The Beginnings of a Death Eater—Chapter Eighteen (Finale)

The first day back at school after Christmas holiday, Sirius spied his cousin traipsing alone down the corridor to the Great Hall. Alone? Unable to resist the temptation, he skipped up behind to meet her, smiling like a jackal.

"Hey, Cissy! Did you finally dump the blond prat?"

Narcissa halted suddenly, not expecting his voice, then whirled angrily on him, tears hanging in her eyes. "You are the most wretched creature I've ever seen! How could you pick on him at a time like this?"

Sirius automatically stepped back, sensing something ominous in her tone. The fact that she seemed more upset than was warranted gave him another clue. "What time might that be?"
"Like you don't know. Like your mother didn't tell you."

"As you're well aware, my mother doesn't talk to me." Wearing an evident look of concern mingled with morbid curiosity, he ventured closer. By now it was common knowledge that Mr. Malfoy had a terrible temper. Was it possible he'd really hurt Lucius this time? "Cissy, did something happen?"

Narcissa nodded as she drew in a shaking breath. In a strained voice she said, "Lucius' sister and niece were murdered, suffocated by his brother-in-law." She broke down in tears.

Sirius gaped in horror, unbelieving. "Oh, my God! Did they catch him?"

Her nod turned to a fervent shaking of her head, her voice upping a notch. "He killed himself with some Muggle weapon." Her body quaked with sobs she didn't try to hide.

Feeling completely helpless, not knowing what to do, Sirius awkwardly put an arm around her shoulders while she wailed. "Cissy, I'm sorry," he murmured. "Me and Lucius don't get along, but I'd never wish this on him."

Standing at a distance, the rest of the Marauders looked on in confusion. Sirius grimly shook his head in warning, and they wandered off to the Great Hall.

"Why would anybody do such a horrible thing?" he asked.

"I don't know… nobody does," she sniffed. Trying to be brave in front of her usually less than sympathetic cousin, she made an effort to staunch the flow of tears. "We have to go."

"No, we don't. Maybe you should go to your room. Nobody will say anything if you're not in the Hall." He led her over to a nearby half-wall where he gently guided her down and sat beside her.

"Why are you being nice to me, Sirius? I know you hate me."

"I don't hate you. And I'm not always a jackass," he said, hoping to make her smile.

"That's 'cause you're a dog," she replied, grinning through trembling lips.

"Yeah, I'm a dog," he agreed quietly. He paused to gaze at Narcissa as if seeing her for the first time. "We're cousins, Narcissa. It does mean something. Doesn't it?"

She hesitated before blurting out the first thing to come to mind. Her parents had nothing good to say about Sirius; even his parents had nothing good to say about him. As far as they were concerned, Sirius was a huge mistake, a waste of the Black name. But she'd played with him sometimes when she was younger, he hadn't seemed so bad to her, not all the time. She patted his shaggy head, nodding. "Bella says you're worthless. For a long time I was inclined to agree, but we are blood. It means something to me."

"Not to the rest of the family, though."

"I'm not the rest of the family."

Sirius gave a halfhearted smile. "Does this mean I have to stop picking on you?"

"I don't care if you tease me, just leave Lucius alone. This is really hard for him. Will you?"

The boy shrugged. "I guess it wouldn't kill me." Realizing what he'd said in light of the situation, he grimaced. "Sorry."

"But I still don't like you," she declared, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

"I don't like you, either," he replied. "We're just trying to get along for the sake of family."

"Exactly."

"Good." He took a cautious step away. "So, I'll see you, then."

"Yeah. Bye." She got up and turned to flounce off to Slytherin House, halting after only a few steps to glance back. She watched him turn the corner, then continued on to her room.

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"Lucius."

The boy rolled over to see his father. At noon, he was still in bed, though sleep had long eluded him. "Yes, sir?"

"You need to get ready." For the funeral, which he couldn't bring himself to utter. "Narcissa sent an owl, she'll be here soon."

"He's not going to be there, is he?"

"Mick?" Abraxas spat, as if the taste of the name were poison in his mouth. "No. His filthy halfbreed body was shipped to his filthy Muggle relatives."

