Chapter Seven: The Dark Mark

A/N: Two chapters were mixed up, and one was pre-emptively posted. It has since then been removed. I apologize for those who were spoiled, or for whom the flow was disrupted. It should make more sense this way.

25th of May 1996

Dear Father,

Remember to keep a portkey on your person during outings, and to use it. You never know what may happen.

With Love,

Your son, Cato.

Umbridge contemplated Hermione for another long moment. "Allright , dear, let's make it just you and me… and we'll take Potter too, shall we? Get up, now-" (Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, pp.749, J.K. Rowling)

"Professor Umbridge," said a voice from the back of the room and after a momentary struggle as the would-be prisoners were shoved out of the way, Harry spotted a boy who looked remarkably like Draco, except he wore his hair long, gathered in a ponytail and had eyes so silvery that they seemed to reflect the light in the office like mirrors. He looked in many ways like an aristocratic Bill Weasley though Harry as he took the distraction to drag himself off the floor.

A disinterested look was on his face as he walked up to Umbridge. "Allow me to come with you, as insuran-"

"Mr. Malfoy, your concern is so very kind," she said in a poisonously sweet voice, her smile anything but friendly. "But I am more than qualified to handle two wandless teenagers."

Cato Malfoy smiled back at her and as Harry's gaze darted between them, he caught a distinct current of mutual loathing that improved his opinion of the boy despite the circumstances. "Certainly, Undersecretary," said Cato, inclining his head. "I will make sure to report this incident to my father in detail during your absence, so that all parties are informed."

She paused and licked her lips, her eyes darting between Caro, Harry and Hermione with a calculating look. "In detail?"

"In detail," he repeated smoothly.

Harry opened his mouth- Sirius was dying! They didn't have time for this! But it was as if the other boy sensed it, and in the brief, flickering gaze he directed towards Harry was such harsh rebuke that his teeth clicked together as he shut his mouth. "Well… I suppose… One more…" said Umbridge, an ugly flush on her pallid cheeks. She nodded. "Yes, fine, fine!" Her smile was gone now. "And the details of this incident…"

"… Will be forgotten," finished the elder Malfoy with a smile.

"Very well. You lot, keep the rest here!" snapped Umbridge, then she pointed at Cato. "You take the Potter boy."

Harry spent much of his time walking down to the forest staring at his escort, his mind grinding away. Why was he here? Was Lucius Malfoy part of this plot? Then he berated himself for his stupidity. Of course Malfoy was involved, and Cato was a seventh year, he was of age. He must have known what was going on right now. If only he could get his wand, in the boy's pocket… If he had to use the cruciatus he would. But even as they entered the forest the boy winked at him and it was all Harry could do not to stumble in surprise.

They stopped a minute later and Umbridge spun Hermione around by the shoulder, eliciting a cry of pain from Hermione and a surge of anger in Harry's chest. "Well, where is it? The weapon?" His rage boiled and rose like a monster as the woman's wand dug into Hermione's neck, but his friend nodded eagerly.

"Not far now, it had to be hidden, you see…"

"She's tricking us you know, you stupid creature." If Cato hadn't been standing right beside him, Harry would have been gazing into the trees for the source of those words.

Umbridge must have felt the same disbelief, for she cast around wildly for a source before her eyes landed on Cato, her jowls trembling. "Excuse me?"

He looked so at ease, relaxed despite the look of intense disgust on his face. It was only because Harry was standing right next to him that he could see his wand hand trembling in small, jerky movements. "There is no weapon, they were trying to contact Sirius Black."

Hermione let out a little moan of despair, her brave mask shattering as a huge well opened in Harry's chest. He was right, Sirius was there.

"Sirius Black, no weapon?" Umbridge was looking around to each of them in turn, a furious look on her face. "Malfoy, explain yourself!"

"You disgust me," sneered the boy. He moved fast than Harry had thought possible, his wand a blur. There was a flash of light and a rush of wind and Umbridge was propelled into the underbrush and out of sight with scream and a sudden crunch.

