Disclaimer: I own nothing!
Author's Note: Once again, I do not speak French. I am using a dictionary/translator on my computer, so I'm aware it won't be perfect. If you do speak French, I would like to apologize now for any slaughtering of the language I may have inadvertently caused. Otherwise, what do you care, right?
French translations: ((example))
Responses to reviewers: tkmoore, you're gonna kill me, yet love me at the same time. (smirks and runs away) jenn, x-mas break just got even more interesting…lol brattykid89, thanks so much! and thanks for the awesome long review, too! beautiful-exterior, thank you!! Haunted-Shadows, (eagerly awaiting fanart) love ya!! Tytianne, yes, it made sense! and thanks! seri-chan, thanks! love ya and your reviews!! a.sam, thank you so much! that means a lot to me! I'm glad you enjoy it! entrancer, (clears throat) harry asked parvati after ginny said she was going with neville, and parvati got padma to go with ron, then harry and ron ignored them all night. thanks for the review! babykelyse, thanks! :) fallen, started in draco's POV, just for you! :) iamaiceskater08, thanks, and yeah, someone told me that a few chappies ago, lol. :) aoi-yuki-yume, I want any fanart at all! THANKS! power of the stars, (cackling) omg! your review almost killed me! lol ForeverLoyal, THANKS!! el chikita joules, thanks, darling! hope this was quick enough for your tastes! Danni is Divine, James is Mine, eep! maybe you'll be satisfied soon, lol. :) TarynMalfoy88, soon enough? lol sillysun, you rock more! love ya! Aubryawna, you are completely forgiven. Hospital drugs are wicked evil, lol. thanks for the loooong review! I loved it! candace1989, (blushes) thanks! SkotosEnigma, AHH! (drools over fanart) I love you! Crimson, thank you! Chaney, glad you liked that. :) Texas Goddess, hope this was soon enough! Georgentosser, I like Padma too. She's awesome. :) madcow, you're just the best! thanks! short arse, yes, yes they did, lol. gin rose raposo1, thanks again!!!! Serena, umm, sure, I guess, lol. Iced Faerie, you'll find out soon enough! thanks for reviewing! kia, fast enough? lol sarah, thanks! frekkle speckled, thanks! I really liked your stuff too! jen, there might be, lol. Trang, thanks, hope this was quick enough! mz.sammiz, lol, thanks! chrissyangel, thanks! you keep reading, and I'll keep writing, lol. nancy, thanks, I will! kayla, umm…right, okay. uh…thanks. I think. dancingirl, thanks!!!! me, thanks, glad you liked the last line! Sunday-Morning, thank you so much!! AnitaBlake/BuffyFan, thanks, as usual!! Pyro89, thanks! moon-spirit11, THANK YOU!! Lithui, thanks, and I'd love to read your stuff! musiclover86, oooh, you're just so awesome for always reviewing! love ya! Psi, as always, thank you!!
Side Note 1.) A little over a week ago, I heard that I won the Best Romance: Unconventional Pairing Award, at the Twisted Colours Awards! You can see the award at the Twisted Colours website, or email me and I'll send it to you.
Side Note 2.) Fanart for this story had been done by the awesome SkotosEnigma, and you can see it at the following address. There are two pics on the site, one labeled 'Cocidius's Chosen' and one named 'Padma: Cocidius's Chosen'. So go check it out and her know what an awesome job she did! (Okay, I did put a link in here, but it's not showing up. If you want to see her stuff, go to deviantART and search for 'Morganofthedark', or email me and I'll send you a proper link, lol.)
Author's Note: A special thanks to all of those who have risen to the fanart challenge, it is much appreciated! If anyone else who is interested, just let me know!
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Draco and Blaise had found their plans to leave later that night ruined an hour or two before dinner, when a house elf had appeared with a letter in hand, sealed by the British Minister of Magic. It had been addressed to both them and Virginia, and had told them that their presence was requested at the Ministry at their earliest convenience. Thinking it something important, and more than likely something that they were going to have to buy or force their way out of, they had left a little while later. They hadn't rushed, but they hadn't taken too long about it either, wanting to get it over with. And any excuses to blow it off would have looked odd, so away they went.
And what a farce it had been. They had, to their surprise and suspicion, been greeted jovially, and ushered straight to Cornelius Fudge. The fact that the man was still in office only solidified their lack of faith in the Ministry. Useless bunch of nosy shits, if you asked Draco. And Cornelius Fudge was the worst among them. The man had been in their families' pockets for years, and still was. He'd fawned all over them most pathetically when they'd entered his office, before doing the same to Virginia, heaping her in compliments and congratulating her on her family's return to high society. The look she'd given him had been beautifully venomous, and he'd finally gotten to the point.
The stupid fool had wanted to surprise them. He thought they'd be pleased to have a ceremony imposed on them without any notice whatsoever. A ceremony for what, you might ask? To award them their Order of Merlin: First Class medals, which they'd been deemed worthy of after the incident at Hogwarts. The only small comfort they'd had was that their friends and families hadn't been there to witness it. The ceremony had been pompous and utterly cliché, and the Ministry officials attending it so scared, yet so unfalteringly polite, that it had been hard not to laugh in their faces and show them a good curse or two.
Not to say that they hadn't gotten their revenge for the whole mess, that damn article included. Fight for the Light. What a bunch of rubbish. Just because they refused to kneel at a halfblood's feet (the very idea made him slightly ill), did not mean that they planned to help people they despised fight some stupid war that they couldn't honestly give a fuck about. All they cared for was keeping Virginia and their friends safe. If Voldemort forced them into battle over that issue then so be it, but they wouldn't take the chance of dying for people that acted so pristine and refined in public, but that would stab you in the back as quickly as those who saw no point in hiding what they were.
At least he could respect those who were open about the fact that they wouldn't think twice about killing you or fucking you over, should they have the chance. It was those who hid the selfish, self-preserving side within themselves, a side that everyone possessed, that he despised. Because when it came down to it, wasn't that what it was all about? Preserving that which meant the most to you, preserving that which you believed unerringly in? And the officials at that damned ceremony had been exactly the kind that he could barely stomach to be around without wishing to end their miserable lives for them. Simpering, weak fools, every one of them.
And simpering, weak fools had always brought out their depraved side.
