Winter's Flame

The black fortress of Azkaban looked much the same as it had the last time he had been there, bar the fact that the huge hole his mother had blasted in the eastern wall had been repaired. The lake was still a putrid green, the tentacles still appeared uncomfortably close to the boats and the tall black spires towered forbiddingly over the visitors. Draco did not recognize the Auror who guarded the front entrance, nor any of the Aurors who searched him thoroughly. He did not hear Remus speaking to them, telling them who they were here to see. He wandered through the dark halls, guided by Remus's hand on his shoulder.

"Kingsley." Remus nodded as they approached the huge black Auror whom Draco vaguely recognized from his last visit. "Ministry still has you here."

Kingsley smiled dryly. "I went through four years of Auror training to wind up guarding the criminally insane. If I'd known that back in Hogwarts, I'd have opted for the Gringott's job."

"Wouldn't we all." Remus smiled. "I hear there's an opening in Egypt."

"I wish," he chuckled, his rich voice seeming unnatural in the deadly cold atmosphere of the prison. He finally seemed to notice Draco, however, and his laughter died down. "Lucius Malfoy?"

Remus nodded.

"Same cell as last time. Down this corridor… well, you were stationed on at the time, weren't you? Just watch him. He's a bit…" Kingsley trailed off and coughed. "Hour maximum. I'll collect you if you go over."

"Not bloody likely," Draco muttered as he and Remus began to walk down the hall. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. "Remus?"

"Mm?"

"Why do you know all these Auror's? And why were you here last time? You're not an Auror."

"I began training to become one, actually," Remus sighed. "Until Umbrige passed that anti-werewolf legislation. Then I couldn't continue training, get a job, nor really be seen in public." The faintest note of irritation had crept into his voice. "So several I know from there, others I went to school with. On the odd occasion I was allowed to teach classes at the Auror school, mainly on dark creatures and the like. But what with Umbrige's little accident last year, and Voldemort's return, the Ministry relaxed the laws and decided that they needed all the help they could get. Especially with the Dementors running off."

Draco raised his eyebrows, then realized that they had stopped outside a familiar looking door.

"Would you like me to come in with you?" Remus asked gently.

Draco shook his head. "No. Just…"

Remus seemed to understand. "I'll go back to Kingsley. Howl if you need me."

Draco very nearly smiled. "Funny."

"I rather thought so." He patted him on the shoulder and turned, walking back the way they had come.

Hogwarts had closed a week earlier, of course. The complaints had come too quickly, and with the bulk of the student body fleeing the school there seemed little point for it to remain open. It had been a full moon the day before Draco had been sent back to the Manor. He had gone to Snape the day before, and the Professor had handed him the Wolfsbane potion in a stone goblet, a little blue cocktail umbrella hanging over the side. There had been amusement deep in those beady black eyes, and Draco had almost smiled.

Almost.

The transformation had been much the same as the time before. His body had screamed as his bones had lengthened and his teeth had grown, coarse hair pushing itself through his pale skin. But he had not cried out this time. Nothing could compare the pain that had manifested itself on his right forearm. The charred black skin that had formed the shape of a leering skull. He knew he would never again go through that much torture and still live. A test of strength, perhaps. He didn't care. He didn't care about much anymore.

He reached out with his left hand and pushed the door open, stepping inside and closing it behind him. It took him a moment to find his father. He had pictured him sitting on the stool beside the window, his hair slick, his expression smug. Just as it had been last time. Just as he had always been.

He found him in the corner of the room, his back to the wall and his arms wrapped around his legs. His hair was no longer in the well tamed ponytail but tangled and wild, hanging over his face and shoulders. His eyes had a faraway look in them, but they still held a vestige of intelligence. Lucius was not mad. He was caged, unkempt. But not mad yet. Draco curled a lip slightly as he looked upon his father. He reminded him of an albino Sirius Black. Or what he had seen of Black in the wanted posters, at any rate.

