A/N: Okay, I am really, really, really (times infinity) sorry it took so long to update. It has been over three weeks, and I know that's unacceptable. It took me a while to write it up, and then my beta just got back to me today (it's not his fault, so I swear I'm not blaming him). I have the two most amazing betas ever. Shades1Of1Grey edited the crap this chapter, and I want to thank him and dedicate this chapter to him. He did the most wonderful job!

"Why are you so terrified of telling your father?" Harry gazed contemplatively at me behind hooded, viridescent eyes. Small feathers of black hair laced with his eyelashes and fluttered every time he blinked. It should have been a blissful moment, but the mention of my father made me tense.

"He's always been…difficult." Quite the understatement, but the last thing I needed was his 'undying sympathy'. "You probably wouldn't understand."

"Trust me; I lived with Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. I'm sure it couldn't have been any worse than that." He chuckled, but it was bitter and cynical. I wondered what the hell he meant.

"I'm sure your aunt and uncle adored you; didn't they?"

"Let's just say my cousin Dudley's favourite activity involved my head, a toilet, an a chain flush." He chuckled darkly again, and I noticed his eyes flash in anger. "They always told me my parents died in a car crash." At this, anger surged through me as well.

"A fucking car crash!" I paused, then added in a gentler tone, "You thought wizards and witches were defenceless?""

"I didn't know I was a wizard. I thought magic didn't exist."

"So, while the entire wizarding world called you 'the great savoir' and celebrated your triumph, you had no idea you were important?"

"Pretty much. I was taught I was a worthless freak from a young age." He
grinned wryly. "And your dad? What did he do to you?"

I bit my lip and flashed him a sheepish grin. "I guess I'm just more scared that he won't get angry at me for – erm – dating you. He's never done anything too serious." I fibbed, managing somehow to keep the grin. Despite my blite tone and the casual way I attempted to shrug it off, he looked sceptical.

"Did you have fun with your father at the Ministry today, darling?" My mother brushed a strand of hair away from my face, and beamed down at me. Her eyes were proud, and it made me puff myself up, a cheeky smile plastered on my face, until my father entered the room, his eyes stern and disapproving.

"I told you not to treat him like a child. This mollycoddling only makes him weak. Next thing you know, he'll be sharing his lunch with a Weasley." Father growled, his eyes hard and seeping with hatred and the ever-present sneer fixed firmly on his face.

"But he's four years old. He is a child," mother replied as she crouched down and wrapped her arms around me. "Just because your father treated you like this, doesn't mean it's right. If anything, I would
have thought you would aim to raise your child as differently to how your father raised you as possible."

"It is thanks to my father I am as I am." I kept my mouth shut, smile quavering slightly, afraid that his temper might flare up, as it often did. Sometimes, out of nowhere, his eyes would flash, anger leaping out of them. He would stalk the room in a predatorily manner, eyes glancing about. I prayed this wasn't going to be one of those times.

"Just further reason not to treat him like that," she whispered under her breath. My eyes widened as Father snarled, his face contorted, and his white-blonde hair lashing whipping dangerously behind him as he stormed toward my mother.

"You bitch." His hands grabbed her by her hair, yanking me out of her grasp. I took a stumbling step or two backward and bit back tears as his hand slapped against her face. Her head hung momentarily, and when she brought it up, still standing proudly, there was a red imprint on one side. Attempting to fix the situation, I went to answer the question Mother had first asked.

"It was fun. I met this girl with orange hair, and she said we were going to be friends forever. She shared her sandwich with me." I attempted to curl my lips into a smile, but all thoughts fled my mind as my father's gaze turned toward me, darker and flaming with untamed fury.

"What did you say?" Venom laced his voice, more terrifying than the anger burning in his eyes. As I opened my mouth to repeat what I'd said, he interrupted – "What did I tell you – sharing lunch with those filthy blood traitors! He's too soft. He must learn his place and his duty as a Malfoy." He thrust the snake head atop his cane forward, the gleaming emerald eyes glaring mercilessly into my soul.

"Lucius, don't!" my mother cried, reaching forward and latching onto the arm that now brandished his wand. I curled up into a ball, still biting back tears, desperately wishing he'd calm down.

"Let go of me!" There was a sudden thud, and she gasped, her figure crashing violently against the marble fireplace. I whimpered, as she weakly attempted to rise back to her feet. "You are not to associate with the Weasleys," he spat, "and Malfoys do not have friends. Trust is a sign of weakness, friendship unnecessary. Your mother has spoiled you long enough. No matter. You. Shall. Learn."

