A/N: Set in the middle of Draco's seventh year, slightly AU, narrated by Draco. Mainly DM/LL friendship.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

"Agh!"

Wincing in pain, I stare down at my arm, where an ugly skull with a snake for a tongue is tattooed onto the pale skin. It's always burning these days. My master is getting more powerful than ever and yet, here I am, hiding in a cupboard.

Courtesy of my gracious parents, some Death Eaters have taken refuge here at my home in between their almost-daily attacks on Muggles and the usual corruption within the Ministry. Crabbe's parents are currently occupying my room, leaving me without a shred of privacy. Except for this cramped cupboard.

Aunt Bellatrix is here. I'll be perfectly honest: she frightens me. Mr. Ollivander, the man from whom I purchased my first wand, is her usual victim of choice when she gets the urge to Crucio someone, which is disturbingly frequent these days, given the Dark Lord's absence. She's always in a horrible mood when he's not around.

Ever since the Lestrange mansion was invaded by the non-Imperiused Aurors, she and her husband have take up residence here along with the other highly-ranked Death Eaters. I can sense that even Mother is beginning to despise her presence; from taunting my father to ordering me to handle the filthy prisoners and occasional dead bodies, Aunt Bella has not been on my mother's good side lately. Not that it matters, as Mother won't speak up to her own sister under any circumstances and Father is currently wandless, leaving him unable to do anything but mumble insults under his breath every time she goads him about his fall from the Dark Lord's favour. I have quite a dysfunctional family, mind you.

Today was just like any other day: there was another terrible storm outside, a few nameless Death Eaters— there's so many these days I've stopped trying to remember names— got into another fight, Aunt Bella tortured a person or two, and Fenrir Greyback, the werewolf, stopped by to tell us a rather dreadful story about a five year old girl he recently mauled to death. Ick.

Only when Aunt Bella and Mother began fighting did I stuff myself into this cupboard, wanting to hide from it all. Even after all these months, Aunt Bella is still accusing me of cowardice; I know that she is angry with Professor Snape for usurping her position as the Dark Lord's favourite, but since he is safely tucked away at Hogwarts all the time, I am often the target for her deadly wrath. Her words sting because I know the truth behind them. Yes, I didn't kill Dumbledore. I couldn't. I don't know why, but I just couldn't finish the task. I am a coward, and now my family has been put to shame from my inability to handle one small assignment.

Shockingly, the Dark Lord excused my failures for the most part and now allows me to torture Death Eaters who upset him. Travers and Dolohov experienced my second-ever Cruciatus Curse back when they failed to capture Harry Potter. I have quickly come to realize that I do not like using Unforgiveable Curses. Seeing those two writhe on the ground in agony from my spell horrifies me. I often wonder why I ever saw joining the Death Eaters as a desirable fate, but I hastily muffle these thoughts whenever they arise, as there is no way out but through death. I am a marked man, a servant for life, just as my father is.

In between shouts and a few flashes of red light, I hear a quiet knock at the door. My entire body tenses at once, expecting it to be the Dark Lord. In my panic, I clumsily stumble out of my precious little sanctuary and fall to the ground, getting dust all over my new black robes.

I hear several people entering my home and going through the hallway into the sitting room. The men's voices are coarse and their English is broken; my mind inexplicably begins to picture several Hagrids entering the room.

I creep closer toward the voices, trying to ignore the searing pain in my left arm as I go along. I peer inside when I get close enough for a glance; there are four men dressed in ragged clothing circled around a chair in which a petite blonde person is sitting. My father is watching the chair's occupant with a frown on his face as the two sisters continue their bickering behind him. My heart pounds against my chest in dreaded anticipation: could this possibly be a new prisoner?

One of the Snatchers goes to remove what appears to be a blindfold from the hostage's face, and the person speaks. Immediately, I recognize who it is…

"Oh hello Mr. Malfoy," the girl says respectfully in that annoyingly dreamy voice. "I haven't seen you since that night in the Department of Mysteries…how have you been?"

