Chapter One: Betraying the Steadfast

Dusk.

Pink light illuminated little in the forest, but upon the large plateau-like hill it surrounded, everything was either pink light or purple shadow. Upon the hill sat an enormous fortress, sinister and menacing in the fading light. Every corner hosted a gargoyle or demon, each disturbingly beautiful in its own evil way. Inside the walls, surrounded by a courtyard of cottages and food shops, a castle stood, its doors guarded by a shimmering field of green sparkles.

Inside the Great Hall, a tall man sat on a throne of dark black wood. His face was menacing, with narrowed slits of red eyes, his body lithe and contorted in snake-like smoothness. To his left stood a pale, blonde young man, his eyes icy and haughty, and his face pointed. Despite his sneering countenance, he was attractive and aloof.

To the Lord’s right, a tall, thin young woman stood. Her hair was long and black, her eyes blue, though dark and stormy. Her face was round, her eyes large, her nose straight and noble, and her lips pouted. Her beautiful face was a frozen mask of passiveness and neutrality. She simply stared ahead, waiting.

“It’s time,� the Lord said in a cold voice, and the young man placed a mask upon his head. The young woman didn’t bother, but simply stared icily forward.

There was a succession of pops, as a group of people in masks appeared, standing in a tight circle around the Lord.

“Welcome, followers. You are all prompt, how unusual…did you bring the prisoner?�

A dull murmuring washed over the crowd, and a large man stepped forward, then flicked his wand casually at the empty space in front of him. A young woman, her hair flaming, and her eyes burning similarly, appeared before them, kneeling painfully. She looked up at the Lord with hatred in her eyes.

“Hello, Miss Weasley. You know who I am, do you not?�

She spat at his feet, and he laughed, his voice high.

“Yes, I think you do. We are not going to kill you, Ginny. Do you want to know why?�

Ginny kept her eyes on the ground, refusing to look at him.

“No? You’ll see.�

“Morrigan,� he said softly, and the young woman stepped forward, her eyes on her Lord.

“Yes, my lord?� she asked him, her voice velvet and alluring.

“Do begin,� he instructed. Morrigan’s face didn’t even flicker—she was used to this. Every once in awhile he made her do the dirty work, to renew his faith in her loyalty. He would be pleased into rewarding her for her devotion—a book, a trinket, a particularly challenging mission that took her out of Parselart Fortress.

Morrigan stepped forward, her eyes on the young woman’s. There was only hatred, not fear, there, and she wondered briefly who she was. Morrigan’s Lord used her talents only on special victims.

“Crucio,� she hissed, and the girl shrieked with agony, her body hitting the floor with more force than she could possibly have done if not for the pain coursing through her body. The Death Eaters guffawed asininely, incensing Morrigan, causing the pain on the other end of the wand to increase in volumes. A voice said very quietly, “That’s all, Morrigan.� She stopped, then stepped backward, her eyes on the ground.

“Are you ill, dear?� the Dark Lord asked the girl before him, and she looked back up at him, her eyes filled with detestation.

“You’re strong,� Voldemort noted. “Not stronger than Morrigan,� he added. He placed a cold finger on Morrigan’s arm. She didn’t flinch or pull away, positively craving her Lord’s touch, the coolness, the softness…. “She once endured five whole minutes of the Cruciatus without screaming,� Voldemort said idly, and the girl’s eyes flickered to Morrigan.

“Unfeeling bitch,� she spat.

“Yes, she does have a penchant for neutrality. Remarkable self-control. You might want to take a page from her book, could save you from a world of destruction….� Voldemort turned to her captor, waving his hand dismissively. “Take her away. Place her near a Muggle establishment. Give her wand to her when you leave.�

Ginny disappeared, and Voldemort began speaking to his followers, instructing and reprimanding. Morrigan’s mind was far away, having already heard everything he was saying. The Dark Lord shared much with her, but never everything. She could not presume to think she was in his confidence. The Dark Lord never gave any one person every piece of information. Instead he shared bits and pieces among followers, threatening them so as to bind their tongues.

