What Dreams May Come

"The only thing needed for evil to prosper is for good men to do nothing."

-Edmund Burke

***April 7, 2011***

The Dark Lord was angry.

Anyone within the walls of Blackenvire Castle, and those as far beyond the walls in Mardentine, could literally feel his rage. At what he was angry, no one knew. Dragon Malfoy, known to his close friends as Draco, however, was about the find out. He and his father, Lucius, had been sipping at a midnight brandy when a summons had arrived at Lucius's chamber's doors in the form of a frightened young guard.

"Our Lord, the King of Darkness, demands that you and your son come immediately to his chambers. He has most urgent news to tell you, and he wishes you to come post haste." The young guard said all this very quickly before bowing and rushing off in the opposite direction of the Dark Lord's chambers.

Lucius and Draco set out immediately for their Master's chambers, which were located not too far away in the West Wing of Blackenvire. They made good time and arrived at the giant ebony doors within three minutes of their summons. Upon arrival the doors swung open, and the two men stepped carefully over the mantle.

"Ah, Malfoy and Malfoy. Father and son. The both have grown to look so much alike that they would be identical were it not for the father's hair."

Lucius's hand went to the ponytail hanging down his back. He drew his hand away quickly, however, when the Dark Lord spoke again.

"Both are most faithful. Both have served me well, despite the father's straying during my absence and the son's affair with a certain French whore." Though Draco and Lucius had been in their Master's large, dark apartments for the past five minutes their Lord had not yet revealed himself. Often that was his way, but it never failed to unnerve the both of them. "Their faith deserves a reward. Their faith deserves a most important mission."

'Ah,' Draco thought. 'A mission. And a reward to come with it, to be sure.'

"You saw my daughter's handmaiden the other night, correct? During my son's birthing? She said her name was Lowell..."

"But of course, My Lord."

Draco was glad, for once, for his father's flowery eloquence. Should he have been asked to answer he highly doubted that he could have. That girl, Ana Lowell, had looked at him so strangely, so judgmentally, that he had had nightmares about her for the past three nights. But he could never tell his father that.

"She and the other handmaiden, Amber-Lyn Wood, escaped. With two others. All of them very important to me."

Draco could not hold in his surprise. "Escaped? How?"

There was a deep, cold silence. Draco feared that he had overstepped some invisible boundary, but finally his Master said, "She had aid. From someone who works in the castle. When he is found--and he will be found!--I shall kill him in a most...painful manner." The Dark Lord laughed then, and though Draco had heard his Master laugh on many an occasion, the shrill, cold, derisive noise chilled him all the same. "Truly, the plan was most ingenious. She snuck out in one of the caskets on its way to the ocean, along with Wood and the two others. They were thrown into the ocean when discovered."

Another long pause.

"I want you both to scour the coast and find this coffin. I want you to find proof of their death, or otherwise, and return with news. I trust you both enough to know that you would not lie. After all, I am King, and I can tell all." Finally the Dark Lord stepped into what few beams of light there were and revealed himself. Though he had never grown used to the bone white skin, scale like complexion, blood red eyes, and frightening looks Draco had learned to master the disgust that rose up within him each time he saw the Dark Lord.

"Consider it done, Master." Lucius bowed to the Dark Lord, using every bit of elegance his possessed. Draco followed suite, and, when their master made the right movement, they both backed out of the room, heads turned up just enough to keep their eyes on their Master's wand hand. The Dark King had an unpredictable temper, like most of his wives and progeny, and their was no telling if this was all just some hoax to get them to let down their guards. With a flick of his wand their Master could have them writhing on the ground. Both father and son had seen it enough times to take the proper precautions.

Only once they were well down the hall, straightened up and headed for their rooms to procure proper tools, did Draco begin to speak. "Father, what did you think of the Lowell girl? Strange little wench, wasn't she?"

Lucius gave his eldest son a reprimanding look. "Strange? I suppose, but what would you expect of a girl who grew up with Pegatha Davies?"

One of Draco's fair eyebrows arched dramatically. "She grew up with Pegatha Davies? And her surname is Lowell? Didn't that raise eyebrows?"

"Indeed it did," Lucius said. "I myself was the one to arrange her escort here. But, to my knowledge, Kaitlyn Lowell never had a child."

"What of those four children that were left in the care of Lavender Brown? They came from the settlement area that the French whore lived in for that one year." Draco's voice had begun to change over the last few minutes. For the first time in almost twelve years it was beginning to hold something Lucius had thought his son had lost long ago: emotion.

"They were killed and disposed of. And as to their lineage? Weasley held true to the statement that they were merely children of people living at the settlement. They most definitely had nothing to do with the French Mistake that you once had feelings for...Unless I'm mistaken and you still feel for dear old Kate?" There was such a bitterness in Lucius's voice that it made Draco step away from him.

Without even thinking he replied, "I only feel the deepest disgust and utmost loathing for that slut. It has been that way for years." But once he stopped to think about it he could not answer so surely. All he knew was that, for reasons unknown, little, scrawny Ana Lowell had begun something within him that would not be stopped without a great fight.

***

Somewhere in the course of the ride to the coast it had begun to rain. Upon stepping out of the fancy black carriage that had taken to the dropping point Draco was soaked to the bone by great sheets of chilling water. Lucius, who had offered to let his son out first, smirked smugly, producing an umbrella with his wand.

"Always look before you leap, Draco," Lucius said.

"It's Dragon, Father. Everyone nowadays calls me Dragon." Draco's tone was biting and unkind. He hated when his father got so uppity, despite the fact that he himself often turned his nose up to those around him in much the same manner.

"Nonsense. Draco's your given name, and by that I shall call you. Dragon's such a childish nickname. I hope you did not think that you were being witty when you changed your name, for if so then you are extremely dull." Lucius stepped out of the carriage, which was being drawn by giant black horses, and looked towards the sea, which had taken on a life of its own in the storm. "Since you're all ready wet I don't doubt that you'll be so kind as to dive into the waters and search for the casket?"

Draco nodded without giving his father any cheek. He knew an order when he heard one, and before taking a mouthful of gillyweed and casting a warming spell upon himself, he stripped down to his black silk underclothes. Ignoring the bits of arrogant advice his father sent his way Draco took of at a run. Upon reaching the edge of the high cliff he arched his back into a perfect diving position and flew right into the churning waters.

***

Two hours later Draco allowed himself to be levitated out of the water by his father. The gillyweed had begun to ware off, as had the warming spell. His pale skin was tinged blue(,) and, despite himself, Draco was beginning to shiver. He had found the casket just ten minutes ago. The lock was jammed open, and no bodies could be found nearby.

As he sputtered on the cold, rocky ground his father watched him with a rare eagerness. "Did you find anything? Are they dead?"

Draco looked up at his father. His gray eyes betrayed no emotion as he contemplated between lying and telling the truth. Had it been anyone other than the strange Ana girl then he would have turned them in point blank. But there was something so oddly familiar about her, and yet it couldn't possibly be...

Almost twelve years ago he had turned his back on the woman who had taught him how to love. Whether it was the love he had once had for her or the desire to answer questions that had been haunting him for years that made him do what he did, Draco "Dragon" Malfoy would never truly know.

"Dead," he told his father. "I couldn't find anything but scraps of cloths stuck on the rocks. They have to be dead, every single one."

***

The game had only just begun. The first die had been rolled, and now the cards were dealt...

Only time would tell how deeply Draco Malfoy had affected his world's destiny.