XXIV.
Draco's sixteenth birthday came and went, Narcissa blowing a small fortune on the boy's presents because she felt terrible that he had to celebrate without his father. She also wanted Draco to have something good to look forward to, as his lessons with Bellatrix were clearly taking a toll on him. Bellatrix, of course, did try to share the information she now held from breaking into Draco's mind over and over, and Narcissa thought she would just let it go when she informed her sister that her son had been an adult about it and admitted he was now sexually active, but of course Bellatrix got off on horrifying her and made a crude gesture indicating a blow job, and the woman got what she wanted, because Narcissa really, really hadn't wanted to know details.
Bellatrix did admit that he was getting better though, although it had now been a month of nearly every day practice. Draco was starting to look exhausted, but every time he asked to learn something different, or asked for a day off, Bellatrix just told him that only pussies take days off or ask for breaks, and generally would berate him enough so that Draco felt as though he had to keep doing it so he didn't look weak. Narcissa had tried to tell her to just stop, that she appreciated what Bellatrix was doing but that her son needed some time to recuperate, but it seemed Bellatrix had been going out of her way to avoid her lately.
She no longer slept in the same bedroom as her, although she was out 'working' most of the night now anyway. When Narcissa had asked her why she didn't come to bed anymore, Bellatrix had just brushed her off and told her that she was doing this for her, that they needed to stop being so fucking codependent, and that they could manage not being in the same bed for three months while Draco was home so that he didn't find out about them.
Narcissa knew it was just an excuse.
It broke Narcissa's heart to watch Bellatrix continue to punish herself for something that had happened so very long ago, but any time Narcissa tried to speak with her Bellatrix had either made certain that they were not alone or found some excuse to leave, which wasn't hard these days considering now that both the old and new Ministers of Magic (Cornelius Fudge had been sacked not long after the fiasco at the Ministry, and was succeeded by Rufus Scrimgeour) were aware of Voldemort's presence, the Dark Lord was making his move.
Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law, was murdered first and from what Narcissa understood, warranted the honor of being slaughtered by the Dark Lord himself. Her murder was followed by the murder of Emmeline Vance, whom Narcissa knew Bellatrix had done personally as she had come home caked in blood that day. Poor Draco had nearly vomited from the sight of her and Narcissa knew that if she hadn't become so numb to her sister's violence so long ago, she probably would have too. Then the Junior Muggle Minister, Herbert Chorley, was put under a bad Imperius Curse by one of Voldemort's newest recruits, which Bellatrix bitched about for days. To make things worse, Narcissa could not even bear going outside nowadays, as the entire country had been covered in this awful mist as the dementors began to breed and feed off the general population. Bellatrix had done an enchantment so it would not affect them while inside the house, but it was of little comfort.
Everything was falling to shit around them. Giants were tearing up the west country, the Brockdale Bridge collapsed— which Bellatrix had been overjoyed to tell Narcissa in vivid detail how many Muggles her handiwork ended up killing. Narcissa honestly hated the things her sister did, but being able to get out of the house more now had done wonders for Bellatrix's mood. Still, every time she left Narcissa was gripped with the fear that she would not come back, as she had thought losing her sister again was what terrified her the most.
Oh, how wrong she turned out to be.
Narcissa should have known something had happened when Bellatrix's lips had found hers. They hadn't made love in ages, although it wasn't as though Narcissa was going unattended to either; with Bellatrix either barely being home or too busy giving Draco private lessons to notice where her sister snuck off to, she had a lot more time to spend with Cassandra. It had been nice — more than nice, honestly — but Narcissa had still missed Bellatrix so terribly that, apparently, her desire to have things go back to normal overrode the little voice in the back of her head that was asking why, after all this time, Bellatrix suddenly wanted to ignore the self-loathing kick she had been on, and touch her again.
The silent question went ignored however, Narcissa grasping for her sister as she was backed up against her bedroom wall and kissed desperately. When Bellatrix's lips fell to her throat, the only competent thing Narcissa could remember was a breathless, "—Spell," and Bellatrix immediately grabbed her wand, silencing the room before she went back to turning Narcissa into an emotional, desperate mess as she gave the woman something she had been denying her for so long.