She could feel someone staring at her, and she looked into the masks, finding a pair of angry eyes glaring brightly at her. She instantly recognized them; the dark hints of circles, the long eyelashes, the size of those orbs…Bellatrix Lestrange never forgave Morrigan for being promoted and placed at the Dark Lord’s right.

Voldemort dismissed them all at the end. He smiled at the girl beside him, making his hideously deformed face even uglier. “She’s going to try to kill you someday, Morrigan,� he told her. “You had better, perhaps, get on her good side.�

“If I was on her good side, I wouldn’t be on yours, Grace,� she said fiercely. “I am afraid of you, only.�

“Very eloquent, my dear. Your reward, now, I think…�

Morrigan knelt beside him, and he smiled down at her. “The Potter mission.�

“The Potter mission, my Lord?� she asked him, her brow furrowed. “What is it you wish me to do?�

“Follow him and bring him to me. You and Draco.�

Morrigan looked at Draco with disgust. “Him, sir?�

“Yes. You two will need to put your differences aside and work together if you wish to complete this, or you will find very quickly that you will be in my bad graces.�

“Yes, sir,� Morrigan replied, her voice stony.

“Ah, don’t sound so displeased, my dear. Draco is intelligent. Handsome, perhaps, I wouldn’t know…get ready to leave.�

Morrigan stood and strode for the door, not turning to see if Draco followed her. In the entrance of the Great Hall, she waited.

Malfoy stopped beside her, saying coldly, “Think you can take Potter on, pet?� Neither looked at each other, Morrigan occupying herself with fixing her robes, Draco fishing a map out of his robepocket.

“I’m more worried for the little boy who cannot fight the words of an old man,� she countered, her voice tight.

Draco ignored the jibe coolly. “We shall see. You’ve never met, Potter. A bit young, aren’t you?�

“Unlike you, Malfoy, I rose through the ranks on my own. Not because daddy screwed up and needed replacement. My own power is what supports me. Not the purity of my blood.�

“Of course, because I believe that’s all that matters,� Draco replied sarcastically. “You’ll find it’s a bit harder when you haven’t got His Lordship behind you. It’s a bit more than pointing a wand and muttering a few words.�

“I see,� she said, noticing his look of disgust. “You think me a heathen, a wanton pain-eater.�

“Yes,� Draco replied, his voice evident of antipathy. “A monster, no better than Greyback.�

“Then why are you a Death Eater?� Morrigan asked him impatiently. “If you can’t take the blood and dirt, run to Potter and his friends. I’m sure they’ll welcome you with open arms, what with the information you can provide them.�

“I wouldn’t dream on it,� Draco replied. “Muggle lovers and Mudbloods can hold no companionship for me.� He brusquely changed subject. “We shall leave on the morrow, seven a.m. You will bring winter wear and money.�

“You’re the boss on this, are you?� she asked him.

“Yes, I’m infinitely more experienced,� he told her disdainfully. “We’ll start in Godric’s Hollow, then London.�

“Do you have the slightest idea where we’re going?� she asked him, her voice accusatory.

“If I didn’t, you would be leading, oh wise one,� Draco told her sarcastically. “’Night.�

Morrigan stormed away, her mind angrily replaying his cool words. Something about Malfoy crept into her skin, leaving a dirty, slimy feeling. She hated him, oh how she hated him.

Her room was in the East Wing of the castle. It was small and warm. A single-sized bed was pushed into a corner, its bedding a sheet, a quilt, and a coverlet. A small fireplace burnt merrily at the center, with a rug and armchair in front of the hearth. Books were her only earthly indulgences, and they filled three large bookcases along the only free spaces of the walls. A small walk-in closet held her clothing, and a trunk housed her only other possessions.

