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Chapter 14: Two Weeks In Dark Headquarters

Draco's prediction didn't come true, but it was a close thing.

He arrived at Headquarters the following morning with his things in shrunken trunks - outside house-elves were not present in the main building for security reasons - and was escorted upstairs by a sleepy Uncle Rudy to the rooms he'd been allocated on the third floor with other long-term occupants. "The guest rooms are always full in the summer," Rodolphus explained. "You're trustworthy enough to be on the same floor as Bella, Rabs and I."

The Lestranges were far from the only occupants of the estate, however - rooms on this floor were also set aside for Corban Yaxley, Barty Crouch Junior (who Draco hadn't realized was alive), and Draco's godfather. Augustus Rookwood had a residence and workshop all to himself in one of the estate's outbuildings, where Yaxley could be found more often than not; and Crouch was currently 'on leave', whatever that meant. "It'd be a lot louder if they were here, I can tell you that," Rodolphus yawned. "'S like Yaxley never sleeps."

Draco didn't miss the way Rodolphus skipped the first door by the stairs. "Does anyone live in that suite?" he nodded in its direction once they'd passed.

Rodolphus winced, caught out. "Oh, those are Assistant's rooms," he said quickly. "Here's your door."

Weird.

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The rooms were beautiful and well-appointed, of similar quality to Draco's own bedroom - and much nicer than the guest quarters at Malfoy Manor. He sprawled out in the middle of the floor and stared up at the sky painted on the ceiling, admiring the enchanted mural: it did not match the weather outdoors like Hogwarts' Great Hall, but instead stowed a slow-changing fantasy cloudscape through which the sun gleamed. The sun position did match the outside - in lieu of a proper clock in the room. Draco was glad he could just cast Tempus if he needed to.

(He had to wonder why the Dark Lord bothered with these kinds of fanciful installations; but then, He really wasn't the same person as last year, was he? Draco expected he would continue to struggle to reconcile the changes for some time.)

The rest of Headquarters - namely, Bella, Rabs, and Rudy (who had gone back to bed after showing Draco around) - gathered for breakfast in a smaller dining room on the fourth floor only about noon. Fortified by strong coffee, Aunt Bella was all too happy to explain how Headquarters ran on a day-to-day basis.

"Our lord sleeps into the afternoon," she brandished the half-empty cup at the clock on the wall, "and spends most of the leftover daylight in his office until Assistant arrives in the evening - if the boy shows up at all." She drained the cup and poured a second. (Or was it a third? Draco eyed the faint tremor in Bella's hands as she poured.) "Then they'll be up all night, into the early morning."

"Completely unreachable except by appointment," a solemn Rodolphus nodded. "When Assistant is here, the Dark Lord sees no one else."

Draco's eyes flicked to Bellatrix, finding her surprisingly relaxed about that. Last year, she'd been more strung-out than, well, a string, and just as worn at the edges, so to speak. Now, his aunt sighed, resting her cheek in her hand and staring forlorn into the middle distance. "Can't fault Him," she supposed. "The boy's a prodigy."

"And an enabler," Rabastan muttered into his mug, just loud enough to be heard.

"An enabler?" Draco repeated, confused. "I mean, they did seem like they shared a brain yesterday-"

His uncle gave a small smile, reaching across the table to clap a hand on Draco's shoulder. "Trust me, you haven't seen the half of it. And a word of advice for when you do - you'll want to stare at them, but it's better for your mental health to look away."