Disclaimer: I'm not, have not been, and never will be affiliated with the owners of Harry Potter. I am a poor student. They are: J. K. Rowling, AOL Time Warner, and various publishers, including but not limited to Bloomsbury Publishing Plc and Scholastic Books. I am making no money.

Author's Note: Sincerest thanks to Calliope, Elanor, and TQ as always. Special thanks to PJ Babington, Piper, Isabelita105, Cyris, Lynds, Morrighan, Duchess67, and Alanna for your help with the technical aspects of fight scenes, and to Werrf, Ara Kane, Catherine, Aevil, and Juliane for your help with the stylistic aspects of fight scenes.

Part Three: The Flight

Lucius took one step and blocked the doorway entirely, his presence seeming to fill the entire room, saying there could be no escape. He had been livid at his failure to destroy Black and Lupin, but his malevolent fury now was amplified ten times. I had seen the terrible power of Lucius's anger too many times to mistake it - I could see every sign I knew was a warning one of his compatriots had made a terrible mistake. Now, it was my mistake. And it was likely to be my fatal mistake.

"Would you care to explain this?" Lucius asked, his voice gentle, low, and poisonous.

But there was nothing to say. And even if I managed to lie well enough to fool him now ... my part was done. I could never spy again, for I had lost Lucius's trust. In one foolish moment, all I had done - both good and bad - since the nightmarish day I joined the Death Eaters had come down to one thing: nothing.

I stood facing him, amazing yet deceiving calm in my stance. My mind and heart were fluttering wildly, my thoughts flitting madly through my head, but I managed to prevent my body shaking as I took a small, trembling breath. I stepped back, leant on the wall, and crossed my arms. I shrugged, managing a small, insolent smile. It was no use pretending any more. Now I had to keep Lucius talking, not cursing me, while I attempted to escape. Somehow. And, I decided, I may as well make my feelings plain while I did.

"What is there to explain, Lucius?" I asked, astonished that my voice remained steady. It was the only part of me that was as it should be; my breathing was quick, soft, irregular, and my mind flew wildly from one insane idea to the next, scanning everything I knew for a way to escape.

Lucius watched me for a moment, his eyes narrowed, before replying to my words. "Betrayal, you ungrateful brat."

"You want me to explain betrayal?" I took a step closer to him, my eyes glaring sparks of hatred. "Whose betrayal, Lucius? Yours or mine? You offered to teach me things. You never told me you'd take my free will, my innocence - what little I had - or my soul." I spat the last word as I stepped forward. I felt my blood pound in my ears. I had struck a wild idea - wild, but perhaps possible. I had no better option. Most people would consider me a dead man already. And if this failed, I was.

"I gave you the chance to be a part of -"

"A part of what? Oh, I've heard all about this marvellous campaign you're on. To clean the world of impure blood, isn't it? Would you believe, Lucius," I spat, taking a step towards him, "that I don't think it such a great, noble campaign. In fact, I think you are a cold-hearted, bloodthirsty murderer." Hatred oozed from my every word. My heart fluttered, my stomach twisted, and my breathing grew shallower, faster still. Everything depended on keeping him talking.

Lucius's jaw hardened; his eyes flashed with fury. He snatched his wand from within his robe, and with a noise thunderous to my nervous mind, ropes shot from the end of it and twisted around my wrists. That would complicate things. But not too much. With another flick of his hand, he had my wand.

Good. Now he thinks I'm helpless.

He waved his wand absently at the door, which slammed and locked. The noise was death knells if I lost my chance.

It was increasingly difficult to keep my mind clear. Panic was welling in the back of my head, threatening to spread and overwhelm me with hopelessness and wild fear. Lucius had my wand, my hands were tied, the door was locked. I knew too well what that meant if I ruined my only hope.

Lucius raised his wand again. I felt the panic strike as it spread, paralysing. I fought to regain control of my body.

"I gave you everything you have - your position -" Lucius began. Adrenalin pumping, I forced myself to move, to step towards him and speak.

I scoffed. "My position's something I'd rather be without, actually, if it's quite the same to you." There's an understatement.

"You ungrateful, treacherous little brat! You would be NOTHING," he roared, "NOTHING without what I've done for you!"

"I'd rather be dead than what you've made me!"

"I can organise that!" Lucius raged, pointing his wand at me, stepping forward to strike.

NOW! MOVE!

I met his advance with a quick, delicate footwork. As he began to scream the word "Crucio", I lashed out, my booted foot striking his hand in a flash of black. He shouted in pain and dropped wand. I felt another surge of adrenalin and the faintest flicker of hope. Part one of my wild escape plan had been easier than I could have imagined. Before he could recover from the shock he betrayed in his expression, I stepped forward and kicked again, low kicks so I could keep my balance. Knees first. He reeled under the attack and moved back, dazed. He couldn't have been expecting this; physical self-defence was a Muggle art.

Lucius was a powerful fighter. He had a strong build and was certainly not a small man. But he was used to totally overwhelming whomever he was fighting. He loved to attack those weaker than himself, and was happiest if he had weakened his opponent further with the Cruciatus Curse beforehand. He fought a coward's fight, and a bully's. He had attacked me before, and had got away with it, but he had never realised that was not because I couldn't defend myself, but because I hadn't wanted to reveal my skill. Now he was paying for that lack of foresight.

He was backing slowly away from me. I stepped forward again. He dodged, but my first attack had weakened him, and he moved slowly, his walk tentative and ungainly. I circled, and he turned, lunging for his wand, but he was so badly injured I reached it first. I stood over it, and he paused, glaring at me in shocked pain.