Virginia hadn't asked any questions when they'd both excused themselves to go to the loo, but she'd given them a very knowing glance and shaken her head in resignation, a small smile quirking her lips. Snickering to themselves once they shielded themselves inside the tile room, they'd quickly called in everything that they'd thought they would need for their little scene, barely able to restrain their mirth when they'd rejoined the others. Virginia had played along superbly, even though she'd been perfectly aware that they were up to something that was more than likely going to cause quite a bit of a fuss. Hell, that was probably why she'd played along.
"Virginia?" Blaise had asked innocently ten or fifteen minutes later, and she'd turned, bestowing him with a dazzling smile.
"Yes, darling?"
"Would you like something to drink? I was just going to get myself and Draco a glass of that appealing-looking wine." He'd said smoothly, and she'd nodded gratefully.
"Oh, that would be wonderful, dear. Do hurry, though. You know I just can't stand to be away from you for long." She'd replied in her best pleading-girlfriend voice, amusement dancing in her dark eyes if you knew how to read them.
Blaise had given her a small, proper bow before gliding toward the drink table, acting completely oblivious of the eyes that followed him from all over the room. He'd poured three tall wine glasses and headed back towards them, and it had begun. Winding through the circular tables that crowded the room, the others had only seen a woman suddenly stand, her chair hitting Blaise in the knees and causing him to fall. Draco and Virginia, however, had seen him plan the move from over ten feet away when he'd noticed that she was about to rise. Wine had flown everywhere, conveniently not getting so much as a drop on Blaise's immaculate robes while splashing all over quite a few others.
"Sweet Hera!" The woman who thought she'd knocked him over had exclaimed, her eyes wide with fear. "Lord Zabini, are—are you alright!?" She'd stammered, dropping to her own knees beside him immediately when she'd noticed Draco and Virginia moving towards them. Blaise had been holding a black-nailed hand to his head, which had looked to those closest as if he'd hit it against one of the tables during his fall. He was quite the actor when he wished to be.
"Non, I don't think I am." He'd said woozily, letting his midnight blue eyes mist over and appear unfocused, much to the woman's alarm. Draco and Virginia had come upon them then, the crowd that had sprung up around Blaise parting to let them through, and they'd kneeled beside their lover as well. ((No))
"Oh, Blaise, speak to me, honey!" Virginia had crooned, apparently quite the actress herself. She'd caught on quickly to their game and had decided to play along, even though she hadn't known exactly what they were doing. Another wonderful part of the many intriguing aspects that made up the complex and crafty Virginia Weasley.
"Lord Zabini!?" The woman had called again, her voice frantic at that point as all sorts of horrible repercussions had run through her head. It hadn't helped in the least to ease her panic when Blaise had pulled his hand away and his ivory skin had been stained with blood, his black hair sticky with it. Gasps had broken out around them, low murmurs running through the assembly, and the woman had been on the verge of fainting.
"I'll be fine." Blaise had insisted, taking Draco's offered hand and rising to his feet with them.
He'd swayed a bit for added drama, and that's when it had happened. Something long, thick and slimy had slid out of one of his deep pockets, hitting the granite floor with a wet 'splat'. The people that had been surrounding them had grown silent as they'd stared and tried to figure out exactly what they were seeing. It had fallen in a small, coiled pile, and wasn't the most easily identifiable thing to an untrained, mortal eye. That had been Draco's cue to help them along a bit, and he'd sighed exasperatedly before bending down and picking the section of goat intestine up off the floor. Then he'd laid his free hand on Blaise's shoulder and spoken gently, yet firmly.
"Blaise, what did we tell you about leaving things like this at home?" He'd asked, waving the piece of intestine for emphasis. Quite a few people had jumped back, looking aghast, but they had been far from done.
"It's mine, damn it!" Blaise had complained, acting as if were going to snatch it back. Draco had moved to the side nimbly, avoiding his bloody, grasping hand and tsking.
"You know what our mothers said!" He'd told him, dropping his voice to a low, yet carrying, whisper. "They said to leave our toys at home and quit scaring the muggle-lovers! You didn't bring anything else, did you?"
"You're one to talk, Draco!" Blaise had argued, ignoring his last question. "You carry more around with you than I do! Remember that time in Bordeaux? Thank the gods we were in France!"
"I can't believe you'd bring that up now." Draco had hissed, shooting a glare at the gawking Ministry officials. "How was I supposed to know that old hag would try and rob me? The bitch ripped my pockets open. It wasn't my fault."
"Oh, no." Blaise had sneered nastily. "Nothing's ever a Malfoy's fault, is it?"
"Don't get me started on blame, Zabini!" Draco had countered, waving the intestine around wildly. People had gone from disgusted and appalled to terrified as Draco and Blaise had appeared to become angrier and angrier, and their fear had spiced the air deliciously.
"S'il vous plait!" Virginia had cut in, her face a flawless mask of worry and apprehension. "Stop this! It does not matter, truly. Come, can we not find some accord? Blaise, if you'd just leave your souvenirs at hom—" ((Please!))
"That's what I'm talking about!" Blaise had cut her off, looking furious. Not to mention more than a little mad, what with his head having been split open (by a nail, not some stupid, flimsy table) and leaking a stream of blood steadily. "It's always 'Blaise, don't try that on the house elves!', 'Blaise, don't terrorize the Hufflepuffs!', 'Blaise, I'd really rather you didn't kill all of our friends' dogs!' Blaise, Blaise, Blaise! Does he ever get accused of that shit? No! He's just a pretty, perfect, Malfoy brat!"
"You forgot 'Blaise, don't bring body parts with you in public!'" Draco had snapped, and quite a few of the watching people had whimpered at the words 'body parts'. Instead of replying, Blaise had given him a last, enraged glare, before reaching out and ripping the front of Draco's pockets open. Numerous animal (although those watching didn't know that) organs spilled out, little bits of blood spraying the shoes of those closest as they'd tumbled to the floor, and horrified shrieks had split the sir. No one had moved, though, as if they'd been frozen in place, every eye locked onto the pile of fleshy tissue. Blaise, naturally, had broken the silence that had fallen shortly after the screams had stopped.
"Oops. Paint me purple and call me a hag. I'm just so sorry about that, love." He'd said, not sounding in the least bit apologetic. They'd planned to just leave then, but Virginia had added an unthought-of element. No wonder they loved her so much.
