Harry stared glumly at the white tomb before him, the dull ache which had taken refuge in his chest on that fateful night in the Astronomy Tower refusing to dissipate.

Although, he thought as he fidgeted in the hard, plastic chair, if he were to be completely honest, the thrum of sadness had been with him long before Dumbledore took his last breath.

He was reminded of it when, during mealtimes, he found his gaze sweeping over to the Slytherin table, Crabbe and Goyle looking oddly lost without the tall, pale figure of Draya between them, bossing them around.

Harry swallowed, not being able to erase the memory of that night, of the fear in Draya's voice, or the pure terror in her eyes. He only wished that Dumbledore had not been so foolish as to immobilise him, costing him the chance to defend himself against Draya's disarming spell. Would Dumbledore still be alive? Would Draya be safe from harm under the Order's protection?

She had, after all, lowered her wand.

"Are you alright, mate?"

At Ron's words, Harry looked up at his friend, feeling a flicker of irritation at his stupid question. Of course he wasn't alright! He was sitting at the funeral of a man he had once considered to be invincible!

But Harry was too exhausted in his grief to speak, so instead he just shrugged his shoulders and turned his attention back to his headmaster's tomb.

"I just can't believe you carried on... you know..." Hermione said, seated on his other side. "...fornicating with her, knowing she was a Death Eater."

Harry closed his eyes. Hermione just would not quit. She didn't seem to understand that maybe perhaps he had cared about Draya, that he, Harry Potter, able to see the world beyond black and white.

And he didn't want to think about her, because when he did, he felt this awful sense of dread that he had massively let her down, that he had missed the chance to save her and protect her when he could. And it made him feel so fucking angry at Dumbledore, who - in Harry's eyes - should have done more to protect his students and himself from that great big cunt in the shape of Severus Snape.

"Where are you going?" Ron called as Harry stood up and began to march away. "It's just about to start!"

But Harry didn't have time for the dead. Not when the living needed him more.

*****

"He requests your presence tonight."

I looked back up into my mother's anguished face, wanting to argue, but knowing it it was futile. She was, after all, simply passing on a message.

My voice was a barely a whisper when I spoke, dropping my gaze to my mother's wringing hands. "What does he want with me?"

I did not really want to know. The last time Voldemort requested my presence, I was ordered to perform the Crucio Curse on my chosen victim.

"My chosen victim?" I had asked, looking around the room of Death Eaters, confused.

"Yes," Voldemort had replied, his red eyes gleaming as his mouth twisted into a wicked smile. "As a reward for your efforts at Hogwarts, I shall allow you to pick one of our team to- shall we say... vent."

Frightened, I had turned to my mother, as I often did these days. She quickly stepped forward, volunteering herself. But I couldn't do it, I couldn't torture my own mother.

In the end, I chose Snape. I mean, he probably deserved it at that point anyway.

Whether I did a good job or not, I don't know. But Snape gave a good show of writhing and screaming on the floor at my feet as I pointed my wand down at him. However, I couldn't help but notice he quickly regained his posture the moment the meeting was over and Voldemort had turned in for the night.

But would Snape step in to save me this time?

So here I was, another night of dread as I sat, as always, next to my mother. Under the table she squeezed my hand. Although I guess this gesture was supposed to be comforting, it just ended up filling with me sick fear instead.

"I have a surprise for you!" Voldemort sang as he entered the drawing room with a flourish, gleefully clapping his hands together. "A Malfoy surprise, to be precise."

Oh good god.

"As a thank you for hosting us," Voldemort continued, twirling around the table towards me, "I thought I'd bring Daddy home."

He stopped in front of me, grinning from ear to ear as he looked down at me expectantly. I felt my mother's cool fingers squeeze around mine and I forced myself to smile back.

"Thank you." I said in a small voice, remembering my manners.

Seemingly satisfied with my response, Voldemort straightened up and gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "Oh, no need to mention it, my dear. I do understand that little girls need their daddies."

Low snickers rose up around the table, and I immediately flushed, inwardly cringing at being referred to in such a way.

Turning his attention back to the door, Voldemort clapped his hands together again, this time in a sharp, authoritative command. "Lucius! You may enter!"

The room hushed as the door slowly creaked open. I held my breath, waiting to see the father I hadn't seen in over a year. It had been a good job Voldemort warned us, because the man who entered the room was unrecognisable. Gone was the tall, proud, and handsome man that was once my father - for there in his place stood an old, frail, hunched over figure: a person one could so easily mistake for a homeless street tramp.

"Ha!" Bellatrix cackled, breaking the silence, "Seems that Azkaban didn't do much for my brother-in-law's looks! What did you do? Piss of a Dementor?"

"Now, now," Voldemort chuckled, his eyes twinkling as he gazed at at my aunt, "let us not be cruel, Bella. Azkaban can't be as kind to the rest of us as it was to you. Now, Yaxley, if you could be a gentleman and allow our returned friend a seat next to his family."

Without argument, Yaxley, who was seated on the other side of my mother, stood up and moved down the table until he reached the empty chair next to Snape. The room watched in silence as my father hobbled slowly towards us, his pale, sunken eyes trained on no one but my mother. I could feel my mother begin to tremble next to me, and I knew she was desperately trying to hold back the emotion from this unexpected reunion.

I blinked down at the table, battling with my own internal chaos. On one hand, it was great that Father was back. On the other, it was downright terrifying.

Given Voldemort's joy, I was guessing he was going to use this to torment us some more. He clearly wasn't done punishing my father - Mother and I were always just collateral damage. This was where Voldemort's fun was just beginning.

"I am, of course," Voldemort said, in that creepily soft voice, making my heart freeze as his red eyes landed on mine, "saving the best surprise till last."

A swallow stuck halfway in my throat, my terror causing me to forget how to use my muscles. Panic overrode me and I was terrified I was going to pass out with fear.

I would have done anything in that moment to be back at Hogwarts, anything to be bickering with Harry.

Harry.

As Voldemort flicked his wand, in floated a corpse. Except it wasn't a corpse because the witch wasn't dead. Yet. But I knew straight away why Voldemort had specifically looked at me.

"Do you recognise our guest, Draya?" asked Voldemort, giving a tiny flick of his wand at the figure so that she came to life.

I watched sickeningly as she struggled against invisible bonds, her voice cracked and terrified as she said, "Severus! Help me!"

Snape, however, ignored her. And I swallowed as I could feel Voldemort's red eyes still on me, waiting for an answer.

"She's a professor," I whispered in a small, trembling voice. "For Muggle Studies."

There were small noises of comprehension around the table. A broad, hunched woman with pointed teeth cackled.

"Yes..." Voldemort said coldly. "Professor Burbage taught the children of witches and wizards all about Muggles... how they are not so different from us..."

One of the Death Eaters spat on the floor. Professor Burbage continued to revolve, sobbing loudly and begging for her life.

"Severus... please... please..."

I was shaking so much at this point, I was surprised my chair wasn't rattling beneath me. I was silently begging Snape would do something but he just sat there, waiting for the inevitable to happen.

"Avada Kedvra!"

A flash of green light and the witch fell, with a resounding crash, on to the table. I almost fell off my chair in fright, but my mother had clutched my arm in time.

I wish I had fallen to the floor though. Then maybe I would have been spared the very disturbing sight of a snake feasting on a teacher on the very same spot I used to eat my birthday pancakes.

******