Why didn't she realize then?
Probably because Bellatrix was whispering heated apologies across her skin as she undressed her, telling her that she was sorry for neglecting her, that she was wrong to shut her out, that the past was the past and that Narcissa was right; that they loved each other now, and that she needed to forgive herself— that she had, finally, forgiven herself, and that she had moved on.
Narcissa should have known then it was a lie. Bellatrix would never forgive herself about what she had done when they were children; at best, the most she could do was ignore it and convince herself that because everything was consensual now, that it overrode her past mistakes. But Narcissa had been stupid; she ate up everything Bellatrix fed to her as she was laid on her back in the center of the bed, Bellatrix's naked body sliding against her own as she told her that she was going to make love to her all night, that she was going to give her everything that she deserved, and that everything was going to be okay now.
But it wasn't.
Narcissa got caught up though; she had always found it so easy to get caught up in her sister. She slid her hands through her unruly curls as her body careened toward her, another breathless declaration of how much she loved her, how much she missed her falling from the woman's lips as Bellatrix pulled another trembling orgasm from her body. They made love well into the morning hours, and only when Bellatrix had stopped her from returning the favor for the umpteenth time did Narcissa begin to get upset, finally realizing that something felt wrong about all of this.
"Why won't you let me touch you?" she asked, emotion choking up the words in the back of her throat. It felt like that time Bellatrix had first found sanity and began to feel guilty about their relationship and that terrified Narcissa, as she did not want the woman walking away from her again. She may know now that she was able to live without Bellatrix, that she didn't need her to survive, but that did not mean that she wanted to feel that separation again either. She had only just gotten her back.
Bellatrix closed her eyes, a pained expression washing over her features as she realized she could not put off having this conversation forever. She gently rested her forehead against her sister's as she laid half on top of her, and the words that escaped her lips sounded difficult to utter. "Because I don't deserve it."
"Bella…" Narcissa breathed, her heart breaking for all the wrong reasons, as she assumed this was about before. But it was not. It wasn't even close.
"Cissy, I tried," Bellatrix tried to convince her, getting visibly upset because she knew exactly how Narcissa was going to react. She looked terrified that Narcissa was going to blame her, hate her. "I pushed it off as long as I could because I know how you would feel about it, but after what happened at the Ministry, He barely listens to me anymore—"
Narcissa's stomach dropped, suddenly realizing this was about something else entirely. Her whole body went rigid and cold as she prayed to any God listening that Bellatrix was not about to say what she thought she was. She started to feel nauseas but she could not move. Instead Narcissa just stared at the ceiling, feeling like her soul was slipping from her body.
Bellatrix's voice was apologetic, but that did not make her words any easier to bear. "The Dark Lord wants to meet with Draco. He will come tonight."
Narcissa sat up so violently she nearly collided heads with her sister, but it didn't matter as suddenly everything inside of her came up with barely any warning, and she vomited over the side of the bed. "Shit— Cissy!" Bellatrix exclaimed, grabbing her wand so that she could immediately clean up her sister's mess. Narcissa coughed and sputtered, her eyes welling up with devastated tears, but she still couldn't speak. She hung her head over the side of the bed, frozen and helpless as her eyes slid out of focus.
Suddenly all she could picture was her son's grave next to Aquila's, and the world began to spin.
"Cissy— Narcissa!" Bellatrix cried desperately while she held her up, as the blonde had nearly slid off the bed. Bellatrix wrapped her in her arms, clutching her like she was terrified that should she let go that Narcissa would shatter into a million pieces. "I'm sorry— I'm sorry, I know this is the last thing you ever wanted, and I've been trying to get him ready, but he isn't— he can block me out now but it takes him too long, and I don't know what the Dark Lord will do if Draco doesn't seem genuinely willing to join us once he's of age! I tried, Narcissa; please, despite how easily I would have offered him up if he was my own son, for you, for you I still fucking tried—"
"You…" Narcissa heaved, now realizing why Bellatrix had been going so hard with Draco's Occlumency lessons. But that meant, that meant… "How— how long have you known?"
