Disclaimer- Not mine, see previous disclaimers that still apply.
I changed the rating to PG-13. This is for no particular reason except that it's a little dark, and I'm not very good at censoring myself. That's not to say I normally swear like a sailor or I'm the sort of person who thinks nothing can be said effectively if not preceded or followed by a four letter word, but like everyone I do slip occasionally, and I don't want to have to worry about editing out slightly off-color comments. So to avoid offending anyone, I bumped it up to PG-13.
Chapter 7- Loyal Servants
The stone house was cold, damp, and dark, and she pulled her cloak closer around her shoulders and shivered. She thought at first the room was empty as she waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, the only light coming from a strange light blue fire that gave off no warmth. | | | | | | | |
"Honey, you look like Hell." A voice drawled.
She turned and saw Bella Lestrange reclining in a chair by the fire, in her usual lazy, languid manner. Normally the comment would irritate her, but in this case she knew it was true. If she looked half as bad as she felt, she truly looked awful.
"I'm bloody exhausted, you would be too."
"How is it going? Do they suspect?"
"Give me some credit Bella. Of course they don't suspect. Is he here? Is he busy?"
Bellatrix shot her annoyed look. "I am not the Dark Lord's secretary." She said, then jerked her head in the direction of a door. "He's in there."
She walked to the door and paused. There was no need to knock, he would know she was there, as he knew everything. She felt the thrill of being able to bring him good news. He would be pleased, and that was all the reward she needed. She was the most loyal and trusted servant of the most powerful wizard in the world. None of the other Death Eaters would take the risks she did, to live among his enemies, to protect him from the Ministry's feeble attempts to fight him.
"Enter." Said a high, cold voice. It was as though an electric current ran through her as she stepped into his presence, her exhaustion was forgotten.
The Dark Lord was not alone, but with a tall, pale man with piercing gray eyes. There were those who thought him handsome, but she did not waste her time with such things, her purpose was to serve her master. She barely gave him a nod. "Lucius."
He inclined his head ever so slightly to her, but she had already turned to where Lord Voldemort sat in a high-backed chair.
"Is it done?"
"Of course. It was nothing. And they do not expect, they trust me im-pli-cit-ly." She emphasized each syllable, satisfied with her own cleverness. The idea had been brilliant after all.
"Well done."
She felt herself shiver with pleasure at the words- he was pleased with her.
"What of this gathering you mentioned?"
"Oh-" She shifted uncomfortably. "I don't know its purpose." She admitted, but when he cast her annoyed look she added "Yet. But I can easily find out. I mean, when they return. I do know it was Dumbledore who summoned them, to the McCarrick estate in Scotland."
"Who?"
"Many of the younger Aurors- The Potters, the Longbottoms, the McCarrick girl and the older Black boy, The Prewetts, Alastor Moody-- we could easily destroy a good part of the Ministry's power with the lot of them in one place like that." She added hopefully. Her job of living amongst them, pretending to be one of them, was becoming rather trying- a great betrayal, the death of so many of the Dark Lord's enemies, would be her moment to declare her devotion to him openly.
He did not even consider the idea.
"Let them have their meeting. I don't wish to invade Avalon if Dumbledore is there, and I don't doubt Cailean McCarrick's knowledge of defensive spells."
"But you could get past them." She insisted.
"Of course, but what's the point?" He said impatiently. "Their day will come, don't worry. In the meantime, find out what went on at this meeting. I need to know what that fool Dumbledore plans to do next. I know one who is well placed to find out. Lucius, I think it would be best to try and get information out of Cailean's brat or the older Black boy. The both of them seem dedicated to that mudblood-loving Dumbledore, but perhaps we can remind them where their family loyalties should lie. Do not waste our time with those deeply loyal to Dumbledore- the Potters and the Longbottoms, we'll merely kill them when the time comes. Find the weaker ones, and the more pragmatic ones who will understand that I can give them more than Dumbledore ever could." His smile was cold. "People are not as noble as he would like to believe."
******
Lucius Malfoy entered his manor house with a crash, letting the great door slam behind him so that everyone would know he was home. He took off his cloak and tossed it in the general direction of a house elf, who bowed back out of his way.
"Mistress is in the drawing room." It squeaked in a quivering voice, then fled. He strode to the drawing room, which meant they had guests, as Narcissa would otherwise retire to her rooms; she always did unless he required her. He did not mind this, in fact in many ways he preferred it. Lucius had no sentimental illusions about marriage, he had known as soon as his father had suggested her that Narcissa was the perfect wife for him. She was beautiful, wealthy, and most important, from an old, noble, pureblood family. As he had a staff to see to the day to day working of the manor, he required very little of her- only to look nice on his arm at necessary social functions, and, of course, an heir. On the former, she was excellent, had the right kind of social training. On the latter, he supposed that would take time and was beyond his control.
