A shot in the dark (Draco, Open)

[Draven Lestat Bloodworth]

Draven drove slowly through the town which, he was certain the Malfoys lived in. He had broke quite a few rules by looking through ministry records, but this wasn’t the first time he had done this. The small blue Chevy lumina rumbled beneath him as he drove looked in either direction. He knew for certain, that he’d at once be considdered a blood traitor for driving the car, but he hated apperating. Plus, since he’d never been to this place before, knowing his luck, he’d end up lost somewhere if he even tried to. He glanced down at the piece of parchment with the directions to the Malfoys home, and up at the street signs which passed. He was almost certain that he was going the right way, and knew for a fact that none of the houses with electric porch lights or fancy cars in the drive belonged to the Malfoys.

Draven turned down the road, which he presumed was the right one,and drove along. The sky was overcast, and the tall hundred year old trees which linned the sides of the road made you think it was a lot later in the day then it actually was. Draven had never been as determined as he was today. His muggle victums were simple. Wizards headed to Azkaban were a challenge, but he knew that picking out the right death eater and offing him (or maybe even her) would be a little harder.

A lot of people would mark Draven as a vidgelantie. Everyone he had killed had deserved it for one reason or another. But the simple fact, that Draven took lives to satisfy his own selfish addiction was what marked Draven as a monster.

As he drove, Draven’s imagination began to run away with him. He wondered, if the dark lord himself would be there. He also wondered if his own selfish reasons for his desieres to join up with them were already known, or if they would quickly surface. There were so many things that Draven wondered about, and so many things that Draven was risking. Not only was he risking his job, which he had worked so hard to obtain, but he was also risking his family, his freedom, and maybe even his own life. But he didn’t care.

Draven parked his car, and stepped out. He was still about a quarter of a mile from the Malfoys’ home, but the last thing he needed was for them to see him driving a muggle car. He straightened out his robes, and ran a hand through his brownish blonde hair, which desperately needed cutting, as he continued down the road and toward the path, which lead to the house.

The house was now in view. Draven stood for a second looking up at the huge mansion. Why did three people need to live in shcu a place? The house was at least four times the size of the apartment building he, his mother, and brother shared with at least ten other people.

Also, these people seemed to have everything they wanted. His mother, whom had next to nothing and absolutly no ties to anyone that he knew of would have never had anything to give people like this. Were all death eaters this wealthy?

Before the long walk up the stone steps, which lead to the front door, Draven took a second to clear his mind. He knew this would do no good, if somebody there studied occlumency, but a good poker face was atleast one way to destract people, at least for a moment. He walked up, and tapped on the door a few times, before it opened. He looked at the person who answered, and the only things that escaped his moth was, Good afternoon

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[Draco Lucius Malfoy]

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Draco had been lounging in his room when he'd heard a knock at the door. He had been thinking about nothing in-particular, save for the little amount of sleep he was able to obtain anymore. In all truth, he had been sulking more than anything, but Draco would've never outright admitted it, even to himself. His appetite was slowly beginning to dissipate with his sleep, and Draco found it rather annoying. While prior to this year he could normally pride himself in his body and looks, this year he would look in the mirror and see a thin man with haunted and tired eyes staring back at him. That, in Draco's opinion, was most definitely not nearly close to being a single bit presentable. He hated that he was starting to look like the occupants of Azkaban; it was slowly grating on his temper. Draco, though he could normally hold his tongue, had recently been hard pressed to just yell and scream at someone, though he'd managed not to so far. It was unbecoming of a Malfoy, and Draco was not going to allow himself to stoop to that level.

When he had heard the knock on the door, Draco cursed under his breath but stayed on his bed. He knew if it was one of the so-called occupants of the house, then they would just walk right in. Draco had no idea who was downstairs banging on their front door, but he was in no mood to go and answer it. When the knocking continued, however, Draco finally rose from his bed with something akin to a growl. He glanced around his room and then grabbed his wand which was located on the nightstand next to his bed. As he opened the door, Draco did perk up slightly at the new possibility to vent his angered feelings at whoever was at their door. A sick part of him sort of hoped it was a muggle, but then Draco grew repulsed by that desire and had to resist the urge to vomit on the floor. He shuddered, fiddling a bit with the collar of his shirt as he stomped down the stairs.

In a few long strides, Draco had reached the front door. He paused briefly, hand hovering over the doorknob, as he waited to see if the person was still there and if they would knock again. After a moment's pause, Draco had buttoned up the front of his black robes, just about to head back to his room, when the knock came again. Draco's eyes narrowed a bit, and he tugged open the door a fraction, coming face to face with a man. Draco blinked slowly, wondering what in Merlin's name the idiot was doing on his doorstep. Before he could open his mouth and demand an answer, however, the man spoke first. Pleasantries? Draco snarled inwardly, you'd better not be here trying to sell something. Though he didn't say these things out loud, Draco could only vaguely hope that his posture was giving off waves of hostility, because that's all Draco was inclined to feel at the present time.

