and he felt a pang of understanding. 'I know,' he muttered. 'He's a bastard, isn't he?'

'Shut up and get on with it.'

With great care, rather more concerned with the imp's comfort than with Ron's, Draco prised its mouth away from his hand. He was delighted to see a row of bloody pinpricks where its teeth had punctured flesh. Weasley pulled his hand back roughly, letting his imp inspect the damage. It looked reproachfully back at Draco's.

Draco looked down at the deflated countenance of the little creature in his hand. Sighing, he set it on the ground and watched it toddle over to apologise to its mate. 'You just can't get around it, can you? If I've...contaminated something, you don't want anything to do with it.'

'That's not true. Harry—'

Draco couldn't help smiling a little. 'He's impossible to contaminate...'

Ron glared at him. 'Stop that right now. I don't want to have to see you blush again.' He broke off to watch the imps as they chattered at one another. His eyes softened briefly as his leaned forward to snuffle at Draco's, before the scowl returned. 'Bloody hell, why did she have to pick yours?'

Draco's lip curled. 'Yes, it would all have been so much easier if you'd been paired with Granger, wouldn't it?'

'Well? I bet you were banking on it choosing Harry, you slimy—'

'Oh, shut up. I haven't touched him, not once, all right? He's made it fairly obvious he wants nothing to do with me.'

The Weasel sneered. 'And he never will.'

Draco didn't trust himself to speak. He watched the imps dully, fighting the sheer emotion rising in his chest. Weasley hadn't apparently noticed—or didn't care—and went on in a contrived conversational tone.

'Must be really terrible, to know none of your fantasies will ever come true...'

'Drop it, Weasel.' Please.

Ron was taken aback at the tightness in his voice, and fell silent for a moment. Draco felt the weight of his scrutiny, and stared more forcefully at the imps, determined not to look up.

'Fine,' Weasley said gruffly. 'Sorry.'

Draco's eyes widened. 'What was that?'

'Don't make me say it again.'

He nodded, knowing better than to push his luck any further. The silence between them signalled an uneasy truce.

'So,' Ron said eventually. 'What do we do now?'

Draco shrugged. 'Hagrid said something about collecting saplings from the Forbidden Forest, didn't he?'

'Don't remember,' Ron said, colouring slightly. 'Wasn't really listening...'

'Yes,' Draco said wryly. 'You only took your eyes away for a minute, didn't you?'

'Shut up. What kind of plants are we talking about here?'

'Anything with leaves on.' Draco gave the landscape a disparaging glance. 'Which currently limits us to evergreens.'

'Why the Forbidden Forest specifically?'

'More plants, I suppose.'

They stood, and prised their imps from one another with great difficulty, some pain, and several assurances that the parting was only temporary. The pair nevertheless looked stricken at being separated, and their keening calls to one another echoed across the grounds, marking Ron and Draco's passage to the outskirts of the forest.

'Why do they bother hibernating anyway, if they wake up still in winter?' Ron muttered.

'It's not natural hibernation—we had to give them those sleeping draughts, or don't you remember, Weasel?'

'My memory's fine, Ferret.'

Draco's fists clenched. 'Don't call me that.'

'Then stop with the Weasel thing.'

Draco glared at him and went on. 'The imp minds need some time to sleep—can you imagine what an imp going for two years without a rest would be like?' Weasley winced. 'Exactly. But they aren't really built for hibernation, so they wake up early.'

Weasley plucked his imp from its vantagepoint on his head and tucked it into the thick collar of his robe. 'They might freeze.'

'They have a kind of magical heat field they can generate until the weather gets warmer.'

Ron glanced at him, eyes suspicion-laden. 'You read the chapter, didn't you?'

'I was bored.'

'Whatever. Just don't act like Hermione. It's disturbing.'

'Me? Act like—' Draco shuddered. 'That is disturbing.'

'Don't insult my girlfriend!'

'You said it first.' Draco chose to ignore Weasley's irate countenance in favour of examining the gaunt saplings before them. 'What a wonderful choice,' he said dryly, staring at the sickly things. Ron watched as Draco examined each tree carefully, dismissing them one after the other— 'Too heavy, too gangly, half-frozen....'

