Keep breathing even. Calmness. Calmness. He was terrified.
"Young Malfoy."
"My Lord," Draco wondered as he bowed whether there was anyone who did not call him Malfoy, apart from his parents. Pansy, he supposed. Ugh. Merlin did he hope Voldemort wouldn't order him to marry that revolting Parkinson.
"I should assume you know the procedure. Do it." Draco nodded, approached his master, and knelt. All he could think about was carrots. Bollocks, bollocks, bollocks. At least carrots were better than—
Claw-like hands took hold of Draco's skull, and suddenly he was no longer in control. Memories flashed through his mind so quickly that each was barely an image: buying textbooks with his dad; sitting in Dumbledore's office denying all knowledge of the Dark Lord's activities, knowing as he did that Dumbledore saw through the lie; stupid Potter and Weasley and Granger laughing at him; laughing back at the mudblood's teeth that one glorious day; doing flying drills for his coach as the Malfoy parents looked on; watching Fenrir emerge from the cupboard and grin malevolently at a powerless Draco; stepping over a mangled body; Dumbledore's eyes, afraid for the first time, when Snape emerged on the roof of the tower; Snape pushing him along as they fled the castle; the feeling of having done something very wrong that could never be made right—
Draco gasped for air as the Dark Lord's mind left his.
"My Lord," he stared at the ground, "I can explain that. It was just a stupid youthful hesitation, I could never quite see how Dumbledore was such a threat, but that doesn't matter now and I swear I have no other such… uh…" Draco looked up fearfully, trailing off.
"You have done well – your mother was wrong to doubt your abilities. Certainly you owe Severus and her a great deal, but I can feel the hatred of our enemies so strongly that I am willing to forgive." Draco expected another sentence, but there was none. He had been trying to block out the presence of the others in the next room, but when the Dark Lord spoke of them, it was no longer possible to do so. He left quickly, before his emotions could reveal themselves. As he left the room, Knott, next in line, entered in his stead.
Draco turned to Narcissa, herself awaiting examination. "What did our Master mean when he said I owe you and Snape a lot?"
Narcissa's eyes widened. "I leave that for Snape to tell you, if he chooses." Ugh. Wait a second-
"Is this about that vow you made him take?" Draco's voice dropped dramatically for the word "vow." "To protect me?" Narcissa frowned in reluctance, "Come on, mum, the Dark Lord told me so he already knows."
Narcissa sighed, her face growing even tighter and more concerned. "It wasn't," she paused, glancing at the other Death-Eaters around her. "It wasn't only to protect you, Draco."
His astonished eyes met hers, and he understood.
Draco stood at the gate to the Burrow. He stepped through it, and his presence was immediately detected. Ignoring the alarm, he made directly for the front door. This was a risk in so many ways. Would the Dark Lord reward his ingenuity and initiative, or punish him for his secret desires? Would he be able to confide in Snape after hearing this new perspective? Would they accept him?
Would he survive his first encounter with those horrible Weasleys en masse?