Allegiances
Despite the note young Malfoy had received from his father, the remainder of his sixth year went by in much the same vain as the proceeding five years. Lucius Malfoy, having long ago surrendered any free will, blindly followed the will of his master; a small muggle boy's wishes finally being realized after centuries. The magic of wizards was now at the disposal of the Riddle bloodline. Voldemort's will became his followers' sole driving force; outweighing any family bonds, pride or ties.
It was this that led to Draco Malfoy spending a summer suspended between pain and fear. His years had been spent living the life of an aristocrat; self-serving, succumbing to no one's wishes but his own. He had never imagined that his father, the one who had ensured that his sense of "deserving" was fostered in every way possible, would be the one that would attempt to break him.
After returning from Hogwarts for the summer holidays, Draco had been greeted with demands to know why the wretched mongrel Potter was still breathing. As he fumbled for reasons, pointing out his rigorous schedule including Quidditch, class work, and prefect duties; his father would give no credence to his excuses.
"Were you to succeed at any of those tasks, I might take them into consideration. Considering however that you have been bested by either the mongrel, or his mudblood companion in each of those activities, your dedication fails to move me," Lucius snarled, as he grabbed Draco by the collar of his robes. "The Dark Lord grows weary of waiting. He has called upon us, his followers, to carry out his wishes. He will not stand to see us defeated because my foolish son chooses to dedicate himself to his school boy activities, yet still fails to beat a mongrel and mudblood"
As Draco struggled to maintain his posture and balance whilst his father shook his collar with his fist; his mind reeled. 'He has gone mad; following blindly behind a mudblood who wishes to destroy his own kind.'
A snarl formed upon Lucius' face as he observed his boy. "Foolish child, I see that you have failed to learn occlumency as well. Your mind is as transparent as a pane of glass. You dare to question the worth of the Dark Lord? Who has been feeding you lies," Lucius demanded.
A flash of red hair appeared before Draco's mind's eye as he fought to suppress the thought of the youngest Weasley and his conversation from the previous year.
"Crucio," Lucius called out, placing the unforgivable curse upon his son, a cruel smile coming to his lips. As Draco writhed in agony upon the floor, his mind was unable to focus upon any thought save one. "I am going to die at the wand of my own father."
Amazingly, and for reasons unbeknownst to him, Draco had managed to keep the identity of his source regarding Voldemort's lineage secret. In exchange for this secrecy, Draco had been forced to sacrifice many a night. His slumber gained recovering on the floor of a dungeon, or hanging from chains on a wall. Once his letter from Hogwart's had arrived, advising him of the materials needed for the upcoming school year, Draco rejoiced. It had been custom for his mother and he to spend the week prior to the end of summer holidays, shopping and wandering the streets of Diagon Alley.
In the weeks leading up to his escape from the madness of the manor, Draco's only saving grace was that he would be away from it all very soon. His father's cruelty grew with each passing day. As the end of the summer neared, Draco used all of his will to maintain his resolve despite his father's torture. By the week before he was due to leave the manor with his mother, Lucius had ordered the house elves not to send any food to the dungeons. Suspended by his arms from the ceiling of the dungeons and subjected to floggings and the crucio curse alternatively, Draco would only be let down once he had lost consciousness. He was allowed 4 hours after awakening of support for his delicate frame, during which time, he was chained in an old muggle stockade. Locked away from everyone except for his father's wand and chains, Draco found himself wondering whether he would be spending the coming year at Hogwarts or St. Mungo's.
Once the week had finally come to an end, his father released him from the dungeons to his mother's care. She wept as she cleaned his broken body, ordering the elves to supply them with a clear bland broth to assist in rebuilding his strength. Swallowing a lump in his throat as his mother mopped his forehead with a cloth, Draco had one question, "Mother, when do we leave for Diagon Alley?"
Worry overcame him, as he watched his mother's eyes dart up and to the right as if searching for an acceptable answer to give her only son. "Oh darling, your father has forbidden us to spend the week away this summer. I will be ordering your supplies by owl post, and they will be awaiting you at Hogwarts when you return."
Despite every effort, Draco was unable to keep the wavering from his voice, as his silver eyes shone pleadingly at his mother. "What is he to do with me, I mean, why has he let me go mother?"
A wave of nausea came over his body as his father strode into the room to respond. "Crying to your mother boy, I thought I had raised a man, not a blubbering baby. Our master wishes to speak with you, and it would not due to have you before him bruised and bloodied. Your mother will nurse you over the weekend to prepare for our departure at the beginning of next week."
"Do not attempt to defy me boy. Despite your ability to conceal the source who has been feeding you lies about the dark lord, the rest of your mind is still apparent to me. You will meet with The Dark Lord. Your fate will lie in his hands, so I would examine carefully your allegiances."