Ron growled impatiently. 'Why don't we let the imps choose?'

Draco shook his head. 'Call this their wedding present...Weasley, will you stop giving me the death glare and help me pick something out?'

'I don't know what you're looking for! They all look okay to me.'

Draco straightened up. 'We want something with a lot of greenery.'

'Because...?'

'Weasley, you do realise this is supposed to be their bower? That they'll be mating in it? So unless you wanted to watch....'

Ron flushed an angry crimson. 'You sick pervert! How dare you say something like that, when you're—you're—'

Draco's eyes flashed. His imp, sensing the tension, dug its claws into his shoulder. 'I'm what, Weasley?'

'You know damn well what I'm talking about!'

The thought that Harry would loathe him was all that kept Draco from knocking the Weasel out. 'Choose a tree.'

Ron looked around wildly and stabbed a finger at a bushel of green. Draco traced a rough circle about its trunk with the tip of his wand, estimating where the roots would have spread to, and muttered a quick Herbology spell to loosen the earth within the ellipse.

'Wingardium leviosa.'

Following the direction of Draco's wand, the sapling rose and floated between them as they made their way back towards Hagrid's cabin, in a silence so tense it was electric. The rest of the class had already gathered with their trees, and were standing around in a muddy area by the cabbage patch, riddled with holes.

'Ah,' Hagrid said warmly as they approached. 'Just in time. All right everyone, jus' set 'em down where I've dug all the holes, that's right.'

The half-giant glanced worriedly between Ron and Draco as they set the evergreen into the mud, all the while in stony silence, but he didn't try to talk to either of them.

Within a few minutes, a miniature evergreen forest had sprung up by the cabin. Not everyone appreciated it with Hagrid and Longbottom's fervour, however—several members of the class had slipped and fallen in the mud while trying to stand their specimens in the holes—Draco could hear Berald complaining loudly about a large brown patch on the back of his robes. He snorted.

'What's funny?' Weasley said sharply, patting mud in around the trunk.

Draco scowled at him, but relented and flicked his eyes in Berald's direction. Ron glanced over as he straightened up. His expression wheeled through phases of disgust and contemptuous humour, and he gave a short laugh.

Hagrid was ignoring the Slytherin's complaints, issuing instructions to set the imps in the saplings' branches. Green and black barrelled into one another as soon as they touched wood, and the pair of imps toppled down a way before Draco's pulled their fall short, latching onto a twiggy branch. They hung for a moment, squeaking at each other, before the green imp scrambled up and pulled her mate close. That was where they remained, occasionally nuzzling or snapping at one another.

'—Will see you fired for this!' Berald yelled at Hagrid. The class stilled, watching their teacher for his reaction.

'Will yeh, now?' Hagrid said quietly, turning so he was fully facing Berald. He loomed over the boy. 'Fer a bit o' mud, boy? People have tried ter get rid of me before, but I reckon even they would think I'm worth a bit more than dirt. Now get down ter see about gettin' those things cleaned before yeh see the giant side of me.'

Draco's mouth pulled into a tight, nasty grin as he watched Gerard go pale, saw his mouth flap wildly like a fish out of water. He gave a terrified squeak and ran off, back to the castle.

'Of course,' Hagrid said when he was gone, 'It'd take a bit more than a lump of dirt to make that side o' me come out.'

The class laughed. Draco thought that some of them sounded extremely relieved. Friendly relations with the giants are a long way off.

'Yeh've all worked well this lesson, and it's good to see yeh makin' an effort to get on—even if yeh weren't paired with someone yeh were hopin' for. Now yeh'd all better go get something to eat before next class.'

The pairs broke up into the class's generic groups and cliques as the students moved toward the castle. Ron drifted over to Harry and Hermione, throwing odd glances behind him.

Draco sighed and turned back to the imps as the trio moved out of sight. His had its little black arms wrapped close about its mate in a protective hold. Ron's imp seemed perfectly content in the embrace; its head nestled in the crook of a dark shoulder.

