Author's Notes: Ever noticed how lots of authors write Christmas stories around this time that are filled with joy and happiness? Well, this isn't mine. It is extra long though, and introduces Draco's point of view (side note: I know lots of POVs annoy some people, but there will be less soon, and the ones that I keep will be there for a reason.)

Harry manages to focus blearily on a pale, pointed face.

"Ferret."

"Potter."

A friendly greeting, for the two of them.

Harry has a not-entirely unpleasant feeling of surrealism. A part of his brain is aware that he should be afraid, that it is not a good thing to wake up in a cell with Malfoy glaring at him, but the other, larger part of his brain is groggy and only wants to sleep. The part of his brain that is aware of his surroundings and their implications is also waiting for Malfoy to make some scathing comment.

It doesn't come.

Malfoy opens the door, takes out his wand, and motions towards Harry with it. Harry feels a strange pressure, as though an invisible rope is tied around his chest and is pulling him forward. Part of his brain tries to fight against the pull, but it ends up being a very small part. He follows the pull past Malfoy, who remains silent, to the bottom of the stairs. Malfoy joins him, and then beckons Harry to follow.

They are half-way up the stairs when Malfoy finally breaks his silence.

"The Dark Lord was overjoyed to hear of your capture, Potter. So pleased, in fact, that he has promised his faithful followers a chance to... play with you." Malfoy does a brave attempt at his usual derisive drawl, but it doesn't quite work. He says it like it is something he had rehearsed specifically for times like these. Perhaps that is why Harry doesn't respond ... but it could also be because his brain—while becoming less groggy by the second—is still rather confused.

He had managed to remember being captured—that was, after-all, rather obvious, after waking up in a cell—but could not remember exactly how. He had been in Hogsmeade, alone, because Ron and Hermione were...somewhere...The Three Broomsticks, maybe, or perhaps Madam Puddifoot's. He, Harry, had left Zonko's to join them...wherever they were. Someone, --Bellatrix? Lucius? -- had grabbed him from behind. Harry supposes they must have knocked him out as well, though it must have been with magic because he remembers no pain.

"What, Potter, no angry words?"

Harry shrugs. "Who knocked me out? Your father or Bellatrix?"

Malfoy stares at him, apparently amazed that anyone would ask such a question after having been told they would die that night. "Aunt Bellatrix grabbed you, my father knocked you out." Even while talking about his father Malfoy's voice stays in a flat monotone.

Harry nods. The grogginess has gone, replaced by emptiness. He knows there shall be pain. After all, Voldemort will be there, intent on killing him.

They have reached a door. Malfoy opens it and pulls Harry inside after him.

As they approach Voldemort's chair Harry neither bows nor looks anywhere but at Voldemort. He does not look around the room, or at the Death-Eaters, who show their belief that this is the end of the Boy Who Lived by leaving their masks off.

And as Harry stares into the pitiless red eyes in front of him which gleam with triumph, he has to admit that they are probably right.

Draco is careful to keep his eyes down as he approaches his Master's throne. He has already learned that unless he wants the Dark Lord to look into his mind, it is better to keep your eyes downcast if he does not tell you to do differently. Draco can hear Potter's footsteps as Draco leads him to his death.

He's you schoolmate, a traitorous voice in Draco's head whispers.

Not mate.

You're only a couple of months older than him.

He's a half-blood.

So's Snape.

And look at the treatment he gets from the Dark Lord!

He's so young.

None of us are. Not anymore.

And whose fault is that?

Draco does not allow himself to answer.

"Hello, Tom."

Harry's brain seems to have disengaged from his mouth. Even he isn't generally this cheeky around Voldemort.

"You are a foolish boy to speak my name, Potter."

Harry smiles. "Supposedly so, yeah. I've never exactly gotten punished for it though, have I?"

It is Voldemort's turn to smile. "That little discrepancy of my plans shall be remedied shortly."

"Really?" Mock curiosity positively oozes out of Harry's voice.

"Oh yesss. I'm going to kill you. But, first, I think my Death-Eatersss deserve some entertainment."

"Funny, I never would have thought you were fair. But that is like...almost equal." Oh yes, his brain had definitely disengaged from his mouth. He wonders whether it's like a form of Occlumency. Then he wonders whether Snape is watching him, probably thinking something along the lines of "Stupid, foolish Gryffindor."

Harry realizes that Snape would be right. Oddly, his panic does not rise at the thought. He is surprised to find he trusts Snape, after all this time, but does not expect Snape to be able to save him today. It is reassuring, however, to learn that there will be someone to report back to Dumbledore, should he, Harry, die.

