Draco
Malfoy Manor
Early July 1997

All but one seat was occupied at the long marble table positioned in the center of the Malfoy Manor dining room. A room normally bathed in sunlight due to its floor to ceiling windows across every wall, it was now shrouded in darkness, each window shuttered and covered with dark drapes. The only light that remained was the dim gleam of candlelight throughout the room.

Draco's seat was directly to the left of the empty chair positioned at the head of the table, indicating the importance of the figure who would soon sit there. Only his Aunt Bellatrix appeared to outrank Draco in seating preference, taking the seat to the right of the empty chair, the proverbial "right hand" of the master.

It had been a few months since Draco had left Hogwarts, likely for the last time. Since leaving the hallowed halls of his former school, Draco had fully committed himself to the Dark Lord. Even though his time among the Death Eaters had, so far, been brief, Draco was practiced at appearances and conducted himself well. His attire was fine, and, on that particular occasion, he wore rich black robes with black matte satin trim. His bearing was stoic, yet relaxed, as demonstrated by one elbow elegantly propping itself on the arm of his chair, as if he was holding an invisible drink, and this gathering was nothing more than a quaint cocktail hour.

Draco's eyes surveyed the other Death Eaters in attendance that day. Most of the faces were familiar to him by that point.

His eyes had almost completed the lap around the perimeter of the table when they landed on the black beady eyes of Severus Snape, who sat to the left of his aunt. Snape had a similar comportment to Draco, stoic yet indifferent, however, his former professor's robes were much more drab, and, where Draco leaned back, Snape leaned forward, with both of his forearms gently at the edge of the table.

Snape held his stare longer than expected, and Draco's eyes did not stray immediately.

The two had not spoken in any meaningful way since they fled from Hogwarts following the murder of Albus Dumbledore. That night transformed Draco's priorities.

Reluctant as he was the year prior to becoming a fully fledged Death Eater, Draco was now the perfect picture of a soldier on-the-rise. Upon rejoining the Dark Lord and the rest of the Death Eaters, he assumed the role of observer, watching for ways to distinguish himself from the other followers. In order to position himself to achieve his objectives, he needed to obtain a certain level of authority in the organization.

Almost every Death Eater was thirsty for power, even if it only trickled down to them after their master was sated. The behavior was embarrassing, but Draco noted that the Dark Lord did not look impressed either. The master only saw these leeches as bodies willing to do his bidding.

Draco used this intel to shape a version of himself that was a model Death Eater. He was deferential when required and perfectly practiced in bolstering the right egos. He was cutting and cruel when needed and mocking against blithering fools. Even the Dark Lord took notice.

A year prior, Draco would not have gone to the trouble to paint this facade. He didn't want to be a Death Eater then. Perhaps, he didn't want to be a Death Eater now. The difference was he had a purpose, an agenda.

"Ah my faithful servants!" cried Voldemort with jubilation, emerging from an ornate set of french doors located at the front of the room, breaking Draco's focus on Snape. Accompanying their master was Nagini, who slithered in ahead of the Dark Lord, bounding immediately for the table-top to observe each guest.

Everyone rose, of course, and turned to greet the one they were all there for. The one worth dying for, Draco thought mirthlessly.

Voldemort glided over the black and white-tiled floor to the cream-marble table. The Dark Lord made no sound when he walked. Draco could never be sure if the Dark Lord was merely stepping lightly or was truly floating across the tiles.

As Voldemort approached his seat, he first addressed Bellatrix who looked about ready to burst with excitement and yearning for her master. He took her hand in his skeletal-like grip, and brought it to his face tenderly.

Voldemort then turned and nodded appreciatively at Snape. Even though the shabby Death Eater defied orders and murdered Dumbledore in Draco's stead, he continued to be one of the Dark Lord's most trusted and proven advisors.

Finally, Voldemort moved his attention to Draco.

"You are fitting in so well, young Draco," Voldemort mused, observing Draco's prim disposition among men and women, more than twice his age, who behaved like children at times.

"You are kind to say, my Lord," Draco replied coolly, bowing slightly with a ghost of a smirk across his lips.

"It is good that you are able to give back some dignity to the Malfoy name," Voldemort scoffed, which was a cue for everyone else at the table to respond in kind. Humorless laughter followed as a weak Lucius bowed his head in apparent shame. Narcassia stared blankly ahead.

Voldemort took his seat and lowered his hands to bring everyone else down as well.

"Rowle, you have word of Potter's movements?" Voldemort asked pointedly.

"Yes. I have it on good authority that Potter will move on his birthday once his traces have lifted," Rowle relayed, his voice going in and out of sounding confident. He took a breath and continued. "Once the wards fall, that is when he will move. If we position ourselves to his known whereabouts that night, perhaps place anti-apparition wards in the area, well, it is likely we can catch him, my Lord."

Voldemort leaned back in his seat thoughtfully, bringing both hands together to rest below his chin. He seemed to consider it.

Snape cleared his throat and all eyes turned to him as he lazily directed his attention to Voldemort.

"Yes, Severus?" Voldemort prompted, slightly amused.

"While I can confirm that was the plan, it is no longer," Snape told Voldemort flatly. Draco found himself studying the way Snape addressed the room. The confident indifference seemed to play well to the Dark Lord's sensibilities.

"Well, do go on…" Voldemort gestured with his hand.

"Sir…" Rowle began, but was instantly silenced from a vicious look from Voldemort. Smoothly, Voldemort turned back to Snape.

