For one sickening long moment Draco felt as though his heart was shattering into pieces on the stone beneath his feet. The girl who was screaming, the girl who he was meant to kill, the girl with a shock of red hair was Ginny. His Ginny.
And then she moved her head and Draco felt the world stop spinning, felt his heart start beating again because it wasn't her. The features were too angular, the face a couple of years too old.
But she still had red hair. And she still bore a striking resemblance to Ginny if only because of the vividness of the colour. He tightened his grip on his wand, his heart jack hammering madly. He stared down at the girl, not seeing sharp cheekbones and vivid green eyes, but softly rounded features and dark brown irises.
"Blaise, kill." The order was short and sharp and Draco barely glanced at his best friend, the malevolent expression and the angry coldness of his normally bright blue eyes, making him turn away quickly. Blaise's victim's scream was mercilessly short, Draco squeezing his eyes shut against the flash of green light.
Out of the corner of his eye, still busy staring at the redhead, Draco saw the Dark Lord slither forward and reach out his hand for Blaise's arm. Blaise's hiss of pain as the Mark was burned into his forearm was masked by the sound of the dead body being dragged from the room, her green, sightless eyes giving Draco no pleasure, however similar they were to Potter's.
Blaise inclined his head in reverence, though Draco could see the clench of his jaw as he tried not to cry out in pain.
"Draco," the word slithered out of his mouth, "Lucius' son." A statement that Draco knew held unspeakable expectation. He gestured with his inhuman hand at the sobbing girl. "Kill."
His hand trembling, Draco looked down at the girl, her mouth opening in a silent plea as tears ran down her cheeks. She looked so like Ginny, the tears making her close her eyes, letting Draco imagine a different colour under the eyelids. Her captor yanked her head back roughly, the girl's squeal of pain muffled by the hand that he clamped over her mouth. Her red hair glinted in the firelight.
"No," gasped out Draco, his resolve failing, his wand arm falling to his side as he worked to drag each breath into his lungs. "No."
A stunned silence filled the room only broken by what sounded like a choked gasp from the direction of Lucius. Draco managed to glance at Blaise, his eyes pale and huge in his shocked face. A glance at the Dark Lord, Voldermort, he thought rebelliously, showed anger written into every line of his merciless face.
Voldermort started forward and a self-preservation instinct that Draco didn't even know he processed seemed to kick in and he dropped to the floor on his knees, head bowed forward in subjugation. "I am sorry my Master," he stuttered, wrapping his arms around himself after depositing his wand on the floor in front of him. "I am not yet worthy to be in your service."
"Worthy?" Queried Voldermort, his curious tone tinged with malice. "You passed all the tests did you not, young Malfoy?"
Think, Draco yelled at his brain. "Yes, Master," he loves himself, work with that, "But I do not think that I am ready to serve in such an esteemable position for one as great as you."
Silence reigned through the room and Draco imagined that they could hear the furious beating of his heart. A dry, brittle laugh echoed through the study. "Rise, Draco."
Draco followed the instruction, willing his legs to not tremble beneath him. Voldermort stared at him, calculating. "It is well that you told me of this now," Draco restrained himself from breathing a sigh of relief. Voldermort turned to Lucius. "I hope that one day your son will be able to join my ranks," Lucius inclined his head as his Master turned back to his son.
"Until then," A hand reached out to trace Draco's cheek, the shudder that ran through Draco's body apparently not noticed by the dark wizard in front of him. "You shall serve me in any way that I wish you to." The hand left his cheek, trailing a path down his neck until one wickedly curved nail was pressing into the smooth column of Draco's throat. "Is that understood?"
"Yes, Master," Draco said lowly, his Adam's apple bobbing perilously near the razor sharp nail.
Voldermort released him, something akin to satisfaction on his face. "Good," he waved a hand at the assembled people, "You may go."
Draco felt his father grip his arm, his strong fingers bruising Draco's skin as he was dragged from the room, the cold eyes of Lucius Malfoy filling Draco with foreboding.
*
Draco dragged his feet over expensive carpets as he was yanked through the house. Tugging open the door to Draco's bedroom Lucius threw his son through the door, Draco hitting the floor with a dull thud.
