ok so i was watching the trailer for the 6 movie, and i realized just how much i love malfoy. well ok the actor. but then i was like "argh" cuz why does such a hot actor have such a bad character. and then i started reading the books and i did some psychological analysis for school and i found that i felt bad for him. well, even bad for him cuz i already pitied him when i first read book 6 and 7. so i decided to make up a character who would be exactly like him, but totally different. i got clippets of scenes in my head, im just trying to get it all stringed out and tied together right.

this starts off in chapter 23 of the DH book, "Malfoy Manor".

i don't own harry potter, or any of these characters and unfortunatly not draco.

i do, however, own the "girl in the cellar". :)

A bell chimed from the entrance of the manor, alerting the Malfoys of visitors- no doubt more Death Eaters, Draco thought darkly. He, his father and mother were sitting quietly, once again, by the fireplace in the drawing room. Currently, he had a Charms textbook on his lap, attempting to complete the rest of the 40 inch paper Flitwick wanted completed by the end of the Easter holiday. His heart was not into it, however, as he had barely written two sentences.

"Go see who it is, Narcissa." Lucius Malfoy spoke quietly, breaking the silence for the first time that evening. His mother mumbled quietly about being ordered around in her own house, but gracefully rose from her chair and left the room. The drawing room once again fell silent, and Draco heard the low thud of the front door as his mother left the manor. His father returned to his previous engagement of staring into the flames dancing in the fireplace.

They were, Draco acknowledged once again, prisoners to their own house. His only escape was Hogwarts, where he continued to go to school, his seventh year. But even school was not much comfort. There, he was bombarded with accusing looks, frightened looks, glares that made his heart pound and stomach clench, made him want to scream. Except for his fellow Slytherins, who either congratulated him on his family's decline, or begged him for details of the Dark Lord. How he managed to go through it all until now, he had no idea. All of the original professors- for many Death Eaters were now teaching at the school- spoke to him coldly, from a distance, didn't glance in his direction unless absolutely necessary. He hated to be ignored at school, too, to be just another shadow.

He put on a great performance at school. His confident image of being the leader of the 7th year Slytherins had wavered slightly, but not much. It was he, Draco often reminded them, who bore the mark of being a true Death Eater, the highest honor the Dark Lord could give to anyone, he would often boast. But no one, save for one, knew how much he hated having the Dark Mark upon his left arm, branding him eternally, and quite against his will, to the Dark Lord. He was disgusted by what he had seen others do, sickened by what he himself had done, even under force. The taste of bile was constantly in his mouth, and he barely ever slept without fear, without tense muscles and alert senses. He was never him self anymore, as he must always wear different mask to those around him. Except for her, the one who presented the most danger, to whom he had hated and despised, even feared, and ended up pouring his heart to her. And now it was she who ruled his mind, his brain, his thoughts.

The soft opening of the door was not what snapped the blonde boy out of his thoughts, but the muffled ruckus that was slowly making its way into the Malfoy manor. He was surprised to hear so many footsteps- heavy, staggering, and loud, as they made their way through the hallway. He then heard his mother's voice, calm, cold and quiet. It was too low for him to hear the words, but he could hear the commanding aura in her voice as she took advantage of this opportunity to finally make decisions in her home. Draco did not move, did not turn around to further investigate who had arrived. But his heart began to pound painfully in his chest, and his mouth became dry as terror began to bubble in his stomach.

The door to the drawing room opened, admitting quite a crowd of people. Seeing that his father was rising to his feet, Draco quickly followed suit. He could not risk angering his father, not with her hiding quietly, possible forgotten, in the cellar.

"What is this?" His father drawled, seemingly uncaring. Draco, after a quick glance at his father, turned to face the clutter of people standing in the middle of his drawing room. Who he saw sent nearly made his jaw drop. Fear mounted, and his palms began to sweat.

There were four men he did not recognize, but from their stance and attitude he assumed they were a group of Snatchers, eager to make any profit any way they could. The one figure he did recognize sent a chill up his spine, and made his blood freeze. Fenrir Greyback, the gruesome werewolf who the Dark Lord had permitted to walk around and dress like a wizard, in exchange for his services. Draco had seen the werewolf in action, and quickly developed a strong fear towards him. The werewolf could not, in Draco's opinion be considered human, or indeed an animal; he was far too cruel to deserve to be treated in any humane manner. Draco had seen the werewolf's attempt to raise an army of young werewolves. Greyback, however was so far gone in his lust for blood that he never could just have one bite. Had it already been a year since Draco had witnessed the slow slaughter of a six-year-old girl?

