AN: Hey! I've turned the idea for this fic over in my mind for a long time now, until finally I decided that I had to start. I'm really not very sure if I want to keep going with this, because if I do end up writing this it's going to be very, very, very long and drawn out and complicated. Please, please, PLEASE review and tell me if you think it's worth continuing! This chapter has stuff that might not make sense, but if I end up telling the rest of the story it will. So please, FEEDBACK!!
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, and anything recognizable in this story doesn't belong to me. Don't sue, please.
Chapter 1
The grandfather clock in the hall struck 11:30, and Draco shifted uncomfortably in his seat, shivering in the icy cold room. The roaring fire to his left did little to warm up the cavernous dining hall. He had been here since 10 o'clock, and still he sat at the long, cold, deserted table, with only his mother across from him. He sneaked a glance up at her, but her head remained bowed, her face perfectly still, composed, the candlelight gleaming off of her white-blond hair. He sighed silently, and bent his own head, studying the ornately carved serpents that twisted their way around the entire perimeter of the Dining Table. The serpents' eyes- tiny spheres of obsidian- flickered in the dim light, and Draco bit the inside of his cheeks as he tried to keep his eyes open.
"Draco, be still!" Narcissa's voice cut like a lash across the frozen silence, and Draco jerked up like he'd been scalded. He looked down, and realized that he had brought his hand up and had been tracing the twisting wood. He quickly brought it down beneath the table again, and finally just held onto the arms of his high, throne-like chair until his knuckles turned white. The real seat of power- a monstrous, intricately, dizzyingly carved throne stood ominously vacant at the head of the table.
Every Christmas Eve since Draco had gone to Hogwarts had been like this- Lucius would go into his study at exactly 10 o'clock and disappear. Draco didn't know how, perhaps he apparated, or maybe used floo powder. In any case, Draco and Narcissa kept a lonely, cold vigil every Christmas Eve in the Dining Hall until Lucius came home. Sometimes he came home before Christmas Day, sometimes after. But it was always a long, silent wait.
The first time Draco had asked any questions about his father's Christmas departures, his mother had slapped him for the first time in his life. The livid hand mark had remained on his face for days.
After that, Draco never asked again.
Of course, he had figured it out soon enough- he knew that Christmas Eve and Christmas itself were two of the most powerful days of the year- knew that the Dark Lord would take advantage of it any way he could. One would not have thought that dark magic could have possibly endured such an outpouring of 'goodwill' and 'light magic', but certain doors were open such nights that were closed for the rest of the year.
The fire flared up with a momentarily blinding green flash of flame, and Lucius Malfoy rose up in the fireplace. Draco squinted, rising up out of his seat. As the tall figure of his father straightened up, Draco stared, dimly becoming aware that something wasn't quite right- the older man seemed to sway a bit, stagger, almost as if he was drunk. Draco felt the hair rise at the nape of his neck, and when his father looked up, there was an odd kind of smile playing around Lucius' mouth. Cold dread filled Draco at the expression, ice solidifying along his spine.
Something was not right.
"Draco, don't look." Narcissa's voice was tersely sharp, and Draco glanced at her instead in astonishment. She rose up, and quickly walked towards her husband, effectively cutting off Draco's view. He blinked in astonishment- she had pulled out her wand and performed a Veiling Spell on herself. It cast a blue aura around the caster that nullified all malicious hypnosis and other dark spells that required the victim to make eye contact. Draco stepped away from the table in confusion. What the hell was going on?
"Lucius, you're late tonight." Narcissa's voice was normal now, calm, the tone of voice she always used with her husband.
"Yes, well, our lord had a few things he wanted to say to me-" Lucius's normally deadly precise voice was slurred now. "In fact-" Lucius leaned- almost drunkenly- to the right around Narcissa to look at Draco. Draco saw Narcissa's cat-quick signal to look down, and he hastily averted his eyes. "We talked about you, Draco, my heir." Draco turned away, and looked through the corner of his eyes at his father- there was a chilling sneer there that Draco had never seen before, but there was something deeper there, something more profound that Draco couldn't read- wasn't sure he wanted to read.
