Title: Black and Deep Desires

By: Dr. Kim-chan

Me: (claps her hands, and the muses gather around…eventually. Lucius always takes his good sweet time) Glad you all could make it. Still scouring the World Wide Web for places to archive (and in the process of setting up an FF.N forum for this story and its followers and/or Lucius/Ron supporters in general). The difficulty of doing it is that all my documents are specially made for author's notes and all. It'd be a pain to write them over again. Anyway, expect updates to come slow over the next week; I got midterms coming up…but then again, I'll be exempt from most of them. Yaysies!

Draco: What, is that your new word now?

Me: I wouldn't give any sass if I were you. We gave them Seamus as the appetizer; we gave them an insight into Hermione just to be fair. Since this is going alphabetically, which of the "Three Big Fears" you think we're doing first? (sings) H, I, J, K, L, M…Ron! (I snap fingers and Draco starts to sweat) Actually, you should be proud you're kicking off the 30th chapter. It worked out perfectly. Just twenty more, guys, just twenty more!

(Ron hands over the satin-lined box with the spotless silver remote in it. I grab a rubber glove and take it.)

Me: All right, then. Draco's darkest fears, here we go! (clicks silver remote)

(Begin Chap. 30)

…"And I'd bloody well appreciate it if you stayed out of it."

Harry turned around to see exactly the person whom he didn't want to see right now. Ron was standing there, his baggy pajamas clinging to his skin, a perplexing expression on his face. The shadows cast by the firelight added a sort of gruesome, supernatural feature to it. The only word one could have possibly used to describe Ron's emotions at this point was 'aghast'. It was the only possible way he could have felt. Revealing as it was, it was still a personal thing of his. No one just stole a personal note from someone's belongings.

But Harry was angry, too. What had his friends been doing lately? Weren't they supposed to be helping him? Hermione had been no help at the House of Black and had now disappeared to sulk by herself (but by the way these tests were going, it was more likely Professor Mills' fault than anything), and whatever this unholy alliance between Ron and Lucius was, it was extremely dangerous.

"It's impossible to 'stay out of it' if my friend's getting involved with a Death Eater," he snapped back, waving the now-crumpled letter in front of his face. Ron stomped over and snatched back the note from his hands.

"I'm not involved with Lucius, and you shouldn't have taken my note!"

"For not being involved, you're certainly taking advantage of calling him by his first name! I thought you hated the Malfoys!"

"Draco's a bloody pest. With Lucius—it's…it's different."

"It's different? Fine; tell me why it's different. And what's all this about 'the affection you once repulsed'?"

"It happened three months ago. It doesn't matter anymore," Ron said offhandedly.

How long would it be before he stopped denying? Were all the rumors really stepped in fact? Infuriated, Harry leaped off the couch and stepped up to within an inch of Ron's face.

"Like hell it doesn't matter anymore! He wants to make you an heir to his estate right after his wife dies, he sends you letters talking about the personal things that happened between you two…and apparently, you both promised each other you'd meet each other again in December." In desperation Harry grabbed him by the sides of his arms. "You lied when you came back, you lied on the train, and you lied to me—in my face—at the Owlery! When are you going to stop lying! Don't you know you're putting everyone in serious trouble? I won't ask again: what's going on between you and Mr. Malfoy!"

At the most inopportune time, the portrait door swung open slowly. To both boys' relief Hermione walked in, her bookbag slung haphazardly across her shoulder. She didn't seem particularly happy, yet she hadn't arrived in hideous despondency either. She stared up at the both of them and smiled weakly, but Harry didn't make an attempt to return the favor. With no other concern he pointed a condemning finger in Ron's face.

"He's siding with Voldemort!"

"I am not siding with You-Know-Who!"

Without a word, Hermione walked up to the two boys. She had spotted the note in Ron's hands when she walked in; it must have been the heart of this argument. But before she could ask about it Ron stepped back from the both of them and stormed back up to the dormitory, slamming the door behind him.

"What was that about?" she asked.

"He's stabbing us in the back. You were right, Hermione. Something's wrong."

She sighed and walked over to the couch where Harry once sat a minute ago. She slipped off her bookbag and laid on the cushions as casually as she pleased—but not before smoothing over her pleated skirt self-consciously.

"Was the note his?"

"Yes. It was the letter Mr. Malfoy sent him today."

"…He showed you the letter?" she guessed.