Lucius sat up, eyes wandering vacantly over the bedcovers. "Why did he do it? If he was depressed or whatever, why couldn't he just exterminate himself like the vermin he was? Why did he have to take them!" he finished with a furious punch into the mattress.

"I don't know, son."

"A real wizard—a pureblood—would never do anything so despicable," Lucius growled, pounding the bed again. "Damnable, asshole son of a bitch!" He averted his face to hide the tears starting anew. "It's the scum of Muggle blood that taints everything! I hate him, I hate them! I hate them all."

Abraxas walked over to rest an empathetic hand on his shoulder. "So do I."

For a few minutes they remained silent, mourning together in their personal hells, then Abraxas reminded him gently, "We have to leave, Lucius. Get up and get ready."

Mechanically he obeyed, going through the motions, hardly noticing what he was doing as he brooded, nursing his outrage and loathing. Even at the church, his mind refused to stay focused. While one might say he'd darkened the door of the church fairly infrequently in his young life, he'd been there often enough to know the routine, to play along mindlessly so none would guess what truly went on in his head as he sat there despising and silently cursing everyone and everything Muggle. They were the reason for these senseless deaths, their corrupt, contaminated blood that drove people to madness! What kind of a lunatic would murder a baby?

He stared blankly at the single coffin set between the pews. All that was left of his sister lay there, her lifeless arms embracing her only child, the only child Lucius had ever loved, both of their lives snuffed out by a pillow held over their faces for no reason he could fathom. He'd never told Aphrodite how he felt about her, he couldn't. She'd been his vexing, bossy big sister, these things weren't spoken. He hoped she knew. A lump rose in his throat and he mercilessly shoved it down. Malfoys did not show their emotions in public, they held their heads up in dignity.

Why? The word passed through his brain for the thousandth time, getting no closer to finding an answer. Mick was depressed, big ass deal! A true wizard, a pureblood wizard, had the strength to master himself. If he chose to harm himself, he didn't feel it necessary to murder his family! Was he angry at Aphrodite for giving him an ultimatum? Was he afraid of losing her? And even if he was, what decent human being would murder an innocent baby?

Lucius barely felt Narcissa's hand squeezing his. He barely felt anything at all. The whole scene was so unreal, like a floating through a dream—a nightmare—and waiting to wake up, but knowing you won't. His eyes drifted to his father beside him, to the strong, proud face held high. Nothing, it seemed, touched Abraxas Malfoy; not the death of his wife, nor that of his eldest son, and now his only daughter and granddaughter. The sole change Lucius could detect was a profound weariness, a numbness like his own. In his father he beheld the epitome of self-control, the master of masks. Only his son among everyone here had ever witnessed the slipping of that control, the shattering of his soul. No one but his son comprehended the importance of the mask, of compartmentalizing life into manageable pieces where everything had a place and every emotion stayed where it belonged by the will of the master.

Abraxas turned his head slightly to see Lucius watching him. What he meant to be a tiny smile came out as more of an agonized grimace. Lucius returned the exact expression. Lucius understood. He alone understood. His son, his only remaining child, the one most like himself… Abraxas clenched his teeth as he inhaled deeply to stop those blasted emotions from taking over. What had he done in his life that was so dreadful that he had to suffer this way, by losing everyone he loved? What had Lucius done to suffer so? And what had Aphrodite and Niki done? It wasn't right. It wasn't fair and it wasn't right.

"It's almost over," he whispered.

Lucius nodded, then went back to staring at the floor. Abraxas could only guess, albeit with relative accuracy, the thoughts and sentiments swirling through his son's mind. They were more alike than he cared to admit, certainly more than Lucius realized. The boy was already developing his public face, as was only proper, yet surely he held a seething turmoil inside himself similar to that which Abraxas had kept hidden for so many years. What good could come of sharing it anyway? A father's duty was to raise his son to be an upstanding, respected member of the community, not to blubber about his heartaches and disappointments. Lucius grasped that, he imitated his father's example, as it should be.

