This idea has been hovering around my head for a while now. I don't think Draco has ever been really convinced about his father's ideology, and he says the things he says for pomp and show. I always wondered what he would make of a properly muggle person. So this thing came along. And it's very different from my other stories.

I'll be taking heavy influence from all the stories from WW2, for example, Anne Frank and The Pianist. The Final Battle never happened, and the Order of the Phoenix and the Golden Trio still exist, but they won't be mentioned for a while.

I will eventually do a back story as to how Draco and Lucy actually met but that's for the next chapter.

I'll try and stay faithful to character but I'm not guaranteeing anything. My view on Draco might be a bit skewered, but you never know!

This is rated M for mainly distressing scenes. There will be mentions of rape, torture, graphic mutilation etc. etc. If you don't like that kind of thing, this isn't the story for you.

Please review afterwards! I appreciate any sort of comment, and good ones brighten my day!


"Well hello there, David. It's nice to see your bright and sunny face this morning." Lucy Warren grinned at me over the table top, her long curly brown hair tied back into a ponytail and her hazel eyes sparkling with mirth. She loved to make fun of me in the mornings.

"Fuck off," I growled, head slumping into the crook of my arm.

I heard her chuckle, the laughter filling the café, "Oi! No abusing the employees. I might have to refrain from giving you your coffee."

"Don't you dare…"

"Just kidding!" I looked up, as the muggle girl who had become my friend in the past few months make the coffee with expert hands. "You know what else is a good cure for a hangover?"

"What?" I asked, actually letting hope spark my voice. Maybe she had some muggle medicine that worked?

"A big greasy bacon sandwich, untrimmed fat, with fried eggs and-"

"Bitch!" I muttered hoarsely as bile rose to the back of my throat.

"Oh don't be like that. Get some coffee down your throat; couple of painkillers and you'll be good to go. What happened that had you absolutely pissed?"

"I got engaged," I said morosely, sinking further into my seat at the thought of marrying Pansy Parkinson.

"Congratulations! Or is it commiserations? Who's the lucky or unlucky girl?" Lucy asked, placing a steaming cup of black coffee in front of me, smiling sympathetically now.

"A girl from school. Family has been planning our engagement since we were born," I said miserably, stirring my coffee.

"People still do that?" Lucy asked, leaning onto the countertop, her brow furrowed in curiosity, "I thought that stuff was only confined nowadays to Mills and Boon."

Another one of those odd phrases. Muggles can be really weird sometimes. "Well I'm now engaged, to be married, to a girl with a face of a pug."

She raised her eyebrows at me while she topped up the coffee of an old man next to me, "Beauty is only skin deep."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, looking at her sceptically.

"Beauty isn't everything," she said, wiping down the machine that made the coffee, "I'm sure if you get to know her, you'll find that you have loads in common. It might override the ugliness-"

"I've known her my whole life," I said bluntly, "we certainly do not have anything in common."

'Oh…" she said, pausing to lean against the counter opposite me, "Can't you say you don't want to do it. I'm sure if you explain how much you don't want-"

"You think I haven't already tried that?" I said morosely.

"Well…uhm… you can…you can live on opposite sides of your house. And if you have to…do it, you can pretend she's…Paris Hilton or Kim Kardashian, depending if you prefer blondes or brunettes."

"Ok who are those people?" I asked, no longer able to try and pretend I knew she what she was talking about.

She looked at me like I had horns growing out of my forehead, "Paris Hilton? Kim Kardashian? The former a spoilt heiress and the latter a porn star who pretends to be an actress? Doesn't ring a bell?"

"Right…" I said, staring back down into my coffee.

"You still come out with weird questions sometimes. I still remember the first time and you thought a Sprite was an actual fairy that you eat," she sniggered.

"The name was misleading," I defended myself.

"Yeah but you have still one problem," she said, still smirking, "Fairies don't exist."

"Hey, waitress! Are you going to serve us or what?" came the bad-tempered cry of a fellow customer.

