Disclaimer: All Harry Potter related characters, places, etc. all rightfully belong to JK Rowling. :) I am merely a fanfic writer.

Chapter One

Prince, Lord, & Coward

An eery, moonlit glow was falling over the small brick houses of a small street called Spinner's End. It was almost midnight, and sleep overcame each of the street's few inhabitants. The neighborhood dogs, who were not already sleeping at the foot of their owners' beds, could be found basking in the vague moonlight, asleep in their own small, individual houses. Every house had their curtains drawn and their streetlights turned on; every house, that is, except the battered old house at the end of the street.

With candlelight glowing through two of it's dirty curtains, the house held a great air of neglect. The shed to the right of the house was devoid of any sort of lawn care utensil nor machine, and the lawn, unsurprisingly, was devoid of any lawncare. Grass and weeds about three feet high boasted their height against the rusting mailbox and the battered front porch that carelessly led to the wooden front door. To a passerby's first glance, the house, along with it's yard, would have looked as though it had been deserted for years. Any passerby would have concluded this, if it had not been for the candlelit windows and the three dark shadows stirring behind them.

One of these shadows belonged to a burly seventeen year old boy with a pale, pointed face and sleek, blonde hair who was noisily and carelessly pacing the wooden floor. A shaken, middle aged woman who shared his appearance was sitting on a moth-eaten sofa nearby, her pale eyes vacant and her long hair untamed as she stared blankly at the many bookshelves occupying the surrounding walls. In the recliner beside her sat a hook-nosed, middle-aged man in a black, billowing cloak. His greasy black hair was parted in two curtains around his face, his expression unreadable as he watched the pacing boy lazily.

"There's no need to carve a pathway in my floor, Draco," muttered the man in black wearily, "the Dark Lord's task has been successfully fulfilled, and that's all that he really cares about."

The pacing boy called Draco Malfoy slowly stopped dead in his tracks, and instead turned to face the silence breaker. Candlelight reached Malfoy's pale skin, which now held an unmistakable grayish tinge. The deep, purple shadows under his eyes said that he had not slept for days.

"Don't you people understand?" Malfoy asked slowly staring incredulously at the man, "the task you completed was mean't for me for complete-- I'm lucky if I survice five minutes when HE enters this dunghill! Do you really think HE cares if I survive? Do you realize who we're talking about here?" Malfoy started to pace again before adding indignantly, "Months and months of planning that rubbish, and you're going to get all the glory!"

While the man in black gave no immediate reaction, the sitting woman whimpered slightly, clutching her traveling cloak in her white hands. Breaking her blank gaze at nothing in particular, she turned to speak to the greasy haired man beside her.

"Severus," she whispered shakily; her voice seemed momentarily incapable of holding a normal tone," do you really think the Dark Lord--?"

The man called Severus Snape held up a hand lazily to silence her.

"My dear Narcissa, what the Dark Lord will or will not do when he arrives here tonight is a mystery; we both are aware of the fact that he does not forgive easily. However, we have had this discussion before. I have not, and never planned to, break the Unbreakable Vow that I made a year ago in this very house. The task that the Dark Lord gave to Draco still has been completed, even if he was not the one to complete it," Snape said pausing for a moment, as though contemplating something, before continuing,"I have dutifully completed it for Draco and the Dark Lord; what's done is done. I doubt that the Dark Lord will care which individual has done it, as long as it's done and over with. Draco was only sixteen, after all."

Snape reached over at a wine glass on the chipped, wooden coffee table in front of him and took a drink. Narcissa Malfoy stared at her pacing son, her pale face worried, but looking a little more relaxed than before. It was hard to tell if Draco Malfoy had paid attention to a word of this, because his pacing gradually became more and more rapid and noisy.

"Albus Dumbledore is now beneath our worries-- almost literally,"Snape smirked silkily, "and for that, I sincerely believe that the Dark Lord will be pleased--"

"-- what time is it?" Malfoy interrupted loudly. "He's supposed to arrive at midnight."

Narcissa glanced at her watch before looking out the window.

"Almost twelve," she whispered, wrapping her cloak more tightly around her.

Malfoy glanced at his mother, as though about to retort, but kept his mouth unusually shut tight,perhaps for fear of throwing up. He immediately resumed his pacing. A few moments had passed when the golden hour and minute hand on the old grandfather clock in the next room struck twelve. As though they were awaiting patiently for this sudden occurence, the yellow fires in all of the candles in the room went out. There was a sudden, billowing silence.

