Dark Times for Draco Malfoy

A week passed, and Draco decided to head into Hogsmeade at noon. He had no particular reason to go, other than to hang out and get some time off from Hogwarts. The castle had only so much to offer. Walking into Hogsmeade, Draco wanted to do one thing for himself: He'd buy himself a butterbeer. A part from that, he would be saving his money. It felt good to wander down Diagon Alley, to just be a part of the crowd and to look at the bustle going on around him. He window-shopped, something which was new to him. Desiring a thing was now something completely else than actually going inside and buying it.
Tomorrow was Sunday, and the Gryffindor team and the Slytherin team was running a test match. Draco wanted to see it. He'd bring a sandwich and some hot chocolate. It was something to look forward to. One of those little things which helped improve his dreary days while he waited for the Great Insanity, as Draco had nicknamed it. Shock had long since passed. Shock of knowing that he would be driven mad by the eudaimon, and that madness would drive him to suicide. The thought had settled in his head and nestled there. On good days, Draco had inner peace with himself, with a vivid understanding of the woolly reasons why he had been pointed out as the eudaimon's victim. It didn't matter any more. What he had done and why he had done it; Be it Draco's sins or Lucius' sins - it did not matter - for what remained now was only death. And it could come any day.

Draco tried not to think of the things he'd never have. A wife. Children. A nice job. Lots of money. Esteem and honour. Lots of friends. Lots of privileges. He'd miss having a girlfriend/soon-to-be wife, the most. It always saddened him to think about that particular thing. Forming an attachment now, was futile. But when was it going to come, actually? The insanity? The first signs that he was going mad? Maybe they were already there, he just couldn't see it? He decided he'd pop into Weasleys Wizarding Wheeses in order to distract himself. Fun was the order of the day. He seriously hoped they wouldn't mind, Fred and George. They'd never get along at Hogwarts, in fact, Fred and George had beaten him up a couple of times. If he was spotted in the shop, Draco hoped they'd ask him to leave nicely. Spotting the red-heads wasn't difficult. They wore something akin to business suits and they were busy talking to customers who looked like they were officials from the Ministry. But a second later, he saw one of the twins spotting him. Draco couldn't read his face, so instead he kept moving about, looking at stuff and watching the other customers try out some of the goods. Despite the restrictions concerning pupils to go to Hogsmeade at such dangerous times, there were many students hanging about in Weasleys Wizarding Wheeses. When they saw him, they stuck their heads together and whispered, stealing glances in his direction. It made him uncomfortable, and it was just the reason why he'd decided to go into Hogsmeade in the first place. Draco span on his heel and left. He couldn't stand the whispers nad the looks they kept stabbing him with. It was a killer every time.

Outside, he wandered down the street before turning left at an intersection. He headed to the Three broomsticks. Snowflakes sifted down to nestle in his white-blond hair as he walked. Entering the inn, he brushed the snow from his dark woollen jacket, and browsed for a vacant table. There was the Golden Trio, which he had nick-named Hermione, Ron and Harry. Always together. Sometimes Ginny hung around as well. She had grown into such a pretty girl, but she was a too much of a bean-stalk for him, and she was incredibly tall. No, the right girl would have to have some curves, some character and a bosom to match. Ginny was flatter than a pancake. She was nice though, but like Hermione, she put up an offencive wall whenever he came to close. Getting himself a butter-beer from the bar, Draco trudged over to a vacant table as far from the Gryffindors as he could. Glancing up, he saw Katie Bell giggling next to Pansy Parkinson and some Hufflepuff girl. Pansy turned her head and shot Draco a venomous glance. Not returning it, Draco peered down at his warped reflection in the butterbeer. Taking a sip, he felt the sweet-tasting liquid caress his tongue. He rubbed his face in his right palm before he took the beer and leaned back, surveying the room. He could see Harry turning to glance at him. Ron wasn't looking too happy about Draco's presence and Hermione, well, she was talking away like Ron as listening. Then she hit him promptly in the shoulder to get his attention. Draco suddenly saw it. Not far, with their limbs entangled, Ginny and some bloke from Hogwarts were snogging. An ugly bloke, by the looks of it. Draco rolled his eyes at them. He saw Professor Slughorn walk by Draco's table, and the professor nodded somewhat sympathetically in his direction as he swivelled by, homing in on the Gryffindors. Harry Potter had been his favourite from the start, Draco knew. Whatever. Draco didn't like the new Potions professor. He missed Snape. Hermione's giggle woke him from his reverie. Her cheeks were getting flushed and her eyes narrow. Hermione never giggled, but Draco guessed it was butterbeer. It had a very low alcohol percentage which made it acceptable for students. Never the less, Hermione seemed slightly tipsy. He watched her get up on her now wobbly feet. Draco stared in disbelief at her as she fixed her gaze on him and attempted to make it over to his table. Whatever would she want with him? Draco was mortified, dreading whatever would come out of her mouth. Slightly tipsy people could be difficult to handle; The words coming out of their mouths were often painfully close to their heartfelt emotions. Then Harry Potter got up - and he looked like the Grim Reaper himself - span on his heel and grabbed her by the arm, guiding her back to their table. Hermione was pissed, her eyes shooting lightning at Harry, and a heated discussion ensued. Draco heard his name repeated loudly several times. Then Hermione slammed her fist in the table, and that put an end to the discussion. She got up so fast she knocked over the chair behind her, grabbed her jacket and stormed out. Ron followed suit, ran after her, then returned in a hurry as he'd obviously remembered he'd forgotten his coat, and ran back out after her. Harry and Slughorn got up also, talking among themselves. Harry was shaking his head in a surrendering manner. Neither turned their heads to glance at Draco. Just then, Katie Bell cme out from the Women's lavatory. She seemed weird, walking mechanically, as if she was in her sleep. She was holding a small box wrapped in brown paper. Her Hufflepuff friend joined her, and they went outside. The only one remaining, was Pansy Parkinson, who sat where she'd been sitting for the past hour, which was at the bar. He finished his butterbeer and got up. Draco dressed, wondering if he should have said something to her, but decided it was best to just leave it. Not worth getting himself further entangled than he already was.

