Heart of Ice

            Draco Malfoy stood in front of his mirror, observing his handsome reflection with a growing grin. From an almost ridiculously young age, Draco had learned to be very fond of mirrors. One of his life’s lessons had been taught to him by his mirror.

            As a small boy, he had discovered, (much to his confusion), that the mere sight of him did something to people. Something amazing. Something he liked. Women would become doe-eyed and whiney-voiced, often showering him with praise before he even spoke. He could walk into a room containing a complete stranger, and upon his entry their entire countenence would brighten dramatically. It was so much more positive attention than he was used to from his family, and as far as he could tell, he wasn’t doing anything in particular to deserve it. At first, the only thougt that had crossed the toddler-Draco’s mind was how much he enjoyed his ability to affect people, but eventually the inherently curious child wanted to know what caused such favorable reactions...

* * *

             "I have a question," the beautiful blonde boy stated boldy. Beside him, looking very impressive and intimidating in expensive black dress robes, stood his father. Lucius Malfoy allowed his eyes to drift lazily from his book to his son, curling his lip slightly as he took in the cherubic face. He sighed irritably.

           "Always with questions," he grumbled, glaring disdainfully at the child.

           "I have lots of things to ask," Draco chortled gleefully in response, happy to be spoken to by the man he admired so much. Draco's tutors had always been pleased with his curious nature. They'd once told his mother that it was a sign of high intelligence. Lucius Malfoy did not seem to share their views. He didn’t want a son who was smart enough to ask questions. He wanted a son who was smart enough to do as he was told, when he was told.

           "Many things to ask," Lucius corrected, narrowing his eyes dangrously and thinking it was time to hire a new english tutor. He couldn't possibly be seen with a son whose speech failed to be grammatically correct. What would people say?

           "Many things," Draco had hastily agreed. As always when Draco attempted to do something correctly, Lucius groaned in frustration, dropping his book on the table and turning to give the child his full attention.

           "Grow some backbone, boy! You can never expect to be a decent Slytherin if you are a spineless coward." He hesitated for a moment, then added cooly, "But don't ever defy me. You understand?" Draco blinked up at him in confusion, but decided that this was one of the times where he should simply nod in response. His father did not seem to be in the mood for any questions today, but he was determined to have one answered, one that had been plaguing his still-developing mind for days. Draco shifted in his seat and stared at his little feet, which were peeking out from the hem of his own expensive green dress robes.

           "Why do people like me?" he blurted. At this, the elder Malfoy grinned like a predator oddly amused by his prey, whilst jerking Draco to his feet by his delicate wrists. It was time for a lesson. Lucius could be an excellent teacher in some areas, but this particular lesson would require a third party of sorts. Lucius couldn't very well maintain the sort of hold he currently had over his son if he answered this question directly. He needed Draco to yearn for his approval, but never quite receive it.

           "Stand up!" he snapped, eyeing his son's tottering form with disgust, "and come with me. I do believe it is time I gave you your first magic mirror." Draco straightened his shoulders as he'd been taught, and marched along with his father through the elaborate halls of Malfoy Manor, until they'd entered his Mother's Wing. The contrast between The Rest Of The Manor and Mother's Wing was something one had to see to believe. While most of the Manor was dark and forbidding, filled with gloomy decor and torture devices designed to intimidate 'guests', Mother's Wing was pleasant and homey...if a tad on the over-elaborate side. As such, the room Draco and his father entered was full of floral embroidery, peachy tones, and....mirrors. Hundreds of mirrors.

           "Welcome to your mother's sitting room, Draco," Lucius said, smirking at the boy’s expression. Draco had never encountered more than one mirror at a time, and was suitably surprised when he looked at the wall and saw...

           "Me!" he'd squealed with delight. "Lots and lots, er," his eyes darted nervously to his father, "many of me!" he corrected. Then he cast another apprehensive glance at his father, and, after seeing only mild dislike in his eyes, hazarded a few silly spins, watching his reflections mimic him. Lucius was in a rather moderate temperament currently, and let his son's childishness pass by un-punished.

           "Indeed. Now, stop staring at your reflection, boy, and come with me," Lucius ordered as he walked over to a tall mirror hanging on the wall, with an ornate ebony frame carved in dragons. Draco followed, his wondering gaze moving between his father and the carvings. "Now, look at this mirror, and ask it what you asked me." Draco stared up questioningly, then strutted up to the mirror, trying to imitate his father. He cleared his toddler throat.

           "Excuse me?" he asked.

           "Yes sweet-heart?" a female voice replied, startling him.

           "Er, why do people...like me?"

           "Why? Why, that’s just because you're attractive, darling. You have the face of an angel. It comes with being a Malfoy." Draco furrowed his brow.