Her eyes flickered to the fat, sweating tourists sitting in one of the booths and her face twisted with disdain. "Charming," she muttered, grabbing her pen and pad and hurrying away.

I watched her go, thinking of all that had happened to make me friends with a girl like Lucy. A pureblood wizard with a common muggle. Most of my friends would consider that phrase the start of a joke. It wasn't. For the past couple of months I had come into this café every morning. Partly because the coffee was good and partly because the waitress was even better. Lucy, despite her penchant of bullying me, was kind, understanding, funny and cheerful. She was the complete opposite to the world I lived in. The hour or so I spent in the café allowed me to forget reality.

The reality that the entire Wizarding World had fallen to the Dark Lords's clutches. That any day now the Dark Lord was going to make magical world's presence known to the muggles. That as I sat here, mudbloods and half bloods were being shipped to the labour and death camps. The reason that the muggle world had not been taken yet was that the Dark Lord was waiting for the right moment. He was gathering large groups of followers around all the major cities, ready for the final purge. I happened to be in one of those groups. Any day now we would get the order but the others were getting frisky with impatience.

"Anyway," Lucy said, as she swept back, "Did you hear about what happened to that poor family in Kensington?"

"No, I didn't," I said, ready to hear the worst, "What happened?"

"They were found dead," Lucy said, her face twisted with remorse, "Strung up in their apartment, a couple and their twin toddler daughters. They had signs of being tortured, mutilated, the girls…had signs of rape. And you know what the weird thing is?"

I suddenly felt sick, my fingers clutching my coffee so hard it was close to cracking, "What?"

"That's not what killed them," she said, eyes wide, "They don't know what killed them. There's no poison in there bodies, the wounds on their bodies weren't fatal. There were no signs of a heart attack or stroke or anything that could have caused their deaths. It was just like…they died. It's just awful, why would someone do that? What kind of sick fucks would enjoy doing that to someone?"

"Yeah," I said, trying hard not to throw up. I knew exactly who would do that. Crabbe, Goyle and Shunpike decided they were bored a couple of nights ago. They went out at dusk and came back at dawn with blood on their clothes. I chose to ignore it.

"You ok? You look a bit sick," she said, a concerned furrow between her eyebrows, "If I was too graphic, I'm sorry."

"No, no, I uh…I gotta go," I pulled out my wallet and placed the muggle money on the counter, "See you tomorrow, Lucy. Keep safe."

"Oh right…you too David," she said, something unrecognisable in her eyes, "see you soon."

I smiled and left the café, out into the London rain. I walked briskly away, slipping into my mask of cool indifference. Once I was in a dark alleyway, I apparated to Zabini's apartment.

"Malfoy, come to moan?" the dark skinned man arched his eyebrows at me, as I stood leaning heavily against the doorframe.

"Care for duelling practise?" I asked, pulling out my wand.

Zabini rolled his eyes and stepped aside, allowing me entry.

10 minutes later, we were hurling curses at each other in the magically enlarged practise room. Jackets tossed aside, shirt sleeves rolled up, sweat already starting to form a sheen on our bodies.

"It is not the end of the world if you marry Parkinson," Zabini said, dodging the stunning spell and shooting a confringo hex right back, "Plenty of Pureblood wizards take lovers. Your father is a perfect example of that."

I growled and shot a Conjunctivitis curse at his head, which he shielded, "don't compare me with him."

He laughed, circling me, "Honestly Malfoy, its only a suggestion. There are plenty of women who would throw themselves at your feet. Marriage is not a series of chains and manacles that bind you. It is merely a partnership of two parties. Consider it signing a contract. All you have to do is pump out a male heir and you never have to talk to her again."

He made it sound so simple. A problem that was easily solved. I thought of Parkinson in that moment. She liked to gossip and snipe behind other people's backs. Her laugh was high pitched and sounded like a woodpecker hacking on a tree. Her eyes were too close together and she had a snubby little nose that reminded me of a snout. I chewed on my tongue and hurled a sectumsempra curse.