His mood darkened when he stepped into the drawing room and saw who her guest was. He understood if his wife needed female companionship, but she did have a sister after all (well, two, but only one she associated with), and he did not see why she insisted upon associating with Abrielle Buchanan. The Buchanans might be rich, Abrielle's father had made a fortune off of "miracle" cosmetics that were very popular among the younger set of witches, but as far as Lucius was concerned the family was a generation removed from trolls. Merlin only knew what kind of blood was in their past- muggles, or worse. He did not like that kind of trash in his home.
"Good evening Abrielle." He nodded coolly, glaring at his wife. He had said more than once he didn't want anything to do with that family. Yes, people like the Buchanans were useful to know, they had useful contacts, but respectable members of the pureblood community did not associate with them publicly.
"Good evening Lucius." She replied in the irritating breathy bedroom voice that grated on him. "I was just telling Narcissa here something that might be of interest to you."
"I highly doubt that."
She sighed a little dramatically. "Oh, all right, if you're not interested in knowing someone who might be willing to bring the Dark Lord information on what James Potter is up to, then nevermind."
Lucius studied her for a moment, wondering how serious she was. Merlin yes, he'd like to get Potter. The wizard, always the favorite of Hogwart's teachers, and now the Ministry, had always been an annoyance, but was he worth wasting time pursuing? The Dark Lord seemed to think so, Potter and his mudblood wife were placed to have influence, and it was best to end them before they got too much of it.
"You have ten seconds to explain." He told Abrielle.
******
Severus laid down his book, a study of advancements in potions using unicorn blood, and looked at his watch. He would be on time out of respect for Dumbledore, but he would arrive as near to the appointed time as possible, and not a moment early. In his opinion, spending the afternoon at the McCarrick estate with Black and Potter there sounded about as enjoyable as the Cruciatus Curse. But he needed to know what Dumbledore was planning, if only to plan for himself. With the spies he had in the Ministry, it was likely the Dark Lord knew of the meeting, and it was just as likely he would ask Severus if he had heard anything of it about Hogwart's. Still, he did not want to face them all, but Dumbledore said they must understand, they must be able to trust. It had been only a month before when he had walked into Dumbledore's office, pushed up his sleeve, and told the old wizard. He had been prepared to openly and publicly end his allegiance to the Dark Lord, but Dumbledore had other ideas as to how he could help in the fight, if he was willing. So by appearances nothing had changed. Snape wondered why Dumbledore trusted him, but it was plain that by inviting him to this meeting, he was showing that trust. Snape was surprised how much it mattered to him, and he thought he had reached a point where nothing mattered to him.
As he resumed his reading, he felt it. At first just a twinge, then it began to burn. He pushed up his left sleeve and examined the ugly mark there dispassionately, and sighed. The Dark Lord would summon him now, of course. He would have to go. Dumbledore would understand if he was late. Lord Voldemort would not. He only took the time to write a quick owl to the Hogwart's Headmaster before he disapparated to Lord Voldemort's current hiding place.
Rastaban Lestrange was with the Dark Lord when he apparated. When alone with Lord Voldemort they were not masked, and Snape was glad. He hated the mask now, felt as though it stifled his breathing. Rastaban had been at school roughly the same time as Snape, he was a few years older, but in Slytherin as well. He had been a mediocre wizard at the time, though he had excelled more in the Dark Arts Lord Voldemort had taught him. He did seem to be brighter than his brother Rodolphus, but Snape was certain Bellatrix was the brains of their operation, she controlled the both of them.
"There is to be a meeting held by Dumbledore this week-end." Said Lord Voldemort, without preamble. "What do you know of it?"
Snape shook his head slightly. "Nothing. I was aware he was traveling this week-end, he did not share his plans with me."
Lord Voldemort looked at him piercingly, and Snape met his eyes boldly. He tried to close his mind against the Dark Lord, to clear it as Dumbledore had taught him, so that Voldemort did not see the lie. He forced out all emotion, all meaningful thought, and tried to focus just in blankness, still meeting those glowing red eyes.
"I had hoped, " Lord Voldemort continued, apparently satisfied. "when I suggested you accept a teaching position at Hogwart's, that you would understand it is important you are alert for the sort of information that might help us."
"I understand My Lord. I am trying to earn his trust, I think I am succeeding, but it will take time. He is a great wizard, I must do nothing to make him suspicious."
"He will not be. One of Dumbledore's greatest weaknesses is his willingness to think the best of people." Voldemort fixed his gaze on Snape again. "Find out what he did this week-end."
Yes, my Lord. I will."
__________________________________________________
I thought it was time to see what our "bad guys" were up to. Although I don't think Snape is really a bad guy. Certainly not warm and fuzzy, but he intrigues me.