And just then Draco noticed the cluster of people at Greyback's feet. He became terrified, embarrassed, nervous and anxious all at once. For there, magically bound together, were his old classmates. He instantly recognized Ronald Weasley, red hair and freckles a clear give-away, struggling uselessly against the binds, blood beginning to crust on his face. The Mudblood, Hermione Granger, was strapped beside him, fuzzy brown hair loosely tied behind her head, eyes widened in barely-kept fright as her eyes darted around the room. Dean Thomas, another former Gryffindor from his year, stood quietly, flinching away from the werewolf, eyes downcast. Beside him was a goblin.

But there, standing in the middle of them all, was none other than Harry Potter. He had been jinxed, no doubt to hide his identity, his face all puffy and contorted, the lightning scare hardly recognizable as it was stretched across his puffy forehead. But it was the same untidy black hair, and the green that was noticeable even in the squinting eyes. He was terrified of having to condemn them all to their deaths, of having to watch; embarrassed that these Gryffindors- Potter, Weasley and Granger of all people- had to see him, a Malfoy, in this position; nervous, of what he may find in their eyes, as they would surely recognize him; and anxious for the what would be determined of his school enemies, but schoolmates all the same.

"They say they've got Potter." Narcissa answered her husband. Her tone was unnaturally cold as she addressed her son. "Draco, come here." Reluctantly, Draco shuffled to where his mother stood. Greyback eagerly forced the prisoners directly under the great chandelier, shoving Potter to the front.

"Well, boy?" The werewolf demanded before Draco had even reached his mother. Draco repressed the urge to flinch, and refused to meet Greyback's eyes. As Draco stopped before the prisoners, he realized that Potter was avoiding his eyes as much as he was avoiding Potter's. He was afraid of what he was supposed to say. If he confirmed they were not who they really were, would Greyback just end up having them? Would he have to witness his parents perform the avada kedavra curse as easily as he could disarm someone? And if he did give away their identity, their fate would end in much the same way- everyone of them would be disposed of, while Potter would be left for the Dark Lord. They may have been his enemies at school, but they were still more than just sorrowful faces without a name. He had known these people since he was eleven years old, when he first began school at Hogwarts. Could he condemn them to death to save his family?

"Well Draco? Is it? Is it Harry Potter?" His father asked eagerly. Draco's stomach knotted as his father's direct question hit him. What would his answer be?

"I can't- I can't be sure," Draco answered hurriedly. He could feel Weasley's eyes bearing into him, could feel the tension between the Gryffindors and himself.

"But look at him carefully, look! Come closer!" Draco could hear his father's excitement, his eagerness to confirm that this was the famous Harry Potter, to turn him in and be done with it. It made Draco sick. Come closer? Every fiber of his being told him to run, to flee, to hide in his room until all this mess was over.

"Draco, if we are the ones who hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, everything will be forgiv-" His father was cut off by Fenrir Greyback, but Draco understood Lucius's message, and it disgusted him.

"Now, we won't be forgetting who actually caught him, I hope, Mr. Malfoy?" Greyback's tone was menacing, a clear warning that he too had something to gain.

"Of course not, of course not!" his father answered impatiently, brushing the threat away. Ignoring the werewolf, Lucius took two steps, so that his face was right next to Potter's. He inspected the bulging forhead.

"What did you do to him? How did he get into this state?" Lucius Malfoy directed his question to Greyback without looking away from Potter.

"That wasn't us."

"It looks like a Stinging Jinx... there's something there. It could be the scar, stretched tight…Draco come here, look properly! What do you think?" Swallowing hard, Draco reluctantly went to stand by his father, face bent close to Potter's, eyes averted to the ground. Fear clawed at his chest, as he answered his father.

"I don't know." Relieved, he walked back towards the fireplace, passing his mother, who stood watching the whole ordeal. He stared into the fire, back to the prisoners.

