Le Seigneur Foncé

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"We live, as we dream--alone" - Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness

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Imperious as he stood before the crowded circle of bowing Death Eaters, the Dark Lord Voldemort narrowed his scarlet eyes, scanning the exposed faces for any hint of rebellion. Fear was evident on the faces of a handful of his servants -- he'd expected that -- and of course, Bellatrix Lestrange was sprawled slavishly on her hands and knees, her dark hair brushing the dirty ground in her effort to portray devotion. He was pleased to see Lucius display the appropriate respect -- the man had always been a touch too haughty for his own good -- and he nodded, satisfied as Lucius' wife and son knelt to him. However, he noticed, something was amiss with Avery. The man's bow was not nearly as deep as it ought to have been, and he had the gall to raise his eyes to his lord's face, a cheeky gesture that implied they were something along the lines of equals.

"Progress!" he called out, and watched Pettigrew shiver. "There is much support for our cause abroad. East Europe holds many wizards aligned with our view, seeking the elimination of Muggleborn thieves of knowledge, wishing only to reclaim the rightful positions of purebloods. I have been able to secure their support, because they have confidence in my imminent success." He paused, inclining his head towards Bellatrix, who seemed on the verge of swooning. "Why are they confident?" he asked. No one spoke, of course. "Because they believe my Death Eaters are precise, controlled -- capable!"

"We are, my lord," breathed Bellatrix, nearly overcome.

His looked down at her, dismissive. "Indeed," came his cold reply. "And yet, we have not yet succeeded. The battle has not yet been won. Avery!"

"Yes?"

"Tell me, Avery, in my absence, have you managed to capture the elusive Potter?"

The man's face drained of colour. "No, my lord, not as yet, but --"

"No?"

"Not yet, but I assure you, my lord, our glory will be forthcoming." Avery's voice shook. "We have leads, clues - we cannot be more than a few days away from overtaking him."

Voldemort sneered. "You say you have information? Where is he going, then? Where will he be headed next? He is plainly on a quest, or he would have fled Britain and gone into hiding. What is he doing? What is he looking for? And why, Avery, why do we not have him already?" His voice had risen so that his thundered throughout the chamber where his supporters gathered, making each of them quake with fear at his impending temper.

"I --"

"Silence! Crucio!" he called, and Avery immediately fell to the floor, twisting and writhing beneath the terrible pain. "A lesson to the rest of you," Voldemort yelled, glaring down at the terrified weaklings who made up his power base. "I'll accept no more failure." He ended the curse on Avery with a lazy flick of his wand, and nodded acceptance to Rodolphus to run forth and collect him, dragging the limp, still shuddering man away. "Greyback, your report."

The grizzled werewolf seemed to stand a little taller. "I have acquired four more recruits, my lord, all living in the shadows, ready to come out of hiding." He grinned, and his yellowed teeth looked bloodstained. "One of the new captives is also of my kind, though not yet a supporter of the cause. There are ways of forcing his allegiance, though, my lord. He too has faced persecution from those Mudbloods in power. We have his son, and a number of his friends. I've taken the liberty of infecting the boy. He will turn, in a week when the moon rises, and he will make a valuable addition to our ranks, able to go in disguise among other children and bite them, bringing countless more to the cause."

"Interesting," spoke Voldemort. "Yes, Severus?" he added, for the raven-haired man seemed eager to speak.

"I know him, my lord. The captive - Remus Lupin. He was in my year at Hogwarts, though regrettably, a Gryffindor." Severus sneered. "It may be possible for me to convince him of our point of view; if he will not see reason, I am confident his friendships with other captives can be exploited to secure his support."

"And you wish your revenge also, do you not?" Voldemort ventured, confident he understood the motives of his followers. "Perhaps you could make him see sense. Yes, you might take him, reintroduce him to the concept of real freedom, which he could be granted if I am successful."

Severus bowed. "Indeed, my lord."

"Just a minute," interrupted Greyback, looking mutinous. "He's my breed! I ought to be the one he's given to; I'll persuade him, all right." He flashed his teeth.