"I think a round of Crucios first. Not too much, I want you sane when I kill you." Voldemort's smile remains in place.

"Yeah, it wouldn't exactly be satisfactory if I wasn't even aware of you trying –yet again—to kill me, would it?" In another time and place, Harry might have stopped talking, but not now. His voice sounded bright, almost happy, contrasting sharply with the deep well of panic and sadness that seemed to have grown inside him in a second. Harry tries to remember, but, for the life of him (and Harry assures himself he did not intend that pun,) can't remember the last thing he said to Ron and Hermione. What if he died here, and the last thing he said to them was something stupid like, "Do I have spinach in my teeth?"

Voldemort ignores Harry, speaking over him to the assembled ranks of Death-Eaters.

"Which of you would like to go first?" In anyone else, Harry would have called the tone teasing, but with Voldemort it is obvious it is a rhetorical question. "I think perhaps...our newest member would like a turn..." and Harry knows who his torturer is going to be even before Voldemort gestures towards Draco Malfoy. For the first time since entering that room, Harry turns away from Voldemort to look at his soon-to-be torturer.

His year-mate.

Draco was six the first time he saw Crucio performed. His father had performed all the Unforgivables on Draco's cat, an adopted (by Draco, at least) stray. Draco had lured the cat out of the pantry, where it was kept to take care of the rodents, with scraps of food he had taken from the house-elves.

Lucius had not been happy to see the cat curled contently on Draco's pillow.

"This cat is not your pet," he had declared, and had, the next day, used the Curses on the cat to "show where such a common animal belonged." Lucius had told Draco the cat was not magical, and, as such, was given the worst job, and deserved the worst treatment.

It wasn't until years later that Draco learned his father hadn't been talking only about the cat.

Potter looks nothing like a cat. He looks very young, and very fool-hardy, standing in front of the Dark Lord and gazing at Draco.

Draco has never uttered the spell himself, but has known it is part of the Death-Eater initiation, to torture a victim. He wonders if that is all he will be asked to do before the night is over.

Draco has watched the effects of the Cruciatus curse often enough. He knows that once he raises his wand, points it at Potter, and says the unforgivable word, Potter will fall, writhe on the ground, and scream after he can hold it in no longer. Draco knows what true pain looks like; can imagine the look in Potter's eyes when all thoughts are eclipsed by the pain, the over-whelming need to have it over with.

Draco has seen the pain cause psychological trauma as well. He has seen grown men and women succumb to insanity, after only a few seconds under the curse, simply because the Dark Lord chose the torturer carefully, selecting one with personal ties to the victim. A family member, a loved one, or a person the victim trusted.

Draco knows pain.

He moves forward, says the requisite "Thank-you, My Lord," bows and kisses the hem of the Dark Lord's cloak, before turning to face Potter.

Causing so much pain really shouldn't be this easy, thinks Draco as he raises his wand, pointing it at Potter's chest. Draco does not look his victim in the eyes as he utters the word.

Causing so much pain really shouldn't feel this good, Draco thinks. Power rushes through him, making him feel light, important, powerful, and oddly cold and detached as he watches Potter twitch on the floor in front of him, Draco's first human victim.

He had never really truly believed his father when he described performing an Unforgivable, Draco realizes now. A small part of him had wondered how it could feel that good.

After a couple of seconds the Dark Lord says "Enough for now, Draco," and Draco lowers his wand, cutting off the magic flowing through him. He immediately feels dirty for enjoying it, but tries to remind himself why he did what he did.

He deserved it, Draco thinks.

How? The little voice in his mind asks.

He's a half-blood! He doesn't support my Lord's cause! He's unworthy to live!

The Dark Lord murdered his parents. If your Lord's plan succeeds, all his friends would be killed, as would he. How would you feel in his place?

It's different! I'm a pureblood!

How does that change anything? The other side is perfectly accepting of all the blood statuses--if they support their cause. Why does your side only accept one kind?

All other kinds are inferior? Shit, even in his head Draco can't keep it from being a question.

Dumbledore's a pureblood. So are the Weasleys. Even Longbottom is pureblood. Your own Head-of-House is half-blood, as is Rookwood.

So? There are good ones in every race.

And bad ones in every race?

The Dark Lord says, "How did that feel, boy? We can do that for hours, little periods of pain. It can take hours for the victimsss to go insane, using that method..."

