Draco trudged tiredly up the stairs of his front porch, his muscles exhausted from the evening's mission. The end goal had been accomplished, but a few unexpected events had occurred, resulting in Draco having to improvise, and Draco hated to improvise when it came to his missions for the Dark Lord. He was meticulous in his planning; even the incidents that he'd let Order members intentionally escape had been planned. Draco did his best to keep eyes and ears everywhere to avoid instances like the one tonight.
Shrouded in shadow, Draco, accompanied by his team of Death Eaters, had Apparated outside the seemingly vacant plot of land near the small ocean-side town of Polperro. The salty air of the sea invaded Draco's lungs, the cold breeze sharpening his already keen senses as it stung his exposed skin and brought tears to his eyes. The group moved with the precision of a well-oiled machine, their steps muffled by the tall reed grass, the sound of it swishing against their robes and crunching under their boots, masked by the crashing waves.
"Now is the time to prove yourself, Krasnaya. Let's see if you truly live up to your name," Draco stated, his voice flat and emotionless, a stark contrast to the tension that hung in the air.
She met his gaze with a hard stare, silently accepting his challenge as she tightened her hold on her wand in preparation.
The group moved as a stealth unit up the slight incline of the landscape until they crested over the hill to be met with a sharp slope that formed a circular shape like a bowl in the ground. For those unaware of the secret residence behind heavy warding and an expertly cast Fidelius charm, this wide-open space would look like a stunning place to camp beneath the stars, a haven of tranquility to connect with nature in one of its purest forms. That was not the sight that stood before Draco, and a part of him ached for it to be so, to be one of the deceived that knew nothing of the existence of The Order safe house, to know nothing of the darkness and of war. That wasn't his life, and, in all probability, it never would be.
What Draco saw beneath the various enchantments was a simple, single-story stone cottage, not unlike his own in style but much smaller in size. Soft candlelight flickered behind a small window as if beckoning wary visitors forward to feel its minuscule flashes of warmth. Just like the candle, the lives of those harbored behind the walls would be snuffed out by the end of the evening. At least six order members would be sleeping blissfully unaware in their beds, not comprehending the evil that slipped closer with every breath they took.
With his wand held before him, Draco began to chant.
"Immolare in sanguine." A blade cut a line through the skin of Draco's forearm until crimson rained down over his fingers like spilled paint, dripping down as he waved his palm in a single movement before him, as if wiping the dust from a cloudy window—the thick liquid clinging to thin air in suspended motion.
"Custodibus vitam ammissam" A heart under stasis still warm from the cavity it had been cut from.
"Confidunt in aeternum fregit" A pale tongue belonging to the same individual floated from Draco's bag and joined the still heart. The address Talland Hill PL 13 was scorched into the rubbery flesh.
"Veritatem tuam revelare." A ball of blue light flicked from the end of Draco's wand as it made a final tight circle. The blue orb hungrily absorbed the sacrifices set before it. Blood. Heart. Tongue. A low humming noise was emitted, it began to vibrate, and then an implosion that shattered every ward placed to protect the individuals hiding in their safe house.
Sacrifice in blood
A keeper's life forfeited (Thanks, McLaggen)
Trust Forever Broken
Reveal your truth
On a tidal wave of death, Draco's Death Eater brigade swept through the decimated wards and descended on the Order safe house.
"Bombarda Maxima," Krasnaya shouted from Draco's left. With an expert twist of her wrist, the bright green light of her spell shot forth and tore through the side of the building, leaving a giant hole and rubble in its wake.
Numerous Order members clad in their pajamas made the grievous error of poking their heads through the newly created entrance instead of seeking cover. Shrieks of terror and pain filled the once-peaceful night air as rapid-fire curses sought out their targets. The sound of the ocean waves, previously all-consuming in its song, now could not compete with the symphony of Death's orchestra.
Krasnaya shot a rather horrible-looking spell towards none other than her former housemate, Seamus Finnigan. The red streak burned hot as it whizzed past Draco and hit Finnigan square in the chest, where he abruptly burst into flames. The Irishwizard ripped at his flesh in a futile attempt to extinguish the flames, but they were endless in their pursuit to consume. Draco watched curiously as Finnigan curled into a ball, his scorched skin matching the blackened earth surrounding him. After a few pitiful whimpers, he finally lay still, his bloodshot eyes glassy and unseeing.
"Didn't actually think you had it in you," Draco said as he gave his newest recruit an appraising look. Perhaps she was more dangerous than he'd previously anticipated.
"Never underestimate what I will do for the cause, Malfoy," Krasnaya bit out harshly before turning on her heel and leaving Draco to survey the rest of his squad.
Mulciber's fingers tangled in the blonde tresses of Lavender Brown's hair as he dragged her bodily from the wreckage of the cottage, her pleas for mercy falling on deaf ears. True Death Eaters offered no mercy, only the promise of pain.
"What say you have a little fun with this one before we dispose of her, ay Malfoy?" Mulciber questioned as he gripped Brown's chin and ran a path up her cheek with his tongue.
The action left Draco slightly nauseous at the thought of any part of Mulciber's bodily fluids touching his skin. He may have found the witch to be a brainless bint, but he didn't wish that on anyone.
