Lifelines

Draco was upstairs in his room at Malfoy Manor, tidying it himself and mentally cursing Harry Potter for the dirty trick that had lost them Dobby, when the doorbell rang. None of the danger detectors went off, so it wasn't Aurors. Curious, Draco made his way to the head of the stairs and watched his mother open the door. She backed away hurriedly and invited the visitor inside.

It was Vincent Crabbe's father. Draco felt his chest tighten in a mixture of hope and sudden anxiety. He took the top few stairs two at a time before remembering his dignity and finishing the descent more slowly. If Crabbe was here...

"You got out," he breathed. "You escaped from Azkaban."

"Yeah." Crabbe had never been one for unnecessary words. Narcissa asked Draco's next questions for him. "When? How?"

"This morning. They don't use Dementors anymore. It wasn't hard, once we got hold of a few wands."

We. "My father?" Draco asked eagerly.

"He's with the Dark Lord. He went straight there, figured it was his responsibility--"

"Where? Where are they now?"

Crabbe screwed up his face in contemplation. "The Riddle house. I think. I'm staying out of the way," he continued emphatically. "I just came here 'cause I thought you'd want to know..."

Draco had the Riddle house pictured firmly in his mind and was only vaguely aware of his mother calling Draco, wait! before the darkness and pressure of Apparation closed around him.

* * * *

It was when he took his first step onto the front porch and heard the wood creak beneath him that Draco realized he might have acted rather foolishly. No one sought out the Dark Lord voluntarily, unless they had reason to believe the alternative would be even worse. His father surely wasn't expecting an award for his service, after what happened at the Ministry. Draco was suddenly struck by the forceful conviction that he did not want to see his father just yet. He made to step back off the porch, but a sharp pain in his arm made him stumble and lose his footing.

Draco sat in the overgrown grass in front of the Riddle house, staring stupidly at the burning mark on his left arm. A mere thought away from comparative safety, he struggled momentarily to grasp that he was, in fact, being summoned instead. With a sinking heart he fixed his mind on the new destination, somehow communicated to his mind through the searing pain of the mark. Apparation was easier with a location already given, and he had time to wonder whether Death Eaters ever got used to being branded like cattle and summoned like house-elves.

He found himself in the room the Dark Lord used for meetings, which Draco thought had once been the drawing room of the house. The Dark Lord looked up when he arrived. The robed figure down on one knee in front of him didn't move. Draco didn't move either. He could hear as well as feel his heart pounding.

"Draco Malfoy. I thought I detected your presence outside my door; it seemed only common courtesy to invite you inside. You wish to see Lucius, I daresay? Lucius, stand and greet your son."

The man on the ground rose cautiously and turned to Draco. Draco suppressed a flinch; this was his father, but much changed, and not for the better. Over a year in Azkaban had left Lucius Malfoy with a thin, almost gaunt face creased with lines of worry, and his haunted eyes kept darting back to the Dark Lord, as if searching for some clue of what was about to happen. Draco realized he was doing the same thing. He hoped desperately that his father would say something--hello, it's good to see you, when did you get the mark--anything to break the silence and distract him from the look in those eyes, and do something to dispel the suspicion that the Dark Lord was toying with them.

"I am glad you have come, Draco," the Dark Lord said. "I have things to say to both of you." Draco immediately wished for the awkward silence back. His father whirled and fixed the Dark Lord with a look of... there was no mistaking it. It was a look of pure fear.

"My lord, I can explain what happened in the Department of Mysteries. It was the Order, we were not expecting them--"

"I have already heard Bella's account. The plan would have succeeded, had you not allowed Potter to outsmart you all. He stalled for time until Dumbledore arrived, he smashed the prophecy, your entire force was captured, and you somehow managed to convince the Ministry of a truth they were doing everything in their power to deny. I cannot envision a more spectacular failure. Have you anything to add?"

Lucius Malfoy dropped to one knee again. "Master, I tried... I did my best... I swear, had it been within my power..."

"I tire of your excuses, Lucius," the Dark Lord said almost casually. "Crucio."

Draco jumped and instinctively covered his ears, but nothing could block out the screaming as Lucius collapsed in a heap on the floor. He could see his father writhing in pain even after he'd squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face in his arms as well as he could, not daring to take his hands away from his ears. The screams seemed to go on interminably.

