Ok, so I got really bored one night (and I saw Order of the Phoenix) and just wrote this little story in about an hour. I have an idea for another chapter or two, but I'll only do it if I get enough reviews. Otherwise, it will be left to the immagination. Besides, I really disliked the lack of Draco's story in book 7. This is a repost to make up for some gramatical mistakes.

WARNING: Torture, blood, angst, mild language, character death (not Draco, don't worry).

I don't own Harry Potter, J.K. Rowlings does, obviously.

"Loyalty is a fine quality, but in excess it fills political graveyards."

-Neil Kinnock

He was drug from the castle with astounding speed by the man he had once called his professor, and he probably would for as long as he would know him

He was drug from the castle with astounding speed by the man he had once called his professor, and he probably would for as long as he would know him. But, right now, he didn't know how long that would be. You see, he had failed. He was supposed to kill Dumbledore, and failed. Snape had to come and finish the job for him because he was too much of a coward.

He turned to see the castle moving farther and farther away. The place he had called his home, the place he had been trying to escape from for the past six years was now shrinking into the distance, and he was not so sure he wanted to leave anymore.

Harry was trying to catch up with them, fury shown in his eyes as he cast spell after spell at the professor that was running from the castle, the man who had just killed one of the greatest wizards in the world and one of his closest friends. Saint Potter, thought Malfoy, trying to save the damned. There's no use, I have been condemned to death.

He winced as his teacher gave his arm a strong pull, causing him to momentarily lose his balance. "Hurry up, you fool, there is no time to waste."

Other Death Eaters were joining them in their flight, but no other wizards other than that boy pursued them. They suddenly stopped and the world seemed to spin around him. There were no trees, no castle, no Potter, only a sickening spin that made him want to puke. He had always hated being a passenger in Apparating. It was much easier to just do it himself. But soon the spinning stopped and they were in a large, stone hallway with many wooden doors on each wall. Draco found that he was on the floor, still disoriented from the spell.

Crabbe Sr. knelt down by the blonde haired boy and put a hand on his shoulder. "Is he dead, lad?" Draco only nodded his head, afraid that if he opened his mouth he would be sick on one of the highest ranked Death Eaters there were. The man clapped Malfoy on the back, obviously believing that Draco had completed the act, though many in the room knew differently.

A door on the opposite side of the long hall and the silhouette of a tall, thin man began to walk toward them. The others stood at attention while Draco could only sit there and squint into the bright light in an attempt to discover who this man was. His arm was soon seized by a strong, harsh hand as he was drawn to his feet to stand at attention as well. Other Death Eaters entered the hall from other doors, all drawing their gaze to the tall, thin white-haired boy who stood in the center of the line.

To his surprise, the man who approached him from that bright light was not Voldemort as he had dreaded, but someone he was far more afraid of, his father Lucius Malfoy. Draco could only snicker at the thought that Dumbledore and his sheep still believed his father to be locked away in that God forsaken prison. His father was too powerful for that place. The dementors had freed him within days of his imprisonment, and no one had noticed. It made Draco proud of his father.

"My son," said Lucius, his velvet voice was welcoming and full of pride, "is Dumbledore dead?"

"Yes, father," said Draco, not sounding as proud as he believed he would have had he done the deed, but it was done nonetheless.

"Did you kill him?" The same pride glistening the edges of the sentence, his eyes shining with it.

Draco hesitated. He knew his father would be disappointed, but whether Draco told him or not, he would find out the truth. "No, sir."

The proud glisten that had shown through his father's eyes now faded with disappointment and anger. He backed away from his son, suddenly becoming very interested in the snake head that topped his cane. His lips pursed in frustration as he lay deep in thought. "I'm sorry, father. I…" but he was unable to finish. As he started to explain, his father's hand rose into the air and came crashing down on the pale boys face, throwing his head to the side and stunning him.

Not again, thought Draco. It's been three years since he stopped hitting me. He looked back up at his father with fear in his eyes. The soft glisten of pride was now completely replaced by a flame of anger and fury bent on escaping from the man to his son through his fists. "Father, I…"

"You disgrace the name Malfoy," Lucius interrupted, daggers in every word. "How dare you call yourself my son?!" He lifted his hand again, this time pulling down with enough force to knock the pale boy down onto the cold stone floor. Draco lifted his hand to where his father had hit him only to feel the hot, throbbing skin on his cheek. He looked toward his old professor, only to see him roll his eyes and look away. "Get up, you piece of garbage!"

Draco pulled himself to his feet and looked at his father, the man he used to love and admire, now stood caught in a glare of despise. "I'll teach you to look at me like that!" he yelled as he raised his cane above his head. Draco braced for another round…

"Lucius, what are you doing?" came a voice, soft and beckoning but still sick and sinister. There was no mistaking it. The Dark Lord was not having some lackey punish Draco like he had seen so many times before. He planned on taking care of it himself.

