The Task
Narcissa spoke.
"Will you, Severus, watch over my son, Draco, as he attempts to fulfill the Dark Lord's wishes?"
"I will," said Snape.
A thin tongue of brilliant flame issued from the wand and wound its way around their hands like a red-hot wire.
"And will you, to the best of your ability, protect him from harm?"
"I will," said Snape.
A second tongue of flame shot from the wand and interlinked with the first, making a fine, flowing chain.
"And, should it prove necessary…if it seems Draco will fail…" whispered Narcissa (Snape's hand twitched within hers, but he did not draw away), "will you carry out the deed that the Dark Lord has ordered Draco to perform?"
"I will," said Snape.
Bellatrix's astounded face glowed red in the blaze of a third tongue of flame, which shot from the wand, twisted with the others, and bound itself thickly around their clasped hands, like a rope, like a fiery snake.
***
Draco watched the large black grandfather clock's twisted second hand slowly circle the skull that demarcated the centre of the clock face. How long had his mother been gone? Though he had been staring unblinkingly at the clock, the minutes seemed to tick away meaninglessly. Lately, he had much on his mind.
Twirling his wand absentmindedly, he pondered the weight of the responsibility that now rested on his shoulders. He alone would be accountable for the moment that would forever change their magical world. The pride he first felt when chosen by the Dark Lord had begun to subside, and was slowly being replaced with a creeping doubt that reached out from the shadows of his subconscious. Like a dementor, the reality of his position swooped down on him; he had been given perhaps the most crucial task the Dark Lord had ever set, a task any Death Eater would kill to perform.
Yet he was uncertain. Although the Dark Lord expressed confidence in him, Draco questioned his motives, a sentiment that was also shared by his mother. Was he simply a pawn, a stand-in for his incompetent father, a mere retaliatory sacrifice? Or was he worth more to the Dark Lord, a capable warrior who was willing to step up, paving the way for the Dark Lord's ultimate plan to come to fruition? While he had not fully convinced himself it was the latter, Draco reluctantly pushed the matter from his mind.
Suddenly, the foyer of the Malfoy manor house was echoing with voices, causing Draco to drop his wand and listen intently. His mother had returned.
"If the Dark Lord finds out, you will beg to be sent to Azkaban to join your worthless husband," chimed Bellatrix as she twirled around her sister, eyes wide with excitement, letting out a peal of laugher.
Taking off her cloak and straightening her long, blonde hair, Narcissa ignored her sister's reproachful taunts. Bellatrix was not a mother; she could not possibly understand.
"Just when the Dark Lord offers you a way to restore the embarrassing damage Lucius caused at the Ministry, you turn your back, begging for help from that greasy traitor," Bellatrix spat, "I would rather die than beg like a common house elf!"
Narcissa froze. She slowly turned toward her sister, her travelling cloak still in hand. "Then perhaps you would be more befitting of the task set to Draco," her eyes narrowed, "But obviously the Dark Lord has deemed you foolish and cowardly, given your failure to procure the prophesy and your hasty retreat from the Ministry. Clearly, you have not proven yourself his faithful servant, or you would have been given this great honour." Before turning her back to her sister, Narcissa watched Bellatrix's face contort with rage.
"I AM THE DARK LORD'S MOST FAITHFUL SERVANT! It was I who searched for him when all others believed him dead! Unyieldingly, I have been at his side! I deserve this task, not your weak, infantile son!" Shrieking, Bellatrix paced the charcoal marble floor with such ferocity that each footfall rivalled a clap of thunder.
Abruptly, Bellatrix wrenched open the heavy ebony door causing Narcissa to halt mid-step, barring her exit from the foyer. Narcissa slowly turned to face her sister, attempting to hide the storm of emotions welling up inside her. Bellatrix glowered, teeth slightly bared.
"However, if Draco miraculously succeeds, perhaps he will be able to lift the Malfoy name from the puddle of disgrace in which it now wallows," Bellatrix hissed. With her voice barely above a whisper, she venomously continued, "If he fails, which I assure you, dear sister, he most certainly will, you will find yourself at the mercy of the Dark Lord, with I as his most devoted servant…and no one to wipe away the tears you cry over your dead son."
The skull-shaped door knocker hammered against the door as Bellatrix heaved it shut behind her, causing the grand emerald chandelier to sway dangerously in protest as she stole off into the damp depression of a late August twilight.
