A Family Affair

Narcissa Malfoy glided down the long curving staircase that connected the floors of Malfoy Manor, letting one hand trail lightly over the polished ebony wood banister. Her mind was on her husband, Lucius, and the soiree the two of them would be hosting over the upcoming weekend. Narcissa loved playing the hostess, and even though every minute detail of the gala was organized to perfection, she continued to run lists in her head, making sure everything would go as planned.

Her mind wrapped around her upcoming party, Narcissa wandered toward Lucius's study, meaning to ask him for an opinion, but hesitated outside the study door when she heard voices inside. One voice belonged to Lucius, the other - a horrible hissing voice - Narcissa recognized as belonging to none other than the evil Lord Voldemort.

"Lucius," Voldemort was saying, "it is time for you to prove your loyalty to me."

"Yes, my Lord. Whatever I can do."

"You have something which is invaluable to me, Lucius. Your progeny."

"The boy? Invaluable?" Lucius sounded incredulous. "Of course, I have prepared him to join with the Death Eaters when he comes of age, but..."

Voldemort cut him off. "I have a more urgent use for him. Evalesco abs moribundus cruor."

Outside in the hallway, Narcissa repressed a gasp and pressed her hands to her mouth.

"The... the Rite, my Lord?" Lucius sounded a bit uncertain.

"Yes. He is the perfect component, Lucius. The purity of the Malfoy and Gaillard bloodlines and the infusion of Veela in both lines. His own magical strengths. And his sheer uselessness as a Death Eater," he finished, his voice dripping with venom. Lucius flinched, and opened his mouth to protest, but Voldemort continued. "Yes, useless, Lucius. The boy is weak. A coward, hiding behind you and your name. You've coddled him far too much. He is loyal to you Lucius, but such loyalty means he would never be truly loyal to me. Only by his death can he ever be of any use to me. With the strength I will gain from the rite, I will be more powerful than anyone could ever imagine."

Evalesco abs moribundus cruor - the ritual created by Grindelwald in the 1940's to strengthen his magical power; the rite relied on the blood of a wizard killed by the victim's own blood relative. Narcissa's heart raced. Surely, Lucius would set Lord Voldemort straight. He couldn't - simply could not - let anything happen to Draco!

"Whatever you think best, of course, my Lord." Lucius said.

"The ritual will take place on Beltane. I expect you to have the boy...prepared."

"Yes, my Lord."

Narcissa recoiled. 'No!' her mind screamed. Silent as a shadow, Narcissa turned and fled, all thoughts of the upcoming gala gone. Alone upstairs in her bedchamber, Narcissa fought back the urge to collapse onto her bed in a sobbing heap. Tears wouldn't help Draco. What Narcissa needed was a plan of action. She let her eyes roam about the room, trying desperately to think. Who could help her? Who would help her? Everyone she knew was loyal to Lord Voldemort, or to Lucius, or both. No one gave a damn about her or her little boy.

Narcissa's eyes fell on her pensieve, sitting on the finely carved cherry wood table beside her bed. On impulse, she took out her wand, and sent her memories of the conversation she had just heard into the pensieve.

Severus. The name came to her mind unbidden, and she dismissed it. Severus was as much a Death Eater as Lucius; she would find no help from that quarter.

Well, there was nothing for it. She gathered some things from her bedside table, and crossed the room to sit at her dressing table. Quickly, efficiently, Narcissa penned a short letter, tucked it into a cream-coloured envelope, and sealed it with her personal signet. Gathering up the pensieve, she tucked it and the envelope into a box and hurried off to send it via owl to Hogwarts.