February 2006
He was warm. Too warm.
Something was wrapped around him. Someone.
His head was swinging, all thanks to the firewhisky from last night. In the semi-conscious state between wakefulness and dreams, he attempted to open his eyes, only to be met with the insistent glare of sunlight seeping through the windows.
A reflexive squint and a prompt retreat into the sanctuary of closed eyelids shielded him from the intrusion of the morning light.
He looked around the room and realised it was familiar. It was one of his own flat. There was a portrait of him and his mother.
The warmth around him lessened a bit and he realised the person with him was moving to turn to the other side of the bed.
He immediately moved with her, enveloping her body with his. She was his little spoon, and she smelled really good. Her hair was in his face, but that he could deal with, because it smelled like vanilla and felt so soft and welcoming.
With a deliberate inhale, he absorbed the heady scent, savoring the sensory experience that blurred the lines between the tangible and the imagined.
He moved towards her neck and nipped the skin below her ears. She could feel her shifting, wanting to turn towards him, but he quickly encircled her and pulled her closer to him, while nipping at her neck.
She snuggled into him and he could feel himself growing hard as he pulled her even closer to him as he moved to her ear, breathing in her scent and sighing heavily into it as he kissed her outer ear and moved down to suck on her earlobe and then lower on her body, kissing her shoulder.
He left butterfly kisses along her shoulder and moved his arms to feel her heat. He could feel her relaxing into his touch and he grew slightly bolder.
He nipped the skin where her neck conjoined with her shoulders and then he bit down, softly but a sense of harshness in his bite. And she moaned.
She fucking moaned at this and Draco could feel himself losing control. He sucked on the area, trying to break the skin underneath, trying to leave a mark.
He wanted her to remember that she was his. He was thorough as he nipped, sucked and lapped over the skin gently but he knew he was holding himself back.
"You're mine. You get it? Only Mine." he heard himself say.
She seemed to agree as he felt her shift in front of her, rubbing on him and he gripped her as he felt himself snapping but he knew he had to hold back until she agrees verbally.
And for her, he could wait all eternity, after all, he was hers anyway.
Draco woke up frustrated.
He had been feeling deathly calm recently, but his dream invoked a mix of emotions in him. Emotions he did not remember how to deal with.
Draco was also really stressed. Tomorrow, the Dark Lord had decided, would be Draco's introduction to the world. Draco was looking forward to it, yet he was nervous.
He knew this would be the first time stepping outside the iron gates since he was brought into the manor, so he had to be prepared for everything. So far, he had only read about the world outside, but now, he finally had a chance, to see for himself, what he had forgotten.
To prepare himself for the world, Draco found himself in the manor's library again. Newspapers and glimpses of the wizarding community were denied to him, leaving the library as his sole source of information.
His family, meanwhile, had refused to tell him anything about the outside world. They deemed it unnecessary , as per the Dark Lords instructions.
He was drawn to the section of the manor which held books on Memory Charms, of course, and he did find certain strange rituals and spells which he though could help him out.
He knew a lot of them had already been tried on him and nothing had worked so far but Draco Malfoy did not give up. His dreams were the reason he wanted to recover his locked memory. He needed to know who he was, before all this happened to him.
The Dark Lord said it was unnecessary for Draco to dwell on his past, but for some reason, he could not stop himself from wanting to know. It was only natural.
Before serious progress could have been made by his father, Lucius had been ordered by the Dark Lord to stop looking to fix him.
Fix him. Like he was a broken toy they had come across.
For the Dark Lord, Draco was perfect just the way he was now. Cold, Cruel and Ruthless. But Draco gave a rat's ass about what the heathen wanted. He was fighting for his survival, but he couldn't give up on himself.
As Draco delved into the musty pages of ancient tomes, contemplating the ominous tone of the spells he encountered, a soft voice interrupted his solitary pursuit of knowledge.
"Master Draco," squeaked the high-pitched, yet low voice of a house-elf named Winky. Draco glanced up, his sharp silver eyes meeting the small, quivering form of the creature. "The Dark Lord awaits you in the hall. Master Lucius has asked that you must come quickly."
