Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling, I do not own Harry Potter, I own nothing but Amarantine and the plot.

The worst is over now and we can breathe again
I wanna hold you high, you steal my pain away
There's so much left to learn, and no one left to fight
I wanna hold you high and steal your pain

'Cause I'm broken when I'm open
And I don't feel like I am strong enough
'Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome
And I don't feel right when you're gone away

Seether "Broken"

Draco Malfoy woke suddenly, sitting bolt upright in his bed. Heart pounding in the pitch blackness of the night, he wondered what had woken him. Then it came again: a scream that pierced through the darkness like a knife. Well, that wasn't all that uncommon really, not when you lived with Lucius Malfoy. Draco knew what went on in the dungeons deep below his bedroom, though he was not yet of age to take part in his father's "business". Sighing, he lay back down and closed his eyes, trying to fall back to sleep. Usually he wasn't extremely bothered by the fact that his father kept prisoners in the manor; after all, Draco too was a Death Eater. What would he care for the muggles, mudbloods and blood traitors that suffered in his father's dungeons? Certainly, they were filth and deserved what they got.

This night, though, Draco could not shake off the feeling of unease that hit him when he heard the scream. He tossed and turned, willing his heart to quiet and let sleep take him once more, but to no avail. Ten minutes later, he gave in and rolled out of bed. He grasped his wand, muttered "Lumos", and used the bright light that appeared to find his robes and make his way quickly and quietly to the door. He didn't know why he couldn't sleep, but figured a midnight stroll to the dungeons wouldn't hurt. Maybe, since he was nearly 17, his father would let him join in the fun.

The manor was large, and the dungeons quite deep below it; it took Draco nearly fifteen minutes to reach the entrance to the dungeons. Disappointingly, Draco had not heard any more noise from below. Probably his father was done, and he had missed out once again. But he had to be sure. Opening the door quietly, he entered into a long stone corridor. The candles on the wall flickered, giving the place an eerie feel. Draco was right at home of course, but he did wish he had worn slippers. The stone was cold and unforgiving on his bare feet.

Pointing his glowing wand along the corridor, he soon came to a door that was open half an inch. "That's the one," he thought, and made to enter. But a second later he jumped back into the shadows and muttered "nox" under his breath, sending him into total darkness. He heard footsteps approaching the door, and when it swung open Lucius emerged. Now that he thought about it, Draco wasn't sure how pleased his father would be to see him down here. He held his breath as his father passed him, robes billowing imperiously behind him. The receding sound of footsteps and the final thud of the door at the end of the hall being pulled strongly shut told Draco that his father was gone. Letting out a sigh, he turned quickly to the doorway from which Lucius had come. He had never been allowed in any of the rooms before – perhaps a quick peek wouldn't hurt? At the very least it would be something more to impress his fellow Slytherins with back at school.

"Lumos," he whispered, and stepped inside the door.

What he saw took his breath away.

He had been expecting to see a bloodied, broken body. Perhaps the person would be moaning in pain, a sound which sent chills of anticipation down his spine. Perhaps the person would see him and draw back in terror. He would relish in the fear in their eyes.

But he had not expected that the bloodied, broken body would be someone he knew. Not only someone he knew, but someone he respected and possibly even did not hate.

All he could do was stand in shocked silence, slowing taking in the sight of Amarantine Black lying in a pool of blood in his own house. She was curled into a ball and shaking slightly from cold, pain and fear, wearing nothing but a bra. Her ripped, bloodied robes had been carelessly thrown over her body. Her blue eyes were glazed and unmoving, seemingly seeing nothing though they were open wide. Draco moved shakily towards her.

