Vitualamen

Chapter One: Got to see this through

Running down corridors
Through automatic doors
Got to get to you
Got to see this through
I see hope is here in a plastic box
I've seen christmas lights reflect in your eyes

Draco stood as though carved from ice; silent as his father told him how his life would be shaped from now on. Draco had returned home for Christmas, to discover that his father now felt that Draco was old enough to accept 'real responsibilities'. Unfortunately for Draco, real responsibilities meant becoming a Death Eater in just three days time. Yes he had been preparing for this honour since birth, but as he had grown up, Draco had come to realise just how much he hated Voldermort, and as son to one of his most trusted supporters, this wasn't a good thing.

As Lucius Malfoy continued to lecture his son on the honour that was being bestowed on him and at such an early age, Draco felt his mind begin to drift as he gazed out through the stained glass windows of his father's study. The emerald green and blue glass shimmered in the early morning sunlight, turning the gardens outside the window into tranquil paintings, free from all trouble and fear. Draco longed to be able to step through the glass, to disappear into the hazy stillness of the early morning, and forget this world and all it's horror.

His mind wandered back to countless other time he had stood here before his father, being told exactly how to live his life, how to think, how to act, how to be... All for Voldermort. As his thoughts rounded back to Voldermort he inwardly seethed, but of course showing no outward emotion as he had always been taught. Everything was brought back to Voldermort, as he was constantly reminded. It was because of Voldermort that Draco stood here in this study. Because of Voldermort he thought the way he did, acted how he did, had the likes and dislikes he did. Draco fought hard to control his rising temper, determined not to show the inward turmoil, the hate and anger racing through his veins. His father had insisted on telling him ever since Draco could understand. He was a manufactured toy. A plaything of Voldermorts. A minor cog in his design for the world, and all because his father had been too weak to say no, had been too eager to please the Dark Lord than to consider what he was agreeing to. He had sold his son to the Dark Lord, and for what? More power? More money? Malfoy's needed neither, but Lucius had seemed to forget all else except his quest for more power for himself. At first Draco had been proud of the Dark Lords hand in his creation, but as he grew up and his father began to distance himself even further from his son, Draco had ignited a deep burning resentment inside himself for Voldermort. As far as Draco was concerned, Voldermort had stolen away his father.

So here he was, his sixteenth birthday, stood once more in front of his father, being told that in three days time his life would change forever, and there was nothing Draco could do about it. Draco studied his father from beneath hooded eyes. Outwardly, he was the perfect picture of the attentive son, but beneath his cool exterior his thoughts were far away.

Strange, he thought to himself, I was taught how to do this by my own father, and yet I've now perfected it to the point that even he cannot tell if I am truly here or not!

Draco laughed inwardly before returning to studying his father once more. How could this man so casually give his son to the Dark Lord to do with as he pleased? All of them had forgotten one detail though, drunk on their own success they had overlooked the smallest thing that could bring all of their carefully wrought plans crashing down around them. He, was Draco Malfoy, and he belonged to no one.

Lucius' voice cut like a knife through Draco's thoughts, shaking him from his reverie.

"Do you understand me Draco?" Lucius' voice was sharp like bitter steel, no glint of compassion for his son in his voice.

"It is a tremendous honour the Dark Lord bestows upon you. You must accept it with humility and grace, and serve our Lord faithfully."

He paused, eyeing his son thoughtfully and with a calculating malice behind his steel grey eyes.

"You may go. I expect you at dinner."

With a curt nod, Lucius returned to the papers scattered neatly across the desk, dismissing his son from his sight. Draco paused for a moment before murmuring,

"Father."

And turning to the door. He walked with the usual Malfoy, slow arrogant elegance, until he was out of the room and halfway down the hallway outside. He hesitated for a moment. Making sure he was out of earshot before turning and running as fast as possible, racing through the manor, certain of only one thing, he had to put as much distance between him and his father.

