Chickahominy Creek

Fall to Earth

Chapter 1: Opening the Gates to Hell

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the characters and events found withing the books. They are property of JK Rowling.

The Forbidden Forrest, London

Draco Malfoy placed the hood of his black cloak more firmly over his head, silently cursing the chill that would not release its grasp on his body. The morning had dawned cool and rainy with heavy mists and a slight wind. By evening, the rain had turned into a downpour that was determined to impede his progress. The perfect night for a romp through the Forbidden Forest. Oh, how he hated his father at the moment, him and the Dark Lord both; Draco was cold, wet, an just plain all out miserable.

Oddly enough, news of this venture had pleased him that morning. When Lucius Malfoy had awoken him at the crack of dawn and told him proudly that he would play a pivotal role in the Dark Lord's final plan, Draco had been ecstatic. His influence, especially at such a young age, would bring honor to the Malfoy name. Lucius actually smiled at him this morning—smiled! That was something Draco didn't get to see often. In fact, he could only recall two other such occasions when a similar expression had crossed his father's face: three weeks ago when Draco had caught the snitch to clinch a win against the Gryffindor team in the Quidditch Cup, and during the new year, when Draco finally received his Dark Mark.

Only now, this service didn't seem so much like an honor. Mud clung to his black robes and sucked his boots into the sodden ground. His platinum hair, which he had allowed to grow out past his shoulders, was a frizzy mess, making him wonder why he had bothered to wrestle with it before leaving the manor; next time, he would pull it back. He should have been used to it by now; within the last couple months he had run several errands for both his lord and his father, and even before then he had tolerated less than hospitable conditions on the quidditch field, but that didn't mean he liked being uncomfortable.

Oh, and he currently had two sodden Gryffindors stumbling behind him, tied together on a rope and gagged. As if his mood wasn't black enough as it was, he had to add a third of the golden trio and the Weasley midget to his problems.

Not that the two were that much of a problem, oh no, they had been easy enough for him to catch. It was just that now they were his responsibility and he had to be within an arm's length of the two witches at all times—disgusting.

The Dark Lord needed two sacrifices for the ritual he was to perform, the ritual he had dragged twenty Death Eaters into the Forbidden Forest to see. A week ago, the Dark Lord himself had contacted Draco and asked him to secure the sacrifices needed. It had been so easy to follow Granger and the little Weasley brat into Hogsmeade during the weekend, cast an incarcerous charm to bind them, then apparate them to Malfoy Manor.

Granger and Weasley were struggling though, hard enough that every so often, Draco had to give the rope he was holding a sharp pull, which caused them to stumble. They had some grit, he'd give them that, but then again, they were Gryffindors—should he have expected anything less?

Draco felt his foot catch on something and barely caught himself before he fell. He couldn't see the underbrush beneath his feet. The group moved deeper into the forest and they were far enough in that the light from the full moon above barely passed through the thick canopy above them. Staring ahead of him, Draco noticed that many of the men had their wands out, tips glowing softly. He pulled his out of his pocket with his free hand.

"Lumos" he whispered softly, holding it aloft once it was lit. He could see his father in front of him now, a tall figure whose presence cast shadows in the light. Draco gave the rope a tug, pulling the girls forward. He thought he heard Ginny Weasley cry out, but he ignored it, more interested in getting closer to his father than the two prisoners behind him.

He moved up so that he was beside Lucius. "Where are we going? We've been walking for hours."

"Stop complaining, Draco. This is The Dark Lord's will. Your command." Lucius' voice was cold, but Draco shook it off. He had heard worse from him. This tone was a far cry from the tone Draco would have been afraid of. When his father got mad, at least at Draco, he would roar, and except for the pain it dealt to his ears, the mad stage was harmless. Then there was the simmering stage, where he was at. Here, he would get very quiet and answer everything as directly as possible. Again, not life threatening, but there wasn't much room to push his temper either. It was after this stage that things got dangerous because by that point there was the furious stage and what Draco referred to as the "Malfoy" stage left. Draco rarely witnessed the furious stage in his father. It only happened when he truly lost control, when he was so driven beyond the brink of reason that he was capable of just about anything; he wasn't afraid to throw out a few unforgivables towards his target. As for the "Malfoy" stage—that was torture. It happened when his voice fell to a loud whisper, smooth and persuasive; he could hold anyone under his control. Lucius could strip a man of all rational thought with that voice and leave nothing but an empty husk. It wasn't pleasant and Draco was more than thankful that he had been raised a Malfoy himself; it gave him at least some resistance to that black mood.