As Draco watched, the black imp nipped gently at a green ear to get the other's attention, and gave an oddly melodious whistle. Ron's imp answered the call with one of its own and they collapsed together on the branch, arms, legs and even ears entangling for what Draco counted as their first kiss. He glanced back at the slight rise of ground over which Harry, Hermione, and Ron had disappeared.

'It just couldn't be that easy, could it?'

'What couldn't?'

Draco whirled to the side and gaped. 'Pansy—I thought you'd gone back to the castle.'

'Well, you were wrong.' She pursed her lips. 'I want to talk to you. Now.'

Pansy turned and began to walk away before Draco could respond. She had gone a few metres before he called out, 'Is it something I want to hear?'

She stopped, looked back. 'Probably not. But you can hear it now, while there's only the two of us, or screamed at the top of my lungs tomorrow in the Great Hall.'

That doesn't bode well. Draco caught up in a few strides and they walked together in silence for a moment, putting a decent distance between themselves, Hagrid's hut, and the castle.

'Not a Gryffindor girl, then,' Pansy began suddenly.

Draco rolled his eyes. 'No. Not a Gryffindor girl.'

'Or a Ravenclaw.'

'No, Pansy.'

'Or any girl, in fact.'

'Is there a point to going over this old ground?'

She bit her lip, and for a second a trace of apprehension flickered in her eyes. 'Is it a boy?'

'What?' Draco rounded on her with what he hoped was the right amount of angered indignation. Every swearword he knew buzzed through his head. 'Pansy, for Heaven's sake—'

'Is it?' Pansy cried shrilly. 'Is it—is that the truth, Draco? Why you've abandoned me, why you—'

'Pansy, stop being so damn stupid! I have to keep an eye on Potter's gang, that's all!'

'No it isn't. It isn't! Someone's taking you away from me--'

'I was never yours to begin with!' She jumped and fell silent at the vehemence of his shout. 'Don't cry about being abandoned when it is you, Pansy, who has caused strife here. This is all just some idiotic idea you've managed to concoct in that cracked mind of yours.' Her lip trembled and Draco could see tears forming in her eyes, but he went on. 'I keep telling you that I have a mission—from Voldemort, Pansy!—but that's not good enough for you. So what do you want? Would it be better if I said I'd never want anything to do with a wretch like you?' He looked her slowly up and down, showing the full depths of his disdain as she trembled before him. Pitiable. 'I don't know why I bothered with you in the first place.'

Draco turned and began to walk away. He didn't bother to pause at the sound of feet scuttling after him, didn't turn when he heard her cry, 'Don't turn your back on me, Draco Malfoy. Don't you dare!'

But he whirled around as her nails latched onto his wrist, pulling his hand out of her reach. 'Don't touch me! How many times do I have to say it?'

Pansy's face, contorted with fury, pushed towards him. 'How dare you? After all our loyalty, after everything we've done for you—everything your father's done—'

An explosion went off inside Draco's head, and he advanced on her with a snarl. His ears rang. There was a burning sensation in his eyes, although he couldn't tell whether it was from rage or tears. Pansy must have been frightened, though, because she backed away. 'What my father's done for me? You want to know, hmm? Do you, Pansy?'

'Draco—'

'HE HAD ME RAPED!'

The shout was out and gone before Draco could civilise it, veil it with safe words. His breath caught in horror, and he watched Pansy's face transform through disbelief, realisation, and disgust to an aghast expression that echoed his own feelings. Draco gave a little moan and covered his face with his hands. Please, please let no one else have heard that...shit...

'Draco...' The sensation of her fingertips against his hands, soft now, nevertheless sent Draco staggering backwards.

'Enough...please...' He sank to his knees, ignoring the freezing moisture of snow seeping through his robes.

Draco heard Pansy move, and knew she was standing beside him. He let his hands drop to his lap; it was a feeble shield anyway. She was kneeling, staring at him. He searched for something to say, and was relieved to hit upon a safe topic.

'I'm still with Voldemort. I just don't want anything to do with Lucius. Have to watch Potter. Still with Voldemort, got to...'

'So, then, it might be a boy.'