"We had better make sure, Lucius, completely sure that it is Potter, before we summon the Dark Lord. They say that this is his, but it does not resemble Ollivander's description." Narcissa must have been indicating to the wand, but Draco did not turn. He prayed that they would not ask him to inspect the wand as well; he would recognize Potter's wand immediately, as he had often dueled and been paired up with the boy during classes. "If we are mistaken, if we call the Dark Lord here for nothing…remember what he did to Rowle and Dolohov?" Draco shot a glance at his mother, saw terror flash briefly on her face before she regained control and returned to the blank expression she usually wore now. Her eyes glanced at her son for a split second, and Draco knew what she was worried about. She was afraid that the Dark Lord would use him to take out his anger. The dark wizard had learned last year that causing Draco anguish would punish both the boy and his mother.

"What about the Mudblood then?" Greyback growled; again, it sent a shiver up Draco's spine. There was the sound of shuffling behind him, then a second of ragged breaths before he heard his mother's voice once again.

"Wait, yes- yes, she was in Madam Malkin's with Potter! I saw her picture in the Prophet! Look, Draco, isn't it the Granger girl?" Draco cringed at his summoning.

"I…maybe…yeah." He barely glanced over his shoulder. He wanted to disagree, but how could he when it was so obvious that it was Granger. Denying it would only drown him in trouble. He was glad, however, that his mother had not referred to her as "Mudblood". He didn't know why, but it bothered him when the werewolf used it. This wasn't the petty arguments of children anymore, where the worst thing that could happen was cleaning the trophy room without magic. This was the real world.

"But then, that's the Weasley boy!" His father's voice startled him, as it rang through the room at a barely managed shout. "It's them, Potter's friends- Draco look at him, isn't it Arthur Weasley's son, what's his name-?"

"Yeah," Draco cut him off, without even turning around. "It could be." He didn't want to hear anymore ideas, anymore plans, didn't want to be a part of this. He could almost feel the excitement rolling off of his father.

Just then the door opened again. For this, Draco did turn around, and who he saw made his heart beat faster, sink lower. There was to be no end to this now but torture and death.

"What is this? What's happened, Cissy?" His Aunt Bella, Bellatrix Lestrange, walked haughtily into the room. She circled the prisoners, hunter stalking prey. He had always admired his aunt, sister to his mother. He had always believed that she was quite fond of him. Granted, she missed much of his life, as she got herself landed in Azkaban for being a Death Eater. He had never believed her all that bad. Until now, now that he was back, stronger than before. She adored the Dark Lord, was ready to sacrifice anyone to be his right hand. A ruthless and thoughtless murderer, she had treated him like a lowly Muggle after the deal with Dumbledore last year, disgusted by his inability to kill. Weakness, she called it.

"But surely, this is the Mudblood girl? This is Granger?" Her voice was quiet, soft. But her words made Lucius's eyes sparkle in delight.

"Yes, yes it's Granger! And beside her, we think, Potter! Potter and his friends, caught at last!"

"Potter?" Aunt Bella's voice shrilled, disbelievingly. "Are you sure? Well, then, the Dark Lord must be informed at once!" Draco was filled with a sense of dread. They were going to call him, the Dark Lord. They, his family, were going to hand this bunch over; they were all going to be murdered in his house. Then nothing would keep him from killing everyone who would not join him. Muggles, half-bloods, Muggle-borns…her, the girl in the cellar, she would be remembered at last.

"I was about to call him!" Lucius's voice was angry, sharp. Draco turned his head to the left just enough to see his father's hand locked around his aunt's wrist, face incensed. "I shall summon him, Bella, Potter has been brought to my house, and it is therefore upon my authority-"

"Your authority! You lost your authority when you lost your wand, Lucius!" Draco cringed at his aunt's insult. His father's wand had indeed been taken from him, and was humiliated for the continuation of the evening. "How dare you! Take your hands off me!"

"This is nothing to do with you, you did not capture the boy-"

"Begging your pardon, Mr. Malfoy, but it's us that caught Potter, and it's us that'll be claiming the gold-"

"Gold!" Bellatrix's laughed rang through the room. "Take your gold, filthy scavenger, what do I want with gold?"