Bellatrix just looked at her guiltily, and it was enough of an answer. Narcissa screamed incoherently then, pulling away from her sister's arms so she could turn around and backhand her across the face as hard as she could muster. Bellatrix hissed in pain and spit blood from where her tooth had cut her, but she did not move to strike her back. She knew she deserved it. She wouldn't even look Narcissa in the eyes anymore, which meant that despite her words, she hadn't really tried very hard at all.
Tried to delay it? Certainly. Tried to train Draco to close his mind so that the Dark Lord couldn't see if he was having reservations? Day after day. But did she try to stop Voldemort from wanting to recruit her only son, her baby boy, after the man had already taken her first child from her? Of course not. There was probably a sick part of Bellatrix that was proud that her nephew was of interest to Voldemort, as it was the closest she could ever get to training a child of her own to do his bidding.
"How… dare you," Narcissa seethed as she got off the bed, needing to be physically away from the woman who was making her ill. The tears that had welled up in her eyes began to fall, and Narcissa's voice hitched in her throat. "How dare you come in here, climb into my bed, and touch me knowing full-well that I would never want your hands on me after this!"
Bellatrix looked so terribly guilty. She had known what she had done and why exactly she had done it, yet she still denied it with, "I was just— I don't know, trying to soften it; give you something good before it was all ripped away again. I knew this would upset you, Cissy, and I didn't—"
"Soften it? You think making love to me after you ignored me for weeks— you think whispering all that bullshit in my ear, because that was what it was, Bella, bullshit— you think that is going to make up for the fact that I'm going to be forced to give up a second child to him; my only, my last…?" Oh God, she couldn't bear it, she couldn't… "You— you arrogant cunt, you horrible fucking woman, why do I love you, why do I trust you…?! You fucked me tonight because you knew you were going to lose me over this, and you wanted— you wanted a last…!"
"No! For fuck's sake, Cissy— stop blaming me, this isn't my fault!" Bellatrix practically shouted, desperate for Narcissa to understand that she hadn't advocated for this. "I told Him I didn't think Draco had the spine, I told Him we needed to recruit adults, or that we should at least wait until Lucius gets out of prison; I tried so fucking hard to save you from this, or at the very least prolong it; stop, stop blaming me, Cissy, please… I swear, I did everything I could but He had made up His mind, and you know as well as I that there's no changing it after that!"
Narcissa stared at her sister, the desperation etched across her face and the unshed tears in her eyes as she tried to convince Narcissa that she had done everything in her power to make this not come to pass. The problem was… "I don't believe you," Narcissa responded, her voice tight as another tear rolled down her cheek. "You care more for the Dark Lord's cause than you do for me, and certainly more than you care for my son. You've made it very clear where your priorities lie, Bella, and I… I don't believe you."
Bellatrix looked so terribly gutted by those words. "My… entire fucking life I have done nothing but protect you, Narcissa," she seethed and oh, she wasn't just gutted, she was offended. A furious tear rolled down Bellatrix's cheek then, devastated by the way she was being treated when, perhaps, she truly had been trying. Narcissa felt numb though, and nothing seemed real anymore. A part of her, at this point, hoped that she was merely dreaming.
"I allowed you to make me out to look like some deranged, obsessive stalker just so Lucius thought it was just me who was sick in the head. I murdered people when they've found out about us, I cleaned up the mess you made when you killed that woman, I gave you a goddamn child so that you didn't have to sacrifice your husband's—"
Narcissa dissolved into helpless sobs. She knew Bellatrix had done so much for her, but she couldn't get passed this, and she didn't know what to do other than blame her, because a part of her still blamed Bellatrix for Aquila. "And now you're going to let him rob me of another?!" she exclaimed, nearly choking on the force of her tears.
"I didn't let him rob you of your first!" Bellatrix shouted, reminding her of the choices she had made. "You made that decision, you made that trade— I just did the best I could to cushion the blow, because that is what I do for you, Narcissa! All I fucking do is wrap myself around you and get beat to shit so you don't get shattered when you hit the ground, yet you have the fucking audacity to stand there and blame me? Act as though I haven't done everything in my power to prevent this, or as though I won't continue to do everything I can to make sure your son gets through it? I had already fucking resolved myself to training your brat every goddamn day this summer, and even Christmas bloody vacation if I needed to, so that maybe when he turned seventeen he'd have a fucking prayer of surviving! For you— for you, you ungrateful bitch! Everything I always do is for you, why can't you ever see that?! Why do you think I don't care?!"