Utter silence fell onto the little dirt path, interrupted only by the discontented rustle of displaced branches swinging back into place like a stone rolling over a tomb door. Harry gawked at him as the boy smiled. "What a detestable woman, don't you think?"

"But- But why?" Hermione was the first to find her voice and it was a faint thing, full of confusion.

"I think you both have more pressing matters to attend to, don't you?" said Cato, twirling his wand in his fingers.

"Did you… is she dead?" asked Hermione, her eyes wide.

Cato gave her a flat look. "I really couldn't care less either way."

"What did you do to Sirius?" said Harry, his voice cracking like a whip in the still air. "WHAT DID YOU DO?"

"Nothing," snapped Cato. He pulled out both their wands and held them up.

"You know what's happening," snarled Harry, taking a step forward. Magic barely mattered right now. An intense hatred was seething in his stomach, demanding to be satiated. "Your dad is in on it, isn't he?" The arrogant bastard thought he could just stand there and- A wand in his face halted him in his tracks, his rage suddenly coming face to face with the reality of his position.

"Harry!" said Hermione, giving the possibly-a-killer Malfoy a scared look. "If- We really need to go. Please, it's his Godfather!"

"He knows!" yelled Harry, glaring at Cato. "Is your dad taking a turn too, huh? Having a little fun?"

A cloud passed over Cato's face and black sparks shot out of his wand, scorching Harry's nose and pulling a shriek from Hermione. "Don't," said Cato slowly, his voice deliberately calm. "Speak of my father."

Before Harry could formulate another insult about said father, Cato tossed both their wands to Hermione, shocking Harry enough to dispel his anger for a moment. "Your even headed friend can have these," said Cato in a frosty tone. He looked at Harry as if he was being reminded of something suddenly quite unpleasant. "And for you, this: If your Godfather is standing near an Arch, do be a good man and make sure he doesn't stay near it, it may save his life."

"What- Why are you telling me this?" stuttered Harry as Hermione pressed his wand into his palm.

Cato looked at him with a strange jumble emotions on his until now impassive face. It appeared like some sad mixture of grief, indecision and longing. "We all deserve a father, even if they are reviled."

Cato turned around after he was certain the two Gryffindors were not following him, and disillusioned himself with a trembling hand. He frowned and clenched it tightly until the tremors passed. It was getting worse, and it was getting harder to pass it off as nerves. He shook his head, dispelling the after-image of Potter's furious gaze and passed a hand over his eyes, rubbing them gently. Of course Potter had assumed he was an enemy. It made sense, in a cunning way. He had been seen as insurance, to make sure Potter made it to the ministry. With a snort he began to carefully retrace his steps once he had assured himself that he was alone.

Letting Potter go had been a necessity, the Dark Lord had to be revealed. But trying to save Sirius… "Damn," he cursed under his breath, rolling his wand between his fingers nervously. It had been an emotional thing, irrational to the extreme and with the potential of throwing the future into even more jeopardy than it was already in. But he couldn't do nothing. There had always been a soft spot in his heart for the last Marauders, who had suffered so much in their own particular ways.

The little clearing in which he had confronted Umbridge was empty now, a stale scent of rotting bark and loamy earth sat around him, with a hint of fresh sap. He hopped off the path and over a log, following the snapped boughs and bruised leaves until her found her, leaning against a tree. Umbridge was wandless and breathing heavily, a deep gash on her brow and her arm wrenched into an odd angle that made him wince.

She was pale and seemed to have just regained consciousness. When she saw Cato she lifted a trembling finger and pointed at him, her pouchy eyes bulging with terror. "You- You'll pay for this… Ministry… madness…" Cato picked his way over to her and crouched down, patting her leg. A muted shriek from her was enough of a statement about its condition.

"I'm no murderer, Dolores. You're still alive, aren't you?"

"…Pay for this…" she muttered. "Cornelius…" Her breath was ragged and Cato got the distinct impression that she was going into shock.

He patted her leg again, on the same spot. "I can't say as much about the things that live within the forest, though. Do be careful on your way back." She gasped in pain and stared at him with dawning comprehension in her small eyes.

