"Idiot!"

A hand slapped Draco across the face. He reeled, hit the wall behind him, and touched his cheek, which was burning like fire. He raised his other arm to protect his face, but no second blow came. His eyes shut, panting hard, he thought for the millionth time of how it had come to this, how he had been reduced to cringing against a wall, protecting himself against someone much older than he was.

The figure opposite him shook her palm, which was red with the mark of his face, trying to get circulation back into it. She glowered at him, "How could you be so stupid? How could you let this happen?"

Draco didn't dare answer. He stood in silence, clutching his face with one hand. His other hand dug frantically for his wand.

"Accio wand!" she shrieked. It slipped from Draco's fingers and into her hand. She aimed it at him.

"Don't you even THINK of threatening me again, boy!" she shouted angrily, "I will BREAK you if you try!"

Draco glared back at her, his face hot with remorse, "I didn't do anything!"

She stepped forward quickly, frightening him. "No? If you had killed Dumbledore as you'd been ordered, your father would still be alive today! They moved his trial up only because they wanted recompense! The whole of London knows that you were the one who was supposed to kill Dumbledore! They want revenge!"

"But no," she breathed, running one taloned finger along the edge of his wand, almost caressing it, "you chickened out. You were too scared. And so Snape had to finish him off for you. Your mother was right about you, Draco – you're only still a child!"

"I am not!" Draco shouted.

"Then why did you hesitate?" Bellatrix Lestrange screamed, "Why did you back down, betray the Dark Lord at the very moment you should have been most loyal? He was in your HANDS, Draco, do you not understand? A chance any of us would have killed for – and you let it go!"

Unbidden, Dumbledore's words came back to Draco. Murder isn't as easy as the innocent believe. He banished them from his mind.

"It doesn't matter, does it?" he snapped, "Snape killed him, didn't he? The others don't stand a chance now, with Dumbledore gone." His fury grew, "In any case, what do you care? What do you care if my father's been executed? You never cared tuppence for my father, or my mother, either!"

"Shut up!" Bellatrix snarled, "Shut up, you whining piece of filth! You're just like Pettigrew, that whiny child, too scared to do anything unless someone is always backing him up! You're a fool, Draco. You could have had it all, and you threw it away!"

"And that's what it is, isn't it?" Draco yelled, "You're not mad that I didn't kill Dumbledore, you're not mad that my father's dead. You're mad because you thought I reclaim the family glory, become the Dark Lord's pet, and then you would have your old seat of honor, didn't you? You wanted me to make up for your losing the prophecy!"

Bellatrix aimed his wand at him, "CRUCIO!"

Draco screamed. Waves of white-hot light were everywhere. He felt on the ground, writhing and shrieking.

At last it stopped. He lay on the floor, softly moaning.

Bellatrix tossed his wand down, disgusted, "Pathetic," she sneered.

Draco heard her footsteps echo as they walked out away and shut the door. He dragged himself over into the corner of the little room he'd been confined to ever since he and Snape had escaped from Hogwarts, that night, almost three months ago.

He had known that his failure would result in his parents' deaths. But he had not failed, had he? Dumbledore was dead.

But what he hadn't counted on was that he, Draco, had failed personally. He had not done as he had been told. He had hesitated.

And now he was going to pay.

Just like his father.

His father.

Lucius Malfoy had never been the most attentive father in the world; Draco knew that and could accept it. But he couldn't stop thinking of all the times his father had been there – sitting raptly in the stands at every Quidditch game, taking him to the Quidditch World Cup. Draco had never begged his father to take him to games, or do any sort of father-son activities during the summer months. His father was busy, and he'd understood that. But he'd never once wondered if his father had loved him.

Now he wasn't going to be there anymore.

Draco's eyes filled with tears. "Daddy," he whispered.

For the first time since he'd left Hogwarts, Draco began to cry.

Bellatrix locked the door behind her and leaned against the wall, her face red in anger. She sighed with fury and brushed a few stray pieces of her elaborate hairstyle back into place.

This wasn't how she had planned things were going to go. Draco was right – Dumbledore was dead, which would make things a whole LOT easier in the future. But it didn't change the fact that, for the second time, her family had failed the Dark Lord.

