My fastest update ever. I am terrified to post this chapter, I haven't read anything similar ever.

Please review as always, help me avoid the horror that is OOC Voldemort.

"Ten Miles Wide" by Escape the Fate.


Weapon, Chapter Four: Sahadata, Martyrdom

With no one around to see it he shivered in a decidedly un-dignified way and wiped rain water off of his face with the back of his hand. It struck him as objectionable that he had magic to secure his essential immortality and yet he would still be caught in a storm.

At least he had gotten out of the desert before the gale gathered any real force, thunder and lightning were, after all, less an inconvenience than flash flooding. This was one of the reason he had never secured property in egypt,despite being a frequent visitor, he did not need to waste resources on something that would only end up destroyed.

To his mild irritation it was still pouring six hundred miles away, and the maelstrom did not appear to be a recent development, how much longer would it drag out?

He slipped the outermost layer of his clothing, a traveling cloak, albeit one far more suited for protection from the sun than wind and water, off and draped it over the first piece of furniture he encountered in the foyer.

The great mansion was silent and he sensed only two other people within the house and a third outside, with his thoughts fixated on the vast library upstairs he followed the staircase up, taking the steps two at a time.

The Grand Archive of the Malfoy Family easily took up half of the second story and he did actually have to take a brief moment to remind himself of the layout once he had entered through a pair of impressive, redwood, double doors.

Only a second though, before his photographic memory easily recalled the place and it spread as a map before his mind's eye, he slipped between rows of towering book shelves, summoning volumes he was sure hadn't been examined in decades as he went.

He imagined that at one time the carpets had been a rich, deep red and the walls coverings a shimmering silver, at present however they were coated in a heavy layer of dust and he noticed soft clouds rising beneath his feet, clearly the current descendants did not take after the intellectual who had built this place.

A snake's hiss sounded near by and he spotted Nagini draped over one of the high shelves, "It's raining", she shared and he knew it was a round about jab at him, he had neglected to remove the excess moisture from his robes, by magic or even manually, no selfing respecting wizard really had an excuse to walk around in such a way but he simply didn't care at the moment.

"I hadn't noticed", he sneered, responding in parsletongue, there was a flurry of short, light sounds from the massive animal like air being let out of a balloon, over the years he had learned to interpret this as laughter however he did not join her in her mirth.

The twenty or so odd books followed him obiediently around the vast room and he slowly picked his way over to a large chair, tucked between the aisle of the last row of shelves and the wall that contained a series of massive windows overlooking the garden.

The tower of encyclopedias and analytical document deposited itself neatly on the floor except for one which flew into his hand and he closed his fingers around it and folded himself into the oversized piece of furniture. The back was lavishly high and the seat itself enormous and it was one of those rare instances in which he could just indulge the old habit and tuck his knees up to his chest, most chairs wouldn't have come close to accommodating the full length of his body in such a manner.

He opened the book to a random spot, it was simply an expose' on the theory of legilemency but he was hoping to find examples of cases in which the capacity to read a particular mind was lost entirely. He was certain that it was not his ability that was the problem, Rodolphus' thoughts, for example, were still loud and clear, a radio tuned to precisely the correct frequency.

He could not fathom a reason that Bellatrix's mind would suddenly close off, it was not even merely difficult anymore, her end had gone completely silent. He seriously suspected that her sudden strange behavior, illness, and flawless execution of occlumency were all very closely connected, it wasn't so much a question of if as a question of how.

Page after he page he tore through and nothing, he tossed the first book aside, frowning. He turned and propped on his elbow to look out the window, across the japanese garden at the back of the house. The rain came down in sheets and it turned the normally glassy surface of the pond to a rippling sea and that was the reason why his attention was drawn to the spot initially.

It was also why he happened to notice Bellatrix and Rodolphus standing at the edge of it, apparently absorbed completely it what looked to be a rather intense argument.

Lestrange's back was turned to him but he could see Bella quite clearly, her ashen face tense and angry, her brow furrowed, he hadn't ever seen her look so upset with her husband. A tremor of something akin to triumph raced up his spine, he shoved the notion away swiftly, he had not done anything to warrant the strange euphoria.

