From Wiltshire, With Love

Chapter 71

Author's Note: Trigger warning associated with this chapter - see the end notes if you need them.

Draco shared an apprehensive glance with Pansy before putting on his mask and covering his hair with the hood of his robe. Vince donned his with an evil smile as did Greg, with a determined expression. Draco could tell Vince was trying to cover up the pain in his abdomen, where his burns were still healing.

"Do you know why we're all here?" Millie's voice was slightly muffled behind her mask, but he could hear her terror. Millie was still somewhat in shock from the raid. Happy to be alive, but horror struck at the death of her classmates, and of Tracey in particular.

She directed her question towards Draco. He had been a Death Eater the longest and was now Inner Circle. All the other new Death Eaters from his year – from all four houses – turned to him in answer. He looked at the group before him in their black robes and flashing metallic masks. Identical on the outside, but everyone processing the horrors of war differently.

"No idea," he answered impassively.

There weren't any older Death Eaters present, so it wasn't another raid, and some of them were still recovering from injuries. He wondered if there would be some kind of 'demonstration.' There probably would be.

Bile accumulated in his mouth.

"Just do what they say, Millie," Greg admonished, "and you'll be fine. How's your leg?"

"Hurts, but it's getting better. I wish Tracey were still alive." He took her hand, and she squeezed it back.

"Will..." MacMillan was visibly shaking underneath his robes, "Will he be here?"

"The Dark Lord," Greg corrected him.

"Probably," Pansy answered without pity.

Draco couldn't think of a reason to summon so many of them if the Dark Lord wouldn't be here. Pansy masked her fear well.

"Fuck," Goldstein muttered under his breath.

"Scared, Goldstein?" Vince taunted.

"Aren't we all?" the Ravenclaw replied in disbelief.

Yes.

"You should be grateful to be in his presence," Vince scoffed, straightening his shoulders to make himself more intimidating.

"The Dark Lord rewards those who serve him well," Daphne added derisively. "It's a chance to impress him after you failed during the raid."

Not that any of them had a choice. The Polyjuice raid had left many traumatized from having to attack their former schoolmates and teachers, and watch others burn to death like Tracey, or suffer acute injuries from the explosions. Those that had balked or wavered in battle – like MacMillan – had been Crucio'd on the spot.

Draco still had the residual odor of burning flesh inside his nostrils. He didn't think the smell would ever leave. Someone had lost an arm. He didn't know who, but saw the ownerless appendage on the ground outside the blown up safe house.

Goldstein continued. "Don't any of y–"

"No," Draco cut him off before he could elaborate. "And you fucking shouldn't either, Goldstein."

Draco had no idea what Goldstein had been about to say. But either the Ravenclaw was smart at realizing few of them wanted to be here, or completely daft for voicing his opinion at the Lestrange Estate of all places.

Goldstein seemed to get the message and shut up before he could incriminate himself further. Air thick with tension, they waited until several cracks of Apparition broke the silence, followed by Bellatrix's cackle.