"My beloved son," Lucius murmured. His voice was tight, as if he had not used it in some time. But nothing, not even an extended stay in prison and the betrayal of his wife and companions could erase the pompous note that had doubtless been there since he was born. "Come to visit me at last."

Draco didn't speak. He regarded his father with contempt, images of Pansy flashing through his mind. Little Pansy Parkinson. His father had betrayed them for a helpless school girl.

"Oh dear," Lucius whispered, looking up at his son with his pale eyes. "Eustace, I think Draco's mother has been telling him tales about me. And he looks so different. Why on earth are his eyes are different colour?"

Draco cocked an unseen eyebrow. "Eustace?"

"Eustace," Lucius said imperially, "keeps me company in this horrid place. You didn't answer my question."

"Colour charm," Draco muttered, still afraid to tell Lucius what he had become. It was irrational, he knew. But as much as he hated the man right now, he didn't want that hate to be returned.

"They come in gold these days?"

"New development."

"In that case, smuggle me in some pink ones," Lucius let his head fall back to rest against the wall. "Eustace thinks pink is my colour."

"And is Eustace real, or are you just going completely mad?"

Lucius snorted, annoyed. "Of course he's bloody real. He's up there in the corner."

Draco looked up in the direction Lucius had nodded. In the top right hand corner of the room was a large fat spider, black with a bright blue streak down its body.

"…You're speaking to a spider?"

"He's a very smart spider. Aren't you Eustace? What's that?" Lucius cocked his head to one side as Draco realised that both of his parents had gone completely mental in the space of two months. What are the odds? he wondered idly, waiting for Lucius to convey whatever Eustace was trying to say. "He's says don't change the subject. Just answer the bloody question. Has your mother finally come out of hiding?"

Draco nodded, leaning against the door.

Lucius smiled humourlessly. "Know all about my little indiscretion, do we?"

Draco nodded again, his eyes narrowing.

"Blown completely out of proportion, I'll wager."

"Blown out of proportion?" Draco snapped. "You had an affair with a girl my age! It started when she was fourteen! She was my first kiss, for Gods sakes, don't you realise how utterly disgusting that is?"

Lucius only smiled. "I knew you wouldn't understand. Didn't I say that, Eustace? That he wouldn't understand?" His eyes narrowed. "Nobody understands."

"Stop talking to that fucking spider! You're going stark raving mad in here! Maybe you already were before you came in here and that's why you took advantage of her."

Lucius was amused at that. "Took advantage? My dear boy, it was entirely mutual. I'd grown fond of her during her visits and she was developing an infatuation for me. Did you not wonder, all those evenings we spent talking together while her mother and Narcissa were off in the sewing room and you were hiding inside your bedroom? She's a bright girl, Draco. Warm, too, when she stops acting like a spoilt brat."

"She was a spoilt brat," Draco gritted his teeth. "A fourteen year old spoilt brat! You're forty-four! You're twenty-eight years older than she is! Hell, I'm ten months older than she was! When I was born she was just the glint in the milkman's eye!"

"I wouldn't expect you to understand the way love works, Draco," Lucius murmured.

"Of course I know how love works," he said angrily, his voice climbing several decibels. "I loved you, didn't I? Everything you ever bloody taught me, I learnt it! You wanted me to fight, so I fought! You wanted me to do well in school, and I'm bloody near the top of the year! I killed a centaur because you wanted me too, I followed the Dark Lord because you told me to! How is that not love?"

"Every son should love his father," Lucius shrugged dismissively. "You learned every lesson I had to teach, bar independent thought and action. And you follow the Dark Lord? Don't let me talk you into it. The lot of them betrayed me. I hope you accidentally drop arsenic in the Death Eater Christmas Party pudding. But that isn't love, Draco. It's admiration. You wanted to please me. Love is different. I love Pansy. She loves me. That's all that matters."

