Draco-

My mother met me off the express. She explained in hushed tones that my father was currently otherwise engaged, and that he would see me when I arrived home. I merely nodded to show I'd heard her; I was frantically scanning the crowded platform.

I saw her standing with her own mother, several feet away. Her older brothers, the twins, were stood on either side of her mother, worried expressions on their identical faces. This concerned me slightly- I glanced towards Ginny and saw that her face was streaked with tears, her eyes puffy, her face blotched. I felt a jolt in my stomach- of course. Her friend, the weird girl in her year, had been pulled off of the Hogwarts Express by a couple of Death Eaters. My mouth went dry.

"Draco? Darling, what's wrong?" asked my mother, watching me with a concerned expression etched upon her once beautiful face- in present times anyone could see how the stress had affected her.

"Nothing is wrong, Mother," I replied, my voice sounding horse as it escaped my dry mouth. The platform was emptying quickly- people were rushing their children back to the safety of their homes. A lot of people, students and parents alike, were giving my mother and me a wide berth. A circle of sorts had formed around us- no one seemed to want to come close.

Blaise broke this circle. He strode over to me with a certain confidence that seemed out of place in the scared atmosphere emanating from the surrounding but ever thinning crowd.

"Draco," he said, clapping a hand on my shoulder. I shook it off without thinking. "Enjoy the holidays. No doubt I shall see you at some point."

"No doubt at all, Blaise," I replied with feigned calm. "I look forward to seeing you- it shall break the monotony nicely."

"Draco, come along now. You'll see your friend soon enough- and besides, they are waiting for you at home," murmured my mother, her mouth close to my ear. I flinched away from her soft voice as she spoke into my ear, ignoring the hurt look on her face.

"I'm coming, Mother," I sighed. Rolling my eyes at Blaise, who smirked back before heading off to his own parents, I followed my mother off the platform, passing the Weasley family as I did. As I walked past, I glanced over my shoulder at Ginny, who was crying onto her mother's shoulder. Again I felt a jolt in my stomach, and experienced a sudden urge to rush back and comfort her. Shaking myself mentally, I turned back to face my mother, who was once again watching me with a worried expression.

"Draco, darling, they are waiting, we cannot be late," she said hurriedly, sounding scared.

"We will not be late, Mother. I am on my way now," I said through clenched teeth. Reaching out a timid hand, she placed it on my shoulder, pulling me along with her through the barrier into the Muggle world.

The return to the Manor was swift once we have exited Kings Cross and managed to find a secluded street from which to apparate. Apparition directly to the Manor had always been prohibited- we didn't like that people had an easy route to get to the house whenever they wanted.

My father had been waiting for me at the gate, which stood slightly ajar and which closed with a resounding bang once we had all passed through it. Inside the Manor was much the same, although there were more people standing idly here or there. I scowled at the interlopers, and went straight up to my room, carting my bags with me. My mother hung around uselessly at my door for 10 minutes before departing, leaving behind her a lingering sense of anxiety.

I knew that He would call for me eventually. It might not have been that night, it might not have been for a couple of nights- but he would definitely call for me, and when he did I had to be there, swiftly and without hesitation.

Christmas that year came at a slow pace due to the fact that I was longing to leave the constant unease and uncertainty that plagued the Manor that I had once called home. Strange sounds could be heard from the cellar, although I was not informed of what was going on down there. I presumed there was someone down there being held captive, and wished with all my heart that it was not Ginny's friend; if it was found out that Lovegood was being held captive in my home, I knew Ginny would never forgive me.

When Christmas finally did arrive, it was a subdued affair; my father was looking paler than usual, his usually sleek blond hair hanging lankly around his suddenly thin face. My mother had also lost weight, although she attempted to keep her appearance as pristine as usual- there were flaws though. Her nail varnish was chipped, her makeup wobbled slightly here and there, and the usual demeanour with which she usually carried and conducted herself was missing. She had taken to hurrying from one room of the Manor to another, vacating immediately if she found a Death Eater in the room of her choice, something which was becoming much more likely, so that she spent a good while scurrying from room to room like a timid field mouse than actually sitting in a room and preoccupying herself with one of her usual pastimes.

I joined my parents later in the morning, nodding my thanks for the new cloak and the handsome owl they had purchased for me, returning their gifts with much less flair than was usual in our home. I'd purchased a necklace for my mother, a beautiful garment of silver with a tiny snake pendent in emeralds; my father was easier and cheaper to buy for. Handing him a bottle of particularly strong Fire whiskey, his now dull eyes lit up slightly, and Mother glared at the bottle in his hands reproachfully.