Draco closed the heavy book in his hands, the anticipation of the forthcoming night flickering in his eyes.
He followed Winky through the opulent corridors of Malfoy Manor, which seemed to permanently reek of dark magic now, until they reached the grand hall, where a chilling aura hung in the air. As he entered, Draco saw the imposing figure of Lord Voldemort seated at the head of the long, dark table.
Next to Voldemort stood a man draped in black, his sharp features illuminated by the dim light. Draco recognized him immediately as Severus Snape, the greatest potions master, renowned for his skills in the dark arts.
Snape had been the first person his father had called upon discovering him in his current state and he had done everything in his power to make sure his memories were returned to him, but unfortunately for Draco, nothing had worked.
Snape's gaze met Draco's for a moment, a silent acknowledgment that sent shivers down Draco's spine.
"Ah, Draco," Voldemort's serpentine voice echoed through the hall. "I trust you've been preparing yourself for tomorrow night."
Draco inclined his head, a curt nod signalling his readiness. Voldemort's crimson eyes bore into him, assessing the young Malfoy's resolve.
"Good," Voldemort continued, his gaze shifting to Snape.
"Severus, Draco is in need of your guidance. Tomorrow night, we shall strike a decisive blow against the Order. Grimmauld Place must fall. The Order should realise, they are collapsing, and quick. This has gone on for too long now. We need to pull them out of Hogwarts now. I want them finished and Potter brough to me if he is there, on his knees, begging for his life."
Nodding to the Dark Lord, Snape's gaze fixed on Draco, evaluating him with an intensity that sent a chill down Draco's spine.
"Draco," Snape spoke, his voice low and measured. "Tomorrow night, you will step onto the battlefield for the first time. The High Reeve's influence through word of mouth is expanding quicker than we presumed, and our window of opportunity is closing. You must be prepared for the challenges that lie ahead of you."
Draco looked at Snape and nodded at him to continue.
"You will lead the assault on Grimmauld Place. And it needs to be quick and efficient. Infiltrate, Obliterate, Destroy and Exit. It's time to cripple the Order's operations and send a clear message. The muggle area surrounding Grimmauld Place will be attacked first. You shall order the Death Eaters with you to create chaos and confusion. And then, remove the protective wards. I am sure Lucius here will be able to provide you with a few artefacts to ensure the damage is done."
Lucius grunts, but nods.
Snape continues, "You will then proceed to cast curses to activate the artefact and remove all protective wards on the location. It will be vulnerable, and that's when you shall enter."
Draco raised his eyebrow as if asking what next and Snape continues.
"Your mission is to capture the Golden Trio alive if you encounter them, which I doubt because I do have reports of them barely leaving Hogwarts. It is the rest of the pesky brats that have been attacking us. The three of them have valuable information of the order and their capture will turn the tide in our favour. However, everyone else present is to be eliminated without mercy. They are traitors to our cause and stand in the way of the Dark Lord's vision for wizard kind and Potter is the boy whose death will finally end it all."
Draco looks up in confusion. The golden trio. As Draco's gaze met Snape's, he raised an eyebrow. The words "Golden Trio" sounded so stupid. Why would you call anyone that. And besides, this entire war rested on a boy's life? To Draco, that seemed outrageous.
Snape, assuming Draco's confusion about their identity, delved into the explanation about the three mysterious wizards (and a witch).
"The Golden Trio consists of three individuals: Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley. Golden? Gryffindor and the main target, Trio? Always together. They have been a thorn in the Dark Lord's side for far too long," Snape explained, his tone dripping with disdain. "Potter, the Boy Who Lived, Granger, the Muggle-born know-it-all, and Weasley, the blood traitor. These three have been instrumental in thwarting many of the Dark Lord's plans."
The Boy Who Lived, know-it-all and Blood Traitor. Bloody Hell Draco needed to occlude fast, or he would combust laughing at the stupidity of it all hitting him. So it has all been about this?
The names however, seemed to ring a certain bell in his head. A bell that was on mute. Like him.