"I don't understand. What are we doing out here? It's cold, and I'm wet. I want to go home." Draco couldn't see his father's face beneath the hood, but he knew from the tense shoulders that the trek was taking its toll on Lucius as well; his temper was short.

"It is his will. Do what he says, and all shall reveal itself in due time. It is not our place to question what he does. Keep an eye on our captives."

Draco scowled but kept silent as he was told. He didn't want his father to be disappointed. This night was important. From here on out, his life would be forever changed. He would take his place at his father's side.

Although his mouth remained shut, however, his mind was running a mile a minute. Something just didn't add up and it had the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. At first, Draco thought that the feeling was from the forest itself—he never did have a fondness for it—but now he wasn't so sure. And that alone made him edgy; a Malfoy was never unsure.

He shook it off. It had to be nothing. But…Stop it! He had to keep his thoughts from drifting in that direction. It wasn't safe.

One the girl's behind him stumbled again and Draco was forced to look back. He was about to tell them to get up and stop holding him back, but he bit down on the words. Both Gryffindors looked haggard and he was surprised they were moving at all. Weasley was crying, tears streaming down cheeks that were now nearly the same shade of red as her hair. Her robes were old hand-me-downs, but add the mud and some tears caused by their trek and they looked like nothing more than crimson rags, something a beggar would wear. She looked away when Draco glanced in her direction. Granger, on the other hand, glared back.

The older Gryffindor might have been intimidating had he not had her wand in his robe pocket. Her hair, normally an unruly brown bush, floated around her face in tangles, puffing up like the fur on an irritated cat. Her mouth was set in a grim line and unlike her friend, she was standing up straight with her shoulders back, emulating a strength that would make a lesser person back away, despite her predicament. Fortunately for the Death Eaters, Draco wasn't a lesser person. She acts like she's the queen of the world. Well, she won't be so comfortable once the Dark Lord gets a hold of her. I look forward to seeing her crumble.

Suddenly, Weasley's eyes went wide and Draco swirled around, following her line of site. After hours of walking, they finally emerged in a clearing and he saw why the Weasel's eyes had suddenly lit up. The area was huge, it could easily fill a third of the quidditch pitch. And it was stone. The ground under his feet turned from hard packed dirt to gray rock. Draco followed the men in front of him through a stone arch and found himself in a ring of stones; it was like Stonehenge in the middle of the Forbidden Forest, except this wasn't just one or two rings of rock. This was circle after circle of concentric rings, some of which were perfectly rounded while others were more oblong in shape. Draco followed the party in a daze as they wound their way toward the center. Sparing a glance behind him, he saw that the anger in Granger's eyes had melted into sheer wonder at a new discovery. He saw her mouth the word 'amazing'—Draco couldn't help but agree. His own breath was stolen at the grandeur of it.

The group filtered into the center circle as a figure in dark purple robes, the Dark Lord, stepped forward, approaching a large rune carved into the stone floor. Draco marveled at the complexity of the marking at the lord's feet. Lines swept over one another, flying in an out in an endless knot that would never unravel. He'd never seen it before, not within the pages of any book in Hogwarts or within those in Lucius' private library. Like the clearing itself, it was a work of beauty. It should have pulled Draco toward like moth to a flame. Instead, he found his body shaking.

Something isn't right. The thought came to him unbidden, but he didn't take it back. Chills were lacing up his spine. Part of him wanted to turn around and run, but another part, an equally powerful one, wanted to know what the purpose for the rune on the floor. Draco tightened his grip on the rope. What is the Dark Lord up to?

