Change My World

Unlike Draco, Theodore Nott didn\'t find the Dark Lord\'s practices of allowing his followers to be dragged off to Azkaban to be horrific in the least. In fact, he\'d thought it was quite justified in spite of the fact that the policy took his father, his only visible means of support, from him. But the Death Eaters quickly made arrangements for the orphaned boy because unlike Malfoy with his apparent disdain, Nott had shown nothing but willingness and interest in joining the ranks as soon as he could.

When Draco spoke of his old friend Nott to Harry in the library, he had glossed over quite a bit when he said they had gone their separate ways. The weedy boy had always been somewhat difficult for Draco to play nicely with. He was every inch the misanthrope that Draco had labeled him to Goyle as. In other words, he would make for a perfect Death Eater.

Nott had led the charge to attack Draco and had been one of those temporarily blinded. Sadly for him, that was the first and last time he\'d really managed to rally the House. He simply didn\'t have the natural charisma that Draco had, and he certainly didn\'t have the reputation of ruthlessness that Draco had cultivated to back it up. It wasn\'t just dark arts that commanded followers unless you had the absolute power that Voldemort did. You had to have the cunning ability to make people believe that doing your bidding was their idea. Draco had that ability in spades.

What galled Nott more than his inability to direct Slytherin House, which he had been instructed to do by order of the Dark Lord in order to earn his Mark, was that Malfoy was parading around like a celebrity. Isolation for other boys might have been traumatizing and painful. But Draco knew how to spin it. He lorded his private room over other students and when they looked the least bit ornery, he\'d invoke the power of his Prefect\'s badge and dock points.

One of the few times Draco was shuffled off by some students who were ready to wreak some havoc on his fun, Harry happened around the corner and things were broken up rather quickly. All in all, Draco traversed the school with impunity and on nights he wasn\'t chatting with Snape, Harry visited him for a shag and bonding. He was living like a rock star and he recklessly mentioned it whenever he had the chance.

So, when Nott received the message that Voldemort wished him to allow Lucius Malfoy into the castle, he was more than willing to do his duty. Nott led Lucius through one of the many secret underground passageways that led into the Slytherin dorms in order to rid the world of the irritating blood-traitor. While Draco had somewhat protected his childhood friend from suspicion twice, Nott did not feel honor bound to return the favor and had let the elder Malfoy in confident he could get the job done.

--

Lucius hadn\'t really noticed the blond hair or much about the figure leaving the room. He merely took the opportunity to place his foot in the door to stop its closing and possible latching. If he\'d realized whom it was heading down the corridor unawares, he could have easily had his shot at Potter\'s back with no retaliation. Instead he found himself in a rather small and dim room looking at the sleeping form of his only child.

For a moment he simply stood there in shock, not sure what he should do. Should he chase after what had to be Potter? His jaw tensed and flexed as he weighed his options, feeling repulsed at the idea that his son was cavorting with his enemy. He could still smell sex in the air, and was disgusted to observe that his son hadn\'t bothered to clean or clothe himself after his shameful copulation.

He closed his eyes and shook his head as his emaciated hand pushed into his cloak to pull out his wand. Lucius\'s hand shook in spite of himself. Raising his wand to his only child, his own flesh and blood was harder than it seemed on paper. Even for a Death Eater. Taking a step forward, he reminded himself that this was necessary. If he didn\'t do it, someone else would. At least he could be merciful, even if the disappointing boy didn\'t necessarily deserve mercy after his actions.

There was no time to waste, a distant part of Lucius\'s brain reminded him. He tried not to think of the his son as a toddler, his head a mass of ringlet curls, who would refuse to wear anything but his diaper and mysteriously a silk scarf in the summer. The endearing way his son would bring him flowers he yanked from the garden, in a gesture he\'d early on learned that his mother enjoyed, when Lucius was upset with the Ministry. No, it was no use thinking about these things. There was work to be done. Sadly, Lucius began the stream of words that formed the incantation to break the sanctuary spell. Could he do this? Could he kill his son? Perhaps he could talk him into killing Harry with him. Redeem himself to the Dark Lord.

