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Porcelain Doll	By : emymsm Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 13205 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
IMPORTANT NOTE (PLEASE READ): This is not a chronologically ordered fic. Rather, it is a situation based one, with a strong character-centric narration. This piece of fiction cannot be perceived coherently if one does not take into appreciation the entirety of the work. This fic is broken into a few parts, each having their own theme, central character and timeline. That said, this is where the second part of Porcelain Doll begins in earnest; a seemingly unrelated sidetrack of another character, which in this case happens before the previous three chapters.

Author's Note: Thank you all for your infinite patience!

This is undoubtedly the hardest chapter to put down into words, considering it encompassing multifaceted emotions on so many different levels. I also discovered that Draco is an extremely hard character to control; for some reason he insists on disregarding my plans for him and carves his own path. The clashing of our wills resulted in many tantrums, until I finally gave in somewhat and allowed him some slack on his leash.

Wrestling rebellious muses aside, I�m becoming afraid that the more time I spend contemplating the future of the characters in my fanfic, the more I will be tempted to add in more twists, turns, and evil cliffhangers.

And to my dismay, I found that I had to somewhat break my original narrative plan for this story (whereby the character-centric third person narrative flows smoothly from one character to another), since I decided that it would be a little difficult to handle the ever expanding plots and subplots happening within the story.

Disclaimer: I do not assume any legal liability of the characters or settings here. All creative property belongs to JKR, excluding the plot to this fic. I seek no monetary gains and all recognisable claim of JKR is intended for entertainment use only and will be returned safe and sound.

Dedication: I hereby dedicate this chapter to the wonderful cmwinters & CareBearErin, for without them, I doubt that this chapter would be out at all.

cmwinters�s comments and messages pushed me back into action, after my long spell of inactivity. She reminded me of how much I loved this story and the amount of love and meticulous planning I had poured into it.

CareBearErin has been one of my most loyal readers and reviewers, and I really cherish all her reviews, because they�re more than just a superficial comments and she makes me want to strive to improve myself.

And now, the long overdue chapter:

+++
Porcelain Doll

II. Memoriae

(Record of the Past)

He led her through the cold stone passage, down winding paths, taking so many turns that she was soon disorientated. But always, he kept a firm grip on her arm, his fingers wrapped so tightly around her upper arm that it would leave an ugly purple bruise later.

She had shied away from his touch at first. He had struck across her face then, in his impatience. He hit her so hard that he reopened the deep cut on her cheek that was just beginning to heal, and split open her lip. When he reached for her again, she did not pull away.

She followed him willingly enough, shuffling after him. His steely grip did not loosen; his life would be forfeit if she escaped.

It was completely dark in the passage. There were no torches in the brackets to light the way, not even the soft glowing light of a dying fire. She stumbled almost constantly, her lack of vision making it even harder for her to keep her balance.

The only thing that kept her from blindly walking into a wall, were the curt instructions barked out by her escort and the painful grip of his guiding hand.

She muffled a curse when she tripped and fell, tearing her arm from his vice grip. He waited impatiently for her to get up, swishing the heavy material of his thick midnight cloak around his legs irritably. But it was an impossible feat for her; her arms being bound tightly behind her back as they were.

Draco sighed in annoyance and transferred the enchanted light to his other hand. He bent down and wrapped a strong arm around her waist, ignoring the shudder that ran down her frame, and easily lifted her and set her on her feet.

He held the light source up to her face and was a little disconcerted by the way the brown eyes seemed to stare directly through him.

�I can�t see where I�m going,� she said, almost petulantly. But there were tears. Tears of pain, frustration, anger� and the tears that showed her struggle to fight off the overwhelming terror and despair that threatened to engulf her. The tear tracks cleared a path through the grime and blood that smeared her cheeks.

He reached up automatically, his fingertip almost touching her broken skin, to brush away the sparkling gems. He caught himself in time; he could not afford this slip.

Instead, he swung, the back of his hand connecting with her cheek with a painful crack. He sneered, even though he knew she couldn�t see him.