Draco tuned them out, and had he not been so frightened, he would have found the situation laughable. Here stood his family, grown respectable adults, quarreling amongst themselves like a pair of first-years. It was just like Potter, to attract commotion, to ask for attention. As if six years of love and awe from most of the students and staff wasn't enough. And for what, for having a stupid old scar on his forehead? Now here he was, turning his parents into complete fools. But maybe this was a good thing after all. No one had mentioned Draco at all for quite a while…maybe if he just snuck away quietly, he could hang out in the cellar…

"STOP!" Bellatrix's shriek startled him out of his musings, and made him whirl around. "Do not touch it, we shall all perish if the Dark Lord comes now!" Bellatrix's voice was shrill, high and, for the first time, tinted by fear. Lucius stood still beside her, left sleeve open and index finger hovering just above the large mark of a snake coming out of a skull. Bellatrix moved until she was directly in front of one of the Snatchers, and then she pointed to something.

"What is that?" She demanded.

"Sword," the reply was a deep grunt.

"Give it to me." Her command was a snarl. Curious now, Draco craned to see what all the fuss was about. Sure enough, a sparkling sword was propped up on the Snatcher's leg. The handle glittered with red jewels, the metal and shiny silver. It was quite beautiful, actually.

"It's not yorn, Missus, it's mine, I reckon I found it." Draco didn't even see his aunt pull out her wand before there was a loud bang, flash of red light, and the Snatcher was thrown against the far wall, Stunned. The rest of the gang of Snatchers were suddenly in uproar as they realized what had just happened. But in a split moment, Bellatrix and Stunned all three of the remaining men, and had brought Greyback to his knees, locking him there by magic.

"Where did you get this sword?" Her voice was just a whisper, such a contrast to the anger she was emitting just seconds before. She took his wand from his hand, and he growled at her, unable to do anything back.

"How dare you? Release me, woman!"

"Where did you find this sword? Snape sent it to my vault in Gringotts!"

"It was in their tent. Release me, I say!"

Bellatrix released him with a flick of her wand, turning her back to him to wander across the room in thought. Draco watched silently, sure that the werewolf would attack in fury, but instead he prowled away, a wary eye following her movements.

"Draco," the sound of his name sent him into a panic again, as he wondered what they would possibly have him do now. "Move this scum outside. If you haven't got the guts to finish them, then leave them in the courtyard for me." Draco, relieved at finally being able to leave the room with an excuse, took a step forward. He didn't like to be ordered around, or to be reminded that he was weak and cowardly (especially in front of former rival Gryffindors), but it provided him a means of escape.

"Don't you dare speak to Draco like-" His mother spoke loud, arm extended out, preventing him from following his aunt's orders. She was furious, nostrils flared, eyes glaring at her sister.

"Be quiet! The situation is graver than you can possibly imagine, Cissy! We have a very serious problem!" She was breathing hard, as she stared down at the sword. Again, had he not felt so frightened, Draco might have snorted. He wasn't sure why the presence of a glittering sword was such a threatening problem. She was muttering to herself, and Draco caught words like "Dark Lord", "Potter", "…if he finds out…", and "must know…".She whirled back to face Narcissa once more.

"The prisoners must be placed in the cellar, while I think of what to do!"

"This is my house, Bella, you don't give orders in my-"

"Do it!" Bellatrix was panting, seemed to be in a sort of frenzy. It frightened Draco, to see his aunt in such a manner. She looked mad, like a half-crazed Azkaban prisoner. "You have no idea of the danger we are in!" His mother hesitated, seemingly deciding whether to fight for her place or just give in to her sister's wishes. At the end she sighed, and sent Greyback to take the prisoners down.

"Wait. All except…except for the Mudblood." Bellatrix's new idea caused a frenzy. Greyback grunted gleefully, and Weasley was struggling against the minds and shouting.

"No! You can have me! Keep me!" He was silenced by a blow to the face.

"If she dies under questioning, I'll take you next. Blood traitor is next to Mudblood in my book. Take them downstairs, Greyback, and make sure they are secure, but do nothing more to them-yet." Bellatrix cut Granger lose, and dragged her into the middle of the room, directly underneath the crystal chandelier. Greyback and the other prisoners were dragged away.

