Draco seeks out retribution on behalf of his betrothed and the Dark Lord comes to a startling realization.

Draco had followed the Dark Lord to Severus office, where they floo’d to McKinnon Manor. Once there, Voldemort called for his Death Eaters and it didn’t take long until the main drawing room was filled to the brim with the Dark Lord’s most loyal followers. The Lestrange Brothers, Lucius, Thoros, Corban, and Severus were sitting at the head of the table whilst other members were scattered at the bottom, including Archibald Flint.

When everyone had finally settled, the Dark Lord warded the room and silenced it.

“Thank you for all coming so quickly. It has come to my attention that one of my faithful followers was directly responsible for the poisoning of my daughter back during her first and second years.”

The looks of shock, anger and outrage, were palpable in the room. All except Archibald Flint, who had paled significantly at the news. The Dark Lord tilted his head in acknowledgement towards the young Malfoy Heir, who was sitting in the far corner with Blaise, Theo, Montague and Pucey. Given silent permission, Draco stood and strode over confidently to where Archibald Flint was sitting—then snarled in anger as he clasped the elder Flint on the shoulder and said forcefully, “Get up.”

The rest of the Death Eaters were watching with interest, while Lucius noticed that his son, was angrier than he’d ever seen him. The Dark Lord smirked at the Malfoy Lord and nodded his head towards the younger wizard—and in that moment, Lucius understood that his Lord was allowing his son to handle this—very interesting.

Draco stood facing the older wizard and sneered angrily. “Your son is dead. Killed for what he did to my witch. It’s my understanding you provided Marcus the poison responsible for almost killing Hermione. I gave him veratiserum, he told me everything.”

Archibald Flint glared hatefully at the young wizard. “You’re one to talk, Malfoy. You taunted Hermione her first and second years as well!”

Draco sneered and pointed his wand at the older wizard’s throat while the temperature in the room dropped at the magic radiating off the young wizard—much to the astonishment of everyone in the room.

“I didn’t poison her! I didn’t push her and cause a fall that nearly killed her! I may have been a bully, but I would’ve never physically harmed Hermione in such a way—what you did—what you encouraged your son to do? That can’t go unpunished Flint.”

Archibald smirked at the younger wizard. “And you think your going to teach me a lesson, boy?”

“No.” Draco smirked right back. “I’m going to kill you.” Archibald scoffed and Draco sauntered back, twirling his wand in his hand. “I’ll even give you a chance to defend yourself.”

“A duel?” Archibald sneered hatefully. “You’re a bit out of your depth, pup...perhaps you might leave the dueling to the big boys.”

“It wasn’t a request, Flint.”

Draco’s smirk widened and Flint looked over at his Lord, who was watching the scene unfold with interest.

“I have allowed Draco this concession, Archibald...but make no mistake...you are being challenged to a duel—to the death.”

Voldemort stared unblinkingly at the man who had nearly killed his daughter and his eyes glistened red.

He would allow Draco to prove himself, but he was equally sure his daughter would have words for both of them later.

Archibald removed his outer robes. “Will you call a second?”

Draco considered the man before him. “If there is a wizard here willing to be your second, have him come forward.”

Draco glared at the rest of the Death Eaters, yet none offered to second for Lord Flint.

Nodding his head in satisfaction, Draco removed his outer robes and the two men took their stances apart from each other. Each bowed and then the duel began in earnest.

Both Flint and Draco raised their shields as hexes and curses started flying at each other. Draco’s shield was stronger than most realized. Hermione had helped him perfect it after his duel with Weasley. Nothing but an unforgivable could get through it. Draco allowed Flint to go on the offensive for a bit, as he moved in closer to his target. A confringo hex rebounded off his shield, as well as a reductor curse. When Flint threw an expulso, flagrante and a petrificus totalis in rapid succession, he was able to block each curse as it came in.

There were some other darker curses that Draco wasn’t familiar with, but his shield held fairly well—as he finally got a read on the older wizard and then he went on the offensive—silently calling forth a barrage of spells—culminating with a modified fiendfyre that he and Hermione had created that blasted Flint’s shield to ash—the resounding shockwave caused the other Death Eaters to gape openly with shock and then Draco yelled sectumsempra—a curse his godfather had invented—slashing the older man’s chest wide open.

Draco watched in satisfaction as Flint fell to the floor. Silently casting an expelliarmus, Flint’s wand flew into his outstretched palm with a resounding slap. The older wizard gasped out his final breaths on the floor of Hermione’s home, while Draco watched the life ebb from him with a profound sense of satisfaction. When he finally breathed his final breath, Draco cast an evanesco and Archibald Flint’s body disappeared; and a few modified cleansing spells—the room was good as new.

