Love's Odyssey in Death's Design
XV
It did not take long for Pureblood witches and wizards to learn that they were but proverbial links in a chain. The specifics of said chain sometimes varied, sometimes were very similar. Some links proved to be strong, fortified by a figurative iron or steel that made proud an ancient bloodline, while others were weak, thin and rusted that threatened to break and reduce a century's old family name to utter extinction.
Draco Abraxas had been the silver eyed, platinum haired link that irrevocably joined and bound the Malfoy family to the Noble House of Black. With the announcement of his birth came a burden place on his tiny shoulders. But in the beginning, it did not feel much like a burden. No, not when he was the spoiled and pampered sole heir, whose every need, whim, and desire was put before him on a silver platter. Ignorant and naive he had been then, fancying himself far above everyone else and daring anyone to contest it. He had almost been happy then.
The burden began to crush him beneath its weight at the end of his fifth year of Hogwarts. When his father had been arrested and thrown into prison after a skirmish at the Ministry of Magic involving some prophecy. And the Dark Lord had made his triumphant return.
Draco could remember the night as plainly as if it had just happened. The panic that had filled him when Professor Snape had unceremoniously strode into the Slytherin dorms and all but dragged him to the fireplace in his quarters, thrusting him into the cool emerald flames, ordering him home. The sight of his mother, stricken and wide eyed, with the most emotion he had ever seen on her usually composed face. His crazy aunt Bellatrix arriving shortly after he had, whom he'd never officially met before then, knowing of her only by the nefarious crimes she had committed during the First War for which she had been condemned to life in Azkaban. The moment he had looked into her fathomless, pit-like eyes and heard her high pitched, reedy voice, combined with her disheveled appearance and rotted teeth he knew, without anyone having to tell him, that nothing would ever be as it once had been.
And now, over three years later, the evidence of that fleeting though intuitive thought of the then fifteen year old was staggering. Between that time and that day, a war had been waged, the darkest sorceror to ever walk the earth to date had been defeated, countless lives had been lost, and his family that had once stood so proud and so strong, was in tatters.
His mother, she was hiding something from him.
When he had found her in her quarters and she had held him closer, speaking sweeter to him than she had in years, he knew something was amiss. Since the end of the war, he had emotionally detatched himself from everything as a way to cope with all that had been torn apart, taken away. But the thought of leaving his mother at the mercy of the Aurors and the members of the Order of the Phoenix, abandoning her, sent a lance of fright through him so strong, that he'd woken up. So to speak. His father was serving a life sentence. He would never see his father again. And the idea that his mother might suffer the same fate was too much to bear.
Apparently the officials who came had found nothing incriminating enough to attempt to take her. But in the month that had passed since then, Draco could sense that all was not well. The way his mother seemed uncharacteristically jumpy and anxious, the way she seemed to be expecting someone to breach the wards and barge through the door or floo in from one of the fireplaces at any given moment. All red flags.
And the House Elf had gone missing.
He knew his mother well enough to know that she would never want him to worry, to know that she believed in her silence that she was protecting him. Because protecting him above all other things was what she did. Draco also knew that his mother had not had a full night's sleep in weeks, if not longer. And for that reason he did not feel guilty in the slightest for slipping a vial of Sleeping Draught into her glass of wine.
The potion when combined with the alcohol proved to be especially potent and Narcissa had quickly succumbed to the effects, falling into a deep, though peaceful sleep upon the chaise longue in the manor's sitring room, the book she had been thumbing through falling from her grasp, a soft sigh escaping her lips.
Draco could barely remember the last time he had been in his mother's room. The space smelled of her. Lavender and French vanilla, delicately sweet, not at all cloying or clingy. Everything was in order. The large bed made as if it hadn't ever been used, the cosmetics on the vanity lined neatly. The fireplace unlit. The windows ajar allowing the summer night air to gently roll in.
In the farthest corner of the room upon the stone floor sat a large wooden and dragon hide steamer trunk. Though old, the handsome ebony wood was heavily polished and smooth, with fading silver letters on the front that spelled out the acronym, N. W. B.
This trunk had been the very one his mother had used during her Hogwarts years. Charmed to carry more than its size without concern to space, it was now the place where Narcissa Malfoy stored her dearest possessions. Draco quickly unlocked the tarnished silver clasps and lifted the heavy lid.
Grey eyes took in the sight of what had to be millions of Galleons worth of precious stones of various sizes- diamonds, emeralds, rubies, sapphires, citrines, amethysts, and Hanadama pearls - some crafted into jewelry, gold and silver necklaces, earrings, brooches, bracelets, rings and hat pins, others left as is, cut to catch reflecting light off of their multifaceted surfaces. For a moment, the sheer wealth caught Draco off guard as the only pieces of jewelry he had ever seen his mother wear were her wedding ring and a simple gold locket she had had since childhood.
Also contained within the trunk were stacks of old letters and aging stationery, an array of potions corked in different sized vials, leather bound tomes and scrolls, photographs, an old Hogwarts tie and scarf in Slytherin colors, empty portrait frames, a small book that looked like it could be an old diary, a raggedy stuffed dragon that had once belonged to him.