Christmas dinner was equally tense. We ate in silence, the only noise coming from the House Elves darting in and out of the room, refilling our drinks and bringing more food when we required it. We did not acknowledge their presence except to take the drinks from them. It was during Christmas dinner that I felt the Mark on my left arm burn, so suddenly and intensely that I jumped, knocking over my Elf-made wine and letting out a short gasp, which I quickly stopped in its tracks.

"Darling?" asked my mother, half out of her seat before my father placed a hand on her shoulder and pushed her back down into it. She glanced up at him, fear etched into her face, and he shook his head.

"None of the rest of us felt it, Narcissa. It was meant for Draco alone. Leave him to go; if you hinder him in his attempts to reach the Dark Lord as quickly as possible, we shall all be severely punished."

"But Lucius, darling…"

"Narcissa, I said leave him!" Father snapped. Throwing himself back into his chair at the head of the table, he threw another glass of Fire Whiskey down his throat, holding back a belch as he did so. Mother stared at him with a slight look of repulsion; I left them sitting there in silence and headed to the study, where the Dark Lord was currently residing.

"My Lord," I said, bowing as I entered the room. Glancing around me, I instantly saw that something bad had happened- our books were strewn across the room, pages ripped out, covers wrenched from the rest of the books, the desk had been thrown aside and was lying in pieces near the large bay window, which had a smashed pane through which icy winter air blew, causing me to shiver.

"Draco." I had not initially noticed Him standing in the dark corner, but I turned when I heard his voice, more icy than the wind blowing through the ruined room, and more threatening that I'd ever heard it before.

"My Lord," I repeated, bowing this time in his direction. He moved into the light, his red eyes glinting dangerously in the firelight from the large fireplace, into which several books had also been thrown.

"I trust you are progressing smoothly with your mission, Draco?" He asked, his voice slicing through me like Sectumsempra.

"My Lord, the girl is proving difficult in winning over. However, I believe I am close to winning her affections; she is behaving more warmly to me than she has ever done before, and is noticing me more when I pass her in the corridors." I felt my cheeks burn as I spoke- discussing such matters with him, with the Dark Lord, was simply preposterous. Never would I have imagined myself to be in such a position.

"So it is not moving as smoothly as we had hoped?" His voice was little more than a hiss, and I flinched.

"It is difficult, My Lord. She still holds much affection for Potter-"

"Potter!" spat the Dark Lord suddenly, and I blanched, my sentence forgotten in his sudden rage. "Potter, who constantly out runs me, Potter who, by no special talent of his own, but by mere luck, escapes me, again and again, evading me constantly! You, you are more a man than that boy will ever be, and yet you cower here before me to tell me that you are struggling to win the affections of a mere Blood-Traitor girl- because of Potter?"

"My Lord- she is loyal to Potter-"

"You must make her otherwise, Draco! Dumbledore believed I knew nothing of the emotion love. Dumbledore was wrong. I understand how it works- if you take Potter's love, then his strength will be broken; I will be able, finally, after all these years, to defeat him! You must sway the Blood-Traitor's loyalties, Draco- or would you prefer to feel the wrath of Lord Voldemort?"

He raised his wand in a would be casual manner, twisting it around in his long, pale fingers. I eyed it anxiously.

"No, my Lord. I will win the girl's affections. I… I can do it, my Lord," I replied, attempting to make my voice sound strong, commanding- but it came out as little more than a whisper.

The Dark Lord surveyed me with a curious gleam in his eyes; I avoided looking directly at him with every fibre of my being.

"Oh," he whispered. He said it so quietly that it could have been little more than another breeze blowing in from the broken window pane- but wind didn't cause a feeling of such deep dread within a person's soul. I remained staring at the wall behind him. "Oh, but this is amusing. You- you admire this… girl. You, Pure-blooded Draco Malfoy, desire her."

"My Lord-" I stammered, dread building inside of me with every second that passed. "My Lord, such a notion is… is an abomination towards my heritage, towards everything I believe in- everything my family has always believed in!"

"Do not lie to Lord Voldemort, Draco!" he snapped, his voice high now, and I knew what was going to happen before he had even pointed the wand at me, knew but didn't move. I stood my ground as he glared at me and spoke in the high, cold voice- "Crucio!"

Pain, pain of unexplainable levels ricocheted through my body; a thousand knives stabbing, being submerged in boiling oil, anything would have been a relief from the pain now coursing through every bone and vein and cell in my body, pain that had driven me close to the edge of madness, threatening once again to submerge me in the eternal darkness- the curse lifted. I was lying on the floor, sweating and gasping. The relief was immense, the best feeling I had ever experienced.