He stared at her, disbelieving. 'Don't you listen? I said—'

'You keep saying you're still aligned with Voldemort. Fine. You have to watch Potter, all right. But that doesn't explain why you've turned away from me.'

'I've. Been. Raped. Don't you understand? I'm damaged goods, you don't want me anyway...'

'That's not true, you know. Anyway, that's just an excuse.'

'What?'

'You heard. I think you're just using it as an excuse. Other people have had—that—done to them before, and I bet they don't all get phobias like yours.'

'Pansy...'

'That's it, isn't it, Draco? You can deny it all you want, but I think I've figured you out, and it scares you, doesn't it?' She tilted her head. 'So, you've decided you like boys...and you've been watching Potter very closely, haven't you?'

Draco gave a low, brittle laugh. 'You go too far.'

'Am I right?'

'No.'

'Well, it doesn't really matter, does it? Because as I've said before, one owl is all it takes.'

There was a cold pause. 'I think that if I had the strength, I'd kill you now.'

She flashed a bitter smile. 'You can't touch me. Won't, anyway.'

'What do you want?'

She stood, and looked down at him coolly. 'You. I want you to forget about him, whoever he is, and come back to me. To where you belong.'

Draco got to his feet, made a show of brushing the snow from his robes. He lifted his eyes to meet hers and said softly, 'I'm not up for barter.'

The cold mask slipped, and Draco was surprised to see genuine concern in her eyes. 'Please, Draco. I've heard about what he does to gays. I don't want that to happen to you.'

'Then you won't say anything, will you?'

A feeling of sickening dread gathered in Draco's gut as he walked away, back to the castle. Racing through the passages to his room, he began to feel unbearably cold. Draco wrenched a blanket from the bed and hunched in the corner, shivering, with it wrapped around him. Vaguely he remembered having History of Magic now, but did it matter?

Now that he was alone, and in a semblance of calmness, Draco could see dozens of ways in which he could have lied to Pansy, thrown her off.

Stupid, so damn stupid!

She could speak to anyone, and there were only a few more days before the gathering of Death Eaters.