Narcissa could barely breathe she was crying so hard. She fell to her haunches on the floor, covering her face as her shoulders shook with the force of her sobs. But she was not the only one crying, and Bellatrix looked at her with such a devastating expression as she screamed helplessly, "I don't know what you want me to do— do you want me to cut out my fucking heart and give to you? What more do I have to sacrifice for you, how many more ways do I have to protect you for you to see me? Why is everything I do not fucking good enough for you?!"
"No, don't— don't you dare make this about you!" Narcissa seethed, her words choked up in her throat. "My son, my only fucking child…!"
"He's Lucius' son!" Bellatrix shouted at her, needing Narcissa to realize that this was bigger than her. "He's the son of a Death Eater, he's a pureblood— he would have been recruited anyway, how could you be this bloody stupid; how could you not have realized?!"
Bellatrix was right. Narcissa knew she was right, but that didn't make it any easier. She didn't know what to do, she didn't know what to say— Narcissa was more than aware that she did not have a choice in the matter. Whether she liked it or not, Voldemort was going to come calling soon, and she and Draco could not escape from it. They had nowhere to run, because nowhere was far enough. If they left, it would only be a matter of time before they were found and slaughtered for disloyalty. Narcissa's only damn option was that her sister continue to teach Draco everything she could so that perhaps he could survive this war, and so she silently reached out to her, unable to ask for help but needing it all the same.
But Bellatrix did not move.
"Oh, fuck you," Bellatrix seethed, her heart broken by how Narcissa had treated her. "You can't just rip me to shreds and then expect sodding tatters to protect you."
"Please," Narcissa sobbed, knowing she did not have any other option. "Please, Bella, I'm sorry— I'm just scared, I'm so goddamn scared… I need you, I need you; don't leave me to deal with this alone, please…"
Bellatrix looked like she was internally struggling with herself before she finally exhaled a furious shout, throwing her fist into the headboard before she violently got off of the bed and took her sister in her arms. For a second Narcissa thought she was going to hit her, but her embrace was warm and protective as Bellatrix absolutely hated herself for being unable to put herself first. She always got emotionally kicked around, always got told it was her fault when the blame never lied entirely on her shoulders, and yet the second Narcissa needed her she did not know how to say no.
"You're right," Bellatrix told her unapologetically, holding her sister in her arms as Narcissa clutched at her and sobbed. Bellatrix's voice was distant, detached. "You do destroy people's souls, Narcissa, because you've certainly fucking destroyed mine. I'll never be whole because of you. I'll always be pathetic because of you."
"And I deserve everything I've gotten for it," Narcissa wheezed as her fingers bunched in her sister's hair, knowing Bellatrix spoke the truth; she knew what she did to her, how badly she had destroyed her, but in the end, perhaps it was what Bellatrix deserved for what she had done to her all those years ago.
Neither of them were good people— Narcissa used others, broke others so that she could steal pieces of them to make herself feel whole, and Bellatrix… even without the questionable consent in their past, she still hurt others, she still tortured people, still murdered them. Why on earth did either of them think they should have happiness?
"We deserve each other, Bella; just accept it," Narcissa continued, her voice empty and her gaze unfocused as she allowed herself to drown in that reality. "Stop running from me because you feel guilty. Just suffer with me. We're each other's punishment, but Draco— he doesn't deserve to be swept up in our wake. Please, please… help me. You're the only one who can."
"You're an idiot if you ever thought for one second that I wouldn't," Bellatrix exhaled, sounding so terribly defeated by her love for her sister. It wore them both down more than they would ever like to admit, and yet they clung to one another all the same. "But you need to do exactly as I say."
"I know—"
"No. You don't know," Bellatrix told her seriously as she pulled away from her, allowing her gaze to find her sister's. "Because your son is not ready to hide his true feelings from the Dark Lord, which means that we have to change them. We need to convince him that this is of the highest honor, and we need to make certain that he wants this."