"Why? Lucius-" "I'm not my father and I detest you," snapped Cato. "You are a disease."

"Kill me then," she rasped. "Leaving me here… as good as dead."

Cato gave her a long look. He had measured the possibility in his mind and found it wanting. Killing sounded so easy on paper, but now… He shook his head. "No, I won't."

"Coward."

He shrugged. "I guess so. Accio Dolores' wand," he called, catching it neatly as it flew out of the underbrush. "Fascinating little thing, isn't it?" He smiled as her eyes tracked his every move, until he was holding her wand in both hands, one at each end.

She screamed in denial and launched herself at him, her scream cut down to a gargled grunt of pain as she collapsed in front of him. Cato waited until she was looking up at him before he snapped the wand, grimacing as the stout piece of wood resisted. Then, with a burst of sparks it shattered and Umbridge's body lost all its strength as she slumped against the ground. Dry, heaving sobs shook her body.

Cato frowned at her broken shape and stowed the remnants of her wand in his pocket. He had expected to feel better about this. With a sigh her turned away. All he felt was a gaping sense of emptiness and a tickle of discomfort at the back of his mind. Neither Lucius nor Narcissa would have disdained what he was doing, and yet… He shook his head and glowered over his shoulder at her. "Leave it to Dolores Umbridge to take the fun out of revenge."

The trip back was easy, and the story he built just as convincing. A centaur attack had separated them, he had managed to escape, he didn't know what had happened to the others. Potter might talk about his attack, but he doubted that it would spread too far when he was just repeating Granger's exact idea. Muddled stories and a confused narrative might serve as well as a clear-cut explanation.

He jogged half the way there, constantly glancing up at the sky. With every passing minute, tension settled heavier in his stomach and the growing gloom seemed to make the trees lean in closer around him. Somewhere, his father was fighting, hopefully with a portkey on his person. Somewhere, Sirius Black was fighting near a veil. And here he was, unable to do more than tip the scales in favor of family, for fear of destroying some crucial, decisive element of the only future he could begin to guess at. It was the hardest thing he had done in his life. To watch Voldemort fall, he had to survive the storm without building a shelter.

The entry hall was bursting with sound when he pushed open the main door. Dinner was in full swing, the last dinner free of Voldemorts shadow. It hit him then, as much as that horrible day when he stared the Dark Lord in the eyes. It was begun.

Bellatrix's screams eventually faded into whimpers, and then into deep-throated groans of agony. Then she was silent, and no one in the room dared to breathe, dozens of masked and unmasked faces staring at her with bated breath as the Dark Lord held his wand high, vacillating between punishment and mercy. Cato stood in the second rank, holding on to his mother's hand firmly. They were gathered in the Malfoy's ballroom, the Dark Lord's forces gathered in silence, dark ranks to observe the judgment of the single agent to escape the ministry fiasco.

A bitter taste lingered in Cato's mouth at the thought. His father would have been horrified at the sort of lowlife that had been allowed into the manor tonight. Scum of the sort that made Cato's skin crawl. But Lucius was in Azkaban, and his mother had been inconsolable for days. Even now, only years of training kept her frozen façade from splitting open. But her hand was warm, and he squeezed it.

She didn't move, but gave him a gentle response. He was the de facto head of House, until Lucius' trial dictated his fate. And it would not be a kind one. All he had had to do was take the damn portkey. Why had he stayed? Resentment still burned through Cato's veins as he remembered the way his mother's face had crumpled inwards, as if the life had been sucked out of her, when Bellatrix had delivered the news in a moment of oddly sisterly tenderness.

"Lord Voldemort is merciful," said the Dark Lord, his voice penetrating every corner of the room." He lowered his wand. "He spares those loyal few, who had served so well before."

"Thank you, My Lord, t-thank you," whispered Bellatrix, her voice convulsed by the echoes of her torture. Her eyes were wide and adoring and she groveled at his feet, kissing his robes. Cato turned his gaze away at the degradation. "You are merciful, I will not fail."

"Enough."