Back outside in Diagon Alley, Draco brightened up as he encountered Luna. She smiled at him as she approached, and Draco felt the air grow warmer.

"Hey, Luna" Draco said, returning her smile.

"Hello, Draco. how nice to meet you again" she said, referring to the previous evening when they'd puzzled together until 2 A.M. in the morning.

"Likewise. You're in good shape?"

"Yes, brilliant, thank you. I was just browsing" she replied. A moment's silence, and theyt only stared at each other. The aroma of wonderfully cooked things tickled their nostrils. Gazing up at the big clock outside the watchmaker's shop, Draco realized itw as close to dinner time. With fast beating heart, he asked: "Would you like to have dinner with me?" Draco smiled at her. Not looking any more surprised than usual, Luna simply replied: "Sounds lovely. Where we eating?"

"What about Madam Puddifoot's? They've got lovely spaghetti there, I'm told" Draco told her, offering her his arm. She smiled again and took his arm. Walking off towards Madam Puddifoot's tea house, Draco's world suddenly adopted a taint of gold.

Madam Puddifoot's.
They'd never really talked. And finally they got their chance to do so. Draco realised that all though he had some trouble keeping up with her train of thought quite often, having an open mind to her ideas about all sorts of things proved interesting and challenging. Luna Lovegood's view on the world was so entirely different from his, that he often wondered if she'd been raised inside a box or something. She was almost naive on some fields - clearly a naturalist which great sense of equality with beasts - but then she was extremely intelligent and to the point meticuolous on other subjects. And wrapped around all of this she had a flimsy, eccentric behaviour which gave her incredible brains no credit whatsoever. Draco felt...boring, compared to her. Everything she said, every comment, every thought on whatever topic they discussed, proved that Draco was indeed the one who ha been raised inside a box! He had clearly suffered a rigid, to the point old fashioned upbringing which had crippled him emotionally. No wonder he'd gone bad. Remembering his grandfather, Draco saw his own upbringing in perspective, realising how it all fit together. Keeping this to himself however, Draco ate spagetthi and listened to Luna tell stories from her travels with her father, the Quibble editor. Listening the life she was leading during the holidays made him sad, and Draco realised that he was in a sense already dead. All the things he'd done with his father, had a taint of evil and impersonality to it. Always, there was some representative to shake hands with, or some evry important people Draco just had to meet. Unlike Luna, Draco had never been alone with his father spending 'quality time' as it was called. Servants and guests always accompanied them. Shoving these thoughts aside, Draco gladly paid for the meal and helped Luna with her coat before dressing in his own. The wind outside had strengthened, and a gust of snow was blown into their faces as they stepped out into the street.


Come Sunday, Katie Bell was on everybody's lips. She had been cursed, and she'd barely survived. It was awful of course and he had genuine sympathy for her, but better that there were rumours about her than him. It had happened in Hogsmeade on Saturday, not an hour after he'd seen her leave the inn. Now, word had it that Draco Malfoy once again had been up to no good. It was Ron who'd blurted out a comment more or less accidentally in the Gryffindor common room about Harry accusing Draco of being a Death Eater in the headmaster's office as the Golden Trio had been interviewed, being at the scene of the crime.

Rejection from virtually everyone was frustrating, even...maddening. Yes, there it was. Madness. He had seated himself in one of the armchairs with a book. It was open, yet he kept staring at the page but wasn't reading. Draco was thinking. He'd been from the deepest of valleys to the brightest mountain top and then he'd been plunged back down into the darkest pit emotionally speaking, all in the course of two days. He thought about seeing Dumbledore and plead his innocence. Draco was terrified of being kicked out of school. Hogwarts was his only firm point, these days.

