Winter's Flame

"When are you leaving?" Draco asked, idly playing with his wand and flipping it over his fingers.

The complaints had, of course, been rolling in by the thousands. Every day the students saw the dark cloud of owls making a beeline for Dumbledore's office, and every day more and more students were disappearing home on the train. Most of Hufflepuff had gone, half of the Ravenclaws. Even a majority of the Gryffindors had vanished. Only the Slytherins remained, their parents confident that they were safe if the attacks were truly being made by Death Eaters. Aurors had flooded the school grounds, security wizards had been placed on every available corner of the school, and lessons had more or less been put on hold.

"Tomorrow," Taylor said, fiddling with one maroon plait. "Ma's busy, so I'm to go to my father's place."

"They're separated?"

"Aye. When me dad found out that Ma was a witch he left quick smart. Only took me in on the odd occasion when she told him I was perfectly normal, not a drop of magic in me. He thinks I'm at a boarding school for Muggle girls."

Draco studied her for a moment, taking in the mournful expression that haunted her plain face. There was nothing overly special about her until she smiled, and nobody had much of a reason to do that anymore. "Do you want to go?"

"No," she shook her head. "I hate it there. He spends most of the time abusing me mother. Drives me crazy. I just wish he'd shut up, you know? I wish Ma could take me."

"Why can't she?"
"Ministry business, I think. She's in the Muggle Department. Keeps an eye on them, pretends to be one. That's where the cooking show comes in. At first she was only working for the Scottish branch, but England took her on."

"Then why don't you just stay here?"

She shook her head with a dry laugh. "Here? You're out of your mind. Lavender was half Muggle. Most of the kids here are. We're all terrified. Better to get away than to be picked off like free-range chickens or something."

Draco sighed. "This place will close soon, anyway. I overheard that Bones girl yesterday. Her Aunt works at the Ministry. Says that they're concerned about the welfare of the students."

She nodded slowly. "You'll go back to your big mansion, I'm assuming."

"I guess so," he shrugged. "If my beloved guardian's around."

"D'you like him?"

"Yeah, he's a good guy. But I'll gut you if you tell anybody I said that."

"Gut me?" she raised an eyebrow. "That's charming." She frowned and looked around the library. "Where's that Italian boy you're usually with?"

"Carlos? He and his sister went home yesterday. Didn't you hear the howler? From his Grandmother, or Nona. Whatever they call her. She never did like Death Eaters. Hated my parents. I always sort of wondered why they were Sorted into Slytherin."

"So why aren't you hanging about with the rest of the Slytherin rabble?"

"Because they're all evil gits."

She smiled humourlessly. "I thought you were an evil git."

"Well they're stupid evil gits."

The ghost of a real smile hovered about the corners of her lips, but then she looked at the clock and sighed, standing up as she did so. "I'd better go. I haven't started packing yet, and my train leaves early."

Draco quickly stood. "Then I'll… see you later, I suppose."

"Not too likely. Not here. If it really does close down."

"Then I'll see you when I see you."

She nodded. "One day, ten years from now, when you're the next Dark Lord."

He chuckled. "Doubt it. I'm too handsome to be an evil warlord. Rumour has it they're all bald and ugly."

"You can be a trendsetter."

"Alright then. When I'm the first good-looking Dark Lord and you're… what do you want to be when you grow up?"

She looked at him, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "Happy."

He smiled. "When I'm the Dark Lord, and we bump into each other as I'm coming out of Knockturn Alley or something, I want you to give me a great big smile, just so I know that we both made it." He offered his hand, and she took it.

"If I see you, Draco," she smiled for him, "I won't be able to stop myself."

He laughed and squeezed her hand before letting it drop. "Goodbye, then."

"Aye, goodbye." She smiled once more, then turned her back and walked out of the library. Draco sat down, admiring her legs for what was probably the last time, then flipped open his Earth Magic book. If anything, the hiatus caused by Lavender was giving him plenty of time to practice.

