Title: Confection.

Author: Abyss.

Email: IndelibleChild@yahoo.com.

Rating: R.

Genre: Drama.

Warnings: Slash, angst, implied rape, drug abuse, self-mutilation.

Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter and all characters contained within this story are all property of J.K. Rowling, with the exception of Chester Devroy, he's owned by me. Bum, bum, bum, and all that other disclaimer stuff.


Summary: Draco's life begins to crumble when he accidentally plunges himself deep into his father's schemes to over throw Voldemort. Can a new friend, found in the most unlikely place, save him from his own self-destruction? Takes place 6th year at Hogwarts.

Author's Notes: I apologize again for the lateness of this chapter, but I have a good reason this time! I've finally got a beta, Carrie, and she's awesome. She's the co-author of the story 'Unlikely Beginnings' and the owner of the HDRH yahoo! group and website, which I'm also archived at now (I'm in Slytherin). Yeah! So if you guys want to see the good version of this story, I'm going to point you in that direction. The link is in my bio. *blows kisses to everyone*


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Chapter Seven: Parental Warning: Implicit Content

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Draco made lazy circles in the expansive yard at the manor on his broom. Quidditch had never been so unexciting for him at school, but it didn't really surprise him too much. Although, for the first time Potter had lost the snitch to that Ravenclaw Seeker, her name escaped Draco's mind, Draco had felt something like pride when Slytherin had beaten Ravenclaw at the very next match. Everyone had expected that girl to get the snitch before he did.

His mind was silent for a few minutes as he rode around, simply enjoying being able to fly without having to compete with someone. Although, he did miss the excitement that came from everyone at a Slytherin vs. Gryffindor match... Or... Maybe he just missed Potter; not that he did, mind you.

When he had first joined the Quidditch team back in second year, everyone had just assumed that he had bought his way onto the team. Hell, he'd heard it so many times that he almost began to believe it himself. He was a good Seeker, he had won many games for his team in the past five years (had it really been that long?). Just because he wasn't as good as Potter, didn't mean he couldn't play the game. The Slytherin had always admired Potter's flying ability, even if he did credit most of it to his broom. Anyone could fly well enough with the brooms Harry had grown accustomed to using.

Thinking about the dark haired wizard caused Draco's mind to think about the gift. It intrigued him, what could Harry possibly get him that he could actually want, or need?

Two more days and he'd find out (not that he really cared... right?).

Draco shivered in the cool air, sighed dramatically, and flew his way to the ground. He had come outside for the sole purpose of avoiding being in the house, more specifically his father. He had been acting strange since the beginning of break, acting concerned and constantly staring at him. It was unnerving to have Lucius Malfoy's undying attention. The blonde shivered again at the afterthought, but just blamed it on the cold air as he made his way into the manor.

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Steam filled light blue bathroom as Draco opened up the shower door and stepped in. For Draco, there was nothing more relaxing than long, hot shower. Nothing.

The warm water felt nice on Draco's pale skin as he stood under the water, letting it stream over his chilled body. He had always enjoyed taking showers, there really wasn't anything like washing away the day's (or night's) activities. It made him feel clean, not only on the outside, but as if he had cleaned his mind of all the dark thoughts that he found himself in possession of all too often. People could find comfort in some of the strangest of places; for Draco it had always been the small, white tiled cubicle that made up the shower.

As dumb as it might sound to others, it was kind of like his personal time; no one could invade his privacy in that moment so it gave him time to think. Think about anything and everything, and he did, and he always felt ten times better when he got out. His mind was clear and he felt clean.