�Yes, the Hand of Glory only lights the way for the bearer. I would have thought you of all people should know that, know-it-all. Your constant stumbling is trying my patience, Granger� But I think I like having you at this disadvantage.�

He took her arm roughly and started to guide her again.

�Pick up the pace; the Dark Lord is waiting.�

She gasped and swung to face him, guided by the projection of his voice, and the edges of her cinnamon curls flared out to brushed his cheek at her sharp movement.

�Are you really going to take me to him?� she asked quietly.

For a moment, Draco was at a lost; she had sounded so afraid, so pitiful, and her wide fearful eyes drove a shard of compassion into his heart. She knew that this hour might very well be her last. It disconcerted him that she was so obviously terrified; so�so un-Gryffindor�so very lacking in the famous attributes of her House.

He shook himself mentally and grunted unpolishedly.

�Yes,� he said, his tone gruff. He pushed her in front of him, making her stumble as she tried to regain her balance. �I think he has planned something for you.�

His palm was on the small of her back and he easily felt the tremors that shook her petite frame. He could smell her sweat and fear wafting in the chilly air. It was intoxicating, and he found himself feeding hungrily on the fear, feeling the exultant rush of power through his veins.

Draco leaned forward, his lips brushing the nape of her neck. He pressed a small kiss on her earlobe.

�Afraid?� he breathed silkily into her ear.

She stood motionless before a small dry sob escaped her lips.

�A little,� was her whispered admission.

�Only a little?� he purred, his warm breath filling her ear. His hand dropped to rest on her waist, his thumb rubbing small circles, caressing her hip bone with such seductive gentleness.

She shivered violently, but didn�t pull away. �I�m terrified,� she amended softly, turning her head away.

Suddenly, all previous tenderness was gone. He grasped her shoulder, digging his fingers painfully into the muscles of her shoulders, and turned her around to face him. She hung her head, unwilling to allow him a glimpse of her face. He tucked his thumb under her chin and forced her to look up. He drew in a sharp breath and took a half-step back when he saw the unshed tears sparkling in her brown depths.

�Please, Malfoy� Draco� please�let me go��

The hand that held the enchanted light source shook, and he replied, his voice unsteady. �I can�t, Hermione� I�m sorry� really� but I can�t.�

�Why?�

Her gaze shifted and seemed to focus on his face, staring at him straight in the eyes, even though it was impossible for her to even gauge the distance between them in the relative darkness that handicapped her. She stood quietly, her brown eyes wide and sad, the corners of her bow-shaped lips drooping. Finally, she turned away.

They continued in verbal silence. The only sounds to disturb the stillness were their scuffling steps and their breathing that grew heavier, as the ground gradually tilted to a steep incline.

The uphill trek seemed to go on for hours until Draco directed her to a stop.

�We�re here.�

He brushed past her brusquely, ignoring the pang of� guilt? Remorse?� - he couldn�t afford to feel either - that stabbed him when he heard a dry sob of fear push past her cracked lips. He laid his hand on the cold metal of the door handle, wrestling with the tumult of thought and feelings that were threatening to overwhelm him.

�Draco�� she breathed quietly, in a sad pleading way.

He gripped the handle harder when the unspoken plea almost tipped the balance of the internal battle raging inside him. Draco drew in a breath, suddenly aware that he had forgotten to breathe and his lungs were empty.

�I�m really sorry this, Hermione,� he murmured so softly that the words were quickly smoldered by the oppressively dank and heavy air, and she did not hear them, �but some of us are forced to wear the mask we most despise.�

He pushed the door open.

The large room was sparsely decorated. A quick glance around the room showed that while the furnishings in the room may have been quite expensive, they showed signs that they have been neglected for years. The upholstery showed large moth-eaten holes, and every visible surface of the room was coated in a thick layer of dust and rat droppings. A carpet, so coated in dirt and its colours so faded that it looked a dull and listless grey. Thread-bare curtains of a once rich dark red hung limply, drawn across the windows.

