Treading Water: Chapter 1
Draco made his way swiftly down the large, sweeping staircases that lead from the upper floors to the dining room, where his mother waited. His pale hand slid easily down the polished banister, and he was reminded briefly of the time he had climbed on to the banister as a child and slid all the way down. His mother had been terrified, but he had enjoyed it. It had felt like flying.
After the rather long trek from his room to the ground floor, Draco made his way into the dining room. His mother sat, her back almost unnaturally straight, with her hands folded in front of her, to the immediate right of the empty seat at the head of the table – a seat to which she would glance wistfully at every few minutes. This is going to be uncomfortable, Draco thought. He cleared his throat just enough to make his attention known. The effect was immediate. Narcissa looked up, wide-eyed, from her reverie. "Draco, dear, take a seat" she simpered, standing to usher her son to his chair.
"Mother, I can seat myself, you know" he said, slightly bemused.
Narcissa turned to him, frowning. Suddenly, her face cleared and she reached to place her hands on either side of Draco's face. "Draco, dear, " she said softly, "how is your stomach?" Draco blanched, and looked to the side. Merlin, I don't want to talk about this. "I'm fine, mother" he mumbled.
Just then, a house elf appeared, laden with platters. Perfect timing! Draco thought, relieved. "Come on, mother, I'm starving. Let's eat." Narcissa returned to her seat, albeit rather reluctantly.
After his mother had ordered the elf away, Draco lifted the lid off of the solid silver platter and heaped a large helping of roast beef and mashed potatoes onto his plate. Though it certainly didn't show, Draco ate just as much as any teenage boy. His mother looked on with an affectionate mixture of disgust and amusement as her son proceeded to eat enough to feed a starving hippogriff. "Draco, dear," she observed, "if you feel you must eat your weight in dinner, at least try to eat slower – you'll give yourself heartburn."
Draco looked up, his cheeks comically stuffed with bread. "M'm fine, muffer, M'm jus 'ungry!" He swallowed, and continued in a more sullen tone. "Not to mention that Zabini, Nott and Parkinson will be here in half an hour, since you took the liberty of inviting them."
"Oh Draco, Pansy's a very nice girl, you should spend more time with her!" Narcissa leaned forward conspiratorially, a mischievous glint in her eye. "And I'm sure she's interested in you, sweetie."
A shudder of pure revulsion ran through Draco. "Mother, she looks like a pig."
"Draco!"
"And if you wanted to hook me up with Parkinson, why on earth would you invite Zabini and Nott along?" he moaned.
Narcissa stiffened, smoothing the napkin on her lap. "Now Draco, you know that Blaise and Theodore's fathers are very important men –"
Death Eaters, Draco realized.
"- and it would make me incredible happy to see you start making the connections that will be so vital to your success as an adult."
"Are Blaise and Theodore being initiated as well, mother?" Draco whispered.
Narcissa dropped her fork.
But before anything could be said, a loud crack sounded in the room. Bellatrix Lestrange apparated into the room, in all her dark glory. She shook her head as if to clear it and turned to the two sitting at the table. "Evening, Cissy" she cackled.
"It's generally considered rude, Bella," Narcissa said stiffly, "to Apparate uninvited into someone else's home."
"Oh, but I know you love me here, Cissy," Bellatrix said, smiling teasingly, "you'd never turn me out."
As they continued to bicker, Draco felt his appetite suddenly disappear. He'd always been extremely uncomfortable around his aunt. And I hate it that she always touches me. Creepy. He placed down his fork and knife.
This small movement brought Bellatrix's attention to her nephew. "Well, if it isn't little Draco…" The way she said his name sent shivers down his spine. Draco shifted uncomfortably, wary.
"You leave him alone, Bella" Narcissa ordered, standing. "I'll order the house elves to prepare some dinner, Bella, thought it would have been much easier if we'd known you were coming. You could have eaten with us." And with that, she swept from the room.
As soon as her sister left, Bellatrix sauntered over to where Draco still sat. "Little Draco…" she crooned.
"What do you want?" Draco snapped, trying to sound irritated.
"Touchy, aren't we?" She continued in her approach, unperturbed by his apparent discomfort. When she finally reached his chair, she circled around so that she was behind him. Draco could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, could feel goosebumps running down his spine at his aunt's proximity. I can't see her. What in Merlin's name is she doing?
Suddenly, Draco felt boney hands resting at the base of his neck. He jumped in his seat and made to turn around, but the hands tightened their grip, keeping him still. All of a sudden his aunt's breath was in his ear, making his skin crawl.
"Dear Draco," she crooned, "are you excited to receive the Dark Mark?" The hands on his shoulders started moving then, slowly trailing sickeningly down his chest. His breathing sped up, his heart pumping twice as fast as normal. "Do you feel honored, Draco? You should," she giggled, "the Dark Lord does not accept just anyone…"
What's happening? Draco was terrified. "Get-get off me –"
The wandering hands slowly came to a stop above his still bruised stomach and hovered there, waiting. "Does it still hurt, Draco?" she whispered in mock concern. "From where you daddy hit you?" She accentuated these words by clawing her hand, digging it into the place Draco knew she knew a bruise resided. He cried out, it hurt, and then:
"A rather unimpressive midsection, I expected you to at least be well-muscled…" his aunt sighed. A glance at Draco's still half-full plate, and then: "You're not thinking of eating all that, are you? You'll get quite fat, dear Draco, and where would be the fun in tormenting you then?" Bellatrix smiled, a manic gleam in her heavily-lidded eyes.
Just then, Narcissa walked in. Bellatrix casually took a step back, leaving Draco pale and trembling. "Your dinner, Bella" Narcissa announced. "Alright Draco, eat up, dear – Draco? Oh sweetie, you look ill!" A hand pressed to his clammy skin. "Are you feeling alright?"
His aunt's words echoed through his mind. Are you excited to receive the Dark Mark?... A rather unimpressive midsection…You'll get quite fat, dear Draco... He shook his head. "I do feel rather ill, mother. I think I'll go rest" he mumbled.
"All right dear, I'll send up some tea, and let your guests know that you're not feeling well" Narcissa said, concerned. "Get some rest, Draco."
Draco nodded mutely, heading for the staircase. And though he kept his gaze trained on the ground during the course of his retreat, he could feel his aunt's stare on the back of his head the whole time, laughing at him.