~

It was nearly midnight when Draco wearily opened the door to the empty common room and fell into his favourite seat by the fire. He gave a rather heartfelt sigh. His few friends were all but gone and he was feeling, on the whole, rather depressed.

"Well how was I to know?" Natassja's harsh voice rang out behind him. "It makes no difference, anyway. He was still fucking pleased, wasn't he?"

"I heard that Dumbledore was absolutely livid," Blaise giggled.

"Hart said he looked like he wanted t strangle somebody," Goyle chuckled.

Draco sat perfectly still, listening to the conversation behind him. Several things were suddenly clicking into place.
"So did Malfoy, apparently," Natassja said distastefully. "Cuddled up to that Ravenclaw and blubbed the whole time."

"Where is Draco?" Pansy asked. "I still don't understand why he isn't here. He's our leader, isn't he?"

"He is not our leader!" Tash hissed. "And we all know you like Malfoy's, Parkinson, but Malfoy Junior is finished. He's a traitor. You heard him last week - he feels sorry for fucking Gryffindors!"

"He didn't think Brown deserved to die," Blaise added spitefully. "Him, a pureblood!"

"Forget him. Think about tonight. He wants another one. A Mudblood this time."

"Let's do the new Ravenclaw," Blaise muttered. "The Scottish one."

"She's not a Mudblood, idiot."

"So? I don't care, I don't like her."

"Neither do I," Crabbe said. "She's ugly."

"So are bloody you," Natassja snapped. "Don't you listen to him? He said Mudblood. Muggle born. Use your fucking heads for once! Who's the Mudblood that would make him the happiest?"

Draco rolled his eyes at the blank pause. "Granger," he said, gracefully moving to his feet and leaning on the back of the chair. "Potter's best friend, who just so conveniently happens to be staying here for the time being." He lazily surveyed their shocked faces. "Am I right?"

"What would you know, Malfoy?" Natassja glared at him. "You have nothing to do with it!"

"I would know, Kingdon, because unlike your little followers, I am intelligent. Therefore, I can see what you're on about."

"They followed you once, Malfoy. Sure you aren't jealous?"

He smiled spitefully and flicked his eyes towards Blaise. "On the contrary. Glad to be rid of them."

She flushed and glared at him, surprisingly understanding the not-so-subtle insult. He looked over their sad little group. "So you're the ones who killed poor Lavender Brown. Well done, there. You bumped off a weak little blonde who probably would have had no real impact on the world anyway. And you say the Dark Lord was happy? Maybe he's not as great as I thought."

"Don't you insult him!" Tash flared. "He's the most powerful Wizard in the world!"

"Then why is he relying on a group of school children to kill off other school children for his great cause of Muggle genocide, hmm?"

"You're just jealous," she growled. "You weren't important enough to be called by him. You don't have one of these!" She pulled up the sleeve of her jumper and presented her forearm where a large black skull was imprinted on her skin. As if on cue, the others enthusiastically did the same, save Pansy, who slid hers up reluctantly, as if ashamed of the brand. Pansy's and Blaise's were smaller, slightly more delicate looking, if that could be said of an evil looking black skull, but Natassja's nearly took up her entire forearm.

"Wow, Tash," Draco raised his eyebrows, an expression unfortunately hidden by his long fringe. "You could have at least opted for the smaller version. This one makes you look a bit butch, if you know what I mean. Though I always did wonder about you." Natassja snarled as Draco thought he saw the flicker of a smile on Pansy's face.

"Get to bed," she commanded the others. "All of you. We'll continue this tomorrow."

Nobody moved for one uncertain second.

"Will they all jump when you say so?" Draco asked her softly, a malicious glint in his golden eyes.

"Now!" she near screamed, and they all reacted immediately. Blaise rose to her feet and glared at him before flouncing off, and for the first time he could remember, Crabbe and Goyle shot dark looks towards him before trudging off. Only Pansy didn't move, and Natassja scowled at her. "Pansy?"