"Lucius, please!" For a moment, I couldn't help but wonder why she was crying out so despairingly. Then, screamed out that one, haunting word.

"Crucio!" Pain snaked through my body, lighting my blood aflame. It coursed through me, to the tips of my fingers and down to my toes. It leaked down to my bones; the flames of hell danced within me, a mad Devil's dance. Somehow I realised, through the haze of pain, that the terrible wracking screams I heard – tortured moans of agony – belonged to me. Tears I had been so desperately trying to hold back freely ran down my face. I begged him to make the pain stop, and faintly heard my mother's matching scream. But those were quickly silenced. Still, I pleaded for it to stop, that I could at least breathe one final painless breath before I died. Because hell had to be preferable to this.

And miraculously, it stopped. The pain receded and I lay there panting, the world one more swimming into focus. My heaving sobs subsided until I gave an occasional whimper or two. Then, silence. Still I lay there, unwilling to move – terrified that the tiniest inch to the left or right might make the pain continue – just staring as the fan danced in circles above my head. My mother's sobs could be heard, but I made no attempt to look at her – give her a comforting smile. The mere thought seemed impossible, as if I were currently detached from my body.

"Let that be a lesson to you. I shall not tolerate weakness," my father hissed before storming off.

"Draco, are you okay?" Harry's hand gently touched my shoulder, and I nodded, giving him a shaky laugh.

"Yes, I just was thinking I should be heading off." I stood up and began to make my way out of the clearing when he spoke again.

"You seemed terrified a moment ago. Are you sure your father won't provide any…difficulties?" His hand reached out and grabbed mine. I pulled away, but answered.

"It'll be fine. I'll be back in fifteen minutes, tops. I promise." It was impossible for me to look him in the eye and lie. I wasn't sure if I would be okay, but I knew I had to face him before he found a way to corner me. A hand slipped stealthily around my waist once more, and he pulled me toward him.

"I'm worried because you are," He murmured, as he nuzzled gently against my neck.

"Father can be a bit harsh at times, that's all," I moaned, wishing desperately he'd let me go. His body was tense against mine, and I feared he would keep me here. Or worse, demand to come with me to face my father.

"If I came, we could face him together." The mere thought of him entering my house and coming within meters of my father terrified me.

"Believe me, it's better if I do this on my own." He nodded tentatively, but kept me trapped in his python-like embrace. "I can't exactly go anywhere if you don't let go."

"I know. That's the plan." The ghost of a smile whispered across his lips, but it was mechanical and devoid of emotion. I spun in his arms, so that our chests were pressing against each other. My lips latched onto his, and I left a lingering kiss.

"Don't make this more difficult. Please." Is this what he reduced me to? Begging and pleading, in order to protect him? It irked me that I was prepared to sacrifice so much of my dignity. Yet, I was.

"Well, at least let's go upstairs together." He released me and gave a hesitant, yet genuine smile.

"Well, no use lingering out here. Let's get this over with." I rolled my eyes, assumed an authoritative air, and began to march from the clearing, only pausing at the stairs to glance behind me. "The sky's bright."

"Is that good or bad?" He hopped up beside me and gazed up at the glittering diamonds above us.

"Do I look like a Seer to you? It only means that you can see Draco." His brow furrowed.

"Was that supposed to be some sort of pick-up line, because if it was, I don't think you want to use it again. It wasn't very –"

"No, the constellation Draco. You don't pay attention in any of your classes, do you?"

"That's not true."

"Alright, name one." He didn't even hesitate.

"Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Char–"

"Right... You were avidly listening to what Flitwick had to say today." I rolled my eyes and scoffed. "And we're wasting time again. You need to stop getting me off topic." Narrowing my eyes, I gave him a suspicious look before sweeping pompously forward – cloak billowing behind me. The giant, oak doors eased open silently, and we tiptoed upstairs. Our meeting in the woods had lasted longer than intended, and although it wasn't passed curfew, we still wanted to avoid the wrath of Peeves or Filch.

Finally, we reached the Slytherin dormitory. The stark dungeon walls seemed to glare malevolently down at us as I leaned in to give him a final peck. "I'll be alright. Stop worrying. Bloody Gryffindors and their gallantry." My hand ran through his messy tresses a final time before I turned, muttered the password and fled into the common room. Before my fear drove me to back out, I threw some Floo Powder into the flames dancing under the green marble lintel, stepped forward, and muttered the words: "Malfoy Manor".

