Innocence and Compassion

AN: For those who don't understand the title, Draco was only able to gain compassion after a loss of his innocence. You can thank a rather boring English lecture for the idea. It was all about one versus the other and not being able to have them at the same time. Anyway, thanks to Sam, who seemed to really like this story, and Jen, who's still holding onto it and has taken about a week to read it (if she's gotten around to it yet). And, of course, Dray, who suffered through the same lesson and still had to have an explanation of what I was talking about. I love you guys!

Innocence and Compassion

It was lunchtime on Saturday not long after school had started. The hall was quiet except for the sound of people munching happily. It was good to be back at Hogwarts.

Draco had become an enigma to his housemates over the summer. He sat alone, talked to no one, only said the bare minimum when talked to. He had lost the boisterous, haughty, attitude that had once been all he was seen as. Even though he was extremely pale before; it had looked natural then, now he looked sick. The Gryffindors had noticed (how could they not?) and had decided that he probably was sick and had had long discussions about how great it would be if the boy would die, going into all the (gory) details.

An eagle owl landed haughtily next to Draco, glaring at him malevolently as it dropped a letter on his plate. Draco paled considerably, turning ashen, as he sucked his breath in, looking down at the seal on the letter, his father's seal. The Slytherins had hushed, watching him. He absently pushed his plate towards the owl for it to peck at as he picked up the letter with shaking hands. People all over the hall were staring at him but he failed to notice them.

He knew what was in that letter. He knew before he opened it what it would say. He had hoped this day would never come. He clumsily opened the seal and unfolded the parchment within. He stared down at the clear, cursive writing within blindly, unable to allow himself to believe that it had finally happened.

Dear Son,

Use the dragon at three today. Meet me in the lower dungeons. I will allow no delay.

You will have very valuable training today.

Your father, Lucius Malfoy

That was it, so simple. There was no getting out of this, no excuses. He was going to be... trained today.

He stood up suddenly; his hands gripping the letter so tightly they had turned white. He was breathing heavily as he backed away, stumbling against his chair in his blind horror. There was silence as all stared at him. He looked up to their stares, his grey eyes distant with horror and shock. A small, strangled sound escaped his throat and he fled the hall.

"If the news was that bad for him it must be good for us," Hermione murmured thoughtfully to her friends. Harry appeared not to hear her, staring off after the retreating Slytherin.

"Maybe his father finally died," Ron offered hopefully. Hermione glared at him. "What? That'd be good news, wouldn't it? Aren't I right Harry?"

"What?" Harry asked absently as he turned back to the table looking puzzled.

Ron and Hermione gave him a 'look'. "Are you feeling all right Harry?" Hermione asked, putting the back of her hand against his forehead.

He jerked away from her. "I'm fine. Just thinking."

"Well that's a welcome change," she joked. He laughed with them, the mood lightening. The eagle owl gave its odd little call and flew off, leaving the ripped envelope lying on the table. No one went near it. Lucius Malfoy was right; his name still did hold some measure of respect in the wizarding world. But it earned more fear and hatred, even among their own, dark, kind.

* * *

Draco opened the cedar box slowly, breathing in its delicious smell. A sharp, metallic sent ruined it, though, bringing with it a sense of reality. In the bottom of the box, lying on a velvety cushion, was a silver pendant, a dragon. It was very old, an heirloom of his family. Its claws were clutching something that had long since faded and worn away, only very faintly visible now to show that there was something there. Many of the scales had worn away but most of the creature was still visible, with the head being in the best condition. The silver grey eyes shone with a fierce fire that Draco had always admired, since he was a little child playing with his mother's jewelry. The wings were spread out wide and the jaw opened in a defiant snarl. Draco had once imagined flames shooting from the little creature's maw, when he was small and his imagination had not yet been beaten out of him.

He dared not touch the thing, not yet. His father had presented it to him the summer past, a proud expression on his face. But the pride was not in his son and heir, but in himself and his 'ingeniousness'. He had turned the pin into a portkey. When touched it would bring him directly into the front hall of the manor. It had taken a lot of work to get it to function through the many layers of spells on the house but he had managed it, of course. And he had presented it to his son so that he could return home at a moment's notice without Dumbledore being aware of it. How great. (Heavy sarcasm apparent, for those thickheaded ones who haven't yet realized this.)