"Well," she'd sighed, bending down and scooping up a gytrash heart off the floor delicately. "I just wish you wouldn't waste perfectly good food." A second later, sharp deadly fangs had pierced the heart's left ventricle, and a single trickle of blood had oozed out the side of her mouth as her eyes had turned utterly black. The people had found their feet then, and nearly every person in the room had turned and bolted. Unable to restrain themselves any longer, they'd all burst out laughing, the heart dropping from Virginia's fingers to join its comrades on the ground.
"Oh gods." Virginia had gasped once their snickers had finally started to abate. "There really is a difference in taste. No wonder we don't feed on animals."
"I can't believe you did that!" Draco had said, fixing his pockets with a quick repairing spell. "It was perfect!"
"It'll definitely give them something to write about." Blaise had agreed, healing the small cut on his head with barely more than a thought.
There had only been a handful of people left in the room, and every one of them had been people that they knew, and that had been at their Yule Ball. Most were smirking heavily, knowing full and well what they'd just done and finding it quite hilarious. One man had broken away from the small group and come towards them, his eyes scanning the doorway that Aurors had been sure to pour through soon, his right hand clutching his wand. He was tall and dark-haired, his eyes as hazel as his son's, and he carried himself proudly, as befit a wizard of his bloodline. His handsome face had been blank as he approached them, but his eyes had been lit mischievously.
"My lords, my lady." He'd greeted, giving them a courtly bow. "I suppose I should simply be grateful that my son was not with you for this little…escapade?"
"Please, Aldis." Blaise had intoned sarcastically. "We couldn't have drug Anton away from Pansy so soon after their engagement even if the world had been about to implode."
"You might not be too far off." Aldis McGregor had replied, all humor gone from his gaze. "Come with me, even I can hear the Aurors coming." He'd suggested, and they'd complied, bolting from the room and leaving the mess on the floor for the Aurors to analyze.
Let the bastards figure out on their own that the organs were only potion ingredients, rather than the people-pieces they so wanted them to be. They'd twisted through a few different corridors, avoiding other witches and wizards as best they could until they'd gotten to Aldis's office. He was the Head of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, and the only reason he'd taken the job when it had been offered was because he enjoyed working with the Invisibility Task Force so much. He liked almost nothing better than erecting whole new wizarding towns in the center of muggle ones, with none of the 'magicless sods', as he fondly referred to them, having any idea about it at all.
And his dislike of muggles, which was quite understandable, was what had first convinced him to follow a mad, brilliant man that had claimed to be a pureblood and had sworn that he would stop the slowly encroaching dilution of the bloodlines. He hadn't, though, as his madness had outweighed his brilliance, and still did. Voldemort was anything but rational. But some of the purebloods had listened to him, had joined him, and at first, it had been because they had believed in the cause that he promoted. Voldemort had treated his Death Eaters fairly at first, and they hadn't even been called Death Eaters in the beginning. They'd been the Revisionists.
They'd been young, their heads full of revolution and revitalization, and they'd dreamed of restoring their people to their old honor, their old glory. They'd dreamed of erasing the black scar that had been left by the Gods' Abandonment, of destroying the sick, festering wound of the Inquisition and the Burning Days. But the more power Voldemort had gained, the more his lunacy had become apparent. That's when Lucius and Jeran had discovered his secret. Voldemort was no pureblood, but the half-breed bastard of a worthless muggle. They had confronted the Dark Lord, after having told only a few select people, Aldis among them.
Their decision to go in that room that day, accusations pouring from their lips like acid, had changed the fate of everyone. Voldemort had panicked, seeing his downfall as his powerful friends had turned their backs on him, and he had called on the Bane. The full force of its tainting effects had been focused on Lucius and Jeran, but the others of the first, second and third circles that had been there that fateful day had also been twisted to different degrees. That unleashing had birthed the first of many Dark Marks, had branded pure skin and twisted pure flesh until it was blackened and smoking, a vile sacrilege against their gods and their beliefs.
Voldemort had no longer ruled out of fairness after that, but had learned to wield his favorite weapon of all in order to control those that he'd once called friend and brother. Fear. Their names had changed, their purpose had changed, and they had lost all sense of themselves, of who they truly were. Any lingering honor and glory vanished, their cunning minds dulled and their ambitions thwarted beyond serving their new master's whims. Those in the first circle, the elite of the elite, had been the only ones to escape Voldemort's regular punishments, and a few of them had started to remember after a long while, had started to break through the diseased fog clouding their minds.
That remembrance had nearly broken them, as they'd seen what they'd become. Slaves to a mudblood, the ancient pride of their families shattered every time they kneeled. It had been too much for many of them, and they'd spent days, weeks, trying to scrub and cut the foul Marks from their bodies, trying anything they could to cleanse themselves while begging their gods and their ancestors alike for forgiveness. They hadn't succeeded, of course, as the Mark would be there permanently, even if it was carved out with the sharpest of knives. And who knew if they had been forgiven? They hadn't thought so, and so they'd taken their last stand.
Some of their number hadn't broken free of the Bane's hold, a few because it was too strong, and a few because they didn't wish to. Those who had, though, had gotten together and planned their largest deception, their last great act before their deaths, or so they'd thought. With sly whispers and returned cunning, they had egged the Dark Lord on harder than ever before, increasing his belief in the rumors surrounding the Potter boy. Then one night, their pushing had reached its peak when Pettigrew came through. The rat had used a compulsion charm made by the best among them, and had secured his place as the Potters' Secret-Keeper.
Voldemort, blinded by what he assumed would be an easy victory, had been careless, and his vengeance-seeking Death Eaters had taken their opportunity. A curse had been cast upon his wand, undetectable until it was too late, and three of their number had perished in its making. It had been set to go off the next time he turned his wand on a creature that was purely innocent, and Harry Potter had been that creature. Both would have died had everything gone according to plan, but Voldemort would have been dead, truly dead. They had not counted on Lily invoking an old, forgotten form of protection, one that, while saving Harry, had also saved the Dark Lord.
Victorious and yet defeated, the Death Eaters had retreated, going back to their estates and preparing themselves for the trials they'd known were coming. Turning on many, but not all, of those still mad from the Bane's influence, they'd secured and kept their places in society, waiting and watching, knowing Voldemort still lived somewhere, someway. Draco and Blaise's mothers had explained all of this to them in whispers and dark rooms after their forth year, when the Dark Lord had been resurrected. Far from their husbands' all-hearing ears, they'd lifted their sleeves and shown their sons the filthy, blasphemous brands on their pale skin, had shown them their disgrace.
