Disclaimer: Only my plot is my own.

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The spinning stopped. They were standing in a dark park that was as quiet as death. Draco could hear his heart beating, could feel the fear flowing in his veins.

"Soon." The word cut through the cold air, and Draco glared at the girl next to him. She spoke again, quieter. "Ginny, Harry, and Ron weren't here. It was my first mission on my own, soon after the war began. I was supposed to scout out a campsite." She stopped talking, and the quiet consumed Draco once again, pierced only by the eerie creaking of a swing on the nearby playground, calling sadly for the children who used to play on it…the children who were probably dead, never to laugh or swing again.

Somebody moved behind them, and Draco spun around. It was a girl, covered in a black cloak. She had haunted brown eyes and was biting her lip in fear. "It's you." His voice was harsh.

"I was so scared. All I could think about were the Death Eater patrols that were rumored to come through here." She paused, looking expectant. A desperate scream rang through the air and Draco jumped, his stomach curdling with the sound. Hermione beckoned to him and they followed the cloaked figure. "I thought I would be able to help whoever it was." There was a tremble in her words.

They finally reached the top of a hill, and when Draco saw what awaited them, he fell to his knees. It was his father, silver hair flowing out gracefully from behind a Death Eater's mask. He was standing over a small girl who Draco recognized as a first-year from school. He couldn't put a name to her, but he remembered taunting her for being sorted into Gryffindor. She was a Mudblood.

"What do you think your father will do to her, Draco? What do you think they all would do, your side? What do you think they wanted you to do?"

"He'll kill her." He felt cold, and he knew that it was the truth. "But your side would do the same to one of us."

"Maybe. But we wouldn't torture them first."

"She's a Mudblood." He felt Hermione tense at the word. "She deserves whatever he does to her." Doesn't she?

"Fine. Then you won't mind watching." She turned around, facing the empty park, her face etched with hatred.

Suddenly, sobbing echoed around them. Draco looked back to his father and his victim. He was advancing towards the huddled figure, and Draco could barely make out her pleading.

Please. No. I didn't do anything to you…

Light shot out of his father's wand, and the girl began screaming in agonized pain as she thrashed on the ground, her small features twisted with the force of the Cruciatus Curse.

"Her name was Sandy." Hermione was facing away from him, but her voice reached his ears clearly.

The screams eased, and laughter floated up to Draco. His father's laughter. Draco saw him raise his wand once again.

No. Please, sir. I'll do anything you ask…it hurts…

Lucius dragged the tip of his wand over Sandy's body, and blood appeared, glistening wetly in the moonlight. The girl screamed again, sobs racking her frame. Lucius raised her in the air and dropped her, over and over, breaking her. The girls screams grew more frantic as her bones snapped so loudly Draco could hear them.

Lucius dropped her once more and began to circle the body, impervious to the hoarse sobs. Draco glanced at the cloaked Hermione, and saw her crouched beneath a tree, tears streaming down her face. She knew she would be helpless on her own against Lucius, but needed to see this. It would make her harder. This was War.

He looked back to Lucius, and his eyes grew wider, his shaking limbs stilling in horror. His father was raising one finely made boot over the girl's head, readying himself to bring the heel crashing down upon her.

"She was twelve…she had a mother and a father, who eventually went mad. She had an older brother, who went to Hogwarts years before, who Voldemort himself eventually killed because of his attempts to avenge his sister. She had a crush on a boy named David. She had a cat who followed her everywhere, throughout the dorms and even tried once or twice to get into class with her. Her laugh was beautiful and innocent."

"No!" Draco ran towards his father, but his arm passed straight through Lucius, and he heard the crack as the boot hit Sandy's skull. It was over. Draco collapsed, and the world began to spin again.

On the floor of the castle, he looked up at Hermione. Her face was set. "We're not done, Draco." She drew the wand to her temple once again, and grabbed him, pulling him into the Pensieve.

