"Mmm, your father is never going to die, you know, Draco." Blaise, dark eyes glittering with their own unnatural light, slouched slightly against the wall as he waited for Draco to complete his turn in their friendly game of wizard pool. "At least not while you're young enough to enjoy your inheritance."

With a sharp, darting gaze, Blaise watched Draco's ball bounce off the wall, missing the pocket. Draco was clearly not pleased with this result. They had been close companions for years, and Blaise knew exactly how to distract him at the right moment.

Draco walked over to the large, open window and drew a long breath.

It was early evening and quite warm, the moon just rising over the trees at the far end of the Malfoy estate. Sometimes, Draco wanted nothing more than to get away from the sprawling splendour of the place that he had always called home.

"Lucius' father lived for more than a century himself," Blaise continued, "Your father wasn't born until the man was nearing eighty, but he took the wealth when he was nineteen. Think about it, hmm? You're already thirty." Blaise's angular face was impassive as he regarded his friend. "Doesn't that bother you?"

Draco didn't respond, staring at the skyline. He knew that he should return to the game. But he and Blaise had bigger games to play.

After long years of close association, Blaise knew that Draco wouldn't deal with complex problems when other amusements distracted him. He decided to end the diversion.

"My turn." With expert timing and fluid grace, Blaise sent the 8 ball into the corner pocket.

"Damn, Blaise, another perfect game for you," Draco said, walking back over to the table. "When I'm the head of the Malfoy family, will you be wise enough to lose to me while in my house?"

"When you're the head of the Malfoy family?" Blaise and Draco held so many deadly secrets between them that it was almost unthinkable for them to keep knowledge from each other. "Draco, are you listening to what I'm telling you?" He gave an annoyed sigh. "You are thirty years old, sitting on your hands and waiting for your life to begin - your birthright. Your father will last another four decades, at least. For all we know, he might outlive both of us."

"So, why even talk about it? I've got what I need here." Draco wanted to play another game and end the conversation.

"You'd rather play games till you're an old man, hmm? I thought you had better things in store for you. The destiny of your Malfoy blood."

"Ah, yes. And what if I don't achieve my destiny?" he said bitterly. "Where does that leave you?"

"I'll do fine, thank you." Blaise had been raised well; his mother had carefully prepared him for great things.

But Blaise was disgusted with his friend. At one time, when they were still at Hogwarts, Draco had been much more ambitious. But, as the years passed, Draco had lost his drive and, instead, occupied his time enjoying the pleasures of his station. But Blaise wanted more for his friend - and for himself.

Draco glowered at him. For years, he and Blaise had talked about what they could do in England when he took over the Malfoy estate. But for Draco such conversations had lost their childhood magic. Too many years of reality had set in, too much waiting to no purpose. His grip on hope and enthusiasm had faded to apathy. Why not spend the days playing games?

"You're a bastard. Let's play another game."

Blaise ignored the suggestion and stepped forward. "Maybe so, but you know that you ought to be given a chance at holding the Malfoy power. Your father is never going to just step back and hand it to you."

Draco shrugged uncomfortably and looked away.

"What's the longest a Malfoy's ever lived?" Blaise persisted.

"I don't know. You know I don't pay attention to things like that." Draco frowned.

Blaise jabbed a finger at him. "Lucius will live to a hundred and ten, mark my words. You have a serious problem, my friend... unless you listen to me."

"Ah, yes... more ideas from the Assassin's Handbook, I suspect. Be careful with that information, Blaise. You can get in a lot of trouble with it."

"Timid people are destined for nothing better than timid jobs. You and I, Draco, have more in our futures. Think about the possibilities, hypothetically, of course. Besides, what's wrong with poison? It works nicely and affects only the targeted person. No collateral deaths, no loss of revenue, no destruction of inheritable property. Nice and neat."

"Poisons are for family-to-family assassinations, not for what you're talking about."

"Do you really want to wait till you're eighty?"

"Stop," Draco insisted. "Don't even imagine such a thing. This isn't right."

"And denying your birthright is? Besides, you've never complained before."

Draco looked up at the ceiling. "What kind of poison are you considering? Hypothetically speaking only."

"Perhaps something slow-working, hmm? So Lucius will appear to have failing health. He is far from well liked; no one will question what's happening. Leave it to me. As the future head of the Malfoy family, you shouldn't concern yourself with the details of such matters - I have always been your expediter, remember?"

Draco bit his lower lip. No one knew more about this man than he did. But could his friend ever turn on him? Possibly... though Blaise knew full well that Draco was his best path to great power. How to keep his ambitious friend under control, though, how to stay one step ahead of him - that was the near-impossible challenge.

Lucius was aware of Blaise's deadly skills and had, in fact, made use of him a couple of times. Surreptitious operations that had, without fail, been successful. Over the years, Blaise had murdered at least twenty people. He took a measure of pride in his skill as a killer who could face the victim or strike from behind without compunction.

There were days, like this one, when Draco wished that he and the pushy Blaise had never formed a boyhood relationship. Then he wouldn't be hemmed in with difficult choices that he didn't want to think about. Draco should have abandoned his long-time companion as soon as they had left Hogwarts. It was risky to be around such an unrelenting assassin.

Still, Blaise was his friend and, on occasion, something more. There was an attraction between them, an indefinable something that neither of them understood. For the present, Draco found it easier to accept the friendship, or whatever else it could be called, rather than try to sever it. That course of action could be extremely dangerous.

Close beside him, Blaise's cool voice broke his train of thought. "Brandy?" He offered him a large goblet, full almost to the brim with smoky-dark liqueur.

Draco accepted it, but studied the contents suspiciously, swirling it. Was there another colour in it, something not quite mixed in? He sniffed if, much like a connoisseur, trying to detect anything foreign. The brandy smelled normal. But then Blaise would have made sure of that. He was a subtle and devious man.

"You can cast a poison detection spell if you like, but you need never worry about poison from me, Draco." Blaise's smile was maddening. "Your father, however, is in an entirely different position."

"I suspect you already have a substance in mind. How long will my father live after you give it to him? If we do this at all, I mean."

"A year, maybe two. Long enough to make it appear completely natural." Blaise shrugged offhandedly.

"You understand I might only entertain such a treacherous idea because my father is a truly evil man who has escaped justice for heinous crimes on several occasions." Even to Draco, the words sounded slightly false.

A crafty smile played at the edges of Blaise's lips. "Of course."

"A year or two," Draco mused. "Time enough for me to prepare for my responsibilities, I suppose. While you deal with some of the more unpleasant tasks."

"Aren't you going to drink your brandy, Draco?"

Draco met the hard gaze of those dark eyes, and felt a chill of fear up his spine. He was in too deep not to trust Blaise now.

He drew in a breath and sipped the rich liqueur.

"Leave everything to me." Blaise kissed him teasingly and vanished before Draco could respond.

Blaise would take care of everything.

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