Her insides still went cold when she thought of Harry Potter laughing ironically, gripping his forehead in pain, as she fruitlessly searched him for the prophecy that had smashed only minutes before. She shivered. The Dark Lord's anger had been without boundaries. He had not waited to save Lucius, but taken Bellatrix and fled.

The family name was ruined forever. Her husband, Rodolphus, had been confined in Azkaban again as well, and Bellatrix was secretly glad. He was not there to share in her humiliation.

The Dark Lord's fury did not stop with the Lestrange family, but extended to the Malfoys. Lucius would pay for his ineptitude, by sacrificing Draco. Draco had been brought to the Dark Lord's hiding place by Bellatrix. His young mother, Bellatrix's sister, Narcissa, had not been allowed in; she trembled outside the door.

The Dark Lord had imprinted his Mark on the boy's forearm. He had screamed in pain, and Bellatrix had kicked him hard. "The Dark Mark is an honor," she had hissed, "Do not scream like a stuck pig."

Then, the Dark Lord had told Draco how he would earn back his family's honor.

"You, and you alone," he had ordered silkily, "will kill Albus Dumbledore. I don't care how you do it; use your own methods, but do it alone. Succeed, and your family's honor will be restored. Fail, and I will kill you – and your parents."

Draco had cast a terrified eye at the doorway that his mother was behind. Bellatrix had squeezed his arm, his freshly burned skin, and he had winced.

"This is one of the greatest honors a Death Eater can be assigned," she had snapped, when the Dark Lord had departed, "and you stand there looking for Mommy and Daddy. Well, they aren't here to help you now – and they won't be ever again, if you fail."

Draco's pale eyes had narrowed and he had yanked his arm away.

"I won't fail," he had said, through clenched teeth. "You'll see."

But he HAD failed. At the last minute, Draco had gotten cold feet, and Severus Snape – whom Bellatrix had ALWAYS disliked – was now in the Dark Lord's perfect favor, rather than the Malfoy family.

Bellatrix kicked the stone wall with one foot. This isn't the way it's supposed to be, she thought. Bellatrix Lestrange is always supposed to land on her feet.

"But that hasn't been happening much in the last – oh, seventeen years," a voice drawled. Trixie whirled.

Severus Snape drifted out from behind a corner and leaned against the wall.

"You really ought to be more careful with your thoughts, Trixie," he murmured, "I could hear them all the way down the hall."

"Get out of it, Snape," Bellatrix snarled. "I'm busy."

"Really?" Snape asked lazily, "Yes, I suppose you are – busy bemoaning your own ineptitude, that is."

She glowered at him.

"It isn't MY ineptitude this time, Snape," she said, "And if you hadn't made that stupid vow with my stupid sister, none of this would have happened." Her deep-set eyes glittered, "This could be presumed as YOUR fault."

"Temper, temper, Trixie," Snape smiled morosely, "And speaking of your sister, the Dark Lord has decided to give your nephew one more shot at proving his loyalties."

Bellatrix's eyebrows went up, "Such as?"

But Snape only said, "You're to go to Dark Lord yourself for instructions. Later, you and I will inform Draco of what needs to be done."

Before she could protest, Snape turned on his heel and walked back into the main hall. Bellatrix followed him. Her heart sank into her shoes with every step. So the Dark Lord was going to give Draco one more chance. What would happen to her, and to her family, if he was to fail?

In his sleep, Draco heard the key turn in the lock. He struggled to open his eyes. His bleary vision could only make out a huge, towering black figure, like an overgrown bat. He tried to sit up, but the creature grabbed the collar of his robes and pulled its face close to his.

"Do not talk," Snape ordered in a hiss, "Listen to me. You have run out of time, and if you don't do exactly as I say – you're going to regret it."

Draco glared at Snape. It was partly Snape's fault that all of this had happened. If Snape hadn't trailed him, hadn't killed Dumbledore himself – Draco wouldn't be here. He'd be safe with his parents, or just plain dead – and at this point, death was preferable to being locked in a freezing cold dungeon every night.

"The Dark Lord has given you one last chance to prove your loyalties," Snape went on, ignoring Draco's hateful look, "I know that you are angry, even afraid –"

"I am not afraid!" Draco replied loudly.

