The night went even worse for Draco.

He shuffled up to the newly built dormitories before the onrush of Slytherins could bombard him with stares and half-whispered questions. As he poked a cautious head in the room, mindful of Peeve's habit of lying traps for unsuspecting students, he spotted a small, unobtrusive bed pushed into a dark corner of the room. With a grateful sigh at his rare stroke of good luck, Draco picked up his trunk from beside the wall and slid it under the bed.

I'll just unpack in the morning, he reasoned wearily as he flopped onto the bed, pulling the curtains closed after a moment.

It was quiet in the dormitory, too quiet for his liking. He was used to the comforting undercurrent of conversation echoing around the corner from the old Slytherin common room to fall asleep to. It drove away the unwanted thoughts and memories in his head.

Tonight, however, there was nothing to hold them at bay. The deafening silence pressed down on him, eliminating any chance of restful sleep.

Flashbacks haunted his mind, tearing down any semblance of normalcy he had so desperately clutched at. He remembered the feel of his wand in his hand, poised to utter the two words that would grant his family life only to take it away from the man before him.

"Come over to the right side, Draco...you are not a killer..."

How he wished he had said yes! He had been so scared, though, so filled with fear that he could do nothing to stop the other Death Eaters when they arrived. He remembered his hand trembling so much that he could barely hold it up. The look on the old man's face was forever burned into his mind, the image glaring out at him from behind his eyelids. He had rambled on about how he was the one with the power and that Dumbledore was at his mercy, but in his mind, he could not help but think that everything was falling apart around him.

It had been a choice between his family and Dumbledore. One choice that could give him everything he ever wanted, or take it away. Even though he had quickly become disillusioned with his life as a Death Eater, he knew that if he ever tried to leave, the Dark Lord would murder his parents. Lucius might not have been the most paternal father, but Draco still loved him, still looked up to him.

As for his mother, she was innocent, guilty by nothing more than association. She had never even received the Dark Mark. The only reason she was involved in Lord Voldemort's plans was because of her husband and son. Draco had always had the feeling that if she could escape from the Dark Lord's rule and her family be assured of safety, then she would seize the opportunity without hesitation.

"I'm sorry, Mother. I never meant for it to go this far," he would whisper to her in the dark of the night while Lucius and the other Death Eaters were conferring in the Drawing Room. Narcissa would just nod in silence, her face tightening at the sound of chairs scraping against the floor as the meeting drew to a close.

Dumbledore's words came back to him again, taunting him with their simplicity. The man had offered him a chance at redemption, and Draco had almost taken it when the idiot Amycus barged in. The Headmaster's words had made the young man pause in thought, his wand hesitantly dropping an inch or so.

"No, Draco. It is my mercy, and not yours, that matters now."

Just what had he meant by that? The answer resided at the edge of Draco's mind, hovering just out of reach. It was torture for the young Slytherin. In a world full of chaos and destruction, he had desperately sought after truth and certainty during his time as a Death Eater. He had to know what Dumbledore meant, or else he would go mad. And now I won't ever get the chance to ask him, he thought in bitter regret.

"Stop it," Draco gasped in his sleep, tossing and turning on the bed. "Please, just make it stop!"

A flash of bright light jerked him away from the frail Headmaster and towards another memory—that of his first interrogation as a fully fledged Death Eater. Lord Voldemort was present at this one to insure that Draco actually carried out his orders.

"You have to really mean it, Draco," Aunt Bellatrix hissed softly in his ear, her stiff black hair poking at his cheek. Draco shakily held his wand up and pointed at the man's forehead again.

"Please, please don't hurt me! I didn't do anything! M-My family needs me. I have two kids at home," the man rambled tearfully, clutching at Draco's robes. With a disgusted growl, he kicked the man away from him and licked his lips nervously. A glance across the room revealed Lord Voldemort's hooded figure staring back at him.

"Do it," the Dark Lord commanded in a raspy purr. His words sent a shaft of terror and horror zinging up Draco's spine.

I can't! I can't do this! Picking on students is one thing, but torturing a defenseless man is another, he thought to himself, his face pale and drawn from the strain.

Nevertheless, he had to. If he refused, his own family would be tortured instead, and the man would still die, most likely in an even more painful way. I'm sorry, he whispered inaudibly to the man, knowing that he would never hear it. I have no choice.

Therefore, with a trembling hand and a faint gasp, Draco ground out the hauntingly familiar word through gritted teeth.

"Crucio."

The man emitted a sickening scream that would echo through Draco's memories for the rest of his life. Convulsing on the ground in agony, the man continued his screeching until Bellatrix finally finished cackling long enough to kill him. The flash of green blinded Draco's eyes, and he held up a hand to shield his face, stepping back in fear.

Lord Voldemort suddenly appeared at his side and laid a bony, freezing hand on his shoulder. "Well done, Draco. You are becoming most adept at the Unforgivable curses. Perhaps you would like to try the Killing Curse next?"

Draco sat up in bed with a yelp, his heart beating rapidly. Pressing a trembling hand to his chest, he dragged in a ragged gulp of air. A peek around the bed curtain showed him four beds full of snoring seventh year Slytherins.

I must have fallen asleep, he thought uneasily as he tugged a hand through his tousled hair. They came in while I was resting, and I just didn't hear them. The notion did nothing to put him at ease. In fact, it made his stomach clench even more. If they can bust in here, shouting and whooping like they usually do, then what could they do to me if they made a conscious effort to be quiet?

At one point, these young men had been his obedient followers, carrying out his every command. However, after his family deflected from the Dark Lord's side at the end of the War, a grudge against him grew inside of many Slytherins. Their families were the ones who were sent to Azkaban, many to receive a Dementor's Kiss.

On the other hand, Draco's father was facing a lifetime sentence at worst, and severe fines and five years of probation for the entire family at best. However, the odds were slowly tipping in the Malfoys' favor, and Lucius was beginning to see hope for his family. Being able to afford the best lawyer in the wizarding world helped matters somewhat.

A faint rumble from his stomach brought his thoughts back to his hunger. As soon as he became aware of it, the pain hit him full force, making him clutch his unforgiving stomach. That's what I get for skipping lunch and only eating a few bites for supper, he mused with a rueful sigh.

Reluctantly easing out of bed, Draco slipped on a nearby robe and tiptoed out of the room. He glanced warily at the slumbering forms of his House members, suspicion written clear on his pale face. I'll have to watch my back this year, he thought. If I'm not careful, I might wake up to a rather painful curse in the face.

Or, he added bitterly, not wake up at all.