When he was done, Draco turned and faced the Dark Lord with a bow and then stood at attention waiting to be addressed. Lord Voldemort glanced over at Lucius, who was watching his son with pride shining from his eyes and as his gaze wandered over towards his other followers, they were all observing the young Malfoy heir with clear admiration and respect.

Voldemort nodded and stood up, walking over to his future son-in-law and clasping him on the shoulder in solidarity.

“Well done, Draco.”

Draco bowed his head again, humbly. “Thank you, my Lord.”

Voldemort turned towards the younger wizards and gave each an appraising look. Both Adrian Pucey and Graham Montague were pale and trying their best to appear unaffected. Turning back to his followers, Voldemort gestured towards the younger wizards.

“It would seem that Archibald and Marcus had help with their plan. Whilst it was unwilling on Mr. Pucey’s part, I’m afraid I can’t allow the slight against my daughter to go unpunished.” Looking over at Thoros, he smiled grimly. “Perhaps your son and Mr. Zabini might be willing to prove their worth to me, Thoros.”

Thoros glanced at his son, who sat up a bit straighter and subtly nodded to his father. Thoros returned the sentiment.

“We are at your service, my Lord.”

“Excellent. Take them somewhere more suitable to carry out your task. Please provide me with a pensieve memory when you have completed your work.”

Thoros bowed and moved towards his son and his friend. Grasping the shoulders of the two shaking wizards, Thoros led the small group towards the floo and called out ‘Nott Manor.’

When Thoros had left with his small entourage, Lucius stood up and walked over towards his son. Words didn’t need to be exchanged, the proud look on Lord Malfoy’s face said it all. Voldemort gestured for Draco to take Archibald’s seat at the table, the symbolism not lost on anyone. Once everyone was seated, Voldemort nodded again towards the young Malfoy.

“You have exceeded my expectations, Draco and I’m pleased to see your dueling skills evolving quite nicely.”

Draco’s expression beamed with pride. “I have had excellent mentors, My Lord.”

“Indeed.” The Dark Lord returned Draco’s look. “You have earned your place at the table, and as such, will be expected to receive my Mark upon graduation from Hogwarts.”

Draco bowed his head humbly. “I am honored, my Lord.”

“Perhaps you should return to Hogwarts with Severus. I’m sure my daughter will be wondering where her intended has gone off to.”

Draco chuckled. “Knowing Hermione, she will be affronted that she missed being the one to dispatch both Marcus and his father.”

The rest of the men in the room chuckled knowingly at the statement, and Voldemort grinned in agreement. “I’m sure she will forgive this trespass, but you can always show her a pensieve memory of the duel.”

“She will most likely insist upon seeing it, if only so she can critique my performance and offer pointers in how best to improve my technique.”

The men in the room were openly laughing at this, so they missed the subtle clearing of a woman’s voice. When the Dark Lord looked up at the doorway, it was to the amused expression of his witch and the stern glare of his daughter.

He stood up and sauntered over to the doorway, and once his followers realized who had joined them, all the wizard’s stood to attention.

“Welcome home.” Voldemort grinned at his witch, who smiled demurely in return. His daughter however, was openly glaring at her intended with a raised eyebrow, while Draco was grinning back in challenge.

“Did we miss something?” Hermione inquired sarcastically.

Voldemort went and stood in front of his daughter, and tilted her face so he could have her undivided attention. “I’m not sure I am pleased with your tone, Daughter.”

Hermione to her credit, didn’t cringe at her father’s stern look, she just lowered her eyes in response.

“Apologies, Father.”

“Hmmm.” He shook his head subtly at his daughter, but led her over to her intended, who took Hermione’s hand immediately and kissed the back of it.

Marlene smiled at her daughter, who was obviously put out that she didn’t get to witness the earlier festivities.

“We are sorry for interrupting, My Lord, but Hermione was understandably curious as to whom was responsible.”

“Archibald Flint is missing.” She eyed her wizard and gave him an impish grin, “Did he and his son suffer much?”

The Death Eaters all chuckled at Hermione’s bloodthirsty nature, but Draco just smiled adoringly at his witch. “Yes...they are both dead.”

Voldemort gestured towards Draco. “Your intended was most impressive in his duel against Archibald. Dispatched him quite effortlessly.”

Hermione nodded, her gaze heated as she considered her wizard. “I’m glad to hear of it.” Gazing up impishly at her Father, she gestured towards Draco’s seat. “Am I to assume that Draco has earned his place in your ranks, Father?”

Voldemort grinned openly at how brilliant and observant his daughter was, a fact that was not missed by any of his followers, who were all watching Hermione with nods of open admiration.

“He has indeed. I am sure if you were to ask? Draco would be happy to share the memory of the duel with you.”

“I would very much like to see that.”

Draco took Hermione’s arm in his, bowing to his Lord. “I should get Hermione back to Hogwarts, My Lord.”