Draco staggered back towards the fireplace, heart hammering. His aunt pointed her wand to Granger, and without presenting a question, performed the Cruciatus Curse. Granger's screamed, and it rang in Draco's ear. His stomach churned, and he turned around, unable to face someone else being tortured- even if it was the Mudblood. Her scream continued until Bellatrix removed the curse long enough to begin questioning about the sword. And then the shrill scream pierced the air, begging now, pleading for the pain to end. Draco squeezed his eyes shut, bile beginning to rise. He couldn't take it. Dumbledore had called it love, but everyone else called it weakness. He couldn't handle it, couldn't handle the screams of terror, the cries for mercy. And he couldn't control his thoughts from drifting to her, the girl left in the cellar.

What if it wasn't Granger being tortured, but her? The only reason she hadn't been taken care of was that everyone was now too busy searching for Potter. But once Potter was removed, she would be next. How could he handle it, live through her screams, her cries? He had never seen her cry, not once, not even whimper. She rarely showed fright, even when it was just them two alone. As Granger's screams ringed in his ears, he pictured her face, tried to erase the image of her lying broken on the floor. How could he continue with this life style, when she was the one who gave him strength? She was a fighter, full of fire that could not be tamed. If her light was put out, he would never be able to keep going, to put up with the killings, the murders, the pain, the constant terror.

Bellatrix was in frenzy now. Over and over, Granger denied knowledge of the sword, denied going into her vault. This time, she shouted the curse, and Granger twitched with pain, screams echoing around the room. Narcissa watched the performance without moving, her face blank. His father watched intently, eagerly waiting for any muttering of information.

"It isn't the real sword! It's a copy, just a copy!" Granger screamed, tears streaming down her face.

"A copy? A likely story!"

"But we can find out easily!" Lucius, speaking for the first time, seemed eager, like a young boy just before Christmas. "Draco, fetch the goblin, he can tell us whether the sword is real or not!" His father didn't look at him until he walked past him. One look into his son's face, and his expression dropped from glee to disgust. "Wipe that fear off of your face, Draco. This could be the means to our rise. You are a man now, it is time you start acting like one. I don't want to hear that my son is incapable of cursing someone. Now go get the goblin. The others are defenseless, can you handle that?" Sarcasm dripped from his words, and Draco hurried out of the room, down the hall and steep stairs. He glanced at his dim reflection in a window. His eyes were wide, the whites showing. His father was right- he looked like a child who was still afraid of monsters underneath the bed. Taking a deep breath, he pulled out his wand from his robes.

"Stand back. Line up against the back wall." His voice shook, and he paused for a quick breath before continuing. "Don't try anything, or I'll kill you!" The threat seemed empty to his ears, but at least his voice was steady now. He hesitated before opening the door. Then he tapped the lock, and the cellar door swung open. He didn't glance around, but walked to the crumpled goblin. He didn't let his eyes wander, but looked straight ahead, to his target. He dragged him by the arm, and backed out the door, not speaking to anyone. But as the door closed shut, he caught the dark figure of the girl, curled in the shadows of the far right corner, the corner farthest from where Potter and his friends stood.

Draco dragged the goblin back up the stairs, to the drawing room where his aunt waited. As he entered the room, Bellatrix lazily flicked her wand at the girl lying on the floor. She screamed again and writhed in pain. Draco brought the goblin all the way across the room. He forced himself to turn, to at least appear determined and strong, and watch as Granger was tortured.

"You stupid Mudblood, you see that goblin over there? Bring him here, Draco. He will tell us whether this is the real one or a copy. He will prove if your story is true." As an extra measure, she cried "Crucio!" throwing Granger into another fit of screams. As the curse ended, the brown-haired Gryffindor laid unmoving on the floor, head in her arms, ragged intakes of breath. As Draco took the goblin to his aunt, he was surprised by how long she held out; her story about the sword being a copy must have been true, for he was sure that she would have eventually, as everyone else did, leaked the truth.

"What was that?" Lucius asked suddenly, loudly. Draco paused. He hadn't heard anything. "Did you hear that? What was that noise in the cellar?" Bellatrix's brow furrowed. "Draco - no, call Wormtail! Make him go and check!" Draco blinked in surprise. Even though the twittering idiot of a wizard was staying at the manor, he was often used for petty tasks, reduced to being treated as the messenger boy. He looked at his father, but he was already summoning the stubby wizard. From all the Death Eaters, Wormtail was the only one who did not intimidate or frighten Draco.

