Chapter 1

Narcissa Malfoy was a desperate woman. It was noted in her eyes, in her voice, in every fragment of her being. Ready to blow any second from the amount of fear and tension in her mind and soul. She had reached her rope's end. Her only son, her only hope, was set to be destroyed by the Dark Lord in the guise of a mission. A mission that the dear boy had no chance in succeeding. And Narcissa was determined to not let that happen. He was all she had left in this world since Lucius had been locked up in Azkaban after the incident at the Department of Mysteries. Her son would not be made an example of, and she would do everything in her power to prevent it; even betray the Dark Lord's command; destroy her own sister if she had to. Which was how she found herself in Spinner's End. In the home, and at the mercy, of Severus Snape.

Bellatrix loathed the man to no end. His very presence had her wand finger itching, but she would not let her sister come alone. Narcissa was a Black and the thought of her begging someone as low as Snape for aid made Bellatrix's stomach churn – and her fear surface. The Dark Lord forbade Narcissa from speaking a word about Draco's mission to anyone. Especially traitors. And that's what Snape was down to his very essence. While the rest of the true Death Eaters had remained loyal, had searched high and low for their master, came to his bidding at once, he had remained in the pocket of Dumbledore, had not delivered the head of Harry Potter or the body of Buffy Summers, all these years. The Dark Lord was mistaken in his unwavering trust in Severus Snape and Bellatrix was aching to dance with joy when his true colors were finally revealed, and his body lay twitching on the ground.

Severus did not enjoy explaining himself to anyone, much less to someone as obsessive and unbalanced as Bellatrix Lestrange. But he did so, he explained and answered every one of her questions about his loyalties if only to keep the woman quiet. To shame her into a corner by questioning her about her own belief in the Dark Lord. If the Dark Lord himself trusted Severus, who was she, his supposed most loyal servant, his right hand, to question it. And it reeled back her lashing, but just for the moment. Jealousy colored Bellatrix's accusations and she was not ready to put down the sword just yet.

But Severus Snape's loyalty isn't why they were here. No, they were here because of Draco Malfoy, and as it happened, Snape was fully aware of the situation, as Narcissa had assumed, nay hoped, as the Dark Lord's most trusted advisor – no matter what Bellatrix may choose to believe. However, there was nothing to change the Dark Lord's mind. His word was law. And Narcissa was back where she had started. Her son's head was back in the guillotine, but just as the blade began to lower, a jam appeared, and a ray of hope spread inside Narcissa Malfoy. A hope wrapped in the Unbreakable Vow.

Severus swore to help Draco any way he could and Narcissa clung to that promise and asked for more. She asked for Severus's life. And, after pausing with an unreadable expression, he agreed.

She held his hand like a lifeline as Bellatrix placed her wand on their linked hands. A tongue of fire drew from the tip and wrapped itself around their pressed palms like red-hot wire as the vow was made.

"Will you, Severus, watch over my son, Draco, as he attempts to fulfill the Dark Lord's wishes?"

"I will."

"And will you, to the best of your ability, protect him from harm?"

"I will."

"And, should it prove necessary…if it seems Draco will fail…will you carry out the deed that the Dark Lord has ordered Draco to perform?"

"I will."

If – no – when Draco failed in his mission, Severus would fulfill the Dark Lord's request in his place. And Severus hoped with all his might that Draco would fail. Spoiled and arrogant as he may be, Draco was still very much innocent to the world. Sheltered and smothered by his mother all his life, he had never faced true horrors, true hardships. But Draco was being forced into that world now as punishment for his father's failure. Narcissa was right, the Dark Lord was expecting Draco to fail, to humiliate the Malfoy name even more, and in doing so, inadvertently, he will be destroying Draco's innocence as well. Severus may not care for many things, people especially, but when he did, that care surpassed all measure. Draco fell into that category. He may be his godson, but Severus recognized talent and intelligence when he saw it, and Draco was as bright a student as they came. It was a shame that talent was often overlooked and how that lack of acknowledgment was causing Draco to overlook it himself. Draco had the tools to succeed in his mission, but the question was if he had the nerve. A cruel bully he may be, but in his heart, Draco was vulnerable and most likely scared. He had never been allowed any real, close friends. He was a product of his pureblood, elitist upbringing as no one was deemed appropriate enough for Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy's precious boy. Except, of course, for one. Someone Lucius and Narcissa had previously thought of as a proper match for Draco.

"What about that Summers girl?" Bellatrix sneered, after the vow had been made. "You must know the Dark Lord has plans for her?"

Severus paused, his expression stoic.

"I was made aware, but I was ordered by the Dark Lord to focus my attention solely on Dumbledore and Potter. The Dark Lord has his own plans for the Summers girl, plans he intends to keep to himself until the appropriate time arrives."

Bellatrix's grin turned even more sinister.

"The Dark Lord may have lost faith in you after all," she mocked. "As it happens there are some plans, he doesn't mean to keep for himself."

Snape quirked a brow. "And what do you mean by that?"

