Paying the Price

Draco Malfoy was holding a candle up to a large bookshelf, and it cast a dim light on the many rows of books before him. He scanned their leather spines until he pulled out a dusty brown book and flipped it over. Written in thick gold letters was 1,001 Potions That Are Extremely Illegal. Underneath the title in smaller print was Just because they're illegal doesn't mean you can't learn about them!

Sighing, Draco strode across the dark room until he reached an old, battered sofa. He set the candle on a rickety table and stretched out on the sofa, resting his head on the threadbare arm. Draco opened the book, whose pages were old and tattered, and began to read. Minutes slipped slowly by as Draco read about each illegal potion.

Number twenty-three: The Flesh-Eating Potion. This acts as a type of acid. When drunk, it immediately destroys one's insides. As it travels through the digestive system, the surrounding tissue deteriorates until nothing is left. It then spreads throughout entire body within two minutes. The only thing that is left intact is the skin. This was commonly used for murder. After poisoning someone's drink, they would be dead quickly and quietly, unable to scream, for one of the first things the potion attacks is the mouth and throat. There is no known antidote to stop the poison, and therefore consumption means certain death...

Each description, usually more horrible than the last, had a disturbing picture illustrating the effects. Draco quickly flipped the pages until he found a section called Not-So-Nasty Potions and began to read once more. It wasn't until hours later that he finally drifted to sleep, the book resting across his chest.

Draco dreamt that he was running, surrounded by darkness. He couldn't see where he was going or what he was even running from. But fear gripped he heart as he sprinted into nothingness, and something inside of him urged him to keep moving forward...

Suddenly, Draco was sitting in Azkaban with his father. They were both in a dark cell, with a grimy wooden table between them.

"Here, Draco," his father said smoothly. His blond hair was tangled and dirty, and around his icy blue eyes were dark purple circles. "Drink this," he said, handing a small teacup to his son. Draco took it, grimacing slightly at his father's yellow, rotted teeth.

The liquid was a disgusting brownish yellow, and Draco protested. "No, father, I don't want it..." he began.

Lucius stared at him. "Drink it," he ordered. Then, his eyes glinting wildly, he screamed "DRINK IT!! DRINK THE POTION!! YOU'LL BE DEAD BY THE TIME YOU'RE DONE AND I'LL BE GLAD!"

Obediently, Draco raised the cup to his lips and drank. Immediately, he felt a burning sensation on his tongue and in his mouth. He coughed and spit out the last bit of potion in his mouth, but it was too late. He gripped his throat as he felt the liquid eating away at his body, slowly killing him. Draco wanted to scream, he wanted to yell at his father, he wanted to ask why he had put his own son in danger.... But he could not. He collapsed on the ground and the last thing he heard was his father screaming at him.

"DIE! YOU'RE NOTHING BUT A USELESS, PATHETIC FOOL! YOU WERE BORN TO BE GREAT AND YOU THREW IT ALL AWAY!! YOU ARE A DISAPPOINTMENT TO THE ENTIRE MALFOY FAMILY!! YOU ARE NOT MY SON ANY LONGER---"

The prison cell faded away as Draco lay choking and gasping on the floor, curled up with his knees to his chest, feeling his heart break... not just from the potion, but from his father's cries.

Suddenly, Draco woke up in a hospital bed. Sitting beside him was an old man with a long silver beard, who was staring at him intently from behind half-moon spectacles.

"Ah, Draco, you are awake," Dumbledore said, smiling warmly. "I hoped, one day, that you would realize your past mistakes," he began, but Draco was finding it hard to hear. It sounded like Dumbledore was whispering so softly that even Draco, who was a mere foot away, could not hear.

He tried to ask Dumbledore to speak up, but found that he still could not talk.

"I know, Draco, that those who you work for are harsh, demanding, and frightening. I only hope you will find the courage to find your own path, not the one which others have chosen for you..."

Dumbledore's voice was growing so soft that Draco was straining to hear. "When the time comes to fight, I pray that you will be fighting for your own beliefs, and not the beliefs of others..."

