One-on-One with Voldemort
Rabastan stood outside the darkened chamber, heart pounding, as he stared at the heavy door in front of him. Why am I here? Why does he want to talk to me alone? This can’t be good. What if he finally figured out that I’ve been winging it this whole time?
He shifted nervously from foot to foot, his mind racing. Maybe this is a test. Or maybe he’s going to kill me. Or worse—maybe he wants to talk about Sanguini. Oh god.
Before Rabastan could spiral any further, the door creaked open on its own, revealing the dimly lit chamber beyond. Voldemort sat at a large, ominous-looking desk, his pale fingers steepled as he watched Rabastan enter.
Rabastan swallowed hard and stepped inside, feeling like a lamb walking into a den of wolves. The door swung shut behind him with an unsettling thud. Okay. Stay calm. He hasn’t killed you yet. Wait, that’s not as reassuring as I thought it would be.
"Rabastan," Voldemort said, his voice soft but carrying an undeniable weight. "Sit."
Rabastan did as he was told, sitting on the edge of the chair like he was about to spring up and bolt at any second. Voldemort’s red eyes studied him intently, making Rabastan’s skin crawl.
"You’ve been quite useful lately," Voldemort continued, his lips curling into something like a smile. "Your fake news campaign was extremely effective. We’ve been able to move on some of our more delicate operations while the Ministry and Order are distracted with all the misinformation. You have pleased me greatly."
"Uh, thank you, my Lord," Rabastan said, trying to keep his voice steady. Is this where he expects me to explain what my plan actually was? Because I have no idea.
Voldemort’s gaze lingered on him for a moment longer, and then, to Rabastan’s utter horror, Nagini slithered into the room, her long body coiling gracefully across the floor. She made a beeline for Rabastan, her eyes fixed on him as she approached.
Oh no. The snake. Do I pet her? Do I bow? What’s the protocol here?
Rabastan froze as Nagini wound herself around his legs, her scales cool even through his trousers. He tried not to panic as her head rested on his lap, her tongue flicking out curiously.
Voldemort’s eyes gleamed with amusement. "It seems Nagini is fond of you."
Hopefully not in way I’m fond of chicken.
Rabastan forced a weak laugh, his hands hovering awkwardly above Nagini’s head. "Uh, yeah. She’s, uh… great." Do I pet her? What if she doesn’t like it?
Nagini lifted her head slightly, her eyes locking with Rabastan’s. Okay, she’s staring. That’s not creepy at all. What do you want, snake? Do you want to kill me or cuddle?
"Go on," Voldemort said, his voice almost playful. "She won’t harm you."
Rabastan, still very unsure about this whole situation, hesitantly patted Nagini’s head. To his surprise, she didn’t bite him or hiss—she just sort of nuzzled his hand. Okay. Maybe this isn’t so bad. She’s a bit cute, actually.
Voldemort watched the interaction with a strange sort of approval. "Nagini rarely shows such affection to anyone but me. You’re quite unique, Rabastan."
Rabastan’s heart skipped a beat. Unique? Is that a compliment or a death sentence?
"She senses something in you," Voldemort continued, his voice low and thoughtful. "A kindred spirit, perhaps."
He gave another awkward chuckle, his hand still resting on Nagini’s head. "I… I guess we just, uh, get along." What am I even saying right now?
Voldemort leaned back in his chair, looking almost relaxed. "Indeed. You’ve proven to be quite valuable to me, Rabastan. Your unpredictability has served us well. I find myself intrigued."
Rabastan gave a shaky nod. "I’m… glad to hear that, my Lord."
Nagini shifted slightly, her tail tightening around Rabastan’s legs, and he had to suppress a shudder. Is she just getting comfortable or is this some weird snake hug?
"You will continue to be of use to me, Rabastan," Voldemort said, his voice growing colder. "But know this:Sshould your usefulness fade, so will my favor."
Rabastan nodded quickly, trying not to seem too desperate. "Of course, my Lord. I’ll… I’ll do my best." No pressure. Just don’t mess up in front of the evil snake man and his giant pet.
Voldemort’s gaze sharpened, and for a brief, terrifying moment, Rabastan thought he saw suspicion flicker in those red eyes. But then the moment passed, and Voldemort’s lips curled into that same eerie smile.
"Good," Voldemort said softly. "You may go."
Rabastan carefully disentangled himself from Nagini, who seemed reluctant to let go, and stood up, trying to maintain his composure. Okay. Just walk out of here calmly. Don’t trip. Don’t do anything weird.
He gave Voldemort a small bow, keeping his eyes lowered. "Thank you, my Lord."
Voldemort waved him off, his attention already shifting to the scrolls on his desk. "And Rabastan," he added, just as Rabastan reached the door.
Rabastan froze. Oh no. What now?
