Author's Note: Obviously I do not own any of the characters or ideas in the Harry Potter series. That goes without saying, but I've said it anyways, just to be on the safe side. Also, please review and please be honest. If something is not written clearly, if things are too short or too choppy or too confusing, let me know. I mean, praise is good too. But mostly I want to make sure I'm doing the best job I can. So your suggestions are welcome.
My oldest sister, Tess, conjured the image of our father's study in her dressing table mirror. The four of us crowded around to watch and listen—the sound projected from a stray hairbrush laying on the table top.
It was not that we were nosy girls; in general we tended to mind our own business fairly well. It was just that we didn't know what Lucius Malfoy could possibly want with our father. It was not often that known death eaters made appearances around our home, not often that they asked for a "private word" with our old dad, Gabriel Wellington. We steered fairly clear of the Dark Lord's crowd, for the most part. It was the best way to handle things, mom said, just ignore them, hold on tight, and pray that we didn't fall into His attention. It was an affective means of management; in the three years since He'd been back there had been no trouble for us.
But there Lucius had stood on our front doorstep, there he had made his odd request. And now he stood in the study, my father's own little sanctuary, accepting a glass of brandy with a slight grin on his face.
"What do you suppose—?" Margaret began to ask, but Tess cut her off.
"Watch and listen, it's the only way to get answers,"
But as far as we could tell nothing was going on that would bring any revelation to us. Lucius just stood there, sipping from the glass like any of dad's other company might have done, except for that smooth smirk across his mouth. It looked like he knew more than my dad did—than any of us did. It was a look that frustrated me to no end.
"I suppose you're wondering why I'm here," Lucius spoke suddenly, the smirk retreating from his mouth to his eyes.
"I have ideas," Father replied. "But no definite answers. So yes, you could say I'm wondering."
"Well you remember, of course, our dealings eighteen years ago. You were in a bind, and I, shall we say, released you?"
Father nodded very slowly.
"Then you remember also that I told you I would return someday, and ask for a reward for helping you out of a . . . tight space?" His expression was now infuriating, he reeked with smugness. Even through the mirror we could feel his arrogance in waves.
"Of course, Lucius," Father nodded quickly, as if uneager to discuss the exact details of this event. "Whatever you want, I have plenty to spare now . . ."
"I'm glad to hear you speak so generously," Lucius nodded his satisfaction. "But I'm afraid I've come to ask for something other than your money as I'm well off in the area of galleons, Gabriel."
"Then—," Father stumbled across his words. "What have you come for?"
Lucius sat on the edge of my father's oak desk, a present from my mother earlier in the year. It angered me to see him there, even then I despised him.
"My time, Gabriel, is running out." Lucius began very slowly. "Even now the Aurors close in on me, I cannot remain hidden forever. And the Dark Lord's efforts can no longer be spared in my defense. I have only myself, and that will not be enough. I will die shortly. But do not fret, Gabriel, I am quite pleased with the way thing have ended up. I am one of His most loyal servants . . . ."
Father gulped, and his face went an odd pinkish color. I wondered if he, too, was wondering what this speech was leading to. I wondered if he regretted ever having anything to do with Lucius. Whatever their former dealings had been, I did not think my father expected it to come to this . . . . having a man marked with death sitting on his desk, preparing to take something in return for a previous favor.
"But I am not completely satisfied, Gabriel," He continued. "For there is one matter in which my wishes have not been fulfilled. My son remains childless and the name Malfoy may die out with him. And I do not like the thought of that, Gabriel, I do not like the thought of that at all. But Draco is a stupid boy, and he does not understand the importance of the matter I press upon him. He has not selected a wife, and he does not mingle with those of pure blood. Even if a son was born to him this very day, outside marriage to some tramp he'd been running with, the blood of the child would be dirty, and impure."
Realization was dawning on my father's face . . . he was the only one of us who seemed to understand, but he played naive, pretended not to know. "Well don't worry, Lucius, I'm sure we can find someone for him very quickly. I know many families with pure blooded girls of the right age for marrying. We could—,"
"Oh, don't trouble yourself with a search, Gabriel, I've already found the perfect match for my son —,"
As soon as the words escaped his mouth my mother burst into the room and with a swish of her wand wiped the mirror clean of the image of the study, and silenced the hair brush which had been repeating their every word.
"Eavesdropping, my girls?" She stared at her four daughters with disappointment in her eyes. "Eavesdropping on a death eater? Have I taught you nothing about trying to avoid trouble, have you passed through my care without gaining any sense at all?"
We stared shame faced at the floor, though inside trying not to feel too guilty. After all, we'd gained some forewarning, we had some inkling of an idea, at this point, that Lucius Malfoy wanted to make one of us Draco's bride.
"Don't disappoint me like this again, girls," Mother turned to leave the room. "If you had overheard something you shouldn't, if there was something the Dark Lord couldn't bear you to know, he would kill you in a manner of seconds."
The door slammed behind her. We didn't dare tamper with the mirror again, but not because of mother's warning, but for fear of hearing more terrifying information, more things that we never wanted to be told. Instead we all stood in our spots on the floor, staring blankly at one another.
"Do you suppose he'll manage to get one of us, then?" Margaret asked.
"Of course," Tess replied immediately. "He has the Dark Lord on his side. He can always use that as a threat."
"But father—," Anne tried to protest but Tess snapped at her.
"Father is no match for the Dark Lord or for any of the Dark Lord's servants. Lucius will get what he wants in the end. Even if he has to kill father to do it."
"But who does he want?" Margaret wondered.
"I imagine it will be me," Tess answered, her voice breaking. "As I am the oldest, I'm sure of it."
We went immediately to her side trying to comfort her, trying to quell her fears of becoming the unwilling bride of a Death Eater's son, of a strange young man she knew nothing about.