Draco Malfoy and the Girl Who Hid

41

Draco's hands clenched involuntarily as he made his way through the dimly lit halls of Malfoy Manor, each step growing heavier as he approached the parlor where he knew his father awaited. Lucius had returned that morning, and already, the oppressive atmosphere of the house had shifted. It was as if Lucius brought with him a coldness that settled in the walls, seeping into every crevice of the house and chilling Draco to the bone.

When Draco entered, his father was waiting, standing beside the fireplace with an unreadable expression. Lucius didn't acknowledge him at first, merely watching the flames dance, the shadows casting an eerie glow on his pale face. Draco stood silently, waiting for whatever scathing remark or reprimand would come.

Finally, Lucius turned, his gaze cold and assessing as it raked over his son. He lifted an eyebrow, and Draco braced himself, feeling like he was being examined under a microscope.

"So, Draco," Lucius drawled, the edge in his voice unmistakable. "I hear you've been given quite the responsibility. Yet here you are, fumbling with a simple task."

Draco's jaw tightened, and he struggled to keep his voice even. "She isn't exactly... cooperative," he replied, fighting to maintain the respect his father demanded.

Lucius let out a disdainful chuckle, crossing his arms as he surveyed his son with a mixture of disappointment and frustration. "Cooperation? Since when did a Malfoy rely on that to accomplish a goal? You should be finding her weaknesses, exploiting them. A simple act of manipulation, Draco. Must I remind you that this girl has the power to destroy us all if left unchecked?"

Draco felt a chill run down his spine, but he forced himself to stand firm, unwilling to reveal the turmoil swirling within him. The truth was, Yn had proven to be much more resilient—and far more complex—than he had anticipated. She resisted every attempt he made to break through to her, her resolve only growing stronger each time he tried to control her.

Just then, Narcissa appeared in the doorway, her presence offering a brief reprieve from the suffocating tension in the room. She looked between them, her face drawn with worry, her eyes softening as they met Draco's.

"Lucius, don't you think you're being too harsh?" she said, stepping forward. "Yn is still just a child. We're asking her to endure far more than she should."

Lucius shot her a look of exasperation. "Narcissa, you coddle him too much. That 'child' could bring us ruin if she isn't brought to heel. Do you honestly believe the Dark Lord cares about her age or the trauma she endures?"

Draco's eyes flicked to his mother, a flicker of gratitude passing through him as she defended him, but he knew it was futile. Narcissa's influence over Lucius had waned, and the rigid expectations that governed the Malfoy family had little room for compassion.

Narcissa's voice was firm as she continued, ignoring Lucius' sneer. "I am simply reminding you, Lucius, that we are asking him to break a person who has been through hell. I wonder if you have forgotten the toll that takes."

Lucius' lips curled in disdain, but before he could retort, a cold, unsettling presence swept into the room. Draco stiffened as Voldemort appeared, his crimson eyes sweeping over them with a mixture of amusement and contempt.

"Ah, family bonding, I see," Voldemort's voice slithered through the room. He turned his gaze on Draco, an eerie smile stretching across his face. "Draco, you have been given a most important task. I expected better progress."

Draco met Voldemort's gaze, his stomach knotting with a mixture of fear and loathing. He knew that failing the Dark Lord was not an option, yet the task before him seemed insurmountable. Yn's spirit was unyielding, and he found himself increasingly unsure of his ability—or willingness—to break her.