I can feel my father's mortification. Luna Lovegood, the oddball Ravenclaw sixth year, has a thing for making people uncomfortable. Why did she have to bring up that sore subject? Bellatrix had nearly driven Father to insanity with that one…

Without really meaning to, I step into the room. At once, everyone's attention is on me, including Lovegood, who speaks first.

"Hello Draco," she says, again in that irksome tone. How she knows my name, I cannot say. "You look tired…have you been resting well?"

I cannot find words to speak. Here she is, probably facing brutal punishment for being the daughter of an ardent Potter-supporter, and she's talking as though we've been best friends for years. I can only recall her name because she was the one who went along with Weasley and Longbottom's plan to steal something from Snape's office a while ago. I do not think it wise to associate myself with Ravenclaws, especially in the midst of several of the Dark Lord's supporters; therefore I remain unable to respond to her and pray she will drop the subject and forget I exist.

While Lovegood continues gazing in my direction, Father steps forward and takes her wand from her original captors. Lovegood is completely unfazed.

"It's rather good with Charms," she says serenely as he examines the freshly-polished wand. It seems as though she's fully aware that he intends on keeping it for himself. "I haven't used Dark magic before, though," she frowns thoughtfully before adding: "Please take good care of it."

Father really doesn't know how to answer her either. We are not used to such compliant prisoners, nor are we accustomed to the ways of the Lovegoods.

As two of the Snatchers jerk her to her feet, no doubt going to throw her into the prison downstairs, I feel a surge of loathing for the girl. Even when surrounded by the gloom of my home and the threat of torture awaiting her, she still skips merrily along to keep up with their long strides. I can't remember a time when I felt happy like that; free from the pressure to make my family proud and join the Dark Lord. Free from having to do the unspeakably atrocious deeds the Dark Lord makes me do. My soul has long since been crushed, while hers remains light and whole. I suppose I am feeling envious of her. I suddenly wish for Aunt Bella to punish the girl for exerting such foolish joy in my presence. It would only take a Cruciatus or two to destroy her, and I would no longer be forced to see what it could have been if I had only been wiser with my decisions last year…

Later that night I find out why Lovegood is here: to stop her father from printing pro-Potter propaganda in his ridiculous publication, The Quibbler. Mother also tells me there's a small chance that Potter might come looking for her here, as they were said to be good friends back in school. I personally believe Granger was closer to Potter, but I do not mention this, as he will probably come to try and save Lovegood anyway. Potter has always had that unfathomable 'hero' mentality in school, wanting to save people supposedly because he was just a courageous and kind individual.

I know better.

Potter only saves those who worship the ground he walks on, like Ginny Weasley in our second year. With me being the typical evil Slytherin, Potter naturally wants me killed, and he almost managed it last year with that Sectumsempra curse. For Merlin's sake, he nearly murdered someone, and people are still chanting his name all over the place, just because the person he nearly killed was me. Apparently, my death would have been no great loss for society. It's not okay to kill the good people, but its okay to kill the bad people. Their oversight disgusts me.

As though I really wanted to do all this…

It's a pity Potter never took familial pressure into account, though I suppose he wouldn't understand it, as he has no family in the first place. Honestly, who in their right mind would want to join the Death Eaters? Nothing but pain and suffering comes from it, a lesson I learned just a little too late. The Mark still burns.

I love my parents, yet I hate them for the miserable existence they forced me into.

I collapse onto my temporary bed around midnight. To my right is the stairway leading down into the cellar, where I can hear the muffled voices of Lovegood and Mr. Ollivander conversing with each other. Lovegood still sounds pretty cheerful. Another pang of jealousy rips me to shreds. They're not the only prisoners here.

I am a prisoner in my own home.

I run my pitifully pale fingers along my wand, thinking back to the first day I got it in Mr. Ollivander's wand shop. Those had been good times. I no longer recognize the little blonde git in those memories. He is a different person now, a Draco that has no worries or cares in the world except going to Hogwarts and making new friends. The boy eventually failed to make any lasting friendships, as Crabbe and Goyle hardly care about their once good friend Draco anymore…

I exhale slowly as the two's conversation from below begins fading away. Thinking about what it could have been only makes me feel worse. Yes, there was a tiny chance I could have reversed everything on my own. Yes, I could have been sorted into a different house, where I might have made real friends. Yes, the Dark Lord never would have marked me if I had been in another Hogwarts house, and I might have even been on good terms with people I currently consider enemies…

At last, I find sleep.

xXxXxXxXx

"Daddy won't be printing much more of these, now will he?" Aunt Bella sneers at Lovegood, shoving an old issue of The Quibbler in the girl's face as she speaks.

