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Your Heart On The Line	By : alwayshalfblood Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Ginny Views: 4665 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I don't make any profit of any kind for writing this.

Chapter List
- 1-Tremble
- 2-Holding Onto Yourself
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- 2
      It had been a dark summer for him- he still wore the bruises as cruel proof. When exactly had his life turned to such shit? Just a few months ago his main concern was getting the best of Potter and Weasley on the quidditch field and doing better in classes than the stupid mudblood Granger. Why hadn’t anyone warned him what was lurking about in his future, at the very least mentioned that it wasn’t going to be as easy as the people around him made it seem.

He couldn’t blame everyone though. He had always counted on his father’s lofty position within the ranks of the Dark Lords’ followers and that it would permit him to get out of some of the less… desirable tasks set by the Dark Lord. Of course that when his father had gotten himself locked up in Azkaban it should have been a warning to him that things were only going to get darker from then on.

     He knew his mother had been trying to stay strong for him but he could hear her weeping through the manor walls when he was trying to sleep, or was at least trying to pass out from the pain that was lingering from earlier that day.

With his father locked up and his mother not much more than a silent presence inside their home he’d been forced to spend time with his rather unpleasant Aunt Bellatrix. Draco didn’t remember her from his childhood at all, but she’d spent a rather large portion of it locked up for torturing the Longbottom’s. Whenever he was reminded of this before he’d always thought it was humorous and assumed they’d get along just fine…

Now that he was forced to live with her he found he rather disliked her. She just didn’t fit in with his family. While he’d been raised to the highest standards of wizards, used to going to dignitaries houses’ for dinner parties, she acted as if she’d never been taught correct manners or had lost all knowledge of it when she was locked away from society. She made hanging around a troll or the stupid oaf Hagrid’s company seem pleasant.

When he’d first gotten home from school and saw that his father’s place at the table had been taken by his aunt he’d been enraged. How dare she sit where he sat? It didn’t matter she was his mother’s sister, she needed to learn respect and sit in the guest’s place. She was not in charge of the Manor.

      Not daring to open his mouth to speak to his mother until they were in private he waited patiently as he was served a goblet of a wine from the cellar and food was brought to the table by one of their house elves. Draco took modest sized portions of everything and picked up the proper fork and knife and began skillfully cutting his piece of steak. Careful to remove the gristle and set it to one side, he took his first bite and looked up from his plate for the first time. The sight that greeted him made him want to vomit.

Bellatrix was tearing at her piece of meat with her hands and teeth, not bothering to use the fine polished silver sitting beside her porcelain plate. She was disgusting to watch, Draco knew it must have been hard to be in Azkaban but watching her it was almost as if she hadn’t eaten in months. How anyone could stand to be around her was a mystery to him. He threw a look of horror over towards his mother, sure that she would be enraged someone was sitting at her table using such horrible manners, even if it was her own bloody sister. He was frightened though, when he noticed his mother hadn’t put anything on her plate at all, but was motioning for the elf to pour her some more wine.

     Taking a break from her steak, Bellatrix looked up at him and smiled from the end of the table and while wiping greasy fingers on the ivory silk table cloth finally spoke, “Narcissa, did you inform dear Draco what honor he’ll be bringing the family this summer?”

“What are you going on about, woman? I’ll be doing what I’ve always done over the summer. Visiting Crabbe and Goyle and practicing for quidditch.” Draco was starting to get annoyed, who the hell did she think she was? Family or not, Draco didn’t tolerate orders from anyone less than his father.

“Dear, dear, Draco. You don’t honestly think you’ll still have the same liberties now that your fathers no longer here to manage things.” She said coolly and slightly narrowing her eyes at him

     He didn’t back down though, he wasn’t going to let her think she had any control over his life. “I don’t know who you think you are, but clearly you mistake me for someone else. I’m a Slytherin for Merlin’s sake. I won’t be taking direction from just anyone. Especially you… A Lestrange ordering a Malfoy heir about? The idea’s laughable.”

“You stupid boy. You’re to be trained by one of the most loyal and trusted servants of the Dark Lord. He’s chosen you for a highly important task, although I can’t possibly begin to understand what use you’ll be. There’s a huge chance you’ll turn out to be just as big a disappointment as your father-“

“SHUT UP,” Draco roared flying up out of his seat, his wand out in front of him pointed at her heart, “CONFR-“ but before he could finish his blasting curse he found himself writhing in agony, and over ear splitting screams he could hear someone sneering into his ear, “Your first lesson: always aim to wound, then you’ll have the upper hand.” He was startled to realize that the screams he’d heard were coming from his own mouth. His cheeks were wet, tears streaming down his face and he knew his body would have bruises the next day. His cursed pale skin would make sure to that.

“That’s enough, Bella.” His mother whispered. She hadn’t moved from her seat at all, didn’t even look up from her goblet. “Draco, you’re going to listen to her, our lives depend on it.”

Draco grabbed the edge of his chair and dragged himself into a sitting position and stared at his mother before he attempted an answer. “What do you mean mother?” He grimaced as he noticed how young he sounded, timid even. He hadn’t sounded like a child in years.