She read, briefly, from a book the Dark Lord had given her last time—Plague and Pestilence: Liquid Death and the Ability to Brew Disease by Moira Leugly—and then went to sleep. Her sleep was always dreamless and deep. She woke up at six, viewing the dark early winter sky apprehensively. She wore her winter robes, feeling overheated in the toasty room; and brought her pouch of coins from the chest, weighing it in her hand. Of late, its contents had been overused, and she needed to ask the Dark Lord to withdraw more money. Hell, she might do it herself, she considered, and with a shrug, she put her key into the bag.

When her watch read six forty-five, she crept out the door, shutting it quietly and locking it with a snap. She charmed it confidently, preventing anyone from entering. Morrigan turned down the hall, her boots filling the quarters with a dull sound halfway between a click and a thud.

Morrigan appeared in the entrance of the hall, ten minutes early and confident in her pre-promptness, but Malfoy had arrived before her already. “About time,� he said, as she rolled her eyes silently. “Ready?� he asked, and she nodded. Both Apparated with a pop, suddenly finding themselves in a small town, their appearances unmarked by its sleepers. “Potter’s probably searching the ruins of the house,� Draco told her at a whisper, and she frowned.

“What ruins?� Morrigan hissed.

“His parents’ house.�

“His parents died eighteen years ago,� she told him. “There would be no ruins.�

“I’m told that the house was only partially destroyed. He’s been sighted in this area, and that’s where he’d be.�

“At this hour?� Morrigan asked him, still not wanting to take Malfoy’s word for it.

“Don’t you want to be there first?� Draco snapped. “We’re not going to be able to get him if we’re not waiting for him.�

Morrigan, seeing the wisdom in this belatedly, simply looked annoyed and followed Malfoy down the street. A soft snow was falling, punctual in the early December fashion. The streets were covered in a thin layer, muffling their footsteps pleasantly. A light over the driveway of one house cast orange shadows, and Morrigan felt a shiver of delight. Orange appealed to her in a way that no other color could. It would be inane to call it her favorite color, a childish preference that she might have once cared about years ago. Still, she preferred it, but tried to hide it from her fellow Death Eaters. A preference to colors such as orange, red, or yellow was like a male liking pink—unsuitable and a symbol of weakness.

He led them on to the northern end of the village, coming to a stop in front of a dark house. To it’s right, the charred remains of a house half stood, half depended on the remaining timbers. “This is it?� Morrigan asked, but Malfoy didn’t answer. He turned and leveled his wand at her.

“Funny, Malfoy. Now where do you propose we wait?�

“I’m taking you in to Headquarters, Flaherty.�

“Headquarters? What are you talking about?� she asked stupidly, her mind thinking about the wand up her sleeve. If she could get him talking, she’d be able to curse him into oblivion.

“Order Headquarters,� said a voice behind her, and she spun, coming eye to eye with a black-haired youth, green eyes viewing her spitefully.

“What the hell?� she hissed, turning to look at Malfoy, whose face had a familiar schooled expression of neutrality, one she recognized every time she looked in the mirror, or could feel as she tortured countless innocents.

“Expelliarmus!� the youth snapped, and her wand flew out her sleeve, traitorously landing smoothly in Potter’s palm.

Morrigan looked from face to face, her face contorted in anger. She suddenly jumped, running forward and toward the house across the street, hoping to enter and use its contents as leverage. A stunning spell caught her in the back, and she dropped like a stone to the pavement.

Harry and Draco stepped forward to grab her body. “Jesus, Malfoy, you said she was smart,� Harry said, picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder.

“I didn’t know it would be that easy,� Draco said stiffly.

“Apparently.�

Draco didn’t respond, checking his watch. “Almost time,� he said, referring to a teddy bear in Harry’s hand.