My lungs clogged with soot as a I spun through the void, and I emerged sputtering. I climbed from the familiar ornate fireplace, hoping that Father wouldn't be in his library. I didn't see him and was about to turn back when a low, chilling voice rang out behind me.

"I have been expecting you, Draco." I gave an involuntary shudder, and turned to face those piercing eyes. Sure enough, just as I had expected, he had heard the news. My instincts were screaming at me to run, to turn back into the comforting flames like the spineless coward I was, yet I quelled them and stood my ground, even managing a slight smile.

"Good evening to you too, Father." My tone was a tad sarcastic, but I ensured it was ladled with enough respect to keep him satisfied. Our gazes locked, and we matched levelled stare for levelled stare – though my mind was filled with thoughts of jade eyes and raven locks.

"There have been rumours, Draco. Rumours I expect to be told are not true. In fact, particular rumours that would certainly shame the Malfoy name. I am certain my only son would not wish to inflict damage on a name which has been respected down the centuries, and which he stands to inherit, through petty, undignified actions." Of course, I was correct; he had heard the rumours. How the news travelled so quickly, Merlin knows!

"What rumours?" I laced my tone with surprise, and carefully sculpted my expression into one of utmost shock. But Father always had the ability to see through my façade, and, as he answered he looked distinctly unimpressed.

"They concern you and Potter. I am sure you have heard them. Let me remind you, as long as you bear our name you carry our legacy. The very notion of you and... Potter is despicable – if it is true you bring shame and dishonour to a family centuries old. Centuries of respect tarnished for Potter of all people? I raised you to be better than that; to have normal desires and refined manners. Have you learned nothing?" When he finished, I opened my suddenly parched mouth, my response barely a whisper.

"They aren't rumours." My eyes glanced longingly toward the fireplace. It was only a few steps away...

"I beg your pardon?" His jaw clenched, and his eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.

"I said, 'They aren't –'" My words were cut off as he brandished his wand, twirling it elaborately and catching me off guard. The spell hit me full force, flinging me backwards and leaving me writhing in agony. I hit the carpeted hardwood floor with enough force to cause several books on the towering shelves to tremble. The air flew from my lungs, and the same pain which haunted me for years, struck once more.

Acid drenched my body – stripping flesh from bone - leaving me screaming in agony. Knives trapped beneath my skin struggled to break free, shredding skin. If anything, years had dulled the memory. I writhed, begging death to claim me. I clung desperately to the last shards of my sanity. Yet I knew I would lose them, and drown in the depths of unknown blackness, rather than face the terrible onslaught. I felt them slipping away, and closed my eyes, still screaming, but prepared to accept my fate.

Smouldering emerald flashed before my eyes, and some last will to survive sparked within me. Hadn't I promised Harry I would be alright? As much as I'm sure the rest of the school wouldn't mind, I thought Harry might be a bit distraught if I either died or went mental. "Please, please stop. Gods, Father. Please... no." My screams turned to frantic pleading, yet the pain did not ebb. Through cotton-filled ears, I heard his reply.

"Malfoys do not beg!" I gritted my teeth, though I was sure I was still muttering gibberish. The Devil's flaming whip reached out, tangling into my limbs, and I cried out, tears surely soaking through the plush carpet to the cold, wooden planks below. And then it stopped. I lay there like a rag doll, clutching the ground, still whimpering, and heaving raspy breaths. After a time I opened my eyes and the blurry vision of my father swam before me.

"Why, Draco?" His tone was confused and tragic, as if he had not spent the last minute torturing me to the brink of madness, but rather received nothing more than a bad report from my transfiguration teacher. I couldn't reply, not with my head spinning, and weak shivers still snaking throughout my body. Shaking his head, he walked away, staring sullenly at his dusty books. As soon as I regained movement in my limbs, I reached into my pocket for my wand, making sure I made no noise, showed no indication that I was attempting to get the one thing that could save me.

My hand grasped the hawthorn handle, and a wry smile found its way on to my lips. Gently, I brought it out, raised it and muttered -

"Expelliarmus!" Father had turned lazily, and forced my wand from my hand before I could act. My wand clattered to the floor a meter and an half away from me. "You think you can deceive me? I, whom have been taught by the Dark Lord himself?"

I scrabbled for my wand, but froze as another voice filled the room – a voice I desperately hoped I was dreaming.

"Get your fucking hands off Draco." Harry stepped into view, his eyes blazing with unalloyed fury. He was trembling with rage, his hand wrapped firmly around the holly haft of his wand which was levelled at my father's chest.

"Potter, how nice of you to join us." My father smiled sadistically and I struggled to repress a sob. This would not end well.