She ducked her head like a beaten dog, but remained at his side as the Dark Lord's gaze wandered across the room. Out of the corner of his eye, Cato saw Montague duck his head, his face pale and shaken. The stupid idiot had ignored the offer from the Boston Brawlers. Cato had sunk a good chunk of Falaise's annual profits into getting that way out for him.

"But the true failure lies not in my dear Bellatrix," said the Dark lord, and suddenly his gaze was on Cato, his eyes pinning him to the spot like a bug. Not but thrust of legilimency came and he relaxed as the Dark Lord moved one. "But in Lucius Malfoy, who thought himself above failure." The words were full of mockery and the assembly jeered with the vicious pleasure of those who saw an icon fall.

Cato forced himself to remain impassive, fighting the flush of fury rising in him. None of these pathetic rats would have dared to laugh without the Dark Lord's approval. His mother looked like she was made of porcelain and marble, and Draco beside her was blushing furiously. "But I give his family a chance at redemption…" The audience to this cruel little tragedy fell silent and Cato felt as if a knot were forming in his throat. Who would it be in this two-person game of Russian roulette? "Step forward, Draco."

"No." The room went unnaturally still. Not a rustle of cloth, not a whispered breath as all eyes fell on Cato. The Dark Lord was looking at him with an inscrutable face, his wand frozen between his fingers.

"No?" he whispered, and his voice was death.

Cato shoved his way to the front and fell to one knee, ignoring his mother's heart-wrenching whimper of protest or the way she clung to his hand until he had to rip it away. "Please, my lord," he said, bowing his head low. Sweat ran down his neck and his skin prickled. He wanted to look up, to see his fate before it struck him down, but fear kept his head down, that small, cowardly element within him whispering that what he couldn't see couldn't hurt him. "Allow me to have the honor of serving you, my Lord. Allow me to redeem our name in your eyes."

He had to look, just a glance. And he saw Bellatrix looking at him with fierce pride in her eyes, and His cold gaze. When the stab of legilimency came, he was prepared, and though the Dark Lord's touch burned like acid, he did not flinch, nor break eye contact. He layered the genuine wish to protect Draco and his desire to save his family name with a fabrication, a desire to earn the Dark Lords favor at any cost. His mother would be so proud… He had always been their parents' favorite… He just couldn't show fear, it was just as his father had taught him from the book… To mask fear in the Dark Lord's presence… He felt a twinge of derision at the last thought, and then the pain was gone.

"Very well," said the Dark Lord after a long, tense moment. "You shall serve."

Cato couldn't bear to look at his mother, to see the agony hidden behind cracked marble. "Lucius's failure shall be erased through your mission."

The statement echoed around the room and Cato fought to keep his shoulders from slumping. He had expected this, planned for it, but now… He would have to strike Dumbledore down, and if things did not vary too much… He bit his lip and forced a blank look onto his face. Cato suspected he was supposed to revel in this idiocy. Only a few would see this as the punishment it was. But the Dark Lord was not done with him yet. "And a mission such as the one you shall shoulder deserves its own reward, does it not?" There was a cruel gleam in his eyes. "Step forward."

Cato clenched his jaw as he approached, his gaze fixed somewhere around his robed chest. An entire life spent thinking of how to save his family from this, only to be here. Now. A bitter void tore open within him. Perhaps this had been the only way all along. Perhaps he had been fated to serve, so that his brother wouldn't. To succeed in saving his brother from the fate which the future had reserved for him. But what of his mother? What of his father? He paused uncertainly, before kneeling once more, his hands clasped on his knee.

"Have you nothing to say, Cato?" asked the Dark Lord.

Somewhere deep down, behind the fear and the anger, Cato was glad he couldn't see his mother's face as he looked up at the Dark Lord. "I will not fail you, my Lord."

"Give me your arm."

"Yes…" breathed Bellatrix. She was kneeling beside him now, her hand gripping his shoulder like a vice. Her breath was quick and husky and Cato could see her parted lips, her lidded eyes… He turned away and wrenched up his left sleeve, revealing pale, unblemished skin mottled with blue veins. Would it hurt?