"Merlin Malfoy! I'd prefer to have all of my limbs at the end of this," Zabini cried, ducking to avoid the curse. He eyed be shrewdly and asked, "What does you muggle say?"

Zabini was the only one who knew about my 'dirty little secret'. He didn't understand it but put it down to curiosity of an inferior race. "She says we should live on opposite sides of the house and when we have to fuck I have to pretend Parkinson is…what did she say? Paris Holton or Kimberly Chardishan, or some other fit girl."

Zabini grinned and said, "you see? Your muggle and I agree on something."

"Lucy would probably punch your smug face first rather than agree with you," I said, evading the series of fiery shots raining down upon me.

"This is a dangerous game you're playing Malfoy. You're getting to attached to this muggle. You know what we are poised to do. Your muggle, like every other godforsaken muggle is soon going to one of the labour camps. Maybe if she's lucky she'll die in the purges. If she's unlucky, she'll be pretty enough to be some wizard's fuck-toy or slave."

"I'm not getting attached," I said bluntly, trying to convince myself, "She's just a stupid muggle girl. You should listen to her sometimes, she's a right laugh."

Zabini smiled satisfactorily, and we continued to assault each other until signal came.

Our marks burned.

We looked down at our marks and watched as the snakes writhed within the hollows of the skulls. We looked at each other, anticipation sparking in our eyes.

We grabbed our cloaks, donned our masks and headed out the door swiftly. The streets were already chaotic. The heat of the unforgiving sun made the tarmac ripple, made tempers rise. Muggles were being dragged out of their buildings and shoved into the streets, terrified faces met our gazes, while Deahteaters formed the channels which the muggles were forced down, pushing and shoving the muggles down. "Malfoy! Zabini!" Rodolphus Lestrange barked at us, his heavy once handsome features twisted in joyful malice, "Get to the suburban areas! Round the animals up and keep them moving towards the cargo trains."

"Yes sir!" we shouted, and apparated to the quieter areas of London. Amongst the square box red houses, with their green lawns and smiling gnomes, the bulk of humanity were drawn out of their hovels and were thrown into the street.

Crying children. I hate crying children. Snotty little things they can be. Clinging to their parents, refusing to cooperate. There were a lot more of them in the suburban areas than there were in the centre and they were a pain in the arse.

One of them bit me. After I yanked the snot-nosed brat from his big brother, the little shit bit me. Conscious of other Deatheaters watching the exchange, I pulled out my wand and Crucio'd the boy within an inch of his life.

His face will now be engraved on the inside of my skull for the rest of my life.

But the worst moment was when I'd seen Lucy. The Warrens had somehow managed to stick together. Lucy had one of her wailing little brothers on her hip and a terrified but grim look of determination on her features. Her hair was coming undone, bits of it fluttering in the wind. When her eyes fell on me, the most painful look of relief and hope slashed her features. She turned to her crying mother, who looked exactly like her and said something before shouting out to me, "David! David! Over here!"

My heart seemed to beat itself into a bloody messy pulp inside my chest and I turned away from her.

"David! What are you doing? Help us!" desperation broke her vocal cords, stabbing pain raking through the words.

"Malfoy, a muggle whore thinks she knows you. Why?" Goyle shouted over the tormented crowd, grinning widely, his smile looking like a series of sharp knives.

"I don't know," I said coldly, not looking her in the eyes, "Bitch thinks I'm someone else."

"David, what are you talking about? It's me! It's Lucy! We were talking only this morning. You've just gotten engaged! Please, listen to me!" She reached out to me, after handing her little brother to her mother, "Please, help us," she pleaded, eyes swimming with restrained tears.

I grabbed the collar of her shirt and spat in her face, "Don't touch me you muggle piece of filth."

Her eyes sparked with anger and she pushed back, "You son of a bitch. You wouldn't know filth if it came and bit you on the arse."

