Chapter six: Change it all

(Maybe they'll care… )

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"You desire to know the art of living, my friend? It is contained in one phrase: make use of suffering." - Henri F. Amiel

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Life is nothing but an illusion. An illusion of happiness, of beauty, of unreachable desires, of grace…

Of you.

You, so unreachable in you ethereal beauty, so arrogant, so perfect… but I've missed you. How long has it been? A year, a month, a week, it could have even been a day. My heart knows no difference in the time. For love is not measure in hours, but in moments… and all I can remember is the last moment spent with you.

This life only enforces the fact that I can never be with you. You will marry rich, beautiful and hopefully with happiness. Life, you see, is so cruel to those who are not born into beauty so great that the stars wept.

What if we could change it?

~

Draco walked calmly through narrow passages in the castle he knew by heart. A memorization that had taken him six years to be perfected with the magical maze that made up this structure's halls. The moonlight seeped through the windows, swimming like tiny pools of crystal water on the shadowed stone before him.

It helped calm his harried insides, for he definitely did not feel like what he appeared to.

 Never in all his wildest imaginations, had he ever thought of running out on his father and Voldemort! He would be killed, for sure. He ran over the rash decision in his mind.

Draco stared down at the whip, lifting his gaze to Harry's hardened one. In the eyes of his rival, he could read the hate that had manifested over the years and the knowledge that Draco probably wouldn't turn down this offer only helping to stir up the loathing.

"Hurry up, boy. We don't have all day," his father snapped.

Voldemort shot an angry glance towards Lucius. "Be quiet and let the boy take his time. Draco… this will aid you in life. Only with fear will you be able to climb the social ladder. Do you think I got here on respect, on love? You need to do this. You need to show others what you are capable of and they will fear you."

Fear you…

Do it! It's just Potter.

Fear…

Draco didn't know what part of him threw the whip back at the man and left the room even with his father's voice calling him back. He didn't know what part of him kept walking. Perhaps it was the small sliver in his heart that didn't want to be like the people that had stood before him, pleasantly ignoring all that was in front of them just because they wanted power. It was disgusting in Draco's mind that they would beg instead of setting out to gain their own power.

Draco cursed his stupidity. Now he would die. He swerved into the library. Here he would sit and wait for death to come calling, for he had learned long ago, through his father, that you couldn't hide from Voldemort.

~

From Tavon, Hermione barrowed a few outfits, which she placed inside a suitcase she could conjure when needed. She fashioned what her image would look like to Voldemort and the DeathEaters. She would be an elegant woman, mysterious in every way, with swirling grey eyes that can hold countless secrets and long blonde hair that falls around her shoulders in soft waves. 

Hermione looked down at her figure, which was now donned in a beautiful medieval type dress. With a pale creamy red satin on the bodice, covered with darker brocaded flowers, from the waist a black material flowed around her legs like dark mist. The necklace which contained Tavon's mother's power rested against her neck.

She had her plan all worked out in her mind. She would transport herself to Hogwarts, convince Voldemort she was evil, learn their plan and get out with the Order. It would be simple, she told herself. So simple…

~

Hope flooded through Mr. Silar's veins when three cloaked figures entered Hogwarts ground. This had to be them. This had to be the secret weapon.

"Are you Mr. Silar?" The middle one spoke, with a cultured voice, which held no accent, but seemed to cause goose bumps to raise on his flesh.

"Yes, that is me," he said nervously, his hands gripping and twisting together.

All three of them dropped their hood, and before him stood three demons' of hell. Their coal black eyes showed no light or reflection, just darkness, the darkness of all they had done, of all they had seen in the eternal lifetimes. Each one had black hair and chiseled features; all held an ethereal beauty that would take his lifetime to describe. He never knew demons were this human looking, he had figured that they would be grotesque, ugly and hideously disgusting.

But what else would you use to tempt the human mind than the desire of beauty. 

"Follow me," Mr. Silar turned, a smile snaking its way across his face, a smile that held an arrogant confidence. He had told Voldemort he would get him the best fighters out there. So he had and he went through hell to get them.

