Daphne was lead down the long hallway, past painted generations of Malfoy witches and wizards. They looked down at her, whispering and ducking through their portraits as Mister Nott directed her deeper into the underbelly of the manor. Daphne didn't listen to the portraits. She listened instead to the click of her heels on the wooden floor, softened by the emerald rug that extended down the hall.
Under her robes, she could feel her wand, slid up her sleeve. She would need it, Mister Nott had assured her when he'd taken her from dinner. Daphne didn't question why. She rose, against her sister's protests - quickly quietened with a look from Mr Nott –– and allowed herself to be apparated to the manor.
The Malfoy Manor was dark; only the spark of lumos and floating candles lit their path. There were no windows in this hall, not even bewitched ones to give warmth to the home. In the distance, a golden light spread out from a doorway, far, on the left. Shadows flickered along it and as they grew closer, she could hear a voice, indistinct, whispering.
She drew in a breath as Druella Black stared down from a large portrait, at the end of the hallway. Her hooded eyes looking down a long nose.
"Your father's a coward," she spat. "Dishonour on the Greengrass name."
Daphne turned her head away, holding a placid expression to feign deaf to the woman's words as she was taken to the Malfoy formal dining room. In truth, the words gave her something to expect.
As the door creaked open, everyone turned to face her as Mister Nott took his place in one of the goblin-made dining chairs. Daphne quickly glanced over the room: Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy flanked either side of their son. Bellatrix was on Narcissa's other side, grinning widly. Crabbe and Goyle sat opposite the dark wood table, beside the Lestrange brothers, and Lord Voldemort stood at the head of table, behind the spine of his chair, where Daphne's father sat, sunken in the seat like a slack puppet.
Daphne clasped her hands behind her back; as her eyes caught her father, she dug her nails into the palm of her right hand and breathed in. She couldn't let a tremble escape her, she was better than that.
She bowed, first to Lord Voldemort and then to the Malfoy's. Bellatrix snickered, but made no further comments, instead turning to eye her with interest.
"Do you see that?" Voldemort spoke, lifting her father's head to see her. "Your daughter knows where manners are. Well done."
He was pale, her father. His eyes were red and sunken in his face. The muscles over his jaw were slack. Never before had Daphne ever seen even a hair out of place from her father, and here he was, near-death.
She dugs her nails in harder.
"Tell me, dear girl. What do you feel for your father?"
Daphne stared at her father before then drawing her eyes up to Lord Voldemort. She could feel him in her head, like fingers searching through a cabinet. Don't lie, she thought. Voldemort just stared at her.
"He's made a mistake," she answered him. "He has brought shame to our household."
Lord Voldemort chuckled low behind closed, thin lips. The Death Eaters, too, laughed similarly and it seemed to Daphne that the sound trembled through to the marrow of her bones.
She remained quiet, her expression unchanging even as the butterfly seemed to drop as her father stared, hollow and vacant.
"Have you ever cast an Unforgivable Curse?" Lord Voldemort asked her.
Daphne felt blood spill beneath her nails. "No, my Lord," she answered.
"Have you seen one cast before?"
"Yes, my Lord. In my fourth year at Hogwarts."
He smiled at her then and Daphne knew what was to follow soon. "Ah, yes. Barty Crouch Junior had such promise," he said. "It was a shame what happened."
"Yes, my Lord." She answered. She had both liked and loathed Professor Moody at the same time. The latter had been towards his outward polyjuiced appearance. When she had discovered, by gossip, whom he had been, she'd been left uncertain of her feelings. He had been their best DADA teacher, until Severus. His treatment towards the student body had only served to hold his cover.
"I see you're not at school," Lord Voldemort said.
"No, my Lord. My father decided homeschooling was the best option."
"I see. Do you think your father is better than the teachers at Hogwarts."
"Some of them," she answered. Voldemort made a show of looking surprised.
"Is that so?" he said. "Well then, let's see how well your father has taught you."
A tremble escaped her control. She shifted the bloody hand, dragging the palm against the spine of her cloak before digging her nails further up her arm. "What would you like to see, my Lord?" she asked.
Crabbe and Goyle, both, had leant in to see the excitement to follow. She watched as Lord Voldemort stepped away from her father and gestured to him. "How about a fair punishment to your father?" he decided. "Show me how well he's taught you."
Daphne looked into her fathers eyes and watched as he muttered and whispered, shaking his head. She closed her eyes, thought of Astoria and drew out her wand.
Drawing in a breath, she glanced to Lord Voldemort and watched his red eyes stare, a smirk on his face. She made her decision, then.
Daphne pointed her wand to the end of the table, hissing the word with every inch of anger and hatred she had towards her father, "Crucio."
The green light crashed into his chest. Her father convulsed, and then cried out, his scream breaking through his throat as agony twisted his limbs. She held her weapon, pushing and pushing the anger.
Until, "That's enough."
She dropped her wand and drew in a breath, looking to Lord Voldemort. His smile was no longer directed to her, but to her father. "That," he said, "it was I expected from you: absolute obedience. Perhaps I should have your daughter finish the task?"
Her father whimpered, his eyes turning to look at her. He pressed against the chair, murmuring rapidly under his breath and Daphne turned away, catching Draco's eyes. His eyes were wide, just as sunken as her own father's, just as red, just as scared of her.
"Remove him," Lord Voldemort said. Nott rose and hoisted her father to his feet, half dragging him out of the room. Daphne didn't move. She stood impassive, staring into the emerald velvet of the chair, feeling nothing wash over her. There should have been something. Some shame, guilt…enjoyment, perhaps? There was nothing.
"Lucius, call your house-elf to set up a room for Ms Greengrass. I expect she'll be staying here for a while."
Lucius nodded, whispering hoarsely, "Flinter."
The house-elf appeared with pop, shivering –– no, shaking –– as it looked up to its master with grey, watery eyes. "Yes, Master Malfoy?" it spoke with a wheezy-high voice as its ears hung low, shivering with fear.
"We have a new guest staying with us. Set up a room for her."
Flinter looked from Lucius to where Daphne stood. "Yes, Master Malfoy," it said, before disappearing with another pop!
Daphne watched as Lord Voldemort gestured. "Narcissa, I believe I've interrupted the young girl's dinner. Perhaps you should take her to the family owl so she may writer to her mother and send my sincerest apologies."
"Yes, my Lord." Narcissa rose from the table and Daphne watched as her hand brushed against Draco's chair. She walked over with a tall back. She was dressed in beautiful blue robes, with her hair pulled back from her face. Her expression was much smoother and practiced than Daphne's as she walked over and lead them both out through the hall where Druella's portrait hung.
"Hmmph," was all Druella said.
They walked in silence, until they reached the foyer where a large, dark wooden staircase stood. "Upstairs," Narcissa directed. Daphne nodded and began walking up the tall, grand staircase. On the wall, at end of the grand stairs before it split into two seperate staircases, there was a great window expanding across the length of the wall.
A great, velvet curtain had been pulled back, to allow the moonlight to spill over the stairs and slip over the perpendicular walls.
Daphne's eyes caught the landscape outside of the window. The Malfoy gardens were prominent and rich. In the dark, she could see an enchanted maze where something moved through it. Great flowers bloomed underneath the stars and dangerous plants swayed in the night breeze. In the centre was a water piece that Daphne could not yet make out.
"You will survive, it's in our nature," Narcissa spoke. Daphne turned to look at her. The woman's expression hadn't changed, as if the words had never been said.
They didn't speak again.