"Harry, just go away. I can handle this by myself," I hissed, attempting to sound as if the situation was under control. Considering I was slumped, wandless and crying, on the carpeted floor, I didn't expect him to believe it, and my quavering voice surely didn't help.

"Now, now, Draco, we must be hospitable," Father purred, his lips still twisted in a hungry smirk. "Have a seat," he offered Harry. The tone of his voice was sickly sweet, and I felt the urge to beg Harry to run, to run right now and never look back. This wasn't his battle to fight. Harry, however ignored him, and bent to kneel beside me.

"You can handle this by yourself? For fuck's sake! I find you strewn across the floor with your wand meters away from you and your father standing over you, and you tell me you can handle this by yourself?"

"Just go," I muttered through gritted teeth, shoving him backward. He stumbled slightly, then righted himself. In that instant of imbalance, I saw, as if in slow motion, my Father raise his wand. My warning was delayed, and the curse hit Harry squarely on the chest. I gaped as an invisible rapier pierced his chest, mutilating his flesh and tearing a gaping hole in his shirt.

Blood seeped from the wound like water from a gushing tap. Desperately, I grasped for my wand; somehow my weakened state no longer important. How could it be? Harry had crumpled and now lay, convulsing, on the ground; emerald eyes rolling back in their sockets. Blood continued to flow from the gash, soaking his clothes and brimming over like a flooded riverbank.

"Shit! Harry." I jerked my wand hand forward and shouted "Sectumsempra!", sending a curse toward my father. He went to block it, but wasn't quick enough – a small cut, minuscule in comparison to that he had inflicted on Harry, opened on his shoulder.

"Do not repress your anger, Draco. Allow it to take over. Let it control you," Father hummed. He seemed unaffected by the curse, and once more flashed me his taunting grin.

"Sectumsempra!" I bellowed again, this time aiming at his chest. The spell flew forward, and he deflected it lazily. A growl of annoyance escaped my lips, and he chuckled.

"Now you're being too predictable. Try something simple, perhaps. Something like…expelliarmus!" I was expecting something like this, and I deflected it with a shield charm. "Good, good, Draco. You're learning." From behind me I heard a weak whimper and I turned. I saw him, eyes closed, gulping snatches of air; shallow breaths, struggling vainly to fill a punctured lung. He looked so weak and fragile – as I'd never seen him before. My blood turned cold; I realised, I had averted my attention from Father.

A flaming whip snapped around my ankles, pulling me down. I never remembered Father being so incredibly fond of non-verbal spells. He chuckled, and I snarled "crucio!" Luckily, I had kept hold of my wand as I crashed to the floor. He collapsed, but neither writhed nor screamed in agony, as I had expected. The breath had been knocked out of him, and he looked up at me with a dangerous gleam in his swimming, mercury eyes; a mad chuckle escaping his lips once more.

"It's a start. However, after enduring the same spell at the hands of the Dark Lord…" He trailed off and abruptly sent a jet of plum light careering toward me. A wound, similar to Harry's, though lighter and more petite, opened on my wrist. I yelled out, clutching at my arm, my wand dropping to the ground uselessly.

Crucio!"

I couldn't stand the pain. Blackness presented itself as an option, and with a final farewell to my torn Harry, I embraced it. 'Let him kill me,' I begged, hoping someone would hear my thoughts. 'I don't care. Just let him do it.' Before the charcoal of what must have been either insanity or unconsciousness engulfed me, I could hear a fourth voice distantly probing. I recognised it. It was… It was…

Darkness.

A/N: How many of you are 'bout the kill me? Fess up... I know I'm a cruel, cruel person. ~malicious grin~ Still, this chapter was especially difficult to write. :P

As for my favorite fanfics, I'd have to say everything by Digitallace goes up there. xErised also writes the most fantastic fanfics! The Rebellious Observer is an 'abandoned' account (with links to the newer ones, I believe). My favorite by her is 'Once upon a time there were Heros'. I find that one to be especially powerful, and strongly suggest reading it. 'Life Renovations' and its sequel (by Windseeker2305) are FANTASTIC. If you're looking for something new and exciting, I'd suggest that. 'Predatory' (by Tresa Cho) is one of the most moving stories I've read (actually, 'Once Upon a time there were Heros' is another extremely moving piece). xdarkangeltwinsx has AWESOME stories as well! If you like James/Sirius, I suggest you just PM me. I will suggest 'Fatigue', however!

Next question: What did you get for for the holidays? (Well, I would say Christmas, but not everyone celebrates it, and I do want to be politically correct.) :DD