His fingers hovered over the little beauty that he had always loved but didn't let them fall. It wasn't yet three and he wouldn't arrive a moment before he had to. It was going to be horrible enough without adding to it. But he dared not refuse the summons and stay here, where he wanted to remain more then anything else. If he valued his hide he would go. But in saving his skin he feared he might lose his mind. He shook with a new fear he was still unfamiliar with, though it had haunted him all summer.

The clock chimed behind him, its clangs shaking him to the bone. He felt his body vibrate with its mournful tone. If it was his habit to sweat under stressful circumstances he would have been drenched in it, but he stayed dry, as he had trained his body to do. He couldn't show weakness, especially around his father, not where he was going. He would be beaten for it if it showed.

He picked the pendant up and the world dissolved around him, a hook attaching itself in his stomach and pulling him along to his father and insanity. He landed, barely keeping his balance, in the entrance to his dark, brooding home. A short man, head bowed subserviently, was waiting for him. The top of his head was bald and shiny and he was wearing a standard set of black robes that were in passable condition. His shoes squeaked nervously against the floor.

His eyes remained riveted on the ground as he murmured, "Welcome home, master. You're father is waiting for you. If you will come with me?" The man bowed deeper, spreading his arm towards the hall that would lead them deep into the dungeons of the old castle that had once stood here. Draco gave a quiet sigh and followed the little man, just as happy as Harry normally was when returning to what he had to call home.

His father was waiting for him outside the door to the lower dungeon, the one with the instruments of torture in it, magical and Muggle. He was wearing plain black robes of the finest weave, heavily spelled to repel dirt, water and blood. Draco knew which of the three his father expected most to come in contact with them.

Lucius looked Draco up and down critically. "Those robes are going to have to be disposed of after we're done here today. Servant!" The man nodded his head, not daring to look up at his master. "Make a note that a new set of standard school robes must be bought for Draco as soon as possible. No, make that two. We mustn't have people wondering where your clothes have gone, now can we?" He turned and placed a hand on the heavy door.

'Like anybody would notice anyway,' Draco thought to himself, trying to force the shaking out of his limbs as he followed his father into the room. The servant stood as a sort of honor guard outside the door. A few torches were hanging in rackets on the walls, spreading a smoky, flickering light around the dark room. It took Draco a moment to readjust his eyes but when he did he was glad for the darkness. No one could see him shaking anymore nor see the horror and fear in his face. But he knew it was there.

A man appearing to be in his late thirties was tied to what looked like a rack with some magical additions. He was staring fixedly at his family in the corner, ignoring the Death Eaters standing around him, waiting for orders. His wife was manacled to the wall, their two children, a little girl of about 2 and a boy of 4, wrapped around her legs, crying quietly. She was trying to sooth them but she was too full of fear and had no use of her hands. There were tears mixed with the dirt on her face.

Draco became unaware of time. Everything blurred together in horror and blood. He realized as his father came forward, a cold, dangerous glint in his eyes, that he had made the wrong choice. He should never have come today. But it was too late to change anything. He was ordered into the corner, to watch for today.

The man was tortured, simple things at first, moving up to advanced curses, keeping Crucio as a backup. If they used the worst first then it would numb him later. They worked their way up; making him hurt in ways that don't even seem possible. His screams cut through Draco as he sat, huddled in the corner, sobbing dryly to himself, his hands pressed tightly to his ears.

Questions were asked, some answered, but they weren't getting what they wanted. The little girl was tugged away from her mother and presented to the father. Tell us what we want or your daughter dies. The mother screamed, then quickly silenced with a sharp blow to the head. The father's eyes had gone wild but his daughter still managed to return some measure of humanity to him. The girl herself had stopped crying. She stared up at the big, scary men without a word, her brown eyes wide.

But he still wouldn't tell them what they needed to know. Maybe he didn't know himself. Whatever it was it had to be important for him to lose his daughter for it. Or maybe he was just stubborn. He'd have to be very strong willed not to have broken and told them everything he knew within the first hour or so. But he refused.

