The Girl Who Lived (Draco Malfoy x OC)

The Dark Lord

June 30th 1997

It was fear that brought his rage, a hot burning anger that desired to harm. Draco sat on the short sofa at the foot of his bed, slamming his palms against his burning eyelids, nails digging into his hair as he clutched his head. He groaned with agony, he'd forgotten how powerful it felt to hate. Thirty days had passed since he allowed the Death Eater's into Hogwarts. Thirty days since Severus Snape had killed Albus Dumbledore. Thirty days since he had seen Harper Potter.

The memory of her lying helpless and in pain on the wet grass branded into his retinas.

He sucked in a very nasal breath in an attempt to calm his emotions. Meetings with the Dark Lord had always been detestable, but their recent meeting this evening left the Malfoy heir livid. Draco feared he was going to become near psychotic after a few more weeks in this bloody Manor. For a moment he considered slamming his head against the tall walls, but couldn't get himself to move. So he remained at the edge of his bed for another hour, which was an improvement. Last meeting he took two hours to get off the floor.

The meeting was a blur of words, blood and hate. He'd spent the entire time at that fucking table trying to stay stable. His mother was his only anchor to remain level headed. The Malfoy rage was a powerful thing, but so was the devotion to keep reserved. That was until the Dark Lord plotted to kill the girl he loved in front of him. That was when black flecks of rage dotted his vision.

"Potter will have to move in the open. Easier to take, by far," the Dark Lord had concluded. The feeling that throbbed in the pits of his stomach was physically painful and he'd flinched as if the Dark Lord had stabbed him. "I shall attend to the girl in person. There have been too many mistakes where she is concerned. Some of them have been my own. That Potter lives is due more to my errors, than to her triumphs." The guilt that smoldered in his heart felt like someone had rammed barbed wire down his throat.

But now he was in the sanctity of his bedroom where he was free to exhibit the darkness and cruelty bubbling beneath his skin. He swallowed back the irritated bile in his throat and rested his temple against his curled knuckles.

The salt to his gaping wound had been when the Dark Lord had taken his father's wand. "I have given you your liberty, Lucius, is that not enough for you? But I have noticed that you and your family seem less than happy of late. What is it about my presence in your home that displeases you, Lucius?" Hatred bled into Draco's veins. "Is my return, my rise to power, not the very thing they professed to desire for so many years?"

It was then Draco grieved any chance of retribution for his father. This is what he had wanted since Draco could remember and Lucius Malfoy was never shy about his dedication to the Dark Lord. He tried not to despise the man he looked up to for sixteen years, but it was owing to him that they were here.

By the end of the meeting Draco felt like he could literally massacre a town.

A knocking at his door forced him to gather himself again. He breathed in deeply, wiping at his face and ruffling his hair before stalking to the door on his long legs. He wandlessly waved the ward spell away, a habit he'd taken too since the Dark Lord began staying with them. A sore hand on the doorknob and he opened it to reveal his mother.

Narcissa Malfoy was always renowned for being exceptionally beautiful. She never cracked in appearances, a master of the Malfoy competence. She never entered the public eye looking anything less than perfect. Even in the comfort of her own Manor, she would remain exquisite. These days, it wasn't irrational to see her eyes reddened and skin marred. Regardless of her suffering appearance, she forced a small smile to her son.