But he frightened Draco now. No one went down to the cellar as of late except for Draco. Would he see the girl? Would he be the one who would bring her up, who would remind them all of the witch they were holding, the last of her kind? Then what would he do, where would he be left? He had opened up to her this whole year, shared hatred, anger and fear. Though he tried not to let it happen, though his mind told him to despise her, he considered her his friend. Maybe even more…

But he retreated from those thoughts in panic. No, that would not happen! Everything would be alright.

The room waited in silence as they heard Wormtail scurry down the stairs, pausing in front of the door.

"Stand back," they heard him call, in a much steadier voice than Draco's had been. "Stand away from the door. I am coming in." There was silence, before they heard a brief muffled gasp.

"What is it, Wormtail?" Lucius shouted.

"Nothing! All fine!" The Malfoys nodded- father, mother, aunt and son. But the stubby wizard did not return quite as quickly as he returned.

"That blundering fool! To think he now has the honor of being closer to the Dark Lord than we are." She hissed, and sparks flew from her wand. In her anger, she threw another curse at Granger, who screamed again, and then instantly fell silent. Draco felt his indifference waiver, but quickly fixed it upon his face.

Bellatrix looked down to face the goblin, thrusting the sword at him.

"Tell me if it is real, if it is the sword."

The goblin took the sword in his long fingers, feeling the hilt, blade and edges.

"Well? Is it the true sword?"

"No. It is fake." The goblin answered, his voice hoarse and low.

"Are you sure? Quite sure?" Draco shifted, puzzled. He had no idea as to why his aunt was so obsessed with this sword. What did it matter if it was real or just a copy? What did this sword have to do with Potter and the Dark Lord?

"Yes."

"Good." She breathed a sigh of relief, before flicking her wand. A slash cut into the goblin's face, and she caught the sword as he dropped to the floor with a surprise yelp. Draco staggered back in surprise; he had not expected her to do that to the goblin, when it had not angered her in any way. He almost pitied the goblin. He knew how painful the slash from Bellatrix's aunt was, as he had received it last year, when she had found out that he had not been able to harm Dumbledore. She had scraped his chest only once, before her screams of fury and his cry of pain alerted his mother that her son was being tortured.

The goblin rolled across the floor as the dark-haired witch kicked him away from her.

"And now, we call the Dark Lord!" Draco's heart thumped, louder, as he watched his aunt pull back her sleeve, pressing her forefinger into the black image. Unconsciously, his right wand went to finger his left arm, where his own Black Mark lay embedded into his skin. It burned for days, and lit on fire whenever the Dark Lord wanted to call his Death Eaters.

"And I think," Bellatrix continued. "We can dispose of the Mudblood. Greyback take her if you want her." Greyback grinned eagerly, and Draco took another step back. He didn't care if his father would tell him he was disgusted with his behavior, he wouldn't- couldn't- watch the werewolf murder anyone.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

The drawing room slammed open, and Weasley burst in, enraged.

Bellatrix turned, slowed in shock, lifting her wand. But the red-head boy was quicker, lifting a wand (surely not his) and disarming her. Behind him, Potter came chasing after him, and he grabbed Bellatrix's wand as it soared into the air.

Draco was in shock. How had Potter and Weasley escaped? Did that blubbering fool let them out? Frozen in surprise, Draco did not move. Until his father went down.

"Stupefy!" Potter yelled, and the spell hit Lucius straight in the chest, causing him to collapse where he stood. Angry, Draco aimed his wand at Potter. How dare he? How dare he burst in here and begin to harm his family. Didn't he understand that it was his life or theirs?

"STOP OR SHE DIES!" Draco's aunt had finally gotten over her surprise. She had the young Muggle-born witch supported against her, a small, silver knife to her throat.

"Drop your wands. Drop them or we'll see exactly how filthy her blood is." He voice was a whisper, calm and dangerous. Weasley froze in place, staring at Granger with the most painful expression on his face. Potter stood from where he had ducked behind the large sofa. Both were looking at Bellatrix, as if to decide whether she was serious or not.