Night time. Writhing in his bed, Draco clutched the piece of parchment in his hand. He dreaded the eudaimon and his onslaughts, yet Draco needed them as a confirmation that at least someone cared for him. For his body, at least. Draco needed to feel that he was alive, and to feel that someone appreciated him, no matter how minuscule those signs of affections were. His world had turned into a bleak nightmare inhabited mostly by enemies such as Harry Potter. He'd spent the week trying to get Melchior not to numb him, and tonight Draco was determined to make another attempt. He had written a note on a piece of parchment. It read: 'Please don't benumb me, Melchior.' He'd folded the piece of parchment and kept it in the palm of his right hand. It worked, for he managed to keep his focus long enough to babble out his prayers five or six times before his mind went blank and he got his brains raped. It was his only weapon, if it at all could be called a weapon. Melchior appeared around half past three in the morning. He was late, Draco thought, and he looked worked up and out of breath. Reaching inside his robe, he quickly and unceremoniously undid his fly or whatever confines existed there beneath the layers of dark cloth. He was wearing a breastplate in black and gold, and it appeared to be a part of an armour which had been partly discarded. Grasping Draco's bedspread, Melchior tossed it aside, revealing Draco's naked body. The eudaimon hesitated as he surveyed the unexpected treasure. Cocking his head to one side, Melchior inspected every inch of Draco's trembling flesh. Draco had managed to spark curiosity, and all though Melchior observed him with the eyes of a naughty boy who'd just been served a birthday present, Draco felt a flicker of victory. It was a change of strategy he hoped would make a change, and he had succeeded. Pointing, Melchior touched the tip of Draco's right big toe. It caused Draco to flinch, but he checked himself and tried to relax, allowing Melchior's hand to drift upwards, brushing along Draco's calves. The touch made the hairs on his legs rise, sparsely populated though it was. Melchior's hands were warm, soft and dry, and they made every inch of flesh they touched on Draco, incinerate with lust. Feeling his toes go numb, he gasped as Melchior's hands wandered up his thighs, soon to be joined at the base of his crotch. Draco's breath hitched at the touch on his most sensitive flesh. Trying to lift his arm, it felt as if several kilos had been added. He opened his hand and placed the piece of parchment on top of Melchior's left hand. There, it could not be ignored. He watched in anticipation as the eudaimon paused to pick it up and read it. Once read, it gave a slight 'poff' and it incinerated in the palm of the eudaimon's hand. It smelled of burnt parchment.

"So now you're all lonely and desperate. Or should I say, horny and no one to play with?" Melchior whispered, bemused. "Hm, we'll have to do something about that, don't you think?" Melchior kept his gaze locked with Draco's. The blond didn't flinch once as Melchior settled himself between his legs. He'd regained the feelings in his legs, and it gave him hope. This was taking a far more positive turn than expected. "Now that everybody's turning their backs on you, you reach out for your worst enemy, hoping for just a glimmer of comfort...!" Melchior said, melting over Draco with his lips being so close to Draco's his breath ghosted the blond's face. Melchior inhaled through his nose, before he said: "An ointment with a hint of peppermint. Does wonders below, doesn't it? You bought it at the apothecary today, on a whim. Money well spent. You should have thought of that sooner, my boy." Draco swallowed.

He could feel the tip of the eudaimon's erect member caress his puckered entrance. Bracing himself for the oncoming pain, he held his breath. He felt himself penetrated, and once again Melchior's cock filled him. But the pain had been replaced by a burning, heating sensation which only added to the slight flicker of undeniable lust his sixteen year old body was programmed to feel. Draco swallowed hard, willing himself to relax and to control his panic. Things were going well, and if he just kept it together, then perhaps this could be something nice. Thrusting away, Melchior never once took his eyes off Draco. The blond felt as if he was being tested. He needed to keep keep quiet and be quiescent. He lifted his arm timidly, touching the black shiny surface of the breastplate with his fingers. It was heavily ornated with fine, flimsy gold paint, and in contrast, Draco's delicate pale flesh was almost bone white. Melchior accepted his approach, and Draco unconsciously exhaled. The blond was facing the fact that unless he conformed to Melchior's ways in bed, he would find himself at a complete loss of allies. So Draco continued to explore, carefully and with subtlety so he wouldn't anger the eudaimon. He touched the long strands of dark brown hair, rubbing it between his fingers, observing the silkiness and the way the faint light played in it. A little bolder, Draco slid one flat palm across the breastplate, reading the curves and the design using his hands. Then he ventured further down, touching the soft fabric, realising it was as soft as velvet. It was genuinely erotic just to let it play through the fingers. Melchior had strong muscles in his thighs, and Draco felt them work beneath the palms of his hands. It actually spurred something in him to feel them work that way. Closing his eyes, Draco attempted to dive into the warming sensation which lingered and which sparked every time Melchior thrust in and out of him. This new freedom gave Draco the room he required to explore, to see the onslaught in a different light, and Melchior was for once, gentle. Draco couldn't help but to ask himself if it wasn't possible after all to turn himself into some kind of lover to the eudaimon? Wouldn't it be worth it, only to feel a moment's worth of companionship every single night? If it branded him a whore, then so be it, but this could very well be the only kind of love he'd experience before the suicide. The answer was conclusively 'yes'. He felt Melchior's lips bear down on his own. Opening his mind to it, Draco disregarded the fact that they were masculine like his own, instead focusing on enjoying it, analysing it and make mental notes of what he liked about it. Melchior broke the kiss and petted smaller kisses at Draco's earlobe, just behind it, and further down his neck. Draco felt himself grow harder and the touch of those soft lips sent shivers down his spine. Shivers of delight.

