Disclaimer: I do not own any characters from Harry Potter, blah, blah, blah.

This chapter will be less intense than previous ones, but a secret will be revealed. Ooooooh!

Enjoy.

Why would I hate someone I've never met? Draco wondered, confused at the conversation he was eavesdropping on. He heard a female voice tell someone not to see him, and that someone said it was because Draco hated "Harry Potter." It made no sense.

The footsteps were getting closer to his room. He closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep, hoping the footsteps were not coming to him. He hated the sound of footsteps. Footsteps meant he was coming, and his coming was always full of pain and humiliation.

The door slowly opened, the light from the hallway fell across Draco's face.

"Harry, don't," a voice cautioned to the person at the door. Draco hadn't wanted to move, but curiosity got the better of him. He wanted to see this person he hated so much. What he saw was a tall, skinny boy with black hair and glasses.

The black haired boy smiled slightly when he saw Draco was awake. Draco felt fear consume him. He started to shake. The boy saw this, and immediately got a strange look on his face. Draco was confused by this look; he couldn't remember anyone looking at him like that. Draco didn't know this look was one of pity intermingled with sadness. No one had ever been sad for him before, so he had nothing to compare it to.

The boy, Harry, Draco reminded himself, came towards the bed, asking, "Is everything okay?" Draco couldn't imagine that hatred existed between the two of them. Draco knew what hate was, and he knew who he hated, and this boy certainly couldn't be on his list. However, Draco was still wary of him, as he had no idea what these people wanted from him.

"Harry, I think you should just leave now. He probably needs more rest."

"Hermione, I'm sure he's fine. A little talking won't hurt him."

"In case you've forgotten, he hasn't said a word since he got here. And you don't know that he is fine. You didn't seem him when I found him."

Draco was starting to get upset that they would talk about him as if he wasn't here, but he didn't want to show it. Showing what he felt was a bad thing to do. Both his tormentors taught him that.

"Drakey, you don't look pleased to see me!"

Draco tried to push the memory out. He started sweating and breathing heavily, trying to contain the memory deep in himself.

"Draco, I know this is hurting you, but the sight of your tears is making me uncomfortable, so stop your crying."

Draco wanted to cry now, but he couldn't. No one cared if he was upset, they didn't want to see it. The two had been arguing softly, ignoring the internal struggle Draco was going through.

"Drakey, I always look forward to our time together, and now you're acting like you don't want me here! I'm very sad Draco. You should never make me sad."

Even thought he wasn't in the room, Draco could feel what had been done to him. He to shake violently and tears fell even though he tried to stop them. Draco was distantly aware the arguing had stopped, but he was too lost in his memories to care. He was slipping deeper and deeper into his pain, thrashing on his bed, his mouth open as if to scream, but as always, no sound came out.

And them a pair of arms was around him, holding him close. Draco couldn't remember the last time he was touched without pain. At first he was scared. He sometimes held him before hurting him, but this was different. He clutched at the person holding him, not caring who it was. He only knew that his pain was leaving him, and he could escape from his haunting memories.

The person lowered him onto his bed, telling him everything was going to be okay. Draco drifted off to sleep.

When he awoke, a kindly looking woman was smiling down at him. He felt safe in her presence. He looked around the room, and was startled to see they were the only two people.

"The other patients have recovered in record time, and have been moved from the hospital wing," the woman answered as if answering his thought.

"Draco, my name is Minerva McGonagall. Do you know who I am?"

Draco shook his head. Was he supposed to?

"I see. Draco, we are at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Do you know what that is? I see it sounds familiar, but you are unsure. Do you know what a wizard is Draco?"

Draco nodded, of course he knew what a wizard was. After all, he was one and so was his father and so was Voldemort.

"Draco, I'm going to give you some parchment and a quill, so I can ask you some questions that do not have yes or no answers." She put a small table over his lap so he could write upon the parchment lying on top.

"Draco, where were you for the past two months?"

Draco wrote at my father's house. In his dungeons.

"Do you know why you were there?"

I had to be punished.

"Punished for what, Draco?"

I was bad.

"What did you do that mad you bad?"

Draco hesitated. He couldn't remember. He only knew that he was a failure, and failure merited punishment.

I was bad. That's all there was.

"Do you know what the Dark Mark is?" Draco nodded. "Why don't you have one?"

I couldn't say my vow.

"When was the last time you remember speaking?"

Again Draco paused. He couldn't remember ever speaking.

I don't know. I only know that I was bad, and needed to be punished.

"Alright Draco, you look hungry, so I'll only ask one more question for today. Are you a supporter of Voldemort?"

I'm supposed to be.

"Do you want to follow him?"

No. But I have to. They'll hurt me if I don't.

"Draco, there is no need to worry. If you don't want to support him, we can protect you here. Do you understand?" Draco nodded, even thought he didn't believe her. No one could protect him. She smiled and left.

Draco was tired of staying in this room, in this bed. He wanted to leave so desperately. He slowly got out, and noticed some jeans and a t-shirt lying on a chair next to his bed. With some reservations, he quickly stripped off the pajamas and got into the clothes. He didn't have any shoes though.

His walk just to the door took forever, as his body was stiff from being in one attitude for so long. He opened the door, relieved it was unlocked.

Draco slowly wandered around the huge castle he found himself in. It looked familiar. There was something odd about it though. For some reason, the place felt too quiet. He heard voices, and was drawn to them to escape the silent and empty corridors. He found himself in a dungeon

The damp and dank pathway to his cell stifled his breathing. His father was holding on to his arm, roughly pulling him along before stopping and violently pushing him into a cell.

Again, Draco was plagued my memories. This place was not that place, but he still felt like he was walking towards his doom. But he could not stop. He craved to be near the voices. He moved on, but at times he could not tell reality from memory.

The voices were getting louder, and Draco could distinguish between them now. He recognized the two from his room, and even the woman who questioned him. Then another voice spoke, and this voice sent Draco into a cold sweat. He felt fear course through him, entering into his very soul. The voice was pleading.

Draco was intrigued. The man who had tormented him for so long was pleading. Draco was right outside the room where his tormentor was held. Draco peeked through the slightly ajar door, and found his tormentor tied to a chair pleading with the boy from before. It's Harry, Draco reminded himself, awed that the boy could produce such fear into the man's hateful eyes. The eyes turned to him, and Draco gasped in fear.

Harry turned around, startled by the noise.

"Draco, would you like to come in?"

Draco wanted nothing more than to run back to his bed, but he could see the laughter in the eyes of the disgusting creature seated before him. Draco was not about to let this man get the better of him.

Draco slowly walked into the room, hoping his fear was not showing in his face.

"Drakey, did you miss me?" The man cackled. He laughed even harder when Draco recoiled.

"Harry, did Drakey tell you of our time together. We had so much fun, I could tell you about that too. Along with Voldemort's plans. I could tell you of all the times I went into pretty Drakey's cell and fucked him so hard he would pass out. Or when he would wake up, and the whole process would start again, only this time I wou…" His words were cut short by Harry's hand smacking him across the face.

"Shut up, Wormtail."

Peter Pettigrew began to speak again, but this time, he was cut short by a silencing spell. The caster was a girl standing in the corner, and she was shaking in anger.

Draco barely registered what was happening. He was slipping back into his memories once again.

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