MEMENTO MORI | DRACO MALFOY

THIRTY-FIVE

TRIGGER WARNING: mention of self harm.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

The annual Malfoy New Year's Eve Charity Gala was a mouthful, but could have easily been a holiday on its own. Even in its early stages, it had been a distinguished event, drawing in the wealthiest Witches and Wizards from all over the country, daring them to prove their wealth by making the largest donation of the year. In recent years, the event has grown into the most prestigious night of the year. Hundreds of thousands of galleons were spent on lavish decorations, international delicacies, and nothing less than the most exorbitant spirits to exist. The women often spent weeks before the event planning on which type of glamorous ballgown to adorn so as to appear as though their lives were as sumptuous as the clothes on their back. It was all just so superficial.

This year, things would be slightly different. While the gala was still its usual elegant, costly event, there was an underlying motive; it held a darker purpose. The gala was a guise for a recruitment ceremony. The word would be carefully spread that the Dark Lord had indeed returned, and his reign would soon preside over the Wizarding World once again. They would say that Muggles would finally take their rightful place below the soles of their shoes. That this time, the takeover would be executed without fail, and the feeble-minded bureaucrats would sign their lives away, choosing the side that promised the most revenue; and Voldemort would promise them the world, even if he would never deliver. All the while these conversations were happening in hushed, dulcet tones, the oblivious Minister for Magic would flit around the ballroom unwittingly, clueless to the fact that he would be soon infiltrated from the inside out.

Ophelia Rosier hadn't seen anyone other than the Malfoy's house elf in days. Since Christmas, to be exact. Draco had knocked on her door Christmas evening with a tray of food held between his two ghostly pale hands. Ophelia admitted she much preferred when Winnie would bring her meals, there would be little to no conversation and she would disappear just as quickly as she'd appear, leaving Ophelia once again in her bitter solitude.

Ophelia opted to remain at Malfoy Manor for the entirety of the Christmas break even though Narcissa had made arrangements for her to visit her mother. She had quietly and politely declined before shutting her bedroom door in the woman's face. It wasn't that she actually wanted to be in that dark, desolate manor that sucked every ounce of happiness out of a person like a swarm of dementors overhead. No, she was doing it to keep her mother safe— or perhaps, unadmittedly, she was ashamed of the branding on her left forearm. Perhaps, upon seeing it, her mother would realize that Ophelia was too much like her father and shut her out once again.

One might say that Ophelia had been wallowing, but in reality, she was just avoiding. It was what she did best. So, when Draco arrived bearing a warm Christmas meal, it was clear he'd believed he was doing her a favour by keeping her company.

"What are you doing here, Draco?" Ophelia sighed as she pulled her bedroom door open. The smile that Draco had been wearing slowly slipped off his face upon noticing that her own reaction hadn't been one of relief or gratefulness that he had expected, it appeared more like annoyance.

"I figured since you're all by yourself you'd want some company for dinner. You were welcome to join us, you know." He explained, stepping into the room. "It was only my Mother, Father and I. He hasn't been around in days."

Ophelia shuddered at the mere mention of Voldemort. His presence inside of her mind had been quiet since she'd been branded, and she began to believe that perhaps he was giving her a break, that maybe that was the true reward: a quiet mind. Instead of using that freedom to catch up on some well deserved rest, she spent it burying everything. If she could lock up every single critical thought and memory, he wouldn't be able to use them against her. Just the mere knowledge that he knew what she had felt about her mother, about Moody, about Draco and Pansy made her realize how serious this all truly was. And Draco was right, she'd burn cities to the ground to protect them, even if that city was her own sanity.