Draco realised he had drifted off and Snape was giving him important details about his first ever mission that he could not afford to fuck up or he would be severely punished.
As he zoned back into what Snape had been saying, Draco grew sombre.
"You will recognize Potter by his distinctive lightning-shaped scar on his forehead, the idiot Ginger boy who will be with Potter is Weasley. I doubt the mudblood Granger will be in the field as from what I have seen and heard so far is that she is no longer in raids. They need her alive as she is the only one with a hint of a functioning brain. If she is in the field, you will be able to recognize her from her wild overflowing hair and probably awkward duelling."
Draco absorbed the information, locking crucial details into his mind. There was still no picture in his head. He needed more to fit names into faces so he could get the right people.
The trio he was tasked with capturing represented a symbol of resistance, a focal point for the Dark Lord's ire and played a crucial role in his establishment of ranks.
He still needed a picture to know who Snape was talking about. His face projected as such because Snape suddenly had a copy of The Daily Prophet, with Three people on the front page.
The Headline read, STILL AT LARGE- THE GOLDEN TRIO, THE UNDESIRABLES with three pictures of scrawny looking teenagers, smiling at the camera in red jumpers.
He looked at the one on the left. The Ginger boy. Weasley. Fiery red and distinctively unruly hair with bright blue eyes.
On the right was another scrawny boy, with shaggy jet-black hair, all over the place, somehow which stood out in all directions as well.
For fuck's sake, did none of them own a comb was what Draco's first thought was. His eyes moved to the boys' forehead, where he could see a lightning shape scar. His eyes were green behind his glasses.
And in the middle of the boys, was a young witch staring back at him. Her eyes were filled with an intensity, a defiance that spoke to him and a desire to prove herself which he felt reflected his own emotions.
Her eyes were the first thing that Draco noticed. They seemed really really familiar to him. A pair of brown Doe like eyes.
He felt a pang in his chest, but he did not know why. He notices her hair, long and bushy, brown, like her eyes, overflowing loosely behind her, as well as the boys. He felt like his face could be displaying certain emotions, so his mask was quickly back in place, and he looked up at Snape and nodded.
"They were your classmates at Hogwarts" Snape continued, noticing his facial expressions before he had a chance to compose himself.
"Your mission is crucial, Draco."
Yeah right, to whom, the cunt who hates my family and is using me as a tool to get back at a bunch of kids less that half his age.
"The Golden Trio possesses knowledge and skills that could jeopardize the Dark Lords plans."
Look at him, snivelling to fight against teenager like adults. He deserves to be taken down.
And when this though crosses Draco's mind, he snaps back to reality. He makes sure to maintain his appearance and thinks back on what the hell was happening to him. He had been wound up a lot today.
Why was he turning against his Master. Was he not bound to him?
Maybe it was the stress of his upcoming mission, or maybe he was unravelling because of all the rituals the Dark Lord had been performing on him recently, tainting him with Dark and Forbidden magic.
He snapped back to attention as Snape droned on.
"You must ensure their capture and, if necessary, eliminate any hindrance to our cause. This is the moment where your loyalty will be tested, and the success of tomorrow night depends on your actions. You will capture them if they are present and bring them straight to the Dark Lord."
At this Draco realised that Voldemort was still in the room, seated behind him. He needed to be more careful and focus.
Draco nodded, his resolve hardening. The weight of the task ahead settled on his shoulders, mingling with the anticipation of his introduction to the outside world.
"Tomorrow night, you will step onto the battlefield not just as Draco Malfoy, but as the High Reeve—the harbinger of my will. Remember, failure is not an option."
Draco turned around to face Voldemort as he continued, "You know what happens when you disappoint me do you not my dear Draco?"
Draco shivers and nods at him.
As the meeting concluded, Draco left the grand hall with infinite thought circling his head, as Snape stayed behind to talk to Voldemort.
The names Potter, Granger, and Weasley echoed in his mind, mingling with the screams from his nightmares and the elusive fragments of his own past. The eyes burned in his memory, pulling in his mind, of where he knew them from.