"He didn't have to show me anything. I took it from under his pillow—"

Hermione shot straight up, curly strands of brown hair jumping across her forehead.

"Harry, you didn't!" she reprimanded harshly. Harry rolled his eyes and started walking up the stairs, but Hermione got up and ran to the foot of the stairs and called after him.

"Don't go thinking you're the only one who's upset about this, Harry! My worst fear—it turned out to be Ron as a Death Eater! He…he tried to kill me…"

Harry stopped and stared back at her glistening brown eyes, then finally took a moment to calm down. He didn't have to ask to realize that even Hermione had failed her test. She was like a fountain of tranquility from which they both could drink when their tempers ran high. It wasn't just her intelligence that was valuable. All this considered, that was why he had to discover what Ron was up to. If Ron did sway to the dark side…He looked back at Hermione one more time, the faint red glow of the fireplace illuminating the resolute spark in his green eyes.

"That's exactly why we need to be careful: so that what you saw doesn't actually happen. I lost too many people close to me, and I'll be damned if I lose the two of you."

…October tenth.

Harry and Ron made again what was now becoming a daily trip to the Defense Against the Dark Arts class on the fourth floor…of course, they went separately this time. The two hadn't talked to each other since the eighth. Since Hermione already took her turn, they were keeping their eye on the list even more than ever. Also, they, along with most of the rest of the class, made the trip just to see whose turn was it on that day. It really shouldn't have been, but it became a spot of entertainment for everyone.

Today everyone got their money's worth.

"Wonderful!" Draco yelled as he walked through the crowd. "I have to spend the morning with that loony bird!"

He had been addressing Crabbe and Goyle, but he stared past them at Harry. He was probably thinking the same thing Harry did in that split second. He was the first of the three Professor Mills had to confront. As the crowd began to disperse, the only other ones left standing were the other two students chalked up for that day: fellow sixth-year and Hufflepuff Ernie Macmillan and Neville Longbottom. Neville sighed in despair; out of all the people he had to be paired up with, he had to be with Malfoy. Draco was thinking the exact same as well.

"Longbottom and MacMillan..." Draco rattled on, but then left his insult unfinished as he swung open the door and walked into the classroom, Ernie going in second, and Neville hesitantly entering last.

…Approximately twenty minutes, one white-faced Ernie Macmillan, and a passed-out Neville Longbottom later, it was finally time for Draco to meet with his own deepest nightmares. When she returned from accompanying Neville to the hospital ward, Professor Mills closed the door and wiped her hands as if she had completed a grueling yet rewarding task. Draco could only stand there, trying to calm the quaking in his stomach. He hadn't given it much attention since that day, but why did she busy herself worrying about him and two of his least favorite people?

"You can turn back any time. After this, you may never be the same," she said.

"No offense, Professor, but you're the one who wanted us to 'deal with our inner fears'," Draco jeered. "If it's just a little nightmare, I won't have a problem."

"And with that shallow attitude you'll only be accompanying Mr. Longbottom," Professor Mills retorted, actually catching him off-guard. To date she was the only teacher in Hogwarts that could do so. "Your two little friends are blockheads, but this test made even them lose their nerve. What makes you think you have a chance?" She sighed, then stole his trademark smirk.

"But if you're really that resolved to not make a second trip to the hospital ward, then I hope you keep your word. Thought in the Pensieve, Mr. Malfoy."

...And they were tumbling through obscure shadows soon enough.

This was unlike anything either of them had experienced before. In Professor Mills' case, nothing as of yet was supposed to happen during the process of diving; now the smallest echoes of a tortured scream were getting louder and retreating back even before they had landed. Thinking upon that alone, Draco had the eerie premonition he shouldn't have boasted like he did. The sensation of falling through nothingness wasn't helping whatsoever. The sheer insanity, the sheer gruesomeness of the situation was the sole motivation of keeping the grip on Professor Mills' hand.

After a long while their feet hit solid ground, and the vision instantly materialized before their eyes. Wherever they were, it remained dark nevertheless.

The scream sounded again, and things became fully clear. It was…this place was his home. The Malfoy Manor. To be exact they were standing in the grand foyer. But how could this be his home? Nearly all the candles had been put out, it was so nightmarish, so…

Again it sounded. Leaving his professor behind, Draco ran up the main stairs. He knew for certain the screaming sounded familiar, and now he was hearing a different, yet still familiar voice along with it. His brief quest came to an end right in front of his door. Should he…?