Sitting in a straight-backed chair as if it were a throne, menacing and regal, was Lord Voldemort. His thin dark wand was laid casually across his lap. One pale hand was resting lightly in the armrest, his skin throwing a sharp contrast to the almost black colour tone of the wood. The skeletal-like fingers of his other hand were idly scratching the head of a giant snake, whose body was coiled around his legs.

Draco all but dragged the young woman to the powerful dark wizard. They approached the imposing figure, and stopped a few yards away.

�Kneel,� Draco whispered harshly, before driving Hermione to her knees. He himself bowed low to his lord in deference, his white-blonde fringe brushing his forehead and veiling his silver eyes.

�My Lord.�

Lord Voldemort was silent as he contemplated the scene before him. �So, Draco, you have brought me Potter�s mudblood friend?�

�Yes, my Lord,� murmured the young man, before daring a glance up. The Dark Lord�s gaze was not on him, however. His hooded red eyes were on the kneeling witch. She trembled under the coldness of his stare, and made a half-hearted attempt to get up.

�Stay on your knees, mudblood wench.� Voldemort sneered, his thin lips stretching to expose teeth that were sharp and pointed. �It is time you learned your place; kneeling at the feet of others far superior than than the pitiful excuse of your existence.�

A sudden unexplainable calmness doused Hermione as his words. The fear and hatred raging inside her body fell away, and deep within her core, she felt a plain peacefulness. She felt as if she was only an observer, watching events unfolding with mild interest.

�But you are a half-blood...,� she murmured softly, her mind still wrapped in an intoxicating cloud of calm. Somewhere from the back of her mind, a voice started screaming a shrill warning. Hazily, eyes unfocused, she lifted her chin to meet his smoldering gaze. And as suddenly as the blanket of calm was thrown over her, it was burned away by the fire in his eyes. She flinched and was compelled to look away quickly.

She cried out when Draco kicked her soundly in the side. �How dare you! He is the heir of Salazar Slytherin! He has cleansed himself of his impurity!� Draco hissed angrily, driving his metal shod boot into her stomach.

Voldemort took a step back and watched impassively for a moment, before staying the angered Malfoy with a hand. Draco has breathing heavily through his nose, his fist clenched so tightly that his knuckles shone white.

The tall wizard stared down at Hermione, who lay curled on her side and gasping, tears wetting her cheeks.

�Impudence, young witch. You will learn your place.�

He titled his snake-like head at the blonde man, directing his command to him. �Leave us.�

When Draco made no move to obey immediately, the older wizard raised his wand.

�Crucio.

�Do you doubt my ability in handling a mudblood whore, Draco?� Voldemort purred, his eyes gleaming dangerously.

�N�No, my L�Lord,' Draco forced out, between gasps of agony. He clenched his jaw tightly and balled his hands into fists as he struggled not to scream aloud at the pain sharp twisting pain in his body. Voldemort watched dispassionately for a moment, and just as it seemed that Draco would break and a scream would tear loose, he released him from the spell's hold.

'Get out,' he commanded coldly, following Draco with his glinting red eyes as the young man stumbled out of the room, his legs barely able to support his weight after the disciplining session.

At the door, Draco paused and turned, on white hand gripping the ornate doorknob for a measure of support and he gingerly nursed his bloody lips - he had bitten his lips in his attempt to maintain his silence - with the back of other hand which was shaking badly. His gaze flicked from his Master's to briefly catch the eye of the terrified witch.

Through the haze of terror that blanketed her mind, Hermione thought she had caught the myriad of feelings that flitted so quickly across the pale face. But all too quickly, too quickly for her to even begin her analysis; his expression settled into an impassive mask that was the trade mark of the House of Slytherin, and Hermione was not sure if she had imagined it all.

Then, sensing the displeasure radiating from the Dark Lord, he broke eye contact and bowed low before hastily exiting the room.

Voldemort's attention fell once more on her as soon as the door clicked shut behind Draco. He stood unmoving as studied her, almost like a menacing cold marble statue as - with his great height - towered over her. The intensity with which he studied her with his burning gaze made her feel as if her skin had caught aflame. Hermione could not help but shiver violently when he pinned her with his stare that seemed to penetrate deep into her soul to taint it with its touch. She tried vainly to blink, tried to twist her head away...anything to break away from staring into the pitiless abyss, but she was powerless, pinned helpless by his livid gaze.