His struggling with his own sheerly irrational emotions was quellled momentarily when she suddenly pulled her wand on the man, his brow shot up. She wouldn't...

A jet of red light streamed from the walnut wand, he didn't have to read her lips to know what spell she unleashed...

She would...

Rodolphus jerked but did not collapse under the cruciartus curse and he wondered vaguely if one could atribute that more to Bellatrix's weakened state, than her husband's fortitude.

The shaking man drew his own wand and her lips curled back over her teeth into a vicious snarl. Someone screamed, through the glass the sound was distant and muted, like he was under water.

A shield charm flared to life between them and the pair was separated by it, both thrown off of their feet with the force of the magical wall bursting into existence. Rodolphus was blasted back against the rocks and the already sopping wet Bellatrix went skittering into the water.

Narcissa Malfoy entered his line of sight and he let out a single bark of a laugh for sheer shock that the apparently useless woman could conjure a blockade so powerful. She strode across the earth, appearing far more intimidating than he would have believed someone of her stature to be capable of, and rounded on her sister who was shivering and from what he had been able to glean, expressing her displeasure at the interference most vehemently, she appeared to have lost her wand.

The eastern european man rose to his feet as well and joined immediately into the altercation.

He didn't quite catch what was said after that, he just saw that one moment his "employees" were a bickering triangle and the next they had both pulled their wands on the tall dark haired woman.

He reacted without thinking, apparating out of his chair in a puff of ebony vapor. Who knew what came over him, the movement was spurred by a single notion, that she was very weak and he seriously doubted she could survive being stunned, let alone live through any hex out of Rodolphus' arsenal.

He did not barge in that melodramatic fashion on to the scene to defend her, leave the heroics to fools, for what else did they have? The thought of himself being anything remotley resembling gallant was laughable.

He re-materialized silently to the cover of a willow, not hiding per say as he was in fact visible, and furthermore close enough to interfere is need be, but he hardly announced his arrival with a fanfare of trumpets.

They did not notice his sudden appearance and so he waited, wondering if his presence would be detected at all.

He could hear make out what they were saying now, he listened to them squabble...

"What has gotten in to you Bella!", Narcissa reprimanded.

"Don't call me tha-".

"I have a few guesses as to what's gotten in to her", Voldemort did not miss the double entendre in Rodolphus words...

"What exactly are you implying, darling?".

"Oh please, it's hardly a secret just how favored you are Bellatrix".

"Rodolphus!", Narcissa exclaimed, "That's a horrid thing to say!".

"I'm sorry, I'm not quite clear, could you tell me precisley what you mean?", Bella said, so sweetly that if he had been in Rodolphus' position he might have been inclined to fear her.

"How does it feel, dear, to know that he had all the power in the world to stop it and yet here you are married to me".

He watched her transform, there was no other term that could accurately convey the shift in her countenance and suddenly a sickly green light was collecting on her finger tips, she flexed her slender hands and the strange energy writhed hungrily.

Her large eyes were hateful and absolutely blind, delirious in her rage, the pupil appeared to have opened up and swallowed the iris whole, the whites were disappearing too. He'd never seen such a phenomena, the average wizard didn't show any physical signs when using magic, though he knew from experience that the forbidden arts could exhaust the body to it's limits. Precisely where those limits resided seemed to be a purely genetic determination, he had seen men die using spells he wouldn't think twice about.

He couldn't fathom what Bellatrix was doing now though, if he didn't know better he would have sworn that she was performing high level magic without a wand to act as an amplifier but that was impossible. She could not have tapped that much power, not unless she had been hiding the bulk of her ability for decades and even so she wouldn't be able to concentrate it like that outside of her body. No one had enough raw energy to manipulate tangible quantities of it in midair unassisted, that was the whole point of a wand was that the magical components of the conductor functioned in harmony with it's owner, infusing the natural capabilities of the wielder with sufficient power to carry out the poor man's arts, the defensive arts, and the matter manipulation practices, essentially everything necessary for a normal life. The reason that particular magic users required particular wands was that a balance had to be struck between the tendencies of the wizard and the amplifier to achieve that preferred median level. Too great an amplifier and a simple spell to light a candle could engulf an entire table in flame, to little and one might as well not have a wand at all.