Although there was some whispering, the clearing was mostly silent. The Dark Lord's voice rose clearly over the crowd of onlookers. "I need the following wizards to move away from the rune and stand between the stones," he said. Draco cringed as the Dark Lord read off the names. He hated that voice, that thing that sounded like a combination between a mandrake's cry and a howler, though it was never loud. Lucius' voice had to coax and prod in order to get someone under its control; all the Dark Lord needed was a single command. Every time he opened his mouth, Draco wanted to follow that voice.

The Dark Lord was calling out names. Predictably, the third name out of his mouth was Lucius'. Draco watched his father walk stiffly past the man in purple and then glide between the stone pillars, only turning once he was fully within the shadows. Draco smirked; even in the face of the most powerful wizard in the world, his father emulated power. Severus Snape was called soon after. Hogwart's Potions Master moved quickly towards the columns, briefly looking over his shoulder to stare at the spot where Draco stood. His dark eyes moved over the three students and Draco thought he might have murmured something beneath his breath, but was unable to catch it.

Another something abnormal, Draco thought restlessly. Why the sudden interest Snape?

"Kind of freaky, huh?" Draco nearly jumped at the voice, but quelled the instinct. Instead, he turned his gray eyes toward the source. Another Death Eater in a black robe moved beside him. The figure was a few inches taller than his six feet, but not by much. The voice was young, another new member, and Draco recognized it instantly.

Draco shrugged and allowed the breath he had been holding to escape. "We're not out for a midnight stroll, Zambini. If you had expected as much, you shouldn't have come in the first place." He heard a slight chuckle coming from the other boy, light and easy. Blaise Zambini was probably the closest thing to a best friend Draco had, despite the fact that they looked, and often acted, like total opposites. Draco was pale: light hair, light eyes, white skin. Ice wrapped in a human guise. Blaise, in comparison, was darkness personified. His friend's hair, which fell nearly to his waist, was jet black and matched a complexion that most people could only achieve by spending an eternity in the sun—a dark bronze. Then there were his eyes, a sharp, dark blue that pulled the opposite sex to him like a magnet.

"I never said I planned on having a blast," Blaise replied. "I just think it's odd. Creepy." The Dark Lord's gaze swept over them and Blaise immediately quieted. Both boys lowered their heads as his eyes locked on them before moving away. Draco felt Blaise shift beside him uneasily. "It's just—weird—Draco. I have never seen him act like this."

"I know. Lucius mentioned something about him summoning something to mother."

"The ultimate weapon that will turn the tides of the war. Yeah, I got it. But there wasn't anything more than that. What in bloody hell is he trying to pull up?" Blaise asked, his voice rising with frustration.

Draco grabbed Blaise's arm and gave it a sharp squeeze. "Not so loud. I have no idea, we just do as we're told," he said, echoing what Lucius had told him earlier. The words rang in his ears. Look who's talking now? Don't you want to know what's going on just as badly?

Blaise opened his mouth to reply, but the Dark Lord interrupted them, his cold voice sliding over clearing. "The rest of you shall remain around the rune. Be ready. Your role in this is of upmost importance. You must not fail me." He began chanting, slowly at first and then quickly, standing over the rune with one hand suspended over it, palm down. His words had a strange echo to them, each syllable leaping from his mouth and bouncing off every tree and stone.

The rune began to glow, first white, then pink, and then finally, a scorching violet. Draco blinked as it flared up, shielding his eyes with his free hand. "Like it or not, I think you're about to get an answer to your question!"

Blaise turned to him just as a blast of power tore through the air, pushing down the hood of his robes and sending his black hair flying. He had his back turned to the rune, facing Draco, but it wasn't the Malfoy boy he was staring at; he was looking just over his shoulder. "Shouldn't you have done something with them," he yelled over the howling, not caring who heard him anymore.

