A visit down memory lane
He arrives before his master, his mask firmly in its place. He keeps his eyes downcast as to save himself the horror of looking into the red eyes of the snake-like man who sits high up before him. The throbbing in his left arm has slightly lessened now that he is before his master, after heeding the call to the innate pain that bubbled beneath his skin. How different life seemed, once, when he was sixteen, he would have cowered before the Dark Lord, cringed to hear his name, but now at the age of twenty-seven he could understand the great power, majesty and leadership which ebbed incessantly from the dark magic of his lord.
Times had of course changed, and he had regained his name, his legacy with carefully placed services to the Cause of the Dark Lord.
'You cannot kill, Draco,' said Dumbledore.
Indeed at the time these words were correct but years had passed, people had died, causes lost and he had matured, learnt that in order to live under the Dark Lord's new regime he would have to kill. Of course he had thought that with each murder, each cold-blooded attack, that he would have gotten better at it, stronger at falling to his emotions, less likely to feel sick. And indeed he was right. Soon, when he had cast the curse or either drained the victim of their blood, the distress of seeing the life leave eyes of blue, brown and green did not seem to faze him.
He needed to live.
Though his body seemed constantly cold, like the frost had sunk deep within his bones, he came to the conclusion that one day he would be rewarded and able to live a somewhat normal life. And again he had been right. Two years after the fall of Harry Potter and the rise of the Dark Lord, Draco received access into the innermost circle.
'Glad you could join us, young Malfoy,' leered the Dark Lord, 'or should I just say Malfoy?'
'I believe that now my mother and father are dead it would be rightly that I shouldn't be called 'young' Malfoy.'
'See, my Lord,' lovingly addressed Bellatrix, 'he has become great and a loyal benefactor to your cause.'
'Yes he has, hasn't he? Do well, Malfoy, and I will give you the greatest gift of all.'
Since that time, he has now served the Dark Lord tirelessly hoping that he would get what he was promised. He was given Malfoy Manor back last year as a reward for all the help he had done, he was made head of the Ministry of Magic (as no minister existed), and he had enough gold to buy most of Asia. But deep in his heart he knew that none of these mattered, the only thing which had been on his mind since the moment he had been promised a gift was what kept him killing, kept him alive awake. Some nights he would wake up, but not with nightmares plagued with screams, but from the wickedness of his dream. He felt sixteen all over again! He'd searched every ministry file put many close friends on to the case, searched every prison in Europe and yet he had not found all that he had wanted.
So he put his hope on what had been solidly promised to him, power. The Dark Lord had told Draco once in solitude his plan.
'I can see the power you crave, Malfoy,' hissed Voldemort, 'and I can give it to you.'
'Yes, my lord, but I never wish to pass yours.'
'Of course not, which is why I have come to a decision I will one day present you with a task. It will prove whether you will be able to shall we say, handle the pressure.'
'Yes, my Lord, what shall the reward be?'
'Well wouldn't you like to know,' smirked Voldemort as he continued with what he had in store for Draco.
The Dark Lord promised Draco a grand prize for his commitment, explained that his loyalty would bring thing he wanted most. He was surprised to be told by the Dark Lord that what he had been searching for, for some years now, was indeed not what his soul really craved.
'Power is what you want Malfoy' leered Voldemort his snakelike eyes narrowing 'and you will do anything, lose anything, kill anything, hate anything for just a small taste of it.'
And in his mind he blatantly refused this statement, not believing what he was hearing but knowing that it made some sort of sense.
'When you will receive this sort of power, is yet to be seen'
'Yes my Lord.' Draco said
'Go now. I will one day call on you to complete an exceedingly great task, that should you pass; will bring you glory and that power that you crave.' Voldemort said 'however should you fail, I think, remains to be known.'
'Yes my Lord'
Twelve days had passed after this meeting when he was again summoned to see the Dark Lord privately. He was welcoming to this idea, hoping the time had come to complete the unknown task so as to receive what his selfish body craved. But of course something else had been given to him something he had worked all these years to find, the prize that he favoured above all.
'Come closer, Malfoy,' commanded Voldemort. 'I know your deepest darkest secrets and wants, yet I must disappoint you in saying that today I shall not be giving you your task. However, I have found something that you may enjoy very much, something that I know you have been searching for. Do not fear me, Malfoy; I do hope that this will in turn not ruin any of the good things that you have been doing for me.'
'No, my Lord, nothing could ever deter me from your Cause,' he replied obediently.
'Well we shall see, shan't we? Bring her!'
And at that Ginny Weasley was unceremoniously dumped at his feet.