Both of them grasped the bear tightly in their hands, Harry placing one of Morrigan’s fingers on the fake fur. “Five, four, three, two…�

A rush and a tug of the naval hailed the beginning effects of Portkey travel. They landed gracelessly on the lawn of the Weasleys’. Both walked to the door and Harry knocked. Looking about, Draco’s lip curled in distaste at the poorly built house. A voice from inside called fearfully out, “Who goes there?�

“Just Harry and Malfoy,� Harry called inside.

“The security question, Harry,� Molly fussed.

Harry sighed, looking down at his feet. “Go ahead, then.�

“What’s my favourite tea?� Molly called.

“English with a squirt of lemon, a teaspoon of sugar, and absolutely no milk.�

“Very good, Harry. Now, Mr. Malfoy, my favorite candy?�

“Sugarless chocolate,� Draco said in a bored voice.

The door opened to Mrs. Weasley, who ushered both young men in, and looked rather distressed at the Stupefied young woman slung over Harry’s shoulder. “Are you waiting for Remus?� she asked him, her voice worried.

“Yeah. Do you mind…?� Harry gestured to the pot of tea after having slung Morrigan over the back of the couch, and Mrs. Weasley jumped to find a cup. “No, not at all, dear. Mr. Malfoy, would you like some tea?�

“No, thank you,� Draco replied quietly, and she looked away from him quickly. Everyone felt a bit awkward in Draco’s presence, as if he was the punk their daughter had brought home from school. Draco had grown accustomed to this, however, and merely stood, his back rigid. He watched Morrigan closely, looking for a mere twitch to indicate consciousness.

“Did she give much struggle?� Mrs. Weasley asked in hushed tones.

“She tried to, but she was in so much shock at Malfoy’s deception, she barely reacted. She was disarmed and Stupefied with little struggle at all.�

“Oh, I thought she was going to be more difficult,� Mrs. Weasley said, throwing a glance at Draco, who once more ignored it.

“Yeah, I guess she’s not used to hands on work.�

Silence fell, the kitchen-goers lost in their own thought. Someone bounded down the stairs. “Hi, Harry, hi, Mrs. Weasley, is that—Oh, hi Draco.�

Draco jumped at the use of his name, and looked around wildly for the speaker, his eyes settling upon Hermione Granger.

“Hello, Granger,� he replied laboriously.

“That’s her?� she asked, awe and disgust in her voice.

“Yes,� Harry told her. “Flaherty, her name was, wasn’t it?�

“Yes,� Draco said, “Morrigan Flaherty.�

“She’s rather pretty, isn’t she?� Hermione asked, examining her face, then shivered. “The right hand of Voldemort in the Weasleys’ kitchen. How disturbing.�

“The left hand is frequently in the kitchen,� Draco told her sharply, surprised at himself for saying anything.

“Yes, well, I meant…� Hermione said, flustered, but Draco ignored her.

Two people walked down the stairs, the boy’s eyes resting on Morrigan. “Whoa, who’s she?�

“My torturer,� the voice behind him growled. Ginny walked slowly into the kitchen, her eyes never leaving Morrigan’s face.

The entire kitchen fell silent. Ginny hovered over Morrigan, her face flushed and eyes filled with hatred. “Let’s kill her now, she’ll never tell us anything,� she said, brandishing her wand exuberantly.

“No, orders are to take her,� Draco snapped. “And we’ll do just that.�

“That’s right, the obedient one,� Ginny sneered. “Standing at Voldemort’s side, weak and passive, as this monster tortured me.�

“You know well why I did that,� Draco said tightly.

“Yes, the ever-risky Malfoy couldn’t take on more risk,� Ginny said, her voice rising.

“She’ll talk,� Harry said, his voice rising over Ginny’s. “We’ll make her.�

“Harry, she took five minutes of the Cruciatus without screaming. There is nothing you can do to make her talk.�

Harry frowned. “She did?�

“Yes,� Draco said, his voice low. “But those aren’t the means the Order takes to get information from prisoners, so it’s irrelevant.�

Harry looked at Ginny, biting his lip. Hopefully Remus got there soon. He couldn’t take much more of listening to Ginny grind her teeth and watching Malfoy locking his lips firmly against his teeth to prevent them from curling.

