Hullo hullo lovelies! I've missed you x
Just wanted to say how grateful I am for everyone that reads my stories. I am quite busy in RL, and I'm sorry I'm not able to update more frequently. After this chapter though, things should be somewhat more consistent. *fingers crossed*
Please leave a review and let me know what you think x
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Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the story line and any OC's belong to me.
The air in the room is turgidly tense. White marble floors with darker crackling threaded through them, and matching marble columns line the walls of the vast room. There are three narrow, widely-spaced windows on the exterior wall; they are shut, their latches firmly secured. The walls are dark stone. A glittering chandelier with several extravagant tiers crafted from diamonds and steel hangs from the high ceiling.
The room is a long rectangle, and the high ceiling adds to a sense of grandeur, however due to the dim lighting the room is shrouded in dreariness.
Wind howls viciously outside and the skies are dark and cloudy. Dusk approaches.
A small gathering of figures cloaked in black robes stand deferentially in front of a silver throne at the room's head.
The throne sits on a raised platform, the back has several slender curved sections that fan out on both sides, and form wing-like shapes. At the top, two snakes have been formed, and their mouths are open—fangs bared—and they are facing each other. Emeralds glint where their eyes should be.
Each cloaked figure had to cross the lengthy space to reach the throne, and the wizard silently awaiting them.
The man languidly reclining in the throne watches them with blood-red eyes, and he dismissively waves a hand in their direction. One-by-one they prostrate themselves before him.
"Bellatrix, rise," Lord Voldemort commands in a soft voice. The witch at the front stands, her head bowed in reverence.
"I do not see Theodus, nor Lady and Lord Malfoy." It is a simple statement, but waves of disappointment radiate from the man.
Bellatrix swallows audibly, lifting her gaze so that her grey eyes meet her Master's. "Unfortunately by the time we broke through the wards, they were all gone."
"So you failed, and the traitors escaped," Voldemort hisses, his mouth curling in irritation. He taps a finger against his throne's arm, and a dull thudding sound echoes around the vast, otherwise empty room.
Voldemort closes his eyes for a moment, anger bubbling below the surface. Two of his most trusted followers had betrayed him. Abraxas's grey eyes burning with defiance, triumph and pity were branded on the back of his eyelids.
"You've already lost, Tom," Abraxas says, his teeth stained with crimson, a broad smile spread across his features. Even down on one knee, clutching his bloodied side, his confidence has his chin lifted haughtily. It is as if he is the one winning, as if there isn't a wand pointed between his eyes.
"I doubt you'll be smiling when I disembowel your son and hang him from his intestines in this very room," Voldemort snarls, pressing the tip of his wand into Abraxas's flesh.
Abraxas laughs; it's a wet, laboured sound. His body is riddled with mortal wounds, and he is spasming with aftershocks from the Cruciatus curse. Voldemort had been torturing him for hours, trying to rip information out of him.
Voldemort wouldn't have known if Severus wasn't confident that Abraxas was feeding Dumbledore information.
(Voldemort did not know that Abraxas had instructed Severus to tell the Dark Lord exactly that; he was willingly sacrificing himself so that his family would have a chance to escape whilst diverting Voldemort's attention elsewhere. He was controlling the narrative.
Cassiopeia had informed Abraxas of Severus's turncoat status at the request of her sister, and during Hermione Granger's birthday party, Cassie was reporting back to her sister. Everyone that knew of Severus's position had sworn a Wizard's Oath to not speak of it to anyone not already in the know. It wasn't as binding as an Unbreakable Vow, but breaking it would still damage a wix's core substantially.)
"Long live the Phoenix," Abraxas whispers. In a moment of blind rage, Voldemort slits the man's throat with a guttural, enraged cry.
Dumbledore may have won this battle, but he would not prevail in the end. The old fool underestimates Tom's power, and that will be his undoing. Voldemort vaguely contemplates what Dumbledore could have offered the traitors to sway them to his side, but hastily dismisses the thought. It is of no great importance.
"Did you know about their betrayal, Bellatrix? Your brother-in-law, your sister. Surely, she must have spoken to you about Abraxas and Theodus's plans." Voldemort locks eyes with one of his most devoted, faithful followers as seeds of paranoid doubt begin to grow in his mind.
