Chapter 3
“It is only one who is thoroughly acquainted with the evils of war that can thoroughly understand the profitable way of carrying it on.”
Niccolo Machiavelli, The Prince
Clearing his mind was a luxury he didn’t often have before meeting the Dark Lord. Once freed from the brunette, he had gone to his study and pressed his thumb to the doors of his armoire. When it had opened to expose a carefully carved pensieve, he had stepped forward and pressed the tip of ebony and rosewood to his temple. He swore he could feel the dragon heartstring within as he plucked a silver strand from his mind. One by one, he curated and lessened the burden of his thoughts, allowing them to simmer in the silver basin. Later, he could relive and sort through them, but for now, he had to bring his best foot forward.
He should have returned with a body, and instead, he was returning with an offer that he knew could easily be refused.
Once the dark mark on his arm burned, he followed the call. Apparition was the simplest way, following the binding thread that made it that his master would always know where he was and what he was thinking in the moment if he so chose to peruse—an indelible tether to the Dark Lord.
Falling to a knee, he bowed his head. "My lord," he spoke in a velvet praise.
"Rise my son," the familiar voice rang in the clearing.
The lieutenant didn't take long to recognize the location—the large stones set in circles around them. A popular place the muggles had coveted for too long before they had taken it back. Overhead, the sky was dark; a crescent of silver hung like a scythe.
"I am undeserving, my lord." There was no point in denying the truth. "I have failed to bring the girl."
The Dark Lord kept his back to the boy for now, expecting him to kneel behind him.
"The girl seems to be a continued issue for you, my son," he drawled, looking at the stones themselves and a book in his hand rather than at the blond that was at his feet. "She shouldn't be a match for you and yet...she keeps slipping away..."
His voice was even, calm, cold and calculating. The older wizard wasn't giving anything away, and one wrong word could earn another curse to befall the young man if he wasn't careful.
"There's no excuse. Next time, I will not fail." He meant the words. The venom in his words matched the images of her deceit. He didn't hide. Couldn't hide. The truth was, there was no point in avoiding what was to come. It was part of how he had survived. He'd learned to play the game.
"You know what will happen if you fail," he warned his tone much sharper now. The book in his hands snapped closed.
Rather than a full-fledged cruciatus curse, the pain seemed to strike down the blond's spine. It was a warning of much worse to come if he did fail.
Draco shivered, not holding back. There was no point in denying the man his show. His jaw clenched, knowing an assertion of dominance when he saw one.
"I will not fail." He meant the words. He would not disappoint his master again. In fact, he would do better. Use the girl to get what his master desired and bring her and the artifact back.
"I trust that none of the traitors and insurgents got away from their execution." He knew. But he wanted it confirmed. Far too many times, hearsay had nearly resulted in one of the thorns in his side getting away.
At the inquiry, he took a slow breath. "All targets were executed. Several insurgents have been detained at Malfoy Manor. Shall I send them or have Zabini report with his team's findings?" At least something had gone in their favor.
Turning to look at the blond, the Dark Lord's face was cast in shadows that hid his features from view. Obscuring him with the faint lights around them.
"Have Zabini report with his teams' findings, Draco. If any of them knows something of importance, send them to me," he ordered smoothly, looking the boy over slowly.
"Of course, my lord."
Pausing a moment, he considered the young man with his cold red gaze before looking back at the book, flipping it open as he spoke. "There are new recruits ready for the field. I want you to observe. These new ones seem so promising and yet are snuffed out by the insurgents too swiftly."
Which gave a chance for hope to grow in the masses again. He wouldn't tolerate it, just as he wouldn't tolerate anyone saying his name. The taboo remained in place. And any foolish enough to ignore it paid the price.
"Yes, my lord. The new hospital is awaiting its shipment. Perhaps the allure of resources might draw out a small crowd of insurgents to try them." He kept himself informed, always an ear to the ground. Blaise had been one of his best men to bring forth information. It helped that their last prisoners had offered a glimpse of some of the upcoming targets, and he always ensured some information made it out through the channels. Just enough to lure the enemy out. Sometimes, they took the bait. Other times, they seemed to understand what awaited them.
A dark chuckle left him at that. "Make sure the Prophet knows of their attack on a hospital shipment, son."
Any chance to continually smear the name of the insurgency was one he took. And they were making it easier and easier the more desperate they became. The was already lost, and none of them seemed ready to accept it. Such a shame such powerful magics were being lost, but it couldn't be helped.
He wouldn't have weakness among his ranks, and those who weren't adaptable were too weak to even attempt to sway. They had their one chance back at Hogwarts. "If any important targets show themselves there, you take them."
"With pleasure, my lord," he grinned at the words, lifting his forehead if only to glance at the wizard that had defeated the Chosen One.
"Good...Go. I want this taken care of swiftly and the girl in hand before long, Draco," he cautioned one more time for good measure, glancing down at him with a stern expression, catching him watching but seeming to allow it to slide. For now. Before he went back to the tome.
Released from his duty, Draco left, not allowing himself relief until he was safe beneath the wards of his wing. He would have to work harder to achieve his ends.