"I said drop them!" Her voice was a screech now, and she pressed the blade into Granger's throat, letting a drop of blood stain the blade of the knife. Potter and Weasley both dropped their wands, putting their hands up, fingers open.

"Good! Draco, pick them up! The Dark Lord is coming, Harry Potter! Your death approaches!" Draco stumbled forward, bent to grab the wand that lay by Weasley's feet. The red-head hissed, and while the childish part of Draco wanted to sneer, to taunt the boy at his failure, a larger part of him registered the fact that the Dark Lord was coming, and that these two would witness his humility as he became no more than a servant to everyone else.

He hurried to Potter, picked up his aunt's wand. All three wands in his hand- Bellatrix's, the one Weasley was carrying, and his own.

"Now," the brunette witch continued. "Cissy, I think we ought to tie these little heroes up again, while Greyback takes care of Miss Mudblood. I am sure the Dark Lord will not begrudge you the girl, Greyback, after what you have done tonight."

Draco glances at the werewolf, who looked like a small boy might on Christmas day. His teeth, pointed and leering, were flashing in the crystal light.

There was suddenly a grinding noise from above, followed by a creak and jingle. Everyone paused and looked up, in time to see the grand chandelier fall. Draco watched as, screaming, Bellatrix pushed herself away from Granger, rolling out of the way of the falling crystal. With a crash, and a shattering of crystal, the chandelier landed on top of Granger and the fallen goblin, who now held the sword, and the room went into chaos.

A shards of crystal pelted Draco's face. Instinctively, he bent over, hands up to protect his face. He felt something wet drip into his mouth. The metallic taste told him he was bleeding, and he could feel his eyes stinging. Suddenly, someone grabbed his hand, wrestling the wands out. Draco turned his body, so that his side rammed into his attacker. There was a low "umph", before he lost hold of the wands.

"Stupefy!" He heard Potter's voice at his ear before the werewolf flew into the ceiling, and then crashed into the far wall from the impact of a triple spell. Draco was surprised at the relief he felt. Greyback lay unconscious, and after the force of three Stunning spells, he would most likely not awake for a couple of days.

There was suddenly a sharp tug on his arm. Whirling around, he braced himself to simply swing a fist, before realizing it was his mother.

"Draco, come!" He allowed his mother to drag him into a corner of the room, away from the commotion in the center. It stung when she touched his face lightly. He flinched and she whimpered.

"Mother, I'm fine." He mumbled, trying to see around her. She ignored him and pressed the corner of her sleeve onto the dripping cut. It burned, and he shook her of in time to see his aunt grab the silver knife from the floor, her hair just as messy as it had been when she had first arrived from Azkaban. His mother looked over her shoulder, a worried expression on her pale face, and did a double take.

"Dobby!" She screamed, loud and furious. "You! You dropped the chandelier-?"

"You must no hurt Harry Potter!" Came the responding squeak. Draco peered at the figure in the doorway. It was a house elf, and he didn't understand how his mother knew him. And then he remembered the house elf that they had had in his childhood. At the end of his second year of Hogwarts, his father had come home cursing all creatures, having lost their servant. He never did get the full story; but then he hadn't cared to listen to the venting of his father.

"Kill him, Cissy!" Bellatrix, wandless still, was shrieking again. She looked positively beside herself. A loud crack resounded through the room once again, and Draco involuntarily took a step back, eyes glancing at the ceiling warily. But the ceiling was not collapsing.

"You dirty little monkey! How dare you take a witch's wand, how dare you defy your masters!" It was then that Draco realized that the house elf had performed magic and disarmed his mother, an extremely capable witch. He felt irritated, even in his fear, and greatly insulted by this. Before anyone could move, Weasley disapparated, taking Granger with him. Potter grabbed the goblin, who held the sword in his grasp. Then Potter was disapparating, turning on the spot.

With a scream, Bellatrix hurled the silver knife at Potter's disappearing group. There was a slicing sound, and then nothing. Potter and his friends were gone. Draco, his family and Greyback were all that remained in the drawing room.

And the Dark Lord was on his way.

what do you think? i had to follow the chapter for this one, so there was no room to really just write what ever i wanted to. im trying to develop malfoy's character, keeping him sneering and snobby but with reason to be, so if ever it looks like he's becoming to "gryffindor-ie" please let me know.

please review!!