Passed Around Dark Lords

49

His letter to Grindelwald was quite simple, it detailed his current dealings with Dumbledore, reassured him that Dumbledore suspected him no more than he did all of the Slytherin students, and gave a basic outline of who the man seemed to favor over others-in coded language of course. Draco was not so stupid to simply write things plainly. Luckily, he had gotten plenty of practice with his Father, who insisted upon during forth year. It would seem quite obvious now as to why. The Dark Lord was returning, and he did not want any suspicion to fall on him. Which failed considering Potter had survived the graveyard. Though Draco had no idea what they were going to do with Potter's dead body. Surely he would not be stupid enough to just let the boy go missing? That would be even more dangerously suspicous.

At least with Potter's return Voldermort had been able to lay low and slowly gather his forces once again. Something he had done with an almost frighteningly quick efficency. Not that the Dark Lord was known to be stupid, but Draco also supposed that if one was not in the thick of things, perhaps they did not undertstand the dangers as well. After all, Draco still could not believe the Weasley Twins had dared to say some of the things that they had during the Triwizard tournament about Voldermort. About his Father, and some besides. Their boldness was going to get them into trouble eventually, and Draco was-as of now-not going to be there to see it happen. He was almost glad about it.

Once he finished his letter he folded it, creasing it tightly, and had to refrain himself from putting the seal of his family on it. Or even beginning the process of it. It was almost habitual, something he had to do constantly in his letters to his father and mother, and so he once again had to refrain from doing something that had become habit. He wondered how often that he was going to have to do it. How many habits would he have to break or refrain from to keep him lowkey? He knew it was probably folly to even bother trying. Shaking his head internally, and chastising himself for worrying about needless things, Draco penned his name on the front, and pulled out a fresh sheaf of parchement to work on his letter to the Malfoy Patriarch.

Before he even put the quill to ink, he could feel his fingers trembling. He had not penned a letter in several months now, and found himself just as nervous as he could be having to do it once again. He had no idea how his great grandfather desired his letters written, considering he had never written any to him. Neither had he written his grandfather, which just left his father's example to follow, which left nerves flowing through his veins so sharply, it almost hurt to do nothing.

It took several minutes before he had the strength to dip the quill into the ink, and he was glad that he cast the spell to keep it from drying otherwise it almost certainly would have. Taking a deep breath, and watching his hands closely waiting for the moment they finally stopped shaking, he deigned to dip the quill onto the parchement.

Esteemed Malfoy,

I apologize for the long delay in writing my weekly report. Things have gotten off to an interesting start, though I understand that is not an acceptable excuse. Please, reast assured that I shall endeavour to fix my error, and there is truly no need for correction.

I would like to inform you that I have already made a few noteable investments with the funds provided to me, and have turned quite the profit. I shall send a further detailed report attached to this letter. I will inform that I have reached a 2-3% profit margin at the current moment. While I am certain that I can maintain, at the minimum, and increase, at the maximum, the profit things have been rather slow at the moment.

I am pleased to report that I have obtained my classes, was placed in Slytherin-of course-and the first day of classes has proven droll. I doubt I shall have much trouble.

In honor,

Draco Malfoy

He cringed. This was so different than informing his father of what he was to do. His father knew, was prepared, and understood what he was ordered. Things had been so odd with the new head of house that Draco was not entirely certain what to expect from him. He had expected to be punished, and was not. He had expected at the very least a lashing, and yet was only ordered to do something that was in all reality, fairly simple. Truly, Draco's expectations were out of the ordinary now. He had no idea how to react, or what to say. He almost wished he was back with his father. At least then things were predictable...but then again, if that were to happen he would also be back with the Dark Lord...who was far from predictable, and Draco had to admit he liked not being mercilessly tortured every day. It was one thing if his father punished him brutally, it was another if it was someone else.

"Are you alright there?" Orion questioned, his voice gentle. Draco couldn't help but bristle at the pity that he read in his tone.

"Fine," He grit out, wasting no time in sealing the second letter. "Just perfect."