"The Order knows we know their plan to move Potter on the 31st of July," Snape explained, giving Rowle a casual nod. "Now, they plan to depart one week prior to his birthday, at midnight. Many high-ranking Order members will be present"

"You are certain?" Voldemort asked. Snape nodded. "Then adjust our plans to match theirs, and you will all do well not to expose ourselves yet again," Voldemort said with casual malice and then scowled at Rowle, who shrunk into his body. "Well done, Severus"

Severus nodded again, perfecting the body language of a dutiful servant and soldier. Draco found himself fixated on Snape's behavior. It was perfectly curated, much like his own, and he felt a desperation to understand the root of Snape's motivations to serve the Dark Lord.

"Now!" Voldemort stood, his followers moving to do the same, but he motioned them back down. "We have a guest!"

Floating through the ajar french doors was the silhouette of a woman, completely horizontal, gliding in as if she were on an enchanted stretcher.

Her body floated around Voldemort, then towards the center of the table, coming to a stop just below eye-level for the participants who were all seated.

"Severus, you must know Ms. Charity Burbage, the Muggle Studies teacher at Hogwarts," Voldemort hummed which caused a few jeers around the table at the mention of the word 'muggle.' "Oh, and Draco, you must remember her too!"

Charity Burbage was in a full body bind, but thankfully for Draco, her likely terrified eyes were facing opposite to where he sat. Draco managed a tight nod in response to Voldemort's address, but otherwise, could hardly move his body out of the absolute dread he felt coursing through his limbs. He was about to see a Hogwarts teacher murdered in cold blood, right in front of him.

"I do," was all Severus said back to Voldemort.

With a sick smile, Voldemort called, "Nagini, dinner."

All Draco could do was watch. The youngest Malfoy willed his body to construe a reaction that gave off the impression that he was delighted in watching a giant snake devour a woman alive.

After the meeting concluded, most of the attendants decided to meander to the Malfoy study and take advantage of their fine collection of wines, brandies and cigars.

Draco, however, had other intentions as he carefully watched the darked robed forms glide about the room. After observing Snape that evening, Draco knew he had to seek him out, needed to talk to him.

Following the meeting, Voldemort pulled Bellatrix and Snape aside to have a more private discussion about strategy. Normally, Snape was out the door the moment a meeting concluded, but, with Snape sequestered with Voldemort, Draco reasoned, he would have time to intercept him before he made his departure.

The door of the private room lurched open, and Bellatrix sauntered out, basking in her usual after-glow after getting her fix of direct attention from her master. Draco eyed the door, expecting Snape to follow sulkily behind.

After a moment, with no sign of Snape, Draco concluded that he must have gone another way to escape any form of socialization.

"Excuse me," Draco bowed his head to the other faceless Death Eaters nearby, excusing himself from whatever dribble they were discussing.

Other than Malfoys by blood, marriage, and the one exception of the Dark Lord, the only way out of the manor was from an apparition point outside the gates of the estate. If Snape was just in the private room off the study moments ago, Draco figured he could beat Snape to the apparition point if he cut through less trafficked parts of the Manor.

With poise, Draco exited the study, but when he was clear of watchful eyes, he broke into a run down the hallway.

Past the kitchens, he slid into the grand entryway when Draco saw the ornately carved front door secure itself shut as he rounded the corner. Snape was just ahead of him.

Draco set the door open with a touch to his wand, bounded out through the doorway and onto the gravel drive lined with perfectly manicured, waist-high shrubs.

It was twilight, and what was left of daylight lingered at the edges of the sky, devoid of all warmness, presenting only blue and grey hues. If it weren't for the faint trace of light left, one might not even be able to make out the all-back figure that was Severus Snape.

"Snape," Draco called out, slightly winded.

Snape's quick pace slowed to a stop, but he did not turn. It took Draco only a moment longer to catch up. Finally, Snape turned to face him.

"How did you get that information?" Draco pursued, "about them moving Potter."

Snape gave Draco a cautious look. "I have sources"

"Introduce me to them," Draco demanded.

"That's not how this works. Doing so would compromise the source," Snape curtly explained, knowing full well Draco should have already understood that.

The younger Death Eater's face grew tense in frustration. As practiced as he was at controlling his disposition, Snape brought back a childlike tendency toward outbursts.

"Working alone is a foolish thing to do," Draco argued. "You need a second in case something happens to you."

Snape took a moment to consider what Draco was telling him. "You are already sitting to the left of the Dark Lord. Are you looking to dethrone Bella as his number two?"

"You know my seating arrangement is primarily designed to mock my father, my family."

"The Dark Lord considers you beyond a tool to embarrass Lucius," Snape contended.

Draco growled, impatient to return to the question at hand, not squabble about Death Eater politics.

"Will you bring me in?" he pressed.

"No," Snape replied flatly, maintaining a steady focus on Draco.

Draco's skin itched with frustration. He knew he had not gone about this request in the most elegant way, but he was desperate.

"What is it you hope to gain…" Snape paused, taking a moment to observe Draco, "...in getting an informant?"

Draco's lips went thin. "I fear I do not have anything to offer the Dark Lord at this point. I need an advantage."

Snape let his stare linger on Draco's piercing eyes a second longer, his face softening.

"Be that as it may, I cannot expose my source." Without another word, Snape turned to walk away.

"Why did you choose this side?" The question tumbled out of Draco's mouth before he could stop it. It left his mouth barely above a whisper. Not even the nearby birds should have heard it.

But Snape did.

Snape paused, looking back. He gave another penetrating stare, as though Draco were a puzzle he might decipher.

Turning back to his path, Snape took four more strides before he was outside the wards and apparated away.