Safe and Sound

It was cold. Not the kind of cold that you can simply ward off with a blanket or a jacket; it was the type of cold that seeped into your skin, stealing your warmth like a thief in the night. It was the kind of cold that sank into your heart, frosting it over with ice and frostbite. The kind of cold that only existed in the presence of evil. I was in fact in the presence of evil.
I stared off into the distance, playing bored with this meeting. It seemed that my behavior of late had become questionable. I needed to feign going back to my old, heartless self. It wasn’t difficult, for I had known how to mask emotions and portray cruelty all my life. The difficult part, was trying to do this with a new, fully functional conscious.
Feeling regret, grief and sympathy was foreign to me for a long time. I had once been a killing, emotionless, torture machine, and I acted as if I was the most glorious thing to walk the planet, to walk the Wizarding World. As I was so often in those days, I was dead wrong.
The room was dead silent, apart from the quiet sniveling of a prisoner, whom currently was handing upside down in the air. I ignored her the best I could, and when I found my eyes shifting over to her figure, I made a distasteful face. I would not show my empathy. In fact, it was easy to show my disgust for the situation, because they read my disgust as something else, something much worse.
The dining room was darkly lit, the night flowing in through the windows like black ink. Only a few candles were lit, and the fire placed crackled very quietly. It had seemed in the last month that night had taken over the manor, making it the very core of darkness. The manor had always been dark, but it had never been this daunting. Ever.
A door clanged open, causing several people to flinch visibly. I remained completely still, simply casting my eyes about the room. Severus Snape entered the room without so much as a glance at anyone. That was always his persona, to pretend not to care for anyone but his master. I compared him to an extremely loyal, extremely cold hound.
“Severus, I was worried,” Voldemort hissed. His voice was like a million snakes over lapping one another, scales clinking and caressing one another. “I was beginning to think you’d lost your way. Come, I’ve saved you a seat.” Snape sat quickly and smoothly, paying no attention to the body above our heads. “You know our hosts of course. Narcissa in particular has been most gracious,” Voldemort continued. I felt like screaming at him that the only reason she was being hospitable was because he had wanted me to murder her. “Lucius, on the other hand, seems to be greatly burdened.”
Lucius Malfoy did not look like the man that he once was. His eyes were rimmed red, and surrounded with purple circles. He was unshaven, and he smelled as if he had not showered in days. His pale blonde hair that he shared with his son, was thin and flaky, no longer lustrous as it had once been.
“My- my lord?” Lucius fumbled, looking for words, his confusion and fear evident. He was so scared that I could almost smell the fear rolling off of him.
“Are you burdened, Lucius?” Voldemort asked, barring it sharp, fang-like teeth at him. Lucius fumbles to answer, his cowardice overpowering the will to answer.
“We are most thankful that you’ve chosen our home,” I spoke up, casting an annoyed glance at my elder. “It is a great honor to do you service and aid, My Lord.”
A dry chortle escaped from Voldemort’s throat. “Reagan Potter, you have always known exactly what to say. See to it that you teach Lucius how to use his tongue.” An audible snicker went around the table but I cut a glare around the table full of adults, shutting them up. Even they knew I was dangerous, regardless of my 5’2 stature and doe eyes. “I presume you have news, Severus?”
Snape cast an annoyed and superior glance at the rest of us. “It will happen Saturday next. At nightfall.” My face remained placid, although I knew they were talking about him. They were talking about someone under my protection.
“I have heard differently, my lord.” Yaxley said, leaning forward with a smug look on his face. I never liked Yaxley, who was like a whining puppy craving attention. “Dawlish, the Auror, let slip that the Potter boy will not be moved until the thirtieth of this month, the night before he turns.”
Voldemort seemed to consider this, his crimson eyes glittering with curiosity. He gazed at Nagini for a moment, which had slithered up and around his chair, unsettling many in the room. His eyes finally fell on me and I stared back at him. “Reagan, what do you think?”
I considered. I knew that Snape was right- it was what Harry would do. The decision to tell them Snape was right and protect Harry when it happened fought the decision to simply agree with Yaxley. But too much slip of wrong information would mean my life, and I was no use to Harry that way. “Snape it right,” I concluded. “Dawlish was probably tipped off purposely. He has the biggest mouth in the ministry, My Lord. They would never truly tell him their plans.”
He smiled. “Why is it, that none of my death eaters seemed to be as able as a little girl? And you, Draco? You’ve remained so silent so far. Do you agree with your beloved?”