Melchior shifted to an upright position and adjusted Draco's thighs so he got better access. The eudaimon watched contentedly as Draco's right hand travelled across his own chest, brushing his right nipple before it leisurely travelled down to the awakening erection. Draco was being bold, and the eudaimon seemed to like that. Small beads of sweat covered Draco's upper lip, and his mouth was half open, his lips full and rosy. The short, blond hair was a halo on the dark pillow. Raising his legs a little, Draco adjusted himself to a more comfortable position. The heat in his abdomen was quickly rising, but whether or not Melchior would like it, he'd no idea. Ignoring the insecurity, Draco held on to the good feeling he'd found. The eudaimon slowed down his pace, pumping in and out with less force in a lazy tempo. Draco knew he was being observed, but tried not to think about it. He was almost relieved when he convulsed. The semen erupted all over his hand, and he hardly dared to look at Melchior's face. Draco nevertheless felt zestful, and he remained in a state of euphoria while Melchior quickened his pace and hardened his thrusts. It was like he'd been waiting for Draco to finish first. How odd of the eudaimon to be so courteous. When Melchior had finished, he pulled out, but refused to back off. Instead, Draco watched in disbelief as he bent down to lick Draco's softening member clean. Tender as it always was after an orgasm, Draco shivered, anxious that Melchior would bite him. He could feel the surface of his tongue on the tender flesh, and Draco winced at every playful turn it took. He bit his lip, staring at Melchior as the eudaimon manoeuvred Draco's limp member into his mouth. His eyes rolled to the back of his head at the unexpected sensation. Draco found himself on a steep learning curve as these experiences exceeded anything he'd ever tried with Pansy before. He felt lust blossom in his groin again, and he failed to exert discipline on himself as Melchior reached beneath his to grasp one pale rounded cheek in each hand. His manhood was still between Melchior's lip, and he felt it coming alive once more. Draco whimpered, clutching his bedspread and arching his back. His abdomen was locked in an erotic, highly stimulating grip. His gaze swivelled across the huge black wings which heaved and moved, touching the ceiling, and for the first time since their initial encounter, Draco began to feel safe. A wave of lust ravaged through his limbs, starting in his groin before moving upwards to his torso, electrifying his nipples and shooting sparks out to his very fingertips. Before long, Draco had achieved a full erection again, and could feel the eudaimons teeth against the soft skin. Melchior moved across the length of Draco's manhood with skilled lips, his tongue playfully teasing the tip. Draco was writhing beneath him, and Melchior stopped to observe his handiwork. He raised one eyebrow at the blond' torso which was still in the making and a smirk played across his face. In Draco's mind, he saw fluttering images of a girl with unruly, brown hair. Sitting at a table with her friends at an inn. Melchior watched the film unfold in Draco's mind, he saw the girl stand angrily, and she started towards Draco. This scene kept playing over and over. It obviously had some meaning to Draco - his target - and he sensed a subconscious attraction to the girl in Draco's mind. Draco's lips were moving. Listening intently, Melchior heard his dragon whisper, asking him not to stop. A wicked grin played in the corner of Melchior's mouth as he bent down again to wrap his lips across Draco's manhood, earning himself a satisfied moan.


Come Monday, and Draco went to have breakfast in the Great Hall, all bleary eyed and still half asleep. He was oh so tired from the night's escapade with the eudaimon. But he wasn't feeling sore. Neither was he bruised, and that had given his confidence a boost. He sat down at a longtable next to Crabbe and Goyle, but he didn't bother to acknowledge their presence.

"First Loony and now Katie!" Crabbe remarked, "you got an expulsion wish, Malfoy?"

"Yeah, school's too boring you?" Goyle laughed in response at Crabbe's comment.

