Title: The Rising Sun

Author: Ancha289

Rating: T

Summary: On a field in Wiltshire, The Wizarding World is burning

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any characters within this story, except for the little house elf at the end. I am merely a poor college student with nothing better to do with her time.

Authoress's Notes: I never thought I would write an "End of the War" fic, but here it is. I am actually quite pleased with how it came together. I hope you all enjoy this one shot. It's been sitting around on my livejournal for a while; I sent it off to a beta before posting it here or anywhere else but she never sent it back. A disappointing first experience with a beta, that's for sure.

Pairings: None, gen fic.

Beyond the gardens, beyond the walls, the Wizarding world is burning.

She ignores the smell of the smoke and focuses instead on the sea of white and pink below her. The roses are blooming beautifully in the Malfoy gardens. While sipping her tea, she scrutinizes the available space, wondering where to put the marble bench she recently purchased on her holiday to Florence.

The swish of her son's black cloak jerks her attention away from her beloved flowers. He sneaks along the pathways of crushed oyster shells, staying to the shadows. Cautiously, he peeks over his shoulder to check her window and his eyes widen as he takes in her figure standing frozen in the frame of it.

He turns tail and sprints off the grounds of Malfoy Manor.

Narcissa's tea cup shatters against the hard wood floor and she puts her hand to her mouth, her wedding band a streak of ice against her lips.

"No," she murmurs.

Harry's head snaps back at the force of a Death Eater's meaty fist. It feels like Crabbe's, actually. Or maybe Goyle's. One of those dolts, at any rate. He grins a bloody smile and hexes his opponent into oblivion.

Draco Malfoy's immaculate figure is revealed as the Death Eater's body drops to the ground. Harry coughs and wipes his mouth. He had figured Malfoy would be behind one of the masks, but his perfectly structured face glares disdainfully at the dead man at his feet in all of his aristocratic glory.

"What the hell do you want?" Potter rasps. Malfoy draws his wand out of its holster and lets it dangle from his side. They hear fighters Apparating and Disapparating from the battlefield and the screams of torture and death from every direction.



"I am here to atone for my sins," Malfoy replies simply. Tonks, a bloody mess like everybody save Malfoy, appears at his side and wordlessly squeezes his unresponsive hand in passing. Her fingers leave smears of sticky red across his skin.

The two men nod at each other and dive into the fray. Draco hears his crazy aunt cackling somewhere, and he hopes he will not come face to face with her. He instead focuses on felling the Death Eater in front of him. The mask shifts when the Death Eater hits the ground, revealing the face of his one-time Quidditch captain, Marcus Flint. His heart skips a beat – "Good job, Malfoy," Flint grins, gripping the eleven-year-old's shoulder and shaking him gently as the team trudges back to the locker rooms after the first practice of the season. "Just don't throw up the next time we run suicides, yeah?" – but then a jinx whizzes by his head and he is suddenly back in the battle.

It is only in front of Lucius that she shows her weakness. She kneels on the cold floor before her husband's sepulcher, her shoulders slumping and the neckline of her dress gaping open. "Oh, Lucius," she sighs, tracing the engraving of his name on the brass plate that marks his place in the Malfoy line.

There is no space left for Draco. Lucius' body lies in last space, stuffed in the lowest, furthest corner, beneath that of his father, Abraxas. Twenty-five Malfoy fathers rest within the walls of the family mausoleum.

"And where will I go, Lucius?" she asks her husband's plaque. "Shall I follow the Malfoy tradition and climb in with you? Or shall I return to the Blacks? The Rosiers? (1) Surely both of them have space enough for me, what with all the children they have blasted off their tapestries." Her mouth twists sardonically, and she leans against the rough stone wall of the small room.

The smell of the smoke burns her nose even here, deep within the dungeons of the Mansion. Draco has been gone for a while now, and Narcissa has been talking to the wall since he left.

"If we had a tapestry," she murmurs, "Draco would have been off of it a long time ago. You would be so...disappointed in him. His fate is not here with you, Lucius. He will not lie down with the patriarchs of your ancient world."

He wonders how long he has been out there, how many are dead. The sun had been setting when he arrived, but it is long gone, leaving only the fires to keep everything well illuminated. Confused, Draco rubs at his eyes to clear the burning feeling and haziness away, but his aunt Andromeda is still striding determinedly over a nearby rise.