He realised that this was not the time or place to think about all of this. He needed to figure out his plan for tomorrow. He needed to prepare.
Tomorrow night would not only mark his introduction to the world but also a decisive moment that could shape the course of the war. The war that he had lost faith in just today.
The grand hall of Malfoy Manor resonated with the echoes of Draco's destiny, a destiny written by somebody else, as he walked away from the chilling briefing.
The weight of the Dark Lord's expectations rested heavily on his shoulders, mingling with the anticipation of a world beyond the iron gates. Draco's mind swirled with fragments of memories, the names Potter, Granger, and Weasley threading through the labyrinth of his consciousness as he tried to focus on his task ahead.
Leaving the hall, Draco walked through the corridors of Malfoy Manor, air thick with a foreboding tension as he took in a deep breath and then let out a sturdy exhale. He could faintly smell the rotten smell of magic. His nose had always been sensitive to it. His mother had said it was a rare ability he had.
As he walked to the library, he realised that the knowledge he sought went beyond the spells and incantations; it delved into the mysteries of his own past, a past obscured by dark arts and twisted manipulations.
His mind wandered back to the events that had just taken place in the hall.
He knew they were in the middle of a war. He knew that through his training. She had said that the muggles had attacked the magic folk because they were scared of what would happen to them. This war was to protect the wizardkind and that The Order consisted of terrorists.
But his aunt had not actually told him, they were fighting his classmates and a lot of other wizard folk, who had seemed to disagree with the mutilation of muggles.
It was a war so the Dark Lord could kill the Boy who Lived so he could show that he was not weak. By destroying lives around him. Just to prove a point.
As Draco immersed himself again in the musty pages, contemplating his existence which trying to read, the door to the library creaked open.
In the dim light, Snape's silhouette appeared, his presence announced by the subtle rustle of his dark robes .
Draco looked up, his sharp silver eyes meeting Snape's gaze.
"Draco," Snape's voice, low and measured, cut through the silence. "You have questions, and it is time you sought answers. You were facing away from the Dark Lord, so he did not see you generally controlled face break out into the circus of emotions that I saw today."
Draco hesitated. Snape had noticed his shock and surprise.
"Your memories are a puzzle, Draco, one that has been tampered with by powerful magic," Snape began, his gaze piercing, as if trying to communicate with him.
I fucking KNOW. I know I know I know!
"The spells cast upon you are intricate, designed not just to erase, but to manipulate. Lucius, your father, was tasked with finding a cure, but the Dark Lord deemed it unnecessary. For him, you are perfect—a loyal servant molded by the shadows of your own forgotten past."
Again, I know. I have been cursed. Every day I remember that it is because of him that I can't even try anymore.
Snape's words made him angry. But he wanted to hear more about what he was saying. The revelation was a bitter pill to swallow. Hearing it from his father had been difficult, but hearing other people say it made it worse.
His journey to recover his memories had been halted, his quest for identity overshadowed by the Dark Lord's desires and it pissed him off that someone else was handling the strings to his life, as if he was a puppet in his own story.
"I cannot help you by going against the Dark Lord's wishes, but I can tell you that the way you can unlock your past is to take a walk through it all gently. Don't hesitate and let it come to you. In its own way."
I have been trying. There are barely any memories that are worthy of walking through. All I remember is hazy moments from my dreams, which seemed to be from an alternate verse.
"You need to trace your steps from whatever you remember about yourself. Before you lost your memory, you were the youngest death eater in the history of death eaters because the Dark Lord saw potential in you. The path to understanding oneself is fraught with challenges," Snape remarked.
I was a child is what I remember. How am I meant to do this. Circumstances were different back then. I don't even remember how they changed to become what they have now.
"But knowledge is a weapon, Draco, and in understanding your own past, you gain power over those who sought to erase it."
Something flashed in Draco's eyes for a split second for those words.
"Your memories are a delicate web, Draco. I cannot simply restore them, but I can guide you subtly. The answers you seek are hidden within, and you must unravel them carefully and do it all by yourself."