So distracted Draco was when presented with the evidence of his mother's sentimental materialism, parts of her that he had never gotten to know or share, that he almost forgot what had prompted him to look into the trunk in the first place.
But it was hard not to notice the ornate pewter basin sitting in the center of the trunk, smoky tendrils of a cloud like substance curling about indolently from within. The Black Family Pensieve. He had seen it only once before when his mother had offered to remove the memories of she, his father, and Bellatrix being tortured by the Dark Lord in the Manor after Potter, Weasley, and Granger had escaped with the aid of the Elf, Dobby. He had refused.
He needed to know what his mother was silently combating with. He knew that she would fight to protect him with her last breath. And partly, as he removed the Pensieve from the trunk, Draco felt as if in doing what he was about to do, he was violating her privacy. But the other part was the part that told him he needed to do this, needed to see, needed the opportunity, depending out what the silver slivers of her memories would reveal, to protect her now.
With no hesitation, Draco plunged his face into the depths of the basin and was instantly enveloped in a cool mist as his conscious propelled him into a swirling cyclone of scenes and images.
When he landed, he realized he stood in the foyer of his home. Directly behind his mother who was standing in the jamb of the opened front door.
'Bella? What on earth?'
All of the air left his lungs and his heartrate quickened as the name of his dead aunt was uttered in a tone colored with shock and disbelief. But relief followed fear's footsteps as his mother stepped aside and allowed a strange looking witch passage into their home. The witch did not resemble his aunt in the slightest.
But the scene continued, neither women aware of his presence.
'Is it really you?'
'Yes.'
The sickly unease returned tenfold as he watched his mother lead the stranger into the sitting room. The missing House Elf being summoned to light a fire after a petulant complaint. Tea being requested. An exchange between the two, a subtle sort of familiarity beginning to take root.
'The Aurors told me you died in the Battle.'
'I did...but then something brought me back.'
The House Elf returning with the tea. The changing expressions on his mother's face as she recognized certain quirks and habits of the dark witch.
'So this something brought you back from the dead?'
'... I'm in this body now.'
Draco exited the memory with a shuddering gasp. His heart was pounding so hard, the thumps against his ribs felt bruising. His chest rose and fell rapidly with the breaths he took. His mind replayed the scenes he had witnessed, his emotions a tangled knot of intensity.
Bellatrix was alive. Miraculously, horrifically back from the dead. That was why the Aurors had come to their home. That was why his mother had been more troubled than she'd been following his father's imprisonment. That was why she had been prepared to sacrifice herself yet again. For him. That was what she had been hiding from him. The Dark Lord's most trusted and loyal Death Eater was at large, so cleverly disguised that her own sister had not readily been able to identify her. But it had been her. She had been in their home.
Anger, as sheer cold as a winter frost, consumed him. Bellatrix. Auntie Bella. She was to blame for his family's misfortunes. For the fear. For the pain. For the loss. She was the link, the iron strong link that bound his family to the Dark Lord. That held fast and chained his father, resolidifying ideals and aspirations that had gone molten after the death of that Diggory boy. Draco had known, even then, what had really happened during the Triwizard Tournament. And he had also known that his father had seen his own heir's face where Cedric had layed still. Diggory's blood had been just as pure as theirs. And yet, he was killed, which triggered doubt, fear that no matter where their loyalties lay, any one of them could become targets.
But Bellatrix. She had come, that night of the battle at the Ministry, and out of sight, similar to how he had been in that Pensieve, Draco had watched his aunt and his mother sitting together. Had listened to Bellatrix cojole and croon to her sister in that sickening tone, erasing that doubt, casting aside that fear. Claiming manically that the Dark Lord would ensure their safety and survival. That the Dark Lord would show them mercy and favor. That the Dark Lord would triumph over those not worthy of his New World. Draco had watched his mother become ensnared in the web of lies and false truths, and later his father had too, thus setting off the events that led to the now.
They had nothing. And the Dark Lord was dead.
Beneath the anger was a mind numbing terror. With Bellatrix alive, what was stopping her from returning to his mother. What was stopping her from reinstilling that poisonous bloodlust, reawakening those old thoughts that had driven them all to their doom. Nothing. Not with her alive. Nothing. But him.
It was up to him to protect his mother. Up to him to assume his place as heir of the Malfoy line. Up to him to ensure that history could not repeat itself. He would not go to the Aurors. They did not trust him. He did not trust them. This was a family matter. He needed the cruel intellect and the shrewd cunningness that ran through Black veins just as pure as their blood. His mother could not help. Not in her state, not with her penchant for keeping him safe at all costs. She would only try to stop him. She would only get in his way.
He knew exactly who to go to.
Author's Note: Wow! Has it really been a year since I published this story? It feels so good to come back to it and it feels even better to know how much all you wonderful readers have enjoyed it so far. Honestly the support is incredble. I couldn't ask for more! Now here it is and the ball has started rolling again. Bit of a short chapter but essential to the overall plot. Things are going to get quite intense and of course by next chapter we'll be getting back to Bella and Hermione and their part of the story. Updates will be far more regular, no more five month breaks, I promise. As always I'd love to know your thoughts! Until next time, my lovelies - bellanoire, over and out!