Chapter 6
Another few, uneventful weeks flew by. You and Draco had been spending a lot of time together, catching up on your summer schoolwork, playing with the peacocks in the garden, or drawing (he was coming along pretty nicely, although his art was a little lopsided).
You haven’t spoken to Narcissa much since your fight over permanent residence here, and you weren’t planning on bringing it up again any time soon.
Unfortunately, with it being early August now, you only had a few short weeks left before the new school year started, and all of your belongings were still at your parents’ house, probably getting chucked once you don’t return. It pained you, of course, because you had several important things, but remaining on Narcissa’s good side was much more important for the time being.
Besides, the one truly valuable thing you still had there was hidden under a floorboard, so there was no way your parents would throw it out.
Lord Voldemort was visiting the house today, so for the first time in weeks, the four of you were piled together in the drawing room, awaiting his arrival.
The silence was thick, whether because of tension between the group or tension with waiting for Voldemort, you were unsure. You swore you caught Narcissa giving you pitying looks a few times, but you chose to ignore it, staring at your clasped hands in your lap, sitting next to Draco on the sofa.
With a large cloud of black smoke, Lord Voldemort appeared, Nagini and Wormtail on his tail. The four of you rose to greet him, but he seemed to pay no attention to the act.
Instead, he made straight for you and Draco, practically ignoring Bellatrix doting all over him.
“I have been thinking,” he began, without greeting you, “and I do say, Draco, that your father has severely disappointed me.”
Draco was silent, and you could see him somehow turn whiter out of the corner of your eye.
“It was only a mistake,” Narcissa murmured, but when Voldemort turned his gaze to her, she closed her mouth, taking a slight step backward.
Turning back to you and Draco, he continued, “I have an order for you both. Give me your arms.”
You and Draco exchanged a look, sharing everything between the two of you silently.
Voldemort was about to brand you with the Dark Mark, although you weren’t entirely sure why.
You also weren’t entirely sure if you wanted it; neither of you had it, nor did Narcissa, and you were certain that you didn’t want your skin tainted with his darkness quite yet (you were only sixteen, afterall).
“Give me your arms!” he ordered again, much harsher than the last time, and with a threatening hiss from Nagini, you held your left arm out to him.
Draco followed suit, much more reluctantly. You heard Narcissa make a quiet squeak of protest, but with a sharp hiss from Bellatrix, she remained silent.
“I am giving you two a job,” Voldemort continued again, waving his wand over Draco’s arm first. “At your return to school, at the precise time, perfectly executed moment, you are to kill Albus Dumbledore. Do I make myself clear?”
Draco winced, and you watched his skin boil for a moment as the Dark Mark branded itself on his arm, dark in contrast to his pale skin.
“Give it to the girl, too!” Bellatrix hissed maniacally, coming up from behind you. “Do it, Master!”
“Settle, Bellatrix,” Voldemort said, grabbing your outstretched arm. “One of you is to kill Albus Dumbledore. Only then will I be able to rise to my true power and take what is rightfully mine. If either of you are to fail, you both will meet an early end.”
Bellatrix was still gripping your shoulders, as if holding you still, as Voldemort branded your arm as well with the Mark.
It stung, a pain worse than you’d ever felt before. It was almost as if burning razors were breaking through from underneath your skin, and even after the Mark appeared, your skin felt sore and raw, throbbing where the new addition to your body was.
Bellatrix laughed in your ear, releasing her grip on you as she pulled away.
“You’re one of us now!” she hissed, and you took a very heavy notice to the fact Narcissa had not yet said anything, remaining silent and poker-faced.
“I expect the job done,” Voldemort said. “Your father, Draco, has proven to be incapable. I expect you to be able to complete it if you want to live.”
At that, he Disapparated, Nagini and Wormtail following.
There was a heavy silence afterward. Tears were welling in your eyes, and when you turned to meet Draco’s, you could see your own anguish reflected there.
“One of us, one of us!” Bellatrix was chanting, hopping around the two of you in circles, before gripping each of you by your sore arms, pulling you to her. “How does it feel?”
“Get your hands off me!” you spat through your tears, jerking your arm away.
“Oh, you’re crying!” she mocked you, cackling after she said so. “You both have just been bestowed with a wonderful order to carry out, and you’re crying like children!”
“That’s because they are children, Bella!” Narcissa snapped, finally speaking again. “Come, Draco.”
You watched her wrap her arm around Draco’s shoulders, steering him down one of the halls and out of sight, leaving you and Bellatrix alone.
