A/N: I'll probably update this story two to three times a week depending on chapter length and how much of the remaining details I have time to think through. The essential plot has already been determined, but it's a bit hard to judge how long the final story will be. If you've made it this far (that is, past the first chapter!), thanks for reading and reviewing, and hopefully I'll see this through to completion.

Chapter 2.

It was the morning that we were due to return to Hogwarts and all I could hear was the incessant babbling of my younger sister Astoria, who was now talking at breakneck speed about the latest gossip from her friends – who had broken up with who, whose younger siblings were likely to be sorted into which Houses, what the best odds were on the House Cup, and so on.

I smiled thinly, already getting a mild headache. It was harmless, though, so I chose to tolerate her antics. Astoria was only two years my junior, but I could see her already maturing into a young woman. She would have to be more careful this year, her fourth year, since she had filled out over the summer and I knew the boys would be all over her. She had been through a few of them already, but they were mostly flings, cute pre-adolescent romances, and nothing too serious.

It wasn't that I didn't care about what she was saying. Knowledge was always useful, however trite, and I had always prided myself on my careful understanding of the social ladder. Still, I couldn't quite bring myself to worry about all of the details at the moment. I had a lot on my mind.

"Daphne? Daphne, are you listening to me? Daphne!"

I broke out of my thoughts, directing my attention back to her. We had been walking along the station at King's Cross, and I knew we had were getting close to Platform 9 ¾. We took a left past a Muggle escalator and proceeded towards the platforms.

"Mm?" I muttered. "Yes, of course, I'm listening. What was that about Jacob Astor, has he already broken up with that Hufflepuff girl, what's her name..."

"Laura Madley."

"Yes, Madley. Third year. I wouldn't have expected it to last long, not at that age, she's probably two boyfriends ahead of him by now."

"She's only a year younger than me, you know."

"Yes, well, fourteen is a lot older than thirteen," I said. "You're finding that out right about now, I expect."

Astoria nodded, but even her bubbly excitement had started to fade, and her pace slowed by half a step. "Maybe, but I know you're not really listening to me. You seem distracted," she said, a hint of concern in her voice. "I'm sorry, I've been only talking about myself and my friends."

I held my hand out, stopping her in the middle of the crowd only paces from the barrier to the Hogwarts Express. People walked by us, oblivious that we were anything but another couple of teenagers milling about the station.

"No, don't take it the wrong way. I'm all right with that," I reassured her with a sigh. "Really. And I do care! These details matter and I don't want you to feel like you can't talk to me."

"Just what? You don't want to be around your little sister. I get it. Ever since you've – well, you know – you've been so busy and important, and I feel like we used to be so close, I mean we did everything together. I know I can't expect it to always be like this but I thought at least..."

She said all of this in one breath, and the bitterness in her voice made me feel just a bit guilty, like only a sister could. I had been doing my best, but there was truth in her words and it was obvious that this had been weighing on her for some time.

"No, you can't expect that nothing will change," I said gently. "A lot will change before all of this is over. It might take many years, no one really knows. But I don't want you to feel like you can't talk to me, no matter what happens." I wrapped an arm around her reassuringly, giving her a quick hug.

"I know," she said. "And I want to believe that, but it just doesn't feel like it's true any more."

I shook my head. "What you have to understand, Astoria, is that not only is the war is getting more serious, but I also have to start my NEWTs this year. That's just the way things are going to be, but you're my sister and I will always have time for you."

With a quick glance to either side, I lowered my voice, one hand on her shoulder. I pulled her closer to me. "And you know that I am working for the Dark Lord as well, and he is demanding more of my time and attention. So forgive me if I do seem a bit more distant, because that isn't my intention."

There was a long pause. She forced a bit of a smile, but a group of Hogwarts students were coming up behind us now, and we both assumed our stony, indifferent masks. Whatever had passed between us was no longer immediately relevant. This was the rule that every Slytherin student learned to abide by. We weren't devoid of emotion or soulless, but there was a time and place for everything, and now we needed to maintain our reputation among our peers.

"Go now and join your friends," I said. "I'll see you on the train if I can."

She gave a wave to another girl, who saw us and ran up to Astoria, exchanging greetings. After a moment, they had disappeared through the barrier to the platform.

I followed behind, dragging my trunk along behind me, scanning for any nosy passer-bys and then leaning into the wall between Platforms 9 and 10. With a quiet breath, I prepared myself for the facing the rush of people, both old and new.


It was the usual game, and the familiarity of it all provided me a certain comfort. This was my element, what I was born and bred for, and I only hoped that my anxiety didn't show through.