Narcissa felt ill. "Won't be difficult for you though, will it?" she accused in a broken voice, knowing all too well how easily Bellatrix could spin this horror to make it seem like a good thing.
"No, it won't," Bellatrix responded blatantly. "And you better feel damn lucky that it won't be, because otherwise you wouldn't have a prayer of convincing him. You might lie as easy as breathing, Cissy, but only when it benefits you, and we both know that this does not."
Narcissa knew she was right. Still, the fear suffocated her for the rest of the morning and she was awfully pale when the three of them sat down to breakfast together. Bellatrix had tried convincing her that she needed sleep, as she had not gotten any last night, but Narcissa knew she could not. She doubted she would ever be able to sleep again.
"Darling, your aunt and I… we have some exciting news," Narcissa tried, hoping the words didn't sound as fake to her son as they did to her own ears. She forced a smile and Draco looked at her strangely, which probably meant she was not doing well convincing him that this was, in fact, something to celebrate. Narcissa still felt like she was going to vomit.
Bellatrix seemed to see that though, and took over from there. "With the crux of this war on the horizon, the Dark Lord plans to expand our ranks, and he has taken a personal interest in you, Draco. He wants to meet with you."
It was the first time Bellatrix had ever called her son by his actual name when addressing him, and that coupled with the terrifying reality that he would be having a meeting with the Dark Lord in person caused Draco's eyes to widen as he realized the seriousness of this conversation. He said nothing, but he certainly did not look happy about it and Narcissa couldn't look at him, as she feared that if Draco met her gaze then he would see what lied within her heart, and it was not this.
"This is an incredible honor. Your father and I were only a little younger than you are now when we were recruited, and it has given us a chance to fight for the rights our race has been so cruelly denied— sharing this world with Muggles, mudbloods, and Squibs… we deserve better than that, and we are going to shape a world where our kind reigns supreme," Bellatrix told him, her voice rivaling that of a preacher as she shared with her nephew how she felt about her own involvement in the Death Eaters, in the war. "Being a part of that would give your life purpose, would give it meaning, and you will be revered among our kind once we are ultimately successful. This is a destiny worth having, Draco; do not cower or shy away from it. Make your father proud."
At the mention of making his father proud, Draco sat up a little straighter, but then his eyes shifted to his mother. She still would not look at him, and his voice was accusatory as he reminded his mother of her own words. "I told you I would fight for him last year if I could, and both you and Father were quick to tell me no—"
Bellatrix actually looked immensely proud of Draco then, and it made everything so much bloody worse.
"Your father is in prison now, and things have changed," Narcissa told him, using every ounce of strength she had within her to lie as she finally found her son's gaze. "You're the man of the house now, Draco, and that comes with certain responsibilities. Your father… he would be pleased to know you will be continuing his work once you come of age. I know I've always said I did not want you involved, but you were just a boy then, and I've always been fearful about both your father's and my sister's involvement in the war, despite knowing full-well that they can take care of themselves. I just worry, but not because I don't think you could do it. I know you are strong enough to do this should he choose you, my love. You are your father's son in every way, and I am so very proud of you."
Narcissa did not know how he believed it, but he did. Perhaps Draco just always wanted to hear that he was like his father, as he had always seen Lucius as someone to aspire to be. It broke Narcissa's heart that this would be the way her son would follow in his father's footsteps, but perhaps the Dark Lord would give him the kind of work that Lucius had been expected to do during the first war. He barely had to dirty his hands then, only trying to climb the political ladder to further Voldemort's influence from the inside. Narcissa hated this, she hated this with every fiber of her being, but that… that she thought she might be able to stomach, should she have to.
"So it… won't be until I'm of age, right? After I've graduated?" Draco still looked terribly nervous, but he seemed to have resolved himself to try to be the man his mother had said she wanted him to become. Narcissa wanted to slice her own throat open at the sight. He was so brave, her beautiful little boy, but he shouldn't have to be. This shouldn't be happening right now…
"That is always how He has done things," Bellatrix confirmed, but then again, that didn't sound very definite. Narcissa's insides twisted in anxiety again, but she tried to suppress the feeling as she gave her son a comforting smile. "For now, He merely wants to meet. When dusk falls He will arrive—"
"Tonight?" Draco asked, his mask of confidence slipping momentarily as he realized he would have little time to prepare himself emotionally for this.
