Pt 4

She wasn't sure what had happened between when she had died and now but she knew that even after all these years, despite his hardened exterior, he was still the same. Underneath all the hate, the bitterness, the drive to do more, to be better, he was still just Tom.

The moments after his appearance had blurred in her mind. She knew how her body had crumpled, how she had fractured inside after seeing him in so long. He had caught her before she had hit the floor and now carried her bridal style through the halls of Riddle Manor, her head on his chest as shivered uncontrollably.

It had been the same once before when he had lived and she had died but she had been reunited with him again in a world where he had not yet been buried. Her magic had lashed out, latching onto his, causing her body to go into shock at the sudden change in her magical core. She always had wondered why he never reacted the same…

"My Lord," a voice breathed, followed by the almost silent swish of robes as a faithful follower bowed low onto the marble floors.

"Ah, Lucius," Tom said, his voice cool. "I suppose you have news on the matter of Draco?"

Lucius's eyes flickered hesitantly towards Esme before stuttering out his answer, "Y…yes, my Lord."

Tom caught this hesitation and gave him a hard stare. "Esme Lupin is to be treated with the utmost respect, is that understood?"

"Yes, my Lord," Lucius said quickly. He opened his mouth before catching himself and quickly snapping it shut, deeming it better for his health not to continue with his train of thought.

"Is there something you wish to say, Lucius?" Tom asked, raising a singular eyebrow.

"No, my Lord," Lucius answered.

"Hmm," Tom hummed, looking at him with disdain. "I want to see young Draco tomorrow morning at nine o'clock sharp, and do not think I have forgotten about your failure at the Ministry."

"Yes, my Lord, of course my Lord."

"You may go."

Lucius gave a low bow of his head before hurrying down the hall, almost running to the Apparation point. Tom paused to sneer after the man before continuing his own journey, in the opposite direction.

Esme blearily mused studied what she had just heard. She knew from Harry what had happened at the Ministry at the start of summer, and had come to her own conclusions that Tom would be displeased about what had occurred; particularly at Lucius, who had been the one to lead the little escapade but she now feared for Draco. She knew the blonde well enough to know he was not ready to achieve whatever the Dark Lord was throwing at him, especially when it was an angry Dark Lord. The boy had control over Slytherin House, not himself.

"Don't go hard on him," Esme murmured into his chest, darkness dragging her down as she fought to stay awake. This day had been too long…

Tom glanced down at her. "On who?"

"Draco," Esme answered, her voice barely a whisper as he eyes fluttered closed.

Tom. Lord Voldemort. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. You-Know-Who. The Dark Lord. They all looked down at the fragile girl in their arms. This girl who had been theirs from the beginning. This girl who stopped them when they went too far. This girl who had single-handedly dragged them out of the Dark Addiction. This girl who they had let die. Who they had failed. Failed to protect. Failed to keep safe.

This girl is what grounded them. This girl is what kept them human.