His breath caught as the Dark Lords unnaturally cold fingers gripped his wrist and twisted his arm to a specific angle. Then he poised his wand over Cato's forearm and hissed something gnarled and unintelligible. The mark would never fade entirely, never disappear. Black ink seeped from the wand and roiled thickly in the air before plunging down and- Cato gasped in pain as his skin began to boil and blister. His free hand grasped at his forearm and his arm spasmed, but Voldemort's implacable grip kept him in place as the ink force its way into his skin like superheated oil.

It began to coil and twist beneath cherry red flesh, fat blisters growing and popping on his arm until even with the distance given by occlumency he could hardly bear the pain without screaming. Then his wrist was free and Cato collapsed to the floor, moaning, his hand clasped above the wound as it pulsed with fiery waves, each throb worse than the last.

Time and space became a haze of pain as gentle hands were guided him away. Then he was sitting, and someone was cooing reassuringly in his ear. His head rolled back and he growled as a potent mix of anger and agony bubbled over. "When this fucking thing-" he snarled. Why did it still burn?

"Shh…" murmured someone, stroking the back of his neck as if he were a cat.

"Mother?"

Black hair and violent eyes invaded his vision, a gaunt face filled with once beauty and madness. "I am so proud of you," whispered Bellatrix. She was practically straddling him in his chair. "So proud of my little godson, all grown up…"

He tried to pull away, but he couldn't. She was gripping him tightly and her cracked lips were so close to his face that he could smell the rot ingrained in her blackened teeth.

"A good Godmother should give her boy a reward," she breathed in a throaty voice. Her long nails scratched as his robes, pulling them away, and Cato, addled by the pain, could barely resist. His limbs felt heavy, lethargic.

A good banged open. "Bella." The voice was jagged and frigid and Bellatrix snapped her gaze onto Narcissa as she stormed into the room. "Get out."

Blue met violet and Cato saw violence in his godmother's gaze before she leaped off him and tossed her head regally. "Fine, Cissy," she snarled. "Have it your way." Then she was gone, slamming the door behind her with such force that the wood cracked.

Cato collapsed in his chair as his mother rushed over and knelt beside him, her wand running over his forearm and a continuous stream of spells pouring from her lips. Finally, blessedly, the pain receded enough for his surroundings to clarify once more. His mother was still kneeling, his arm in her hands and her eyes fixated on his dark mark as if she couldn't quite accept what she was seeing.

Behind her stood his brother, whose eyes had yet to leave that same, new blemish upon his skin. A mix of revulsion and anger shone plainly on his face, and he was first to speak. "Why did you do it?" His hands were clenched at his side, his gaze now moving from mark to face and back again.

"I had to," said Cato, leaning back against the chair and staring at the ceiling.

"You think I couldn't handle it?" There was accusation in that voice, and a tremulous lilt of a boy shamed.

It felt as if a lead weight was attached to the back of his head as Cato forced himself to look at his brother once more. A flush had crept into Draco's pale cheeks. "Draco, this is not an honor," he said tiredly. "It is a prolonged execution."

Draco scoffed and spun around, flinging his hands up into the air. "I cannot believe this. You're a marked member- Honored!" He sneered as he paced the room like a caged animal. "I had this, I had this honor, and you take it from me and try… You're not even- An execution?!"

"Yes," said Cato quietly, and his calm seemed to deflate Draco, who fell into a chair and pressed his palms into his eyes.

"Why, Cato? Why did you take this from me?"

"The Dark Lord will give me an impossible task. A mission meant to see me dead. He will make mother watch as I fail to fulfill it, and that will be our punishment for fathers failure."

A choked sob came from his mother as she pressed his palm to her brow then kissed it and stood up, forcing an impenetrable mask onto her face and vanishing her tears with a flick of her wand. "You are my eldest son," she said in a shaking voice. "You will not fail."

"Mother, you believe that?" Draco looked uncertainly between them, and Cato could see jealousy warring with trust plainly on his face.