Almost on cue, someone knocked on the door of the Burrow. Molly asked the security questions, and Remus barged in

“Hi all.� He turned to Harry and Draco, and looked at Morrigan. “Better hurry. We want her at Headquarters before light.�

“This is an extraordinary risk you’re taking to obtain this one person,� Hermione said, attempting to keep her voice light. “Draco’s blowing his cover and trying to get someone else in his position…�

“Yes, well, she’s valuable and horrible. We can get information and dispose of Voldemort’s most loyal at the same time.�

Ginny threw her hands up and walked up the stairs, but Lupin called, “Ginny, come back.� To Mrs. Weasley he explained, “We’re all going to the Headquarters. This is the third or fourth place Voldemort will look for her, and this house has to be evacuated.� He handed Harry one of the pieces of parchment and an identical piece to Draco, then Disapparated out of the kitchen.

Harry and Draco exchanged glances, then simultaneously Apparated to a small, familiar neighborhood of London, Morrigan’s hand in Harry’s.

Harry bent to pick Morrigan up, but Draco pushed him out of the way and slung Morrigan over his shoulder. “My turn,� he grunted and started down the walk, which was slick and snowy. The snow was coming down harder and faster. They came up on an empty lot, hideous and barren. Both looked down at their slips, the front door appearing before them immediately. They opened the door and walked inside, wary of the darkness. Draco closed the door quietly behind him, then muttered, “Lumos,� his wand lighting up like a lighthouse. Harry lit the candles in the corridor by the light of Draco’s wand, and they both walked into the dining room, lighting the chandelier. Draco placed Morrigan upon a chair. He stood and pointed his wand at the chair, where snakelike cords shot out and surrounded the chair and with it, Morrigan.

Satisfied, he pointed his wand at Morrigan, thinking, “Ennervate.� She stirred, her eyes fluttering open.

Instantly, her face turned to a snarl, her body tensing. “Malfoy!� she hissed. “Traitor!�

Draco didn’t answer her, simply folded his arms and watched her coolly.

“Respond,� she growled.

“You’re stupid,� Draco replied automatically, appeasing her mockingly. He shook his head disbelievingly. “What a child. Were you raised by apes?�

Morrigan’s face went slack momentarily, and then was back to its furious shape. “Don’t talk to me,� she hissed contradictorily, not looking at him.

Draco shrugged his shoulders. “Potter will be here momentarily with breakfast. You do want breakfast, don’t you?�

Morrigan’s eyes narrowed. “You’re going to poison me.�

Draco barked a laugh. “Poison you? Go through all that trouble to poison you?�

“Veritaserum, then.�

Draco shook his head. “You overestimate your own power. The Dark Lord tells both hands the same things. Everything you know, I know. There’s nothing you could possibly tell us.�

Draco left the room, leaving her with a lie and unkindly allowing Harry to handle the interrogation.

* * *

That afternoon, a great deal of stomping feet and chatter could be heard from the downstairs. Draco closed his book with a snap, sure that he wouldn’t get any reading done with the whole company here. He stood, stretching, and walked about the room, separating his personal items. He placed them on the bed, then swished his wand at the bed, levitating it into a corner of the room away from the other two beds. He pulled the only bedside table in the room toward his bed, and placed his bag upon it, thus marking it as his.

Suddenly, Ronald Weasley burst into the room, shouting at his sister down the hall. His eyes narrowed slightly when he took in Malfoy sitting on the bed, watching him without interest. Malfoy smirked slightly, just to annoy the red-haired intruder, before he opened his book and began to read again. He could hear stomping up and down the halls, various shouts and exclamations filling the house. The Weasley bunch have once again turned a sizeable dwelling into a house of racket—no mean feat. He sneered to himself slightly, then the door opened to reveal Hermione and a stony-faced Ginny.

