Written for the HP Unhappily Ever After Fest 2019. Accordingly, our characters do not ride off into the sunset. Prepare for heartbreak and grab the tissues.

This fic contains dark themes which may be triggering for some readers, including rape/non-con, major character death, coercion and graphic depictions of violence. If these are difficult subjects for you, proceed with caution or opt out. I'll understand. It's a rough ride.

The prompt I chose was "Sell your soul. Sign here."

Thank you to Potionchemist, my wonderful beta - any remaining errors are my own.

Draco's stomach churned as dread settled within his chest. He couldn't believe it.

Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, was dead.

Greyback and some other snatchers had caught the so-called Golden Trio earlier that evening in the Forest of Dean, all because Potter, in a moment of carelessness, had fucked up and uttered the name Voldemort. With the taboo in place, the enchantments and charms they had been using to conceal their whereabouts were instantly destroyed.

Draco had watched with a sinking feeling as the three teenagers were dragged unceremoniously across the drawing room at the Manor. Even without Greyback shouting triumphantly that he had captured Undesirable Number One, that red Weasley hair and Granger's unruly curls were unmistakable.

Narcissa, who had shown the group into the room, summoned Draco forward to confirm Potter's identity. Draco wanted nothing more but to run away in that moment, but everyone in the room was staring at him, so he had no choice but to rise from the armchair in which he sat and approach the trio.

Potter had grotesquely swollen features — from a well-cast stinging hex, Draco surmised — and was virtually unrecognisable. His dark hair was long, almost to his shoulders, and hung in his face.

"Well, Draco?" Lucius prompted, anticipation in his voice. "Is it? It is Harry Potter?"

Draco swallowed hard. He was certain that it was indeed Potter before him. He knew he should say Yes, it's Potter, but the words stuck in his throat. He couldn't explain why. He hated Potter — him and his idiotic friends who supposedly could do no wrong. Still, he was reluctant to speak.

"I… I can't be sure," he finally said, hesitantly. He tried his best to avoid looking at Potter at all and eyed Greyback with trepidation. The demonic, violent werewolf absolutely terrified him.

"But look! Look at him carefully! Come closer!" Lucius urged, his eyes feverishly alight. "If we are the ones to hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, everything will be forgiv—…!"

Greyback interrupted then, angrily reminding Lucius that he had been the one to catch Potter, and deserved the credit for it.

Lucius then examined Potter himself, noticing the distorted scar, and demanded Draco look again.

"I don't know," Draco said helplessly, before moving to stand beside his mother over by the fireplace.

Narcissa, skeptical, urged her husband to be sure it was Potter before calling the Dark Lord, lest they be wrong and face his wrath. However, after looking at the bound prisoners again, she recognised Granger, and Lucius identified Weasley.

From that moment, it was impossible for Draco to avoid any further involvement. Facing pressure from both his parents, he was forced to admit Granger and Weasley, at least, were standing before them.

Suddenly, his aunt Bellatrix burst into the room. "What's this? What's happened, Cissy?"

Draco cringed slightly from her voice. How he loathed her!

She, too, recognised Granger. When Lucius shared his theory that Potter was among the prisoners, Bellatrix grew ecstatic and immediately moved to summon the Dark Lord, drawing back the left sleeve of her dress to reveal her Mark.

Lucius intervened, furious that Bellatrix would take the glory he hoped to claim for himself, and they argued over who would call their master. Then Greyback joined the fracas, insisting once again that the glory — and the gold the Dark Lord had promised to the one that brought him Potter — belonged to him.

Bellatrix suddenly paused, looking at the discarded gear the snatchers had scavenged when capturing the prisoners. A look of shock passed over her face and she strode over to examine the items, taking a glittering sword from the pile and ignoring the snatchers' protests.

Before Draco knew it, his crazed aunt had stupefied all four of the snatchers who had accompanied Greyback and restrained the werewolf, forcing him to his knees with his arms outstretched. She rushed towards him with the sword in hand, demanding to know where he had gotten it and claiming Snape had sent it to her vault at Gringotts.

Greyback, snarling viciously, denied all knowledge of the sword's origin, saying it had been found in the prisoners' tent. Eventually, Bellatrix released the werewolf and he paced restlessly around the room, still enraged but not daring to attack her.

She demanded the prisoners be sent to the cellar while she thought on what to do. Draco's mother tried to protest but was overridden by Bellatrix, who looked positively deranged, insisting they were all in grave danger. She was so frantic that flames burst from her fingers, momentarily setting the carpet alight and scorching a hole in it. Draco slowly took several steps back, not wanting to be in range should she release another burst of uncontrolled magic.

