Chapter 32: Assignment


His bath was scalding hot, but Draco needed to feel something other than the lingering residue of the Dark Lord invading his mind only moments ago. After all, his home was now hell, so perhaps he should acclimate to such pain. Once he was finally unable to bear it any longer, he stepped out of the steamy bathwater and stood there dripping and cooling off.

He glanced down at the medallion resting against his chest, having already concluded that water had no effect on it. After all, it had been soaked in the rain when he went to collect wood in New Zealand, before finding out Hermione had misplaced hers. He stood, closing his eyes to steady his heart at the thought that she could possibly lose it again. It was useless. His heart began to pick up again, and to resolve his nervous notions he held the medallion tight and thought of what to send her to check in. He had to think of something simple, nothing that might convey that he was actually a mess. She did not need such drama, so he settled with, "Still alive."

Simple, he thought. She could conclude whatever she wished, but at the very least it was not anything to make her think she needed to take drastic actions. All he really needed was for her to message him back to prove she was still in touch, that she still had this precious ancient magic to connect them. He let go of the metal and rubbed his eyes, realizing that all he would be thinking about now was this, and he shouldn't be.

He needed to wake up, focus, and just get through the day alive.

Draco found another black shirt and trousers to change into, then looked in the mirror and began calculating how much effort was needed to convince everyone he was his old self. As his hair dried, he looked down to the products on his counter, remembering that it was not too long ago he had used a combination of spells and products to style his hair. What an effort, but it needed to be done. So, after deciding to go back to his signature look, he saw a different wizard in the mirror, and it was easier to do than he had thought.

Staring at his reflection, he allowed a few more thoughts to linger on Hermione before he had to mentally push her back into her hidden corner of his mind. She would hate this… the old façade he had been putting on all these years. He thought back to her little ceremony of removing his so-called armor, his mask and his crown of burden. He swallowed hard, trying to convince himself that it was different this time around. This time, he had her.

Reluctantly, he exhaled and began the mental process of putting her far away where no one could find her. He put a little more effort into it than usual, considering the Dark Lord had just attempted a break-in while he dreamed. Just as he finished, he jolted at the sound of a brisk knock at the door. His heart began to race again and he tried to reason that Bellatrix and the Dark Lord hardly knocked so politely.

Straightening the collar on his oxford shirt, he stepped out of the bathroom, passing through his bedroom to open the door. To his relief, he found his mother and his father standing there. For a moment, Draco found comfort in seeing his father, even if he appeared uncharacteristically worn and unshaven. It made him curious what his father had been up to since Draco had escaped. Then the resentment began to build in him again. Everything that was happening to their family was due to his dedication to the Dark Lord.

His father looked him up and down. "Draco, you're back. Your mother told me you were well." Then he added in a croaky whisper, "The Dark Lord will be pleased, I'm sure."

For years since the rise of Voldemort, his father spoke in a sort of pattern: his main comments were followed by a tacked-on footnote to endorse the Dark Lord. Though now, Draco thought there was less enthusiasm. He wondered if anyone else in the manor had caught on.

Lucius shoved past him into the room, wafting his hand frantically, urging his wife to move inside more quickly.

Draco stood aside for his mother to pass inside and began to shut the door. "Yes, father, I've seen him. Twice."

His father's expression adjusted, as if offended. It was the audacity that someone else, someone perhaps lower than he, knew information that he deemed more privileged to know.

This expression set Draco off, as if his meeting with the Dark Lord was somehow traitorous. Likely it was because he did not have control, having time to puppeteer Draco's responses, or even more simply, he was jealous. Either way, Draco hardly wanted to deal with his father's issues. After all, thanks to Lucius, he needed to show up and appear as the loyal Death Eater.

"Well, as you know, I must be going," Draco said. "Death Eater duties."

Who cared what his father had to say? He was likely to prattle on about their status, or scandalous things he used to feel so entitled to … things Draco would once have felt proud to shove in Potter's face, but now seemed all so insignificant.

