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Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! You guys are amazing. Also, thank you to my pre-reader, RAfan2421! I really hope you enjoy this chapter!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and his world. That all belongs to the great J.K. Rowling and various corporations. No copyright infringement intended and I can assure you that I'm making absolutely no money off of writing this.

Duality: The Egression

oOo

The thing about sleeping in a transfigured bed is that it was never like a proper bed. The transfigured bed always seemed to maintain a few properties of the original item it existed as. Therefore, it faintly felt as if you had actually slept on said item after you woke up. While a sofa or a flat object was the best thing to transfigure into a bed, it didn't work as well if the sofa was as old as McGonagall and had a few springs loose. So, when Harry woke up from his nap, his back was killing him before he even opened his eyes. Sooner or later, he was going to have to sleep at Daphne's house in a proper bed – but they just hadn't had the time to make it there before collapsing into a heavy sleep. It was sheer luck that Daphne could get her wand out quickly enough to transfigure the sofa.

Harry had barely gotten more sleep than Malfoy – the actual sleep deprivee – since he had arrived. Deceiving and manipulating nearly everyone around him was exhausting work. He had no idea how Daphne could do it practically every day of her life. Granted, he did have to work in a lot of practice sessions with her in addition to the manipulation and deceit, which further contributed to the exhaustion.

Forcing himself to sit up, he stretched his aching back and spotted Daphne over by the kitchenette, pouring herself a bowl of corn flakes. She must have just recently gotten up; her hair was an absolute mess. When the kettle whistled, she went over to it and made herself a cup of tea that was probably half pepper-up potion judging by how liberally she was pouring it in.

Her knickers and bra were black today, which contrasted nicely with her skin. Harry's eyes trailed over her naked back, down her bare legs and he averted his gaze, wondering when he'd start getting used to her being like that. Bloody botched Climate Control spell. He could only be grateful that this morning he didn't wake up embarrassingly pressed against her backside like he did yesterday. He was half thankful that she didn't mention it, but part of him was frustrated that he didn't know here he stood with her in that regard. They didn't have time to discuss anything involving their relationship with the Malfoy interrogation looming over their heads. It didn't help that he also had no idea how to bring it up.

Harry glanced back over at her, focusing in at the marks marring her pallid skin. The bruises from his incarcerous spell were starting to fade, but the injury she had gotten across her ribs from Malfoy still looked extremely painful. Anger bubbled up inside him every time he looked at it, but that only dulled his arousal a tiny bit.

"What spell did he use on you?" he asked, trying to get his mind off the things he wanted to do with Daphne in her current state – perhaps bent over the kitchenette or draped across the sofa. Merlin, he needed to stop. He had been so good at ignoring that little voice in his head for the past few days, why did it have to start seeking revenge now?

Daphne turned around, her eyebrows raised. "Who? What spell?"

"Malfoy. The cut on your ribs."

"Oh." Daphne glanced at it, shrugging. "I think it's called the Thrafsmata curse. Apparently it slices into you and starts breaking every bone in your body. Luckily Blaise knew how to stop it quickly enough." She trailed her fingers over the deep reddened gash. "Well… maybe not for him. His back is still pretty raked over from that hex Draco threw at him while he was trying to fix me."

Yeah, Zabini's back looked particularly nasty. Harry nodded, directing his mind to that and focusing on the anger he felt toward Malfoy to dull his arousal to a far more manageable point.

Daphne flicked her wand, sending the kettle, the giant bottle of pepper-up potion, and a cup over to the coffee table in front of him. Her bowl of cereal and cup of tea followed and she sat across from him on the mustard coloured sofa, dipping her spoon into the bowl of cornflakes. Harry stretched one more time before pouring himself a cup of tea with a healthy shot of pepper-up potion.

"So, what's on the agenda for today?" Harry asked, his anger toward Malfoy filling him with inspiration to break him. He took a sip of tea and steam started to pour from his ears as he felt energy flood his veins.

"Since I'm sure Granger, Blaise, and Theo can take over Draco's transfer to the other room, we should get some more practice in – settle a direction and all that."

