𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐃 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈𝐓 𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐆𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒, 𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐀𝐓 𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐍 𝐔𝐍𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐀 𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐎𝐍 𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐋𝐔𝐒'𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐅 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄. They had each taken a decent gulp of the Felix Felicis before dinner (during which Regulus muttered a quiet thank you to sappy idiots and their friends) and for some reason, Regulus seemed to be slightly more susceptible. He was coming in very clutch, saving Evan before he could even slip up.
The members of the dinner were as follows; Mr. Harold Ardranga Rosier, head of the Rosier family; Evan; Regulus; Walburga and Orion Black; Druella and Cygnus Black; Andromeda, Bellatrix, and Narcissa Black; and, of course, Byron and Quinella Malfoy, as well as Lucius.
And, obviously, the Dark Lord himself.
It was a sorry gathering indeed, but between the liquid luck, basic survival skills, and the nuances they'd picked up on after years in such an environment, it was looking like they may live to see another day.
They really owed it all to Amara, honestly. Even if one of them hadn't enough luck for the weekend, both would certainly go down.
They were in the study, enjoying some old brandy and desert when the Dark Lord commanded Evan to approach him.
"Come, boy," he said in his slinky, low voice. "Come let me look at you."
Evan approached, eyes low and face neutral. "Yes, my lord." His bones were screaming at him to run, his muscles aching to place distance between himself and the monster ahead of him. He needed to escape. It was too stuffy in the hot room, and the combination of Felix Felicis and alcohol were making his blood burn and unbearable warmth pool in his stomach.
Cold fingers grasped at his chin, and Evan thought back to just a few hours ago, where Amara had grabbed him exactly at that spot. His chin was burning.
But immediately, as if pushed, his thoughts drifted to something else. Extremely vaguely, in the back of his mind, Evan comprehended that the Dark Lord was extremely versed in Legilimency, and perhaps risking exposure with a Mudblood would not be in his best interest. He fixated on remembering the dinner, exactly what portions everyone had eaten of what, and the topics discussed.
"You look more like your mother, don't you, than your father." It was not a question.
"That is what most tell me, my lord."
"Good. She is a lovely woman, isn't she?" The Dark Lord bade Evan's gaze follow, and his white hand dug a necklace out from around his neck.
Evan could see her. A tiny, frozen, silent screaming version of his mother, trapped on the other side of the mirror in the pendant. She wasn't moving, or thinking; frozen in time for however long the Dark Lord wanted her to be.
"Are you patient enough for me yet?" the Dark Lord asked quietly, patting Evan's cheek. "Have you waited long enough?"
More than long enough. "I'll wait as long as you command me to, my lord. It is my pleasure and honor."
"Ah, good. Good. Well, I suppose you are ready for some more responsibility, are you not?"
No. No. Dread pooled in his chest. "My lord?"
The Dark Lord laughed, and it was high and cold. "I'm not going to Mark you today, Rosier. I have a different purpose for you in mind. Your Mark will be awarded when you come for the winter break, and have proven yourself.
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𝐒𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍; 𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐧 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐫.
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