So what was he relying on now? Pansy's loyalty to him? He was as good as dead.

~~~*~~~

Draco's hands trembled as he lifted the mask to his face. It was the appointed time.

The other Death Eaters in the student body had been nudging each other and exchanging meaningful looks all day. They were looking forward to it. He'd had to excuse himself from dinner that night because he couldn't stomach the secret glances any longer.

The torn Mark burned away, blackening at his wrist. Draco scratched at it in a feeble effort to lessen some of the pain. Why hadn't he been able to get rid of it?

'I wonder whether it would hurt more if it was whole?'

A word and a flick of his wand doused the flames in the fireplace. Another word lit the tip of his wand, and Draco swept out of the room, hurrying through the tunnel beyond.

He wouldn't be meeting with Snape tonight. The Potions Master had specifically asked him to go alone this time.

I should have told him. He said I could talk to him...

...It's not worth it. She won't do anything.

Not that he hadn't tried to speak to the professor—three or four times in the past two days, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. The man was worried enough about this meeting without having Draco's problems to deal with as well.

She won't speak. She won't...

A sudden, crippling jolt of pain stabbed into his left wrist, sending Draco stumbling against the wall. He leaned against the stones for support, holding his forearm and trying to remember how to breathe as aftershocks pulsed through him, growing slowly weaker. Draco raised his arm carefully, wriggling his fingers to make sure they were intact.

A crimson line glowed on his wrist, defining the shape of the Dark Mark.

'Wha-what does that mean?'

Draco flexed his fingers again. He drew a deep breath, eased himself from the wall, and began to pelt through the castle. He wished he'd gone with Snape. The Potions Master probably knew what the red line meant. Perhaps it was why he'd wanted to be alone this time.

He made it outside uninterrupted and continued to the outskirts of Hogsmeade. Draco had thought he was early, but most of the Death Eaters he recognised were gathered already, whispering amongst themselves. The Dark Lord was nowhere to be seen.

Draco stopped at the edges of the group. He deliberately ignored the cold gaze of Lucius, looking instead for Snape. He couldn't find him.

'Did you feel it too?'

Draco turned at the low voice and rush of warm breath against his ear, and his eyes met hazel. Harper's eyes flicked downward, and Draco followed his gaze to see him tapping the back of his wrist. He nodded.

'Know what it means?'

'No.'

'I've only felt it a few times before. Means the Dark Lord has found another minion.'

Draco shuddered, and became aware of the sudden warmth and closeness of Kieran's body behind him. He hadn't heard the boy move.

'All right?'

'Yes, I'm fine. Where is the Lord?'

'He was here a moment ago. Went off somewhere, told everyone else to stay.' Kieran nodded towards a nearby copse of trees that obscured part of the dark landscape. 'Your father was very disappointed.'

'Oh?'

'He had his snake with him.'

Draco shivered again. He felt a hand on his wrist, fingers stroking the scars underneath.

'Cold tonight, isn't it?'

'Yes.' Draco closed his eyes, drew his hand out of Kieran's grasp with a pang of reluctance that scared him. 'Harper...'

'Yes?'

'Are you—' Draco hesitated, and dropped his voice to a whisper. 'Are you gay?'

There was a pause, and when Kieran spoke his voice rang with amusement. 'What on earth makes you think that?'

'Just answer the question clearly for once, or go away.'

Draco's eyebrows rose slightly as he listened to Harper's footsteps shifting away from him. He would have thought the youth would at least come up with some enigmatic parry to avoid him. He turned his head in the direction Kieran had gone, and their eyes met for an instant before Harper looked away.

Draco had expected coolness, arrogant amusement. In that brief second, what he saw instead was a troubled child.

His attention was diverted from Harper as three figures emerged from the shadows of the trees. Two, he recognised. One was Voldemort, with Nagini draped around his shoulders like an ineffectual cloak. The other, carrying a small wooden box, was Snape.

The third figure was smaller, and moved with a gait that seemed familiar but which Draco couldn't quite place. The face of the stranger was enshrouded by the hood over his—or was it her?—head.

As though by some silent command, the Death Eaters shuffled into a rough circle. The three took their places among the group: Snape to the left of Voldemort and the newcomer to his right. Silence fell.

'Well,' the Dark Lord began. 'I trust that you all had a good holiday? A...merry Christmas?' Eyes twitched and glanced furtively behind the ring of masks. 'Yes, I'm sure you did. Never mind that the attack on the London Underground failed. There will be other chances.'

The Death Eater beside Draco breathed a sigh of relief.

