Title: Loss of Beauty
Rating: K+
Genre: Angst
Pairings: None
Summary: A letter from Lucius. A task for Draco.
Warnings: Some blood, minor self-mutilation.
Word Count: 594
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's Note: This isn't necessarily dark, but it's not very… cheerful. There are a few subtle things that I tried to hint in the fic that I'm proud of. Here's hoping someone catches on! (And no, as much as I'd like to, I'm not hinting Harry/Draco!) Review!
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The black rose rested innocently against his green velvet coverlet, and Draco paused in the doorway. This was it, he thought. The final night. The final battle. The raid of Hogwarts. He willed himself to stop the slight trembles that crept up his spine, and he made his way into his Prefect's room.
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He had gotten the letter months earlier, written in a code that ensured only a Malfoy could read its contents. When he received it he knew what to do; he crossed to his mahogany desk and extracted a small silver dagger from the top-right drawer. He slid the tip carefully against the skin of his left wrist, just enough to drip blood. He allowed three drops to fall onto the page and then magically closed his wound. The angry red flesh streaked against his ivory skin, but he paid it no mind. In a few days it will be an old scar, soon to fade into nothingness. At that moment, he had more important things to worry about. The blood permeated the parchment and he watched as, in deep red ink, his father's words began to appear.
Draconis,
Our Lord and Master has appointed a task to you, and I am certain you will not fail me. Christmas holidays are in a fortnight, but I shall not be there to celebrate with you. On the eve of your departure back to Hogwarts your mother will give you a small brown parcel. Do not open it. Enclosed will be a portkey tuned specifically to you. In other words, it will be an ordinary gemstone to anyone else who touches it. Keep that in mind.
In June of next year, there will be an attack on your school. Do not be alarmed. The morning of the attack a token will be placed on your bed to warn you of what is to come. That shall be the night where you prove yourself to the Dark Lord.
When you find the token, you must take the portkey and find Harry Potter. I understand that you and he are nothing if not enemies, but you must find him and get firm contact with him before touching the gem. You and he will be transported to Malfoy manor, where your aunt Bellatrix shall be waiting to stun your charge. The other loyal followers, including myself, will be raiding the school to keep all eyes from watching the boy.
Do not disappoint me.
Lucius Malfoy
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Draco sat down on the edge of his bed, warily eyeing the flower from the corner of his eye. It would not be poisoned, or hexed, or anything of the sort. Of that he was sure. Looking into it, however, made him uneasy. He had been preparing for this – this task – for months. How could back down at this point? He reached over and picked up the rose, feeling the velvety petals that seemed to absorb all the light around it. The petals were black. Pure darkness. Such an odd coloration; such an evil abomination of beauty. Before his eyes flashed other remembrances of the color: his first cat, the hem of the Dark Lord's robes, a mass of shaggy, untamable hair…
Before he realized he had been doing it, his absently roaming fingers had caught themselves in a thorn on the stem, pooling a small puddle of blood on his perfectly pressed robes. Without another thought Draco crossed the room and unceremoniously tossed the rose into the fireplace, glaring at it while it burned. Blood did not become him, he decided.