I had a thought for this story just before I read the Half Blood Prince, so events in this fiction will not follow canon. I still want to write it, as I have the plot forming in my head, but I will not be basing it on events that occurred in the sixth book. It is set in seventh year, but if you're looking for this to stem from HBP, then you've come to the wrong place. I have finished reading it (thought it was brilliant and dark) but couldn't fit the events into my plot, so I've decided that this will be AU.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not in a million years belong to moi; I am only borrowing J.K. Rowling's characters and places for a little road trip and hopefully a long detour…

'Darling, are you sure we're on the right road?' Helen asked her husband as she peered out of the car window, her nose pressed right up against the glass. She was looking for a signpost to point them in the right direction, but she wasn't having the best of luck. She could barely make anything out in this storm which had been raging for the best part of their hour long journey, only the swirling of mist and downpour of rain.

The man sat next to her kept one well trained hand on the steering wheel as he rubbed the back of his head with his free hand, a gesture which expressed his bubbling frustration. 'I've followed the instructions in the letter precisely; dear,' he replied patiently, trying to convince himself that he had followed them exactly, when he was already quite sure he had, but it was no use trying to mask their agitation. The journey was proving fruitless, and the hard falling rain tumbling onto the windscreen only added to their gloom.

Helen sighed again in resignation as she folded the map up and threw it into the backseat with a look of pure loathing, grabbing her mobile phone hastily. 'Perhaps I should call Julie and Mike then, to see if they're having better luck,' she suggested with a hint of hope that maybe the evening wouldn't be wasted after all. She despised being in situations like this; situations that she could not think her way out of.

They continued driving further and further into the unknown. 'Hand me the letter again, would you love?' David asked as he checked his mirror for oncoming cars before pulling up in a space just off of the main road, under the burning intensity of one of the few streetlamps stationed along the dark road.

As soon as he had quieted the engine and removed the key from the ignition, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck prick up slightly. If his wife noticed the same strange sensation that he had, she said nothing of it to him as she handed the envelope over, only offering a small smile.

He had always been a wary person, due to an unforgettable incident in his teens, when his reckless behaviour had almost taken his life and that of one of his friends. It was never very far from his mind, and he had become incredibly cautious in the later years of his life. Perhaps it was one of the reasons he had raised such a responsible, mature daughter, so that she would not make the same mistakes he had. Now his senses were screaming at him that something was not right. The problem was; he couldn't put his finger on what that something was.

Realising his eyes had become dry he blinked, the familiar tone of dialling keys on the mobile having brought him back to the car. He felt overly hot and stuffy, and a cramp pulsed persistently in his leg, something he hadn't been aware of moments before. David could hear the phone held up to his wife's ear, and the buzz as it rang pounded in his head.

'I'm just going to stand outside for a minute,' he said quietly to his wife, who nodded as she waited for their friends to answer their phone. Maybe they should have all driven down in the same car after all. He struggled to remember who had suggested that they went separately anyway, realising with a start that it had been him.

Leaving the car door open he stretched his legs out as he opened the envelope once again, feeling the familiar texture of the paper that he distinctly thought was different than the normal paper used in such letters, and re-read the first few sentences of familiar print, to be sure he hadn't misread it.

Dear Sir and Madam,

We would cordially like to invite the both of you, on behalf of the 'Marion Moor Dentist and Medical Research Federation', to attend a formal dinner at the Grovesnor Hotel, West Bircham on the 30th July at 8 pm. Your practice has been selected as one of the contenders for an award in excellence of service and we would be delighted with your attendance…

In the beginning, he had been sure that they weren't even members of such a Federation, until he looked though his records at the office to discover that they had been for some time. He glanced at his watch; it was five to eight now. They were going to be late, how would their tardiness appeal to the judges' panel? He glanced up as the passenger car door opened, it was only from that interruption that he realised how quiet it had become, somewhat eerie. There were no cars on the road, no signposts, and the only light along a long stretch of tarmac road was coming from the streetlamp above him, its yellow fluorescent glow outdated and intoxicating as it lit up the paper in his hands. He found himself straining his eyes to read.