She immediately took the privacy to antagonise you.
“Oh, how sweet, mummy’s comforting Draco,” she said with a faux pout. “How does it feel that you both suffered the same fate, and she only took Draco with her?”
You didn’t answer her, but instead went to walk back to your bedroom.
She grabbed your newly branded arm, right over the Mark, which burned at her touch. You cried out in pain, trying to yank your arm away and failing.
“See how much you don’t belong?” she hissed, gripping your arm even tighter. “If Cissy truly cared about you and your fate, she’d have taken you along.
“You’ve been ordered to kill Dumbledore. Have you ever used the Killing Curse? If you let me teach you what I know, I can make you a great Death Eater. You don’t need my sister and my nephew; you can learn everything you need to know from me.”
“I don’t want anything from you!” you screamed, tears spilling down your cheeks now. “Let me go, Bellatrix!”
“Oh, such a baby!” she hissed, finally releasing you. “When Draco kills Dumbledore, you want to know where that leaves you?”
You wanted her to shut up, you didn’t want to hear what was about to follow her sentence.
“The Dark Lord will kill whoever doesn’t finish the job,” she whispered, hooded eyes dark with malice. “I suggest you let Draco do it. That will put an end to your suffering. What have you got to lose, after all? Nobody wants you around.”
That was the final straw, but since you had left your wand in your room, you had nothing to fight her with. You bit your tongue and spun around, making your way again back toward your room.
“I saw the letter!” Bellatrix hissed, and you turned to see a wide-eyed, maniacal look on her face.
What?
“The one your parents wrote,” she continued. “Where they disowned you. You must feel alone in this world, don’t you? How is it that you were born from your pureblood mother, and she still sees you as the dirt beneath her feet?”
“Shut up,” you whispered, as if that would make her stop.
“Or what?” she asked, voice equally quiet. “You know I’m just stating the facts. Poor little girl, disowned by her parents for living with people they don’t like, who also don’t want her around either. You’re truly all alone, aren’t you?”
Her figure was blurry through your thick tears, and you couldn’t even think of a reply.
She was right; Narcissa walking off with Draco and Draco only went to show how unimportant you were in their lives. You unwillingly had the Dark Mark branded onto your skin, which was still burning and throbbing, nothing how you imagined it would go, and Narcissa left you behind to tend to Draco.
While you understood Draco was her top priority being her son, you still would have appreciated her to at least let you know she’ll see you later.
But here you were, Bellatrix’s horrible words sinking in as you finally came to terms with the fact that you were nothing.
“Finally got it through to you?” she whispered, tilting her head.
You took a step back, your tears turning into those of rage, as you spun around and stormed off to your bedroom. You slammed the door, which knocked your broom off of the wall, falling with a clatter, and ran to your somewhat newly-added desk, sitting in the chair to cool off.
You looked up and stared at yourself in the vanity, which was a new addition to the room, and saw deep circles under your eyes, which were red and puffy from your tears. Your arm was throbbing where the Dark Mark now sat, and with a horrible sinking feeling, you realised that you were connected to all of the other Death Eaters now, all against your will.
And for the first time in weeks, you finally figured out where your letter from your parents had disappeared to.
All of this time, Bellatrix had it. How stupid of you to walk around carrying that wretched letter on you. You should have known that she’d find it; you had the small hope you lost it in Draco’s room, but now that small spark of hope was diminished.
There was nothing you could do now. You now carried the Dark Mark, and you had a job you had to do from Voldemort, and there was no backing out or failing. It was a kill or be killed situation, and if it came down to you or Draco…
Well.
If it came down to you or Draco, it would be Draco. You would sacrifice everything to let him live. He has a future. He has people who want him, people who love and appreciate him. He’s got a girlfriend, and loving parents who care for him. He’s a prefect, sure to be Head Boy, and he has duties to fulfil.
You don’t have any of that. If you could make the one selfless decision in your life, it would be to save Draco over yourself.
***
It was late. You weren’t entirely sure what time it was, but you knew it was late.
The moon shone in through your window, adding a little bit of silvery light to your dark bedroom. The roses on your nightstand softly illuminated the wall behind them, the only source of comfort you felt that you had.
Your broom was now propped back up on your wall, the enchanted starry ceiling twinkling above you. There were slash marks through your Metallica poster, which you never bothered to mend or remove from the wall after your raging fit earlier. It was a reminder that you’ve finally broken away from your family.
You would go tomorrow to remove your items from the house, whether it be alone or not. What you would do with all of your belongings, you were unsure of, but you refused to let your parents make the decision for you. You refused to ever let them control another aspect of your life ever again.
