Chapter One

Behind the Door

Slivers of light appeared between his eyelashes, like unholy intruders into his beloved realm of darkness and warmth. His pupils dilated as the ever brighter light reached them and he blinked furiously in the blinding whiteness that was his prison. It was a room. A small room. Painted white and completely colorless. The iron bed frame sporting no manner of decoration and the sheets a vast sea of plain and unadorned blankness. He shivered slightly. Was this Azkaban? It was somewhat … brighter than he'd expected. Strange how the word 'bright' often seemed so synonymous with the word 'cheerful'. There was nothing cheerful about this room. Draco lay back, resting his head upon the hard, white pillow. Closing his eyes slowly in an attempt to block out the painful glare that threatened to permanently blind him. Bit by bit, the memories of the previous night returned. The flash of green, the distant yell; 'Stupefy!' Snape's betrayal. His pale hands clenched themselves into fists on the pristine sheets, blood draining from them as the knuckles whitened. Snape would pay. He, Draco Malfoy, would see to it.

His eyelids flickered as he awoke, he didn't know how long he had slept and he was reluctant to reopen eyes accustomed to darkness. He didn't like the room. It was cold, blank, utilitarian. He didn't know what to make of it. Didn't know where he was or how he had got here. The blond Slytherin twisted beneath the covers in a futile attempt to get comfortable and jerked sharply into full consciousness as a clear voice spoke, echoing unpleasantly off the bare walls.

"I see you are awake Mr. Malfoy." He sat up slowly, he would recognise that voice anywhere.

"Yes Professor." he replied quietly, turning his head slightly to meet eyes dark with emotion. Minerva McGonagall was … disheveled, that was the only word that could possibly used to describe her, and for one usually so calm and composed, it was shocking. Perhaps it was this more than anything else which drove home to him the gravity of the situation.

"You know he is dead?" It hardly seemed a question. He nodded dully. It was not altogether strange - he thought - that he was not as elated as he had anticipated being now that the end result had been obtained. The reasons for this, however, seemed to escape him.

"How long have you possessed the dark mark Mr. Malfoy?" The question rung, accusatory in his ears and he shrank from it. The green tattoo that had seemed to symbolise so much hope, now seemed not a mark of things to come, but some dark and unholy affliction. Unconsciously, his fingers moved up to stroke his arm.

"I …I….." he sighed softly, and when his voice came it was a whisper of soft defeat. "Almost a year Professor."

"And during that time you have been attempting to murder the former headmaster Albus Dumbledore, severely injuring one student and almost poisoning another, am I correct?" Minerva's voice grew harder with every word and if he wasn't so sure that the woman never lost control of herself he would have said that the pitch of her voice had increased until the last word was a shrill echo of her former calmness.

"Yes, I did." was there a murmur of regret as he spoke? Draco himself could not have said and even had he been able to, he was not sure it would have been enough. Regret was hardly a suitable tribute to the great man Dumbledore ... had been. Oh yes. He could admit that now and it sickened him. Dumbledore would still be a great man … had it not been for his own idiocy. His own grandiose ambitions. Oh yes he had despised the old man, wanted - hungered even - to kill him. But part of him had always known that his success would never sate that hunger. That hunger was not for the life of an old man. That hunger was for recognition, acceptance, respect … something that now he would never gain. Perhaps he had always known it was something he never could gain. That hunger had been insatiable… but not insatiable enough to condone killing someone.

"And do you feel … do you understand what has just happened?" Her eyes were red rimmed. It was strange what you noticed at times like these. Draco wished for darkness, he wished for the pain that had formerly been his life, even that was preferable to this … this state of affairs. Grey eyes welled up with tears that had gone unshed for far too long.

"I think I understand better than you ever could." he spat as his shoulders heaved "I saw it happen. I watched him die. I watched Severus steal his life from him as though it were a toy he had long coveted." Pale hands clenched into fists as he caught a labored breath and pulled it into his lungs. Savoring the pain. It felt good to feel at last. "I saw Severus take my glory, my goal and conquer it … and I didn't care! He's welcome to it. Welcome to all he can take that filthy wretch." The last word was almost a scream, his eyes wild as the sound of it echoed through the hateful room. He wanted to scream. Wanted to feel the air rush out of his lungs in a wordless howl. Wanted to fill the room with a semblance of colour and watch it dissolve into darkness around him. Instead he whispered, this time the regret infused his tone with irrefutable sadness. "I would never have killed him."

