"I can't help but notice, Astrid, that your heart no longer seems to be in it."

I looked up from my desk towards my uncle. We were in the middle of another lesson - a lecture about the history of magic or something like that. I don't know, I hadn't really been listening.

"You seem... distant lately," he continued quietly, eyeing me cautiously, "since your initiation, in fact."

I sighed, shrugging my shoulders. The truth be told, I wasn't feeling myself anymore. There were few - very few - moments, and only when I was with Draco, that I felt a small semblance of something that I once was.

It had been two weeks since the night of the Seven Potters, and I had felt myself become increasingly dead inside. Meetings with my father were almost on a daily basis now. And he seemed to be becoming more unhinged by the second. His obsession with Harry Potter was quite frankly, terrifying.

There had been a wedding. My father wanted us to storm it and kill everyone in sight in our attempt to catch Harry - whom he suspected of being a guest.

As soon as we Apparated there, I came face to face with Ginny Weasley. Ginny, who had been kind to me when Harry had pestered me at Hogwarts. I couldn't kill her. I didn't even want to hurt her.

I had stood frozen as she threw a hex towards me, only missing me because Draco had pulled me swiftly out of the way.

"I'm not a killer," I had sobbed to Draco later that night, and I was terrified, because sooner or later, my father would find out.

"I know," Draco had gathered me to him, fiercely kissing my forehead, "I don't think I could love you if you were."

I had seen so much death, I was starting to become immune to it. My father cast the Killing Curse as if he was simply flicking off a light switch.

And in a sense, he was.

To someone's fucking life.

"You understand, now, why I wanted you away from this life?" My uncle sighed, looking at me sadly.

"My father," I said slowly, looking up into Snape's black eyes, "what if I'm more like him than I realise?"

"Dear child, you are nothing like him."

"I feel things sometimes, a darkness I can't explain. It was strong when he gave me the Dark Mark. I- I didn't act like myself."

I shuddered inwardly as the image of unbuckling Draco's belt flashed in my mind.

"The receiving of the Dark Mark," my uncle spoke slowly, "is a dark, dark magic. It gets into your veins. And just like a drug, it makes you do things you might otherwise regret."

I felt momentarily relieved at this, but as my eyes met Snape's, I saw the flicker of doubt in them.

Because, of course, the darkness inside of me had risen before I had received the Dark Mark.

...

Draco studied her eyes almost fearfully, but always constantly.

They had lost the black colour that had been rife in them after her initiation - but every now and then he would spot the wild darkness flash in the calming sea of blue.

He loved her more than anything, yet he was terrified of the Voldemort part that lived in her.

The part he was fearful would eventually take over her one day.

"It will be better when we get to Hogwarts, though, won't it?" She asked him, as they arrived back to his bedroom after a particularly horrific meeting where Voldemort had tortured and killed a fellow Death Eater for forgetting the cheese in his hamburger.

"I don't know," he answered honestly, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her into his chest.

There was no doubt they were living in hell, and his only comfort was that they were in it together.

And from what he knew about what was going to happen in Hogwarts this year, it wasn't going to get any better any time soon.

...

"Your father wants to throw you a leaving party."

I stared up at my uncle, completely dumbfounded.

"What?! Why?"

"Because you're going back to Hogwarts next week. And he says he has a surprise gift for you."

"What kind of gift? I'm not being funny Severus, but the last present he gave me wasn't exactly like receiving a shiny new bike."

"I'm afraid he hasn't divulged this particular surprise to me, perhaps he fears it would get back to you and ruin his fun?"

Fun. That word and my father was not a great mix in my experience. His idea of fun was going on a killing spree in a Muggle hospital.

"For fucks sake!" Draco bellowed, throwing a cushion violently across his bedroom after I'd passed this information onto him later that day. "Why can't he just leave you alone?"

"Because I'm his daughter, Draco," I sighed, feeling heavy hearted and wishing Hogwarts day would just hurry up so that Draco and I could be together without dreading what my father was going to do next.

"Well, I wish you weren't," Draco said, glancing up at me wearily with cold grey eyes before disappearing into the bathroom and slamming the door behind him.

...

Draco leant over the sink, clutching the sides, staring up at his reflection in the mirror.

He hadn't meant to say that out loud to her. But he couldn't deny it wasn't true.

He hated the Voldemort part of her. And he was afraid he wouldn't be able to continue to love her the more he saw of him.

And now Voldemort wanted to give her a fucking gift. Draco knew only bad could come of this. There was no way he was going to let his daughter go off to Hogwarts without instilling some evil into her. To be honest, Draco was amazed he had been allowed to protect her for this long.

It was almost as if Voldemort had been biding his time.

...

It felt like Draco had just slapped me.

Quietly leaving his room, I made my way across the hall to my own.

I'd never seen such hatred in his eyes before. Not for me anyway.

I sat on the edge of my bed and unclasped the locket from around my neck. Opening it up, I looked down at the photo of my mother, and wondered how on earth she could have ever loved such an evil person.

I was only half the person he was, and I could already see that Draco was struggling to love me.

I closed my eyes as a lonely tear escaped and rolled down my cheek.

The truth was, I was struggling to love me too.