Bloodlust

Chapter XVIII

"There were sightings of George Weasley... again," the Dark Lord began. "I thought I've made it clear to you, Draco – I want those Weasleys in front of me, dead or alive."

"We're doing our best, my Lord —"

"Your best?" The Dark Lord chuckled, shaking his head no. "Your best is pathetic, Draco – I've been waiting. You are wasting time!"

The Dark Lord stood from his throne – his snake-like eyes sharpened as he stared down at Malfoy in front of him, head held low.

"Don't make me regret giving my trust to you, Draco. You are one... of my best weapons... and if you fail this one again – you will rot along with the bodies down the dungeons."

"Yes, my Lord," said Malfoy – then bowed down, paying for respect before heading to the exit.

"Draco?" The Dark Lord reached once more.

He paused and faced him again. "My Lord?" He asked plainly.

"Before the election, I want their heads presented to me."

"Certainly, my Lord," Malfoy responded and bowed once more.

"What did he say?" Pansy asked as she popped out of nowhere. "Draco? What did he say? Did he hurt you again?" Pansy added, following Malfoy along the hallway.

"It's about that fucking Weasley again," he replied, aflame with ire.

"Speaking of which, follow me," Pansy whispered.

Malfoy wandered his eyes around before turning into a quiet hallway heading towards his office.

"What is it?" Malfoy asked as he waved his wand, casting the Quietus charm to enclose their conversation.

He removed his coat and sat on his swivel chair, eyes shut and massaging the bridge of his nose.

"Here." Pansy placed a crumpled and torn piece of paper. "I don't know what the fuck that is, but I think you're the one who's familiar with that."

"What's this?" He asked as he stared at it.

"It's like a journal or a map or something – this is evidence, Draco," Pansy replied, crossing her arms as she sat on the chair in front of his desk.

"Where did you get this piece of rubbish from?" He asked again, eyebrows wrinkled as he hovered it in the air, using his wand.

"Rubbish? I nearly died during that encounter – and you call this rubbish?" Pansy blurted out, snatching the piece of parchment from the air.

Malfoy exhaled sharply and fixed his posture, leaning his elbows on his desk.

"What happened that night?" He asked calmly.

Pansy served him her signature glare and placed the piece of parchment back on his desk. "I was strolling along Knockturn Alley the other night, doing my late-night patrol – when I spotted someone following me. I ran after the person because it was beyond curfew notice. The person fought me when I got a hold of him, but – he was too strong and quick against me, eventually got my wand and used it to stupefy me against the wall – "

"He got your wand?" Malfoy replicated frustration and disbelief collaborating in his low-toned voice.

"N-no, actually he dropped it."

Malfoy let out an exhale of relief.

"So? How can we use that to track them?"

"Track them?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I was hoping this could help you track them – "

"Pans, listen. We're not even that sure if that random person who followed you the other night was one of them. We can't just accuse someone from this piece of parchment."