Omnia Mors Perimit

She had ordered a car, as soon as she had arrived in London by Apparition, to take Draco home. He wouldn't like this, she could foresee in perfect clarity, but he would simply have to surmount his aversion against muggle devices. She would not break the laws concerning under-aged wizards by letting him apparate alongside herself, like Lucius had done for so many years without anyone paying the least bit attention. She had to face her own trial on Tuesday, and wasn't quite as confident as she would have to pretend she was. No, she had decided to do what her own parents had done when she had been too young to apparate yet. She would play by the Ministry's rules.

She arrived in King's Cross punctually, seeing the steaming Hogwarts Express come to a halt, and ignoring all the belligerent stares. These cretins, what did they take her for? Even if her husband had the day before been sent to Azkaban - did anyone seriously assume that she would take out her wand and make the train explode? Or start throwing wild curses at the people around her? She saw some witches and wizards she knew, who desperately tried to look the other way, or most of them, for some others had no scruples to whisper so loudly that they made sure she would overhear them, "Impossible! How can they leave that one walk around freely still!"

She smiled instead of scowling back at them, waiting for her son to get off the train, and was soon joined by Miranda Crabbe and Norma Goyle, who had come to fetch their own sons, too. She curtly answered the questions about her well-being, not taking her eyes from the train, but he wouldn't come, until she was eventually addressed by one of Draco's friends, the pug-faced Miss Parkinson.

"Mrs Malfoy," she said quietly, "I think you should come..."

"Where is my son?"

"Well, that's the point, isn't it. Please, come with me -"

Narcissa's heart beat a little faster; the girl was serious but not overly concerned still, so nothing very bad could have happened, right? She revised that assessment when spotting the twitching bundle on the floor of a compartment corridor, that she only recognised to be Draco by the silver blond strands of hair and the expensive robes. He had been hit by some very bad curses, so much was sure, and briefly gritting her teeth, she drew her wand and pointed it at her beloved child, to remove some of the major effects.

"Mum," he groaned, staggering to his feet and checking his reflection in one of the glass panes.

"Hello Draco," she replied quietly. "How do you feel?"

"Smashed -"

"Where's your luggage?"

He lead her over to another compartment, she diminished his trunk and the owl cage - his own owl Muggin always flew the way back home; Narcissa disapproved of keeping or transporting animals in too small cages - slipped them all into Draco's and her own pockets and silently guided him out of the train. There were all sorts of hearty welcome scenes around them, small children on their father's arms, elder ones kissing and hugging their mothers. Most of them interrupted their felicity though for glaring at Narcissa Malfoy and her son when they stepped onto the platform.

"Smile self-confidently and keep your head up high," she said under her breath. "We'll be out of here in no time."

They both followed that sound advise, marching away in pride; she needn't even negotiate her way through the masses of people, who immediately gave way to them as soon as they noticed. Even the muggles were less annoying this time, for none of them had the slightest clue who was passing them there. Narcissa received an amount of the habitual glances, that a woman of her figure, size, clothes and face would automatically attract in a public place like this, but they lacked the hostility of the wizards on the other side of the wall. They quickly left; she directed him around a few corners, across a street and stopped in front of a shining black muggle carriage.

The driver jumped out to help them with their non-existent baggage, opened the doors for them and helped them in, and only inside, Draco asked in an undertone, "What's this supposed to mean?"

"You need to get home, mon trésor. Or did you intend to walk all the way?"

"But this - this," he protested, dropping his voice to a bare whisper, "this is a muggle thingy!"

"This is a Bentley, I have learnt," she answered with her normal voice. "Try to adopt the term, will you?"

"I don't care how it's called!"

"Oh, I think you should, or would you rather go by one of these the next time?" She pointed at a rusty heap of tin and metal that passed them in this moment, with more dents than she could count.

"The next time?" He sounded scandalised.

"Yes, the next time. Until you are seventeen and as long as you are accompanied by me, you will accustom to the Bentley or go by foot. That's entirely up to you, sweetheart."

The driver cast them a curious look, which Narcissa returned archly. She'd have to modify his memory later on anyway, so there was no real need to whisper, something that Draco appeared to have grasped, too, for her spoke in his normal volume again.

"How was dad's trial?"

