Lineage

It was a rare kind of night. Malfoy Manor usually hummed with activity. Many of us had been assigned special duties. Whether it was rounding up the mudbloods who had failed to present themselves at the Ministry or the creation of new propaganda, all of us were required to make regular reports. As the Dark Lord had established Lucius’s house as a base of operations, it was subject to visitors at all times of night and day. But tonight it was empty but for my family.

I despised almost all of them. Lucius and his wife, lovers of privilege and wealth but unwilling to risk their precious reputations for the Dark Lord. They had weaselled their way back into the Ministry’s good graces sixteen years ago. They had slept on soft mattresses and dined with the Minister himself while I slowly lost my mind in a cell in Azkaban. Had they ever moved to help us escape? Had they attempted to bring the Dark Lord back to power? No. We were forgotten, left to rot.

Their offspring was a weak, snivelling thing. In a way I hated him more than the Order of the Phoenix and Potter’s supporters. They at least had the stomach to fight for their beliefs, misguided though they were. Draco could barely carry out his master’s orders without a tinge of green entering his pristine features.

I had never been fond of Bellatrix. I admired her fire but was disturbed by the insanity that fuelled it. She wouldn’t hesitate in sacrificing every one of us if the Dark Lord required it. It pained both Bellatrix and Rodolphus that they had never been able to produce a child, an heir, to put into the Dark Lord’s service. My brother shared her passionate loyalty, and yet I did not feel the same distaste for him. Perhaps it was because I remembered him as he once was: an innocent child, free from all the pressures our parents would place on his shoulders.

Lucius and Narcissa had escaped to the sanctuary of their bedroom an hour before. The Dark Lord had requested my presence to discuss a reward for a great service I had recently performed for him, but for the time being he was occupied with my brother and his wife. I occupied myself with a game of chess against Draco. I confess, I was concerned less with the game and more with tormenting the boy. The set was an old family heirloom given to us by our father when we were children. It wasn’t a gift of love but one intended to sharpen our strategy and intellect. Whenever a piece was captured it gave the losing player a vicious shock. I had taken half of Draco’s pieces already and felt a thrill of pleasure when I noticed that his hand trembled as he reached for the board.

The silence of the mansion was shattered as the great doors were thrown open. It was followed by the familiar snarl of Greyback, and a shriek of rage that clearly came from a woman. Draco leapt to his feet, his eyes almost rolling back in fear. I merely felt bored. The woman might be here for interrogation; if not, perhaps Greyback was here seeking permission to keep her as a treat. Either way, it would be some small distraction from the tedium of the evening. I brushed Draco aside and strode to the entrance hall.

I arrived in time to see a woman flung through the air. Despite the force with which she was thrown, she quickly rearranged her limbs into a more advantageous position and landed at my feet with an easy grace. She shared Draco’s perfect, creamy complexion, but her features wore an expression of purest loathing as she looked at me. With her mane of copper hair and green eyes sparking with anger, she gave the impression of a lioness. I wondered what she would do next. Would she attempt to run? Would she plead for mercy?

Her next move was completely unexpected.

Turning from me, she tensed and then launched herself at Greyback. She clung to his shoulders, raking her nails over his face and burying her teeth into whatever exposed flesh she could find. A howl of rage erupted from Greyback and he began to snap his teeth at her. It was only a matter of time before she would be caught between those powerful jaws. A strange emotion twisted my stomach; I realised that I was afraid for her.

There was a loud bang and Greyback and the woman were thrown away from each other. Greyback hit the wall while the woman crumpled to the floor. Despite the sudden shock and pain of their hard landings, they managed to sustain a look of mutual hatred. The Dark Lord emerged from his private study, flanked by Bellatrix and Rodolphus. Bellatrix looked as if a bad stench had entered the room, her usual expression whenever she was in Greyback’s presence. The Dark Lord himself looked mildly amused.

“What do we have here?” he inquired in his silken voice. “Have you caught another slippery little mudblood, Greyback?”

The woman struggled to stand up and spat at Greyback’s feet. “I am no mudblood,” she snarled. “My blood is older and purer than Slytherin’s ever was.”

All of us froze, casting wary glances at the Dark Lord. Was this woman insane? Surely she must realise that he was directly descended from the greatest founder of Hogwarts. The Dark Lord’s expression hardened; there was no longer any amusement in his eyes. “That is quite a claim,” he said.

She didn’t quail beneath his gaze. She refused even to drop her eyes from his. “My line stretches back centuries before the Normans invaded our shores.”

The Dark Lord laughed, a soft and dangerous sound, and a chill worked its way up my spine. “Let us see who you really are.”

He brought his wand through the air in the same motion that he would use to crack a whip. The woman gasped and fell to her knees, seemingly oblivious to the pain that must have shot through her legs on collision with the floor. Her wide eyes never left the Dark Lord’s. I knew what he was doing; I had seen him perform this task often enough. He was invading her mind, dragging all of her secrets kicking and screaming into the light for him to examine.