Draco let his hands trail down over his chest as he looked idly at his self-inflicted scars. His father might have gotten rid of the ones on his arms, but Lucius Malfoy didn't bother to assume that Draco would cut anywhere else on his body, or perhaps he didn't really care, as long as it wasn't visible. The thumb on his right hand absently ran over a larger blemish. Most of the marks were such a vibrant colour of pink, making them stick out against his ashen skin. Some scars had faded down to a shade similar to natural skin tone, making them almost invisible; the only hint of a scar was the long thin bump, giving his stomach an interesting texture. The young Malfoy thought back at his times alone in his room with the small silver object that he had come so accustomed to holding in his fingers. His eyes drifted over to a pale, almost vertical scar on the left side of his abdomen, he remembered it as his first cut, his first hidden one, anyway. He remembered how much different it all felt when he started cutting areas that he knew he could hide at all times. Moving from your wrists to other body parts is a large jump, it was finalization almost. Finalizing the habit, the action no longer being a call for help, but an invisible burden, a dirty little secret that meant there really was something wrong with you... you just couldn't admit it, and you didn't want to.

What would Harry think?

Draco groaned; he was supposed to be angry with the stupid Gryffindor, not wondering what he would think of Draco's slightly eccentric habits. Besides, it's not like he'd ever see the scars anyway, unless the blonde decided that his clothes were no longer good enough for his body.

Or, if there was an embellished repeat of that kiss. Draco shuddered at the thought. Few times would the young Malfoy allow himself to admit that he had made a bad decision, but that moment had, by far, been his worst mistake in his short seventeen years of life.

At the moment, though, a stray thought in the back of his head spoke, at the moment it had felt almost divine... Draco wrapped his arms around his stomach and leaned back against the tiled shower stall, just because he had kissed him, didn't exactly mean that he was gay right? The blonde wizard didn't particularly like anyone, he just presumed he was one of those odd asexual humans that come about ever so often... there had never been any desire to be with anyone before... but, then why did that night suddenly mean so much to him?

Then again... Harry's lips had been soft. Inviting, even...

More into the moment than he realized, Draco smiled faintly, wondering if the rest of Harry's skin was as soft as his lips. For a male, Harry had very feminine lips; they were plump and seemed to have a permanent pout on them when he wasn't laughing. The blonde didn't quite notice his left arm slipping down his stomach towards his thigh as he wondered how the dark haired Gryffindor's eyes could be so vibrantly green, and how, when he was looking at something he found particularly pleasing, you could see the slightest bit of hazel. Of course, his jaw would also be moving around playing with that stupid tongue ring... Draco's eyes closed thinking about the metallic feel of the barbell in his mouth. Harry's lips had tasted sweet, something like confectionery sugar and something that was completely Harry, and then the interesting addition of that small bar of metal pulled a reaction from Draco's subconscious that he wasn't really aware of.

At the time of the kiss, Draco hadn't noticed the Gryffindor's hands resting on his hips, but now, remembering the night so vividly, he could almost feel Harry's hands on him. For the first time the blonde could remember, the recalled touch felt inviting to him, like a pleasant, comfortable weight.

Draco jumped when he felt his hand brush against his slowly growing arousal. Snapping his hand back up his body, Draco threw his head against the shower wall, hard, letting the loud bang mix with the harsh, shooting pain that encompassed the entire backside of his head.

What the hell was he planning on doing?

He wasn't really going to... while thinking about Harry? He blushed.

Suddenly feeling extremely naked, Draco turned off the shower and stepped out. For the first time, he felt dirtier coming out than he did before stepping in. Missing the option of a quick dry spell (despite the rumors, the manor had no such wards that enabled Draco to perform wand magic without it being traced, much to his dismay), Draco grabbed a towel and dried himself.

The only adornment on the young wizard's body as he walked from his adjoining bathroom to his bedroom was a white bathrobe. He had always liked the bathrobes; they were soft, warm and comfortable to wear against the skin. He had just laid out his choice of robes on his bed, when small tap on his door halted Draco from completely untying the cloth belt on his bathrobe. Opening the door, he was overwhelmed by the rushing feeling of exposure from his severe lack of clothing as one of those stupid house elves looked up at him.

"Master Malfoy wishes to see Master Draco in the study now." It nodded, then just stared up at Draco, almost like it was waiting for a reply. Not giving it much thought, Draco stared back for a moment then shut the door in its face without a word. He had always hated house elves, they were ugly, creepy looking things that couldn't dress or talk right. It was rather unnerving for him to know that there were so many creeping around the manor.

