Of Monsters and Men- Tom Riddle x OC

2

Animo swallowed as she took a peek down the long mahogany table, a black runner stretching along its length. Everything was black these days.

Surrounding her were rows of tilted heads, each held more fearfully than the last. The only sign of life from those gathered was the occasional twitch of a finger or jerk of a knee. Holding back a deep breath, Animo patted her hair for the last time, making sure her twist was properly in place. Her skin was caked with heavy makeup and she had spent hours perfecting the dark kohl lining her eyes, but she still felt as though "imposter" was laced through her every movement.

"My friends."

She tried not to flinch at the oily voice, although several were not so restrained. Down at the end of the table, Bellatrix Lestrange gave a little giggle that made Ani's stomach clench. The woman was severely demented. Her own muscles still ached with the memory of the woman's Cruciatus Curse running through her veins.

"My lord," Bellatrix purred beneath heavy eyes, the dark coils framing her face as she danced her fingers through the air playfully. Long had the trodden-on puppy act disappeared after her failure at the Ministry, although Ani knew the torture had been severe. Voldemort was none too pleased at the destruction of Harry Potter's prophecy.

The snake-like wizard ignored her completely, his scarlet eyes flaring as he scanned the table, lingering albeit briefly on the Malfoys. Ani swallowed while she observed the tension in Draco's shoulders. The boy had never been good at hiding his fear. And while most of the table scoffed at his weakness, Ani was strengthened by his fragility. There was a small piece of innocence left in this dark room.

"My lord," Bellatrix tried again, persistent in her clamor for attention. Her full lips pouted into a scarlet arch. "The elf, Kreacher, brings me good news. Mundungus Fletcher has already begun his ransacking of my filthy cousin's place. I've seen to it myself that all the true heirlooms will be returned to my possession, but," she grinned, baring a set of yellow teeth as Voldemort listened without a flicker of emotion, "the Order will no longer be able to use the place."

There was a measured pause during which no one dared to breathe. Animo kept her eyes lowered, although she did her best to take note of the other's positions. Lucius's chair remained empty and Animo felt a flicker of pity. Not for the drunken man that now was secured behind the bars of Azkaban, but for the son he left behind. Draco was the Malfoy representative now and Animo was certain that it was no easy weight to bear.

"Excellent," Bellatrix's triumphant expression faded as the Dark Lord continued, his words edged with the hint of a snarl, "although how a home of your family was used for such treachery in the first place, I will not understand."

The witch visibly flinched. Then she caught herself. Straightening, Bellatrix simpered in her chair, her dark eyes wide with remorse. "My lord, I—"

Voldemort waved a dismissive hand, his long nails making Animo shudder. "I care not." His gaze once again fixed on Draco. "I have more pressing matters to attend to." He strode over behind the pale boy, who swallowed thickly with his gaze firmly fixed on the table top. "Stand, boy."

Draco stood clumsily, tripping over his feet so that the heavy chair tilted beneath him, landing on the marble beneath with a resounding thud. Animo couldn't help the twitch of her hand, the noise a distant reminder of her father's tantrums. She closed her eyes briefly, pushing the memory away. She needed to focus.

"I believe your mother has seen fit to inform you of your task?" Voldemort's nostrils flared as he sent Narcissa a scathing look. "I trust she is now warned of what happens when people pry into my dealings."

Animo bit the inside of her lip while Narcissa remained frozen, the dark circles pressing beneath her eyes. Her normally gleaming hair was limp and dull, twisted back messily. There were no lengths Narcissa wouldn't go for her son. Except to take him away from the war to begin with.

Draco swallowed once more and Animo winced inwardly, begging the boy to show no further signs of unease. Dark wizards looked for any hint of weakness and if not used now, Voldemort was certainly stockpiling information that he could take advantage of later. She eyed the coils of Nagini with unease. As if sensing her attention, the great snake stirred and hissed softly in the dark corner. Like her master, she was just waiting for the opportune time to pounce.

"Put out your arm." Voldemort's tone was cold as he gestured with his wand, impatiently waiting for Draco to pull up his sleeve.

The Slytherin did so shakily, his skin even paler than usual underneath the sickly glow of the chandelier above. Animo briefly reflected on the fragility of money. No amount of wealth could shield one from the forces of the world. In fact, it made people like Lucius Malfoy all the more corruptible.

"Excellent." Voldemort prodded the tip of his wand into Draco's forearm and Animo finally flinched, unable to hold back the memory of the agony of her mark. Fortunately, her sentiment seemed to be shared by several Death Eaters in the room, who only emphasized with the poor boy through their own pain. Yet, Animo saw no remorse in their eyes as her finger trailed over her own mark, not a year old, but still throbbing as if no time at all had passed.

Voldemort stared down at Draco's arm greedily, seeming anxious to taint yet another. "Do you pledge yourself to me? To complete your task," he paused his voice dropping to a hushed snarl. The tone was far more terrible than his frequent shouting. "By any means necessary?"

Draco closed his eyes briefly and Animo knew he was giving himself a last moment of hesitation. A final second to imagine he was anywhere else. When he opened his eyes, there was nothing but emptiness in his silver gaze. "I do."

Voldemort lips tilted in triumph and a dark outline erupted over Draco's skin, searing into his flesh with an angry red burn. Draco gave a small noise in the back of his throat, but showed no other sign of pain. However, it was easy to see the sheen of tears picking in his gaze as the Death Eaters around the table watched on, only too glad they weren't the focus tonight.

Void of any reaction, Voldemort turned away, sliding his white wand into the folds of his robes before he strode out of the room without a word. Instantly, a thread of the tension that had been strung over the room snapped. A few scattered murmurs and curt nods were exchanged as his followers bid each other farewell.

Animo stood to her feet, wincing as the legs of her chair made a large screech against the polished tile. Bile rose in the back of her throat when she noticed Draco hadn't moved. Her only interaction with the boy had been monitoring him during meetings like this one, but she had developed a sort of attachment towards the Slytherin. She understood the conflict in her soul.

Sending a last look towards the mother and son, Animo ducked into the desolate hallway and pulled a small chain from around her neck. On the end dangled a small charm that was shaped into some sort of bizarre triangle, with a circle and line intersecting its center. Animo allowed herself a brief smile. Although irritating to no end, she had to admire Albus's flair for the dramatic.

With a firm press of her thumb, the charm glowed a brilliant blue and her pale form disappeared with a pop.