"Shut up the lot of you" Draco barked. He was in no mood to be made fun of. Glancing over to where Blaise was sitting, he watched as Blaise leaned across from the opposite side of the table. "I don't know what your plan is, but if it's about torturing innocent girls, pure-bloods included, then I have to say that you stink, Malfoy!So completely beneath you! Of any Slytherin" Blaise added, eyeing Crabbe ad Goyle. Contempt was plastered across his dark features.

"It wasn't me" Draco replied, staring at Blaise.

"Then who was it? Harry Potter said it was you. What you got against Katie Bell anyway? A part from beating your ass at Quidditch several years on a row - "

"- I didn't do it, Blaise!" Draco said, raising his voice. The Slytherin table and the table adjacent to them went quiet. Glancing over, Draco sighed as he saw Harry Potter - of course - sitting not too far away, glowering at him. Draco rolled his eyes at him and got up. He'd finished breakfast anyway and needed to get his books. This was madness. He walked briskly out of the hall and continued upwards and over to the headmaster's office.

Turning his head, his intuition served him right. Potter was only some ten metres behind him, hiding by the far most corner. Spinning on his heel, Draco turned to face him, making it abundantly clear that he saw the scarred dark-haired boy.

"Why don't you tag along, Potter!" Malfoy shouted, "it's not going to make any difference now, is it?!" Bristling with frustration, Draco watched his nemesis come forward, walking quickly towards Draco. For a moment he feared that Harry would actually punch him. In stead, the boy said: "After you" gesturing towards the now opened passageway.
"By all means" Draco snarled at Harry, "Gryffindors first!" The venomous comment made Harry produce his wand. Pointing it at Draco's face, Harry replied: "For you, I'm prepared to make an exception." Harry plastered an equally venomous grin on his face. The sudden hostility made Draco's fading anger vanish completely. He wanted to weep. "Put down your wand, Harry. Please." Draco asked him quietly and civil. Harry put his wand away with a frown. Only then did Draco feel secure enough to walk in, exposing his back.

Dumbledore was browsing through paperwork as he heard a knock on his door. He was surprised to find the school's most unlikely couple come to see him together. Malfoy and Potter. The first surprise of the day, and the wonders of the world never ceased to happen.

"Yes?" he said, as if nothing unusual had occurred. He gestured for them both to sit, and Harry and Draco watched each other as they occupied each their chair. Dumbledore folded his hands in front of his chest and looked at them both. He could see Harry having his guard up, and knowing Draco's unfortunate story with the eudaimon, Dumbledore anticipated a difficult situation.

"It's about Katie Bell" Draco said, clearing his voice. Potter's gaze never left him. The sentence hung in mid-air for a moment, before he continued. "I don't know why I'm being accused of cursing Katie. I have nothing against her" Draco said, breathlessly. A knot of nervousness had gathered in his gut, and he fought to keep his voice from trembling.

"The opal necklace was meant as a present to me from an anonymous friend." The information was news to both Gryffindor and Slytherin. "The poor girl is in terrible pain. She's now at St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, and I fear she'll be there for a long time. Do you know anything that could shed some light over the situation, Draco?"

"I was at the Three Broomsticks, and I saw Katie Bell, Pansy Parkinson and another girl I can't remember the name of, uh, she's Hufflepuff though. And they sat there for a long time, then Katie went to the bathroom, And when she came out, she looked...weird. As if she was sleepwalking, or in a trance. And she was holding a package in her left hand. It was wrapped in brown paper, about this long" Draco explained, gesturing with his hands. "Then Katie left together with her Hufflepuff friend."

"And after that?" Dumbledore mused.

"After that I finished my drink and went outside where I stumbled into Luna, uhm, Ms. Lovegood, and then we had dinner at Madam Puddifoot's. We were there for like, hours."
Silence. Dumbledore nodded approvingly at Draco, then he looked at Harry, before he said: "Anything else that Harry needs to know, Draco?"

"No." Draco promptly said, but then he thought the better of it, and said: "There is however something I have to tell you, which sort of relates to the uhm, curse attempt on you." Draco looked up at Dumbledore. He swallowed hard. "During the summer, I was initiated as a Death Eater." Anticipating a reaction from Dumbledore, Draco waited. The silence could be cut through with a butter-knife. "I was blinded by rage. I was furious that Harry managed to get my father incarcerated. When I met Voldemort, he more or less threatened me to take the vow, telling me that if I failed at my assignment, I would die. And so would my parents. But if I succeeded, then my father's honour would be restored." Draco swallowed hard. His heart beat fast in his chest, and he looked up at Dumbledore again. He sighed, before he went on: "My assignment was to destroy you. By whatever means necessary. In the Room of Requirement, there's a Vanishing Cabinet. And it has a twin sister, at Borgin and Burke's. I was going to get it fixed so the other Death Eaters could enter Hogwarts, but then-...!" Draco hesitated. He wasn't sure how much Harry Potter knew.

"-then you encountered an evil greater than Voldermort himself." Dumbledore said thoughtfully.