Lucius slowly lowered his wielded weapon and lightly placed its tip on the stone floor with a quiet rap. "I'm sorry, my lord. I forgot my place."

"Yes, you did," he said again as he finally arrived in front of the group of Death Eaters, "but I'll take care of that later. First thing is first." He turned his attention to the group, "Draco?"

"Yes, my lord," said Draco as he dropped to one knee, his right hand placed over his chest and his gaze to the floor. He was not showing it, but he was afraid. The only indication of this was the beads of sweat that were beginning to form on his brow, but they were masked by his medium length blonde hair.

"Is Dumbledore dead?"

"Yes, my lord."

"And were you the one who killed him?"

"N…No, my lord."

"Then who, pray tell, was it that killed him?" Voldemort had gotten very close to Draco's head as he said this, close enough that if Draco had chosen to look up, he would have only seen the slits of his snake-like eyes. Draco could feel his breath on his hair.

"That would be me, sire," said Snape, bowing in the same fashion as Draco.

"Serverus, you have proven yourself very loyal, but it was the boy's job to kill him." The Dark Lord's voice gained more malice as the conversation continued.

"He showed an incapability of completing the task, so I did it in his stead. I think the most important thing is that Dumbledore is dead."

"Of course your right, Serverus, but I can not have a failure within my order. He will have to be punished."

"I agree completely, my lord, but, I believe there is no use to be killing him now. I believe that, should we play our cards right, someone may come looking for the boy. After all, he was not the one that killed the wizard." Malfoy couldn't believe what he was hearing. Serverus, his favorite teacher, was now offering him up as bait. How could he do that?

"Ah, Serverus," cooed the evil wizard, "you were always a schemer. We will draw in some of the Order using this boy. They always did hate to see the innocent suffer."

Suffer, he can't mean…

"Lucius, you may have your fun for now," said Voldemort. "I will give him his punishment later. Come, Serverus. We must make a plan."

"Coming, sire," said Serverus as he rose and followed the dark wizard to the lighted door.

"Oh, and Lucius..."

"Yes, master?"

"Try not to kill him." Lucius just smirked and nodded his head as his master closed the door behind him and his followers as they left. The other Death Eaters began to go their separate ways as well, disappearing into the many doorways that littered the walls. Two remained to make sure Draco wasn't killed.

"Now, my son," said Lucius with venom in his words, "time to teach you that a Malfoy NEVER FAILS!!" He lifted his cane and brought it down right on top of Draco's right arm with all of his might. A sickening crack and an agonized yell resonated through the hall as Lucius' first swing broke Draco's right collar bone. Draco dropped to his knees in pain as he held his arm in an attempt to lessen the pain and weight placed on his injured body part.

I have to move, I can't just let him beat me like this. But if I do, it will only get worse!

Before he could react, another swing came crashing down on his back, throwing him forward onto the cold floor. He did not cry out this time, as he knew it amused his father when he did, and he was not going to give him the satisfaction of breaking him down. Luckily nothing was broken with that swing and the boy began to push himself up when yet another attack racked his body as a foot came in contact with his stomach, forcing him to loose his breath with a 'hmph.'

His father circled him as he gasped and fought to regain his breath. "Draco, Draco," he said in a calm voice, "I gave you everything you wanted and taught you everything I know, and yet you couldn't kill a feeble old man." He raised his cane again and Draco braced himself for more pain, but the pain did not come.

"Lucius stop!" cried a woman's voice. Draco could hear her run between his father and him, but he was unable to see who it was. He recognized the voice, but was unable to think from the lack of oxygen. "Lucius, he's your son. Why are you doing this to him?"

"Shut up, wench!" and then Draco heard the crack of skin hitting skin. Memories flew into his mind that had been unreachable a minute ago, but his breath had returned and he could now think clearly.

"Mum."

Draco heard another crack as he raised himself to his feet, pain shooting through his wand arm and ribs. Before his father could get a third shot off at his mother, Draco ran between them and pushed his father back. Protectiveness shone in his eyes while the fires of rage burned on in his father's. "Don't you dare touch my mother! I did what I could to finish the task, but I was unable to do it, not her. I don't want to be a Death Eater, but he threatened you and mum and that's why I did this." He was no longer afraid to face his father and his father seemed to be backing away. "I couldn't kill Dumbledore, that's true, but without me, they would have never gotten into the castle and Snape would have never been able to kill the old bat. Doesn't that count for anything?!"

Lucius looked at his son with pride once again in his eyes as he moved toward the boy. Narcissa still lay on the floor behind Draco. The white-haired man lifted his hand and placed it gently on his son's cheek. "My son…" he began.

