Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.

Gift fic for the wonderful Ellen for her perfect score in the first round of the QLFC! Go, Ellen!

Warnings: death, violence, slash

Don't Let the Monsters Get Me

He froze when he heard his aunt's mad cackling. Out of all the Death Eaters she was probably the one that scared him the most, which was quite bad since she was the one that went out of her way to interact with him.

It wasn't that he didn't like her, he did; she was his aunt and treated him with as much care as she was able to. But she was so creepy and her crush on the Dark Lord was just wrong on so many levels.

He did his best to go unnoticed when a big group of Death Eaters left the parlor. He succeed fairly well and sighed in relief when they passed him and didn't even glance his way. However, if he were being truthful, the fact that they hadn't noticed him was probably more due to the fact that all the Death Eaters had been slightly distracted lately than his skill in being inconspicuous.

Since Potter and his little friends broke into the Ministry the Death Eaters had been a little out of it.

Even he had been going around as if he were walking on eggshells, fully expecting the Dark Lord to blame him for his father's failure. However the anger and crucius that everyone had thought would be raining down on them never came.

He had even heard a few Death Eaters saying that the Dark Lord seemed to be in a good mood. A good mood! The only time the Dark Lord was in a good mood was when he was torturing someone.

So, yes, the Death Eaters were slightly distracted by the behavior of their Lord.

He almost jumped out of his skin when an arm draped itself around his shoulders.

"Ready for the meeting, dear nephew?"

He repressed a shudder. His uncle Rodolphus was only slightly less unhinged than his wife. Though he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad one. It made the elder Lestrange much deadlier than people gave him credit for at the very least.

"I didn't know I had been summoned." he answered, knowing just how much Rodolphus hated being kept waiting.

"Oh, we were all summoned. Every single one. Even those that aren't marked." Rodolphus grinned maniacally.

"All of us?" he frowned, "That's not normal, is it?"

"No, dear nephew, it is not," if possible Rodolphus' grin stretched even wider, "It appears that our Lord has an announcement to make."

Draco did his best to steady his breathing. An announcement? That didn't sound good. It didn't sound good at all. Was the Dark Lord going to announce some new torture for those that failed him? Had that been the reason for his good mood? Merlin, he hoped not, there was no need for the Dark Lord to gain new ways to torture his followers. He was already quite proficient.

"Come, little nephew, let's not keep our Lord waiting."

Rodolphus practically dragged him to the meeting room. As soon as they were inside he tried to melt into the shadows. He kept his eyes on the floor, making sure to look as small as possible. Even though he tried to stay as far back as possible one look from Rodolphus was all he needed to scurry to his side. He ended up between the Lestrange brothers and only knowing that his mother was on the other side of Rabastan made him stand still.

On the bright side, or as bright is it could be in a room full of Death Eaters, the Dark Lord wasn't present yet.

He contained another shiver, even thinking about the Dark Lord filled him with terror. How could Potter ever face him? It made him hate Potter so much; it made him respect Potter so much. Which just made him hate Potter even more.

How could that scrawny Gryffindor stand up to the Dark Lord? How could he fight him and live?

It must be the fabled Gryffindor stupidity, he was sure of it.

His mind went blank when the most terrifying magic filled the room just seconds before the doors opened and the tall, skeletal figure of the Dark Lord glided into room. An unbearable, suffocating silence filled the room and he couldn't contain his shiver.

Merlin, how could people stand against this? How could they think him human? There was nothing human about him.

"My friends," not even his voice could be considered human, "As you all know a few of your fellow Death Eaters were tasked with a mission in the Department of Mysteries," Draco could feel his uncles tense beside him, "My Death Eaters failed me. They failed to subdue a few teenagers with a rudimentary knowledge of magic. I confess myself disappointed," the magic saturating the room felt even more oppressive, something Draco hadn't thought possible, "Fortunately the objective of the mission was fulfilled. An invaluable asset was able to do what a whole team of elite Death Eaters wasn't capable."

The Death Eaters didn't dare to breath a word, not with the violent magic just itching to cause some harm, but it was clear as day that they were unhappy with this invaluable asset.

Draco knew that whoever this asset was wasn't making any friends amongst the Death Eaters. It wouldn't surprise him if this asset suffered an unfortunate accident. His aunt would be a prime candidate to cause said accident. She didn't like competition, especially if that competition threatened her place as the Dark Lord's favorite.

Before anyone could say anything the doors to the meeting hall banged open and magic just as dark and oppressive as the Dark Lord's slithered in.

Draco had to stop himself from gasping and only the steady hand of his uncle Rodolphus kept his knees from giving in.