I sat among some of my closest companions in our compartment on the train, laughing and joking whenever it was expected of me and interjecting comments at the appropriate time. In these situations one had to exercise restraint, speaking at just the correct moment. Opening your mouth and saying the wrong thing could lead to disaster, but keeping it shut was rarely grave. I had certainly learned that whenever I spoke to the Dark Lord, but it was just as true among friends.

Mother had taught me long ago that the key to being a good conversationalist was to first learn to be a good listener, so that's exactly what I had learned to do. When others talked, they felt important, and when I heard them, they likewise felt I was important.

Draco Malfoy was now in the middle of telling us what he had been up to with his father during the summer. I knew it had been Lucius who had rescued us during our mission and I was quite grateful to the man, who had instructed me in some of the Dark Arts in the past and felt like one of my mentors. What I did not expect, however, was that he had presented his son to the Dark Lord to become a Death Eater. Yet as Draco told it, his face replete with pride, that's exactly what happened at the end of July.

Oh, of course, all of us had served in some capacity by now for Lord Voldemort. We had been trained for this role by our parents since birth, and we happily accepted it as our solemn duty and honour to take the Dark Lord as our Master. It was true that he was a tyrant and expected perfection from his followers, doling out punishments for those who did not measure up to expectations. This was expected from the Dark community, because a Dark Lord unwilling to control his followers would be considered weak and undeserving of allegiance. Anything less would be viewed with disdain.

Could being in the Dark Lord's service feel abusive at times? Maybe, but we adhered closely to our traditions and accepted that this was meant to be, if we were to ever rise up to seize our future from our enemies.

Light wizards tended to speak with niceties in public while stabbing each other in the back in private – they were no better than Dark wizards in that regard. They were cautious to demonstrate their abilities, for fear of being accused of corruption. Dark wizards exercised their power more openly, without fear of persecution, and we respected this power in each other. For this reason, we tended to gravitate towards those who had amassed the most of it and who were strong enough to lead us.

This is why in spite of our harsh ways, the rewards were even greater for those who succeeded. As soon as the Dark Lord had returned at the end of the Triwizard Tournament, we had been worked into His service. It was not until this summer, however, that the Dark Lord could take more direct action, so most of the missions had been covert.

I was surprised by the possibility that Draco had already been marked, which is what he had been implying for several minutes. The Dark Lord was selective, preferring to keep a close-knit group of trusted, capable followers, and usually would not brand those who were underage. It had certain advantages – those marked would have a connection to the Dark Lord and benefit to some degree from his power – but it was also a way to be revealed easily to the Light, who were becoming increasingly paranoid and cautious about the company they kept.

It didn't help that the Ministry was now publicly at war with the Dark Lord since his return in June. They couldn't exactly deny it any more after he had turned up at their own doorstep. Even so, we all wanted more than anything to be recognized as Death Eaters, because it would show that the Dark Lord valued us as his brethren in the struggle. And if Draco had received that honour...

A hush fell over us all as he reached for his sleeve. We knew, somehow, that this was the moment that we had been waiting for, but no one had dared ask. I leaned in a bit closer.

With a dramatic flair – I resisted the urge to roll my eyes – Malfoy peeled back the fabric, flipping it upwards towards his elbow. We at last caught sight of it.

Emblazoned on the pale, fleshy underside of his forearm, a skull outlined in black, with a serpent twisted around it, emanating from its gaping maw. I stared at it, and I could not remain unfeeling. The symbol gripped me. The Dark Mark.

We offered our congratulations and I tried my best to smile, to maintain the façade which provided me relief from the intolerable sensations that were washing over me. I felt a wrenching in my stomach, as if the snakes from all of the Dark Marks in the world had entered through my veins, and were now tangled up, hissing, writhing, threatening to escape from some cavity deep within. I struggled to keep control of my mask. He had been deemed worthy. Worthy.

So what? What did I care about exactly what happens to Malfoy? I had known him for a long time, yes, but he had never been my closest friend. He was advancing in our ranks. Good for him. Right?

Or maybe, an inner voice said nastily. You're just a bit jealous of what he's accomplished. After all, the Dark Lord said he was disappointed in you, that you had failed him...

Shut up! I told the voice. I fought to keep control. But was it true? Was I really that pathetic to judge my self-worth on something like this?

I tried to rationalize about the situation. His father was far more well-connected than mine. The Malfoys were perhaps the best known Wizarding family in Britain. What's more, he was a boy and I was a girl and I knew that we were not always treated the same. It took ten times more effort to prove ourselves as mature and capable...

Draco had rolled his sleeve back down now, and the conversation had resumed.

"So, if you've been marked," Theodore Nott said. He was leaning back on the compartment bench, leveling an unfaltering stare at Draco. His face was contemplative. "What are you to do next? Have you been given an assignment yet by, well, you know-?

