Draco had many sleepless nights since obliviating Hermione. He figured sleeping would at least help, attempting to spend the first handful of nights (and days) back at the Manor not leaving his four-poster bed, trying to sleep off the feel of her skin, the taste of her kisses, and the passion she held in everything, down to the way that she walked. He figured he had nothing better to do, his father being in Azkaban, his mother being otherwise distracted as she kept attempting to send him owls, and his Auntie Bellatrix' laugh ringing out through the oversized house that seemed to only make him feel smaller and less like a person.
However the sleep appeared to do the opposite, only showing Draco what he no longer had. That appeared to be the one place where he could no longer seperate himself from Hermione. The one place where her soul still haunted him as he drempt of her laugh, her smile in the sunlight, and the worst of the nightmares, the tears in her eyes as she begged him not to protect her. These dreams, the ones that the mud blood appeared to haunt, were now what caused Draco to stay up at night, staring into the fire as he faced the day he dreaded.
As August 6th rolled around after another sleepless night of August 5th, Draco shuddered at the sound of his Auntie's disturbing laugh.
"Come Drakey," She cackled in glee, "It's time to face him. To take your place beside him."
A sinking feeling filled Draco as he nodded, stepping forward only to be grabbed by none other than his Potions Professor. He looked down, fighting the thoughts of Hermione back. Trying not to hear Severus Snape's voice calling her an 'insufferable know-it-all'. Trying not to think of what she would say if she saw him walking into the darkened room, lit only by candles along the walls that gave off an almost eeire glare, towards his fate as he stood before a dozen caped figures, their faces covered by the same mask he knew his father held, though had never seen him wear. He could feel Hermione's shudder against his arm, though she was miles away, probably studying in her muggle bedroom having no memories of their love, as he looked at the Death Eater masks, one by one and each one different and yet the same.
"Clear your mind." Snape told Draco as the boy nodded, knowing the message had double meaning and Draco forced Hermione to the back of his mind, locking the thought of her deep in a box in the back of his mind where he knew not even the Dark Lord would find it. Slowly, with fear in his eyes and a shiver in his step Draco moved forward.
He bowed before the front-most cloaked form, this one in red instead of the black that the others wore before it bowed back. "Another Malfoy," The voice said with a hint of pride in his voice. "Your father will be proud."
"I am not doing this for my father." Draco answers, hiding the fear that he held.
"No," The Dark Lord answered, pulling his cloak back to expose a face that caused Draco to shudder. The man's face was pale, nearly to a blue tint and the top of his head covered in dark-colored veins. The man's nose was no longer enough to consider a nose, instead simply being two slits, his eyes glaring red. "You're not, are you?" He asks as one of the Death Eaters dragged Narcissa out, tossing her to the floor as Draco shuddered with fear. Bellatrix and Severus both raised their hoods, hiding their own faces beneath Death Eater masks as the Dark Lord circled Narcissa, staring down at her like an animal ready to attack. "It's not for your father, is it?"
Draco stared ahead at his mother in fear, seeing the fear mirroring in her own eyes as the Dark Lord pointed his wand down at her.
"CRUCIO!" He hollered as Narcissa withered in pain, her screams filling the room. The bare, darkened walls echoed the sound of her cries as tears welled up in Draco's eyes. His world was falling apart with each scream of agony. His father was gone, unable to protect Draco and his mother as he had been for the past sixteen years. No longer was his father there to stop the Dark Lord, to keep him and his mother from being used as pawns in the Dark Lord's evil plans.
He watched, his world falling apart, as his mother, the strongest woman Draco knew withered in pain, her back arching in unnatural ways as her muscles tensed up. As the proud woman who was now a Malfoy, who had raised him to be nothing less than the best, cried out in an almost animalistic scream, thrashing on the ground until it was too much for him. He would give up his own life, right then and there, just to keep her safe.
