"Lord Voldemort does not tolerate failure."
The man prostrated himself, trembling, pressing his forehead to the floor at his master's feet, his long blond hair spilling down his shoulders and onto the floor. "My lord... please... please..."
"Failure merits punishment, Lucius, does it not?"
"I beg you, my lord, please... please..."
A smile snaked across the lipless mouth. "Look up at me, Lucius."
Wayward blond locks and messy streaks of tears marred the terrified white face. His grey eyes wavered on his master's red ones.
"You are sorry, Lucius, are you not? You regret your failure?"
"Yes, my lord, of course- with every fiber of my being."
"Such... eloquence. But let us see if you are sincere. Would you prove to me that you are worthy of the Mark that you wear upon your arm?"
"Yes! My lord, I would do anything to prove my loyalty!"
The serpentine smile widened. "Anything?"
The man's face, drying rapidly, was alight with conviction. A spark of hope shone in his eyes. "Anything."
The red eyes gleamed for a moment, relishing the next words, tasting them, glorying in his own command.
"I believe, Lucius, that I would not be incorrect in saying that you have... a son?"