|| Present ||

I shrugged away from my mother's touch as I looked outside the window of the car. Soon enough, we'd be passing the pub that would lead us to Diagon Alley. My hands shook in my lap as we approached it, for it meant that we were so much closer to the Malfoys' manor house.

"She's too young," my mother said to my father, as if I weren't there in the car right next to them. My father was quick to disagree.

"It's not your decision or hers, it's the Dark Lord's," he said. I shivered when he mentioned Voldemort. "What he says goes."

"They're just children," my mother said, referring to both Draco and me. Today was the day that we were to become Death Eaters. I couldn't imagine myself being called something like that, as if I was apart of some sort of cult.

"She'll be sixteen in a few weeks," my father said. "I don't want to hear it, Jillian." He spoke my mother's name with a bit of frustration, and she knew immediately to be quiet before he lost his temper.

I saw my father glance at me out of the corner of his eye. I knew my parents loved me, deep down. There were always moments like this when one or both of them would show it, but I knew that if the choice were between Lord Voldemort and me, there'd be no question about their choice.

It had always been this way. Voldemort gained my parents as followers because they were stupid enough to believe that the world is to be controlled by pureblooded wizards, and pureblooded wizards, only. They tried to bring me up this way, and so far, I've let them believe that they've succeeded. However, I seem to be the only pureblood that sees the flaw in this oh, so, great plan. Logic. The Death Eaters and the families around them are the only purebloods actually left in the world, other than families like the Weasleys. Many outnumber us, even though most of them live in fear. We're powerful in both rank and riches. Lucius Malfoy, until recently, was in tight with the Minister of Magic. That's a great example. My father as well is very friendly with high members of the ministry.

The only thing, and believe me, I've thought of this, that seems to have any ability to defeat the hungry purebloods would be a boy with a lightning scar, with the help of his friends, and, of course, the famous Albus Dumbledore.

It would be so very soon that I would leave the side of the Death Eaters, but for now, I would obey my parents and do as they say. I obeyed the Malfoys as well, including Draco. We'd both been raised as if he was my superior, and what he said that had to do with anything as serious as the Dark Lord; I had to go with it.

As we pulled up to the Malfoys' mansion, my mind and body wouldn't let me get out of the car until my mother shoved me, softly. I snapped out of my trance and slid out the door. As my heel touched the pavement, my leg slid out of the part in my dress. I stepped out of the limousine and straightened the long gown back out again. The giant house stood tall, with several parts of it made of both white marble and the wood one would find on the log cabin of a common muggle. There was a large, black gate in front of my parents and me. It stood tall and threatening, and I knew no one that was unfamiliar to the house would even step foot near it unless invited. I wondered if it looked more sinister in the dark, which was fast approaching.

I watched silently as my father raised his left forearm toward the gate. The mark of Voldemort that reached from his elbow to his wrist seemed invisible in the night that descended upon us. My mother's arm tightened around my shoulders, and we walked through the gate, as if it had been smoke or not even there at all.

At the door, my father didn't need to knock. The doors seemed to sense our presence and opened straight into the front hall of Malfoy Manor. I shivered at the fact of staying here for the remainder of the summer. Oh, did I forget to mention that?

This was going to be my home for the next fortnight but not my parents'.

There they were, the Malfoy couple; Lucius and Narcissa. The blonde man looked flustered, nervous. I imagined so, as he was being searched for to be charged and tried for being a Death Eater. My mouth twitched as I thought of the man shivering in a cell in Azkaban, with the dementors tormenting him endlessly.

Narcissa Malfoy stood next to him. She looked tired, with bags under her eyes that hadn't come from aging. I bit my lip as I saw the doors that remained closed behind them. I knew he stood beyond them, the sorcerer that everyone feared so much that they couldn't speak his name. I couldn't seem to stop shivering. My mother took notice.

"Where is your son?" she asked pleasantly, as if this meeting was just one for tea and crumpets by the fire. Narcissa replied in the same tone, though her face was unmatching.

"He's upstairs in his room," she said, her eyes moving toward me. "You're welcome to go find him, love."

I smiled at the little pet name, curtsied slightly, and crossed my parents toward the stairs. The inside of the house was made of white and black marble. The curving stairs went from the front hall up to the second floor of the manor. I walked them carefully, for my heels were a bit slippery on the marble. I'd never felt more stressed than I had today, yet I'd never felt so perfect looking either.

Draco's bedroom door was open. His room was quite bleak, unlike a teenager's room. No posters of famous Quidditch players or Hogwarts house colors or anything hung on the walls. It was spotless in the room. There was wood flooring, and the walls were simply white. The bed stood against the wall opposite the door. The posts were black, and so were the bedspread and the pillows. Draco's wardrobe, dresser, and nightstand were also black. To my right, there was a door that led to his bathroom. It was all pretty impressive looking.

