Even under the best of circumstances, Malfoy Manor was, by all accounts, a dreary place— and becoming the de facto headquarters of the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters had done it no favours. Like Greengrass Manor, the Wiltshire country house had been built in the late fifteen hundreds, and leaving aside the squalor brought in by some of its more distasteful and permanent guests, it reminded Daphne a great deal of her own home.
But she was not home.
Home is where the heart is— and what is a heart, if not a constant and painful reminder of loss?
"Well, if it isn't the Dark Lady herself," came the drawling voice of the last person Daphne wanted to see. "You're expected in the drawing room— you do know that, don't you?"
Startled, Daphne looked away from the portrait of one of her ancestors who had married into the Malfoy family. She'd been in no hurry to get to her destination.
"I'm aware, Draco," said Daphne darkly.
"My, what's got you in such a foul mood?" sniggered Draco.
What didn't put her in a foul mood these days?
Oleandra, her fool of a twin, had squandered the perfect opportunity to stop her from making the greatest mistake of her life. Somehow, she had managed to become a wanted woman, undoing all her efforts to shoulder the role of the prophecy's enemy. But she herself, Daphne ruefully thought to herself, was arguably the greater fool of the two— for believing in Oleandra at all.
What even was a Greater Fairy, anyway?
For the split second Daphne's mind had connected with the Aesir Freyja— just before the runic possession failed— their mingled thoughts had been laced with unwillingness and hatred toward Oleandra, who was apparently not nearly as human as she had once seemed.
"None of your business, Draco," said Daphne sullenly.
She could scarcely recognise her old partner in crime any more. Gone was the nervous wreck of a boy who had once tried, in vain, to help her plot Dumbledore's assassination. Perhaps the guilt had finally driven him over the edge.
At any rate, he was right. They, or rather, he— was waiting for her.
Daphne turned on her heel and strode down Malfoy Manor's main hall, Draco following close behind. Unused to her newly thin and gangly limbs, her gait was slightly uneven— but thankfully, her flowing emerald robes concealed most of her figure, and thus, her clumsiness.
And that right there was just one more thing to resent.
The Dark Lord had not deemed it fitting for a twelve-year-old-looking Dark Lady to stand at his side, so he and Professor Snape had used every arcane method at their disposal to stretch her into a form and a height that better suited her true age.
That dull, throbbing pain.
…
"My Dark Lady. At last."
A chilling voice greeted Daphne as she turned the bronze doorknob and pushed open the heavy oaken door to the drawing room. A multitude of eyes met hers as she stepped inside, followed closely by Draco. At the centre of the room stood a long table, around which many black-robed men and women were seated— but it was the man at the head of the table who had addressed her. Nobody dared look directly at him, unlike her.
"Come, sit by my side," said Voldemort calmly, gesturing to the empty seat on his right. "Draco… you may sit beside Severus."
Head held high, Daphne took her seat, while Draco made a wide detour to reach his own, unwilling to pass behind the Dark Lord's back. But despite her composure, Daphne couldn't help shiver slightly as the pale-faced man's red eyes settled on her, before sweeping slowly around the room.
"You may begin, Bella."
Bellatrix Lestrange.
Most men might once have found her beautiful, but Daphne had never been interested in such things. The last time she'd seen the wild-haired, wild-eyed madwoman, Bellatrix had been boneless— and Daphne's distaste towards her, as she thought several unprintable things about her, did not go unnoticed.
"The Muggles are in total darkness, my Lord," Bellatrix cooed. "Scotland Yard, MI5 and MI6 have been driven out of London along with the rest of the filth, and Defence Intelligence and Government Communications Headquarters have fallen to the Heliopaths."
Bellatrix glared at her with a mixture of triumph and envy, but Daphne met her heavy-lidded stare with little more than vague disinterest.
Voldemort went on to name a few more individuals, calling on them to report their progress in taking down the National Grid, heads of state, politicians, and various powerful capitalists. Unsurprisingly, their reports reflected varying degrees of success. With an army of Heliopaths— powerful, brainwashed Muggle-born— at his command, dismantling Muggle society had proven all too easy.
"Yaxley," Voldemort went on.
"Scrimgeour is dead, my Lord," said Yaxley, mopping his forehead as he stood up from his seat. "The assassination went without a hitch, and the Ministry's ours, b-but…"
"But?" Voldemort raised an eyebrow.
"W-we were unable to finish off Bones," stammered Yaxley. "B-but we did manage to ferret out the location of the Burrow— the new headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix— as well as intelligence that a great many of our enemies had gathered there for a Weasley wedding! I passed the information on to Malfoy as soon as I obtained it— personally!"
Yaxley stared expectantly in Lucius Malfoy's direction, eager to shift the Dark Lord's attention away from his own shortcomings.
"Yes, how did the raid go, Lucius?" asked Voldemort, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I can't imagine you had much trouble dealing with a group of drunken revellers… and yet, as I do not see Harry Potter here with us tonight, I must assume you've failed me— again."
Raucous laughter erupted around the room.
"Harry Potter was never there to begin with, my Lord!" said Lucius hurriedly. "We captured more than a dozen and carefully searched their memories, but we found no traces of the boy!"
"I understand Harry Potter very well," Voldemort said disdainfully. "He is a sentimental fool, much like Dumbledore— he would not have missed such an occasion. He was there. You simply did not look deeply enough."
Lucius Malfoy was now panicking.
"But I did learn a crucial piece of information, my Lord!" he cried out. "Oleandra Greengrass was present at the wedding!"
Daphne sat forward in her chair, eyes wide. Wasn't her sister a wanted woman as well!?
"According to the information we pieced together," said Lucius eagerly, "she sneaked into the party under false pretences and single-handedly attacked the Order of the Phoenix when her disguise was blown! She's the reason we managed to capture so many of them!"
And now, every single eye in the room was on Daphne.