He has never truly trusted any of them, but after so many years, he had grown complacent and hadn't expected Abraxas and Theodus to betray him; he didn't think them capable of it. If they were working against him, who else was. He is not a halfwit, they cannot be the only spies.
Thinking of spies brought to mind Peter Pettigrew. It is a shame that Pettigrew was caught so easily, but I suppose that was to be expected when dealing with such an incompetent rat. He was a weak link, but that was a double-edged sword, and inevitably it must have been how his cover was blown, Voldemort muses. He hadn't thought of Peter Pettigrew in months, but an idea is forming.
"No, my Lord—"
Legilimens! Bellatrix isn't able to finish her sentence before he delves into her mind. He skims across the inconsequential memories, her daily activities outside of his servitude. He searches for her sister or any of the traitors. He is not kind or gentle as he probes her mind, but she'd let down all her walls and isn't resisting the intrusion; the process would not be painful on her end.
There is not even a hint or whisper in her mind that something was amiss amongst the traitors. She'd barely seen her sister for almost half a year, and her interactions with Lucius were limited to meetings and they never discussed anything personal. Somewhat placated, he extracts himself from her mind and stares pensively at the eager, young witch.
"My Lord, I will personally hunt down the traitors and dispose of them myself if that is what's required."
"Even your own sister? Who I hear is with child?"
"Yes, My Lord."
As if her previous statement didn't make her position clear, Voldemort decides to push further. "My dear Bella, how loyal are you to our cause? How devoted are you to me?" Voldemort asks in hushed tones; regardless, his voice fills the space.
"I am fully devoted to the cause, My Lord. I am loyal to none other than you," Bellatrix says without hesitation, bowing her head. Lestrange is towards the back, and he stiffens at the admission, but he is aware of his position with his wife. Their marriage vows never entailed loyalty nor obedience to one another at Bellatrix's request. Otherwise she would have felt caged.
Voldemort smiles, his pearly white teeth on display, his lips curling in a sinister fashion that causes a shiver to run down the spines of all his followers besides Bellatrix.
(Severus Snape is amongst those gathered, and his heart is struck with potent fear as he realises just how dangerous the game he's playing is.)
"Bellatrix, there will be no need for you to find the traitors. I have another task for you. One I think you will find more… challenging," Voldemort grins, his thin lips pulling back over his teeth.
"Anything, My Lord."
"I'm going to need you to fetch my rat."
She is reborn through fire. One minute she is lying down on her back, ankles crossed, hands resting on her ribcage as she stares listlessly at the ceiling, and the next everything around her is ablaze.
The fire curls around her, and the heat is unbearable and cruel against her skin. She opens her mouth and screams—but no sound comes out.
She blinks, and she is standing; she doesn't recall getting up. The witch glances down at her bare feet, and notices that the flames are licking her, but she isn't actually burning.
Her eyes widen, and in a brazen, foolish movement she sticks her hand directly into the fire. The flames are caressing her skin almost lovingly.
She peers around her, but she can't see far as the smoke is black, thick, impenetrable; the flames have created a cage around her. A wave of exhaustion washes over her, and she attempts to fight it, but it's futile as she starts to fall. She blinks and she is staring across the floorboards. She feels light and airy, as if she isn't really there. The witch curls into a ball and closes her eyes.
This is a strange dream, and she is bound to wake up any minute, she's sure of it. With that thought firmly planted in her mind she allows herself to drift into the darkness, the roar of the fire engulfing her.
Hi!
Besides how busy I am IRL, there are two main reasons why it's been so long since I updated Dalliance.
The first is that I was trying to reach a certain point in Fall Through Time (FTT) by the end of last year.
The second is that I was struggling to make a decision about one plot line in the future of this story:
Which was Ginny Weasley ends up coming to their dimension as well. I had hinted at it previously a little as I wasn't sure whether I was going to go through with it or not. I would go into all the reasons why I struggled with this decision, but the biggest issue was without Ginny, the other dimension would have lost SO much, and trust me to overthink that. Originally, I was going to leave her where she is, because the Weasleys in their original dimension have suffered enough! They've lost two children (I am including Ron in this).
However, after getting some reviews, and mulling it over some more, I kind of said eff it, and now Ginny is joining the cast. HA.
Sorry about this rambling A/N, but I just wanted to try and explain why it's taken me so long to update.
