Chapter Twenty-Six

"On the one hand, wizard photos can be really cool," Taryn said as they walked out of the Ministry building, "on the other hand they can be absolutely tragic." She looked down at her Apparition license with a frown.

The photographer had managed to catch her mid-sneeze, and because the line behind her was so long, had refused to take another, better photo. Now she was forced to keep the awful, grimacing photo until it was time to renew her license.

"Well, at least we got it out of the way," Chase said. "No more lessons," he added, finally pulling a grin from her.

"That's true," Taryn sighed, before she looked down at her watch. "We have enough time to get lunch before we have to be back. What to you feel like eating?" She asked, tugging on Draco's hand to get his attention.

"I don't care. Whatever you want is fine," Draco said absently. He really didn't have much of an appetite. The copious amount of Pepperup potion he was taking left a low burn in his stomach and made eating less than desirable. He felt like shit, and food tasted like sawdust, but he'd eat every bit of whatever they ended up going for. He couldn't allow himself to weaken and possibly leave Taryn without his protection.

"I vote for Chinese. Its been forever since I had fried rice. I know the perfect place and fortunately its not very far from here," Chase said.

"Let's go with that then," Draco said. He really wanted to just be in his bed, under his covers. It was exhausting, trying to keep everyone from realizing how shitty he actually felt.

Taryn tightened her hand in his, looking at him intently.

He was pretending to feel much better than he actually was, and really, he was doing a pretty good job.

Anyone else would think that he was just as healthy as ever but he wasn't fooling her. She'd found three empty bottles of Pepperup Potion, that he thought he'd stashed in the bathroom. She figured that he was using it just before taking his shower to cover the steam coming out of his ears, but she wondered how he was hiding it.

Usually Pepperup caused steam to come out of the drinker's ears for several hours. Perhaps it was because it was a different variety, maybe? She was angry that he was keeping his illness a secret, and she was planning to confront him about it as soon as was possible.

He had done as Madame Pomfrey had asked, taking the medicine that she had given him faithfully, but he was blatantly ignoring her orders to return if his cold didn't abate.

Taryn was worried. A mere cold didn't last as long as his had, especially with the use of wizard medicines to combat it.

She knew that Draco had a lot weighing on his mind at the moment, what with his mum in an undisclosed location, his father languishing in Azkaban, and now the role as "junior double agent" to the order, but she didn't want him to ignore his health. She wouldn't let him ignore it any longer. She made a mental note to talk to him about it later than night.

0o0

Draco was taking a bite of his broccoli beef when the familiar, yet dreaded sting of pain played across the skin of his forearm.

The chopsticks he held fell from his loosened grasp, clattering against the polished wooden table and leaving a mess of sauce that very much resembled a forlorn Rorschach picture to his suddenly blurred vision.

"Draco?" Taryn's husky voice was filled with inquiry. Her expression grew concerned when she rested her hand against his bicep, and felt the tension coiled there.

Chase, who was sitting in the booth across from them, watched his face also a study in concern. "You okay, mate?"

Draco stood abruptly, biting the inside of his lip against the pain of his burning forearm. He knew that the pain would only get worse the longer he took in responding, until it was agonizing, the closest you could get without Crucio. A cold chill of sweat broke across his skin, and he stiffened his spine against the shudder that wanted to play through his body.

"I have to go," He said.

He could see Taryn piecing it together, as evidenced by the sheen of tears in her eyes. "Um...I'll see you later, then?" Her voice trembled slightly.

Chase's brow crinkled in confusion. "But you haven't finished..."

"Taryn will have them box it for me right?" Draco said, lowly.

Taryn nodded, placing a completely false, bright smile on her face. "Of course I will. And I'll make you something different later if you end up not wanting it. I'll make sure you have something," she said.

Draco heard her unspoken words. You will be able to eat something, because you will be back.

Taryn wanted to act like a complete damsel in distress, and cling to him, begging him not to leave, but she knew that it wouldn't make a difference. It would only make him worry about her, and in the end he would still have to go.

She didn't resist when he pulled her from the booth, pulling her against him, and hugging her tightly before his mouth crashed down against hers. He kissed her for what seemed like decades, and at the same time not nearly long enough.

He pulled slightly away, his forehead against hers. "I will come back to you." He whispered.

"I know you will," Taryn said, her teeth coming out to worry against her kiss swollen bottom lip.

Draco reluctantly released her, walking stiffly to the entrance of the restaurant. He turned, giving her one last glance, his grey eyes seeming to pin her into place, before he walked out the door.

Draco walked down the sidewalk, and turned a corner into an empty alley, before letting the mark take him away.