Abraxas peered past Lucius over to Narcissa's white, rigid form. A beautiful girl, to be sure. A perfect addition to the family. She, too, had been raised to respect the importance of pureblood family, of a public façade, of keeping private things private. She would make Lucius a good wife, hopefully give him many beautiful children. Lucius was a good boy—a good man, he deserved the joy only children have the ability to bring. Until they're snatched away…

He closed his eyes, forcing down the rising tide threatening to overwhelm him.

"Father?" Lucius whispered, nudging him in the side with his elbow.

Abraxas opened his eyes. "Is it time?"

"Yes."

Together they got up and walked the few paces to the casket. Lucius held out a hand to Narcissa, who glanced around uneasily as if wondering what the rest in the church might think.

"It's only for family," she said softly.

Abraxas, too, extended a hand. "You're to be my daughter, Narcissa. Come."

She joined them at the coffin; all three laid a hand on the casket, and Abraxas waved his other hand, instantly Disapparating them. They reappeared in the Malfoy family cemetery beside an open grave. No one spoke as the man levitated the box carefully down into the hole until it settled with a sigh on the earth, which then proceeded to bury the casket of its own accord. When it was finished, the three knelt in a row while Abraxas recited an ancient prayer for the dead. After he was through, no one moved.

"Lucius, take Narcissa to the house," he ordered. "I'll be along soon."

He knelt alone, his eyes roaming down the line of headstones that symbolized the lives of what used to be his beloved family: his wife Thalia, son Cassius, mother Nicolette, and now his daughter Aphrodite and granddaughter Niki. And he wept.

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Kneeling at the feet of Voldemort, Lucius bent down to kiss his robe, then settled back and raised his eyes. "Thank you for seeing me, my lord."

Voldemort merely scrutinized him, his cold eyes piercing deeply into the young man's, probing, reading, feeding on the pain and heartbreak he found. The boy made no attempt at Occlumency, which pleased the dark lord. His subjects ought to leave their minds open to him. At last he inclined his head. "Why do you come to me?" As if he needed to ask.

Clenching his teeth in sheer hatred, Lucius replied, "My family was murdered, master. By a—a halfbreed. I wish to serve you, I want—"

"You wish to harm Muggles in retribution for their deaths," Voldemort said plainly, smiling ever so slightly.

"Yes, my lord." He knew Voldemort had read his mind, yet felt vaguely disconcerted at how effortlessly the man reduced his anguish to a simple sentence. He ducked his head as if to hide his eyes from further intrusion. "I truly understand now why Muggles must be purged from the wizarding world. Tell me who opposes you, who hinders you. I will make them pay."

Voldemort appeared to have been expecting this request, for his response came without a moment's hesitation. "Very well. Bellatrix," he said to the woman crouched by his side, basking in his presence. "Go with young Malfoy. Teach him how we deal with those who stand in my way. Take him to the mudblood's parents."

"My pleasure, master," she fawned. When she turned to look at Lucius, her expression changed from rapture to slight irritation, though she got up and went to him. "Come on, Lucius." Under her breath she muttered, "And you'd better not make me look bad."

They Apparated outside a small house nestled among rows of nearly identical houses. Lucius furtively glanced up and down the street.

"Shouldn't we have gone directly into the house?" he asked. It wasn't as if Muggles could put spells on their homes to prevent Apparation, after all. "Someone might see us."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes and uttered a loud sigh. "Who cares? We can kill them, too." She led the way, using her wand to blast the door off its hinges, and stepped inside to face an elderly couple who looked positively terrified. She threw a silencing charm around the home. With a derisive flourish she introduced the cowering pair. "Lucius, meet Mr. and Mrs. Leonine, the proud parents of one of those mudbloods who've been stirring up the Ministry against us."

At the word mudblood, Lucius' eyes narrowed with pure loathing. He'd been informed, of course, about attempts by mudbloods to rile the Ministry of Magic to take action against Lord Voldemort and his followers. What right had they to demand anything? They didn't even belong in the wizarding world!

He took his place beside Bella, wearing a disdainful sneer. "You must be so proud," he said. "Crucio!"

The man slammed the wall and lay writhing and screaming as Lucius watched impassively. They deserved it, they had no business invading his world, spreading their filth and corruption, creating mudbloods and halfbreeds! He didn't realize the woman was also screaming until he heard Bella's gleeful shrieks and looked over to see the Muggle dancing hideously to Bella's Cruciatus. He lifted his wand; it wouldn't do to have the putrid Muggle die so quickly, would it?