He stood at the large window that rested on the right of his bed. The curtains were black, of course. He hadn't seemed to notice me yet. He was looking intently out of the window with his hands in the pockets of his suit. It was black, and his shoes were as well. His hair was fixed, and his mouth curved in a frown that seemed tight knit, as if his teeth were clamped together.

"Draco?" I asked softly, taking my first step into the room onto the flooring. My heels clicked on it, which slightly annoyed me. Draco seemed to jump, but he only moved his head to face me.

"Oh," he said in a tone that sounded close to relief. "It's you."

"Were you expecting someone else?" I asked, smiling a little, though I didn't expect an answer. I didn't get one.

I watched Draco tap his fingers against the side of the window. It was awkward in the room, clearly. Neither of us spoke for a moment. I crossed my arms over my shoulders, suddenly feeling a draft in Draco's bedroom, and sat lightly on the bed. It wasn't really polite to do so, but I didn't care at the moment.

"Are you all right?" Draco asked from the window. I turned and saw that he was looking at me. How long he'd been doing so, I didn't know.

"Yes," I lied. "Fine."

"Liar."

I grimaced, letting my arms fall into my lap. Draco crossed the room around to his bed, sitting down next to me and putting an arm around my shoulders. Here it was, one of those moments. They didn't happen often, except during serious matters. It was one of the few times that Draco and I shared our closeness. They were times when he would hold me as we stood up, times when he would comfort me if I cried, times when we were in danger, times when we were both afraid.

"Is he here?" I asked, not knowing whether I wanted to know the answer or not.

"Arrived late last night. I never heard my parents go to bed," he responded. I felt a shudder go down my spine. I couldn't imagine what it would be like to have the Dark Lord Voldemort sitting behind two closed doors of my house. No wonder Draco looked pale; so pale and tired…weak.

They're just children… My mother's words echoed in my head. It was true. We were only children. I was still fifteen, and Draco had just turned sixteen. Muggles our age would be learning how to drive a car, hanging out with their friends, going to school dances…dating. Us? We were getting ready to face one of the biggest fears and dangers in our entire lives.

I suddenly felt sick to my stomach. "Draco," I said, my voice suddenly dropping to a whisper without my knowledge.

"It'll be okay," he muttered back.

"Now you're the one who's lying," I retorted softly. Again, no response.

After another moment, Draco changed the subject completely. "You look nice." I noticed the bit of color that flowed into his pale cheeks.

"Thank you," I replied, looking up at him for the first time. "You look…presentable." I smiled cruelly. He chuckled.

"Best I expected to get from you after the last five years." His tone had turned back to sarcasm quickly, the smirk gone from his lips and the color drained from his cheeks.

"Well, maybe if you weren't such an ass all the time," I started. He immediately got up, taking his arm away from my waist. I suddenly regretted talking. His touch was warm, and now I felt the cold draft again. I could practically feel my body start to shake.

"Why do you always do that?" Draco's lips pursed together in anger. I suddenly felt small, foolish, for starting the row that was about to occur.

"Do what?" I replied out of stubbornness. "You are! You have to harass all my friends every chance you get, you're a pervert, you're selfish, you don't see good in anyone, you're stubborn, you're rude and arrogant! Trust me, Malfoy, the list goes on and on and on!" Using his last name was the clue that I was really mad at him. Draco always noticed it now. I saw him nearly flinch when his surname was mentioned, but he stood his ground.

"Well if you would just do what you're told, then I wouldn't have to be that way!"

I nearly laughed. "Do what I'm told?" I almost missed the second part of the sentence. "What does me not doing what I'm told have to do with you being perverted and harassing my friends?" I crossed over to Draco from the bed and took a few precious seconds to think of what to say. It came out in a harsh whisper. "This is all wrong! Everything here is wrong! We are associating, and even helping the most evil sorcerer ever known to Wizard kind! This is not what I want to do, and when I have children, this is not what I want them to do! Sometimes I would rather die than be on this side of the-"

This time, Draco did flinch. He cut me off, placing his hand across my lips. "Don't say that." He'd meant it to sound harsh, but the command sounded caring instead. I stopped talking at once.

Draco removed his hand, and he turned away from me. I was confused and, for the most part, shocked. The silence hit me again, like lightning. I didn't know what to say, what to do. Finally, I said, "Draco, I-" I was cut off by my mother and his at the door. Neither of us had even heard them walking up the stairs, and I jumped when they called to us.

"Come," my mother said simply. My eyes widened a little in realization. I blinked. Draco, not walking toward me or taking my hand or putting his arm around my shoulder- like I secretly was desperate for- stalked out of the room with Narcissa gliding in front of him. My eyes moved to my mother, who blinked at me. I walked forward. Even she did not take my hand.