"Amarantine?" he asked softly, tentatively, falling onto his knees beside her trembling form. There was no response – she continued to stare straight ahead, not showing that she felt his presence at all. Shit, Draco thought. Shit Shit Shit… holy fuck. What do I do now? I can't just leave her here, can I? Draco had never been faced with a situation as serious as this before. This is real, he thought. This is what he does to filth, but now he has done it to her! But Amarantine wasn't mudblood filth, he knew. She was the most pure-blooded of pure-bloods, and he couldn't understand why a witch of such high standing was lying senseless in a pool of blood in his own house. That is what happened to filth that got what they deserved. Not his equals. Not Amarantine. Yet here she was.

Timidly, somewhat repulsed by the mutilated body in front of him, Draco reached out a pale hand to touch her shoulder. The moment their skin connected she whimpered, and his hand shot back in surprise and uncertainty. Get a grip, Draco, he told himself firmly. He knew what had to be done. Slipping off his cloak, he pulled Amarantine's ruined robes from her body and tried not to look at her nakedness as he wrapped her quickly in his black cloak. She whimpered and squirmed at his touch, but otherwise did not give any indication that she knew who he was. Sickening slightly at her sticky hot blood on his hands, he took a deep breath and gathered her awkwardly, but as gently as he could, into his arms. She latched her slender fingers tightly onto his clothes with whatever strength she had left, clutching him as if she would never let go. He pressed her closer to him, trying to share his warmth and strength, shocked still at the trembling body in his arms, at the blood seeping into his clothes. Sure he had studied the Dark Arts all his life, and been fascinated by blood, pain and suffering, but this was the first time he had really experienced it. This was real, and he wasn't sure how he felt about it.

"Hey, hey… its ok… I'll get you out of here… just, just hold on," he said softly, trying to calm himself as much as Amarantine. She didn't respond. The only sound in the dungeon was her ragged breathing. Extinguishing his wand, Draco stood up, carrying her light form with little effort. He wasn't sure where to go but back to his room. His father would surely notice she was missing in the morning, but what mattered was right now. For some reason, he knew he couldn't leave her there to die or face whatever else his father had in store for her. She wasn't exactly a friend, but though she didn't know it he had always admired her, as much as Draco Malfoy admired anyone. She was powerful, smart, beautiful – and though she was friends with Harry Potter, there was something unseen about her that drew him to her… something dark.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

The first rays of morning sunlight found Draco Malfoy wide awake, sitting in a chair in his room still holding Amarantine. Upon returning with her to his room, he has been unable to pry her fingers from his shirt in order to lay her on his bed. He had healed what wounds he could with his wand, but knew that she had lost something no medicine in the world could ever give back to her. He also knew the lingering affects of the cruciatus when he saw them, and knew that nothing but time could ease the pain that still coursed through her battered body. He could only hope that she would be strong enough to escape before his father realized she was missing.

Sometime around dawn, Amarantine stopped shaking. Her grip on Draco's shirt lessened slightly but her face was still buried in his chest. He tried speaking again.

"Hey, can you hear me? Do you know who I am?" She shook her head slightly, not looking up. But the fact that she was responding encouraged Draco.

"Look, you have to get out of here, now. It's not safe here. I wish I could keep you safe but I can't. You have to get out, you have to save yourself. Can you do that?" Again, she shook her head no. Draco sighed. He had to help her but he didn't know how. Her only chance was if she was strong enough to get herself out. He was sure she wasn't strong enough to apparate.

"Look Amarantine, I know you even if you don't know me. I know that you're strong. I know its hard but you have to be strong right now. I can't get you out of here, only you can. Can you ride a broom?" This time, Amarantine muttered "no", almost imperceptibly. "Horse," she said. So she can't fly, Draco thought. Great. Not like she would make it far in this condition anyway. A horse wouldn't do her much good either. Guess I'm not left with much of a choice…

"Ok… ok, I can apparate you somewhere… do you want to go home? Where do you live?" He knew she needed medical care, and would be better off at St. Mungo's, but he also knew that it wasn't safe for her there. She had to go somewhere out of the public eye, or his father would find her.

"Hogwarts," she mumbled, her voice a bit stronger though still muffled by his shirt over her lips. "Hogwarts… take me to Hogwarts."

So he did.