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Penance for Failure	By : evinaadlene Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 1850 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is a property of J.K. Rowling. All copy writes received by her. No money/profit is made by this story. I’m just trying to get this story out of my head

Chapter List
- 1-Penance for Failure
- 1
Damn!!! Draco thought, stepping out of his potions lab wrapping his fingers around the left thumb as he walked along the passageway out of the dungeons. It was bleeding... Not severely though, just a two inch cut by his own bloody knife of the potions kit. It bled none the less.
His head gave an ache ... a painful scream of agony which crept his ears moments ago, thundered inside his head still... the scream which distracted him to clumsily cut his own thumb holding a bunch of roots he started cutting for his experimental sleeping draught. He had decided against healing it there and headed to his rooms.
He had heard enough of screams and cries from the prison chambers next to his potions lab in the dungeons before and he had learnt to ignore the torturous sounds... he swore again.
He had thrived with so much of changes in the new regime of the Dark lord... but torture was certainly not one of them...
He heard footsteps behind, light and skidding. He knew without looking that it was his father...
‘Draco..’ Malfoy senior was an unreadable man... the perfection ruled around his aura often humiliated the people around him. Draco remembered the feeling too well. When younger he wanted nothing but to please the man. Yet with time and set of tide turns his concerns had gone elsewhere, finding his own way of things... his own perfections. Now at times he felt it was that his father who searched his endorsements in his own way....
‘Father’
Draco turned and acknowledged his father with a slight nod. Their relationship was never a close one.
‘you were in the potions lab?’ Lucius asked eying the bloody drops leaking from Draco’s grip...but asked nothing.
‘yes... mothers stock of sleep draughts is down.. She asked me to fill in’
‘I see... you don’t need to bother yourself. I will send an order to Severus... his stocks are never out with the best’
‘ no need ... it’s almost done. I enjoy the mixings father’ Draco said matter of fact almost turning to go. His head was hurting.
‘You always preferred involvement Draco.’ Lucius sniggered.
‘ You know you can do other stuff in dungeons to ease yourself a bit’ Lucius had a thin smile in his face ... his eyes observant.
Draco turned to look at his father. It had not been the first time his father hinted Draco’s lack of interest on the prisoners in their dungeon lockups. Draco knew it amused his father in a twisted way, to believe that his only heir believed himself to be superior enough to ignore the mere presence of the traitors to their new found regime of pure wizards.
Draco lined his brow. ‘I would rather bore my head to death.. you know’ he started to walk away... he heard Lucius turn back in to the passage in dungeons... with a amused chuckle... Draco started walking out. He did not change his pace until he stepped in to the marble stairway.
His usual way was to apparate straight from his potions lab in lower dungeons to the personal suite, yet today he preferred walking up three floors up today... labouring his feet for a distraction.
House maids paused lowering their gazes as he passed them, making way for him. They weren’t accustomed for him walking around, hence stilled as if almost startled to see him. And he was not accustomed to acquainting with any of them either. So he didn’t worry to regard their presence.
Yet few who had eyes enough to look at his held hand, gazed back at his face, startled in seeing blood. Big deal for such a small cut... as if they had not seen blood on a Malfoy before... well not their own blood perhaps... but of course not on him. He might be one of the most unmarked and unscarred people alive today... he could just count the times he had been injured, being a Malfoy... well the only heir to the Malfoys... it is a fact that he need not scar .. Not in any way
The first ever damaging physical injury he got was caused by Potter... Draco remembered of course. It was almost three years ago, when he and his family was threatened in honour and life. Whole lot of them had been in ill favour at the time, due to his father’s failure with Dark lord. And his own hesitation in killing Dumbledore had not been in his favour either. Potter had struck him with a Sectumsempra in an abandoned bath room when he was wallowing in misery.
It was the most severe wound he ever got which left him with scars for life...
But later it had been Potter who had taken him under his wing, facing the daggers of his friends in the resistance, when Dark lord had started hunting Draco for his weak heart and disobedience by failing to kill Dumbledore... how ironical
Why Potter helped him though... Draco didn’t have a clue. He spent months with the company of a bunch of Gryffindors, aiding to fight against causes he first felt futile. He had no choice but to go on with the tide and walk along the only path he saw in front of him at the time... even though he was just pretending. But the radiance of their ideologies and passion in preserving them confused him. He could not understand the base of the cause they were fighting... to safeguard every life including wizards and muggles alike without any profit for their own.
