imprisonment

Chapter 44; D

Draco went cold. All his humanity seemed to leave his body as if he lived for nothing and cared for no one. He was like the manor, once filled with light but doomed to be in the shadows, dark magic seeping through its walls.

It was known that dark magic could find its way in a person and bury itself there. It would weave its way through one's veins and completely take them over.

That was how Draco felt; immobilized by the darkness trying to wrap its way inside him. With every unforgivable that uttered out of his lips, he was farther gone. Six Gryffindors. Six dead. Six unforgivables. The devil had a sick sense of humor.

It had been a week since the executions at Hogsmeade. He knew he would soon be ordered for another mission. The past week he had spent his time dissociating from who he was. When he looked at himself in the mirror, he had a hard time recognizing it was him. He simply felt like a vessel that carried his damned soul.

The final battle was soon to come. He could feel it in the air and in how the wind would blow.  Whenever he walked the halls of the manor, he could feel it in the atmosphere. It was a deathly feeling, one that almost swallowed you whole.

A week ago, he tried to rid himself of her. Her touch, the way her voice sounded, the way her freckles danced across her cheeks, the way she would smile at him, were all buried to where the light could no longer reach them.

He knew he was too far gone for her.  A part of him always knew that. Anytime a flash of a memory of her grazed his mind he would occlude until he was completely emotionless and apathetic.

In all the meetings with the other Death Eaters, he would nod his head and agree to all their plans. He didn't dare send her another owl. He sat there in compliance, knowing that they were planning her death.

She was at the bottom of the sea that was his mind, drowning, gasping for air. His time with her was like a dream that he could hardly remember anymore.

No one knew of his feelings for her, not Blaise or Pansy. He didn't dare utter her name.

He noticed the small things though. The way Pansy would cringe anytime the war was mentioned, how she would get quiet anytime someone would speak of the order. Draco could sense a cloud of guilt hanging over her. He never pushed for information or asked her what was wrong. He had his own problems.

She always seemed to be interested in his though. She would constantly poke and prod, grasping at straws for some form of information. It was exhausting and usually ended with him scowling at her.

She should know better than to think that he would share his feelings with her. Pansy and Blaise would always ask about his time in Azkaban and he would refuse to answer or change the subject.

He kept his days strictly practicing combat and meeting with the other Death Eaters. It was like he was permanently stuck on autopilot, never allowing himself to feel anything other than the numbness he inflicted on himself from occluding constantly.

When he woke up that September morning, there was omniscience that filled the air. He ignored it and dressed himself. He supported an all-black suit and combed his hair to the side ever so precisely.

He didn't look in the mirror as he did so.

When he was finished getting ready for the day, he walked over to his door, opening it and feeling the heavy air enter his room. He took a breath in, before making his way down the hallways.

It felt like all the paintings were staring at him with a certain disapproval. He never met their gaze and continued his way until he made it to the stairs. He ran his fingers along the railing, preparing himself for what was to come.

He was supposed to meet with Voldemort today; all the death eaters would be at the manor. Within the past week, there were constant sieges and executions of the resistance. He didn't bother to keep up with them. However, he could sense that they were at a turning point in the war. He was just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

His dress shoes clicked across the stairs as he made his way down, reminding him of the inevitable. There was a blank, soulless expression on his face as he was met by his Father and Yaxley standing at the bottom of the stairs conversing.

He couldn't seem to hear what they were saying, but his father quickly quit talking at turned to him.

"If you don't mind, I would like to speak to my son privately," his father said shooting at stare at Draco. His heart pounded, not knowing what he was going to say to him.

"Of course, I will meet you in the parlor," Yaxley said giving him a nod before leaving them alone.

"Draco. The Dark Lord has a special mission for you. Do not embarrass me today," Lucius's words stung like venom and coursed through his veins.

"Yes father," Draco said. He wanted nothing more than for his father to be dead.

Lucius motioned him over saying, "very well, let's not be late," and started walking towards the parlor to meet with everyone. He gripped his cane in his hand, and his cloak dragged across the floor as he walked.

It was like a game that he was rigged to always lose, except for a moment he would have hope things would be different. It never was.

"Draco, sit. The Dark Lord has some news for you," Bellatrix said with her wild eyes pointed towards him. Her curls were matted and flung in all directions. He could feel the insanity radiating off of her. He wondered if one day he would go mad like her.

His hand rested against the back of the chair, slowly pulling it out. All eyes were on him as he sat down.

"You've earned my trust. I have a very important task for you. You won't disappoint me, surely?" Voldemort's voice was airy and coarse, sending prickles down Draco's spine. There was a certain threatening sound to the way he spoke, causing his eyes to meet his mothers. He made sure to occlude himself, that way no one would sense his nerves.

"Yes Lord," he managed to get out without a sign of hesitation. Everyone seemed to look pleased with him. He was finally the man his father had always wanted him to be, even if he was imprisoned within himself in the process.

"There are murmurs that the resurgence is planning for battle. We will be ready and waiting on the grounds of Hogwarts for them in the following days," Yaxley explained. Everyone seemed to smile, ready for the opportunity to kill.

His mother had that same frown on her face that he had been accustomed to for a long time. It was obvious she wanted to part in it.

"May I ask what my mission is?" Draco said making sure there was no waver in his voice. He looked around, waiting for a response. Everyone seemed to know something that he didn't.

Voldemort rose from his seat, compelling everyone to stare. The air felt heavy and filled with a darkness that could never be matched. His eyes met Draco's causing anxiety to rise within him. He looked around in curiosity, wondering why no one would just tell him what he had to do.

That was when Voldemort finally spoke.

"You are to kill Hermione Granger."

Everything went silent.

A/N

If I wrote imprisonment but in the POV's of Theo and Pansy would you guys read it? It would be their story and how they separated. It would also include what was happening while Draco and Hermione were in Azkaban.

The next chapter should be done by Tuesday, March 2nd. Thank you guys for your patience. I am so grateful for you guys.