Neither Draco nor Blaise had ever been more disgusted or ashamed in their entire lives.
They hadn't spoken a word to anyone else for weeks after that, trying to absorb what they'd been told, what they had seen. It had seemed impossible at first, for how could such strong, dark, pureblooded witches and wizards ever bow to a mudblood? How had they been able to stomach groveling at one's feet? How could they have disrespected the gods in such an unthinkable way? For millennia, their families had stood strong, so what had happened? Then, one night when Lucius and Jeran had come home after a meeting with their returned Lord, drunk and loud and angry, they had realized how. Their fathers were simply weak, infected, rotten.
They had suspected before, of course, having seen the differences in the way they were raised compared to the way some of their friends' had been, but it hadn't become so crystal clear until that night. Their fathers had told them many things about the Dark Lord's plans, as they had been bent on having them join him, and they had listened carefully. Many of his old Death Eaters had gone back to him, not really having a choice since he was a Dark Lord, after all, but their fathers' had ranted ceaselessly about how so many of them just didn't have their hearts in it anymore. Not that surprised, the wheels had already started turning on how Draco and Blaise could use that to their advantage.
And use it they had. Throwing themselves into their studies even more, they'd quickly outstripped even their fathers in their spellwork, and had proven themselves on their sixteenth birthdays, dueling in front of an assembly of the gathered nobility. Talk had started then, rumors abounding about how powerful they had become, and eight months later, their fathers were mysteriously dead and they the sole heirs to everything. Using the time immediately afterwards well, they had had contacted those in the first and second circles who their mothers had told them were part of the last rebellion. And so were born their spies, Aldis McGregor included.
And now, seated across from him on a soft, black leather couch, they waited for his news.
"There has been much brewing at Nor Gorgun these last few nights." Aldis said, referring to the Dark Lord's fortress. The room had been shielded by Draco and Blaise ages ago, to ensure that what was discussed privately inside it stayed private.
"Really? Upset his little stunt in Paris didn't work out, is he?" Draco asked, a cruel smirk on his icy lips. Aldis gave the barest of nods.
"You could say that." The man agreed. "Has Badru given you my latest missive?"
"We haven't spoken to him since the Yule Ball." Blaise replied, while Draco leaned over and discreetly washed the drying blood from his hair with his fingertips. These new Elemental tricks are quite useful, he thought idly, waiting for Aldis to continue.
"Someone, as I'm sure you've noticed by now, has been giving the Dark Lord information about you, and he's become more obsessed with every new thing that he learns. He wants the two of you to join him, no matter the cost, and he wants to break you before admitting you into his ranks. But the reason I needed to talk to you now is because of what I heard the Dark Lord speaking to…someone about. I'm not sure who, or if there was really even anyone else there, because I never heard anyone else talking. He's been doing that for a while now; talking to shadows and empty rooms." The older wizard told them, his face grave.
"And what did you hear?" Virginia questioned, causing his familiar eyes to drift to her.
"I can now confirm that he has not regained his full power." Aldis said, and all three of them sat up straighter, their full attention on the man in front of them. "To do so, he needs a key. A key that he himself made years ago, when he suspected treachery. It was put inside a treasure of his, one of his greatest works. That treasure was destroyed, and the key switched hosts."
"And does he know where this key is now?" Blaise asked, the dark purple flecks in his cerulean eyes becoming more vivid.
"Oh, yes." Aldis said, and they didn't like the disquieting glint in his eyes. "He most certainly does. But you possess it." They froze.
"Do we? And how is that?" Draco finally demanded, and the other wizard fidgeted suddenly, as if this were the part that he hadn't wanted to talk about.
"Because she is the key." Aldis finally said, nodding at Virginia.
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Pansy checked the time again, wondering what was keeping her friends at the Ministry for so long. She was less than a minute from flooing Satordi and going down there herself, when Draco, Blaise and Virginia slid out of the fireplace. She knew instantly that something was wrong, as Draco and Blaise looked utterly furious, and Virginia was paler than usual, her eyes wide with disbelief. Pansy and Anton stood, going to them immediately, while Draco went straight for the liquor cabinet. One bottle was tossed at Blaise, another at Virginia, and a third disappeared down Draco's throat in record time. Yes, something was definitely wrong.
"What happened?" Anton asked, checking them over quickly for any injuries. When he found them hale and whole, he asked again. Instead of responding, Draco walked to one of the controlling plaques on the study's far right wall, slicing his hand and laying it palm down before speaking words that had them going on guard instantly.
"Activate the main wards and start locking-down." He said, and the stones of the Manor grumbled in response. His next words ran through the stone, reaching every ear on the grounds in a widening circle. "Everything on two legs is to be inside the Wall within a half hour. The floo will not be accessible, and all owls will stay grounded until further notice. The border guard is to be doubled immediately, and I want half of the Dementors and the Nundu inside the Wall as well. The house elves are released from the ties on their defense magic until I say otherwise, and I want the heads of both covens in my study as soon as possible. Everything else with fangs and claws are to patrol outside the Wall and raise the alarm at the first sign of anything suspicious. Seal the main gate and the Sea Gate; loose the dragons and release the mer-riders and their hunting sharks. Nothing comes in and nothing goes out. Kill any that attempt either one. I repeat, you have half an hour."
Then he fell onto one of the green divans, summoning another bottle of liquor as his lovers fell down beside him. Pansy and Anton stared, speechless for a long moment, before they both fell onto one of the plush cushions. A full minute didn't pass before Padma and the twins were bursting in the door, rushing to the others at once and dropping to their knees on the rug in front of them. The leaders of the pride of great cats, Letalis and his mate, Nakira, came in at their heels, their oldest male cub bounding along behind them and leaping straight into Virginia's lap, where it always seemed to be happiest. Another minute passed, and Narcissa, Silana, Severus, Sirius and the Weasleys poured in as well.
"What's going on? Is someone going to attack?" Narcissa demanded, before catching sight of her son and his lovers, who were slowly but surely getting themselves as drunk as possible. "What on earth…Is that—is that firewhiskey!?"
"How very observant of you, Mother." Draco replied dryly, his mercury eyes still angry even as they started to glaze.
"Why are you locking the Manor down? What's happening?"
"Nothing." He said, and she looked confused before he added, "Yet, that is."