It is morning. Lovegood survived her first night in this nightmarish place, which is quite an accomplishment in and of itself.

I am standing behind my aunt, wringing my hands together in nervous panic over what will happen if Lovegood angers Bellatrix. I can usually witness her ritualistic torture sessions without revealing my fear, but this would be the first time it was someone I was somewhat acquainted with. And she was so young. She was just a few months younger than me and already being subjected to violent abuses. This is a war, however, and while I know I initially wished for Lovegood to hurt, to feel the pain I've been feeling for months; seeing her under the Cructiatus might just be too much for me to bear. Even if she is a friend of Potter's…

"Oh, I think Daddy will continue," Lovegood replies thoughtfully, undeterred by Bellatrix's aggressiveness. "We were actually thinking of running a story announcing the two year anniversary of the innocent man, Sirius Black's death. He was Harry's godfather, you know."

She gazes up into my aunt's murderous black eyes, as though she was silently reminding her that she knows Bellatrix had been the one to kill the man. I know the truth because Aunt Bella had bragged nonstop about that little feat for weeks. Lovegood must have heard the truth from Potter, but why she was bringing it up in front of the murderess herself was beyond me. Was Lovegood hoping my aunt would kill her, or was she just absolutely insane?

My aunt smiles cruelly. I do not like that look, even when it is directed at someone other than me. It makes my skin crawl.

"Were you now?" she says softly, delicately grasping her wand with those overlong fingernails.

Much to my dismay, Lovegood nods genially. I cannot fathom why I even care about her wellbeing, but that does not stop me from wanting to tell her to shut up for her own safety. She's just asking for a torture session now…

"Yes. And he will run more stories about Harry. Daddy knows I would want him to continue supporting my friend."

The way in which she says 'my friend' makes me bite my lip for some reason. Because I want a friend too…?

No! I mentally hit myself for being so soft. I don't want friends, I have everything I need…

A sudden and horrifying vision of me laughing and talking with Potter, Granger and Weasley bubbles to the surface of my mind. I shiver uncontrollably and nearly gag at the very idea. Me, friends with them? What a terrifying thought. Being friendless is much better…

"Your friend?" Bellatrix asks incredulously. Her eyes are slits now; she knows a defiant prisoner when she sees one. I muffle a sad sigh, knowing that Lovegood's punishment is just seconds away…

"CRUCIO!"

It has been three whole days since she last used that. Perhaps she missed using it. I unconsciously cover my ears and close my eyes, not wanting to witness this. I want to run, but I cannot, for Bellatrix will only take it as further evidence to my pitiable spinelessness.

I do not like hearing Lovegood's screams. My aunt's laughter echoes throughout the cellar; she is clearly enjoying herself very much. I want to scream along with the girl. Right then and there, I realize that I do not want any part in this any more. Actually, I've known this for months, but only now does it truly hit home. As much as I hate finally admitting it, my parents have been wrong all along, and they dragged me into this.

I find myself missing the days when everything was black and white…the days when I never felt the need to question my parents' motives for what they were doing. Only now am I able to come to terms with my ignorant stupidity.

Her screams still continue to ring in my ears. I cannot stand to watch the destruction of the innocence that is Lovegood— who, although I loathe Potter and his friends with every part of my being, hasn't really done anything to me personally— and I almost cry out for my aunt to stop. If it was her father's bloody fault, then why were we punishing her? I knew, as a Malfoy and Death Eater I was supposed to know the answer to this pressing question, but nothing made sense anymore: Not Lovegood's capture and subsequent torture, not the Ministry takeover, not even the Dark Lord's hunt for Harry Potter. Death Eaters might have the right idea as a whole, but there is nothing in it for me. I am paying the price for a supposedly better society, and while I do think we need to rid ourselves of the awful Mudbloods, I don't understand why I have been subjected to more pain and anguish than any of the Mudbloods thus far. New societal changes that are supposed to benefit me are actually doing more harm than good. Irony is cruel.