Draco turned and his eyes fell on the two captors he had brought with him, cursing. Yes! These are the 'sacrifices.' What in hell's name… he didn't finish. Something about this, about this whole evening, was screaming 'wrong.' His heart was pounding but he forced his lungs to take in air. Every instinct told him to run. Except running won't help, he thought, tightening his hand around his wand. He raised his wand and yelled "nox," canceling the lumos spell he had cast earlier; it was hardly necessary anymore. With the light gone, he transfigured his wand into a knife and began sawing away at the bonds holding the two Gryffindors.

"What the hell are you doing, Draco," Blaise snapped, though he made no effort to stop him.

"You're right. What's happening is weird. Too weird to be just standing here like this!" Draco replied.

Weasley started to cry again and began struggling in his grasp. He pulled her toward him until she slammed into his side, then wrapped the rope firmly around his wrist and continued sawing. Draco could feel Granger staring at him wide-eyed. When their bonds were free he removed the effects of the silencio spell that was keeping them quiet.

"Malfoy, what's going on?" Granger said the moment the spell was gone.

Draco ignored her and pulled their wands out of his pocket, shoving them at their owners. Under normal circumstances, this likely would have been a foolish move on his part, but since they were surrounding by Death Eaters, he doubted that either girl would try anything.

Granger apparently agreed. She nodded once to Draco and moved in front of Weasley. She had her wand at the ready.

The ground beneath them suddenly buckled and shook, sending Draco to the floor. The rune let off a final blast of light and the people nearest the glowing symbol began backing away. Draco looked up just in time to see a figure rise from the floor. Black objects burst from the ground and swept over them. Feathers and claws ripped past Draco's face and he heard Weasley scream again. Blaise was cursing beside him in between shouting out "incendio." Flames shot from his wand, burning the black birds before they came at his face.

Draco, however, was not concerned about the birds. It was the woman who had just emerged from the ground that had him scrambling to his feet in a defense position. Her hair was a dark green, falling to a pool on the floor at her feet. From where Draco was standing, she looked young, but penetrating hazel eyes added years that didn't appear on her face. He couldn't say why, but he had the oddest feeling that they were in deep shit. Draco searched wildly for his father amongst the crowd, but couldn't catch sight of him over the heads of the crowd around him.

Without saying a word, the woman pointed a finger at the audience. A cry sounded amongst the Death Eaters and Draco stood rooted in place as a pair of glowing red eyes appeared out of thin air. The eyes were followed by a huge jaw, muzzle, and sharp teeth. Blaise suddenly screamed and Draco's attention was drawn to his fellow Slytherin. Blaise was on the ground, pinned by a huge black dog that had its claws sunk in his shoulders, its teeth ripping at his throat.

Another shadow hound leapt, its teeth aiming for Draco. He barely saw it move and before he could mount his own attack, its jaws sunk around his ankle, dragging him down. Claws were driven into Draco's stomach tearing at the flesh. He wanted to scream. Or cry. Or both.

So he screamed. "Incendio!" The dog howled and Draco got a good whiff of charred fur and flesh as the creature went up in a burning ball of flame.

"They are needed for the sacrifice. For the Dark Lord's plan to work, blood must be spilled."

His father's words. Lucius had said a sacrifice must be made. Draco thought he had meant Granger and Weasley, but he'd been wrong. As he stared at Blaise's body, lying inert on the stone floor, the truth was suddenly ridiculously clear—everyone within the circle was the sacrifice, including himself. And Blaise. Those that had been moved out of the circle before the spell began…

Lucius couldn't have known about this. He couldn't have…impossible…

"Blaise!" Draco rushed toward him, pushing his thoughts aside. There were other things to worry about. Musing could wait. While he had been busy with the other hound, the one on top of Blaise was busy doing further damage. He tried desperately to make it to the other boy's side, but he knew his legs weren't moving fast enough. His chest burned and his ankle was throbbing.

"Crucio!" The beast on top of Blaise suddenly jerked at the call. The first spell was followed by two more and on the second, the hound finally fell. Draco made it to Blaise's side, eyes staring in horror at his friend's mutilated neck. He reached down and started feeling for a pulse, not caring that blood was staining his perfect white skin. When he found a weak beat, Draco sighed in relief. Blaise was alive.

