DISCLAIMER: Most of the subject matter in this story is owned by J. K. Rowling. Chances are, if you recognize it, it's hers. I own only the setting (France), the plot, and the librarian in chapter four.
The tall, blond man stood at the window, staring out at the stormy sky. That morning had been clear and sunny, with the sunlight glinting like diamonds on the sapphire-blue sea. The storm had sprung up from the south, and now a warm grey drizzle fell. This was definitely not one's ideal vacation weather; when spending the summer on the Mediterranean, one expected cloudless skies and perfect temperatures.
The man scowled. What was he thinking? He was not in France for a vacation; the reason for his trip to the Mediterranean was strictly business. Mentally he berated himself for being so careless as to forget this, while at the same time wondering how on earth he had managed to do so, since his business was sitting in a chair behind him.
The man's business chose that moment to break the silence. "I believe it is time for me to explain why I brought you to France. I know you are curious, though you do well at hiding it."
"My lord, you need explain nothing to me," the blond man said, turning away from the window, his long hair sweeping in a silvery arc behind him.
"Nonsense, Lucius," the cloaked figure in the chair said. "You are my right-hand man; it is only reasonable that you should be privy to my plans. You were doing well enough in England, so I shall give you a greater assignment in France."
"You do me much honor, my lord."
"It is honor you deserve, Lucius..." Red eyes gleamed from beneath the cloak's hood. "For among all of my followers, you are the only one I trust. Even Wormtail proved to be useless in the end." Lord Voldemort shook his head. "However, I did not come here to make idle chatter. I have thought much since my last communication with you, and I have laid plans for my success. You, Lucius, are crucial to those plans."
"Tell me how I may serve you, my lord, and I shall do your bidding or die trying," Lucius Malfoy said, kneeling before Voldemort and bowing his head respectfully.
"That is what I like to hear," Voldemort drawled, his eyes resting on the top of Lucius' head. "Very well. You know that my ultimate plot is the death of Harry Potter and the defeat of Albus Dumbledore. I realized only recently that I have been going at it all wrong; I cannot make them stumble into my trap if all they have is dreams and suspicious thoughts to lead them to me. No, I must have something concrete."
"Like what, my lord?"
"Last year we coaxed Potter and his friends to the Department of Mysteries by sending dreams to him, telling him that Sirius Black was in trouble. What we do now is simply send him a letter by owl saying that we have one of his little friends held hostage. It will be irresistible. Potter will come after her, and it will be only too easy to kill them both."
"Her?" Lucius asked, frowning. "You already have someone in mind, my lord?"
"Yes, Lucius, a Muggle-born girl by the name of Hermione Granger," Voldemort explained patiently.
"B-but, my lord," Lucius stammered, "th-there is a s-slight problem with y-your plan."
Voldemort's red eyes glinted dangerously. "And that is?"
"Well, the – the girl. Granger. We don't have her."
Voldemort laughed lightly. "Not yet. Don't worry, Lucius. It won't require much difficulty to have Hermione Granger in our grasp. You see, there was a reason I had you come to this godforsaken French town, that reason being that the Granger family is spending the summer holiday in a villa less than a mile away from this house. What's more, she is completely unsuspecting. As far as I am aware, she has no knowledge that your family is even in France." He paused. "And there is something else I must discuss with you."
"Yes, my lord?" Lucius asked.
"Draco," Voldemort replied. "He is to be a fairly significant part of my plan."
Lucius's lip curled. "If you can make some use of the fool that is my son, my lord, you may do whatever you wish with him."
"Good," Voldemort said, leaning back in his chair, and evil smile forming under the hood of his cloak.
^ * ^ * ^ * ^
Draco eased away from the study door, not quite willing to hear any more. If Voldemort had plans for him, it certainly wasn't good. Generally, Voldemort's plans for his minions ended in death or capture. Draco wasn't fond of either; he was too young to die now, and the idea of a lifetime in Azkaban had no appeal.
Draco cautiously made his way down the hallway, staying close to the wall to avoid making any noise on the creaky floor. If Lucius or Voldemort caught him eavesdropping on their conversation, death and prison would be the least of Draco's worries.
As he went quietly out through the front door, grabbing a raincoat on the way, he mulled over what he had heard. Potter had it coming to him, but this was no surprise, since no on who tangled with Lord Voldemort died of natural causes. And Dumbledore – well, Dumbledore had a habit of shoving his nose into places it didn't belong. And he was just going to have to pay the consequences, the interfering old bat.
Draco wandered aimlessly down the street, frowning as another name popped into his head. Granger. Why Granger, of all people? Why not Ginny Weasley, whom everyone know Potter had a soft spot for, or Loony Lovegood, who was Potter's girlfriend? Or even Weasley the elder, Potter's best friend.
Well, it was convenient, obviously. Granger and her family were in a tiny village where nobody knew her and nobody would notice her disappearance. She was also very smart for her age. And there was no doubt that, although she was not the closest person to Potter, there was a certain bond between them. A bond that Draco knew stretched back to a mountain troll in the girl's lavatory.
Draco couldn't help but let a smirk form on his lips. Wasn't it just like Granger to get herself locked into a small room with a deadly monster?
With a sigh, Draco pushed open the door of a café, where he ordered a café au lait at a table by the window. He needed the coffee to help him think.
His thoughts reluctantly returned to the voices in the study. Lord Voldemort's plan was simple but effective; one of Potter's friends would be held hostage, but unlike last year's scheme, there would be no uncertainties about it. Potter's hand would be forced. Knowing him, he'd be unwilling to let Granger die, but he'd have to sacrifice himself, and that would be the end of Harry Potter. After that, it would be short work for Voldemort to gain world power.
Draco shuddered. The idea of Voldemort ruling the world wasn't a very nice one, and although Draco usually wasn't fond of Nice Ideas, he absolutely despised the only other option. Noble suicide would probably be Draco's choice in a world ruled by Voldemort.
This thought produced a spark of rebellion. Why should Draco risk his life for a plan that would probably end with his death anyway? Voldemort could rot in hell. Of course, Draco wasn't about to go and fight on Potter's side, either.
Draco's head dropped into his hands. What to do?
If only, he thought bitterly, he could maneuver himself into a position in which he could render both sides incapable of action. Both sides could thus be eliminated.
He took a sip of coffee, staring out the window. He could feel the weight of hopelessness hanging on his shoulders. There was no point in any of it. Draco's world was beginning to shatter, and there was just no point.
