Today the Guns are Silent

June 5^th, 1997: Draco had noticed that his mother was looking more and more disheveled every day.

Sleep deprivation caused Narcissa to develop dark circles under her twilight eyes. Her hands trembled excessively. According to Lord Voldemort, Draco was supposed to have killed Albus Dumbledore. She knew he would not be able to do it--a mother knows her son. And she knew that Lord Voldemort would want to eliminate Draco for failing him even though he was just a boy. Being rational wasn't exactly for what the Dark Lord was known for. And Severus Snape could not offer any sort of help or protection because he was in remote hiding, unreachable by anybody.

Although the Fidelius charm had been placed on Malfoy Manor, Narcissa still feared for her son's life.

Bellatrix was the secret-keeper, as she was the only one skilled enough to properly perform the charm--Narcissa had never excelled in Charms. She knew that Bellatrix could not be trusted for long, but this would at least buy some time for her to figure out how to get her son, and herself, out of the country and into hiding. Numerous times, Narcissa peered out of the kitchen window, barely parting the white-lace curtains.

At sundown, Draco and Narcissa were just setting down to dinner. Chicken, he thought to himself as he set the table, irritated by the irony, why do we always have chicken? The house elves have prepared four different chicken recipes in the past week. He lovingly teased his mother about it sometimes, as the normal delectable fare could not be brought in because of the attention it may attract.

Narcissa gasped as she looked out the window, and saw a Death Eater, in full garb, approaching Malfoy Manor. She had not thought Bellatrix would have betrayed them so quickly.

She turned to her son, and she saw her own fear reflected in his eyes.

"Run, Draco," she said in a frightened yet assertive voice, drawing her wand from the pocket of her eggplant-colored robes.

"I said run!" She insisted, pushing him towards the back door, which led out of the pantry. "Get out of here!"

They both heard the heavy parlour door swing open, hitting the adjacent wall with a bang. Draco saw that a terror-like emotion now filled his mother's eyes.

Draco stood frozen in the threshold. "Draco, just run. I'll hold them off. You just run!" she told her son in a trembling voice. "I'll catch up with you. Go!"

Draco took off as fast as he possibly could, and his mother shut the door behind him. Clutching her wand more tightly now and clenching her teeth, she began to shake.

"I'm sorry, Narcissa," said a familiar voice as the Death Eater entered the kitchen slowly. Bellatrix lifted the mask from her sallow face, which appeared paler than ever, and slowly lowered it to her side. The two sisters stared at each other for a moment.

"Avada Kedavra!" they cried in unison. A thin beam of green light shot out of Bellatrix's wand, hitting her sister's chest. Narcissa fell in a heap, her legs splayed indecently.

Bellatrix stood over Narcissa's corpse for a minute, eyeing it, not sure what to think anymore.

"I knew you wouldn't be able to mean it, sister," she whispered as she stooped down and gently adjusted Narcissa's body so that her legs were together and her arms were crossed over her chest. This had to be the most difficult task that Bellatrix had ever had to do for the Dark Lord. She would have cried if she could, but she had forgotten how long ago. Lord Voldemort was no fool. He picked up on the fact that Narcissa and Draco were cloaked behind the Fidelius charm and demanded that Bellatrix either tell him where they were, or go and kill them herself. She needed to follow the Dark Lord's orders or she would be harshly punished. If she had just told him, allowing Voldemort to send other Death Eaters to do away with Narcissa, then she would risk her sister being tortured or raped. It was not beyond some of the Dark Lord's followers to do that to their female victims, or even male ones in a few cases. The knowledge that she would get it done with a quick, clean Avada Kedavra was what helped her draw the courage to break into her own sister's home and murder her.

Now she had to find the boy.

Draco had darted frantically across the fresh, verdant field--mowed by magic, of course--behind Malfoy Manor, and only turned around when he reached the edge of the forest. The Dark Mark hung over the house, illuminating the clear, starry sky. Two tears tricked down his left cheek before he disapparated.