A Godfather's Concern
It's two days after Draco's parents leave that he's summoned. He used to feel fear when that happened, but now, there was only the dull expectation that something unpleasant was about to happen.
Stepping into the study The Dark Lord had unofficially claimed, not his father's, thank Merlin, Draco made no move to keep his face controlled. What use was it when he'd already seen into the darkest corner of Draco's mind already?
"Draco, come here." The Dark Lord sat not at the desk, but on the lounge.
He knew why. Draco knew with perfect clarity the role Voldemort expected him to fill.
So Draco sat, not next to him, but across, back straight and ankles crossed. He'd not been asked a question, so he didn't speak, which seemed to benefit The Dark Lord all the same.
"I have a task for you." He drawled, peering at Draco like a specimen he wanted to pick apart. Still, Drao didn't say a word, and his expression twisted for a moment, "Speak."
"Of what kind, my lord?" Draco asked, not looking up, keeping his gaze fixed to the floor.
The Dark lord sighed impatiently, "I thought we were past this, Draco. I thought I made it clear I wanted this facade gone."
Draco looked up then, his face flat, not with indifference, but with anger, "Alright then, what would you have me do? What is it that only I can accomplish?"
The Dark Lord leaned back in a controlled, leisurely manner, "There you go," He smiled, "You will kill Peter Pettigrew."
And that was the crux of things. Voldemort had not asked Draco to do anything, Draco could refuse and still be within the parameters of the deal.
But Draco wouldn't make it far if he took The Dark Lord for a fool. Madman or not, he didn't get this far being careless, and so Draco had to be on guard, for all he knew, this was a test. Something to see if Draco would obey a command without the threat of his parent's life hanging over his head.
Besides, it would be much more satisfying to pull The Dark Lord along, watching him unravel his own web with his arrogance.
Draco looked to the ceiling, considering, "Any specific method?" He asked. Pettigrew was a nuisance, and it was no wonder why The Dark Lord wanted him gone, it was the message behind it that truly mattered.
"No, surprise me." Voldemort said, waving his hand, though it didn't feel like a dismissal, so Draco stayed.
Silence fell, and Draco couldn't help but feel The Dark Lord was waiting for something, so he took a chance, "Do you truly need to breathe?"
The Dark Lord stilled, looking sharply at Draco, "What makes you think I don't?"
Draco raised an eyebrow, "Your physical body, at least, is a magical construct, isn't it?"
The Dark Lord smiled again, and Draco was slightly annoyed to note it held the distinct tinge of pride, "Very good Draco! And here I thought I was alone in the knowledge." He steepled his fingers in front of him, "I do not need to breathe, no, but some habits are ingrained far too deep to root out. And it serves no purpose to expend useful energy for simple appearances."
"I would argue appearances matter a great deal."
"You would, vain boy," Was that . . .fondness? Draco suppressed a shiver of disgust, "For someone like you, that's correct. I myself relied on my looks in small part in my youth, but now, established as I am, there's no need. I do not need to rely on petty parlour tricks for my power."
Draco bristled at the insult, but bit his tongue, "I don't imagine the snake look was intentional then?" He snarked.
A hand was around his throat then, quick as Nagini, not squeezing, but heavy with the implication, "Careful, Dear Bird, I value your insight, but I will not tolerate overstep." The Dark Lord released Draco's throat, back in his chair like he'd never left it.
"I apologise for my impertinence, my lord." Draco forced out, dipping his head, "But before we continue, I do believe I have some other long standing orders."
The Dark Lord looked up, something close to surprise in his face, "I had assumed your tasks were why you forsook your service in the first place."
"You'd be incorrect, I hold no love for Albus Dumbledore."
Draco let himself smile, though it felt foreign on his face, "And I believe I promised you entrance into Hogwarts."
—-------
Three more days passed without Draco killing Pettigrew, and it was obvious The Dark Lord was getting impatient.
Draco held course, however, patience was a virtue, and all good things came to those who waited.