'Well, their mobile phone is switched off,' Helen began, sounding defeated. 'I left a message on their voicemail, but I doubt that they will receive it until after the dinner. You know how Mike just hates to be interrupted during something important like this. They must have arrived already.' She shook her head ruefully. 'I'm sure I remembered Julie mentioning that they were setting off at the same time as us. They would have rung to see where we were…' she left the thought hanging.

David shook his head, not happy with the turnout of it all. 'It doesn't make sense, Helen. They had the same letter as we did; we followed the same instructions perfectly, and yet still we got lost.'

Helen went to stand by his side, shivering slightly. At least the rain had stopped. 'We could have misread something, it's been a long day love,' she said soothingly as she rubbed his back softly. In truth, she felt uncomfortable and wanted nothing more than for them to get back into their car and turn around back where they came from. 'I don't know where we are at all. I can't even seem to find this road on the map.'

'You never were good with maps, sweetheart,' he joked lightly as he reached for her hand and squeezed it reassuringly. She chuckled and nodded her head.

Relief washed through the both of them as the laughter eased the oppressing darkness, tickling the leaves as they rustled in the forest. The wind was picking up again, they assumed, and the clouds were gathering overhead like an angry foaming grey mouth that still had business to attend to.

Ignoring the feeling of disappointment that they had lost an entire evening that they should have spent with their friends, Helen walked back around to her side of the car. 'The best thing we can do now,' she began as she sat down inside it, 'is to just turn around and go back home. We could pick up a takeaway on our way, I doubt Hermione would say no to late night Chinese.'

'Never in a million years',' David said cheerfully as he went to the boot to take out his jacket. Suddenly he felt rather cold. 'You'd better call her and tell her what we're doing. She'll be expecting a call from us now anyway, to say we'd arrived safely.' Helen nodded as she dialled the keys.

After retrieving his jacket he paused to put it on, when he caught a glimpse of something on the road ahead. He wondered past the car slightly unseen by his wife who was lost in conversation and playing with the frayed end of her jumper.

'…well you know what I'm like with maps, honey,' Helen joked. 'No, it's really quiet, there's no one to ask. There's no point in going now, it's starting any minute and we're exhausted…oh we'll be alright, we're going to pick up some Chinese takeout on our way back…yes, I'll get you the sweet and sour chicken balls…I won't forget the chips…hang on a minute-' Helen looked up as David pointed at something coming towards them, '- your dad says hi, he's making a fool of himself now, I think a cars heading towards us…'

The rest of the conversation faded out as he watched the light come closer. He squinted as the road got brighter and he lost his eye sight for a moment. He turned back to the car and waited for it to subside. He could make out Helen was smiling and shaking her head as she talked animatedly on the phone. She was waving at him to come back into the car, but he was shocked to find that for the moment he couldn't move a muscle in either of his legs. He watched as Helens face faded from amusement to confusion, she was looking at him strangely.

'Is something wrong?' she shouted out the window. But he couldn't hear her, his lips were frozen, he felt like a concrete statue, helpless and immobile. Why wasn't the light affecting her in the same way as it was him? He felt nauseated and light headed all at once, resisting the urge to vomit even though he knew he couldn't.

'…he's just standing their,' Helen continued, quicker now. She unbuckled her seatbelt as she made the motions to open the car door. '… must be playing a trick on me, it's been a terrible evening love…we're trying to wave a car down so that we can figure out exactly where we are. Oh, Hermione, don't forget to put the oven on and warm the plates up, there's nothing worse than-'

She'd been looking out the window into the forest, but suddenly her head snapped round to the light heading straight towards the car. Her words trailed off as she sat frozen in horror. She couldn't respond to the voice on the phone that was calling out her name, she couldn't blink or swallow. The most amazing feeling spread throughout her whole body, yet it felt like the most terrifying thing that she had ever experienced. The phone fell from her stiff hand, clattering amongst her feet on the floor. No, she thought, the word screaming in her mind. NO!

Suddenly the green light was all around her, blocking out the road and the forest and the car, it surrounded her thoughts and her mind and her memories, until she felt like she was floating in a vacuum of nothing, until she felt like nothing. Her eyes caught David's, and for a split second they were together and she felt safe. But the feeling in her body grew stronger, and in horror she felt that her insides were burning, adding to the smoke. She forgot who she was, where she was, who the man standing looking at her was.

