Draco Malfoy cursed when he heard the sirens and saw the red and blue lights flash in his rear-view mirror. With the rain pattering like a dozen demons on his windshield, he flicked on his wipers and pulled over onto the shoulder. 

The cop slapped a gloved hand on the roof of his car.

“License and registration.”
 

A horrendous, pitiful wail pierced Draco’s rage. He glanced up at his rearview mirror and saw--please, no--a Muggle cop car.

Not again.

The lights flashed in some horrific display of bravado, and in the pit of his stomach, Draco felt fear leap to life, curdling his gut like acid.

He was trapped.

Draco couldn’t see. And he couldn’t feel or taste or smell. But he could hear, and the scream of the air raid siren ripped him from reality, throwing him down on his knees where tears squeezed from his eyes and left him empty.

I’m dreaming. This is a dream.

Draco bent closer to the knob, his breath fogging the protective glass. The round handle had been engraved with a narrow skull and from its open mouth protruded a vicious looking snake.

The Dark Mark.

“Break the glass,” he told Bennett.
 

Draco had expected the horde of bugs, had excepted them to pour from the building like a torrent of angry sea water. What he saw was a massive figure, no less than seven feet tall, striding towards him.
 

The book slammed shut in his hands. Draco wanted to toss it away, ugly as it was, but he fought the urge.

“Draco?” Cybil shook him once. “God, you’re pale.”

He flicked his dry tongue over his lips. “Does this place have a Room 217?"

Vincent’s sharp eyes darted between Cybil and Draco. “Do you get what I’m saying here? I think ya’ll have a chance. The demon must want you here and Christabella knows it. She’s unsettled enough already. Just give them a little time. Soon, there’ll be questions and accusations and well, you know what comes next. Don’t wait for that it happen.”

But Alessa was already hurt and scared. And when you’re hurt and scared for so long, the fear and pain turns to hate, and the hate starts to change the world.
 
 
 

Draco awoke to the sound of his mother descending to the first floor of the chateau. The click-clack of her sensible low-heeled shoes on the stairs told him that his parents were planning a walk later in the day. They would ask him to come along and he would decline, unable to trust the simple beauty of the French countryside, the rolling hills that were dotted with foliage.

Leaves. Leaves the color of blood.