Bellatrix shrugged patronizingly, as if the information was as trivial as the weather of the day. "No need to worry yourself about Buffy Summers, Severus. It's all planned. She'll be well taken care of. She's got plenty of eyes on her."

Plans that made Severus curious and very nervous. But Bellatrix shared no more, and soon after, the sisters left his residence, and him with a full mind.

Severus was positive no one knew of Lord Voldemort's exact plans for Buffy Summers. The innermost circle of the Dark Lord was not privy to that information yet, not until they would be needed, but they knew what he was after. They knew what made Buffy Summers so special to Lord Voldemort. They knew who she was – what she was. But what they didn't know was how the Dark Lord planned on getting it out of her. Severus could only imagine the horrors that awaited Buffy if the Dark Lord were to have her in his grasp and it sent a chill through his veins.

The night had been a tumultuous one of promises, accusations, and wonderings. Bellatrix again questioning Snape's loyalty to the Dark Lord, the Vow he had made to Narcissa, the worry of Draco and the mysteries of Buffy. The outside coldness felt as if it had seeped through the walls. He could feel it wrapped around him, trying to strangle him. But the temperature did not bother him. Not when there were more troubling matters that chilled his bones.

Have you lost your bloody mind?! What in the hell's the matter with you?!

That's exactly what she would say, and then she'd smack him upside the head and walk away, arms crossed, refusing to speak to him until she calmed down. He could picture it perfectly.

Sighing, Draco sank deeper into his bed and stared at the flower, twirling it at the stem between his thumb and forefinger. The pressed lilac that was enchanted to forever retain its color and potent scent. The memory coming back to him…

"Boys don't like flowers."

"Then don't go skipping around with it then," she said and shoved the lilac back into his hand. "It's enchanted for your information. My mum put a spell on it, so it'll always be bright and violet and so that it'll always smell good."

He stared at it and firmly said again, "Boys don't like flowers."

She rolled her eyes and took it back, speaking to him as she placed the flower inside the pages of a book, "You said you liked the way it smells here, well it smells like this because of the lilacs. They're everywhere." She snapped the book shut and gave it to him. "Just take it out whenever you want to smell it. No one has to know."

Draco begrudgingly took the book while he continued to frown, and Buffy scowled.

"See, this is why I try not to be nice to you," she said, and flipped her hair as she marched back into the house.

Draco watched her go and he smiled. He didn't want her to be nice. People were always nice to him, because of his father, because he was a Malfoy. He liked it when she was Buffy. Spoiled, bratty, demanding, and, above all, honest. That was much better than being nice. He tightened his grasp on the book and removed the smile from his face as made his way back into the Summers' house; not wanting to let Buffy know how much her present actually meant to him. How much he missed the smell of lilacs, of the trees and air that engulfed Buffy's warm home while he was away…

Draco treasured that lilac, and the book it came in, ever since he was eight years old. He brought both of them out and stared at the flower more times than he ever imagined he would have. It was a source of comfort when he felt isolated in the large and cold mansion he lived in. It eased his sadness and loneliness all those months Buffy was gone with no clue of where she was. The lilac had become symbolic – bright, beautiful, warm – in what Buffy meant to him, and as he looked at it now, Draco felt a sudden urge to crush it between his fingers.

A knock on his bedroom door stopped Draco from any further action, but he continued to glower in silence at the flower in his hand without offering so much as an 'enter' to whoever was on the other side. Nonetheless, the door slowly pried open, just enough, to make room for a house-elf that looked very much like Dobby, but was a tad shorter and had great, big, brown eyes.

"Sir?"

"What?" Draco snapped impatiently, without looking at the house-elf.

"Young master, your mother wishes to speak to you, sir."

"Tell her I'm busy."

"Yes, young master, sir."

The house-elf lowered his head and slowly backed away, but he only managed a step before Draco called out, "Wait! Where is she?"

"Dining room, sir."

Draco gave a sigh and brusquely ordered the house-elf to, "Get out of my room."

The house-elf closed the door and was gone before Draco finished saying the last word.

Draco knew what his mother wanted to talk to him about and he didn't want to hear it. He made his choice. He wasn't a child anymore. The Dark Lord had chosen him for a reason, and Draco wasn't going to fail. And he wasn't going to hide up in his room either. He would need to face his mother, to prove that he wasn't her little boy anymore. To prove that what the Dark Lord saw in him was genuine and that he knew exactly what he was getting into.

Draco stared at the lilac again. The sudden urge to crush it returning, but the very idea that it could be damaged formed a lump in his throat. It would be much simpler if it didn't exist. If he didn't have a reminder that meant so much to him. If it didn't smell like…

Gently, Draco placed the lilac back into the pages and slammed the book closed. He slipped off the bed, reached underneath the frame to pull out a medium-sized metal box, and placed the box on the mattress. He unlocked its enchanted lock with the flick of his wand, and after it opened, he tossed the book inside – landing on top of the unopened letters Buffy had sent him. Letters he could barely look at. Draco slammed the lid closed, locked it, and shoved the box underneath his bed once again. It was time to put all foolish things aside. It was time to grow up. It was time to draw the line between alliances…and enemies.

And Draco had chosen his side.