"Malfoy, get up!" Draco looked for the source of the voice. Granger was standing over him, her brown hair flying behind her like a battle flag. His jaw nearly hit the floor. The unforgivable, she had cast it! A Gryffindor had cast…

"Malfoy!"

"Dementors!" The cry shot out over the chaos and Draco pushed away his shock just in time to see a shadowy form hovering over the mudblood's head. The first thing that entered Draco's mind was death; the Reaper. He could barely recall the figure from his Divination book, but put a scythe in its hand and that's what it was.

Granger must have felt the presence, because she turned around to meet it squarely—and froze. Draco had always wanted to see the Gryffindor golden girl scared out of her wits, had waited for the day. Now he wasn't so sure. The girl's body was rigid, her wand hand dangled at her side. From where he lay, he could see Granger's profile and her face was ashen, her mouth gaping at the shrouded figure that reached for her. No sound came out of it. He could see her struggling inside her fleshy cage. Her eyes were twitching, searching wildly for an exit. She was trying to raise her wand, form words with her mouth, but none came, just a few puffs of air.

The Dementor leaned toward her, its hood coming closer to her face. Draco pointed his wand at the figure, but couldn't think of a single spell. His mind had gone blank, but in the absence of thought, his legs took over and moved forward on their own volition. The creature and the girl were no more than a blur in his vision. Thus, he didn't see the impact, but he felt it when his body hit Granger's. The shock of one body hitting another, the rebound from the ground; it was jarring. Within seconds, Draco was staring into the pale face of Hermione Granger, gray eyes connecting with fogged brown ones.

And the world stopped.

Draco's heart was beating at a fast staccato, but he couldn't seem to draw in air. His fingers grazed the girl's skin—he touched white marble. It was so cold, frozen. His hand wandered over her face in a kind of euphoria. She was ice, but he was burning. It didn't make sense but he could feel sweat pouring down his face and back. Everything around him looked like it was out of focus; the only thing he could see clearly was the girl at his side. He was—heavy.

Then pain whipped through his head, forceful enough that it tore a scream from his throat. And then his scream joined thousands as it broke through into the outside world. He joined a chorus with his comrades, pushing back to the present. Spells were being thrown in every direction and the clearing, so peaceful before, was now a battlefield.

Draco felt a chill at his back and whirled around, raising his wand hand. The dementor pulled at him and suddenly, the terror of the moment came in full force: pain, sorrow, regret, anger, hopelessness.

"Expecto Patronum!"

The dementor reeled backwards as a flash of white light bloomed in front of Draco's face. Tiny pinpricks of illumination danced and whirled around the creature. There was a loud screech as a ghostly falcon burst through the shimmering mists. It circled the dementor once, coming to a stop before Draco, spreading its wings as if to protect the two people on the ground. It was the biggest bird he had ever seen.

When the patronous faded, the dementor was gone and Weasley was standing in its place, her wand raised, eyes wide in shock. And then she saw Granger. The red-haired girl ran over and collapsed beside her fallen friend. "Hermione! Wake up, please!" Weasley was crying, shaking Granger's arm and gently hitting her face. Large tears were spilling down her cheeks without shame or hesitation. Draco felt a lump form in his throat as he alternated his gaze between the battle around them and the two girls at his side.

All three of them were going to die. And it was his fault. All his fault. The thought sounded again and again in his mind, driving. His fault…

Damn, not my fault, not yet! They're not dead yet. He pulled Weasley away from Granger, shaking her by the shoulders and forcing her to look at him. "Do you know how to apparate?" Weasley's lips quivered and she squeezed her eyes shut. Draco squeezed harder. She had to listen. Had to. "Weasely!" he repeated. "Have you ever apparated before?" he asked, accenting each word.

The girl quivered. "I know the basic theory, but no, I've never…" She broke off, choking on a sob. Draco grimaced, but couldn't blame her. Apparating was not something taught to underage wizards, but still, if she knew the basic principle…

"Listen to me Weasley, you have to get out of here. Apparate back to Hogwarts. Take Granger and Zambini with you. Can you do that?" He tried to keep his voice calm, hoping to ease some of her panic. Weasley nodded, sniffling. "Just try. I'll cover you."

