Title: We Pay The Price

Author: Roslyn Drycof

Chapter: One---Pain

Pairing: Harry/Draco, (others will be revealed later)

Rating: PG-13

Warning: slash, swearing, violence, angst, slight tragedy (no death of major characters, don't worry)

Summary: Children always have to pay the price for war and sometimes that cost is too much. Harry's spiralling out of control and taking Malfoy with him. Can his friends save him or will they too end up paying the price of war? Slash, angst, HPDM, and others

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and anything related to Harry Potter and Co. are not mine.

Harry James Potter entered the hidden room he had vacated only twenty minutes before, worry clenching his heart. Walking over to the mantel, he rubbed a finger almost absent-mindedly over the ring on his hand and looked at the clock. This antique clock was his focus during the times when Draco went to meetings. It kept his attention, kept him busy counting the minutes until Draco came back. If he was gone longer than two hours, then it was time to start worrying. Up till then, Harry could be reassured, however slightly, that his lover wasn't dead or dying.

His emerald eyes stared at the second hand, ticking its way around the face of the clock. Two seconds passed. Five seconds. Ten. Too slowly, he thought.

Draco had asked if he could manage to forgive him for his stupidity earlier. There was only one answer ringing in his mind, and that was yes. Of course he would forgive the Slytherin. He was his salvation, the only person in this wild and crazy world who even faintly understood him. Could he give up their precious minutes of shared understanding because Draco was scared to admit such a small sentiment as caring? No. He couldn't.

Malfoy, you fool! What are you afraid of? Our relationship has nothing to do with love, so it can't be that. And you know I would never betray you, or abandon you. We're in this fight together. So what is it? Are you scarred that deeply?

Inside, Harry knew it had to be something like that. Wasn't he himself scarred by the events of his own life? This war had caused more pain and horror than anyone could've ever imagined. And it was only going to get worse. In his heart, he knew this war was going to affect everyone with its deadly price. Every witch and wizard was going to know the kind of loss The-Boy-Who-Lived had experienced time and time again. It was something he dreaded.

Running a hand through his inky-black mass of hair, he began pacing the room with long strides. Tension thrummed through his veins and a frown darkened his chiseled features. He prayed that Draco was going to be okay, needed the grey-eyed boy to come back safely.

Why? Because of one, simple fact. They were each other's sanity in a world of insanity. Each kept the other from cracking, from breaking down and giving into the hell of their lives. Without Draco, Harry knew there would be nothing left to anchor him in the world. And it was the exact same for the Slytherin blond. They were connected by the very thing that was the focus of their lives. Their pain.

Damnit, Draco! Come back safely! he mentally cried out, closing his eyes against the sudden welling of hopelessness.

Draco appeared in the the entrance hall of Lesley Castle to find his father standing there with a slight frown on his aristocratic face.

"Draco, you're late by a full two minutes."

Suppressing a wince at hearing the heavy disapproval in Lucius' voice, he bowed and apologized, "I am sorry, Father. I had a slight difficulty in slipping away, but I'll make sure for it not to happen again in the future."

"I should hope not. Follow me, the meeting has already commenced. Bellatrix is giving her report on that dratted werewolf's whereabouts, and I know the Dark Lord will not be pleased. You should be able to slip in without any repercussions, being as his attention will surely be on her," the elder Malfoy told him as he led his son through the hallways of the castle.

Draco was immensely glad of this, and was also relieved that his information about Lupin's wanted state had managed to reach the werewolf in time. Lupin's death would've been a terrible blow both to the Order and towards Harry. Both which couldn't handle any more losses, especially at this crucial time in the war.

They entered the meeting hall to see Bellatrix indeed being punished for her lack of news, and Draco was surprised the Dark Lord was punishing her with his strongest form of Crucio. After Sirius Black's death, he'd been most pleased with her and had given her favored duties. The Dark Lord's moods were quite unpredictable, unfortunately. A person could go from being his top follower to a pile ash in less than a second. Quite scary, but what could you do? He was the most powerful Dark Wizard in over a century.

Lucius and Draco made their way to the front of the room, a sneer of disdain twisting the older man's features. Draco, on the other hand, kept his face utterly blank. He showed no emotion whatsoever.

"Ah, Lucius, I see your son has arrived. Bring him to me," the Dark Lord commanded, raising a bony hand towards the adolescent boy.

Lucius did as his master bid and nudged his son with his cane. As slowly as he knew he could go without being reprimanded for being too slow, Draco approached the serpentine wizard. It was a relief that Lord Voldemort had decided to use some old blood magic to get a new tongue so he didn't speak so sibilantly. That snakey-speech had been a trifle unnerving.

"My lord," Draco whispered, bending down on one knee and bowing his head in submission.

After a few moments, the Dark Lord bade him to rise and ordered, "Give me information on the Potter boy."

