Who: Draco Malfoy and Lord Voldemort What: Draco Faces the Music Where: The Supreme Lord’s Personal Dungeons When:Backdated to Friday 23 December Why: Crimes Must Be Punished Rating: R for violence/torture/death or worse Status: Complete
Draco followed his parents from the train station at Kings Cross not long after the train’s arrival and the thoughts of the conversation only moments before weighed heavy on his mind. He would not return to the only home he’d ever known if it were up to his own father and even his mother had said the decision was ultimately with the Supreme Lord. And Draco knew that all made sense, given the situation, though it didn’t mean it hurt any less.
His power, position and family – all wiped away in nearly the blink of an eye and in some ways even Draco was unclear how it had all happened. One day he was on top of the world with everything on a silver platter and the next, he was sneaking around with Mandy and voicing out against violence. How had it all come to be? Though, even Draco knew he’d crossed a line and at this point, he could only hope the Supreme Lord showed him the grace of mercy as perhaps he had done with Sirius Black. But Sirius Black’s father was not the Minister of Magic, now disgraced and removed from his position. No. Somehow, as little an infraction Draco liked to think it was, it was bigger than Draco could fathom.
When they arrived at the Supreme Lord’s residence, Draco was allowed to bid farewell to his parents before he was escorted alone to a large room that looked like a well stocked library. Dark wooden shelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling filled with books and intricately designed silver-corked bottles. There was a grand desk with a lavish chair behind it and before the desk was a single wooden chair, bare and worn looking, perhaps even squeaky to the touch though Draco dared not touch anything. He simply stood near the door that was now closed and locked behind him as he waited for the Supreme Lord.
His heart was pounding and he could feel his blood pumping coarsely though his veins and he inhaled slowly as he looked around the room while trying to calm and clear his mind, though his feeble attempt was sure to be obvious.
He knew he was in serious trouble. One’s father isn’t removed from the highest office beneath the Supreme Lord for naught and Draco had an overwhelming feeling of impending doom, though try as he might to shove that far deeper into the recesses of his mind as he may, the trepidation was practically oozing out of him. Draco hoped his punishment would be swift, and as painless as possible. He hoped he would be allowed to return home where he might mend himself some before heading back to school. He hoped he might even have an opportunity to explain himself and offer not just apology and homage, but an alternative to violence. He hoped, though the reality was, none of that was probably ever going to come to fruition; but hope was all Draco had left.