Assumption // Regulus Black

17

A/N: We gotta get some Voldy action...

Regulus

Have you ever been in a room where you felt so out of place you wanted to hide underneath the table?

Now I can answer yes to that question.

I was spending my Christmas Eve at Malfoy Manor. Every child's dream.

I was currently sitting around a large table filled with maybe thirty people- men and women alike who were talking. I didn't recognize everyone, but I did know quite a few people. We were joined by my dear cousin Bellatrix, Lucius Malfoy, our humble host, and his wife. I'd never been in school the same time as them, but I had certainly heard rumors. Then there were the Carrow twins who were around Lucius's age, Corban Yaxley, Augustus Rookwood, and others. Severus was also here. We knew better than to talk with one another.

Now, we were only waiting on Voldemort himself. 

You'd think the all-powerful "Dark Lord" could make it to his meetings on time, right?

Even despite the conversations that were occurring between members, the room felt cold. Bare. There was absolutely no warmth whatsoever despite the giant Christmas tree in the corner of the room. 

It felt like my house, only even worse. I pitied Narcissa whom I assumed did not have a choice as to where she would be moving in. I glanced around the room some more, taking in all the lavish  statues and marble columns. It was so...unnecessary. 

I was beginning to identify some of the portraits when a voice snapped me from my thoughts.

"How much longer are you in school?" A tall, dark-haired man whom I identified as Victor Crabbe asked me.

"Until Early June," I replied, turning back to him. 

"That's a shame, I would hate to have to spend my time at that shit-hole."

"Yeah," I forced a laugh. He slapped me on the back and turned to the person on his left.

People were still talking when a loud crack from apparation silenced the room almost instantly. But it wasn't a normal apparation, instead Voldemort arrived engulfed in a cloud of darkness. 

As if on cue, everyone stood up. Voldemort walked silently to the head of the table as Nagini, with her bright scales and sharp fangs, slithered alongside him.

"Good evening," he said. "You may sit."

The scrap of chairs against the hard floor sounded around us. I followed everyone in sitting down. I examined Voldemort closely. He looked tired- though of course it was hard to tell. I suppose war wore everyone down.

"What's the update on infiltrating the ministry?" He turned to a greasy-haired young man who seemed to have muscle spasms every couple of seconds. 

"The plan isn't running as smoothly as we had hoped," the man piped nervously.

The room went still.

"What does that mean?" Voldemort asked calmly. A little too calmly.

"My father has not been open to any of my ideas and won't let me make any appointments."

Ah. So this must be the infamous Barty Crouch Jr.

"Very well," Voldemort said cooly. Crouch slumped in relief when the Dark Lord turned away from him. "We have to resort to other methods then."

"Like what?" Lucius Malfoy spoke. Many people stiffened at the action of Lucius speaking without being spoken to. Voldemort didn't mind, however. Lucius was close enough to him that he often had the right to speak up.