"Oh, we've got a feisty one boys!" Goyle shouted, gleefully grabbing Lucy by the waist and wrenching her from me.

With one thick trunk arm he pinned her thrashing her arms to her side and with his other slab like hand trapped her shouting, swearing mouth shut. Pulling at her head, he revealed the creamy skin of her neck. With one slow movement, he licked her skin, from her shoulder to her ear. If possible she squirmed even more, her muffled voice breaking with her screams. Her family wept and gasped, held back by other Deatheaters, while they grinned and laughed.

Goyle pulled away, smiling sickly again, "She tastes good too." He guffawed with the others, unaware of Lucy's foot, which rose and crashed into his groin.

One gargled shout of pain and his arms loosened. She bolted from his arms, streaking past the other stunned Deatheaters before I grabbed her hand and wrenched her back, "and where do you think you're going?"

She smacked her fists against my chest, kicked my shins, scratched and spat at my face. It only look a flick of my wand to have her limp in my arms, only her eyes wheeling wildly in their sockets.

"Nice one Malfoy," Nott said, his eyes trailing across Lucy's form, "I think you've earned this one."

Terror flashed in Lucy's eyes, and I could tell she was trying to fight the immobulus charm with all of hell's fury. "Why don't you go have a break, Malfoy? Teach the muggle whore how to respect her betters?" Crabbe grinned, "Or… if you're not up to it, I can teach her. I'd be more than happy to."

I looked down to Lucy, who lay unmoving, her eyes like two burning coals of fear and fury. I made the decision, which would ultimately change my life forever, Without a word, I threw her over my shoulder and stalked away, the mixed cries of Lucy's anguished family and my cheering compatriots. Once I was out of sight, I apparated again, Lucy still in my arms.

Malfoy Manor had lost some of its former glory. Cracks were starting to show in the building work, ivy grew unchecked over the walls, the colours of the garden were dulled. I was now the only resident, my mother staying in an apartment in Paris and father with the convoy that followed the Dark Lord everywhere he went. I moved Lucy down, so that I was now cradling her to my chest. Entering the lobby I ran up the sweeping steps and took off down the expansive corridors, heading towards my bedroom.

Once there, I placed her on the bed and removed the freezing charm. She instantly jerked upwards, scrambled off the bed and sprinted to the door. Another flick of my wrist and the door slammed shut and locked. Not perturbed she headed for the windows, fingers grappling with the latches. Another twitch of my wand and the latches began to burn with an intensive heat. She sucked her breath through her teeth and her fingers recoiled from the burning latches.

She wheeled around and raised her tiny fists, "Come on then. Take me, David. Teach me a lesson." She huffed her hair out of her eyes, which were glittering with a twisted mixture of fear and anger, "Is this what you have been planning all along? Get close to me and, when the fucking holocaust comes around, rape me? Well I can tell you now, not without a fight."

I rose my eyebrows at her and called Moppy. The house elf cracked into appearance, bowing lowly before saying, "Master Draco wanted something?"

I nodded, "Make sure this girl doesn't leave this room and that she is quiet. Do whatever you have to do to achieve this. I'll be back this evening."

Moppy bowed again, "Whatever Master Draco wants, Master Draco gets."

"Draco? What kind of a name is that?" Lucy sneered.

I turned to her and said, "We'll talk about this later. But you should know that I have just saved your life at the cost of my own. Think about that."

I left the room, the trembling muggle girl and the loyal house elf. It was when I was out in the sun again, the statues of all looking down on me did I realise what I had done.

What the hell am I going to do?

There! Lucy is your typical strong-headed heroine, because I really do love writing about strong heroines. They are the best kind!

I tried to make Draco almost detached but not quite. He sort of tries to keep his head down and is almost successful at it but he lets cracks show to those he trusts. He's a bit lost really, straddling the line between trying to keep his humanity and giving it up for the sake of appearances. Very angsty.

Please review! I'd love to hear what you think.