Lucius Malfoy picked at his collar as he began to sweat. Staring intently at the dark oak table in front of him, he stuttered a reply. "M-my daughter, my lord," he winced, expecting the worst. Instead, a dry laugh came from the head of the table. His hand beaconed the girl to come forward. Without realising it, Rosalie's legs pushed her towards the mysterious speaker. She was at the table, barely able to see over it, next to the man. If that was the word. He was pale to the point of being ghostly. His eyes were red and his nose was nothing but two slits… He looked horrifyingly similar to a snake.

"Your daughter," the man repeated, barely speaking above a whisper. He smiled, though it did not reach his eyes, and took his wand from his sleeve. There was a shift in movement along the table, anticipating what would happen. He moved his wand with a swish and a flick, aiming at the girl. Rosalie felt herself being pulled upwards, as if her robes were on a string being reeled in. Now a few feet in the air, she was level with the man. "And what's your name?" He simpered, though his question had no hint of genuine unknowing.

"Rosalie Malfoy," she replied, looking over the faces across the table as she did. Her gaze came to rest on her mother, whose eyes were wider than usual and lips mouthing something under her breath. Rosalie quickly amended her answer. "My lord."

His cold smile widened as he relaxed in his chair, apparently satisfied with her response. "A true pure-blood witch!" He exclaimed. "Though, I cannot help but wonder, if she's a true Malfoy."

Lucius, who had breathed a sigh of relief not a moment before, visibly tensed again. "M-my lord?"

"It would seem that the girl…" he arched his wand, and Rosalie felt herself gravitate parallel to the table until a flick of his wrist brought her back into the group, though now her mother was on her left. "... belongs to the House of Black."

There was a general chuckle from the table and a cackle to Rosalie's right. Next to her was a woman whose tangle of dark curls covered most of her face - not too dissimilar to the girl's. Draco had always teased her about it: she used to have nightmares that she was adopted from Muggles.

"Perhaps you've not had the pleasure of meeting your aunt. Bellatrix has been… busy," the man said, entertained by the whole show.

Bellatrix, who had been jeering, pouting, and generally pulling faces at the girl, snapped to attention at the mention of her name. "Always to serve you, my lord!" she bowed her head solemnly for effect.

Rosalie felt herself being drawn back to the head of the table. It was embarrassing, to say the least, being passed along like a salt shaker at dinner. But she knew better than to speak her mind: personal opinions were not becoming of a lady. The only sign of the girl's discomfort was the red flush in her cheeks as her eyes darted around the room.

"Perhaps now would be a good time to look towards the future," the man was addressing the entire table. "Young Rosalie will no doubt be joining our ranks when she is of age?" He asked, expecting no answer. He turned his head slowly to face the girl. "Tell me, Rosalie. What do you think of Muggleborns?"

Rosalie stared blankly at him. She understood the question, but not its content. That word… it was new to her. Fiddling with her sleeve, she swallowed her pride. "Muggleborns?"

"Surely you are aware…" he sounded amused, though there was an edge to his voice as he looked at the girl's parents. "... of wizards born into Muggle families?"

"Oh, you mean Mudbloods!" Rosalie exclaimed. There was a low ripple of laughter around the table - though Bellatrix's cackle pierced through it. The man seemed satisfied… pleased, even. Only Lucius and Narcissa sat, rigid and ashen, shocked at their daughter's vulgarity. Rosalie wasn't sure what was so funny. Draco had told her all about Mudbloods and their filth - there was one girl in his year that sounded particularly repulsive. They knew nothing of wizard culture nor held any noble ancestry. Instead they dragged their mundane lifestyles into the wizarding world, like mud on boots.

"It would appear that we have nothing to worry about," the man said. With an unceremonious flick of his wand, Rosalie was dropped back onto the ground. His hand seized her chin in what must have been an affectionate manner, though his hand was cool and his grip was tight. He raised it so that she had no choice but to look up at him, as he examined her face with his cold, calculating eyes. "Yes... you'll make a fine Death Eater, child."

With that, he released the girl and dismissed her. Rosalie scurried out of the dining room, carefully shutting the door behind her as she took in everything that just happened. She didn't know it yet, but she'd find out soon enough.

She had just met one of the greatest wizards of all time.

She had just met Lord Voldemort.

I know I said oneshot but I've got stuff working in my head as to where this story could go. I'm talking pureblood kid growing up into the lovely world of death eaters with a angst-ridden brother, spineless father and deranged aunt as her mentors. Charming. Let me know if that's something you'd read!