"Who?!" Harry wanted to know. He was sitting at the edge of his seat.

"It is of no consequence who he is. Draco, show me your Dark Mark?" Dumbledore asked the blond kindly. Draco immediately began to roll up the sleeve on his left arm, only to reveal...nothing. Dumbledore rose from his desk and moved over to where Draco was sitting, inspecting his arm more closely. "With good imagination, one might see the faint outline of something which was once there" Dumbledore said, speaking more to himself than to his guests. "Astounding. Imagine that, Draco, that there is in fact a power out there capable of breaking such a spell. I'll be frank with you: Not even I know such a secret. And that's saying a lot" Dumbledore added, winking at Draco.

"He said..." Draco began, "that I was to belong only to him." Draco swallowed. "In every way." Saying it made him feel reduced to something...less. "And then the mark...disappeared."

"Then the dark lord knows. For such a bond to be severed...? It simply cannot go unnoticed. The magic is too powerful."

"Whose side is he on?" Harry wanted to know.

"Well, that's the wonderful thing about this, Harry. He's on no one's side but his own." Dumbledore leaned against his desk and observed Draco closely. "How are you these days, Draco?"

"There are good days and then there are bad days. Mostly bad days. Thank you for asking" Draco added. "When I have good days I try to make peace with those I've hurt, and to have some good times for myself. It's important to...enjoy the small things, now. On bad days I mainly just try to make it through the day without throwing myself off some parapet" Draco replied, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm not so very good at...making peace. It's difficult to penetrate all those layers of hostility after so many years. I know it's my own fault, but still...." Draco sighed again, "it hurts to be rejected."

"That, I can understand" Dumbledore said comfortingly.

Draco hesitated before he continued; "When I was first initiated as a Death Eater, Snape was there." He watched Dumbledore widen his eyes in surprise.
"Snape? Severus Snape?"

"Just after Christmas he proposed to take over my assignment. But then the eudaimon came and basically told him to sod off, telling him that I no longer worked for Voldemort."

To this, Dumbledore didn't reply. He leaned against his desk. One could literally see the clockwork inside his head churn away and work frantically to add the pieces together. "Draco" he finally said after a long time, "this information is invaluable. Words cannot express how grateful I am, and I understand that you're sharing this, at a great personal risk. I only hope that this will not get you into trouble?" Dumbledore glanced from Draco and down on his charred hand, as if he knew something Draco didn't.

"Sir, I ask only that you do not expel me."

"Expel you?! After what you did for Ms. Lovegood? Draco, I don't know how to tell you this, but your eudaimon? He paid me a little visit the other day." Dumbledore said, clasping his hands together. Draco looked at him shocked. "I know!" Dumbledore replied, reading Draco's face, "the wonders of the world never cease to amaze me. A handsome young fellow, I might add, though I doubt he's so very young. He's my senior by at least fifty years! Now, your eudaimon and I had a long and nice talk about you, and Voldemort and Professor Snape. We also talked about what happened by the river when you saved Luna, and he told me what happened to your fellow Slytherins. It pains me, Draco, to see you so distraught. You mustn't believe that I've forgotten my promise, and I observe your situation whenever I can. You have more friends at this school than you think. The eudaimon, whose name we will not mention here now, came across to me as a polite, cooperative and intelligent creature who is quite concerned with your welfare. Now I know this sounds like a paradox when you compare to what he puts you through when no one else is around. Personally, I don't think he's out to kill you. I think you've lasted this long because the eudaimon has some kind of agenda for you, and right now he's simply waiting for things here at Hogwarts to unfold. Things which include the dark lord. He has made it clear that you're to play an important role in the final stages, and during the aftermath. As far as I could understand, he talked about the years to come, Draco. Years. And all of this was mentioned even before I could begin to open my mouth to speak in your defence. Your improvement this year has been outstanding. I am sure that if you were to be placed under the sorting hat at this point, the hat itself would be slightly confused about your alignment. With all that being said, I choose to understand your brief union with the dark lord as something forced upon you. Voldemort must have been furious with your father for his failure to deliver the Prophecy, and he gave you the assignment knowing you'd never make it against a wizard of the first order."

"Years? Are you sure, Sir?"

"Quite sure, Draco. Unless, of course, you manage to do something which upsets him to such a degree that he changes his plans."

Draco fell silent. It would have been positive news, and that's how Dumbledore had meant it to be. But Draco knew only of the despair he went through each night, and one thing he'd found solace in so far, was that it would soon be over.

"Years...!" Draco felt tears water his eyes. "You mean to say, Sir, that I'll have to endure this - situation - for years?!" Draco tried to breathe. He couldn't stop the tears cascading down his cheeks. "He comes to me every night! It wears me out, I can hardly keep it together as it is, because he rapes me every night! And you're telling me it's going to last for years?!" Draco got up from his chair. He felt as if his chest was about to cave in. He couldn't breathe, and suddenly the office seemed too small. Harry Potter was silent. Draco didn't want to look at him. He had no friend in Harry Potter.