At the moment, he honestly wanted nothing more than to get into that room and curse the living daylights out of the blonde ferret, but he couldn't do that. He had to be smart and subtle – the ultimate Slytherin.

Sighing, Harry ran his hand through his messy hair and reached for his red leather case and lighter sitting on the edge of the coffee table. "What did you have in mind?" he asked, taking a cigarette out of the case and lighting it in quick succession.

Daphne drained her cup of tea in one go and moved to pour herself another cup, her brow furrowed in thought. "Well, since you did so brilliantly last night, I'm confident we could go with a cold approach and work from there."

Harry shook his head. "Half of the stuff I said in there came from you."

"Kind of, but the ruthlessness was all you, Harry." She gazed at him sharply from over her bowl of cornflakes. "It's the attitude I'm looking for more than the actual words and threats at this point."

"Why?" Harry asked around his fag, staring at her hesitantly.

"Because that's your weak spot we need to get past," Daphne replied. "With the right attitude, the right words will come."

Harry bit the inside of his cheek, not sure if he was prepared for another few straight hours of agony. "Maybe. I'm not exactly good without direction," he muttered doubtfully, rubbing the last of the irritating sleep out of his eyes.

"Oh please," Daphne retorted, rolling her eyes. "Give you some adrenaline and you're a fucking natural."

"Good luck inducing that at the moment," Harry said through a yawn. He eyed the bottle pepper-up potion and grabbed it to take an extra swig from it.

Daphne stared at him blankly, undaunted, and Harry nearly winced at that look. "I might be able to come up with something," she said lightly. "But we should start some practice soon anyway – can't leave him resting for too long."

oOo

After a hurried breakfast of cornflakes, Harry sat in his usual spot on the previously transfigured bed. Daphne turned it back into a sofa for the time being. "Let's first reestablish our objectives," Daphne said, pacing in front of the coffee table with a cigarette dangling from her fingertips. "What information do you need to collect from Malfoy?"

Harry let out a long breath. "We need to figure out what he was doing in the Room of Requirement, who the necklace was meant for and what the necklace's purpose was, what his purpose is as a Death Eater, any inside information he knows about Voldemort and his Death Eaters – plans, tactics, names, etcetera…" His brows furrowed as he tried to think of anything else.

"Alright, that's good enough for now," Daphne interrupted, flicking her ashes into a conjured ashtray on the coffee table. "Now, what approach do you think will be the best at gathering that information considering your developed rapport?"

"You were right being ruthless – using that attitude. He'll respond the best to it based on his reaction to my introduction, but…" Harry didn't even know where to begin with that type of approach. He was decently ruthless during the introduction, sure, but that was different. This time, they needed information. Before, they just needed a positive response.

"Why not get physical," Daphne suggested, staring at him in a contemplative and cold manner.

Harry stared up at her doubtfully and shook his head. "I'm not going to assault him."

"No, not exactly assault. I mean…" Daphne sighed, taking a seat on the sofa across from him, leaning forward. "He's not going to willingly talk just because he's scared of you and the situation. You need to subconsciously threaten him and physically assert yourself even more than before. You might have to force it out of him."

Harry pursed his lips and stared off over her shoulder, his eyes unfocused as he thought of a way he could do that.

"The trouble is pulling it off without actually hurting him too much," Daphne pointed out in a faraway tone, taking a drag off her cigarette.

That was exactly what he was thinking. The centre of Harry's forehead creased. "Short of putting a knife to his throat…"

A soft smile pulled at Daphne's lips. "You could do that. And… you could use the occasional choke hold when he doesn't answer you."

Harry stared at her questioningly.

"Like this." She moved forward, placing her hand lightly at his throat. "You need to put pressure on these veins," she explained, tapping her fingers and thumb against the sides of his neck. "And these pressure points. He'll be able to breathe a little, but it'll get very uncomfortable very quickly – he doesn't like to be choked at all."

"Who does?" Harry said rhetorically.

"Well some people find it exhilarating," she answered anyway, her eyes meeting his. She stroked her fingers over his exposed throat and a vulnerable flush started creeping up his neck. Just as he was about to push her hand off, she moved away and leaned back against the sofa with a strange smile playing about her lips. "Takes a person with a special death wish to have that kind of kink," she remarked, cigarette smoke curling up from her mouth.