***

Draco didn't stop running until he reached the north tower, three floors higher than his father and the entire breadth of the manor between them. Breathing heavily he climbed the last few steps and emerged onto another landing. Dust motes floated in the air around him, caught in the beams of sunlight that pushed their way into the manor, lighting up the landing with a peaceful radiance that soothed Draco's stretched nerves. He made his way along to the window seat at the end of the corridor and looked out onto the grounds below.

The sun had now risen fully, and cast her light on the entirety of the grounds laid out below him, making them seem almost beautiful. The sun warmed his chill flesh, sending lances of warmth to every part of him, and with this warmth, the horrors of his father and what would soon become of Draco himself melted away, leaving him to be just an ordinary teenage boy, enjoying the warmth of the sun's first beams.

Smiling to himself, Draco moved from the window to a tapestry hanging just to the left of the window, admiring the radiant colours as they caught the light and almost seemed to shimmer.

"Salus", he murmured and the tapestry faded, showing nothing but a blank stone wall. Smiling, Draco walked towards it and as soon as he touched the wall he turned sharply left, vanishing from the landing, where the tapestry was in place once more.

He walked along in darkness, feeling along the rough hewn walls for guidance, after just over a minute steady walking when most people would have given up and sat down howling that they were going to die, Draco emerged into a second room. He had found this room at the age of four, and had used it as his safe haven ever since.

Lucius had been furious when an age four Draco had stumbled into his study whilst Lucius had been issuing orders to some Death Eaters. Seething, he had sent the Death Eaters after Draco, and they had chased him throughout the manor, as terrified, Draco had pelted away from them. He had emerged into the landing with the tapestry, and realising it was a dead end had proceeded to try and find anywhere to hide, constantly muttering the word "safety" under his breath. Being a Malfoy, he had been taught Latin as well as English from birth, and so when as terrified as he was then, he had muttered in every language he knew. When passing the tapestry at the end of the wall, he muttered in Latin, and to his amazement, "safety" appeared. Without a second thought or backward glance, the sound of the pursuing Death Eaters ringing in his ears, Draco had dashed down the passage.

Careful questioning over the next few days and Draco had discovered that his father knew nothing about this secret room and Draco intended to keep it that way.

It was a small room, with only one small window set in the west wall. He had over the years made it into a very comfortable room, with enough food and drink to last him, should he need shelter for a few days and also enough odds and ends to keep anyone amused for weeks. Draco smiled as he looked around the room, this was home. He moved to the opposite wall, and by carefully pushing a slightly loose brick in, a small round trap door appeared in the ceiling above him. Hauling it open, and himself through, the chill early morning air gently caressed his face, inducing a second smile from him. He carefully arranged himself on the roof of Malfoy manor, preparing for his first real day of enjoyment since arriving home.

***

The three days passed all to quickly for Draco's liking, and he spent the time desperately thinking of ways out of this. He always's came back to the same conclusion though, there was no way out, he was just going to have to go through with this, and see how to twist this to his advantage. It was only by repeating this over and over to himself that he managed to get through the New Year's Eve feast the house elves had prepared and now found himself fastening the black robes his father had insisted he wear this evening. Looking at himself in the mirror, he couldn't help but pause for a minute. What would it be like? He rolled up the sleeve of his robe and looked at the pure white skin below, the muscles built up from years of seeker training, like a blank white canvas waiting for something to mark it. But not this, surely not this. He shuddered, letting the sleeve fall back into place as he gathered all his strength about him, and set off from his room to meet his father.

The next half an hour passed in a haze to Draco, as he and his father travelled by coach to the secret location of where the ceremony would take place. Draco sat in silence, desperately trying to keep his mind from coming back to the impending task. His father sat as though carved from stone, not making contact in anyway with his son. Draco tried to compose his thoughts. It would all be over soon, then he could forget everything for a while.