So when the next meeting was called, Draco's mark burning with the summons, he was almost relieved. He made sure he was early, sitting in his father's old place to The Dark Lord's right, and made himself comfortable.
"Draco, any news you'd like to share?" The Dark Lord drawled, voice hissing in barely concealed anger.
"No, not particularly." Draco replied, organising the papers in front of him, and ignoring the glare directed at the side of his head.
Luckily, he was saved by his aunt, who dropped into the seat next to him after making the appropriate hello's to The Dark Lord.
"Hah! I really must get your skin routine Lucius, you look younger and younger by the day!" She laughed, slumping in the seat.
As the rest of the inner circle filled in, Draco felt anticipation take root in his chest. Almost, almost, almost, he repeated mentally, internalising every face he saw. When Pettigrew shambled in, Draco felt his smile widen like a shark sensing blood. Soon, soon, soon.
Then Severus walked in.
His eyes swept over the room, skipping over Draco, before he seemed to still, dragging his gaze back.
It was obvious the exact second his godfather recognised him, eyes blowing just slightly wider and posture tightening just slightly before he continued to his seat on The Dark Lord's left, directly across from Draco.
With Severus, the meeting could begin.
Before The Dark Lord could say anything, however, Draco held up a hand. The air in the room seemed to freeze, as every eye turned to stare at him in horror. He could see Severus, who looked like he was suffering a slight heart attack, and felt a push at his occlumency shields, as if he needed the warning.
Without further ado, Draco pulled his gun from his pocket, and shot Pettigrew between the eyes.
His job done, he set the gun down on the table, uncaring of the way the too-hot barrel chard the delicate wood. Pettigrew had been close enough warm blood splattered onto his face, but it wasn't a new or particularly disgusting sensation, so he only wiped it off delicately with a handkerchief he kept in his sleeve for this exact purpose.
And Draco felt nothing.
It was so completely unlike killing Greyback that for a moment, Draco felt adrift. When he killed Greyback, there had been shock, pain, anger.
And If he was to be truthful with himself, there was the heavy knowledge he had just taken another living, sentient being's life. There was none of that now, only the fleeting satisfaction of a job well done. A point made eloquently.
It worried him, but these days, nothing could really reach Draco through the impenetrable calm he surrounded himself with, so he let it go. Guilt was a useless thing, it would not help him now.
"Well? Continue." Draco waved, raising an eyebrow in a mockery of impatience.
The other Death Eaters looked to each other, unsure of how to take the sudden assassination, but Severus just seemed to stare at Draco, dark eyes filled with some unnamable thing.
"Well," The Dark Lord began, "There are urgent matters to discuss."
Draco tuned most of the meeting out, he already had his assignments, he needn't bother with the rest of them, aside from knowing exactly who was doing what for future reference.
After everything had been discussed, Voldemort dismissed the Death Eaters, leaving only Draco, who wouldn't leave until he had a polite reason, and Severus, obviously waiting for Draco.
The Dark Lord waved a hand at Draco, a sign of dismissal, so he led Severus out of the room, back to the personal wings of The Manor.
Stepping out onto the balcony, Draco kept his back to his godfather, emotions rolling in him finally. He sensed more than felt his hand grip the railing, the blood draining from his already pale hands, leaving nothing but white knuckles.
"I've done, a very stupid thing, Severus."
His godfather didn't answer, staying in the doorway like the vengeful ghost of Draco's recently lost something.
"I tried, to do it the way you wanted." He went on, feeling his throat struggle around the words, "But I don't think I'm capable of it, that level of restraint. Of selflessness." Draco looked out over the grounds, eyes drifting over the familiar trees of the forest, which seemed to sway, sensing his attention, "I'll never put what's mine below anything else, even the outcome of this war. My family is far more important to me than some silly mortal fight about muggles." He tilted his head, allowing his untied hair to fall into his face.