"Seems that the Dark Lord has taken quite an interest in you recently- he'd like to know the true quality of his best future Death Eaters. And, of course, you are the best- the cream of the crop- la crème de la crème." Lucius's voice had taken on a purring sort of quality as he stalked- there simply was no other word for it- closer and closer to his son. Draco backed up instinctively, still not looking directly at his father, and still not understanding in the least what the hell was going on. "Draco, are you such a coward that you cannot look me in the eye? Look at me when I talk to you! Look at me!" Lucius's voice had become raised. Draco bit his lip, drawing blood. Normally he would have looked up immediately, no hesitation, but he was acutely aware of his mother's warning- and something- something wrong in Lucius's voice set of an uneasy prickling under his skin. Draco's gaze remained firmly rooted to the ground.
He was faintly aware that his mother had backed up with him and his father, remaining almost directly between them. He heard her whisper a few words, and then the familiar feel of magic threaded around him. His mother murmured quietly, so only he could hear- "Draco, you can look up now- but be careful." Draco slowly raised his head, burning with questions, but the slightest shake of his mother's head forestalled him. He turned his attention to his father, instead.
A queer light shone in Lucius Malfoy's eyes, and Draco recoiled inwardly- this was not his father- this was something deranged and manic.
"So how strong are you really, my son?" Lucius lazily pointed his wand straight at Draco. The glint in his eyes showed that Lucius was clearly prepared to cast a spell.
A flood of pure adrenaline rushed through Draco's body. He could hardly think through the pounding of blood in his ears, in his head. He remained stock-still, dead silent. Lucius smiled, all gleaming teeth. "Well, at least you don't run away screaming, I'll give you that much. But how about this? Avada Ked-" Draco stiffened at the incompleted curse, unable to believe his ears. The temperature in the room seemed to have plunged below zero, and Draco felt like he was literally frozen to the spot. Lucius chuckled. "Even better. You're tougher than I gave you credit for, Draco." But even as Draco watched in pure disbelief, something in Lucius's eyes changed- something grew even colder, harder, becoming terrifyingly merciless, inhuman. There was some undercurrent there too, though, something strong and deep and utterly incomprehensible to Draco. "So let's see how you fare against the real thing. Avada Kedav-" Draco was pushed out of the way roughly, rapidly. His mother stood in front of him, facing Lucius with her wand drawn.
"Narcissa, get out of the way!" For the first time that evening, Lucius's voice was crisp and deadly precise.
"No." Narcissa's voice was soft but firm. "Lucius, Draco is our son- he's your son." Her voice was almost pleading, and Draco looked at her in astonishment- he had never heard her talk that way- ever.
Lucius smiled coldly. "I know. That's why."
Narcissa's stance shifted subtly, now, and when she spoke again her voice had become steely, with an injection of pure ice. "You may not kill him. You did not kill him then- you may not- you may not kill him now. You know it is not time." Draco almost choked at this- but both his parents ignored him.
"You are wrong. It is." There was a note of finality in Lucius's voice, and something almost sorrowful? Narcissa raised her eyes directly to her husband's, and what she saw there made her soften. "Oh, Lucius-" she breathed, and she took a tentative step forward, a kind of hopeless acceptance coloring her voice. "But you cannot- he's your son-" but the next thing he knew Lucius had angled his wand around Narcissa so it was pointing straight at Draco once again. "Avada Kedavra!"
Draco was thrown to the floor as Narcissa shoved him aside- and he watched in horror as the green jet of light sped across the room and hit Narcissa.
Narcissa dropped heavily to the ground, but somehow she kept drawing in a few ragged breaths. Draco scrambled over to her frantically. "Mother- Mother!" His shaking hands felt for hers, and when she reached up weakly he grabbed them in sheer desperation. His mother looked up with rapidly fading eyes, and it was obvious that she forced herself to speak with the last of her waning energy.
"Draco- you may not kill him- promise me you will not kill him-" Narcissa's eyes were intense and anxious. He nodded- anything, anything.
"I promise." Draco whispered, desperately, unthinkingly. Narcissa looked up at him one last time. She smiled, a faint, warm smile, and then the breath passed out of her body, and her hand went slack. Draco shut his eyes, certain that the whole night had been a nightmare. He gulped in a few breaths, trying to wake up, trying to believe that the whole bloody mess wasn't true.
His mother's hand slipped out of his hold. He opened his eyes, and looked down. There was still a faint, warm smile on her face- and that was what convinced him that he was not dreaming, that this was real- because he knew that in a hundred years he never could have dreamed such a smile on his mother's face. Tears began steadily dropping from his face, and he took in a deep, unsteady, breath.
Then he drew his hand over her face, closing her unseeing eyes.
The clock in the hall struck midnight. It was Christmas Day.
AN: Should I continue or what? Please review!