We reached the bottom of the stairs quicker than I'd wanted to. Draco and Narcissa stood waiting for us, and Draco didn't look at me. I became intrigued with the floor pattern and wondered if I'd screwed up something in our relationship while rambling.

The double doors opened, and I was forced to look up. We were lead into a room that seemed to be a dimmed dining room. The long table sat in the middle on a black carpet. The white tile floor surrounding it looked gray in the lack of light. Around it were decorations and things that I didn't pay attention to, for sitting at the head of the table was the dark wizard, himself. His long, skeletal fingers were wrapped around the handle of his wand. I had an instinct to reach for my own, which was stowed tight against my thigh, though I did nothing of the sort. His snake-like eyes seemed to peer too deep into me, and his thin lips formed a cruel smile as he looked at both Draco and me as if we were new pieces of fresh meat for his pet snake, Nagini.

Standing behind his chair was Draco's aunt Bellatrix. She stood to the left of him, and on the right, Severus Snape held a stiff stance. His face was emotionless. My father hesitated in introductions, but only for a second.

"My lord," he began. "My daughter Carter."

"And my son," said Lucius Malfoy. "Draco." He was standing to the right of Draco, who seemed frozen stiff. My parents stood to the left of me.

I barely breathed as the thin lips parted to speak. "My, you've grown," he said with fake impression at the two of us. "Such a lovely young pair." The curve of his mouth became larger as the slits for pupils turned to me. "I understand you are to be sixteen next week."

I gave a curt nod. "August 18th, my Lord." I added the ending on quickly. It was a total act. How much I would've loved to drag my fingernails across the white face of his, no one in the room could know. I wondered if he noticed.

"And you, Draco," he added, turning toward him. "Quite handsome. I'd expect you'd have an interest in something outside of school by now."

No doubt the conversation was awkward, but I could tell that he was looking for weaknesses in both of us. Draco didn't respond, though at the time I didn't notice his eyes swivel toward me and back to Voldemort's quickly.

"Interesting," was the only thing that came from the sorcerer's mouth. He changed the subject. "I have a task for the both of you." At this, everyone except Draco's family and mine left the room. I gasped lightly at this, not knowing that an assignment was required of us. I'd expected to just get the mark and be able to go cry in my new room. This made things worse; a thousand times worse. However, Draco and I stood silent. Lord Voldemort stood up from his chair, and he crossed around the table to us. "As you both know, there is one man who stands in my way," he continued. "Defeating Albus Dumbledore is the first step in my getting to Potter." I cringed. I knew what was coming, even before the horrible words came out of those thin lips. "End him."

I moved. I hadn't meant to, but I felt faint all of a sudden. Imagining going up against Dumbledore himself, two teenagers trying to defeat the most powerful sorcerer in the world seemed impossible. It was impossible. I felt blown back, and my left leg moved back so I could balance. I also gasped. In the silent room, I might as well have cast Bombarda.

"Doubting yourself already?" said Voldemort, a strange twinkle appearing in his eye. I didn't know what to do. I stammered for a moment, trying to think of what to say.

"I-…I'm sorry," finally came out of my mouth. I had to look away. I couldn't look at him anymore. I felt numb. Why was he asking this of us? If he wanted Dumbledore out of the way so bad, why couldn't he go and face him himself?

"Leave," he replied. It wasn't dark, but more as if the matter we discussed was lighthearted. I thought I wouldn't be able to move until Draco forced me around and dragged me out of the room. His arm was around my waist again. "Oh, yes," said Voldemort while we were on our way out. "If you fail, the punishment may be…severe."

I could just feel the smirk on his lips.

I sat on what was to be my bed for the remainder of the summer. I'd been sitting there ever since we arrived at dusk. I didn't know what time it was now, but I knew Voldemort had left. There was more noise going on downstairs. The families of the Death Eaters were mingling among each other, as if no fearful villain had just been among them.

After the meeting of the families had ceased, the calm weather took a different course. The wind had begun to pick up, and now heavy rain was pattering loudly on my bedroom window.

Slowly, I stood up and walked to the bathroom that was located across from my bed. My thought was that there was nothing else to do except try to sleep.

I walked into the bathroom and turned on the light. All of my stuff had previously been unpacked, by house-elves, no doubt. My beauty products were all very similar to that of a muggle's. Except, muggle teenage girls didn't have lotions and body washes especially made by alchemists and potion masters to prevent acne, keep a good tan, moisten the skin, keep pores clean, etc. It was the same with my hair care products. A muggle would recognize nothing on the counter in front of me, even though the product may be the exact same thing they're used to.