Bellatrix ordered Greyback to take the prisoners downstairs, then stopped him to insist he leave Granger behind, saying she was going to question her. While Greyback hauled Potter and Weasley away, Bellatrix drew a small dagger from her robes, grinning with crazed glee, and Draco felt ill.

He was unable to turn away as his aunt forced Granger to the ground, screaming at her to tell her how she had acquired the sword, slicing into her soft flesh with the dagger all the while. Granger's blood, bright red, flowed freely down her arm and soaked into the carpet, staining it almost black. How can her dirty blood be so red, so like mine? Draco thought sickly to himself. Her screams echoed in his head, and he wished he could cover his ears and turn away, lest he lose the tenuous hold he had on his roiling stomach and vomit all over the floor.

Dissatisfied with the answers she had received thus far, Bellatrix began to Crucio Hermione, and the girl's screams intensified. Draco was overcome with the sudden mad urge to draw his wand and curse his aunt, but knew that to do so would be a death sentence — not just for him, but likely his mother and father as well, not to mention Granger herself - he knew Bellatrix would kill the girl outright out of spite if she thought he cared about her. I'm helpless. Weak! he cursed himself, unable to do anything else.

Eventually, Granger cracked, screaming that the sword was just a copy. Lucius ordered Draco to go downstairs and fetch the goblin that had been separately captured that evening. He knew better than to hesitate. Hurrying down to the cellar, shaking, Draco collected the goblin as quickly as possible before scurrying back upstairs. He refused to look at Potter and Weasley, who were looking on in anguish.

When he got back to the drawing room, Bellatrix was carving something into Granger's arm, laughing madly. Moments later, there was a strange sound from the cellar. Lucius ordered Wormtail to investigate, and everyone else present waited, listening carefully.

"What is it, Wormtail?" Lucius called.

"Nothing!" Came the reply. "All fine!"

Those upstairs visibly relaxed and went back to observing the spectacle before them. Bellatrix had momentarily ceased torturing Granger, and instead was interrogating the goblin, who insisted the sword was indeed a fake. Satisfied, Draco's aunt cried out in triumph and drew back her sleeve, pressing her finger to the Mark on her arm.

Draco felt the Mark on his own arm burn in response, and dread burned in his chest. He was on his way, and furious.

"I think we can dispose of the Mudblood," Bellatrix cackled and turned back to Granger with her wand drawn. Granger lay unresponsive and barely conscious at his aunt's feet and Draco felt tears stinging his eyes, certain he was about to see the brilliant witch before him perish.

"Noooo!" came a cry, and everyone turned in surprise to see Weasley emerging from the entrance to the cellar, closely followed by Potter. Before anyone could react, Weasley had disarmed Draco's aunt with surprising skill. Potter, with his seeker's reflexes, caught the wand as it flew through the air and the blond felt a stab of bitterness at Potter's dexterity, even as they were running headlong into a room full of Death Eaters.

Potter managed to disarm Draco's father and, for a few fleeting moments, Draco's heart lifted, thinking they might yet win the fight.

His hopes were dashed mere moments later when his aunt, recovering quickly from the shock of being disarmed, threatened to open Granger's throat with her dagger.

Draco cursed the stupidity of Potter and Weasley, who immediately surrendered. Bellatrix ordered Draco to collect the wands they had thrown to the floor. He glared at the two before him as he moved to obey. Fucking idiots! Why didn't you just kill her? He screamed at them in his head.

Suddenly, their old house elf, Dobby, appeared and dropped a chandelier on his aunt, trapping both her and Granger beneath it. Weasley rushed to rescue Granger from beneath the ruined hangings and dragged her clear while Potter attacked Draco, snatching back the wands. Draco could tell the elf intended to Disapparate from the Manor with the Golden Trio in tow and watched avidly, sure they would be able to flee.

His hopes were once again crushed, however, when something shiny whizzed across the room. Draco watched helplessly as the elf crumbled to the floor, his aunt's silver dagger having pierced his heart.

Leave the elf, he's dead! There's nothing you can do! You have the wands, go! He's coming! Draco urged silently, but foolish Potter and Weasley wasted precious seconds weeping over the stupid creature who had tried to help them, the wands forgotten, while Granger struggled to raise herself to a sitting position.

Moments later, he felt the icy chill in his bones that told him that the Dark Lord had arrived. The fearsome man who stalked Draco's nightmares stormed into the room.