I changed the rating to PG-13. This is for no particular reason except that it's a little dark, and I'm not very good at censoring myself. That's not to say I normally swear like a sailor or I'm the sort of person who thinks nothing can be said effectively if not preceded or followed by a four letter word, but like everyone I do slip occasionally, and I don't want to have to worry about editing out slightly off-color comments. So to avoid offending anyone, I bumped it up to PG-13.
Chapter 7- Loyal Servants
The stone house was cold, damp, and dark, and she pulled her cloak closer around her shoulders and shivered. She thought at first the room was empty as she waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, the only light coming from a strange light blue fire that gave off no warmth. | | | | | | | |
"Honey, you look like Hell." A voice drawled.
She turned and saw Bella Lestrange reclining in a chair by the fire, in her usual lazy, languid manner. Normally the comment would irritate her, but in this case she knew it was true. If she looked half as bad as she felt, she truly looked awful.
"I'm bloody exhausted, you would be too."
"How is it going? Do they suspect?"
"Give me some credit Bella. Of course they don't suspect. Is he here? Is he busy?"
Bellatrix shot her annoyed look. "I am not the Dark Lord's secretary." She said, then jerked her head in the direction of a door. "He's in there."
She walked to the door and paused. There was no need to knock, he would know she was there, as he knew everything. She felt the thrill of being able to bring him good news. He would be pleased, and that was all the reward she needed. She was the most loyal and trusted servant of the most powerful wizard in the world. None of the other Death Eaters would take the risks she did, to live among his enemies, to protect him from the Ministry's feeble attempts to fight him.
"Enter." Said a high, cold voice. It was as though an electric current ran through her as she stepped into his presence, her exhaustion was forgotten.
The Dark Lord was not alone, but with a tall, pale man with piercing gray eyes. There were those who thought him handsome, but she did not waste her time with such things, her purpose was to serve her master. She barely gave him a nod. "Lucius."
He inclined his head ever so slightly to her, but she had already turned to where Lord Voldemort sat in a high-backed chair.
"Is it done?"
"Of course. It was nothing. And they do not expect, they trust me im-pli-cit-ly." She emphasized each syllable, satisfied with her own cleverness. The idea had been brilliant after all.
"Well done."
She felt herself shiver with pleasure at the words- he was pleased with her.
"What of this gathering you mentioned?"
"Oh-" She shifted uncomfortably. "I don't know its purpose." She admitted, but when he cast her annoyed look she added "Yet. But I can easily find out. I mean, when they return. I do know it was Dumbledore who summoned them, to the McCarrick estate in Scotland."
"Who?"
"Many of the younger Aurors- The Potters, the Longbottoms, the McCarrick girl and the older Black boy, The Prewetts, Alastor Moody-- we could easily destroy a good part of the Ministry's power with the lot of them in one place like that." She added hopefully. Her job of living amongst them, pretending to be one of them, was becoming rather trying- a great betrayal, the death of so many of the Dark Lord's enemies, would be her moment to declare her devotion to him openly.
He did not even consider the idea.
"Let them have their meeting. I don't wish to invade Avalon if Dumbledore is there, and I don't doubt Cailean McCarrick's knowledge of defensive spells."
"But you could get past them." She insisted.
"Of course, but what's the point?" He said impatiently. "Their day will come, don't worry. In the meantime, find out what went on at this meeting. I need to know what that fool Dumbledore plans to do next. I know one who is well placed to find out. Lucius, I think it would be best to try and get information out of Cailean's brat or the older Black boy. The both of them seem dedicated to that mudblood-loving Dumbledore, but perhaps we can remind them where their family loyalties should lie. Do not waste our time with those deeply loyal to Dumbledore- the Potters and the Longbottoms, we'll merely kill them when the time comes. Find the weaker ones, and the more pragmatic ones who will understand that I can give them more than Dumbledore ever could." His smile was cold. "People are not as noble as he would like to believe."
******
Lucius Malfoy entered his manor house with a crash, letting the great door slam behind him so that everyone would know he was home. He took off his cloak and tossed it in the general direction of a house elf, who bowed back out of his way.
"Mistress is in the drawing room." It squeaked in a quivering voice, then fled. He strode to the drawing room, which meant they had guests, as Narcissa would otherwise retire to her rooms; she always did unless he required her. He did not mind this, in fact in many ways he preferred it. Lucius had no sentimental illusions about marriage, he had known as soon as his father had suggested her that Narcissa was the perfect wife for him. She was beautiful, wealthy, and most important, from an old, noble, pureblood family. As he had a staff to see to the day to day working of the manor, he required very little of her- only to look nice on his arm at necessary social functions, and, of course, an heir. On the former, she was excellent, had the right kind of social training. On the latter, he supposed that would take time and was beyond his control.
