Into The Long Dark

DISCLAIMER: The world of Harry Potter, its characters and settings are the copyrighted works of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., her publishing companies and affiliates. No profit was made from the writing of this story nor was any malice intended in any way, shape or form to the author or the actors/actresses who so brilliantly have brought them to life.

A/N: The events in this fic take place immediately after those in Book 6. There are more than a few vampires in it. And werewolves. It looks like it will end up being quite lengthy. There will be a few Original Characters. And quite a bit of OOC-ness. And most likely a character death or two. The pairings will change a bit in the course of the story. There is a bit of humour, but for the most part it is a Dark Fic. This is my first attempt at writing something. I hope you will find it enjoyable. Thanks for reading. Peace! --- Wolfiekins

Thanks to my Beta, Evil Auntie Snape, and Alisanne at Cipher!

Saturday, 9 August 1997


~~~~~ONE~~~~~~~~~\"CHAINED\"~~~~~~~~~~~~~


\"Bloody Hell!\"

Draco had yelled so much recently, his latest effort was disappointingly hoarse. Probably a Silencing Charm had been cast, anyway.

Fucking Bloody Hell, he thought. How could I have let this happen?

Draco\'s mind was swirling with so many thoughts that he sometimes forgot how the rusty shackles were beginning to cut into the skin of his wrists. His arms were pulled far over his head, it was difficult to keep his feet balanced on the floor.

Whomever did this will pay, and pay VERY dearly, he thought defiantly, as another sharp spear of pain coursed though him.

One of his aching legs had given way again, causing the manacle on his right wrist to dig eagerly into his already bruised flesh; Draco could feel the first drips of blood begin to travel down his arm and stain his sleeve. For the first time, panic began to take the place of anger and outrage.

Where the hell was Snape? Or any of the others? Why hadn\'t they found him yet? Bloody Fools!

Not enjoying that avenue of thought, Draco once again surveyed his \'jail\'.

There was no other word for it. Clearly, it was a cell of some sort. The wall opposite him was open to what appeared to be a basement, visible through the rusty iron bars. The lock on the door appeared to be very old, but most likely it was charmed to prevent any prisoner from attempting to open it. The walls were old brick, and a barred window was set high into the wall to Draco\'s right. Through the dirty glass, weak gray light filtered into the cell. He could see another window along the same wall, outside of the cell; they were the only source of light. He thought he could hear the very faint sound of Muggle traffic beyond them.

The manacles and chains that held him were very old, rusted, and attached to other hooks and pulleys that hung from the wall behind and the ceiling above. Looking to the wall on his left, he could see huge, deep scratches in the brick. The rents in the wall looked as if some mad animal had tried to claw its way out.

Great, just like the dungeon at Malfoy Manor, he thought with an involuntary shudder. Draco knew what went on in these rooms; he just never imagined that he would find himself in one.

The floor was covered in layers of dirt and dust, with remnants of molded straw mixed with what looked like dried blood. There was a partially covered drain in the centre of the floor, from which an assortment of insects scuttled to and fro. In the darkness beyond the second window, Draco could make out what looked like a staircase, and a few doorways on the wall farthest from him. He could also make out assorted crates and other debris. Wherever this place was, it hadn\'t been used for a long while.

\"Dammit!\" he wailed, as once again his legs buckled, both manacles greedily cutting into him, and Draco could now feel the blood seeping down both of his arms.

How long had he been here? It couldn\'t have been very long, but it seemed like days, Draco recalled the events of last evening clearly enough. He had had another pre-arranged meeting with Snape and the others. He had made his usual detour on the way. And why not? he thought, I don\'t have anything to be afraid of. After a few weeks cooped up with Pettigrew and Snape in that hovel of his, he deserved an escape now and then.

Who the hell was following me? he thought for what seemed the millionth time. He had been hit with a spell from behind, and had awakened to find himself chained to the wall.

Snape would know by now that he was missing, surely they were all looking for him. After all, he was now a Death Eater, he bore the Dark Mark, and perhaps even the Dark Lord himself was assisting in rescuing him. That thought gave Draco some comfort.

I\'ve been of great service to Him so far. He will make sure I\'m found!

\"Let me out of here!\" he croaked, again shocked at how weak his voice had become. Even though his arms had gone numb some time ago, his shoulders were on fire, and it felt as if his legs were made of stone.

Panic began to take over more of the stage, as a new worry entered Draco\'s mind. What if they don\'t know I\'m missing? What if it was a trap? Maybe there was no meeting? This new thought fanned the flames of Draco\'s anger anew, pushing the panic aside once again.

\"You\'ll pay for this! The Dark Lord Himself will avenge me! You\'ll see!\' Again, his hoarse croaks were met with silence.

Draco was absently thinking about whether his Father was likewise chained in Azkaban, when he heard the muffled sound of a door creaking open. Peering into the dankness, he could make out a feeble sliver of light from the top of the staircase, the stairs faced away from him, and Draco could see two feet appear on the topmost step.


The feet, while large, came down one step at a time, as a child would. Draco could barely make out the silhouette of some small person, maybe a goblin? No, not a goblin... then he saw the bat-like ears, and knew it was a House Elf.

As it shambled slowly down the stairs, Draco could make out that the elf was muttering something. As Draco strained to hear, his legs again slipped out from under him, causing another howl of pain.

