Disclaimer:I own nothing! Except, again, for Anton! He's mine, damn it! (cackles gleefully)
Responses to Reviewers: tkmoore, you're a queen among queens, my dear, as always. (grins) Sunday-Morning, read the note at the end of the chapter carefully, and tell me I don't love you. (grins smugly) sillysun, omg, your reviews are always the best, lol. I loved the shivering part! :P Thank you!! Pia O'Leary, thank you so much! (runs away to hide blush) morphed, glad to keep you amused, lol! erin, why, thank you, thank you very much. :P Tytianne, thanks, and I hope this was fast enough! Flower4444, thank you, and don't worry. she's certainly not depressed, lol. and finally, someone who appreciates the flashbacks! Artemisgodess, THANK YOU!!!! otaku sae, well, I'm very glad you waste your time on me. :) DiagonAlley, thanks!! ForbidenMaggiks, thanks! no one's mentioned the summary before, lol. Lady Eros, of course! all of those and more! :P Haunted-Shadows, umm, I take it that means you like? (grins hopefully) me, your first wish is my command…just not quite yet, lol. the second, well…not in this chapter, at least. :) AnitaBlake/BuffyFan, THANKS!! bigreader, yes, they're Virginia's and Draco's and Blaise's children, lol. love ya! DragonSpitfire22, thank you!! NeoAddctee, thanks a bunch, and sorry you don't like the flashbacks. Icy Lullaby, lol, glad you enjoyed it! and tell her that I agree: They're hott!!! Virginia Riddle-Malfoy, ohhhhhh. well, she's not in this one much, so rest easy, lol. madmissymel, she does. Corpus and Cruoris are theirs, silly. :P Golden Rose Storm, thanks! it's good to know that they're appreciated!
Author's Note: I just want to say, before anyone fills my reviews with it, that I am one of those HP fans that pretends OotP never happened. If you disagree with that outlook, I respect that, but please leave me to my delusions. I like the happy little castle of denial that I live in, alright?
Author's Note: Some French, some Gaelic used in this chapter, but nothing major. And please bear with the flashbacks. They're the way I'm telling the story, alright? Thanks.
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"Mother, tell her I'm right. Head shots kill faster than heart shots, don't they?" Cruoris asked with thinly concealed arrogance, but all Virginia could do was smile and open her lips as if to reply. No sound came forth from them but for a sigh, the Pool's power still coursing through her intoxicatingly.
"Leave your mother be." Blaise said distractedly from the edge of the dark water, his attention riveted on Draco, who was stripping off his robes and tying all of that metallic hair back with a black ribbon.
"But she's been in here for hours, and I'm bored!" Cruoris complained, sounding for all the world as if he were no older than five again, and Virginia could practically feel Blaise rolling his eyes.
"Didn't we just get a new batch of courtesans in? Go play with them."
"I have."
"Then go hunting."
"I have."
"Then go release a few souls in the Menagerie."
"I have."
Blaise snarled. "Fine. Then what is it that you wish to do so badly that bothering your mother right now is necessary? Honestly, you do have an eternity to turn her hair gray."
"I…" Cruoris paused for a moment, obviously not having bothered to think that far ahead, and he crossed his arms over his chest, still floating easily, his handsome features twisting into a pout. At the moment, you really wouldn't have thought that he was one of the best warriors on Terra. "I want her to braid my hair."
There was no imagining Blaise rolling his eyes that time, as he did it quite plainly, and before Cruoris could say another word, he lifted one alabaster hand the barest bit. A second later, Corpus leapt over the low railing of the first landing from where she'd been having a half-shouted argument with her brother over fatal wounds, and right onto his head. Both twins sunk under the surface, black droplets falling around Virginia like rain, and then they exploded upwards again, levitating over the water as they had a short, but vicious, fight. Corpus ended up the victor as she usually did, Cruoris's reason for that being that he wouldn't fight her like he would most, and with a smirk, she glided over to Blaise, hauling him in by his long red hair.
"Here, papa. Better braid the miscreant's hair before I rip it all out." She said sweetly, kissing her father's cheek and glaring at her brother.
