Chapter Text
Winter was arriving at Malfoy Manor, it was coming down in fluffy white sheets of snow.
Everything from the manor's Gothic spirals to the twisted black gate out front was coated in a thick layer of sparkling white snow. Every pristine surface was perfect, unbroken, as all things should be with the Malfoys.
However, the child whose face was currently plastered against the bay window disagreed. Young Draco Malfoy wanted nothing more than to pull the old flying broom out of the closet and tumble around, be the first one to break the snow's surface, to claim it as his own.
Narcissia might have let him on any other day, but today was special. Lucius Malfoy would have an aneurysm if the Death Eaters arrived and his son was outside frolicking in pajamas.
Today was Lucius's chance to really concrete his place among the rearising Death Eaters, preparing for the return of their Lord. He and Narcissa were going to attend the meeting in upper London and the manor was being used as a rendezvous point. Of course, they couldn't possibly leave Draco alone while they went away, the last time the boy was left unsupervised for a length of time Lucius returned to find him making nice with the house-elves. Unacceptable.
So it was decided that Draco should come along and gain the invaluable experience provided by Lord Voldemort's cult–ahem–I mean, esteemed organization of followers.
What a wonderful idea, right?
Now keep in mind, at this time Draco was still but twelve, only home on Christmas break during his first year at Hogwarts: a mousey boy, quite short for his age, actually, not yet grown into the sharp cheekbones he was sure to inherit from his father. Now just throw him in the mix with a bunch of psychotic dark wizards.
Yeah, genius. What could go wrong?
At the present, Narcissa was bustling about, fixing and straightening things. She picked up a vase and moved around her husband to put it in the other room.
Lucius was sitting stoically in the middle of the room, hands folded and face set in a deep scowl. This was the closest to meditation the man got.
Draco was still crouched by the window, watching obediently for Father's "friends". He curled his pale fingers, drawing lines in the fog on the inside of the window.
"Father?" Lucius didn't move.
"Father!"
"What Draco?" Lucius snapped.
"Your friends are here." Draco replied saucily.
Lucius glared indignantly at his son but got up and strode out, towards the main hall, to answer the door. Narcissa jumped a little and straightened one last portrait before following after Lucius.
Draco looked out the window again, frowning at the dirty footprints the arriving men and women had left in his perfect snow. From the other room, he could hear his parents talking.
The doors burst open and Aunt Bellatrix swooped in like a dark bird of prey, grabbing Draco's cheeks with her painted talons. His mother had practically begged him not to bite Bellatrix this time so Draco fought with feeble kicks and punches. Bellatrix cackled with delight.
"I missed you, ya little bugger!"
"Yeah," Draco replied lamely, batting Ballatrix's hair out of his face.
The Death Eaters milled around as more dark-robed members arrived. Some of them used the front door like respectable wizards while others preferred to apparate directly into the room, like barbarians. Finally, the trickle of wizards stopped and Lucius announced that it was time to head out. Draco grabbed hold of his mother and aunt's skirts, choosing to ignore the way they squabbled over his head.
To avoid looking conspicuous, the large group split into several smaller groups and left at varying intervals. Lucius, of course, was in the first group. Draco, Bellatrix, and Narcissa, however, were in the very last group.
"Remember," Narcissa told Draco, "since the ministry floos are all public, you have to be of age to use them. So make sure you stick with one of us."
Draco just nodded.
By the time the last group left it was snowing even harder: almost a blizzard. The harsh wind whipped everyone's clothes around and Draco clenched his fists until his knuckles turned as white as the snow, trying to keep a hold on the women's skirts; they, in turn, each grabbed one of his shoulders.
They braved the weather, surging forward like soldiers huddled together as they marched towards a frostbitten battle. All of a sudden, buildings began to materialize out of the white haze, but still, they pressed on When the shaded brick of the ministry finally came into view, the press of the group doubled in one last sprint out of the cold.
A warm air rushed out of the ministry doors, swathing every body in welcome as they tumbled through. The space was huge, comparable in size to Hogwarts' great hall; only the aged brick was replaced with sleek, intimidating black stone and the mighty columns were substituted for rows of floo networks on either side. Each black fireplace was spitting green flames as tall as the average wizard. To finish off the scene, hundreds of wizards strode this way and that way, their tailored coats trailing behind them.
"There!" One of the Death Eaters cried out over the furious hum and pointed with a gloved hand. His finger was directed across the hall at the nearest floo–although, for being the nearest, it was a considerable ways away, especially with a crowd of that size moving too and fro–just as the tail of a Death Eater's black coat disappeared in its green fire.
Bellatrix let go of Draco's shoulder in order to fish a pocket watch out of her garments. "Damn, we're late!"
Narcissa then released Draco's other shoulder in favor of snatching Bellatrix's watch away to gasp at it.
Seeing as both his aunt and mother had let go, Draco decided to do so as well, untangling his fingers from the fabric of their skirts and instead burying them in his pockets. It took him a moment to register when the entire group bolted forward.
The young boy sprinted after them, unfortunately not able to achieve the same speed. "Mom!" He shouted but the sound was swallowed. He called again to no avail.
His light eyes dedicatedly tracked his mother's dress as she swerved through the mass. All of a sudden, someone collided with him, sending Draco sliding across the cold floor. The person was gone in a flash and Draco was left to fight his way back up through the rapidly moving legs. Shoes scuffed and squeaked loudly against the tile as he scanned the crowd frantically.
There, out of the corner of his eye, Draco spotted black lace, Aunt Bellatrix. He set off after her at full speed, doing his best to unapologetically push and shove his way through the crowd like he'd seen his father do on all of his outings.
He caught up to Bellatrix just as she stepped into the floo with her fist full of floo powder. He threw himself in with her as she shouted the destination.
Only she shouted the wrong thing. As he jumped, Draco was sure he could hear her yell, "Ottery Saint Catchpole!"
That wasn't right. Uh-oh.