This Thing of Ours
"Draco, da Lord would like to see you now," said Avrey.
Sliding a palm over his well-greased hair, Draco nodded and calmly followed Avrey into the Lord's sitting room. Voldemort was already there, sitting in a large chair and polishing his pinky ring's deep green stone.
"My Lord," the young boy choked out, bowing. When he dared to look up again, he found that the twisted face of Voldemort was smiling at him horribly.
"Come here, Draco," his voice oozed. Cautiously, the boy approached He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and was surprised when he felt two long, bony fingers pinch his cheek, then pat it gently. "How nice. Good to see you. How is your dear mother's health?"
"Well, you know how it is," Draco began noncommittally. "Some days, she's fine, some days… not so much." He shrugged.
"Ah, yes. She suffers so, but that is to be expected. I express my deepest condolences about your father's time away. Tell him the next time you see him that when he returns, he can come in for a little visit."
The boy gulped, but forced a smile. "I'm sure he'd like that very much."
Voldemort only chuckled darkly.
"You asked to see me, Lord?"
"Yes, have a seat." Draco plopped down across from him and tried not to look nervous. "I'm sure you've heard of me from many people — the things that I do, the kind of business I'm involved in."
The boy nodded.
"What do you think about those things?"
"I think… I think that your business is good. I like how you handle it."
Again, Voldemort smiled, and then snapped his fingers. "Let's take a walk." He led Draco out the back doors to a rather large garden. Another Death Eater strode beside them, holding an umbrella over the Dark Lord to protect him from the sun.
"You know what we do here, Draco, so I'll keep this short," Voldemort said, casually walking down a random pathway with Draco in tow. "I'd love to be able to walk into Hogwarts whenever I need to, but there's an obstacle in the way — a one Albus Dumbledore. You know him?"
"Of him, my Lord."
"Good, good boy." Draco got his cheek pinched once again by those cold, clammy fingers. "I need him to be taken care of. I'd ask another Death Eater to do this small favor for me, but they cannot get past security. And then I thought of you, Draco, and I knew that you wouldn't let me down."
With a gulp of air, the young boy shook his head vigorously.
"You, Draco, you are a treasure." The Dark Lord abruptly led him back into the house, right into the office again. "Avrey, get Draco a small gift."
"Yes, my Lord." The man disappeared into a back room and returned with a thick, solid gold necklace. He gave it to Lord Voldemort, who steadily unclasped it and motioned for Draco to come near.
"This is for you, Draco."
"No, my Lord, I couldn't —"
"Nonsense," Voldemort interrupted while he clasped the chain around Draco's neck. "You're a part of the organization now. It's the least I can do." Then, to the boy's horror, the Dark Lord bent down and kissed him firmly on both cheeks. "You're a good boy, Draco. Don't disappoint me."
"No, my Lord," he squeaked, eyes wide.
"And if you ever have any trouble in school, come see me. I have a friend of a friend who knows someone that can help you with your problems. The best to your mother."
Draco didn't know what else to say, so he bowed and hastily left.
The title is a loose translation of "La Cosa Nostra," which is one way to refer to the mafia in the States. I just had this really weird picture in my mind of the Death Eater mafia and had to write a bit about it.