Lucius lifted his cane to stop him and Draco froze, glancing over only to find his father handing him a small piece of parchment paper. "Yes, my son, but before you go…"

Draco snatched it out of his hand reluctantly, and when he stepped back to open it, found it was empty until his father tapped the paper with his cane, speaking, "Potter".

Draco furrowed his brows as the paper lifted ink from its fibers, legible words beginning to fill the page. It was a list of names.

"This is a list your mother insisted on." Lucius half-turned to his wife to acknowledge her. "They are in the Dark Lord's favor. I can only assume she wants you to do as they do." Lucius glanced over to his wife who stood proudly nodding. Draco was more at ease noticing his mother's appearance had improved. She seemed stronger than he last had seen, and she stood upright, her robes freshly pressed and her hair groomed and pinned up. It was as if she, too, had to face herself in the mirror that morning and become her old self.

Draco looked at the parchment, giving each name a perfunctory glance, and only recognizing some. "I see you aren't on it."

His father's expression tightened and it looked as if he were about to speak when Narcissa stepped forward to interrupt. She tugged Draco away from his father to avoid conflict.

"Draco, it's important that you know these names." She continued to walk him farther away from his father, toward a window in his room, and lowered her voice. "If someone were to find this list, deny that it is yours, and soon enough they'll discover it's connected to Harry Potter."

Draco looked up at her, confused as he thought his mother had changed her sides in this war.

"Well, darling, he is already the major target, nothing will change that." She turned Draco slightly, facing away from Lucius. "I thought it best that your father does not know our reasoning for these names." Draco nodded, swallowing hard as she continued, "If you go on missions with any of these Death Eaters, you can find a way to… manipulate the situation."

Lucius snuffed loudly, clearly needing to remind them of his presence and speak his opinion as if he was a part of their secret mission. "Yes, you'll do right to follow suit with them. They are very powerful, and most importantly, the Dark Lord trusts them."

Draco kept his eyes on the parchment, furious that he had to keep abiding by his father's opinions. He turned back around, his mother sighing as if she knew what to expect.

"Are you not considered trustworthy, father?" He held the paper out, reminding him that he was not on the list, and nearly wishing he was.

"Draco, I am very busy. Aren't you meant to be somewhere?"

His temper got the best of him. All the things his father had done came to the forefront of his mind as Draco stepped toward him. "Surely the Dark Lord would favor you. After all, you helped capture Potter for slaughter…"

His father fumed and spat out, "Draco! If it was not for me-"

His mother stepped forward, between them again. He glanced at her, and she gave him a knowing look that contained all the answers. "Darling, be sure to read the notes… for each Death Eater."

Draco shifted, glancing at both of them and then back to the paper. It was clear that she had added things without Lucius's notice. One note mentioned a Death Eater's habit of lingering around orphanages. He looked abruptly up at his mother at the implication.

She nodded to agree.

As Draco began to fold up the parchment, his father glared at him. It was a reminder of how foolish he was for not hiding the ink, and Draco quickly glared back to remind him that he had only nearly forgotten, but not completely. He took his wand out, not yet able to cast the wandless spell as he had, and spoke Potter's name, and the list cleared away.

Pocketing it, he turned to his mother. "So, what do you do during the day?"

His mother placed her hands on his shoulders briefly. "Most days I go and meet other high society families to discuss recruitment. He's very forgiving if I recruit a family a week."

Draco could sense his father's impatience, though at what, he did not know. "Yes, your mother is very good. Now, let's not make you late. Must make a good impression for the Dark Lord."

Following his parents out, Draco closed his bedroom door behind him and began to walk next to his mother as his father led them down the hall.

The faint scent of his mother's perfume gave him a bit of comfort, helped along by the fact that she was up and out of bed and looking like he had always remembered. She turned to him and smiled, then brushed his shoulder as if there was something there to clean. "You'll do wonderful, darling. Be strong. I know your old classmates will be waiting for you. No doubt Bellatrix has boasted of how she returned you."