"Yes, tonight," Bellatrix confirmed, and Draco shifted uncomfortably in his seat before he seemed to internally coax himself to sit up straighter. He took a deep breath, but nodded his understanding. It took every ounce of self-control that Narcissa had in her body to not cry at how maturely he was handling this. He was trying so hard to accept the inevitable and his mother's heart broke for him. "This runs in your blood, Draco. This is what you are meant for. In this family we serve Him, and we do so with honor and pride. Tonight, you will finally become a man. I hope you are ready."
"I am," Draco responded unwaveringly, and Bellatrix smiled. It was actually genuine, and Narcissa knew that despite the horror this all entailed, despite how badly Bellatrix knew Narcissa did not want this for her family, that the woman was pleased to have the next generation of Death Eaters begin with her nephew.
"Then I am sure you will make your family proud."
Narcissa could not be around her son for the rest of the day, as she was certain that she would ruin the boy's resolve should he see her breaking down and crying every other moment. Bellatrix seemed to understand this though and took to training Draco in the basement for most of the afternoon, allowing Narcissa time to clutch her pillow close to her chest and cry, wishing that it was her baby boy that she was holding, that she was protecting.
But she could not protect him, just as she could not protect Aquila.
Bellatrix though, Bellatrix could protect him. She could train him, she could help him, she could become a mentor for him. It was not ideal, but none of this was ideal, and in the end, Bellatrix was fucking amazing at what she did. What she did was awful; it was cruel and it was horrible, but she did it better than anyone else, and she had lived through more battles than most. If anyone was to teach her son to survive, it had her be her. She was the best chance Draco had.
Dusk fell and the Dark Lord, as punctual as ever, apparated into the foyer of their Wiltshire manor in a billowing dark cloud. Thankfully, this time he did not bring his god-awful snake, but it looked as though he was the one becoming snake-like now. He barely looked human; sickly pale with slits for nostrils instead of a nose, his eyes a deep red, Voldemort was a terrifying sight to behold. Narcissa's hand, which had been clutching her son's, squeezed in a gesture of comfort, as she did not want Draco reacting negatively to his horrible appearance. Bellatrix stood on the other side of her, practically wrapped around her arm until she laid eyes on her Lord and untangled herself from her sister, bowing low in greeting.
"My Lord. You are most welcome." She spoke to Voldemort as if she wanted nothing more than the honor of kissing his feet, and Narcissa's insides twisted in disgust.
"Yes," Narcissa agreed, her words strangled and raw. She felt a bit like she was having an out-of-body experience as she ran on autopilot. "It is an honor to have you in our home once more."
"Bella. Narcissa," the Dark Lord greeted, and Draco looked a bit taken aback that Voldemort even knew his mother's name. He knew she had met him once, but in truth it had been a total of four times that she had seen the man. Once, when he had struck an accord for Bellatrix's sanity. A second time at Lucius' initiation, a third at Gwendolyn's funeral. And the final, the worst, was when Voldemort had visited her while she was bed-ridden and devastated, confirming that her debt to him had been paid in full.
"You are looking well. I do hope you are managing without your husband during this unfortunate time, although—" Voldemort smirked, more than aware of the kind of relationship she had with Bellatrix, "I am sure your dear sister has been attending to your needs."
"She always has. It has been an absolute pleasure to have her back in my home, and I am grateful that you have allowed it," Narcissa told him, knowing full well that Bellatrix would not be living here if he did not want her to be. She supposed it would at least look good to acknowledge that, even though Narcissa knew as well as he did that should he have tried to forbid Bellatrix from seeing her, that her sister would have gladly taken any punishment he gave her for disobeying him. She wouldn't have been able to help herself; they were so tightly woven together that it was hard to even see where one of them ended, and the other began.
