Mission

The first time that he watches them it's snowing. Large heavy flakes fall from the sky, giving everything a surreal look. They are walking down the front walk of their small house, Dean clutching a dog leash in his hand. Luna, wearing a large floppy hat over her long, dirty blond hair, is playing with the mutt, picking up sticks and throwing them all around, causing the poor animal to chase them, only to be pulled back by the leash.

He watches as they walk down the walk and over across the road to the park, their dog leaping into snowdrifts as they go. Something like a smile drifts on to his pale face. He remembers his own dog, a golden retriever that his mother had loved.

He leaves, watching the snow bury their footsteps, feeling a heavy weight falling to the pit of his stomach.

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He patiently watches the sunrise, crouching in the damp soil. Next to him, a small flower is poking its head out of the mulch. He looks around, remembering the small blue flowers that he had passed on the way there, relishing the warmer weather.

A door opens in the side of the house. He glances quickly down to make sure that the cloak is covering him.

She walks out, her hair pulled up in a loose bun, wearing a baggy pair of overalls. In her hand is a pot, with a beautiful flower in it, pink and red and yellow. She crouches in the ground, and begins to dig.

He looks over her face. Whereas two weeks ago, when he had first gotten the mission, her face was happy, the laugh lines had fallen. She had sadness about her, sadness that he had never seen before.

He feels the mark press into his skin, and pauses, getting one last look at her before he disappears into the thin air.

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A cold chill seeps through his skin as he lands. He looks around, watching people appearing, growing to the number already there. To the left, he sees his aunt, wearing a nervous smirk on her face. He wonders why he used to admire her.

"Welcome." He hears a voice, one that he knows too well. He looks up to see the Dark Lord mounted at the top of the hill, his already disfigured face distorted by the small light of the torches around him.

"You know what to do. Nott, you first." A trembling figure approached the Dark Lord, and knelt at his feet.

"The Finnegans have been disposed." Nott looks hopefully up at the Dark Lord, who nods, a glint in his eye.

He feels a shiver down his spine, realizing why Luna had been crying. A wave of guilt rushed through him.

The Dark Lord called a list of people up to kneel. He recognizes some of the Death Eaters as his old classmates, and recognizes some of the casualties as his peers.

"Malfoy." The Dark Lord reads. "What have you learned?"

He walks slowly up to his Master. The torch in front of him looks vaguely like the flower that Luna had planted earlier today, the reds, oranges, and yellows throwing sparks into the sky.

"Potter visited the Thomas's. It was about a week ago, and then again two days ago. Weasley and Granger were there for only a few minutes the first time. Your suspicion was right. Potter is getting his supplies there. He stayed for over an hour, and Disapparated carrying a large pack each time." Draco said this as blandly as possible, to feign indifference.

"Keep them alive and keep us informed. At least for now." The Dark Lord said and dismissed him.

Draco padded down to where the others were sitting, and watched as the last few Death Eaters stated their business.

"Fenrir, come." Draco looked up to see a revolting figure hobbling up to the Dark Lord. The werewolf was grinning with pleasure, and Draco was disgusted to see the stains on his robes.

"What of the boy?" Draco was even more sickened. He almost felt sorry for his old school enemy. To have this creature, one who lives to kill and takes pleasure out of misery, with no reason to, be following anyone deserves pity.

'His search seems to be coming up with nothing. The old barnyard that we had suspicions about earlier has proved to be true. Potter, Weasley, and Granger have been sleeping there every night. It seems that the supply of food that they are getting from the Thomas's isn't enough. They've been running low on food and sleep, and Potter is looking more and more anxious every night."

The Dark Lord nodded, and Draco saw a fire in his eyes that he had never seen before. He silently prayed that Potter would find a new place to sleep.

He beckoned another person up.

"His behavior is becoming more and more strange." His aunt, Bellatrix stood and said. Draco realized with a shiver that she was in charge of monitoring Potter as well. "He apparated away from the barn at midnight for the second time in a week. If my guess is correct, he is meeting up with that Weasley girl."

The corners of His mouth drew up in what on any other person would have been described as a grin.

"Find the girl. You know what to do from there."

Draco bit down on his lip, and Disapparated, recognizing that the meeting was over.

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