Draco nodded in agreement as he watched his father striding ahead. Lucius appeared put-together, but the way he glanced down each hallway they passed exposed his latent paranoia.

As they stepped together down the stairs, he could hear the bustling of people nearby and looked around to find the great hall brimming with Death Eaters. They had put together some sort of set-up for breakfast, with long tables that provided space for them to come and go for their meal. As they reached the landing, Draco's mother squeezed his hand briskly before she let go. His father eyed him as if to say, 'don't screw up'.

Draco held back any comments in front of their audience, as he had been raised to do. After all, people were starting to notice his entrance into the hall and he did not want to appear ambivalent toward his parents.

The three of them parted ways, leaving Draco to pace the large room until he found faces he recognized. He watched his Slytherin housemates from afar as they chatted, and was slightly disappointed not to find Blaise there. He had always been one of the more confident among them, though his absence implied that he had not been selected to join, or that he had not volunteered. Gradually, Draco recalled details of his so-called friends' lives. He knew things about each of them, but did not truly feel close to any. Especially not if he were to compare them to his more intimate experiences, the details of which he blocked from surfacing in his mind.

He swallowed hard. Entering this room was like entering the gates of hell. His old home had turned on him and he was reluctant to find out what exactly a Death Eater did on a daily basis. No doubt any shreds of innocence left from his youth were likely to fall away.

Theo Nott was the first to notice him, and as Draco watched him converse with Pansy Parkinson and Gregory Goyle, they all quickly looked up at him. Like a pack of wolves on the hunt, they got up together and sauntered toward him. Draco hadn't seen them in several months and as they drew closer, he decided they all looked slightly changed.

Theo was the first to speak, though he looked somewhat unsure of how to approach him. "Malfoy."

Draco gave a quick smirk to imply their presence was welcome.

"We heard you were captured by the Order. That true?"

Gregory Goyle interrupted before Draco could even think of a response, "Heard that mudblood Granger had you under a spell."

Pansy Parkinson nudged right up to Draco's shoulder so that she was touching him, and crossed her arms. "Leave it up to those savages to warp our magic and use it against us."

Theo gave a blatantly sarcastic laugh. "Ha, you mean not like what we do… in the dungeons?"

Pansy replied defensively, "Well that's different, they deserve it, not Draco."

Goyle grinned, shoving Draco slightly too hard in the shoulder. "Don't worry, Malfoy, we'll get that feisty little mudblood."

Draco glanced down to where Goyle had made contact with his shoulder and tried to hold back his facial expressions on the matter. He looked up and saw that Goyle was waiting for him to respond, likely to insult Granger, but he decided he'd rather change the subject.

"Right. What food are they serving Death Eaters these days?"

He pushed passed them to go sit where he had first seen them, at the very least to insist that he was a leader again. The smell of the food began to trigger his appetite and he knew he would need some sustenance to get through the day. As he passed the long tables of witches and wizards, it surprised him to find a few more of the youth that had joined since his so-called capture.

His companions' plates were already filled with food, though Draco could only decide on an apple from a bowl of fruit as he recalled his mother's hint about not eating the meat. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know what Goyle had just slurped into his mouth. Did any of them know?

Draco looked around the hall once more, and then toward Pansy. "So, where's Blaise?"

Pansy shrugged, daintily cutting her food and taking the smallest bites as if she were trying to win the prize for manners. She nibbled on it for longer than average, making Draco wait until she had apparently finished. "Oh, he's been invited, but hasn't joined yet." She leaned in to add in a whisper, "Not a good move, the Dark Lord is completely insulted." She sat back up, prim and proper. "I personally think he won't last long."

Draco found her dismissal of him curious, because the last time he had checked, Pansy and Blaise had been an item. "So I take it that you and he are not together anymore?"

