The Dark Lord Voldemort stands over his prey, his soon-to-be-newest recruit, with discerning eyes. He's not sure what the boy is playing at, not seeming to be the type to beg for his life, but…he supposes that it's not as much begging as it is…negotiating. Still, he's surprised the boy caved so easily. A grin threatens to make itself known on his face, as he can guess which spell got through the prodigy's defenses and just how much agony the boy is in.

"What I need from you, isss to kill Albusss Dumbledore!" He hisses out, answering the Malfoy heir's question. The Dragon Slayer's eyes widen at the proclamation, before narrowing in contemplation. It takes but ten seconds for the Demon of Slytherin to think things over, realize his predicament, sigh in exasperation and then respond.

"I accept." His wand withdrawn, the Dark Lord ceases his suppression of his emotions and allows a big smile to adorn his serpentine visage.

"Asss expected of a wizard of your ssstature, Draco, a wissse decssision, dessspite your youth." Meeting his gaze, the young Malfoy heir glares at him defiantly.

"Of course." He responds through gritted teeth, his jaw set and fist clenched. The half-blooded dark wizard waits for a moment for a fit of rage, a bout of retaliation, or even a temper tantrum, but neither come. With a bit of relief, he turns and calls to his greatest servant.

"Bellatrix! Come ssserve witnessss to the greatessst…deal in wizarding hissstory!"

:

Looking down at the cold, dead body of his former headmaster, Draco Malfoy shakes his head, what a pity. It's a shame it has to be this way, but it does, as the Unbreakable Vow, the magic thrumming in his…being was quite clear about. It was either kill Dumbledore and free his parents and his unwilling aunt, or take their spot under the 'Dark Lord's' rule, and he'd rather rematch the cheeky half-blood, than ever consider such a thing.

No one press-gangs Draco Malfoy into their service, and absolutely no one bothers the Terror Demon with such nonsense.

Looking down at his wand, he smiles genuinely, finally having the last piece of the puzzle, the tool to propel him to heights greater than ever before. Not Dumbledore, not Voldemort, not Grindelwald, not even Merlin would not be able to match him soon. Even…even Villain and Super would fall to him now, both magically and physically, so and that has him feeling good.

The fear he will garner once the world hears of his latest conquest, gives him much of the same high, but it's not as permanent as him acquiring the perfect wand. With this, all things are possible. With this, the world will bow that much quicker to the rule of the Dragon King, of the Terror Demon, and no longer is anything outside his grasp. Time, Space, Knowledge, Death, Life, Love, all concepts that unconquerable by magic, and al objects that will soon bend and break at his will. A malevolent grin adorns his face as it stretches wider and wider. So many plans, so little time…

:

Life is good for Draco Malfoy. It's only been a week since the headmaster met his untimely end: a curse is what they're going with, and that in itself almost brought a sneer to the Malfoy heir's face. Of course, he rectified things, spreading the facts: that he and Dumbledore had dueled, and that he had come out victorious, albeit in a deadly manner.

Because of these…truthful 'rumors', everyone in the castle gave him an even wider berth than before, their fear so palpable, so delicious, so…consumable. Outside of Blaise and Ginny, and he suspects Potter soon enough, no one dared to approach him or even to meet his eyes, unless he initiated it. And when he did, they were aware, at attention, scared, shaking, and desperate to please. A wide grin covers Draco's face as the memories hit him.

But, as good as life is, it's about to get better. As the Demon of Slytherin, the Dragon Slayer, the Dragon King, and so on, he knew better than to waste his time gloating, especially given Nott's betrayal and his defeat at the wand of Voldemort. He had not rested on his laurels, nor had he drowned himself in celebratory drivel, even if he did indulge in a certain red-haired minx more often than usual, no, Draco Malfoy had used his time wisely, and he had trained, he had created new spells, new magic, bolstered by his perfect wand, and today was the first of many where said spells would come to fruition.

With naught a word nor a movement, the Malfoy scion disappears and reappears in an empty classroom, disregarding Hogwarts' wards, and startling the person inside, Theodore Nott. The quiet boy jumps ever-so-slightly, before grasping his wand and bringing it up in a flurry of motion, only to pale as he recognizes exactly who he raised his wand to.

"D-draco!? I-" He doesn't get to finish, as the Slytherin King interrupts, shaking his head as he does.

"Tsk, tsk, Nott. Is this any way to treat and old friend?" He questions with a wide, sharp-toothed grin. Gulping, Theo shakes his head and averts his eyes towards the floor.

"N-no. I thought you were—I didn't know—I'm sorry!" He finally manages to get out, nervously muttering under his breath. Draco waves off his concerns, instead wrapping an arm around his shoulder and pulling him close.

"Forget about it, Theo. We're friends." Somehow, the very word that Theodore Nott wanted to hear from the very person speaking it, sent chills down his spine and shivers up his body. "So, how has it been since…" The Malfoy heir gestures around generally. Theo gulps again and nods.

"It's been g-good. Sn-snape has given me a lot m-more freedom than Dumbledore did, and I'm getting r-respect from the wh-whole school now. Not just Slytherin." The quiet boy responds. The grin on the Demon of Slytherin's face only gets wider.

"Respect, huh? Good, good." Slowly, his arm moves from around his shoulder, hand touching the rotator cuff, to a position where his hand lies on top of the genius inventor's head. The grin is still there on his face, but his eyes…his eyes cause Nott's breath to catch in his throat, so much, that he almost begins to suffocate, and would be dry-heaving if not for all terrified he is.

"Theo." Draco speaks simply, before licking his lips. "As my former brother and new friend, I have finally come up with something." Nott's eyes widen in shock. Was this…was this what he thought it was? Was he finally being allowed back in?

"What is it?" The quiet boy asks in almost a whisper. The hand on his head moves, up and down, patting him on his messy mane, as if he were a pet.

"Oh, it's simple Theo. You just need to do me one favor." The King of Slytherin responds, as he suddenly brings his wand out.

"Wha—?"

"Look into my eyes." He demands, and that's the last thing Theodore Nott, boy genius, inventor and magic artificer, remembers.

Draco grins as he watches the boy, the traitor, his former brother shiver on the floor, an empty look in his eyes. What Nott had just given him, is a game changer. Now he is Villain. He is Crane. He is the one who crafts and creates, alongside his usual power to control and to kill. If his grin could get any wider, it'd split his face in two.

This is just the first step, the first test of this new spell. Nott was an obvious choice, both as a punishment and as a mercy of sorts, and swiftly, a list begins forming in his head. With one last look of derision, he sneers at the fallen form of his former friend.

"We're even now." And then he turns, leaving the pathetic, quiet boy behind hm. Forever.