The middle demon, Gabriel, pulled from the darkness of his cloak, a dagger. Stepping forward, he shoved it into the back of the man before him. Mr. Silar collapsed to the ground. A second after words, his body began to spasm. A dark cloud rose from his mouth, entering into Gabriel's. Bending down, Gabriel patted the dead man's shoulder and whispered, "You should never sell your soul to save your life."

When he rose to his feet, all three walked over the body and into the castle.

~

A day passed for Draco before he could gather the courage to confront Voldemort. Standing in front of his office door was nerve racking, knocking on the door was terrifying. When he did, he wasn't met with an angry shout, but a simple, "Come in."

Draco walked in, dressed his best as he always felt he should when talking to Lord Voldemort. He bowed before speaking. "Sir, I'm sorry about yesterday-"

"Draco, dear boy, why would I be mad about yesterday? You couldn't do it but it was also your first time. Perfectly understandable. Now, sit. I have some friends I'd like to you meet." Voldemort waved his hand and out of the shadow of the office, three men came into view.

"Meet the triplets," Voldemort said with a happy kind of voice that reminds you a sick serial killers or psychopaths. Raphael, Michael and Gabriel," he pointed to them each in turn, but they all looked exactly the same to Draco. Not a mark, not a single feature to differentiate one from the next. "They are here to help you fulfill your duty," Voldemort smiled at him, actually smiled.

Draco could tell that he wanted something. Not yelling at him, not insulting him or beating him. Playing pleasant friend. 

"My duty," Draco questioned, "and what is that?"

"I already told you. It is you who will help me take over the world, make those pompous Mudbloods realize that there are superior beings."

Draco's eyes fell to Voldemort's desk as he remembered that day. Voldemort had said that the ancient text had told him so. Draco had to find those documents. His eyes scanned Voldemort's office. There!  A pile of old parchment was lying under a book on top of a small table in the corner.

"Yes, when do I start this mission?" Draco asked as his eyes fell onto Voldemort's again.

"Actually, I was planning on discussing that with you later today or now-"

A knock resounded on the door, before it was pushed open. "Sire, you have a visitor. Do you wish to allow them in?"

"Who is it?" Voldemort snapped?

"A Miss DeBose, Sire."

Voldemort paused, as if thinking. "Allow her in."

~

What if we could make them see what we wanted them to see?

What if we could warp our self appearance, change it to gain something we want?

What if the illusion that has woven itself about us since we were born could be changed, unwoven even?

Would you?

Out right lie to others, make them believe this tale, this false appearance.

Even if it means loosing others trust if they find out?

Loosing others love…

~

Miss DeBose was a beautiful woman, who glided in as if floating. Her long blonde tresses fell in soft, curling waves to around mid-back. High patrician cheek bones, with a tinge of pink and red, cupid bow lips accompanied by grey eyes that seemed to pierce into Draco's soul. Made him feel like they knew more than the average stranger should know about him. But, she was beautiful. Beautiful in that creepy, chilling way.

"Miss DeBose," Voldemort spoke up, obviously not as enraptured as the rest of them, "what is your business here?"

"I wish to join you," she said softly. "I heard about your crusade to take over the non-magical realm. I would like to be apart of that."

"Why," he said slowly, cautiously.

"Because I have always wanted them to know I am better, even when they look down on me as I walk down the street. I am better."

"You do understand that I just can't trust you right away, but I will allow you to stay."

Hermione smiled, allow me to stay, allow me to gain your trust…

Allow me to rip those feet right out from under you.

~

And what if the world was entranced by your new appearance.

So caught up in the beauty that they don't even miss the real you,

What will that make you feel like?

Will you feel lost?

Rejected?

Forgotten?

Is that not the base of it all…

That this life is a dream… and that the real you still

Suffers…?

~

Sorry this took me so long to get out… numerous test, homework, tests, essays, projects… School just has no mercy. Besides the fact that I'm not doing so good in that history section. I am trying though.

Well, hope you like this chapter. They met, although she didn't say much to him. Lol.

Well, got to go. Lion King is on. Lol.