I cast my eyes over to Draco, who had sat marble-still the entire meeting so far. He stared up at the prisoner and I quickly slipped my hand under the table, lacing my fingers with his and giving them a squeeze. His blue eyes found mine, and love and relief flooded the grey pools the moment he remembered I was here, that he was not alone. With a much more confidant voice than I would have thought, he turned to Voldemort and said, “Reagan’s observations are unparalleled. I would assume that she and Snape are correct, My Lord.”
Voldemort laughed, raising his hands to us and leaning back. “It truly is amazing, isn’t it, the power of true love? The little lion gives her bravery to a dragon.”
The nick named Little Lioness seemed to slowly be catching on around the group of Death Eaters. It had always been well known that my middle name was Latin for lion. But now, after being a part of several raids and expeditions, shining once more in my ability to control a situation with fineness and courage, I had become the little lioness, who’s bravery was unmatched.
If only I had truly felt that brave.
Truthfully, I felt terrified out of my mind half the time was on missions with other Death Eaters. I seemed to be getting more and more dangerous as of late, and the Order of the Phoenix, damaged as it was, would not give up. It took all my power to keep them out of danger without stepping in entirely, and it was simply exhausting work, trying to make a curse go awry when I had never missed before. Trying to make myself look evil, but secretly save others, was one of the hardest things I had ever done.
“Where will Potter be taken?” Voldemort asked after a few exchanges of other news.
“Most likely to a safe house,” Snape answered. “It will be someone in the order, and under so much protection that it would be pointless to attack him once he is there. We may have taken control of the ministry, but there are still those loyal to him, and until the ministry falls completely, his allies within will remain diligent in his protection.”
Bellatrix cleared her throat and leaned forward, like an excited schoolgirl. “My lord, if I might, I’d like to volunteer myself for this task. I’d like to kill the boy.”
A shriek resounded from the dungeons then, causing all to sit still in silence. It was a sound that could only be made from the bottomless pit of torture, from the abyss of darkness and pain. It was worse than listening to nails on a chalkboard, and it angered Voldemort so much that his eyes flashed with red before screaming at Wormtail to quiet the prisoner. Rarely did he lose his temper. He preferred to control us with his quiet, calculated malice.
“As inspiring as I find your bloodlust, Bellatrix,” He continued, standing up and circling the table, taking out his wand, “I must be the one to kill Harry Potter. But I face an unfortunate complication. It has recently come to my attention that my wand and Potter’s share the same core. They are, in some ways, twins. We can wound but not fatally harm one another. Which means, if I am to kill him… I will have to do it with another’s wand.”
Everyone visibly stiffened around the table and I clutched Draco’s hand. What Voldemort was insinuating was the utmost insult and disgusting suggestion. A wizard was noting without his wand. Wizards hated muggles and other magical creatures because they didn’t have wands. A wand was something allowed to only the most privileged of creatures, and it was a symbol for everything we were, everything we had ever accomplished. A wizard without a wand was no wizard at all, they were lower than low, and they were untouchable in their misery. To take someone’s wand… fear crept up in my heart. He could not do such a cruel task.
“Come now,” Voldemort purred, smiling. He knew exactly how brutal his suggestion was. He knew how horrid this would be, and it pleased him. “Surely one of you would like the honor? How about…. You, Lucius?”
My heart dropped and Draco clutched my hand even tighter. I could feel his trembling hands. His father, his role model, his inspiration was about to be stripped of everything in front a group most harsh. He was about to be punished in a way that was far worse than the cruciatus curse, and Draco would sit and watch and play unconcerned. My heart bleed with sympathy as Draco’s eyes went to a ghostly grey.
“My Lord?” Lucius sputtered out. Narcissa tried to keep here eyes from glazing over with tears, but I could see how broken she was inside for her husband. Lucius Malfoy was of the worst sort, but Narcissa loved her husband, and her duty would always be to him.
“I require your wand, Lucius.”
Lucius was dazed by what was taking place, and didn’t move for a very long time. For a moment, I thought that he was defying Voldemort, but when Narcissa touched his wrist tenderly, nodding her head, he came to. He rolled his wand onto the table, staring at it with a craving and pained expression. Voldemort’s long, skeletal hands plucked it like a flower petal from the table.
“Do I detect elm?”
Lucius nodded. “Yes, My Lord.”
“And the core?”
“Dragon- dragon heartstring.”
I watched speechless and with pain in my heart, as Voldemort walked away, leaving Lucius completely naked of pride and glory. In a matter of minutes he had stripped Lucius of every great position, title, and respectful name he had ever earned. From that moment on, the Malfoy name would be looked down upon among the pure blood families, and it took everything in my power not to leap across the table and snatch the wand back from that snake’s hands.
I hated Voldemort.
I wanted to kill him.