Second Coming

Chapter 3: Morning

"Tomorrow, we will be retrieving Lucius from Azkaban. I want you to be the first person he sees -- and you to inform him of Marcel Rosier's disrespect for his master."

Narcissa stood in the hallway outside of Lucius' study, listening to the conversation occurring between Quentin Avery and Lord Voldemort.

"Ys, master." She heard Quentin reply in a humble tone reserved for use only around her master.

"And, I want you to bring young Draco. There are some things I think he should experience there."

"Yes, master."

"That is all I wish to say to you. The rest of your orders will come tomorrow morning at the meeting."

"Thank you, sir."

When Quentin exited the study, Narcissa stepped out from the wall directly into his path.

"Good evening, Narcissa." his tone returned to its usual arrogance.

"You will not take MY child to that place."

"I beg your pardon?"

"He looks up to you, Quentin! Don't you understand he'd do whatever it takes to please you, no matter what trouble he may get in? He doesn't understand the consequences, but you do! I won't let you to take my child into immediate danger!"

"The boy needs to learn what power can do."

"The boy?" Narcissa snapped. "Quentin, you promised Lucius you'd watch over Draco as your own."

"Yes... And as he is MY responsibility, I shall do as I wish with him."

"He will NOT go to that place!"

"He will and that is final, Narcissa." Quentin turned and strode past her calling behind him. "Now, get yourself to bed.We are meeting here tomorrow before we leave for Azkaban. I need you up, and as presentable as you can possibly be. Good night."

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Draco slept fitfully that night. His mind was continually ringing with Antonin's words.

"Expendable." The whole speech was a warning. On the obvious level, it said to keep in line because even he wasn't safe; below that, a crystal clear message stated that he would see many of the people he considered friends at Hogwarts fall victim to "The Cause." It was a shuddering thought: all the people he knew as family for seven years - dead. These thoughts lingered in his mind as he finally drifted into a half-sleep.

In his dreams, Draco saw himself as an old man moving steadily to his death. He was walking through one of the various hallways of the Mannor. The walls, as always, covered with portraits of his ancestors. A nearly deafening silence filled the house: no pit-pat of feet, no music, no signs of any life in the house but his own. While exploring the rest of the dream Manor, he found no sign of any life having been their for quite some time. Draco also knew, in the way people know things in dreams, that nothing but him would ever be living in the manor again.

Draco snapped out of the dream upon realizing that there was nothing alive in the house but him.

"So that's to be my future?" he questioned himself. "Alone, for all of my days."

Long moments passed as he pondered this.

"No." He came to a silent conclusion. "I will need an heir. A child born purely of necessity."

Not a pleasant thought by any stretch of the imagination, but it would have to do. The Mark was a part of his very flesh and blood, and there was no going back.

"And besides," Draco thought, "love and religion are for the weak-- for those lacking power to control their own destinies."

That was the final thought that passed through Draco's mind before he was overcome by the need to sleep.

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"Draco, Draco darling, wake up!"

Narcissa stood next to Draco's bed, shaking him with as much force as she could.

"Draco!" Each passing second was another Death Eater nearer to her house, another opportunity for Quentin and Antonin to become angry with her. "Come on, Draco! Your father's - associates - are going to be here any second!"

Draco sat up, blinking.

"What?" His tone was similar to that of a teenager with a hang over.

Narcissa glowered. "Come on now, get yourself clean and into your robes. You're going with your Quentin and Antonin today."

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Mornings at the Burrow were always Hermione's favorite times. It was very refreshing to wake up to the smell of Molly Weasley's excellent cooking. She would climb out of her bed and, while still in her pajamas, wander downstairs to help prepare breakfast. On her way down she passed the rooms where Harry, Ron, and any number of assorted Weasleys could be found, sleeping. While at the Burrow, Ron and Hermione never slept in the same bed. Not because Molly or Arthur had a problem with it, but after so many years of friendship, their usual sleeping arrangements just felt right.

After breakfast was ready, and everyone had ambled downstairs, they would all sit together at the table outside and discuss everything from Ministry business, to Quidditch. Hermione didn't often join the conversation. She preferred to simply sit and absorb the warm family feeling, and wonder what it must have been like to grow up in such a large family.