It has been years since he had seen her last, when his mother had snuck her into the Manor while his father had been in Azkaban. She still wears those infernal Muggle jeans and a black tee-shirt, and her wand sticks out of her back pocket like some uncouth first-year. Her brown hair whips about her face as she looks out over the chaos.

"Bellatrix!" She booms out, her voice surprisingly loud and authoritative. Her sister, kneeling lovingly over her latest kill, rises to her feet. Draco watches, barely breathing, as his aunt Bella leans her head back and laughs. Her black hair slips slickly over her shoulders and she suddenly whips her wand out to her side.

"Accio Nymphadora!" A startled yelp precedes the body of his cousin flying to Bellatrix's side. The older witch snatches the girl and presses her wand to her niece's throat. "Andy!" Bella cooes, turning to face her younger sister. "I was wondering when you would come to see me. I've missed you so."



Andromeda points her wand at Bellatrix, but the older woman knows that her sister dares not fire while Bellatrix holds her beloved daughter as a shield. The pitiful girl has gone stock-still in her grasp, and Bellatrix revels in the sense of ultimate power: The power to instill the dread of inevitable death.

"Bella! Bella! Stop!" Andromeda cries, gripping the ends of her brown plaits in horror. "You're hurting it!" Her sister just smiles and continues to press her sister's kitten's head into the plush Oriental rug with her booted foot. "Bella! Please! I'll keep it in my room from now on, I promise!" Bella removes her foot and the kitten springs free, sprinting out of the room with a tail as bushy as a Christmas tree.

"That's all you had to promise, Andy," The eight-year-old sniffs, tossing her own braids over her shoulder.

A flash of white to her left causes her to pause. The wave of black all around parts to allow Narcissa Malfoy unrestricted access to her sisters. Death Eaters and Aurors are confused; she is the sister of Bellatrix and the wife of Lucius, yet she comes in neither hood nor mask. Instead, she is garbed in a blue silk gown and her platinum hair is loose down her back.

"Cissy, what a surprise," Bellatrix calls out. "We have long awaited your arrival. The Dark Lord's desire to reinstate the Malfoys in the Inner Circle did not die with him. Where is young Draco? It has been too long since I have seen my beloved nephew."

Narcissa regards her eldest sister silently. "Bella, let Nymphadora go. She has no place in the middle of this."

"Au contraire, ma cherie!" the ex-convict smiles, re-splitting her lip where Remus Lupin had clocked her. "This chit has as much of a place in this conflict as you and me and Andy dearest. Her blood is dirty, Cissy. We cannot let this horrific divergence continue!" Bellatrix's voice is chillingly strong and confident. She presses her wand more firmly to the girl's throat. Tonks' hair flashes between pink and red and brown and back again in her fright and her eyes dance between the faces of her lover, her mother, and her aunts.

Andromeda's face pales and she brandishes her wand at her dark sister. "If you hurt her, Bella, there is not one thing on this earth that will save you from me!"

"As if I am scared of you, blood traitor," Bellatrix spits out. "Your time will come, and we will show no mercy for your sins!"

Narcissa's wand is drawn from her pocket, and it rests neutrally in its mistress's hand by her side.

Andy and Bella always fight if left to their own devices, so Cissy is always placed between her two older sisters as a makeshift buffer zone. The littlest keeps silent as her sisters whisper in her ears. Andy's voice is compassionate and expressive; Bella's provocative and convincing. Cissy doesn't know which sister's story she should believe.

"Cissy!" Andromeda cries out, imploring the baby of the family. "Do something, Cissy. She's crazy!"

"Yes, sister! Do something! Kill the blood traitor and you and Draco will be secure in our ranks once more!" Bella twists her fingers in Tonks's hair and shoves her to her knees. "Then I will exterminate this runt and our family will be pure once again."

"Bella! Oh, God, Cissy," Andromeda sobs. "Don't let her...Stop her!"

"Narcissa Black Malfoy! Deliver justice!" Narcissa does not move. The other fighting has stopped to watch the sisters and the women's screams echo across the field.



Bellatrix storms into the room and points her finger at Andromeda. "You. Little. Whore." Andy glares from where she shoves clothes into her trunk. Narcissa jumps up from her perch on the edge of the bed but Bellatrix pays the sixth year no mind. "You...you...how dare you! How dare you!" she shrieks. Andromeda ignores her and stalks back to her closet. "You're lucky the only thing Father is doing is blasting you off the tapestry, tramp. I can't believe he hasn't fucking killed you for rutting like an animal with a fucking Mudblood."

