Christmas break rolled around, and on the very first day away from school, both Draco and Ginny could feel the effects of separation. The Void was announcing its presence in an increasingly urgent manner, and Draco was reverting back to his old irritable self with the absence of Ginny's company.

Christmas at the Weasley's house carried out as it usually did. The Burrow was filled to bursting with the whole family, and the addition of Harry and Hermione. Everyone exchanged gifts and got the expected Weasley sweater.

Ron, of course, told Mrs. Weasley about Ginny and Draco's relationship, which didn't result in much, of course, because she remembered that he was to one to save her baby girl. Of course, Ginny helped her remember this fact, but remembered it was. On Christmas Eve, an owl flew through the window with a small package for Ginny. Ron snorted at the silver, gold, maroon and green wrappings. Ginny held it in her lap gently and opened all of her other gifts first, wanting it to be the last thing she remembered.

And hour later, everyone was sitting around in the living room, enjoying each other's company and the drowsy aftereffects of stomachs full of food and some muggle drink Mr. Weasley bought called 'eggnog'. Ginny still held Draco's package unopened on her lap, stroking the metallic ribbons gently. Fred or George – Ginny was so lethargic she couldn't tell – sat up and said,

"Oy, Ginny, you'd better open that box soon – we are all dying to know what ferret-face bought you." There were murmurs of agreement and Ginny threw a pillow at Fred/George's head.

"I'm going to open it, you twit! I'm just savoring the moment."

"It's an awful long moment," Ron muttered under his breath. Fred and George laughed with him as Ginny reached for the shiny ribbons.

It's silly, she thought to herself, I'm so nervous about opening this, but… but it's just Draco, right? Ginny pulled the bow gently apart until the bow fell open, limp. She gently lifted the lid and drew out a beautiful silver necklace. It was a fine silver chain intertwined with emeralds, and hanging from it was, strangely, a large muggle coin about as big as a galleon.

"A silver dollar!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed excitedly. "Not only muggle, but American! That's a treasure." He eyed the coin that was twice foreign with a look of awe.

Ginny latched it around her neck, feeling the comfortable warm weight on her breastbone. Then she felt a strange tugging sensation at her navel that was slightly familiar.

In a flash, Ginny Weasley had disappeared. Then there was a knock at the front door of the Burrow.

Draco Malfoy walked with trepidation to the front door of Malfoy Manor. The house never failed to fill him with this mix of dread, anticipation, and general nerves. But it also was a symbol of how he had to conceal his true self at all costs for fear of his father's wrath, a task which he did not always fulfill with success.

Being in the presence of the home that was the residence of all of his inner demons reminded him of the stark contrast between the past month and a half and the rest of his life. Instead of locking his demons into a cage and having to deal controlling them when they managed to escape, he had been able to release them into the air, and Ginny's mere presence drove them away.

Now I've gone soft – I hope I'll still be able to stop everything from showing. Thank Merlin Bellatrix forced me to learn occlumency.

Draco prepared his mind against the attack he had come to expect upon entering the manor, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

There was no one there, but as Draco silently crept down the halls of the lonely manor on his way to his wing of the house, he saw that his father's study was opened. Hoping to slip by unnoticed, Draco moved quieter than ever past the door. He turned the corner of the hall and let out a breath.

With a loud crack, Lucius Malfoy apparated in front of him. Draco forced himself not to flinch as Lucius regarded him with a stare that most would use to regard a house elf, not their own son. Draco knew that he may not look away, so he forced himself to hold the gaze of the man who was his father in title only.

Lucius's legillimency was so advanced that it was almost imperceptible, but Draco had honed his occlumency through years of living among Death Eaters. He noticed the tentacles of his father's consciousness invading the sanction of his mind, and he respond with his own subtlety by disguising his apparent lack of thought as lassitude.

Sated though discontent, Lucius turned to go back into his study without a word to his only son.

Once in his room Draco walked to the covered French Doors and threw open the heavy deep green curtains that asphyxiated the light, revealing a stone balcony high above a gothic-style garden with wrought – iron furnishings that in any other context would look regal, but here took on the appearance of instruments of torture.

That night, Draco took a dreamless sleeping draught to prevent any of the nightmares that took residence in this house from creeping into his dreams and strangling the images of his red-haired angel.

The next morning, Draco took his breakfast alone in his room. Today is Christmas; he thought mournfully, wishing that he could be with Ginny. He looked at the gift that he had bought for Ginny – A fine silver chain with emeralds entwined in its embrace, from which dangled a strange silver coin that could only be muggle. It had a strange beauty to it despite its faded facade of old worn metal. The eagle on one side made Draco think of her beauty, her demeanor, and her thirst for freedom, while the regal woman on the front was slightly reminiscent of Mrs. Weasley.