"She's only fifteen," Draco said bitterly. "You'd forget your family for a fifteen year old school girl?"

"Age is no object," Lucius said simply. "And yes. I would."

"You don't love me then?" He didn't know why he asked it. He didn't want to know the answer. His heart felt raw. His father would forget him for her. But he still couldn't blame her. Only this wretched man before him. The man that was once his father, who he had loved. Who he still loved.

Lucius regarded him for a long moment with those slightly mad, intelligent eyes. "I do. But you, Draco, can take care of yourself. She cannot."

"Fat lot of good you're doing her in here," he muttered. Take care of himself? Like hell he could. He was a pampered mummy's boy who had suddenly found himself abandoned and being chewed on my a werewolf. He had just had a hideously ugly skull burnt into his arm. He was not coping well.
Lucius must have detected something in Draco's voice, because his body went rigid. "What's wrong with her?" he asked intently.
"What's wrong with her?" Draco scoffed. "What's wrong with her is that she bloody kidnapped and helped murder a girl from our school. She has a little black skull engraved on her arm and she's being watched by my mother, the Dark Lord and Natassja Kingdon, who's an insane little berk in her own right. You think you'll look after her in here? You can't even look after yourself. You're pathetic."
Lucius ignored the insult, the smugness dropping from his face. "She's what?" he breathed. "Those… bloody…. Draco… you have to look after her… you have to…"
"Of course I'll bloody look after her," he snapped. "She's my friend, isn't she? Someone bloody has to. But I'm not doing it for you. I'm doing it because I'm loyal to my friends and family." God he hated Lucius then. He'd never shown that kind of passion before. Look after her. He'd never cared about Draco that much, had he? He spun towards the door, not bothering to say goodbye. He was about to slam it shut behind him when something made his turn around and stare at the man who had been his father with his cold yellow eyes. "And Lucius? The real reason my eyes are gold? I'm a wolf. The Dark Lord set me up so that Remus would bite me. I'm a werewolf. Cut me out of the will. Disown me if you really want. I don't care. I've already disowned you."

He saw the look of dismay that suddenly flooded Lucius's pale face but slammed the door shut before he could say anything. He was down the hall in seconds, looking for Lupin to take him home.

~

The countryside slid by as the silver Lexus threaded it's way through the hills towards Malfoy Manor. Draco could feel the eyes of his guardian on him but he ignored it, staring out the window.

"Did you tell him?" Remus asked finally as the high stone walls that surrounded the grounds came into view.

Draco nodded, avoiding Remus' eyes.

"I didn't hear any screaming."

Draco gave a humourless smile. "He talked to Eustace more than he spoke to me."

Lupin raised a brown eyebrow. "Eustace?"

"His spider."

"Oh right. Actually, I bumped into an old friend while I was in there, too. Went to school with him. Hufflepuff, I think he was. Name of… Lester Thorn, I believe."

"Yeah?"

"Mm. One of Severus' old acquaintances, if I'm not mistaken. I was walking down the hall to check on you when I heard this stream of insane babble coming out of one of the doors. I slid the little window across and looked inside and all thought 'by Jove, he's gone downhill.'"

Draco looked at him. "By Jove?"

Remus nodded seriously. "By Jove, Jesus and Jupiter, really. He's put on at least thirty pounds and lost most of his hair. But the things he was saying! Completely nuts."

Drawn into the odd little story against his will, Draco faced Lupin. "What did he say?"

"Two minutes?" Remus squawked in a high voice. "Where did it go? Somewhere. I dunno. Seven-nineteen and all's well. All's well. This minute is taking forever. Seven-twenty. Forever is over. What comes after forever? What comes after tomorrow? Not that tomorrow ever comes. It's always today, isn't it? It's never yesterday. If one day we woke up and it was tomorrow instead of today we'd all have a heart attack and die. Honestly, how would you behave if it was tomorrow? If you lived a day in the future? Seems strange to me. Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all? Not me, that's for sure. I'm like the three legged pit-bull at the pound with a half eaten ear and chronic killer fleas; nobody wants me. Wheeee. This is my right hand, and this is my left hand. Or is this my right hand? Where's my foot gone…"

Draco laughed as the car pulled up to the front entrance. "Where's my foot gone?"