Over the course of half an hour, Lucius and Bella took turns tormenting the couple, hexing them with non-lethal spells of all sorts to ensure a variety of sufferings. At last, when the game wore thin, Bellatrix casually pointed her wand once more.

"Avada kedavra!"

A green jet shot out and struck the woman in the chest. The Muggle dropped over for the last time.

"Your turn," Bella said excitedly.

Lucius aimed his wand. "Avada kedavra!"

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"Mr. Charity, where shall I put this?" A young intern stood at his superior's desk holding a prophecy ball. "It has no name attached."

"Where did it come from?"

The intern shrugged stupidly. "I found it shoved back in one of the desk drawers when I was cleaning it. I guess the last intern forgot to file it."

Charity took the ball and looked it over. Inscribed on the bottom was the name of Cassandra Trelawney, a well-respected seer. It was dated over a year ago, when that previous useless lump of intern still worked here. "File it in the miscellaneous section."

The young man scooped the ball out of his hand and headed for the indicated area. When he was sure no one was around, he tossed the ball high into the air and caught it. He'd always wanted to do that, but with a labeled prophecy it could spell disaster for himself if someone came looking for it and he'd accidentally dropped it.

Once a prophecy, including this one, was placed on a shelf, he wouldn't be able to pick it up again, only the owner could. He decided to chance one more throw before settling it in its place. Up, up it went. Down it came, right into his palm. Guilty conscience notwithstanding, he thought he heard someone coming and hurriedly set the ball on the ledge alongside several dusty globes of various sizes. Upon turning to go, he heard the sickening grinding sound of glass rolling across wood; the prophecy dropped off the shelf and shattered on the floor.

A ghostly form rose up as in a mist, speaking her shrill tone so loudly he was afraid everyone in the Ministry must hear.

The evil wizard starts to rise, his minions by his side;

deceives them all through shameless lies, by fear they shall abide.

Devotion of the fairest one is tenuous at best.

Should loyalty yet come undone, he shall not fail the test.

The Fates shall play a wicked part and give him cause to mourn,

cementing hatred in his heart. Death Eater has been born.

All is not lost, for time will show the heart that lies within.

Regret shall split him from the foe and purge him of his sin.

The figure dissolved into the mist and disappeared.

The intern whirled around, frantic that someone must have witnessed his clumsiness and unprofessional conduct. There seemed to be no one about. With a relieved sigh, he said simply, "Oops." He bent down to pick up the broken shards on the floor.

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"You missed!" screeched Bella in disbelief. "How the hell do you miss?"

Lucius shrugged, his wand still directed toward the Muggle man, who lay waiting for death. Sensing his hesitation, Bella shoved him out of the way and cast the curse herself. The man collapsed dead beside his wife. Bella turned on him with contempt written all over her.

"What is your problem, sissy-boy? You claim to hate Muggles and to want them dead, and—"

"I do! I despise everything about them and everything they stand for!"

"And yet you can't finish the job," she scoffed, shoving him again. "How pathetic!"

Tempted as he was to push her back, Lucius had been raised a gentleman. He wasn't a sissy, he wasn't pathetic! His jaw tightened. Yes, he was. He had the perfect opportunity to vent his hostility and he'd screwed it up. He wanted them dead in principle, yet when it came down to action he'd deliberately avoided killing the man. Yes, he'd tortured them—and he'd enjoyed it, enjoyed their pain. No, that wasn't even true. He'd felt immense satisfaction, much like what he'd experienced when he delivered the Cruciatus on Roxie. Torment inflicted in revenge for a wrong gave him satisfaction. Beyond that, it still felt depraved.

Bellatrix stood next to him glaring for all she was worth, annoyed that the moron didn't even notice. "What kind of a Death Eater can't kill?" she remarked, presumably to herself since Lucius was busy staring at the bodies—or through the bodies, she couldn't really tell. This hardly seemed the time for contemplation.

