The Daughter of Sirius Black

Chapter 93

"Cousin."

With furrowed brows, Draco Malfoy turned away from the railing of the Astronomy Tower to see who'd called him.

"I certainly hope that you aren't referring to me," he spat as he returned to the view, head churning with thoughts.

"Well, you are the only one up here. And your mother is my aunt, and she was a Black before she married. We are related in some way, are we not?" Leona asked as she walked closer to him.

"Why are you here? Are they making you repeat a year for associating with mudbloods and blood-traitors?"

Though anger filled her veins, Leona remained calm as she said, "You can cut that pureblood crap. I know you don't believe it and I know about your mission."

He went rigid.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think you do," Leona mused as she stepped closer. "I think you do, and I think you're scared. Why wouldn't you be after what he's asked of you?"

"I'm not scared!" Draco shouted as he turned around, hands balled in fists, fists that trembled.

"If you weren't scared, you'd have done it already. Why haven't you?"

"Because your half-blood brother keeps messing it up!"

To Draco's surprise and confusion, Leona chuckled.

"I'm not surprised. He does have a rather strong moral compass, though he tends to act on impulse before he has all the facts. Me? I like to have all the facts."

Draco loosened his tie from his neck.

"What the bloody hell do you want from me Leona?!" he asked, distressed, looking to be on the verge of crying.

"I want to help you."

"I DON'T NEED YOUR HELP! I DON'T NEED SNAPE'S AND I DON'T NEED YOURS!"

"No," Leona said as she moved closer to him. "But you want it."

He blanched.

"You're more than capable of carrying out your mission, but you don't want to. There's nothing stopping you from getting into a good position and just blasting a killing curse."

"But I have to," Draco sighed. "I have to," he repeated as he dug his nails into the sleeve on his left forearm. "I have to. He'll kill her."

"Draco, show me," she asked softly. "Show me."

And he reluctantly pulled up his sleeve, revealing the moving black mark that was permanently branded into his porcelain skin. A mark that would haunt him despite the outcome of the war.

"Cousin, who is he going to kill?"

"My mother," he said, voice cracking. "He's going to kill my mother. And I can't let him do that, so I have to do as he asked. I have to kill Dumbledore."

And tears ran down his face.