“So, Severus,” a high-pitched voice hissed from the shadows. “You were successful.”
Snape's black eyes stared at the wall. “Of course, my Lord. Dumbledore's trust made it an easy task in the end.”
“But from what I gather,” continued the voice from behind him, “young Draco could not finish the job.”
Snape paused. He knew Draco's life was in the balance, his failed attempt at Dumbledore's life putting him in great danger. Though at the same time, Snape suspected Voldemort had already made his decision.
“Draco was in a difficult position,” the oily-haired former Professor continued. “You're aware, of course, of Dumbledore's way with words.” He paused, sensing a movement in the shadows from the corner of his eye. “He can engineer doubt in all but the most secure and experienced of minds.”
“You're fond of the boy, aren't you, Severus,” remarked Voldemort, slowly materialising from the shadows into the dim green light cast by enchanted lamps. “I do not blame you, he has great potential, much like his father at the same age.” This last statement was delivered with such cold disdain that it was all Snape could do not to shiver.
“Draco was the one who disarmed Dumbledore, a task many a powerful wizard has died attempting,” Snape said by way of reply. “It is my personal belief that that should count for something. He also repaired the Vanishing Cabinet. Without it, Hogwarts could not have been infiltrated. My achievement would not have been possible were it not for Draco's actions.”
“Yes, Severus, you are quite right,” Voldemort replied, walking ever-so-slowly behind Snape's back, wand twirling menacingly between his fingers. “You have proven your worth to me; your opinion is one I value.”
“Thank you, Lord,” replied Snape in a breathy voice. “I am humbled.”
“Send them in,” called Voldemort sharply, and a short, balding figure with watery eyes who had been standing inconspicuously in the corner of the room ran to the door, opened it, and ushered in four figures.
“Thank you, Wormtail,” said Voldemort icily. “Welcome, Lucius, Draco, Narcissa. And thank you for attending, Bellatrix.”
“My Lord,” began Narcissa, fear in her voice, “Though Snape performed the act, Draco was still successf-”
“Quiet,” shot Voldemort, in a soft voice more piercing than any scream could manage. “You will speak only when spoken to, Narcissa, if you want your son to live.”
Narcissa looked terrified, distraught, but the subtle implication that Draco might yet live gave her the strength to control herself.
“I trust your short stay in Azkaban was not too taxing, Lucius?” enquired Voldemort silkily.
“Azkaban is always taxing, my Lord, but a sacrifice worth making,” replied Lucius humbly.
“Severus here has been recounting the events leading up to Dumbledore's demise,” began Voldemort. At the mention of Dumbledore's death, Bellatrix gave a quiet cackle of glee. “You will be pleased to know that he spoke very highly of Draco's achievements, despite his inability to complete the task. I am inclined to agree. Dumbledore's powers lay not just in his magic; he could be very persuasive.”
“My Lord, you are too kind,” said Lucius, bowing. Narcissa's breathing was getting faster, hardly daring herself to believe the words coming from the Dark Lord's mouth. Draco simply stood, as he had since he entered, face downcast, trembling, hands clenched tightly, trying to forget the terror he was facing.
“Yes, there is great potential in the boy, and it would be a terrible, terrible shame for it to go to waste,” continued Voldemort, though his voice carried a tone that made Narcissa's hair stand on end. Lucius looked on apprehensively.
“And yet, he could not complete the task required of him,” Voldemort said slowly, dragging out every ominous syllable. “Severus had to step in, revealing his true loyalties and losing me my best spy.” Narcissa's face fell. Lucius' features remained stable, but his eyes widened, panic stirring in his chest.
“Of course, I am now accustomed to Malfoys failing me,” Voldemort said icily, walking up to Lucius' face, feeling his breath, and fixing Lucius with a stare that would freeze fire. “I do not intend for it to happen again. Crucio.”
At once, Lucius crumpled to the floor at Voldemort's feet, agonised screams echoing off the stone walls as he thrashed and rolled in excruciating pain.
“You are too proud, Lucius, too arrogant for your own good,” came Voldemort's soft voice, somehow clearly audible over Lucius' screams.
The curse was lifted, and Lucius slowly rose onto all fours, and then his feet, unsteady.
