Papillon

20 - l'épée

C H A P T E R 2 0

Draco

Trapped, like a phoenix locked in a cage — slowly turning to ashes and unable to rise again. The boy he once knew he was, he was no more. He was a faint glimpse, a faint light somewhere that lost all its shine. A snake-like voice, parseltongue filling his head and demanding him to move. His hands, his feet... everything moved because that voice demanded him to do so. Slowly, Draco lost complete sense of whom he truly was — and started to believe he had always been like this, always been so similar to his father and the Dark Lord he served. Every memory of Harry was gone, as well as those of Beauxbatons and lighter days in general. Happy memories didn't seem to exist — as if they had never happened.

☾ *:･ﾟ✧

'I must leave for a little while,' his Lord announced. Draco could feel the eyes of the other Death Eaters glance in His direction, hesitant yet curious. Draco kept his own eyes focused on the drawing room's door, waiting for something he felt coming. His fingers traced his scars through his shirt. A snake, Nagini, passed by his feet, and the locket enjoyed the coolness of the creature against its ankles.

'May I ask to where, my Lord?' a voice asked. A stutter, very light and almost inaudible — a sign of fear. Draco's eyes shot from the door to the man with the blond, long hair he once identified as his father.

Rustling of robes as the Dark Lord rose from his seat, a pale hand sliding over the table's surface. 'There are other tasks that need to be done,' he replied. 'Tasks that neither of you can complete.' Red eyes met Draco's, whom had returned their stare to the door again. 'Something bothering you, dear boy?'

'There is someone there,' he answered.

'Really?' The Dark Lord turned his head towards the door, then seated himself again — unbothered.

'There is someone there,' Draco repeated, his eyes still transfixed on the darkness of the high, double doors.

The faintest sigh followed, which seemed to shock the others. Annoyance to the Dark Lord was seen as a crime — yet, the Dark Lord himself apparently found it rather amusing. 'Then why don't you let him in, Draco?'

Rising from his seat with his back as straight as it could be, he made a faint gesture with his hand. The doors of the drawing room flew open, revealing a ratty man behind it. His big, bulging eyes looked around the room in fear. Slight whining at his discovery. Next to him stood a tall man, dressed in black robes. A hand wiped away a strand of greasy hair, his face set serious. Ignoring the rat-like man, but keeping his eyes on the man in black — Draco followed how he strode into the room. 'My apologies, my Lord,' the man began. 'I was unable to leave any sooner than I did.'

'Severus,' the Dark Lord said as a greeting. 'And Wormtail,' as a greeting to the other one, with more disgust readable in his red eyes. 'Draco here was rather bothered by your... unannounced presence.' His eyes turned to Draco again, and so did those of Snape and Wormtail.

'Is that truly?' Snape asked, raising one of his eyebrows slightly.

'He is doubting his side,' Draco then stated, still staring at the raven-haired man without blinking once. His eyes were starting to burn, but the parseltongue in his head commanded him to keep staring. The words he blurted out were demands from the locket; observations he felt. Observations different eyes than his own had seen.

'Is he?' the Dark Lord asked, almost in a joking way. 'Sit down, my boy. The locket is being too loyal to me.' Draco sat down immediately, his hands placed on the table's surface and his eyes casted away again. Yet there was no denying that Snape's aura had changed just the slightest — as if he had suddenly become more wary of something; of a kind of threat that was Draco himself — at least, in his current state.