Author's Note: So, school starts tomorrow. And I'm still having some trouble with the new material. I'll probably have to slow down my posts to about one a week… maybe two a week. Sorry about that!

Chapter 61

If I still had a soul when I left Britain, what was left of it is most certainly gone, now.

I hardly remember the last time I felt anything.

I've numbed my emotions, locked away my compassion, frozen my heart.

There's a special place in hell reserved for people who did the things I did. There will be no redemption. No forgiveness. Pain and suffering is all that I'll get, and it's all that I deserve.

The serpent charm burns me, and reality seems to hit me piercingly.

I feel.

But I can't slow down or stop. I follow Voldemort up to the cliff and stand at the edge.

"Again," he hisses.

I take a deep breath and leap off. As I plunge toward the rocky crags below, I concentrate furiously on weightlessness. Talk about doing the fucking impossible.

The charm burns against my chest again, and I know that this time won't be successful either.

Destination, determination, deliberation.

Come on. I can do this.

Destination. Determination. Deliberation.

Then the constricting sensation of Apparition grips me, and I appear safely in the forest, some twenty yards away from the edge of the cliff.

I move toward the edge again, only to find that Voldemort isn't there anymore. Where…?

"I'm disappointed," he says from behind me.

I'm hardly surprised by him anymore. I used to jump whenever he did that.

"It didn't take you nearly as long to learn wandless Apparition," he continues. "Where has all of your focus gone?"

"I apologize, My Lord."

"Not good enough," he hisses. "Again."

I step to the edge yet again and focus with all my might on a feather, imagining the way it floats on the wind.

When that image is solid in my mind, I step off the edge. For what feels like the hundredth time, I plummet rapidly toward the ground.

My descent slows ever so slightly, and for a second, I glimpse triumph.

But that bit of excitement distracts me, and upon losing concentration, I continue in free fall. I try to focus on Disapparating, but I find that I don't have enough strength.

With a jolt, I realize that I can't stop my fall.

So this is how I'm going to die.

Just as I'm about to come into contact with the rocks, a cold hand wraps around my forearm, and I appear in that same cluster of trees again.

"We will continue tomorrow," Voldemort says.

Without explaining, or returning my wand, he dissolves into a cloud of black smoke and disappears.

Fucking hell.

I should probably be more shaken by my near-death experience, but it's happened so often in the past week and a half that I can't seem to feel any urgency anymore. All these brushes with death are going to make me reckless, and one of these days, I'm going to go too far. I just know it.

I tiredly extract a tent and some supplies from my pouch and set up.

Sitting on my cot a few minutes later, I remember that Granger had tried to contact me. I pull out the charm and see a single word on the back: Help.

I honestly thought that I would never feel again, that I was too far gone. But just the sight of those four small letters has my heart hammering in my chest. What if she's in trouble?

I tuck the charm beneath my shirt again.

No, she can't be in danger. Not unless she's left my home. I'm the only Secret Keeper. No one can reveal the location. No outsiders can discover it, not to mention get inside.

"Naree!"

The house-elf is at my side in an instant, and I can't help but marvel at the magic of house-elves—he can travel from Britain to Russia in one Apparition, as long as I summon him.

"Master," he says, eyes beginning to water as he looks at me.

Fuck, I must look dreadful if he's looking at me like that.

"Naree has missed Master very much," he sniffs.

"How is everything at home?" I ask.

"All is as usual. Miss Bella is horrible to Naree when Master isn't there. Horrible."

"I see. And the other house-elves?"

Naree nods, understanding my question—I would never ask about the others, so he knows that I'm asking about the members of the Order.

"Still the same," he reports. Then he adds for safe measure, "Naree never gets any respect."

"It's all right. I'll have a talk with them when I get back," I reply. "Keep an eye on them for me. Especially her."

Naree nods. "Yes, Master."

"Go on, now."

Naree disappears with a crack.

"Especially whom?"

Of course, he's back. "Lerrin."

"Bellatrix's house-elf?"

"Yes. She's Naree's mother. Aunt Bella's been abusing her more often lately. I suspect that she's waiting for a chance to leave the Manor," I fib.

"Very attentive, you are," Voldemort says quietly.

"I can't afford to miss any details," I reply readily.

"I have business to attend to tomorrow, but I will not be needing you. You may return to England."

"I thought you said Lenovsky wanted to—"

"I do not trust him. In all likelihood, as soon as he discovers your identity, he will try to kill you. He does not care for the idea of taking commands from a child like yourself."

If anyone else had called me a child, I'd be furious. But it's hard to be furious with someone who holds my life in his hands.

"Very well," I say. "I'll return home tonight, if you have no more use for me."

Voldemort nods and passes back my wand. Oh, how I've missed the feeling of holding my wand. Being reunited with it is like reattaching part of my arm that's been painfully missing for an extended length of time.

"Travel in short distances. It will not do for you to hurt yourself while attempting to do something as banal as Apparition," Voldemort says.

I nod my head and Disapparate.

I appear in a small town several hundred kilometers away.

Did Voldemort just hint at me to take care of myself? Bloody hell.