"STOP! PLEASE!" He begged, looking down at his mother momentarily, listening to her screams still echoing in his mind as the Dark Lord broke the Unforgivable Curse and before Draco could blink, was in his own face, yanking him back by his hair, staring deep into Draco's eyes. Searching through Draco's mind painfully, forcing his way into cupboards and doors within Draco's mind, seeing his deepest secrets within. The Dark Lord watched as Draco got his acceptance letter, as he got fitted for his robes and got sorted into Slytherin. He watched as the young boy teased and tortured a young Harry, only making school more miserable for him. The Dark Lord watched as a slightly older boy asked a fourteen year old girl to the Yule Ball, his eyes in awe as the girl who was once more of a little sister to him, now stood before Draco in the beauty of a young woman. Finally, he saw Draco laying in bed, crying as his mother and Bellatrix argued in the other room over Lucius being in Azkaban, the Dark Lord misinturpeting Draco's tears as those for his father instead of the muggle-born he had loved.
"Hold out your arm," The Dark Lord says coldly as Draco nods his head, feeling violated that his own thoughts and feelings had been vandalized. His arm shaking, he holds it out left arm, a shiver showing in his hand. The Dark Lord's wand pointed at Draco's forearm, sending a burning pain stabbing through his bones, every cell of his body, down to his hair. Goosebumps covered Draco's body as even they screamed out in pain as every nerve ending stood in pain, causing his head to thrash back in pain as he gritted his teeth and fought against the urge to scream out. The pain ended suddenly as Draco felt the wand leave his skin, the Dark Mark suddenly appearing. "Your first task," He said with a demented, evil looking smile as Draco nodded his head softly, knowing he was doing this to protect his mother, to keep her safe from the wraith if he didn't. "Kill Dumbledore." The Dark Lord said with an evil laugh as Draco felt the urge to throw up right then and there.
The streets of Diagon Alley looked nothing like what Draco remembered from whenever he and Hermione had walked through the streets as Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. The streets that were once a chipper welcoming to any child looking to go to Hogwarts, crowded and colorful and a sweet comfort to the Slytherin boy was now darkened and gloomy, boards covering up the windows of the shops that had already been overtaken by Death Eaters (like yourself, Draco reminded) or whose shopkeeps had already been abducted, like Mr. Ollivander.
"Come along Draco," Narcissa says, her hand on her son's back as she guided the boy that no longer reminded her of her innocent son into Madam Malkin's. Narcissa couldn't help but feel disgust for what had happened over the summer, blaming both Lucius and the Dark Lord for her son's difference in behavior.
Whenever Draco had come back home for Christmas break during his 5th year, he was happy. He was the proud boy who bragged to his mother and father about how he had made the Inquisitorial Squad, how he was going to get extra credit for helping Undersecertary Delores Umbridge catch the children who were sneaking around behind the Ministry's back. Narcissa and Lucius had been so proud of Draco that they had taken him out to celebrate at only the finest of wizarding resteraunts followed by a wonderful evening at a wizarding theatre.
Everything had changed whenever Draco came back from Hogwarts for the summer, after Lucius had already been arrested for 'malacious activities' at the Ministry. Her son came back darkened, colder. It was nearly as if something inside of her son had died whenever Lucius had been arrested, like both of them were now sitting there, facing the dementors instead of just one.
Draco no longer talked to his mother like he used to, no longer told her about his day or what was on his mind. He never discussed his wishes to be the best at Quidditch with her over an early morning cup of tea like he had in the past. Never told her about what he was planning to learn, or how Harry Potter was getting in the way of whatever big plans he had.
Narcissa only had one person to blame this on, one person who was tearing her family apart. Voldermort. He was the reason, in her mind, that her perfect son no longer talked to her. Why he no longer told her anything and everything that he thought about. She had heard her son in the middle of the night. Voldermort was the reason her precious son no longer slept.
"Come inside, it is about time for new robes," Narcissa said, guiding him into the store front as Draco followed silently, his mind and body both numbed from Hermione.
"Don't see the point in going here," He groaned as Madam Malkin took his measurements, checking his height and the width of his waist. The woman continued to take measurements, her measuring tape moving around him on it's own as it was guided by magic, checking the girth of the boy's neck and length of his arms. "We can get better robes down in Knockturn Alley." He said with a sneer as Narcissa watched on, ignoring her son's comments of distaste as Madam Malkin handed Draco a pair of robes for him to put on and get fitted.