His weekend had been beautiful and bittersweet at the same time. He had not felt so close to his mother since he was small child. Releasing any questions of maturity; simply allowing her to cradle his head in her arms, as she doted on him. As he lay back one night with his eyes closed, his mother read to him. Reading fairy tales from his youth that told of days when young boys would grow into men; able to shape and choose their future. Looking at his mother with pained eyes, his only words were "not the heir of Malfoy." He could see his mother struggle to hold back her tears, undoubtedly wracked with guilt of subjecting her son to a father such as Lucius. Though he wondered the same question, Draco could not bare to see the pain in his mother eyes, so he turned to another subject. "Mother, would you do that trick that you would do for me when I was young?"
Narcissa's eyes lit up, as she looked tenderly upon her son. She had the look of a mother's initial glance upon their first born; one of awe and tenderness. Draco knew that the request had been juvenile, hardly one befitting a seventeen year old wizard, yet he was pleased he had asked upon seeing the look of joy and love on his mother's face. As she stroked his cheek gently with one hand, Narcissa raised her wand to the ceiling. "Galaxia," she breathed softly, the ceiling lighting up as the stars of the heavens appeared upon it.
Draco exhaled softly. To look up into the heavens had always brought a sense of awe to him. It was a humbling experience to know how small a part in the universe you played; and it took a lot to humble a Malfoy. As his eyes darted back and forth, identifying the constellations one by one, he didn't realize his mother had said the second part of the incantation until he saw the sky gain depth, gaining a third dimension. Cast out into the universe, amongst the stars, Draco turned slightly to wrap his arms around his mother's waist, burying his head in her midsection as they floated amongst the constellations. Caught somewhere between wakefulness and the land of dreams, Draco barely heard his mother whisper, "the possibilities for you in this life my son, are as countless as the stars." It might have been the nostalgia of the evening that they had spent together, but Draco found himself like a small child, believing that whatever his mother said had to be true.
The following week, Lucius took Draco to meet with Voldemort as promised. Draco had known that the Dark Lord elicited fear in the hearts of all that came before him. He proved to be no exception. As he looked upon the Dark Wizards broken form, a wave of nausea overcame him. His withered skin and beady red eyes looked like nothing that could be found in nature. There was no question that the wizard once known as Tom Riddle was living only because he had robbed death. Although he did not look as though his muscles could support his frame for even the most trivial of tasks, the air about him was charged with dark magic unlike anything Draco had witnessed before.
As he walked before the wizard and knelt to the ground, Draco could feel his thoughts trying to flee his mind, much like the edges of a flame jumping to leave a fire. Draco's mind reeled 'what is he going to do to me,' before he saw Voldemort's lips curl into a smirk. Realizing at that moment, that the sensation that his mind was reeling, unable to hold onto a thought for more than a fleeting moment, was in fact Voldemort exercising his skill as a leglimans, drawing Draco's thoughts into his own mind. Exerting some of the control that he had gained over the past month in protecting his mind from his father's probing, Draco fought to gain control over his thoughts. He was unable to completely block his thoughts, that took more strength and training than he had. He had however learned to guide his thoughts; only focusing on trivial aspects of a matter, so as not to reveal its true nature.
"Boy, do not bother to hide your thoughts," the Dark Wizard spat at Draco. "I have solicited fear in those far greater than you, I am unaffected by this knowledge. It does nothing to serve me and no longer impresses." Dispelling with the pleasantries, the descendant of Lawrence Riddle, now one of the greatest, and most feared wizards of all times, turned to the matters that had brought them to this meeting. Promising power, and respect were he to succeed in bringing the great Harry Potter to his end, Draco thought that he might manage to leave the meeting without the question that had earned him months spent bleeding in his father's dungeon.
As Draco mentally exhaled that he would not be forced to reveal the identity of, catching his father's eye, his lip turned up into a smirk, Draco concentrated on limiting his thoughts, 'red hair, let them see no more than the top of the red head,' Draco thought, his father's smile growing broader.
"Yes I was in your mind boy. So you are ready to reveal the one who dares to defile the Dark Lord's name? Red hair, it's all too simple, but I want a name."
"Trapped you are," Lucius interjected as Draco thought that he was cornered and had no choice but to answer or face death or further torture. Self sacrifice never having been one of his strongest suits; he had questioned why he was seeking to protect the youngest Weasley countless times over the summer holidays when he was safely alone in the dungeons; Draco answered as vaguely as he knew would be accepted. "Weasley," was his one word reply.
A/N: I know it's been a while, but I couldn't just leave this sitting here. I hope some have returned to continue, and that others pick it up as well. I also hope that I effectively continued the style. I found myself cutting large chunks out, because I was delving into telling all of the details of every moment, which I think detracted from the Fairy Tale feel. Well, I had thought we'd be closer to resolution than we are at the end of this chapter, but we're not. Next chapter they'll be back at Hogwarts. I'd like to say the fork in the road will be there, but I'm not sure, so….. let's just see where it goes shall we?
Thank you to: LovesFantasy, I love your writing and enjoy talking with you, it's always great to see a review from you. Katerina Rose, I liked the irony of history having to repeat itself and be corrected as well. Madison27 thank you as well. The update isn't soon, but I refuse to abandon this, it's one of my favorites!