"They can burn for all I care. Tell them that, all of them. I won't stop until everyone who threatens my family, and my home, is dead, without even a body to bury."
He finally turned to face Severus, "Tell them I'm coming."
"You impulsive, arrogant fool." Severus drawled, though he sounded more resigned than angry, "I spent all of last year promising your mother I would help you, and here we are."
Draco let the corner of his mouth curl, "Well, it's the thought that counts, I'd think."
"What happened?" Severus asked, his usual bluntness soothing Draco.
"I made a deal with him."
"What are the conditions?"
Draco leaned back against the railing, feeling his hair whip in the wind, some of it blowing into his face, "I do as he asks, and in return, my family is spared."
"Those are the exact terms?" Severus came to stand next to him, not leaning on the railing like Draco, but rather looking out past the horizon, where the sun had begun to set.
For lack of anything else to do, Draco pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, offering one to his godfather just to watch his face twist in disgust, "Of course not, I'm not telling you that."
"Just when are you going to retire that filthy habit? And it's not as if I could change any of it." Severus responded, voice dripping with annoyance.
"It's like my father hasn't left," Draco smiled, lighting the cigarette with a quick thought, "And no, but you could tell others, who would find a way to twist my words in a way I did not intend."
Severus sighed in a very put-upon manner, "Isn't that your specialty? I doubt any knowledge would be enough for even him to beat you in a game of words." The corner of his mouth twitched up, "Though I would so love to see him try."
Draco smiled at the thought, "He knows exactly how good I am with my words."
The sudden affront and anger on Severus' face would have made any first year run for their mother's skirts, "You've made a deal with him too? Inconsolable weeping Christ, Draco, what have you been doing these few weeks?"
Draco finally broke, laughter ringing out across the sky at his godfather's characteristically colourful swears, "Oh, more than you could ever imagine, Severus, you always did say I was a resourceful child."
He looked down, examining the shine of his leather shoes, he knew his godfather likely didn't need it, but Draco felt the urge to reassure him "I've been more object than person since I was conceived, Severus, it's no trouble to reprise an old role."
Severus' mouth twitched, "Children these days seem so willing to accept the life they've been handed."
"Would you rather I rail against the injustice of it all? Seems more Potter's wheelhouse, and besides, I'm the young, beautiful, and fantastically rich Lord Malfoy, what strife could possibly overrule that?"
He hadn't spoken this candidly with Severus since he was a small child, when the concepts of danger and fear and hatred hadn't taken root yet. But it was nice, Severus was always blunt and glib in a way Draco was never allowed to be, and it felt in some small way he could claim a bit of his godfather's bitterness for himself. The only other people he could be reliably mean to were Blaise and Potter.
Severus seemed to study his face for a moment, eyes darting rapidly in the way they did when he connected two dots, "You're wearing a glamour."
"You got that from a single sentence? Severus, if I had something dark going on everytime I proclaimed my own beauty, I'd be as noseless as The Dark Lord." Draco sighed, though they both knew Severus was right.
"Draco." He said harshly.
"Fine." Draco replied, in a perfectly reasonable and not at all petulant tone.
He reached for the spell that hid his scars, he hadn't removed it before, but his magic knew the way, peeling back layers delicately so that they could be reapplied later.
Part of him still coward at the thought of anyone seeing him so mangled, but Severus had taken care of him as a child, heard all sorts of embarrassing rumours as his head-of-house, and quite literally held his chest together as he bled out in Knockturn Alley, if anyone deserved to see his scars, it was Severus.
Feeling the last slips of magic recede back into his core, Draco studied his godfather for any trace of disgust.
There was none, just Severus' typical, half-disappointed, half-bored resting face, as he took in Draco's face with clinical efficiency.
Draco looked away and took another drag of his cigarette, "What? Not going to tell me I'm still pretty?"
Severus had the gall to look faintly sad, though it was quickly swallowed by haughty condescension, "If I did, your head would swell to sizes previously unknown to humanity."
Again, Draco allowed himself to smile.