Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and notable locations belong to J. K Rowling. Original characters and plot belong to me.

i had a dream, which was not all a dream

the bright sun was extinguished, and the stars

did wander darkling in the eternal space;

rayless, pathless, and the icy earth

swung blind and blackening in the moonless air

- lord george byron, darkness

CARINA

The one thing about Abraxas Malfoy that redeemed him to his granddaughter was his short temper. Most people who knew him wouldn't say the same, but it had been a blessing for Carina. She'd found unexpected solace at his manor house on the English coast, despite him being one of the most antisocial people she'd ever known. Carina thought it was because Abraxas didn't put up with his son's pig-headedness, and he had no patience for Draco's bootlicking. Her holidays with her grandfather were always peaceful. They hardly talked and barely saw each other from day to day, but this taciturn behavior suited her well. The silence had been good company; her grandfather's home was so large she could shout at the top of her lungs and not a whisper would be heard on the other side of the house. Mealtimes were quiet, but over the years she'd gotten used to her grandfather's coldness. Away from mother, father, and Draco, she could simply be alone with herself.

When she was younger she used to visit with her father, just for a day or an afternoon. As she got older she realized her father and grandfather didn't get along and though their arguments were always conducted behind closed doors, there was palpable tension between father and son. By the time she was thirteen she'd started spending the summer holidays at the manor, and had gained the kind of clarity that only comes from solitude. She wasn't like her family, and despite the strange camaraderie she found with her grandfather she was a square peg trying to fit into a round hole.

On the day of her grandfather's funeral, Carina escaped to the beach for a chance to think. The sand clinging to her toes was gritty and dark as obsidian. She'd been walking for hours, trying to get away and find some peace. The funeral had been stale, an uncomfortable affair that turned into a clandestine meeting of minds. Nothing good could ever culminate from these people rubbing elbows. She was sick to death of all of them; the company her parents kept was near beast. Greyback was the worst. His gaze followed her like a wolf watching a deer and her skin would crawl so much it felt liable to burst free. To make matters worse he'd been watching her since she was a girl. Had he always been around, lurking like a bad omen? Or was that her imagination just producing phantoms where there weren't any...

I'm not imagining it, she told herself, but some days it was harder to believe her assertions. Today was one such day. Abraxas Malfoy hadn't been the warmest person – no wonder her father was the way he was – but Carina felt she had reason to grieve, nonetheless.

The beach below the manor house wasn't the prettiest or most pleasant place to spend her time, but she liked the sharp wind stinging at her cheeks and the roll of the grey waves. It served as an effective refuge from the farce going on inside. Her mother pretended to cry, dabbing at her pale cheeks with a handkerchief and her father talked with everyone, circulating the room like a cool breeze. Draco had, by and large, ignored everyone.

Yet it wasn't so much her family that made Carina want to flee. Her grandfather's will had been clear, and she'd seen the look on her father's face when they'd read it the evening before the funeral. The manor and Abraxas' fortune would go to Carina on her seventeenth birthday, in two years. The holidays she'd spent here with her grandfather had apparently meant more to the man than she'd expected, but her father hadn't spoken more than a handful of words to her since finding out. If she knew her father at all, she'd find out what it felt like to be left out of her parent's will, in time. He was vindictive enough, to punish Carina for whatever affection Abraxas showed her in lieu of himself or Draco, the favoured and the heir apparent to their dreadful kingdom.

Carina was two years older than her brother, but she'd been born a girl, and therefore had little value to Lucius. She was considered weak; but she knew she was not. Draco was the weak one. His mind was easily warped and influenced by their father on nearly every issue, and he mimicked Lucius without a second thought. Carina wanted to love Draco, the way a sister should, but he was mean and cruel and all she saw in him was their father. Narcissa was gentler, but by no means was she a kind woman. She offered no warmth or safety to Carina. Sometimes she wondered if all the strength of character Narcissa might've had had been crushed out of her by her husband.

With her grandfather gone, she suddenly had no ally among her relatives. Carina thought of her aunt, Andromeda, and wondered if she could be counted on for security in Abraxas' void. She didn't remember her aunt; they hadn't seen each other since Carina was a baby, and Narcissa acted as though she had only one sister. Bellatrix was insane, and that insanity made her dangerous. Carina hated her the most, but she was terrified of her all the same.

She paused, digging her toes into the sand and staring down at her pale feet, at the shift of sinews and muscle beneath her skin. She had her mother's feet: small, arched, and bony. Carina heard the sound of another's footsteps crunching over the sand, displacing pebbles under their shoes as they walked. She turned and narrowed her eyes at the tall, ugly man coming towards her. Fenrir had thick shoulders and arms so long Carina believed he was more gorilla than man.