It was a battle, in the middle of London. Curses were being fired all around him, red and green bleeding together. Screams filled the air, screams of the wounded, screams of the dying, screams of those stumbling over bodies of loved ones. The memory Hermione was surrounded by three Death Eaters, fending them off with burning fire in her eyes. She fired at those around her until they were all prone on the ground. He looked around him, and saw Harry and Ron standing back to back, snarls on their faces, shooting curses at whoever dared come near them. The Weasley family was close by, Mrs. Weasley with an expression that Draco could have never imagined on the plump woman's face. It was an expression of raw desire to live, to protect those around her, even if it meant killing those around her.

Suddenly a blast erupted the stones near them, and most of the Light side started to flee. Harry was calling out commands, telling his people to back off, that they had done all they could for that day. Draco felt himself being drawn away from the battle, although he was trying to peer through the dust that clouded the air, to find somebody he recognized, his father above all. Hermione grabbed his arm, yanking him away. "We have to follow me…this is my memory." He nodded, and ran with her into the building where her friends were headed; a building several members of the Order of the Phoenix were setting protective spells around.

When inside, Hermione went up the dusty staircase and into a large room with a window facing the battleground. The only sound was panting, and Draco studied the faces of those leaning against the wall. Ginny was there, along with her brother and a couple more of the Weasley children who Draco could recognize but not name. Harry was on the floor, his head in his hands, his eyes closed. Ron had his hand resting on Hermione's shoulder, and she was leaning against him.

More pounding came up the stairs and the older members of the Order came in. "Did we lose anybody?" It was Snape speaking, and Draco wanted to run to him. Although they had ended up loyal for different sides, Draco still considered the man his Godfather, and loved him more than anybody else he had known at Hogwarts.

There was silence while everybody looked around and then there was a sharp intake a breath. It was Ginny. "My parents."

"No!" It was Ron, who furiously pounded the wall, his face red. "We have to go back!"

"We cannot just walk back out there, Mr. Weasley." Snape's voice was calm, but Draco heard the underlying panic.

Ginny walked slowly to the window. She let loose a sob, and the rest of the war-weary people in the room ran to the window. The Weasleys were bound together in the middle of a group of people, and were being levitated to a platform. Draco felt sick as he looked at their children's faces – faces of pure, tragic fear.

The screaming started when the fires were lit. Ginny was on her knees, her forehead pressed up against the window. Ron's face was set, tears shining but not released. Hermione was grasping his hand, and when Draco looked over at the real Hermione, she was gazing at him with an unreadable expression. The rest of the Weasely children were furiously screaming at the crowd below, calling out for parents who would never hear their voices again. He looked out the window and nearly screamed himself. The Death Eaters were rejoicing, reveling in the slowly charring bodies of the Weaselys. Mrs. Weasely was gazing up at the window as if she could sense her children there, and the couple was grasping onto each other, refusing to give the Death Eaters more fun by screaming.

Draco looked away, unable to face the gruesome sight any longer. He looked at Hermione instead. "Please get me out of here."

"Do you understand yet?"

"My side may have had the same tragedies."

"But your side started the killing. We only defended, never initiated. Your side took innocents and killed them for fun."

Draco looked away. "Please just take me home."

"Do you need to see more?"

"What happened to Ron?"

"That isn't relevant." Her voice shook. "That isn't for you to see."

The room around him dimmed, and he felt the now-familiar nausea of returning to the castle.

"What you will never understand if that your side, your father, they killed out of hate, while we killed out of love for those who needed protection."

"My father loved some things."

"He loved power."

"He loved me."

"Are you sure?"

Draco began to respond, but then turned away. "Get out." He heard her leave, and he turned and walked into his bedroom. The bed was dark green, and he smiled dryly at the irony. He slipped under the covers, and as his head rested on the pillow, images came back to him.

His father, when he was three. Laughing at him when he fell down. Sandy. She was twelve. Voldemort's eyes glowing as he walked into the manor. The marble floor as Draco bowed as far as he could. Submission. A dragon-hide boot. A fireplace that illuminated the bruise on his mother's skin. A window running with the tears of a girl losing her parents.

Sobs ripped through him as he drifted into a sleep filled with the dreams. The dreams that had been haunting him. The dreams he was certain were more reality than illusion.

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A/N: So, what did you think? Any suggestions? My last chapter got like, 6 reviews, so does anybody want to tell me what I'm doing wrong here?