Pansy bit her lip and glanced at Draco, who didn't move.

"Fuck you, then," Natassja snarled. "He'll hear about this. You know what he does to traitors." She turned on her heel, probably hoping to look graceful, but stumbled slightly as she stormed from the room.

Pansy didn't move for a long moment. She wrung her hands while Draco stood silently, waiting for her to speak. He discovered that, against his will, he had developed a slight soft spot for Pansy which probably grew from their history. There was a time when he was never far from her side. Even last year they had been close. It was only over the rainy summer that he had drifted so far away from everything he had once been, and it startled him to think that last year seemed so long ago. Centuries could have passed.

"He's so scary, Draco," she said finally. "He looks at you with those red eyes and… it's as if they're burning through you." She looked at him, her lower lip trembling. "They all hate me, the Death Eaters. I can tell. I get so scared. They all love Tash, because she gets so into the killing and plotting. And Blaise, because she's beautiful. And the boys… their fathers are there, aren't they, so they're all right. But me? I can see them looking at me. Glaring. And him… God, sometimes I think if I put a toe out of line he'll kill me. He killed my father. Did you know that?" Draco shook his head. "Over the summer. They were supposed to catch Weasley and hold him hostage, or kill him or something. So Potter would get upset and…. I dunno. But something went wrong. Daddy was a part of the group that he sent." Tears welled up in her blue eyes. "He killed every one of them. Daddy, Macnair, all of them. Just like that." The tears spilled down her cheeks. "I wish I'd never gone."

The soft spot reserved for the girl with the pug-nose caused him to kneel before her and wipe her cheeks with the edge of his cloak. "Why did you go?" he asked gently.

"Because… because she made me. One day a few weeks ago, Tash came running into mine and Blaise's room and said that she'd had a vision, and that we had to come with her quickly. Me, Blaise, Crabbe and Goyle. Blaise and I told her she was crazy, but she said it was all true. She'd had the vision while she was asleep, and she woke up with the Dark mark upon her arm. And she showed it to us. She said You-Know-Who would kill any of us if we didn't come to him straight away, so we did. She led us to the tree on the far side of the lake, and underneath it was a secret Port Key. It took us to him. He said that we were the new wave of Death Eaters, the new generation. That we should cause as much havoc here as we could, so that Dumbledore would have his hands full. We were only told not to hurt Potter directly. Because he wanted to do it."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "So why does Natassja hate me so much all of a sudden?"

"She always was jealous of you," Pansy sniffed. "Because we all looked up to you and did what you said. But this year, when you went all weird and stopped talking to everybody, I guess she saw it as a chance to take over. She started trying to boss us around, but we didn't really listen. Blaise and I never liked her anyway. At least, I thought Blaise didn't, but now they're practically best friends. And Crabbe and Goyle will follow anybody."

"And you?"

"I hate her. I always have, Draco, you know that. I only do what she says because… well, he put her in charge of us. Said she was our leader. And he obviously favours her. He didn't even get angry when we killed Lavender even though she was mostly of wizard blood. Said it still caused a disturbance, which was good. Just try and get a Mudblood next time."

"What exactly did you did to Lavender?"

"We flew in through the window. Did you know the Gryffindors don't have their own rooms? We flew into the girls dormitory. Patil and Granger were asleep, and we put a Silencing Charm on Lavender while she was still asleep. I thought we were only going to kidnap her and scare her but…" Pansy's face crumpled into a look of disgust mingled with distress. "Natassja pulled out a knife. A big one, with a bit of a hook on the end. She just plunged it into her! I nearly screamed, and I only didn't because I thought she'd stick it in me if I did. God, I'll never forget Lavender's face. She woke up for a second, as it went in. But when it came out, I think she was already dead. I hope she was. Natassja just kept doing it, sinking it in and then tugging at it with the hook. I nearly vomited. Tash was covered in blood. Crabbe and Goyle went a bit pale. Blaise was dry retching. It was horrible, but there was nothing we could do. If anybody woke up and saw us, we'd all be caught and thrown in Azkaban!" She drew a shuddering breath before she continued. "Anyway, after Natassja finished playing we flew her out, not bothering to clean up the blood. We kept it at the place where we met… him. And then Natassja must have dumped her back here, or they all did it without me, because I didn't know anything about it until you and Carlos came back. They probably took her clothes off then. I dunno what else they might have done. I think Tash did enough the first time."