Malfoy stopped dead in his tracks, his expression wary and unmistakably frightened; Snape rose from his seat at once, his dark eyes taking in all angles of the darkness, while Narcissa had not reacted at all.Barely five seconds had passed when an icy wind seemed to past through the house, even though it was a warm summer's day... The sudden coldness sent chills though each individuals spines, oddly blanking their minds. As soon as they could consider this sudden change in atmosphere, a tall, thin man appeared out of nowhere near the front door.

Even in the darkness, his face seemed to give off a starkly white glow. His eyes were not the common eyes that even a wizard would look upon every day; this man's eyes were that of red slits, that were not warm, but cold and immensely intimidating. His hands were resting at his sides, just as white and thin as their owner's face. Like Snape, he was wearing a long, billowing cloak. Standing at the door was Lord Voldemort.

Narcissa Malfoy gave a sudden gasp of joy, and lept down toward the floor at Voldemort's feet. Bowing, she muttered "Master..master..we're so grateful you're here--"

Voldemort looked down at her, a cold smile on his face.

"Now, now, Narcissa, I told you I would return." he said in his icy voice.

Snape, like Narcissa, bowed. Malfoy did the same.

"Snape, I am grateful beyond words for you finally getting rid of Albus Dumbledore," murmured Voldemort, once all three were on their feet again. Voldemort lazily flicked his wand, and yellow fire returned to each candle in the house, vanishing the darkness.

"You're utmost welcome, master,"said Snape, bowing again,"You certainly know that I am most fateful to you." Malfoy was now staring at the floor, his pale face now unmistakably green, and his expression sulky.

"Ah, my dear Narcissa,now..what concerns me," continued Voldemort indifferently, "is the fact that Draco," he turned to Narcissa, and then to Malfoy,"failed to carry on with the task that I set before him..I can see that you know I am not pleased."

Malfoy looked up at Voldemort with an expression of forced blankness, but he was not successful in concealing his bitter expression. Narcissa tried to conceal her fright, but did not quite manage it.

"Master.."she murmured, trembling slightly, "Draco tried.. and the task you set before him was so kindly finished by Severus---"

"I'm the one who set up the plan all year long.." Malfoy said with strained calmness, "I'm the reason that Snape even got there to kill--"

"Silence," said Voldemort sharply, although he looked vaguely amused. "Yes, yes, Draco.. you set up the plan.. but what good is a plan without carrying it out? What good is plotting a murder, when all you're going to do is lower your wand at the sight of your captive? Cowardice..complete cowardice.. I can see it in you, just like your father, who is so safely sitting in Azkaban at the moment. I have no use for cowards in the future, Draco."

Malfoy seemed unusually relieved at what Voldemort said.

"Yes, master, my apologies" he muttered, bowing.

"So," Voldemort said coldly, "as I have no need for cowards, my dementors are in great need for a soul."

"NO!"

Narcissa Malfoy was on the floor again, at Voldemort's feet, staring at him as though she had never seen him before.

"MASTER!" she sputtered, tears feverishly streaming down her face,"S-snape killed h-him! It's d-done!! Don't punish my only son for his one mistake! Can't you---?"

Voldemort stared back down at Narcissa, a crude smile twisting on his horrible, snake-like face.

"Yes, Narcissa," he said softly."The task WAS completed... but my dementors do need a reward too sooner or later, you know, for so kindly joining me.. I promised them prey in return--Draco, here, is no use to me." His eyes fell upon Malfoy, who was paralyzed in shock, "Do you really think I'd pass up such an oppurtunity? Narcissa, I thought more of you than that.. "

Just then, the wooden door opened. If the room was cold when Voldemort entered, it was nothing compared to what is was then. A single dementor glided into the room... it's faint rasping, blood curling sound of it's breath filling the silence and warmth of the room...

It was though a sudden, Arctic wind had passed through the room, sucking in all of the summer's warmth around it..the fire in the surrounding candles vanished yet again...as if in a dream, Narcissa Malfoy watched the dementor lower it's ugly hood towards her only son..

With that, she screamed a scream so terrifyingly piercing and loud that it awoke all the neighboring Muggle houses on the small street of Spinner's End... Draco Malfoy's lifeless body slumped against the opposite wall.