Bloodlust

Chapter XXV

The election had been conducted successfully without the strife from the resistance. Lucius Malfoy now stood tall on a podium in the centre of the Ministry of Magic lobby. Behind him was the enormous new version of the Magic is Might monument. The atmosphere inside the spacious lobby had a mixed sense of triumph and a suffocating sense of grievance – most of the weight on it concentrated on Bellatrix Lestrange, standing in the front row.

Each individual was their critique, spitting their side remarks in hateful whispers as Lucius delivered his speech as the new minister for magic. Condemnation simmered up to the rim of the loud applause, raising the instant spreading of suspicions and theories behind the success of the Minister for Magic.

Narcissa Malfoy stood with pride next to her husband, mirroring the enthusiasm flowing in her husband's veins at that moment. She applauded gracefully, casually overlooking the soreness of her sister Bellatrix's defeat, switching glares at her and Lucius. She glided through the crowd the sooner his speech was over, proving her expertise with critiques by elegantly handling sardonic remarks from most of the crowd while throwing frequent subtle looks at the entrance, hoping to catch a sight of her son whom she had not seen in the event.

****

Shards of glass were scattered on the floor as Malfoy rummaged through the storage, searching for the right potion to dose the unconscious Hermione Granger upstairs. A heavy tug pulled Malfoy's focus. He got caught in a trance of tension. He felt hot and cold, growing confused by which feeling would accompany his worry and overflowing perplexity of everything he recently learned from her memories.

Expletives slipped from his lips, driven by the overall dilemma. Another vial met the ground.

The aggressive movement of the lump in his throat as he swallowed felt like a chunk of broken glass piercing the walls of his neck. The perfectly slicked-back silver-blonde hair was no longer in place after the seemingly endless day.

Malfoy stood, heading toward the next cabinet, prepared to take the door off its hinge, all thanks to his desperation.

"Fuck this!" He hissed, shoving vials off the racks, allowing the dusty floor to taste almost thousands of galleons worth of rare potions.

His lips curled from the swirling anger he endured. It turns out, self-crisis and worries do not seem to coexist for his ease.

Malfoy left the third cabinet, slamming his hands over the carved wooden door, before walking toward the fourth cabinet with hurried enraged strides.

The cabinet unlocked with a soft click from his command. He dug inside, shoving the useless potions that obstructed his view into the ones on the back side of the cabinet.

"What are you doing, Draco?" Narcissa's horrified voice rang in his ears.

Malfoy stilled. The bewildering emotions inside him rushed up in his head, making him giddy from it. His temple felt numb, hearing the loud thumps of his heart, whispering close to his ears.

He straightened, slowly, not offering a glance to his mother. The vial within his grasp crushed as he fisted. Malfoy turned sharply, almost praying that the floor would consume him alive to prevent himself from surrendering to the murderous lures in his unstable head.

"Are you all right, darling?" There was a subtle shake in Narcissa's voice, a hint of worry.

He faced her, throwing an apparent look of disapproval and disgust at his mother. The decision between a violent confrontation and seeking medicine for the lady in the upstairs bedroom was a painful battle. Malfoy tore his gaze away from his mother, driving his focus back to the potions.