January, when you’d turn seventeen, never felt so far away. Once you were seventeen, you could legally Apparate on your own, and you could find an apartment or some place to stay, away from your parents, away from the Malfoys, away from everything. You would finish out the year at Hogwarts, allow Draco to kill Dumbledore, and accept that your life may be over afterward.
You glanced at the Dark Mark on your arm, which was partially hanging off the bed. There were long, angry red gashes through it, which had happened from your own hand. In your blind anger earlier, you had taken your wand and tried to get rid of it, but no spells worked in its removal. All you got out of it was more pain, and marks to bear your defeat.
You heard the door click open, and in a swift movement, you grabbed your wand from the bedside table, leapt up, and pointed it at the intruder, prepared to fight whoever it was.
In the soft light from the hall, you could see Narcissa’s dimly illuminated figure standing in the doorway. She paused in her movement, as if she were afraid you’d attack her.
You weren’t sure if you were going to or not, to be fair.
You kept your wand pointed at her as she fully welcomed herself in, closing the door behind her, still keeping her eyes on you, as if you were a wild animal preparing to attack.
You felt like you were.
Why was she coming into your room in the middle of the night? Your suspicions began to grow.
“Please put your wand down,” she asked softly, but you didn’t obey, keeping it pointed at her.
“What do you want?” you asked, voice hoarse from screaming earlier and not using it since. “Why are you coming here so late at night?”
“I just wanted to check on you,” she replied, although you noticed she didn’t draw her own wand, which she didn’t even seem to be carrying on her person. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be awake or not.”
“Why do you want to check on me?” you replied, choking on your words, feeling as if you were about to cry again. “You didn’t bother earlier.”
“I was planning to come after speaking with Draco, but I got caught up with my sister. Don’t think I couldn’t hear you two fighting.”
Your throat tightened at her words, tears dangerously close to forming in your eyes, but you used all of your willpower to remain calm and collected.
“What did she say to you?” she asked after you were silent, voice soft, barely a whisper.
You considered not telling her. After all, if she cared, she would have seen to you earlier, right? She would have made an effort in comforting you as well, but she saw speaking with Bellatrix as a priority over making sure you were alright.
“She told me how irrelevant I am,” you whispered, replying without consciously deciding it, as if your words came from a different person. “That I’m alone, unwanted. How I’ll be the one to die after Draco kills Dumbledore, because the Dark Lord only intends on one of us living. She taunted me with the letter from my parents; I’m sure you’ve read it?”
“I have,” Narcissa replied in the same quiet voice. “I’ve meant to speak with you about it, but I was never sure of a good time. Would you mind lowering your wand so I can speak with you for a moment?”
Still feeling disconnected from your body, your brain making its own decisions, you lowered your wand. You stood there, staring at Narcissa, and you could feel yourself shaking with the effort to keep your tears silent and with fear of what was about to come.
She moved forward, pausing in front of you for a moment, before she gently reached out and removed your wand from your hand, which you let go without resistance. She set it back on the table behind you, before turning back to you and pulling you into a tight hug.
You stood still in her arms for a moment, still feeling a strong disconnection from your surroundings, until she tightened her grip ever so slightly. As if that one little gesture broke something inside of you, everything seemed to come into focus again and you began sobbing into her shoulder, wrapping your arms around her waist and clutching at the back of her nightdress, her being the only thing grounding you.
“You are not worthless, you are not unwanted, nor are you any sort of disgrace,” she whispered fiercely, and you swore you could hear tears in her voice. “You are a traumatised young girl, who should not have to go through what you are right now. I am so, so sorry for not seeing sooner just how truly terribly your parents have treated you.”
“I know they love me, so why do they treat me like this?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady and failing. “Why do I have to be different? Why do I have to kill Dumbledore, why do I have to become a Death Eater, and why am I always so angry?”
You broke off on the last word into another sob, holding her tighter as if that would make everything better.
“I don’t know, my sweet girl,” she replied, stroking your hair. “You have every right to be angry. I would be too. You don’t deserve any of this, neither you nor Draco, and if I could do anything to help, I would.”
“So, y-you do want me around?” you hiccuped, sensing you were in a safe space to say anything that you needed to.
“Of course I want you around. Why else do you think I’ve kept you here for so long?”
“B-but you wouldn’t let me move in.”