'And yet...I can't help thinking how strange it is that we were stopped by two dogs. I refuse to believe that a gathering of Death Eaters such as this could possibly be held back by a pair of stray mongrels—however easily some ran from the teeth and claws.' Crabbe and Goyle—senior as well as junior—stiffened guiltily under Voldemort's glare, and didn't relax when he looked away again. 'And did no one else notice that one of the dogs bore amazing resemblance to a werewolf? I spoke with Peter Pettigrew afterwards, and it turns out that Dumbledore does have such a creature in his...arsenal.'

The group sniggered. Draco's teeth clenched. Doesn't anyone here remember Professor Lupin—what he taught us? I laughed at him, but...the Boggart. Don't they remember that? Never mind that he's a—a werewolf....

'So, the dogs were in fact sent by the Muggle-lover, and no doubt the wraiths set upon our agents at Azkaban were his doing as well. We were caught unaware, so it is no shame that we were forced to retreat.

'However, I do seem to remember leaving some of you behind—four, I believe—to watch Potter, and to warn us of any schemes formed by Dumbledore and his cronies. Yet not one gave any warning of what we were to face. Can any of you explain this?' Voldemort looked around expectantly.

'Please, master, forgive us! We will serve you better, I promise—'

'I asked for an explanation, Berald! Save your grovelling for another day.' The Dark Lord glanced about again. 'Anyone? No?' He sighed. 'Snape, put down the box. Come before me, all of you.'

They did so, the four of them drawing into a line in front of him. Draco found himself standing between Snape and Harper. Voldemort pointed his wand at each of their faces in turn. Draco felt a knot of terror work itself into his stomach as the tip hovered inches from his eyes, then moved on to Harper. Berald actually cringed away when it came before him.

Nagini's head lifted from Voldemort's shoulder, her tongue flickering at them. She hissed and slithered downward until her head rested over the Dark Lord's heart.

'The four of you were privileged above all others here,' Voldemort said. 'It is a pity that you chose to abuse that privilege by not doing the task that I set you. It does not pay to be disobedient. As you will learn....' The wand slid back to Snape. Voldemort gave a cold smile. 'Crucio.'

Snape gasped and Draco felt him tense, but he didn't cry out. Voldemort seemed delighted.

'Come now, man. Why don't you just scream? I know you must want to...'

A gargle escaped from Snape's throat. Draco heard his mouth snap shut.

'Are you worried that someone in the village will hear you and come running to see what the matter is? Ah, Snape. Always the considerate one...'

The older Death Eaters laughed, and Draco wondered exactly what kind of jab lay in that remark. Snape began to shake. The Dark Lord leaned closer to him.

'Don't worry. Anyone who comes running down here won't be running away.'

Bile rose in Draco's throat. He'd never actually seen the Killing Curse performed on a human before.

The smile on Voldemort's face widened. Draco saw the wand flick upward, saw the Dark Lord's mouth open to utter an incantation. He felt his feet move in front of Snape of their own accord as the wand came down.

'Crucio crescere!'

Draco screamed once, and clapped a hand to his mouth, howling into his palm and praying no one in the village had heard. There was nothing but the pain. He couldn't see, couldn't feel anything outside of it. Invisible needles punctured every part of him: his skin, his eyes, his insides. He breathed, and the coarseness of the air tearing through his throat almost killed him. Draco heard voices around him, but they were far away and they meant nothing, because there was nothing, only—

'Finite incantatem.'

Draco was on his knees, still wreaked with agony, but there was a world outside of it now, one swiftly dimming. Hands caught Draco and pulled him back as he dropped forward, lids darkening his vision.

'Enervate.'

Draco's eyes flicked wide open. He was on his back, his head supported by Snape's hands. Voldemort stood over him. He felt the tip of the accursed wand run along the line of his jaw, a gesture of mock-concern.

'You should wait your turn next time.' The Dark Lord glanced at Lucius as Draco sat up. 'You've bred one eager for pain, friend. I do hope he won't continue to fail me in an effort to feel more.'

'Rest assured he won't, Lord.'

'Good.' Voldemort cast a perfunctory glance back at Draco. 'Get back into the circle.'

Draco had to fight the urge not to run from him as he returned to his position. Snape had also returned to the circle, and was holding the box again. Draco couldn't bring himself to meet his eyes.

He was saved from catching too many pitying glances as the Dark Lord addressed the gathering again. Nagini wound her way to his other shoulder and tasted the air above the box in Snape's hands.

'Tonight, we welcome a newcomer into our midst. One who has already proven great strength of loyalty to me.' Voldemort nodded at the figure to his right, who stepped forward, and finally lifted the hood.

It was Pansy. In the shimmering wand-light, her eyes seemed to glitter at Draco.

'Open the box, Snape.'

The Potions Master lifted the lid aside and took a small bottle from the box, filled with a red liquid that matched the line still coursing around the Mark on Draco's wrist. Nagini's eyes gleamed as Snape unstoppered the bottle. The moment his hand moved from its lip, she struck. Milky fluid streamed from her fangs into the potion, which steamed and hissed. Snape handed the bottle to Voldemort.