Bellatrix smiled at how unwaveringly Narcissa had said that though and leaned in, gently placing a kiss on her sister's temple. Voldemort seemed amused by Bellatrix's affection for her, as though he were watching a pet do something silly and entertaining, but Narcissa took her sister's hand in her own and stared at the man across from her with not a single ounce of shame inside of her for how she felt. He could take quite a lot from her, but he could not take Bellatrix. Her loyalty might be to him, but her heart, her sister's very fucking soul… belonged to her, and to her alone.
"Please, allow me to present my son— Draco."
Narcissa untangled her hand from her son's, gently placing it on the small of his back to encourage him forward. It made her sick to do this, but she knew she had to play the part of the proud mother for her son's sake. Draco, to his credit, did not falter. He looked nervous, but he also looked tentatively excited and almost as though he was in awe of the Dark Lord. Voldemort was a frighteningly impressive man, after all, and Draco followed Bellatrix's lead and bowed to him.
"My Lord," he greeted, acting very much like the young man Narcissa wished he didn't have to become so quickly. "It's an honor."
The Dark Lord assessed him for a moment. "You are the image of your father," he told Draco, although there was something Narcissa did not like in the man's voice when he said that. It made her insides twist in terror. "I know if he were here he would be very proud that this day has come for his son. Come, we shall speak privately— man to man."
Draco looked a little taken aback that this would be a private meeting but he thankfully took it in stride, swallowing hard before he stood up straighter and nodded his understanding. Narcissa's clutched her sister's hand harder, hating that she could not be there for Draco during this, but having expected as such. Her meeting with the Dark Lord had been private, after all, even though Lucius had wanted to stand by her side during it.
Narcissa watched Draco and Voldemort adjourn to the sitting room with a heavy heart, and the second they were out of view her knees nearly buckled from underneath her. Bellatrix immediately had her in her arms though, wrapping her up in her embrace as she kept her on her feet. "You're doing good, Cissy," she softly assured her, kissing her cheek before cupping a protective hand over the back of her sister's head. "You're doing so good. Come on— you need to sit down."
Narcissa nodded weakly and tightly gripped her sister's hand as Bellatrix lead her into the study. They sat side by side on the small settee in the corner, Narcissa rigid as a board, her knees together and her gaze locked on the opposite side of the room. In contrast, Bellatrix was facing her, one of her legs bent toward her body as she comfortably fit herself next to her sister's form. The older woman's hand was gently running through Narcissa's hair as they sat and waited in silence. Narcissa wasn't certain she would be able to talk right then without crying anyhow, and she needed to hold herself together for her son.
Her hand was frantically clutching at her chest however as she begun to feel as though the world was spinning out of control, and her sister noticed, covering Narcissa's hand with her own before she gently brought it back down to her lap. "Your locket isn't there anymore," she reminded her softly. "And even if it was, you couldn't snort this fucking reality away, love."
"I need something," Narcissa told her, voice strained as she continued to stare at an imperfection on the opposite wall. She felt like the world was slipping out from beneath her feet, so it was probably good she was sitting down. Still, Narcissa felt helpless, so very out of control, and for the last fifteen years she had a singular coping mechanism when those feelings began to overtake her. "I need to dull it, I thought I could handle this but I can't, and if I crack right now something awful will happen, I know it, I know it…"
"I am not going on a drug run for you, Narcissa," Bellatrix hissed, but that was about as far as that conversation got as suddenly a terrible sounding hiss followed by a guttural scream came from the other room.
Narcissa's entire face drained of color.
She immediately tried to get up but Bellatrix would not let her, wrapping completely around her as she placed a hand over Narcissa's mouth to keep her for screaming out to her son. "He's Marking him," Bellatrix told her hurriedly, needing Narcissa to realize that Voldemort wasn't torturing him or anything. Draco was silent now anyway; the only sound being emitted from him was that one, short shout. "I know that sound— it's just the Mark. Cissy, Cissy— don't cry; pull yourself together!" she hissed, watching her sister's eyes fill up with terrified tears.
Draco was only sixteen; he should have had a year, there wasn't even a ceremony— there was usually a ceremony…!
