A/N: Thank you sooo much to my angels ForeverTeamEdward13, alfieHewie, MissBlack2, and Jessie for reviewing. Also thanks to all my new followers/favouriters, I hope you're enjoying the random stuff that my brain has produced :)

Also just want to take a second to reflect on the terrible loss that has shaken everyone in Cardiff and The Vale today. RIP to Zoe and Lee, whose lives were taken too soon.

Chapter Twenty-Five: Sacrifice

The end of the school year approached very quickly after the death of the Headmaster and, while most of the students and staff shared outward expressions of grief and fear, the atmosphere in Slytherin House was rather different.

Some of them, like Antaeus Carrow and Crabbe and Goyle, actually celebrated Dumbledore's death, unable to appreciate that doing so was somewhat in bad taste. Others were merely stunned that one Draco Malfoy had pulled off what they coined as 'Dumbledore's Downfall', though to Arianwen it felt more like cold blooded murder than a battle for supremacy between kings.

What Arinanwen thought was a different matter entirely. The reality that Draco was a Death Eater really hit home that night, she felt foolish that it had taken her so long to really come to grips with the notion but he'd done such a good job of hiding that side of his life from her that she was happy to look the other way. Only now she had to stop pretending.

Draco is a Death Eater, she reminded herself as she walked down the long pathway to his house. You knew that at the beginning and you committed to stand by him…you can't leave him now.

But what would Father have thought?

It came like a blow to the stomach when she realised that she didn't know the answer to that question, she was already losing touch with him. She shook her head violently, trying to get a grip on herself.

I'm the Duchess now, its time for me to live for me.

She rapped loudly on the Malfoys' front door and waited for an elf to answer. She had worn one of her new sets of robes for the occasion: it was a luxurious plum colour, made from a lightweight material with silver embroidery along the hem. It complimented the white Bardot summer dress that she was wearing underneath perfectly and she'd opted for a long fishtail plait, light smoky eye-shadow and white pointed court shoes; the effect was every bit the elegant Duchess.

A house elf showed her into the grand sitting room where Mr and Mrs Malfoy, the Lestrange brothers, Bellatrix, Snape and Draco were all gathered on various sofas, chaises and armchairs.

The men all stood as the house elf announced her presence and inclined in polite bows. Draco stepped forward and took her hand, kissing it as he had so many times before.

"Duchess," he greeted, in the usual slick, aristocratic tone. "How good of you to join us. I trust your journey was not too tiresome?"

She gazed into those steel grey eyes and felt her heart flutter as though she were meeting him for the very first time. She wanted to be angry, to tell him how hard it had been without him in school and what Greyback had tried to do to her, but all she felt was relief that he was still alive and well.

"Mr. Malfoy," she smiled prettily at him, "no, in fact the journey was quite pleasant. It seems your English weather was kind to me today."

Arianwen moved to greet the women in the room and then Mrs Malfoy introduced her to her husband. She did not curtsy to him as she may have done had she met him in the past, for her rank was now so elevated compared to his own that to do so would appear pitying. He greeted her politely enough but there was a cool, snooty air to him that Arianwen didn't appreciate.

She removed her cloak and gave it to the lingering house elf, before taking a seat beside Draco.

"May I be the first to compliment you on how radiant you look today, Duchess." Rabastan offered approvingly. "Draco tells me that you shall be coming of age this month; perhaps it won't be long before I have the privilege of calling you 'niece'."

Arianwen blushed and looked at Draco, who was shaking his head and laughing. "That is most kind of you to say, Mr. Lestrange, but as for a betrothal, I'm sure that I am not the right person to ask."

"Draco is far to young to be thinking about such things, Rabastan." Lucius demurred.

"We had been engaged for six months at their age, Lucius." Narcissa reminded him pointedly.

"A different age, clearly," Lucius said, "where marriage arrangements were handled in the proper fashion; our betrothal was contracted long in advance of our actual union, with plenty of time for the families to object, as is appropriate. Both the Parkinson and Greengrass families, for example, have been interested in Draco since his birth, and they are the most respectable families. But, as I said, that was a different time. "

"Father!" Draco barked, fixing his father with a challenging gaze.

"You do not believe Welsh families to be respectable then, Mr. Malfoy?" Arianwen interjected with a dangerously polite smile.

The tension in the room hit an all time high as the others looked between Lucius and Arianwen. Bellatrix, the only one apparently enjoying the awkwardness, grinned and clapped her hands together.

"Perhaps the Duchess would like to see our new peacocks," Narcissa cut in before her husband could make any more rude comments. "Draco, why don't you take the Duchess for a turn about the gardens, so that she can see them?"

Draco nodded and stood up, offering his arm to Arianwen. "Yes, certainly. Your Grace?"

Arianwen, whose eyes were still firmly set on Lucius, eventually dragged them away and took Draco's arm, being sure to hold her head high and leave the room with more grace than any Parkinson or Greengrass could ever hope to achieve.

They had barely taken three steps outside before Draco hissed and clutched his left forearm, announcing that he had to go to the Dark Lord. Bellatrix and the other men came running out to the gardens to fetch him and they all quickly disapparated.

