The Courting Games

Chapter Eight: The Dark Lord's Allure

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Author's Note: Hi guys, welcome back, just wanted to let you know that the rumours of my untimely demise are completely fabricated, by me, to keep you from hunting me down and tossing me off a bridge into piranha infested waters. Sorry it's taken me so long to update, and thank you to everyone who stuck with me so far and taken the time to review, alert and favourite.

This story has undergone some editing during its downtime, nothing too serious as far as plot changes are concerned but I've fixed some of the glaring spelling and grammar errors and changed the format in a few places. I've also addressed some of the concerns about plot continuity pointed out to me in reviews.

Now, what are you all still doing up here? You have your update, get reading!

Draco woke to the sound of buzzing in his ears and tried to swat away the source of the sound to no avail. Blearily he blinked his eyes open and it took a moment to remember where he was and why he was there instead of in his bed in his dorm where he should have been. Once he remembered all that he remembered that he'd set an alert spell to wake him if Severus woke up. He glanced at the clock on the mantel and saw that it was late in the morning.

Cursing the whole situation in a very un-Malfoy manner he stumbled off his godfather's couch and into his bedroom.

"Severus?"

Severus was sitting up slightly in his bed and while he still looked a bit pale and thin his dark eyes were clear and focussed.

"Draco?" rasped the potion's master, "What are you doing here?"

"Apparently," drawled Draco arching one fine blond brow, "Saving your life, Severus."

Severus' face shut down and Draco could practically hear the thoughts racing around the man's twisty brain.

"What happened, Draco?" he demanded finally his voice low and sharp, regaining some of its usual velour.

"As far as I can tell, you were the victim of a number of Cruciatus curses, slashing curses, and in some places had the skin flayed from your flesh," answered Draco his voice deceptively mild.

"Don't be purposefully obtuse Draco."

"Very well, you want to know how I knew you were in this state?"

"Obviously," drawled Severus.

"I had snuck out of the dorms after curfew to deliver a letter of some sensitivity and I saw you leaving the grounds, with a deatheater mask in hand. You looked…tense, I suppose. Something about your manner was off. I decided to wait for you to return and confront you. Demand answers. Imagine my surprise when you staggered into your chambers trailing blood and shaking like a leaf in a high breeze."

"How did you get into my private quarters? I do not allow students access after midnight even with the password. Not even you."

"I may have threatened your portrait guardian," said Draco unconcernedly examining his nails.

"And you healed me?"

"I was able to administer the proper potions and I'm afraid I used a fair amount of your essence of dittany on your…more serious injuries. I don't know enough healing magic to deal with the cuts and bruises so I'm afraid you'll have to take care of them yourself but I cleaned and wrapped them, and I've been monitoring you and it doesn't look like they're infected."

Severus glanced at his bedside table, at the empty phials that had once been full of blood replenishing potions.

"How long have I been unconscious?" he asked warily.

"Only about ten hours."

"Only?" said Severus archly.

Draco shot his godfather a sharp look, grey eyes flashing with anger.

"The carpet in your sitting room was soaked in your blood, and it reeked like a slaughterhouse, judging by the twitching in your accursed frame you are extremely lucky your heart didn't explode in your damn fool chest."

Severus winced a bit at the young man's tone, marvelling privately that he was getting a scolding from his fifteen year old godson. One that was perhaps not entirely undeserved.

"If I hadn't been here, if I hadn't just happened to have seen you—"

He cut himself off with a sharp gesture of his hand.

"I am sorry, Draco. You were never meant to get involved in this."

Draco took a deep breath and gathered himself back into some semblance of Malfoy aplomb.

"On the contrary," he said in a steady voice a moment later, "Father has said that I am to join the deatheaters. Over the summer, if it please the Dark Lord, after I turn sixteen. I should very much like to know what it is I am getting myself into."