His mood darkened when he stepped into the drawing room and saw who her guest was. He understood if his wife needed female companionship, but she did have a sister after all (well, two, but only one she associated with), and he did not see why she insisted upon associating with Abrielle Buchanan. The Buchanans might be rich, Abrielle's father had made a fortune off of "miracle" cosmetics that were very popular among the younger set of witches, but as far as Lucius was concerned the family was a generation removed from trolls. Merlin only knew what kind of blood was in their past- muggles, or worse. He did not like that kind of trash in his home.
"Good evening Abrielle." He nodded coolly, glaring at his wife. He had said more than once he didn't want anything to do with that family. Yes, people like the Buchanans were useful to know, they had useful contacts, but respectable members of the pureblood community did not associate with them publicly.
"Good evening Lucius." She replied in the irritating breathy bedroom voice that grated on him. "I was just telling Narcissa here something that might be of interest to you."
"I highly doubt that."
She sighed a little dramatically. "Oh, all right, if you're not interested in knowing someone who might be willing to bring the Dark Lord information on what James Potter is up to, then nevermind."
Lucius studied her for a moment, wondering how serious she was. Merlin yes, he'd like to get Potter. The wizard, always the favorite of Hogwart's teachers, and now the Ministry, had always been an annoyance, but was he worth wasting time pursuing? The Dark Lord seemed to think so, Potter and his mudblood wife were placed to have influence, and it was best to end them before they got too much of it.
"You have ten seconds to explain." He told Abrielle.
******
Severus laid down his book, a study of advancements in potions using unicorn blood, and looked at his watch. He would be on time out of respect for Dumbledore, but he would arrive as near to the appointed time as possible, and not a moment early. In his opinion, spending the afternoon at the McCarrick estate with Black and Potter there sounded about as enjoyable as the Cruciatus Curse. But he needed to know what Dumbledore was planning, if only to plan for himself. With the spies he had in the Ministry, it was likely the Dark Lord knew of the meeting, and it was just as likely he would ask Severus if he had heard anything of it about Hogwart's. Still, he did not want to face them all, but Dumbledore said they must understand, they must be able to trust. It had been only a month before when he had walked into Dumbledore's office, pushed up his sleeve, and told the old wizard. He had been prepared to openly and publicly end his allegiance to the Dark Lord, but Dumbledore had other ideas as to how he could help in the fight, if he was willing. So by appearances nothing had changed. Snape wondered why Dumbledore trusted him, but it was plain that by inviting him to this meeting, he was showing that trust. Snape was surprised how much it mattered to him, and he thought he had reached a point where nothing mattered to him.
As he resumed his reading, he felt it. At first just a twinge, then it began to burn. He pushed up his left sleeve and examined the ugly mark there dispassionately, and sighed. The Dark Lord would summon him now, of course. He would have to go. Dumbledore would understand if he was late. Lord Voldemort would not. He only took the time to write a quick owl to the Hogwart's Headmaster before he disapparated to Lord Voldemort's current hiding place.
Rastaban Lestrange was with the Dark Lord when he apparated. When alone with Lord Voldemort they were not masked, and Snape was glad. He hated the mask now, felt as though it stifled his breathing. Rastaban had been at school roughly the same time as Snape, he was a few years older, but in Slytherin as well. He had been a mediocre wizard at the time, though he had excelled more in the Dark Arts Lord Voldemort had taught him. He did seem to be brighter than his brother Rodolphus, but Snape was certain Bellatrix was the brains of their operation, she controlled the both of them.
"There is to be a meeting held by Dumbledore this week-end." Said Lord Voldemort, without preamble. "What do you know of it?"
Snape shook his head slightly. "Nothing. I was aware he was traveling this week-end, he did not share his plans with me."
Lord Voldemort looked at him piercingly, and Snape met his eyes boldly. He tried to close his mind against the Dark Lord, to clear it as Dumbledore had taught him, so that Voldemort did not see the lie. He forced out all emotion, all meaningful thought, and tried to focus just in blankness, still meeting those glowing red eyes.
"I had hoped, " Lord Voldemort continued, apparently satisfied. "when I suggested you accept a teaching position at Hogwart's, that you would understand it is important you are alert for the sort of information that might help us."
"I understand My Lord. I am trying to earn his trust, I think I am succeeding, but it will take time. He is a great wizard, I must do nothing to make him suspicious."
"He will not be. One of Dumbledore's greatest weaknesses is his willingness to think the best of people." Voldemort fixed his gaze on Snape again. "Find out what he did this week-end."
Yes, my Lord. I will."
__________________________________________________
I thought it was time to see what our "bad guys" were up to. Although I don't think Snape is really a bad guy. Certainly not warm and fuzzy, but he intrigues me.