Traveling back home from Russia takes just over forty minutes for me—I Apparated smaller distances because that even though I had my wand, I was mentally and physically exhausted, and clearheaded concentration is key to Apparition, with or without a wand.

When I enter the Manor, I know from the brightness that there must be guests over. It's late evening, so perhaps Mother and Father are hosting a dinner party.

As I head for the stairs, hoping to escape to bed unnoticed, I hear Mother's voice.

"Draco! You're home!"

Aw, fuck. If I'm pressured into attending the dinner, I'm going to kill someone.

I turn around and see that Mother is wearing a set of her nicest dress robes. She looks beautiful.

"Hello, Mother. How did you know I was back?" I ask.

She pulls me into a hug. "Ansol said he saw you approaching the house," she replies. "Come."

Damn it.

I follow Mother into the dining hall and see that tonight's guests are the four Greengrasses, as well as Crabbe and Goyle's parents.

I wonder where Greg and Vince are. Blaise mentioned that they would be patrolling Hogwarts…

Aw hell, the two bumbling idiots might even have been captured, if the Order carried out the plan to retake Hogwarts. I'll have to find out what happened. Maybe I'll ask Aunt Bella later—she isn't at the table, to my surprise.

"Draco, join us," Father says from the head of the table.

"I'm pretty tired from my trip back—maybe next time?" I say.

Father purses his lips, and I can sense that he's about to tell me to sit down anyway.

"Mr. Malfoy, maybe it would be better to let Draco rest," Daphne says. She sends a small smile in my direction. "He looks really tired."

"Yes, Draco looks dreadfully pale," Mrs. Greengrass says, echoing her daughter's sentiment. "I do think he should be allowed to rest."

Father nods. "Very well. Off to your quarters then, Draco."

I nod curtly. "Good night, everyone."

I leave the dining room and make my way up to my bedroom, where I shut the door and immediately start stripping down for a shower. I don't care how effective Scouring Charms are. I just don't feel clean unless I've had a shower. And I haven't had that luxury for over a week.

I enjoy the feeling of the hot water running over me, relaxing me.

I close my eyes, and a number of images begin to clutter my mind. My eyes pop open again.

No—I don't want to think about it. I'm not going to think about it. I was doing fine before. I'll close it off. I don't have to feel this pain.

I'm not going to think about it.

Then I hear the bathroom door opening and am thankful for choosing to put in a shower curtain.

"Draco?"

That's Astoria's voice. What the fuck? I'm showering! This is harassment, damn it.

"What do you want, Astoria?"

"I just wanted to keep you company," she says.

"While I'm showering? Get out!"

"If you really wanted to keep me out, you would have locked the door."

"Any person with some sense of decency wouldn't go into a bathroom when someone else was clearly using the shower," I say. "Besides, this is my private bathroom. I hardly thought it necessary to lock my own door."

"Well, since I'm already here—"

"I'm not interested."

"But—"

"Naree!"

A loud crack signals Naree's arrival in the bathroom.

"Escort Miss Greengrass downstairs," I say. "She seems to have lost her way."

"Why do you have to be so cold to me?" Astoria says.

"You clearly don't understand me when I speak to you in plain English, so I have to show you through my actions. I will not marry you," I reply. Then I bark, "Naree, I gave you an order!"

"Yes, Master!" he squeaks.

"I'm not going," Astoria says.

"You don't want to make me angry, Astoria," I say through gritted teeth. "I'm already tired. I don't want to have to put up with you right now."

It's silent for a moment.

Then I hear Naree say tentatively, "Miss?"

Suddenly there's loud sobbing, followed by rapid footsteps.

"Naree thinks that Miss Greengrass knows where she is going," Naree observes, and I can tell from his tone of voice that he's amused.

"She probably does," I say. "Thanks, Naree. You can go, now."

"Yes, Master."

Another loud crack signals his departure.

I sigh.

I didn't mean to make the girl cry. But what was I supposed to do? Now she'll probably complain to her father, who'll complain to my father, who will naturally come to harass me about it. I hate this.

Then I glance down at the charm around my neck and realize that Granger asked for my help.

I don't even know when I'll be free, but I certainly don't want to go right now. I haven't had a decent amount of sleep in the entire time that I've been with Voldemort—it's been blocks of two or three hours at a time. Apparently, the Dark Lord doesn't need to sleep. Handy.

I close my fist around the charm and sigh.

If this were about anything urgent, she probably would have tried me again. I'm sure it can wait. Tomorrow. I'll be there sometime tomorrow.

Author's Note: Before any of you start yelling at me about the flying thing, let me just tell you that I did take the time to look up flying in the Harry Potter universe. I found that magical law states that "a wizard can only fly using a vehicle, which itself can only have a flying charm". I also learned that Voldemort figured out a way to fly without a vehicle, but I couldn't find anything about his specific method apart from the fact that "some form of magical assistance" is needed.

However, we do know that this method can be taught, because Voldemort supposedly taught Snape how to fly using the same method. Because I am not the best at coming up with spells/magic, I decided to keep it simple and just say that he uses his will to fly (kind of like Apparition, right?). Hope you guys don't have too big a problem with that.

I'll try to put up the next chapter within the week. Hang in there, peeps!