She broke out suddenly in cold sweat, trembling as tendrils of his consciousness touched hers. She could feel him hovering just outside the mental barriers that she had instinctively put up. She tensed herself for the invasion of her mind as he none too gently tested its strength against his will.

Hermione felt him draw back. She knew it was not because he was retreating however, but to gather strength to batter down her barriers in a vicious strike, as a fighter would pull back his fist for the final blow.

Her perspiration dripped into her eyes, stinging them painfully. And yet, still she could not look away.

A malicious smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He was a master Legimens. She knew this. There was no need for this display; for his intent to invade her mind. He could slip in, slithering into the cracks of her mind.

If anything, this was to demonstrate his will and power.

She felt a prickling at the base of her skull as he drew in his power, his fearsome magic crackling the air around them. She didn�t realised she was whimpering apprehensively until his grin widened to reveal strangely pointed teeth.

For a long moment, neither of them moved, their gazes locked; his red eye boring into hers.

�and then she registered a sound so startling, so odd, that it took her a few moments to properly identify its source � he was chuckling, but there was no benevolent mirth in his eyes. He reached up with his thin white hand, his bony fingers hovering barely an inch from her face. He gave a feral smile and raked a nail slowly across her bottom lip, drawing blood.

She stood stock still, unable to move, watching with horrified fascination as he brought his digit -bright red with her blood - to his lips. His tongue darted out to take an experimental lick. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep lungful of air, his slits for nostril flaring.

�I can taste your impurity, mudblood,� he murmured, eyes closed.

There was a small intake of breath from Hermione, when his eyes snapped opened and she caught sight of the swirling fires within. He smiled languidly at her before cocking his head to the side and hissed in Parseltongue under his breath. The strange whispery language - that seemed to be too unnatural for any man to manage - sent icy chills down her spine and she shuddered.

The tiny hairs on the back of Hermione�s neck prickled when there was an answering hiss from behind her, from the foot of the throne. Tearing her gaze at last from the Dark Lord, she forced herself to master the control of her body and she turned her head slowly to look over her shoulder, half dreading the sight that would be sure to greet her eyes.

Nagini, who had been watching the unfolding events with interest, unwound her great body from around the legs of the chair. Her long black tongue flicked the air, tasting it; once�twice�

Voldemort spat a brusque command and Nagini reared her head, easily holding a length of her long body off the ground, towering far above Hermione.

Hermione emitted a strangled moan of fright and leapt to the side when the familiar, her scaled body swaying in the seductive serpentine manner, slithered to her master�s side. Nagini twisted her head, watching the young woman with one eye. She pushed her head into the palm of the wizard, demanding attention. The tip of her tail swept lazily from side to side with obvious satisfaction when Voldemort scratched the broad area between her reptilian slit eyes.

Hermione failed to suppress her shudders when the Dark Lord started to converse with his familiar - in hisses and spits - in the strangely terrifying tongue of the snakes. Nagini replied, swinging her great head slowly from side to side, and gave Voldemort�s marble hand a loving lick with her black forked tongue, before sliding to Hermione�s side. The giant snake turned her head to the side, studying the witch with one golden eye.

Her heart pounding in her chest, Hermione took a quick step backwards, and tripped over Nagini�s considerable length. In a flash, the serpent had wound herself around Hermione�s tiny body, drawing so tightly that there were several sharp cracks as half a dozen ribs surrendered to the squeezing pressure. The air forced the air from her crushed lungs, Hermione could hardly whimper. And as Nagini slowly drew tighter and tighter around her torso, the dark fringes of unconsciousness danced across her vision.

Hermione spiralled into oblivion, with the sounds of the Dark Lord�s cold laughter ringing in her ears, already intermingling with the screams of her nightmares.

