The Disappearances of Draco Malfoy

Chapter 27: A Family Affair

"Mother, Father, I've made a decision," said Draco.

The Malfoys' hands stilled on their wine glasses.

"I think you're right. From what I've seen, the Order don't really have a chance anymore. They can't get their message out, they're losing all their fights. ... I think it's only a matter of time." Draco laid his fork and knife on his plate, face downturned. "I'll do it," he muttered. "I'll tell you what they're up to."

Lucius grasped Draco's shoulder so hard that it hurt. "Good," he breathed. "I knew you would see, Draco. You've made the right choice."

Narcissa stayed silent. Draco had expected her to exhale through flared nostrils in the way she sometimes did after a great relief, but there was nothing in her expression except a slant to her thin mouth.

His father rushed on. "We have news, too. Something that can make everything just as it once was."

Draco pretended at wary curiosity. "What is it?"

"We have been communicating with your Aunt Bellatrix. She is eager to help us regain our place among the Death Eaters. Family means more than ever, now."

Draco widened his eyes. "You ... but how?"

His father fetched the mirror. Then, over the course of hours, his parents explained everything. They told him even the details he hadn't expected them to divulge, like the attacks they'd orchestrated and the reasons they'd concealed the mirror from him.

"We needed to be certain of your loyalties, you understand," said Lucius with satisfaction. "Now you've made the choice yourself. The Dark Lord will not punish you for a brief lapse, not when we place Harry Potter into his hands."

"Unless," said Narcissa, "you think the Potter boy has some ability that might allow him to overcome the obstacles in his path, Draco?"

Draco studied his mother. The words had sounded mostly neutral, but had there been a hint of doubt there?

"No," Draco said. "Potter's ordinary. He's always been ordinary. Just got lucky over and over again."

"But not anymore," said Lucius.

Draco's mouth had gone dry. He took a sip of his wine. "Not anymore," he agreed.

Near midnight, they gathered before the fireplace to contact his aunt.

"Nephew," said Bellatrix, peering at him out of the mirror. "Alive and well. ... You have finally recovered yourself, then? Your mind is your own again?"

His parents tensed on either side of him. Bellatrix's tone was honeyed, but there was nothing friendly in her face. Every word was a demand as to why he had not made direct contact sooner.

"I've been biding my time, Aunt Bella," Draco said. He rolled up his sleeve to show her the altered Dark Mark. "It hasn't been easy. That girl Potter drags around with him, she figured something out so I couldn't contact anyone. The spell's broken."

"It's true," said Lucius quickly, pushing up his own sleeve. "She has destroyed my Mark, too. ... The Mudblood is enterprising, Bella."

Anger twisted in Draco's stomach. He imagined piling something cold and dark atop the burning feeling until it extinguished.

The suspicion in Bellatrix's face eased. "No matter. We will dispose of that scum before we bring Potter to the Dark Lord. The blood traitor Weasley boy, too. When he dies, Potter will know that none of his allies still live."

Draco forced himself to lift the corners of his mouth.

"You have positioned yourself close to Potter, then, Draco?" breathed Bellatrix, leaning closer to the mirror. "Tell me ... what have they been doing to prepare the little baby boy to fight the greatest wizard who ever lived?"