Pansy paused, bestowing Draco with a sly grin. "Well, we never exactly had a proper break-up… but that can easily be arranged if you're interested."

Theo winced in disgust. "Merlin, Pansy, between you and Goyle this place is going to become a brothel. Settle down!" He adjusted his chair and leaned into the table to speak closer. "So, Draco, did the Order torture you?"

Pansy scrunched her nose at Theo's insulting comment, while Goyle appeared to be proud. Draco would have to figure out what that all meant later.

"Yes. They did torture me, from what I can remember. When you're under the Imperius, everything appears fuzzy. I didn't give them any information though."

Theo smiled. "That a' boy, Draco!" He nudged Goyle next to him. "They didn't realize who they were dealing with!"

All of this reminded him of Hogwarts. Theo had always sucked up to him, complimenting him on the smallest of things. Draco felt bad for him, wishing he could just get his own confidence and not rely on others for it.

Draco nodded as he finished chewing a bite of his apple. "So what's going on today? What have you been doing on a daily basis?"

Pansy proudly chimed in next to him, placing her hands out in space as if they were needed for a visual, "Well it depends, really. There are the missions, and then there are the dungeons. I have personally never had any excitement on the missions."

Goyle nodded, so eager to speak that bits of food tumbled out of his mouth. "Yeah, they never give us any good missions... save them for the older Death Eaters, I reckon. In the dungeons, if you can get anything out of the prisoners, the Dark Lord rewards you with days off. I have five stored up." He grinned proudly.

Theo lowered his head as if to give Draco a bit of a warning. "Right, well, I wouldn't go bragging about exciting missions. Some I've heard are suicide missions. Just the other day I heard a Death Eater didn't stick to his mission, went piss'n about in the pubs, and the next day he was handed a 10-56."

Draco glanced back and forth to his old schoolmates. "And… what the bloody hell is that?"

Goyle stabbed a bit of meat on his plate. "You never come back from those, mate. We figure the Dark Lord sends you into places where you're meant for bait." He wafted his fork around with a slimy bit of dark meat. "You know, like to weed out the Order, see where they're placed. But you're likely to get attacked."

Pansy rolled her eyes. "You boys are full of drama, there isn't any proof of that. They were probably getting rusty as a Death Eater and got caught."

Theo looked down at his plate. "Since you joined, the Dark Lord thought it best to recruit more students."

Draco could tell that despite his outward demeanor, Theo was not exactly excited to be here, but due to his pleasing nature, had likely been suckered in.

After Goyle gulped down his drink, he added, "We'll be the best Death Eaters the Dark Lord has ever seen, especially now that Draco's back. We can give ourselves a name, like we did with Umbridge but better… by the way, any of you catch that mudblood, I call dibs."

Draco's eyes flashed up at him, but Goyle hardly noticed, occupied by reaching for another breakfast sausage and drizzling it with syrup.

Pansy was taken aback by his comment. "Please, keep the sexual fantasies to yourself. I've heard enough of your sick fascination with mudbloods. Disgusting."

Theo looked up at Draco as if to gauge his response before he proceeded, "Yeah, Goyle, you don't need to give us the details of your conquests anymore. At first, it was- no, no I take it back, it was never interesting. Just stop."

Draco took note of Goyle's grinning. The way he continuously brought up Hermione made him feel ill; it was clear he'd missed a lot while he had been away from his crude classmates. He needed to focus on the list his mother had given him, which was currently burning a hole in his trouser pocket. There were other Death Eaters his mother thought he should 'take out' if his family were to get back to the top, perhaps to take back control, even if his father's motives were separated from his mother's.

"So where are the older Death Eaters?"

Theo was first to reply, glancing toward another side of the room. "They eat in a different room, over there."

Draco followed his eyes across the large hall. There was a heavy feeling in his gut at the idea that he could not take part in something that was occurring in the space of his own home. After all, where the older Death Eaters were sitting was where he had first discovered how to cast a spell. He remembered it clearly: it had been a lumos charm.