"Would you quit speaking in riddles and tell me what in the hell's going on?" She asked, and he and Blaise both laughed, a slightly hysterical note in their velvety tones. Melody, Daphne, Crabbe and Goyle entered the room unnoticed by most, and the same Nundu that had stayed in Draco's room after the Paris incident paced in afterwards. It went straight to Draco and Blaise and nuzzled their hands, its jaw tightly shut so as not to harm anyone with its poisonous breath, before it curled up at their feet in an enormous pile of spotted fur.
"We are being hunted." Blaise said in a lilting, singsong voice, downing another half a bottle of the potent alcohol. Everyone grew completely silent at those words, and some had looks of shock crossing their faces, others dawning realization.
"By whom?" Silana finally asked, even though her eyes said she already knew.
"Who do you think? But we," he motioned to himself and Draco, "are more like an added bonus should he succeed in his main quest." Something in his voice made the hairs on the back of Pansy's neck stand up, and she clutched Anton's hand tightly in her own.
"His 'main quest'? What is that beyond his yearning for domination?" Silana questioned, looking at her son. But Virginia was the one who answered her.
"Me." She said, giggling slightly as she, too, poured more liquor down her throat. Feeling as if she were suffocating, Pansy could do nothing but listen as she explained. "I just had to write in that damned diary, you see. His key." She spat out the last word, not seeming to see her family and friends' appalled looks.
"'His key'? Baby, what are you talking about?" Molly asked, beginning to look truly scared, as if her worst fear was coming to fruitation right before her eyes.
"What I mean, mummy dearest, is that he needs me, needs my blood. His diary was his key to a piece of his power that he locked away, and when the diary was destroyed, I became the key's new host since I was bound to the book by then, bound to him." She said, and Molly swayed, Bill and Arthur barely catching her before she hit the floor. They sat her gently in a chair, looking shell-shocked themselves, and no one spoke for a tense, strained moment.
Then, "So is he coming?" Daphne asked, her soft voice seeming unbearably loud in Pansy's pounding head.
"It's doubtful." Blaise said, opening yet another bottle of firewhiskey. "But then again, he's fucking bonkers, so who knows? He might try his luck. But even he can't get to us here." A knock sounded outside, before a banshee and a hag both came in the door, their statures regal and their eyes feral, bristling at whatever threat to their home had their masters tightening the security even more than it usually was.
"You called?" The hag questioned in a raspy voice, and Draco nodded.
"Fan the covens out through the Manor and contact your sisters at Tenebre Stella. It's to be locked down as well, along with the other estates. Secure Willow Bright while you're at it; that damn article comes out tomorrow." He said, and they left immediately while his hand wrapped itself in Virginia's crimson hair as she laid her head on his shoulder. Her hand was clasped in Blaise's, and she moved her legs up onto his lap as she pulled a slim, silver case out of her pocket, causing the cat on her lap to leap lightly to the floor and curl up underneath her. A small, black cigar seemed to light itself when she took a heavy drag off the end, and scented smoke was rushing from between her lips a few long seconds later. Bill was the first to comment, as the others seemed to either understand or just not notice.
"Ginny, when did you start smoking?" He inquired, just a hint of disapproval in his big-brother tone.
"When I snagged these from Sirius on our way to the Ministry earlier." She clarified, and Pansy managed a small smile when she saw Sirius pat his pocket and then groan. "I just knew today was going to be completely fucked."
"Ginny." He stressed, glancing at their semi-aware mother to see if she'd noticed the girl's less-than-polite language. "And you really shouldn't. It's a bad habit." He said once he turned back to her, and Virginia laughed.
"Why?" She asked, taking another deep drag and a long swig off of Blaise's bottle. "I'm a witch; it's not like they'll turn my teeth yellow or give me nasty muggle breath. And they're definitely not going to kill me. No, I'm almost positive at this point that my death is destined to be violent and bloody. Interesting possibilities there, don't you think?" She questioned, and Bill, Charlie, Ron and her father looked at her as if she'd gone mad, while her friends and the twins said nothing.
"Don't talk that way, Ginny." Her mother mumbled, sitting up straighter. "Don't talk about dying as if it were a joke."
"You're right, Mother, as usual. I'm going to live forever." Virginia intoned, her voice slightly off and just a bit spooky. She and her boyfriends were quite wasted at that point, and Pansy was beginning to worry just what they might get careless enough to say. Or do. In fact, it would probably be best to get them away from anyone whose sensibilities were easily horrified as soon as possible.
"Ginny—" Her mum started, but Virginia cut her off, giggling again and accidentally incinerating her cigar, the whole thing falling to ash in her fingers.
"No, really, Mum." She insisted, and Pansy groaned inwardly. "I'm going to live forever and ever as long as Tom doesn't get me."
"Ginny! Don't say that nam—" Her father began to berate, but Molly waved him silent, looking at her daughter strangely.
"No one lives forever, honey." Her mother said gently, obviously thinking that Virginia was in shock. And maybe she was. The alcohol wasn't helping, at any rate. But who were they to deny her and her lovers a drink? They weren't being hunted by a Lord of the Dark, after all.
"Oh, but I will." Virginia crooned, sliding off her boyfriends and to her feet. She barely made it to her mother without falling, and she dropped cross-legged to the floor, somehow still graceful even while smashed. Blaise's bottle was still in her hand, not that it mattered since he'd long since gotten another.
"What are you talking about, Ginny?" Molly asked, and her daughter smiled, lifting one hand and running a finger along her mother's cheek before letting her hand drop back to her side. Another goodly portion of the alcohol she was holding disappeared, and she sat the bottle to the side.
"I can heal almost anything now, mama." Virginia said, and she had that dark glint in her eyes that Pansy knew could be leading nowhere good. "You wanna see?" Nowhere good at all. She shared a quick look with Padma and the twins, and saw their helpless, slightly amused looks. Draco and Blaise simply watched Virginia, their eyes never leaving her for the barest moment.
"See what, baby?" Molly questioned, her eyebrows knitting together in a concern. But Virginia just smiled again, took out her boot knife in the blink of an eye, and impaled her right hand with it. Pansy moaned and covered her eyes. Fabulous. Absolutely bloody fabulous. Letting her hand fall away, she watched her best friend pull the knife out smoothly while her mother, her father and three of her brothers watched in complete stupefaction.