The sound of murmured words awoke Draco from what had otherwise been a fairly dull dream. His first thought upon awaking was that Harry was not there. His hand flopped and groped over the sheets as if he needed some sort of tactile confirmation that he was now alone in the bed. The second thought was that the voice he heard behind him didn\'t belong to his lover. It was his father\'s voice. \"Father?\" he asked dumbly, not having all of his wits about him on first awakening.

\"Draco,\" responded his father as he stepped into the wavering light of the single candle left lit in the room. The boy looked curiously up at his father for a few bewildering moments, wondering how he had gotten there and where Harry was. Was Harry dead? Had he been called away? Why was he here alone? Well, not exactly alone, was he? He was in the room with his father. Although he was more anxious for Harry\'s welfare than expecting that the boy should be there to protect him. Protect him. Draco had to be protected from his own father. The idea of it made him feel strangely ill as he gazed blearily up at the older man.

\"I had rather expected that I would come upon Mr. Potter in here, but it was you I would rather meet with anyhow. My, my Draco, not only a queer but taking up with a half blood. Tell me, do you love him?\" asked Lucius, edgy for having to ask such a thing. His only son, his heir, the future of Malfoy was a queer. It shamed him; it was almost as vexing as the idea of love in the first place. Still, Draco was a sly boy. Perhaps he could see past this little wrinkle to spare his own life.

Draco perked a brow as his glare remained steady. He would not dignify that with an answer. Would he have gone this far if he didn\'t love Harry? He knew what his father was getting at. This conversation seemed almost inevitable. He was headed to an ultimatum. Why else would he still be alive if his father truly intended to kill him? But Draco kill Harry? No, that wasn\'t happening. He\'d die first. His jaw clenched and flexed as he peripherally tried to sort out where his wand was.

\"I see. And you clearly gave no thought to how your mother and I would fare by your decision,\" Lucius spat. \"Or even what jeopardy it would put your own life into?\"

Carefully, Draco started to sit up on the bed, still not saying a word. He was clocking the man, watching him carefully. Shifting his weight as he propped his lithe frame against his left hand, he looked down for a moment to check that his sheets were covering him adequately; taking the moment to see that his wand was, indeed, on the nightstand. Quicksilver eyes fled up to meet his father\'s without registering his new awareness.

\"Such a shame. I had high hopes for you. I was working to make this world a better place for you and your children and this... this is how you repay me. Silent indignation. Tell me, will you die for your Potter? Will you suffer a torturous end still faithful to him? When I hurt you, will his name be the one you cry out for? When you die, will his name be as sweet on your lips? Draco, it is...this feeling, it is just an illusion. He holds no true bonds to you. He is not your blood. He\'s even left you here,\" Lucius pointed out, enjoying the expression of uncertainty he saw flit across the youthful face before him. \"Yes, he left of his own free will. I stepped in as he carelessly walked out of the room, heading who knows where? To another lover, perhaps?\"

This was cruel, beyond cruel, but not completely unanticipated. Lucius was a ruthless man who would use any means necessary. Draco wished that his father would get on with killing him rather than having to sit there with his self-doubt displayed under scrutiny. Immediately the man had found the smallest insecurity in him and had exploited it. The adolescent started to falter and look around the room uncertainly. \"Where did he go?\" he asked uselessly. He wondered for a moment if he could fake a dramatic wail and grab for his wand. To find out where Harry was, Draco was going to have to live through this. He couldn\'t think about where his lover was right now, he just tried to comfort himself with the belief that Harry wouldn\'t leave capriciously. Still, it gnawed at him. Finally he elected to just flop against the pillow again, hoping his father would make a mistake closing in on what he believed was weak prey. Then perhaps he could retrieve his wand? He didn\'t know. All he did know was that given where his father was, he was already at a severe disadvantage. Drawing him closer might change that. It was a big risk, but Draco had nothing to lose.

--

The walk down to the dungeons seemed surprisingly short to Harry. As he walked down, he ran through several different scenarios in his head. None of them seemed to entail Snape truly believing that the bespectacled now-blond boy was actually Malfoy. He rolled his eyes at himself for the stupid disguise and wasted time. Excusing himself that he hadn\'t been in his right mind when he chose to do that, he turned the final corner and saw the light under the door. Snape was in. Pumping his fist as he rehearsed yet another internal dialogue rife with righteous indignation, he found himself in front of the door.