Then Draco saw the fury return to his eyes as he lifted the cane and smacked it against his face. Narcissa let out a scream as the cane split in half from the force of the impact, sending Draco back to the floor. "…it will never be enough to only finish half!" He turned to the two Death Eaters who had remained in the hall and pointed to his wife. "Get her out of here!"

"No, my baby!" she yelled as Lucius drew his wand from the broken cane.

Draco tried to pull himself back up off the floor, but his head was still spinning from the last hit. He could feel a warm liquid running steadily from his mouth, and could see a blurry pool of red below his face. His face felt like it was on fire and his eyes could not focus. He heard his father unsheathe his wand and braced for what he knew was to come.

"Crucio!" Draco felt his entire body go completely cold before erupting into a fire of pain. Every bone, every muscle, every nerve in his body was screaming. He forced himself not to scream, he convinced himself that his mother was doing enough of that for the both of them. He bit his tongue to hold in the scream only to feel his mouth filling with the warm liquid from before. He thrashed and rolled on the ground in an attempt to stop the pain. It was too great for him to handle for much longer, but also too strong to allow him to float into the darkness of unconsciousness. His collar bone popped and rubbed from the thrashing, causing even more pain. He could no longer take it and let out a scream of agony that echoed through the hall and pushed the blood from his mouth. After what seemed like hours, which was really only minutes, the pain started to subside and he was free to gasp for breath after spitting more blood from his mouth to the floor. He coughed and moaned as the pain slowly subsided.

He could hear his mother screaming for him through one of the doors, but from which direction it was coming he could not tell. He heard footsteps coming toward him and eventually, a foot rolled him over onto his back, his father stood over him with an evil grin. "There, now we know better, don't we?"

Draco mustered up all of the strength he had left and launched blood filled spit onto his father's face. Lucius yelled in frustration before connecting his foot with Draco's broken ribs, sending him into the welcoming darkness.

He didn't know how long he had been out when he finally awoke on the cold floor of a stone cell. It was unbelievably cold, racking his body with shivers as it tried to keep itself warm. Draco moaned with every new shiver as it irritated his broken ribs and collar bone, sending pain through his body. His mouth tasted awful from the blood and he was hungry and thirsty. The room was dark, not even a candle to help his find out where he was, but due to the cold, he decided he wouldn't be surprised if a dementor was not keeping guard outside his cell.

He attempted to find his wand which he had stashed in the waistband of his dress pants before he left the castle with his left hand. His right was completely useless thanks to his father's cane, but his wand must have been taken to ensure he couldn't escape, or worse.

He suddenly found that he was not the only one in the cell. A soft whimpering could be heard in the silence that had been previously hidden by Draco's pain. "Who's there?" he asked, trying not to sound afraid.

"Draco?"

"Mum? What are you doing here?"

"I…I don't know. The guards put me in here after your father did those terrible things to you." Her voice strained with tears. "Draco, I'm so sorry. This should have never happened to you."

"But it did," he said, but he did not sound angry, he sounded tired, "and now we just have to deal with what is to happen." There was a long pause between the two, his mother's soft whimpers still penetrating the darkness. Finally, Draco broke the unwanted tension. "What is he going to do to me, mother?"

"I don't know, baby," she said, finally moving to her son's side. She searched the floor until she got a hold of the boys hand and just held it in her own, caressing his fingers in a motherly manner. "Don't worry, Draco. We'll get through this together, ok?" She couldn't see it through the darkness, but she knew by the sounds that her boy nodded his head.

Just then, the cell door opened and a bright light shone through it, momentarily blinding the two Malfoys. "Come on," they heard a husky voice say as he wrapped a strong hand around Narcissa's arm, "the Dark Lord wants to see you both."

Draco watched as his mother's silhouette was pulled from the room and two more men came to his side. They lifted him up with no heed toward his injuries and he let out a small grunt of pain, apparently to the men's amusement. He was dragged into the bright hallway and down many different corridors. Eventually, he lost his sense of where he was and how to get out if he should escape the cell, and the Death Eaters that held him pushed open a large wooden door, entering the stone hall he had passed out in.

All of the Death Eaters were present in their ceremonial robes, chanting some sort of ancient chant that sent chills down the young man's spine and made the hair on his neck stand on end. Voldemort stood directly in front of him, wearing dark red robes the color of newly spilt blood. Narcissa was kneeling at his feet and his father, wearing a similar colored robe and a skull mask the covered the left side of his face, was on his master's left side.

"Ah, young Draco," began Voldemort, "it's time to set the trap, but first, your punishment. You remember the details of your assignment, failure meant death to your family."

"Please, master," begged Draco as he hung in the Death Eaters' arms, the last word tasted like fire in his mouth, "I tried and the task was completed, it just wasn't by me. Please, leave my mother and father out of this."