"The Dark Lord does not forgive easily," she said stiffly. She walked over to the door and wrenched it open, the bottom scraping on the floor unevenly. "I will be in my chambers." The door was half-closed when she turned back, a ruthless look on her face. "If Bellatrix even touches you again, tell me. I will kill her myself." The door shut with a quiet click, for even in distress, Narcissa Malfoy could never have slammed a door.

Draco looked at the door, his face a little green. "You- You really think that's why he- The Dark Lord is doing this?"

"Yes."

"But why did he choose me first then?" asked Draco. He looked suddenly small enough to drown in his chair. Just a sixteen-year-old boy who couldn't hope to understand the horrid nature of the water within which he was treading.

"Because I assume the mission involves Hogwarts."

It was as if the air had been sucked from Draco's chest as he crumpled, his anger gone. "But you're going to be fine, right? I'll help you. I'll help you from the inside." His eyes gleamed fervently as he rose, an animated look on his face. "We'll do it together!"

"No. I can't-"

"I just want to help you!" said Draco, glaring at Cato furiously. And as Cato opened his mouth, Draco lifted a hand. "No! I'm doing it. You did this for me. I do this for you. You're my brother, Cato."

—

"You will not pull your brother into this." Narcissa sat at her vanity, pulling a silver comb through her gleaming hair with painful deliberateness. She had sat in silence, her brush held between her hands as he recounted the brief meeting the Dark Lord had summoned him to. His mark had flared, and the constant dull ache it had developed over the past week had turned into an acute mimicry of the branding itself. The Dark Lord had been brief and dismissive, giving him his mission as if he were tossing change to a beggar. Then he had dismissed him just as quickly and turned back to Rookwood and Snape.

The latter's eyes had bored into him as Cato turned away. It had been four years since their scuffle over occlumency, and their distance had mellowed into a mutual cold indifference, each ignoring the other.

"He's determined to help."

"Have you told him about your mission yet?"

"No."

"Do not. I will not have both my sons-" she swallowed visibly and finished her movement, yanking at a knot in her hair hard enough to make Cato wince. "Do not involve him."

"I don't know if I can stop him-"

"You. Will. Not. Involve him." She spoke with such finality, her words flat and hard, that Cato nodded slowly, sighing.

"I'll do what I can to stop him."

"Promise me." She said, her voice suddenly as frayed as taut twine. For the first time in a week, Cato took a good look at her. Her makeup barely hid the deep bags under her red-veined eyes. Even her clothes were different. A crease she would never have suffered before marred the back of her pale purple robe and her purse, lying at her side, didn't complement it in the way it usually would have.

He stood and walked over to her, putting a hand on her shoulder. She put her comb down with exaggerated care and clutched his hand tightly. "I swear I'll keep Draco out of this," he said and her shoulders sagged, as if she had feared his response until now. "But I'll need someone inside…"

"The Greengrass girl, Daphne."

"Her?" His eyebrows rose. He had barely given the girl a second thought since she had arrived at school, and she hard hardly ever looked like someone who would have considered aligning herself with the Dark Lord. "I cannot see it."

"She swore her loyalty to him. Her mother bragged about it to me," she said with a sneer.

"If you think she is capable, I suppose I could use her." He stayed there for a moment, each of them lost to their own anxieties, before squeezing her shoulder. "Please sleep, Mother. You mustn't worry."

"How can I not," she snapped in a strangled voice, shrugging his hand away and turning to stare out the window. "Lucius in Azkaban, you have been given an impossible task…" she trailed off, looking drained and empty.

"It is not impossible," she said quietly.

A small, mocking smile curled her lips. "Isn't it? You may have finished with excellent NEWTS, but this is no simple wizard, and you are only out of school."

"There are ways." He shivered. The astronomy tower. Good timing. A weakened man. "There are ways to kill Albus Dumbledore."

A/N: I believe that a characters motivations should not have to be explained in an A/N, as the author should make them clear within the story. However, I believe it important to point out that Cato is doing the one thing he believes will lead to victory. To not change things as much as possible. At least, until now. But now, perhaps, we begin to see things spiral out of his tenuous control, and go into a more AU path.