Once again, Arianwen was left to sit around and worry with Narcissa for hours on end, until eventually, figures started traipsing into the library where they waited.

Draco was the last to appear and was limping heavily, blood dripping onto the floor in a trail behind him.

"Draco!" Arianwen dashed over to where he'd managed to collapse on the nearest sofa. "You're bleeding! What happened?"

"Bloody Chimaera slashed me with its tail!" He grumbled, clutching his wounded leg.

"A Chimaera?" Arianwen asked, astounded. "What on earth were you doing around one of those?"

Draco merely shook his head. "You don't want to know," he grumbled.

"No," she agreed, "probably not." Chimaeras were both extremely rare and extremely dangerous due to both their physical attributes of a lion's head, goat's body and dragon's tail, and their bloodthirsty tendencies.

"Might I be of assistance, Duchess?" Snape interrupted, bending down beside Arianwen to get a look at Draco's leg.

"Uh yes, he'll need a blood replenishing potion," she squinted at his leg, "about eighty millilitres, and maybe three phials of Rabies Immunis."

Snape nodded and hastened to fetch the potions from his store at home.

"Take your trousers off, I need to get a look at your leg."

"Yes ma'am!" Draco managed a weak smile at her orders.

Arianwen could have sworn that she heard Lucius make an outraged remark along the lines of: "You see, Narcissa? The Welsh can never hide their vulgarity for long!" but she ignored him and instead started mopping blood away from his shin where the flesh had been marred so badly that his bone was visible.

"Oh this is useless!" She exclaimed, the sheer amount of blood making healing Draco's wound almost impossible without magic for she could barely see his leg through it all. "Where's your wand?"

As Draco was too drained to answer coherently, Mr. Malfoy decided to leap forward and cry, "you will not lay a finger on my son's wand, girl!"

"Mr. Malfoy," she spoke calmly but the expression on her face did not conceal her vexation, "I am still underage so if I use my own wand to heal your son and the Ministry decide to investigate the magic detected by the Trace on me, I could be expelled. I only want Draco's wand to help him!"

"Lucius, darling, why don't you come and sit down while Arianwen looks after Draco?" Narcissa posed it as a question but was already guiding him over to a chair on the other side of the room before he could refuse.

Arianwen found Draco's wand and made quick work of healing his leg. When she was satisfied that he wouldn't lose any more blood, she propped his back up with some cushions and carefully lifted his legs onto the sofa so that he could lie horizontally.

"Look," Narcissa whispered to her husband, "don't you see how she cares for him?"

Lucius watched silently as Arianwen stroked Draco's hair and bit her lip in an attempt to subdue its trembling. He watched his son smile at her touch and reach up to take her hand in his, he said something that Lucius couldn't hear but by Arianwen's gleaming smile it had to have been good. He grumbled something under his breath and Narcissa couldn't help but smile, Lucius had always been so protective of their son.

A while after Arianwen had retired to her bed for the night, Snape returned to the manor with the potions that Arianwen had requested and proceeded to administer them to Draco in the quantities that she had specified. Lucius and Narcissa were speaking in low voices on the other side of the room and Snape, who had been hoping for an opportunity to speak with Draco alone, took that moment as his chance.

"The Dark Lord will be pleased with your performance tonight, Draco."

Draco gave a derisive snort and raised a brow at him. "I doubt the Dark Lord will ever be pleased with my performance again after the Astronomy Tower."

"He let your father out did he not?"

Draco simply rolled his eyes in response.

"There is another way for your family to seek redemption," Snape said, his voice low so as not to draw the attention of Lucius and Narcissa.

"And you expect me to believe that you happen to know what that is?" Draco sneered.

The professor pursed his lips, Draco's recent trend of disdain towards him causing his patience to wear thin, but he continued nevertheless.

"As you know, the Dark Lord has been reaching out to various communities that he believes will aid him in this war-"

"I really don't have the energy to listen to you prattling on about things I'm already aware of, Professor." Draco interrupted, not bothering to stifle an exaggerated yawn with his hand.

"The Dark Lord," Snape pressed on, his voiced laced with pique, "has turned his attention to Wales, he has not forgotten how they refused to support him last time and if they do so again…he will take it by force."

It felt like Draco's heart was in his mouth, Arianwen would be in real danger if she refused his master. He didn't want to give away his fear to Snape though; he was the Dark Lord's right hand man and could easily be testing him. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because if Arianwen is appointed Warden of South Wales, our master will expect you to get her to join our ranks and if she refuses, as I think she may, she will face a fate worse than death." Snape's eyes bored into his own, he felt random thoughts and memories flash to the forefront of his mind, as if Snape were rifling through them, looking for something. He focused his energy into expelling Snape from his head as his Aunt Bella had taught him but it was too late.

"You love her, don't you?"

Draco hoisted his injured leg off the sofa and stood, he curled his fist around the collar of Snape's cloak and shook him, his eyes harsher than Snape had ever seen them. "You know nothing!" He spat vehemently.

"Draco!" Narcissa called from the other end of the room. "What on earth are you doing?"