"The only fucking you know how to do it with your minuscule cock in your hand, do your fucking job and get rid of the bitch," Draco barked as he leveled a challenging glare at the older Death Eater.
Mulciber's face soured into a pinched grimace, but he made no move to disobey his commander. Before he could carry out his orders, a yellow bolt of light struck Brown between her eyes, instantly stealing the young witch's life.
Draco turned to see who the caster was and found himself unsurprised to see Krasnaya with her wand aloft and her chest gently rising and falling. Like this was another one of her forbidden D.A. Meetings with Potter and his merry band of idiots.
Draco gave a slight nod of approval before addressing the gathering men. "Looks like you boys have some competition. Better watch your backs, or Krasnaya will surely stick a knife in them."
Suspicious mumbles and wary glances met Draco's statement, but Krasnaya met each and every glare with one of her own as she held her chin high, as if in a challenge.
"Grab the rest of these fuckers and take them to the dungeons. We'll begin questioning tomorrow," Draco said after a moment, breaking the tension.
"What do we do with the dead?" Krasnaya asked as she stepped forward and toed the pale skin of Brown's cheek with her boot.
"Let the birds have them," Draco responded before commanding his troops back to the Manor.
After the last soldier had Disapparated, Draco stepped through the rubble and into the destroyed cottage. As he moved throughout the space, bits and pieces of items that had probably belonged to those now captured or dead rolled and crunched beneath his boots.
A burnt book.
A tube of pink lipstick.
An old copy of the Prophet.
A worn Chudley Cannons Jersey stained with blood.
The items that made up a person, a life, were now left to history as another mission ended for Draco.
Movement in the open field caught Draco's eye as he stared through one of the small bedroom windows. A figure sat up from their spot on the ground; groans of obvious pain fell from their lips as they moved to stand. Draco moved stealthily out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, where the hole had been blown into the wall. Glancing around the corner, he watched as the tall figure shook themselves. Draco couldn't believe his eyes as he watched the form of Seamus Finnigan begin to appear. Patches of black skin fell from his body and floated away on the ocean breeze, leaving the man stark naked but otherwise unharmed.
What the fuck?Draco thought to himself.
"Lavender?" came a croaked question from Finnigan as he stooped to shake the blonde lying dead on the ground.
"Come on, Lav," he said as he tried to coax her awake.
A hacking cough erupted from Brown's body as her shoulders convulsed. Blonde curls swayed in the breeze as the witch moved to a sitting position.
"I fucking hate those spells," Brown snarled as Finnigan lent a hand to hoist her up.
"Better that than to actually be dead," Finnigan responded.
"Did anyone else make it?" Brown questioned as she looked around the field.
"Don't know. You were the first I found. Let's check it out," Finnigan suggested.
Draco watched in shock as the two moved away from the cottage in search of other survivors.
What the fuck had Weasley done?
What the FUCK was he supposed to do?
Should he kill them?
What was he saying? Of course, he should.
But his alpha made his presence known for the first time since his mission started. The beast growled harshly at the thought of killing Finnigan and Brown, making his disapproval known.
'The Dark Lord will kill us if he finds out I let them go,' Draco thought in confusion as he wondered if the thought was more for him or his alpha.
'They are important to our omega. No one will know," his inner self argued.
It wasn't like Draco hadn't let civilians and Order members walk free before, but this was different. It wasn't planned. He knew which Order members would be at the safe house tonight, and he'd made no plans to let any of them live. They were inconsequential in the grand scheme of things.
But they hadn't died, and his alpha demanded it stayed that way. With a soft growl of irritation with himself and the alpha, he Disapparated with a crack, leaving the survivors to live another day and himself full of doubt.
After mentally reliving the day's events, something Draco didon the heels of particularly gruesome missions to remind himself of the realities of the world they lived in, he realized that hoping for anything different was futile. He made his tired muscles stand and trudged through the house and up the stairs to his room.
As he approached his room, Granger's pheromones hit his senses like a freight train. The scent he began to familiarize himself with was tinged with something almost sour. If Draco gave into his alpha's desires, he'd eventually learn the distinct difference between her scents based on her emotional state, but that could never happen.
What Draco was not expecting as he turned the brass knob and stepped through the doorway,was to be bludgeoned across the head with a solid metal bar.
Despite the force of the blunt object cracking across his temple, Draco only slightly stumbled as his head whipped to the side. A handadorned withfingerless leather gloves touched his skin where he'd been struck; warm liquid had begun to seep from the newly formed gash, spreading to his fingertips as he touched the wound.
Silence hung heavy in the air as Granger clad in nothing but his overly large T-shirt gave him a thorough once-over from head to toe. The object responsible for his injury dangled loosely from her small handand he realized it was one of the wrought iron curtain rods that hadhung onhis walls.
That vicious little minx, Draco thought to himself with a mix of awe and irritation.
Gray eyes met brown in a battle of wills as they assessed one another. Granger finally broke the silence. The sound of her voice, devoid of her omegas' influence, was like buckets of ice water cracking over him. How could you miss something in an instant that you never really hadbefore?
"So, you're my alpha," Granger said as more of a statement than a question. Her smirk held a mischievousness that Draco didn't think the former Gryffindor was capable of. At that moment, when her eyes danced with the promise of mayhem, Draco knew he was in trouble.