I took my make – up remover and began wiping down my eyes, which had been coated with eye liner, shadow, and mascara. Once there were no more black chunks on my lashes, I tackled the foundation on my cheeks, chin, nose, and forehead. I wasn't as pale after I took it all off. Red blotches appeared on my cheeks and nose, giving my face its natural color. I looked at myself in the mirror, picturing a before and after shot of me. Seeing my image made me frown. A simple amount of eye-liner would suffice. I looked…nicer that way. The pale skin and dark shadow and mascara made me look just like a Slytherin bitch; just the way my mother liked it.

Suddenly feeling exhausted, I pulled the several pins out of my hair. The fake blonde waves (another trait given to me magically by my mother) fell down my back, one by one. The spell that was cast to keep it in place was finally wearing off. My last step was to change. I headed to the closet and unzipped my dress. What I didn't notice was that my door was still a bit ajar.

|| Draco ||

He'd been pacing for the last half hour at least. There were too many things he'd been trying to think over and decide on. Besides the obvious task he'd been given, Draco was thinking about whether or not to stay with his current girlfriend, Pansy Parkinson. It was of much less importance, but it got his mind off his assignment.

Draco kept going through the pros and cons in his head. Pansy was annoying, clingy, and he hated her black, stringy hair. The pros were that she had a nice body, and she was always desperate to…spend some time with him. It had taken about fifteen minutes for Draco to realize that this was the only thing he could think of. He stopped walking abruptly, making the executive decision to end things the next time he saw her.

After a few moments, Draco still felt restless. He exited his room and walked down the hallway, not knowing or caring where he would end up. He still wore his suit and shoes from earlier that night. They clicked very lightly on the floor.

He heard light footsteps echoing his, and when Draco peered up, he realized he was in front of Carter's bedroom door. Making an impulsive decision, he raised his hand to knock. He had to talk to someone, and no matter what he did, she would always be there. Always.

Draco jumped as the door creaked. It had been open the entire time, he realized. All the more, she was nearly completely undressed. A rush of color rose in his face. He could just feel it. Immediately, his mind went back to the cons of Pansy. Her body didn't have the natural curves of Carter's. Everything looked perfectly sculpted and tanned, all except for a scar on the back of her left shoulder. He could just see it as the edge of her dress inched more and more down her arm.

He couldn't pull his eyes away. She didn't even notice anyone was watching her, and therefore she showed no caution in undressing. Her long, beautiful dress hit the floor. Draco began to wonder if she slept with her underwear on. He swallowed hard as his question was answered when her bra hit the floor. He suddenly felt the need to loosen the clamped fabric around his neck.

Finally, she put on a tank top, perfect pajamas for sleeping in the summer. Draco was able to tear his eyes away from the view. He leaned against the wall next to the door and took a deep breath. He tried not to close his eyes, for he knew that if he did, all he'd be able to see was Carter. Draco quickly stood back up in front of the door and raised his arm, ready to knock again.

|| Carter ||

I made my way out of the closet in my room. The bleak bed seemed welcoming, despite its depressing shade of color. Folding the covers back, I was about to get into the bed, already having one knee on the mattress, when I heard a soft knock on my bedroom door.

Almost forgetting to say it out loud, I asked, "Who is it?"

Draco opened up the door without saying anything. I blinked, waiting for him to speak. He looked flustered, a gleaming sweat noticeable on his forehead. He cleared his throat and stepped in, closing the door softly behind him. I still waited. Finally, the awkward silence passed.

"How are you?"

I stared at him, blinking once or twice before sarcastically responding. "How am I? How do you think I am? I only just got partnered with one of my friends in a task to kill the most powerful sorcerer on Earth!"

Again, he didn't talk for a bit. I could sense the bit of frustration coming from him. He so wanted to retort my words, but he didn't. Something else had caught his attention.

"One of your friends?"

I blinked again, not quite remembering what I had just said. Had I called him a friend? I believed so. "Well… yes, Draco. You are my friend." I think, I added in my mind.

He continued to walk into the room, sitting down on my bed, just like I had done when I got here. Again, not very polite, but neither of us seemed to care. After a moment, I sat down next to him. "What do we do?" I asked, really having no idea.

Draco shook his head. "I dunno." He propped his elbows on the top of his knees and dropped his head into his hands, rubbing his eyes and sighing heavily.

I could feel the agony that he must have been experiencing. What would happen if we didn't succeed? If Dumbledore got out of it alive? What if we refused to do the task all together? As if reading my mind, Draco answered my indirect questions. "He'll kill us both."

I swallowed heavily, trying to push that thought out of my mind. Though I still nodded in agreement because I knew it was true. I looked down at my lap, folding my hands tightly on my legs and suddenly feeling cold. A tear slid down my cheek as I finally got the nerve to look back up at him.

"Draco," I whispered. "I don't want to do this."

He inched closer to me on the bed and placed his right arm around my shoulders. I felt a slight pull and lay my head on his shoulder in reply. He matched my low tone. "I know."