However, breakfast had passed, and Hermione was eager to leave. It wasn't that she disliked staying with Ron's parents; in fact she always enjoyed it. But at the moment, she wanted to get home and do some work.

"Nice car," said Charlie who had just come from inside of the house.

"Thanks, I got it for work -- Muggle Relations and all."

"I'll bet Ron loves it; he always had a thing for the old Ford Anglia. That is, until he and Harry lost it in the forbidden forest." Charlie laughed.

"Yes, he is quite fond of it. You should hear him sometimes. He's like a Muggle teenager begging to take the car out for a drive."

"You let him drive it?"

Hermione nodded.

"You're braver than I gave you credit for."

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Draco stood in between Quentin and Antonin and watched as each of the Death Eaters entered the vestibule of his home. One by one they walked to Lord Voldemort, muttering Latin words the whole way. Upon reaching him they would drop to one knee, hold out their left arm, and place the second and third fingers of their right hands upon the mark. Each would shudder, bow their head for a moment, then rise and join the line of Death Eaters in complete silence.

The number of times Draco had seen this procession since his fourth year in Hogwarts was too great for him to even imagine. Every other time however, he'd watched from the top of the stairs with his mother. This would be the first time he participated in the gathering, and he found himself nearly bubbling with the excitement of it. This ceremony meant that he was one of them; he had this extra support, this second family of sorts. These were his people. The ceremony showed loyalty, and dedication. Though deep in his mind all of the ceremony seemed rather superfluous, he would not question it. He believed that the ceremony's purpose was to bring all of the Death Eaters together. So they could have common experiences.

In the row of Death Eaters, Draco saw Crabbe and Goyle standing next to each other in the supposedly menacing pose they had perfected while in Hogwarts; nearby, their fathers stood in a similar manner. Blaise Zabini and his father were there. As were countless other father/son duo's. Near to the end of the row, Pansy's father stood alone; being one of the only Death Eaters with no male children must have been hard on him. Or perhaps it was the opposite.

Before the thought could fully form in Draco's mind, Quentin and Antonin grabbed him by the sleeves and pulled him to where Lord Voldemort sat. There was an odd pause as Quentin and Antonin dropped to the floor. How subservient they were in the presence of the Dark Lord, had always awed Draco; he simply watched as they knelt. Suddenly, Draco realized what he was supposed to be doing; he immediately dropped to his knee and did as all of the others had done.

The second Draco's fingers touched his Dark Mark he shuddered. A feeling of ultimate power swelled within him. He felt as if there was nothing he couldn't do, and he loved it.

"In fact," he thought, "if it weren't for this annoying twinge of guilt in the back of my mind, this would be perfect."

"Don't worry, that will pass." An icy voice spoke.

"What? Who are you? How are you in my mind?"

"You do not recognize your masters voice?"

"Oh, Master, I am sorry."

"I will let it pass this time, but let it not happen again."

"Yes, master."

As suddenly as the feeling had come, it left. Draco tried in his mind to ask Voldemort why the feeling had left -- he never wanted it to leave -- but the connection, too, was lost.

"My children," Voldemort said loudly. There was a muted thud. A quick glance around told Draco that it had come from the entire crowd of Death Eaters re-assuming the kneeling position.

"Today, we will be visiting Azkaban prison. We will return in the company of our old colleague, Lucius Malfoy. For those of you who remember the last time we visited Azkaban, the Dementors will be no problem. So, All I want you to do is go with Quentin to find Lucius, and anyone else who is willing to join us, Bellatrix, and Rodulphus will lead the way but I want Quentin to be the first to see Lucius. Do I make myself clear?" There was a murmur of agreement then the Dark Lord started back into his speech. "You are the people who have been chosen to do the good work and fight the good fight. You have been selected to cleanse our world of muggles who have oppressed us for years. They are the reason we must hide; they are the reason. Remember this and nothing can stop you. Nothing. Now, let us go to Azkaban."

There was a large collective pop as the Death Eaters rose from the floor and vanished from the room, as if controlled by one mind.

Draco looked up at Quentin.

"Come on Draco, we're going to go get your father back."

After taking one quick look around the now empty room, Draco followed suit and vanished with a pop.