CH-21

He nods and pulls open the front door. "Wish me luck."

With that, he leaves.

"Wonder what his mission is," Lee says.

Then there's an explosion from upstairs, and my head jerks in the direction of the stairs.

Lee laughs at my worried expression. "Don't worry, Hermione. Just something me and the twins were working on. I'll be seeing you."

He heads up the stairs, and I decide that it's time to speak to Harry about what happened with Ron. Where is Ron, anyway? I glance in the direction of the kitchen just in time to see him glaring at me from a crack in the doorway. When he sees that I've spotted him, he closes the door the rest of the way.

Sighing, I start going upstairs. Harry will definitely be more capable of talking some sense into that twit.

I bow my head and kneel respectfully.

"Where were you last night?" Voldemort asks.

"I was given a night off patrols," I say. "I spent most of the night in a bar."

"I suppose I cannot fault you. Stand," he says. "Bellatrix, you are dismissed."

As I get to my feet, Aunt Bella leaves the study and shuts the door behind her, leaving me alone with the Dark Lord. It's been about two hours since I arrived at the Manor, and Voldemort is here now, most likely to have the conversation that he'd intended to have with me last night.

"It's been a long time since I spoke to you directly. I doubted that the dagger could be found, but I knew I was right to trust you with it."

I keep my eyes on the ground. "I live to serve you, My Lord."

"How have your skills improved?"

"I went from the Manor to Snape's old home in Spinner's End."

He gives me a rare smile.

"Good. I have a new trick for you, but you must complete two errands for me. First you are to deliver this dagger—" with a wave of his hand, the dagger that I brought back from the old Potter home floats over to me "—to Macnair's home. Then, tomorrow night, you will go to a village in North Yorkshire called Hellifield. You will await the arrival of Seamus Finnegan. I trust you remember him from school?"

I nod. Then I realize that the dagger is still floating about a foot in front of me, and I reach out to take it.

"I want you to bring me his head."

Without a moment's hesitation, I drop to one knee. "Yes, My Lord."

I've learned that a prompt response is absolutely crucial when it comes to gaining his trust. Hesitation earned me doubtful looks and derisive comments from him in the past, but after the first year, I became numb to surprise at his requests. I suppose I'm "prepared" for anything.

"Good. I will return the morning following your meeting with Finnegan. I expect you to be here when I arrive."

"Yes, My Lord," I repeat.

"You are dismissed."

I get to my feet and exit the room silently. Aunt Bella is standing just outside, waiting. When I appear, she looks me up and down, and she seems disappointed. I expect her to say something to me, but she enters the study and shuts the door again.

Strange.

I head down the hall, planning to go to my room.

"Draco!"

I hold back a sigh and turn to face my father.

"What did the Dark Lord say to you?" he asks.

"I have a new mission," I reply, stowing the dagger into my robes.

He looks at me angrily and storms away. I know that he meant to ask me whether or not Voldemort mentioned him to me. According to my mother, Voldemort hasn't given my father any missions for the past few weeks, which means he isn't giving my father a chance to redeem himself.

Well… I suppose it's a shame for him. Sometimes I wish I had fallen out of favor as well. But of course, I would constantly have to worry about staying alive. It's not surprising that he's angry.

When I reach my room, I shut the door and take a moment to sit down and think.

This kill seems to be unavoidable. There's no way that I can bring a fake head to Voldemort and have him believe that it's the real thing. Upon death, living things generally return to their natural form, so Polyjuice Potion and Human Transfiguration are out of the question.

I wonder how Voldemort knows that Finnegan will be in Hellifield tomorrow night. I consider contacting Granger. If she can convince Finnegan not to go, then his life could be spared. But if I don't have his head when Voldemort returns to the Manor in two days, he won't be very forgiving.

He'll just have to go.

Having made up my mind, I decide to go to Macnair's home to drop off the dagger. It's best to get these "errands" done as quickly as possible.

I pull out my wand and Disapparate.

I arrive in front of a large, dingy apartment complex in London. Visible only to those who know of its existence, Macnair's building is squeezed between two Muggle apartment buildings. I enter the building and step into the lift. I've been here several times before, but usually I come to retrieve things rather than to deliver them.

At the top floor, I get out of the lift and rap on Macnair's door. It's thrown open a moment later, and Macnair appears.

"Ah, Malfoy Jr. I was told to expect you," he says, backing into his room and gesturing for me to enter.

"I won't be staying long. I just have something to give you."

"Come in," he insists.

I can't stand this man.

When I was last in his company, he told me how much he enjoyed the rush of the kill. He described to me in great detail one of his favorite kills. He'd captured a Muggle woman and decided to kill her slowly, without using magic. The thought of it still makes me sick.

Reluctantly, I enter his apartment, and he closes the door behind me.

"So, what do you have for me?" Macnair asks.

I take out the dagger and hold it out to him.

"Pretty, that is," he says, taking it with a smile.

He places the dagger on a table and turns around to face me.

"I'll be heading off," I tell him.

"Where do you have to be?" he asks.

"I have some business."

"Now, now, you're making me think that you don't want to be here."

"And you are making me think that you want me to be late for a meeting," I reply.

He looks at me doubtfully. "You just came from a meeting with the Dark Lord, didn't you?"

"He is not the only person I have to meet with," I say.

"Very well, then," Macnair says. "Good luck tomorrow night, Malfoy Jr."

I give him a confident smile and pull open the door.

"Don't know what you're talking about. I don't need luck."

Loud beats, flashing lights. The floor seems to be vibrating with the motions of all the dancers. I don't even know what I'm doing here right now. Clubs seem to be the only places that aren't feeling the negative effects of the war. People come here to escape the constant fear.

At first, I did the same. But lately, it doesn't really work for me. I can't stop thinking about what's going on outside the club—pain, destruction, death. Tonight, I'm contemplating the next murder I'll be committing, the next murder that I won't be able to stop.

"Draco, why do you look unhappy?" Greg asks.

I sigh and down the rest of my bottle of Firewhiskey. Glancing at him, I observe that he's not kidding. Of course he's not kidding. He's not the brightest. But Theo answers him for me.

"Why do you think he's unhappy? Why are we all unhappy?"

"He's in a worse mood than usual," Vince observes, coming to Greg's defense. They're always trying to help each other out.

"I'm fine," I say. I lift a hand to get the bartender's attention and ask, "Any new kills?"

.

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