Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott walk…quietly through the home of their best mate, Draco Malfoy. They've both visited the Malfoy Manor before, many times in their youth in fact, but never before has it been so high stakes and so nerve-wracking. Draco leads the way, past the peacocks, past the gardens, and past the fields and stables of Thestrals that he swears are actually there, to a…patio of sorts where there sits a beautiful black-haired woman, one with shape, one marred with darkness, one emanating power…and insanity. She is his aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange, renowned Death Eater, and one of the Dark Lord's closest confidants.
Nothing could prepare the two soon-to-be-Third Years for this, and while Nott chooses to remain quiet and angle his eyes towards the ground, Blaise visibly gives Draco a questioning look, searching for some sense in this exchange. Draco nonverbally gives him the go ahead, telling both him and Nott to act with complete and total respect, and they both know better than to do anything but comply.
"Nice to meet you, Ma'am." Blaise speaks as he lightly bows. "I am Blaise Zabini, heir to House Zabini, a dear friend of…your nephew." It takes all he has to not add an inquiring tone to his statement, as he's not actually one hundred percent sure she is in fact Bellatrix Lestrange. He's only 90% sure.
"ᴵ'ᵐ ᴺᵒᵗᵗ, ᵀʰᵉᵒᵈᵒʳᵉ ᴺᵒᵗᵗ. ᴬˡˢᵒ ᴰʳᵃᶜᵒ'ˢ ᶠʳᶦᵉⁿᵈ." The more quiet of the two boys takes his turn to introduce himself, however he doesn't bow. The woman sips her drink as she looks the two over with her penetrating gaze, trying to find…something with her eyes. It's only a few seconds she searches, and when she's done she doesn't appear to be impressed.
"So you're Draco's friends." She almost purrs, a serious look on her face. She turns to her nephew with disappointment in her eyes. "I expected better." She informs him, shaking her head.
"There are none better." Draco defends them staunchly, somewhat surprising the two boys, as while they know Draco has their back, to defy an elder from his family, as well as someone they suspect is the 'girl' that had him captivated during the summer, it's…well it's not what they expected. "They are the best of the best." He continues. "Crème de la crème." The former Death Eater grunts in disagreement.
"If you say so." Again she turns to the two boys, instantly turning their attention back to what might be the most dangerous person in a hundred mile radius. And given that Draco is standing right there, that is quite an impressive title to have. "So are you also dedicated to the Dark Lord?" She questions, causing Blaise's eyes to shoot to Draco with an alarmed look, with Nott doing the same. Draco only rolls his eyes.
"Ignore her." He replies dismissively. "We're still working out the kinks." He then turns to her. "Aunt Bella, we had this conversation. I am in no way connected to, or in agreement with your Dark Lord." She sips her drink with a knowing smirk.
"You say that now, but when he returns, you will sing a different tune." She says confidently. Draco rolls his eyes again.
"Somehow, I doubt that."
"Yes, Draco's not one to follow others exactly." Blaise throws in, backing up his best mate. To that, Bellatrix Lestrange, feared Death Eater and well-known mistress of torture, bursts out laughing.
"Ha! Clearly I know my nephew far better than you do." She speaks, addressing the two boys who claim to be her nephew's best mates. Looking at Draco and noting his expression of…not agreement, but also not of disagreement, the darker-skinned boy attempts to correct himself immediately.
"Perhaps I was too hasty. From a different perspective I can—" His words are ignored as the once-high ranking Death Eater continues speaking.
"See Draco is much like his dear Aunt: Powerful, beautiful, dark, commanding respect, and willing to lead those who are beneath us." She explains, a wicked smile on her face. Blaise nods along with her words, waiting for the shoe to drop. "But like me, he is willing to follow the right person, a person with ideals, one with conviction. For me, that is the Dark Lord. And I believe it will be so with Draco as well."
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When Arthur Weasley receives an official letter from the Ministry, 'requesting' him to return home to the Burrow for official business, he's not sure what to think. When the letter specifies he should 'bring his guests', Arthur is…wary of what it could mean. Generally, Arthur is well-liked among his peers, with no real enemies among his coworkers, but his positive opinion on Muggles and their inventions, as well as his insistence to act in an upright manner, did win him some detractors. His mind first goes to Sirius Black, who would ask them to bring Harry, if only so he could get his hands on the boy and finish what he started, the sadistic beast! But no, he wouldn't be so foolish as to set up an encounter with nearly 10 to 1 odds like that, especially in a magically protected place such as the Burrow. He'd surely lose.