"What the fuck, Ginny—" Ron started, but a glare from her stopped him from finishing.
"Was I talking to you, snake boy? I didn't think so." She said dismissively, unmindful of her bleeding hand. Turning back to her mother, she frowned when she saw her face.
"What's wrong, Mum?"
"What's wrong!? Ginny, your hand—!"
"But I told you, I can heal it." She said, tilting her head to the side and regarding her mother with eyes that kept focusing and unfocusing. Her mother grew still, looking right back at her daughter, and something seemed to dawn on her.
"Doesn't it hurt?" She asked softly, staring at the wounded hand. Pansy was slightly surprised the woman hadn't grabbed it and demanded to see, huffing and fussing like she normally would have.
It probably had something to do with the circumstances and the wild, yet serene (thank you, Padma, Pansy thought absently), look in her daughter's eyes. Glancing back at Blaise and Draco, Pansy saw the same in theirs, but more. That fierce, deadly fury was still raging underneath the surface, and she realized that Padma was doing her damnedest to leash it, her own eyes glazed in concentration. Sirius seemed to be watching the same thing Pansy was, and she saw him get up and go sit by Draco and Blaise, whispering something to them in a low, deep voice. They might have been listening, but their gazes never left their girlfriend, as if they feared that she would disappear.
"Hurt?" Virginia asked, sounding confused for a moment. "No, mama, it doesn't hurt. It's nice, in a way." Tears sprang up in Molly's eyes, and she watched silently as Virginia closed the wound instantly, not so much as the tiniest scar marring her flesh. "See? I told you. You don't have to worry about me anymore." But Molly didn't seem to hear those last words, her gaze still locked on Virginia's hand.
"What have they done to you, baby?" She asked, her voice barely even audible. Pansy stiffened, as did Anton and the twins, while Virginia glanced at her lovers, who said nothing. A thin layer of sweat had broken out across Padma's forehead, and Pansy was starting to get worried.
"Done to me?" Virginia questioned. "They have done nothing except make me whole. It's the shifter blood Cocidius gifted me with that healed me." She said, not lying, but not telling the whole truth either.
"Bullshit." Ron grumbled, and for once, no one shut him up immediately, so he continued. "I don't know what's gotten into all of you lately," he said, glaring at his family, "but you all seem to have forgotten who and what they are. I'm the only one around here with any bloody sense anymore, and the fact that you can't see what's right in front of you is scary."
"What are you babbling about now?" Charlie asked, his patience with his youngest brother beginning to wear thin.
"Oh, has the darling princess of our family not told you yet?" Ron asked mockingly, and Pansy felt her sense of unease creep up a notch. Virginia was staring at her brother blankly, and Pansy knew then that Virginia knew exactly what was about to come out of his mouth, and she saw the first bit of hate stir in her best friend's eyes.
"Not told us what?" Bill asked, looking between Ron and Virginia. Ron looked his sister straight in the eyes, hesitated for the briefest moment, and then broke her trust for the final time.
"They're vampires." He said, his voice ringing through the sudden silence. "You've been letting her date bloody fucking vampires, and you're asking why she's healing so fast. I would think it was pretty obvious."
"Shut up." Anton hissed, his eyes bright with anger. "Just shut up."
"Fuck off, McGregor." Ron spat, his face turning redder by the moment. Virginia continued to stare at him, and he snapped. "Stop looking at me like that! I didn't do anything to you! You brought this on yourself, you bitc—" He never got to finish, as George was just suddenly there, his fist slamming into Ron's jaw and sending him flying backwards. Fred and Anton were standing over him a moment later when he landed, his head hitting the stone floor hard.
"One more fucking word." Fred warned. "Just one more, and I swear to every god I can name that we'll make you sorry."
"Fred! George!" Arthur exclaimed. "Both of you stop it right now! You too, Ronald!"
"I hate you." Virginia's voice sliced through the low noise, and everyone turned to look at her but for Padma and Sirius, both of whom were still caught up in their tasks. But she had eyes only for Ron, who looked back at her through strands of rusty copper hair, his nose busted and his jaw dislocated. There was no Hermione to drop to her knees and heal him immediately this time, and his mother was too distracted and stunned to tear her eyes away from her daughter.
"Ginny…" Molly started, but Virginia wasn't listening.
"I hate you." She repeated, meeting Ron's eyes unflinchingly, her own burning and loathing. "You're sad and deficient, infantile and crude, and I find you quite pathetic. It shall be a joy to me when I no longer have to see you again, and I shall revel in your absence. I resent you more than Percy, you know. At least he had the balls to try what he did. And then he died. But you…You're a living, breathing nightmare that won't seem to fade. The fact that we share blood sickens me."
Silence. And then someone knocked on the door.
"Come in." Narcissa called, and a smirking banshee sauntered in, giving Narcissa a sweeping curtsey before speaking.
"The Hunted One has been found and brought within the Wall as ordered for all two-legged creatures. He's still breathing, but I could fix that."
"No, no." Narcissa sighed, and Ron started pulling himself to his feet. His mother finally looked over at him and gasped, motioning him over so she could patch his face up. "Just…take him to his rooms, I suppose. I know Sirius will want to go see him in a bit. Get a house elf to heal anything life-threatening, as well."
"As you say, Lady." The banshee replied, and spun on a heel, leaving and shutting the door behind her once more. Virginia rose to her feet without a word, grabbing the bottle she'd discarded earlier and draining it before walking over to her lovers and Padma. She laid a hand on each of her boyfriends' necks and leaned in, whispering something. Both blinked once, twice, and then moved slowly, as if in a dream, rising to their feet with her. Fred and George went back to Padma's side, helping her to her feet, and she moved with the same unreal quality that Draco and Blaise were.
"What's wrong with them?" Molly asked in a small voice, and her daughter's eyes drifted back to her.
"Nothing's wrong with them." She said, taking her lovers' hands in hers. "Padma's just blocking their rage from spilling over. Be thankful; you would not want them fully active and aware right now."
"That's an understatement if I've ever heard one." The twins murmured, and those were the last words they heard from them before all six left the room without a backwards glance.
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Virginia dreamed. Troubled and tired, she had let herself succumb to a resting repose, something that she rarely did anymore. And now her mind wandered the many paths open to a trained dreamer's mind, but she did not choose any certain image from the swirling mass all around her. She simply let herself float and drift, aware with a foggy perception that would only clear if she allowed herself to fall into one of the many waiting visions and memories. But she stayed still, letting the tide carry her, as she had no heart to choose that night. And carry her it did; past many possible choices and straight down and to the left, throwing her into a well of blackness.
