Prologue: A Task to Perform

On Draco's sixteenth birthday, he knows better than to expect a cake, or a party, or a day he'll want to remember for the rest of his life.
From experience, he knows perfectly well that his birthday presents will be far more sinister, and perhaps the last two he will ever receive...
The Dark Mark...
And a task to perform.

A grand but lonely home stood silently on the outskirts of Nettleton, Wiltshire. Throughout Britain, all traces of the moon and stars were gone from the night sky, leaving only the bleak darkness to blanket the area, from horizon to horizon.

Draco sat in his room in Malfoy Manor, staring at the wall and thinking about as little as possible. He couldn't bear to remember what he had just experienced. He told his mind to push it back, as he'd done many times before, but his technique had begun to fail him. The thought of looking into the Dark Lord's eyes, and seeing the intense hatred that dwelt there, made him sick to his stomach with terror.

"Draco..."

The speaker's voice chilled him thoroughly. He felt as though a Dementor had just torn every last ounce of strength out of him. He felt his legs quivering tellingly under the rest of him as he stood in silence before the man who had addressed him, the wizard responsible for thousands of deaths, who did not know a drop of regret. Draco wondered with an overwhelming pang of horror if he would be the next to go.

The Dark Lord raised his wand, aiming it at Draco's face, and the boy was sure he was about to torture him, but nothing happened. Draco watched him, unable to speak, or even think clearly.

As the Dark Lord spoke again, his seemingly relaxed hand remained aloft, keeping that wand aimed directly at the teenager's chest, as though daring Draco to make just one wrong move... "Your father has failed me, Draco, and one failure is one too many for my servants," hissed the Dark Lord. "I am sure that Lucius, having made you into what you are now, has passed onto you a number of his own faults."

Draco took a quick, yet steady breath, working hard to suppress a wave of outrage at these words. For a fleeting instant, he longed to protest, to argue that, no, Lucius had had no part in his upbringing, that Draco had raised himself, and that he'd done a better job of it than his father ever had. But he knew better. The Dark Lord was not one to be argued with. Draco knew that he would not have given a second thought to killing him then and there, should he wish to.

Seemingly ignorant of his visitor's indignation, the Dark Lord continued. "However, I am going to allow you to prove yourself to me." Draco resisted the compulsion to glance upward in confusion. "I have a task for you to perform, Draco. If you succeed, you will be rewarded beyond your dreams. However, should you fail, as your dear father has, you will watch your entire family perish at my hand."
Draco's thoughts immediately painted a grim picture in his mind, the sight of his mother lying, broken and lifeless, in the mud. He had no time to react, however, for at the very next moment, the dark wizard grabbed his new slave by the arm and whispered his first command.

Draco shuddered visibly. Completing such a mission would be unthinkable, but it would mean keeping his mother alive. Draco almost surprised himself; he didn't even flinch when the Dark Lord pressed the tip of his wand roughly into the sensitive inner side of his forearm and proclaimed in a harsh, sneering voice, "Morsmordre..."

Draco sat there, staring down at his left arm, where the Dark Mark now dwelt. It burned even now, and he surmised grimly that it would for the rest of his life. But more than the burning pain it still sent throughout his whole body, it burned him on the inside to know that this hideous burn represented the only future he had left to look forward to. Swallowing hard, he let his eyes wander to his night table, where his diary lay waiting for him.

He had to turn away to avoid reaching out and snatching up the darkly-bound book. I won't be needing that anymore, he thought miserably. This was a secret even a journal couldn't be trusted with... and yet he longed for the solace it gave him, just to write away his sorrows.

Then, quite unexpectedly, he heard someone knocking at his closed door. He didn't say anything; he was in no mood for company, not even that of his mother. His aunt, Bellatrix, was the only other living soul in the house nowadays, for she had invited herself to the manor to hide herself behind her sister and nephew. Draco knew it couldn't have been her at the door, however; Aunt Bella never thought to knock and wait.

Sure enough, there came more knocking, and it was obvious that his mother would not take 'no' for an answer. Of course she wouldn't have, thought Draco with a somber fondness. She had always known better than to leave him to his melancholy thoughts.

"What is it?" he groaned. It was neither his intention to be rude nor his priority to be polite.

Narcissa tried the door, relieved to find it unlocked. She knew her son would not want to be disturbed after what had happened. But she, too, had heard his task, and as impossible as they both knew it was, she wanted desperately to be there for him, as she had always done. "Draco?" she called tentatively. When he gave no sign he had heard her, she studied his face for any sign of what he was feeling, and found it almost immediately. She rushed over to him, eyes wide with worry, and took his hands in hers. "I'm so sorry..." she cried, letting the tears fall to the bleach-white carpet.

Finally, he fixed his eyes on hers, trembling at the thought of what he would have to do in order to survive the coming year. "I can't... This is... There's no way..." he stammered hopelessly.

"Shhh, Draco..." she whispered. She had been struggling all night to think of some way to help him, to keep him safe from harm. But the Dark Lord had demanded secrecy, and she knew she couldn't help him herself while he was at Hogwarts. There had to be another possibility, some better way for her to keep her son safe while his task remained incomplete... but what?

Just then, she gasped, placing a thin, pale hand over her mouth. Swimming in hope - or was it purely desperation? - she knew she had found the answer.

Severus!

Author's Note: The first edition of this chapter was first posted online here on FFN on December 6, 2006. I've been writing and editing it for almost 14 years now. I hope you will enjoy what countless rewrites and edits and proofreadings have formed it into over the past decade-and-then-some. Constructive comments welcome - just please, keep it constructive! Thank you.

Disclaimer: The author of this fanwork, under the penname Rebecca Ripple, is not affiliated with or endorsed by J. K. Rowling or Warner Bros. Entertainment, who are the copyright holders to the Harry Potter franchise and all related intellectual property considered as "canon." No money is being made through the creation or online display of this fanmade work of fiction, and no copyright infringement is intended. This same disclaimer applies to all subsequent installments (chapters, parts, future related fanfiction works, etc.) of this story as well.