Then in a flash, she could breathe, she was coughing, her eyes were streaming with tears. She heard the frightened calls coming from the phone, it must have been her phone, and looked up in horror. They were surrounded, there were so many of them. She'd been warned, she never thought…

A huge collective voice spoke out from the shadows, and the most petrifying voice she had ever heard filled her ears. It was chanting, singing, words she couldn't understand…things she didn't know. She saw was the hands on her watch. Ticking, ticking…the movement made her head pound as if she were intoxicated. Her body was still coughing, she was choking. Grabbing her throat with her hands she watched them all as they stood their, faces hidden behind ghastly masks. The last thing she saw was the man outside, choking like her, his face twisted in his agony. And when the hands on her watch read 8 pm, a huge scream erupted from within, the green light washed over her skin like waves on a beach, corroding her until she was burning and red raw; and she knew no more.

Smoke billowed up from the jarred and smouldering remains, and an unmistakable sign rose up above the scorched and bent metal. Many hours later, despite the roaring wind, it would still be there.

Many miles away, hours before, two children sat in a cold stone mansion that was exquisitely decorated, but no number of fires and tapestries adorning the walls could diminish the unmistakeable chill that refused clung to the corners of the high ceiling. Huddled against the chill as they sat in front of the large grey window, they watched with muted interest as the collection of masked faces walked from the grounds and out of the imposing iron gate; their black cloaks billowing behind them as if a part of them remained, spying on the newest members of their 'family'.

'Do you think they'll come back?' Pansy whispered, breaking the silence as she adjusted the heavy woollen blanket around her shoulders, her eyes unable to move from the spot where the party outside had disappeared.

The boy beside her shrugged slightly, unsure himself. 'I hope not,' was all he offered, and she could tell he was afraid, just as much as she was.

'I can't believe they actually did it.'

'I knew they would.'

He had always known this would happen; he had been expecting it for some time now. It was only a matter of waiting. Ever since his father was thrown into Azkaban, ever since he had been exposed as the coward he really was, he knew what the punishment on his family would be. It was the worst kind, and he was the one who had to endure it.

Beside him Pansy shuffled anxiously. At least he wasn't alone.

'Draco, I'm scared.'

She had barely spoken the words, they were left dripping on her lips, she had only made the tiniest of sounds, but he couldn't help but feel like crying that she had been dragged along with him for this. He couldn't remember much of the ceremony, it had been wiped from his memory, or stored someplace deep in his mind, whether he had done it himself or if it had been done forcibly for him, he was unable to tell. But the torture it had been, the pain and the screaming…that would haunt him forever, he would never forget.

He reached out a pale hand across to hold hers, feeling how small it was in his own hand. They were still children, still young, and he knew it wasn't fair. 'I'm scared too,' he confided.

He regretting the boasting now, the arrogance he had held to this moment that he thought he had been dying for to experience and become; now thinking very differently indeed. How he had ever aspired for this, he never knew. It had been glamorised, dressed up by all of them, to be appealing and to be the ultimate sacrifice to show ones worth, to become part of this strange family. But now they were trapped by more than steel bars and reinforced stone walls strengthened by powerful dark magic. They were trapped by themselves and a connection they could never be rid of.

Pansy shook gently, he realised with a start that she had been crying the entire time since when they had been dumped in this room to 'recover'. Even thinking about them caused an anger to boil in his stomach. They had been told they were free to go if they wished to leave, but neither of them had dared to try and open the door or the window, knowing the lie was one of many tests they were yet to face. Strength was little in both of them, they didn't want to think what would happen…yet there was an idea locked away deep inside both that death would be more preferable than this living nightmare, but they had discussed this earlier. 'You think they'd leave a spell on the door that would kill us when we've just been initiated? They're not stupid wizards, Pansy, they don't want to throw us away and let us get away with it when they have to suffer themselves'. There was no escape from this he knew, not even in death.

'Have you looked at yours?' she asked, this time tearing her eyes away from the window that was streaked with rain. Her dark eyes bored into his, the fear was unmistakable, the curiosity in them burning fiercely. He despised the role she had placed him in as her guardian, but regretted it in an instant. One of them had to be.

