Chapter 3 : Trap

Draco hated having to spend his Christmas holiday in the manor. It reminded him of his childhood when his parents would spend the whole day decorating the house with him, cuddling him. Now though, all left was a madman torturing numerous prisoners in the manor, the blood splattered being the newest Christmas decoration for the once prestigious Malfoy Manor.

Christmas eve was two days ago. Not that Christmas vibe would ever be present in a house infested by Death Eaters and one Lord Voldemort. To everyone's surprise, Voldemort demanded a Christmas dinner with roast turkey as a compulsory dish. He even granted his prisoners mince pie after starving them for ages.

"As if this would be enough to atone his sins," Draco sneered darkly when he was alone in his room.

It turned out that Voldemort simply had some sadistic plans in his mind. The mince pie were tampered with, now containing deathly potions which would stimulate a person's nerve system, making one more vulnerable to torture. Draco didn't have to be a loyal Death Eater to know what that means. Another torture party.

Draco was disgusted and nervous when Voldemort ordered everyone of his Death Eaters to have dinner with him that night. Although being the official 'host' of Malfoy Manor after his parents' captivity, he had been able to not participate in most of the activities Voldemort and his followers did in the manor, locking himself in his bedroom. However, it seemed like he would not possibly hide from this 'event'. "The last supper on Christmas eve, how ironic," he muttered to himself.

When it was time for dinner, Draco dragged his unwilling body to the dining room. The black marble dining table was enlarged magically to fit twenty five Death Eaters who were either currently residing at the manor or were invited to join the 'party'. Voldemort was still to arrive when Draco stepped in, but Bellatrix was already sitting at the first seat to the left of Voldemort's.

Draco slid into the seat furthest away from his Lord. In moments like this, he was very grateful that he was the youngest and least honored Death Eater in the house. Unfortunately, his attempt to remain unnoticed failed when Bellatrix motioned for him to go to her. Steeling himself, Draco went to his aunt's side, a polite smile gracing his features.

"Merry Christmas, Aunt Bellatrix," Draco greeted, although he was silently cursing her in his heart. He was not giving her any opportunity to find fault in him. He was fully aware that the lives of his parents were in his hands now.

"How are you doing, young Draco? Do you enjoy serving our Dark Lord?" Bellatrix asked sweetly, a fake and sinister smile plastered on her face. Each and everyone of the Death Eaters knew Draco refused to be Marked and only gave in because his parents' lives were at stake. Because of that, he was punished unmercifully after the Marking, being held under the Cruciatus for several hours, until he completely lost his voice for yelling himself hoarse for too long.

Determined to not let Bellatrix get his way, Draco replied, also as sweetly, "I'm doing fine, Aunt Bellatrix. And it's my greatest honor to be able to serve my Lord. I would be willing to do anything for him, even dying." He didn't even blink through the lie. He was not a Slytherin for nothing, after all.

"Good to know you changed your mind, darling. Enjoy dinner," Bellatrix replied with a wink, her hand waving Draco's dismissal. Draco walked back to his seat as elegantly but also as quickly as he could manage without tripping himself. He was sure he was about to vomit at Bellatrix's sickly form of address.

Draco barely sat down when Voldemort entered the room, red pupils eyeing every Death Eater in the room who knelt down upon his entrance. A chill of fear traced down Draco's spine when the Lord's eyes paused on him slightly longer than others. He saw his Lord's lips curved into a sinister smile, and somehow he knew something was wrong.

A minute later, when Draco felt his legs might give way any moment, Voldemort finally sunk gracefully into his seat at the head of the table. With a wave of his hands, the Death Eaters rose and seated according to their ranks.

"Merry Christmas, my loyal followers. You would like to have food or the party, first?" Again, Voldemort eyed his followers one by one, and again, Draco felt the focus linger on him a fraction of second longer than others. "I must be overly paranoid, there's no reason for him to single me out," Draco pondered.

With no Death Eater daring to reply to their Lord just in case they contradicted his agenda, Voldemort continued his one-sided conversation. "Dinner first then," he said. He snapped his fingers and plates of mouth-watering food appeared on the table, brought in by the Manor's house elves. Lucius had ordered his elves to obey Voldemort and to him only, not that he had other choices.

Another flick of Voldemort's wand, and a bottle of wine uncorked itself and poured itself evenly into the glasses in front of everyone. Voldemort took his glass and said, "to victory". All the Death Eaters including Draco hurriedly reached for their glasses and said the same, then taking a sip when their Lord did so.

Draco regretted the action immediately. His brain became fussy and his limbs refused to listen to his commands. It was like he was put under the Imperius, but he heard no direct command like the Imperius would require. Nevertheless, he panicked when he absent-mindedly dined alongside other Death Eaters, despite trying not to do so.