What in Merlin's name was that? How could there be anyone with magic so similar to the Dark Lord's?

"Ah," the Dark Lord breathed, "Our most precious asset," something that could be called a smile spread on that lip-less mouth and Draco shuddered, "Come!" he commanded and the cloaked figure walked right up the dais and stood beside the Dark Lord making more than one Death Eater bristle.

Though it was nothing compared to their reactions when the Dark Lord conjured a slightly smaller throne beside his. Draco had never seen the Death Eaters lose so much of their composure, even his uncles were tense and glaring at the figure standing beside the Dark Lord as if he had every right to be there.

"My Death Eaters," the Dark Lord's voice silenced them in an instant, "I bid you to welcome my son, my Heir, your Prince!"

In the ensuing chaos Draco was sure that no one heard the dark chuckle coming from their new Prince.

The day after the meeting Draco felt like he was back at Hogwarts. The Death Eaters were gossiping like students that had gotten their hands on the juiciest news. Though Draco could see where they were coming from.

The Dark Lord had a son. A son! How had that happened? Well, he knew how it had happened, and now he would have nightmares about it for the rest of his life, but... just how was it possible?

There had never even been rumors of the Dark Lord having a son. Not even a whisper.

And now, out of nowhere, this Prince waltzed in.

Where had he been? Who had raised him?

He didn't know and he knew for a fact that none of the Death Eaters knew either. However, if this Prince was the reason why the Death Eaters weren't being cursed left, right, and center by their Lord then Draco was all for him.

He knew though that he was one of the few thinking that. He had caught whispers accusing the Prince of being weak, soft, a weakness for their Lord that shouldn't be allowed.

Honestly Draco didn't know how they could think that the Prince was weak. Hadn't they felt the magic? Though about the Prince being soft... well, he saw nothing wrong with that. He for one was happy that the Prince wasn't as curse happy as his father.

His thoughts froze when an agonizing scream pierced the silence of the library. He didn't even think about it when he ran out of the library in the direction of the scream. It could be argued that it wasn't the best idea, but he hadn't even thought about it he had just reacted.

He came to an abrupt stop when someone grabbed his arm. He glared, quickly quenching it when he saw that it was his uncle Rabastan.

"Watch," Rabastan whispered, pointing at the cluster of Death Eaters and the striking figure standing in the middle of them.

Only then did he noticed that the Prince, with his robes obscuring everything about him, was standing there with his wand loosely held in his hand and a Death Eater at his feet.

"What happened?" Draco murmured, his eyes never leaving the figure of the Prince.

"The Prince walked by while they were gossiping about him," his uncle's smile was the definition of sadistic.

"What is the meaning of this?" the frigid feeling of the Dark Lord's magic washed over the hall and every Death Eater present went to their knees.

Draco dared glancing up, trying to keep the Prince in his line of sight.

"This Death Eaters are of the opinion that I'm... soft."

The Prince's voice was smooth, a dark purr that made a shiver run down his spine.

"Are they?"

Draco couldn't help but wonder how the Dark Lord was able to make words that had no s's in them sound sibilant.

"Yes," that dark purr came again, "And weak too, apparently."

"Is that so?"

The magic in the air grew sharper and Draco had to contain a whimper. Apparently the Dark Lord didn't appreciate his son being called weak.

"Come!" came the Dark Lord's sharp command and Draco didn't even think twice about following it, just like all the other Death Eaters who scrambled to their feet.

The Prince glided to his father's side, and Draco couldn't help but envy the ease the Prince portrayed even when next to the Dark Lord, arguably the most dangerous being alive.

Draco only noticed where the Dark Lord had taken them when the Death Eater in front of him stopped and he almost ran into him. He glanced at his uncle, noticing that he hadn't taken his eyes from the Prince. If Draco didn't know that his uncle was as straight as an arrow he might have confused the look in his eyes as lust.

"My son," the Dark Lord's voice froze them in place, "Show them wrong."

"With pleasure, father."

Suddenly Draco and his uncle were pushed against the wall, an invisible shield keeping them there. Draco tried to struggle, feeling panic quickly clogging up his mind.

"Do not struggle," a cold voice ordered near his ear and Draco felt his heart stop when he noticed just how close the Dark Lord was, "We would not want you to get hurt in the crossfire, would we?" the following smirk was nothing short of cruel, "I do need someone to tell my incompetent followers what happens when they test my son's patience."

Draco felt like ice was running through his veins.

His eyes found the Death Eaters who were shifting in the center of the training room.

They were going to die. He knew it with the same certainty he knew his own name. He felt Rabastan tense beside him and realized that his uncle must have come to the same conclusion.