Finally, shaking so hard his breathing was ragged, Draco lowered his arms and opened his eyes. His father was still on the ground, grasping the hem of the Dark Lord's robes and mumbling something about mercy. But the Dark Lord was ignoring him, his red eyes set on Draco.

"This is what happens to Death Eaters who disappoint me, Draco. I had hoped it would make some impression on you. Unfortunately, you didn't seem to be paying sufficient attention just now. Shall I demonstrate once more?"

Lucius' voice gained a slightly frantic note. "My lord, give me another chance, I can make amends... I am sorry... have mercy, I beg of you..." Draco looked away, wishing he could be anywhere else. He shouldn't be seeing his father like this. In its own way, it was worse than the torture.

The Dark Lord glanced down at Lucius. "But we must be sure young Draco Malfoy gets the message. Once more, I think, and then--"

"No!" Draco gasped, louder than he'd intended. Both men looked at him with surprise, and he amended quickly, "No, please, I-I understand. There's no need--"

"And yet already you have failed me once." The Dark Lord stepped around Lucius, coming face to face with Draco. "I gave you a fairly straightforward task last year, did I not?"

"The task was completed!" Draco cried, on the verge of panic. "He's dead, Snape killed him, and he couldn't have done it if I hadn't--"

"Ah, but you've said it yourself. Snape killed him. You did not."

"I thought--we thought--that it wouldn't matter, so long as he was dead..."

"Severus did well to take over when you faltered," the Dark Lord acknowledged. "But that does not erase the fact that you faltered. I will not tolerate such weakness, Draco."

"N-no, of course not. My lord. I'll do better, I'll do better next time--" Draco had to stop and recall what he knew of Occlumency, for fear the Dark Lord would notice his silent plea not a next time, please, not another assignment...

"He's your son, Lucius. What do you suggest?"

Lucius stood up, finally, and Draco glanced at him in relief. But he didn't answer for several seconds, and Draco could hardly believe what he said at last in a low murmur.

"You must do as you think best, my lord, as always..."

"Right answer." The Dark Lord gave Lucius a feral smile and lowered his wand. "You may go."

"Thank you, Master, I knew you would choose mercifully, and please, if there is anything I can do to make up for--"

"I did not say all was forgiven," the Dark Lord spat. "Get out of my sight."

Lucius left the room with noticeable haste. Draco wondered if he dared follow. But the harsh, cruel expression on the Dark Lord's not-quite-human face convinced him that he dared not stay. He took a tentative step.

"Did I not warn you, Draco, that I have no tolerance for weakness?"

Draco froze. He knew what that meant, knew suddenly what was coming. He wanted to flee, by Apparation or by foot if necessary, but his panicked mind couldn't think of a destination and his feet seemed anchored to the floor. He stood paralyzed with fear as the Dark Lord pointed his wand.

"Crucio."

It was worse than he'd imagined. Every nerve was on fire. Every fiber in him screamed and he was only vaguely aware of his body hitting the floor and thrashing about; all his focus was on the pain, so intense he thought he must be dying...

Abruptly it ended. Weak and shaken, Draco lay prone at the Dark Lord's feet with his face against the cool wooden floor.

"Consider that a warning," the Dark Lord said softly. "A mere taste. The next time I have occasion to punish you, it will not be over so quickly."

Draco wanted to say something to show he understood, but the most he could manage was a feeble nod without lifting his head from the floor. He waited fearfully for further instructions, keeping still out of some half-defined instinctual urge to escape attention by appearing small and harmless. Just then, for some reason, he had an absurd thought. If Potter could see you now...

Draco scrambled to his feet, ignoring the way he shook. Why did he feel ashamed?

The Dark Lord looked mildly surprised. "I see you have decided to show me some spirit. Few remain standing in my presence once I express my displeasure, and I would not have thought to count you among them, Draco. We understand each other better now, don't we?"

Fleetingly Draco wondered if he might have gone mad, the way his mind was playing tricks on him. He'd just remembered the hippogriff that had attacked him back in third year. You were supposed to bow to them, too. But he'd done that and the beast still savaged him. Unpredictable and dangerous, hippogriffs were. Come to think of it, they even stared right into your eyes a lot like the Dark Lord was doing now.

That was when Draco realized, with a feeling like cold water running down his spine, that he'd neglected to shield his thoughts.

"It seems I was too lenient after all," the Dark Lord whispered in a voice harsh with fury. "Crucio."

The Dark Lord hadn't lied. It was not over quickly.