Draco Malfoy and the Girl Who Hid

57

The shadows in the grand hall of Malfoy Manor stretched long and dark as Draco made his way through the silent corridors. A storm brewed outside, flashes of lightning illuminating the path before him as rain battered against the windows. His steps echoed through the empty halls, his mind swirling with an unease he couldn't shake.

When he reached the doors to his father's study, he paused, steeling himself. He knew Voldemort awaited him inside, along with his father and several other key figures. Summons like this rarely bode well, and a gnawing feeling of dread had nestled itself deep within his chest.

With a quick, steadying breath, he pushed open the door and stepped inside. The room was cloaked in dim, flickering candlelight, the air heavy with the scent of smoke and old parchment. Voldemort stood at the centre of the room, his expression impassive, but his piercing red eyes locked onto Draco the moment he entered.

"Ah, Draco," Voldemort's voice was a low hiss, almost serpentine, cutting through the silence like a blade. "Come closer."

Draco moved forward, inclining his head respectfully. He could feel the eyes of the others on him, a mix of curiosity and anticipation that made his skin prickle.

"You have proven yourself resourceful," Voldemort continued, his gaze narrowing. "And your influence over our dear Yn has been... promising."

Draco nodded, carefully schooling his features. "Thank you, my Lord."

Voldemort's lips curved into a cold, mirthless smile. "But it is time for her to fulfill her purpose. There is a task I require of her—a mission that will demonstrate her loyalty to our cause." He paused, letting the words sink in before continuing. "She will be infiltrating a crucial Order meeting. This task is delicate, and the risks are significant."

The words struck Draco like a physical blow, and he struggled to keep his face neutral. He had known, of course, that this moment would come—that Yn's role was never meant to be one of passive observation. But the reality of it, the very thought of her being sent into danger, made his stomach twist with an unfamiliar surge of panic.

"My Lord," Draco began cautiously, "Yn is still adapting to her new role. Perhaps... perhaps she isn't ready for a mission of this magnitude. It could compromise our position if she were discovered."

Voldemort's gaze darkened, his eyes narrowing as he regarded Draco with cold amusement. "Are you suggesting I am mistaken in my judgment?" he asked, his voice laced with deadly calm.

Draco felt his father's sharp glare from across the room, and he swallowed hard, lowering his eyes. "Of course not, my Lord. I only meant to express my concern for her safety."

"Safety?" Voldemort's voice turned mocking, a cruel smile playing at his lips. "You speak of safety as if it holds any relevance in our quest for power. Sacrifice is necessary, Draco. Or have you forgotten?"

Draco's heart thudded painfully in his chest, but he forced himself to nod. "No, my Lord."

"Good," Voldemort continued, his tone softening into something almost sinisterly gentle. "Then you understand why this mission must proceed. Yn is but a piece on our chessboard, Draco—a valuable piece, yes, but one that must be moved when necessary."

The cold detachment with which Voldemort spoke of Yn made Draco's skin crawl. She wasn't just a pawn to him, not anymore. But he was acutely aware that any sign of protest would be viewed as weakness—a weakness he couldn't afford to show.

Voldemort's gaze lingered on him, his eyes gleaming with a hint of curiosity. "You are troubled, Draco. Tell me, do you doubt her commitment?"

Draco swallowed, his throat dry. "No, my Lord. Yn is loyal. She... she understands what's at stake."