Remus nodded. "Funny thing is that it was on the roof." Draco stared at him as they climbed out and leaned on the roof of the car. Remus walked around the car to join him, poking him lightly in the side. "And stop posing. It's just what Sirius always used to do."

Draco pushed himself off the car and turned around as the two walked into the grand entrance. "Are you serious, or are you pulling my leg?"

"Quite serious. He'd pose on anything he could find. He liked trees best, though. Leaning against a tree with the wind blowing his hair back."

"Not bloody Sirius, the other bloke."

Remus didn't answer, he just laughed. After a moment, Draco joined in. The older man sat down on the cold stone staircase and motioned for Draco to join him. "Whatever your father said," he began tentatively, "don't let it worry you. You are who you are, not what he wants you to be."

Draco grinned. "Yeah, too bad I don't know what that is."

"You'll figure it out. It took me quite a while, too."

They were silent for a long moment.

"Remus?" he asked after a while.

"Mm?"

"You said that you weren't friends with… that Sirius guy."

Remus' warm eyes flicked to him. "When did I say that?"

Draco leaned back onto the stairs. "The night before I went to Hogwarts. I asked if you were his friend and you said-"

"I didn't say anything, actually," he said. "I evaded the question."

"So you were friends?"

Remus was silent for a short while, apparently thinking. Then he reached into his coat and pulled out a battered photograph. Four young boys - all about seventeen - lazing by the lake, underneath a very familiar tree. Draco's favourite tree. A much younger Remus was leaning against the trunk of the tree with an extraordinarily handsome man with shaggy black hair and silver eyes. Their arms were thrown about each others shoulders. Leaning against their tangled legs was a boy who at first glance Draco had thought was Potter, until he realised that the scar was missing and the dazzling green eyes were hazel. The other boy, a chubby blonde, was using Potter's look-alike's stomach as a pillow. All four of them were laughing up at the camera.

"Wow," Draco murmured, looking at the picture. "You two look rather… chummy."

Remus smiled faintly. "We were. We all were," he corrected himself quickly. "That's James - Harry's father. You can probably tell how often Harry gets told how much they look alike. Except for the eyes. Lily's eyes. The pudgy one here was… is Peter. That's Sirius."

"Good looking guy," Draco nodded, glancing at his guardian just in time to see a sad little smile flash across his own handsome face.

"James' best friend. You could never get the two apart. Except when James started seeing Lily."

"And where did you slot in?"

"I was the Prefect," he smiled. "I was the one who always studied. But then every full moon I'd go Wolf and they'd all change as well. They studied to become Animagi, you see. It controlled me a little. James was a Stag, and Sirius was a dog. Peter was a rat," he muttered darkly. Then the expression fell away, and he sighed. "Good times."

Draco sat back, taking in the story, and smiled. "You had a crush on him, didn't you," he asked with a smile. He didn't mean it nastily, and he was fairly sure it didn't come out that way.

"I loved him, if that's what you mean," Remus admitted. "He loved me, I suppose. Nobody knew, except James and Lily. Nobody really had to. Our little secret."

"What happened when he went to Azkaban?"

Remus looked away. "We drifted months before he was sent away. Lily and James were huge supporters of Dumbledore, you see, and Voldemort had tried to kill them several times, but they always managed to thwart him. Then Lily fell pregnant and the attacks seemed to double, and though we kept shifting her Voldemort always seemed one step ahead. We knew then that there was an informant, and I thought it was Sirius. He'd been acting so… he knew everything about James and Lily, and he was one of the few in Dumbledore's closest acquaintance. He suspected me for the same reasons. We barely spoke before he was sent to prison."