His next thought is that it may be actual official business, and that the request to bring Harry along is to protect him from the cold-blooded murderer that is Black, and in some ways, Arthur is appreciative. His mind floats to others: enemies of his family such as the Lucius Malfoy, or Dolores Umbridge, or— his heart drops as he returns to the Burrow, his family in toe, and he sees the very person he dreaded most: Malfoy. And his son.
Draco watches curiously as the Weasley family Floos in from the Leaky Cauldron, one after another, into their…cozy home. Some Floo Powder still on their person, they take their time to dust off and converse among each other, all while the patriarch of the family stands there frozen, staring at him and his father. Draco smirks, unable to help himself as he drinks in the fear he feels from the man, even if it is a fear of unfamiliarity, a fear of wonderance, a fear based in confusion and directed mostly at his father. It takes him a bit, and the way he speaks, with his wand out ready for action, instantly alarms the rest of his family, who all take out their wands as well, the youngest son and his two friends excluded. Yes, much to Draco's delight, the only daughter of the family, is also ready for smoke.
"How did you get in here?" The eldest Weasley questions in a demanding tone. "What do you want?" If this were any other situation, Draco would've taunted him with some subtly threatening words and phrases. He would've played with his food, drunk the fear, and then acted to make sure that fear was permanent. But this is not the time nor the place. Instead…
"We come in peace, Arthur." A nudge to his father, implores the older man to speak in an unusually gentle and relaxing tone to the Weasley patriarch, his hands up in surrender. "We come to deliver recompense to your family, for…the unintentional consequences of my actions." He informs them, nary a wand or his trademark cane in his hand, only an envelope.
"Expilliarmus!" The spell shoots from the wand of the eldest Weasley, knocking the envelope to the ground. The Malfoy patriarch does all he can not to flinch, and not to retaliate to the display of aggression. "We'll have Bill look at that later." He reassures his wife, referring to their oldest son's career as a curse breaker. Draco can see the conflict in the man's eyes as he contemplates the situation, just as he can see his own father looking to him with an expression of exasperation.
"There's no need for that, Mr. Weasley." Draco takes his turn to speak, clearly unbothered by the wand that is subsequently pointed in his direction. "We come bearing gifts, for Ginny." He clarifies, setting his eyes on his future prize, the girl he'd come to like, no longer bothering with pretenses. "As well as an apology." He motions towards his father once more, causing the older man to sigh.
"That is correct, Arthur, I only wish to apologize to your daughter here, for my part in…the tragedy that befell her this past year." Lucius lowers his hands, placing one to his heart as he bows his head. "I truly am sorry for putting you through that, even if it were not my intention. I can only hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me." He then looks towards Draco, who cheerfully produces an expertly wrapped broom.
"For you." Draco says with a smile, as he makes first contact with his schoolyard crush. "It's a Firebolt." Ginny takes the broom with a look of awe on her face, and it's very hard for her not to audibly squeal in delight. Instead she blushes, touched by the gesture, and mumbles her response.
"Th-thanks."
"It's my pleasure, Ginny." Draco replies, meeting her eyes. "And here," he calls the envelope to his hand and swiftly opens it. "Are season-holder tickets to what I hear is your favorite team, the Holyhead Harpies." The young redhead girl looks on in adulation, as genuine season-holding, VIP Box, Holyhead Harpies tickets are deposited in her hands. If her family, and more importantly Harry wasn't standing behind her, she'd likely kiss the pale git, with how happy she was.
"I-I don't know what to say." Suddenly she feels a cold warmth on her hands, as Draco places his hands on the back of hers.
"You don't have to say anything, love. Simply…enjoy yourself." From then on, Ginny Weasley is a blushing mess. Without much fanfare, the Malfoys leave, uttering their goodbyes, Draco especially aiming his towards the young Weasley girl, as the Burrow is soon devoid of its presumed unfriendly visitors. And that's when a cacophony of voices fill the lovely home.