"I believe you've done enough," Severus answered back coldly. He raised an eyebrow. "You were the one that turned him, were you not?" Looking proud, Greyback nodded. "Then of course, he holds a grudge against you. I believe I would be a far better choice."

Glowering, Greyback narrowed his eyes. "Then I want the girl, the one in the cage with him. She's a pretty thing. I'll love the feel of ripping out her throat."

Convulsively, Severus' hand clenched into a fist, but he displayed no other outward emotion. "A former student of mine, my lord," he said for Voldemort's benefit. "The youngest Weasley blood traitor. I am not unconvinced of the possibility of recruiting her either. She would be a valuable asset, I'm loathe to admit; for a fifth year Gryffindor, she had a surprisingly acute understanding of Dark Magic, and her curses are somewhat famed among her classmates. We ought not be hasty in destroying her; her blood is pure, of course."

"She'll never join us," Bellatrix cut in. "You killed her parents, remember?" The smile on her face was rapturous, as if she had never experienced such an enjoyable moment as watching Severus commit the murder.

"She doesn't know it was me," Severus retorted calmly. "Besides, she is in a very vulnerable state. She has no family to speak of any longer, except one brother Avery has of yet failed to locate. She's frightened, and naturally pliable. In any case, I am her former Potions master; she retains some trust for me. I could easily convince her, as I convinced Dumbledore, that I am benign, even on her side. I've already begun such work with Lupin. It would be all too simple to trick her into using her talents for us." He smiled coldly. "She's already in such a high state of emotion, and so bewildered, that it would be quite easy. She and Lupin could be used against one another, if all else fails."

Greyback snorted. "And you'll have all the fun, is that it?"

"Perhaps," Severus agreed, sounding amicable. "I have many ideas."

"I'm sure you do," laughed Bellatrix, envy evident in her expression. "The Weasley girl, I understand. She's rather pretty, for a blood traitor. I bet that red hair reminds you of that dead Mudblood you used to fancy -- the Potter woman." She smirked as Severus flinched. "Am I right? But why do you wish for the werewolf?"

His contempt was icy. "The Potter boy's mother is long dead, Bellatrix; I'm surprised you remember her. Are you certain you were not the one who fancied her?" He looked at her cruelly. "I'll admit you are correct on one point, though. The girl is rather attractive. I see no reason why I shouldn't have fun breaking her by one means or another. Putting her in such a state would make it even easier for me to appeal to her need for comfort and protection. As for Lupin," he went on, dredging up old memories that made his expression turn violent. "He tormented me in my youth. I wouldn't mind the payback, not at all."

Voldemort watched the three warring parties, then held up a hand to silence them. "These two prisoners seem to be quite valuable if my Death Eaters are willing to quarrel for them. Very well, then, a duel. The winner takes both."

"Very well," agreed Severus. He narrowed his eyes at Greyback. "You could have the Delacour bint; MacNair's finished with her, she'll not be good for anything more. Take her, and I won't fight you on it."

Greyback licked his lips, thinking of the fact of the pale half-Veela's flesh as well as the fact that he had no wand, and both Severus and Bellatrix did. "Fine," he snarled. "I'll take her when I return, after the full moon. I've got work to do."

"Severus, Bellatrix," Voldemort spoke, amused at the silver tongue of his right hand man, who seemed destined to get his way. Bellatrix was a fierce fighter, blunt and callous, but Severus was quicker, and something lit up his eyes, making him seem all the more dangerous. "There is much work to be done. We will postpone the pleasure of your duel until all of my faithful have returned in a few days time. Then we will see who wins."

...

"Bad news," spoke Severus Snape a quarter of an hour later. "Bellatrix Lestrange has made a request for you. The Dark Lord is of the mind that you are a potential addition to our ranks, that with the proper application of persuasion, you might see the light. I offered to take on the challenge claiming to be hopeful about the prospects. Unfortunately, Bellatrix is equally eager to see you dead. It seems she has not forgotten about --"

"Sirius," Remus finished for him. "She wants her revenge, as though I had anything to do with the way he turned out. Well, I want mine, for his death." He managed a tone of sarcastic derision despite the fear and anger coursing through him. "Tell her she can have me during the next full moon. I don't mind dying, as long as I can take her with me."

