Chapter 9 Sooner or Later

"Sooner or later you're gonna hate it

Go ahead and throw your life away"

Sooner or Later by Breaking Benjamin

The grass was soft and sweet smelling, slightly damp with dew as the sun's first rays peeked up over the horizon, revealing the two stirring figures. The messy head of black hair next to him turned slightly, enough to draw his attention and the bright green eyes of Harry Potter sleepily searched his face, just the barest hint of a smile gracing his lips. "I wish it were always like this. Peaceful," Draco breathed, balancing his head on one hand as he shifted over to his side, his shoulder throbbing painfully though he couldn't understand why. "Waking up to something like this, it almost feels like nothing's wrong." Harry gave him a wan smile and leaned over to kiss his forehead before he settled back down to rest on his own arms before he spoke. "We could pretend for a little while every day, it might make this whole thing easier to bear. I wish you could stay here with me." The blonde eyed the other boy curiously, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Why can't I stay with you? Have I done something wrong?"

"No, no. Of course you haven't." Harry's lips pursed slightly before he frowned, moving closer, an arm wrapping around Draco as he tried to pull him near. "You're dreaming me again, Draco. All of this is in your head."

Draco woke with a sudden start, a harsh denial on his lips. Blinking stupidly, he lifted his head weakly and looked around the stone walls surrounding him, his once enviable blonde hair falling in a blood caked veil over his eyes, the pangs of disappointment hitting him hard as he took in his cell. It had been weeks since he'd seen the light of day, weeks since he had been able to stand without crouching because of the chains that bound him to the floor on which he sat, weeks since he'd had something decent in his stomach. Weeks since he'd left after Harry had all but begged him to stay. His entire body ached, his head throbbed painfully from which injury, he wasn't sure, and he was almost certain that of the injuries he had sustained, a dislocated shoulder was the least of them, but the dreams were the worst. Even worse than what had been done to him during his imprisonment because they were nice and had felt too real. Waking to this - his living nightmare - after having tasted the freedom in his sleeping mind that he had tossed away, this was what was unbearable.

He should have listened to Potter, he should have gone with the trio, saved his own fool neck, instead of trying to play the martyr, a role that had never suited him in the slightest. But despite everything his gut told him, that his father was dead after the Battle at the Burrow, a small part of him still held on to hope, a small part of him knew that if he went missing that no mercy would be spared for Lucius had he somehow escaped with his life that day. And he couldn't find it in him to leave his father behind knowing what he would face.

His body shivered involuntarily as something he couldn't make out ran across the bare skin of his calf. As many times as he'd told himself that this was worth it, worth seeing his father stride through the doors of the manor one final time, Draco couldn't find it in himself to believe his own rationale. The reunion hadn't been quite what he had hoped for. Lucius had returned, a little worse for the wear later that evening, tailed closely by the Carrow siblings. The last look his father had given him had been one of horror mingled with shock, as if Lucius hadn't expected him to be there, just as Draco was taken roughly by the arms and arrested.

Everything he had done was now common knowledge among the Dark Lord's numbers. He was branded a traitor and tortured for what little information he did have. The only good thing about this was that he knew nothing of what Lucius had done, or Harry's movements after he'd disapparated and left Potter standing in his yard. Voldemort had been furious when he'd looked into his mind and seen Draco's part in Harry's successes, and the only reason he still breathed was the thought that because of what lie between the two young wizards, Harry would return to rescue the fallen Malfoy Prince.

He was, after all, known for that sort of thing.

"On your feet, Malfoy."

Draco was startled from his thoughts by the sound of a familiar voice and blinking several times he was surprised to see the batlike countenance of his godfather standing just beyond his cell doors. Without a word he stood, as best he could, back bent at an angle and leaning to his left in an effort to keep any pressure from the shoulder that constantly pained him. Severus entered the cell, his face a cool mask of detachment as he silently inspected his godson's wounds. "He needs a Healer if he's expected to live beyond the week," the older man announced, voice tinged with disgust to the Death Eater that stood beyond the doors. "Drink this," he continued without missing a beat, and held a small cup to Draco's lips without giving him an option. Whatever was inside of the cup was foul and Draco nearly gagged as he tried to swallow it all without letting it touch his tongue. It tasted liked it smelled, like sweaty robes and long ago discarded socks, but the instant it went down his throat and settled in his belly most of the pain Draco had felt instantly subsided.

"Sit," Severus ordered, and Draco moved as quickly as he could to comply. He wasn't sure who he should trust anymore, even Lucius had been sent down here to hurt him on occasion, but there wasn't enough care left in him to give it anymore thought. Let them do to him what they pleased. There was nothing else he could tell them that Voldemort hadn't seen for himself, and honestly, at this stage, his death would have been a blessing.

"Do your worst, Severus," Draco managed, surprised at the raspy, raw sound of his own voice. Those were the first words he'd spoken in nearly a week, the only sounds he'd made were the screams he made when Death Eaters were sent down with instruments designed to remind him precisely why he was there. He looked pitiful sitting there, a shell of the haughty boy he was once, and the almost indistinguishable twitch of Snape's lips was the only hint that he wasn't here of his own volition. Draco continued, barely sparing him a glance. "There's nothing I can tell you and very little left that they haven't done to me already."

"My Lord, in his great mercy, has sent me to see to your wounds. He would rather you didn't die before your purpose to him was served." Turning from Draco, Severus motioned to the guard to go, to return with the Healer he had mentioned needing a moment before. The moment they were alone Snape said nothing, but his face softened a fragment as he looked at his godson, as though he were taking in all of this for the first time.

"Don't," Draco whispered. "Don't look at me like I'm some pitiful thing in need of coddling. That's not your style, and it's not mine either." With a shake of his head, Snape said nothing as he turned his eyes away from the boy sitting chained to the wall, and instead began to pace, thinking, and waiting for the guard to return.

~OoOoOoOoO~

Lucius couldn't stand it. The guilt he felt was overwhelming, and he couldn't escape it, nor could he move to protect his son without sealing the younger Malfoy's doom as well as his own. His patronus had been specific, had told Potter to take his son away with him, to remove him from any possible harm, but the idiot child clearly couldn't be counted on, not even after all the Malfoy men had risked in order to aide him. All he could do now was see to it that the punishment wasn't too harsh, even if that meant taking up a wand himself and inflicting some of it. That, he was certain, had pleased the Dark Lord more than anything else he'd done, though it pained Lucius himself and weighed on him more than even he could fully admit.

Seeing to his daily duties had become a struggle, but he meandered on, doing his best to appear collected, though beneath his stony surface fear and spite bubbled for the man he had once had so much respect for. But it was he who had spoken to Lestrange, hinted that Potter wouldn't return should Draco perish, and Lestrange who had put that bug in the Dark Lord's ear. If they were lucky, just this once, Draco would soon be returned to him, even if he were still in chains, above ground, where he could see to his welfare and make sure that he sustained no further harm. Once he was within his reach once more, Lucius would do all that he could, even at risk to himself, to see that Draco escaped, but he would need help.

Nervously he sat behind the desk in his study, quill lifted above a fresh piece of parchment as he searched for the words he needed to write. He had no one left on the outside now, no one to turn to now, not after what he had done to Sirius -

But that didn't mean he wasn't going to try.

As though suddenly inspired his quill took flight, two paragraphs quickly coming together with a flourish before he laid it down to fold the paper thrice, and then once more down the center before tying it to his owl's leg and shooing it out of the window.

A/N: I've gotten a few requests to continue this story, and even though it's been a few years since my last update, I'm going to give it a shot! Please R&R! Constructive criticism is always welcome. Next update is scheduled for next week.