Severus grimaced at the revelation. He didn't know why he was so surprised, it should come as no shock to him at all that young Draco was being recruited. After all, he'd been the same age when he'd joined the deatheaters and Regulus and Barty had been even younger.

"I hadn't thought your father would bring you before our lord until after your majority, else I would have sought you out myself."

"Father hasn't much choice, our lord is displeased with him and seeks recompense."

"The Dark Lords displeasure is indeed formidable," said Severus wryly, shifting slightly in his bed.

"So I can see," said Draco, then his tone softened in concern, "What did you do Sev?"

Severus sighed, "I cannot tell you that, and you ought to know better than to ask. My place in the Dark Lord's ranks is…uncertain. A spy is never fully trusted and my lord is well aware of the fictions I wove for Dumbledore and those fools at the Ministry to keep myself out of Azkaban. He was not impressed with a report I gave. That is all."

"He nearly killed you because the information you presented him with did not suit him," said Draco flatly.

"That is correct."

Severus could see the storm brewing behind his godson's pale eyes. If Lucius had done right by the boy in one way it was ensuring that he knew duty and loyalty to family. In Draco Malfoy's books the Dark Lord was treading on thin ice and Severus had no doubt that if Draco were a bit older, more knowledgeable and more powerful he might go and do something foolish, and he suspected that the Dark Lord might come away the worse from such a confrontation were it conducted fairly. Well, as fairly as a fight between Slytherins was ever conducted.

"Why do still serve him Severus, if this is what he does to you, by Morgana, why?"

Another sigh passed the potion master's lips. How to explain to his headstrong godson?

"It is complicated Draco."

"Then uncomplicate it."

"When the Dark Lord began his first rise to power he was much different than the creature you will soon be confronted with. He was handsome, charismatic, and powerful. You stood in his presence and were immediately aware that the man before you was one of the most powerful wizards that world would ever see. Still, that would not have been enough to garner the success that he managed, not in centuries past.

It begins with the turning of the tides, the advent of change, as most wars do. Purebloods were beginning to lose their foothold on the wizarding world, more and more muggleborns filled the classrooms of Hogwarts and took jobs, instigating change, bastardizing wizarding culture by plying it with the ideals of the modern muggle until the old ways were brushed aside and we were left with something unrecognizable. Grindelwald was the first to rally, thinking to use the power mad Adolf Hitler to thin the ranks of the muggles before descending upon those who remained leaving only wizard kind to walk the earth. He would have slaughter babes in arms had they no magic and he would have said it was for the greater good."

Severus could feel the sneer curling his lip just speaking of the thrice damned phrase.

"When Dumbledore finally defeated him and the muggles were left to their own devices, it left a power vacuum. The purebloods were still discontent, the Ministry still in chaos, the muggles preoccupied with their own war and dying by the thousands every day in fighting or as prisoners, there had never been a better time for one such as our lord, and he stepped very neatly into position, gathering those who had already sworn to him their loyalty while he was still in school and promising those that joined him power and revenge, to right the wrongs that muggles had visited upon wizard kind, starting by ridding the world of their unworthy mudblood get."

Severus took a breath to calm himself.

"My lord was more cunning than Grindelwald, who by all accounts had no patience to speak of. He took steps in his early years to make sure that he could not be cut down. That the mortal death would never take him and ruin all he strove for, and while he was securing his future he sewed his seeds in the Ministry and had his deatheaters gathering support in Europe. When he met opposition from the so-called light minded families, those whose lands and magics had supported and protected muggles for centuries he declared them enemies and razed their homes to the ground with them inside. It was then, in those first strikes against the mixed towns and villages that the new deatheaters became aware of his ruthlessness, of his resolve."

"He'd proven himself," muttered Draco.

"Just so," Severus nodded, "Old power controlled by old families went to their next of kin, almost always granting the deatheaters yet more power and yet it also became a gamble, for the longer our lord's campaign continued, the fewer true purebloods there were. If his vision were to fail there would be no second chances, they knew. A few, like the Blacks, were supportive in their own way but refused to commit all the resources of their house to the cause, preferring to wait until victory was assured.

