𝐀 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐬 [Draco×OC]

41: BATTLE OF THE SEVEN POTTERS ⏃

Ángeles' POV

Days had passed since that meeting, and I hadn't seen Draco since it. It was ironic, given that the Death Eater meetings were in his mansion, yet he wasn't always there. Voldemort had often said that the Malfoys were now irrelevant to him, that they had lost their status, and that their home was all they had to offer him. He also mentioned the situation between Draco and me, implying that Draco's cowardice was obvious and could interfere with his plans.

-

The room was filled with Death Eaters. At the head of the table, Voldemort sat on his throne, his red, piercing eyes scanning everyone while they debated how to ambush Harry and his friends, wondering where they would go. Ángeles looked around, confused, wondering where the Malfoys were.
"And the Malfoys?" sheasked, trying to sound indifferent.
Voldemort's mouth curved into a serpentine smile.
"The Malfoys..." he said with disdain, "they have nothing left to offer me. They've lost their status, their relevance. Lucius... and his cowardly spawn."
The low chuckles of some Death Eaters followed. She felt irritated, but she couldn't show it. Rookwood was the first to break the silence with a mocking laugh.
"What a surprise, isn't it? The great Lucius Malfoy, a total failure."
Yaxley let out a rough laugh.
"And his son... In love with the Rasmüssen heiress," he said with irony in his voice. "I can almost see it, poor little Malfoy boy, as weak as his father."
She kept an impassive expression, though their words stirred a mixture of contempt and anger. Thorfinn Rowle joined the chorus of laughter and was next to speak.
"A real shame. As cowardly as his father. Just what we needed—a Malfoy in love." He spat the word "in love" as though it were something vile.
Voldemort raised a hand, asking for silence, with hiz gaze fixed in Ángeles.
"Weakness, Ángeles, is in their blood. Draco is not only useless for my purposes at the moment... he's a threat," he said, as if it were a joke, something he could relish. "I don't want interference from someone so... emotionally invested, if you know what I mean."
Dolohov let out another laugh.
"Emotionally invested? He's like a lost child!"
Ángeles felt uncomfortable under the stares and constant mocking, waiting for she to react or say something. Rage stirred in her, with that prickling sensation in her hands, typical of when her anger made her magic surge out of control. But before anyone could say more, Snape's cold voice cut through the air.
"Silence."
His command fell like an axe, and for a moment, the room was filled with tension. The Death Eaters fell silent, though some continued to smirk, while Voldemort inclined his head toward Snape, pleased.
"Ah, yes... silence," said Voldemort mockingly. "Let's give Ángeles time to think about her young admirer."

-

That night, we had orders to go find Harry in the neighborhood where he lived with his aunt and uncle—a place they'd located thanks to an "informant" from the Aurors. We had to wait nearby, close enough to see them when they left, but far enough to avoid being seen.

"Begin!" shouted Travers.

The cold night air felt like daggers slicing through my skin, and the darkness pressed against my chest like a heavy claw, making it hard to breathe. I was flying alongside them—the Death Eaters—who soared on their brooms or billowed through the air in black smoke. I couldn't do that yet, and I didn't know why. Every time that thought crossed my mind, a paralyzing fear took hold. What I was doing, what I'd done... This isn't right. I'm not like them.

Around me, the manic laughter of Dolohov and the Lestranges rang out in the night as if they enjoyed what was about to happen. We were following Harry, or... the Harrys? There are seven of them? What the hell?

Good move, Potter. The Order is very clever.

I don't want to be here; that was the truth. Not only had Harry never done anything to me—he hadn't even reported me to anyone—but Hagrid was among them, the one who welcomed me so warmly when I arrived at Hogwarts over the holidays. Every fiber of my being screamed for me to escape this nightmare, but I couldn't. If they found out what I was doing... They would kill me. No, worse than that. They knew how to break me, how to shatter my mind, and they would do it with pleasure.