Instead of openly snapping at the man just yet, however, Draco decided to be a bit smoother. "Yes, brilliant afternoon," he said in his usual bored drawl. He took in the man's appearance, and felt his lip curl up into a sneer. In Draco's opinion, the man could've used a bit of better hygiene and maybe some new robes, but he wouldn't say anything...just yet. His eyebrow rose and, once noticing the man didn't seem inclined to explain why he was there without being pressed, Draco then narrowed his eyes at the man. "Well? Who are you and what the bloody hell are you doing at my house, you fool?" Draco snapped, feeling a bit better once he had. He smirked inwardly, feeling suddenly that maybe this stranger's visit would prove to be a welcomed one. Draco vaguely thought about just rifling through the man's mind, but decided that first he'd see just what the man thought he was doing there.

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^{TAG - Draven
WORDS - 686
NOTES - NA
TUNES - two birds stoned at once , chiodos.
CREDIT - template by MUNZTAR * of caution 2.0}

[Draven Lestat Bloodworth]

Draven stood quietly at the door. In the shiny glass, which was framed in the door, Draven could see his dull reflection. The wind flowing through the opened car window had given his hair a bit of a messy look, and the robes he had grabbed that morning weren’t exactly in the best of shape. Perhaps he hadn’t planned this day as well as he thought he did. Knowing his luck, these rich folks would think Draven was some charity case, which stumbled on their doorstep. But then again, Draven hated robes. Muggle cloths were one of the many things that stuck with him from his childhood. He felt so restrained in robes. A pair of jeans and a collared shirt was Draven’s usual attire; even, when he went to work this is what he wore.

He sighed, and knocked on the door again a bit louder. Perhaps these people were somewhere in the house, where they couldn’t hear him. Patients was a virtue for many, but a big part of Draven’s lifestyle was planning and waiting. Today was a special case. Normally,

Draven would have planned everything to a T. He would know everything about the people, down t the floor plan of their house, but the Malfoys were a special case. The only thing Malfoy had to go on was an address, and the hope that was impressionable enough to get more information from them.

Another minute or two passed, and Draven knocked on the front door again. Lucious Malfoy was a lazy child, wasn’t he? Draven kind of smirked at the thought of this, but quickly straightened back up with a stern look on his face as he heard footsteps finally drawling near. He ran a hand through his hair, to try and make his self look a little more presentable, but was barely successful in this attempt.

As the door opened, took a small step back, and was staring who he presumed to be the son in the face. The boy was a bit scrawny, and looked rather tired. It was the middle of the day, and they were obviously on break from school, so why exactly would this boy, born with a silver spoon in his mouth look so drained? Draven wasn’t going to question this. Perhaps the servant was taking too long bringing him his lunch or something, and it was stressing him out.

After Draven had greeted the boy, he had responded in what Draven assumed was a sarcastic tone,Yes. Brilliant afternoon.”

Draven gave a small nod, and bit his tongue. Yes, you poor child. I interrupted your afternoon of sitting on your lazy rear end. He studied the boy for a second, and noted the look of annoyance which he was trying so hard to hide. Draven found the boy very amusing to say the least.

He wasn’t the least bit surprised when the boy’s fake charm finally gave away, and he said, ” "Well? Who are you and what the bloody hell are you doing at my house, you fool?"

Draven sort of let go of his poker face for a second, and let out a small smile. It was obvious, that the Malfoy kid was a spoiled brat, but Draven couldn’t say anything right now. He simply put his hand on his hip, and said, ”is your dad home, kid? Needed to speak to him about some… business.”

Draven couldn’t tell the kid why he was really here. He was pretty sure, that even though, his father really WAS a death eater, that the kid probably knew nothing about it. He was sure, that even if he did, he’d probably not want to speak about any of these matters with

Draven. He looked the boy right in the eyes for a split second, and then looked passed him into the house.
How would Draven get this kind of information, without putting himself in danger? This was obviously a well known family with many ties to the ministry, so this boy probably already knew who he was. – Well, What everyone else knew about Draven that was, and that title was pretty simple – Newly assigned auror, who worked his behind off, and that he was a bit on the strange side. Nobody knew about Draven’s dark passenger, except for himself, and that’s how Draven wanted to keep it.

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[Draco Lucius Malfoy]

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In all honestly, Draco couldn't believe this man. He'd come up to his house for no bloody reason, asking to see his father? Draco sneered at the man, still not moving from his spot in the doorway, making it clear he had no intentions yet to invite the man in. "Are you daft? Do you know how to read, you twit? My father is in Azkaban," Draco snarled, resisting the sudden urge to grab his wand and send the man packing of his own accord. Though Draco knew the man would probably give him quite a run for his money, what with being an adult and all, Draco simply didn't care. He was annoyed, and this man was not helping at all. His father was a sore spot for Draco, and Draco didn't think that this idiot had a right to even mention Lucius in Draco's presence.

"Now seeing that he isn't here, why don't you go slink back off to the rock you crawled out from," Draco said, narrowing his eyes at the man. Draco did not like how the man was still trying to get a look into his house. No, he did not like that one bit. Draco was just about to slam the large door in the man's face, when he paused as a sudden thought came to him. His lips curled into a slight sneer, but he pushed it back. "What's your name, anyway?" Draco questioned, deciding it would be better to ask rather than just calling the man multiple slanders. If the man stuck around, Draco had a plan.

