Silk Roads

Chapter 17

Chapter 17: Realizations and Expectations

Date: 16 May 1967
Location: Malfoy Manor, Hallway

The dreadful feeling in his gut intensified when they entered Voldemort's private study – does the Dark Lord have his own personal office at every of his follower's manor? In order for him to calm down, he distracted himself by taking in his surroundings whilst mentally noting all the possible exits. The relaxed atmosphere in this rectangular room was something Marcaunon had not expected. The long forest green walls and comfortable cushioned armchairs near the warmly lit fireplace made Marcaunon's anxiety almost dissipate. Almost.

Voldemort gestured for him to take a seat on the pristine white armchair near the fireplace whilst the Dark Lord himself seated directly on the opposite of him. Marcaunon was confused. Shouldn't Voldemort be seating behind his mahogany office desk like any other employers that would interview their potential employees?

The man took out a few pieces of parchment and crossed his right leg over the other as he began reading. Marcaunon only blinked owlish and followed his cousin's lead by crossing his legs as well – it was his naturally relaxed posture rather than a defensive one. His cousin then placed the parchments on the classic round side table on his right before he lightly tapped it twice. Two ceramic teacups appeared on the rectangular glass table in front of them, both filled with what he assumed to be green tea.

"Would you like some tea?" Voldemort started with a light tone. Marcaunon didn't let down his guard and remained vigilant on the inside. Making idle conversations were one of the many ways of ensuring an approachable and companionable disposition.

"I appreciate the offer, but no thank you." Wasn't the host supposed to ask first before serving? Perhaps Voldemort just forgot. He mentally shook his head and pushed it out of his mind – he wouldn't be able to drink it with his mouth covered anyway.

"Pity. Slendy makes the most aromatic of teas." Marcaunon only remained silent. "Tell me, Mr. Rose, why did you choose to be a Potions' Master?"

"Money." A money faced arrogant person would turn anybody off. Nobody would want to hire someone that could be bought by their rivals – he was a potential back stabber in the making.

"Is that so..." Voldemort only cocked his head to the side. "Why not become an information broker then?"

Marcaunon only stared at Voldemort stupidly. It was true that information brokers would receive a hefty sum if they provided information that could be used as potential blackmail material, however what does that have to do with anything?

"Why so confuse, Mr. Rose? I'm sure you'll make a great information broker... You did call me Mr. Gaunt after all." Voldemort's eyes narrowed when Marcaunon subconsciously crossed his arms over his stomach. "Not many know that I descended from the Gaunts – I can count them all with one hand actually... And let me tell you that none would dare to betray me."

...Did he really call Voldemort a Gaunt? He thought back to the meeting fifteen days ago.

"Pardon me for asking, but have we met before, Mr. Rose?" Voldemort whispered softly to him whilst the others were still busy with reading their parchment, those narrowed crimson eyes taking in every detail of his reactions.

"I'm sure I would've remembered someone as charismatic as you, Mr. Gaunt, if we were to have met before."

Voldemort only continued to gaze at him attentively.

He swallowed inaudibly and mentally hit himself on the head. How could he have made such an elementary mistake? He was so busy with thinking about Voldemort being his cousin (and about Chaos) at that point of time, that he naturally referred Voldemort as Mr. Gaunt. He at least soothed his fraying nerves that he had not called Voldy Cousin. That would be most unsettling for the both of them.