After a moment of consideration, he decided to throw down the hood and he slammed the flats of his palms onto the door and thrust the heavy wood with a deafening wail of overburdened hinges. \"Where are you, Snape?\" he shouted out to the echoing room as if he were an American cowboy calling out a villain for the final duel.

Snape was still hunched over his desk, dealing with the pain of the Cruciatus curse. The red ink had spilled over the desk, drenching the papers as well as Snape\'s face and hands, which made the professor appear in more dire straits than he was. Though by no stretch of the imagination was he comfortable. His head was pounding, his teeth felt jarred. Everything in his body still ached. He wasn\'t positive, but he thought maybe even his hair hurt. However, it would have all been worth it if the blond who had just entered his classroom had been Draco. Alas, though it took a few floundering seconds to pry his sodden jowl off of the desk to match the voice with the untidy platinum hair, that was unmistakably Harry Potter and not his protègè. \"Potter? What are you doing here?\" questioned Snape, his voice husky with distress.

\"Surprised to see me, hm? I thought you might be. Leave Dra- What in the-what happened?\" shrieked Harry as he quickly closed the distance between him to help the man. Harry was a lot of things, but first and foremost, he was a Gryffindor, and he wasn\'t indifferent to other people\'s pain. Particularly when it looked as if Snape was bleeding from every pore in his face. \"What happened here?\" he tried again, his shock managed to end the weak glamour on his hair, turning it back to black, although he was still in Slytherin colors, much to Snape\'s minor annoyance.

\"Where is he?\" snapped Snape as he found some inner strength he didn\'t know he had. The sudden rush of adrenaline gave him enough strength to push himself up off of the desk to sit back in his chair. Harry rushed off to grab a rag and came back and tried to offer it to Snape, having no idea of the urgency of time in this situation. \"Stop it, Potter, it\'s ink,\" he grunted, \"Where is Draco?\"

\"In his room asleep, still under the delusion that you\'re not a creepy pederast. What are you playing at with this, Snape? What is this?\" Harry hissed as he indicated the ink and Snape\'s shattered condition, gesturing with the rag crossly. \"A little hurt and comfort? Play injured and then see if Draco would love you? That\'s pathetic, even for you!\"

\"Asleep? Alone? In his room?\"

\"Yes, he\'s in his room safe and sound from the likes of you! He thinks of you as a father, do you know how disgusting your proposition would be to him?\" chided Harry, looking triumphant at the look of panic on Snape\'s face. \"That\'s right. A father!\"

\"His father--\" intoned Snape, trying desperately to inform Harry about Lucius being in the castle.

\"Yes, his father, he thinks of you as his father!\" Harry interrupted as if Snape were being intentionally obtuse on this point.

\"His father is headed for his-\" Snape broke off.

\"What?\" asked Harry as his eyes cast over the man\'s visage. It was slowly dawning on Potter that there might be something other than pedophiles at play here.

\"His father... Lucius Malfoy is here... and he\'s headed for...\" panted Snape in his terror.

\"HIS ROOM?\" shouted Harry.

\"Well, he... I...\"

\"YOU SENT HIS FATHER TO HIS ROOM? YOU TOLD HIS FATHER HOW TO FIND HIM?\" screeched the Gryffindor.

Snape nodded tersely.

\"YOU... YOU... THERE ARE NO... WHY?\" shrieked Harry. Holding his hand out with his index finger up, he mouthed wordlessly for a moment as if he were vowing a painfully deadly end to the man in black, but there were no words, as there was no time. Realizing this, Harry turned quickly to tear back out the door.