After what feels like a lifetime, my aunt ceases her playtime and exits without a single word or glance in my direction. I stare at the girl's motionless figure on the ground, unsure of what to do next. Do I obediently follow my aunt, or do I check to ensure the girl is still alive? I tap my wand against my side anxiously, unable to make up my mind.

I am a Malfoy; I am not supposed to feel an inkling of compassion for those who meddle with Potter and his crowd. But I am also human; I am supposed to care about my fellow human beings. It is a natural part of life, caring for others, except in the cases of the Dark Lord and my aunt, of course. But I am not them. I still possess a shred of humanity; therefore, I have no problem walking up to the entrance of the filthy cell and drumming my fingers on the cool metal bars, trying to awaken the seemingly lifeless girl.

"Wake up," I mutter irritably as my fingers tap louder and louder. I do not want to call out her name, thereby acknowledging the familiarity between us, nor do I want to physically enter the cell, lest she jump up and attack me in this pathetic moment of weakness. I seem to be having a lot of those lately…

At last, the girl stirs. My fingers freeze up at once, and I stare at her as she quietly moans from the aching pain caused by Bellatrix's curse. I stand there, dumbstruck, for quite some time, indecisive as to whether I flee now or allow her to catch a glimpse of me gazing into her cell. My feet remain rooted to the spot.

"Good morning, Draco," she says quietly, managing a small smile for me despite the fact that I did absolutely nothing to stop Aunt Bella from hurting her. Shame washes over me like a cascading waterfall. It is considered highly traitorous to engage in friendly conversation with this girl, who, I do not forget, is a passionate Potter supporter. However, it would be yet another terrible blow to my already dwindling faith in humanity if I ignore her.

"You still look tired," she frowns. "Did you not sleep well last night?"

I haven't slept well since fifth year. Ever since I got that blasted mark, there hasn't been a single night where nightmares haven't haunted my sleep. Visions of victims—my victims— are constantly disturbing me, and even those of whom I have never seen in my life come before me in my dreams and literally beg for mercy. These nameless faces are forever etched in my memory by morning, and new ones are added to this crowd every night. Some people would be delighted by the illusion of power these nightmares convey, but not me.

I shake my head in response to Lovegood's question, unable to meet her eyes or answer her verbally. From the corner of my eye, I can see her calm grey eyes peering at me from the shadows of her confined quarters. I'm not sure what to say, if anything. I've never been on good terms with anyone who associated themselves with Potter, making this a very awkward moment indeed.

"You're under a lot of stress," she says matter-of-factly. I turn and glare at her; who does she think she is, telling me I am overstressed?

With nothing left to do or say to her, I turn on my heel and jog up the stairs, pointedly ignoring her pleasant goodbye as I slam the door behind me.

I drag myself away from the door and collapse onto a nearby chair. Lovegood was right, of course. I do not want to give her the satisfaction of knowing that she was correct in her assumptions, but I cannot hide it from myself any longer. My life is slipping down the slope to hell, and it took a lunatic girl to get me to realize that.

Somewhere to my left, I hear Aunt Bellatrix screaming at someone—a fellow Death Eater, perhaps— followed by a flash of green light. My entire body jerks involuntarily at the sound of the body hitting the ground, followed by my father irritably wondering aloud as to where to hide the latest corpse.

With murder in my own home on almost a daily basis, I suppose it's easy to see why I am not a particularly relaxed individual lately. In fact, if it weren't for Mother's unfailing love for me, her beloved, yet failure of a son, Aunt Bella would have had me killed by now. Looking at it from her perspective, I really am quite useless, as I never volunteer to Crucio prisoners or leave my home to go on dangerous missions like the rest of them. In my delirium, I laugh aloud. My own aunt thinks I'm a waste of space.

I now hear her voice shrieking for me to come hither. I do not want to handle the body, which is exactly the task she has planned for me; I know her too well for it to be anything else. Instead of obeying, I quickly Apparate back into my cupboard, where nobody can reach me, not even the devil's mistress herself. In here, I am not a failure. I am not a coward. I am not a Death Eater. I am just Draco Malfoy, a normal boy trying to live a normal life with a normal family.