0o0

Draco stood in the back yard of a small, two story home. Toys littered the frost laden ground. A small red bike, complete with training wheels lay on its side, as if it was waiting for the child that owned it to run back out and climb on to take another ride. A swing set painted a bright green stood to his left.

He pulled his wand out, looking around, taking in any details he saw. The urge to cough climbed up his throat, and he used one hand to root in his pocket, pulling out a honey lemon cough drop, his eyes constantly scanning the yard as he popped the small lozenge in his mouth. He could have used a spell, of course, but he liked the lozenges better. They melted quickly, and soothed his throat without pulling away his concentration.

A wooden deck stood before him, and he mounted the small steps, standing on it, and looking at the large set of glass patio doors in front of him.

Why wasn't anyone waiting for him? Usually Voldemort had one of his many lackeys waiting to usher him, and others to wherever the man had deemed his current throne room.

This was different. It made unease curl, and settle uncomfortably in his stomach. He strode forward, peering into the frosty glass. When he saw the the room the patio doors opened to – a kitchen – was empty, he pulled the door open and stepped into the quiet room. His shoes crunched on the broken glass that was strewn like confetti across the white tiled floor.

Draco tried his best to ignore the colorful crayon art that was displayed on the refrigerator, pinned against the white appliance with yellow smiley face magnets.

Underneath the whimsical art was a smeared, bloody hand print, and a puddle of blood smeared into a dark trail that let to a small laundry room just off the kitchen.

The room didn't have a doorway, so there was nothing to impede Draco's view of the horror within. A man was lying on the floor, his torso riddled with stab wounds. His throat was cut in an macabre semblance of a smile, and blood was pooled underneath him, but it was the agony, the horrified surprise, that was frozen on his face that made the tiny bit of food Draco had manage to consume crawl back up his throat. He swallowed several times, forcing the bitter bile back down to burn uncomfortably in his stomach.

Draco tightened his hand on his wand, before backing slowly out of the small room and continuing to the living room.

The room was tastefully decorated, or it would have been if it hadn't looked as if it had been burglarized. Paintings were crooked on the walls. A large family photo – in which Draco recognized the slain man lying in the laundry room – was sprayed with dark, congealing blood. A broken table lamp was lying on the floor, its mate had fallen onto one of the slashed, couch pillows that littered the floor, and lent the room a thin, feeble light.

Draco hadn't realized just how silent the home had been until a thin, agonized wail broke through the cold, tomb like quiet.

His head snapped to the stairs. He walked over and placed his hand on the heavy wooden banister. He hesitated for a moment before quietly, carefully mounting the carpeted stairs.

When he reached the landing, he could see more dark pools of blood soaking into the carpet, turning the creamy beige into what looked like oil spills in the darkness.

A door was cracked at the end of the hallway, a bright golden light streaming from the opening.

Steeling his resolve, he walked to the door and pushed it open.

A woman was sprawled in the middle of the floor, her pretty peach jumper stained with blood from her multiple stab wounds. Her eyes were open, unseeing.

The creak of a chair had Draco's head turning to the left, his gaze landing on the Dark Lord, who was calmly rocking the chair slowly.

Draco pushed back the clinging horror at the scene in front of him, putting his wand away and dropping down to his knee beside the dead woman.

"M'lord? You called for me?" He said, quietly. He was surprised that his voice didn't tremble. The effort of pushing back the scream that wanted to spill from his throat was immense and taxing.

The thin, choking wail sounded again, and against his will, Draco's eyes cut to where the sound originated.

There was a small boy, no more than six years old, crouched beside the bright, yellow painted dresser. Belatedly, Draco realized that he was in a child's room – his mind had been consumed by the murdered woman in front of him – as evidenced by the cheerful mural of Sesame Street character's painted on the walls.

The boy was covered in blood. His knees were against his chest, bloody arms clasped around them. An abandoned kitchen knife was lying on the carpet in front of his two small feet.

In between the low wail Draco could make out a few garbled words.

"Sorry, Mummy. I didn't...didn't want to..." the wail started again cutting off the words.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Draco flinched, expecting the curse to hit him, and almost wanting it to when it hit the little boy instead. The choked voice, the sobbing wail, cut off and the boy slumped against the dresser, quiet.

"Ssstand," Voldemort's chilling voice cut through the sudden silence of the room.

Draco stood and couldn't prevent a gasp when he was pushed bodily across the room, his pack pinned against the gaily painted wall.