It was a good thing Draco was good at thinking on his feet. "Well, my lord, he has become changed since you last met with him. He appears to hold a lot of anger, which he bottles up inside. The only person he shows emotion to anymore is myself, and it is that hatred. Our fights have become much more violent and I get the sense that he is doing it to block out the pain of his Godfather's passing."

The leader of the Death Eaters looked only slightly satisfied. "A tormented hero, always a good thing. But what about the rumors I have recieved of his increasing powers?"

Damn, the Dark Lord sure was thorough. "He has increased his training in DADA and it has been made apparent that he possesses the ability of wandless magic."

Voldemort hissed in response, anger showing in his red eyes. "I'd hoped those rumors had been false. Are you certain he possesses this ability?"

Draco nodded. "He has fought magically with me without going near his wand."

"How do his wandless abilities compare to yours?" It was no great secret that Draco's wandless abilities had been what caused the Dark Lord to make Draco a Death Eater so young.

Damn. He had to tread carefully here or risk giving that monster too much information. "Well, my lord, it is hard to tell. He uses great skill when fighting with me, and yet I get the feeling he is only revealing part of his talents. I believe he has roughly the same level of power as me, but I cannot be certain."

The Dark Lord was silent for a few minutes. "I get the feeling you are not being completely honest with me, young Malfoy."

Draco carefully closed off his mind, concentrating on being as much like a block of wood as he could. No emotions, no thoughts, no nothing.

"Why would I lie to you, my lord? I have hated him since I was eleven. He is the bane of every Death Eater's existence." No actual lying there.

The figure sitting on the throne narrowed his eyes at the boy. He'd caught no trace of lying in that statement, and yet he wasn't absolutely certain he wasn't hiding something. But what?

"I believe it is time for a test of your loyalty."

Draco had to fight the urge not to pale and tried to block out the muffled laughs of glee from the assembled Death Eaters. The Dark Lord's tests of loyalty always ended up with someone dead.

"Yes, my lord. What would you have me accomplish to restore your faith in my loyalty to you and your cause?"

The evil wizard didn't answer him, instead speaking to Blaise Zabini's father. "Zabini, retrieve the boy we collected in last night's raid."

"Yes, my lord." The tall man immediately left the room and came back a few minutes later, dragging a ten year old boy who was bloody and bruised. Terror shown in the boy's light-blue eyes.

Draco wanted to gag, but instead stood unmoving as the boy was tossed at his feet. "Please help me," the boy pleaded hoarsely, hopelessness in his eyes.

"Perform Cruciatus on him."

Leaving his wand lying uselessly in his robe pocket, Draco raised his right hand and pointed it, palm first, at the boy. Pain churned in his heart, but he knew he had to do this or destroy the only link with the Death Eaters now that Snape had been outed as a traitor.

The boy cried out, instincively knowing there was no savior in the teenager in front of him. Regret flashed in Draco's eyes for a moment, but then it was gone, as if it had never been there. Then, he reached within the well of power inside of him and whispered one word, "Crucio."

A person casting and Unforgivable needed hatred to be able to cast it. Most people wouldn't be able to cast a truly strong Unforgivable charm, but Draco could. His hatred was a strong one, a hatred towards his father, Voldemort, and for the war.

Red light was flung from his fingertips and at the boy. Immediately, the youth started shaking as his muscles jumped and spasmed uncontrollably. Screams spilled from his mouth, one after the other. He curled up and tried to claw at himself, pain and utter terror shining in his cornflower blue eyes.

As he watched this innocent boy twist in pain, Draco felt more hatred rise up within him and the spell became stronger. Thirty seconds passed. Amazing that this little kid could last even that long under such a strong Cruciatus, but Draco knew he couldn't last much longer.

"Kill him. Use the Killing Curse."

Nausea bubbled up within the young Malfoy. He reached for more power and whispered the two words that had ended many lives already in this hateful war. "Avada Kedavra."

A green shot of his fingers with lightening speed and then the boy was dead, a smoking hole in his chest. Draco lowered his hand, clenching it and hiding it in the folds of his robe. His hand had caused that poor boy to die. His own hand!

The assembled Death Eaters were pleased at the display, and not just a little surprised that Draco had managed to cast such strong Unforgivables. A grudging respect sprung up at the young wizards abilities. He would be a useful tool in beating those lily-livered Light Wizards.

The rest of the meeting proceeded quite calmly, the Dark Lord satisfied that his youngest recruit was strong and loyal. After two hours, it ended and Draco left without saying another word to anyone.

Back in the secret room, Harry was starting to worry. Malfoy had been gone for two hours, fourteen minutes, and thirty-eight seconds. A meeting had never taken this long, not since the first one. And Harry hadn't even known Malfoy was a spy then, the blond having told him about the horrors of his Initiation weeks later.