He simply couldn't account for it, but more and more still, materialized at her hands. Brighter, more substantial, until he recognized what she invoked and what she meant to do.

Fuck.

He dematerialized the instant she lunged. Reapparating barely in the nick of time behind her.

Another second, if he had been another second slower Rodolphus would have been dead. Bellatrix thrashed wildly against his grip but his hands remained locked around her wrists. Air escaped him with a whoosh when her shoulder blade slammed against his diaphragm but he ignored the pain and pulled her back harder.

The killing curse dissipated and only then did he loosen his hold on her, after hauling her a few more steps steps back for good measure.

He stared the other man down, "Go", he told Rodolphus, "Find somewhere to lie low, don't return until I call you".

For a moment the shorter male looked like he wanted to say something but instead he turned on the spot and dissaparated.

"Narcissa, go inside", he ordered quietly. Mrs. Malfoy certainly didn't have to be told twice.

When he heard her foot steps fade away he turned to Bellatrix who was partially folded over on herself and rubbing her wrists, she still looked furious enough to rip someone's throat out, but so was he.

"What was that?", he asked her quietly, he felt angry though. Frighteningly out of control.

She glared at him, "Why didn't you let me kill him?".

He ignored her question, "Tell me what is wrong with you?".

"Honestly I don't know why it matters to you", she persisted.

"Tell me the truth!", he burst out, surprising himself as much as he surprised her.

"There is nothing to tell!", she rebuffed immediately. But she was too quick to be defensive, even if he couldn't read her mind there where many signs that were just as blatantly obvious.

"That spell, a wand-less unforgivable curse?", he asked dryly, "I can not even dream of how to accomplish that. Yet you perform such a feat on a reflex. Explain".

"I won't".

"I know!", he snapped.

"I know", he reiterated quietly, "but you don't", he said before he could stop himself, "you don't understand the consequences of this game you are playing!".

"A game", she whispered, "I forgot that all anything ever is for you is a means to an end", she said bitterly.

He sucked in a long draw of air, the statement was, for the most part, accurate. He was a far cry from altruistic, but he was capable of helping others if they had actually earned his assistance. Contrary to popular belief he was able to acknowledge the worth in people, what he lacked was the willingness to place it above his own. Hardly a criminal offense in his opinion, it was his role to play, he was more gifted than the others. Stronger, more intelligent, he lived free of the bonds that tainted most souls, who better to pass judgement than himself?

And yet here she was accusing him of wrong. Her heart and mind were sullied by her emotions, but he had sold his soul to spare them the shackles he bore. Mostly to pay back his debt for her lifetime of devotion, but there was a part of him that ached at the thought that she would lose her freedom, and it had conceded in the decision to save her from it, under the belief that she had done nothing to deserve such a wretched fate.

She spoke again, revealing further her complete ignorance, eroding at his sympathy...

"You do not understand that there is more to win than a goal when all you do is manipulate!", she bit out and he knew it was meant to hurt but all it did was fuel his anger.

"That's not-", he began indignantly. She had no idea, no fucking idea...

"Fair?", she snarled, "I've been more than fair to you! My whole life I-", but she never got to finish her sentence. Her small hand flew to her sternum and she gasped once before collapsing into a dead faint.

For a split second he stood still, blinking dumbfoundedly, but he recovered just as quickly and pointed his wand at her, "Renevirate", he muttered. Nothing happened.

He knelt beside her, looking for some sort of medical complication, he was certain that his spell was not the issue. He carefully lifted her head, checking to see if she had cracked it open when she hit the stone path. He pressed his hand lightly to her scalp but when he removed it, it came away free of blood. He repeated the gesture on her neck, wondering if by some freak twist of fate she had fractured her spine, but that theory proved incorrect as well. It was only when he decided to check her vitals that he noticed anything irregular, her heart beat was weak, and violently too-fast.

Cardiac arrest.

Bellatrix should have been too young to even be aware of the possibility of heart complications. But he knew that the condition could also be a result of extreme over-taxation. His brow furrowed, she had been resting for the last half-month, why was she getting worse? If only she would let Snape get a diagnosis, then at least they would know what was destroying her. He wondered if she would stay unconscious long enough for him to call the potions-master and have her looked at, how much time would that take, an hour? Two at the most? At least half an hour of that would consist of waiting for Snape to arrive.

