"Blood Tie" by Redcandle17
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and elements from the Harry Potter series belong to J.K. Rowling. No copyright infringement is intended.
"Draco." She rose to embrace him.
Draco couldn't help being afraid of her. After all, aunt or not, she had tortured people until they lost their minds. He had been one year old when his Aunt Bellatrix was sentenced to life in Azkaban prison. Naturally, he had no memories of her. He had seen photographs of her though, including photos of her holding him. The woman who was now pressing him to her bony body bore little resembalance to the beautiful, commanding woman in those photographs. Her body had decayed slowly in Azkaban; her flesh melted away, her skin sagging and dull, her hair lank. Only her eyes retained signs of vibrant life. Her black eyes were manic, gleaming with her near madness and absolute devotion to the Dark Lord and his cause.
"Aunt Bella." Draco forced himself to wrap his arms around her waist.
"Your mother has told me so much about you. Top of your class but for a mudblood. Best Quidditch player but for the Potter boy." She stroked his hair.
Draco let his arms drop to his sides, hoping she would release him. She kept her thin arm across his shoulder, and continued petting his hair. He had been raised to both be ashamed of her and proud of her. She had been crazed enough to be caught torturing Aurors and to admit to it, defiantly retaining her loyalty to the Dark Lord long after he was gone and of no more use to her. She was the highest ranking woman among the Death Eaters, and second to no one in the Dark Lord's inner circle. She was a master of the Unforgivables Curses. She was the dark jewel of the Black line.
Growing up, Draco had felt more admiration than shame for her. Though he agreed with his father that remaining loyal to a fallen master was foolish, he couldn't help but admire her committment to the Dark Lord and to pureblood supremacy. Until the Daily Prophet article a few months ago, Draco hadn't known the identity of his aunt's victims. Frank and Alice Longbottom, parents of that useless Gryffindor lump, Neville. He'd shivered when he read that article. Knowing the son of Bellatrix's victims made her crimes real to him. Pride for being her nephew was joined by fear of her.
"Don't worry, my darling boy," she said. "Soon the Dark Lord shall kill Potter and we, his loyal servants, shall tirelessly exterminate all the mudbloods who presently pollute our world." She tilted his chin, forcing him to meet her eyes. "Then you shall be the prince of Hogwarts, as befits your blood."
He twisted his lips into a sembalance of a smile. "Yes, Aunt Bella, some day soon."
"You are the last of the Blacks," she said, gripping his shoulder more tightly. "My foolish cousin, Regulus, met the end he so deserved years ago. My traitorous cousin, Sirius, has not bred. My sister, Andromeda," her eyes darkened, "and her foul offspring are not worthy of the heritage of the House of Black. I myself could not continue the Black line due to my unjust imprisonment. You, my true sister's son, are my heir, the sole heir to the Black family."
She released him suddenly and Draco jumped back. He wasn't sure how to respond to that little speech. She grasped his wrist and pulled up sleeves, revealing unblemished, pale skin. "Are you ready to accept your heritage and pledge your loyalty to the one who shall purify the wizarding world? Are you ready to take our Dark Lord's mark?"
Draco knew there was only one answer she would find satisfactory. Only one answer would keep from him writhing on the floor under her Cruciatus curse. "Yes, Aunt Bella," he replied dutifully. "I'm ready."