Connected

It was happening again. The icy coldness, the nothingness which Draco had come to associate with the coming of Lord Voldemort. He shivered and then hit himself for his own revulsion to his master for his parents depended on him, and his own life depended on his loyalty. He hit himself again. With a bitter sigh he saw was behaving like a house elf, like Dobby used to do. Draco was always telling Dobby to shut his head in the oven, or hit himself with a lampshade. It had been amusing to watch his suffering and he had laughed at the elf's devoted stupidity but now he knew. Now he knew just what it was like to be tied to a master who doesn't care whether you live or die. Dobby had found his freedom however, Harry Potter had given it to him, perhaps if he asked Potter for his freedom... No, that thought was disgusting to him, he couldn't ask anything from Potter. The Boy Who Lived, the boy everyone loved regardless of his having the brain of a flobberworm. Pure hatred ran through Draco's veins and down to his wand, where angry red sparks emerged.

“What? Not happy to see your master Draco?”

The cold, high-pitched voice took him by surprise and he looked up with horror to see the Dark Lord's scarlet eyes boring into his own. Draco held the gaze and tried to bring Harry Potter to the forefront of his mind.

“No, of course not my Lord, I was just thinking ab-about Harry Potter.”

He looked up at his parents who were both looking fearfully back at him. Voldemort's eyes flashed and it looked to Draco like he was about to draw his wand, but he stopped, and his eyes lost their gleam.

“Ah, Harry Potter...” Voldemort said softly to himself. “Harry Potter, the Chosen One.” Draco's parents laughed weakly. “Yes, tell me Draco, how does it feel to see this boy, who has no particular talent, loved by so many?”

This question seemed to have particular meaning, but Draco couldn't for the life of him work out what to say. Something squirmed in Draco's stomach and he stood fixed to the spot, not daring to answer in case he said the wrong thing. Voldemort gave him one last stare, and then turned his attention to his father, his tone changing at once.

“Lucius, I will stay here for the present. I trust that you will be able to accommodate me?” It wasn't a question.

“Nothing would give me greater pleasure my Lord,” his father stammered.

“And now,” Voldemort continued “I ask you to call my followers.”

Lucius Malfoy nodded and pulled up his sleeve, revealing a tattoo of a skull with a snake, the same tattoo that Draco had been branded with a few weeks ago. The Dark Mark, a mark that meant nothing less than eternal servitude. The mark blackened and Draco winced as his own mark burned red hot. The effect was immediate, at least seven people appeared almost simultaneously and Draco recognized all of them. Bellatrix was in front, and looking at Voldemort with a sickening longing. The Carrows were behind her with Crabbe's father. Goyle's dad, Avery and Rookwood were behind them. A few seconds later Mulciber and Rowle joined them and in the course of a minute they had all arrived, all making hurried excuses for their lateness which Lord Voldemort accepted with a nod. Draco looked up at his father and saw a slight anger in his eyes, the Death Eaters had not chosen to apparate outside the Manor, probably trying to tell him that he was no longer important after his... blunder. He hid it quickly however and turned his eyes towards Voldemort, who had a slight smile on his face.

“Good, many have come. Four however have not. Snape has informed me of his situation and Greyback, well you can all see the moon tonight.” Chuckles resounded across the hall. “But what about Karkaroff? When he is found he will feel the Dark Lord's full displeasure.”

“Please my Lord.” Avery's low voice rose from the crowd, “I have information regarding Karkaroff's whereabouts.”

“Avery, I thought as much, well speak,” Voldemort replied.

Just at that moment there was a commotion at the back. The Death Eaters moved aside to reveal Wormtail, injured and shivering with cold. Once he had taken in his surroundings he stood up quickly, his eyes wide with fear.

“My Lord I apologize,” he bent down on one knee, “ministry officials apprehended me... three I think... couldn't apparate... modified memories...” He jabbered away in his squeaky voice.

“That will do Wormtail,” Voldemort said casually.

“But my Lord, you must unders-”

“Crucio,” Voldemort barely raised his voice but Wormtail let out a feeble cry and bent over double with the pain. “Now I think we should move to the dining room to here Avery's news,” he stepped over Wormtail's still writhing body and headed for the door, the snake hissing at his heels.

The rest of the Death Eaters turned to follow and Draco began to follow cautiously behind them but something grabbed him from behind, he felt nails digging into his back and he turned to see his mother's face, pale and filled with anxiety.

“Go upstairs Draco, please, please just... before he hurts you” she whispered and Draco looked curiously up a her, then she pushed him hard and he ran towards the stairs.