A few days had passed since Severus' last visit to the cell, but Remus had fared well in his absence. The food and water supplies were good, and one of the Death Eaters had apparently thought to throw in clean clothes, because Remus had discarded the Muggle-style suit jacket and jeans in which he had been captured in exchange for a set of slightly too-large black robes and a pair of dark trousers. It was actually worse, Severus knew, for the prisoners to be given such supplies. It created a tedious sort of hope that kept them alive, available for more suffering. Easier to go mad, he guessed, but did not say. In any case, his charges were not suffering.

"There are ways of keeping you alive," Severus said quietly. His eyes flicked over to Ginny, regarding her nervously. She was lying languid and silent on the blankets which made up their small bed. Her chest rose and fell gently, and her eyes were open, but cloudy; in all other respects, she might have been dead. Severus recognised the signs of shock when he saw them, and made a mental note to brew something up for her. For the meanwhile, she was glazed and sightless, trapped in her own world; Severus hoped it was a good one. "I voiced my intentions to Voldemort as well. Rather than make a ruling, he had decided to allow us to duel for you. You'll go with the winner, who will be entitled to decide your fate."

"And what does the loser get?" Remus asked sarcastically, his voice edged with hopelessness.

"Death, outside of extraordinary services," said Severus without much difficulty. "Still, I believe it is a chance worth taking. The Dark Lord seemed favourable, in any case. Bellatrix has frequently asked to be given prisoners; they rarely see the light of day, but I've managed to convince him that you would be a valuable asset. I've never made a personal request; well, not for many, many years," he corrected himself, thinking of the bargain he had tried to strike for Lily's life. "In fact, I've made the case that both of you might be worth keeping alive. Avery seemed to feel the same when we spoke not long ago; I'm sure he would back me."

Nodding rapidly, Remus met Severus' eyes. "If it means keeping Ginny alive, do everything in your power. Don't they wonder why you're so eager to help us, though? Didn't it put you in some jeopardy, to request a blood-traitor's daughter?"

Severus uttered a mirthless laugh. "You've obviously never been a Death Eater. Do you really think anyone who demands access to a prisoner here is doing it out of some secret benevolence? No, they would never suspect anything like that." There was a metallic taste of blood in his mouth as he spoke, studiously avoiding looking at Ginny. "She's pretty," he spat, disgusted with the Death Eaters, but even more ashamed of himself for having once been a willing participant in their games. "They already believe I simply want her for personal pleasure."

Shocked, Remus stared blankly at the other man. "How -- how can you even say that? She's barely sixteen!"

"That's older than some," Severus answered cryptically, scowling at the other man. He disliked the accusation plain in Remus' disgusted expression. "It's not at all uncommon, you know, not here." Turning angry, he glared. "It would save her life, Lupin, or would you prefer we respect your high-minded principals and the girl dies?"

Slumped against the bars, Remus simply shook. "I just can't believe..."

"Then wake up." Severus sneered. "You're among Death Eaters. Voldemort ordered her family killed; her brother is being hunted as we speak. There isn't any civilisation any longer, don't you understand that? There is no other way."

"What would you have to do?"

"To you? Mere torture, to prove that I was serious about persuading you to accept your duty or die. For Miss Weasley, it's a bit more complicated. They won't give me much time to work on her before concluding that she'll never side with us, but I could keep her alive much longer if I claimed I wanted her left alive for my pleasure. Of course, they would probably want to see proof that I was serious," Severus spat, shaking his head ruefully. "One time is all that would take, and then I'd be permitted to take you both out of the prison; you as a project, her as...something else."

Remus' expression spoke volumes of surprise and horror. "You'd have to rape her, you mean?"

Severus nodded grimly. "Correct. It would get you out of here, Lupin, you and her both. It's not going to be easy. Would you rather she sacrificed her life?"

"No. No, of course not," Remus said, shaking his head. He cringed. "But I just don't see how you could live with yourself, if you did something like that."

"I don't know how I live with myself now!" Severus snapped. He felt the burn of the mark on his forearm summoning him above, back to Voldemort, and he nodded curtly in Remus' direction, fleeing the hall as if pursued by demons.

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