"Yesss, I called for you. I thought to kill two birdsss with one ssstone," Voldemort said, standing and waving his hand to indicate the room. "You ssstand in the home of Clarence Little, wizard, and his filthy muggle wife," Voldemort nodded to the dead woman on the floor, "and their dirty Half-blood ssson. Clarence thought to influence mindsss with his ssseminars on equality between the magical and non-magical racesss. It amused me to have hisss ssspawn do away with both him and hisss wife," Voldemort's face split into a ghastly grin.

Draco clinched his teeth to remain silent.

"Nothing to sssay? I think I like you Draco. You aren't asss full of excusesss and hot air like your father, though I think another chat between ussss is far overdue. Now, tell me, where I can find your mother?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know? Your mother has disappeared without a trace. None of mine hasss been able to locate her. Are you not concerned for her welfare?"

Draco swallowed. This at least was something he could answer with complete honesty. "I am, M'lord. My mother is a smart, resourceful woman, and though I am deeply concerned about her welfare, I know that she would want me to continue to make strides in the task that you have assigned to me."

Voldemort chuckled. "A very diplomatic answer. Tell me, what is the statusss of your tasssk?"

"Dumbledore is alive still, as you know. As of right now, I am failing, though I do still have a plan up my sleeve."

"Yesss, you are failing. You have time to woo and affiance yourself to an heiresss, yet I see no progresss! Perhapsss you are more like your father than I thought. Weak, and producing nothing but feeble attemptsss. Crucio!"

It felt like Draco's bones were breaking simultaneously in his body, and he couldn't move, he was trapped. A feeling much like claustrophobia fell over him, like a wet clinging blanket, and he bit his lip viciously to cut off a scream.

Heavy drops of blood ran down his chin when Voldemort finally lifted the curse. He flinched when the man moved closer. Close enough for their chests to brush.

The hissing voice spoke lowly in his ear. "You shouldn't stifle such pretty screamssss. I would so love to hear them. If I wasss a lover of men, I would take the time to break you properly, and rip those lovely soundsss from your throat. You are beautiful though, you resemble your mother very much, too bad I don't have the time to reconsider my...tastessss."

Draco shuddered in horror at the thought, one that he couldn't hide even to save his life. He was sure that the man could pluck it from his head as easily as taking candy from a baby, and so didn't waste the energy trying to do so.

"You present me with a problem. If you...disappear it would bring far too much notice. You and your little heiress have made yourselvesss media darlingsss and it does restrict my options. I've decided not to kill you. You still may be able to complete the tasssk. If you succeed, lovely, and if you don't I won't have to dirty myself with killing you, but know, that I am displeased with you...CRUCO!"

Draco, helplessly pinned against the wall was relieved even as he prayed for unconsciousness to deliver him from pain.

Hours later he was finally allowed to leave the small, blood soaked house.

0o0

He Apparated to his apartment. He could tell by the empty stillness that Rico wasn't at home, and was thankful.

He didn't think he had it in him to explain the horror he'd just seen. He was used to brutality. He'd seen his share of injuries in the ring. Broken bones, bloodies faces, but nothing, nothing, like what he had witnessed in that small suburban house.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the blood splashed room. The little boy who had been Imperiused, forced to kill his own parents, and then put down like a dog when he was no longer useful. He knew that he'd have nightmares, probably for the rest of his days, unless he used a pensieve to remove the memory.

He pulled off his blood soaked clothes, dropping them on the floor of his bathroom, before stepping into the shower.

Pink tinged water swirled around his feet as he tried to scrub away the night.

Voldemort had Crucio'd him repeatedly, pleasured joy in his alien countenance as Draco pushed back screams.

The only thing that had kept Draco from losing his mind was the thought of Taryn, and how she would be left alone without him.

Draco climbed out of the shower, murmuring a spell to dry himself. He gathered his bloody clothes, cramming them into a bathroom trash sack, and quickly cleaned the bathroom until it was spotless.

Reaching into his closet, he pulled out a pair of dark jeans, and a black jumper. Heavy black boots finished his ensemble.

He Apparated to the basement of the building and threw his the bag containing his clothes in the incinerator. He watched them burn, making sure there was nothing left before Apparating directly out of the room into Hogsmeade village.

0o0

Taryn had cleaned everything in the rooms as she waited for Draco. Cleaned them the old fashioned way. Magic took far less time, and time was all she had. Much too much time to dwell on where Draco was, what he was doing, what was being done to him.

Chase hadn't been easy to get away from. He'd demanded answers for the way they'd acted. She'd finally told him that it was none of his business, and had immediately felt sorry when the hurt look played across his face. She wanted to tell him everything, but she couldn't. Not without Draco, and definitely not at a time like this. She was going to make sure that she apologized later. Once she realized that Draco was okay.