"Silence!" Snape hissed, "Whatever the Dark Lord threatens, you must say you will do. But you must not do it. Do you hear me? This is your ticket out of here, this is your chance to escape. You must take it. You will not have another chance –"

"So you've told him, Snape?" Bellatrix said loudly, lifting the hem of her robes as she entered the room. Snape shot Draco a look. Don't tell her anything I've said. Draco nodded, imperceptibly, and looked over his shoulder at his aunt.

"I thought I'd leave that honor to you," Snape replied ironically, stepping backwards into the shadows. Bellatrix smiled broadly and looked down at her nephew.

"The Dark Lord is giving you one more chance to prove that you're loyal to him."

Draco stood up bracingly, and brushed the dust off his clothes. He looked at his aunt warily.

"Succeed, and you may buy yourself some time," she went on, "Fail, and it's all over. The Dark Lord has been most generous with you, Draco. Many have suffered death for less than what you've done."

Draco nodded wordlessly.

Bellatrix smiled again, as if she was savoring every single word she said.

"The Dark Lord is lenient. He's given you a task that should be simple."

Draco's eyes flickered over to Snape. Snape was staring at Bellatrix silently, his expression not altering one little bit.

"You've been ordered to kill your father's murderer," Bellatrix finished.

Draco felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. "That's all?" he asked, "That simple?" Of course he would kill his father's murderer. Was it even a question? Why shouldn't he avenge his father's death.

Bellatrix looked pleased, "You're a sensible child," she said, "Yes, it is simple, isn't it, to kill someone when they've hurt you so badly?" She smiled at him adoringly, like he was a little boy.

Draco's face darkened, "But -," he hesitated, "I don't know how to do a Patronus Spell."

"What?" Bellatrix asked him, "Why on earth would you need to know the Patronus Spell?"

"To kill the dementor," Draco replied, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world, "The dementor that Kissed my father."

Bellatrix's face was blank for a minute. Then she started laughing, a high-pitched, mocking laugh. Snape's expression was still empty.

"I forgot," she said, "You don't get the paper in here."

Draco stared at her warily. "Then – "

"The dementor didn't get a chance," she went on, "A fool used the Avada Kedavra curse on him. He died instantly."

Draco closed his eyes against the painful mental image.

"The dementors didn't murder your father," Bellatrix licked her lips, choosing her words carefully, "Your own mother did."

There was a roaring in Draco's ears. His knees went weak, he started to fall. There was a rush of black behind him; he felt Snape's arms grab him. He heard voices yelling; Snape was yelling at Bellatrix. He heard her voice, as if from a long way off, scoffing, "He's seventeen years old; he should know the truth!" He tried to clear his head, but he was in agony.

His mother had murdered his father.

His own mother.

"Why?" he burst out, "Why would she do it? You're lying, my mother wouldn't – she loved my father!"

Bellatrix leaned over so her face was close to his.

"Your mother," she hissed, "was at your father's trial with Remus Lupin. Remember him? Your old Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher? One of the sworn enemies of the Dark Lord? Surely you haven't forgotten him?"

Draco grappled with this, "She was Imperioused! Lupin made her do it! He must have!"

"It does not matter," Bellatrix thundered, "While she lives, there is no telling what she is revealing to the Order of the Phoenix. Our whereabouts, our defenses. She sold you out, Draco. She sold us all out. The Dark Lord wants her killed – and you're going to be the one who does it."

Her eyes were glittering with bloodlust.

"And if you don't do it," she whispered, "if you fail – it does not matter. The Dark Lord will kill you, and one of us will kill her anyway. It would be best if you did it, Draco – that way, you can be sure she doesn't suffer – "

Without thinking, Draco reared back and sucker-punched his aunt in the face. Bellatrix gasped. Blood flowed freely from her nose, which Draco had broken. She whipped her wand out of her pocket.

"Enough!" Snape roared. He stepped between them and pointed his own wand at Bellatrix. "Episky," he muttered, and her nose realigned, the blood flow stopping.

"You have no choice, Draco," Bellatrix said, her eyes on him. "Now go."

Draco looked at Snape. But Snape's face was still expressionless.

"Go," Snape echoed.

Draco grabbed his wand and stumbled towards the door.

"And," Bellatrix called, "if you try to run, we'll be watching."

Draco looked at her, his face a mask of hatred, his eyes burning with pain.

Then he slammed the door shut behind him.