Bellatrix would not move her hand from over her lips so Narcissa could not speak, but she kept shaking her head in desperation, not wanting this to be her son's reality. "I don't know why," Bellatrix admitted to her as she kept a tight hold on her sister. She, honestly, sounded just as lost as Narcissa felt, as this had not been the way that they had done things, and it seemed as though she was no longer privy to the Dark Lord's reasonings. "But He would not have done it without purpose. Breathe, love. It'll be okay. Draco is not alone. He will never be alone again; he is part of something bigger now."
Narcissa wanted to scream. It took all of the strength that she had left not to break down right there, but she knew she could not. She tried to compose herself while Bellatrix held her body tight to her form, promising Narcissa that she would never know the pain of losing her boy, and that everything was going to be alright.
Narcissa did not know how Bellatrix could promise either one of those things.
Voldemort appeared in the doorway then, Draco trailing behind him looking ashen and shaken as he clutched his left forearm, the fresh Mark burning deep into his skin. He looked like he was about to fall down and Narcissa wanted to run to him, to scoop him up in her arms and protect him from the horror his life was about to entail, but she could not move. She was frozen in her seat, unable to tear her eyes away from Draco as the Dark Lord spoke.
"None are to know what transpired here this night," he commanded. "No one is to know that Draco has been Marked, nor what I have commanded of him; not even those within our circle. For the time being, I require absolute discretion in this matter. No one would expect a child, after all…"
"…Of doing what?" Narcissa asked, her voice dry and broken as she looked at her son, who looked terribly ill at his newfound reality. Voldemort smiled cruelly, knowing exactly what he was asking of a mere boy, and the unlikeliness that he would succeed.
"Of killing the Headmaster of Hogwarts, of course."
Narcissa could not breathe. He was trying to get Draco killed, he was—!
Bellatrix was quick to speak. "Forgive me, My Lord, but wouldn't I be better suited—?"
"Silence," the Dark Lord barked, and Bellatrix's words died in the back of her throat as she inclined her head in apology. She would not meet his gaze. "You dare question my judgment? You, Bellatrix?"
"No, no— of course not, My Lord, your judgment is sound and your word absolute; I spoke foolishly."
"I will say this once: Draco's mission is his, and his alone. I have been lenient with your ridiculous infatuation with your sister because you are my favored, Bella, but if you disobey me for her sake, my understanding will end and so will Narcissa's life. Have I made myself clear?"
Bellatrix suddenly looked awfully pale as she grasped desperately to her sister's hand, knowing she could not bear those consequences. She would obey him and she would never waver, as the loss of Narcissa would destroy her; Voldemort knew that all too well. "Yes, yes, My Lord. Perfectly."
Narcissa knew she should be terrified, but all she could think of in that moment was that she would gladly die so that Draco could live. She didn't care— the Dark Lord could torture her, kill her, but Bellatrix had to save Draco. She had to, she just had to…
"Then I shall take my leave," Voldemort bid adieu, but before he left his eyes landed on Narcissa and he smiled at her. It was cruel, almost mocking. He knew exactly what he was condemning her family to, and he seemed to enjoy the look of terror on the blonde woman's face. "I appreciate your willingness to sacrifice both of your children to this noble cause, Narcissa. You have been an integral part of this war; I'm sure that fills you with such pride and joy."
Draco's eyes widened then, all thoughts of his mission momentarily slipping away from him as he stared at his mother in confusion and horror. "Both of your…?" he repeated, which only made Voldemort's smirk grow wider. "Mother, Mum— what's he…?"
"Ah, perhaps I have been indiscreet. I do apologize. When you see Lucius, if you see Lucius… do give him my best, won't you?"
Suddenly, Narcissa realized exactly what this was: a message. Bellatrix may have asked for Lucius' punishment for his failure, but it seemed Voldemort had far more in mind than a mere beating for his lost prophecy. This, this was Lucius' punishment— perhaps even Bellatrix's as well, as she was ordered to sit idly by as the love of her life lost her son as Draco attempted to carry out a mission they all knew full-well that he could not complete.
The Dark Lord disapparated then, and Narcissa could not keep it in any longer. The scream that escaped her lips was devastating and guttural as she pitched forward, the world spinning in front of her eyes as Narcissa fell headfirst into an abyss of sorrow and loss that she knew she would never be able to emerge from.
TBC…