The room was dark. Draco's eyes struggled to adjust in the blackness. So dark it was, that even after several moments of silence his eyes only could make out slight shadowy silhouettes. Suddenly, with a cracking noise, a fire exploded to life in the grate the before him. Its sudden bright light caused him to squint his eyes and turn his face away…When his gaze turned back…He faced the back of a tall armchair. His heart leapt into his throat and all the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. There was no noise in the room except for the crackling of the flames in the fireplace.

In the deep silence that seemed to stretch on for hours…Draco felt his thoughts drifting.

To her…

To what he'd done.

He could still see her face twisted with fear; see her body writhing in disgust from his groping hands. He could feel the sickness…The rage and confusion and hate and desire that had coursed through his veins as he'd torn at her.

Her scream still echoed in his mind.

He'd awoken in a storm of shouting voices. McGonagall was one, Dumbledore another…another…His father. He'd opened his eyes for a moment to see them standing, faces red arguing, their shouts piercing his head, which ached intensely. He still felt the effects of the liquor he had drunk, but they were faded now, and his skull felt like it was splitting in two. Dumbledore and McGonagall stood near his bed and his father on the other side, all of them pale faced, and furious. Snape sat nearby, silently, his lips in a cold line. Draco clenched his eyes shut, hoping no one had seen him. Perhaps he could lie like this forever…He slowly remembered in a blur all that had happened. Cold fear and self-hatred stabbed his heart. He wished for his wand….For anything…Something sharp would do. How swiftly he would turn it on himself, just if he could get his fingers around it.

Slowly the shouting voices around him began to be less garbled in his haze. They were arguing over him…Things about the ministry…expulsion…And Draco felt numbness spreading from the tips of his toes upward. He began to shiver uncontrollably. He couldn't stop. He tried to hold himself still, but it seemed involuntary…And slowly the shouting stopped.
He opened his eyes blearily at last, looking at the faces that stared down on him.

Draco was snapped out of memories suddenly, with a sharp crack from the fire. A log popped suddenly, a spray of sparks flying up the chimney.

"You are here because your father has forced you to be." A cold voice suddenly said, and Draco's heart stilled in his chest.

"Under normal circumstances," The voice continued "I would consider this a waste of my time."

Draco swallowed, but it did nothing to help the dryness in his mouth that spread down his throat.

"But in your case…I sense a darkness in you. Yes…More than blind faith and honor…" He almost hissed. "I see promise."

Slowly a figure rose from the tall chair before him. He saw the back of a hooded head, clothed in black, a frame rising, tall, and narrow. Draco's breath caught in his throat, as slowly the man turned to face him.

Red eyes gleamed through the darkness, and white skin stretched taut over a rounded skull, covered in a shadowy cloak.

Draco released a sharp breath, and then slowly knelt before the dark figure.

"I swear on my life to serve you, Lord Voldemort." Draco spoke, resigning his fate.

A cold, long fingered hand wrapped around his elbow and bade him rise. The red eyes locked with ice blue.

"Welcome."