Of course, by the time Draco had gotten to his father's study, it was devoid of the older Malfoy. He looked around at the large study, knowing his father would return. While the blonde could appreciate the importance of keeping up appearances, the study was much too extravagant for him, with large pieces of furniture, fancy woodwork and ornate wall hangings. Although the room was filled with many objects, it was still cold and uninviting. It was mostly the overbearing, cherry wood desk that sat in the middle of the room; in an odd way, it almost seemed like it was belittling you, even though it was just a piece of furniture. Draco's further scrutiny of the room stopped when a few pieces of parchment caught his eye on the desk. His father was never careless enough to leave any kind of paperwork lying around so openly.

Curious, Draco walked around the large desk and peered down at the papers.

In small bold letters stood out the words 'Major Animation of the Dead: The Dead Spirit Incantation'. His eyes widened and he picked up the parchment, looking over what the spell contained. Using necromancy could only mean one thing... Lucius Malfoy was going to bring back Voldemort. Unsure of what he was reading, Draco began muttering it aloud to himself. "Spell allows its caster to animate the body of any corpse. If recently deceased, the caster can summon any spirit into the body." The young wizard immediately dropped the papers and looked up towards the sound of the study door being opened.

Lucius stared at Draco and cocked an eyebrow. "Draco..." he began.

"Father, I..."

Draco stopped when his father helped up his hand. "Had I no intention of showing you, I would not have left that out, I can assure you. I trust you understand what my plan is, then now?"

"You want to bring back the Dark Lord..." Much to Draco's surprise, his father started laughing.

"Had you of read further, you would realize that I intend quite the opposite to happen."

"I'm afraid I don't understand." Draco's confused expression turned curious as his father walked around the desk and sat in the large dragon hide chair.

"Sit down and I'll explain." He waited until Draco had sat himself down on the opposite side of the desk before he began. "There comes a time, Draco, when the cause of a wizard's work becomes an unachievable goal because of their involvement." The older Malfoy looked down briefly at the papers, his eyes gleaming with an unfamiliar emotion. "Over the years, I've come to notice that those faithful to the Dark Lord believe in only one thing... the Dark Lord himself. Allegiance to one's leader is important, but so is believing in the cause behind the leader. I suspect most are unaware of what that cause even is. I want to make sure they understand what the cause is... even if that means the need for new leadership. It is easy enough to understand that Voldemort would never step down," Lucius paused, "which is why he needs to be removed... permanently. Surly by now you know what this means."

"Yes, father," Draco said tightly. Merlin, his father wanted to get rid of Voldemort, for good, but for himself to step up into the Dark Lord's place. Draco wasn't quite sure what to make of that information.

"I need to know, Draco, before this conversation goes any further, if you are on my side. I need to know that your loyalty lies with your family." He paused for a moment; Draco could almost see some form of blackmail forming in his mind to ensure his participation. "I cannot do this without you, Draco. You're the only one I can trust, son."

That, however, was not exactly what he was expecting. Surly that was just him trying to guilt him into it? His father had never shown any affection for him in the past. This break had been different, though...

Even if things were different now, they couldn't change so suddenly, unless his father had just been so consumed with the Dark Lord that he acted out his frustrations on Draco... was that even possible? Surly Voldemort couldn't have that much of an effect on his father to change the way he would treat his own son. Maybe he was so hostile towards Draco because of his frustrations with the Dark wizard? Perhaps he was that way, only because it was obvious that Draco would always love his father, no matter how many times he would tell himself otherwise. It's not like he was his father's last hope, though, surely he wasn't that important to it all?

There we so many other people out there who would do anything to be able to stand under the light that the Malfoy name had always been in possession of. Merlin, he was so confused. Could he really believe in that hopeful look in his father's eyes? Could he really have been wrong about the man that sat in front of him? Could doing this give him the father he had always desired? Long minutes passed as Draco stared off, somewhere past his father, while he contemplated the shock of his father's news.

