Disclaimer: I claim no rights to Harry Potter

When

Water falls down in silver

Night whispers Earth's song

Air mourns the dead and

Fire consumes all

They will come again

And claim what is theirs

From the Dark Prophecies

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The only sound in the night was the slow dripping of blood. Draco felt the world spin as black swam in his eyes, but he dug his fingernails into his palm, focusing on the pain, bringing himself back. Hermione was staring at the sight in front of them with horror, her scream still etched on her face. Malachi was calm, a hidden smile curling the ends of his mouth dangerously. Draco shivered.

The woman in white was suspended, held up by an unseen force, in front of a large, arched gate that led only into shadows. Her skin had been stripped off, and the only covering the carcass had was her thin white dress, which had no blood on it. This scared Draco beyond everything else, as he plainly saw the blood that should have saturated it still streaming down the body in slow, wet rivers. Her face, or a morbid semblance of her face, was twisted in pain. Eyes clouded in death shone out from the red with as much contrast as the white dress.

Draco began backing up quietly, and then stopped as Malachi turned shining eyes on him. "You will not leave." His voice was laced with lethality, and Draco nodded, the fury at being ordered masked by overwhelming fear. Something was horribly wrong. As he knew it would be the moment he met Malachi. He shuddered, remembering the dreams he had been having the last few nights, and then pushing them out of his mind.

Not now. He had to keep his senses, not get sucked into thoughts of the images he saw every night. Malachi looked away, his grin getting wider. "My Lord will be pleased."

"So you have been lying to us! You brought us to whoever it is Hermione was sent to." Malachi looked furious at the mention of this man, and Draco realized his mistake. There was someone else, someone who wanted Hermione and him as much as her dream man. Dreams. No.

"Never will I get near Him…" Malachi seemed to be talking to himself, and Draco allowed him to. He glanced at Hermione, who was staring at the body in front of them with the same half-empty look she has adorned since Malachi joined them. He snarled. Stupid Mudblood.

A sweet smell abruptly filled the air – a sweet scent, but a wrong one. Just underneath the smell was a sour taint that ruined it and made Draco widen his eyes and goosebumps cover his flesh. He looked at Malachi, and his fear only multiplied.

The boy had been handsome, Draco could admit it, but his smooth skin was now peeling away and turning black as if it was decaying rapidly. His black irises expanded, making his eyes seem like dark caverns that went on forever. As his hair grew to cover his back in hackles like a wolf's, Draco realized that the rot-like smell was coming from Malachi. As he examined the boy's skin closer in fascinated terror, he noticed the barely visible scales that covered it. They were slick with a thin layer of a damp substance.

Malachi turned to look at Draco, raising his lips in a snarl. Blood-red fangs dripped within his mouth like a cross between a snake and a dog just tearing into a fresh meal. They stood staring at each other for a moment more before an agonized wail filled the air. "The spell is broken." Malachi's voice hadn't changed, and this alarmed Draco enough to snap back into reality.

He spun around, and saw Hermione sobbing on the ground, her head in her hands. Her voice was just a whisper. "I couldn't escape. I couldn't say what I wanted to. I tried to call out…everything was gone. My freedom was gone…my will was gone." She looked up at Draco, her eyes raw with tears. He walked over to her, almost enjoying the fact that he towered over her.

"You got yourself sucked in. I told you not to trust him."

"I know…I know, Draco, but every time I looked at him, I couldn't say no."

"Look at him now. Not so good-looking anymore, now is he?"

"It wasn't that!" She was yelling now, anger replacing her exhaustive despair. "It was something he did to me. Don't you think I can't resist a pretty face, Draco. You don't know me."

"I never wanted to." His voice was cold even to him, and a flashing memory came to him of sitting next to her at the fire, reading. He pushed it aside. "This is your fault anyway, they want you. Not me."

He felt a slithering, freezing sensation as Malachi touched his shoulder. "My Lord wants you as well, Draco. Do not speak of things you have no idea about. You are written of as well as Hermione."

Draco jerked away from the scaled hand, disgust and fear making his skin crawl. "Written about?" All Malachi answered with was a mirthless laugh. Draco saw Hermione tense next you him and step toward the boy.

"Do what you must, you filthy creature. I will never forget what you did to me, but I will not try to escape. I know as well as you do that I cannot. Just take us to your lord." She spit the last word with contempt, making Malachi's face harden.

"Come." The black fur on his back brushed Draco as he turned. Stepping as far away from the body as he could, Draco followed Malachi underneath the arch, stopping with shock on the other side. Before he had stepped through it, all he had seen was dark branches, but on the other side, a city lay sprawled out. The houses all had spiraling towers, and the people walking around them had pale, gaunt faces tight with years of frowning. Nobody looked like Malachi, and Draco gave him a sidelong glance. What was he?

All the inhabitants of this strange town wore elaborate clothes of silk, and Draco suddenly felt bare in his tattered clothing. He should be the one in fine clothes, he thought bitterly. He looked further down the black-stoned road that weaved through the houses and shops, and gasped. A palace proudly stood over everything else, its walls and towers glistening in the moonlight. There were no trees here to block the glowing light.

Malachi started off towards the castle. Nobody even glanced at him, but Draco felt suspicious glares taking him in, measuring him. He looked around, but as soon as he met an onlooker's gaze, they darted away, melting into the crowd. There were shops, but the things they sold were unfamiliar. Fruits of dull colors were being sold in stands lining the streets, and they gave off a rotten smell. Artifacts that glowed with cruel light shone in windows, and animal carcasses that Draco could not even begin to place hung in butchers' windows. Some had eight legs with hooves, some three heads with eye sockets that almost completely covered them.

Finally, they arrived at a black gate, marked by swirls jewels inlaid in the dark metal. A single guard stood at it's opening, and only glanced at Malachi before allowing them in. They followed the path up to the doors, and Malachi opened them with an air of importance. Draco had a feeling simply walking into the palace was a right reserved for few.

Hermione leaned against him to avoid being crushed by the heavy door swinging shut behind her, and Draco allowed it, too entranced in what he was seeing to complain. The front hall of the palace was blood red, with rubies glittering from decorations around it. Black marble made up the floors, with red rugs spread out by the seats within it.

Malachi barely glanced around before he led them to another door, leading into a room just as elaborately adorned. This continued for a while, Draco slowing his walk even more as he became absorbed in the expensive décor.

"We are here." Malachi's voice was more pensive than Draco would have liked, and he looked at the doors in front of them. These were made of swirled jewels and black. A silver serpent with a wolf's head curled up as the doorknob. "You are not to say a word until the Great Lord addresses you. Fail, say the wrong thing, and you will die."

Hermione was clutching at her clothes, her hands wringing them fearfully but her face set determinedly. Being trapped in her own mind had snapped something in her, and Draco noticed her eyes glittering dangerously. He knew she had been a powerful witch in the War, and hoped she wouldn't try anything here. At least, nothing that would get him in trouble.

Malachi opened the doors.

Ut is eram in exordium is vadum exsisto

A/N: Sorry for the longer time I've taken to update recently, I've been really busy with schoolwork and the such. Hope you like the chapter! Please review!