"I haven't even begun yet, Lucius. I will kick you into oblivion. You do know that, don't you?" He glanced towards the door, but without his wand there was no way he could open it, even if he managed to reach it before me in his weakened state. He backed away from me. "Coward. You could attack me before. Now you won't even face me." He moved away quicker at that, but a frenzied look over his shoulder told him he was about to run into the wall. I saw something I had never seen on his face before. His eyes were flicking wildly around the room, his mouth was tense, and sweat was glistening on his face. "Panicking, Lucius?" I whispered as I struck. He smacked into the wall at the force of my attack, moaning in pain. The relentless thudding of my feet hitting his body became a pattern, a steady rhythm. Thud. Thud. Thud. Pain showed on every feature of Lucius's face, but I didn't back down. Now was my chance. Now he would pay for all the pain and destruction he had so heartlessly inflicted on so many others. Pain. Death. Horror. Thud. Thud. Thud.

There was an uncomfortable satisfaction in the way Lucius doubled up, finally sliding slowly to the floor. He lay motionless; the only sign of consciousness was his faint moans. Smack. A final kick saw his head hit the wall, knocking him out.

Now I had to move. I hurried back to his wand, took it clumsily in my tied hands, and muttered a spell to free myself. I took my wand from his pocket, and in a single motion snapped his, leaving the pieces on the floor. "Alohomora!"

The door swung open, and I slipped through, shutting it softly behind me. Now that I was out of the immediate danger of being trapped in the same room as a furious Lucius, I could give some thought to the wider scale: how to escape for good. I suppressed a shiver and attempted to walk normally through the manor, racking my mind once more for a way of escaping.

Fortunately, there was no one in sight. Narcissa did not sweep down the hall to ensure I kept my word and stayed to dinner. I managed to escape into the night. The air held a bitter bite. I shivered, this time with cold, and wrapped my cloak around me. I should have been tired from my effort in attacking Lucius, but the adrenalin had not died down. Nor did it seem likely to, for fresh panic was coursing through me. How could I escape? Where would I be safe? The Dark Arts have ways of tracking a person that other magic can never hope for.

I hurried from the grounds of Malfoy Manor, hoping to put as much space between Lucius and myself as possible. Once I had achieved that, I simply wandered with no real destination in mind, thinking desperately about my next move. Apparating would be foolish. To do so could leave me traceable using Dark magic. The Ministry of Magic could sense when an unlicensed person Apparated, and they only used light magic. If the Death Eaters had been alerted to my "treachery", they would be watching for me to make a magical move.

So, I couldn't Apparate. The nearest Muggle settlement and therefore transportation was some way away. And, I realised, I had no money to use for Muggle transportation. The nearest Floo connected fireplace not owned by the Malfoys was many kilometres north. I should have Apparated earlier; if the Death Eaters weren't looking for me, there was a chance that I could escape without being noticed. But it was too late. Someone might have found Lucius by now.

The only safe place for me, I thought frantically as I aimlessly wandered, was Hogwarts. But it was far too obvious, and I could not hide at Hogwarts forever. And the only way to get there was to broadcast my intentions to the Death Eaters. It was hopeless. There was nothing I could do. I may have escaped Lucius for now, but I could not hide forever. I could only hope to perhaps delay my discovery and death. Short of a miraculous rescue, I would surely die.

I trudged, despondent, through the night, not caring really whether I was going towards or away from settlement, not caring what direction I was moving in, not caring about anything. I was as good as dead. In the falling night, each shadow became a Death Eater, each rustle the sound of Avada Kedavra. Adrenalin fuelled paranoia, which in turn made adrenalin flow faster, so my fear heightened until I was thoroughly convinced that each moment would be my last. Finally, I sank to the ground. I could not escape my death that way, no more than I could escape the passage of time or the chill of the night. Panicking would do nothing. I breathed deeply. If I kept thinking, perhaps I could convince myself to find a means of escape. I hoped I could convince myself to find a means of escape. And every step away from Malfoy Manor gave me more hope of avoiding Lucius until I could think of something. So I trudged through the night.

* * *

I think I knew then that there was no real escape. No matter how far I walked, you would find me. How you eventually did, Lucius, I don't know. Did you set your vicious beasts to follow my smell? Did you use Dark tracking that I have no understanding of? Not, I suppose, that it matters now.

Dark Arts healing is truly marvellous in what it can do; if I hadn't inflicted your wounds of yesterday myself, I would not know that you had been crumpled on your study floor, battered and unconscious such a short time ago. Foolish of me to leave you, but it is not in my nature to kill. Not even you.

And now comes the showdown. You managed to find someone who would give you their wand for the time, it seems, for you are armed. We pause a moment, then raise our wands, each wanting to be the one whose blow falls first. And yours comes a moment before mine. I fall screaming to the ground, knowing I have lost - lost everything.

***

The Order of the Phoenix never let a companion go missing without making some wild attempt to find them. Dark whispers of treachery had swept through the ranks of the Death Eaters when they met that night, and the Order's spies in had listened in horror, fearing the consequences of the whispers. They searched using all available resources and personnel, but found nothing.

It was the Head of the Aurors' Office who finally found him, in a desperate plea to the Muggle authorities. A Muggle taking a short cut had spotted the body it the woods The Ministry man looked on the dead, still face with anguish, for despite his cold exterior, the spy had been remarkable, willing to sacrifice everything for what he had believed in, and for the freedom of the wizarding world. And he had sacrificed everything. The Ministry official let a slow tear run the length of his face before turning to begin his journey to alert the Phoenixes that the circle had been broken.

***

He was one of the unknown, unsung heroes of the war against Voldemort. For his entire life he lived under the assumptions of wizarding society, which questioned his every move, his every motive. He will never be remembered for who he was or what he did, but instead for what he stood for: the last member of an old, Dark Arts family. In the eyes of society, his name will never be linked with the good deeds he did. To them, he died just another Dark wizard. And so he will remain.