If only it was that simple outside of these walls…

xXxXxXxXx

On Tuesday night, three days after Lovegood's arrival, I find myself walking down to the cellar. I cannot understand why I am venturing down here; my mind merely decided it was the place to be this evening. I relish the fact that I have not been sent down here; I am acting on my own free will, a freedom I haven't enjoyed for a very long time.

One by one, my feet steadily make their way down the stone stairway, disconnected from the rest of my body, as everything else is fighting to go back up.

I pause on the last step and watch as the girl sits up and observes me with those oddly misty eyes. Her clothes are stained with blood and slightly tattered from the extensive torture sessions Aunt Bella has seen to in the past couple of days. It's rather cold down here, and although she doesn't mention it, I can see that she is shivering. I would have brought down a blanket for her, but I can only offer so much kindness toward former— current— enemies.

I do not walk any closer to her; I simply sit on the last step and rest my chin on my palms, my elbows on my knees.

"Hello Draco," she finally greets me with an air of familiarity that I immediately despise. I really wish she wouldn't talk to me at all, but then why did I come down here in the first place? To mock her? No, I think not. But I can't possibly want to hear her voice…annoying little prick…

I nod in her direction. It's my silent plead for her to stop looking at me like that.

"There's a lot of Olmedarven down here," she continues.

I swear I have no idea what 'Olmedarven' are.

"They make it seem colder than it really is," she adds, possibly trying to ease my confusion, but I still cannot comprehend her weirdness.

"I don't see them," I mumble aloud before I can stop myself. My hand flies to my mouth in horror as Lovegood's smile broadens; she is pleased that I have finally spoken to her.

"They're only visible when your eyes are closed," she says brightly. My shoulders sag at the absurdity of her words: anything can be visible when one closes his eyes, because there would be no witnesses to affirm their existence in the first place! The chill must be coming from the cracks in the stones beyond the cell; Olme-whatever are not the cause of it.

"You are unhappy," she says after several moments of awkward silence. "Do you miss Hogwarts? I miss it. I miss my friends, too."

Ah, there we go. The friends issue again. I unconsciously clench my fists at the thought, only relaxing them when my fingernails nearly draw blood. I think of Crabbe and Goyle. Bloody useless, they were. They ought to be honoured I even consider them as my friends.

Another image of me, Potter, and his friends laughing together floats to the surface of my mind…

"You're never going to see your friends again!" I snap at her, unable to hold back my rage. My mind is playing tricks on me…I would never be friends with anyone who sided with Potter. That would be a very anti-Malfoy thing to do…I am no double-crosser…

Lovegood watches me for a few moments, her expression unreadable. I turn away from her.

Her gaze makes me uncomfortable, as though my innermost thoughts are being examined. Surely Lovegood doesn't know Legilimency…?

"You're not a bad person," she says at last. I muffle a snort of laughter as I turn to face her again. Judging by the look on her face, she is being completely serious. I thought she was merely trying to humour me.

"Oh really?" I ask bitterly. Without thinking, I suddenly get to my feet and walk over to her. I pull up my left sleeve and show her the hideous mark upon my skin. She doesn't even blink. I chew on my lip as my aggravation peaks; my steadfast castle is now crumbling. Every emotion I have been hiding for months suddenly explodes from within, and my walls of indifference collapse into metaphorical piles of ashes.

"You stupid girl!" I shout at her. I have lost all control of my temper. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. "Do you not know what this is? Can you not even guess what I've done?! Don't you know what I am?!"

Her silvery grey eyes meet mine as she gently pushes my arm out of her face.

"A young boy who has gotten into something that he no longer wishes to be a part of," she says quietly. "That's what you are."

My chest heaves with fury. Weeks of pent-up frustration…months of disappointment…years of continued disillusionment…it's all pouring out and there is nothing I can do to stop it.

My hand, acting on its own accord, draws my wand in the blink of an eye and jabs it into Lovegood's neck. Blinding tears of rage spring at my eyes as her eyes focus entirely on the wand, then back up to me.

