Servitium
Latin (noun.) The essence of service and devotion, weaving a tapestry of humble dedication and unwavering loyalty.
"Oh my Ivory, you may not be interested in war, but war is interested in you. You let me violate your justice, destroy what...
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Draco was crying again and Ivory couldn't sleep, the meetings were more frequent nowadays and the Dark Lord was beginning to move his pieces on the chess board, the first of which was Draco Malfoy, he was to capture the King, Dumbledore.
It hadn't come as a shock to Ivory that the Dark Lord wanted Dumbledore dead, after all the older wizard had been a thorn in Voldemort's side possibly since his school boy days at Hogwarts, but assigning Draco Malfoy to the task was not something Ivory saw coming, perhaps Snape would have been a better fit, Draco wasn't capable of murder.
"Draco, you crying is driving me nuts, I can hear you from all the way down the hall. Some of us are trying to sleep you know?" Ivory said from behind the door but the sniffles continued, she found herself wishing that Pansy Parkinson was around to offer the boy comfort but she was on holiday in Switzerland, enjoying herself, away from the drama. She like Blaise hadn't been dragged into the forefront of the battle. "Draco?" Ivory sighed pushing open the door slightly, "are you decent? I'm coming in."
"Yeah," he called back softly. Ivory had expected a snide remark but it appeared the Slytherin prince didn't have it in him to argue. Ivory stepped in closing the door behind her, Draco was sat in the middle of his bed in his green pyjamas, his hair messy, his eyes red-rimmed and a striking shade of grey, shining with barely restrained emotion.
"Draco, you have to stop crying, it's hard but you know..." Ivory trailed off, she couldn't even offer him words of comfort because there were none, it was shit, and there was no silver lining or way out and he looked so pitiful, his face a picture of pain.
"I'm sixteen Ivory, I literally just turned sixteen not that long ago and he wants me to kill someone? Not just anyone, Dumbledore! Mother can't even fight my corner, Aunt Bella won't speak to the Dark Lord on her behalf for me. Aunt Bella says father failed the Dark Lord too many times and this is his punishment, I have to kill him, or he will kill me and my parents." Draco rocked back and forth fiddling with the signet ring on his pinky finger
"We can't even turn to our parents, the people that are supposed to protect us."
"I'm just a kid." He shuddered. "I don't want to kill anyone, I don't want a war. I don't want-" he couldn't even finish his words as a sob escaped him. "I don't know how you did it last year, how you went to the Ministry for him weren't you shit scared?"
"I was and I failed and then he killed my mother so you've got to get your shit together Draco, you cannot fail...but whatever you do, it isn't your fault, we're children being put in an impossible situation and the adults they're supposed to care and protect us and they've failed it's too late now, don't forgive them and don't blame yourself," Ivory said sternly.
"Even mother? She's trying to help-"
Ivory cut him off with a shake of her head, she had thought maybe Narcissa was different but she was just as wicked as the rest of them. "Your mother is as much to blame as your father Draco, she might love you unconditionally but she's evil too, look what she is letting happen under her own roof, look what she let happen to my mother."
