Slytherin Princess | ✓

fifty-three

Draco held my hand as we made our way to the drawing room. Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy, who had been broken out of Azkaban as a consolation prize for semi-succeeding in our task, were already seated at the table with two empty seats next to them. "My lord," we chorused and gave a respective nod to Lord Voldemort as I sat next to Narcissa and Draco sat next to me so I wouldn't have to sit next to one of the male Death Eaters. No one dared speak as we waited for the meeting to begin.

My heart raced in my chest as Draco stroked the top of my hand with his thumb. My wand lay hidden in the sleeve of my cardigan, as I had learned to have it there. I felt my own fear increase at the sight of an unconscious woman rotated around the room. I believe she was a professor from Hogwarts, she looked slightly familiar. It wasn't until Snape walked into the room that the Dark Lord spoke.

"Severus. I was beginning to worry you'd lost your way. Come. I've saved you a seat."

I heard Snape walk around the table and to Lord Voldemort's right, but I didn't watch him, my sight was set on the teacher who floated above the table and rotated in place.

"You know our hosts of the past year, of course, Severus," Voldemort said and motioned towards the Malfoys and me, as I sat in between them, "Narcissa in particular has been most hospitable. Lucius, on the other hand, is, I fear, burdened by my presence. Are you, Lucius?"

"My lord?" Lucius said, looking up from his random stare and towards the head of the table.

"Are you burdened?" his voice was sharp and low, pulling the attention of everyone in the room.

The tension grew, but Narcissa spoke, "My lord is always welcome here."

The Dark Lord smiled wickedly and moved his attention to Snape, "You bring news I trust, Severus?"

"My Lord," he said slowly, "the Order of the Phoenix intends to move Harry Potter from his current place of safety on Saturday next, at nightfall."

The interest around the table sharpened palpably: Some stiffened, others fidgeted, all of us gazed at Snape and Voldemort. I even looked away from the woman and towards them. Snape looked calm and collected, as he was now Lord Voldemort's favorite.

"Saturday... at nightfall," repeated Voldemort. "Good. Very good."

I heard a chair squeak and my eyes snapped over to Yaxley, a tall blond Ministry Man, who leaned forward slightly, "I have heard differently, my lord. Dawlish, the Auror, let slip that the Potter boy will not be moved until the thirtieth of this month, the night before he turns seventeen."

Snape simply scoffed at Yaxley's comment, "This is a false trail. The Auror Office no longer plays any part in the protection of Harry Potter. Those closest to him believe we have infiltrated the Ministry."

"Well, they've got that right, then, 'aven't they?" said a squat man sitting a short distance from Yaxley; he gave a wheezy giggle that was echoed here and there along the table.

Lord Voldemort did not laugh. His gaze had wandered upwards, to the body revolving slowly overhead, and he seemed to be lost in thought.

"Pius, what say you?" his eyes flickered from the woman's body to the man at the other end of the table.

Pius Thickness, the soon-to-be Minister of Magic, looked up, his gaze placid. Earlier in the week, a group of Death Eaters snagged him and placed him under the Imperious Curse so the Dark Lord may have the Ministry under his thumb in the near future.

"One hears many things, my lord. Whether the truth is among them is not clear," Thicknesse said airily.

"Spoken like a true politician. You will, I think, prove most useful, Pius," Voldemort sneered and looked back at Snape. "Where will he be taken? The boy?