It took an hour before the food was cleared up. Undeniably, the Malfoy elves did a great job cooking, but Draco couldn't indulge in the meal at all. He was losing his focus, and his instincts told him to leave before something bad could happen.

"My Lord," Draco bowed to Voldemort, "would you be so kind as to allow my early leave? I was so honored to have Christmas dinner with my Lord till I stomached too much wine. I'm afraid I would spoil everyone's fun if I stay here, drunk."

"Really, young Draco? I was under the impression that you only took one sip of your wine. I thought all Malfoys are good drinkers. Hmm…" Voldemort eyed Draco for the third time that day, a little suspiciously. Draco crossed his fingers under the table and pleaded for God to help him.

"I think…I think we wouldn't mind having you here?" Voldemort glanced at his supporters who nodded their agreement, not that they dare to defy their master anyway. "We will help you back to your room if you need it afterwards, that is okay with you, Draco?" Draco felt his blood go cold when he mustered a weak smile that didn't really reach his eyes. Nevertheless, he considered it a success to even to not faint, less produced a smile under such a situation. "It's my honor, my Lord."

Thus, Draco had to watch when five Muggle prisoners, two couples and a girl were brought up to the dining room from their cells, eyes wide with fear. Draco could barely suppress the urge to help them get away, but knowing the consequences halted him. One by one, Death Eaters stood up and formed a circle, surrounding the prisoners.

"Bellatrix, you have the pleasure," Voldemort said. Bellatrix positively beamed at her master, obviously delighted to have the honor to start the 'party'. She pointed her wand at a man in his thirties and yelled "crucio!" Immediately, the man started to convulse and yell in agony.

At the sign of this, all the Death Eaters started directing spells at the prisoners, each one more severe than the last, trying their best to please their master. To Draco's horror, he found his hand unconsciously mirroring their posture, driving his wand to point at one young girl who was barely nine.

He fought to lower his hands for several minutes, but at last lost the battle. Directing his wand at the girl once again, he muttered "crucio" against his will. The girl's scream shook Draco so deeply that he thought he would faint that instant. Instead, his wand refused to budge and the Cruciatus curse held on, driving waves and waves of excruciating pain to the girl.

The screams of the young child rose higher and higher, as it pierced stabs after stabs into Draco's heart. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't fight the illogical urge to torture. Suddenly, realization dawned on Draco. Of course, such a direct answer, he was drugged.

Draco's mind snapped back to reality when the screams finally reached a pitch so high that it broke. Then, it stopped altogether. Draco stood shell-shocked at the body before him that went limp. It was impossible, no way he would…

"Our dear young Malfoy killed a Muggle. Even your father never killed someone innocent. Brilliant, boy." The words barely sank when Draco swayed and the world went black.


"Noooo…" Harry woke up in a start, tangled by his sheets, sweaty and clammy. He just had a vision from Voldemort. Apparently him and the Death Eaters were having Christmas dinner, but they decided to have fun torturing their prisoners.

Harry never knew one could die from torture. He couldn't get the picture of the open but vacant and lifeless eyes of the little girl off his subconsciousness. Her screams echoed in his ears although he was hundreds of miles away from her.

And Draco, why would he do something like that? Voldemort mentioned that not even Lucius Malfoy didn't kill for nothing. Was Draco really so desperate to get into Voldemort's good books? But not even Bellatrix tortured the Longbottoms to death. Maybe Draco, like Harry, didn't know torture could kill? If so, why didn't Lucius stop his son?

Come to think of it, Harry didn't notice Lucius being at the dinner. The Death Eater sitting next to Malfoy, who was it again? Avery, he thought. And Narcissa wasn't there either, was she? Harry recalled every detail and confirmed his suspicions, Lucius and Narcissa were either on a special mission, or they were under captivity.

If it was the latter, then Draco's action made sense. Maybe he thought that if he appealed to Voldemort, his parents might be released.

No matter which assumption was nearer to the truth, Harry knew he had to act fast. When Draco hit the ground just now, his sleeves were pulled up and a Dark Mark was vaguely visible on his arm. Anyhow, the distress when Draco knew he killed someone was hard to miss, obviously, as he basically fainted. Thus, Harry dared to hope that Draco was not completely lost to the Dark side yet.

The question was, what should, or could Harry do to pull him back?


A pain, a sharp, searing pain was piercing his ribs. Draco groaned. He tried to turn around, which he regretted the movement almost immediately. Now, his whole body ached like he had been burned, punched, whipped and any other torture he could think about, except it was worse because the pain was originating from his bones and nerves itself. Oh, realization dawned on Draco. He had been put under the Cruciatus curse.

