Chapter Two
Three years later Draco sat in a high-backed chair facing the enormous fireplace in his bedroom drinking a brandy.
He had come far over the years. Although his father is now dead, it was all worth it to him. The money, the mansions, the women, and not to mention, being only second to that sorry excuse for a human being better known as Voldemort.
Voldemort was now a hollowed out soul there only for decoration. Apart from the rare orders he made, Draco pretty much ran the show. He was their leader now. Voldemort couldn't even make it to the meetings anymore.
The Death Eater Population had grown so much over the years that they could not just form a circle in a field and talk about their forth coming plans. So Draco had bought a mansion off the coast of Rithen just for the cause.
Draco had collected a team of the best wizards of the time who helped the dark side to cast spell after spell of secrecy on the mansion. This way, it was impossible to find on accident, and not even a highly trained wizard could not find it with a wand. In more ways than one, it was much more protected than Hogwarts and held things far more valuable.
The house was spacious and very well decorated. Many parties were held there and it was also a refuge of sorts for the Death Eaters. Muggles were often brought there to be tortured or "played with", as some of them liked to say.
Draco heard a knock at the door.
Avice again...Draco thought angrily. He knew it would be his servant because he was the only one allowed to come to his private chambers when called upon or to deliver something.
"Enter Avice," his ghost butler floated into the room with his dull face and rather boring demeanor. He died in about 1402 and of course was still in his Renaissance attire.
"Sir, Mr. Gregory Goyle has come to see you."
"What business brings him here?" Draco asked.
There were some people whom Draco wanted to speak to as little as possible. For time's sake and the sake of his temper. Often he just had Avice state their business and have them on their way. This was usually the case with Goyle.
"He says that the Dark Lord wishes to speak with you, sir."
"Know you the reason?" Draco asked in his ever quiet voice.
A man with power has no reason to speak loudly, son. A loud voice shows signs of weakness and despair.
"No, sir, my apologies." Avice replied carefully. He knew that his master did not like being let down on these sort of things.
"Very well. You may leave."
At the moment Draco was in no mood to speak to that moving pile of blubber, so he pulled out his wand and apparated to Voldemort's manner—or better off, hospice, he thought.
***
Draco walked down a hallway and stopped in front of a large wooden door. The two guards knew to let him in. After all, it was he who put them there.
One of them opened the door and Draco stepped into an overly-warm room to find the legendary Voldemort, now just a small snake-like house elf looking thing lying on a large bed underneath layers and layers of coverings. One could barely tell he was there at all.
Draco strode over to the bed and looked down at the helpless creature. One day he would kill him. Just not yet. Draco had started his rise to power only a couple of years ago and it would be rather suspicious for the only person standing, or rather, lying, in his way to becoming the number one man died all of a sudden.
"Draco..." the creature hissed in a raspy tone.
"My Lord, I have come to serve you."
"I have had a vision. The girl....Potter's mudblood friend. Do you remember her name?"
Hermione Granger. Draco's body clenched in disgust at the name.
"Hermione Granger, My Lord," he replied without feeling.
"Yes, that girl. She is alive."
Alive, thought Draco, How can she be alive? There weren't supposed to be any survivors from their side after the war. No, it's impossible. The old lunatic doesn't know what he's talking about.
"Bring her to me, unharmed and untouched. She should be living somewhere by the sea."
"Yes, My Lord." Draco replied. And if he didn't find her...?
There was a pause. Voldemort closed his serpent-like eyes and sunk into the many pillows under his head. Draco took this as a sign to leave.
He was about to turn towards the door.
"Draco."
"Yes My Lord?"
"Be careful with her. She's far more precious than you may think."
"Yes My Lord."
Draco gave a curt nod and turned to leave again.
"Oh and Draco..."
Draco gave a mental sigh. This time, he did not turn however, but waited for his "Lord" to continue.
"Don't disappoint me."
So he hasn't lost all his sharpness, he thought. Without another word or even a glance, Draco quickly strode out of the room.
***
"I've found out where she may be. The only thing left for you two to do is go and find her and bring her back to me. Do you understand?"
Draco sat in his overly large study trying to teach Crabbe and Goyle their next assignments. Trying.
Goyle was first to speak.
"So, she's in this town...uh...what's it called....uh, Camden? And we have to go get her and stuff without touching her? So, should we where gloves?"
"No..." Draco was like a storm before it hits. Cool, collected and very quiet. "You are to go find Hermione Granger who now lives in the beachside town of Camden and bring her to the house we are in now, to me, without hurting her in any way, shape or form. Can you do that Goyle? Crabbe?"
They both nodded dumbly with their eyebrows drawn together in a determined, yet confused, fashion which is most common in young toddlers. "Go." Draco said simply and looked back down at a stack of papers he was reading .
They stood there, literally, like rocks.
Draco looked up at them expectantly.
"What?" asked Crabbe.
Draco silently fumed.
"I'm going to get my wand now. If I come back and find both of you still here I will Avada Kedavra the two of you straight back to hell."
The two goons turned and quickly scurried out of the room.
Draco did not care at all whether they did the job well or not. He knew Granger wasn't still alive anyhow. She couldn't be. It was impossible.
Draco went back to his work.