The little girl was killed. Two words came from Lucius's mouth, two terrible, horrible words and a shaft of green light. It hit the girl square in the chest. She made no noise before the end, just looked at her father sadly. Her little body flew backward with the impact and landed next to Draco. He reached out a shaky hand and touched her pale cheek. She was so cold. He pulled back, burned by the coldness. Her brown eyes stared at the ceiling the rest of the time he was there and he watched her. He couldn't bring himself to close her eyes, to touch her at all.

The man gave a feral roar as he strained against his chains. Lucius looked at him in disgust and told him that such strong feelings for one's children was not proper. The man didn't hear and if he did he didn't understand. He had lost his mind.

The used various other techniques for a while, resorting to Crucio at last, but they got nothing intelligible out of him nor would anyone ever again. Draco couldn't watch; just listening was tearing him in two. The woman cried out to him to help her, straining against her chains to reach for him. He looked up at her with a tear-streaked face and knew that they were going to do the same thing to her. She was going to be broken, killed. He could do nothing to help her. And she saw that in his eyes.

How much time had passed, he didn't know, when his father's hand landed on his shoulder. Draco looked up, filled with shame. He was told he had disgraced him tonight and more of these visits must be needed to rid of these emotions. Draco didn't respond; couldn't even make his mind function properly.

He looked over at the man before he left. His eyes were wide and blank, only his shallow breathing showing that he was still alive. A small trickle of blood came out of the corner of his mouth. Draco shuddered and looked away. His father watched this in disapproval. How could a son of his be this squeamish?

When he touched the little silver pendant tucked in his pocket he was pulled back to Hogwarts. It was now useless as a portkey. He landed in the entrance hall and his knees buckled and he fell heavily. He curled up in a corner, weak in body and mind, and lost himself in the pain inside him.

It was dark outside, late at night. All the students should be in bed. Nobody would see him; nobody was awake. But somebody was. Light footsteps sounded around the bend. Draco didn't hear them, was unaware of the world as a whole. They stopped suddenly on the sight of the boy in the corner then approached slowly, cautiously. A hand rested gently on his arm and he looked up. It was Potter.

"Malfoy?" he said gently, almost kindly. "What's wrong?" Draco stared at him blindly, not really seeing him, and wiped at his wet eyes.

"So cold," he murmured to himself as he shuddered in the balmy evening air. "So very, very cold. Like she was already in the ground. And she just stared and stared as if she could see something, but no, no she couldn't." He babbled to himself softly, sounding absolutely insane and Harry became scared.

He looked at Draco, really looked at him, and saw the state he was in. There was dirt caked into his robes and something that looked suspiciously like blood. There was a large tear in the side. His hair was sticking up and there were smudges all over his face and marks made by his nails down his cheeks. His eyes were wide and bright with tears. A small pendant, what looked like a dragon, was half hanging out of his pocket.

"What're you talking about, Malfoy?" Harry asked, getting increasingly scared.

Draco paused, peering up at him. He suddenly seemed to come to himself and realize who was sitting before him. He visibly started and moved back slightly. He then looked down at himself, at the state he was in.

"Go away Potter," he said softly and not unkindly. "You don't want to know." He shuddered again and another involuntary sob shook his body.

"If you're in this sort of shape, then yes, I do," Harry answered. Draco stood up unsteadily, clutching at the wall. Harry noticed blood on his hands just as Draco did. He made a little noise and began scraping at them, trying to get it off. Another tear worked its way down his cheek. It was his own blood, drawn when he was trying desperately not to hear, at any cost. The pain inside had stopped him from realizing the physical pain.

He sobbed desperately, once again forgetting Harry. "Get it off!" he cried. "Get it off me!"

Harry grabbed his hands, stopping them from striking the wall again. "Stop it Malfoy," he said soothingly, gripping his hands tightly. The Slytherin boy sobbed, letting his forehead fall to the wall. He slid back down to the floor, Harry still holding his hands.

"Why wouldn't he tell them?" Draco whispered hoarsely to himself. "Was it really worth all that? Why?" His head fell against his knees. Harry placed his hand hesitantly against the boy's back, trying to comfort him. He could feel how hard the boy was shaking and slipped off his cloak, wrapping it around his thin shoulders.

"What happened to you?" Harry queried softly.

"Nothing," Draco whispered back, gently resting against his enemy. "Nothing at all."