�Get out of my house! I�ll call the police! Here, what do you thin-�

�Avada Kedavra!�

�No!�

�Mum! Get away from them, get out! Stupefy!�

One of their numbers went down, but already another had stepped over his prostrate body, a wand in hand.

Desperate, she flung a curse at him, but he ducked quickly and it flew harmlessly over his head. The cowl of his cloak fell to his shoulders and involuntarily, she jerked back in recognition at the sight of the head of blonde hair.

Another Death Eater issued a command, his voice harsh and grating. �Kill them all!�

The blonde follower raised his wand, tip pointed towards her mother.

�Mum!� She cried in warning, even as she flicked her wrist to conjure a shielding charm around her mother, but there was no way to stop a Killing Curse.

�Avada Kedavra!�

+++In the dark stone hallway once more, Draco pushed his back against the wall, and let his head fall back in frustration. He drew his fingers into tight fists, gritting his teeth as he tried to drive away the guilt and the numbing horror that possessed his body, crushing his chest and making it hard for him to draw breath.
Shaking with conflicting emotions, he struggled to calm himself and chain the tumult of feelings within his mind.

�Please, Malfoy� Draco� please�let me go��

He shuddered as he forced his lungs to draw in breath. He bit down hard on his tongue until his mouth filled it the warm coppery taste of blood. He swallowed reflexively and grimaced. His fists were clenched so tightly, the half-moons of his nails driven so deep into this palms that they drew blood.

�Father,� he apostrophised, spitting out the two syllables with venom, feeling the terrible loathing and anger roiling in his veins when he remembered the events earlier that evening. His heart has pounding, and he could hear the roar of his blood rushing through his head. �Oh, if only you knew what exactly it is you have done,� he muttered bitterly, eyes still shut. �If you knew what you have undone.�

He smiled down at her, and she grinned reflexively back, her expression warm and open.

It really was amazing, he marvelled to himself as he helped settle her cloak around her shoulders, gently disentangling some of her wild mane that had gotten entwined around the clasp; how it came to this. How making this decision to join the side that was against all his fundamental upbringing and teachings, could result in this wonderful relaxed feeling of close friendliness, unhindered by any wariness.

Still smiling, he gallantly offered his arm to her, and she immediately accepted, threading her arm through his.

�Shall we?�

She poked his side. �Let�s go!�

She allowed herself to be led outside into the cool night air. They both paused for a moment, enjoying the feel of the breeze as it swept the front lawn.

Feeling like she was being watched, Hermione half-turned, to look up the first-storey window of Grimmauld Place. Her shift of attention drew Draco�s interest, and he too turned to the old house.

Harry stared down at the pair, an unreadable expression on his face. Draco forced himself to meet his unwavering stare. He found himself releasing a tense breath he didn�t know he held, when Harry nodded ever so slightly in his direction.

At that moment, Neville appeared over Harry�s shoulder, his round pink face crunched into a grin when he saw Hermione. He waved energetically, inciting the witch to smile and wave back.

Draco wrestled with the memories uncurling in a rush within him, knowing that he didn�t have time to remember the all the details of the night�s happenings; that he had better master his thoughts and hide any that were �unsuitable� behind his Death Eater�s alter ego, before the Dark Lord punctured his occlumency shield.

But it was proving extremely difficult, as the memory of the recent betrayal left him reeling, reducing his normally collected self in a jumbled mess of horror, anger and guilt. He could feel a squeezing sensation on his throat, as if he was being strangled by the tumult of his untamed thoughts. Choking and wheezing, he felt his stomach clench horribly, and he could taste the bitter-sourness of bile at the back of his mouth.

��It feels good, you know? Sitting here with you� It�s hard to explain, but it�s strange that I should feel so comfortable with you, with the others, considering what I am.� He looked away, unwilling to risk seeing the expression on her face.

The cold steel-light of the moon touched his face, deepening the shadows around his eyes, giving him a gaunt, tired appearance.

�How can you even stand to look at me, Hermione?� he asked quietly. An expression of acute guilt flashed across his face, and she felt her insides twist in pain, briefly forced to remember her own sorrow.