"That depends on the point of view you're taking," she said and smirked. "But on the plus side - he held himself grandiosely. Reminded me a little of out wedding, now that I come to think of it."

"This isn't funny, mum!"

"No, it certainly isn't, that's why you've got to laugh about it in the first place, dear. Always laugh death, terror and destruction right in the face." Via the rear view mirror, she noticed the driver's incredulous expression and added even louder, "Your name was...?"

"Alfred, Ma'am -"

"You will surely wonder what my husband has been sentenced for, am I right?"

He was slightly embarrassed and blushed. "It isn't my place to -"

"Nonsense. You overhear half of our conversation anyway, so I can just as well give you a full account!"

"As you please, Ma'am..."

"He is a high-ranking member of an illegal organisation that wants to overthrow the authorities and install their own leader - watch the street, Mr Alfred. If you kill a pedestrian, the ride will take even longer. You are a bit pale around your nose, Mr Alfred. Did I shock you?"

"Oh, no, Ma'am, I - I am -"

"Out of your wits, yes. I can see that. Well, you see, my husband thinks that people who do not belong to us - to our kind, you know - that they got nothing to do with us and should better be dispelled. What say you to that?"

Draco looked like fainting, but Narcissa was enjoying herself. She wanted to prove herself a point here, and judging the driver's expression, she was just about to. He slightly shrugged and visibly relaxed. "Well, if you really care for my opinion - your husband is surely right with what he thinks, Ma'am."

"Oh, I do care for your opinion, Mr Alfred. Otherwise, I wouldn't be asking, would I? So tell me - how do you feel about the others? It is of real interest to me, you know, I hardly ever meet with normal people like you."

Alfred was either deaf for the implied deprecation, or well used to drive around posh aristocrats, for he didn't wince. Instead, he nodded and snarled, "I think they've got no business here, and should be sent back to where they're coming from. They steal our jobs, they steal our women, procreating bast-"

"Language, Mr Alfred, please. I think I get your point though. You appear to have no sympathy for them. But tell me - are you alone in feeling so?"

"You're not from here then, are you?"

Narcissa sniggered and shook her head. "No, you could well say I'm not."

"There are many people who feel exactly the same, I assure you, Ma'am! I suppose in your classes, most people are oh so liberal, but where I come from -"

"And where would that be, Mr Alfred?"

"Born and bred in Manchester, Ma'am. I've worked for a ship builder's company until they had to shut down. The bloody Asians just produce cheaper than we could. That's why I was forced to move down here and make my living as a chauffeur."

"So you don't like your profession?"

"Oh, no, it's fine. Much better than my old job, you know!"

"So the payment's worse?"

"No way, Ma'am. I earn almost twice as much than I used to."

"Do you take a dislike in London then?"

"It's better than Manchester, if you ask me."

"This sounds as if you had been really lucky, Mr Alfred. Aren't you glad that those Asians do the dirty work then?"

"Matter of principle, Ma'am."

"Yes, I see... Principles, hm? What principles would that be now?"

"The same as your husband's, I'd say!"

"You think so?"

"Besides - a whole lot of people have not been lucky. Most of my colleagues found no better jobs, or no job at all!"

"What a shame! So what are they doing then?"

"They're forced to live on welfare!"

"So they're not starving in the streets... That's comforting. Look, I don't really have an opinion for myself on this subject, and it is so enlightening to talk to somebody else. You are, I take it, for a stricter separation?"

"Absolutely."

"Because they are different."

"Oh, yes! Just look at them!"

"Hmm. You dislike diversity. Different designs on life."

"They can have their own designs, as long as they're not having them here!"

"Oh, naturally. Everything else would be too chauvinistic, wouldn't it."

"I've not gone to any of those fancy schools, Ma'am, I don't even know what you're talking about. But you and your husband are certainly right."

Narcissa flashed her most brilliant and most false smile. "Thank you, Mr Alfred! Yes, thank you, you have just confirmed my own notions."

"You're welcome anytime, Ma'am. So what about your husband then?"

"Oh, give it a rest, mum," Draco sighed and waved at the chauffeur to shut up. "This is stupid."

"And here I was, thinking that you would have found it most entertaining, mon trésor!"

"Not today, mum. Honestly..."

"You want to cheer up, Draco. We're expecting your aunt for dinner."