Draco tried to look away but his body was frozen. He couldn't even close his eyes.

He saw every single second of the slaughter that followed, he wished he hadn't.

Draco couldn't contain the flinch when one of Death Eaters ran at the shield, colliding with it harshly.

"My Lord!" the Death Eater exclaimed and Draco could almost taste his fear, "Please, my Lord!" the begging did nothing but earn a sadistic smirk and the next second Draco had to bite his lip to stop himself from screaming when warm blood sprayed across his face.

Merlin, how he wanted to be able to move, to look away from the skinless body at his feet.

Seconds later nothing but silence was heard.

The force holding them in place disappeared and if his uncle hadn't held onto his shoulder Draco would have lost all the strength in his legs.

The Prince walked over the bodies and the blood, not one speck of the crimson substance on him, and stopped just steps away from them.

"Thank you, father," how could a voice like that be so deadly, "Though it would seem you are half a dozen minions short."

"Nothing we cannot recruit again," the Dark Lord waved away the deaths as if they were nothing, "They served their purpose, you are less tense, are you not?"

"Indeed," the Prince inclined his head, "I was in need of some stress relief."

Stress relief? The Prince called the slaughter of half a dozen men stress relief? Draco felt sick. How could he have expected anything else? The son of a monster could be nothing but a monster.

The Dark Lord and his son left the room, their bare feet not making a sound on the marble floor. Draco followed the bloody footprints the Prince left in his wake with morbid curiosity.

A sharp sting on his cheek brought him out of the slight haze that he had fallen into. He looked up and locked eyes with the concerned gray orbs of his uncle.

"Breath, Draco," his uncle instructed in a calm tone, his voice much gentler than usual. That's when he noticed that he had been holding his breath. He took in a deep lungful almost chocking on the scent of blood that seemed to have tainted every particle of oxygen in the room.

"Uncle Rabastan?" he asked vaguely, only then realizing that his uncle had slapped him.

"Steady breaths, Draco," his uncle told him, his hand holding Draco in place, "You were going into shock."

"Shock?" Draco asked, still a little out of it.

"Yes," Rabastan nodded, "Now, deep, even, breaths."

Draco complied, the scent of blood burning his nostrils and making him want to gag.

"Good, Draco," his uncle encouraged, though Draco could still see the concern in his eyes, "Better?" a moment later Draco nodded and Rabastan let go of his shoulders.

"How could he do that?" Draco asked in a whisper, momentarily forgetting that he was talking to one of the Dark Lord's most loyal Death Eaters, "He's a monster."

"Yes, he is," Rabastan agreed, for just that moment being an uncle instead of a loyal Death Eater, "Don't ever forget that, Draco."

"Uncle?" Draco glanced up, unsure about what his uncle meant.

Rabastan sighed, his shoulders slumped and he seemed to age in front of Draco's eyes.

"Your aunt, Bellatrix, she wasn't always like she is now. She was seduced, she let darkness blind her. She forgot that our Lord and Master is a monster, something far more than a mere human. She forgot that we are mere playthings for our Lord, to be used and abused as he sees fit. She forgot that so she lost herself. We all did, to some degree, but none more than her."

"Why her?" Draco dared to ask. It was rare catching any of his family in such a sharing mood, he would take as much of an advantage of it as he could.

"Our Lord signaled her out. He paid her attention. He was playing with her. He praised her beyond any other Death Eater and left her at Death's door for the smallest mistake. Then he just stopped paying her attention. Acting, though I do not believe it truly was an act, as if she were just another Death Eater. When she was almost at a breaking point he called on her again, praising her loyalty and dedication. Our Lord took pleasure in breaking her to his whims," Rabastan closed his eyes, hiding the turbulent emotions that had shattered his pureblood mask, "Never forget, Draco, they are monsters and we are their playthings."

Whit that Rabastan turned around and walked away, leaving Draco alone in a room filled with nothing but death.

For the following days Draco thought about everything his uncle had told him. He treasured those minutes of conversation more than anything else, that glimpse into the darkness may be the only thing that he had that could save his life.

"Never forget," he murmured, branding those words into his memory, now, days after the conversation with his uncle, understanding the importance of them.

He had studied the Death Eaters these last few days, he had seen what his uncle meant. He had seen the terror mixed with awe the Death Eaters had for their Lord and the complete disregard that their Lord had for them. How their Lord played them, toyed with them. It was nothing but a game to their Lord. And the worst thing about it? Just like his uncle Rabastan, the Death Eaters knew it. They knew and still they craved their Lord's attention.

The moment Draco realized that was the moment where he swore to himself that he would never forget.