She closed her eyes, feeling the sting of tears under her lids. The pain of loss griped her chest, clenching around her heart that it was painful to breathe, painful to remember, painful to live. She was trembling, but it was not because of the cold.

A lonely cry of a wolf sounded in the distance, the quality of the mournful wail carried by the winds sounded almost human�like a wordless cry of grief.

It sounded so painfully familiar, yet utterly foreign at the same time.

Hidden somewhere in the rise and fall of the eerie call, was something that triggered the surfacing of memories Hermione was not quite ready to face; it was too soon, everything was terribly raw and her emotional wounds had not even begun to heal yet.

The front door exploded and through the swirling fog that was the trailing wisps of magic and the splinters of wood, stepped half a dozen Death Eaters. They contrasted horribly with the cheerful tones of the room; tall figures clad in forbidding black.

�Get out of my house! I�ll call the police! Here, what do you thin-�

She roused herself from the stifling envelope of her memories, struggling against the pull of the past, feeling the dull throbbing of each heartbeat within her. She pushed aside her growing emotional turmoil, and turned instead to stare at her companion.

�How can you stand being close to me? To be in the same room, to breathe the same air? I am like poison and everything I touch will be tainted and will wither and then die.

�Merlin, the things I have done! There�s things about me of which you have no idea, Mione, and I don�t ever want you to know� but I can hardly consider myself human anymore. You see these hands? Here, hold them.� He pushed his cold hands between her palms. �You hold the hands of a Death Eater� a murderer, a torturer. The hands of an apprentice to the Dark Arts.� His tone was fervent, the look in his eyes were wild.

�You sound as if you�re describing a monster.�

�Am I not, Hermione? Am I not monster? A depraved creature? I want to take it all back. I can�t stand feeling this way. I�m sorry, Mione. I�m sorry. I can keep saying I�m sorry but it won�t help a bit, because it�s been done, and I can�t go back and undo it. But if I could, I�d do it differently. I wouldn�t be the useless coward, too afraid to take a stand. I�d save them, or die trying, I swear� I�m sorry� I�m sorry!� He was crying by this point, his voice hoarse through the tears.

�I could�ve done something; could�ve sent a warning. But I didn�t! I don�t know why I didn�t do it�I just didn�t think! Truly, Mione, it never occurred to me. And then it was happening all too fast, too fast to think, all I could do was react; and even then I reacted in the wrong way. Marionette on a string; mindless controllable thing. In quick flashes of green, it was over; the die has been rolled, the Unforgiveable has been cast!� He cried animatedly, the half-crazed light in his eyes showed his lost of control.

And quite suddenly, the wild energy left him and his shoulders sagged as if under a great weight. He breathed in haggard gasps. He drew in a shuddery breath and said hollowly, almost calmly, �And now I turn to wash these claws in the bowl of Pontius Pilatus. Bitter poison is the taste of this responsibility.

�Never has there been anyone less worthy of absolution than I, wretched creature that I am.�

She had listened in silence, her head bowed and her dark curls hiding her expression. She still had his hands in hers, and gently, she pried his clenched fists open. Cupping one of his hands in hers, she lightly traced her index finger from the centre of this palm to the insides of his wrist. There, she placed a light kiss, and then repeated the same ritual on his other hand.

Draco felt her tears when they splashed onto his palms, pooling in the middle.

�Ego te absolvo,� she murmured quietly, her voice thick with the evidence of restrained emotion.

Draco felt as if his insides were rendered apart. He struggled, gasping for air as he felt himself overwhelmed by the magnitude of her gesture. �Don�t�! You can�t- No��

And then he broke.

His pent up emotions manifested itself in physical pain searing his heart. He couldn�t breathe; he was being asphyxiated, he was drowning. Violent dry sobs wrecked his body, and his face crumpled in anguish, relief and self-loathing. He fought to control himself, just managing to force his burning lungs to function.

And then Hermione wrapped her arms tightly around his frame, and he shattered all over again.

She was crying hard too. They clung to each other, both too afraid to let go and fall to pieces.