"But it was neither of you, right?" Draco guessed. "It was that gross little blonde bloke?"

"Peter."

"Yeah, Pettigrew," he nodded. "He came here once. Last year. Some Death Eater business I think. My father didn't seem to like him much."

"No one liked him much. No one really noticed him. That was the trouble. But anyway, after Sirius escaped from the school - no thanks to your fathers friends, I might add - he went on the run for a while, then last year he came back to London and… well, we renewed our friendship." Lupin stood, wincing slightly as he did so, as if telling the story had aged him suddenly. "And now, with all this talk of Death Eaters…"

"I thought it was talk about your active sex life with large black dogs?"

"…you mentioned a secret room that only Malfoy's can reach," he continued, ignoring him. "Which I'd quite like to have a look at sometime soon."

"Tomorrow, if you want," Draco shrugged, resisting the temptation to scratch his forearm. All of a sudden it was tingling, and he almost felt guilty about something. About what, he wasn't sure.

"Splendid." Lupin yawned widely. "Goodness, where did the night come from?"

"The sky, I'm guessing."

Lupin was about to reply when a white flash suddenly streaked across Draco's vision. He blinked and followed it, realising that it was a snowy white owl. "How the hell did that get in?"

"Hedwig?" Lupin frowned. He removed a small piece of parchment from her leg and read it over, for some reason turning a chalky white. The bird hopped over to Draco and bit him on the arm, distracting him from watching Lupin.

"Fuck! What do you want?" The bird stuck out it's leg, where another bit of parchment was rolled. Draco rolled his eyes and pulled it off, his eyes raking over the two words angrily scribbled on the page.

You're dead.

Draco frowned and looked up at Lupin. "What's wrong?" he asked, a queer feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Lupin looked at him, leaning on the banister for support. "Hermione Granger is missing."

His stomach flipped and he resisted a wince as the tingling in his arm increased to a burning pain. "Then shou- shouldn't you be out looking for her?" he asked, suppressing the pain.

Lupin looked torn. "I should, but- Harry's asked me to-"

"Then bloody go over there," he waved his arm. "Don't worry about me. Just find Ms Beaver."

Lupin frowned. "Are you sure? I don't want to leave you alone…"

"Potter's asked you to go wherever, he obviously needs you more than I do." He forced a grin. "I'll be fine. What can go wrong in a mansion full of evil tools?"

Lupin hesitated a moment, then nodded. "I'll be back first thing," he said seconds before he disappeared with a loud crack.

Draco didn't wait. He pulled himself to his feet and stumbled into the centre of the entrance. "Morgan!" he called, rubbing furiously at his arm. "Morgan!" he looked around, waiting for her to appear as she always did, but there was nothing. He gritted his jaw, remembering something. "Morrigan!" he shouted, though it sounded more like a howl.

"You called?" her husky voice responded immediately. He turned and saw her standing tall, though not looking as she always had. She was no longer the inviting, gorgeous girl he had met in a Muggle bookshop. She looked as she had in Voldemorts cage. Cold, untouchable. Her eyes were a frosty aqua, her skin pale as death and touched with blue. She was the Winter Queen, and only her voice remained the same as it had been.

"What the hell is going on?" he demanded, flicking his long fringe from his eyes.

"Natassja Kingdon heard that you had been recruited," she shrugged. "So she took steps. She didn't want to be shown up in front of the Dark Lord. He was quite pleased. He wonders why you have not begun your task yet."

"Because I haven't bloody seen Potter, have I? It's not like he comes to visit me with cookies every Sunday. And what are you taking orders from him for, anyway? You're a prisoner, aren't you?"

"I am," she nodded. "But that is irrelevant."

"How is that irrelevant?"

"From the moment he learned my name and that of my brother, anything we thought was irrelevant. To him, at least."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "When you took me to him," he said slowly. "I was going to ask him about the Earth Magic. But I didn't. I didn't even think about it."