Merlin\'s Beard, someone will pay for this! he thought, and in another moment, once his breath stopped hitching in his chest, Draco saw that the elf had stopped several feet from the cell\'s bars and was standing there, giggling at him.

\"Ah, yes, another dirty little brat for Kreacher to deal with. Yes,\" the elf grumbled between giggles. \"Kreacher will tell Master what new dirty little brat has been saying. Yes!\"

Draco could make out Kreacher\'s stooped little form in the darkness as he shuddered and giggled. Tthe faint light caught the elf\'s huge eyes, making them glow a sickly yellow. Draco\'s mind wrestled with the elf\'s name. Kreacher? Kreacher? He had heard that name recently, something he had overheard his Mother telling someone; What was It? WHAT!?!

Damn it all to Bloody Hell! He couldn\'t think straight! Another wave of pain spilled over him, snapping Draco back to reality.

Kreacher was shambling away, muttering and giggling all the while.

\"You, Elf! Kreacher! Come here! Let me out! I order you, LET ME OUT!\" Draco had intended to sound authoritative, but the demand came out as little more than a strangled wheeze.


Without stopping or turning, the elf wobbled dangerously away from Draco as a violent giggling fit engulfed him.

\"Oh, No! Kreacher cannot listen to dirty little Malfoy Brat!\" ~giggle~ \"Must listen to Master!\" ~giggle~ \"Must listen now to dirty little Brat Master!\" ~giggle~ \"Oh Yes, Kreacher must listen!\"

The elf didn\'t stop shuffling away the whole while. Kreacher then opened one of the many doors on the opposite wall, and went inside.

Draco could hear the muffled voice of the elf muttering, giggling and at times laughing hysterically, coupled with the sound of shifting boxes punctuated by the occasional breaking of glass. After a time, the elf emerged carrying a bundle and shut the door, the huge yellow eyes flashed once more at Draco in the darkness, and then Kreacher climbed the stairs, muttering and giggling the entire way. The weak sliver of light disappeared with a creak, and Draco was once again alone.

Nothing but silence filled the basement. Large motes of dust hung lazily in the weak streams of light from the windows. A large spider glided down on a strand of web and hung in the light also, as if savoring it. Draco studied all these things intently for what seemed like hours. Soon the light began fade. The spider continued its downward glide to the filthy floor, disappearing into the shadows. A few fat roaches had begun to lethargically crawl up his trousers. Draco examined them with deep scrutiny, as if he had never seen their like before.

As the weak light dissolved, so did Draco\'s remaining strength. He could no longer feel his shoulders, and his legs were numb. The sharp, rusty cuffs were digging deeper into his skin, but Draco didn\'t seem to care. Where did that spider get to?


What\'s happening? he thought. I\'m losing it! Should stay awake! he told himself, but his abused body had other intentions. Looking down at the roaches once more, they doubled and blurred as Draco\'s eyelids sought to seal themselves shut. Giving in, he let the eyelids have their way. A little rest will help.....


And the sun was directly in his face as he reached for the Snitch; his fingertips grazed the wildly fluttering wings of his prize, but it defiantly eluded his grasp. The Snitch dove down and to the right, and Draco easily matched the maneuver, his Nimbus 2001 responding instantly and perfectly to his guiding touch. The warm wind roared in his ears, his eyes stinging as he urged his broom faster, matching the Snitch\'s every move. The cheering of the crowd echoed and vibrated though the Pitch. No one but Draco was anywhere near the Snitch. A few more seconds, and it would be his, and Slytherin would have the Quidditch Cup! A few more quick motions, and the Snitch was dead ahead. Draco reached out, and could feel the Snitch\'s wings with his fingers! A miniscule nudge coaxed his broom still faster...almost....just a bit more...yes...YES! And Draco\'s hand closed around the Snitch! He had it! Slytherin had won! The Snitch was vibrating in his hand. Draco slowed his broom down to wait for the others. The Snitch kept fluttering in his closed hand, faster and faster; it began to feel hot! The heat of it began to become unbearable, even through Draco\'s thick leather Quidditch glove. Opening his fist, Draco saw not the Snitch, but a small green skull, burning hot, with malevolent eyes. It was searing his flesh, but Draco couldn\'t drop it. The Skull glowed brighter and hotter, causing his leather glove to ignite; Draco tried to swat the Skull away with his other hand, but it had begun to ROLL UP HIS ARM, SEARING THE SKIN THROUGH HIS ROBES! Flailing madly at the burning Skull, it rolled onto his chest and began searing into the flesh and bone there, burning into him. Screaming in pain and fear, Draco lost his grip on his broom, and tumbled toward the ground, the grass of the pitch yawning wide to receive him in his misery, screaming at....

...the top of his lungs. Pain filled Draco\'s mind, as the agony of the dream merged neatly into that of his waking state. Blood had trailed through his shirt and was seeping into his waistband. He could no longer feel his arms or legs, though his shoulders and chest were again ablaze, new entries in the glossary of Pain. With a horrific shudder, Draco realized that his bladder had also betrayed him, as blood was not the only fluid soaking the fabric of his trousers.

Draco then became aware that torches had been lit in the basement. His head lolling heavily against his aching left shoulder, Draco could just see the window in his cell. Night had fallen, and nothing but blackness lay behind the filthy panes. Summoning all his strength, he slowly lifted his head and began to take in the figure standing just on the other side of the rusty bars.

Large black boots, faded muggle jeans, a studded belt with a skull buckle, a wand sticking out of the front pocket, a white t-shirt with some sort of printing on it, and then, the smiling face. Eye glasses, intense green eyes, the dark hair, the scar...

Him!

\"Potter,\" Draco croaked weakly.

\"Hello, Malfoy.\"

\"CRUCIO!\"



A/N: Any reviews or comments would be greatly appreciated!