Draco sat silently for a while, his insides tumbling about.

"Do you hate me, Draco?" she asked in a small voice. "Am I a bad person? I never thought I'd care whether I was or not. But now I do. God I do."

Draco sat beside her on the couch and wrapped a comforting arm around her. He was doing that a lot lately. People might begin to think he was nice. "Of course I don't hate you. You didn't do anything. It was all Natassja. And the others… well, they're stupid. But you're not. I thought you were, but I was wrong. And you aren't a bad person. Not really. A horrible bitch, maybe, but not bad. You're not evil."

She smiled wanly. "Why aren't we friends anymore, Draco?"

"Were we ever?" he asked seriously. "Partners in crime, more like."

"Well why weren't or aren't we friends, then?"

He ruffled her hair. "We are friends, Pan. As of now. If Tash is giving you trouble, come to me. Odds are I know more spells than she does. She never was all that bright. Now go up to bed. You need rest." He saw her hesitate slightly. "Look, if you're worried you can sleep in my room. Carlos has gone home, anyway."

She smiled and stood, kissing him lightly on the cheek. "Thank you. Goodnight, Draco."

He nodded at her as she left the room. He sat back, thinking over everything she'd said. The Dark Lord had called them. Over him. Of all people, the Dark Lord had called Natassja, Zabini, Crabbe and Goyle over him. It was all a bit embarrassing, really. But then, he'd sent Morgan to him weeks ago. So he did want Draco to join them. He'd just had to go through a complete change of species beforehand.

Trouble was, did he really want to join anymore? It didn't sound as inviting as it once had. Plunging a hooked knife into a sleeping sixteen year old didn't sound overly glamorous when he thought about it.

"What troubles you, my love?" a voice whispered in his ear.

"I am not your 'love,'" Draco said flatly. "And I'm not troubled."

Morgan frowned as she knelt before him. "That does not sound convincing."

He glared at her.

"What is it?" she asked. "What's wrong?"

"Why them?" he asked. "Why Natassja, of all people? She's an idiot!"

"Of course she is, my love. She is a drone, she will do what my Lord asks. So will the rest, out of fear. She was not chosen over you."

"Well why was I chosen? Was I at all? So far all you've done is given me a book on how to make plants grow out of my hand and turned me into a monster. I don't see how this is contributing to the grand scheme of things." He stood angrily and began to pace the room. "And, when you get down to it, I'm not so sure I want to join this little evil group yours. You kill school kids who don't matter-"

"He wasn't pleased with that," Morgan defended. "If she kills another half-blood, she'll be punished…"

"Like hell she will. He told her to cause a disruption, so she did. She's nearly gotten Hogwarts shut down, for Gods sake."

"So your problem is that you cannot kill?"

"Yes!" he stressed, falling into his chair again.

Morgan slid into his lap. "That is not a weakness. That is a strength. You still have morals, willpower."

"What do you mean, 'I still have?' I never had morals before. This is a new development. Would you stop pretending to know me?"

"I do know you."

"No, you don’t." He pushed her off of him and stood again, leaning against the mantle piece and staring into the flames. "You think I'm a flame, which makes no real sense when you think about it, and you think I'm a big strong boy with a big strong heart. You confuse the hell out of me every time you're around, and you make me think that the Dark Lord wants me. If he does, prove it. If not, sod off and don't come near me again. I don't need this anymore."

