At once, all those present had their attention snapped.
The Malfoys and the Greengrasses were now looking at the entrance of the dining room as the clapping of hands kept growing louder.
Finally, the grand double door swung open, revealing a tall figure draped in a flowing black cloak.
He was here.
The Greengrasses, particularly Tiberius, recognized him instantly. It was him.
The one whose name people fear to utter. The one people did not dare to use as a bedtime story to frighten their children. Even the most ambitious hero did not wish to fight.
The Dark Lord Voldemort.
Immediately, the fear took hold of Tiberius. All the plans he had made, all the preparation to face him, were gone in an instant.
"My Lord," Lucius intoned, standing from his seat, bowing his head slightly. Narcissa and Draco followed suit.
After breaking the momentary shock, Tiberius too rose from his seat. With a short nod, he motioned for his wife and daughters to follow suit. Cressida and Daphne rose, while Astoria, still wide-eyed, scrambled to her feet a beat later. Unconsciously, she had taken a step back, shielding herself behind her mother.
The Greengrass family greeted the dark Lord next. But there was silence. Neither approval nor rejection.
Voldemort just kept walking.
Along the way, Voldemort observed each of the Greengrass members, and when his gaze fell upon Daphne, Voldemort's gaze lingered much more than when he observed the other three.
Narcissa, who had been observing the Dark Lord, froze in her stance.
Unlike the others present, she recognized that look all too well. It was the same lecherous gaze that Voldemort had often directed at her, stripping her bare with his eyes, leaving her feeling naked.
Memories flooded her mind, taking her back to those encounters in her own bedroom, mistaking Lord Voldemort for Lucius. She remembered when she almost fell, and the dark Lord captured her in a hug. The sensation of her chest pressing against the Dark Lord, and how his hand roamed over her bottom. And then when the dark Lord talked about the idea of his perfect woman, how he had hugged her from behind, his hand boldly tracing the curve of her stomach, and as he whispered promises of impregnating her deeply with his seed.
As she recalled those disturbing moments, Narcissa felt a familiar heat pooling low in her abdomen. It was a mixture of fear and something else, something she dared not name.
Narcissa's breath caught in her throat as she realized what was happening to her body. Pushing the memories to the recesses of her mind, she reminded herself that she was not the object of Voldemort's desires. No, it was Bellatrix. It had always been Bellatrix.
"What sort of vile thoughts am I having? I'm a wife, a mother." Narcissa regained her composure and stopped the tingling sensation in her groin area.
Following Voldemort's gaze for that brief moment, Narcissa realized the target of his perverse scrutiny was Daphne. She glanced at the young woman, who was unaware of the situation, as her head was down. After that short amount of time, Voldemort stopped ogling Daphne.
Reaching his designated seat, he lowered himself onto the chair with a rustle of his cloak. Only then did he grace the room with a gesture, a pale hand raised in a silent command.
"Sit," he commanded.
Voldemort surveyed the room with an air of absolute power. A serpentine smile played on his lips as he finally addressed the man of the Greengrass family.
"Impressive, Tiberius. Having reached twenty-five countries is a formidable feat."
"Thank you for your praises, my Lord," he replied, still in shock.
Voldemort lifted his hand, and a plate full of food appeared in front of him. "Eat," he said as he took food from the plate.
The Malfoys and Greengrasses exchanged nervous glances. One by one, they reached for their silverware. They felt so uneasy that even the simple act of eating was too difficult. Yet, it was better than doing nothing.
Every now and then, someone dared a furtive peek at Voldemort. Voldemort, ignoring everything else, concentrated on his food. As they saw Voldemort finishing the last morsel on his plate, they each knew the real situation had begun now.
Voldemort leaned back on his chair.
This was so much fun. The nervousness, the feeling of power he had over others without even saying a single word.
He felt like a king with everything else under his command.
Soon. Voldemort just needed some more time, and the entire world would be his.
For now, he had to take care of them one at a time.
Breaking the silence, Voldemort turned his piercing gaze toward Tiberius. "Tell me, Tiberius, what do you think of a business partner of yours, one who wishes to expand into a country much like yours, engaging in the same business, yet expects you to do all the dirty work while he sits back and waits to see if you succeed or fail?"
Tiberius felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead as he struggled to formulate a response. He knew all too well the implications behind Voldemort's question.
There has to be another meaning behind this. Yet, under such pressure, Tiberius could not find the real intention.
Clearing his throat, Tiberius forced himself to meet Voldemort's gaze head-on.
"Such a partner would be... untrustworthy, my Lord," he replied carefully, choosing his words with utmost caution. "They would be seeking to exploit our resources and efforts for their own gain, without bearing any of the risks themselves."
Voldemort's lips curled into a sinister smile, a glint of satisfaction gleaming in his crimson eyes. "Indeed, and what would you do, Tiberius, if faced with such a partner? How would you deal with their treachery?"
Tiberius swallowed hard.
"I would... I would confront them, my Lord. I would make it clear that such behavior would not be tolerated, that any attempt to undermine our partnership would be met with swift and decisive action."
"Very good, Tiberius," Voldemort said and then continued, "So tell me, Tiberius, what should I do with you?"