I failed— utterly failed— to kill Dumbledore. I will never let that go, but this one small act would make up for some of it…something to prove that I am not as cowardly as my aunt believes…yes, she is just a girl…a wandless girl at that…it would be easy…it would be easier than slaughtering a kitten…I will show her what I am capable of…I will show her just how wrong she is…

Several moments go by. I have not moved. I have not muttered a single spell, let alone the curse that so readily waits on the tip of my tongue. A single tear escapes and flows down my cheek. It is the first step toward my ultimate self-destruction. I poke the wand more forcefully into her neck, but I am still unable to do anything but threaten her with it.

I can hear Aunt Bella's mocking voice in my head: Cowardly brat! Unworthy of the blood that runs through your veins! The Dark Lord granted you a tremendous honour, and you squander it! You are a fool Draco!

Feeling emotionally worse off than the previous year when I was hiding in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, I drop my wand. Not lower it, drop. It falls for what seems like forever, before finally landing at my feet. Lovegood could easily reach out to it, take it, and blast me out of the way, but she doesn't even flinch. A scream dies within me: why is it that some of my enemies never want to hurt me? I could have killed Lovegood just now, yet she doesn't even move one finger toward my free wand. If it were me, I would have snatched up the wand and killed its owner at the first opportunity.

I watch her warily as I bend over and pick it up then shove it into my pocket. Lovegood finally blinks, and her smile returns.

I turn and run.

xXxXxXxXx

Three days pass. I wake up before the sun rises on Friday morning, driven by yet another unfathomable urge to visit the cellar. I swiftly pull on my robes and automatically stuff my wand into my pocket. I hope that I will not use it this time, but I can't help but bring it along out of habit.

The manor is quiet this morning. Mother and Father ought to be asleep until eight o'clock; the rest of them are still out on a Muggle killing spree in London. Just before her departure, Aunt Bella spoke passionately about finally returning to her favourite sport, killing Muggles. She sounded like a crazed Quidditch fan, saying that she hopes to 'score at least twelve.' I feel somewhat sorry for those twelve 'points.'

I reach the dreaded door in three minutes flat. Sighing deeply, I go through it and hurriedly make my way down the stairs. The girl wakes as I enter.

Something warms inside of me at the sight of her. I am too horrified to admit that I am glad to see her, but that is how I am feeling. Ironically, she is the one sane aspect of my life left. I understand that it is not typical for one to harbour prisoners in their home, but her presence is the epitome of normalcy nevertheless. She has not been cruel to me in our previous encounters, and she does not treat me lower than her as everyone else in my home does.

"Hello Draco," she greets me in her usual airy tone. I nod in response, still uncomfortable with the idea of engaging in pleasant conversation with her. I almost sit on the last step, my usual place of choice, but today is different. I actually sit on the ground, just two feet away from Lovegood and the decaying old wandmaker.

"How are you?" she asks politely.

I shrug.

I'm completely miserable and terrified because the Dark Lord is coming for a 'visit' sometime within the next month. That would be the honest answer. But I do not tell her this, as my troubles are not of any concern to her. Lovegood is probably more preoccupied with escaping this nightmarish place. I am slightly tempted to help her. Even more so to— dare I say it?— join her. The Dark Lord may have been unsuccessful thus far in capturing Potter, but I would be far easier to track and kill for betraying him. I am not a foolish Gryffindor. I will not risk it.

She continues shivering. The Olmedarven must be breeding.

I reluctantly pull out my wand. Her eyes widen a little at this, but I am not angry this time. I wave it softly in the air and within a few seconds, a big fluffy blanket appears in my free hand.

Feeling rather embarrassed and awkward, I silently offer it to her. She smiles at me.

Her delicate hands pull it through the cold, unfeeling bars of her cell. Instead of wrapping it around herself, however, she walks over to Mr. Ollivander and gently places it over his shivering body. I start to protest— I did not mean for her to give it to the old man— but Lovegood shakes her head and tells me he needs it more than she does. Again, the frustrated monster roars in my chest, unable to comprehend this display of compassion toward her fellow inmate. If she's freezing, then why did she give up the blanket to the useless old man?

