CHAPTER ONE

"You need to want it," she purred, into my ear, making the fibers on my earlobe shiver. "You need to truly have the desire. It's one thing to say you want it; it's another to truly stand by what you said."

Auntie Bella was standing behind me, watching: I was clutching my wand, pointing it stoutly at my target. My hands were beginning to sweat. Imagine once I actually did this, once I carried out my mission. I don't know if I can do this. Yes, I can. I am Draco Malfoy, damn it. My family is one of the oldest in all of Britain. It's in my blood.

Blood. It's amazing how red human juice can mean so much. Sure, it carries oxygen all around my body. If I didn't have it, I'd die, I guess. I lose it when I am cut open. Vampires thirst for it for sustenance. Everybody just wants to stay alive and somehow blood ties into it. But the symbolism of blood, family and all that cal. Is blood really thicker than water? Why must blood be so potent? Why must it restrict all kinds of desires?

"Well?" my Auntie Bella inquired, looking a little impatient. Oh yeah. I was in the middle of something. Ugh, so hard… I did so well at Legilimency and mastered Protean Charms and the Imperius Curse. Bu this one…it's a toughie. The most powerful spell of all, so says everyone. Is it really all it's cracked up to be? What am I saying; of course it is. It ends life for crying out loud. What can be worse than death? Nothing, that's what. "Draco!" she scolded. "Do the spell! I can only hold this weasel for so long!"

Once again I drifted away. Auntie Bella was levitating a weasel in midair. It looked like it was being hung from invisible binds. It was struggling. It was trying its hardest to escape this mysterious prison. I could even hear it squeaking…crying. I know crying. It's what the weak do.

"Look at it!" Bella exclaimed, excited. "It's crying. Vermin that cry don't deserve to live, Draco." For some reason, I don't think she was talking about the rabbits and rats kind of vermin. "Vermin like that should just end. So end it."

My wand wavered. Shit. I don't wanna do this. I am tired and worn out. We were practicing all day! Why did Auntie Bella have to save the best for last—it makes no sense! I just want to go up to my room and sleep. I want to think about my mission and lament about my situation. I am only sixteen! I'm not Death Eater-worthy. I don't have the experience. I'm not trained enough, even with Auntie Bella's training. I don't want to do this. I much preferred being on the side, away from harm, letting Dad do all the cleansing.

Mum doesn't approve either. I can see it in her face. I can see it in the way she eats her meals: reticent, delicate…as if someone just died…as if I just died.

"Draco, if you don't do it now—! " began Auntie Bella edgily. I know she couldn't finish that sentence. Even she didn't know what would happen if I didn't "do it now". Empty threat. "Draco," she breathed, feigning patience, "the curse…"

I took a deep breath. "Right, Auntie. J-Just preparing…" I straightened my slacking arm, pointed the wand with resolve. Here goes… Deep breath, Draco. You can do it. Think of Muggle-borns infesting your school. Think of blood traitors infesting your government. Think of blood…and how it hinders you from the thing you want most.

I raised my wand and—

I was reading Pansy's latest letter whenMum came into my room. I was on my bed, bored with the shit Pansy always tells me. She never shuts up, even in text. Pain in the ass. Mum looked miffed. Or was I mistaking that for happy? Honestly, it's hard to tell with my mum. She never stops looking like her feathers were ruffled.

"What is it, Mum?" I asked, tossing Pansy's letter aside with a little more enthusiasm then I'd intended.

Mum looked like she was struggling to string her words together. "We've a new houseguest in the manor, Draco." Please say Myron Wagtail, please say Myron Wagtail.

"'Houseguest', Cissy? Really?" a voice jeered from outside my room. I distinctly knew who it was. I've never personally met her, and for good reason; the bitch was in Azkaban. But was it really her? Then again, she did escape from Azkaban a short while ago… Oh, bugger, it was her. "This is practically my home." Then emerged in my room, elbowing Mum aside, Bellatrix Lestrange, confirming my half-fears.

"'Ello, love." She began tittering. "Auntie Bella's gonna be bunkin' 'ere. Hide the firewhiskey!"