He released Snape's robes with a shove and attempted to stalk out of the room but to his annoyance, Snape managed to grab his arm just in time. Draco turned back and locked eyes with his old professor; he must have caught him in some state of sudden vulnerability for he could read regret behind the eyes of a fractured soul. Finally, Draco understood the message Snape was trying to send him.

"End it."

Draco barely got any sleep that night and ended up rising earlier than everyone else to eat his breakfast alone. Afterwards, he retreated to the grand drawing room, where the pianoforte was situated, and began to play. He became so engrossed in the dramatic piece that he didn't hear Arianwen enter.

Just as the melody reached its climactic peak, it swirled back to a hushed, ethereal dance and Arianwen slipped onto the bench to the right of him to join him in a duet for the finish.

"Good morning," Arianwen spoke, as softly as the last note had been. "I didn't realise you were such an accomplished pianist, that was beautiful."

Draco smiled and gazed at her from the corner of his eye, she was truly a vision in a light, golden dress. He allowed his eyes to drink in every last detail of her; the delicacy of the dress somehow made her hair look even more luscious and full than usual, her eyes were looking down at her hands as they skipped over the enamel keys of the piano and her long lashes fluttered delicately with the movement of her eyes. His gaze moved to her lips, soft and full, he could almost taste their sweet vanilla and he knew he had to indulge himself one last time.

He placed his hands over hers to halt the energetic tune she was reciting. She followed him to the arched window overlooking the manor's gardens and allowed him to wrap his arms around her waist. She rested her head against his chest gently and he breathed in the scent of her hair, before lightly placing a few fingers beneath her chin and tilting her chin upwards. He couldn't bear to look into her unassuming eyes for too long, for the love she projected would surely break him. Instead, he gazed again at her lips and found himself moving closer until they were just touching.

Within a second, he had lost himself. Their lips melted together, the gentle caress of her tongue against his own caused his whole body to ache. He traced her cheekbones with his fingers, as though trying to etch the outline into his memory forever. It ended before he was willing, though their lips hovered mere millimetres apart as they drew air and she breathed, "Draco", in the most exquisite way he had ever heard.

He drew away from her quickly to hide the tears filling his eyes.

"Shall we sit?" he asked, his voice somehow confident and unwavering.

They sat across from each other, neither of them speaking until Arianwen, utterly confused, decided to break the silence.

"Are you alright? Something feels off."

Draco shrugged nonchalantly as he had planned the night before. "I had an interesting conversation with Father last night."

"Oh?" she prompted.

"He thinks it inappropriate for me to date someone who intends to have an occupation later in life. The wives of Malfoy men have always found their place in the home."

"I see," she said slowly, "and what do you think?"

"I agree."

He expected her to make a snappy retort as she usually did but was irritated to find that she actually found it amusing.

"Right, well I suppose we can discuss that in the future."

"We can? You would give up your vocation?" He tried to keep the surprise from his tone but clearly didn't succeed for she chuckled softly.

"I can't say I wouldn't be disappointed by it but I wouldn't leave you for a job."

He groaned inwardly. He had hoped that his goading would cause her to explode but he would have to try another tactic.

"Good. I would expect you to manage my household of course, prepare my meal plans, organise the elves-"

"Draco," she sat straighter in her seat, "I am one step away from royalty, I am not some pet to be kept in your house. Besides, I have people to manage my estates, I see no reason why they couldn't manage yours as well."

He nodded slowly. She wasn't biting as he wanted her to. It was time to really twist in the knife.

"There is another problem…"

Arianwen sighed audibly. "And what, prey tell, is that?"

"I cannot take a wife who has been…spoiled."

Her mouth fell open in complete disbelief. "Spoiled? You 'spoiled' me!"

He fixed her with a cold stare. "That is of little consequence, the fact of the matter is that you will not be a virgin on your wedding night. Perhaps you would consider taking a position as my mistress?"

"You have got to be joking," she cried, "where is this coming from? Don't you love me?"

"And the sickle drops!" he sneered, "I did wonder how long it would take you, I really had you twigged as being more intuitive but I suppose I'll just have to pay Goyle his winnings."

Arianwen stared at him, the shock preventing her anger from taking over just yet. "I don't believe you! Why are you doing this? I've seen the way you look at me, Draco! You've said you love me loads of times – this is bullshit, some kind of stupid joke – well I won't fall for it!"

"Hmm…pity." He ran his tongue over his lower lip for effect. "You seem so willing to fall into my bed and all I have to do is say 'I love you'."

"Stop it," she whispered, tears falling down her face.

"I'll admit you are a pretty good shag, but I reckon Astoria would be better-"

"STOP!" she screamed.

"I suppose I should let Goyle have a turn on you, it would be polite – seeing that he's the victor."

"No, no, no!" Arianwen stumbled backward, her hands trembling horribly as she wiped the tears from her eyes. All Draco wanted was to go to her, to encase her in his arms and tell her everything…but he had to protect her, she had to go.

"You've ruined me," she croaked. His heart wrenched so painfully at her words that he had to look away, he couldn't witness his perfect, beloved Arianwen so broken or he would never be able to leave her. She span around and ran from the manor as fast as her legs would take her, desperate to put some distance between herself and the man who had broken her heart.