--

Lucius made his way across the room and sat down warily on the bed. He knew his son too well. He almost felt guilty at how easy it had been to cast doubt about his lover. But that was the nature and fragility of love. Perhaps Potter had cheated on him before. Lucius didn\'t know, nor did he care at the moment. Love made you weak, and this display was the proof of it. He pulled the sheet up over the porcelain arc of his son\'s limber back and then patted at his covered shoulder blade. \"Take heart, Draco. The boy... is likely rather capricious. He was raised by Muggles, after all,\" he said, trying to soothe what he interpreted as a weak and wrecked heart. \"But this is the nature of love, son. Why I have warned you from it. It is an emotion that cannot be trusted any more than a frivolous boy can be trusted. It is tragic that you became so wound up in this. Likely it is the folly of youth. There is, however, a way that you can possibly redeem yourself within the circle and avenge your aching heart,\" he drawled.

Lying there with his eyes closed, Draco clenched his teeth in irritation against his father\'s words and touch. His anger brewed and grew at his each syllable. So much of his life had been spent under the delusion that his father loved him. Oh, he knew what his father said about love, but up until this point he had believed it only applied to other people. Draco had always believed that his father loved him. Now he knew that all his father regarded him as was an heir. Draco was his blood, and that was all that bound them.

A bind of blood was just that, a genetic and physical tie. Without the emotion of love, those you were genetically derived from meant nothing but a name on a birth record and a legal obligation to raise, if that. To be a father, you had to feel love. By Lucius\'s own admission, he did not feel such a thing. Or if he did, he considered it weakness and repressed it. The shock of the truth about his father\'s feelings towards the youth steeled him to what he would have to do. His heart was, indeed, broken and it would be avenged. He would not be killing the boy who loved him, and his father would not be doing it either. If he were going to end this with his father, he\'d have to play along, he realized. \"How?\" his muffled whimper sounded from the pillow.

\"When he comes back, Draco, end him. If you end him, then you will have proved yourself to the Lord. He will no doubt be pleased and lift his orders for you to be killed,\" purred the older man, stroking up and down his son\'s back. \"Remember what I taught you about love, Draco. Remember the dove? That lesson strengthened you, didn\'t it boy? This will as well.\"

\"I do, Father, I remember the dove,\" whispered Draco as he slowly started to push himself up, swirling the sheet modestly around himself. He remembered it all to well, and the lesson that came with it. \"Sometimes,\" rationalized Draco as he turned to sit cross-legged on the bed, turned towards his elder. Though his anger towards his father blazed deep within him, he still ached to look at the older man. He loved his father. He\'d grown up admiring him, wanting to be strong like him. Now he knew that the admiration wasn\'t mutual, it never had been. Further, now that Draco had found someone he did love, this man was threatening to take it away. To Draco, the path was clear. Not knowing of the prophecy, as far as the youth was concerned, his father may well kill his lover. Draco\'s eyes hardened with an eerie determination. \"Things that are too sick and dirty to live, must be put down even if we love them with every fiber of our beings, because in that case, love is weakness,\" somberly said Draco.

\"Then you understand what must be done and why. You are going to kill?\" asked Lucius, his cold eyes scanned over the boy. He did care for the boy as far as he really could. Of course, even if Draco did kill Harry, should the Lord require Draco\'s blood, Lucius would take it in a heartbeat. He was still young enough to start with a new heir, he reasoned. No real purpose to fall on the sword for this boy, sweet boyhood memories notwithstanding. Another toddler would likely be just as sweet. Perhaps he could start its teaching sooner. Narcissa did rather poison this boy with useless sentimentality.

\"I will kill Father, yes,\" murmured Draco as he reached out his long, pale arms and wrapped them around his father\'s neck, pulling his body closer to the man by unfolding his legs and standing on his knees on the bed. He held his father tightly and in response, his father turned his torso and hugged his son back.

\"I\'m proud of you, son, you have learned the folly of loving something so useless,\" stated Lucius, feeling hope that this boy could redeem himself. Should the plan work as he hoped and the Lord allowed the boy to live, he would be that much stronger having made this sacrifice. Draco would be a far more worthy Malfoy heir: strong, proud, and cold-blooded.

\"I have,\" whispered Draco as he moved back to kiss his father\'s cheek softly. His hands cupped his father\'s face as he looked into his father\'s grey eyes. \"I love you, Father,\" he whispered to him and then, with a sudden and hard clenching of his biceps and a lurching motion with his wrists to lag his father\'s head forward and to the side, he heard a louder, but similar sickening crack of a neck breaking.