Cruoris sneered at her, twisting away in one violent move and leaving a handful of that flaming hair behind, turning to his own father. They shared the same mother, but Corpus was Blaise's and Cruoris was Draco's, thanks to the use of old black magic during their conception. They both considered each of them their fathers, just as Draco and Blaise considered each their children, but if you wanted to get technical…All you had to do was see the eyes. Cruoris was the next in line for the throne after Blaise, and Corpus after him, though should anything ever happen to those who sat upon the thrones now, Blaise would follow swiftly and the twins would rule together.
"I hate her!" Cruoris exclaimed, and Draco smirked before diving into the water and making his way out to Virginia, ignoring their squabble with long-practiced ease.
"You do not." Blaise said lightly, a small smile replacing his sneer, and he pushed Cruoris down gently until he was sitting on the lip of the Pool, his legs dangling in the water.
Blaise sat down behind him, his leather-encased legs to either side, and a silver brush studded with emeralds appeared in his hand. Corpus gave her sire another quick kiss, kicked her brother in the ribs, and flew back up to where Theodore had Bella backed into a corner as if threatening her, but by the noises escaping her violet lips, she was enjoying it heartily if he was. Everything calmed again, Draco smoothing fingers through her wet, silky hair as Blaise brushed Cruoris's curly mane until the younger male was purring, his silver eyes closed and his face peaceful, and she gave up her fight on consciousness, letting the Pool rule her thoughts once more.
Begin Flashback:
It wasn't hard to convince the twins and Lee to come to Slytherin with her nightly after they had been judged and found worthy, and she watched as they grew stronger and darker, as they made friends with people that they'd never dreamed of speaking more than insults to before, as they started becoming the awesome powers that they would one day be. But her attention was only half of what it had been, for as soon as Draco or Blaise entered whatever room she was in, all other thoughts vanished with startling speed. The rest of her fifth year took on a pattern, the days melding together in her mind like a dark, joyful collage.
She got up, got fucked, went to classes and fucked some more in between them, skipped lunch entirely for better lessons, finished off her last classes with sticky thighs and tingling skin, and then retreated to Slytherin. Draco and Blaise always disappeared after their last class, returning hours later after meeting with the Dark Lord, and she'd been reduced to tears when she'd learned that Tom really was still alive. She wasn't taken to see him yet, though, and all she could do was trace her lovers' Dark Marks with her fingertips, her tongue, her magic. She wanted one of her own, wanted to share that with them, wanted that tie to Tom.
Others of her new friends had their Marks already as well, and all had grown used to her petting them like the sacred brands that they were. So while her lovers were away for those few hours each day, she would study with those waiting for their return just as eagerly as she did, study everything from curses to bed games, and they delighted in telling her and showing her all of the things that her boyfriends enjoyed which she had yet to discover on her own. That list soon dwindled as she discovered more about them every day, as she somehow fell more and more in love with them every day. It was a delight to do so, and she marveled at her new freedom and feelings and power.
She marveled at her new life.
She became closer to Pansy and Anton, to Melody and Theodore and Sebastian and Daphne, and soon, her small family had grown from three to many, and she reveled in it. They understood her, were starting to love her even, and she returned the favor with dark vigor. They became hers, and she would protect them until her dying day so long as none betrayed her. They had yet to learn to respect her as they respected her lovers, but that would come in time. She was next in their affections after Draco and Blaise, and would one day be equal in them. And due to her brothers, she also became closer to the Patil twins, though they took longer to grow on her.
But Pansy and Anton…They were her best friends and her lovers' best friends, and they would remain so throughout everything. They were the ones that she spilled her secrets to when the twins and Draco and Blaise weren't around, they were the ones that she first allowed to touch her before the bed games became more and more common. Despite her caliginous spirit, she'd grown up in the wrong background to have even considered the possibility of casual sex. The first time that Pansy had kissed her during one of their 'witching nights', as they called their all-female…get-togethers, she'd been shocked, aroused and terrified, all at once.
Shocked because, well…because Pansy had kissed her, aroused for the same reason, and terrified because she would do nothing, however fleetingly pleasant, that would jeopardize her relationship with her boyfriends. And if fucking one of their best friends didn't count as a point towards 'jeopardizing', then what, exactly, did? Pansy had seen all of it, because for once, Virginia didn't bother to hide behind a schooled mask of indifference. Her friend had smirked, pulled her to her feet, and drug her to her boyfriends' rooms. More than slightly wasted already, Virginia had let herself be led, everything too confused and too confusing to let her think properly.