"What is the meaning of this?" He hissed, his dark eyes darting around the room. "Who dares interrupt me? I expressly told you all, do not summon me for anything less than—"

The Dark Lord suddenly stopped, and a triumphant grin appeared across his serpentine face as his gaze landed upon the bespectacled wizard crouching before him, eyes wide in shock.

"—Harry Potter."

Before either of his former classmates could react, the Dark Lord had bound them both, ignoring Granger completely. He sauntered over to them, chuckling. "What have we here? Potter, yes… and a Weasley."

"And Potter's Mudblood, my Lord!" Bellatrix cried, rushing over to her master and kneeling at his feet.

"Yes, yes, Bella," the Dark Lord said impatiently, pushing her away. He stood before the huddled group, regarding them silently. Without warning, he pointed his wand at Weasley.

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Ron!" Potter screamed as the redheaded boy slumped forward.

"No," Granger whispered, one weak and bloodied arm reaching towards her friend. Draco saw the devastation in her eyes and felt a rush of guilt, despite how much he had loathed the redhead.

Greyback scuttled forward, crouching before his master. "My Lord! It was I who captured the Potter boy and his friends!"

"And what would you ask of me, Greyback?" the Dark Lord murmured. "I shall reward you."

"Please, my Lord… the girl," Greyback indicated Granger. "I would have her."

"The Mudblood…? Very well," he nodded, waving his hand dismissively. "Do what you wish with her."

"You leave her alone, you bastard!" Potter screamed at Greyback.

"Silence!" the Dark Lord barked, as the werewolf scrambled over to where Granger was slumped, grabbing her possessively. She fought weakly against his grip while Potter struggled against his restraints to no avail.

"Now, Harry," he murmured, "I believe you owe me a rematch. We will duel again."

Draco watched as Potter was released from his bindings.

"Give the boy a wand," the Dark Lord ordered, looking around the room at no one in particular.

"Draco!" Bellatrix urged, rising to her feet. "Give Potter one of those wands! And give mine back to me!" She strode over to him, shoving him towards where the abandoned wands lay on the carpet.

Draco moved quickly over and did as he was bid, handing his aunt's wand back to her and shoving another — his father's — at Potter.

Potter refused to take it and stood staring defiantly at the Dark Lord.

"Duel me, boy!" the dark wizard commanded.

"No!" Potter snarled.

Draco watched in fascination as the snakelike man pointed his wand at Potter, who was forced to take the offered wand and bow, the strain showing on his face as he attempted and failed to resist the curse.

"Yes, Harry, bow to death," the Dark Lord sneered. "And this time, with another's wand, there will be no ghosts to save you."

Ghosts? Draco wondered. He knew from overhearing his parents that the Dark Lord had attempted to kill Potter in fourth year, using the Triwizard cup as a portkey, and had failed — something to do with their wands — but he had not heard anything about ghosts.

Potter suddenly threw a curse, and the Dark Lord jumped back, quickly throwing up a shield charm. "Very good, Harry!" he laughed. "Take every opportunity! Do not hesitate!"

The roomful of people watched silently as Potter and the Dark Lord traded curses and hexes. Draco found himself surprised at Potter's skill. It must be something to do with that Dumbledore's Army thing he was involved in in fifth year, Draco thought to himself. Somehow, he and the others really were preparing.

For a short time, Draco allowed himself to hope that Potter might actually defeat the evil man who had invaded his home once and for all. But his silent plea was dashed when one of the Dark Lord's curses finally got through Potter's defenses, opening up a wide gash on his leg and causing him to fall. Moments later, he was disarmed and helpless on the ground.

Potter, clutching his leg, held his head high as the Dark Lord approached, smirking, his robes swishing about his feet.

"A fine duel, Harry," he rasped. "You fought admirably, and you face death with pride. I will reward your bravery and be merciful."

Draco watched, resignation filling him with despair, as Potter glared at the assembled Death Eaters and other supporters. His green eyes locked on Draco's grey ones, silently accusing, before he slid his gaze forward again and stared down his fate.

The Dark Lord pointed his wand. "Avada Kedavra."

The Boy Who Lived was no more. Granger's anguished, haunting scream of grief impaled Draco's heart just as surely as his aunt's dagger had impaled the heart of the elf. He closed his eyes tight to try and hold back the tears that threatened, a quiet sob escaping him, as the Death Eaters cheered.

He was doomed. They were all doomed.