In this fic I'm taking into account all the books and the movies that are available to the public, that INCLUDES SPOILERS for Book 6 so if you don't want to get an eyeful as you haven't read it yet, don't read it! (Points to the Back button)

WARNING: This is what I think happened over the summer of Draco's fifth year, after Harry sent his father to Azkaban and the scenario behind Draco's sixth year task. Also, it gives more of an emotional background to both his and his mother's behavior in the sixth book.

You heard nothing…

I don't exist…

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Chapter 2: Chosen destiny…

'You whom I respect now brought down, so much power shown as nothing, why? How do we become like paper dolls, fragile, breakable—alone? We are nothing without power; the toys of others, to be crushed underfoot like ash. To gain that power, to have brushed others aside to grasp it and have it snatched from our fingers in turn; how does one remain? How do you stay safe? How does—'

'Oh gods, who am I now? What am I? Mother, who are we? Will Father's capture change anything? Will our power slip? I—'

'What will the Dark Lord say?'

'So we have fallen from grace… All that we are rescinded, now in dire straights hanging by a shriveled thread, we are alone. I am alone. As always…'

'Father, what should I do? How should I become? As legal Malfoy, what am I? What can I do? Does the Dark Lord know of me?'

Alone in the darkened room stood two figures, mere silhouettes, one cadaverously tall and thin, the other slender though deathly pale as she sank into a voluminous curtsy, black robes pooling like spilled ink at her feet; the one before her raising a skeletal hand in careless acknowledgement of her presence.

"Rise." He hissed, his voice high pitched, unsettling. "Narcissa Malfoy, there comes to my attention your son, Draco. Charming child, so mannered and soon to come of age is he not?"

The woman's low voice replied, "Yes, my Lord." Narcissa bowed her head even lower, her loose white blonde hair sweeping in a shimmering curtain past the sides of her face, concealing any expression; the hands folded in her lap were lax, revealing nothing.

Voldemort reached down, skeletal fingers running through Narcissa's hair. "Your son remains still at Hogwarts under the tutelage of Dumbledore, he is—doing well, I hear. Does this please you?"

She shifted in obeisance, "As it please you, my Lord."

"As it please me…" he whispered. He smiled, a stray shaft of moonlight leaving his face in utter shadow, his eyes glowing red, the pupils slit wide taking in all the light they could. "Yes, it pleases me."

"As you wish, my Lord." She responded quietly.

He continued, "It pleases me that he rests as such within the bosom of Hogwarts, like a snake hidden in the grass, a dragon shunned with night. He is…in a position of some usefulness." His hand strayed once more through Narcissa's hair, playing with the long strands and weaving them through his fingers before drawing a length out into the shaft of moonlight, watching the ghostly shimmer play over his waxen flesh.

Her voice hollow, emotionless, she answered. "We are as you wish of us, my Lord. What is it that you desire?"

His hand fisted, catching the strands he still held and wrenching her head up so their eyes could meet. "The dragon must waken from sleep. He must end his petty ways and redeem his fallen name, for Malfoy is my right hand no longer and I desire restitution for the folly his sire has done. This you know. Do you understand?"

Time seemed to stop within the shadowed room as the pallid woman arched her neck into the restraining hand, as if to stare deeper into his face and touch his soul: to see truth among lies, reality beyond deception and life—perhaps, beyond death. What she saw… if she saw anything, was enough. Her face remained passive: a mask of snow, carved ice, and eyes pale, uncaring. Her mouth curved slightly in a quiet smile and he released her hair, yet she remained in her arched position, eyes locked to his. "When do you wish his audience?"

"Tomorrow night, midnight."

He vanished and she was alone in the room once again. Frozen like a broken statue of veined black marble she stared unseeing out the massive window across the room, a single name falling from her numb lips—

"Draco"

Trapped she was, like an insect in glorious amber: imprisoned, forever on display. Her eyes closed to shield all feeling as she felt icy fingers of terror take hold of her soul. Her only child… and once again she could do nothing. She sighed softly. As the wife of a powerful man she had everything a woman could wish for and yet it was the simplest things she forever lacked. That her son be safe from harm and unknowing of war was now at an end, he would learn and he would be lost and yet— he was so young…

Her face crumbled in agony as she collapsed to the floor in silence, her hand gracefully trailing up her chest and fisting the black velvet over her heart. She couldn't breath. Like being crushed to death the room rushed up to her and fear swamped her mind as deathly shivers rippled out across her skin, and she whimpered in terror.

"What have I done that it has come to this, I thought you were safe—" Her voice broke. "Not at Durmstrung, away from your father for all but 2 months…no Dark Arts teachings." She sobbed, her hand coming up to press despairingly against her mouth. "Why must you be as you are?"

Her breathing ragged she hauled herself off the floor, leaning heavily against the chair next to her as she gathered her shattered composure around her once again. Her husband in Azkaban and her son briefly home from school on summer holidays, she had… much to think about. Now, after the Dark Lord's visit and his new and terrifying interest in her son, her thoughts were thrown in turmoil and she knew that life as she had known it had ended. Before her she had a choice: remain silent as she had for so long and watch the destruction of her only child before he fully grew to manhood or break her silence and forge a binding with one who could save his life.

For herself she desired nothing, she was forfeit and she accepted that. She looked at the handsome clock arranged on the mantle above the massive marble fireplace and was surprised that it was barely beyond half past one in the morning; Draco would be asleep… she could watch over him as she once had so long ago, before shadows had become their friends and innocence had been lost. Moonlight drifted in fleeting patterns across the rich carpet as seconds ticked into minutes and she decided on her final course, she smoothed her hands down her heavy robes and swept from the room in reflected silence.

Once again the room was empty, save its shifting shadows, dark secrets and the gentle ticking of the clock above the mantle as time moved inexorably foreword and destinies changed hands once more.

.

AN) So, did you like? Next chapter is a mothers thoughts of her son as she watches him in the innocence of fitful sleep. Reviews inspire my writing so POUR IT IN! Or I might stop here…

snort

I wasn't even intending that this be a chaptered fic, it was meant as a one shot but then I read the 6th book &… bloody HELL! Inspiration knocked me flat!