He was also led to see a more different side to his once nemesis, the boy who lived, a more humane side filled with a determination to fulfil the burden the world had placed upon him. He was partly bemused with the restorative and resolute character of the boy who was even few months younger to him. Draco was beginning to doubt his stand in this whole scenario at the time...
Yet it all dramatically changed as Draco got his hands on the one object Voldemort would have cared in levels with the idea of exterminating the side of light. The one Pensive of the Hogwarts Head Master, Albus Dumbledore....
He had held the unique decision on choosing the side that wins the decade lasted wizardry war and used it as he saw fit... to the utter dismay of the resistance. He was a Slytherin of course. His family and name mattered to him more than anything.
All the plans all the facts and the one prophesy that mattered was handed to the one who held the power enough to ensure the existence and priority to the wizard community... plus his family’s status as well.
In an instant he was the most trusted and most favoured of all who daggered icy knives at him. All claims against his existence dropped. He held now the most envied position for a young Death eater to be favoured by the lord himself. Almost all the wizarding world worshipped him now for the lasting peace and magic prioritized society... skip the countable numbers of heads in past resistance.....
They loathed him ha!! Can’t blame them now could he?
Entering to the lime and white painted walls he pushed open his double doors. Walking straight to the equally eloquent bathroom he pulled the silver tap open to the white marble sink. He watched as soothing water ran on the bleeding cut for several minutes before putting a simple healing spell on the finger.
Clutching the white sink in both hands he gazed forth at the silver framed mirror with elegant engravings. Pale face with clear grey eyes gazed back at him. His casual white shirt stained in few places with potions ingredients and few drops of blood which might have spilled while coming up.
He looked tired, with drops of sweat running down the face. He sighed leaned forward, pressing his head to his own reflection, with an awkward sense of déjà-vu to a scene few years back in a bathroom.
And then his mind swam with scraps of images in recent bearing...
A pale thin figure with jet black hair lie curled in a corner of the dark cold prison chamber in a loose ball with knees drawn to the naked chest. The only thing covering the shivering body was a half torn trouser.
His hands were strapped together with a leather wire which had started to cut in to the skin making angry scars around the wrists. Far the worst his neck bore a collar like metal hoop which was chained to the wall drawing red cuts around the irritated flesh.
The chain was barely long enough to let the head rest on the ground dragging the head slightly up from the floor surly giving pains to the neck muscles. His eyes were closed in thick lashes bringing a much younger look to his agitated face.
He lay numb as a corpse on the cold dirty floor as if drained with all senses.
As Draco drew nearer with his lighted wand he could see that the whole body was battered, black and blue with angry patterns of scars and cuts.
The infamous scar on the forehead, re opened in a vicious red.
With the sound of Draco’s steps Potter opened his eyes slowly...as if he could hear the slightest sound...
The pair of emerald eyes which no longer hid the utter vulnerability and wariness behind the round frames slowly turned towards Draco, unfocused and empty.
He didn’t think Potter could recognize him in this manner.
Yet it was a strange look on Potter... without the glasses.
Draco had never seen him without them.
And he had never seen him like this.... the once boy who lived.
His one time nemesis and one time saviour....
Once glistening emerald eyes were drained of its spark and bore a stoniness that was beyond the distress ... and an unnatural determination in a place like that.
Draco had dared to pause and look at those eyes which now he regretted doing
... because for over a week now he had not been able to forget them.
To make it to the worst he could not now ignore the fact that whenever he was hearing the painful cries, screams or gasps of distress in his potions lab, those eyes must be wrenching with torment.
And to his own distress Draco find it hard not to go in to the lab as well... just to know whether his once savoir was still breathing to live.
His recent memory of the battered body clashed pitilessly with moments in resistant headquarters where he sat side by side with the same person ... talking... just talking.
Damn... He was a Slytherin was he not?
...and a Malfoy... he should regret nothing...
What was he doing?
He straightened, looking at his reflection again. He looked tired. Damn!! He swore to himself again and raked his hair up squeezing eyes shut.
Has to be done... he told himself.
He let the shower run. Going to his dressing chamber he took out his usual formal outfit, black buttoned shirt trousers and black boots. Getting a quick bath he dressed without delay. Gazing at his watch which indicated 4.30 pm, he apparated to one of his favourite places other than his suite in Manor, Pied à Terre.

End note: well that was the start. You will see Draco as witty and strong unlike the scared unsecured Draco in the books. Will see where it leads.
Do comment. I love any feedback.
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Penance for Failure