Three years later Draco sat in a high-backed chair facing the enormous fireplace in his bedroom drinking a brandy.
He had come far over the years. Although his father is now dead, it was all worth it to him. The money, the mansions, the women, and not to mention, being only second to that sorry excuse for a human being better known as Voldemort.
Voldemort was now a hollowed out soul there only for decoration. Apart from the rare orders he made, Draco pretty much ran the show. He was their leader now. Voldemort couldn't even make it to the meetings anymore.
The Death Eater Population had grown so much over the years that they could not just form a circle in a field and talk about their forth coming plans. So Draco had bought a mansion off the coast of Rithen just for the cause.
Draco had collected a team of the best wizards of the time who helped the dark side to cast spell after spell of secrecy on the mansion. This way, it was impossible to find on accident, and not even a highly trained wizard could not find it with a wand. In more ways than one, it was much more protected than Hogwarts and held things far more valuable.
The house was spacious and very well decorated. Many parties were held there and it was also a refuge of sorts for the Death Eaters. Muggles were often brought there to be tortured or "played with", as some of them liked to say.
Draco heard a knock at the door.
Avice again...Draco thought angrily. He knew it would be his servant because he was the only one allowed to come to his private chambers when called upon or to deliver something.
"Enter Avice," his ghost butler floated into the room with his dull face and rather boring demeanor. He died in about 1402 and of course was still in his Renaissance attire.
"Sir, Mr. Gregory Goyle has come to see you."
"What business brings him here?" Draco asked.
There were some people whom Draco wanted to speak to as little as possible. For time's sake and the sake of his temper. Often he just had Avice state their business and have them on their way. This was usually the case with Goyle.
"He says that the Dark Lord wishes to speak with you, sir."
"Know you the reason?" Draco asked in his ever quiet voice.
A man with power has no reason to speak loudly, son. A loud voice shows signs of weakness and despair.
"No, sir, my apologies." Avice replied carefully. He knew that his master did not like being let down on these sort of things.
"Very well. You may leave."
At the moment Draco was in no mood to speak to that moving pile of blubber, so he pulled out his wand and apparated to Voldemort's manner—or better off, hospice, he thought.
***
Draco walked down a hallway and stopped in front of a large wooden door. The two guards knew to let him in. After all, it was he who put them there.
One of them opened the door and Draco stepped into an overly-warm room to find the legendary Voldemort, now just a small snake-like house elf looking thing lying on a large bed underneath layers and layers of coverings. One could barely tell he was there at all.
Draco strode over to the bed and looked down at the helpless creature. One day he would kill him. Just not yet. Draco had started his rise to power only a couple of years ago and it would be rather suspicious for the only person standing, or rather, lying, in his way to becoming the number one man died all of a sudden.
"Draco..." the creature hissed in a raspy tone.
"My Lord, I have come to serve you."
"I have had a vision. The girl....Potter's mudblood friend. Do you remember her name?"
Hermione Granger. Draco's body clenched in disgust at the name.
"Hermione Granger, My Lord," he replied without feeling.
"Yes, that girl. She is alive."
Alive, thought Draco, How can she be alive? There weren't supposed to be any survivors from their side after the war. No, it's impossible. The old lunatic doesn't know what he's talking about.
"Bring her to me, unharmed and untouched. She should be living somewhere by the sea."
"Yes, My Lord." Draco replied. And if he didn't find her...?
There was a pause. Voldemort closed his serpent-like eyes and sunk into the many pillows under his head. Draco took this as a sign to leave.
He was about to turn towards the door.
"Draco."
"Yes My Lord?"
"Be careful with her. She's far more precious than you may think."
"Yes My Lord."
Draco gave a curt nod and turned to leave again.
"Oh and Draco..."
Draco gave a mental sigh. This time, he did not turn however, but waited for his "Lord" to continue.
"Don't disappoint me."
So he hasn't lost all his sharpness, he thought. Without another word or even a glance, Draco quickly strode out of the room.
***
"I've found out where she may be. The only thing left for you two to do is go and find her and bring her back to me. Do you understand?"
Draco sat in his overly large study trying to teach Crabbe and Goyle their next assignments. Trying.
Goyle was first to speak.
"So, she's in this town...uh...what's it called....uh, Camden? And we have to go get her and stuff without touching her? So, should we where gloves?"
"No..." Draco was like a storm before it hits. Cool, collected and very quiet. "You are to go find Hermione Granger who now lives in the beachside town of Camden and bring her to the house we are in now, to me, without hurting her in any way, shape or form. Can you do that Goyle? Crabbe?"
They both nodded dumbly with their eyebrows drawn together in a determined, yet confused, fashion which is most common in young toddlers. "Go." Draco said simply and looked back down at a stack of papers he was reading .
They stood there, literally, like rocks.
Draco looked up at them expectantly.
"What?" asked Crabbe.
Draco silently fumed.
"I'm going to get my wand now. If I come back and find both of you still here I will Avada Kedavra the two of you straight back to hell."
The two goons turned and quickly scurried out of the room.
Draco did not care at all whether they did the job well or not. He knew Granger wasn't still alive anyhow. She couldn't be. It was impossible.
Draco went back to his work.