"Did my father send you?" Carina asked, having to raise her voice over the wind as it tried to snatch her words away. Fenrir smirked, a twist at the corner of his mouth.

"No, little one," he rasped, and his voice carried so easily it was as though he stood directly before her.

Carina felt like she couldn't breathe as fear suddenly erupted in her chest. She was afraid, of him, of the look in his eyes. She took a step back, her hand scrambling for her wand. "Leave me alone, Greyback," Carina snapped. "I don't want you here."

He came closer, his movements predatory, and when Carina backed away she felt water slap at her ankles. She glanced over her shoulder. She was cornered between the black sea, and Greyback. "Don't worry, girl," Fenrir said. "Just wanted to make sure you weren't goin' anywhere."

Fenrir bared his mossy yellow teeth with the sharp, overly large canines and turned to trudge back towards the manor. Carina's relieved breath rattled out of her lungs and left her shaking from fright. She watched the werewolf leave until he was finally out of her sight. She felt unsafe out here, alone and vulnerable, so she slowly made her way back, following Fenrir's footprints in the sand. Carina made sure to avoid him and returned dutifully to her mother's side. Her father had invited several people to a memorial dinner at the manor that evening, to honour Abraxas, but Carina knew that her father had no intention of honouring the man.

Rather than sit uncomfortably at dinner, Carina retired to her room and spent the night alone, reading. Glancing out the window as she laid her book aside, she felt uneasy at the sight of the moon cradled in the sky, soon to be full. It's silver glow was baleful, promising danger from an already dangerous man.

LUCIUS

That stupid old man. Lucius' thoughts were a bitter swirl of hatred and anger. His wife couldn't comfort him, and she quickly gave up on trying when she was threatened by his rage. His colleagues had no words of sympathy to offer. And his daughter... somehow, she had betrayed him. The words in his father's will ran through his mind like fire, boiling his blood.

Lucius gave a shout of frustration, snatched the heavy wooden paperweight off Abraxas' desk, and hurled it at the window. The glass shattered and the paperweight sailed out into the yard, disappearing into the bushes. The others shared looks that spoke of their disapproval for his lapse in self-control. They hadn't come to talk about the will, or the choice Abraxas made to bequeath everything to Lucius' eldest child. They had other issues to talk over, other problems to solve.

Bellatrix made a derisive sound in the back of her throat. "Are you finished?" she hissed at Lucius.

"Not even close," Lucius exclaimed. "You do know, Bella-" he spoke her nickname with acidity "-that without my father's money, I have significantly less to offer the Dark Lord. That fortune was important to him."

"She's only fifteen. She won't touch a knut of that money until she's a legal adult," Bellatrix said. "Make her give it to the Dark Lord."

"She won't, not of her own free will." Lucius pushed the air out of his lungs with a heavy, irritated exhale. He straightened up, smoothed back his hair, and smiled an icy smile. "She's become a disappointment, of late."

"I'll put some fear in her," Greyback snarled, a delighted look in his eyes. Lucius sneered at him. Fenrir was a mongrel, a half-breed, and his very presence was offensive to Lucius.

"Are you suggesting attacking my daughter?" Lucius asked. There was no concern for his child in his voice, just simple disgust at the idea of such a foul creature laying a hand on a Malfoy.

"Just an idea." Fenrir shrugged his huge shoulders, and his lips pulled back from his teeth in an ugly grin. "She's gotten pretty, your lass. Can't blame me for wantin' to take a bite outta her."

Bellatrix turned her wand on Fenrir and shooed him out of the study by threatening to curse him. She turned to Lucius with cold, uncaring eyes. "Find a way to get the inheritance," she snapped. "Or you'll soon be worthless to our Lord."

They spent the next hour contemplating ways to obtain the fortune that so eluded them. A headache was beginning to pound inside Lucius' skull, not helped by the shrill and grating way Bellatrix turned down every suggestion he made with put-downs and snide comments.

"I'll marry her off," Lucius said tiredly. "To a man from a good pureblood family. One who the Dark Lord approves of."

Finally the dark-haired witch looked thoughtfully pleased. "Then her husband would be legally entitled to her fortune," Bellatrix said, taking up the thread of Lucius' idea. "It could work. I believe Rookwood has an unmarried son."

Lucius waved her off. "Rookwood? His bloodline isn't good enough for my daughter," he said smugly. "The match will have to be a good one, befitting of a Malfoy. You may go now, Bellatrix. Return to your own husband."

Bellatrix gave him a look like thunder, and Lucius swallowed thickly, offering a simpering little smile. He knew Bellatrix's marriage was not a happy one. Lucius thought it was Bellatrix's feelings for their Dark Lord that made her husband so hostile and possessive. Rudolphus was not the kind of man who liked to share.

"Don't make a mess of this," Bellatrix said, as her parting words.