Cautiously, he touched his skin, from head to belly. Lying, he couldn't reach his toes. He was grateful that he didn't feel anything slimy which resembles blood. Well, at least he was not hurt physically. "Since when was this something to be thankful of?" Draco thought dryly.

A knock on his door gained his attention. Once, twice, stop, thrice. It was the code he and Severus used since Severus finally trusted Lucius enough to confess that he was a spy for the Light.

"Come in." Draco didn't even bother to sit up. He knew it was impossible after an intense torture session. If anything, it only made the pain worse.

Severus entered holding two flasks of potion, his expression a combination of worry and sorry. "Draco, are you okay?" His tone was soft and caring, a privilege only Draco had. Draco wouldn't say his fine, as Severus would know immediately that it was a direct lie. Thus, he replied "a little bit sore and painful, as usual". He tried to lighten the atmosphere by adding a shrug and rolling his eyes.

"Here, drink this." Draco reached out for the two vials and downed them with one gulp each, without hesitation. He recognized the potions, of course. One was a potion to minimize the aftereffects of Cruciatus, while another was usual pepper-up. He felt his muscles ease immediately as the pain lessened to a throb.

Severus and Draco sat in uncomfortable silence, the former not knowing what to say, the latter desperately trying to gather courage to ask a question which he dreaded the answer. After two minutes, Draco finally spoke. "Uncle Severus, the girl, did she…?" He couldn't speak the words, but Severus had no problem understanding it. Draco mentally braced himself for the answer.

When Severus put a firm and comforting hand on Draco's shoulders, Draco's heart almost stopped. The physical show of closeness was rare for Severus and Draco. If Severus resorted to offering comfort through touch, then nothing could have happened but the worst. "I'm sorry, Draco. She...was beyond rescue."

Draco said nothing, so Severus just sat with him in silence, offering a shoulder to be leant on. But the silence became too much after ten minutes, and Severus wouldn't let Draco drown in his despair.

"Draco, none of these is your fault. It is Voldemort's, solely Voldemort's. No one would blame you for what you did, you only wanted to save your parents." Draco nodded absentmindedly. "I understand, Uncle Sev. I just need some time for it to sink in. I will recover in a few days. Thanks." Draco even managed a weak smile. So, Severus counted his efforts a success and took Draco's cue to leave. Never did he know that his words actually pulled Draco further into the sea of guilt.

Draco wanted people to scold him, to shun him or even to detest him for his failure. He didn't deserve the pity, the care and the love, when he was the one that deprived others from it. He had always known that following Voldemort's orders to save his parents was incorrect, morally. But they are his parents, after all, and he couldn't possibly leave them to fend for themselves. Nevertheless, killing was too much, and unjustifiable, no matter his pathetic reason.

So, he made up his mind. The only thing he could do to try to repay the girl, not that it would ever be enough. Hoisting himself out of the bed hastily, he approached the study desk with small, hesitant steps. His forehead was shining with perspiration and he was panting hard when he finally reached the desk. Trembling, he took out a quill and parchment, and started writing.

Dear Father and Mother,

If you are reading this letter, you are free from the clutches of the Dark Lord. For this, I thank the gods and goddess.

And I would have left this world forever. I know you will be devastated, but rest-assured that hurting you is not my intention. I loved you, and always will. I would have chosen any other paths to soothe your pain, but no other options are available for me. So, I could only say, I'm sorry, truly sorry.

Maybe you have both heard about how I accidentally tortured a little girl to death on Christmas eve 1996, which is also the date I penned this letter. Uncle Severus assured me that it wasn't my fault. I thought about it, I really did, but I can't forgive myself, never ever will be able to.

If me staying alive will benefit the Wizarding World, I will do so without hesitation. However, I know the truth is far from that. People have always respected me for my Malfoy name, not my behavior. Even my so-called friends, befriend me for money and fame. No one will miss me, except both of you and Uncle Severus.

No matter what, please know that I don't blame any of you for any of these. You taught me well, my manners, my grace. It is just me who failed to utilize them for a good cause. The fault lies on me, and me alone.

I don't expect to be forgiven by the world for killing myself. I'm just too cowardly to face my grave errors. For that I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I opted for the easiest end and left the pain to you.

But please, stay happy for me. Please. You can disown me, you can hate me, but don't blame yourselves. That's my only wish.

Your son,

Draco.

By the time Draco finished the letter, tears were falling freely down his cheeks. But he didn't care. He was exhausted, so drained, especially emotionally. Before climbing back into bed, he made one last oath on his magic. "I will save Mum and Dad, no matter the stakes."

With that, Draco fell into a fitful sleep, dreaming of his parents, Voldemort and suicide, all with blood and piercing scream as backdrop.


Coming up next...Back to Hogwarts