What if Draco had been found out as the spy he was? If that was the case, then he could be dead! No, wait. He'd know if the grey-eyed boy was dead. His ring would've gone dead, but it was alive and warm with magic. Draco was alive. But. . .what if he was facing some other horrible fate?

Drat! I worry enough about Hermione and Ron as it is. Do I have to worry about Malfoy, too? The prat's right, I do have a stupid hero complex.

Harry sighed, dropping his head into his hands. His life was so goddamned complicated, he hated it. The war was horrible, causing so much needless suffering. Why couldn't it just be over? Why couldn't life be normal?!

Suddenly, the door slammed open and a hooded figure trudged inside. Harry looked up to see Malfoy remove his hood and reveal eyes blood-shot from holding in tears.

"How can you be so forgiving?" the blond asked, the question he asked much more than just the simple words. In that moment, Harry knew he didn't just mean for earlier.

Walking over to the silver-eyed boy, he put his hands on his shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. "What happened?"

Draco wouldn't look at him. A tear was freed from one eye and slid down an alabaster cheek.

This worried the Gryffindor. Malfoy never acted like this, never! "What happened?!"

Shuddering sobs escaped him, tears now falling freely down his face. He wrenched away from Potter and threw his hooded robe off. Wrapping his arms around himself, he stared blankly at the wall.

"Draco, what happened?! Draco!" Fear clutched Harry's heart and he whirled the other boy around the face him.

A bitter, choked laugh escaped Malfoy. "You really want to know? I killed a boy, an innocent muggle kid who should be tucked in bed, safe and happy right now! I fucking cast Cruciatius and Avada Kedavra on a ten year old child!"

Shock crashed through the emerald-eyed teen. Struck mute, he stared at the wizard standing in front of him.

Seeing the Golden Boy's silence, Draco let out a shout of anger and suffering. He collapsed to his knees and cried out, "I was forced to kill an innocent kid, all just to prove my fucking loyalty. I could've refused, even though that would've meant my own death. But I did it, I killed him. I killed him!"

Harry clenched his fists in rage as he heard the words tumbling out of Draco's mouth. Voldemort was an evil bastard who deserved to burn in the seventh layer of hell for all eternity, along with Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange. No, even that wasn't harsh enough. They deserved the worst punishment anyone could ever get.

"Fucking hell, I'm going to kill those bastards for doing this to you. Before, I was just going to smoke Voldie, but now I'm going to get them all. Every last fucking one of them."

Draco looked up at this boy who used to be so calm and mild-mannered and was now so different, it was like he was an entirely different person. "I deserve to die, too."

Emerald eyes flared and Harry grabbed Malfoy, yanking him to his feet and shaking him. "No, you don't! There was no other way! You had to do it!"

"I could've refused. I would've died, but I could've refused. . .if I'd been good enough."

"The kid would've still been killed, even if you hadn't done it! Then not only would he be dead, but you would be too! Don't you get it? There was no other way!"

Draco wanted to deny Potter's words, but he couldn't. Finally, breaking down completely, he buried his head against the black-haired teen's shoulder and sobbed.

Feeling an emotion he'd never thought to feel for the blond, the feeling of protectiveness, Harry led Draco over to the bed and managed to them comfortable settled. He rubbed a soothing hand across the Slytherin's back, silently letting him cry away the raw pain from his ordeal.

They stayed there the entire night. Draco didn't fall asleep for another three hours, and it took Harry another two hours to finally drift off. Suffice to say, neither boy was going to wake up feeling too refreshed. . .and occurence that had been taking place much too often lately. . .

There's not a minute that goes by

that I wish I weren't living a lie.

Every single day I play my part,

even though it breaks my heart.

I never thought I'd end up this way

in a game pretending to be the part I play.

For some reason I stay right here,

freedom a thought I seem to fear.

Stuck here I sit and cry,

sitting and waiting for the day I die.

Playing My Part ; by N.M.C. (me)

Voila. Chapter Two of "We Pay The Price". I haven't gotten many reviews for this story, which I'm kind of puzzled about, since I personally think it's my best. Oh well. I'll continue updating simply because I love the story. I think a problem many writers have is that they don't get into the deep ramifications of situations in Harry Potter. I absolutely love fluff and taking a break from deeper stuff is cool, but sometimes I wish there were just more stories that hit you hard in the gut because they're so strong. Does anyone know what I mean? (and I'm not bashing fluff stories! I write lots of fluff, myself)

Anyway, I hope I didn't come off as offensive. I just sometimes have explain things and they turn out the way I want them to. I take that as a sign that I'm doomed as a failure at writing, but hey, we can't all be amazing writer gods. I hope more people review, and really, it's not that hard. I'd appreciate even a few, simple words. Please review? It'd make me happy. . .and being happy is fun.

Music I listened to while writing: Ra, Chevelle, Avril Lavigne, and Jesus Christ Superstar Soundtrack

Roslyn Drycof.