Entitled

Chapter 104*

It's a few days after the school semester has ended, and you and Severus are enjoying a rare, peaceful morning at the cabin. The late breakfast you're preparing together fills the air with the comforting scent of warm bread and freshly cooked eggs. You're both relaxed, savoring the quiet, a welcome reprieve from the constant tension of the past months.

As you stand side by side in the kitchen, Severus hands you a plate, his touch lingering on yours. There's a softness in his eyes, a rare moment of calm that you both cherish. 

You're about to sit down at the table when suddenly, a sharp, searing pain rips through your arm. You gasp, clutching at the Dark Mark as it burns with an intensity that can only mean one thing: a Death Eater meeting has been called.

Severus winces as his own mark flares, his expression hardening. The tranquility of the morning is shattered, replaced by the grim reality of the world you're entangled in. "We don't have much time," he says, his voice clipped, already moving to gather his robes.

You nod, quickly setting your plate down, the half-eaten breakfast forgotten. As you hurry to get dressed, you grab a flannel shirt and jeans—comfortable and practical for the hike you had planned for later. 

You yank on your hiking boots, barely taking the time to tie the laces properly, and throw your hair into a ponytail. The urgency of the call leaves no room for hesitation, and you find yourself scarfing down the last few bites of toast as you grab the silver spoon portkey that will take you both to Malfoy Manor.

With a shared glance, you and Severus touch the spoon, and the familiar tug behind your navel pulls you away from the cabin. In an instant, you land in the grand, cold hall of Malfoy Manor. The sudden shift from the warmth of your cabin to the austere surroundings of the Manor sends a chill through you, but you force yourself to stay focused.

As you walk into the grand dining room, the heavy doors creak open to reveal the long table, already filled with several familiar faces, all cloaked in black. At the head of the table, your father, Voldemort, stands with an imposing presence, his red eyes sweeping the room. 

When his gaze falls on you, he takes in your appearance—your casual flannel shirt, jeans, and hiking boots—with a slight narrowing of his eyes, a hint of disapproval flickering across his face.

"Apologies," you say quickly, feeling the weight of his gaze. "I was about to go hiking when I was called."

Voldemort's eyes linger on you, assessing, before they move to your face. "Why do you look so gaunt?" he asks, his voice cold, each word carrying an edge.

"Because I didn't get to finish my breakfast," you reply, attempting to keep your tone light, though the tension in the room is palpable.

He narrows his eyes further, a slight sneer forming on his lips as he studies you. "Sit," he orders, his voice devoid of patience. "We have far more important matters to discuss."

You take your seat, feeling the weight of the eyes around you. The casualness of your attire feels almost absurd in the opulent surroundings, but there's no time to dwell on it. Severus sits beside you, his expression as unreadable as ever, though you can sense his vigilance.

Voldemort, his gaze now fixed on the assembled Death Eaters, begins to speak. His voice is low, but it carries a chilling authority that demands attention from everyone in the room.

"The time has come to remind the wizarding world of our power," Voldemort begins, his red eyes sweeping over the gathered Death Eaters. "The Minister of Magic has grown complacent, believing that he can control our movements. We shall disabuse him of that notion."