The Only Warning

Draco Malfoy was not asleep. Though it was, he thought, probably nearing midnight, that gave him absolutely no concrete reason why he should be unconscious right then. He didn't want to – he didn't feel like it. He was, however, quite bored. With a small, irritated sigh, he walked over to the sole window in his room.

In a sense, it was because of the window that he was not caught completely off-guard by what happened later that night. The panes were square and solid, and, unlike the diamond-paned windows of the first floor, were easily transparent. It was only an absent glance that Draco directed towards the front garden, but his eyes immediately locked on to rapid movement at the gates beyond the drive – a strange, swirling darkness, and then the gates opening, and a cloaked figure hurrying through them.

Draco looked hard at the newcomer, his eyes narrowed. There were only a handful of people who would even think of approaching the manor at this hour, and in such chaotic times as the wizarding world was experiencing now. So this was one of them… He turned quickly away from the window and went out into the hall, closing the door of his room softly behind him. Finding an excellent vantage point on the landing just above the first flight of stairs coming up from the front room, he leaned against the wall and waited. It was less than a minute before he was rewarded.

If Draco had not known he was right in the first place, the manner in which the front doors were flung open confirmed his suspicions. Subtlety was not an art with which Bellatrix had much patience, especially if she was in as much of a hurry as it seemed right now. From his vantage point at the top of the stairs, Draco saw the doors slam back against the wall on both sides, letting some of the night wash in and revealing the figure that was his aunt.

Yes, it was definitely her. Though she was still hooded, a few strands of dark, shining hair had escaped from underneath her cloak – a darkness mirrored by her heavily-lidded eyes. Bella stood there for a moment, her gaze searching the entrance room with a nerve-wracking deliberation. What was she looking for?

Draco shrank back into the shadows of the landing as he caught her glancing in his direction. Normally, he would have made some sneering remark, but he got the feeling he wasn't supposed to know she was here, and anyway he hadn't quite figured out how to deal with his aunt. She was a powerful witch, to be sure, but somewhat unpredictable, and those two attributes coupled together made spontaneous comments rather hazardous. Azkaban had clearly had a permanent effect on Bellatrix, and until he knew her better, he would keep his distance.

It couldn't hurt to watch, though. Finally, after surveying every square inch (or so she thought) of the room and staircase, she strode a few paces inside. With a tiny flick of her wand, the doors flew back into place, accompanied by a disproportionally loud bang compared with that small gesture. It was another indication of Bella's ideology – full control.

"Cissy!" Though it was not a shout, her tone had an unmistakable air of command. To Draco, however, who had time to consider it at his leisure, it seemed to carry a faint undertone of something else – urgency?

Then he heard the click of his mother's heels. "Bella?" Narcissa asked in confusion as she appeared at the door to the next room. "What are you doing here – I mean, at this hour?"

Bellatrix cut her off with a sharp gesture. "Where is Draco?"

Draco stiffened. This was about him? Carefully, so as to avoid alerting them of his watchfulness, his shifted slightly to get a better view.

"Upstairs," answered his mother slowly. "Why –?"

"Come with me – quickly. We don't want to be overheard." Without giving her sister any time to argue, Bellatrix swept into the next room. Hesitantly, Narcissa followed, though not before shooting a worried glance towards the second floor.

Draco waited a few seconds, until he was sure that both women were well inside, before he crept down the stairs. Narcissa had a fair point – what was Bellatrix doing here, almost at midnight, and why would she want to ensure that he was well out of the way before she consented to explain? Draco was determined to know what all the secrecy was about.

He slowed down considerably as he came nearer, trying to pick out individual words from the low voices ahead of him. Very carefully, almost without breathing, he peered around the edge of the doorway.

His mother was standing in the rough center of the room, hands clasped in front of her and he whole form very still. Except for her eyes – they were watching her sister with a stark look of apprehension. In contrast, Bellatrix was pacing agitatedly back and forth in front of the large fireplace. The edge of her cloak was swirling very close to the flames, but she appeared not to notice.

"I don't understand," Narcissa said quietly. She was watching Bella's patterned steps as though hypnotized.

Bellatrix came to a vicious stop and turned, ever so slowly, in her direction. Dark eyes flashed emphatically as she replied, "He is coming."

Even from where he was standing, Draco could see his mother turn white. With a little gasp she sank down onto the nearest chair, trembling visibly. "Here?" she repeated weakly. "Here, Bella?" Again, her gaze locked onto her sister, as though seeking some comfort there. "But why? Is this something – about Lucius?"