"Dragon," his mother's soft voice caught his attention and he immediately tensed when he saw how pale she looked.

"Mother?"

"Our Lord wants to see you," his mother tried to sound firm but he knew her enough to see the fear behind her cold facade.

Draco took a deep breath and made sure that his mask was firmly in place.

"Thank you, mother," he hated the brief flash of despair that he saw in her crystal blue eyes.

He looked away, feeling like a coward for not being able to hold her gaze. Without a backwards glanced he left the room, making his way towards the meeting hall. He couldn't help but wonder what the Dark Lord wanted with him. He grimaced when he noticed just how clammy his hands were. Merlin, he hated that he wasn't able to control himself better, the last thing he wanted was to appear weak in front of the Dark Lord.

As soon as that thought popped into his mind he scowled.

Just the previous day he had promised himself and he was already slipping. It was obscene just how easy it was to forget.

He took a steady breath once he reached the door to the meeting hall, took a moment to make sure that he looked presentable, and walked through the door. As soon as he was inside he bowed deeply, not looking up until his Lord gave him permission to do so.

When seconds ticked by and not a sound was heard Draco started to feel fidgety. Why wasn't the Dark Lord saying anything? Had he done something wrong? Was he about to be punished?

"He's so pretty, father," a voice remarked right beside him and Draco almost jumped out of his skin. How was that possible? Draco hadn't even heard the Prince move. "Are you sure pretty boy is up for it?"

A dark chuckle filled the eery silence.

"He does not truly have a choice, does he?" his Lord's cold voice made him shiver earning a laugh from the Prince. He tensed when a hand ran through his hair, the tantalizing magic of the Prince curling around his own. It made a pleasant shiver run down his spine and he had to bite his lip to stop himself from moaning.

"No," the Prince murmured, "Not really."

The Prince grabbed his chin and pulled his head up, making him look into the darkness of the hood that covered the Prince's features.

Even though he knew it would be pointless he tried to see the Prince's features.

"If you're a nice boy, maybe you'll see them," the Prince whispered, his voice gaining a slight hissing drawl, giving the words an oddly erotic nuance.

Draco blamed his magic's sluggish feeling for the second it took for him to understand what the Prince had said.

Legilimency! He slammed his rudimentary shields into place, paling a moment later remembering in just who's presence he was.

The Prince laughed, the sound far more seductive than it had any right to be. The hissing that followed didn't help Draco in trying to maintain his composure.

How he envied Potter in that moment. What he wouldn't give to be able to understand the conversation going on between these two powerful wizards, especially when the Dark Lord laughed. The Dark Lord laughing was never a good sign, it usually ended in torture.

"True, my son," the sudden use of English shocked him back to reality, "It would almost seem as if they want us to think they are keeping something from us."

"As if that would do them any good." the Prince remarked, letting go of Draco's chin and gliding towards his father and sitting beside him.

"Ah, but you see, the Malfoys are proud creatures," the Dark Lord told his son, not even deigning to look at Draco, "They need to believe that they are in control, even when they so obviously are not."

The Prince sniffed disdainfully and Draco could practically feel those eyes on him.

"Makes me want to break them," the Prince commented lightly and Draco couldn't for the life of him contain a shudder of fear. Monsters, he reminded himself, they are monsters. "At least they are pretty."

The Dark Lord laughed again and Draco would swear on his magic that the look in his eyes when he looked at the Prince was fond. He didn't know that Dark Lords could do fond.

"You and your interest in pretty things."

Things. A wave of helpless fury crashed over Draco. Things! They were nothing but things to these two powerful wizards. What angered him more than anything was that there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing.

"You only have yourself to blame, father," the Prince drawled, "You spoiled me."

Draco followed the Dark Lord's hand with fascination as it disappeared inside the hood of the Prince. If it were anybody else Draco would have called the smile that graced that lip-less mouth as gentle.

"Of course I did," the Dark Lord confirmed, "You are my son," Draco shivered at the possessiveness in the tone, "You deserve the best. Now, let us go back to the little Malfoy."

When those crimson eyes landed on him there was none of the warmth that Draco had seen in them. If it weren't such an absurd thought Draco would have thought that he had imagined the previous fondness.

"As you know, little Malfoy, your father failed me," this had been the moment that Draco had been dreading. Even if the Prince was able to complete the mission it didn't mean that the Death Eaters hadn't failed and failure was not to be tolerated, "However I am a merciful Lord," Draco sincerely doubted that the Dark Lord even knew the meaning of the word, "As such I have found a way for you to make up for your father's shortcomings. You will just have to do one little task to redeem your family."