Hermione's eyes filled with tears - not for the first time - as the remaining students filed slowly out of the entrance and onto the stone steps, heading down towards the lake. She let the air, heavy with the perfume of wildflowers caress her face, and turned her face, like a sunflower, towards the bright sun, seeking comfort in it's warming rays. She saw the funeral through eyes blurred with tears. She didn't bother dashing them away, it seemed to her as though the blurred memory would, in turn, enable her to blur the lines between reality and fantasy and make believe that none of this had ever happened. She was vaguely aware that her head was resting on Ron's shoulder and he was stroking her hair. She choked with grief and felt his hand steady her as her shoulders heaved with desperate sobs. She was barely aware of the service and straightened finally as out of the flames, his tomb appeared. Hermione did not even flinch at the rain of arrows, she merely looked on, drying her eyes with her sleeve and calming a face blotched with tears. She hardly batted an eyelid at Harry's talk with Ginny and she did not raise a hand after him when he left. She felt cold inside. Cold and alone. Smoothing her skirt, she rose from her seat and turned from the remaining people, feeling disgust well up inside her as she glimpsed the ugly, squat figure of Umbridge and the unmistakable lion-like figure of that prat Scrimgeour. They should never have come here. A funeral was for people to pay their last respects. Those two had never had any respect for Dumbledore.

Harry was focused as he packed his trunk up in the room he had considered his home ever since his first day at Hogwarts. Though he looked around it with regret, he knew what had to be done and he did not have the luxury of hiding any more. Voldemort had killed every last person he loved. Every last person who had stood between him and Harry. There could be no more hiding. There was no one left to protect him and he would not secrete himself away until the inevitable happened and he was found and killed. He was going to destroy Voldemort or die in the attempt. He was going to hunt him down and make him pay for every last life he had stolen in his pitiful quest for power and immortality.

Harry rolled up the last pair of socks and scanned the room for anything else he had left behind in his haste to be gone from Hogwarts. Harry knew he had to return to number one Privit Drive before he made the journey to the Burrow for Bill and Fleur's wedding, but then he would finally be free to revenge himself upon the greatest enemy of wizard kind. As he closed his trunk firmly and began dragging it to the staircase, Hermione appeared in the doorway. He almost started at the sound of her voice but finally curiosity got the better of him.

"Harry, Professor McGonagall's down in the Common Room and she wants to see you. She says it's urgent that she speak with you immediately." Harry nodded his head and ducking out of the dorm he followed her down into the room filled with the comfortable squashy armchairs and the large hearth which in winter brightened the whole area while casting leaping shadows on the walls and peoples faces. He remembered more care free days when the most dire thing he had to worry about was handing in his potions essay on time. Yet he supposed, life at Hogwarts had never really been uneventful. Even in his first year there had been Quirrel and the Philosopher's Stone to deal with. Still, Dumbledore's death had taken everything to a whole new level and it was with regret and no small amount of trepidation that he took in the sight of the Gryffindor Common Room as it was now and promised himself that he would never forget it. Some of his happiest moments involved this room and he had to suppress a grin at the memories of the after match celebrations, Ron's best saves and Oliver Wood's ecstatic whooping.

"Mr. Potter." McGonagall's voice cut through his musings sharply and he turned to face her, wondering what she wanted to speak to him about. "Come with me, your presence is required in the Hospital Wing without delay." Harry had just enough time to exchange confused glances with Hermione before he was whisked along behind Minerva and out the portrait hole. Harry wanted to ask exactly why they were going to the Hospital Wing, but recent events had taught him discretion and so he speculated in silence as he tread the familiar path. Entering the Hospital Wing they were accompanied by Madame Pomfrey to an area in which he had never before been. In fact, he had never even known it had existed! Before the school nurse opened the door, McGonagall laid a hand on her shoulder causing her to hesitate and she drew Harry aside.

"Harry, I must warn you that you are not going to like what is on the other side of this door but I must council you to keep your cool. There are things that must be heard and there are things that must be done. Dumbledore trusted you to do what was right and I believe that I must trust his judgment." The silence was more eloquent than words as they both remembered that Dumbledore had also trusted Severus Snape to do what was right and that mistake had been fatal, yet if McGonagall believed he could be trusted, he was not going to prove her wrong.

"I will keep my cool Professor." he said slowly as his mind ticked over furiously. What in hell is behind that door?

dun dun dun !

A.N.

Well hey there! There goes my first chapter, I hope you enjoyed it! Please review and tell me what you think. Took me a while to write it and I'm not sure if it's gonna go well. For the moment I have decided not to make it slash, meh, change is the spice of life! ConCrit v. welcome!

Also, sorry for my erratic punctuation! I have a strange liking for separating my text into illogical units with numerous punctuation marks in a manner decipherable only by me. My bad!

Thanks to my Prologue reviewer! (yes, reviewer. There is no plural) … lol

- Medicated Drama Queen; Well, I did have one other fan fiction about 3 years ago on an ezboard site which has since been deleted, so this is my first fic in a loooong time! Thanks for the review and I hope you enjoyed the first chapter!