My own family had lost everything in the previous war, their lives included. My mother was left alone and forced to degrade herself by marrying the muggle filth that was my pathetic excuse for a father so she didn't starve on the streets. By the time I reached your age the promise of power and respect was too alluring to ignore, all of my associates, your father included, were either already marked or were simply waiting for the opportunity to present itself.

I was too impulsive, I admit, my skills as a potions master were finally being recognized and my skills in the dark arts even more so, the sudden change in my circumstances went straight to my head. It wasn't until much later that I realized that whatever our lord had done to himself to ensure his immortality it had affected his perceptions. We had always been pawns to the great mastermind who thought to crown himself king of all wizard kind, no more important to him than the giants or the werewolves or any of the other half-wit beasts he called to his side, but it had never been more apparent than in the last years of his campaign. Of course you know that Potter managed to defeat him and it seemed for a time that the struggle was over. Lucius of course could not accept that and he set to using his wealth and influence to its fullest potential trying to stem the tide of change. Then miraculously our lord returned to us."

"But he wasn't the same," murmured Draco.

"No. It was as though the last bit of humanity had been stripped from him leaving only vicious ambition. Admirable perhaps, but not comfortable, and not, I fear, terribly reasonable. The Dark Lord has never tolerated failure but his methods of dissuasion were never quite so…poignant in days past."

"Yet you still serve him, even after his fall, even though he has not yet regained his former power, and even though he's begun what seems to me like a slow slide into madness?" Draco shook his head, "Is it truly our lord that is mad or is it us for following him?"

"I would not let your father hear you say such things Draco," said Severus warningly, "I may be tired and disillusioned but his fervour has not been banked. You mother, Morgana bless, is more sensible."

"She was never marked," Draco pointed out.

"No, her family and her status gave her enough clout to shield her and perhaps once it would also have shielded you, but no more. The House of Black is down to one mangy cur of a scion, the rest dead, imprisoned or disowned. It will not be long now before she is put in the same position as you."

Draco all but ground his teeth pacing the stone and carpet of Severus' bedroom like a caged animal, fury racing through him both at the whole set of circumstances, and at his father for not being the one to warn him of them.

"Listen to me very carefully Draco," said Severus catching his godson's arm as he passed near the side of the bed, and his grip was no less urgent for the weakness he could feel suffusing his limbs, "Once you are marked you are tied to the Dark Lord, not even death can break that bond, you will carry his brand on you for the rest of your days, success or failure come."

"I don't want to do this Sev," the blond admitted in a soft voice, squeezing his hand for comfort, "By all the gods above and below, I don't want any of this for myself or my family. What is my father thinking?"

"He is thinking that this is the only way to restore the wizarding world to rights, just as his father thought when he sat around the fire in the Slytherin common room and plotted out the course of his future with the young dark lord watching over him with eyes that held no pliancy more than fifty years previous. Your father was just as caught up in the flow of events as any of us, molded from a young age to serve the man his father respected above all others, the one he respected enough to bend a knee to even though a Malfoy kneels before no man or beast. If you want to break the chain you had best think quickly, there are few enough options, and I will help you if I can of course, but if you cannot escape you must commit and commit fully Draco, or you will be killed."

"The Malfoy's have a single heir and I am it. If I am killed the wrath of my family will fall upon the Dark Lord."

"And they too will be slaughtered. I am telling you, foolish, arrogant, child, that there is no way your mother or father or even I can truly help you now if this is the course you've decided to follow. You must make your own way, and make it well."

