Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Chapter 4

May 20th, 1998

Ron sat in the Shrieking Shack waiting impatiently for Blaise Zabini. He was supposed to start Auror training that day and Zabini was late. The events of the previous day were still fresh in his mind. He couldn't believe his 'best friend' was going to help someone who didn't deserve it.

'Then again,' he thought, 'it's typical of Harry to want to help that fuckin' ferret. The boy-who-shouldn't-have-lived Harry Potter. I should have killed him when I had the chance.'

He heard the familiar sound of apparition and turned to see Blaise in front of him. The two men shook hands like old friends.

"Weasley, how are you?"

"I've seen better days. And you? I haven't heard from you or anybody else these past few days."

"Ah, well, Goyle is in France trying to find Pansy for me. But enough with this pointless small talk. How did your trip go?"

"I was accompanied by Harry and my sister. I wasn't able to accomplish the mission."

"Bloody hell. Nott won't be too pleased to hear that. The mudblood was supposed to die."

"Tell him I have another plan. One that will be a lot more... fun." Ron smirked. "He won't be displeased."

"What are you going to do with the mudblood?" asked Blaise curiously.

"Let's just say it won't be necessary to kill her just yet. By the time I'm done with her, she'll know her place." Ron chuckled at Blaise's look of surprise. Blaise looked at his former classmate and realized how much he had changed. The man he had once considered to be a naive little schoolboy was now a twisted evil man.

"What do you want me to tell Nott?"

"Tell him that I'll break her. She won't be an issue when our next plan is set in motion. I will need some time, though."

"How much time are we talking about?"

"A few months at least." Ron glanced down to his watch; it was almost 7:30 am. "I've got to go. I start training today."

"Ah, yes," said Blaise, "I almost forgot you're training for the light side to capture us on the dark side. If only they knew what a menace you really are." He laughed. "Until next time, Weasley."

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'I can't- I can't live anymore like this. I'm losing it. I'm losing it.' Draco had been determined. He had wanted to put himself in Azkaban in order to make up for everything he'd done. He didn't know, however, that he'd be living in sorrow.

"Please, please, someone take away this pain. I can't live like this. I can't," he whispered. He started banging on the walls, crying for help. "Please, anybody! Help me, please!" Tears began to flow.

"You are useless, Draco. A pathetic excuse for a wizard." Bellatrix pointed her wand at him. "Crucio!" His screams filled the dungeons. Her laughter was as cruel as her heart.

"No, stop! Mum! Mum, help me please!" The thin line between his memories and his reality was a blur.

"You deserve every bit of punishment you get, boy." Lucius turned his wand on his son. "Crucio!" He pulled a sobbing Narcissa forward and pointed his wand at her. "Imperio." Narcissa stood with a blank face and pointed her wand at Draco.

"Crucio." Her voice was calm and her face indifferent. "Crucio."

"Mum! Mummy!" Draco dropped to his knees. He cried uncontrollably. Every ounce of pain and sadness seeping out of him. "Mum," he whispered. "I'm sorry. I- I'm so sorry."

Draco knew he would never forgive himself for what he'd done. No matter how much time he was in Azkaban, it would never be enough. He remembered the days when he looked up to his father; the days when he had tried to mold himself in his father's image. He'd been such a hateful child. He had hated everyone who he believed weren't worth his time. Now, he knew they were all worth so much more than him. Now, he hated himself.

As time went by, every happy memory he had ever had slipped away from him. He could no longer remember his mother's smile, or his father's pride. He couldn't remember his first day of Hogwarts, or his first Quidditch victory. He remembered the first time his father hit him when he was only 4 years old and the first time his deranged aunt tortured him after her escape from Azkaban. He remembered finding his mother crying in her room after he had received the dark mark. He had held her tightly as she cried for him.

Draco had lost track of the days and nights he had been there. He no longer wanted his freedom. He no longer wanted to be a prisoner. He just wanted to stop feeling and lose himself in the emptiness of his life.

A/N:

Sorry it's so short. It took me forever to get this written. I had a severe case of writer's block.. still do for that matter.

Reviews would be greatly appreciated :)