"Thank you," she whispers. She carefully reaches through the bars and grasps my free hand. I stare down at our interlocked hands in numb shock. Her cold hand squeezes mine lightly, sending an inexplicable surge of warmth up my arm. Part of me demands for my arm to jerk away from her touch, while the other part of me says to leave it be. Hesitantly allowing my fingers to intertwine with hers, I look up and see her smiling happily.

"For a bad person, you're awfully nice," she says with a wink.

xXxXxXxXx

The day before I am due to return to Hogwarts, I awake at the sound of my aunt screaming. This has become such a daily occurrence that I almost brush it off and fall back asleep, but then I hear a girl's cries in between Bellatrix's shrieks.

Grabbing my wand, I jump out of bed and sprint down the stairs to the door which leads to the cellar. My aunt is having a rather good time torturing her, judging from the flashes of multicoloured lights and screeches of delight echoing up from the abyss below. My heart literally hammers against my chest; with a stab of shame, I realize this is probably the first time I have ever questioned Aunt Bella's choice in entertainment.

All the way down the stairs, I try telling myself that Luna— oh sweet Merlin, I'm referring to her by her first name now— is alright, but I very much doubt those pleas for mercy and high-pitched cries of agony are coming from Mr. Ollivander…

For too long, I have been trying too hard not to care. I have never enjoyed hearing the screams of our victims, especially the one person who has kept me company these past two weeks. In a way, she is like the sunshine; she warms my black heart and gives me hope that there is a better life outside of the Death Eaters. While every other prisoner from Potter's side would treat me with hatred and contempt, she is attentive and non-judgemental. Her ability to decipher the truth about others is on par with the Dark Lord's Legilimens abilities, but she is not frightening, nor does she make me suffer unbearably as he does. True, I do find her irritating at times, but I'll grudgingly admit that she is quite amusing as well. She reminds me of the happy and carefree childhood I barely knew.

I get to the bottom of the steps just as Aunt Bella sets another Cruciatus Curse on her. I stand where I am, horror-struck and revolted by the scene in front of me, as though I am witnessing such a horrible deed for the very first time.

Not only was I forced to watch Travers and Dolohov thrashing on the ground in anguish a couple months ago…I was the one doing the actual tormenting. While I was only doing it out of fear of the Dark Lord's wrath— not for the sheer pleasure of it— I am still as bad as my aunt. It is time to set things right once more.

I want to yell at her, to plead for her to stop, but as I've said before: Bellatrix frightens me. She already suspects me, as I had casually asked Mother— foolishly believing we were alone when I asked this— to release the girl. As expected, Mother was utterly baffled by this notion and rejected it immediately. I'm not sure if I should feel relieved or depressed by this. On one hand, Luna must suffer until her father finally gives into us; however, being a selfish individual, I am secretly glad to know that Luna will be staying. If she leaves, I will be losing my last connection to the sane world. I still hate her for supporting Potter, but I really don't want her to leave.

Then again, I don't know how much longer I'll be able to stand watching my aunt destroy Luna without breaking the unspoken Death Eater code and trying to stop her from obeying the Dark Lord's orders…

"Aunt Bella!" I yell loudly, trying to get her attention away from my fri— I mean, Luna, but one mustn't interrupt an artist at work.

I pull out my wand, though I am not sure what I will do with it. I would lose a duel against her in two seconds, but if I could just catch her from behind…completely unaware…

"Aunt Bellatrix!" I say louder this time. She finally stops and turns around. I instinctively jump backward as her wand points at my face, but she slowly lowers it and scowls when she realizes that it's just me.

"What is it, Draco?" she croons in a sickeningly sweet voice. She observes me closely, waiting for me to break so that she can snatch me up like a Devil's Snare. Seeing Luna's motionless body behind her, I suddenly feel a little braver.

"Mum needs you," I lie to her, desperately hoping that the Occlumency she had taught me last year would work against her. I can feel her trying to search through my mind, but I refuse to let her in…

For a brief millisecond, however, I allow my eyes to move away from her manic black ones to look at Luna once more. This does not go unnoticed by Bellatrix. She turns around to see what I am looking at, and, to my horror, she instantly connects what is going on.