"It sure doesn't look that way."

"What do you know?" Draco exclaimed angrily, standing up again. Anger blazed in his eyes. "Nothing at all happened to me, nothing. It was them; they were the ones who suffered. But not me, no, not me."

"Tell me." Draco looked into his sympathetic green eyes and his last bit of resolve failed. He moved to the door and slid it open slightly, staring out at the moonlit lawn.

He told him haltingly what had happened. Harry spoke not a word, just stared off grimly into the distance. Only the sound of crickets came through the silence that followed. Harry could see the tears on Draco's cheeks and felt sympathy for him. He came up behind him and put his hand reassuringly on his back.

"I didn't do anything to help them. I couldn't," Draco whispered hoarsely, sagging against the door.

"There was nothing you could have done."

"You would have found a way, right, Potter?" Draco said bitterly. "Knight in shining armor here to save the world, with a clear road and knowing exactly what's expected of him. You wouldn't have been cowering in a corner."

Harry's face darkened with memories and he moved back as Draco turned to face him. "But that's what I did," he whispered painfully. "I let him kill Cedric. I just lay there and did nothing to stop him."

Draco's eyes widened as he saw the same pain that was torturing him in his enemy's eyes. "But there was nothing you could have done. I've heard the story enough times to know. You made up for it anyway, in what you did later."

"How can you make up for letting somebody die?" Harry wanted to know.

"I guess you can't." They regarded each other for a long moment. "I should have done something, though, anything."

He sighed and pushed the door open, stepping out side. Harry followed him. The moon was shinning brightly overhead, reflecting off the lake and throwing a beautiful silver light over the surroundings.

"Why would you have done something?" Harry asked as Draco sat on a stone bench beside the gardens.

He sat, staring at the ground, swinging his feet. "When I was younger," he began softly, "I was taught that as a Malfoy the world was mine. I was superior. And, of course, having nothing to put this against, no experience, I believed it. I became spoiled and arrogant. It took me a long time in this school before I actually opened my eyes. But I see clearly now, and I hate what I see. I regret so much what I did and how I acted before. This summer..." He cleared his throat, his voice suddenly losing its strength. Harry sat next to him, placing his hand over Draco's.

"This summer I saw things that I never thought possible. It was a rude awakening. I want to say... I'm sorry for what I've done to you and your friends. It was petty and cruel of me." His grey eyes lifted, imploring him, pleading with him to accept this.

Harry nodded. Relief spread through the boy's pale form and his head fell forward once more. "The world is a horrible place, Harry." He paused and glanced up, realizing the use of his first name after the fact. Harry smiled.

"It's not so bad. There's just some horrible people in it, Draco."

"I was almost one of them." Draco hung his head in shame, unable to bring himself to look at Harry.

"No," Harry said, his hand on his shoulder. "You were never one of them. You would never have been able to do that."

Draco shuddered. "I would have. But I don't think so now. Not after this. Will you help me?"

"Of course, whatever it takes."

Draco's eyes brightened with shamed tears. "I don't deserve this," he said shakily. "After all I've done, after all the years of hate, you drop it in an instant to help me. You're so perfect." He looked away again. "They're going to come after me, you know."

"I know," Harry answered calmly.

"People might die." Draco was trembling now.

"Hogwarts will protect you. The teachers will and so will I."

"They'll come. People will suffer because of me."

"If they do it will be willingly."

"I can't let that happen."

"It'll be all right," Harry said, placing his hand under his chin, gently pushing it up to meet his emerald eyes burning with life. Their eyes met and seemed to attach a cord between them. And through that they slowly stood, their eyes never leaving each other. "It's going to be all right."

And just then it was all right. Somewhere someone was dying. Somewhere someone was suffering. Somewhere someone was in pain. But all that could be forgotten in Harry's eyes. Their green depths soothed his wounds and melted the tears away. They folded him gently in their embrace, comforting him, protecting him. He would find a way through this. There was a way, lying hidden in emerald orbs that now encompassed the world.

The silver dragon pendant blazed with light and fell from his pocket. Now, clutched in the dragon's claws, intertwined with each other as if it had always been there, was a lighting bolt. The two boys looked down at in then up at each other. There was a way through this, and they would find it, together.