"The connection you feel is both a curse and a gift," Snape explained.
Draco nodded, as he tried to wrap his head around all the information Snape had dumped on him.
He summoned a quill and a parchment. He had a lot of questions.
Why are you telling me all this now?
"The Golden Trio represents not just a threat to the Dark Lord but a link to your past. Embrace it, for in understanding your own history, you find a weapon against those who seek to control you." Draco could see a glint in Snape's eye.
The guidance Snape offered was cryptic, yet it opened doors in Draco's mind that he hadn't dared approach before. Images and emotions flooded back in disjointed sequences, and Draco grappled with the overflowing images in his head.
He hesitated before he wrote down his next question.
What are we fighting for really?
Snape sighed. "I am sure Bellatrix has told you what you need to know. But yes, you are right, this is all to prove a point."
Draco froze in position. How did Snape know what was going on in his head?
"I am a legllimens, my skills are better than the Dark Lords so you would not know when I skim through your mind. He used to be exceptional at it before, he transferred into his current body and now you can feel him enter into your mind. You can use this information as you may deem necessary, so you need to be prepared and occluded at all times around everybody when you have to make any sort of eye contact."
This new information made Draco uneasy.
Snape, ever watchful, saw the struggle in the young Malfoy's eyes. "Prepare yourself, Draco," Snape advised, his voice carrying the weight of experience. "Tomorrow's battle will test not only your magical prowess but everything you know so far is about to change. It is your first foray onto the battlefield, and the Dark Arts can be unforgiving. Mental preparation is as crucial as mastering spells, even with your training."
Draco absorbed Snape's counsel, realizing the truth in his words. The battle ahead required not only physical strength but mental fortitude. Snape continued, "You do not need to kill indiscriminately, Draco. Dark magic leaves scars, not just on the victim but on the wielder. Injure strategically, incapacitate your enemies, but do not let the darkness consume you. Preserve your own sanity amidst the chaos."
Draco listened intently, the weight of Snape's words settling upon him like a heavy cloak. Snape, the master of subtlety, was offering him a lifeline, a chance to navigate the treacherous path that lay ahead without succumbing to the madness that had claimed others. The Dark Lord's demands were relentless, but Snape's guidance provided a glimmer of hope.
What was Snape really doing?
"Your family is entwined in the Dark Lord's web, Draco," Snape continued, his voice a mere whisper in the shadowed library. "But there is a delicate balance between serving and being consumed. You must tread carefully, for the choices you make tomorrow will shape not only your destiny but that of your family."
Draco nodded. Snape's counsel had given him a strategy—one that involved causing enough chaos to satisfy the Dark Lord's thirst for dominance. It was a precarious dance, and Draco understood the stakes.
"DNAE," Snape uttered softly, revealing a name Draco had not heard before. "It is an acronym for an ancient incantation: Divide, Neutralize, Alter, Ensnare. It is a subtle art of spellcasting, a way to control without leaving a visible mark. Learn it well, for it will be your ally in the battlefield."
As Draco absorbed the information, Snape's gaze remained fixed on him, a silent understanding passing between them and Snape handed him a book.
"There are those who have fallen into the abyss of darkness, Draco. Bellatrix Lestrange is one such casualty. Do not follow in her footsteps. Preserve your humanity, for it is your greatest strength."
"Draco," Snape stressed, his voice a mere whisper in the hallowed space, "there is a perilous secret you must guard with your life. Voldemort knows about your natural Occlumency talent, a skill that may be your salvation, or your downfall."
"I am divulging this information against Voldemort's wishes," Snape continued, his gaze penetrating Draco's. "What I have told you is somewhat difficult but the truth and even though you might not understand my indentions behind this disclosure, I expect you to remember what I said at all times. The Dark Lord wishes to control all aspects of your being, and your natural Occlumency is a threat to his dominion. Keep this conversation hidden, Draco. The Dark Lord must not know that I have shared this with you."
"Voldemort's lust for power has become insatiable," Snape confessed, his voice a mix of bitterness and regret.