He focused on mentally drawing all of his Malfoy strength about him, working the magic he had taught himself when he had been a small child, trying to learn anything that might help him against his father's anger. He had found some books hidden in one of the disused libraries in the manor detailing an ancient wandless magic that focused on using the mind to shape the magic needed. He had spent many a sleepless night teaching himself inner strength, made by gathering in and borrowing magical strength from the objects around him. He had taught himself how to weave this strength into a protective web around him, which he had learnt to use to protect himself from the harsh words of his father that would otherwise have broken him. He used this now to prepare himself as best as he could, unsure what would be thrown at him when they reached the sacred ground.

Suddenly the carriage stopped, jerking Draco from his task and he looked quickly around. He could only see a small amount from the window to his left, but from what he could gather they had arrived at an impressive state building, similar to that of Malfoy Manor, but with a slightly more gothic air to it. As he looked up at the blank lifeless windows a small fork of lightening etched itself across the sky over head, throwing eerie shadows across the mansion.

Fantastic, just what I need now, even more pathetic fallacy... god what next? The doors are going to open by themselves onto a dimly lit entrance hall?

Draco was occupied on his thoughts as his father ushered him from the carriage and up the worn steps leading to the massive oak front doors. He knocked slowly three times and the door swung upon noiselessly on its hinges to reveal a dimly lit entrance hall.

Draco had a hard time not to have hysterics.

They stepped over the threshold, the door shutting once more behind them, and waited. Lightening lit the room from the high arched windows, and deep rumbles of distant thunder echoed in the cavernous hall. After only a moment a hooded and masked Death Eater came in from the opposite door and hurried across to them.

"Lucius what are you doing? He's going mad, you knew not to be late!"

The newcomer was slightly breathless, as though he had been running. Lucius rolled his eyes, and removed his travelling cloak, dumping it upon the Death Eater.

"I am a Malfoy. Malfoy's are always fashionably late, no matter where they are going."

He paused for a moment to tie his mask over his face.

"Fashionably late for the Dark Lord? You've lost it Lucius. C'mon, we've got to hurry."

With those last words, he turned beckoning them to follow him as he dashed across the slippery marble floor to the doors he had entered from, dumping Lucius' cloak on a chair by the doors and pausing to straighten his own robes and mask before pulling the doors open and disappearing inside, Draco and Lucius following behind him.

***

The room they entered took Draco's breath away, filled with candles floating near the ceiling and on the floor around the edges of the room, but with none of the elegance or beauty of the Hogwarts candles. Hundreds of black robed figures ringed the room, casting eerie shadows across the room, almost seeming to leer at Draco as he stepped into the room. The room was in silent except for the increasing growls of thunder overhead. The Death Eater who had shown them in hurried up the length of the hall and fell to his knees before a large ornately carved dark throne. He muttered quietly to the occupant, but the echoes carried down to Draco anyway.

"My Lord, they are here. They have come."

A hiss followed this statement, and the figure huddled on the floor recoiled away as the Dark Lord stood up, sweeping his robes around him, as he moved slowly down from his throne to where Draco stood Lucius behind him.

As he moved closer, Draco could see a smile warp the features on Voldermort's face and suppressed a shudder.

"Ah yes, you have brought the boy Lucius. Thank you."

Lucius bowed and moved quickly away to join the ranks of Death Eaters thronging the walls, leaving his son stood undefended before the Dark Lord. He stood before Draco, and brining one hand from the folds of his robe, lifted Draco's head up so he could gaze in his eyes, seeming to see right through to Draco's soul and all the places of his heart. It felt like nails raking across his head, and he fought to maintain his blank expression as he screamed inside his head.

It stopped as soon as it started, and the Dark Lord smiled once more, seemingly satisfied with what he had seen. He removed his hand from beneath Draco's chin and moved back towards his throne, beckoning Draco to follow him. Almost against his own will Draco followed, stopping before Voldermort as he sat down once more, and acting almost on thoughts sent to him from an external source, bowed. On his knees before Voldermort, he tried to grasp together his thoughts, strengthening his protective barrier around him. Just the thought of this protection gave him the strength to look up once more.