Occlumency wasn't something Draco tended to use on a day to day basis, or much at all, but he had a strong impulse to do so as he looked at this guy. The guy radiated a calmness that Draco felt he didn't deserve. For that reason, and a few select others, Draco wanted to test out his abilities. He had a feeling the man thought him as nothing more than a child, and possibly even a spoiled one. Draco could have cared less what the man thought, however, so this didn't trouble him in the slightest. In Draco's mind, the only reason the man would see him in that light would be if the man had been raised in a poor environment. Which, in Draco's opinion, was obviously the case given the state of his clothing and appearance.

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^{TAG - Draven
WORDS - 403
NOTES - NA
TUNES - two birds stoned at once , chiodos.
CREDIT - template by MUNZTAR * of caution 2.0}

[Draven Lestat Bloodworth]

It was official… Draven hadn’t thought this through at all. He did indeed read the prophet pretty regularly, and overlooked one major detail. Lucious Malfoy was in Azkaban! Coming here was more on a whim than anything, and was probably one of the most stupid things Draven had done in quite a while. When Draco said, "Are you daft? Do you know how to read, you twit? My father is in Azkaban,"

Draven merely nodded at the boy. He remembered these arrests now, but was so swamped with work that he kind of forgot about them. Draven was still an errand boy for the ministry at the time of the arrests, and was grateful that he wasn’t the one who took the boy’s father to prison. That would be a lovely conversation piece one day, wouldn’t it? But thankfully, Draven was never asked to take any death eaters to Azkaban. He was glad, because he didn’t need any of them to have a bad memory of him and want revenge.

"Now seeing that he isn't here, why don't you go slink back off to the rock you crawled out from," Draven watched as the boy began to slam the door in his face. His heart almost sank as this happened.

Lucious Malfoy was confirmed now to him to be a death eater. But why did his son feel so hostile towards him? Was he angered by his father’s death eater status? Or was he just angry that his father had gotten caught? Draven needed to find these things out somehow, and was officially without a plan. Draven’s only known door of opportunity was about to be slammed right in his face, but apparently the boy had changed his mind.
The Malfoy boy opened the door, and asked Draven, ”So What’s your name, anyway?”

Draven stared at the boy for a second, and hesitated. ”Bloodworth… Draven Bloodworth” Draven had a feeling that giving a fake name wouldn’t work here. Something about him seemed odd, and Draven knew that gaining his trust would help him greatly in the long run.

He’d come up with an alias and everything. If anyone asked for his name, he would be Dustin Jones. Dustin was a very interesting muggle, whom Draven sent across the Atlantic Ocean with a puncture wound in his chest, going through his heart. The chances of the serial rapist and strangler not ending up on the bottom of the ocean, or eaten by some large animal were very slim.

Draven looked at the Malfoy boy, and asked, ”And yours? In a polite sort of voice. Draven had a feeling that the boy would be very useful to him indeed, and Draven was g0oing to do what he could to gain his trust.

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[Draco Lucius Malfoy]

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Draco saw, to his own bitter amusement, that the man seemed to look rather affronted when Draco had told him that Lucius was in Azkaban. It slightly, but only slightly, mind you, improved his mood. A tiny hint of a smirk had appeared on his lips, but other than that he remained quite stoic and even a bit stiff. Eventually Draco realized the man seemed to finally remember that his father was, in fact, imprisoned. The man had regained his cool once again, and Draco found the smirk disappearing from his lips, only to be replaced by an annoyed sneer. The mood improvement had vanished with the man's calmness, once more.

When the man finally gave his name, Draco looked at him with a rather bored expression. "I can't say I've heard of you," Draco drawled, raising an eyebrow, "what's your blood status?" That sick part of Draco hoped the man was a mudblood, and would lie and say he was a pureblood just so Draco would have a reason to throw him to the Death Eaters if he tried to step foot in his house. Draco was still feeling rather haughty, especially because he knew that he could find out all of the man's secrets through Occulmency. Though it was probably unhealthy for him to be so arrogant, Draco still only saw his arrogance as a big batch of confidence.

Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the man when he asked his name. Honestly, Draco couldn't figure out how the man didn't seem to be capable of reading. Or maybe, Draco mused, he already does know my name and he's just trying to stall. Draco didn't like it when people tried to stall him, because that generally meant they had something they wanted that wouldn't make Draco happy. Draco sighed, "Draco Malfoy," he finally said simply. He looked into the man's eyes for a moment, just to see if he would flinch away.

Though Draco had no outright intention to use Occulmency, he wanted to see if the man would prove that he indeed had something to hide. Draco found that a slow smirk had stretched across his face as he finally stepped out of the doorway, extending his arm in the direction of the room. "I suppose you can come in, if you really want. I'll have the house elves get you something to drink," Draco said in a rather casual way. "Preferences?" Draco figured that, so long as the man was here, he'd use him for his own entertainment.

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^{TAG - Draven
WORDS - 425
NOTES - NA
TUNES - two birds stoned at once , chiodos.
CREDIT - template by MUNZTAR * of caution 2.0}