He tried to disassociate the memory now. "So, when are we assigned missions for the day?"

Pansy began to point to someone walking around like a mail carrier. "Oh, they have people going around letting us know. They keep meticulous track of where everyone is though. One time, I went on a mission and stopped into a store, and my arm started burning." Pansy stretched out her forearm and began caressing the dark mark daintily. "I came back immediately, thinking there was an emergency mission or something. Can you believe it? They wanted to chastise me for stepping into a store!"

Goyle huffed. "Yes, Pansy! The Dark Lord wants to know where we are at all times! If you want to run ridiculous errands, you really have to figure out your time better, and don't get caught."

Theo agreed, "I managed to sneak a takeaway coffee once, but then I had to charm my breath before I returned so they couldn't smell it on me. I doubt even that spell is allowed inside these walls."

Draco was beginning to get a better picture of Voldemort's mistrust, curious as to how the dark mark seemed to be tracking them. It was likely why Belleatrix eventually found them at the safe house when returning to England. There was a small victory that his escape to New Zealand was the safest choice he had made, and that maybe Hermione's parents were going to be secure as well.

"So, tell me more about these missions."

Pansy perked up, as if she were getting house points for answering him first. "Well, they usually have a team leader who can pick their own team." She paused and glanced around. "But there's this one who keeps picking me, and he's repugnant. He always makes us wait while he goes on some side mission and I just know it's not got anything to do with the Dark Lord's agenda."

Draco glanced at the boys to see if they had similar reactions, as Pansy's disgust for people came regularly enough that it was often difficult to tell if anyone else was on the same page as her. Based on how Theo pressed his lips together so that they nearly disappeared, he guessed it was bad.

"Why do you think that? Who is it?"

Pansy glanced around again and whispered, "He's called Selwyn. Ugh, he looks at me like I'm a piece of meat-"

Goyle seemed to find her statement overzealous. "Pansy, not everyone fancies you! Plus," he took an ill-timed bite into his sliver of dripping meat, trying to chew and talk at once, "I think you're too old for him, if you know what I mean."

Draco glanced away from Goyle, and back to Pansy. She wasn't that old. She couldn't be older than 18, he thought. Then it occurred to him, from the list... his mother's notes about a Death Eater that tended to hang around orphanages. His classmates were only confirming her reasons for writing that name on the list.

Theo quickly tried to continue the topic before Pansy could reply to Goyle. "Sometimes we are sent along with Snatchers. Usually Scabior leads that."

Draco knew who Scabior was. He was the Snatcher who had brought Hermione to the manor that day, when it all began. Draco nodded as he peered up at someone approaching them with a clipboard.

Standing there, the man flipped through his sheets, finally flicking his quill twice against the paper, then handing them papers. "Parkinson, Nott, you're in the dungeons. Here are your prisoner assignments and details." Draco tried to scan the top of the sheet as they reached their hands, only glancing back to see him pluck out another sheet handing it Goyle. "Goyle, you're with the Snatchers today."

The wizard with the clipboard barely looked at Goyle as he shoved the paper into him, instead staring at Draco. Without even looking down at his clipboard, he easily grabbed a loose sheet on top, giving him a blank stare as if he was trying not to reveal any information.

"Malfoy, you're on a 10-56."

Draco reached out to grab the parchment. The man lingered as if waiting to see his reaction, then glanced at the others and left. Unaware of what that even meant, Draco studied the sheet that showed a date, location details, and the mission goal. He had to reread the very bottom line, which had an odd statement he needed to clarify. 'Failure to comply with the above assignment results in: relative.'

Confused and curious if it was some sort of misprint, he finally looked up from his document to find everyone was staring at him.

Theo was gobsmacked. "Draco, what did you do?"

Pansy glared accross the table to Theo, hissing at him, "We don't know that they're suicide missions, shut up."