'Kneel and receive the Mark that will bind you to the cause.' Pansy knelt obediently. 'Give me your hand in loyalty.'

'I swear myself to you, Master, and am proud to be bound by the Dark Mark. I am your humble servant in all things…' Pansy intoned as she raised her left hand. Voldemort took it, and poured the potion over the proffered wrist—

— —A scream as heat and poison dribbled over his arm and nails bit into his wrist, hands holding him down, a cruel smile above him and Lucius's pale eyes beside, dead and watching, and promising more pain to come— —

—

Pansy didn't move, or make any sound as the heat settled into her skin. Voldemort raised his wand and swung it above her wrist.

'Morsmordre minor!'

Draco remembered screaming and twisting away from the smile and hands as the Mark was scorched into him, but Pansy merely waited until Voldemort released her, whereupon she bent down and kissed the hem of his robes.

'I hope that you find a good servant in me, my lord.'

'Take your place among the circle.'

Two Death Eaters drew apart to make room for Pansy. One of them was her father.

'I will see you all again in a week's time. Azkaban is proving to be a larger problem than I had anticipated and if events continue as they have been, some of you may be looking at…promotion…' Voldemort smirked at the whispers that rose. 'No one is to speak of what has happened here tonight, except to inform those who failed to come—again—' He glared at Snape. 'Therefore, until I see you again…'

The Dark Lord drew himself up to his full height, nodded at them, and Disapparated. The Death Eaters elder did not linger this time, and a series of pops echoed each other in the night. Only Pansy's father paused to speak to his daughter:

'Well done, my girl. Now we'll show them what the Parkinsons are capable of.'

She glanced at Draco. 'Yes. We will.'

He patted her on the shoulder and Disapparated with the rest. Pansy swept past Draco, moving ahead of the other students towards Hogwarts.

Draco turned, waiting for Snape. The Potions Master threw the box aside and they stalked after the others in heavy silence. Draco stared ahead, and wondered how much of Snape's anger was directed at him.

The gaggle of Death Eaters were barely visible in the dark ahead of them, but they were close enough for Draco to see when one separated from the group and made for the Forbidden Forest.

'That's odd...' Draco frowned. It looked like...What does Harper think he's doing?

'What is?'

' Someone just went into the Forbidden Forest.'

Snape grunted. 'Perhaps they're trying to escape while they can.'

Draco looked up at his teacher. 'Are you angry with me? For stepping in front of you?'

Snape sighed. 'How can I be? It's the noblest thing anyone has ever done for me.'

'Professor?'

' Yes?'

'What did he mean, when he was, was torturing you and he said you were considerate?'

Snape stopped and pulled off his mask. Draco lifted his own from his face, and stared at the tired lines etched across the Potions Master's face.

'I never want you to ask me that again.'

'Oh.' Draco hung his head. 'Sorry, sir.'

'When the Dark Lord orders a person to be executed, he doesn't mean for them just to be killed.' Snape's voice was slow and toneless. Draco looked up at him, wide-eyed. Rituals—torture—must be performed first. When I was chosen to execute David and Morgan, I disregarded all of that. I paid for it dearly, but at least I could save them from that fate. That is what he meant.'

Snape turned on his heel and paced away. Draco bit his lip and raced to catch up with him, watching the ground blur beneath his feet. He looked up at Snape, at the brooding eyes and grim set of his mouth.

I...

Sorry.

Snape was forced to stop a second time, largely because of Draco's arms around his shoulders. Draco clung to him, feeling like a child. 'Sorry...so, so sorry....'

Snape froze for a second. Then Draco felt his arms move about him, and fingers stroking back his hair—awkwardly, but gently as well.

'It was a long time ago,' his teacher murmured. 'You shouldn't have to worry about it.'

Draco didn't fight the arms that pushed him back, keeping him at a respectable distance. He looked up at Snape, and was surprised at the compassion he saw there.

'You shouldn't have had to endure the amplified Cruciatus curse, Draco. Not tonight—not ever. But you did. You're doing well, better than any of us had hoped.' Snape hesitated over his next words, as though it was something he didn't like to say and didn't often have cause to. 'I'm proud of you.'

'Really?'

'Yes. Really. Now come on; it's cold out here and you have to be awake for school tomorrow.'

They trudged the rest of the way to the castle in silence, but it was comfortable now. Draco kept glancing at the man beside him, wondering how much of his past he still kept locked away. They bade each other good night at the castle doors and parted ways.

A few moments later, Kieran Harper emerged from the trees and hurried to the castle. He only paused a second at the doors to look back at the figure he knew would still be watching, and ducked inside, hurrying away to Gryffindor Tower.