"You're not coming?" she asked. Had they been in any other circumstances, Draco would have been surprised; she actually sounded worried. Her light green eyes were shimmering with tears and her mouth was quivering.

"No, someone has to stay behind. You'll be eaten alive before you get out otherwise." To prove his point, he cast another incendio charm at the shadow hound that ran toward them. The thing let out a yelp before its fur burst into flame.

Draco stood and turned his attention to the ruckus around him. He would give Weasley her chance. Whether or not she would take it was entirely up to her.

A dark blur flew toward him and he pushed the first spell that came to his mind at the beast: incarcerous. The four-legged animal tripped over his own feet as ropes bound it, leaving it to struggle on the ground. After that, Draco was firing off spells at random. Anything to slow them down, keep them from getting any closer to their goal. There seemed to be more hounds. Fewer wizards. He could feel them nipping at his legs and he knew without having to look that everything below his waist was a mess. The pants he was wearing and the lower part of his robes were in tatters.

He nearly cried out in relief when he heard the familiar popping sound behind him, the tell tale sign that someone was apparating. Another hound bound forward, as if it wanted to get through Draco to the fading figures behind him.

Draco immediately forgot about the rest of the hounds that were gathering around him and launched himself at the one trying for his classmates. The dog threw him onto his back, knocking his wand out of his hand. His heart sank at the sound of snapping wood, but he held onto the muzzle, watching Weasley, Blaise, and Granger disappear out of the corner of his eye.

It felt like his ribcage was collapsing. The creature on top of him was heavy and he could barely get in a good breath of air. A good snap released the jaws in his hands and Draco screamed when it bit a finger. Everything around him swam and faded out of focus, like a picture developing in reverse.

He had to get out, needed to apparate. The jaws were too close, coming towards his neck.

Draco flung himself into the void with no destination in mind, fear driving him towards the safety of the darkness between planes. He unconsciously muttered the correct words for apparition. His body began to waver as his mind raced ahead, searching for someplace to go. It raced towards Hogwarts. He could already see the castle clearly in his mind. The turrets of the great tower, the quidditch pitch, the courtyard—and then black mist swallowed it whole.

A shroud swallowed his vision and Draco's mind reeled back at the intrusion. His mind tried to tell him it was impossible, but he couldn't ignore what he had seen in the void—a dementor. A dementor had managed to follow him and block his only path to safety.

The Slytherin boy's mind darted through the void, searching desperately for anyway out, a single safe haven. But there were only so many places he had aparated to before. His mind shuffled through thousands of scenes, hundreds of locations, but he dismissed every one of them. Every single place he thought of was a place where the Dark Lord and his followers would easily find him.

He could feel the dementor chasing him. Its presence slowed him down and called him back. There was an instance when he thought of returning to the clearing in hopes of defeating enough of the shadow hounds to escape into the woods, but he could already feel his body weakening on the other side. Too late.

Draco ran on instinct, shoving his mind forward. Just when he thought he could go no further, he saw a light within the darkness. It was somewhere he hadn't been; he didn't recognize the strange clearing in a darkened wood that was on the other end. Apparating to a place he had never been. Thousands of lessons flickered through his head: dangerous, unpredictable. The dementor was closing in. He could feel its long fingers reaching for his mind.

His mind jumped towards the light, pulling his body with it.

Going through the channel, the pain in Draco's body came back at full force as his physical form rejoined his mind. Legs, torso, arms—everything screamed in agony. He screamed in agony, although no one could hear him. Not here.

The rush of flowing water reached his ears, obviously his chosen destination. Draco focused on that. Anything but the white hot lances shooting through him. Running water, and behind it, a gentle rhythmic clicking. He allowed it to pull him forward.

AN: I hope everyone is enjoying this. I know I am immensely. Let me know what you think, I love receiving feedback.

Also, I am going to use this opportunity to post for a beta. If anyone would like to proofread my stories, I would appreciate it.