This lightened the boy up, indeed. Narcissa sighed under her breath, enduring Draco's excited spluttering, and when they drove up the sweep way to Malfoy Manor after more than two hours, she thought that Floo Powder had some advantages to be sure. The driver gaped at the palatial building, expressing his bewilderment to have never heard of the place before.

"It's beautiful, isn't it? My husband's family has inhabited it since the eleventh century. Obviously, there have been remodelling and amplifications, but the old core is still there. See the tower?"

They had got out of the car, Narcissa had drawn her wand and pointed it at the ancient weir tower. The driver followed her gaze, marvelling at the magnificent fortress-like castle, she turned towards him and said, "Obliviate!"

He gave a start, and she forced him to look her straight into the eye. "You have driven an elderly gentleman, from King's Cross to Salisbury Cathedral, Mr Alfred. He's given you a lavish tip, and you have talked about sports during the entire journey."

"I have -"

"Then, you have got lost. When you come home, you will take a quarter of your monthly income and donate it to a home for delinquent teenagers. You will get a library card and diligently read the works of Mahatma Ghandi and the annual report of a human rights organisation. You will think yourself the luckiest fellow on earth and -"

"That's really enough, mum," Draco sighed, pulling her hand, and she dismissed the befuddled chauffeur without giving him any tip at all. What an idiot! And her evening wasn't going to become any nicer, as she had some suspects why her older sister would show up on this day.

She restrained herself until her sister left them again, watching Draco's delight and pride, trying to smile at him as if he had achieved something good, something that wasn't going to destroy his whole life. But then Bellatrix was gone, and Narcissa turned around to shoot him an honest look and talk to him in all possible candour.

"This is madness, Draco," she began, but he didn't even listen, pouring himself another glass of whiskey, and by no means the first one this night.

"Brilliant, isn't it! Oh mum, I'm going to avenge dad! They will all see what they reap for their actions!"

"You want to consider what you are about to reap, Draco! Cave quicquam incipias, quod paeniteat postea, mi fili! Joining the Dark Order is no children's game!"

He was startled, eyeing her in bewilderment. "Yes, exactly. No more childish games, no more talking. Now I can at last do something to set things right!"

"Do something? Only this afternoon, I've found you badly cursed, with tentacles growing out of your ears and your nose and your hands pointing in the wrong direction! And this has only been a bunch of other students! What do you think will happen when you fight a real enemy?"

"Aunt Bellatrix has said that she will teach me in the Dark Arts!"

"And when exactly will she do so? In those two months that you're here on holiday?"

"Mum, the Dark Lord wants me to become a Death Eater! I needn't go back to that silly place anyway!"

"We'll see about that, shall we?" she answered quietly, with an awful premonition. The Dark Lord was no fool - why would he want a sixteen year old boy to join his ranks, without any proper previous education in the Dark Arts? She thought she had some horrid ideas about this question, and carefully tried to put Draco on his guard.

"Darling, being a Death Eater isn't as romantic as you imagine it to be. It's dangerous, it's -"

"A challenge, mum! He wants to see if I'm up for it, and besides - you don't presume that I could decline the offer anyway, do you?"

"Offer! It's an order, Draco!"

"Yes, I know that. And you know that one mustn't refuse an order from the Dark Lord!"

"You are no Death Eater yet, mon trésor - before giving that oath, you aren't obliged to obey him -"

He turned pale. "Mum," he said almost imploringly, "you cannot be serious! You don't want me to slight the Dark Lord... Do you?"

"I want you to weigh your options, Draco. That's all. Your father and your aunt are most excellent in their skills, yet one of them has been captured and the other one's spent fifteen years in prison. This can happen, even to very experienced wizards -"

"It won't happen to me, mum," he whispered, giving her a very earnest look. "I promise."

"Don't promise things that aren't in your power to keep, mon trésor -"

"But the Dark Lord is rising to power again! He'll help dad like he's helped Aunt Bellatrix. He will sort it all out."

"Only one more thing, darling, and I'll have done - if that was really so, if the Dark Lord could truly deal with everything so single-handedly - what would he need you, or anyone else, for?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Quia ventem... For they are sowing wind and will reap the whirlwind.

Cave... Beware of beginning things that you have to regret later, my son!