He opened the door.

And promptly fell to his knees.

It sounded a bit strange, but Draco had never taken the time to hear himself scream; otherwise he would've known it was himself. But the awkwardness of coming face-to-face with himself wasn't the issue. It was the two pools of blood gradually spreading on either side of his body.

He was lying on his bed in bloodstained sheets, his face far below its marginally healthy paleness, his outstretched mouth expressing every second of pain he was feeling. Over the wretched victim stood Peter Pettigrew, whom was clutching the handle of a rusty dagger and grinning madly. The blade itself...over a third of its sharp, ragged edge had burrowed into the blonde boy's pale abdomen. Rivers of scarlet were escaping the wound, either seeping into his shirt or running over to meet the bed sheet cloth. But no; this wasn't nearly enough to make what Draco was witnessing heinous enough. His father stood at the foot of the bed, his face showing nothing but the contempt Malfoys had always given half-bloods.

"It was quite foolish of you, really. Have you honesty come as low as to cross me, cross us, and the Dark Lord?" Lucius asked cynically. "If you give it thought, performing the Killing Curse is the greatest form of mercy any Death Eater bestows upon his victim. It is a quick death…and you're not even worthy of that."

He nodded to Wormtail, who plunged the dagger deeper, forcing the other Draco to erupt into another head-splitting shriek. The blood was pouring out considerably faster.

"I requested that I did this unhappy task myself so that Voldemort would not have to waste his time with you. I gave you life; it was only fitting that I delivered your death. I can tell you this, at least, in your final moments of life. You can relish in the fact that Voldemort has done away with him only moments before. You can have the joy of accompanying him—him and your worthless mother!"

With a final twist of the blade, it went so deep the top of the handle grazed the skin. One final scream, and the body on the bed was stiff. Behind them, the real Draco leaned his head on the doorframe. His blue eyes were completely dilated, his breath hoarse. He could barely see anything anymore. The world seemed to be composed of his watery tears.

Then the final blow was delivered to his sanity.

Soft footsteps were heard behind him, and then someone walked through him…someone…

Ron.

He walked up to Lucius, and then took a glance at Draco's lifeless corpse.

"You actually went through and killed him?" Ron asked quietly. "I…I don't know…whether to be sad or not. I mean, he was your son, after all."

Lucius released one hand from his cane and made him shift closer to him. In a frightening paradox, the blond man became a loving figure. He laid down his cane entirely and used his other hand to run his hand through the redhead's soft hair. The disgust left his face, leaving only a solemn affection.

"Whatever regret you feel, forget it. He could have hid it as hard as he tried, but we both knew Draco despised both you and our union. He was a gross hypocrite: hating a half-blood, only to harbor love for another."

"And don't you love me?"

Lucius chuckled. "You arrived—quietly, willingly, and intelligently—to our side. You made the right choice without even having to think about it. He, on the other hand, betrayed us. You gave Granger and Potter to us, which is something remarkable in itself, and now we have won this war. I don't see any reason the Dark Lord would oppose us." The hand that was in his hair now drifted downward to Ron's left hand. On the middle finger was a ring, a 24-karat ruby sitting in the middle of it. It leered at the real Draco like an evil red eye. He knew its significance.

Ron looked back up at the body, a crease forming at the corner of his mouth.

"Well, I do feel one regret. Harry and Hermione won't be able to be there; it's supposed to be the happiest moment of my life, too." He frowned. "They probably wouldn't have wanted to be there, anyway."

Lucius held him closer. "It will be. You don't need any concerns."

"I told you this wasn't for the weak. Such a gruesome way to die," a whisper commented behind him. Draco inclined his head to see the violet-haired professor stand behind him.

"Pull yourself together, Mr. Malfoy. This will be over soon enough. Let the final part of the test commence..."

(End Chap. 30)

Draco: (on the floor in the fetal position, whimpering)

Ron: Holy crap!

Lucius: Isn't that something?

Harry: Um…

Me: What a way to start, huh?

Ron: What do you mean, "what a way to start"? I lied to my friends in real life, killed my friends in the Pensieve, and Draco's frickin' traumatized! Look at him!

Me: Professor Mills was right: this wasn't for the weak. Do you dare to read the remaining two? Until Chapter 31!