Harry cleared his throat. "Right… so, I could use a choke hold at one point. What else shall I put into my arsenal aside from vicious threats and choking him?"

Daphne's eyes narrowed calculatingly and she tilted her head to the side. "How much pain can you take?"

"Erm-" Harry's brows furrowed and he shrugged. "I dunno. Why?"

"I could use a numbing spell, but…" Daphne trailed off, flicking the ashes off her fag and inhaling deeply at it as she stared at the coffee table, her eyes unseeing. "He might have a positive reaction if you act unhinged, maybe draw a bit of your own blood – something like that."

Harry regarded her warily. "How do you want me to do that?"

Daphne didn't answer for a long while and he started to think of his own scenarios where he could use that tactic. It didn't seem promising – if anything, it just sounded painful, ineffective, and unnecessarily gruesome.

"Tying in with the 'holding a knife to his throat' idea – if you ever come close to slitting his throat, it might be a good idea to back off at the last second," Daphne explained, her tone distant. "Then, possibly in a fit of barely contained rage, make it look like you don't realize that you're holding the blade of the knife in your hand. Draw some blood – enough to drip on the floor at least – as you 'calm' yourself down." Her lips pulled into a slow smirk as she mimed the action with her hands. "That might get him worried. Because if you can do that to yourself, what are you willing to do to him?"

"I don't think I'll need that one," Harry replied tentatively. "I mean, it's… decent, but I doubt he'll draw me into coming close to slitting his throat at any point – you saw how he reacted during the introduction. He's scared."

"He'll grow complacent enough sooner or later," Daphne said with a wave of her hand. "It might be a useful way of taking back the power so I wouldn't discount it. Think of it as a more extreme version of the choke hold."

Shrugging a shoulder, Harry muttered, "Alright."

"Let's give them a go – see how you do," Daphne said, readying her wand and stubbing out her dead cigarette in the ashtray.

Harry exhaled a long breath as she transfigured the sofa she was sitting on into a chair that mirrored the one Malfoy was bound to in the interrogation room. A conjured knife landed on the coffee table with a few twirling flicks of her wand and a mouthed incantation.

She was extremely different to work with than Nott; far more hands-on. She didn't hold back anything and she wasn't afraid at all to play the interrogatee. Then again, Daphne drew out his manipulative side and pushed him to manipulate. Nott had simply taught him the basic subjects involved in manipulation.

Harry walked around the table and stood in front of her, his arms crossed over his chest in more of a self-conscious action than anything. He let all the emotion drain from him with a deep breath, as he had so many times before, trying to imagine her as a certain blonde Slytherin he needed to get information from. He needed to feel empty, able to run off his darker emotions without empathy.

"Come on, Potter, we don't have all day," Daphne drawled, mimicking Malfoy's intonation and accent. It really was no wonder why he thought her polyjuiced as Malfoy was the real thing. She had a disturbing knack for it.

He thought he'd start small to get himself into the mood.

"Getting comfortable, are we?" Harry taunted, circling her chair. Malfoy would be in the new interrogation room when they did this.

Daphne sneered. "What do you think?"

"You only have yourself to blame for that," Harry replied pointedly, sweeping his eyes over her. "But we have much more important matters to tend to." He paced in front of her, clasping his hands at his back as he thought of the direction he wanted to take the questioning.

"It couldn't be more obvious that you're working for the Dark Lord; that little mark on your arm speaks volumes. But it strikes me as odd." Harry stopped in front of Daphne, invading her personal space. "Sixteen-year-old Death Eaters are incredibly uncommon, from my experience – the Dark Lord prefers those of a much higher calibre." He towered over her, leaning closer. "So what exactly did he see in you? What could possibly make you so important to him that he would mark you?"

Daphne snorted, rolling her eyes at him and playing the silent-Malfoy-defiance card.

You need to subconsciously threaten him and physically assert yourself even more than before.

Might as well jump straight into it then.

Without giving her any warning, Harry's hand shot out and he grabbed her throat where she taught him to, pressing down a little to test it. He could feel Daphne swallow thickly underneath his palm. "Wrong answer. Try using words next time," he said forcefully, staring into her eyes with all of the intensity he could muster.