Tiredly raising his head from his slouched position on the floor Draco watched his father advance on him, cold fury radiating from every hard line of his face. He snarled at Draco and leant to grab his arm tossing him against the wall as though he were a rag doll.
One cold hand wrapped around Draco's throat, the rings on his fingers pressing into the delicate skin. He felt his father's signet ring pressing into his throat and Draco instinctively wrapped his fingers around the Malfoy ring that lay on his own hand, given to each heir when they reached their tenth birthday, when people needed to know who they would soon follow. The ring acted as a soothing influence, reminding him of the power that he possessed by merely being a Malfoy, regardless of which wizard he followed in this war.
"I should disown you," the words were whispered silkily into his ear, the only hint of malice coming from the tightening fingers around his throat.
"Father…" Draco tried to gasp out, the plea cut off by the ever-tightening fingers. Draco felt his vision start to blur, colours dancing in front of his eyes as blackness started to invade all of them.
"You embarrassed me." The words sounded far away, Draco's head starting to lilt down onto his chest. "But I will let you go."
The hand was removed from his throat and Draco fell to the floor, his own hands coming to massage the sore skin as he gasped for breath.
"My Master seems to have decided you are still useful," Lucius cocked his head, considering, a grimace of distaste on his face, "though I cannot imagine why." He glared down at his son, "You are pathetic," each word was punctuated by a kick to the ribs that had Draco writhing in agony, "and you are barely fit to be my son."
Lucius took a step back, one last kick aimed at Draco's midsection for good measure. "I thought I had trained you better." He leant down and grabbed Draco's wrist, tracing the faint scar that lay there. Scowling down he dropped the wrist back roughly, where Draco cradled it against his body. "Obviously not." Looking down at Draco as though he were a piece of rubbish he tossed a bag from his robe pocket onto the floor next to his son. "Go back to Hogwarts."
Watching his father sweep from the room Draco was suddenly desperate for the pride that he had seen for a few moments in his father's eyes to be restored. Spitting out blood onto the rich carpet Draco dragged himself to the fireplace, gripping the bag of floo powder as he crawled. Gasping out his destination he tumbled into the flames, staying conscious only long enough to see Pansy's shocked face before he fell onto the floor of the Slytherin common room.
*
It was a hazy world that Draco woke up to the following morning. He blinked a few times and took a few shuddering breathes trying to make the bedroom come back into a clearer focus. As soon as the image solidified Draco groaned and flopped his head back against the pillow.
Pansy and Blaise stood in the room, one obviously concerned and the other with an inscrutable expression on his face. Pansy breathed a sigh of relief as she saw Draco's eyelids flutter and she hurried over, placing a cool palm against his forehead.
"How are you feeling?" She asked, leaning over to adjust his bedclothes.
Draco swatted her hands away, mumbling a quick "Bleugh."
Raising one perfectly proportioned eyebrow Pansy asked; "What? No witty comment?"
"What? No asking of how this happened?" Draco retorted, his eyes flicking to Blaise, who hadn't moved from his leaning position against the far wall.
Pansy followed his eyes and stepped back, smoothing the front of her robes down with suddenly fidgety hands. "We know your father, Draco."
Draco darted a glance at her, his hand rushing to his neck. Pansy frowned as she saw the action, leaning forward to grab his hand and shake her head in disapproval.
"I imagine he wasn't very happy," Blaise's impassive voice made Pansy step away again, her arms wrapping around herself. She glanced nervously between the two boys who had began to stare at each other.
"I'll go tell the others Draco's all right, shall I?" She asked, peevishly, already knowing that this was a conversation she wasn't going to be allowed to partake in.
"That might be best," Draco agreed, his eyes never leaving Blaise. With an exasperated sigh Pansy strode from the room, pausing to jab a finger at Blaise's chest in warning.
Blaise tilted his head to watch her leave, not moving till the door fell shut with a loud snick. He turned back to the bed then, striding over the room until he was stood, staring down at Draco, his expression unreadable.
"How's your arm?" Draco asked innocently, pulling himself up onto his elbows to regard Blaise.