"The war has taken a toll, and the Death Eaters are growing disillusioned. They see the depth of this conflict, the senselessness of the bloodshed, all to satiate the Dark Lord's ego."
Yes well that is why he wants to 'unleash' me.
"Tomorrow's assault is more than that or a strategic move," Snape explained. "It is a delicate dance, one that could tip the scales either way. The Death Eaters need a victory, a reaffirmation of the Dark Lord's power. Your actions may determine the fate of not only the Death Eaters but your family and yourself."
Draco listened intently. The Dark Lord's hold over the Death Eaters was slipping, and the imminent attack on Grimmauld Place held the potential to either cement or fracture that allegiance.
"Voldemort's grip on the Death Eaters is waning," Snape continued, his voice laden with weariness. "They crave purpose beyond blind loyalty. If tomorrow's assault is perceived as a success, it may buy us time, a chance for hope amidst the shamble. Protect this knowledge, Draco. It could be the key to a future where we are free from the shackles of war."
Why me?
"Because it is you Draco. Have faith in yourself. Drink this right before you go into the battle tomorrow. It will give you 4 hours of luck. Use it carefully"
With those parting words, Snape handed him a tiny vial, that read Felix Felicis, and left the library, leaving Draco alone with the weight of newfound knowledge and responsibility and now a vial of liquid luck.
Draco knew from his earlier encounters with Snape that he was not what he showed to be. This confusing conversation with Snape left him doubting his own purpose and questioning everything going on around him.
Why had Snape told him this. Why was it a night before he was meant to kill and establish his name as Voldemort's strongest soldier. He knew he could trust Snape as he remembers his mother telling him that Snape was his godfather.
It would make sense why he was worried about his sanity, yet he didn't understand what Snape meant by buying them some time. Time from what?
He knew that his mother had told him that no matter what happened in the world, trust Snape with his life. He was on a crossroad with one side boring loyalty to the dark lord and the other side being listening to his heart, as well as his mother and protecting this haphazard information that Snape had just given him.
His mind churned with conflicting thoughts, each one a tug-of-war between his allegiance to the Dark Lord and the unsettling truth unveiled by Snape. The knowledge that the Death Eaters were growing disillusioned and Voldemort's grip was slipping resonated within him. It echoed the sentiments he had sensed but never fully understood.
Draco's thoughts spiralled, entangled in the complexities of his predicament.
Why had Snape chosen this night, on the eve of a critical mission, to reveal such perilous secrets? The conflicting emotions wrestled within him; a battle as tumultuous as the war that raged outside Malfoy Manor's walls.
Draco grappled with the realization that Snape's motives might extend beyond blind loyalty to Voldemort, and he felt himself welcoming that thought.
His heart, a beacon in the murkiness of conflicting allegiances, whispered a desire for something beyond the clutches of the Dark Lord.
His mother's trust in Snape, the godfather who had chosen to reveal the hidden facets of his past, added another layer to the intricate web of Draco's emotions.
The library's silence was a canvas, and Draco found himself painting the contours of his dilemma with each passing moment. The dark hours of the night dwindled, leaving Draco to grapple with the weight of choices that could reshape not only his destiny but the destiny of those entwined with his life.
Being his Godfather meant that Snape was only doing this to protect him and his family, but he had never felt the same protection from his actual aunt, who was dangling in the madness that Voldemort had ensued upon his family.
She often took pleasure in torturing him and his father but stayed away from her sister, to Draco's extreme gratefulness.
As dawn approached the windows, Draco knew that the choices he made on the morrow's battlefield would echo far beyond the grand hall of Malfoy Manor. Draco's own struggle—a dance between loyalty and emancipation, duty and freedom, shadows and the glimmer of a different future was giving him a headache.
Through conflicting emotions, Draco decided that he needed to sleep in order to be prepared for the onslaught tomorrow.
Snape's words still ran clear in his mind, and he decided to Occlude his mind before going out of the library. He needed to sleep tonight. He needed to hear what the voice of his dreams and nightmares was going to say to him after all of this.