- ᴀ ᴅʀᴀᴄᴏ ᴍᴀʟғᴏʏ ғᴀɴғɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ
Draco lifts his head up, shooting a glance towards his left to the witch staring shamelessly at him, his pale eyes settling on her, grunting irritably,
"Do you ever mind your own business?"
Oonagh pondered silently, tuc...
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𝕳arry Potter and his sidekicks had infiltrated the Ministry.
That's why Draco had been summoned. Right to a wrathful, furious and strangely tense Voldemort. Yaxley, the newly acclaimed contempt failure that they escaped right under the nose of, had paid the price for such, had the great honour of being the one that had His savage anger taken out on this time. Not killed, that would be far too kind, just tortured, recovered and tortured, recovered and tortured, recovered until He was mildly satisfied — that level being when Yaxley was brushing fingertips with Death himself.
There was something else. Something else that they weren't being told, the reason for his unwonted edginess. Draco wasn't a fool, none of them where, no one presented as the most valuable Undesirables would risk to show their faces in a place crawling with the evil and the greedy without an ulterior motive. They were searching for something, and they found it, and Voldemort wasn't expecting them too. By his next frantic orders, Draco would conclude that there's more to that list than one.
Bellatrix was to pay a friendly visit to Gringotts and more troops were sent to Hogwarts. Draco was rather glad that he had already deterred Oonagh from going back, Merlin knows what would've happened to her if she had. From what he's heard from Theo and Blaise, the Carrows have been forcing the meek, innocent first years into being test subjects for the older years, their payment, the cruciatus curse over and over. And they weren't even the Muggbleborn children.
A flapping of wings draws the attention of those around the dark oak table, away from the discussion of the state of the Ministry.
Draco keeps his head bowed, reluctant to draw attention to himself. That all goes out of the window, however, when seconds later, there's the landing of prized talons and grand frosty feathers, right in front of him, letter in beak. On his either side, his parents stiffen and peer at him out of the corner of their eyes, each ordering pay no attention to the owl or letter. It's too risky.
For a second, only a second, Draco flickers his eyes up, to the head to the table, catching those of bloodthirsty red, silently side-glancing his way whilst listening to the stocky wizard announcing the muggleborns they've interviewed that week. He stamps out the overwhelming urge to shudder, swiftly re-adjusting his gaze straight forwards. To the owl that's yet to leave.
He stays there, amber eyes staring at him almost expectantly. A shuffle and shift forwards, enough for Draco to gain a glimpse at the scrawl. Rushed, shaky and oh-so familiar that his heart plunges to his stomach, heavily. Hurriedly, he reaches out and rips the envelope open, ignoring the stares, glances and winces others do at him doing so.
Draco doesn't care, not when the whole world falls silent at what he reads. Two words from a girl that not even the Dark Lord could keep him from.