Not seeing any reaction from his son, Lucius continued. "I would hate to see talent such as yours go to waste, you deserve much more than the expectations this world has for you. You're a strong man, Draco; even with your flaws. " He paused. "Will you help me?"

Draco stared at his father for a long moment. This was the only chance he would ever get to be so close with this man, maybe, just maybe, Draco could have that relationship with his father he envied so much in other families.

"Of course, I will father."

Lucius smiled. "We have things to discuss, then." The older Malfoy opened up a drawer and pulled out some more parchment. "I assume that you read that in order for the spell to work properly for our purposes, we need a fresh body-"

"Father," Draco interrupted, "I did look over the spell, but I am unsure as to how it will do what you want."

The older wizard frowned at being interrupted, but answered the question regardless. "The spell only creates a temporary animation, once a spirit is inside, and the spell is released, the body tries to stay alive and removes the energy from the spirit in trying, because of the complications of the spell, the spirit is stripped of all its energy."

"Oh."

"Anyway," Lucius turned back to his original topic. "I have a task for you. As I mentioned, the spell requires a new body. The younger the body, the better the spell will work, in our favour. Of course, it cannot be too young, or the Dark Lord would suspect something, so we're going to use someone of your own age, Draco. Blaise Zabini."

Draco stared wide-eyed at the man before him. Did his father expect him to kill one of the few people he could actually call a friend? Lucius laughed lightly. "Oh, Draco, I don't expect you to kill him at Hogwarts... all you have to do is make sure he's at the Three Broomsticks the weekend before you come back for Spring Break." Lucius' brows furrowed slightly at his son's expression. "You do want to do this for me don't you, Draco? I can't do this without you."

Draco continued to stare at the man in front of him. "Does it have to be Blaise, father? Why can't it be someone more like... say, a Weasley? Perhaps Boot? Hacker, even? I wouldn't mind too terribly if he were to accidentally disappear."

The older wizard chuckled, a noise that sounded very strange coming from the Malfoy. "As I am sure you don't know the full story behind Zabini's relationship with his son, I don't think you could quite understand the reasons behind my decision. Know that it's for the best, though, even if you don't want to think that. His father and I, though, we've come to an arrangement, and regretfully that requires the use of his son." Lucius noticed the conflicting emotions on his son's face. Surprised by the actual expression of any emotion, he spoke up again. "I was unaware that my choice would bother you so much, Draco. You do need to know that he would be dead anyway. Think of him as being helpful to our cause."

Unsure of everything that seemed to be building up inside of him, Draco just nodded. "Yes, father." Blaise... dead? Draco couldn't see himself helping his father kill off his friend. That thought made him stop. Friend? Was Blaise really a friend? A real one? What type of person did it make Draco if he could do that to him? Draco mentally shook his head. "May I go now, father?" The older wizard's hard gaze was uncomfortable, and made the realization of what just happened all the more difficult.

"Yes." Lucius waved his son off before reaching for a quill. Draco stood and left the study, as soon as the doors shut behind him, he ran.

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I've never known internal conflict like this before. Things have always been so clean cut. My father was the bad guy, and whenever he'd rip me apart, I'd be there to pick up the pieces, unsure as how they were all supposed to fit back together. Every time I start to get used to something, or I think I've found a way to fix it, something comes along and tears apart everything again. Shambles; I always feel like I'm in shambles on the inside, almost like, when I was made, that something vitally important was left out of me, making me the way I am.

I feel broken. Maybe I left a few pieces out when I had to pull myself together remove again. Betrayal is something I'm supposed to be good at, but then why does it feel so wrong of me to tell my father that I will help him? Help him kill the first person I think I could call a friend. But is it really so wrong? Blaise had a damned life to begin with... didn't he? Why did it really have to be Blaise, though? Hacker wanted so badly to work at my father's side, why not him?

Maybe it's all just a trick, Draco wrote. Maybe father is just playing off my emotions to get what he wants from me. I wouldn't put it past him. I would never be able to forgive myself, though, if I let this opportunity go by.

I have a chance to have a father again...

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End: Chapter Seven

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