"Cissy can wait," she says coldly. She reveals nothing, but I can tell she knows. "You finish off the girl."

My heart stops beating for several moments. I do not allow Bellatrix to see my true thoughts about this, but continue staring down at Luna's almost-dead body. I do not know which would be worse: harming my friend— yes, I said it, friend— or disobeying Bellatrix, the Dark Lord's favourite and most faithful servant. My wand hand trembles violently, contemplating the consequences of each scenario. I am not stupid: the right choice was obviously to follow my aunt's orders and kill Luna. But I know I can't do it. So does Bellatrix. She knows I was too weak to kill Dumbledore, and I am about to prove that I am too weak to kill a pathetic little girl…

"Do not disgrace yourself again, Draco," she hisses. Her tone is deadly, as though she is speaking to someone who she is just about to murder. "Do it, or face my wrath."

Hot tears spring to my eyes as I raise my wand, pointing it directly at Luna. She stirs slightly, and after a few agonizing moments, she is almost up in a sitting position, propped up from the ground by her elbows. Her eyes widen as she drinks in the scene: me standing in what probably appears to be a very threatening stance, with my insane aunt behind me, waiting for me to carry out the deed.

Luna finally blinks and smiles sadly. She understands what's happening.

Still, she is not making this any easier on me!

I am a Malfoy; I have to honour my family before this traitor whom I have come to know as a friend. If I do not kill her, I will know only unimaginable pain until someone is kind enough to aim a Killing Curse at me.

"Do it!" my aunt shrieks furiously.

Just when I think this situation can't get any more difficult, Luna nods at me, silently telling me to follow my orders. Without realizing what I'm doing, I shake my head, unwilling to do it. I will not kill Luna.

Knowing that I will pay a terrible price for this, but wanting to prove to myself that I am above the Death Eaters' moral code, I whip around to face my aunt and yell: "Stupefy!"

Surprisingly, she was not expecting this, and goes flying backward as the spell connects with her chest. She hits the wall, but retains consciousness, making the situation even direr than it once was.

With nothing but adrenaline urging me on, I unlock Luna's imprisonment with a quick flick of the wand. She simply stands there, rather shocked by my actions, but there is no time for amazement and disbelief. I have betrayed not just a close relative, but a fellow Death Eater. I saved my soul by not killing, but I will lose in the end no matter what happens now.

It's okay. I accept my fate. Death is preferable to my current life at home, so I will gladly take it if it's offered to me. At least I can say I died a hero.

"Run!" I yell at Luna, who is rather weakened from my aunt's curses, but still pushing herself to move onward anyway. I secretly admire her perseverance.

Bellatrix's screams ring in my ears as we fly up the stairs in threes. Several red and black curses go zipping past us, just inches from our faces. I try to block as many as I can, but my aunt is a demon with a wand; merciless as can be. I know my cursed fate awaits me, but if I can just get one innocent girl to safety...I will not have died a failure...

Luna starts slipping in her own blood toward the top of the stairs; I throw one of her arms over my shoulder and she closes the other around my waist for balance as we finally make it up through the exit door. I swiftly Summon her wand from its hiding place, and shove it into her hand. She isn't of age to use magic outside of school yet, but she can Apparate. One of her legs is completely mangled from the Cruciatus, but that ought not to stop her from escaping to freedom. The anti-Apparition boundary has been crossed, and if she can just focus, she will be free in less than a minute...

"Get out of here!" I yell at her. I am mad with a desire to go along with her, but I know that I cannot leave. I have to face my family, and running would only worsen my punishment from the Dark Lord once he found me.

She slowly releases her hold around my waist, but does not leave immediately.

"Go Luna!" I scream hysterically; my aunt is coming closer every second. If she gets caught, my betrayal would have been for nothing and we would both suffer tremendously.

"Thank you Draco," she says at last.

Once again, I do not know how to reply. I merely nod as I always did whenever she spoke to me these last couple of weeks. She waves goodbye, and with a crack, she is gone.

Forever.

Please let me know what you think. Thank you for reading. :)