Draco knew that Ginny would love it, but he was nervous about how her family would react when his owl swooped in and delivered it to her. He knew Ron had reluctantly accepted him, but still harbored a grudge. He also had been the butt of many a Weasley twin's joke. He hoped they wouldn't give her a rough time. Then Draco laughed, realizing that Ginny was not one to tangle with, and that she and her brothers probably held a respectful truce for each other in light of this. I'm only thinking of her to take my mind off of this crap.

Draco wandered out onto his balcony, but immediately re-entered his room when he saw his father speaking with a Death Eater on the lawn. He moved silently out of his room and up to the roof of Malfoy Manor to the Babylonian garden that his mother tended with such care. It was the only place the Dark Lord's presence hadn't permeated; death eaters took no pride in gardening.

Draco flopped down in the comfortably padded chaise lounge, closed his eyes, and fell asleep despite the fact that he had woken only a few hours ago.

Lucius Malfoy made his way up to the roof, after the twit he had been conversing – if you could call it a conversation – left. He had seen his son's platinum head appear for a moment and knew that he would still be there.

Sure enough, Malfoy Senior saw Draco asleep on the chaise. Knowing that his son's defenses would be at their weakest now while he was not only asleep but also relaxed and comfortable, Lucius Malfoy slipped into his son's foreign thoughts without the need of word or wand.

At the visions of Ginny Weasley, a windowsill, kisses and touches shared in private and recently in public, Lucius Malfoy shook with rage. Blood traitor, his mind hissed to him. He's sharing his life with a filthy blood traitor, and now he has become one. You know what we do with blood traitors, Lucius.

Yes, my Lord. It shall be done.

NO! It cannot be as you have planned. The boy needs to learn who I am an forget who he is, so that he can be of use. He will be of use.

Yes, my Lord.

Break the boy. Make him wish he had never been born. Make him retreat into himself to escape the world. His mind will become pliabe. Then take the girl. Make him torture her. Do not let him tough her skin, though. Their only contact may be through pain. If he touches her, all will be lost. Love is powerful, and even the illusion of love has merit. You cannot underestiamte it.

Yes, my Lord.

Lucius Malfoy exited the balcony without waking his son, and he slipped into Draco's room. He searched the space looking for a necklace that was silver and green and bore a foreign coin. He found it resting in plain view atop Draco's dresser lying inside a green and red box. He muttered the spell that would turn the necklace into a portkey, envisioning the Malfoy dungeons while he said the words. Then Lucius turned and sat in his office waiting for Draco to wander by.

Draco's world was nothing but pain. Pain bursting in his head, in his lungs, in his stomach and liver and kidneys, inside his very being. His muscles twitched unintentionally with the excruciating blaze that exceeded anything that had ever been inflicted before. Blood seemed to pour out of ever pore of his body. He cried blood, sweat blood, breathed and exhaled blood. The saliva glands in his mouth started to produce blood. He needed to vomit, but he couldn't for fear of vomiting up all of the organs in his now loosely bound body. Then he felt the wounds stitch up and his consciousness slam back into his body with agonizing force. The pain never left him, though, remaining in his weakened form and flooding his senses.

"I suppose you know what this is about, don't you, Draco?" The cold voice of his father floated in from somewhere above, getting closer and closer until Draco felt that it was becoming the very air he breathed.

"ANSWER!"

"Yes," Draco managed to choke out. He was hauled to his feet and dragged to the dungeons. His heart sank with dread and his mind wanted to explode with what was coming. He saw the door to the dungeon approaching and strained futilely against the strong hand gripping his nape. The door swung open at Lucius's bidding, allowing the commander of the manor to pass unhindered. Draco's eyes widened at what he saw.

Narcissa Malfoy's ghost was hovering around the metal table that was so dreadfully familiar.

No.

Narcissia's eyes were full of grief and full of anguish. The two emotions were mixed with anger when turned on her husband, but they then collaborated with love and a fierce maternal protectiveness when she saw her only son, broken and lost in his Lucius' grasp.

Silver eyes met a pearlescent white that had once been crystal blue, and Draco saw his mother's wishes there as clear as if they had been spoken.

I would rather die at my husband's hand than by yours. Go now while you can, and never return.

The ghost turned its eyes back to Lucius and regarded him with hateful, angry contempt. Lucius disregarded her and released Draco to clap for a house elf. In that moment, Draco disapparated.