"That is why I have come," Morgan said, unfazed. "I have come to take you to him."

Draco turned. "What?"

"He wants to meet you. I have been sent to bring you to him. The girl has reported your recent behavior. He feels that he may lose you."

"And how do we get to his Majesty? The Port Key by the lake?"

Morgan smiled slightly. "I have no need of Port Keys."

"How is that?" Draco frowned. "Not even Dumbledore can Apparate in and out of Hogwarts."

"I," she said imperially, "am different than Albus. Take my hand. I shall lead you to him."

Draco regarded her for a moment before reaching to take her outstretched hand. Nothing seemed to happen, and he smiled mockingly. "Were you planning on moving any time soon?"

"You are quick to judge, Master Malfoy," a dry voice said from behind him. He near jumped three feet when he realised he was inside a dusty old mansion. He turned slowly, and for the first time in his life he saw the man his father had always held in such high esteem. He silently took in the blood-red snake like eyes, the smooth head. Lord Voldemort certainly fulfilled the rumours he'd heard about evil overlords being bald and ugly.

The Dark Lord smiled slightly, as if he'd heard the thought. "You look… different than your father did at your age."

"Probably because my hair isn't down to my arse," he replied, fighting the urge to brush his fringe from his eyes.

"He has an attitude, Narcissa," Voldemort said, not disapprovingly to a tall figure in the shadows.

"That," she replied coolly, stepping forward, "is a new development, my Lord."

Draco's mother looked exactly as she did the day he last saw her. Tall and proud, gazing down on the world with those eyes that could have been made from two chips of ice. She was dressed in flowing black robes, caught at the hips with a golden belt. She looked more beautiful than he'd ever seen her. She looked like a Queen.

"It's strange what happens to somebody when they're suddenly orphaned and become monsters," he said without a trace of expression.

The Dark Lord surveyed them with a trace of amusement on his horrible face. Narcissa didn't answer him. She just stared.

"So why did you bring me here?" he asked Voldemort, and in his opinion quite skillfully masked the fear that was tugging at him. "What do you need me for?"

"I need you, Master Malfoy," the Dark Lord said smoothly, "to bring the Potter boy to me."

Draco snorted. "And how exactly do I do that? We aren't exactly chummy."

"I am aware of that fact. I am also aware that every other of my servants who were sent to do the same have failed. Potter is, I'm afraid, more closely watched than I had anticipated."

"Why's he so important, anyway? He's just a boy with a scar."

Voldemorts eyes flashed in an obligatory evil overlord mood swing. "He is the one boy who can overthrow me," he growled. "It has been prophesized. And Dumbledore knows it. Even the boy knows it. Which is why he must die."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "So you want me to buddy up to Potter and bring him here."

"You heard him, Draco," Narcissa said. "Don’t act the fool."

"I'm not acting the fool, mother," he rolled his eyes. "But Potter's not that stupid. He's going to get suspicious if I start cuddling up to him out of the blue."

"That I will leave to your discretion," the Lord said, calm once more. "I encourage initiative in my servants.'

"And was it mother's initiative to set up the raid on Azkaban?" he asked, shooting a quick glare at her. "And rescue everybody except my father?"

"Yes," the Dark Lord answered simply. "It was. And I approve."

"I don't understand any of this," Draco muttered. "Why did you wait so long to call me? And why did you set up Lupin to bite me? Why did you turn me into a freak?"

Voldemorts eyes gleamed. "A whim."

"A whim?" Draco asked incredulously. He saw him mother flash him a warning glance, but he ignored it. He was scared of the Dark Lord. Who wasn't? But he wasn't going to timidly accept such a lame explanation. "You turned my entire life upside down on a whim?"

"A test, rather, would be the correct wording, My Lord," Morgan spoke for the first time since their arrival. "To test your loyalty to he Who Must Not Be Named."