Voldemort nodded his acquiescence and gestured for Severus to join them. “Oh, Daughter? Nagini might be a bit indisposed for a few days—she had a rather large meal as it were.” He then addressed Draco and ordered firmly, “You will take care of her, Draco.”

“Of course, my Lord.” Draco nodded again, bowed and then escorted Hermione from the room, Severus following closely behind.

Once Hermione and Draco had left the drawing room, the Dark Lord gestured to his followers.

“Gentlemen, please see yourselves out for the evening.”

All the men bowed and one by one, apparated off the estate until only Lucius remained. When they were alone, Lucius bowed before his Lord and spoke quietly. “I just wanted to thank you, my Lord, for giving Draco the opportunity to prove himself.”

Voldemort tilted his head in acknowledgment. “He shows promise, Lucius. I was most impressed with how deftly he handled both the interrogation with Marcus and the duel with his father. I believe in time, Draco will become quite a fearsome dueler, which makes me doubly pleased. He will be able to protect Hermione.”

Lucius grinned knowingly. “Perhaps Hermione will grant Draco the illusion that he is taking care of her. I have no doubt that the repertoire of impressive spells my son showed this evening was due to Hermione’s prodigious intellect.”

“She is quite ruthless when she wants to be.”

Lucius bowed and took his leave. Marlene watched the blonde wizard floo back to his home and moved out of the drawing room, towards her suite of rooms followed closely by Tom.

“Just how impressive was Draco this evening?” Marlene queried curiously.

“He was quite efficient and deadly. I’d meant it when I said he showed promise.” Voldemort sighed as he moved into their room, removing his outer robes and sitting on the chaise sofa by the window as he eyed his witch. “Perhaps I should be asking how your conversation with our daughter fared?”

Marlene looked up warily, surprised by the question. “It was fine. Hermione abhors anyone perceiving her as weak but she truly has struggled these past years. It was heartbreaking to see her break down.”

Tom looked a bit uncomfortable, but he nodded just the same. “I would ask you to share those memories, but perhaps it is best that Hermione has some secrets known only to her mother.”

Marlene sat down on the end of the bed and gave Tom a considering look. “That is very understanding of you, Tom.”

Tom seemed to bristle for a moment before his shoulders slumped and he sighed in irritation. “I am learning, Marlene. It is not easy for me to deal with the fact that I have a grown daughter who is not only beautiful, but utterly brilliant and diabolically clever.”

Marlene chuckled at Tom’s discomfort. “You will need to learn how to be patient, Tom. You are doing a fairly good job of being a father, I think.”

“Hmmmm....” Tom muttered distractedly. Looking over at his witch, who seemed to be holding herself a bit more rigidly than he was used to seeing, Tom raised an eyebrow in question. “Perhaps you might share with me what has you on such edge these days?”

The question came as a shock, so much so that Marlene’s breath caught and her eyes widened in alarm before she could stop herself. Tom’s eyes narrowed in realization that his witch was hiding something from him. He leant forward, his eyes locking onto Marlene’s and suddenly she could feel him trying to enter her mind. She could’ve stopped the assault, hid her thoughts, but perhaps Hermione had been right.

She needed to be honest with Tom.

So she let him in and allowed him to witness the part of the exchange of conversation between Hermione and herself. She showed him enough to let him understand what she was facing, but not any of the particulars of what Hermione had confided to her about the Deathly Hallows.

When Tom broke eye contact, Marlene fully expected to see unrestrained anger on his face. What she wasn’t prepared for was how ashen he looked. The guilt and horror over his face was palpable and she realized that perhaps she’d misjudged Tom’s level of affection where she was concerned.

“How long?” Tom bit out hoarsely.

“I’ve known for years this might be a possibility, but I didn’t know for sure until the night Rodolphus and Rabastan stayed with me.”

Tom tilted his head in consideration. “So, that is why you’ve not asked them to attend to you recently?”

Marlene shrugged at first, but then sighed and nodded once. “They no longer serve the purpose they once did, so no...I’ve seen no need to indulge in unsatisfactory relations at this point.”

Tom lifted his head and stared at the ceiling deep in thought before he spoke out harshly.

“Would you ever have told me had Hermione not guilted you into doing so?”

Marlene’s countenance gave nothing away, but the shakiness of her answer told Tom everything he needed to know.

“No, I wouldn’t have told you.”

Tom nodded, his magic starting to become erratic. He could feel the rage and anger simmering below his skin but there was also fear and something else he didn’t want to name as of yet. He gave Marlene a dark look, stood and walked out of the room. She just sat there in shock as she stared unseeingly at the empty chaise where Tom had just been and she felt many things at once—but it wasn’t until she heard the roar of rage and a series of explosions echoing throughout the Manor, that she flinched in pain and felt tears streaming down her face in anguish.