Blaise laughed harshly. "I honestly thought that was something I'd be able to ask you today as well, Draco."
"I wasn't good enough," Draco said, falling back on what was becoming the old excuse, though he knew that Blaise, of everyone, was unlikely to accept it.
Snarling Blaise grabbed Draco's wrist, shoving it up at Draco until the thin scar that lay across his wrist was directly in his vision. "You expect me to believe that?"
"I got this scar a long time ago, Blaise," Draco said, trying to keep his voice even.
Blaise pushed Draco's arm away, stepping away from the bed and running a hand raggedly through his hair. He stared down at Draco, his expression suddenly sad. "And you were ready then."
"Blaise…"
"No," Blaise held up a hand to stop him, "don't tell me, Draco." He smiled ruefully. "If I know anything, I have to do something."
Draco watched him for a moment and then slowly nodded. "All right."
They stared at each other for a moment longer and then Blaise swept from the room, his hand clamped fiercely over his left forearm.
Pansy appeared in the doorway as he left, her features schooled into an emotionless mask. "So you're not a Death Eater?" A wry smile tugged at her lips and Draco chortled out loud.
"Nope," he said, patting the bed to indicate she should take a seat. "I suppose you're happy."
Pansy gingerly sat on the edge of the bed, nudging Draco to move over further. "Why would I be happy?"
"I'm in less danger," Draco said carefully, scrutinising her face.
Pansy laughed bitterly. "My Mother wasn't a Death Eater."
Draco froze, the topic of conversation not one he was expecting. "Pansy," he began slowly, aware of the untread emotional territory they were veering into. "You never said what happened with your Mother."
Pansy looked as though she'd been punched in the stomach, her hands flying to the sheets in front of her which she slowly began to twist. Suddenly she paused, taking a deep breath and tilting her head away from Draco. When she turned to him again she had a wide smile plastered on her face, though her eyes still glistened with unshed tears.
"It doesn't matter," she patted his arm as though he were a child, "what matters is that you turned down the opportunity to be a Death Eater." She raised an eyebrow and stared at him curiously.
"I wasn't ready," Draco said, fully aware that he sounded like a petulant child.
Pansy laughed. "Sure," she said, shooting him a disbelieving look.
"Really!" Draco protested.
"You couldn't kill, could you?" Pansy laughed, humour lacing her voice.
Draco's expression darkened. "Oh, I could kill."
"Then why are you not…"
Draco stared at her, remembering the revered Parkinson line, remembering the way that his Mother had always wanted him to marry this girl and remembering the funeral of her mother where she had stood, not crying, merely staring, stony-faced, at her father.
"Pansy." She stared down at him for a moment and then stood from the bed.
"I suppose we all have secrets, don't we, Draco?"
"I suppose we do, dear Pansy."
She cocked her head and regarded him. "Would you tell me yours if I told you mine?"
Draco raised an eyebrow. "Would you tell me yours, Pansy?"
She smiled then. "I trust you with my life, Draco Malfoy," she paused and laughed, "just not with my secrets."
Pansy walked forward and brushed the hair back from Draco's forehead. "Will you stop messing with my hair?" Draco protested, batting at her hands.
Not moving her hands, Pansy dropped a kiss on Draco's forehead. "You know that I always loved my Father more than anyone, don't you, Draco?"
Draco sighed. "You were always a little Daddy's Girl if that's what you mean."
"Yes, well," Pansy said, annoyed. "You'll know then that I generally disregarded everything my Mother would say?"
"Except for that thing where she said you looked good in pink and that marvellous cinnamon biscuit recipe."
"Well, there was one other thing that I remember her saying."
"Please tell me this isn't a hair charm."
Pansy leaned back from the bed and regarded Draco seriously. "Always follow your heart."
Draco managed a laugh. "Sound's slightly cliché."
Pansy shrugged and gave a melancholy grin. "Seems to work though."
She patted his head and he scowled up at her. "Be down in time for dinner, okay?"
She ran a hand gently over his head and then walked from the room leaving Draco alone to once again admire the canopy of his bed.