The hospital room was fading away, and Draco found himself sitting in a cramped dining room, alone at a long table with nine chairs. A steaming bowl of soup sat in front of him, which remained untouched. He could hear voices in another room, though he could not make out what they were saying.

Before long, three people walked into the dining room where Draco sat. Severus Snape led the way, and he was closely followed by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. He stared as Snape and Mr. Weasley sat across from him, and Mrs. Weasley sank into a chair to his right.

Mrs. Weasley spoke first in a kind, gentle voice. "Professor Snape has informed us of this... ordeal," she sighed. "We have decided that for now, it would be safest for you to stay with us, at least until the children get back in the next few days."

She paused, obviously waiting for some type of response, but Draco merely stared down at the bowl of soup in front of him. Mrs. Weasley continued. "Tonight, Professor Snape will stay with you until Arthur and I get back from visiting... from visiting..." she sniffed, stubbornly blinking away tears that threatened to fall down her face. "From visiting our son, who was injured tonight by that... that Greyback..."

Draco sighed and looked at Mrs. Weasley. "Sorry, I didn't know he was coming..." he mumbled, but was interrupted by Mr. Weasley.

"Draco, do not waste time apologizing for the things that cannot be undone," he said sternly, but kindly. "If you are sure about this... if you are sure that you can remain fearless and devoted to the Order..."

"I'm sure."

"Very well then. You have a difficult task ahead. Although you are no longer a servant of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, you must act as though you are. For the time being, he is unaware, but will most likely have spies that will be watching you closely. Do whatever you can to fool him, Draco, and I'm sure that you will succeed."

"I'd like to add," Professor Snape said softly, "that I plan on meeting with the Dark Lord within the next few days. I am sure that he will request that we both return to Hogwarts this year, so that he may keep an eye on us. As Mr. Weasely said, he is unaware of our true loyalties, but does not trust us enough to leave us alone. Students who are sons and daughters of Death Eaters will be instructed to watch us closely - make sure that they will have nothing to report, and all will be fine. It is best not to make the Dark Lord any angrier than he already is."

Draco nodded, taking this all in. Then he spoke, looking at Snape. "I'd just like to say that I... I will be willing to help the Order in any way I can. Even when I'm at school---"

Snape held up a hand and Draco fell silent. "I think," he said quietly, "that you should first concern yourself with what we have just discussed. In time, Draco, you will be of help to the Order. But for now, all we ask of you is that you remain safe."

Draco did not speak another word, and when Mrs. Weasley was kindly escorting him to his temporary bedroom, he looked back and saw Mr. Weasley and Snape exchange a very grave look.

Suddenly, it was very late at night, and Draco was heaving his trunk, which had been sent to him from Hogwarts, down the stairs of the Burrow. He dropped it by the front door and turned to stare into the faces of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

They both smiled warmly, and Mr. Weasley spoke first. "It's been a pleasure," he said. "Hopefully we will see you again soon." He stuck out his hand, which Draco grasped firmly.

"Thanks."

"You are a good person, Draco," said Mrs. Weasley. "You made the right choice. I wish we didn't have to say goodbye so soon... but it's for the best. You're always welcome here."

She pulled a startled Draco into a quick hug, and then let go.

He then heard Snape's calm voice speaking from outside. "It's time to go, Draco..."

He dragged his trunk out of the door and stepped onto the front lawn, where Snape was holding a broken fishing pole. Draco turned and waved goodbye to the Weasleys before he grasped the pole. Moments later, he felt a strong tug and was being lifted off the ground, speeding forward in a blur of colors until---

Draco's feet slammed onto the ground with such force it almost threw him backwards. He staggered, then looked around.

He was standing on a cobbled street, which was lined with a few street lamps. The ones that were not broken cast a dim light on the street, illuminating many brick houses, some with boarded or broken windows. The entire street seemed to be deserted, and when Draco spoke it echoed in the silence.

"So... where are we?"

"The place you will be staying for the rest of the summer. This," answered Snape evenly, "is Spinner's End."

Draco woke with a start, sending the book flying off the sofa as he sat up. He was sweating profusely, and the candle that had burned beside him hours before had gone out.