“That was when I thought your parents may want you back, but it’s been made clear that won’t be happening,” Narcissa replied, adjusting her grip to hold you closer. “We can go whenever you’d like to collect your belongings, and you are more than welcome to stay here for as long as you’d like. I will make sure that Lucius and Bella are aware that you aren’t going anywhere. They’d have to kill me before I allow you to leave before you’re ready.”
Your sobs have subsided to slight hiccups now, and your entire body was aching from how hard you cried and how tightly you clung onto Narcissa.
You felt like a child, quickly trying to untangle yourself from her embrace, the panic beginning to set in.
She knows. She knows everything. All of your worries, your deepest thoughts, your parents, everything.
You looked at her face, which was makeup-less and streaked with her own tears, and then at her shoulder, where her nightdress was covered in your own tears (and probably snot).
No, no, you didn’t want this. You were acting childish, you shouldn’t be clinging onto her like you were. You’re supposed to be tougher than this, stronger than this. You’re sixteen years-old, for crying out loud! You shouldn’t be clinging onto your best friend’s mum like this, like a child.
“I’m sorry!” you whispered, chest constricting with anxiety. “No, I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t ― I…you…”
“Shh, no, no, shh,” Narcissa hushed, immediately sitting next to you as you collapsed onto the bed. “It’s okay, breathe, it’s alright, darling.”
“No, I ―” you continued, unsure of what you were even trying to say.
Your thoughts were jumbled, not a single coherent one breaking through. All you wanted was to hide, for this all to be over, for none of it to have ever happened.
Your arm was throbbing, and you looked at the Mark, feeling your chest tighten with more panic.
No, nothing was alright, nothing was fine. Everything was going wrong, and you’re going to die, and Narcissa knows all of your thoughts, and nothing that happened today could be taken back.
You’ve had your fair share of panic attacks before, but none of them ever amounted to the one you were feeling right now. You felt trapped, and your head was swimming, and your chest was tight, and your arm hurt, and nothing felt real, but everything felt too real, and you just wanted your brain to shut up but it wouldn’t and you just wanted it all to stop!
Narcissa’s warm hand slipped into your own, and feeling her there seemed to bring everything to a halt, as if you forgot she was still sitting next to you.
You were shaking violently, and it was only when she cradled you to her chest that you finally felt that you were able to breathe again.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered, all of your emotions draining you of any tears you had left to cry.
You felt childish, and ashamed, and you couldn’t understand why she was still sitting here.
“I’m sorry.”
“You have absolutely nothing to apologise for,” Narcissa whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “How many times have your emotions hurt you like this, darling, and you were left all alone?”
“Too many,” you mumbled, the last of your energy ebbing away. “I…I don’t understand why you’re still here. I-I’m sixteen, a-and I should be handling this alone. I always handle it alone.”
“I don’t care how old you are. All I see is a girl who’s never had a mother to care for her, and I will do everything in my ability to change that. Whether you’re sixteen or sixty, I want you to know that you can always, always come to me if you need a mum.”
Her words felt like they healed something deep inside of you, and you finally collapsed against her, releasing all of the tension you were holding in your shoulders.
You never knew just how much you needed to hear those words; that one sentence meant the world to you.
If I need a mum, you repeated in your head, smiling. All of your anxieties about her not wanting you vanished.
“Get some rest, my love,” she whispered, kissing your head again before pulling away. “If you need anything, my room is across the manor.”
She stood up, and before you could stop yourself, you cried, “Wait!” and grabbed her hand.
She turned around, a questioning look in her eyes, and you whispered, afraid she’d tell you no, “Please don’t leave. I-I don’t want to be alone right now.”
You never thought you’d admit that to anyone, not even yourself, but it was true.
You didn’t want to be alone. You were confused, and afraid, and being alone right now made you feel vulnerable. You were scared that you would die at any moment now, and you felt that having Narcissa here made you safe, like nothing could hurt you.
It was something you never got as a child: no comfort from night terrors, teased for being afraid of imaginary monsters in the dark, left to deal with the paralysing fear of danger all on your own.
Now you weren’t afraid of those things; you were afraid of your life ending before it even began.
Narcissa remained silent, and you let go of her hand, accepting that once again, you’d be left to deal with your fear all on your own.
“I’ll stay until you fall asleep,” she murmured.
Taken slightly by surprise that she agreed, you got under your blankets and moved to give her room. She leaned over you and tucked you in, brushing your hair out of your face to give you another kiss on the forehead, and then laid down next to you on top of the blankets.
You moved a bit closer to her, letting her run her fingers through your hair, and for the first time in your life, you drifted off to sleep feeling safer and more loved than you ever had before.