"Things often slip mortal minds, my love," she said calmly, though her eyes were bright, watching him closely.

"This didn't slip my mind, though. It was there - just at the back. I just didn't seem to feel it was important."

"And you were right," she said simply. "It was a good decision."

Draco sighed, exasperated. "But it wasn’t a bloody- You're his captive, aren't you? How can you stop me from talking about it?"

"There are still as yet some powers he does not control of mine," she said proudly. "He Who Must Not Be Named is a master of Legilimency, but a skilled Occlumens can evade him. I encouraged you not to think of it."

"But you said it was his idea for me to learn it! Back when I met you… you said-"

"I know what I said. I lied. He sent me to you to encourage you to our side. Nothing more, until I was to help you get bitten by Remus."

"So why do you want me to learn?" he demanded. "What's so important about it?"

"It is important," she insisted. "It is very important. Earth Magic is the only magic he cannot touch. He doesn't know that ordinary mortals can master it. He scorns Muggles who call themselves witches and claim to be able to practise it, but the truth is that they can. He won't find this out, I won't let him. I'll conceal it as I will conceal the names of my sister and brother. You will need it eventually. I feel it."

Draco raked a hand through his hair, closing his eyes tight. "I don't understand any of this," he muttered. "Why me, for Christs sake? It's so bloody confusing."

"You have no time to be confused, Draco," she said bluntly. "Everything is moving now. At this very moment Hermione Granger is tied to a tree, with Natassja Kingdon dancing around in front of her with a knife. I left not only because you called, but because the Dark Lord commanded me to. They are planning something for you, beloved, and it will not be pleasant. You'll need your wits about you, and you have no time left to feel sorry for yourself."

Draco frowned. "What have they got planned? Who's side are you on?" "The Dark Lord by force, Dumbledore as a result of a favour, but neutral by nature. The earth likes balance, and so do I. Come, we must go."

She held out her hands, and Draco took them. Within a heartbeat they were back in the graveyard. The headstones cast long shadows in the waning moon's light. The Death Eaters were gathered in two equal groups among the headstones, leaving a clear path down the centre which led to Voldemort who stood before them, Natassja at his side. Draco gulped and summoned whatever strength he had to mask his fear with apathy and wandered idly up the path towards the evil overlord. He quickly scanned the two groups for a semi-friendly face - Snape or Rhun at least, but neither could be seen. Blaise Zabibi was there, though, and beneath her hood he could see that her face was chalk-white, her lips trembling.

"Master Malfoy," the dry voice rasped. "Glad you could join us on this night of nights."

Draco raised his eyes to meet the Dark Lords, the red boring into him like a heat ray. "So glad you invited me," he murmured, ignoring Natassja who stood gloating at his side.

The Dark Lord chuckled and motioned behind him to two trees, roughly three metres apart. Both had a young girl tied to it's trunk, bound and gagged and somewhat bloody, but alive.

"Pansy," he breathed as he realised who the girl on the left was. "What the hell have you done?"

"Traitor, traitor," Natassja chanted with a giggle. Another one for the asylum. "Pansy's a traitor. We caught her running off to McGonagall."

Draco stared at his friend in horror, taking in her arm. It was bleeding heavily, staining her white jumper a sickly black in the harsh moonlight. "Jesus, what did you do?"

"She is no longer a Death Eater," Voldemort hissed. "So we removed her badge of honour."

"You skinned her?" he asked, his stomach threatening to rebel. "The… that's…"

"Justified," Voldemort said. "And Miss Granger here has become a great supporter indeed."

Draco's eyes turned to the other tree. The other girl. The bushy hair he recognised immediately. She was wearing a green t-shirt, blue jeans and a bizarre rainbow striped belt. But young Hermione was sporting a new accessory these days. Her arm had been marred with the same grinning skull that marred his own. Her cheeks were wet with tears but she was staring at him defiantly and struggling, albeit weakly. She had spirit, he gave her that.

