"Draco," A high and cold voice cut through the silence of the Malfoy Manor like a knife through still water.
"Go," Narcissa Malfoy urged her son towards the drawing room there was a panic in her eyes.
Draco Malfoy walked through the mahogany doors in which the Dark Lord was currently seated in, and assessed the situation through his grey eyes.
The Dark Lord was seated in a chair in the middle of the room with two death eaters on either side of him; he was facing the doors in which Draco had come through.
A muggle or a mudblood was in front of him kneeling over bound and Draco could smell the stench of blood and sweat mingling.
Another cloaked figure stood just a bit far off from the victim just by the grace she held herself you could tell that she was a girl, but her cloak was brilliant silver and it almost glimmered in the dark room, dark red curls spilled out from under her hood.
"You called my lord." Draco knelt in front of the dark lord just in front of the kneeled over figure.
"Rise my soldier," Lord Voldemort replied.
Draco rose, and didn't spare a glance for the human beside him.
"Aren't you curious as to who it is lying before you, Draco?" The Dark Lord said.
Only then did Draco's eyes, reluctantly slide from the man sitting before him to the person whose face was planted on the ground in a contorted shape.
"Look at me." Voldemort hissed,
The shape didn't comply
"Dolohov," The Dark Lord said in almost a bored tone.
The death eater to the left of the Dark Lord strode over to the limp figure and grabbed the back of the scruff of their neck and yanked it harshly up so that their face would be visible.
At first, Draco cocked his head to the side perplexed, the girl kneeling before him couldn't be more then 15 or 16 years old. Her hair once smooth and blonde was dirty and ragged, but Draco could tell she was once very pretty.
She's part veela he thought stunned; but aren't they usually all purebloods? What does he want with her.
The Dark Lord sensing his thoughts replied
"She is part veela, as you may have noticed." he paused, then continued "This, Draco, is Gabrielle Delacour."
Draco still remained nonplussed.
So Voldemort continued, "She is the sister of Fleur Delacour, you remember she once participated in the triwizard tournament in your fourth year?"
Fleur Delacour.
Why did that name sound so familiar?
Then it clicked.
"She's the one that married the weasley, the werewolf."
"Part-werewolf," The man to the right of Voldemort growled, Fenrir Greyback.
"So you understand then?" Voldemort inquired.
"Yes," Draco responded, "what have you managed to get out of her?"
"Ah," Voldemort stood, "this one's been much helpful then the others"
She squirmed and whimpered as Voldemort came closer but Dolohov held her firm.
"Have you got anything else for me, pretty?" Voldemort said softly.
"'Ou weel never catch potter not as long as ee's protected by zee order!" She gasped.
"Such a strong little spirit," Voldemort sighed, "are you sure you won't change your mind? You could be very helpful to me."
"I weel join 'ou when 'ell freezes over." She glared at Voldemort balefully.
Voldemort sighed again, "such a waste."
He turned and sat back down.
"Shall I, my lord?" Greyback asked.
"No, I have a special fate for this one." And suddenly the Dark Lord's attention was fully on the cloaked girl in the room.
"Adelaide." He called lightly.
The girl drifted to where Draco stood and faced Voldemort.
"Do you remember the Longbottoms?"
"Yes, my lord." Her voice were like wind chimes, a soft soprano voice answered.
"Let's make dear Bellatrix proud shall we?" Voldemort replied.
Then he turned to Draco, "see to it that Miss Delacour is delivered back to her family will you? Then, you know what to do."
Two raucous laughters echoed in the room as Fenrir and Dolohov cackled appreciatively at their masters cruelty.
"Come my friends," He said standing up once more. "Miss Delacour is in good hands."
And with that he swept out followed closely by Fenrir Greyback and Antonin Dolohov who threw Isabelle down as if she were a rag doll; leaving Draco Malfoy with the two women.
As the door closed Draco turned to the girl
"Stand," He ordered.
"No," The silver-cloaked girl said.
"Della." Draco said softly, turning towards her.
she paid no attention to him.
She closed onto girl slowly and closed her eyes.
Draco braced himself.
That's when the screaming began, horrible inhuman piercing screams echoed off of the walls.
After five minutes, Draco went over to the chair that was just recently the chair Voldemort himself had occupied and sank into it.
It wasn't until half an hour later that the screams succumbed to whimpering.
"Della let up." Draco said.
Her eyes still remained closed her pupils visibly moving underneath her eyelids.
"Della." He said sharply.
Her eyes snapped open and the whimpering stopped.
Her eyes caught Draco's for a moment and cold grey eyes bore into brilliant green ones.
"No more." He said.
She didn't respond but merely watched him.
Draco stood up and walked towards the girl lying down before him. She no longer cowered like she did before.
"What's your name?" He asked.
She stared at him with pale blue unblinking eyes, as if he was speaking in a tongue she didn't recognize.
"Who are you?" He said again.
How empty her eyes are.
A voice said in his head, he jumped then spun around.
"You're out of practice Draco," Adelaide said her voice lovely, "it took me less than a minute to do that."
Draco rolled his eyes, "Well?"
"She is beyond insanity, her mind is lost." Draco's eyes softened.
"Are you coming?" He asked.
"To deliver her or to stay with you as you carry out the Dark Lord's master plan?"
"Both."
"No."
Draco turned around and picked up the now unconscious body of Gabrielle Delacour.
"I am curious though." She continued.
"About what," Draco turned around, the girl's body now secure in his arms.
"How're you are able to keep it secret for so long, when I can easily breach the very cockles of your mind."
"Did you ever think that I let you, or that maybe you haven't even seen inside my mind and that I've only allowed you to see what I want?"
"Draco, you are not Tom Riddle." Her voice rang out clear in the room.
"No, I'm not." He responded.
"I need you to do one more thing for me." He said.
Draco staggered up to a door with a golden number 12 above it, and knocked. Once, twice then crumpled to the ground and completely let the sensation of numbness take over and welcomed the delicious black that took over his sight.