"There is no great genius without a mixture of madness," - Aristotle.

It was a party, an affair of simple social order, of class and dignity. The whole event was made for high class beautiful people to laugh and joke at other high class beautiful people with the heads of the Slytherin House, the Blacks.

It was all fake. Every clinging glass, every laugh, every rosy cheek and dazzling jewel: fake! They were all liars-snakes in the grass-he knew. But, he liked it that way.

A grin slinked onto his face, a slow meticulous thing much like himself-much like a snake-his eyes gleamed in the light out the large chandelier in the center, gently swaying to the beat of a waltz (1-2,3-1-2,3). Silence mixed in the room as he stepped into the glimmering splendor of the wizardly court.

"Presenting, Lord Voldemort!" a man to his side said, mumbling. This displeased him. Everyone already knew who he was, yes, but the fact that the little sweaty, pudgy servant could barely do the job that filled others with such even.

"What is my name?" the dark lord asked, his robes of endlessly black night rustled at his side, nearly drowning out his soft, lilting voice.

"V-v-voldemort, m-m-my lord," the man quaked, the entire room had their eyes on them and only them, not the blacks, the family of nobles standing high on their dias so their guest would know their place, beneath them.

"Louder," the fearsome man insisted, stepping a little closer.

"Voldemort, my lord," the servant spewed dumbly.

The lord patted him on his head. "Good job," he said, coldly. THe servant smiled brightly-the dark lord's grip tightened, and he snapped the pitiful, sweaty servant's neck.

Voldemort stepped forward, careful of the body. "How rude of me not to greet my hosts," he whispered through the crowds to the dias with the Blacks standing on it. Everyone heard him, not a soul was breathing, the room was so quiet. "You all look so wonderfully...noble," he smiled a forced, crooked smile, the only smile that could go over his face.

The Blacks in turn each greeted the Dark Lord. First was Orion Black and his wife, Walburga, they greeted him graciously having fallen from his grace in recent events. Their youngest son followed, looking shyly at the ground. THeir oldest was nowhere to be found as expected, Young Sirius Black choose to mingle with peasantry rather than accept his noble status.

Before the first group was out of the way, his dark eyes were on the next group of the family. Cygnus and Druella Black had three daughters. Bellatrix Lestrange, married to Rodolphus Lestrange a duke of some slightly powerful province in some country; they were loyal to his order and the House of Slytherin, very loyal. The Dark Lord titled his head to the couple as they walked past. Next should have been Andromeda Black, but she had disgraced her family, much like Sirius Black had, and married a peasant. Their saving grace was what greeted them. "Narcissa," his smile widened if it were at all possible. The man beside her, his blonde hair and cold cruel chiseled look, was the redeeming piece to the Blacks puzzle.

"Lucius," Voldemort greeted the man. "You are to be married tomorrow."

"Yes, we would like to ask your blessing," Narcissa said curtsying. Her fiance bowed beside her, his expression not changing except to seer at the people below him. Malfoy was the heir to a very wealthy legacy and a talented business man, very useful.

"Of course," the Dark Lord swept a hand over the crowd. "To a long, and fruitful marriage of the Black and the Malfoys!" Cheers erupted from the crowd. Narcissa's face for a moment was revealing, her weakness coming through-but she quickly corrected herself.

Fake, they all were, the people below him, and the people next to him, but none were more false, none were better liars and seducers than he was.

"Idiots."

A/N: Herro owls, how is everyone! Gosh it's been forever! Literally, I swear. I really hope that this little story makes it up to whatever following I have.

This was written for the Room of Requirement and Quidditch Pitch on the Hogwarts House Challenges forum. Come check it out if you want a super friendly, fun writing challenge. Go Claws!

Prompts used:

(quote) "There is no great genius without a mixture of madness," - Aristotle. - for Quidditch Pitch

(AU) Terrifying Royalty - Room of Requirement

Hoots,

Owls