"Narcissa is in the room," Andromeda says quietly as she pushes her clothes around to make more room. "Please mind your language."

"You have disgraced us," Bellatrix hissed. "Our family—"

"And what about what I want?" Andromeda cries out, slamming her trunk shut. "What about what makes me happy?" She rushes across the room and takes Bellatrix's face in her hands and presses their foreheads together like they used to do. "I love you, Bella. I love all of you. But I love him, and the baby, too."

"Don't touch me," The oldest sister whispers with deadly calm. "That...abomination within you disgusts me." Andromeda's chin quivers only for a second and then she moves over to Narcissa who looks at her with wide eyes.

"I love you, Cissy," she whispers, and softly pets her baby-fine blond hair. Then she swishes her wand and is gone. Forever.

"Narcissa." Her chest tightens at Bellatrix's dangerously low voice. Her sister crosses to the younger girl and grips her chin so tightly Narcissa knows it will be blue and purple the next morning. "If you ever follow in her footsteps and end up in her egregious condition, I will deal with you, and whoever else, myself. There will be nothing left for Father to take care of. Am I understood?"

"Yes," Narcissa murmurs. Bellatrix roughly pushes her back onto the bed and stalks out of the room in a whirl of black.

Tonks whimpers, unfortunately shifting her aunt's attention to her kneeling form. "Oh, what a load of utter shite," Bellatrix mutters. She yanks Tonks' head back and smirks into the woman's dazed face. Raising her wand, she points it at her niece's forehead and says, "Smile pretty, darling."

"It is a good match," Bellatrix sighs. "I'm happy for you, Cissy." Narcissa smiles. Bellatrix reaches up and adjusts her sister's earrings. Across the room, Lucius looks over his shoulder and smiles warmly at his new bride.

"You've married well, Cissy," Bella repeats. She leans forward and conspiratorially whispers, "Our Lord has begun to show interest in Lucius. His father has served Him well and He views Lucius as a prodigal son of sorts. Of course, your young husband is still a bit green around the edges. But still, I'm so proud, Cissy. You've kept our family's dignity and pride at heart, haven't you?" She doesn't wait for an answer; her own husband has slipped an arm around her waist and is muttering dirty things in her ear.

The bride knows better than to confide in Bella that she married Lucius because she truly loves him and that he promised her, in the quiet dark of the night, that he would take care of them. She self-consciously rubs her tummy, wondering if she can feel the faint heartbeat if she sits still enough.

Andromeda drops to her knees and covers her mouth with her hands as her sister's chilling voice rings out across the field.

"Avada Kedavra!"



The curse hits Bellatrix square in the chest. The de facto leader of the Death Eaters collapses and the entire field falls completely silent. Narcissa's wand tip is still smoking, as all wands are wont to do after casting a spell of such caliber, and she calmly lowers her arm back to her side. Tonks is still kneeling, staring ahead at nothing and Andromeda puts her forehead to her knees in relief.

A single masked figure readies his wand to Apparate, and the Malfoy widow whips her own wand on him and her determined gaze holds him stock still. "Don't even try it, Amadaeus," she calls out. "I know you. I know you all. Lucius kept no secrets from me," she smiles ironically. "Why don't we all just take off our masks? Come on, now. Take them off," she repeats firmly, turning slowly with her arm still raised.

Should they listen to her? The Death Eaters hesitate, but the Order members are surrounding them slowly and surely. Their leader, the only one who kept morale high and instated absolute control after the death of the Dark Lord the year before is dead.

Rodolphus Lestrange, oddly calm after the death of his beloved wife, takes the initiative and slips his mask off of his face. He regards Narcissa impassively as the other Death Eaters follow his lead. Amycus and Alecto snarl under their breath, but a sharp glance from Narcissa silences them. One by one, the Death Eaters stand unmasked before their enemies: Walden Macnair, Rastaban Lestrange, the Carrows, Antonin Dolohov, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, their fathers and mothers, and many, many more.

"Look at yourselves," Narcissa murmurs. She presses her wand to her throat to amplify her voice and repeats her last statement. "Look at all of us! We are pathetic."

"How dare you!" Shrieks Lisa Turpin, a former Ravenclaw. "Our Lord would be disgusted with you! Blood Traitor!" The brunette points her finger accusingly at the older woman.