Draco released his godfather's hand and resumed his pacing. There was more at work here than Severus was letting on, of that Draco was certain, and it had something to do with Harry Potter. Draco almost cursed Potter for opening his eyes to the mess he'd unknowingly mired himself in, but found that he couldn't blame the dark haired boy as he always did. After all it wasn't Potter's fault that Draco had refused to see the evidence right in front of his eyes. How many times had his father staggered into the manor late at night shaking just as Severus had been shaking? How many times had his mother been forced to sit by his bedside? How many times had Draco nearly lost them both without ever realizing it?

Severus allowed him to continue for another few minutes before, pain and annoyance caught up with him.

"Enough. You're wearing a trench in my floor with your pacing. Make yourself useful and go down to the kitchens and order a tray sent to my room and while you're at it eat something yourself, and get some rest. You look terrible."

Draco shot him a sulfurous glare.

"Take a look in your own mirror before you cast stones about the appearance of others, and I've yet to hear a word of gratitude for saving your ungrateful hide."

"Nor will you," said Severus in his customary tone.

"See if I ever save your life again," sniffed Draco, "I already had a tray brought up, and I ate earlier, give me a moment and I'll get out of your hair. Just be grateful it's Saturday."

Draco slipped out of the room and flicked his wand at the remaining breakfast tray, his own empty one had vanished while he was asleep just as mysteriously as it had appeared. The tray floated over to him on a hover charm and Draco directed it forward into the bedroom. Draco didn't really believe that Severus was as ungrateful as he appeared but his godfather had to resent being held to a life-debt. All the better really that Draco had no intention of telling the man that part of that debt resided with his most despised student.

"There you are, eat. I will arrange with the House Elves for you to receive a tray for lunch and dinner, but if you don't wish to arouse suspicion you will have to be out of bed and prowling around as usual tomorrow morning."

"And I will better be able to see to that without your mother-henning, Draco. Do go away."

"I am not mother-henning," said Draco indignantly.

"Are you still here?"

Scowling Draco stalked from the room and then from the curmudgeonly potions master's quarters casting a notice-me-not charm as he went.

The dungeon halls were cool and dark even as it approached midday and Draco didn't pass any students between Severus' rooms and the Slytherin dorms.

"Silver Chalice," he muttered at the blank section of wall, sidling through the gap in the stone before the entrance was fully opened.

There were a good number of people in the common room, talking or doing their homework and a number of chess and gobstones sets were set out, and there was the faint pop that let Draco know some fool had probably just singed his eyebrows off facing Zabini in exploding snap.

A faint pink flush rose to his cheeks as he strode with impunity through the common room in his sleeping clothes with his hair likely a nightmare and dark circles under his eyes from a long night. Still, no one stopped him or made a comment, so the notice-me-not charm must have been powerful enough to turn even the hungry eyes of the Slytherins away from the obvious signs of scandal.

In the safety of his dorm Draco allowed himself to slump in exhaustion and relief, his bed looked terribly inviting but he did need to see to the arrangements for Severus' meals and put in an appearance throughout the school lest his absence cause fodder for gossip or, Merlin forbid, alert Pansy to the fact that there was something going on.

So he ignored the temptation and staggered into the bathroom for a quick shower, glamouring away the signs of a restless night from his face and neatening his hair. He changed into a fresh set of uniform pants and a crisp white shirt forgoing his robes and tie and pulling a soft green sweater over his head for warmth. The halls were chilly in November.

"Where were you last night?" came the pointed inquiry in a deceptively soft voice as soon as Draco left his room.

"Who says I was anywhere?" asked Draco mildly.

"You never sleep this late and I'll give you excellent odds that if I hex those glamouries off your pretty face I'll discover that you barely slept at all. It's written in every line of your body."

"Zabini isn't the only one with late night assignations Nott, and I'll thank you to keep you observations to yourself."

"Pansy is worried about you. Lately you've been behaving…not oddly, but also not according to your usual routine."

"Pansy is worried," said Draco flatly, "And what is it you think, Theo?"

The blue eyed boy met his look with one of his own.