When Lucius Malfoy\'s life ended, the hole he had magically punched in the Sanctuary spell ended. Draco\'s actions were assessed as threatening and he was thrown back violently. The spell caught the Slytherin at the abdomen, shoving him bent double against the frame of the headboard, bruising his lower back, making him shriek. His left arm lurched back wildly, catching the post of the bed at the forearm, which resulted in the bone shattering, eliciting another scream. That vociferation was cut off by the hard thud of the back of his head smashing against the wall. The final blow broke open the skin on the back of his head and knocked Draco mercifully unconscious.

On the wall was an odd spray of blood from the blow that smeared from the tendrils of Draco\'s flaxen hair dragging over it as he bounced from the point of impact back down onto the bed. He landed back down on the mattress, arms and legs askew with his forearm twisted at a queer angle. His hair covered over his otherwise peaceful face as the oozing blood trickled down the strands of his hair and soaked the sheets. Lucius\'s body had lifelessly lagged forward and slid down face-first onto the floor. He was sprawled out head towards the door, still holding his wand uselessly as his platinum hair splayed out over the stone floor. Though it broke his nose to land like that, his stilled blood did not flow as freely and left only a small puddle just under his face.

--

The trip down had seemed rather short, but in Harry\'s panic, getting back up to Draco\'s room was stretching to an eternity. Each step further filled him with dread for what he was going to walk in on. Would Lucius have killed Draco? Stolen him away? He tried desperately not to think of Draco\'s despair in waking to not only find Harry absent but his murderous father standing there as well. How could he have been so careless? Thoughtless? No, he knew why. He had a reason and that reason\'s name was Severus Snape. What further irked him was that that reason was paced only a few yards behind him. \"Coming... to see... what your... lecherous... behavior... has... wrought?\" Harry panted out as he desperately turned the last corner.

Snape would\'ve responded but he was too horribly winded. Keeping pace with a boy less than half his age was hard enough on a good day. However today he was lucky he could walk, let alone run. He speculated that it must have been adrenaline that kept him going. Adrenaline from his fear and concern and his immense guilt for his part in what was to come.

Then they both heard it. Two horrid screams of pain, the second of which was frightfully cut off. The sound stilled Snape, but inspired Harry to an anxious burst of speed to the room. Uttering the incantation in a shrill vocalization to get himself inside, he threw open the door. First he saw Lucius\'s limp body flattened against the stone floor, but what stopped his heart was Draco\'s body tangled strangely in the bloodstained sheets. At the base of his spine was a blossoming red mark that was slowly purpling. However, more alarming than that was the matted mass of now bright red hair from Draco\'s head injury. The blood flowed quickly and trickled down the back of his neck and over his fretless features.

\"No!\" panted Harry as he hopped over Lucius figuring that if the man wasn\'t already dead; Harry would see to it that he shrugged off this plane of existence shortly. Given the crooked angle of his head, however, Harry doubted he\'d have to deal with him. \"Draco?\" Harry tried.

His tentative hands had barely reached his lover\'s skin when he heard a sharp, \"Don\'t move him!\" Snape stood in the doorway gripping the frame with one arm, gasping for air frantically, looking markedly more pallid than usual. Snape\'s arm was extended in a gesture meant to stop Harry from doing anything stupid or dramatic that might further injure Draco.

\"Go AWAY! Haven\'t you done enough?\" spat Harry as he heatedly turned his back on the older man. Catching a glimpse of the way Draco\'s forearm curved, he bit his lip and noted the break. His outstretched hand moved out to gently touch the boy\'s back, relieved to find it warm. \"I\'m sorry,\" he apologized to the unconscious boy, fighting back the tears of worry.

In spite of Harry\'s words, Snape had stepped into the room, brushing past Harry, and pressed two fingers to the side of Draco\'s neck. \"He\'s alive, his pulse is strong,\" he said with unmitigated relief.

\"I have sent for Madam Pomfrey,\" said an aged voice from the door that caused Harry and Snape to jump and whip their heads around hastily. Dumbledore gave them both a stern look over his wire-framed glasses. \"When she gets here, I expect someone will explain to me why I have a dead Death Eater and an injured student in a Fidelius-protected room?\"