***
Narcissa stood, rooted to the spot, watching the dancing green outline of the chandelier swinging overhead weave Devil's Snare-like patterns over the dark marble floor. Draco, her only son, could not possibly meet his death so prematurely – she would not allow it. All reservation she held regarding her visit to Severus immediately dissolved. She was sure she had made the right choice.
Gathering her thoughts, regaining her composure, and reigning in her wits, Narcissa set off in search of Draco. She did not have to look far. Narcissa found him standing stiffly a few paces from a mahogany table, topped with an assortment of Malfoy family heirlooms that would easily fetch hundreds of galleons from Borgin and Burkes. A healthy fire roared in a handsomely adorned hearth in the Great Room of the manor, but did not warm her.
Draco lifted his blue eyes and gazed at his mother through the mirror that hung above the table. In them, there was both a resolve and a coldness she had never yet observed, and it frightened her. Narcissa attempted to smile, barely able to keep the tears welling up in the corners of her eyes from falling helplessly and regretfully down her paled cheeks. She desperately wanted to run to him, envelop him in her arms, but she was unable to translate her thoughts into actions.
She parted her red lips to speak, but Draco started, "It's about time you returned home." He continued to stare into the mirror, manipulating the mummified body of a Cornish pixie inattentively with his wand. He did not wait for her response. "Where have you been?"
Willing herself to take a step forward, Narcissa replied, "Ensuring my family will not become more tattered and torn than it already is," she fought back a lump that was quickly rising in her throat, "I cannot allow you to leave my care unprotected."
"And just what is that supposed to mean, 'allow me'? I am not a child, mother. I would think that much would be evident given what the Dark Lord has entrusted to me," Draco turned to face Narcissa, his face challenging, "Or do you disagree with him?"
"You are only a boy, Draco!" Narcissa implored, her voice climbing, "You will fail! And I will be left here to pick up the pieces!"
Draco's lips tightened and his wand hand twitched ever so slightly. His voice sated with resentment, he spoke: "You are embarrassing yourself by being so unabashedly selfish. It's rather disgusting really. I have been chosen – by the Dark Lord himself. After my inept father's disgraceful display at the Ministry, I must work that much harder to prove I am worthy of the Dark Lord's attention."
Narcissa appeared stunned as she digested her son's retort. In an attempt to salvage the conversation, she spoke quickly and with fervour.
"Draco, I love you and you are my only son; you must understand my concern for you is not limited to this one task! If you complete what the Dark Lord has asked of you, there is no telling where his requests will end. He cares not for your life Draco! He sees you only as an instrument to be played at will. Please, I beg you Draco; do not follow through – it will only permit him to continue to exploit you!" At this, Narcissa dropped to her knees, tears streaming freely. She frantically searched her son's pale face for any sign of comprehension; any hint that he was capable of empathy. She found none.
Draco stepped forward, approaching his mother unhurriedly, but with purpose. He came to rest just outside of his mother's reach.
"I will be following through with the Dark Lord's task. There is nothing you can do – or say – that will prevent me from attaining the praise I deserve. And if you truly wanted to be helpful, you would mind your own business. This is between me and the Dark Lord." Draco looked down at his mother with a look of contempt that she had never seen, not even from her own sister. He started to walk away, but Narcissa hastily reached for his hand.
"If you choose to follow the Dark Lord, Draco, I can no longer protect you," she muttered, tears brazenly rolling down her cheeks, "I have done the only thing in my power left to do; beg for your protection. Severus has agreed to watch over you and carry out the task should you fail." Eyes closed, Narcissa drew her son's hand to her tear-stained cheek. Like he had just touched a scalding hot cauldron, Draco jerked it away.
"You did what? You begged him for my protection?" Draco let out a bark of disbelief. Disdain dripping from every word, he continued, "I should have known you would. Have you no pride?" Draco felt no compassion toward his mother as he strode away from her, leaving her weeping on the cool, unforgiving marble.
Covering her eyes, Narcissa could not bear to watch her only child walk away from her and into the gripping and merciless arms of his fate.
At the foot of the stairs, Draco turned once more to face his mother, unfeeling eyes falling on her body doubled over in grief.
"You have not done what I expected of a mother in your situation; you have continued to express confidence in my failure rather than my success." As he began up the grand staircase, he added, "You are not my mother. My mother would be proud to offer her only son into the service of the Dark Lord."
Narcissa had wept, alone, until the fire – along with her hope and resolve – had died. The tears she shed for her dead son came much sooner than even Bellatrix had expected.