Not needing the light to guide him through the house, Draco got up and went to the small kitchen. He fixed himself a glass of water, which he drained quickly. Setting the glass down, he grasped either side of the sink and breathed heavily, remembering his dream.

Draco had indeed made a tough transition in the past weeks. Although he knew he would never go back on his word, his decisions still haunted him, and he wondered if he would ever get through the school year. Hopefully, once Snape came back from the meeting with Voldemort, he would be told that his former master was not as angry as they thought, and things wouldn't be as difficult or impossible as they seemed now.

But all he could do tonight was wait.

.

"Bring him in."

Two masked, hooded men entered a dark stone room, each holding the arm of a man who was also wearing long black robes. They brought him forward, where an eerie light glowed in the midst of the darkness. Then they turned and left without a word, disappearing into the shadows.

The man who was left knelt down. "My Lord," he said, bowing his head so that his greasy hair fell over his face.

The Dark Lord turned and slowly walked over to the man, out of the darkness and into the light. When he was only a few feet away, Voldemort paused. The room was completely and utterly silent, and the man kneeling on the floor did not dare speak another word. He only waited patiently as the seconds slipped by, making him develop a sense of nervousness that he was not used to.

Then, finally, Voldemort lifted his wand. The man did not notice; his head was still bent. A sound escaped Voldemort's lips, and it echoed throughout the empty room.

"Crucio."

The man crumpled in a heap on the floor, twitching and writhing around in agony. He screamed painfully, and he began to wish he were dead - anything to make the pain stop.

And then it did stop. The man continued to lie there even as the Dark Lord paced back and forth, inches from his body.

"I'm afraid you've let me down, Severus," Voldemort said quietly.

Snape, who lay panting on the ground, forced himself to sit up. "My Lord, I have come to tell you that I---"

"Silence! I am not finished, Severus, and if you interrupt me with your pathetic excuses it will be the last thing you do," he threatened menacingly.

Snape fell silent, and Voldemort continued. "It has come to my attention that you have hidden that Malfoy boy in your home since his failure to fulfill his task. The task that you yourself finished for him Why, you fool, did you hide the boy from me?"

"My Lord, when Draco could not complete his task I feared for his life. I know you do not forgive easily. However, I did what I could to rectify the situation. I myself took care of the headmaster, seeing as Draco could not. He has stayed with me in secret only because I wanted time, time to help you understand---"

"Help me understand?" Voldemort interrupted. He laughed, a chilling, manic laugh that filled the room. "Severus, you are sadly mistaken, for I understand completely. Did you not think that I doubted this boy? Even I cannot expect a mere sixteen year old to murder such a powerful opponent. His father has angered me deeply, and putting his son in danger seemed quite... appealing. But never did I expect him to succeed." Voldemort took a step closer to Snape and stared unblinkingly into his eyes. "I am not going to kill that boy. Yet you doubt me, Severus, even when you claim to be my most faithful servant. Well, devoted servants never question their masters. And those who do are punished."

Snape glanced away. "My Lord," he began calmly. "I admit that I made a mistake, however---"

But he was interrupted as Voldemort drew his hand back, his eyes flashing as he struck the side of Snape's face with the back of his hand, shrieking "Enough!!"

The blow was so forceful it threw Snape to the ground. He lay there, not daring to move. Then, the Dark Lord spoke, his voice low and menacing.

"The boy will return to Hogwarts. I do not care where he stays or how he gets there, but he will be at school in September. There, I will keep a close eye on him. And if I hear that he makes one wrong move... one wrong move... believe me, your worst fears will indeed be realized." He paused for a moment, then continued, hatred dripping from every word. "In the meantime, Severus, I suggest you also watch your step at that wretched school. For you have not felt my true wrath, nor will you ever want to. Tonight, to be sure that you get the point, you will suffer at the hands of two Death Eaters who have remained faithful to me. You are no longer worthy of my time."

And with that, Voldemort turned around, his back once again toward Snape. "Take him away," he ordered, and the two Death Eaters who escorted him in the room stepped forward, taking Snape by the arms once again and leading him to his fate.

The night was far from over.