"I think that you'd best take care," he said softly, "You can ill afford for some upstart to notice what I have noticed and attempt to take advantage of your…distraction."

The door to the room next the Draco's shut with a soft click and the young Malfoy heir had to physically keep himself from grinding his teeth. He did not need this right now. All he wanted was a few minutes to gather himself, was that really too much to ask?

Carefully he drew himself up, squaring his shoulders, fixing his expression into one of cool disdain. Nott, damn him to the seven hells the knife-edged bastard, was right of course. He could not show weakness, not now that he knew just how thin the ice he was treading on actually was.

With that in mind he made an appearance at lunch, late, but early enough to grab a quick bite to eat and assure Pansy that the only reason for his recent change in schedule was a new and enthusiastic lover. Since the rumour that he'd had someone in his rooms just the other night had spread through Slytherin house like a wildfire, the excuse was accepted without question. Though Pansy did give him a subtle warning about discretion and flicked a pointed glance Astoria's way.

As if he needed the warning, no thanks to Potter he was now well aware that Astoria wasn't going to keep her head down. He really did need to write to his mother and have her put a quick end to the betrothal negotiations.

He slipped away from the table with vague excuses that could be interpreted any number of ways and before he left the Great Hall his eyes landed on Potter who looked as exhausted as he felt but was enthusiastically outlining some scheme to Weasley and Granger. Seeming to sense the direction of his gaze Potter looked up, their eyes met for a moment and Draco felt a measure of the heat of the kiss they'd shared last night jolt through him. He wondered if Potter could feel it too.

Reluctantly he slid his eyes away and strode from the hall. The kitchens weren't that far away and Draco was careful to make sure that no one saw him tickle the pear in the large oil still-life of a fruit bowl that concealed there entrance.

Draco hadn't been here often, it was rude after all to commandeer another's servants for his own purposes and he'd no doubt that the elves wouldn't hesitate to report his activities to Dumbledore if he tried it.

"Excuse the interruption," he said, clearing his throat to announce his presence.

Immediately the little creatures stopped their bustling and their high pitched chatter and as one bowed to him.

"I merely need one volunteer, the rest of you as you were," he said with an autocratic wave of his hand.

A small female elf separated herself from the small horde and gave him a neat curtsy, her nose was the approximate shape of a tomato and she had the thin look of an elf that had not been well cared for. A recent addition to the castle staff unless Draco missed his guess, tormenting herself over being freed.

"Young Master Malfoy, sir. I is being called Winky, sir. What can I be doing for you?"

"Professor Snape has taken ill and will require a tray for a late lunch and dinner as well as some light snacks for the interim, he is also not to be disturbed as he needs his rest, I require the elf delivering the meals to do so with the utmost discretion."

"Oh, you is not to be worrying Young Master Malfoy, sir. Mister Harry Potter sir is already seeing to it that Professor Snape is having his trays sir. But we is sorry to say sir that the rug could not be properly cleaned. We is having it replaced, sir, if that is being acceptable."

Draco blinked a bit, surprised that Potter had both had the forethought and taken the initiative to order the elves just as Draco would have.

"That is perfectly acceptable, if you would, convey my regards to Harry Potter."

"Of course, sir. Thank you, sir."

"Carry on then."

"Yes, sir."

As Draco left the kitchens he had to school the faint smile off his lips. Damn Potter for being so considerate anyway. Last week he'd had no trouble at all hating Gryffindor's Golden Boy, now he was smiling, smiling for Merlin's sake, at the very thought of him! What in Morgana's good name was happening to him?

AN: And there you have it folks! Hope you all enjoyed this installment and have taken comfort in the knowledge that this story is in no way abandoned.

Hopefully it won't be quite such a wait between updates next time but, as always, no guarantees. I apologize in advance for my flaky ways.

Well that's all I have to say, so please feel free to take your turn and leave you comments, questions and thoughts in the box below. I love hearing from you guys!

Til next time.