           "Oh." Somehow, this disappointed Draco.

           "No,no, no" the mirror admonished, seeing Draco's gloomy expression, "that's a good thing, young one! You are so gorgeous, so stunningly beautiful, that people can not resist you! They will always find it hard to say ‘no’ to you." Draco grinned and blushed modestly, being un-used to praise of any kind, and stared at his feet in embarassment. The mirror tsked motheringly. "Well, don't look so surprised! Surely you've noticed how perfect your face is!" Draco walked up closer to the mirror, and peered into it carefully, unwittingly giving his first ever Malfoy Smirk.

           "I am perfect, aren't I?"

            * * *

           Coming out of his reverie, Draco focused on his beloved reflection for the hundred millionth time, and, as always, liked what he saw. He now stood at an even 6 feet tall, with broad shoulders and perfectly toned muscles. Even with his black shirt on you could see the suggestion of a firm chest and abs his years as a seeker had bestowed upon him. His skin had acquired a slight tan, also from his time playing quidditch, and the contrast between it and his grey eyes was breath taking. Since the beginning of 6th year, Draco had decided that he would wear his naturally silver-blonde hair loose and natural, no longer slicked back as his father demanded. Lucius had been most displeased, but even after all of the...punishments he had received, Draco refused to give in. Now Draco was quite proud of his hair; and the ladies didn't seem to mind it too much either. His face had matured, giving him a firm jaw and cheekbones to frame full, sensuous lips. Draco's eyes alone could make women's legs turn to jelly, with their stormy depths, and thick lashes. In all, Draco Malfoy had grown to be the best looking boy to attend Hogwarts since his grandfather had been there. And he knew it.

           "Stop staring at your reflection, boy, and come with me," a cold voice interrupted his thoughts. Draco slowly turned to regard his father with cool indifference. Lucius smirked cruelly. "It is time to go." Draco continued to stare his father in the eyes, a feat few wizards dared to attempt, and he held his gaze defiantly.

"The last time I checked, father; and my memory is in excellent condition; I was not going with you tonight." Draco watched as his father processed this information, calculating his next move. Lucius raised his eyebrow slightly, still holding his son's stare. Neither of them blinked.

           "I am afraid I do not know what you are talking about."

           "And I'm afraid you do," Draco replied smugly, mocking the man before him. At this, Lucius' face began to darken, much to Draco’s amusement. Lucius was losing control in more ways than one, it seemed.

           "Don't you dare speak to me in this manner! Do not think for a moment that I will hesitate to punish you. Severely." And Draco laughed. A metallic, mirthless laugh.

"Oh, father," he spat the word like a curse, "Don't you understand? You've trained me too well. Maybe a couple of years ago this type of crude tactic would have worked, when I was still weak. But not now. I no longer care about the punishments." In fact, the more Draco thought about it, the more he was coming to realize that he didn’t care about anything, so long as he got what he wanted. The veins on Lucius' face were now popping out of his skin, and his eyes began to redden. He was quickly being drawn into a murderous rage.

           "I can make you care again," he threatened softly. "I will say this one last time: It. Is. Time. To. Go."

           "I won't go! I refuse to be nothing more than a pitiful slave for my entire life! Bowing and kneeling to a deluded, sick Mudblood!" SMACK! Draco thought his eyes would explode as his father slapped him with all his strength. Don't fall over. The dizziness will pass. Show no fear. Show no weakness. Draco repeated these words in his head several times like a mantra before he could turn and match Lucius' glare again. He didn't feel the pain, or notice the blood oozing from his cheek where his father's ring had struck. He did, however, notice the fury written all over his father's face. Draco grinned. "The truth hurts, doesn't it Lucius?"

           "Petrificus totalus!" Draco noticed too late that his father had his wand out. He dropped instantly, his skull making a sickening crack as it hit the frigid stone floor.

And then there was nothing.

* * *

           Severus Snape stood in a circle of sinister cloaked figures, the hot night air seeming to close in on him more with each passing moment. Peering from under his dark hood, he could see the bloody form of Draco Malfoy crumpled in a heap before the Dark Lord, who was smiling down on him almost fondly. It made him want to retch.

           "Lucius?" their Lord hissed. A cloaked figure approached and kneeled before Voldemort.

           "Yes, Master?"

           "What happened?" His tone was mellow to the untrained ear, but all present could perceive the steel that ran beneath these words. His voice was like a sword sheathed in silk: soft to the touch, but dangerous still. Lucius Malfoy began to tremble ever so slightly, and Snape had to suppress a grin. He'd always been a coward, even if he was a strong son of a bitch in other ways.