"The Dark Lord? That would be telling," Draco said, a triumphant smirk still plastered on his thin, annoying face. I had never noticed before just what a terrific prat he was. He wasn't being careful either. What if Potter or one of his friends was eavesdropping? Who knew what charms were on these compartments? I was much more careful than him. I deserved the Dark Lord's trust so much more...

So maybe I was jealous. But this made me even more determined to succeed in my latest mission. I didn't have any particular feelings for Zabini but I could fake it. I was very convincing when I wanted to be. I had already planned it all out...I would first brush into him, make him aware of my interest, and compliment him just enough so he took notice. Then I would back off, and make him chase me, until he wanted nothing more than to be with me...

Then I would have him. I would be back within the Dark Lord's favour, and we could all move on with our lives. Okay, in my heart I knew it wouldn't be that simple, but I had to make it happen. It was the only way to greatness.

Somewhere in my chest, my heart was pounding in spite of my outward demeanor. The etchings of anxiety had been wearing at me ever since the failed mission, but now I realized that for the first time, I felt truly nervous about what was to become of me.


We were gathered around the benches along the Slytherin table and the last of the new first year's names had just been called. We had gained seven new students, a solid crop compared to last year's five. I nodded my approval at Astoria, who already had two of them sitting next to her chatting away animatedly.

It was well that she was taking the initiative to watch over them. She needed to build up her own circle of influence and besides, we had to watch out for our own, because no one else would. I craned my neck and gazed across the Great Hall, over towards the Gryffindor table, trying to take note of their fresh blood.

I had felt some resentment last year about not being made a Prefect, but for the first time I felt glad not to be burdened with that responsibility. Judging by the way the first years were already glaring at us, I would have been in charge of referring some fights by the end of the week.

"And with the conclusion of the Sorting, I have just a few words to say..." said the old wizened voice of Dumbledore, echoing across at us from the head table. He paused dramatically, his eyes twinkling in that characteristic way which maddened us all. I sighed in annoyance, tapping a finger on my knee until the old man finished with his nonsense.

"Blab! Poof! Tuck in!" Then he waved his hands and all of the plates filled with mounds of food, which heaped well above the table cloth.

What a fool. Or more accurately, what fools everyone were to let him play the doting grandfatherly role. It was this sort of thing that I hated about leaders on the Light side. It was plain to me that Dumbledore was every bit as self-serving and power hungry as the Dark Lord could ever be, and it was worse because he pretended otherwise.

"What do you make of Slughorn taking over Potions?" Tracey Davis asked me, as we served ourselves from the platters. She was probably my best friend in my year and slept in my dormitory. While a half-blood, she had top marks in our year at Charms, almost as good as Granger, and had her uses. So I kept her around.

"I would have rather if he hadn't, " I said honestly. "I know that everyone says he was a great Potions teacher back in the day, I mean he taught Snape himself, did he not?"

Tracey nodded. "Yeah, Slughorn was the Head of Slytherin and held the Potions position for generations. My father said his father had been taught by Slughorn back in the fourties."

I shrugged. "I guess so. Still, I had been looking forward to doing my NEWT with Snape-not that I'm saying he won't be brilliant at Defense," I added quickly.

"Hardly difficult to beat our previous professors, though, isn't it?" Blaise chimed in now, from a few seats away. "Umbridge wasn't too bad, but you had to admit she was a toad, even if she kept Potter and his ilk in line. Better for that than teaching us useful curses."

Aha. Potter and his ilk. So Zabini wasn't too cozy with Dumbledore's people. This was good news. I had avoided meeting his gaze until now, not wanting to engage Zabini before I was ready. This could work in my favour though. It presented an opportunity.

"Yes," I said. "It's too bad though, no matter if Snape is on Defense now. Dumbledore will never allow him to teach the Dark Arts. That could be useful now, more than ever."

Blaise frowned. "There's a time and place for that," he said neutrally. "At least Snape will allow us to use our wands. That's something we have really only gotten to do with Moody, and maybe the werewolf, and I can't say I heartily approve of either."

I chose my next words carefully. "If Snape isn't allowed to do enough, we need to watch out for ourselves. I was thinking...what if we were to practice on our own?"

Blaise snorted, taking a sip from his goblet. "What, you mean like Potter's oh-so-secret Defense club that he started last year? What was it called, Dumbledore's Army? The second Slytherin students put together something like that, they'll snap our wands and throw us out the gates."

"No, of course not. I'm not an idiot," I said, letting the slightest sneer through my mask. "I was thinking more like just a few of us. As a small group, maybe just two or three of us could get together at a time and practice."

"Hmm. I guess there's potential there," he said. It was a non-committal answer, but it was left at that for now. A few nearby students had started to listen in and any talk of self-organizing had to be moderated, even within the House. That was how these things worked. If anyone showed too much or too little interest, it would only garner suspicion.