Surfacing, she looked around, her mind as sharp as the colors and sounds around her. She'd come up in a busy kitchen, the people around her speaking in rapid Italian, but no one noticed her. It was only a memory, after all. She looked around for anyone she knew, trying to figure out why she'd been brought to this festive, bustling room, and almost didn't recognize the two little boys harassing the head cook. They were only about six, maybe seven, and one had a black eye, the other a broken arm, but their injuries weren't deterring them from snatching the first of the sweet pastries off the flustered, but smiling, woman's tray.
That fanged smile caught her up short, and she realized that the woman was a vampire. She already knew who the boys were, as no one else had hair in those shades, nor was anyone else sculpted so precisely and perfectly. Yes, her lovers were easily recognizable even when over ten years younger than she was used to. And they were at Tenebre Stella if her suspicions were correct. The vampire leaned over and swatted Draco's wrist when he made for another pastry, and he drew his hand back immediately, his face going blank. The vampire stared for a moment, before grabbing his hand and pulling his long, billowing sleeve up. Burns and cuts and deep scratches littered the snowy skin.
Then Virginia was spinning away, the scene melting and blurring before reshaping itself into something different. She was no longer in the busy kitchen, but in a dark, cellular room that had a single torch flickering on one damp wall. It smelt of must and old blood, and the clinking of chains had her turning to see her lovers again, a little older then a moment ago, probably nine or ten, but they were much worse off. They were bound to the wall with long lengths of davasca, clad only in loose trousers and bruised abrasions. Long, jagged whiplashes stood out, swollen and reeking of infection, and she couldn't even count all of their other injuries.
Both could barely hold their eyes open, their bodies shaking as they fought off the sickness of the festering wounds, and they were barely more than abused skin and broken bones, as if they hadn't eaten properly in weeks. Lucius was standing over them, talking quietly to a house elf that looked slightly rebellious every time it looked at the two boys in chains, and Jeran was fucking some whore in the corner, oblivious to everything but her terrified whimpers and occasional screams. Virginia wanted nothing more than to smash the men's heads open beneath her heel and run to her boyfriends' aid, but she knew she couldn't. So she watched, fighting her revulsion.
"Out!" Lucius shouted, and the house elf scampered backwards and disappeared. He turned to her lovers and sneered. "You both disgust me. Look at you! Barely conscious! How do you ever plan to be worth anything if you can't even stand a little demon punishment?"
Neither boy spoke.
"Answer me!" Lucius demanded, and Virginia saw his eyes then, saw that he was just as mad as his mudblood master.
He pulled out his wand and pointed it at Draco, a curse forming on his lips. Somehow, ignoring his own agony, Blaise managed to throw himself in front of Draco before it hit, and she saw why he had when Draco tried to catch him. There was a gaping wound in his side, looking as if he'd been gnawed on, and she could see more of his internal makeup then she'd ever wanted to as he moved his arms and wrapped them around Blaise when the dark-haired boy fell, his small, wasted body convulsing violently as Lucius held the curse steady for another long moment. Forgetting that she was in a dream, Virginia tried to claw out the blond man's eyes only to have her fingers go right through him.
"Love is your weakness, and it shall be your downfall." Lucius said, addressing both boys before calling in another house elf. Jeran gave a loud moan, turning her attention to him as he slit the whore's throat and let her body sink to the dirty floor. She turned back to see her lovers gazing at him, their eyes filled with something dark and slightly insane, and a chill shot down her spine. So young…
"Stupid muggle." She heard Jeran scoff, but Lucius's voice drowned out his next words.
"Get them out of my sight." He told the house elf coldly, gesturing to Draco and Blaise. "Take them to the Parkinsons', take them somewhere, anywhere, but just get them away from me!"
Then her world was changing again, the walls shifting once more and becoming open sky, the grimy floor turning into soft, dewy grass. Fresh, summer-scented air washed over her, a pleasant change from the rank-smelling cell of a moment before. She could hear soft laughter like musical water running over stone, bubbling and content, and she turned slowly, her eyes drinking in the peaceful, happy sight before her. Her lovers were laid out on a thick blanket in the middle of a wooded clearing, and she could just see the Manor's Wall in the distance. Both were smiling, truly smiling, and they were older, fifteen or sixteen, though she was betting on the latter.
An old-fashioned picnic basket sat to one side, its contents spread over half of the large blanket, and in the weak moonlight, all of the food looked to be different shades of gray. Sleeveless robes were discarded next to the forgotten meal, the wine and the strawberries the only things they were paying any attention to besides each other. Blaise was on his back, his raven hair fanned out underneath him and contrasting beautifully with the deep emerald green of the velvet blanket, while Draco was propped up on one elbow beside him, dipping a finger into his wine and tracing shapes and patterns over Blaise's bare chest with it.
The wet fingertip curled over taut muscles and hard nipples, drawing a shiver from Blaise and another laugh from Draco. Their ivory skin practically glowed in the starlight, because for all of Blaise's Italian blood from his father, he'd inherited his mother's fair complexion, and it blended exquisitely with his dark eyes and darker hair. Draco's fingertip changed courses, going back up and then to the side, winding down over his lover's shoulder and coming to stop on the tattoo that bore his name. His smile turning devious and hungry, he drew Blaise up by his hair before the other even knew what was happening, and their lips met with perfect symmetry.
Moving as one, Blaise sat up, putting his back against the nearest tree while Draco slid onto his lap, straddling him and never freeing his lips. Not that he appeared to want them freed. Their lips did separate eventually; Draco's trailing down Blaise's jaw and throat, nipping the skin with sharp teeth, while Blaise popped a strawberry in his mouth, a sly grin spreading across his face before he was moaning, Draco's fingers lightly sketching over his erection through his dragonhide pants. Their mouths met again and Draco's eyes widened before darkening even further and becoming hooded, the sweet taste of each other and the fruit making them both breathless with need.
"See?" A harsh, all-too-familiar voice cut through the calm clearing, shattering the otherworldly quality that things had begun to take on as their passion had rose.