The following discussion on what lines were crossable and what lines were not had been slightly mind-boggling, but easy enough to understand. They would not, under any circumstances, share her lightly, nor would they share her with just anyone. There were standards, very, very high standards, and she would stay within them unless she wanted them to sleep with low-class filth as well. She had asked what she was if not 'low-class', considering her family's status, and their looks had been as eloquently exasperated as their words. 'You, lovely Virginia, are anything but low-class,' they'd said slowly, as if making sure that she was listening carefully.
So the lines were fully drawn, acceptable bed partners chosen and agreed upon, and Pansy's triumphant grin had been a new awakening. The last of her thoughts formed by her family shattered, and suddenly, anything was possible. She learned so much, yet so little, that year, and Pansy was an excellent tutor in all things, as was Anton. Many long hours spent waiting for Draco and Blaise were spent with them, the twins and Lee on that gigantic black bed, scrolls and ancient tomes spread out around them like a parchment blanket, and one lesson ended only for another to begin. But Draco and Blaise…they were the real teachers to them all.
Pansy and the other Slytherins were far ahead of the newly-arrived Gryffindors, but those two were far ahead of even them, and it was why Tom kept them at his side so much. They were brilliant, there just wasn't any other word for it except 'genius', and even that didn't do those dark minds justice. All they had to do was read something once, and they remembered it always, filing it away in the extensive libraries their minds had become over the years. But that alone isn't what made them so unique. No, it was what they did with the knowledge trapped inside them that blew everyone away. They were…prodigies.
They combined it all somehow, how she had yet to understand at the time, and it came out in ways thought to be impossible. A levitating spell suddenly became a flight spell after this was tweaked and that word pronounced with a slight rolling of the tongue; a shield charm, with the proper additions of moonwort, lilac, blood and ice cream, could stop even muggle bullets, which had been one of their greatest worries; and a certain potion made with unicorn tears could cause Avada Kedavra to fuel itself off two or more wizards at a time and spread over a twenty-foot radius of utter destruction. And those were just a few of their many creations.
Inspiration always seemed to strike them randomly and together, and usually during the most uninspiring things, like Professor Binns' lectures or some detention with Filch that had usually been fully earned and that weren't, in McGonagall's opinion, 'the proper example for Prefects to be setting'. If she only knew. And how did Virginia know about these sudden bursts of enlightenment? By excited mental summons that she could never ignore, whether she was in class or studying or, once in a rare while, sleeping. The lure of knowledge was too great, and so was seeing their eyes shining with rare abandonment and glee as they explained it all to her in minute detail.
Because they were at their most passionate – in a non-sexual way – when they were standing over their workbench, some potion or another bubbling and popping and steaming off to the side and a million little things sliced and diced perfectly at their fingertips. Scrolls would be everywhere, filled with their elegant scrawl and numerous tiny notations written in Parseltongue, which meant that only five people alive could read what was written. Two of those people were them, Tom and Virginia had free access to anything of theirs that they desired to see, and Harry would never get the chance, not that he would have understood even an iota of it anyway.
And it was always dark in that workroom, so dark, and that darkness felt alive with their power, alive with the years upon years that they'd been making magic within those warded walls, and she loved it there. It was a sanctuary where she could call on the black energies all she wanted, anytime she wanted, and it was where she got to see her lovers so fervent and honestly…happy with something. And it wasn't that they were unhappy in general, they were just…bored, she supposed. Ready for the war to start. Because if anything else but magic and her could put that zealous gleam in their eyes, it was the talk of conquering, controlling, ruling.
Oh yes, they had more ambition than Caesar himself and twice as much arrogance.
But they did not want an unequal relationship, and neither did she. So they taught her everything they knew, slowly at first and then faster as she caught on quickly and opened her mind fully to what they were telling her, showing her, giving her. And she, she found that she had a taste for ambition herself. 'Queen Mab,' they called her, 'wild and fey and free and greedy, the bane of Merlin and all things good and fair,' and she would laugh, laugh until her sides hurt and tears streamed down her cheeks, because Mab was the Queen that her mother had cursed most often, swearing her the bride of the devil himself. It was a fitting title, indeed.
And so they taught her, and she embraced each lesson fervidly.