"You're his follower," Draco said irritably. "Why can't you say his name?"

Morgan did not answer him. She didn't even look at him. She seemed different in this place. She was no longer warm nor inviting. She wasn't the bright verbally incompetent woman, either. Her beauty had taken on a sharp turn, her deep green eyes that had once reminded him of a shady forest looked an icy aqua in the dim light, and her pale skin almost looked like it was tinted blue.

"Forgive me, Master Malfoy," Voldemort said in a voice laden with amusement. "I have not yet introduced you to my lovely pet, Morrigan."

"Your pet?" he asked, partly disgusted and partly confused.

"Your cage, Morrigan," he said, motioning to a large silver birdcage that Draco had not noticed before. Probably because it hadn't been there until Voldemort had pointed to it. Wordlessly, Morgan went to it and stepped inside, closing the door behind her. She peered out, her face expressionless save the faintest hint of pain in her eyes. "If Morrigan were not caged, Master Malfoy," Voldemort continued with a malicious grin, "she would surely run away from me."

"Why do you call her Morrigan?" he asked in a soft voice, eyes still on the sad figure inside the cage.

"Because, my dear boy, that is her name."

Draco frowned and finally looked back at him, trying not to cringe as he once again noticed how truly hideous the Dark Lord was.

"Morrigan is a seasonal spirit, of which there are four. She is known as many things, the most common being the Winter Queen." "Winter Queen?" he asked. "But…" he looked back at her. "You're the reason Winter's come so early?"

She did not reply, nor did she move.

"The Summer Lady is trying hard to break through," Voldemort continued. "Have you not noticed the clear days? That is she, Nimrodel. When one knows the spirit's true name, they own the spirit. Which is how I captured dear Morrigan and her brother."

"Her brother?" Draco murmured. "Rhun…"

Narcissa smiled approvingly. "Rhun-Lios, the Prince of Spring."

Voldemort nodded. "With Spring under my control, there is only Nimrodel and her cousin of Autumn to fight the Winter, and I am glad to say they are losing. When I find Nimrodel's true name, she will be mine also."

"Why do you want it to be Winter?" Draco asked, confused. "It's just a season."

"You know nothing, Master Malfoy. Winter is not a season. It is a state of mind. The season of death, as it was once called by Muggle poets. It encourages loneliness and despair to grow in the minds and hearts of Muggles and Wizards." He smiled cruelly. "Only the strong and already corrupted can resist."

Draco raised an eyebrow. Psychotic, he thought to himself. Certifiable.

Voldemort chuckled at that. "It is not the place of the follower to judge the master. Yes, Master Malfoy, I know your very thoughts. You can hide nothing from me." He seemed rather proud of the fact.

"But," Draco disputed, "I'm not a follower yet."

Another warning look from his mother.

"From the moment you arrived here, Master Malfoy, you were a follower. From the moment Morrigan spoke to you, and you responded, you were a follower. From the moment you were born, you were a follower. You were born for this time. When you, if successful in bringing me my prize, will rise to stand beside me, at my right hand. All will fear you. All will know you. Is that not something to aspire to?"

"Why me?"

"You?" Narcissa answered, the first hint of pride in her voice. "You are from a line of great men, great wizards. You are royalty, Draco. You have the face of an angel and the heart of a demon."

Both insane. "You're my mother," he chuckled nervously. "You're biased."

"Tonight," Voldemort whispered. "Now. You will become one of us. Tomorrow, you will begin your task."

But I don't want a task. "Now?" he asked, fear suddenly rising in his throat. What had he gotten himself into? These people killed Pansy's father. They'd betrayed his father. They'd turned his mother into a complete nut. Without his realising it, he began to back up.

"What is wrong with you?" Narcissa snapped. "Did I not teach you to respect your betters?"

"He is afraid," Voldemort whispered. "He feels you betrayed Lucius."

