imprisonment

Chapter 46; D

The wind swirled around him as he apparated with a thick cloud of black smoke. His hair blew around his face, unraveling the neat style it was in. With his wand clutched in his hands so tight that his knuckles turned white, he made sure the coast was clear.

Draco stood staring at the scene in front of him. He was at the Order's safe house, or what was left of it. It was in the middle of nowhere, almost unnoticed. He took in the scenery for a moment, being the first one there.

It was a small wooden house that stacked up a couple of stories. It wasn't extravagant in any way. It was quite the opposite. He looked through the windows and imagined Hermione there—with Ron of course.

He knew they would all be dead soon.

Killing Ron would hold a great deal of irony. He knew it would. A part of him might even enjoy it. He envisioned his face as he cast an unforgivable in his direction but dismissed the thought. He had work to do.

As he prepared himself to enter the abode, he tried to clear his head. It was buzzing with unwanted thoughts and anxiety that seemed to be impossible to silence. He had to be steady and certain at this moment, but instead, his stomach seemed to knot in anticipation.

It wasn't because he had to kill. He knew he could do that. It was from the possibility of seeing her. He didn't want their eyes to lock as he killed her. He didn't want to feel the unignorable tension that would fill the room as the life left her eyes.

Draco tried to remind himself that his days of caring were over; that he was supposed to shut it all out. He knew better than to feel guilt over any of it. This was his destiny and his purpose. He couldn't be bogged down by false love declarations made in a prison cell.

Those meant nothing to him now. 

He closed his eyes, feeling the wind against his cheek like a kiss from a lost lover. His eyes squeezed shut, allowing his thoughts and feelings to be buried once again. If he gave in to them for too long, he would be a goner.

There was no going back for him. No redemption. This was it.

He took a deep breath as he broke through the door, hearing the wood crack off the hinges and falling the floor with a bang. Draco wasn't one for a modest entrance. His wand shot out, preparing for an ambush but was met with nothing. He flattened against the wall, moving slowly. He peered past corners and explored the house for any life.

He went through various bedrooms, jumping through the door each time expecting someone to be there, but found no one. The kitchen seemed to be empty along with the living area. There was an eerie emptiness that hugged the walls, leaving him with a dull ache in his chest. 

He quietly went up the stairs, trying to eliminate any noise. With each step his chest burned, fearing the unknown. It seemed like ages passed before he was at the top. He swiftly went through all the rooms, ready to shoot a spell at anyone who might be lurking up there.

After he scoped out the entirety of the upper floor, it was found to be empty. He sighed and lowered his wand with relief.

They seemed to have just barely escaped.

He heard a big swell of air next to him, turning to see Yaxley had accompanied him in the upstairs bedroom.

"They aren't here," Draco said turning to Yaxley. His forehead was wrinkled and scrunched in distaste. They hadn't expected the order to be that easy to find, but they damn sure wished they were.

"Well, we will make sure they never return," he said in a grim voice as he whispered a spell. He was unpredictable like that. No one ever knew what he would do next. 

The air began to heat up, humidity filling the room, making the air seem thick. There was a dull crackle that turned into flames the longer Draco looked at it.

Yaxley had set the damned house on fire.

Draco's heart thumped in his chest as he rushed down the stairs. The whole place would go down in minutes and he cursed under his breath at Yaxley for not giving him a warning. Behind him, he could hear the wood falling under the hiss of the fire spreading. As he ran down the stairs the steps behind him caved in.

Smoke billowed from above as he made his way out of the house just in time for the roof to cave in. The clean air filled his lungs as he lunged through the door. He fell into a heap onto the ground, wiping the sweat off of his brow. It was very unprofessional and not something a Malfoy heir should have done, but he didn't care.

He watched as it went up in flames, emotionless. His eyes couldn't turn away as the embers lit up the sky, covering the air in smoke. He could smell the wood singe, leaving his nostrils filled with the reminder of what he had done.

He was impartial to it though. He was just glad he wasn't caught in the flames that tore the house down. The dark magic had consumed him. There was nothing left. Even the girl buried deep in the oceans of his mind, could barely make an echo reach its way to shore.

She might as well have been stuck in the burning house, turning to ashes that would scatter in the wind.

"Damnit," Dolohov said kicking a bit of wood aside in anger. Draco turned his head, not noticing he was standing behind him.

He pulled himself off of the ground and dusted off his clothes, knowing the Dark Lord would arrive at any moment. That was the plan: for him to be there when they took their last dying breaths.

Draco pushed his hair which was now flying in his face back in frustration. He fully expected to be punished for not arriving soon enough. He could almost feel the crucio that he would be getting. He rubbed his jaw, trying to calm himself down.

His thoughts were interrupted by threatening black clouds and looked up to see a death eater symbol in the sky. He knew the Dark Lord was apparating to the scene.

The wind swirled around, causing him to plant his feet into the ground and reach his hand to his forehead to keep his hair out of his eyes.

After a few moments, it dissipated and everything was clear again.

Voldemort stood there, watching over the scene. His searing anger could be felt by the entirety of the Death Eaters in the proximity.

"Sir, we will find them again soon—" Yaxley began to speak, trying to appease the Dark Lord. 

"Silence," Voldemort said in a calm steady voice raising his hand. 

"But—" Yaxley kept speaking again.  

"SILENCE," he screamed into the air, making all sounds cease to exist. As he did so he flung his arm out, throwing Yaxley into the air and launching him across the field. 

Everything was deathly silent. There was a ringing in Draco's ears as he looked over to see Yaxley struggling to pick himself off of the ground. 

No one dared to utter a word. 

Voldemort stood, squinting his eyes and turning as if he was trying to hear something. Everyone stared wide-eyed at him, wondering what on earth he was doing. 

The prolonged silence sliced through the air in such an agonizing way, leaving everyone on edge. 

Voldemort then faced them, his menacing eyes piercing into their souls. A wicked grin crept up his face as began to speak. 

"It's the Taboo. They're at Hogwarts." 

A/N

I am SO sorry for the wait. I have been so bogged down with school work lately. I promise I will try harder to get chapters out to you guys.