"What are you going to do with them?" he asked, trying hard to keep his voice neutral.

"That, Master Malfoy, is entirely up to you," Voldemort said wickedly, handing him a gleaming sword from out of nowhere. "But one of them must die."

"One of them must… what?" Draco dropped the sword. "No way, I'm not killing a pair of sixteen year olds!"

"Fifteen," Natassja piped up helpfully. "And you only have to do one."

"You will kill one of them," Voldemort murmured dangerously, "Or I will do it for you."

"But... they're just kids!" he protested. "They don't matter!"

"The Potter boy is just a 'kid,'" Voldemort spat. "Raise the sword, and take your choice."

Draco helplessly bent and picked up the sword, glancing once at Voldemort's horrid face and taking a few steps towards the trees until he was between them. The two girls stared at him in horror. Hermione began to struggle furiously, and he could hear her trying to scream insults at him through her gag. Her brown eyes were filled with fear. Pansy scrunched down as much as she could and began to cry again. Her skin was white as a sheet, probably due to blood loss. Maybe he should do her, then. She had lost an awful lot. She had no family left now, anyway. But she was his friend. Besides which, his father had asked him to… but he didn't care what his father thought.

And Granger. Well, she was a Mudblood. But who really cared? She didn't deserve to die for it. He'd wished her dead once, but he'd been a twelve year old then. Twelve year olds don't know anything. He only knew one thing for sure. He just didn't have the will to lift his sword and plunge it into one of these girls.

"Do it!" Voldemort hissed from behind him.

Draco wavered. He looked at the two girls, stared into their eyes, and briefly considered falling onto the sword himself. Too bad he didn't even have the courage for that, either.

"Do it!" he cried. "Kill her! Granger! Or Parkinson dies!"

"What?" he spun around. "You can't-"

"Five…"

"No!" Draco turned back and looked at the girls again. Pansy was sobbing, Hermione was horrified. He wanted to sink the sword into Granger, but he couldn't. He disliked her. But he didn't hate her. And he couldn't even kill her to save Pansy. He couldn't kill anyone. God, what kind of evil guy was he?

Four…

He looked at Pansy, her blonde hair falling over her face, her pug nose running.

Three…

"Pan…" he almost pleaded, hoping against hope that she'd magically disappear. That somebody would appear and save her. Both of them. And him as well.

She opened her blue eyes, looking up at him in the most heartbreaking sight he'd ever seen. And he'd once thought that he didn't have a heart.

Two…

"Christ, Pan…" he fell to his knees before her, taking her bleeding arm and covering it with his hand. He gritted his jaw. He knew he couldn’t do it. She did, too. He could see it in her eyes. Behind him he could hear Granger crying.

One…

"He loves you," he said, pushing the words passed the lump in his throat. He didn't want to say it. He knew it wouldn't save her life, and it didn't exactly make her smile. But she relaxed. For one second, her body lost it's tenseness. And then it became slack altogether.

"Avada Kedavra!" The cry had come not from Voldemort as he had expected, but from Natassja. Somehow he got the feeling that he wasn't the favourite anymore. Pansy's body crumpled and hung in her bonds. Draco gritted his jaw and looked back at Voldemort, willing the tears in his eyes to disappear.

Voldemort could only be described as livid. "You," he hissed. "Are almost a traitor. For your mother I will not kill you here and now."

Draco said nothing. He raised his chin and stood.

"You have one more chance. Bring me Potter. If not, it will be you on the tree and Natassja with the knife."

Draco ignored Granger and marched back down the path towards Morgan, but he was jolted to a stop as the Dark Lord's freezing hand grabbed his arm. "One chance," he rasped, his hairless face only centimetres away from Draco's. He could barely breath for the smell. The Dark Lord smelled like death. "One chance."

He released him and turned away. Draco rejoined Morgan, who had not yet spoken, and returned home before his guardian did.