"I would've slaughtered Mick," he said hoarsely. "Torn him apart with my own hands in the worst way I could think of, not a quick death like this." His head swiveled over to Bella, where he said sarcastically, "Sorry I can't murder on command. Are you planning to tell the master I failed?"

Bella tossed her head, regarding him long and hard. Lord Voldemort had expressed to her his disappointment in Lucius' shortcomings, but he hadn't seemed overly concerned about it. The route Lucius was to take wouldn't involve the 'dirty work' that she reveled in. And Lucius had tortured the couple every bit as well as she had. He wasn't completely hopeless.

In her haughty tone she made her pronouncement. "Only because I'm to be your sister-in-law, I won't tell the Death Eaters how pitiful you are. They might make some type of association. However, I hold back nothing from the master. If he chooses to give you a lesson in obedience, so be it. You're lucky his plans for you don't involve this!" She gestured around the room singed with hex marks.

"What plans?"

"When he's ready, he'll tell you," she smirked. "I'm his most loyal follower, he likes me better than you, so he confides in me."

Not loud enough for her to make out, he replied, "I'll bet if I was shagging him he'd like me, too."

Bellatrix stepped outside the door, aimed her wand into the sky and shouted, "Morsmordre!" then Disapparated, leaving him standing alone in the midst of the destruction. She'd be going back to Voldemort, no doubt, to tattle about his silly inhibitions. Why did he hold back? It was a Muggle, a stain on humanity! It certainly wasn't because he cared that they were dead, for he didn't, not even a little. If every Muggle, mudblood, and halfbreed in the world dropped dead, he wouldn't care. He'd be glad, in fact, to be rid of them. Except for maybe Severus… he was different, he was a friend. True friends weren't easy to come by.

In the back of his mind he knew quite well why he had hesitated: vengeance would be to dispose of Mick; doing away with random Muggles was murder, and even if they invaded his world, it didn't merit death. Not at his hands, anyway. When it came right down to it, he'd like them gone, but it wasn't his place to kill them.

Was he truly a failure as a Death Eater? Could he kill? Yes, he nodded to himself, he could—for his family, his loved ones, himself. His mouth twisted into a caricature of a smile. Lord Voldemort counted as none of those. Speaking of whom, he'd best make his appearance and take his lumps, get it over with. With a wave he Disapparated.

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THREE MONTHS LATER

"Lucius, do you love me?"

The young man lying beside her at the lake's edge cracked open one eye. "That's a stupid question, Narcissa. I tell you all the time that I love you."

Affronted, Narcissa scooted farther away from him.

"What?" he asked.

"I'm not stupid."

Lucius sighed and sat up. "I didn't say you were."

"Not explicitly. It's what you meant," she pouted.

He bit his lip to keep from saying several things not proper for a lady's ears. In his lazy drawl, speaking as if to a child, he said, "I'd appreciate it if you don't tell me what I mean. I'm well aware of what I mean. I'm marrying you in a couple of months. That should tell you something."

"Yes," she said coldly. "You made a commitment and you'll see it through because that's what a Malfoy does." She stood up, swirled her cloak around her shoulders, and started to climb up the bank.

He got up with an exasperated grunt to follow her, easily catching up and snatching hold of her hand before she'd gotten far. "Why are you being like this?"

"Like what?" Narcissa returned with the same deadpan expression found of late on Lucius' face. She yanked her hand away.

Roughly he grabbed it again, squeezing so hard she winced. His eyes bored holes through her. "Narcissa, I'm not in the mood for games."

She tugged at her hand, trying to free herself. "You're not in the mood for anything anymore! You barely notice me, you're unenthusiastic when you play Quidditch, you sit through classes like a zombie. The only things you take seriously are dueling with Bella and disappearing to go meet that Voldemort, and I'm afraid to even ask what goes on there. I know how hurt you are by Niki's and Aphrodite's deaths, but you pretend everything is fine."

Lucius' expression, or lack of one, didn't waver. "It's pointless to rehash it, don't you think? Nothing will change."

"You're wrong." A final tremendous pull gained her back her hand, which she rubbed to still the pain. "You've changed, and not for the better. I barely know you."

"I'm the same person I was before."