Potter is standing again, regaining his foolhardiness. Draco can see his badly hidden surprise when the Dark Lord announces the name of Potter's next torturer.

"I think...next, Severusss, yes. He shall be given the honor of torturing you. You have been a thorn in his side for the passst seven years. I am sure he will enjoy getting his revenge. Isss that not so, Severuss?" the Dark Lord asks over Potter's shoulder, past Draco, to the man who has moved to stand at the front of the ranks of Death-Eaters.

"I shall enjoy it very much, my Lord. Thank you for this opportunity, you are most gracious." says Severus Snape.

It could, Severus thinks, easily be a trap. As a half-blood he is rarely granted boons, and he has certainly never been granted the same one as a Malfoy.

But even if it is a trap, Severus can see no way out of it. He had turned on the tracking spell as soon as he took his place within the assembled Death-Eaters. Albus, the Order, and hopefully some Aurors should be coming soon.

Severus has never before had the "pleasure" of torturing one of his students. Though he has often hated teaching, though he has belittled and quite often truly hated his students, Severus has never actually considered using the Cruciatus Curse on any of them.

Except, maybe, Potter, after the boy went into the pensieve full of Severus' memories. Which should make the torturing easier. The boy would hate him even more of course, but that was hardly a loss.

Severus hopes Albus understands, and doesn't fire him. He hopes Potter doesn't blab to the Ministry. For using Crucio Severus would probably be sent to Azkaban without a trial. The Ministry isn't likely to hold another one for a known Death-Eater.

Severus raises his wand and points it toward the Potter boy's chest. He does not look into his eyes, because he doesn't want to know whether the boy is afraid, angry, or—worst of all—compassionate, understanding. Severus can not deal with compassion, not from Potter, not when he's about to torture him.

It should feel wonderful, torturing the son of his school-boy enemy, but it doesn't. It is easy for Severus to put the rush of power and pleasure that comes after casting the Curse aside, for he has long ago grown accustomed to it. Harder to put aside are his thoughts, and the feeling that is near disappointment that he does not derive pleasure from torturing Potter's son.

The Dark Lord is watching the scene with satisfaction. Potter is writhing on the ground, doing contortions that Severus is quite sure he has never done before. The boy isn't screaming—not yet—but pained whines and grunts force their way through his lips.

The Dark Lord has a habit of "checking up" on Severus several times a meeting. When light Legilimency that carries the Dark Lord's magical signature brushes against Severus shields, he –by habit—checks them, making sure his shields are not obvious. He does not expect the force that builds behind the Legilimency, the Dark Lord seems to be using all his considerable power, and Severus is only too aware of just how weak his power is against his Master's.

Severus has not felt the true strength of the Dark Lord's power often. His Master has a habit of under-estimating those underneath himself. Severus has never had to maintain an Unforgivable and his strongest shields at the same time, and it is even more of a struggle than usual to not let any sign that he is thinking about hiding his thoughts escape under his shields. A thread of power goes through his shields, escaping them to fuel the Curse. Severus hides it best he can.

Severus feels disconnected from his body at the same time as he feels more connected to it than he usually does. It is as if his brain wants to split in two. One part is full of feelings of power, vindication, and the pleasure he is supposed to feel at torturing an enemy. That part creates a –hopefully undetectable—shield around the other part, which contains all Severus' true thoughts and feelings.

The power grows stronger. The only times Severus has ever been tried as hard as this were his initiation into the Death-Eaters, the two meetings after he began his duty of spying on Dumbledore, and the meeting after the re-birth of the Dark Lord, to which Severus had arrived hours late.

Severus can withstand the routine 'check-ups," he has put memories in boxes that can only be opened with an unrelated keyword, but the power the Dark Lord has at his disposal is truly terrifying, and much stronger than anything Severus can wield.

Severus has time to think, it would be with Potter watching, and to wonder vaguely how much time has elapsed since the beginning of the meeting, and how much longer Albus will be, before he feels the Dark Lord follow the trail of power maintaining the Curse underneath his shields, and break them.

There was bound to be a trap you couldn't avoid at some point, Severus thinks.

It's Christmas. Doesn't that make you want to review? Please?

Also, since this website doesn't allow lyrics or quotes, I've had to discontinue my use of them. Which is sad. I spent a long time trying to find those. I like the all quite a lot. So I was wondering, just to appease myself, whether anyone knew of a site that is NOT livejournal or insanejournal where I could post this story as well, but with the quotes.