"Lucius," Narcissa spat. "He betrayed us. Us, Draco! Listen, then, if you insist on being so righteous! Your father has been having an affair. It began two years ago. I did not betray him. He betrayed me. And he betrayed you."

"What?" Draco croaked. "I don't believe you! Who with?"

"The Parkinson girl," she said sharply, a cruel glint in her eye that spoke plainly. She wanted to hurt her son with the information. Sting him. And it worked.

"Pansy? No way! He wouldn't have!"

"He did, Draco. Your hero, sleeping with a sixteen year old."

A flash of hot anger flushed through his body as several loose ends all clicked together. Pansy constantly asking about his father. Natassja teasing Pansy about Malfoy's. His fathers insistence on staying away from her. His father, the hero. His idol. Sleeping with a sixteen year old. He'd worshipped his father. Been through hell for him; because of him. He would have died for his father, if he'd had to.

Now he wanted to kill him.

Pansy Parkinson, the girl who had a small space reserved in his heart. The girl he'd consoled earlier. Did he hate her too?

No, he couldn't. She was just a girl. She probably thought he loved her. He probably told her that he did. The bastard. The horrible, horrible bastard.

He'd never hated his father before.

"Good," Voldemort murmured, a sly smile on his repulsive face. No doubt he had been following the thought process. "He is ready."

Draco didn't hear him. He didn't notice that they were all suddenly in a different location. A graveyard. Are they going to bury me? His father, the traitor. God, it was all true. He'd done it. He'd had an affair with a school girl. No wonder his mother had become so cold.

He didn't notice the figures around him. The masses of people robed in black with deep black hoods. He didn't notice Snape, hooded and robed with a mournful look in his deep black eyes. A look of pity and anger. And love. No, nobody saw that.

Voldemort was saying something to the people. They were chanting something back. He didn't know what they were saying. He didn't care. God, his father. He'd betrayed them. So utterly betrayed them. Loyalty to the family? Wasn't that what he'd always told Draco? Always be loyal to your family. That was it. Always be loyal. Some mentor he was. Hypocrite. God, Pansy Parkinson. His father and Pansy Parkinson. It was too incredible. Too unreal.

He saw someone moving towards him. It was Voldemort again. Why wouldn't he just go away? Draco didn't want anybody near him now. He just wanted to be alone. He wanted the whole world to fuck off and leave him alone.

Voldemort was chanting something now. Something low and dangerous. The people had formed a circle around the both of them. He was taking his arm, pushing up the sleeve, laying o freezing cold hand over his pale skin. Chanting, chanting something strange. Something Draco had never heard of before. What was he doing? He didn't understand. He didn't understand anything anymore. He was supposed to lead Potter to Voldemort so that he could kill him. That was easy enough. He wanted Potter dead, didn't he? Because of what he'd done to his father. But Lucius had deserved it. He deserved to rot. Because he had taken advantage of Pansy Parkinson. He had betrayed them.

His arm began to tingle, but he ignored it, trying to follow the thread of thought. Potter. He really should die. Because… because everyone loved him. Was that a reason to die? Or was he just jealous because nobody loved him? No, he deserved to die because what he had done to Voldemort. But Voldemort was just an ugly, crazy old ma-

Draco screamed, all rational thoughts vanishing from his mind. His arm burned, his skin twisted and died but didn't fall. It was worse than the transformation into a wolf. God, his arm! He fell to his knees, but the Dark Lord did not release him. He howled, tears running down his face. He howled from the part of him that would always be canine.

Finally, the Dark Lord released him, and he lay panting on the ground. When he felt strong enough, he pushed himself up with his left arm, his strong arm, and glanced down at the right. Through the tears of pain and misery, he could see a large black skull with a serpent tongue grinning up at him evilly. He choked on a fresh batch of tears. Snape stared down at him, glad for the hood that covered his tear stained face.

"Tomorrow," Voldemort whispered, barely audible over the breeze that had kicked up, "you begin your task."