That wasn't good enough, she would die in a matter of minutes if no one was able to help her, he was going to have to do this himself. "Levicorpus", he muttered, again no result, as if enough magic had collected around her that it negated everything that came within it's sphere of influence. He sighed, thoroughly humiliated that his own energy wasn't strong enough to break through the protective field, he felt flush, though he knew the odds of his face actually coloring were slim to none. Finally, he stooped to physically pick her up, as soon as he was supporting her full body weight he knew something was off. She was deathly thin, absolutely skeletal, he hadn't thought it possible but she had easily lost another twenty pounds since that night. Yet she felt curiously heavy, far more than her tiny frame should have constituted, one more mystery to add to the ever growing list.

He wasn't stupid enough to even try apparating while holding her, heaven only knew what her out of control power would do to them during the transit, so that left him stuck carrying her back into the house and to the only suite on the entirety of the ground floor, the one he was currently inhabiting. He was in no manner inclined to haul her all the way up to the third level and his room was far better equipped anyway. He crossed the back foyer and the long hall in seconds, flicked a finger at his locked door, which flew open with a gratifying bang, and slipped into the darkened room. The opulently embroidered curtain were all drawn tightly closed and held with a sticking charm, blocking out any meager light that could have emitted from the fogged sky, no candle burned, no light was lit, he felt his pupils expanding rapidly, acclimating to the almost pitch darkness.

He deposited her unceremoniously on the bed, she stirred when she hit the mattress, her eyes flared open and she tried frantically for air again, he had never suffered heart failure, but the drawn out scream that small expansion of her rib cage ripped from her was enough to give him a very good idea of what was happening. She shuddered and jerked, almost like she was having a seizure, alternately sobbing and hyperventilating, he fought the impulse to cringe. Proximity to illness had always discomfited him, he knew logically that cardiac failure was not contagious but that did not calm the part of his mind that wanted to flee from the weakness and possibly expiry that he would witness if he remained. As if the same fate would be fall him if he so much as saw death. 'Leave her', it screamed, 'You are more important. Save yourself'.

It warred with the impulse that said 'No. Help her, don't let her die. Where will you be if she is gone? Alone, just you, open, vulnerable. How will you fare then?', it goaded. He was torn, his mind shredding to pieces, fragmenting like the treasure hunt he had turned his soul in to. He took a little of the precious time to slow his breathing and focus, when he did he found it was not long before his fear of true isolation out weighed his most mortal terror.

He was aware that his options were extremely limited, there was no time to brew anything strong enough to save her, muggle medicine was worthless, and he didn't know any healing spells potent enough to effect her through the veil of her practically limitless power. He hadn't been aware how much she had been containing it until she couldn't anymore, the sheer volume of energy in the room was making the air ripple, fluttering against his skin in sporadic bursts of what felt like electricity. No wonder he couldn't read her mind, her tiny frame didn't look capable of containing that kind of strength, the tremendous mass of it threatened to overwhelm her.

His eyes widened, he had happened upon at least a partial explanation, this weakness despite her ability never being greater, something was sapping even larger amounts of power than she possessed. The question was what?

Now was not the time, he reminded himself, it would be a mute point if he took much longer. What she needed was a massive dose of energy, enough to stabilize her condition until Severus could get to her and make a better assessment. His own knowledge was vast but he was no healer. He watched her sputter and writhe in pain and for the first time in his life he wished he had paid closer attention in school, he knew there had been several units on healing and he had scored outstanding in each, but he couldn't remember a thing.

He wracked his mind, a charge from lightning might do the trick but he doubted even he could command nature precisely enough to restart her heart, more likely than not he would kill her in the attempt. He knew no curse that acted in the same manner, a meditative transfer technique would take to long and required too much participation on her part.

Nagini slithered in and coiled at his feet, "What have you done?", she mocked, observing the scene with an air of detached amusement. There were times that he could not believe the degree to which a creature that housed a piece of himself could be so insufferably talkative, he was confident that he was not nearly so obnoxious.