*
Draco had always liked to make dramatic entrances but even he wasn't comfortable when he stepped through the door to the Great Hall and the eye of every Slytherin in the room span towards him.
A quick glance at the Gryfinndor table made his heart lurch as he saw the familiar flash of red and then he was left facing the table that he had ruled over for so many years. Crabbe and Goyle paused for a moment in their eating and looked up, their expressions as insipid as normal.
With a glance at Blaise that didn't go unnoticed by Draco, Crabbe pulled out the chair next to him and inclined his head for Draco to sit. Striding over, Draco dropped into the seat opposite Blaise. Teddy, on his other side, shot them both fearful glances.
Blaise rolled his eyes. "Really Teddy, grow a backbone. I'm not going to chuck a plate of Yorkshire pudding at Draco's head or anything." He caught Draco's eye and flashed a quick grin.
"Of course not," Draco paused, considering, "you'd at least use the plate of roast beef."
Teddy chuckled. "Personally I was expecting hexes."
"Well apparently, Draco's not good enough with a wand," Blaise said, the under-lying tone of his words not lost on anyone at the table.
Draco shrugged, matter-of-factedly, checking out of the corner of his eye that all the teachers were assembled. "Apparently not."
"I just find that so hard to believe."
Draco stared him straight in the eye. "Then you didn't see me that time in Diagon Alley."
Pansy coughed. "Someone hexed you, did they?" She said pointedly, her eyes telling the two boys to shut up before any of the teachers happened to wander by.
Blaise shot her a look. "Fine," he relented, "I suppose that we can discuss our numerous duels later."
Pansy breathed a sigh of relief and Draco returned to his food, the sight of the roast dinner making him realise he wasn't hungry in the slightest. He glanced around the hall, none of the other students appeared to have noticed the little argument that he'd just had though the Gryfinndors looked just as suspicious of them as normal.
And one Gryfinndor in particular was pointedly not looking over at the Slytherin table. Draco imagined that she knew what he had been planning on doing that weekend and the twist of his stomach at the idea that Ginny might imagine he was a Death Eater was another unexpected event that morning.
He watched her stand up and mutter something to that camera happy friend of hers as she practically raced from the hall. Draco stood suddenly, causing Crabbe to spit his pumpkin juice out in surprise. "Draco?" Blaise asked curiously as though he was worried about his mental condition.
"I need to go to the bathroom," Draco said the first thing that popped in his head, his words causing both of Blaise's eyebrows to shoot up and Pansy to let loose a giggle.
"Well, that's not very Malfoy-esque is it?" she said, her loud giggles causing the students of the other tables to take notice of the scene.
"Well sometimes even Malfoys need to pee," Draco explained over his shoulder as he dashed from the hall.
*
He saw the red hair before anything, his mind flashing back to the evening in his father's study. She was scrunched up against a wall, her knees drawn up to her face, obscuring her features. For an instant it was the opposite of his initiation, Draco could imagine that the girl in front of him wasn't Ginny Weasley but the nameless victim that he hadn't the nerve to kill but who was most assuredly dead by now.
Draco stilled himself with a hand against the wall, using his free hand to rub his eyes fiercely. Composing himself he
moved forward silently until he was crouched in front of the still girl.
"Ginny?" he asked, timidly.
She started and tried to dart back against the wall, one hand clasped over her heart. "Draco," she replied coolly.
"What are you doing down here?" Draco asked, a scant half metre from her face.
"Why did you follow me down here?"
"I wanted the answer to that question."
Ginny laughed harshly. "You can't just answer me honestly, can you?" She scowled at him and regarded him with disgust. "I suppose you really are a Death Eater."
Still scowling Ginny began to stand until Draco gripped her wrist and pulled her back down. "Get off me!" Ginny yelled, trying to break his grip. Draco slowly raised a finger to her lips and she fell silent, staring into his solemn eyes.
Realising her, Draco sat back on his heels and slowly rolled the sleeve of his robe up, Ginny's eyes growing into more perfect circles as each inch of pale skin was revealed.
Silently, his breathing erratic, Draco raised his arm to Ginny revealing the unblemished skin of his left forearm.