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10 | The Boy who Thought He Had No Choice

***20 minutes or so Before the Mental Attack***

This is it, I have to do it. There is no other option. A certain Draco Malfoy kept on repeating these words under his breath countless of times. He was desperately trying to convince himself, make his own mind believe, that he truly had no other alternatives to choose from.

Frantically running away from the hospital wing, Draco gave zero focus on the destination his legs took him to. Glancing right and left, he found himself far from where he wanted to be, being at the seventh floor instead of Hogsmeade.

How in the name of Merlin did he end up here was beyond him. For a moment, Draco seemed to forget his mission as his mind revolved around his ever-growing confusion.

Panting heavily, he muttered under his breath, shaking his head, "I have to go back, to tell them." He took a few steps backward only to be stopped by a sight that left him awestruck, as the wall started decorating itself in the form of a gate. Upon hesitantly tracing the said door with his trembling hand, it opened itself to reveal a grande room that left him amazed.

This mainly empty room consisted only of a fireplace crackling in the corner, along with a single wardrobe that looked vaguely familiar. Pale eyebrows knitted in concentration, Draco squeezed his mind in attempt to remember the last time he saw something similar. His narrowed eyes widened a fraction as realization sank in.

He knew it! Catching his eye was its twin in Borgin and Burkes just before his second year, with the company of his father snapping at him-- as usual at every possible occasion-- to not touch anything.

Now, however, his father wasn't here... nor would he ever be with him again.

Curiosity driven, Draco opened the cabinet to be greeted with... nothing from the other side, but he knew there had to be something special about it.

A hesitant foot stepped inside followed by the other, and his hands reached over to close the door behind him. This was the first thing he could think of as an attempt to answer the mystery behind this cabinet.

For mere moments of silence, nothing seemed to happen. A silly attempt, he scolded himself. Just when he decided to let go of this game and do as he was told, his chest tightened as he heard noises coming from the other side, surely someone found this Merlin-knows-what room at Hogwarts.

Panic-stricken vividly shown by his racing heartbeats and sweating brow, Draco couldn't think of any other option but to hold his breath and wait for the coast to clear. By sheer dumb luck, he had only waited a few minutes before his wish had been granted.

Slowly opening the door, Draco was surprised to find himself in a different yet familiar place, Borgin and Burkes. Without giving himself a moment to elaborate on his train of thoughts, he straightened his robes and strode off. He disapparated, already possessive of the ability to do so since his father had pre-taught him.

Steadying himself, realization crept on his face that he now discovered the secret of the so called Room of Requirement and unfolded the mystery behind the vanishing cabinet twins, in which he had once or twice heard his father talking with his friends about. He promised himself to make great use of his new discovery, ambition overriding him.

He walked across the lonely road, lost in his thoughts. The streetlight flickered to life above him, and Malfoy Manor came into view. It looked dark and majestic as always, but to his eyes it now seemed more gloomy and weak enough finding it difficult to remain standing on its own for much longer.

The grande gate opened for its owner, but Draco didn't feel the sense of safety of being welcomed back home.

Dragging his feet upstairs, Draco tried to empty his mind from everything, knowing what, or let's say who, laid ahead. As he entered the authentic dining room, he caught sight of a certain Dark Lord pacing impatiently at the middle of the circle of death eaters.

Draco drew a shaky breath to announce his presence and regretted it at once as the red slits shot him a piercing glare. The spotlight was drawn on Voldemort's steel-like eyes, leaving everything and everyone else in dim shadow. Cruel rage swirled in his gaze, giving rise to immense fear gripping the insides of the Malfoy heir.

He was only spared by his mother, as always, "Draco. Come here," and so he did. Sheepishly walking forward to his mother, Draco was well aware of all the eyes in the room following his every move. How intimidating it was to him was beyond any other thing he had to endure in his life, even more than a scolding in public.

"He is alive, Potter," Draco's voice was nothing beyond a whisper, nonetheless he knew it was heard perfectly well because of the change in atmosphere that followed.

Something dangerously flashed in the red slits. Draco knew it very well, since he was regularly on the receiving end of it, especially from his father. That's what he thought at first glimpse, but no, this time, the fury was much intensified; it was excessively more than normal anger or frustration, way more than that. Despite all of the vocabulary he had access to, Draco couldn't even name the intensity of such a feeling.

He knew one thing though: this wouldn't end well! His nostrils could smell trouble, getting ready to burst and blow up almost everything.

***
"Bellatrix!" Voldemort's cold voice roared throughout the walls, rage unmistakably evident in his tone. From between the crowd, Bellatrix moved herself forward. "I thought you told me he was done with."

"Yes, my Lord... he was. Wormtail drew the curse at him, I am sure of it," She spoke shakily in a weak voice, her head low.

"Silence. You've failed me once again. I don't take that lightly, I trust you know that," Voldemort hissed coldly, emphasizing every single word, eliciting the novel fear mirrored in her eyes. Such cruel voice sent shivers down the spine of his death eaters, along with Draco.

"My Lord. I-I am sorry," Bellatrix whispered, truly meaning every word, but her genuine sincerity didn't save her from what would come her way.

"Crucio," Voldemort lazily waved his wand over his most devoted and loyal follower. His sharp slits pierced her pained convulsing form with vague satisfaction.

No one would have ever imagined, not even in their wildest dreams, that such vulnerability could ever erupt from a mighty stony-hearted combatant who always took the word merciless to a whole new level feeding on people's pain. It seemed that what goes around comes around, as Karma would always put it into words; Bellatrix was no longer in the shoes of the predator but in that of the prey now.

