Playing with Fire

Chapter 47: B is for Black

Song: Sex, Drugs, Etc. - Beach Weather

After receiving the invitation to the Dark Lord’s Halloween Ball, which was to be held in Draco’s own home, he almost went into a state of panic. Not only was it news to him that there would be a ball, and in his own home at that, but his thoughts were consumed with worries of what that meant for Granger.

The invitation held specific details that “the mudblood” was to make an appearance for entertainment purposes. Mother of Salazar Slytherin - that’s just fucking perfect.

And after all that had happened between Draco and Granger that morning? The timing couldn’t have been any better, but he knew the best thing to do was to get a head start and inform her. No matter how uncomfortable it may be, especially after her swift exit.

And telling her? Well that had gone just lovely. But Draco knew he couldn’t expect too much. He knew her better and better by the day, and he couldn’t blame her for being angry about it. Draco himself was angry too, but he couldn’t let that on.

His Dark Mark started to burn right at that moment. I mean is he fucking bored? Merlin, this has already been the most up and down day in my fucking life.

Draco took the floo straight from his office to see the Dark Lord.

“Afternoon, Fore-Minister”, he greeted him. Draco fought the urge to chuckle. Boy did this wizard love titles.

“My Lord, you called?“, he responded seriously.

“Yes, I’ve decided today will be the first public execution for media purposes. While the ball will be a great help for our efforts in a couple of weeks, it’s beyond time I make the repercussions of these fallacious attacks well known”, the Dark Lord said, rising from his chair as Nagini circled him as usual.

Draco simply nodded in response and followed the Dark Lord out the back doors of the room. He had never been this way before. He stepped out onto what appeared to be a stage attached to the back of the Dark Lord’s home, lit up in painfully bright light.

There was a row of people lined up on their knees. They were all blindfolded with their arms tied behind their backs in ropes - blood dripping from their wrists.

Draco slowly circled them, already dreading what was to come. He couldn’t help but notice one of the wizards was a ginger who looked strikingly similar to Weaselbee. But then again, his eyes were covered, dirt all over his clothes, and didn’t all those Weasley’s look the same anyway?

Suddenly the Dark Lord spun his wand in the air, casting a broadcasting to spell likely to every household in the Dark Territories. He slowly raised his wand to his throat and stared out to the large rectangular opening in the sky that was telecasting them.

“Good afternoon my dear followers - witches and wizards across our world. The events that took place this morning were intolerable, and any magical being who assisted in it will be found and put to death, I can promise you that. Do not fear for your life, for you are on the right side of history! It has been a long and winding road thus far, and this is nothing but a bump along it. I give my deepest and sincerest condolences to those who lost their lives this morning in the attack as well as their loved ones. Let my words ease any concerns you may have - this is only the beginning, and it is our time to come forward as the true superiors of this earth. To seal this promise, I have a wonderful announcement to share with you all. Many of you have heard of the Minister of Magic, Draco Malfoy, but I recently learned he holds more potential than that. Henceforth, he will be my Fore Garroter - a lead executioner of sorts. He has shown great potential thus far, and I’m confident in his ability to bring justice to our people, starting today.”

He slowly turned to face Draco before addressing him, “Fore-Minister”. He waved his hand in Draco’s direction and removed the wand from his throat before whispering to him in a cold, gravelly voice, “Enjoy yourself”, a smirk slithering across his face.

The all too familiar words climbed their way up his spine and seemed to spread across his body. Draco knew exactly what the Dark Lord was calling for. And it wasn’t a simple execution. It was...a spectacle, as he had referred to it before.

Draco strode in front of the first wizard, stopping a few feet back. The Dark Lord removed the blindfold from the man’s eyes, forcing him to watch what he was about to endure, as if feeling it wasn’t enough.

It was as if Draco could feel the eyes of every single person across the Territories watching him, even if they weren’t physically there. He gritted his teeth together and aimed his wand. As Draco stared into the man’s deep brown eyes, full of fear that he could only imagine, he shouted “Garrotio!“.

The magical lasso shot out of his wand and wrapped around the man’s neck. Blood began to pool around the edges and drip down his throat, staining his clothes. Draco yanked, feeling adrenaline course through his veins, and the lasso tightened. Veins bulged from the man’s neck, turning deep shades of blue and purple.

Finally, one last yank of the lasso, and the man’s eyes rolled back, his body collapsing to the ground with a hard thud. A smile crept across Draco’s face that he hadn’t even noticed, and the Dark Lord returned it. “Excellent”, the Dark Lord commended him.

Without hesitance, Nagini attacked the dead wizard and those still alive screamed from the vicious sound of the snake making the man into his own meal.

Draco went down the line in similar fashion until his shirt was coated in the blood of witches and wizards he had never and would never know. His biceps ached from the excessive use of magic but it felt like morphine was flooding his veins.

When he got to the Weaslbee look-alike, the Dark Lord instructed him to go a step further, and he had a feeling he knew exactly why. For all the public knew, this was ⅓ of the golden trio. Not just a random wizard.

First, Draco cast a spell to blind him, one eye at a time. Not like the spell the Dark Lord used on Draco’s father. No - this one was much more painful. He also assumed this would only make it look more like the famous redhead. That Skeeter bitch would have a field day.

He cast a stabbing spell into the man’s eyes one at a time, causing him to scream even louder than the others could who were choked to death. He would be choked to death as well, just not yet. This was the main attraction.

The Dark Lord slowly walked towards Draco, pausing him with a hand. “How about a more...involved approach, Fore-Minister?” He pulled a silver blade with a black handle out of his pocket and handed it to Draco.

Draco took the blade, turning it over in his gloved hands, inspecting it. He couldn’t help but notice the embellished “B” on it, and he immediately recognized it as his Aunt Bellatrix’s. What that meant for his Aunt, he wasn’t sure, nor did he care. Although, the B could’ve stood for “Black”. He decided to go with that for now, choosing to associate it with his deceased Mother and her maiden name over his psychotic Aunt.

He walked around to stand behind the ginger, although it wasn’t as if he could see Draco anyway. But this was a show, and he couldn’t block the audience.

Draco gripped the blade tightly in his right hand, using his left to hold the man’s chin up and he cried and begged for mercy. Slowly and with a steady hand, Draco brought the blade to the wizard’s neck and dragged it across the skin just enough for it to begin bleeding, pressing deeper on his carotid artery.

The wizard coughed aggressively as he began to bleed out quickly from the neck, sputtering and gagging. Draco stepped away from the man and began to clean the blade off with his sleeve before offering it back to the Dark Lord.

The Dark Lord smirked gruesomely and gave Draco a slow-clap in reward for his work. “Keep it, you’ve earned it”, he told him, so Draco slid the blade into his pocket.

By the end of it, Draco was laughing. Truly and genuinely laughing. He had never felt so powerful before, and it was an addicting sensation. Maybe this isn’t so bad after all.

It wasn’t until he floo’d back home that he realized he was truly coated in blood. It dripped from his Death Eater boots and stained his shirt. It was even in his hair and all over his face. He stared in the mirror, feeling surprised that a few weeks ago he would have been disgusted, but now he felt nothing. Proud maybe, if anything.

He glanced at the clock then, realizing it was already 7:00pm. Where had the day gone?

He quickly showered and dressed for dinner, almost completely forgetting who would be joining him there and why.

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