"Do not lie to Lord Voldemort," he hissed again, lowering his wand and replacing it in his robes. "You will win her affections. You will tear her away from Harry Potter- and I do not care how you do it. You win her affections, or you lose your life. Is that clear, Draco?"

"Y…Yes, my Lord," I gasped, my breathing still coming in harsh, ragged breaths that seemed to burn in my lungs.

"Very good. Leave me now," he commanded. Turning his back on me, his hissed into the darkness, and his snake joined him, coiling up around his neck. He stoked it with one long finger, and I exited quietly out of the study door.

"Draco!" gasped my mother the second I closed the door behind me. I jumped, turning- she and Father were waiting outside, my father bearing an expression that clearly told me he had been unable to keep her at the dining table for long, and he was not pleased by her disobeying him.

"Oh, Draco, my darling! Are you alright? We heard, oh my God, we heard you screaming- he was, wasn't he? He was… the Cruciatus curse! On my only son! My boy!" She broke down into sobs, and any words uttered after that were unintelligible.

"I am going to my room," I said quietly, removing my mother as forcefully as I could from around my neck. "I do not wish to be disturbed. All of you- and that includes you, Mother- are to stay away from my room, are to leave me alone."

"But… Draco…" she pleaded, her eyes wide and swimming with tears. I glanced down at her, feeling pity at her worry and distress, but annoyed at her persistent treatment of me, as though I were a child.

"I said alone, Mother." With that, I swept away up the stairs, slammed my door, and collapsed onto my bed, shaking.

I remained in my room for the rest of the day. I did not leave for dinner, or when my mother, despite my wishes, knocked on my door at around 9pm, demanding that I have something to eat. I turned over on my bed, feeling less at home than I ever had within the dull Manor walls, and fell into a troubled sleep, thoughts of Ginny racing round and round in my head, leaving me with confused dreams in which she wove in and out of gracefully, never speaking a word to me- she transformed into Him, and he uttered the words, and there was a flash of green light and-

I awoke with a yell to find myself on the floor, my bed clothes tangled around me in a mess, my day clothes still on. If things did not progress any quicker, I would have to resort to trickery to win her affections.

Ginny-

"They took her, mum! They took Luna!" I sobbed, clinging to her as we stood on the platform, people milling around us. Some patted me on the back, others whispered condolences that were lost in the noise of the station. I could feel eyes burning into my back, but was unable to turn to look at the person who they belonged to. My mum patted me on the back whilst Fred and George looked on helplessly.

"Come on, we'll get you home," murmured Mum into my ear, moving so that she could see my face. She brushed my hair out of my eyes, which were still letting loose a never ending stream of hot tears, and then held out her hand. I took it, grateful of something to hold on to, and followed her from the station, Fred and George close behind, discussing in quiet voices about what had happened on the train.

Exiting the platform, I caught a glimpse of Malfoy and his mother walking swiftly in the direction of somewhere to apparate from; I felt a strange desire as I watched him depart that I was unable to place. My emotions ran riot through my head, making me feel dizzy and confused. Mum led me to a Muggle taxi which waited outside the platform.

"Summit wrong, love?" asked the taxi driver, his cockney accent broader than I usually heard.

"She's had a stressful term at her… boarding… school," said Mum in a quiet voice, stumbling over the unfamiliar Muggle term.

"Yeah, I reckon I can remember 'ard times at school. Never was one for school, me. Struggled, see. Dyslexic. Couldn't spell," said the taxi driver, holding open the door and helping me and mum clamber into the back seat. Fred joined us there after he had helped George put my trunk in the boot of the car; George joined the taxi driver in the front.

The trip home seemed to last forever. Although my sobs had now subsided, I was still unable to stop the flow of tears. I leaned on Mum's shoulder the whole way home, and she kept her arm around me, murmuring soothing words into my ear that I couldn't comprehend.

The taxi pulled up not far from our house, but not too close due to the protective charms cast around it.

"You sure this is the place, love?" he asked Mum, looking around at the seemingly empty field before him.

"Yes, thank you. How much do I owe you?" asked Mum nervously, reaching into her purse for some Muggle money. The taxi driver told her the price in what seemed a foreign language. Mum struggled for a minute with the money, before handing over to him what I assume was the right amount. He didn't tell her otherwise, at any rate; merely wished me luck in my school and departing.

"Come on, you. I don't think you're up for eating anything right now, but you should go straight to bed and get some rest. No doubt you've had some awful nights at that school, depraved as it's gotten under that Death Eater's control." Mum led me inside, helping me change into my pyjamas and then tucking me up into my bed as though I were a child again.