"A little higher," Daphne directed, jumping out of character. He moved his hand up. "Good – now press down like you mean it. I'm not that easy to break and Draco won't be either."

Harry dithered, biting the inside of his lip. She could always stop him if it got to be too much, so he slowly did what she said, watching her carefully. He could nearly feel the blood rushing in her veins as he pressed down, her pulse beating against his hand – all of those fragile bones in her neck.

When Daphne's face started to flush, he pulled away and she stared at him approvingly. "That's how you should do it," she murmured breathlessly. "Continue."

Where was he? Oh, right, Malfoy's importance. "Well? What makes you so important to the Dark Lord that he'd mark you?"

"What makes you so important that I answer your questions?" Daphne countered petulantly.

"If you have any sense of self-preservation, I suggest you do." Harry reached his arm backwards, picking the conjured knife off the coffee table. He stood, idly playing with it in his hands. If this tactic was going to be used at any point, it would be useful to give it a try. He vaguely wondered how Daphne was going to play this one out.

Daphne tilted her chin up haughtily. "My father-"

Harry sharply cut her off. "Your father is in Azkaban. A place where you could very well be, so don't think for one moment that 'your father' affects me in any way. I know people who could make Lucius Malfoy squirm in fear at the twitch of their little finger."

A venomous smirk crept over Harry's lips as he stalked around her. He leaned against the back of her chair, his lips close enough to her ear that he was certain she could feel his breath there. "I could give you to them," he said, as if nothing would please him more. He lightly trailed the tip of the knife over her collarbone, barely making an indent in her skin. Just letting the blade trail over the surface as an imminent threat. It wouldn't do to make her forget that he could press down. "They'll pull secrets from every inch of your flesh until you have nothing left to tell."

Daphne let out an almost imperceptible shuddering breath and he felt a rush of satisfaction course through him, spurring him on.

"So I'll repeat myself one last time, and you better make it count," Harry continued, dragging the tip of the knife up the side of her neck. She stayed very still as he traced a vein, pushing the blade against her just a bit harder. "What makes a sixteen-year-old boy like you so important to the Dark Lord?"

A contemptuous expression crossed over Daphne's face. "I've evaded telling you lot anything; it's obvious why he would want me," she declared in a way that made him think of how Malfoy spat out the word, 'Mudblood.'

Harry reached up and tugged at her hair, pulling her head back and pressing the sharp edge of the blade against her throat. "Not a very fast learner, are you, Malfoy," he said lowly, his jaw tightening as he pulled her head back even further. Daphne winced and his lips twitched into a malicious smirk. "Do you need me to give you a reminder of what we discussed last time? I have plenty of blood replenisher on me. We could be here all night."

Daphne smiled up at him. "I'll be amazed if you don't get your answer after that," she said, signaling the end of the brief session. Her hand curled around the blade at her neck, pulling it away as Harry let go of his grip on her hair.

Straightening up and dropping the knife, he felt a bit drained in his triumph. He was almost to the point of looking forward to using the whole tactic. Of acting unhinged; holding the blade in his hand and pressing down until it dripped blood. He walked toward the coffee table and grasped at Daphne's silver case, lighting up a fag.

"What if I actually need to use the whole thing?" he asked and her brows furrowed briefly.

"Oh I'm sure you could accomplish it successfully without direction," Daphne answered, resting back in the wooden chair, her arms on the armrests. "You keep getting better at this every time we do it." Her eyes trailed over him as a slow smile tugged at her lips. "Ruthlessness works for you."

Harry froze. He knew that particular glint in her eye – as if she wanted to consume him. A deep seated thrill crawled up his spine that he partially couldn't admit to himself that he felt.

Taking a long drag off his cigarette, he forced a small grin. "Thanks, I think," he replied, shifting on his feet as he grabbed the bottle of pepper-up.

"No need to thank me – that was all you." Daphne stood, taking the bottle from him after he took a sip to stop the drained feeling he was starting to get. "Draco won't know what hit him after you're through with him." She poured herself another tea/pepper-up concoction and glanced over the rim of her cup at him with that same consuming glint. "You could chew him up and spit the pieces all over his holier-than-thou mother after a few more sessions."