A fit of inspiration struck him, he had managed to extend the animal's lifespan far beyond it's natural limits by sharing some of his own life energy with her, when he had made Nagini a horcrux, could he make Bellatrix into?...The benefits were undeniable, she would live, at least a while longer, and he would finally gain access to her mind, the option was viable, the transfer, though excruciating took only seconds. He raised his wand...

He opened his mouth to speak the words but no sound came, he realized then that his hand was shaking badly, he was afraid. He wasn't entirely certain his soul could withstand another fracture and if it couldn't...

He would die...

It would be be slow, painful, torture, without sufficient life force to sustain it his body would fail and essentially tear itself apart.

He drew a shuddering breath, his strength was vast, even an eighth of an entity like his own would surely be enough, he was in no danger, he told himself. But that didn't stop him trembling or his stomach churning, he gritted his teeth tightly and before he could lose his nerve all together he forced the incantation out.

Agony exploded in his chest and he felt his own heart falter, miss a beat and then compensate with a pulse millions of times too forceful. The arm he could see had blood blossoming beneath the skin like ink spilled on old parchment, his wrists stung and he watched as pearls, precisely the size and color of garnets pushed past his skin, trailed like tears down his hands and across the sheet. He felt a dampness at his throat, felt it spread down over his collar bone, his eyes were moist though he could not cry, he could only just faintly glimpse the murky red drops as they dripped down over the ridges of his cheek bones and out of sight.

His breath caught and he coughed, something tore, the awful sound of his body ripping seemed deafeningly loud, he gasped and found his air way blocked. His fears had not been unfounded, he had not been paranoid but reckless.

It had gone horribly wrong.

His fury at her was incomparable, because he was about to lose his life for her refusal to do as she was told. How little she must care for him, to let him become a sacrifice for her pride. But he could not hate her fully because he was certain he would have done the same. If Ammen broke with the code and came for her he would kill Bellatrix himself before he let her fall into someone else's hands, the though of her power brought to bare against him was an unpleasant one to be sure. She was his ultimate soldier and no matter how much he may like her she was a weapon and his enemies could not be allowed to take possession of.

This was the end, he knew it with every cell that made him, no one survived heavy internal bleeding without immediate attention and the only two people who would help him were either almost dead themselves or much too far away. At the very least he was going to complete the ritual, so his death (he was dying, his shoulders trembled) would not be entirely pointless, he pressed a bleeding palm to his chest and held it until he could grasp the piece that had been detached, drew away and felt the distinct sensation of something vital extracted, the hand shone with a faint glow, a thousand tiny pin-pricks of light, no where near as bright as it had been the first time.

It was a fight to maintain control over the fragment, it was turning in to a battle to stay conscious, he brought it to her sternum, his hand took up from the hollow of her throat to the very top of her ribcage. She jerked when the foreign energy entered her body, she would have been screaming, he was certain, but she could not draw enough breath to shout. She seemed to have been jolted awake, her eyes were trained on him, frantic like a trapped animal's. For a moment she tried to escape him and then the lonely shred seemed to detect her intact spirit and put an end to her squirming, he chanced a glance at her face and when he met her gaze he knew, she realized what was happening.

Another wave of panic washed over him, she had a piece of his soul, he had given her power over him, it literally belonged to her now, his greatest hope was the she would keep it safe, but it was also hers to manipulate, to use, destroy if she wanted to. And she would have access to his mind, conversely he would finally regain admittance to hers, it would be so much harder to block her via occlumency, it was one thing to ward off an invading mind while alert and fully aware. But even he couldn't shield himself completely every moment , and eventually she would see, the very nature of what he was, his subconscious, the thoughts he could not control, it was so dreadfully intimate, so revealing.

She loosed one last horrid cry before her breathing finally evened out and he could hear oxygen flow easily into her lungs, her pulse was thrumming stronger with every second, he felt it awakening under his hand, the sure, steady beat fluttering at the thin skin where her veins lay close to the surface. Her head fell back and her eyes fluttered closed, finally able to rest.

He was not as lucky, the bleeding was rendering him feeble and when he made to try and repair the damage himself he found his magic would not come, he snarled in frustration, tried again, thrice, four times, each proved worthless. How did he fight it? How could he? He wasn't strong enough.