Narcissa laughs suddenly, acerbically. "Blood Traitor? How can I be a Blood Traitor when there is no blood to betray? The days of the Pureblood are over. The days of a Pure World are over. We have inbred ourselves into obscurity and minority. We alienate the family members we do not kill, and expect so much from those we deem 'good enough.'

"We, the Blacks...you all looked up to us, did you not? Were we not the perfect pureblood family with the perfect daughters, ripe for this brand new world? The Black sisters: beautiful, smart, clever, and ready to serve the Dark Lord. Now," Narcissa's voice sinks down to nearly a murmur. The people on the field stand in rapt attention. "Now, we embody this predicament. Bella, the one with the most promise, went insane and is now...dead by my hand – her own sister's hand. Andy, the sweetest, the smartest, is blasted off the tapestry and kept wholly away from the War. And I, Narcissa, the prettiest, the most placatory, now stands before you as a wretched widow in a big, empty house and an absolute hatred for my beloved husband's cause which, at one time, was my own cause."

Andromeda holds Tonks in her lap. The younger girl is much too big to be cradled like a baby but still curls against her mother's front. They both watch their kinswoman in wonder. Narcissa has never been much for words and the general public perceives her as the suppliant wife of the dead Mental Malfoy.

She continues, her voice becoming more emphatic with every word. "Our offspring are stupid or mentally unstable or we kill them with this fruitless War before they ever have a chance to breed more stupid, insane children. If this Pureblood fascination is to continue, who should marry who? Everybody is somebody's cousin and the relations are getting closer and closer every generation. If all of you go to Azkaban – which you will – who is left? What girl is there for Draco? Who will he marry?"

Narcissa runs her fingers through her loose hair in her typical nervous habit. "What is the point anymore?" She asks, defeated. Her arms drop back down to her side. "Voldemort is dead, Bella is dead. All the Order members know who you are and will be taking you all into custody in moments. 

We're a dying breed. Blood is nothing, money is nothing. All we have left are our looks and our smarts. Intelligence is the new currency; we have to accept that. As for me," Narcissa looks around at the crowd, "I'm through. I'm going home."

The Death Eaters feel the jab of wands at the bases of their necks before they recover from Narcissa's speech. The Malfoy widow holsters her wand and slowly glides away from the battlefield, her platinum hair a harsh streak across the fiery landscape. Draco moves after her, weaving his way to her side where he lets her hold onto his elbow and rest her head on his shoulder. Andromeda and Nymphadora remain in a pile next to Bellatrix. The fallen Death Eater's face is still shell-shocked, and in a single moment of tenderness, her blood traitor sister slides Bella's cold lids closed and drapes her blood-stained cloak over her face.

"Oh, Bella," she sighs, kissing the face of her sister through the cloth. "Be happy, please. For all of our sakes." When she turns back around, Remus Lupin has picked Nymphadora up and is carrying her towards Malfoy Manor. She rises to her feet and joins the small procession heading towards the gray monolith in the distance.

Narcissa is already in bed when Andromeda arrives. The slim figure still sleeps on the right side, as though Lucius will be home any moment to fill the empty space.

Andy borrows a sleeping robe—the weight and shape is odd after so many years of flannel pants and tee shirts—and slides under the covers. Narcissa murmurs incoherently as her sister brushes the blonde hair from her forehead and brings the covers to her chin.

Quietly, Ripsy tiptoes into the room, her large eyes carefully making sure the beds occupants are asleep before continuing her task. Her long fingers grasp the edge of the drapes and pull them shut over the faint glow of the rising sun.

Fin

(1) Narcissa's mother's family. I referenced the Black Family Tree at the Harry Potter Lexicon.

I'm so glad that this is finally done. It has taken a while and has gone through many different endings. One thing that has stayed constant was the idea of having flash backs. I feel that past relationships are imperative in understanding a character's actions. The relationship between the Black sisters is one that has intrigued me almost immediately since I learned about the three girls. I can only imagine what the Black home was like with such seemingly conflicting personalities.

Regarding Draco, I do believe that redemption is possible for him. This scenario seems likely and I don't think that he would openly try to do good things in the War; his attempt to sneak out of the Manor in this fic is an illustration. At the same time, I don't think that he will become a central player. I think that he will almost fade to the background and become almost like a foot soldier. I do not think that he can gain enough trust to become a double agent.

And this ends my rant. I just wanted to end with some closing thoughts. Please read and review. Writing stories like this and Sacrifice on my other penname, Wyvern159, are very hard and emotionally taxing. Thanks ahead of time! I appreciate the comments!