If Only for Now

Chapter One

The Malfoy Manor

An ancient house stood on the end of a pleasant wood and a grassy plain. Even in the night, most would say that the land was beautiful. But the house that stood upon it was the exact opposite. Some may argue that the house was elegant, obviously made sometime during the Elizabethan era, preserved with every shard of magnificence and splendor. But other, more watchful souls, would say that this large house in Wiltshire was chilling, even if they hadn't heard the screams issuing from it not so long ago.

This manor had long since retained its innocent appearance and noise level in the last fifteen years, but even the rats that lurked around the wood wouldn't dare go near it, explaining why the Malfoy Manor had no insects or creatures crawling about its inner walls, something its occupants prided themselves on, along with many other things. Tonight, not even the most adventurous of owl, or bravest of mouse would come sniffing around this place in hope of food, for the aura of fear it projected lasted for at least two miles after its property had been expired.

In the highest point in the lowest dungeon of this splendid house, sat a dark figure in a high-backed, stone, throne-like chair. Red eyes glowed from with in the folds of his hood and white hands gripped the edges of the arms of this seat.

"Welcome home, Lucius," said the creature within that chair in a hissing, bone chilling voice, making the blonde headed boy in the shadows shiver and feel the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

"Thank you master," said a slender figure, bowing. His features were obscured by a silky, expensive cloak, which greatly resembled the other cloaks that the additional twenty or so inhabitants of the room wore. The blonde boy swore that he'd kiss his friend for the concealing charmed cloak he wore, and saved him from being detected by the foul creature in the shadows.

"You know what I want from all of my faithful Death Eaters in return," said the figure in the chair.

"Potter," whispered a woman's voice.

"Yes," hissed the creature. The blonde boy shifted slightly, years of experience leaving him unheard by the others. "He has proved exceedingly difficult to capture, but not impossible."

"We must hit him where it hurts," whispered the woman. "Weaken him. ..."

"He cares very much for his little friends," growled a man in the midst of the semicircle.

"We cannot involve them as we did last time," said another man. "Children are strongest together."

"We must isolate him," said the figure. "He cares for his godfather. The majority of you saw the expression on his face when he thought he'd lost the accursed dog!"

"But Master . . ." said a silky man, whose nose was barely suppressed by his hood or mask, "you said that the boy must be alone ... we cannot hope to win anything with the bond that they have formed. L-- the fools' care for one another is not to be underestimated."

"Very wise, Severus," said the Master. "But I have a plan. A plan that will involve the younger ones among us, but which we do not count as our own."

"Forgive me, My Lord," said a timid voice, issuing from the small form of a man, "but I do not think we understand."

"It is as Antonin has already explained, Wormtail," said Master. "'Children are strongest together.'"

"My Lord," said another voice, "surely you do not mean our children? They ... cannot know the importance of keeping their tongues."

"I believe, adolescents, as well as the fools' care, are not to be underestimated, as we have learned in the Battle at the Department of Mysteries." Many of the occupants shrank slightly. But the figure took no notice, even seemed satisfied by their reactions. "In fact, many of them have been participating in our little meetings at homes without many of your knowing. And they have held their tongues extraordinarily well. I believe they can help us. But the choice to take on this heavy duty of capturing Harry Potter is one that only they can choose. What say you, Draco?"

The figure who had spoken first turned so sharply that he should have broken his neck, but somehow did not seem to feel the slightest pain. Cold gray eyes searched door, and the stairs that led down to the room.

"I will do whatever you tell me, My Lord," said the blonde boy, removing the bewitched cloak and sinking into a low bow.

"Very good," said the figure, "very good. I will need your help, young man. And I will require you as well, Wormtail. Black will be on the alert more than ever, and I will need him. We will target him before he becomes the same problem his dear friend was. Black and Potter will fall!"

This man began to laugh sinisterly. Some may have said that this proved he was human being, but the laugh was far from humanly. And as he threw back his hood, revealing a skull-white face with still radiant red eyes, a boy woke up with a jolt not so far away and not for the first time in two years.