There was a brief and intense flash of clarity and in it he hated himself so much he felt sick. He was so weak, so pathetic, he couldn't free himself from Ammen's control, couldn't stop Bellatrix from wasting away, couldn't even save his own life. The entirety of his existence consisted of climbing and falling, each time he would reach higher and higher and each time he would slip.

His stomach heaved and he was ill, he shuddered and wiped his lower lip with his thumb, he found that his fingers were frigidly cold, there was blood lingering on the pad of the digit. How much more was left? Surely he couldn't continue on in this way much longer. The chill at his extremities was working it's way up through his limbs, like frost spreading over the ground, was that bad or good? The ice left numbness in it's wake, a lack of pain was implicit and he should have been grateful but there was an instinct in the very back of his rapidly fogging mind that screamed once it had consumed all of him he would be beyond help.

The will to fight was ever present, however the ability had abandoned him and he was exhausted, his eyelids were leaden and the cold sapped his energy, blackness was threatening the edges of his vision. He could scarcely move but he managed to drag himself onto the mattress beside her, he felt fragile, like living glass, just supporting his weight on his arms for those few seconds was unbearably painful.

Through the haze of delirium he could feel body heat rolling off of her and he pulled her closer, dignity abandoned, anything that would take away the cold. The motion seemed to stir her and he watched her wide, pretty, eyes begin to flutter open, there was a span of several seconds where she stared at him like she was seeing him properly for the first time.

She had never cried, or if she had, she had never cried in front of him, but he watched tears leak slowly from the corners of her eyes.

"You're dying", she whispered, her hand came up to curl over his cheek bone, he would ordinarily have shunned such an affectionate gesture but as it stood he was so grateful for the warmth he leaned into it as much as he could muster.

"...didn't realize...not powerful enough...", he rasped, his throat was on fire. The admission killed him, but if it was death or shame the choice was an easy one, who was she going to tell anyway? He needed her at the moment, she was his best hope. His voice had stopped working, his fate was riding on her ability to decipher what was wrong and react, correctly and quickly, he didn't know if he should feel relieved or terrified, his mind was calculating all of the possible outcomes at a million miles per second, he was making himself dizzy.

His consciousness slipped, almost from existence at that point, he faded in and out, he could feel it, the realm that lay beyond, it pulled at him with a terrifying strength, like a tidal wave over a stone. Every time the strange, fluid world receded he would be fooled into hoping and he would cling to his own plane of existence harder, every time it grew thousandfold more difficult not to be swept away.

Then suddenly there was fire, sharp, bright, almost as cruel as death. It alone held him anchor, a minute concentration of light shining bravely against the swelling dark water. Both elements inflicted agony with each passing moment they lingered, but there was an intrinsic instinct that knew as long as the flame stayed the rolling abyss could not take him.

He could not reach, but he extended himself toward the brilliant mass, it answered, sensually coiling itself over his shoulder, leaving seared flesh in the wake of every caress. It knew his name, his real name, the one he had taken the day he became what destiny had always intended, it whispered the word softly, over and over, it brushed his face.

He finally broke the surface and Bellatrix was there, calling for him, near silently, her elegant hand still resting gently against the hollow of his cheek. The familiar energy just under her satin skin, living in the space left between fine bones, he could feel it within his own vessel, just as his essence sustained her, he pushed outward with the force of his mind, nearly crying out in triumph when he heard her, reappearing like a lamp at nightfall, a sure and tangible existence in the infinity of the ether.

"I knew it would work", his voice clear as he spoke in her mind, her eyes widened. He laughed weakly, reveling in how thoroughly the link had been mended. Her inner thoughts were still impenetrable, but the stray ones at the surface were streaming to him steadily, like a muggle radio.

"Never doubt me Bella", he told her and he felt so weak but his conviction was so very strong.

Her thoughts spoke gratitude and he acknowledged it in turn, it was strange really, the way they kept one another alive, he fretted momentarily on how vital the bond seemed to have become. He loathed needing anyone.

But he couldn't follow any line of thinking for too long, exhausted as he was, dreams wove their way into his musings and the last thing he caught was a whispered "Thank you", before reality fell away.


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