Draco shook his head from side to side before letting it hang in shame. He had been petrified at even thinking about what was on his left arm, giving only thought to what was on hers. His arm hung limply by his side under his own blanket. It was if he was trying to distance himself from it.

Knowing she had understood why he refused to look, he was slightly shocked that she was now reaching for the sleeve on her own arm. So she was trying to prove to him that she still had pride and bravery, well he didn't doubt that. Watching her intently as she winced with every touch made as she gingerly pulled her sleeve higher and higher, he felt a pulse in his arm that grew with every breath he took until he tried to stop breathing so much.

Pansy was gasping horribly now, tears streaming down her face as she tugged at her lip causing the skin to break and blood to spill into her mouth. But this wasn't the cause of her pain, she was inching the sleeve up slowly, bit by bit, ignoring the excruciating pain as best she could. Almost as if a part of her was trying to act in the opposite direction, to hide what was there. Her face was scrunched up in agony but she refused to remove her gaze from her arm. It was a private battle, she was fighting herself, yet she was trying to show him she was no wimp and not regretful when she knew that they both were.

Without a word he sidled along the window ledge, and with his good arm he ripped her sleeve apart, the sound of splintering cloth filling the room. It took a moment for him to fully focus on what it was he was seeing, to register the imprint. Pansy reacted first, her eyes widening in horror as she wrenched her head away so she no longer had to look, her sobbing becoming defeated and hushed as she finally admitted to herself that it was real.

He still had his hand wrapped around her arm, and he had to concede that even he recoiled in shock at first, choosing to look outside and focus on the tree that was groaning as it was shook from side to side in the storm. The rain would be their tears now. It took more courage than he was willing to admit to return his gaze to the thin arm held in front of him. Pansy's long black hair was masking her face, she still couldn't look, and she no longer wished to see.

The skin was the colour of blood, no longer smooth but coarse and rough. They had been warned in advance that this was to be expected, and would disappear within hours, yet this gave him little comfort. He reached out a finger to stroke it, but Pansy shrunk back in horror as if she knew what he was going to do.

'Don't touch!' she hissed, and whatever had prompted him to even try evaded his mind. 'He'll know…' she said weakly, wiping her puffy eyes with the back of her hand, smiling despite herself, then with a quick glance into his eyes she looked at the source of their problem.

In a weird delightful sort of way it was rather beautiful, Draco thought strangely. It was like a tattoo, the skull with the snake protruding from the mouth, designed from the blackest of blacks. But if only it were a tattoo, not a dark mark. Neither had seen one before, although they were well aware that both their parents had one.

They sat transfixed by it, the lightening in the sky illuminating it occasionally. Then Pansy, unable to take much more, fixed the remains of her sleeve to cover it. 'It's bigger that I thought,' she said numbly. She wrapped the itchy blanket around herself like a tent so that only her head was left uncovered, sniffing every so often as she sat in silent contemplation.

Knowing silently that now that she had unmasked hers it was his turn, Draco reached for the sleeve of his own tunic. He clenched his teeth together as the throbbing grew unbearable in his arm and reached out all over his body, until he felt the prickling sensation as the cold air flooded around his own burning mark.

The shock was lost on both of them this time, and he held his arm up to the window to get a good look at his own.

'I guess there's little hope we'll ever manage to get rid of them?' Pansy said as she watched him admire the skull, resisting the urge to want to touch it herself.

Draco sighed. 'If only…' His hand fell to his side, and the room was flooded once more with light as lightening broke out in the sky. In the corner behind them the fire crackled noisily, and a draught circled the room.

Pansy nodded as she felt a shiver run down her back. She was so tired, beyond the point of exhaustion. For a moment she wished she were anyone else, with a mother and father she could confide in the nastiness of a nightmare that had woken her in the night. Then she could feel the comfort in their arms as they would hug her and let her climb in between them in their bed, and be enveloped in a net of safety far away from the evils of the world.

There were no more tears left in her eyes to cry at the unfairness of the hand that she had been dealt, her parents had never been the sort to show love and care. Wearily, she leant her head on Draco's shoulder, her eyes drifting shut. At least, sat there with him, in that moment, she was no longer alone. For a minute, she felt the wash of the safety she knew she had been denied wrap around her, and relaxed in his arms.