Written by a-black-ink-heart (me :D) and seduced-by-moonlight as a monologue for seduced-by-moonlight's drama assessment. This is both of our first fan fiction so Rating, reviewing, and constructive criticism would be very welcome and appreciated.
Happy reading
It burns, but oh, such a sweet, bitter burn. It means he's back. And he wants me once more. The seductive snake writhes once more against my flesh and for the first time in ten years I am alive again. Oh how I have dreamt of his fiery call. Every bit of my soul drained by those filthy mud bloods from the ministry, oh how they hurt me. But my master shall love me all the more for the pain I endured for him. Oh how grateful and proud he shall be. I saw so many, so called faithful followers of my master, they crumbled under the torture. They were weak where I was strong, and I shall bask in my masters' glory while they suffer his wrath.
And I know of my masters' wrath all too well. That night when I first saw him, one of his lowly followers had displeased him; the power of his anger fired my very core. From that moment on I had been by his side, though always careful not to displease him, I preferred to witness his power and passion in... Other ways.
Even now, I feel his presence grow stronger, and my strength grows along with my anticipation of his return. This is one happiness the dementors cannot drain from me. There are scarce few of these in Azkaban, where the cold seeps through to your very soul. Where the happiest memories are stolen and replaced by living nightmares, and eventually nothing but cold darkness and soul breaking pain. But one memory of such happiness they were unable to drain is the first time I killed for my lord, Oh the brilliant green flashing in an elegant deathly spiral towards the filthy muggle. My lord expressed his pleasure with me in a most...pleasant manner later that night. It seems that the happiest of my memories are so steeped in darkness that even the dementors do not wish for them.
I remember, a time when I was oh so young, I idolised that blood traitor Sirius Black, How I followed him around like a worthless puppy licking his boots and jumping to do his every beck and call. He was after all a member of the most noble house of Black and while I loved all members of the Black household, I held a special place in my proud heart for him. While he was placed in Gryfindor I found my true home in Slytherin, and I realised that Sirius was a betrayer to everything the Black name stands for. His betrayal destroyed my faith in him and any other man.
It was during my days of studying that I began to hear whispers, rumours of him. "He calls hiself Lord Voldemort, don't you know." "He has a group of loyal followers named Death Eaters, how positively dark." At first I thought this mystery man was a loser, an impersonator mocking my beliefs and core values. But I learnt differently sooner than I thought.
I begged and pleaded with Rolphodus Lestrange to take me to his new lord, and with a few empty words and emptier caresses I was on my way to the first death eater meeting. The raw power emanating from him drew me closer, soon I was unable to stay away, he was like an addiction. The more I got, the more I wanted. But he was unrelenting to my pleas at first, he brushed me off as if I was just any ordinary death eater. The rejection hurt me so, but I wouldn't give up, I couldn't. I knew he would not take me as I was, so I cast spell upon spell upon myself, the pain was unbearable but the torture was well worth it. For each time when the blinding pain subsided leaving me in a shaking heap on the floor of my secluded room, trashed from my fits of pain, I was stronger, sleeker and one step closer to being enough for my lord. The changes scared me at first, but I soon came to crave them, to crave the new power they brought me, I even craved the pain. I knew not how long I stayed in my room, strengthening myself, living off nothing but the desire for my lord but when I emerged I was unrecognisable. I returned once more to my lord, his numbers of followers was growing and so was his power. This time, my dark lord was unable to refuse me. He saw the power in me, and craved it as I craved him. Soon I was his favourite death eater and I enjoyed pleasures others could only dream of. With him the line between pleasure and pain was blurry as was the line between sanity and madness.
WE were growing stronger and our rule would have been absolute.. until that boy. The-boy-who-lived they called him. Something had happened that fateful day and my lord was gone, only I knew his spirit lingered and he would be back once more. I felt it deep within my heart in the very recesses of my soul. So when the aurors came I claimed my Lord publicly as mine, and tried to rid myself of the traitors to my lords cause. The torture once they caught me went for days. What they didn't understand that each curse only made me stronger and my resolution to support my lord grew.
But then, they threw me in this dirty, cold, dark cell. I had once been treated like a princess by my lord. "I am the rightful king of this world," he told me "and you, my love, will soon be my queen." But now, I am treated in the most undignified way. My hair is unkempt and my nails chipped. I am ashamed to admit that in the darkness of the cell, surrounded by the god forsaken dementors I almost lost faith. But then I felt my lords power begin to grow once more. As the snake on my arm began to writhe, I heard my laughter echo through the cells of Azkaban. The sounds, after so long of oppressive silence was musical. My laughter rising in crescendo, accompanied by the madness that the years of torture and waiting had bred in my soul and lying underneath was dulcet undertones of the fearing moans of those who had been less than faithful to my master. For they know he comes now, and our rise to power is imminent.