"Are you? When I'm in your arms, I don't feel the warmth I used to, the affection I took for granted. I may as well be in Goyle or Crabbe's arms for all the love I feel. And the worst part is, I'm not sure it would even bother you if I was!"

"Don't talk like that."

"Why not? It's the truth! Do you think I couldn't get another beau like that?" She snapped her fingers in his face. "One who would appreciate me and treat me like a princess, who'd be my friend, not just my fiancé. Believe me, there are plenty of boys here at Hogwarts who'd love to see me free."

Lucius' stomach lurched and his heart skipped a beat, then began to pound so ferociously he could scarcely speak. The idea of another man touching her appalled him; the idea that she might prefer to be with another man was more than he could endure. His icy façade melted; the mask he'd honed so carefully crumbled in a heap to reveal the wounded man inside.

"Are you saying you don't love me?" he squeaked.

"No." She shook her head in confusion. "I don't know what I'm saying."

In a single lunge he closed the gap between them and held out his arms tentatively, fearing rejection yet desperate to possess her, body, mind, and soul. "Please," he said softly.

Narcissa wavered, trying to decide what she ought to do. It would be so easy to end it now, before she got hurt more than she already was. Lucius would get by, nothing bothered him anymore. He'd find another pureblood wench, probably waiting in the corridor when they returned to the castle, one of those bimbos who stared shamelessly at him as if his wife-to-be wasn't actually beside him. The very thought made her blood boil. This was her man, her future, and she'd be damned if she'd turn him over so readily! With a determined smile, she gazed into his waiting face. Lucius Malfoy, confident and condescending, seemed so unsure, so… frail. She'd never seen him like this.

Narcissa stepped forward into his embrace. He wrapped himself around her and laid his cheek against her head as he swayed gently, just holding her, inhaling her, willing his love to seep into her skin. For the first time in what seemed like eternity, he allowed himself to feel. The crack on his self-imposed dam widened, sending forth the contents of his heart, and unbidden tears he could no longer keep bottled up spilled down his cheeks into her hair.

"I do love you," he whispered huskily. "I need you, Narcissa. You're the only one who gives me strength, and I'm so weak." His body shuddered under the emotion he struggled to control.

Narcissa clung to him with a fierceness she'd never before experienced. His need for her was more than empty words, it was tangible, it burned beneath her very fingers as they clutched his back and stroked his hair. With his shield lowered, his love washed over her as it once had, like the waves lapping in the lake.

"Don't leave me, Narcissa," he continued so quietly she could hardly hear him. "I can't do it… I can't do this without you."

"Do what?" she breathed.

"Live."

She raised her face to his, rendered speechless by the forlorn gray eyes pleading with her, by the tearstained cheeks of a proud Malfoy man. She gripped him so tightly she heard a light exhaled gasp, and pressed her lips to his. He responded hungrily, devouring her in a passionate fit that would have gone on at length had Narcissa not interrupted it.

"Promise me something, Lucius," she murmured, pulling away reluctantly to speak.

"Anything."

"I won't ask what Lord Voldemort makes you do, or why you need to hide your soul from everyone else. But I'm not just anybody, Lucius, I'm the one who loves you. When you hide from me I can't find you, and it breaks my heart. I can't bear it."

"I promise, my love, I'll never hide from you again," he whispered.

The words brought him a relief he dared not imagine or think possible. Unlike his father, who carefully guarded his sentiments from everyone, including his son, Lucius would have a companion to shelter him during the impending storm. Lord Voldemort's war was building, it was unavoidable. The wizarding world belonged to purebloods, of that he was certain, and even if he weren't, his side had been chosen. With Voldemort to lead the way, perhaps soon it would be done, peace could reign. Until then, no matter what face he must present to the world, no matter how deeply he delved into the evil the Death Eater life offered, he had a beacon of hope to cling to. A beautiful beacon named Narcissa.

He pressed his body against hers, nuzzling her neck, kissing her repeatedly in a frenzy of joy. He'd almost let himself forget there was bliss to be had in life, and all he had to do was love her.

The End

Thank you for reading and hopefully reviewing. Please continue the series with I, Too, Shall Follow. Severus and Lucius both play prominently in it.