"You will continue to work closely with Sanguini. I expect great things from you both."
Rabastan’s stomach twisted. Sanguini? Again? Oh god. He nodded quickly. "Yes, my Lord."
As soon as the door closed behind him, Rabastan let out a long breath, his legs trembling. I survived. Barely. But I survived.
Rabastan was still reeling from his private meeting with Voldemort when Lucius fell into step beside him, his expression unusually sympathetic.
"Quite the private audience you had with the Dark Lord," Lucius said smoothly, his tone just a bit too knowing.
Rabastan, still trying to recover from his experience with Nagini, nodded absentmindedly. "Yeah. He… uh… I guess he likes me?"
Lucius gave a small, tight smile. "Oh, I’m sure he does."
Rabastan blinked, suddenly noticing the strange tone in Lucius’s voice. He glanced over at him, confused. Why does he sound like that? Did I miss something?
"You’ve certainly… climbed the ranks quickly, Rabastan," Lucius continued, his voice low as they walked down the hallway. "It’s no wonder the Dark Lord has taken such a… special interest in you."
Rabastan frowned, trying to figure out what Lucius was getting at. Special interest? I mean, yeah, I guess I’ve been getting attention, but it’s not like I’m doing any of this on purpose.
Lucius glanced at him sideways, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I can only imagine how… challenging it must be, being in such close proximity to him. The demands he places on those he… favors."
Rabastan froze, his stomach twisting uncomfortably. Wait, what? Demands? Favors? What is he talking about? Are things about to get worse?
Lucius, clearly mistaking Rabastan’s confusion for discomfort, gave him a small, sympathetic smile. "You needn’t say anything. I understand. It must be difficult, serving someone like him so intimately."
“Er.”
Lucius leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "I’ve heard rumors about how he treats those closest to him. How he can be demanding in ways that most would find unbearable."
Rabastan felt like his brain had short-circuited. Oh no. It was going to get worse. I knew it.
Lucius gave him a knowing look, his voice full of false sympathy. "I must commend your strength, Rabastan. Not everyone could handle such attention. It’s no small feat to endure his affections."
Rabastan nearly tripped over his own feet. Affections?! Voldemort doesn’t feel affectionate towards people, right? That seems dangerous.
Lucius nodded, clearly misinterpreting Rabastan’s horror as confirmation. "Indeed. But don’t worry, your secret is safe with me."
Secret?! What secret? There is no secret!
Rabastan forced a tight smile, his heart racing. "Right. Thanks, Lucius."
Lucius gave him a small, almost pitying smile. "Just know, Rabastan, that you’re not alone. If you ever need someone to talk to about the...challenges of your position, I’m always here."
Rabastan nodded, too panicked to say anything coherent. I’m not in any position! How did this happen?!
As Lucius walked away, Rabastan stared after him, completely dazed. Did Lucius just imply that he thinks I’m friends with Voldemort? How? Why? What did I say?!
As he walked back to his quarters, Rabastan could already feel the weight of Lucius’s misinterpretation settling over him. Great. Now I have to deal with this. At least I’m not dead. Yet.
Over the next few days, Rabastan noticed a subtle but significant shift in the way Lucius treated him. There were more knowing glances, more deferential nods, and Lucius seemed to go out of his way to praise Rabastan in front of the others.
During a strategy meeting, Lucius spoke up after Rabastan’s latest "brilliant" idea (which had been nothing more than an accidental comment about using enchanted frogs as decoys). "The ingenuity Rabastan brings to our cause is truly unmatched. It’s no wonder the Dark Lord has entrusted him with such important tasks."
Rabastan nearly choked on his own breath. Important tasks? Like petting a snake?
He forced a weak smile as the other Death Eaters murmured in agreement, clearly influenced by Lucius’s newfound admiration. Bellatrix, on the other hand, was glaring daggers at him, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.
After the meeting, Lucius once again pulled Rabastan aside, his voice dripping with faux concern. "Rabastan, I hope you’re managing well. I can’t imagine the toll it must take on you both mentally and physically."
Rabastan, barely holding onto his sanity, nodded dumbly. "Uh, yeah. It’s definitely a lot."
Lucius gave him another sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "I’m sure it is. But rest assured, I’ll do everything I can to make sure your efforts are recognized."
Efforts? What efforts? I’m just trying not to die!
"Thanks, Lucius," Rabastan muttered, his brain fried from trying to figure out how to correct this massive misunderstanding.
Lucius leaned in conspiratorially. "And don’t worry. I understand how overwhelming it can be. The demands of the Dark Lord’s affections are no easy burden to bear."
Rabastan’s soul nearly left his body. Affections. Why does he keep saying that?!
Lucius gave him one last, meaningful look before walking away, leaving Rabastan standing in the hallway, utterly defeated.
How did my life come to this?