A cold breeze whipped across Draco Malfoy's face as he drifted slowly down the crowded street. He shivered, but it wasn't the weather that bothered him. Dread filled him as he turned down a less traveled lane in Hogsmeade Village.

If it were anyone else he wouldn't have even made the trip into town with his classmates; Draco had a lot on his mind and wouldn't be trifled with trivial things like shopping. But since this meeting was called with urgency and dealt with a subject of interest, he had agreed, begrudgingly, to come. `

The door to The Hog's Head released a foul odor as Draco wrenched it open. Really, the whole place was foul; hay strewn on the floor, dirt and grime on every surface, and not to mention, the grizzly bartender eyeing Draco from behind the counter. He grimaced and made his way toward the old man.

"I'm here for a private meeting," Draco said in a hushed tone, even though the pub was deserted.

The man jerked a callous thumb upward and continued to wash a glass with an already filthy rag.

Draco didn't bother to say thank you, but walked carefully toward the narrow staircase leading to the upper room. The floorboards creaked beneath his feet, and he could feel the old man's eyes on his back.

As soon as he had shut the door behind him, Draco turned to stare at the woman sitting precariously on a worn armchair.

"Darling," Narcissa Malfoy cooed, rising from her placement to greet her son.

"Mother," Draco muttered, more as a curse than a greeting.

Narcissa's eyes filled with tears at his cold state of being. "Draco, dear," she pleaded. "Please understand…"

He turned away from her toward the fireplace. The young girl above it studied him from behind her frame, curious. Draco found this overly frustrating.

His mother tried again. "I'm sorry. Darling, I truly am, but…you know nothing can be done, and the cold shoulder will do nothing to help."

A clock ticked somewhere in the room, and Draco almost laughed at how it extenuated his refusal to respond. Some voice in his head told him he was above being childish, but he ignored this voice.

"Draco, stop this!" Narcissa's command, meant to be stern, came out as a sob.

He felt a small twinge inside; despite everything, he hated to hurt her at a time like this. Draco turned to his mother and placed his arms gently around her as she continued to sob. He couldn't believe he was comforting her…

After several minutes, Narcissa had composed herself, and the two of them sat down on the chairs around the fire.

Draco sighed and stared into the flames. "Please explain."

The fire crackled and Narcissa said nothing. He looked up at her to see her eyes wide and glossed over. She didn't look at him as she spoke.

"It was your father's idea. Nearly seventeen years ago, the Dark Lord's latest idea to seize control of the Ministry had fallen through. Many who had failed him were being disposed of; the remaining Death Eaters were competing from higher ranks, as they considered them to be.

"Your father thought he could win the Dark Lord's favor with his suggestion. He was right; the Dark Lord took to the plan, not at all fazed that it might take some time to get things in order.

"And then the backup plan, as your father had called it, excited him even more. Like a loophole in a contract…"

"Mother," Draco said impatiently. "I'm not following you."

She smiled slightly at him. "You see, your father was once friends with an Auror with much power at the Ministry. That man was Victor Cowan. His plan was to use this friendship to get into the Ministry from the inside out. But there was a small problem."

"What kind of problem?" Draco hated this talk about his father; something tugged at his insides, painful, but able to be silenced.

Narcissa clenched her teeth together. "Victor Cowan, like many other Ministry employees, was not fond of Death Eaters; if any kind of word got out in society that your father was still a follower, it would put an end to the friendship and the plan."

"But mother," he said, hesitating. "Most of the Wizarding society still suspected him of following the Dark Lord."

"As did Victor. And that was why your father created a back up plan," she paused and her face softened as she looked at her son, sadness in her eyes. "Soon after the plan was hatched, I had you, Draco. And Victor's wife as gave birth to a daughter. Your father planned to convince Victor to perform a special charm on the two of you. The charm is called Lahtorteb Venustas; the effect binds two Wizarding persons in a powerful way. A betrothal, you could call it…"

She trailed off in thought, and Draco grew inpatient once again. "Continue, please."

Nacissa shook her head slightly and spoke again. "It was a charm from Medieval times. The point was to create a lasting bond between the two in love, but in your case it was for the Dark Lord's gain that you two were bound. You see, once the charm is cast, it grows stronger until the seventeenth year, when it is complete. By the end, the two are bound both in mind and magic."

Draco's eyes widened. "What? Magic?"

Narcissa nodded gravely. "That was why the plan worked; if Victor walked away from Lucious, it wouldn't matter because his daughter would be forever bound to you. Once the effects were permanent, you two would have joint magical abilities, doubled, but controlled by both.

"We all assumed the plan would go through without a slip up, but seeing the events of the past few days…"

Draco couldn't believe what he was hearing. Betrothed to Vera Cowan…to get into the Ministry. He stared down at his clenched fists, growing whiter by the minute.

"So what now, mother," he said through gritted teeth. "I continue on this crusade for the Ministry or follow the Dark Lord's former order?"

"You must do both now," she said with wide eyes. "I know it is difficult, but you will have to insure that the Cowan girl goes along with everything.

"Draco…Assuming Victor Cowan has told his daughter about all of this, she will fight against it. And if she fails to comply…" Tears rolled down her cheeks and she looked away out the window, breaking down in uncontrollable sobs.

"He kills me…" Draco knew this. It was the condition for the first assignment, but it still frightened him. The sword over his head dropped slightly lower.

And then anger replaced fear; tears of rage rimmed his eyes and he stood with his hands balled at his sides.

"I hope that at least if I die doing this, father will find a nice back up plan for Him," he spat at his mother before tuning to the door. Draco heard her give one last sputtering cry before he slammed the door closed.