The inherently good portion of Harry's heart grimaced; he probably did have the potential to do that. It was getting easier and easier to slip into that role. His gaze traced over the red marks on Daphne's neck where he had gripped her and he hoped they didn't bruise. That would only make it worse.

"I think you should call him Draco though," Daphne said, breaking him out of his reverie.

Harry blinked, watching her cast a few cushioning charms to the wooden chair. "Why?"

"It's more personal than calling him 'Malfoy'." Daphne shrugged. "Might give you an edge to get even further under his skin."

Harry's nose scrunched up in distaste and Daphne gave a laugh. "Out of everything, that's what bothers you?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Harry couldn't help the short bitter laugh that came out of him and he inhaled deeply at his fag, pondering. "I'll give it a try."

"Excellent." Daphne's eyes shone mischievously and she sat back down into the wooden chair. "Shall we work on your threats and questions as well this time? Get your inspiration flowing?"

Stubbing out his barely smoked cigarette, Harry met her gaze, preparing himself for anything.

oOo

Daphne had quickly cast a triple-layer glamour over the marks on her neck before they walked into the control room. Harry threw her a questioning look and she just shrugged, muttering, "Don't ask."

Harry rolled his eyes. He hated it when people said that.

The control room was much more organized than the last time he saw it, which was likely Nott and Hermione's doing. They were in the middle of sorting out the small refrigerator in the corner while Zabini kept tapping at the walls with his wand, trying various incantations that seemed to be directed toward fixing the Climate Control spell. Crookshanks and his kittens were piled up on a cloak next to Hermione, sleeping.

Nott looked up at them when they entered and scrabbled to his feet, brushing off the ridiculously tight pair of blue boxers he was wearing. "I thought you two were going to sleep more. It's only been five hours."

"Draco is far more important than sleep right now, Theo," Daphne replied, plucking a bottle of cola from the fridge and taking a seat at the table in the centre of the room.

Speak for yourself. That explained why he needed so much pepper-up.

Harry let out a sigh, glancing toward the mirrors on the wall, which depicted a very awake Malfoy in the middle of getting pelted with sensory overload spells. Malfoy's eyes were shut tight to block out the bright flashing lights and he seemed to be trying to block out the sound in one of his ears by pressing his head up against his shoulder. The new room that Malfoy was moved into was painted a bright irritating yellow colour, had a clock hanging on the wall – spelled to speed up and slow down at random intervals – and contained a very useful table that sat off to the side, opposite to the IV drip. It was the perfect place to set all of the tools of intimidation that Harry needed.

"Which approach are you going to use for his questioning?" Nott asked him cordially, clasping his fingers behind his back.

Harry shrugged, searching his brain to figure out exactly what to call it. "Straightforward and ruthless."

"Sounds good," Nott commented with a nod. "When we moved him, I noticed that his Occlumency shields were starting to weaken – perhaps due to lack of sleep. If you can't get him to talk, we could always keep him from sleeping until his shields break."

"I thought we were going to stay within the law on that one," Hermione interrupted from her position on the floor. The kitten in her lap kept clawing at the lace on her bra and she impatiently set it with the rest of the sleeping bunch.

"I don't see the point – even with the Ministry's limits, it isn't classified as torture," Nott answered with a wave of his hand.

"At least the-" Daphne started but was cut off by Zabini.

"Could you chatterboxes stop talking for a minute? I've almost cracked this bloody spell."

"Muffliato," Harry heard Hermione murmur, waving Nott's wand to extend the spell around them and exclude Zabini.

Nott's eyebrows rose toward the bushy-haired Gryffindor. "Impressive." He stole a glance toward Harry. "I'd keep her around if I were you."

"Are you kidding?" Harry smiled, glancing at Hermione fondly. "I wouldn't give her up for anything."

"Yes, we all know Granger's a genius," Daphne muttered impatiently. "Can we get in there to pester Draco? We need to change his drip soon. It's getting low."