Voldermort was smiling down at him, before snapping his fingers to a Death Eater stood to his right, slightly smaller than the others around him, closer to Draco in height than a fully-grown adult. She moved away to go and fetch something for him.

Strange, he thought to himself, I'm the youngest Death Eater ever, so who is this? It can't be any other Slytherin...

Draco's thoughts were dragged back to the Lord in front of him, who had started to speak his hiss of a voice carrying around the hall with little effort.

"So young Malfoy, your father has given you to our ranks willingly to help serve me in my quest. But first, you must prove yourself worthy."

He nodded once more to the small Death Eater who had returned, and they came forward bearing a vial of a poisonous looking orange liquid. He motioned and they took it over to where Draco was still kneeling on the floor, offering the vial to him. He looked up and a warm chocolate gaze returned his gaze. A fleeting look of confusion crossed his face as he stared into those eyes. He knew them. But the more he tried to think where he knew them from, the more the knowledge slipped away like water he tried to grasp in his fingers.

She looked away, and he took the vial that was offered to him. Looking once more at the Dark Lord, a questioning look upon his face, which induced a harsh laugh from him.

"Drink." Was the only explanation given to him.

Trying to push all misgivings to the back of his mind, he pulled out the stopper in the top of the vial and drank, swallowing it in one gulp. There was a pause, and then suddenly it felt like fire and ice were consuming him at the same time. The vial fell from his grasp and shattered on the floor. He longed to follow it, to fall into a thousand pieces and let the pain end, to cease to exist. His Malfoy training kicked in though and he refused to fall, refused to let the pain and agony show on his face. He tried to hear the words being spoken by the Dark Lord, but a roaring and rushing filled his ears, he began to loose sight of the room around him, and could see only black flames flickering at the edge of his vision, growing until they swallowed him down into their depths.

***

He opened his eyes onto a piercingly bright room. His brain was foggy and he tried to piece together all that had happened... Lightning...Thunder...The Dark Lord....Brown Eyes.....Fire.... It came flooding back in fragmented pieces to make the whole, and with his returning memory came a voice. It seemed to come from inside his head and yet from every direction at once. It made his bones ache as it spoke, forcing pain like a knife through every part of him, his very blood seemed on fire.

"You are mine, never to be free, bound to serve me forever, mine. You will do as I say, come when I call, do as I bid, bound to serve me forever, mine. Will help me with my plans, do as I see fit, but let no one else know, bound to serve me forever, mine."

It went on and on, pounding through his veins, and echoing with each word, until it seemed like a hundred voices were speaking to him. The white of the room darkened to black, until he could see nothing, just the voice continued, then the flames came again, dancing around him, leaping ever higher, until they were over his head, consuming him, he was surrounded by fire. He was the fire.

***

It stopped as suddenly as it had started and Draco found himself back in the hall, surrounded by the Death Eaters and with Voldermort before him. Miraculously he was still on his feet, and it seemed that almost no time had passed since he had taken the potion, the glass shards still glittered dangerously around his feet.

He looked once more at Voldermort, meeting his gaze steadily and with confidence, despite the fact that his insides appeared to have turned to water. Voldermort was smiling once more,

"Do you?"

The voice echoed inside his head once more, and he remembered all that is had said, had told him, had promised him. He longed to scream "NO" at the top of his voice, to refuse and to run away, to find somewhere safe to be, but he knew that there was no chance of ever doing that. If he said no now, Voldermort would continue to torture him again and again until he said yes out of pure exhaustion and pain.

"Yes." He answered finally.

Voldermort moved down from his throne, and came towards Draco once more. He pulled the sleeve of Draco's robe up; exposing the smooth pale muscled skin, and pressed his thumb against Draco's arm. The pain was exquisite and complete, lancing like bolts of energy through him, and filling every part of him. He could feel the black threads of energy thread through him, tightening around him until he was sure he would die. He longed to fall to his knees, to cry and scream and beg for it to stop, but something held him back once more, lending him the strength to endure.