Once back in his room a surge of relief hit Draco, he sat down on his bed and breathed deeply. Warmth was flooding back into him and he lay down on his four poster bed. He had never admitted this feeling to anyone of course, they would merely laugh at him, or hurt him for his disloyalty. He thought about Wormtail and tried to picture himself lying crumpled at Voldemorts feet, tried to imagine the pain of the Cruciatus curse; just being in the Dark Lord's presence was pure nausea to Draco. He had struggled against the feeling and told himself again and again that he needs the Dark Lord, he needed to serve him at least for his parents sakes. Draco sighed, he had never had the same choice that they had. They had chosen to serve the Dark Lord, it hadn't been forced upon him. But maybe it was same thing and only freaks like Aunt Bella actually liked him.
But what had happened just then, when Voldemort almost attacked him? What had he done wrong? What did his mother know that he didn't?

Frustrated and shaken, Draco got up and walked over to the window. His owl Scorpius had his orange orbs fixed on him just like Voldemort's eyes had been and he felt an overwhelming urge to throw the cage out of the window. That past however and he walked over to the desk, carefully avoiding his owl's piercing stare. A fresh piece of parchment and a quill were sitting there, he'd been planning to write to Crabbe, he wasn't even sure what about anymore, probably just to insult Harry. It made him feel better, and Crabbe didn't really care. Draco sniggered, he was surprised that Vincent could read, he was better than Goyle though, he had given up writing to that oaf in their first year. Pansy had written him letters occasionally, but as he never replied she stopped, he'd dumped her last year so why was it so hard for her to get over that? Just then a searing pain slashed through Draco's head and he heard a piercing cackle from downstairs. He grimaced and picked himself up, for the pain had sent him down onto his cold floorboards. This was ridiculous, next think he'd be getting a scar and talking about how heroic and selfless he is. He smirked, but that smirk quickly changed into horror as an idea crept over him, an idea too horrible even to think about, but it was true. Harry felt a connection too. He felt pain when Voldemort was near, and perhaps he would have an explanation.

But how could he tell all this to Potter? They were sworn enemies and he'd rather be stung by a Blast-ended Skrewt and eaten by the Giant Squid than let Potter see his weakness. He hasd given up on Potter ever since he had refused to shake his hand on the first day of Hogwarts. He had instead chose the mudblood Granger and the Weasley blood traitor as his companions and like all noble imbeciles been placed in Gryffindor. Draco remembered the sorting all too clearly, he remembered what the hat had said to him as if it was yesterday.

“Ahh, another Malfoy, an entirely Slytherin family as I recall. But you, I can see now that you are different.”

The ten year old Draco had been shocked by those words. He had to be in Slytherin, his whole family expected it and his father would kill him if he wasn't. The sorting hat had seemed to read his thoughts.

“I see. A shame though to have a life mapped out before you, especially for one so young so I will just say this. Gryffindor will be losing its noblest spirit yet,” and with a shuddering sigh the hat bellowed “Slytherin!”

It definitely wasn't what he'd expected from the sorting hat, and he had never told a single soul. Gryffindor couldn't possibly be his future even if he wanted it, as the hat had said his life was mapped out before him, just like Harry.
Even if he swallowed his pride and told Potter, how would he get the message to him? Once at Hogwarts he was constantly flanked by Granger and Weasley and he would be sure to tell them absolutely everything, especially if it concerned him. He couldn't get a message to him before school either, what would his parents do if they found out that he was corresponding with Harry Potter? He didn't like to think about it. The squirming feeling rose up in his stomach again.

He tried to push the idea to the back of his brain as he undressed and got into bed, but once he was lying there, staring up at the ceiling the idea attacked him again, and this time it brought a solution.
But even if he did manage to do it, and this was all theoretical, wouldn't Potter just laugh at him? Of course he would. Draco tried to imagine Harry confiding all his secrets in him and laughed mirthlessly. He would be grilled alive. But there was nothing for it, this would important enough to put his reputation on the line for, and taking a steadying breath Draco grabbed the parchment, quill and some ink. He thought for a few seconds and then began to write.

Dear Vincent,

How's your summer been so far? Mine has been great. We've had an unexpected visitor, and he is making me feel as stupid as Harry Potter!
Speaking of Potter, you remember when I told him I wanted to duel with him and Filch almost caught him? Well I'm going to meet him in the same place and tell him something that'll really scare him this time. I don't want you there though, or Gregory, it might make Weasley and that brat of a mudblood come too. I might even do it on the first day.

All the best,
Draco

ps. Do you know a really good way of lying to someone? I want to use it on that visitor.

Draco scanned the letter nervously, trying to see how anyone could understand it except Potter. It did perhaps sound overly cheerful, but otherwise it was fine, or the best he could do anyway. He folded it and wrote 'Vincent Crabbe' on the front in his small, messy handwriting. He opened Scorpius' cage and the massive eagle owl clucked affectionately.

“Scorpius, I know this says Crabbe, but I want you to take it to Harry Potter,” he whispered softly. Scorpius gave him an understanding look and hooted once. He hastily attached the letter and he stroked her smooth grey feathers a few times before opening the window and watching her fly up into the night.

He regretted it immediately.