Greetings all.

Special thanks to all those who reviewed and critiqued and reviewed again.

A heart felt thanks to Diana for her help, as always.

Do not adjust your computers - I start off this chapter with the end of my last.  I felt that little bit of introduction was needed.   

I now return you to your regularly scheduled fic…

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Someone looking at them might have seen a faint reminder of two young boys in those smiles, the traces of another place, of a long history, of innocence.  Perhaps it was the hope of innocence regained that that caused him to speak; perhaps the glimmer of a life of love and friendship, of faith and hope, of the promise of peace, that finally reached him in a place where nothing else could.

Whatever it was, he spoke in a coarse voice full of sorrow, "I think it's my turn to tell a story."

Severus Snape and Remus Lupin turned to the tear-stained face of Draco Malfoy.

Chapter 30 – The Death Of The Death Eater

"Welcome home, Draco."

Draco could tell by the tone of his voice that he was very pleased with himself.  That usually was not a good sign.

"You had better be prepared for the tasks ahead, boy.  Failure is not acceptable.  Anything less than utter obedience, allegiance, and aptitude will be met with a fate that will have you begging for the Dementor's kiss."

"Yes, sir."  Draco looked his father in the eye, to avoid his gaze would have shown weakness.  Weakness would be met with brutality.  It was a savage game that they had been playing for years.

"I have been allowed to coordinate your initiation ritual and I think you will be pleased with my selection."  He laughed.  It sounded more cruel than usual, and this left Draco with an all too familiar heaviness in the pit of his stomach.  He did not know what to expect, but the mere implications of the possibilities left him unnerved.

"I know you have chosen well, Father," he responded plainly.

"Get out of my sight.  I will summon you in the morning for the beginning of the ritual."  He dismissed Draco with a wave of is hand.

"As you command, sir." Without another word he left his father's study.  He passed the  parlor on his way to his room to see his mother sitting with a half empty bottle of scotch in front of her, mindlessly fixing her hair. "How could one so beautiful be so ugly?" he thought with a contempt he had never felt before.  He stared for a moment at this sight.  Though it was not an unfamiliar one it left him with a sense of worthlessness and despondency that replaced the indifference he usually felt. 

What was a mother supposed to be? She was supposed to protect you and care for you . She was supposed to love you unconditionally despite your faults.  She was supposed to be devoted to you enough to throw down her own life.  Wasn't she?  This woman before him was a stranger.  They had no connection since the physical one that was severed at birth.  He tried to remember one, just one, moment in their history were she comforted him, cherished him, loved him.  He could not.  With one last look and  a small, nearly inaudible sigh, he continued the desolate journey to his room.

Looking around, he did  not know what to do with himself.  Speculating about what was in store for him tomorrow would not help the night pass, so he sat on his bed and waited for tomorrow, because tomorrow he would die.  Tomorrow would be the last time he disappointed his father.  The last time he would have to would suffer at the hands of the madman who controlled his father's life.  The last time he would feel worthless, scared, and alone.  Tomorrow would be an end to the daily torment and the emptiness.  Somewhere through  fear and the tears he actually found a sense of relief. 

He would be free. 

He felt a peculiar sense of regret came when he thought of Sophie.  She gave him the one thing his parents never could with all their wealth and resources; she gave him hope. She cared enough for him to give him the only peace he had  ever known in his life.

He also thought about Potter, Weasley, and Granger.  It was with surprise and sorrow he realized they would never know the truth.  But how could they?.  Would they ever believe that he has cruel to them because he was jealous of the bond they shared.  A bond he knew he would never share with anyone without a price. 

Friends. 

The concept was an alien one to him.  He liked to believe he was better than they were, that he was stronger because he did not need the connections that others needed to survive on a daily basis.  He laughed at the irony of it all.  Ron Weasley would know riches that Draco Malfoy would never possess.