“At the ministry your father greatly disappointed our Lord. He made one too many mistakes, and when Lucius was sent… away the Dark Lord came here. He made me an offer. I couldn’t refuse him, Draco.” His mother was running her finger around the rim of her glass while she spoke and she never lifted her eyes to meet his gaze.

“And just what was this offer, mother?” Draco’s voice was hardly above a whisper. He feared he knew the answer, but surely not. He was too young, not even of age yet. What use could he be?

“Why, Draco, you’re to be the youngest member initiated into the ranks of Death Eaters! Once you’ve proven yourself, of course. This is where I come into play. I will teach you the ways of torture, how to bring someone to the verge of death and pull them back at the last second to get the information your master desires from them. You’ll be a new person once this is over, a better person.” Bellatrix changed whenever she talked about her master, Draco saw that now. Her eyes glazed over and her voice got breathy, almost as if she were talking about the deepest intimate acts a person could share with another. He felt sick; had his aunt really sunk that low as to cheat on her husband and then with someone… less than human? Draco had heard the stories of his appearance, and he figured that it was only fitting for his Slytherin aunt to let a snake man take her.

Once again he stood up from the table but this time he was careful to take his time, his knees were still weak. He looked over at his mother and when he noticed she was staring at the wall, clearly seeing nothing, he nodded at his aunt and said, “Tomorrow then, we’ll start tomorrow.”

*~*~*~*

      And so his three and a half months of torture had started. He’d realized immediately it was a lot harder to deliver true pain on someone. He’d messed around with curses and jinxes used to inflict mental anguish rather than physical harm in his past, and he still smirked when he thought of that insufferable Granger with teeth rapidly growing past her chin…

His aunt wasn’t one to mess around though, and if he refused to do the specific curse, or showed sympathy to whoever was on the receiving end of his wand, he got the same treatment, in tenfold.

     His body told his story for him. There on his right side were the still healing ribs where he’d had a redactor curse turned on him when he hesitated to aim the same curse at a pregnant muggle’s pelvic bone.

His aunt had laughed, a terrible sound, and while he was on the ground arching his back trying to find a place in his body that didn’t hurt she’d whispered, “Why you’re not starting to like the muggles are you, darling? You do still see that they’re the reason we have to live in secrecy. Once we’re able to live freely they’ll become our house elves! You wouldn’t want to end up there yourself for supporting them, would you?” She turned away from him, turning her wand on the pregnant woman who had long ago given up her will to live, and screamed “AVADA KEDAVRA!” and Draco saw the green light flash by his left of him and a dull sound when it reached its mark.

He cried out when his aunt’s boot found the new breaks in his ribs and she left him there on the ground, unable to move even when he felt something warm trickling down his left side, drying sticky on his side.

     His arms had intricate nebulas of bruises on them from where his aunt had bound him, or dug her fingers in his flesh to hold him still to watch exactly how much contempt you needed to perform the cruicatus curse. When it came his time for his ‘practical’ in the subject, each muggle he was forced to perform a curse on he pictured his aunt lying there instead, writhing in agony, screaming for his mercy. His first smirk in weeks reached his mouth when his aunt complimented his strength in that subject; the irony was too much for him.

     He wasn’t allowed to kill yet, he had to have the mark to do that first. So when his training got to that level, Bellatrix rolled up her black lace sleeve and smiled at him, strange pride written all over her face, while she pressed a finger on the mark causing it to pulse for a few seconds. Draco was sure she’d used it to summon him but where was he? Surely it had been enough time to apparate. So when he heard the voice speak from behind him it took everything he had not to jump, “Ah, Bellatrix, is he ready?”

“Yes, Master, he’s proven himself quite nicely. Takes after me in the Cruciatus in fact, it’s quite a sight to see.” There it was again, that sick longing in her voice and Draco felt his insides constrict. He dug his nails into his palms, fighting the rolling waves of nausea.

“In time, dear Bella, I’m sure I will in time.” Draco noticed his voice was soft, it almost sounded soothing… but he knew this was an illusion. How would someone with a voice like that instill such pure terror in entire communities?

     And for the first time, Lord Voldemort moved to stand in front of Draco and he didn’t have enough time to control his sharp intake of breath which didn’t go unnoticed by anyone in the room. Bellatrix sneered and Voldemort… well, it looked like he was smirking but it could just as much have been a grimace. There was no emotion in that terrible face.

“Oh, Draco, do I repulse you? It’s no matter, only a select few can see the beauty of immortality. I am the purest form of immortality alive today, one day, if you prove yourself, maybe you can join me like this.” Draco couldn’t help but shudder and both his aunt and Voldemort laughed at this “Ah, perhaps not. Well that’s wise my boy. It’s a hard path, only certain few can accomplish it. Let’s get on with our initiation though, shall we?”

Draco nodded and followed the both of them down into the dungeons. Merlin help him if he ever looked like that terrible imitation a man.
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Your Heart On The Line