"Oh, right," Nott said, his head perking up, "that reminds me –" He walked over to the table and moved aside a few piles of books to grasp at what was laying between them. "I had to go get a few ingredients for the blood replenishing potion in Kockturn Alley and I picked you up one of these." In his hand was a long pale wand with a wrapped leather handle and a bit of gilding at the hilt. "Granger had some trouble removing the original core, but I think she got it all. It should be a good stand-in, in case you need to play 'wizard' in the room."

Harry hesitantly gripped the wand, feeling no warmth under his fingers or tingling energy that signified a resonance with his magic. "Alright. What if I actually need to do a spell though?"

"I linked it to mine," Hermione cut in, standing up from the floor and straightening her jeans, which were rolled up to her knees. She plucked her wand off the table and twirled it in the air, shooting sparks. The wand in Harry's hand mirrored the sparks and he nearly dropped it in shock.

With a satisfied smile, Hermione explained, "I used the diamonds from Blaise's ring and marked them with some concatenation runes to link them, then I inserted one into the core of that wand and attached the other to the tip of mine with a simple sticking charm. Comes off easily enough so we can link the wand someone else's if I'm not around." She held her wand up, showing the tiny gleaming stone at the top. "When you're in there, just do the wand movements to signify what you want me to cast and I should be able to understand what you need to cast."

"Strange how you're brilliant enough to do that and yet you can't fix the Climate Control spell that Blaise is killing himself over," Daphne jested, plucking a fag from Zabini's pack of Davidoff Slims and lighting it with her wand.

Hermione shrugged a shoulder, a small smile playing about her lips. "The heat isn't so bad now that I'm used to it. Plus, it's fun watching him try to solve it."

They all glanced over at the dark Slytherin boy who was currently magicking arithmancy equations along the spare bits of wall around the massive black board and down the wall around the door in an obsessive frenzy. Out of everyone, he and Malfoy seemed the most effected by the heat, even without so many clothes on.

In Harry's peripheral vision, he saw the sensory overload spell let up on Malfoy and sighed, moving over to the luggage to get some trousers and a shirt. Five and a half hours was long enough to keep Malfoy waiting. That and he had just spent the better part of the last hour warming up for it. He didn't want to cool down.

"I probably should go in there and question him soon," Harry muttered, pulling a pair of trousers over his boxers. He took off his glasses before putting on his shirt. "Could you do that vision spell again, Hermione?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Here, use my wand," he heard Daphne say seconds before his vision cleared and they surrounded him, arranging his clothes, changing his voice, and casting triple-layer glamours.

Looking every bit like Tom Riddle, Harry stalked down the corridor toward the new interrogation room with Nott, who had to unlock it for him. This room was nearer to the room with the kitchenette and seemed a lot smaller than the original interrogation room from what he could see through the mirror.

Pausing in front of the door, Nott pressed himself against the wall at the side of the door so he wasn't seen and performed the spell.

Harry barely had time to think.

The door slammed shut behind him with a resounding boom and he stood in front of Draco Malfoy, the adrenaline of deceit starting to hit him in full force. From up close, Harry could see the bags under Slytherin boy's eyes and faded bruises still speckling his skin. There was a deep reddish purple bruise starting to form around the IV needle in his arm. His eyes were bloodshot, sandy-coloured stubble had started to form across his jaw, and his hair was a sweaty mess. The light grey t-shirt he was wearing was similarly soaked in sweat and had a dark stain of dried blood on it.

It was quite possibly the worst state that he had ever seen Malfoy in.

Surreptitiously, Harry glanced at the clock on the wall to note the time in this room. "Good evening, Draco," he greeted in a polite but commanding tone, moving forward to the table that was off to the side. He let the last dregs of emotion drain from him so he could get started properly.

Malfoy didn't say anything in return and Harry tisked in the back of his throat. "No greeting today? That's a pity," he said calmly, pulling a selection of knives out of the expanded pocket in his trousers and laying them across the table. "You do remember what I said about uncooperative subjects, yes?" Next to the knives, he arranged twelve syringes full of hastily brewed blood replenishing potion into a straight row.

From the corner of his eye, he watched Malfoy stiffen, panic briefly flashing across his face. Oh, he definitely remembered.