Finally it ended, and as Voldermort stepped back from Draco, he glanced down at his arm. Where there had just been silky skin earlier, now he was branded, the dark mark lay there, leering up at him, a constant reminder of what he had done.

He looked once more up at Voldermort, letting the sleeve of his robe fall down once more. Falling to his knees,

"My Lord."

***

Five days had passed since Draco's ordeal, and he still felt sick if he glanced at the mark on his arm. He knew that it would be useless if he tried to get rid of it, but the very sight of it repulsed him. To think that once he had been eager to have this mark branded on him, like some idiotic sheep that followed wherever it was told to go.

He leaned his head against the cool glass of the window, letting the motion of the Hogwarts express soothe him. He had been wandering the corridors for over an hour now; desperate to be away from the eager crowding Slytherin's who just wanted to stare at his new brand, and to press him for details of the ceremony. He refused to tell them anything, and had escaped as soon as possible with excuses of needing to beat up first year Hufflepuff's.

Footsteps fast approaching him made him stand up straight, falling into his trademark Malfoy pose, leaning casually against the wall. Hermione Granger rounded the corner, and she paused. That was strange... normally she just threw him a look of disgust and marched straight past him.

She hovered in front of him, looking nervous but determinedly standing her ground. He raised his eyebrows at her, which only seemed to irritate her slightly.

"I just wondered how you're holiday was Malfoy?"

That threw Draco, and he had a hard job keeping his jaw from hitting the floor.

"I mean.... I just wondered, it was your birthday wasn't it, I just wanted to ask how..."

Her voice faltered and trailed off, her warm chocolate eyes looking confused and, Draco searched for the other emotion he could see there. Pity? Was that Pity? And there was something else, something about her eyes; they captivated him in a way they never had before. They seemed to hold an infinite darkness that had never been there before, knowledge and a hardness that was currently melted into something else.

A thought nagged at the back of his mind, but he couldn't remember what it was, and it slipped from him like water that he tried to clutch at.

Shaking himself from his reverie, he managed to pull himself together enough to answer her.

"Was ok."

She looked slightly relieved at this, but she was beginning to unnerve him, so he did the only thing he knew how. He drew himself up to his full height, stared down his nose at her, and brushed past her.

Walking away as fast as he could, he glanced over his shoulder, she was still stood there, almost seeming to droop, and she was looking back at him. Trying to shake a nagging doubt that began to cloud his mind, he carried on down the train, wishing only to have some time to himself. He needed to try and think.

***

Darkness settled over the snowy landscape over Hogwarts, soothing away the hurts of the day as the Hogwarts Express pulled into Hogsmede Station. Draco wrapped his cloak tighter about him as he made his way off the train, pausing once on the platform to breathe in the frost scented cool air that was so welcome after the claustrophobic interior of the train.

Even at sixteen years old, he still found amusement from watching his breath coil away from him in the still night air, twisting and writhing like a serpent until it became part of the night around him. The sight made him smile, turning around to look for the other Slytherin's, suddenly eager for some company.

Instead he was greeted by the sight of that Mudblood alighting from the train, a book under one arm and wrapped up against the chill of the air. She glanced up at him, and he looked away quickly. There was something unnerving about her, something different but no matter how hard he tried to place what it was, he couldn't.

He moved away through the thronging crowds, aware of her eyes on him even as he moved away.

Why can't she just leave me alone?! He thought angrily to himself, it's not even as though she was oozing hate at me all over the place! It's this strange pity that seems to scream at the same time 'I know something you don't know!' whilst blowing raspberries at me!

He tried to push her out of his head as he met up with the other Slytherin's, being greeted with cheers and calls from his fellow sixth years, and respect verging on awe from the younger snakes. Surrounded by his "court" once more, he smiled. A slow calculating smile that would make even the bravest Gryffindor cower. This was where he belonged. He was truly home.