She was wiping down the counter top in the bathroom when she heard the door creep open.

She rushed into the living room, and relief poured through her body when she saw Draco closing the door behind him.

The relief drained away when he turned, and she saw his face.

Draco's face was chalky white, and dark shadows were smudged beneath his eyes. He tried to walk to her, and stumbled, falling to his knees.

She flew toward him, sinking to her knees and pulling him to her. He trembled violently in her arms, burying his face in her neck. She could feel his hot tears trailing down her neck, and soaking the collar of her t-shirt.

"It's okay," she said soothingly, rubbing his back. "It's okay."

It was like her words freed him, and harsh sobs came from him, followed by a muffled scream against her shoulder.

Tears streamed down her own cheeks as she held him.

0o0

It had been several days since his meeting with Voldemort, and Taryn was angry with him but she was trying to hide it.

He knew her, and she was completely furious that he hadn't shared the details of his visit with her.

He just didn't want her to have to live with it too.

The memory had kept him up that first night, playing through his dream and turning it into a horrible nightmare. He'd finally had to take a potion for dreamless sleep, slipping it into his drink when Taryn turned her head. He just hoped that it wouldn't react adversely with the Pepperup Potion he was already drinking like water.

It was on their way to dinner that Taryn finally broke. "I just don't see why you feel like you can't talk to me. Don't you trust me?" she burst out of the blue.

Draco stopped, thankful that the hall was empty for the moment before turning to her. "Of course, I trust you. I just...I don't want you to have to deal with it. I don't want to have to relive it by telling you," he said wearily.

"You can't not talk about it Draco. Something so horrible that you can't even speak of it has to be discussed because if you don't it will fester. It's unhealthy to keep it bottled away. I know that you think that you are being sneaky, but I see far more than what you give me credit for. I know that you are still taking Pepperup, and I know that you are taking something else at bed as well. You have never been as still next to me as you have for the last several days. I'm tired of you keeping things from me. You need to tell me what's going on."

"No," Draco said bluntly.

"No?" Taryn's eyes narrowed. "You really need to rethink that statement Draco Malfoy. I'm not a child, and I'm sick of you treating me like one. Our relationship will be a partnership or it won't be anything at all."

With that pronouncement, she strode away from him, heading toward the Great Hall.

Draco cursed under his breath, and turned on his heel heading toward the boy's bathroom. His scant appetite had disappeared, and he had to gain control before he would trust himself in public.

In the bathroom he stood against the cool tile wall, breathing deeply to settle his emotions. "Fuck," he said quietly, "I'm losing control of everything."

"Who are you talking to boy?"

Draco grimaced. He didn't want to deal with Moaning Myrtle at the moment.

"Nobody," he said, tears choking his voice.

"Maybe I can help?" Moaning Myrtle said carefully.

Draco moved across the room to the bank of sinks, turning the faucet on one and splashing his face with cool water and bowing his head.

"There's nothing you can do," he said quietly, looking up at the mirror. He saw a face through the mirror – Harry Potter's face – and whipped around, drawing his wand, instinctively throwing a hex.

His hex missed Harry by inches, shattering the lamp on the wall beside next to the other boy. Harry threw himself sideways, flicking his wand, and Draco blocked the jinx and raising his wand to throw another hex. Memories of the bloody house streamed through his mind, blending with what was happening in the here and now.

"No! No! Stop it!" squealed Moaning Myrtle, her voice echoing loudly around the tiled room. "Stop! STOP!"

He shot another hex toward the other boy, causing the bin behind Harry to explode.

Harry tried to throw a Leg-Locker Curse at him that backfired off the wall behind his ear and smashed the cistern beneath Moaning Myrtle, who screamed loudly.

Water poured everywhere and Harry slipped, sprawling gracelessly on the floor

Draco, his face contorted, his mind confused cried, "Cruci—"

"SECTUMSEMPRA!" bellowed Harry from the floor, waving his wand wildly.

Blood spurted from Draco's face and chest as though he had been slashed with an invisible sword. He staggered backward and collapsed onto the waterlogged floor with a great splash, his wand falling from his limp right hand.

"No —" he heard Harry gasp, as blood bubbled out of his mouth, his hands scrabbling at his blood-soaked chest.

"No — I didn't —" Harry began.

The other boy fell to his knees beside Draco, who was shaking uncontrollably in a pool of his own blood.

Moaning Myrtle let out a deafening scream: "MURDER! MURDER IN THE BATHROOM! MURDER!"

"...hospital wing," Snape's voice said.

When did Snape get here? Draco thought wearily. Random snippets of conversation drifted to him as he allowed darkness to pull him away.