           "The boy has gone mad, my Lord. He refused to come tonight. He refuses to join our ranks. He was insolent. He insulted you." A stunned silence followed these words, and Snape found his thoughts were in turmoil. Draco Malfoy??? Draco Malfoy stood up to his father and outright refused to be a Death Eater? As he gazed down at the surreally handsome young man, Snape felt a surge of anger, awe and incredible pride wash over him. Anger that they had done this to him, awe that he had the courage to stand up to these tortures, and pride that he had wanted to.

           "Really?" he he asked, coolly intrigued. "Did you try threatening him? Perhaps with more time in the dungeons?"

           "Y-yes, my Lord." Voldemort began to nod slightly to himself, as if affirming his own thoughts.

           "And what did he say?"

           "He said he no longer cared, my Lord. I punished him while he was unconscious. Do not worry, my Lord. When he awakens, he will rue the day he defied you," he stated, making it clear that his loyalites lay with Him, not with his son. Voldemort continued to nod, and Snape thought for a moment that he sensed some uneasiness in the Dark Lord, but then an evil grin spread over his face like a fungus.

           "He is perfect, Lucius. I must have him."

           "I, I beg your pardon, my Lord?" Voldemort turned and pointed his wand at Lucius.

           "Crucio!" he hissed. Lord Voldemort's inner circle watched in silence as Lucius Malfoy writhed in agony on the dew covered grass. After a few moments, Voldemort released the spell and turned to Snape, disregarding his other follower. "Lucius is a fool, Severus. Young Draco here is strong in every way. He just needs a little persuasion-- some help, if you will-- in making his decision. Don't you agree?" he asked, knowing that Draco was Snape's star pupil. Snape felt his blood go cold.

           "Yes, my Lord," he replied.

           "Wake him." Snape nodded and pulled a small blue vial out of his pocket. Kneeling down beside Draco, he tipped his head back and forced him to swallow the potion. Instantly, Draco began to cough and splutter, blood trailing down his lips. The Potions Master had to use all his self control not to furrow his brow with worry. "Up, boy!" he snapped viciously, dragging him to his feet. After a moment Draco slowly, painfully, opened his eyes and took in his surroundings. Snape thought for a moment that he was going to fall unconscious again, when he smiled slightly, letting out a maniacal laugh. Shrugging off Snape’s supportive grasp, Draco straightened himself up so he was supporting his own weight, and began to look around, amusement clearly written on his face. It seemed strangely surreal to see somebody who should be in so much pain and so afraid, not so much as flinch. It’s as if he feels nothing at all.

           "Am I really so desirable that you boys have to knock me out and beat me, you want me so badly?" he inquired in his usual sarcastic drawl. It was a relief to hear that the boy’s acid sense of humour was still in tact, even if there seemed to be no other emotion attached to him. It let Snape know that he was still human. The Death Eaters began to shift, eagerly reaching for their wands, and Snape was certain for a moment that they would try to kill Draco Malfoy, and his cover as a spy would have to be broken. However, rather than give the signal, Voldemort only laughed.

           "My dear boy, your arrogance may even surpass your wit. You know why you are here?" Draco blinked boredly.

           "I know what you think I am here for."

           "What I think you are here for? Now, young Mister Malfoy, let's be realistic. I know what you are here for. Are you ready to receive the Dark Mark?" Draco rolled his eyes, then glared at the Dark Lord, like he was the most hideous thing he’d ever laid eyes on. He more than likely was.

           "I. Will. Never. Follow. You." he spat venomously. "I follow no one."

           "How very ambitious of you.” Voldemort smirked, and raised his wand with lightning fast reflexes. “Imperio!" Draco's face instantly went blank, adopting a dreamy, almost blissful expression. Snape watched with well disguised horror as Voldemort commanded Draco to take the vows, then hold out his arm...

* * *

            Draco was vaguely aware of having just repeated every word Voldemort said. Why shouldn’t he? They were only words, and it was so pleasant here.

           Hold out your arm, Draco.....

           Draco watched with as his arm shot out to receive the mark, and felt a flash of realization coupled with disgust wash over him like a wave over rocks. He was about to receive the Dark Mark. His mind was jerked back to reality. No fucking way! He simply wouldn’t do it. He wouldn’t hold his arm out like this. He wouldn’t be a servant. Never, never, never...and everything would be fine, if he could just move his fucking arm!

           That's a boy, Draco.....

           "Morsemordre!" Voldemort hissed, just as Draco finally managed to jerk his arm back. Draco flew back to the grass, biting his lip to keep himself from screaming at the agony on his arm. He forced his eyes open, and saw seven murderous looking Death Eaters reaching for him. Thinking fast, Draco whipped out his wand, (which oddly enough they'd let him keep), pointed it at himself and yelled,

           "Apparate!!!!" with no destination in mind. His last thought was that he had either just saved his life, or killed himself. Then, once again, there was nothing.