"Draco...! I can understand that you view it that way. Forgive me, I didn't see that it could be interpreted in that direction!" Dumbledore stood. He wanted to say more, but
Draco was retreating, heading for the door.

"Forgive me, Sir, I - I need some air!" Draco sobbed. He made a hasty exit, and he struggled to undo the top button of his shirt, tugging at the school tie which seemed to choke him. He heard the headmaster's door open anew, and Harry Potter emerged through the door.

"Draco!" Harry called after him, but it only prompted Draco to stride faster. Draco wanted to end it. Right now. The prospect of years living in the miserable state he was in now, to be a demon's play-thing at night and to be hounded as a leper at day, was no future. He found his way to the small, hidden away balcony where he'd been raped once, by the eudaimon wearing Lucius' shape. He cared not that students everywhere saw his tears and his despair. All he could think about, was that it would soon be over. Having Harry Potter tag him, calling his name and urging him to stop, was demeaning - one more disgrace to his name as everybody probably thought that Draco had been confronted and now repented his sins. Draco ran to the balcony, and felt the fresh, cold breeze on his face, felt the snow prickle his skin. Without thinking, Draco walked briskly over to the parapet and climbed on top of it. He didn't stop there, but closed his eyes and took a leap into the air. All in one go, before he could change his mind.
Harry made it through the doorway just in time to see Draco leap. Reaching for his wand, he searched his mind for the proper spell. He heard several students below gasp, including Professor McGonagall. In mid-air appeared a great white, flickering light, and from it materialized none other than the eudaimon. His great black wings beat heavily through the air, and billowing black robes was a stark and sombre contrast to the angelic snow covering the courtyard below.

The free-falling sensation in his belly ended abruptly as Draco crashed into the arms of Melchior. He was promptly lifted back onto the balcony, but Draco's despair turned to fury as he realized his suicide had been interrupted. When he finally wanted it, he could not have it! He struggled, striking blindly at Melchior. Harry pointed his wand at the eudaimon, and shouted: "Let him go!" to the eudaimon. The hellish creature, who in deed was a handsome man with long, flowing curls, pinned him with his gaze, and he reached out with his left arm, pointing at Harry. Harry's wand was dragged from his hand and thrown through the air with great force, falling over the balcony and down until it landed at Professor McGonagall's feet. She was staring up at the commotion. Turning his attention back to Draco, Melchior seemed unaffected by the blond' aggressive behaviour. Draco hit him as hard as he could, where ever he could, and Melchior only deflected his strikes at the face. Harry stood dumbfounded, looking at Draco, who more or less resembled at tiny, scrawny thing flailing about, acting as if he was trying to knock over a solid piece of black, unmanageable onyx. Melchior held Draco by his neck, and slowly, he forced Draco down on his knees. The eudaimon looked as if he didn't know he was being assaulted, or as if Draco was some annoying moscito biting his flesh. Melchior only held him, he wasn't blocking Draco's windpipe. He simply held him locked. Finally, Draco wore himself out. Blond strands of hair was plastered to his sweaty forehead, and his fingers were red. His face was covered in tears and he had that insufferable, heart-wrenching sad look which had become his trademark since mid-September. He hit Melchior again, half-heartedly, but the sobs and the lump in his throat was making it hard to breathe. Instead, Draco began to claw at the hand around his throat. Several students had cascaded through the door way to the small balcony, and they soon filled it, with wands at the ready. Neville Longbottom was there, and Dean Thomas, and Blaise and Crabbe and several other Slytherins. Seeing the eudaimon, they began to realise what Draco had gone through and was currently undergoing, though they knew not the depth of the torture and the details of how it happened. But they all knew this was something evil in its basic, and it made the hairs on their backs stand. Hermione Granger elbowed her way forward through the crowd, and she came just in time to see Melchior stare back at each and every one of them.

"Begone, you foul and loathsome evil creature!" she shouted, raising her wand at Melchior. Her hand was shaking, though she tried to exert authority. Melchior raised his head at her in a defying manner. He snorted at her, pouting. Upon seeing her, Draco sobbed and clutched Melchior's black clothes. "Melchior! Please, no! Don't hurt her, please!" His voice cracked as he pleaded for her, realising she could have no idea what she was up against. Melchior was obviously assessing the situation, wondering about what to do. He showed no fear though, as about fifteen wands were pointing his way. He bent down to Draco, so close that the Slytherin could feel the eudaimon's breath on his face, before he quietly said: "You disappoint me, mister Malfoy." He straightened again, looking defyingly back at Hermione. He hoisted Malfoy up by his neck until Draco was barely touching the ground with the tip of his shoes.

