Chapter 3 – Draco's Task
Death eaters assembled quietly at a home unaffiliated with the Malfoys since they had already been raided by the ministry. Narcissa was summoned to speak for Lucius and to her dismay Voldemort ordered her to bring Draco.
"My Lord, we are ashamed by the circumstances that led to my husband's capture. Potter escaped by killing Pettigrew and she shattered the prophecy in the process," she explained meekly.
"How is it, Narcissa, that a group of teenagers were able to overpower your husband and the others?" Voldemort hissed.
"I do not know, my Lord," she whispered even more meekly.
"I will not be breaking Lucius out of Azkaban for the time being under the premise that he will be freed either upon the capture of Azalea Potter, or the completion of a task I will be assigning your son. The way I see it, if a group of sixteen-year-olds can overpower my death eaters, I would hope that the youngest of our group could be useful as well," he said menacingly as Narcissa trembled in her skin.
"As for Azalea, she's no longer an obscurial," he announced to the group. "We lost that weapon. Losing her godfather, Sirius, finally broke it free and it latched onto me unexpectedly. That was an oversight of mine I don't know I fully understand," he admitted.
"She is still under my ophidian curse, and by those rules belongs to me. Once I have her and am able to tell what degree I can control her, I will then decide whether or not I want to kill her. She is spending her last miserable month under blood ward protection, but upon turning seventeen, we should waste no time in retrieving her. The way I see it, she is my property and should be returned to me to speak for her actions in killing Pettigrew, torturing Bellatrix, breaking the prophecy, and defying me," he explained. The room was ice cold, many remembering just how sinister and frightening she was at the Ministry.
"Narcissa, please have Draco meet me in the drawing room," Voldemort ordered, and she did not dare even exhale in anticipation.
Draco was paler than usual, cold sweat beading on his forehead, with his hands trembling slightly as he entered the drawing room alone with Voldemort.
"Draco, son, please come in," Voldemort said as invitingly as possible. "Sit," he hissed, and Draco obliged.
"First, I would like you to tell me what you personally know about Azalea Potter," he said evenly, and stared into Draco's fearful blue eyes.
"I - well I do not pretend to know her well, my Lord, but she is in my year. I have been acquainted with her for six years. She is a rival on the quidditch pitch, we both are among the best in our year, she has a fierce temper, strong pride, she was in love with Cedric Diggory for a couple of years and was noticeably unhinged by his death. She is closest to the Weasley family, and a muggle born named Hermione Granger... close to Dumbledore...she's the subject of most rumors...she's... well she's hard to read from afar," he explained.
"But you know her better than that don't you, Draco?" Voldemort hissed. Draco looked up fearfully.
"You've been with her, haven't you? Many times?" He asked, registering the look on Draco's face as a yes.
"You coerced and threatened her... because you harbored an obsession for her and she didn't return the affection on her own," he continued, and Draco's mouth went dry.
"She wasn't willing either. I've seen into her mind, son, I know everything about her... I also know that she used you in return, hoping to garner some trust by manipulating the obsession she picked up on and giving you what you wanted...you fell for it," he hissed with a condescending laugh.
"I don't blame you she is very pretty. Very intriguing too, intimidating, there is something about the damaged ones isn't there?" He asked in a sinister tone. Draco was trembling in his skin.
"I tell you this because she's mine. She's mine to take, mine to give, mine to kill or let live, and if you can complete a task for me I will reward you with both your father's freedom and the girl you love - or at least an obedient shell of the girl you love..." he said.
"My Lord, I don't love her," he whispered.
"Don't lie to me Draco. Obsession and love stem from a similar root. I won't even ask you to hand her over to me," he reassured him.
"I've been deep in her head, son. She's complicated beyond measure, haunted and disturbed. She was raped for most of her life by her uncle and his friends. Abused mercilessly by her family and their church. Has spent all her years at Hogwarts proving herself more than a name, more than an orphan, collecting people to form a family she so desperately wished she had. I think you want her to love you in return and I can make that happen," he explained. Draco's face had turned to stone.
"I can make that happen and free your father. You simply need to do something for me," he said evenly, as though he asked the terrified teenager to purchase a sampling of Potions from Diagon Alley or withdraw money from a Gringotts Vault.
"Should you fail, you and your family will die. I only have so much patience for failure and your father has worn me very thin," he hissed with malice, and it took every ounce of grit for Draco to mutter, "Yes, My Lord."
Draco stood to leave the room with a task he couldn't fathom and sore left forearm.
"You may tell your mother and your aunt, but this is forbidden to be spoken about by anyone," Voldemort warned, and Draco was excused from the room before he had time to wrap his mind around the exchange.