"Good," Harry commented in a pernicious drawl. "Then I suggest you find your voice."

"What are you going to do to me?"

"I'm here to collect information from you by any means necessary," Harry replied plainly, his expression impassive. "The way in which I collect that information –" he eyed the equipment sitting on the table, "– largely depends upon you."

"I have gold. Plenty of it! If you get me out of –"

"I thought I made myself clear about that the last time we spoke," Harry interrupted, selecting a knife from the table and examining its sharpness. He glanced over at the Slytherin boy, his eyebrow raised.

Malfoy's lips pressed into a thin line and his eyes widened. "That was a joke though, right? You really wouldn't –"

"Does this look like I'm joking?" Harry gestured to the table with the hand that held the knife. "I've enough blood replenisher here to bleed you out all night." He paused, his lips twitching into a smirk. "If you wish to avoid that, you're not off to a promising start."

Visibly swallowing, Malfoy averted his gaze, his jaw clenched. "What do you want from me?"

"Why are you working for the Dark Lord?" Harry asked softly, absentmindedly stroking the knife with his fingers.

"I was forced into it," Malfoy replied, not quite meeting his gaze.

Mostly certain that Malfoy was lying, Harry asked, "By whom?"

"My father."

"Your father is in Azkaban. He has been since June when you were in school and you were marked after that," Harry said, advancing closer toward Malfoy and using his free hand to lift his pointy chin to stare him straight into his eyes. "Now how about you tell me the truth this time? Why are you working for the Dark Lord?"

Malfoy's eyes drifted off, looking away even if he couldn't turn his head. Beads of sweat dripped down from his temples and along his forehead.

"Tick tock, Draco," Harry murmured, letting go of Malfoy's chin to move around to the back of his chair. He carefully avoided the IV drip. "The longer you take to answer with the truth, the longer I'm going to let you bleed out before I inject you with the blood replenisher."

Harry threaded his fingers through Malfoy's hair and sharply tugged his head back.

"Fuck! Okay! I'll tell you!" Malfoy exclaimed, panting and struggling against his hold. Harry held firm, wrapping Malfoy's hair tighter around his fingers. "I wasn't exactly lying when I said I was forced into it! I wasn't planning on taking the mark this summer, but my father failed at whatever the Dark Lord made him do and he was going to take it out on my mother if I didn't do anything. He was going to kill her."

Finally some progress. Harry loosened his dangerously tight grip on Malfoy's hair but still kept hold of it. "Do you know why the Dark Lord wanted to mark you?"

Malfoy swallowed thickly. "No."

Harry's grip tightened again and he brought the knife to the Slytherin boy's throat. Malfoy's eyes widened. "That's a lie, Draco. Tell me why the Dark Lord wanted to mark you."

"I'll tell you if you get that knife away from me."

Harry chuckled lowly, a smirk pulling at his lips. "That's not how this works. Tell me the real reason why he wanted to mark you and then we'll see."

Hesitating, Malfoy took a few panting breaths. The skin on his throat was straining against the blade. "He wanted to control me – he wanted me to do something for him."

"What did he want you to do for him?"

"Get the knife away first."

"I said 'we'll see'."

"Please."

"You're avoiding the question." Harry pressed the knife a bit firmer against Malfoy's skin but not enough to break it or make him bleed. "What did the Dark Lord want you to do for him?"

"I can't tell you!" Malfoy whimpered. "He'll kill us! I can't…"

"He can't kill you if you're already dead, which you're on your way to being if you continue avoiding the question," Harry countered, his cold eyes boring into Malfoy's like broken glass. "I can assure you that we'll pull every secret from your flesh until you have no more to tell and feed you to the wolves. Do you really want that to happen?"

His eyes watering from the strain on his neck and the taught strands of hair between Harry's fingers, Malfoy took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "He wants me to fix a vanishing cabinet."

Harry's brow furrowed slightly. He couldn't tell whether Malfoy was telling the truth or not. "Why does he want you to do that?"

Keeping his expression blank, Harry wracked his brains trying to remember what the hell a vanishing cabinet was. What the hell would Voldemort do with a vanishing cabinet anyway?