He stared at the silver vial in his hands.  Professor Snape had been supplying him with Dreamless Sleep Draught for months now.  It was the only thing that kept him sane.  This was the last dose he had left, but it didn't matter since he would not need it after tonight.  He put it on the table next to his bed and stared at it.  For some reason he did not want to take it.  He wanted to dream tonight.  He wanted to face the nightmares one last time to prove that he could.  It would be the last preparation he would have before the real nightmare began.

After many hours, he finally fell asleep.  He dreamt of torture.  He dreamt of madness.  He dreamt of bloodshed.  He was awakened up by an ungodly sound which left him shaking.  It was only after some minutes that he realized they were his own screams.  This was most definitely not a good sign.

He got up slowly and prepared for the day.  He showered, dressed in his finest robes, and then took hold of his wand. A gasp escaped his lips as he stared at his own reflection in his antiques mirror.  It pained him how much he resembled his father.  Picking up the mask that was left for him during the night and placing it over his face made the transformation complete. 

At least they would not see the tears in his eyes and the anguish on his face.  They would not have the satisfaction of seeing the torment as he died, and for this, he was grateful.  It was a poor solace, but a solace nonetheless.  He steeled himself as best he could and began his descent to the underground dungeon where his initiation would take place.

How many times did he make this decent before – a hundred, a thousand?  Each time was the same.  A long-established shudder ran over his body as he entered the room.  Trips to it stood for nothing other than punishments and Dark Arts training.  Over the past few months the floor had become stained with the blood of failure.  He stopped to remember the sight of those dying around him as others looked on without mercy or consideration.  Who was left to give mercy now?

A heated glow caught his attention in the corner of the room.  A fierce fire burned in the hearth scarring it with blackened soot.  On the floor, before the flames, an inauspicious skull stared at him.  In the fire, burning red hot lay the brand that they would sear into his arm if he competed the task before him.  It surprised him how little he felt right now, as if he were already dead.

"Welcome, urchin," the voice hissed.  Draco looked into the dead red eyes of Lord Voldemort and was instantly taken aback by his appearance.  He looked frail and weak, as if he would disintegrate completely in a strong wind.  What could that possibly mean?  Draco didn't have long to think about it as another voice beckoned him. Five other masked figures stood waiting in a circle.  He recognized his father right away. Lucius Malfoy wore his uniform with pride and stood taller than the rest. Draco's father had a place of honor n the circle.

It was his father who began the ritual.

Reaching into a sack, he pulled out an agitated snake.  Raising it over his head, he broadcast the invocation:

 "Invinscium, dolarium, morticus."  The others joined in the chant. "Invinscium, dolarium, morticus.  Invinscium, dolarium, morticus."  Lucius then twisted the snake's head and wrenched it from its still withering body.  As black-red blood began to drip onto his hand, he bent down in the center of the circle and drew the Dark Mark on the cold cement floor, all the while the chant continued:

 "Invinscium, dolarium, morticus.  Invinscium, dolarium, morticus." 

When all was completed he resumed his spot in the circle and turned to Draco. He motioned for him to stand within the circle and face him.

"You have been chosen to enter the house of the pure. You have been chosen the wear the mark of the Dark Lord.  To be worthy you must profess your loyalty to the Dark Master.  Are you prepared to take your place among the untainted?

"Yes," replied a voice devoid of emotion.  The flames in the hearth burned hotter.

"Are you prepared to take your place among the purifiers?"

"Yes."  The flames in the hearth flared wildly.

"Are you prepared to do the bidding of the one and only Master?  The true Master?

"Yes." The flames in the hearth shot out into the room.

"The flames have accepted you.  It is time for your rite of passage."  At this Draco was directed to the far side of the room where a figure under a shroud was lying motionless under a marble slab.

Lucius Malfoy was now whispering to his son.  "I think you will be pleased with my selection for the ritual."  He removed the covering to reveal the weakened, battered body of Sophie Young. Wearing only her under garments, she was shackled to the block.  Her face and body covered with bruises.  "Sorry she is not untouched, but she put up quite a struggle."  There was ecstasy in his tone that caused a fury to build inside Draco. 