Draco did as the woman asked, putting the black robes on over his clothes, looking down as the woman started on the hem of his right arm. He distanced himself, nearly numbing his own mind as she continued to work along on the sleeve of his robes before moving over to the left arm.
It was then that Draco heard the bell above the front door of the shop, followed by a few familiar voices. At first, the voices mumbled together until one of them caught Draco's attention, causing him to jump at the musical sound of the female voice. "Watch where your poking with that needle, woman!" He said, venom in his voice as he yanked away from her in pain.
It was then that the cheerful voices got colder as they rounded the corner and Draco looked into the eyes of one of the trio, his heart breaking all over again. The knot rose back up into his throat as he looked on, past the red-headed Weasley, past his worst enemy wearing large, rounded glasses with messy hair and a stern look on his face, to the closed, stern mouthed girl standing with them, her hair staticy and frizzy. Even from the distance he stood, up on the pedastool where he was getting fitted, Draco could see the perfect chocolate color within her eyes, smell the flowery scent of her perfume. His heart tore in two as he looked back down to where the woman was stitching his robes.
"Look who's here?!" Draco sneered, hiding his pain with a face of disgust. "The Chosen One, Weasel-Bee, and-" He stopped, forcing a snarl in his nose as his heart broke, looking into Hermione's eyes. He hated that he couldn't be near her, that he couldn't have the time with her that he once did, and that he was taking it out on her.
Harry raised his wand as Narcissa stepped in front of him like a bear ready to protect her cub. "Do NOT touch my son." She said fiercely, her tone one of dominance. It was one that even shocked Draco, having never heard his mother stand up for anything. "If you EVER attack him, I will ensure it is the last thing you ever do."
"Or what are you going to do?" Harry asks, his own eyes narrowing in fury. "Send your husband's Death Eater friends after me?"
Draco didn't hear the rest of the conversation as his eyes latched onto Hermione. He could almost hear her laugh, how it had filled the room like a beautiful music. The way she looked wearing nothing more than her knickers and a bra, laying on the bed. Draco's mind wandered off to previous conversations the two had held, conversations where she would laugh, her entire face lighting up, the way that she made him so mad that he couldn't think straight. Suddenly, not even realizing he had been staring at her the entire time, Draco was brought back to reality as he felt the shop keep move closer to his new stain that tainted his arm.
"Will you WATCH where you are poking that needle?!" He said again, more of a yell in his voice as he watched Madam Malkin move further up his arm. Quickly he yanked it away, jerking his arm back to him as he tried to cover the hurt in his voice from seeing his love, from wanting to talk to her and knowing there was nothing he could say to make up for what he had done, and replace it with fury. "Honestly Mother, can't we go somewhere else? I am tired of being in this bloody store and being used as a pin cushion!"
Narcissa nodded her head softly, "Come along then," She said to him before glaring back at the woman who had hurt her precious son and nearly given away his secret that he bare on his arm as the two of them walked out of the shop, not noticing as Harry, Ron, and Hermione quickly followed suspiciously. The mother and son didn't notice as the trio followed them into the darkened, damp alleyway of Knockturn Alley. Draco didn't notice as the trio hid behind a corner, looking from one side to the other behind him before walking once again into Borgin and Burkes, Narcissa following him.
"There is only one answer," Harry said a few weeks later as they rode on the train to Hogwarts, Hermione and Ron already sickened by hearing nothing more than Harry contemplating how and why Draco was going into the shop.
"It's not possible," Hermione answered, looking up from her own book. The girl couldn't explain why it didn't make sense, logically it should have (even in her own mind) made perfect sense what Harry was continuously insinuating. Draco could be a Death Eater, it running in the family as much as it already had, from what little bit Sirius had told Harry about his family, and yet she couldn't believe it. She couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was, having no fond memories, or even mediocre memories of Draco Malfoy other than the time that she had punched him in the face, and really that wasn't even enough to be considered a fond memory. Despite that fact though, something tore at Hermione, gut instinct perhaps or women's intuition, telling her that there was no way Draco Malfoy would ever take the Dark Mark. Something told her that he was a better person than doing something so evil, although she couldn't explain what or why.