A minute it lasted, but felt like infinity until her screams of agony came to an end. Panting breathlessly on the floor, Bellatrix glanced at her master with desperate pleading eyes, which were effectively hidden behind her wild strands of black hair.

"Apology accepted, Bellatrix," Voldemort hissed, his voice cold and emotionless as ever.

She pulled herself to her feet and moved a bit closer to him, "thank you, my Lord."

The one thing revolving in Draco's mind now -giving him the creeps as he felt a painful knot in his stomach- was that if the Dark Lord could, with great ease, inflict all that pain on his most devoted and powerful follower, then the others, him included, didn't stand a chance.

Voldemort chose that specific moment, as if responding to Draco's fearful inner voice, to switch his attention to the Malfoy heir.

"Your place is reserved, opened for you," Voldemort hissed, a cruel smirk plastered on his face.

Draco felt his heart drop to his stomach with a loud bang: one for being directly addressed by the Dark Lord for the first time, two for registering what was expected of him as of now.

All the dread he had felt was now reinforced with great force and exacerbated beyond belief. Draco had a nagging feeling that Voldemort intentionally meant to make it worse on him.

Instinctively, Draco glanced at the direction of his mother as he felt her arm pulling him closer. She bit her quivering lip and nodded slightly with so much fear and helplessness in the depth of her eyes... more than he had ever seen from her throughout his entire life.

Draco wasn't even sure if the Dark Lord's words were put as a statement or a question, but he was wise enough to know that either way, a no answer would have him killed - before he could say 'white ferret'.

"Yes, my Lord," Draco stuttered and shivered violently, trying but terribly failing to hide the terror from his voice.

Draco had to admit to himself that he wasn't the most eager to take his father's place as a deatheater. But, if that's what would grant him the opportunity of the only thing he'd always wanted, --recognition and appreciation.. to be chosen to be someone, even if it was on the dark side, instead of always being overlooked as not good enough-- then he would definitely jump to it with his eyes closed. How impossible it might seem, Draco would hold on to this invisible chance with his bare hands.

And most importantly, he couldn't just leave himself doomed to suffer a horrific death. No, he had to save his neck... it wasn't even a matter of question.

I was never given any other choice, Draco thought bitterly to himself. That's what I was born and raised to be.

"My lord, what about the Potter boy?" A deatheater Draco didn't recognize asked timidly, breaking the dead silence.

A snakelike smirk came across Voldemort's lip-less mouth, catching everyone's breath in an invisible firm fist. That was more fear-evoking than the bursts of anger or the dark curses, Draco mused.

Moments of silence rang out before the Dark Lord decided to give his inner circle of followers just a small glimpse of his plan to get an end to Harry Potter once and for all.

"It will be nothing like the lame mental invasion but something much worse, more toward possession, to make him do what needs to be done, what I want. I will see through his eyes and commit with his own hands. He'll lose everything! That would break him and that's definitely a step forward to kill him slowly and with more intensified suffering than the mere killing curse. Killing him from inside out, that is."

Emphasis on every single word in his cruel hissing voice sent cold shivers down Draco's whole being. Yes, I hate saint Potter... that's a fact not subjected to change. But even he doesn't deserve to be crushed so cruelly in such a manner. No one deserves that, or do they?

The said plan seemed gravely brutal that made Draco even question where his loyalties lie, without even being aware of doing so. Draco was still humane, not entirely dead from the inside --at least not yet.

"Yes, my Lord. B-ut what if he fig-hts it off?" It was not only that Draco didn't meet his gaze but also couldn't dare to raise his voice more than a faint whisper as if childishly hoping the Dark Lord wouldn't hear him at all.

He felt his mother's hand tightly clutching his own, and that's when he knew he crossed the red-line. Realization hit him hard that he was about to pay the price for pointing out a loophole in the Dark Lord's plan. His heart missed a beat as he froze, wanting nothing more than to run away but failing to do so as his limbs ached and trembled.

Voldemort listened to Draco's very mind and heart -which were yet to be damaged, he noted to himself cruelly. Voldemort now knew, as he could see and hear what the boy feared to voice out loud, everything roaming in his pounding head. He, the Dark Lord, would exploit and trade on such insecurities, that he was sure of.

Contradictory to anticipation, Voldemort just smirked looking him over, and surprisingly for once he didn't raise his wand to attack his prey.

"A valid point, Draco. In that case, he'll be my guest to endure excruciating pain that is unbearable and deadly worse than ever." He hissed venomously as his red slits flashed dangerously with determination, as though nothing could ever stop him- not this time.

Draco only seemed to have made it worse; whether he was satisfied or regretful about doing so remained unknown even to himself, he couldn't find an answer to such a dreaded question.

Hope you liked it!

A relatively short chapter, yes I know. But guess what? The next chapter will be up soon. Annnddd as you could guess by now, it will be quite intense.

Don't forget to comment and vote. Pretty please!

Desperately waiting for at least, let's say, 5 votes and as many comments as possible.

Tell me what you guys think, good or bad.. it is perfectly fine I just really want to know.

I personally think this chapter isn't the best I could've come up with. So either tell me why it wasn't that good (from your point of view) and I'll do my best to improve it Or Prove me wrong by saying you actually enjoyed it. Please.

Also, who is your favorite Slytherin? Why?

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