Draco closed the door quietly behind him, his knees shaking slightly, holding onto the sides of the walls to steady himself.
"Ah...dearest Draco..."
Draco jumped at the sound of the voice, like a hiss.
He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't find words.
Slowly, the man in the chair before him turned around. "I take it you've completed the task I set you?"
"Y-yes, my lord." His voice broke and shook out of not pain, but fear.
Something like a sinister, malevolent grin spread across Voldemort's pale face. "Wonderful..."
A large snake slithered across the floor, onto the armchair, where Voldemort placed his arm. The cobra slid its way up its master's arm and came to rest on his shoulders.
There was an awkward silence, finally broken by Draco.
"That snake of yours...Nagini, I mean...she's a wonderful snake."
Voldemort seemed unaffected. "Flattery gets you nowhere with me, Draco."
Draco turned an even paler shade of white, something that would not have been thought possible. "Er...of course, sir, I was just...she really is a marvelous snake, I didn't mean..."
"No matter, Draco," Voldemort spoke. "Please, do sit down..." He gestured towards the armchair to his left.
The two were seated, Voldemort still caressing the snake.
"I understand that Albus Dumbledore is indeed dead?"
Draco nodded.
"Marvelous...splendid..." He turned to the snake and hissed something at it in Parseltongue.
"Sorry, Nagini...the boy has completed the mission successfully."
The snake hissed, then recoiled onto its master's lap.
"What were you saying to it?" Draco blurted out, unable to stop himself.
Voldemort turned, his slitted red eyes gleaming. "It's none of your business."
Somehow, however, Draco understood: the snake had been waiting, like its master, to kill, to devour him...the horrifying image flashed into his mind, burned into his eyes...
After a moment or two, Voldemort finally said, "It's awfully late. You'd best get to bed."
Draco didn't dare object. He crept up the staircase, down the hall, into his room, and plopped himself onto his bed.
As he closed his eyes, images flashed before him of Dumbledore falling backward, being hit with Avada Kedavra, and though Draco refused to admit it to even himself, he knew that he had just done something horrible.