CURSED [D.M]

-(26) this is his reality

DRACO is on his knees, the air hovering over him in the drawing-room, hot and suffocating. His eyes are fixed upon the armchair opposite him, resolutely avoiding eye contact with the man in the same room.

"I do not like it when people fail me, Draco", Voldemort drawls. Out of the corner of his eye, Draco sees him pacing to and fro by his side, his wand held out at a weird angle in his right hand. But Draco doesn't dare look at him directly. He can't.

The only other time he has "seen" Voldemort was last Christmas break. Lucius had ordered his presence at the entrance when Voldemort was to arrive at the manor for the very first time in years. Obviously, Draco had protested but only in vain did he do so.

Standing by the door, his right hand linked with Narcissa, he had waited for the arrival with bated breath. He thought that his heart would jump out of his chest and that he would fall to the ground, nausea making him sick, his hands that were usually so warm, cold as ice at that moment because of pure trepidation.

There was a reverberating crack that echoed through the air as Voldemort apparated right into the front garden. The wards were taken down so that he could get directly into the premises without being spotted as he was still undercover last winter. And the instant he is inside, two other Death Eaters who Draco knew to be Princely and Forbes, put the wards back up  They remained at the foot of the stairs, their hands tucked behind and their glares hard.

As Voldemort ascended the stairs, his long black coat trailing behind him and his hands clasped together by his stomach, Lucius had subtly turned and glanced at Draco. It was a glance that conveyed, 'Do not embarrass me.' Draco had felt disgust and bile rising up his throat and had clasped his mother's hand tighter.

Voldemort walked up to his father and they exchanged words, but Draco didn't catch any of it because there was this strange buzzing in his ears. It seemed to drown out all other sounds except the rapid thumping of his heart and the blood sizzling through his veins- as if they wanted nothing more than to be rid of service to him at that moment.

By then, the iciness in his hands had spread through his whole self as he tried to focus in on the voices. And instant regret spiked through him at it. Because that voice- that voice belonging to none other than Voldemort- it was like that of a snake hissing, cold and completely cruel even in the most normal conversations. It made Draco sick to his guts even further.

Lucius then re-introduced Narcissa before coming to Draco. When he heard his name being uttered, he instantly bowed down like his father had instructed him to earlier, his eyes resolutely fixed on the marble floor between him and Voldemort. "My Lord", he croaked out, his voice coming out weak and pathetic, and it repulsed his own self.

For the very first time, Draco felt the most powerful dark wizard's eyes land on him. And he suddenly felt so fucking small in that gigantic room, so much so that the only thing he wanted to do at that moment was to dig a hole and crawl in there and stay there for all of forever. His lips quivered in fright from the glance upon him which was thankfully hidden by his position.

He had expected Voldemort to call out to him and make him rise and ask him to look him in the eye and order him to speak and expect him to smile. And he detested and dreaded having to do any of this.

But Voldemort never made him.

His gaze fell on Draco, lingered for a second, and then it was gone- like some unworthy art in a renowned museum that people ignore because it's not quite satisfactory or good enough.

He should've felt disappointed with himself at it. But he didn't. Rather, he felt free from some invisible bond. 

The instant Lucius and Voldemort had disappeared into the drawing-room, he unclasped his hand from his mother's and bolted upstairs to his bathroom to hurl his insides out.