"Let him go!" Hermione said again, taking one step forward. In response, Melchior grinned viciously.

Fifteen Hogwarts' students watched as Draco's belt was undone by unseen hands, the fly opened and the pants fell down to his ankles. Still gazing at Hermione, Melchior's grin widened to reveal a pair of shining white slender fangs and impeccable teeth to match. Turning to Draco, he grasped his boxers and pulled them down. Draco wailed in shame and distress, clawing for his clothes as they disappeared. He was moved - or rather, dragged - over to the parapet, and placed against it, exposing his backside. That was when Harry reacted, and leapt forward - only to bounce back and hit his head against an unseen shield. Hermione launched a Stupefy curse, but it rebound off the shield and plunged straight into Neville who fell backwards, taking about five other students with him in the fall. While all of this unfolded, Melchior had, to Draco's great shame, already opened his own breeches and produced a throbbing erection which he promptly thrust into Draco's puckered entrance. Malfoy screamed in pain at the sudden intrusion, and he held on to the parapet's jutting stone structure as Melchior commenced to thrust. The students were in total chaos, and Hermione shouted to get them to lower their wands or they would all end up dead. Nothing worked, nothing could penetrate the shield. Harry couldn't take his eyes off Malfoy and the horror which unfolded only metres away from him. He kept clenching his fists, pacing, desperately wanting to help Draco out of the rape. Hermione couldn't bear to watch, and many of the students left - panic-stricken and disgusted as the rape became evident. They didn't know what to do with themselves, whether or not to stay or to leave. Seeing Malfoy like that, bent over the parapet and disgraced in such a foul manner was a picture which seared itself onto their retinas. It was as if their minds were raped with the unholy image of a fellow student undergoing the worst of tortures. Had Draco been beaten bloody, then it would have been a totally different matter. But rape held a profound meaning for each and every one. It was a misdeed more cruel than murder. The girls in particular found it horrible to watch. Rape was an undeniable fact which they all knew they could have to face some time during their lives. Now, at the various ages of eleven to seventeen, they'd seen it first hand in it's rawest and bluntest form. Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall arrived, and it was a comfort to every student to know that grown-ups were at the scene of the crime now unfolding. They would bear the responsibility. They arrived just in time to find Harry and Hermione dissolved in tears, crouching by the wall farthest away from Draco. Melchior had obviously erupted, and was withdrawing from the blond. He put his clothes in order like nothing had happened and, staring directly at Snape - who got a first hand view of Melchior's otherwise beautiful, nut-shaped brown eyes had they not been plastered with evil and glee - then promptly disappeared. The shield dissolved, and Snape turned his attention to young Malfoy who had collapsed by the parapet, half naked with blood between his legs. Draco seemed disorientated, lethargic and he shook uncontrollably.

"He's in shock!" Snape said, gently grabbing Draco by the arm. He attempted to pull the boy to his feet, but Draco sank back to the snowy, blood-litterd ground like a sack of potatoes. "Pl-please...!" Draco sobbingly whispered. Snape wasn't sure if the Slytherin knew it was him. He managed to get his arm around Malfoy's back and beneath his legs, and lifted the sixteen year old up into his arms. Professor McGonagall covered his naked legs in her robe, thinking about his modesty in this horrid state he was in, before she tended to Harry and Hermione. Snape hurried from the balcony, down the winding stairs and past several shocked students. He halfway ran, halfway walked briskly until he made it to Madam Pomfrey's and the medical ward. Again, she nearly fell of her chair, but was quick to get on her feet and guided Snape over to a vacant sickbed. Carefully, they placed Draco in it, before Madam Pomfrey commenced to relieve him of his wet shirt, tie and west. Draco was shaking violently, and he kept staring blankly at a point somewhere else. Snape could imagine he'd sought refuge somewhere inside himself, but his thoughts on this matter were discarded as he heard Harr Potter talk argue loudly outside the ward. Leaving Draco in Madam Pomfrey's care, Snape went to investigate.

Harry was in uproar, he demanded to see Draco, but Professor McGonagall was arguing vigorously that Malfoy needed rest and quiet. Snape's immediate presence with a grim look to match, was however enough to silence Potter. Glancing sourly at miss Granger, Snape found it in his heart to say: "Mister Malfoy is in shock, obviously. I believe we all are."

"The eudaimon has to be stopped! One way or the other-...!"

"...-Mister Malfoy is, I'm afraid, lost to us all. All we can do now, is to allow for mister Malfoy to enjoy his last days 'without' hurtful, resentful remarks from arrogant little know-it-betters, wouldn't you agree, mister Potter?" Harry didn't reply, but he looked daggers back at Snape, wishing he was a werewolf who could have ripped out the slithering snake's throat in heartbeat. Turning on his heel, Harry walked away briskly. Professor McGonagall put a comforting hand on Hermione's shoulder, sighing at Snape's unprovoked outburst.