"Don't you worry about Luna," she whispered into my ear. "She's tough. I know she'll be fine." I nodded, not really paying much attention, and then turned over, pulling the quilt up around my head. Mum patted me on the shoulder, sighed, and then left. I heard her talking downstairs with my brothers, listened to the ghoul in Ron's room as it moaned in its usual fashion, and gradually, I drifted to sleep.

It took me a week until I could properly arrange my thoughts and emotions again, and a further few days before I was able to recognise the emotion I'd felt as I'd watched Malfoy leaving with his mother; I was worried for him. I knew what he was going home to, and it worried me. I might have wished an awful Christmas upon him, but I knew that I hadn't meant it. This confused me; it was his kin who had taken Luna from the express so forcefully, had kidnapped her and now held her who knew where. Surely, my more reasonable side of the brain reasoned, you should feel hatred for those who kidnapped your friend, and any who might have been associated with it? But the other half of my brain, which seemed to be stuck in a fog of indecision and doubt, told me that Malfoy had been at Hogwarts the whole of last term; how could he have had anything to do with it if he'd been in school?

It wasn't until Christmas day that I finally comprehended where my head was at.

I awoke early, not out of excitement, but more out of habit, and rested in my bed for half an hour before going downstairs and curling up in an old armchair which was positioned by the fire, which had been lit before I'd gotten downstairs. Mum was busy in the kitchen, cooking up a full English breakfast for us all, and poked her head around the door when she heard me come in.

"Good morning, Ginny- merry Christmas, dear," she smiled. Although she said it in a cheery enough tone, anyone could have discerned the concern and worry that tinged her voice and caused her smile to seem fake.

"Merry Christmas, Mum," I smiled back, the feeling of my lips curving into a smile seeming unfamiliar.

"Breakfast should be ready before long, and we can open presents at the table- it's not many of us this year, Bill and Fleur wanted to spend their first Christmas alone, and Percy-" she broke off, turning white then red in rapid succession. "Well, you know about the others," she mumbled eventually, heading back into the kitchen.

I thought about Harry, Ron and Hermione, wherever they were, and wondered what they were doing. It was Christmas- were they celebrating? It seemed unlikely. Then what were they doing? It seemed an unsolvable puzzle.

Fred and George joined me in the sitting room before long, throwing themselves down upon the threadbare old sofa that sat adjacent to the arm chair I was curled up in, grinning identically at me.

"Morning, sis," grinned George.

"Merry Christmas," added Fred, also grinning. I smiled back half-heartedly.

"Now, come along, Gin!" scolded Fred.

"Don't we get any word of welcome in return?" questioned George.

"Not even a merry Christmas from her!" said Fred, turning to George with a look of incredulity on his face.

"And to think, we spent so long picking her out a present!" said George, his face a mirror image of Fred's. I rolled my eyes.

"Morning, Fred, George. I trust you slept well?" I asked, my voice radiating sarcasm. "Oh, and a very merry Christmas to the both of you."

"Much better," smiled Fred.

"Certainly was," replied George.

"Boys, stop pestering your sister," said Mum, her head reappearing round the door.

"We're only making conversation, Mum," replied Fred instantly.

"Yeah, can't all sit here in silence, can we?" added George.

Mum glared at them both, but it wasn't with any real conviction. They merely grinned at her, not breaking eye contact until she eventually deflated, smiling back at them reluctantly.

"Merry Christmas, anyway, boys," she said, turning and heading back into the kitchen. "Breakfast should be ready in five, if you want to get a seat at the table quickly."

Fred and George raced each other to the table, shoving and pushing in a jovial manner. Even the current atmosphere that clouded the entire Wizarding world didn't seem to bother them.

I got up once I heard the scraping of chairs in the kitchen, meaning they had sat down, and choice a seat for myself as far from the both of them as I could manage; I wasn't in any kind of mood for their usual tricks.

Dad was the next down. Kissing Mum on the cheek quickly, he adjusted his robes, which were looking distinctly more frayed than usual, and hurriedly check his watch.

"Do you really have to work today, Arthur?" asked Mum, glancing up from the bacon to watch him as he fell into a chair and pulled his shoes on.

"Yes, dear, you know how important it is that I go in, especially now that Thicknesse has become Minister," mumbled Dad, his glasses slipping off his nose and falling to the floor. A shatter broke the air, causing Hermione's cat Crookshanks, which she had left in our care, to jump up into the air, spitting and hissing in reproach. "Damn," muttered Dad, picking them up and fixing them wordlessly with a careless flick of his battered old wand.