Voldemort let out a small, sinister laugh. "I will not harm your father, for you see, he has disowned you and therefore, is not connected to this agreement." Draco was taken aback; his own father had disowned and abandoned him when he needed him the most. "All your mother has to do is follow suit and she will be free from punishment as well." Voldemort gave Draco and evil smile before turning his attention to the white haired woman. "Well?"

Please, mother, just do it. I will not blame you. Save yourself!

She looked back at her boy, his pleading eyes piercing through her, begging her to take the offer. She might have if his eyes were all she could see, but his body made her disgusted with the people she had associated herself with. His face was swollen where the cane had broken on his face and there was a sharp point threatening to break through the skin where his right collar bone had broken. His body was littered with small cuts and bruises from thrashing on the floor, and his white shirt was covered in dirt, his collar stained with his own blood. He looked even paler than normal from the loss of blood, and tired, so terribly tired. She made her decision.

"No," she said standing and looking straight into her master's eyes. "I will not abandon my son. You may see him as a coward for not killing that old git, but I am proud that my son will not sink to the level of murdering a defenseless man. Don't misunderstand me, I'm glad the old coot is dead, but I will not abandon my baby. I love my son and I would die for him!"

Another laugh escaped the wicked man. "Excellent, Avada Kedavra!"

"NO!" yelled Draco as he watched the green light strike his mother in the chest. She fell gracefully to the ground; the shine of her eyes disappeared and was replaced by glossless death. Draco found the strength to stand and tried to run to his mother, but was held back by the two Death Eaters by his wrists, his arms behind him.

He could feel his collarbone popping and scraping, but he didn't care, he needed to be by his mother. Voldemort walked up to him, smiling that evil laugh, and held Draco's chin in his hand. "Silly boy." The he looked up at the two guards holding him back and nodded.

Before Draco could react, he felt both of h is arms being twisted and a loud pop in each shoulder. They released him from their grips and allowed the yelling boy to fall to the floor in pain. His arms now useless due to his disconnected shoulders.

"Sorry if I am a little rusty at this," said Voldemort with another sickly amused laugh at the boy's pain, "it has been a while since I've punished someone myself." He used his wand to flip Draco onto his back and open the front of his long-sleeve, button up shirt. "Sectumsempra!"

Draco remembered this spell; Harry had used it on him! He felt the sensation of a cold, dull knife pushing into his pale flesh, but this one was different from the last time. When Harry used it, the cuts had been made simultaneously with a sharp object and were quick; this one made the cuts individually and did it agonizingly slow with a dull one. The cut started on his left cheek and slowly moved down his neck and chest. When it was just below his pectoral muscles, the cut turned diagonally across his abdomen, ending at the top of his hip.

Draco fought back the yells of agony, the tears of pain as the madman continued the same routine on his right side, purposely making a cut between the severed bones of his clavicle. Once this happened he could take it any more. He screamed and a sick smile spread across the serpent-man's face. By the time the second cut was finished, blood had started to run slowly from every cut. He had not gone as deep as Harry had, but these wounds were intended for torture, not death.

Draco gasped for air, ignoring the pain emanating from his mangled ribs. He found the eyes of his old professor and both a look of fake satisfaction and true grief shone in his eyes. The others looked the same way, none of them had ever seen a man so young be tortured so badly. The Dark lord let out another sinister laugh before throwing the young man against one of the stone walls, the impact on his back causing him to have the wind knocked out of him.

"Oh, Draco," cooed Voldemort as he approached the gasping boy, "I had always thought that you had so much potential, but now look at you. You're lying on the floor, bloody and broken, and nothing more to me than bait." He backed up again and Draco readied for what he was to come. He just hoped it didn't hurt as much the second time. "Crucio!"

He was wrong. The pain did not lessen, only increase since his first time. As he thrashed on the ground, his broken bones rubbed and his cuts were pulled causing them to bleed more and increase in size. But, once again, he refused to cry out and give them the satisfaction of his pain. He held his breath and clenched his muscles in an attempt to control his wild thrashings, but only caused more pain to his broken body. He could hear his master laughing like a giddy school boy as Draco thrashed and took short breaths. "Come now, Draco, cry out for me."

No, he wouldn't do it, but the pain was so great he didn't know how much longer he could last. "Do it!" yelled Voldemort as he flicked his wand. The pain in Draco's body increased and he could not longer take it. He screamed in agony and all the Death Eaters, minus his father, flinched at the pained sound. Each of them saw their own son or daughter in this boy and had no idea how the demon beside their master could stand it.

After several minutes of the Cruciatus Curse, Voldemort ordered the Death Eaters to heal the cuts, but not all the way, and bring the boy back to his cell. He turned and began to walk back toward the door he had seen him go to the first time, Draco's father and Serverus at his heels when he stopped and turned back to the boy. "By the way, happy birthday, Draco."

Let me know what you think. I figured it could be Draco's birthday since the HP timeline said he killed him in early June and his birthday is June 5. Yay for being a fangirl.