Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. It belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Decisions

June

Marcus walked across the living room of his house in a pair of shorts and a tank top to retrieve the mail. The snowy owl sat on its perch; watching him curiously as he took the sheets of parchment that had been attached to its let. Most of it was just ads and bills, but one was from his mom and dad. He tossed the rest of the mail onto the table and sighed. This year was his last year at Hogwarts. He'd just turned of age and had, thankfully, been able to move out and into his own home.

He took the letter from his parents and sat down on the black leather couch. It was silent in the house, except for the house elf in the kitchen and the sound of the clock on the mantle above the fireplace in the living room. He knew the house was well alive with enchantments doing the cleaning and such, but he didn't hear any of it. He tore open the piece of parchment from his parents and began to read.

Dear Marcus,

It's been a while since you have stopped by. Nearly a month and a half. Your father and I miss having you in the house. Your younger sister is going to drive your father up the wall. He misses having you around. He misses your brothers as well, but you especially.

You're father and I am worried about you. We've been hearing and seeing reports in The Daily Prophet, and not hearing from you is beginning to make your father nervous. He's afraid that you've joined them, Marcus. I don't believe that you have, but he worries. You know your father. He's frightened about the reports. They're getting closer to Falmouth by the day, Marcus, and he is afraid that, soon, they will recruit you. He'd feel much better if you returned home.

I wish that you would either write or stop by, if only for a moment. Your father has already threatened to come over and drag you out by the nape of your neck. I talked him out of it. We're doing fine, Marcus, if you were wondering. Just stay out of trouble, alright? For your father?

With love,

Mom

Marcus rolled his eyes. They would have been the first to know if he'd joined the dark side. He tossed the parchment onto the table with the rest of the mail. Only a month and a half that he'd been on his own and his parents were already obsessed that he was going to join the dark side. Jeesh. He was going to at least wait two months.

"Did you not receive good news?" a man's voice asked from behind him. Marcus jumped to his feet, wand drawn. "I was merely asking, boy." Marcus didn't budge. Draco Malfoy's own flesh and blood father stood there. Mr. Malfoy watched Marcus. "Well, Flint? Are you going to answer me or not?"

"What are you doing in my house?" Marcus growled.

"Oh, your house?" Mr. Malfoy looked around thoughtfully before a sneer appeared on his face when he turned back to Marcus. "Yes, I do see how this could be your home." Mr. Malfoy walked over to the piano and ran his hand over the keys.

"Must I repeat myself?" Marcus asked, finding his dignity again. Mr. Malfoy sighed. Marcus tried not to groan. He was just like his son: overdramatic.

"Well…I guess I can tell you," he said, sighing as he turned. "The Dark Lord is recruiting again, as you must know. He does not wish for an answer right away, but he does wish for an answer, Mr. Flint. Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?"

"Crystal," Marcus said sarcastically.

"He wishes for you to join him, you see, Mr. Flint. Why? I do not see a reason as to why we may need you, but I will not question the Dark Lord's wishes, hopes, desires, and requests."

"That doesn't mean I won't," Marcus growled. Mr. Malfoy paused.

"Oh, but Mr. Flint, the Dark Lord is very upset if anyone questions his intellect. He expects an answer, but he doesn't want to rush you. He wants to know if one week will be sufficient."

"What is he getting at?" Marcus asked, his wand not lowering. Mr. Malfoy looked at him.

"He believes you have information that will help him. Mr. Flint," he said, stepping forward. Marcus's grip on his wand tightened. "Mr. Flint, you might want to take into consideration that your life, your friend's lives, and your families lives are at stake if you do not give the Dark Lord a proper answer."

"And what would a proper answer be?" Marcus asked.

"Yes," he said before Apparating. Marcus didn't lower his wand until he noticed his house elf, Mimy, standing in the doorway, wringing her hands on her apron.

"Master, you can't," she said quietly. Marcus looked at her.

"And what choice do I have?" Marcus hissed before turning and stalking out of the house.

Warrington met Marcus at the door. Marcus stood there, soaking wet. Stupid him had decided to drive and his truck had broken down. Katie had warned him to get one of those mobile devices that Muggles used, but he refused. He had no need for one at the time.

"I knew you'd show up again someday, Flint. It's been awhile, hasn't it?" he asked, allowing Marcus to enter.

"Warrington, it's only been a month and a half. I don't see how you managed to graduate, though," Marcus said, walking towards the kitchen.

"Really? Huh," he said, walking to the fridge.

"I need to ask you a question," Marcus said, spinning a bottle cap on the island. Warrington pushed a butterbeer his way as he dug for one for himself.

"You're here to ask me about the Dark Lord, aren't you?" Marcus looked at him blankly. "You're name came up a few times in the last meeting, Flint. You were a popular subject." He turned and looked at Marcus. "Really, you have no choice if you think about it."

"I was hoping that you weren't going to tell me that," Marcus muttered. Warrington looked at him.

"What? Were you expecting me to tell you, 'Oh, no, everything will be just peachy, okay, Flint? You're going to be just fine'? Truth is, he'll murder your family if you don't join him. And, he'll murder Katie," Warrington said. Marcus watched him and then cursed.

Katie sat outside of her home in London with Leanne next to her. She missed Marcus, but if her parents ever found out she was dating a seventeen-year-old…they'd murder her, more than likely. She sighed and brushed a strand of blonde hair from her eyes.

"What's wrong?" Leanne asked. "Marcus not write today?"

"Marcus hasn't written to me in weeks, Leanne. You know that," she said in response. Leanne sighed.

"He has to return to school next year, Katie. You'll get to see him soon enough," she said. Katie drew her legs to her chest. "Don't go mopey on me." Katie rolled her eyes.

"I'm not moping. I'm just worried. He hasn't stayed out of touch this long…" Katie said.
"Maybe he found another chick."

"Don't even joke about that, Leanne. It's bad enough that he lives alone."

"Look, Katie, I'm sure it's nothing. He'll come rolling back into your life the same way he started out in your life. Don't beat yourself up over it. He'll be back." Katie sighed.

"I hope so," she muttered.