As the process continued his eyes grew narrower until only a thin slit of scarlet could be seen between his eyelids. Finally he made another motion with his wand and the woman slumped onto her side, unmoving. For an awful, panic filled moment I thought that he had killed her. But there had been no green light and, on closer examination, I saw that her chest still rose and fell steadily. She was merely unconscious.

“She speaks the truth,” said the Dark Lord.

“My Lord!” cried Bellatrix, outraged. Two patches of colour stained her cheeks. “You can’t mean that her blood is purer than Salazar Slytherin’s!”

“Calm yourself, Bella,” he ordered. “Of course she lacks the nobility of my ancestor. But her blood is pure, and her family is many centuries old.” He approached the woman, nudging her chin with his bare toe so that he could examine her face. “What shall we do with you?” he asked, more to himself than anyone else.

“My Lord,” Greyback said, crawling forwards. “I found her. I brought her to you. Let me keep her.”

Without looking up, the Dark Lord slashed his wand and a deep gash opened across Greyback’s chest. He gave a choking scream and pressed his hands to the wound, blood trickling from between his fingers.

“You presume too much, dog,” said the Dark Lord coldly. “She is not a mudblood and so you will not foul her with your paws. With the right tuition she could become a valuable asset. Bellatrix,” he glanced at her, “could you tame this one?”

My mind raced. Not only was the Dark Lord willing to let the woman live, he planned to initiate her into his inner circle. She would be given into the care of Bellatrix and Narcissa, where she would be transformed into a lunatic or a simpering fool. But perhaps it didn’t have to happen that way; perhaps the Dark Lord would agree to give her to me. I wouldn’t bring her to our way of thinking through torture and pain, as Bellatrix almost certainly would, but through gentle persuasion. I would make her love our way of life, our master. I would make her love me. The thought of such a proud, beautiful creature willingly submitting to me was almost mouth watering. And the game that would bring that final result could last for months.

I stepped forwards before Bellatrix could answer. “My Lord, perhaps you would consider placing her in my care.”

He turned towards me, scrutinizing my face. “I did say that I would reward you well, and Lord Voldemort always keeps his promise,” he said slowly. “What plans do you have for her?”

“I will tame her, my Lord, as you wish.”

His bloodless lips twitched. “Tame her to your will or mine, Rabastan?”

“I will make her loyal to you above all others. But, yes, I wish to claim her.”

Turning his eyes back to the prone form of the woman, he considered for a moment before replying, “Very well. You may keep her, but there are certain conditions. You may discipline her as you see fit, but you will not kill her. Neither will you leave any lasting damage. As soon as you bring her to our cause, she will swear loyalty to me and be branded with the mark.”

“As you wish, my Lord,” I said, trying to keep the tremor of excitement out of my voice. I would never kill her; nor would I do anything to mar her beauty. I couldn’t envision a situation where I would discipline her harshly. My fellow Death Eaters relied on brute force, but I found the subtleties of a gentler approach more thrilling.

He took a last glance at her and then retreated back into his study. At the door he paused to stare at me. “One last thing, Rabastan,” he warned. “If she should fall pregnant under your guardianship, you will provide her with the proper care during her pregnancy. Every pure blood child is valuable.”

Bellatrix followed him into the study, but Rodolphus lingered behind to talk to me. We both moved to crouch beside the still unconscious woman. “She’s a beauty,” he commented lightly, fingering her hair. Seeing his hand on her made me unreasonably angry, but I bit my tongue. Rodolphus had his hands more than full with Bellatrix; he certainly wouldn’t seek female company outside of his marriage.

“How do you intend to break her?”

I shuddered. “I will not break her. That would be a criminal waste. The challenge is to channel her fire to loyalty to our Lord and his cause.”

“And how do you intend to do that?”

“I’m going to make her love me.”

Rodolphus threw back his head and let out a bark of laughter. “That’s just like you, Rab. You can never do things the easy way.”

“You know I enjoy the chase, and the rewards will be all the sweeter at the end.” I grinned. “Speaking of which, I need your assistance for the first part of my plan.”

Rodolphus raised his eyebrows. “You have a plan already? I’m impressed. Whatever you require, brother.”

“I need you to bloody my face.”

“All part of the plan?”

“All part of the plan.”

By the time Rodolphus had finished with me a bruise blossomed on my cheek and blood dribbled from a cut in my lip. I admired my brother’s handiwork in a mirror, impressed. I had barely felt more than a stinging while he was working on me; I knew the witches and wizard the Dark Lord ordered him to interrogate weren’t as lucky. Thanking him, I bid him goodnight and turned to my prize.

Greyback, who had slunk away to patch up his cut, had returned and was showing clear interest in the woman. He reached towards her, but yelped and jumped back as I launched a curse at him. “Keep away,” I snarled, my voice every bit as feral as the dog’s. “She is mine.”

I scooped her up in my arms and cradled her against my chest. “It is time to take you to your new home,” I murmured.