The fire glowed in the darkened room of the abandoned, dilapidated house. All was quiet except for the crackling of the wood in the hearth and the muted song of crickets from outside. The flames of the fire burst in to a jaded frenzy, before a solitary figure stepped forth from them and in to the room. He straightened up, gently brushing down his black robes. The church clock in the nearby village chimed eight o’clock as the man stepped forward, his blond hair illuminated in the moonlight streaming through a crack in the boarded up window.
“Ah Draco, I have been expecting you.”
Draco turned to face the figure resting in the seat of an armchair; the only furniture in the dust covered room.
“I came as soon as I could. It’s difficult to leave Hogwarts with all the extra security,” he remarked.
“Be that as it may, when Lord Voldemort calls you, you answer.”
Draco’s usually cool demeanour seemed to evaporate at his master’s words and annoyance and anger embraced his aristocratic features. “I’m sick of this. I’m not your servant I’m your son for Merlin’s sake. And stop referring to yourself in the third person!”
Voldemort just looked at Draco, no expression crossing his snake like features, but his mind a swirl of thoughts. "The Dark Lord will not accept such insolence."
Draco burst, "There you go again! Just stop it!"
"Such insolence must be punished."
Draco stood his ground. I don't care. He's taken everything from me. I can't be this person anymore. The promise of torture appealed to his masochistic nature. I'll finally get a relieve from this hell.
"Do you not care about what will shortly befall you, Draco?"
"Do your worst."
"So be it."
This is it. If I'm lucky then maybe he'll kill me.
However, the pain that Draco was expecting, willing for never came. For some reason unbeknownst to him, this small 'mercy' angered him.
Still Draco stood there defiantly before speaking, his voiced dripping with venom as he spat, “Not working is it? You’re useless, can’t even cast the simplest Unforgivable anymore. You’re even more pathetic than I originally thought, and you call yourself the greatest wizard of all time. Don't make me laugh. Can't even torture your own blood."
"Enough of this!"
"MY LORD!" The door to the room blasted open and a gaunt woman with black hair and heavy lidded eyes stormed in, a walnut and dragon heartstring wand grasped firmly in her hand. The room fell still, the only sound being that of the short, ragged breaths of Bellatrix Lestrange.
The silence was broken by Bellatrix’s gentle words, “Draco, so pleased to see you again.”
“Aunt Bellatrix,” Draco replied, inclining his head in greeting.
“Draco darling,” she simpered, “how many times must I tell you? It’s Auntie Bella.”
“A hell of a lot more,” he added under his breath.
“Touching though this exchange may be, there are matters to attend to. Bella, what is the meaning of this interruption?”
Bellatrix bent low to the ground, before straightening up and looking her master in the eye. “My Lord, I apologise for the intrusion. However, I heard your shouts and felt that there may be something amiss, so I hastened here to assist you.”
“Very well. You are dismissed. If you should hear anything else, then disregard it from your mind. The Dark Lord will not require assistance tonight.”
Bowing again, Bellatrix left the room. Once the sound of her footfalls diminished, Lord Voldemort returned his attention to Draco. It is time for a different approach.
“So, what have you been up to, son?”
Draco felt like gaping at the man before him. Is he serious? I need to occlude my mind. I can’t have him finding out about…
Images flashed within Draco’s mind: talking by the lake, cursing Weasley, eavesdropping on Severus Snape. As quickly as the images came, they were gone.
“Who is the girl?”
“What girl?” Draco shot back.
“By the lake, the one you were talking with. Why would you be conversing so amiably with a Gryffindor?”
Should I tell him the truth? Draco asked himself. Yes! Make the fool see what he’s done to you!
“As a descendent of Salazar himself you should not be doing anything except hexing the muggle loving fools.”
“The girl, father, was the mud-blood descendant of Gryffindor himself.”
“Or to put in a way that you will understand, daddy dearest, the girl was my fiancée.”
“Yes, fiancée! Do you want to know her name? After all, you’re the one who had her murdered; you’re the one who killed your own grandchild!” Draco bellowed, embracing the hurt and anger that he had been feeling for weeks.
“GRANDCHILD! You fucked Potter’s mud-blood slut?!”
“Correction. I made love to Hermione Granger, but then again, you wouldn’t know anything about that would you? It’s not like you loved my mother, she was just a convenient shag!”
Draco was shaking where he stood from the anger oozing out of every pore, from the hatred towards the man in front of him, towards his father. No expression passed over the face of the Dark Lord, who was steadying a grip on his yew wand.
“And don’t call her a mud-blood. You’re no better; your own father was a muggle for Merlin’s sake! Your own blood is hardly pure and yet you pass judgment on her!
“ENOUGH! Well, it all becomes clear to me now. I killed her myself you know, she died begging for mercy, begging me to save the life of her unborn child, your unborn child.
Draco drew his wand so quickly that none but Voldemort himself would notice. He stood there, pointing it in one shaking hand towards the man, the inhuman specimen of life that had taken everything from him.
“Now now, Draco. You can’t possibly hope to damage me. I am Lord Voldemort. I have gone further than any to preserve life and immortality.”
“They’re all gone.”
“Your Horcruxes, father. Harry Potter has removed the one barrier that kept you from falling in to the Void.”
“Do not refer to me as such. You are no son of mine.”
“Do you think I care anymore? You’ve taken everything away from me. Now that the Horcruxes are gone I can get rid of you. You’re a parasite, you suck the happiness out of everything just like a dementor, you have the Midas touch.”
“You dare compare me to muggle myth? It is of no importance that the Horcruxes are gone, Potter will never be able to defeat me, he is merely a boy.”
“It’s not Potter you have to worry about, Crucio!”
The curse found its target and yet only caused Voldemort to twitch in minimal discomfort.
“Very well Draco, if this is your intention, so be it. I could play with you before I kill you but Lord Voldemort is feeling merciful today. I won’t ask for last requests as I have neither the time, nor the inclination to see them through for you. AVADA KEDAVRA!!!”
The jet of green light made its way towards Draco, who welcomed it with open arms. The light hit the young blond in the centre of his chest before rebounding upon its caster. The Dark Lords Voldemort slumped ungracefully in the chair, as Draco fell to his knees sobbing, one word escaping his quivering lips, “Hermione”.