“Draco,� Hermione said meekly, “Mrs. Weasley is taking votes for dinner. Would you like shepherds pie or potato soup?�

Draco shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever, I don’t care.� Granger’s attempts at amity were becoming more desperate and pitiful. Draco didn’t want to be her friend. He didn’t want to be anyone’s friend. Such as his type didn’t keep friends well, and that was assuming they managed to attain them. Besides, it was Granger.

Hermione bit her lip and watched him for a moment, but he paid her no heed, and eventually she left, disappointed again. Granger was the only one among them that had even attempted civility. Ron didn’t speak at all, save to put in a vile remark. Ginny mocked him. Harry tolerated him, and that was it. Mrs. Weasley tried her hardest to be friendly, but after all Ron had probably related back to her on their schoolyard fights, she no doubt found Malfoy every bit as despicable as he found her irritating.

Draco’s curiosity fell upon Morrigan’s fate. He debated leaving the solitude of the bedroom, shared with Weasley and Potter, to brave the already bustling downstairs, or to stay and quietly read his book.

In the end, curiosity won out, and he wandered downstairs to find out how the no doubt scandalized (an understatement, surely) Morrigan was doing. He posed a questioning look at Potter, who indicated the basement door. Draco ascended quietly, his hand clutching his wand.

This turned out to be a wise move, as five knives hurtled themselves through the air at him the moment he stepped on the bottom landing. He stopped them immediately, and they clattered uselessly to the cold floor.

Morrigan was huddled in her robes in a corner, glaring angrily at him. “Oh dear,� he said flippantly, “forgot to remove these knives…�

“You know what, you’re a fucker, Malfoy.�

“Correction: I was. Back in the Hogwarts days. You know, Slytherin girls are cute. But you wouldn’t know about the cute part, I suppose. Unless you are, in fact, as my suspicions have always been, a lesbian.�

“Shut up,� she snarled. “When did you defect?�

“Make up your mind, Flaherty. Do you want me to tell you or shut up?�

She looked at him expectantly, and he sighed. “When I escaped from Hogwarts.�

“Dumbledore got to you, did he?� she sneered.

“Yes, he did, in fact. Did you ever speak with Dumbledore, Flaherty?�

“No,� she uttered with a scowl.

“You may not understand this, but he was very intelligent. He was also very good.�

“Ah, so now you’re good.�

Malfoy sat down on a low table. “Very few people are actually good,� he said impatiently. “There are a great many people that go out in the world with good intentions, but good intentions do not always lead to good results, and only those whose good intentions become good results are the ones that you can ultimately call ‘good.’�

“Oh, you’re lecturing me now,� she laughed unpleasantly.

“From the looks of things, you could use some lecturing.�

“Ah, yes, forgive me if I don’t accept your judgment.�

Draco put his hands up and said, “Hey, it’s your life, not mine. You’ll just notice that you’re the one locked in a cellar without a wand, while I’m comfortably situated in the beds upstairs with mine beside me.�

“Beside people you hate,� she scoffed. She smiled nastily. “The people that hate you.�

“Sometimes any company is good,� he said quietly, and she leaned forward.

“Sorry, what was that?� she asked him, but he shook his head.

“Well, Morrigan,� he said, standing, “I’m going to leave. And I’m going to take these,� he scooped to pick up the knives, “with me. Good day.�

“Wait!� she called, and he turned to her, eyebrow raised coolly.

“It’s cold in here. Possibly a fire?� she asked, pointing to the hearth, but Draco smiled cruelly.

“No fire for you, Flaherty. You’ll burn the house down somehow—you would manage to find a way.�

He climbed the stairs, opened the door, and set the knives on the landing, then turned and whispered, “Temperatura.� Warmth spread quickly from the tip of his wand, and in moments had filled the small basement. He smiled at the good wandwork, then left, closing the door behind him.