"I live to serve, my Lord," Draco bowed, because there truly was nothing else he could do.

"Hmm, I don't know," the Prince mused, "Are you sure he will be up for it? He seems so... weak."

Draco could hear the Prince's doubt and a fierce desire to prove him wrong filled him. Draco quickly squashed it, the little voice in the back of his head telling him that no matter what he did these two wizards would always, always, consider him weak, nothing more than a plaything for them to pass the time. Monsters, he reminded himself again, that one thought having become something like a mantra.

"I am sure he will perform to your satisfaction," the Dark Lord assured his son, as if Draco were nothing more than a puppet performing in a play for their entertainment. For all that Draco knew, that may very well be how they looked at the world, "After all, his family is on the line."

Draco's blood froze in his veins.

"True, we have no use for failures." the Prince agreed, seemingly placated with his father's words.

Whether I fail or not they get their entertainment, Draco thought morbidly, either way they win.

"Your task, little Malfoy, is to kill Albus Dumbledore before the school year is over." the Dark Lord proclaimed and Draco was left feeling as if his family's execution had been announced.

The time following the Dark Lord's announcement was a blur for Draco. He remembered nothing but the single minded determination to succeed in his appointed task. However as days, weeks, and months went by and he was no closer to being able to do it despair started to drown him in it's cruel embrace.

A loud laugh caught his attention and he sneered at the Gryffindors.

How he loathed Potter at that moment. What right did he have to be happy, to laugh, when Draco's life was falling apart around him?

How could he laugh when he had the Dark Lord after him?

Was Potter truly so arrogant as to believe that he stood a chance against the Dark Lord? Not only the Dark Lord but the Prince as well. Not that anyone aside from the Death Eaters had ever seen the Prince, but that was beside the point.

What? Did Potter think that just because he knew a curse like Sectusempra that he was able to stand up to Death Eaters? That he was powerful?

Draco sneered and looked away form the sickening display of the youngest Weasley hanging on to Potter.

He had far more important things to worry about than what Potter and his little groupies did.

He hadn't been able do it.

After everything he went through, after everything he had done, he hadn't been able to do it.

Only his godfather's appearance had saved him from his aunt's wrath, and even though he was unbelievably thankful to his godfather he couldn't help but resent him a little. His godfather had taken his task from him, hadn't believed he would be able to do it. His own godfather hadn't had faith in him.

"My friends," Draco stilled, immediately remembering where he was and who was present, "Go, go and spread chaos! Celebrate for Dumbledore is dead!"

The Death Eaters cheered.

Draco couldn't even muster a smile.

Draco had felt somewhat numb after he had fled Hogwarts with the other Death Eaters. He had expected a heavy punishment after his failure. Dumbledore may be dead, but he hadn't been the one to do it. He had failed his appointed task.

Though as weeks passed and nothing happened he felt himself relax slightly. When his father returned and nothing was done to him, Draco breathed a sigh in relief. Maybe the Dark Lord was satisfied with Dumbledore's death, even if it hadn't been by Draco's hand.

The Prince had been absent, so Draco couldn't really guess to how he had taken it. Did this confirm what the Prince had said? Was he weak?

For the first time in a long while he certainly felt weak.

His arm burned and he jolted, his hand going to the Mark branded on his skin. He felt his father tense beside him and knew that they were being called.

They both walked into the silent meeting hall and the first thing Draco noticed was that it was completely empty aside from the Dark Lord and the Prince.

When the doors slammed shut behind them Draco knew no one else would be coming.

In that second in time Draco was sure that only death awaited them.

"Lucius," the Dark Lord hissed and his father stood up straight, looking straight ahead. Even after Azkaban he was still proud. 'Makes me want to break them' a whisper in his mind and Draco shuddered. "Your son was given a little task to make up for your failures. I had complete trust in him to carry it out," Monsters don't trust, Draco thought, "My son, on the other hand, believed that Draco would not be up to the task. Apparently my son was proven right." The Cruciatus slammed into his father before he could even blink, "Such a disappointing family you are turning out to be."

The Prince's laughter joined his father's screams and Draco looked up just in time to see the Prince turn to smoke. In an instant the Prince was in front of him and Draco took a step back.

The screams stopped but Draco didn't notice. His eyes were focused on the ones shinning from beneath the hood of the Prince's robes.

"Pretty little Malfoy," the Prince purred, "We'll have so much fun together. When I'm done there will be nothing left of you."

It was a promise and as the Prince claimed his lips in a brutal kiss, Draco couldn't help but wonder how he had never seen the Monster behind those expressive emerald eyes.

A.N.: Well no fluff, but even so I hope you like it :)