Lucius continued, "It had come to our attention that you and the doctor here had been spending time together.  I knew you must have had ulterior motives for spending time with her.  You are a Malfoy after all."  He paused to glare at his son before he continued.  "Though I really couldn't blame you.  She is quite…succulent, is she not?"  There was malicious laughter in the room. Draco did not move.

"The time has come for you to prove your skills and your loyalty Draco."  There was no mistaking. This was a challenge.

Draco was not sure how he was still standing.  The sight of Sophie and the signs of what they did to her sent shock waves through this body.  The proposition of what they expected him to do to her made his knees shake.  He was prepared to die.  He was prepared for the torture.  He was not prepared to take her with him.  If he did not act fast she would die, and he couldn't allow that. 

'For Merlin's sake she held me.  My own mother never held me.' The thoughts came unbidden.

He began talking not really knowing where it was headed.  "May I unshackle her?  I prefer it if they fight."

Lucius broke into nefarious laughter. If Draco had not known better he thought he heard pride. "You may handle her as you wish, as long as you display your ability with the Unforgivable Curses.  And take your time; you will want to savor this."  His tone implied that this was a reward of some kind.  Draco grew more enraged with every word spoken.

He walked over to Sophie and looked into her eyes.  She was conscious, but barely so.  "Well, it seems you are I are going to get a little closer after all."  He tried to mimic his father's drawl.  Her eyes shot open with fear and confusion.  He allowed a flash of sympathy to wash over his own.  It was only a momentary lapse, but Sophie saw it.  She hoped he knew what he was doing. 

His mind was racing. 'How the hell do I get out of this one?' As discreetly as he could he scanned the room looking for inspiration.  And then, it hit. Not ten feet away he spotted the loosened wooden planks.  His escape.  When he was young, and had not the shelter of Hogwarts, he used this house elf tunnel to escape his father's fury.  It came in handy  on the nights when alcohol and anger brought out Lucius's inner conflicts. 

Draco knew it had never been discovered, but he did not know what state it was in.  It was wide enough for both himself and Sophie to go through and hidden enough so it would be a while before the others discovered it.  But he needed to get to it, and ten feet may have well as been ten miles in his current situation.  He would have to do something drastic, and he was running out of time. 

He decided to play the part.  "My dear doctor, you are looking lovely today."  He slowly began to remove the restraints. "You like to tease little boys, don't you?"  He lazily ran his wand from her neck, down her torso stopping at the line of her panties.  He winced as he noticed a sinister bruise there.  He continued, "You are about to find out what happens when you tease.  You have been a bad girl…and you will be punished."  He leaned in over her and reached down to bite her neck.  He clamped down harder than he intended and her body seized from the pain.  She went to lift her hand and he grabbed her wrist and looking into her eyes.  "I would suggest you reserve your energy.  I have plans for you."  He locked eyes with her, hoping. Pleadingly his eyes said, 'Trust me.'  Slowly, she lowered hands.  At this point she was completely free from the restraints.  It was time for him to make his move before they got suspicious.

He positioned himself so that he could grab Sophie and drag her to his exit, but he needed a diversion.  "I think we should begin with a demonstration of one of the Unforgivables," he bellowed to his audience.  He turned to Sophie, "Be prepared to do my bidding." 

He was telling her something and he knew it.  Do what he says.  He did have a plan.  God help them both.

With complete concentration and all the power he could gather within himself he raised his wand and screamed, "IMPERIO!"

Before they realized what he was doing he had his wand pointed to the Death Eater to the right of his father.  "Attack!" he ordered and the hapless Death Eater drew his wand and began to throw hexes disorienting his comrades.  One broke out into screams as his legs began to melt.  Another fell to ground trying to tear his own skin from his body. Finally, the others tackled and restrained the wizard before he could attack Voldemort himself.

In a seething rage, Lucius screamed, "Draco!" He looked up and pointed his wand, prepared to kill the treacherous conspirator. But when he looked for him, Draco was gone.  And so was Sophie.