Draco glanced at them all, resisting the urge to swallow hard. He had to play the part. After all, it was only a rumor according to them, even though the man passing out the assignments had not reacted much better. "Please, you lot haven't even been assigned it before. The missions are probably too challenging for you."

They all give him a faint smile. Internally, he wished he had never left his bathroom.

He tried to ignore their poor attempt at a civil conversation as he reread more carefully what the assignment was. He had to investigate a location with heavy Muggle-born activity. It was clearly stated that he was meant to capture any and bring them back to the manor dungeons. This seemed like Snatcher work, so why didn't it just say so? What did they mean by 'relative' as the punishment? Did that mean something was related to the mission, or relative as in family?

Draco swallowed hard, hoping it truly was not some sort of suicide mission. Was it meant to be a trap by the Dark Lord? Would he die on a mission, or fail and a relative would be put to death? He exhaled, trying to maintain a confident front, but he knew he needed advice, and doubted his classmates knew any way out of this.

He needed help and just as he thought this, the medallion on his chest vibrated. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying not to bring Hermione's image to the forefront of his mind, even if Goyle had already done so. He knew she would be eager to help him, but he had been hoping to leave her out of everything altogether. He reasoned with himself that this was also for the war, and he could not fully avoid putting her in danger. He just had to be careful.

Draco was snapped out of his thoughts by Pansy sidling right up against him, caressing his chest. It was far too close to the medallion for his comfort. She was likely used to him accepting her comforts in the past, having always been overly sensual at the most inappropriate times.

"Draco, I'm sure you're going to be fine." She turned in her chair next to his, subtly hiking up her skirt as she crossed her legs. "I know what can put you at ease… we have time."

When Draco looked up at Theo, he found him looking uncertain and beginning to stand up, prepared to give them privacy. Goyle was grinning at Pansy as if he was getting a kick out of just imagining what she would do.

Draco stood up immediately. "Thanks, but no thanks, Pansy."

This was not what he needed: the added stress of Pansy's advancements, Goye's sick desire to maim Hermione, and Theo… well, all Draco really wanted to do was rescue Theo, who was only there because he thought he had to be. Theo was likely more innocent than Draco himself, he thought, though he had been away for awhile and who knew what they were doing in those dungeons on assignment.

Draco waved them off, then walked away, staring at his assignment mostly to avoid looking at anyone else who wanted to 'welcome' him back. He also needed a place to message Hermione. He would need to get as much information from the Order as possible without revealing who he was. Glancing up at the clock, he realized it was later in the morning than he had thought. The problem was, he was meant to go on this so-called suicide mission in only thirty minutes and the messages were clearly taking ages to get past the wards of the manor.

When he reached the staircase, he found that the foyer was momentarily empty, so he quickly pulled up the chain of the necklace from under his shirt and glanced at her message. She asked if he was okay. He wasn't, but it was a relief to know that her message was not urgent. That's all he needed to see before he quickly sent a short message back, that they needed to clear the location from his sheet. Hopefully that would be enough for her to understand. It was the only way he would get away with 'failing' the mission. If there wasn't anyone there to capture or kill in the first place, it would not be his failure. At least, he hoped the Dark Lord would see it that way. With a last glance up at the clock, Draco silently urged the message to get to her as fast as it could.


Author's Note:

Once again, apologies for the delay. This is being updated while the Covid-19/coronavirus is in play, and I hope everyone out there is doing okay, staying home and keeping busy. (reading fan fiction obviously). Don't forget to review and/or give your author's some love, even if the story is ancient, they enjoy it always. Thank you HeartOfAspen for editing this chapter, I'm sure this whole story is lingering on far past it's expiration, and you deserve an award not only for wonderful beta work, but possibly "longest beta job ever", even if the story is shorter than some 70 chapter ones out there. I'm a turtle everyone, slowly making my way through this writing journey. Thanks for hanging in there, and thank you as always for reading.