"Well, if you insist on going into work, at least put on matching shoes," admonished Mum, glancing down at his feet, which were indeed garbed in mismatched shoes.

"Damn," muttered Dad again, removing one and hopping around in an attempt to find the other. He spotted me sitting in a corner, and hopped over, kissing me on the forehead.

"Happy Christmas, Ginny," he smiled, repeating his tidings to Fred and George, who both repeated them back to him, before continuing their discussion of whether or not Dragon Dung would make a valuable addition to one of their latest products in their joke shop. I grimaced as I heard their conversation- it sounded disgusting.

"Happy Christmas, Dad," I mumbled back, and then watched as, having finally found the matching shoe to the one on his right foot, he ran out of the front door, a slice of toast in one hand and a battered brief case in the other.

The day passed in a mess of colour and noise. Mum and Dad had bought me a second hand book about the Hollyhead Harpies, my favourite Quidditch team, and the usual Weasley jumper; Fred and George a second Pygmy Puff in blue and a set of amethyst coloured dress robes with tiny silver stars embroidered over them; Charlie had got me a miniature model of a dragon, which moved and breathed fire- Mum objected to this one, until Charlie explained that the fire was harmless. Bill and Fleur had sent over a silver bracelet, one which was a miniature Quaffle, and Great Aunt Muriel had sent over a truly horrible flower patterned jumper, which I vowed to burn at my first available opportunity.

Dad didn't make it home until gone 11pm, meaning he had missed virtually all of Christmas day. He collapsed into a chair upon his arrival home, closing his eyes and leaning back on the head rest. In a weary but still cheerful manner, he opened his presents from us, and accepted hugs and kisses in thanks for his presents to us.

I made it up to bed at just gone midnight, my eyes itchy from tiredness. It was when I was lying in bed, in the early hours of Boxing Day morning, that I came to realise where my thoughts currently lay. In the time between Bill's wedding and the beginning of the Christmas holidays, my thoughts had centred ever more frequently around the mysteries that Draco Malfoy produced. On several occasions now he had saved me from getting hurt, and once from being killed.

Guilt surged through me as I realised how I had come to regard him- without realising it, without meaning to, I had begun to find him interesting. I realised that the feeling I had experienced as I watched him leave for his Manor on the platform a week ago had been resentment- not resentment towards him, but resentment that I would have to wait two weeks before I could see him again, perhaps talk to him again, find out more about the way he was acting with me- two weeks before I could try to understand him. It was something more than just that though- I hadn't been looking forward to the prospect of not being able to see him. I'd taken it for granted that he was just always there, an annoyance in the background, and now that he wasn't- I felt strangely alone. I couldn't understand fully why I was feeling like this, but it scared me.

What about Harry? The boy who I'd loved since I was 11 years old, the boy who I never used to be able to talk around, and who, despite having broken up with me, loved me as well? I couldn't pretend that I didn't have feelings for him, deep feelings that made me feel sick with worry when I thought about his current situation and the future he faced- but I could no longer deny that I had some sort of feelings when concerning Draco Malfoy. Yet I knew that this was ridiculous- I was what they considered a Blood-traitor, whilst he was a Pure-blood. Worse than a Pure-blood- he was a Death Eater. My mind had somehow become obsessed with both Harry Potter, the mortal enemy of the Dark Lord, and sworn enemy of Draco Malfoy- and then Draco Malfoy himself, sworn enemy of Harry Potter, and follower of Harry's worst enemy, the man who had attempted to murder him when he was a year old, had killed his parents, and had attempted on numerous occasions to kill him- the Dark Lord, He Who Must Not Be Named, You Know Who.

The tumult of confusing thoughts pressed against my consciousness for hours into the night, and when the sun rose on December 26th, I hadn't been able to sleep for even a second. My mind was hazy from the lack of sleep; I turned over, closed my eyes, and somehow, somehow, against the burning guilt in my chest, and the overwhelming worry for Luna in my mind, and the pit of anxiety that was ever present in my stomach- somehow, I managed to fall asleep for a couple of hours.

A/N: I apologise for the lack of writing that I have produced over the past month. I have started back at college, and the work load is so intense this year that I have been literally up to my eyeballs in course work- never ending streams of coursework and deadlines, stretching far into the foreseeable future! Oh, the drama… Anywho, please read, please review- as always, I welcome reviews, and would please, please ask people to leave them- it is tiring writing chapters when I don't know if people actually appreciate them or not. Thank you, everyone

Love, Beccari xx