"Possibly," Bellatrix answered shortly. Her own features were almost expressionless. "But there is something else, as well." The words were hesitant, and when she fell silent without explaining, Narcissa spoke up again.

"Something else? What –"

"I don't know!" Bellatrix snapped back, in a tone that made her sister flinch as though she had been struck. "I do, however, have my suspicions." Lowering her voice, she continued softly, "I believe it will involve Draco."

Impossibly, his mother's face became even paler. Draco himself felt something inside of him tighten, though more from excitement than fear – or so he told himself. He was coming – it had to be him – no one else could inspire such obvious terror in Narcissa – and Draco himself was the reason, or so it appeared. Draco allowed himself a tiny smirk. His father may have been careless enough to get himself locked up in Azkaban – not that it was entirely Lucius' fault, of course – but Draco could prove himself better than that. He leaned in a little closer.

"No," Narcissa whispered, the word shaking. "No… no – Bella – you can't do this – not Draco – he's barely sixteen –"

Bellatrix shot her a scathing look. "It's not my decision, Cissy, nor is it yours. The Dark Lord's word is law. In any case, it may not be what you think."

"It doesn't matter!" said Narcissa heatedly, beginning to sound hysterical. She stood up suddenly. "I told Lucius – he can do whatever he likes, but Draco is not to become involved under any circumstances. He swore he would keep Draco out of it, Bella! I won't have this family torn apart any more than it is!"

"Whatever the Dark Lord decides, you don't have a choice, Narcissa! Draco is old enough for whatever this may be, without you making his decisions for him."

"He doesn't know – he has no idea –" She let out a little sound that might have been a sob.

But Bellatrix wasn't listening anymore. Staring into the fireplace, she seemed to be meditating on something else that had nothing to do with her sister wringing her hands anxiously. Draco watched his aunt's profile closely, frowning.

"Come in, Draco."

Her words caught him by surprise, and for a moment he did nothing. If she had known that he was there the entire time, why had she not said anything sooner? Why did Bellatrix not seem to mind in the least that he was eavesdropping on the conversation? Warily, he crossed into the room.

Narcissa had looked up. "What – Draco? You shouldn't be –"

"Leave him alone, Cissy," Bella interrupted, though somewhat absently. "I keep telling you – you're too protective."

"Someone has to be!" his mother flared up, her face flushed now. Draco had never seen her like this before; she didn't usually lose control so easily. "You haven't even considered what I go through, and Lucius doesn't give a –" She broke off with a look at her son, breathing quickly, though it had clearly taken a great deal of effort to refrain from continuing. Draco merely raised an eyebrow in slight surprise, but Bellatrix let out a harsh laugh.

"I doubt Lucius is worried about anything right now, except what the Dark Lord might do once Azkaban is taken. Face it, Narcissa – things are changing. Draco's path may be going a different way now." Bella suddenly turned to him. "You heard everything?"

He looked at her without expression. "Obviously."

Bellatrix nodded, almost with approval. "Good – it saves me the time of explaining everything again. Now, if that's all –" She paused, for her sister had made a small sound of protest. "What, Cissy?"

Narcissa was looking at her pleadingly. "When… when is he coming?"

"He awaits my signal," said Bellatrix simply, pushing up her left sleeve to display the mark on her inner forearm.

Draco felt his gaze being drawn automatically to the image of skull and serpent – it fascinated him, in a way. It was a symbol of highest status among the Dark Lord's followers – to bear the Dark Mark was to be chosen as a loyal and worthy member in the inner circle of the most powerful wizard in the world. His father had it, his aunt had it; Draco could not help hoping that one day he, too, could prove himself trusted enough to wear it.

Apparently, his mother felt rather differently; she recoiled, probably involuntarily, at the sight of the Mark.

"I can't change this, Cissy," Bella told her quietly, and for once there was a bit of sympathy in her voice. "There is nothing I can do."

Narcissa looked away, growing pale again, but said nothing. After all, Draco thought, what choice did she have?

An uncomfortable silence ensued. Then Bellatrix asked softly, "Are you prepared, Draco?"

Heart pounding, Draco nodded. "Yes."

With a final look at her sister, Bellatrix stretched out her arm and pressed the forefinger of her other hand to the Mark. As skin met flesh, it burned black.