“You could have been great for me, Lucius. If ever you could have abandoned your own selfish pride, and served me without reservation, you could have risen above all others. But now look at you,” spat Voldemort as he lifted his wand again. “If I am going to spare Draco, I must ensure that he never falls under the same illusions you did, Lucius; the Malfoy name means nothing to me. The Malfoy name is mud. My power stretches beyond petty names. Your name exists only to serve me. You have made it so, Lucius.”
And with that, he raised his wand again. “Crucio,” he whispered once more, and once more Lucius Malfoy crumpled to the floor in agony, only this time, his wife and son fell with him. Bellatrix had turned her wand on her own sister, a darkly manic smile upon her face as she betrayed her blood, while Peter Pettigrew, Wormtail, had Draco at his feet.
Snape watched on without expression as the torture continued. He had seen it many times before, though it was confronting to see the betrayal written across the Malfoys' faces whenever the curses were momentarily lifted.
“Wormtail, cease,” Voldemort hissed after a while, and Draco stopped screaming, lying panting on the stone floor. Voldemort and Bellatrix continued their punishment. “Make him watch.”
Narcissa had begun to bleed from her nose and ears, while Lucius had gone a deathly pale.
“Do you see, young Draco?” hissed Voldemort from across the room, as Wormtail forced Draco, under his wand, to watch his parents' suffering. “Do you see the price of arrogance and pride? Your parents are weak, nothing, and neither are you.”
He lifted the curse momentarily. Lucius too had begun to bleed from his nose. Narcissa's movements had stopped as well, as Bellatrix lifted her wand. “You, on the other hand, have the potential to change, to learn. Your anger will fuel you. You will learn this is the only way.”
A ragged voice rose from Voldemort's feet. “Please..... Lord, spare....spare me,” came Lucius' voice, crackled, broken, pathetic. “Take.... take Draco instead.... please....”
“Father.....” came Draco's voice, stunned with soft betrayal.
“Lucius, how could you?” sneered Voldemort, as Narcissa gave a small whimper. “Your own son?”
“Please..... I have.... I have been loyal....”
“You have been nothing but selfish, Lucius, since the moment I met you,” snapped Voldemort. “Do not deny it, it is what made you strong, but now it is time you paid the price for your lack of devotion.”
The torture began again. Fresh screams filled the room, bouncing off the stone walls and mingling with the writhing shadows cast by the flickering green lamps to create a confusion of pain, sorrow and betrayal. Draco absorbed this; his father, who was willing to sacrifice his own son, dying before his eyes in an agony most unimaginable; his mother, his impotent protector, frail and pathetic as her scream turned hoarse, harsh, inhuman.
“Bella, I tire of this,” said Voldemort wearily, as the screams eventually grew dim. “Finish them.”
“With pleasure, my Lord,” Bella replied, as Voldemort lifted the curse.
“No.... Bella....” croaked Narcissa feebly.
“Avada Kedavra,” sang Bellatrix gleefully, and a bolt of green light struck her sister in the chest, sending her flying into the wall to land in a crumpled heap, dead. Draco watched, his expression unreadable, his agony unknowable, as his world crumbled. Lucius was next; he landed face down on top of Narcissa, husband and wife lying in a sinister, morbid mockery of an embrace.
“Well done, Bellatrix,” said Voldemort, matter of fact. “You shall be rewarded. Look after young Draco now,” he continued as he swept out of the room, Wormtail following faithfully behind.
Snape watched as Bellatrix sauntered over to Draco, who had collapsed as Wormtail lifted his wand to leave.
“Here now, Draco, auntie Bella's here,” came Bellatrix's lilting, musical, sing-song voice. “You're safe. Everything will be alright now.”
Bellatrix knelt down and took Draco into her arms. Draco numbly returned the hug, his eyes dead, his spirit crushed, and Snape felt with force the horror of this violation of nature, a son taking his parents' killer into his arms.
“Ready to go, Severus?” called Bellatrix, as she released Draco, supporting him as he rose.
“Of course,” replied Snape smoothly, his voice never wavering, and they swept from the room, leaving the corpses of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, together in their death, for Nagini.
Harry Potter and the Wizard's Tome by godblesmaryoloughlin
Chapter Endnotes: You know the drill, please R&R. :)