Hiraeth // draco malfoy

PROLOGUE | PART ONE

where it began and ended

The sound of footsteps echoed through the quiet and dark halls of the castle. The silence filled the air as the young boy of only 18, slowed to a halt and stared across the large room, once known as the Great Hall, facing his true fears. His hand, clutching tightly onto the sleeve of his black jacket, and his eyes heavy from the sleepless night before. Grimacing glares from all around peered over at him, waiting eagerly for their commanders words. "My lord." The boys voice rang out, nervously, yet trying to conjure up as much confidence as possible.

"Mister Malfoy." The words slithered out of the dark lord's mouth as eerie as the snake beside him did. "Thank you for joining us." He continued. "I trust your fathers wounds are being mended appropriately?"

"Yes, my lord. My mother sends her appreciation for the healers you've provided. She expects to return back to her duties this following week." The boy bowed his head to show respect and a proper thanks. The snake-like man nodded slightly, before holding out his hand, extending an invitation to be seated at the table before them.

Draco bowed his head once more, and proceeded to seat himself, with the other death eaters still eyeing him carefully. On the table top, a cage of three rats sat, scratching at the bottom. Draco wasn't sure why they were there, but he also wasn't sure what was in store for this meeting. And he was trying to not let his nerves take over. It had only been one week since the battle, and death of Harry Potter, and he was truly terrified for what the future may hold.

"Rodolphus, have we located the runts?" Voldemort turned to the grim man beside him, who looked all too pleased with himself, per usual. Rodolphus Lestrange was an eager man. Eager to kill, that was. He was sadistic since a young boy, and it had only grown worse over the years. And his wife, Bellatrix, was just the same, if not more so, in many ways.
The years did not do well for Rodolphus, as his teeth had become rotted, and his skin, an almost sickly pale tone. With unkept hair, and overgrown fingernails, his hygiene had seemed to have taken a drastic turn as well, and it was clear that the man hardly bathed.

"Not yet, my lord. But we still have the Longbottom boy in our custody." His voice was course, with a sharp edge, as he smiled wickedly to his master.

"Ah, yes. The failure of the lot. Do we have him here?" Voldemort tilted his head curiously, as Rodolphus grinned again, with more fire in his eyes. He was beaming with anticipation.

"We do, my lord."

"Bring him to me. Let us see what we are able to force out of him." Voldemort demanded, as two death eaters stood from the table, with Rodolphus in the lead.

Draco's hands began to sweat in his lap, as he contained his leg from shaking. He dreaded seeing his old peers, considering they all looked to him with shame, as if he ever really had a choice in what side he was on. And he knew he shouldn't care what they thought of him, but it was all he ever really cared about, even if it seemed he didn't. His desire to be liked, was clouded by a large ego of fear and insecurity, which presented itself as cold and cruel. But that was his way of coping.

The shuffling sound of footsteps approached once again, but this time, they dragged in their prisoner. Neville Longbottom, the boy who failed.

Draco thought back to that dark day, when Neville held up the sword of Gryffindor after a shockingly surprising brave speech, but Bellatrix was too fast, and Neville was just a moment too slow, as he was struck with the crutiatus curse, and dropped to the ground instantaneously. Almost beheading Nagini and sadly, suffering a similar fate as his parents. "Draco." The sinister voice called out, snapping him back to reality.