The feast continued and the conversation soon turned to politics.

"No one likes Scrimageour," Nott was saying. "But some thought Fudge was at least useful because we could play politics with him. Scrimageour plays politics, I'll grant you that, but he's much too close to the Aurors to get anything useful from him."

Malfoy was quick to interject. "What are you talking about? Fudge was miles ahead of Scrimageour. He at least understood the importance of blood, that there were some families more...worthy...of wielding political power."

I continued to feign interest but droned them out, still contemplating my next move as we finished our puddings. Should I try to talk to Zabini again? Would it accomplish anything? I felt frustrated at my own indecision. It was unlike me, which seemed to be a pattern lately.

Taking a chance, I stopped Blaise on the way out of the Great Hall, as we filed our way towards the dungeons ahead of the new students, who were being oriented by the Prefects.

"Have you put any more thought towards a few of working together on spells this term?" I asked.

"Yes, well," Blaise seemed just a bit reluctant, his brow furrowing, but I could tell he was willing to discuss it. I stepped a bit closer to him.

"I think we should see what Snape is allowed to teach us in Defense first, for starters," he said.

"Of course."

"I also would want to know a bit more about just what we would be practicing first. What do you have in mind, Greengrass?"

"Oh, I've got plenty of things in mind," I said, offering a faint smile. "If you're willing." This was about as far as I felt I could go. If he didn't get the idea quickly, he was pretty thick headed.

He didn't say anything at all for a moment. Then he shook his head, narrowing his dark eyes. "I've got a lot going on this year, so I'm not into anything that's going to waste my time, but thank you."

I let out a huff. "It's not like I'm proposing we form a Quidditch intramural, for Circe's sake."

"Even so," he said, folding his arms. "You'll excuse me if I'm not one for idle chatter, so let me know when you have some definitive plans."

It was a cold dismissal, even by my standards. Couldn't he see what I was getting at?

"Yes, another time, then," I said, and moved to leave. I wasn't going to be turned down that easily though. I felt a surge of desperation course through my veins. I had to get somewhere if I was going to ever hope to please the Dark Lord and join the ranks of the Death Eaters.

As I passed him, I stretched out a hand and brushed him on the shoulder, pausing just long enough so that it had to be something more than accidental. A half step past him, just at the bottom of the stairs, I stopped to gauge his reaction.

He hadn't moved. He was watching me. In fact, he showed no indication that I had done anything at all.

"Good night, and let me know about that," he said simply, and strode past me down the flight of stairs towards the common room. I stared for a moment as he departed, my mouse agape. Others were coming up the hall now, so I quickly closed my mouth and forced my face to its normal state, devoid of any emotion or concern.

Just then, I felt a tap on my own shoulder, and I whirled around, my fingertips barely an inch from my wand. It was a third year Ravenclaw with sandy hair – I didn't remember his name - clutching his own book bag. He looked terrified. "What is it-?"

"Excuse me, um, but I just wanted to ask you-"

"You're cute, but you're much too young for me," I snapped at the boy, feeling my temper flare, though I hadn't realized I was that angry.

"I was just going to ask you for a spare timetable, but if you're going to be rude then fine!" the younger boy exclaimed as I walked away. I ignored him and made my own way down to the common room. I had better things to worry about.


When I at last reached the solitude of the dormitory, and the other girls had gone to sleep, I sat on the blankets atop my own bed, my head propped up on the headboard. I had drawn the curtains and I stared at the knots in the wood high above on the ceiling of my four poster.

Nothing! He didn't seem to even react to my touch. Was I overthinking it? Maybe he didn't feel like it meant anything? Was he trying to play hard to get?

I bit my lip. All the other boys I had ever flirted with had at least shown some slight interest, if not asked me out right then and there! Zabini wasn't just any boy, though, and I had to have known that it would be better to take it slow. I shouldn't have even tried to do anything the first night back. I hadn't done my research. What was I thinking? Honestly, I didn't know what happened, but it did nothing to calm my nerves.

I needed to put this behind me. I was desperate to prove myself worthy, but if I came across as desperate I would surely fail. I slouched against the pillows, idly wiggling my toes. If my mother ever caught me in such awful posture, I thought to myself with a bemused smirk...

I forced myself to slow down my thoughts. I had the entire school year to make progress. Zabini wasn't going anywhere. He didn't even have a girlfriend right now, as far as I knew. This could not become my sole focus, even if it was my most important goal. I could not let Zabini or anyone else get to me. I started to change my plans. I would go about this much differently...

Daphne Greengrass, Ice Queen of Slytherin, was back. And no one would break through that impenetrable exterior, no matter what.

But as I fell asleep that night, one prevailing thought crossed my mind: this assignment could be far more difficult than I had imagined.