�I forgive you, I forgive you, I forgive you�� She whispered over and over again, until the word melded together to form a soothing hum that calmed the tempest of feelings that raged in them both.

They remained as they were, their bodies pressed so closely against each other that the beating of their hearts became inseparable.

�You aren�t a monster, Draco. Don�t you ever say that,� she said so quietly into his chest that he almost didn�t hear her. She felt him tense and she pulled back just far enough to be able to look up at his face. She met his gaze steadily.

�Monsters don�t feel guilt,� she said.

Drawing in a deep breath, he coerced himself to settle his thoughts and very carefully, he went through each of his recent memories, pushing aside all emotions as he replayed the past few hours in his head. Draco critically analysed each second; filtering some content, and then constructing scenarios to stitch it to the original fabric of his memories. Once satisfied at everything was in order, he drew in another deep breath through his nose, held it for a moment, and then exhaled through his parted lips.

�And thus I clothe myself in this villainy to play the Servant, when most I dream otherwise,� he murmured, a bitter frown on his forehead. �But see, Hermione! This hated disguise I wear, I wear for you, whether you realise it or no.�

His frown disappeared and icy grey eyes snapped open, and his face a mask of cold maliciousness. He shifted, straightening his back and taking a half step away from the wall. A swift movement of his wand healed his broken lip. Lips twisting into a sneer, and he flicked a strand of blonde hair off his forehead impatiently.

When the dark oak door swung open a few minutes later, and Voldemort stalked through, Draco Malfoy was once more the composed aristocratic Death Eater.

He brought his right arm across his chest and rested his fist over his heart, and dipped his head. �My lord.�

�Well, well, Draco,� the tall wizard purred. He extended a claw-like finger and tipped the young wizard�s head up. �You have pleased me greatly today, and I shall see that a befitting reward be dispensed upon you� Young Malfoy bringing back some dignity to his family�s name� Your father must be proud.

�Come.� Voldemort commanded abruptly.

+++To be continued�
Also, please check out some photomanipulations I did for this fic. Each chapter has a related picture, sort of like a �chapter art�.

Chapter art:

Chapter 1: http://i94.photobucket.com/albums/l112/emymsm/porcelain-doll/porcelaindollart1.png

Chapter 2: http://i94.photobucket.com/albums/l112/emymsm/porcelain-doll/porcelaindollart2.png

Chapter 3: http://i94.photobucket.com/albums/l112/emymsm/porcelain-doll/porcelaindollart3.png

Response to Reviewers:
Molleh - Thank you!! Yes, Severus is a daunting character to handle, I admit.
PinkTribeChcik - Thank you so much for the kind compliment. To be honest, I think I completely fail in writing naughty fics! I do fine in angsty ones...hehe
DragonKisser - Thanks. Harry needs to grow up a little, don't you think?
firewall - The wrath of Voldemort! Sorry that I didn't reveal what happened to poor Draco in this chapter. He's being extremely careful in his role, though, and he may just escape unscathed.
paganpegasus - LOL! I admit I shocked myself too! After writing it, I thought, 'Ah, shit... what am I supposed to do with Draco now?!' haha
Anon - Thanks ever so much for the comment! Everything will be revealed in due time. ;)
newfig - thanks!
Abby_Luver - THANK YOU!!
tabitoo - He did what he had to do, and he accepts the price for it, I suppose. Draco is safe... fr the time being at least.
Ertia - Legolas porn tides anyone's withdrawls. :P Heeeey, I never considered giving her a magical glass eye... I'm not saying she IS blind, though! hehe
Emylee - aaaw.. thanks! We suffer the same affliction. Woe our readers!
Shen - I am humbled by your comment. Hopefully, I can rectify my wrongs soon!
Megan Consoer - thank you! I'll update as soon as I can.
Sampdoria - I have the same theory; I refuse to believe Severus is inherently bad. I think he will help Harry in the 7th book. And thank you!
annallel - LOL! Who knew Draco is a cross-dresses, eh? ;)
Darque Hart - I hope so too! Hopefully, I can concentrate enough to finish this fic. :)
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Porcelain Doll