"No." Virginia murmured, beginning to understand where this was going. It was the night their fathers had died, the one memory that she knew held the secret to helping her lovers overcome their twisting hate. But she still didn't know how she could help them in the first place, as her own hate for the men grew with every second.
"I told you they were queers." Jeran continued as he and Lucius materialized out of the tree line. Virginia's lovers drew apart, their lips red and sticky with berry juice, and Draco sighed visibly as he buried his face in Blaise's neck, his silky silver hair falling around them like a curtain. Blaise watched their fathers' approach with charged blue eyes that had gone dead and lifeless, his hands still clutching Draco's hips tightly.
"As if we haven't caught you two shagging each other silly more times than we'd wish to count." He said dully, and his father smiled wickedly.
"Just be happy we haven't developed a taste for your flesh, little one." Jeran replied, and Draco spun off Blaise's lap and into a crouch, growling. "Oooh, you don't like that idea, do you?" The man taunted. "Your repulsion would probably make it worth it."
"Try it and see if you leave with all of your parts intact." Draco snarled, and something in his eyes made Jeran pause.
"What did you two do in Romania?" Lucius demanded. "Besides getting those worthless tattoos?" Draco and Blaise chuckled, a disturbing, baleful mockery of the pure, crystalline laughter of earlier, and the first hint of fear entered their fathers' faces. Oh, she thought cruelly, so they did know, at least somewhat, of just how strong their sons were. They knew that their hold on them would break one day, but they'd hoped to taint them before that could happen. They deserved every bit of what was done to them. I wish I could kill them myself and, not for the first time, I'm actually starting to hope that it was Draco and Blaise that did it.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" Her lovers asked in unison, and before she could so much as protest, she was being pulled away again.
No, she thought desperately. No, I have to know, I have to help them! But no one listened to her pleas, and she found herself in another room, a small, windowless room that was richly but sparsely furnished. Two figures sat in the corner, covered in dried and congealed blood, and they were cleaning each other off silently. Knowing where they were suddenly, she felt like screaming. Azkaban. Oh, they had more room then most, and they were together, but then again, they were billionaires, and therefore treated a bit differently then the others, even during a joint murder case. She moved closer instinctually, wanting so badly to touch them.
"They will force us to take down the aural shields in a moment." Draco said after a while, the towel in his hands brown and dark red from all of the gore he was lethargically and methodically cleaning off of his lover.
"Oui. It won't be safe to speak. I do not wish to anyway." Blaise responded, his own hands moving steadily, his towel just as stained.
"Then we won't." Draco said, and Blaise cocked an eyebrow.
"They will think us guilty if we say nothing."
"They will think us guilty anyway." Draco replied, and Blaise shrugged.
"It matters not to me. The Dementors would not keep us here. And we need no one else but each other." He said, and something flickered through their eyes. Draco voiced the shared thought.
"But the one we dream of…"
"Is a Weasley." Blaise said, his voice turning hard. "She would not look twice at us. She thinks us as corrupted and foul as our fathers, just like everyone else."
"You are right, of course." Draco agreed, and Virginia felt her heart clenching at the confused pain in their eyes. "But…"
"But you cannot help but hope?" Blaise finished for him, and Draco nodded.
"I'm beginning to think that vampire witch has cast a spell on us." Draco said, the towel running over Blaise's left arm. "Why else would we feel such a pull?"
"Does it matter?" Blaise queried. "Perhaps the dreams will stop, perhaps not. In the end, we will always be alone. You know this. You have Seen it. You Saw us meet our end under crushing waves in utter blackness. Alone."
"But that was before…"
"I know. But where has hope ever gotten us?"
"Here." Draco said, shaking his head ruefully, his blood-matted hair swinging in thick dreadlocks around him. "Then we will not speak on either subject again, or speak at all the next few days."
"Oui. We shall be silent."
Obscuring fog covered all again, all except her aching heart, and she was dropping, dropping, falling deeper and deeper into nothing so quickly that she would have screamed had she had real lungs. Then her swift descent stopped just as suddenly as it had begun, and she couldn't see or hear anything for an indefinable length of time, suspended in a place of no light and no sound. Then, like the sun cresting the horizon in the morning, she caught a glimpse of spun gold. Cocidius took form in all of his radiant glory, but he didn't seem to notice her. His attention was on the nothing around them, and a voice slid out of that darkness, inky and purring.
"Welcome, Consort."
"You called me, my lady?" Cocidius inquired, sliding closer and closer towards the source of the intoxicating voice.
"I have had a vision." She replied, and Virginia could see her Lord stiffen. "But much remains unSeen by me, and I do not like it. I have called you to tell you of what I have Seen before I submerge myself too deeply into the void for even you to reach me."
"Submerge yourself, my lady?" Cocidius asked. "Whatever for?"
"Because I do not like the fact that I cannot See what will come to pass. It does not bode well, and I mean to find out why. But enough with that. I have Seen the settings for the final confrontation."
"And what of them, my love?" Cocidius questioned, softer that time, and he disappeared into all of that satiny blackness, causing the world to go dark again. But their voices stayed clear, and Virginia knew that the Lady meant for her to hear this. Why, she didn't know, but she did know that she wouldn't be privy to it if the Lady did not desire for her to be.
"Thirteen shall battle once the armies are wasted and through." Twilight's Pride intoned, Her voice becoming heavy and layered with foretelling. "Four Heirs of great families, joined in power, will fight for the preservation of the land and all they love. Four ill-begotten bastards, awoken Dark Lords every one, shall fight against them, matching power for power. Two of those most loyal to each, powerful in their own right and just as vital, will witness all and play their own roles. The Needed One, the intermediary, will make his final choice, and he shall make their number thirteen and cursed, giving one side the strength to defeat the other."
Her voice became disjointed then, thrumming and primal. "Should all go rightly, the Heirs could make the fake Lord no more, should they wish... Conquer the Bane, they could...Four Heirs...Two great friends...Love, death, tears, pain, blood...It will be time for a new era...Time for things to change...The First Born walk the Shadow Realm again, and they could rule it all..."
Falling back up, her head ringing with prophecy, Virginia heard the Lady's voice even out again, but Her next words weren't exactly reassuring.
"That is, of course, if they can all survive long enough to make it to the fight in the first place."
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And the plot thickens…REVIEW!!!! (looks around shiftily before getting on knees) Pleeeeeaaaaaassssse? Pretty, pretty please? As you can see, I'm not above begging for reviews, so please oblige me!