"There's a vanishing cabinet at Borgin and Burkes one at Hogwarts. They're sisters. The Dark Lord wants me to fix the broken one at Hogwarts so I can let the Death Eaters into the castle."

Harry's heart dropped and he pulled the knife away from Malfoy's throat, fighting to keep his face from showing what he felt. Biting his cheek, he let the emotion drain away from him before he spoke. "Is the vanishing cabinet in the Room of Requirement?"

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "How did you know?"

That was a definite yes. As soon as he got back to school, he was going to destroy the bloody thing.

"I've informants everywhere, Draco," Harry answered unblinkingly. "How far along are you in fixing it?"

Malfoy regarded him warily, his jaw stiffening. "Why are you asking me these questions? I think I'm entitled to know that much."

Merlin, Daphne was right about him. He did have a problem with being controlled – even after threatening him plenty of times!

Harshly pulling Malfoy's head back even further, Harry brought the knife to Malfoy's neck again. "You've hardly earned any entitlements. Now answer the question."

That seemed to sober Malfoy up a bit. His silvery grey eyes widened as the blade touched his neck.

"The full moon is next week," Harry elucidated in a menacing tone. "We could always go with that option if you'd prefer."

Malfoy shook his head, his lips trembling slightly. "No, I haven't fixed it yet – it'll send inanimate things through. Living things never make it."

Satisfied that he didn't seem to be lying, Harry let up on his grip of Malfoy's hair, placing his head at a more comfortable angle. He kept the knife at his throat because it seemed to make him a lot more cooperative. "Good. Now, once you let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts, what's the plan then? Take over the castle? Capture Harry Potter, perhaps?"

"I don't know." Malfoy's eyes became slightly unfocused, which seemed to indicate that he was telling a lie. Not a bad tell to have – if Harry didn't notice the pattern, he would've thought that Malfoy might have told the truth. Maybe it was a side effect of occlumency.

Harry's eyebrow rose. "I thought we went over this before, Draco." He pressed down on the blade just enough to make a shallow cut, but not enough to draw blood just yet. He could feel Malfoy tremble beneath his fingers. "I don't like it when people lie to me and I'm beginning to get very impatient. What did the Dark Lord have planned once you let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts?"

"I can't…"

A terse expression tightened the features on Harry's glamoured face. "Do you want me to cut deeper?" he asked, his voice sounding like a smooth growl – low and calm.

"I'm supposed to kill someone," Malfoy said, wincing as the words came out of his mouth.

"Who?"

"The Dark Lord'll kill me if I tell you."

Blood started to well up under the blade at Malfoy's throat. "You'll eventually end up telling me anyway if you make me extract it from you. People easily bleed their secrets." Harry paused, faintly tilting his head and sizing Malfoy up with his hungry eyes. "You'll probably be ready to die in time for the full moon."

A drop of blood trailed down the side of Malfoy's neck.

"Please don't…"

The hopeless grimace that passed over Malfoy's strained face, full of exhausted sadness and loathing, almost made Harry want to lighten up. But there were more important things he had to focus on. This was war. This was bigger than him and everyone involved. He couldn't be a bleeding heart.

Harry briefly glanced over at the syringes full of blood replenishing potions, realizing that he would actually drag it on to that point if he needed to. Yet, from the look on Malfoy's face, doing that might get him the opposite result he was looking for. What Malfoy needed the most right now was hope. The human need to survive was overwhelming and desperate when tested. He was facing death on both sides.

"Who are you supposed to kill, Draco?" Harry questioned firmly and then tempered his voice to a more gentle tone. "Unlike the Dark Lord, I won't kill you unless you don't tell me. Answering me is the only way out."

The muscle underneath Malfoy's left eye twitched as he averted his eyes, drawing in a quaking breath. His dry lips cracked as he softly spoke in a depleted voice, "He wants me to kill Dumbledore."

It was said so faintly that he barely heard it, but there was no mistaking it. Harry couldn't help the pleased smirk that bubbled up onto his face. If Malfoy wasn't lying, this was big. And, of all the people who tried to get information from him...

Harry's heart swelled with triumph.

Severus Snape, eat your fucking heart out.

oOo

Author's Note: Thank you for reading! Please review!