They taught her to heal, and she listened to every word, practiced every movement and power structure and name until she could have reattached a limb in her sleep. They taught her to listen, to hear more in words than just what was said, to hear the slightest inflection and change of tone or meaning, and Anton had been so right when he'd said 'It's all in the blood'. Because their blood did change her, made her something new and strange like they were while waking her own blood up in the process, as if it had been sleeping away, waiting for their invigorating touch. It took on more silver after that, until it sparkled in candlelight like liquid diamond.
They taught her to see, to look past the outer shell and focus the gift of telepathy that she'd possessed as long as she could remember until it was a veritable weapon in itself, until she could splay open someone's mind and pick through the insides like one would a bag of candy, taking the best pieces and discarding those that were of no interest. They taught her smell, to open herself to the entire new world that advanced scent made available, and it was like seeing in kaleidoscopic vibrations, as if she'd taken too much spice and couldn't make the world come fully back into focus before her eyes, because she didn't need her eyes anymore.
They taught her to taste, everything from skin and blood to different currents on the air, and soon enough, she could name every herb they had (which was pretty much every herb there was) blindfolded, her only clue the tiniest bit of one on her tongue. There would be no undetectable poison in her wine, no deadly concoction that she couldn't name, duplicate and improve upon. They taught her to touch, to genuinely feel what was underneath her fingertips or brushing over her skin, and the same blindfolded test was preformed until she also knew each herbby texture, as well thousands of other assorted ingredients, like feathers and organs and furs.
It did wonders for foreplay.
They taught her to inflict pain, pain that had nothing to do with pleasure, until she could force a muggle to the ground, writhing in soul-splitting agony, with the slightest command, mental and verbal alike. Then it was two muggles, then three, then four, until she could weave her net of agony over an entire room full of them with ease, breaking their minds at will if she chose, their pleads and whimpers becoming primitive and base as they were swept away by the tide of broiling black energy within her. And with every single scream, she could feel her power grow, expand, until it was like a scalding ocean within her.
They taught her to kill, to point wand or blade or sheer willpower at another creature and, without so much as blinking, strike in the most lethal ways. They showed her curses that could slowly eat minds, curses that could slice flesh from bones like the most careful carver, curses that built mental prisons worse than any living torture, curses that could bring the strongest and proudest of their kind to their knees. They taught her how to use the night within her to kill, to smother someone in the cold darkness, to suck the life from them slowly. They taught her the arts of the blade and the bow, the staff and the sais, the axe and the mace.
And she remembered and revered them all.
End Flashback
Yes, that was a very interesting year, she thought distantly, and a snicker from above had her eyes focusing on the present, for a little while, at least. Two more snickers echoed the first, along with a horrified squeak, and her gaze followed the sound to its source. Was that…Yes, it was Draco on the third landing, her brothers to either side of him, and they had one of the slaves, dangling it over the ledge before bringing it back to safety only to do it again. Every time Draco waved his hand to either side, the slave wobbled precariously from its suspended state in the air, and it looked so scared that she was surprised that it was still conscious.
All three of them, however, looked positively jovial as they taunted it, letting it drop a few feet only to yank it back up. And then she realized why it was still awake. It had reached that point, a point she had seen breached in many, that was past simple fright, and it was, quite simply, too terrified to faint. It knew what even a tiny splash of that onyx water would do to it, and it also knew that passing out would make the game dull for the Royals, which would annoy them, which was never, ever good. It hoped, at the moment, that its fear would satisfy them and it would see another sunrise, and it knew that if it gave in to its distress, they would probably drop it just to get another quirk of momentary amusement.
"Mothhhhhhhhhhhhhher…" A lyrical voice crooned from her other side, and Virginia turned slightly to meet her daughter's eyes. "Mère, how much longer? We miss you." Her lips curled into a pout twice as effective as her brother's, and his was bad enough. ((Mother))
"Burn old bridges and build new ones, weave them from clouds and burning suns." Was what came out when Virginia tried to respond, and Corpus sighed and shook her head.
"A while longer, then?" She asked ruefully, quirking an eyebrow in a move so reminiscent of both Draco and Blaise that Virginia giggled, and even that came out sounding old and full of jaded, reckless age. But before Corpus could say anything more, Draco and Blaise spoke as one, their eyes glimmering strangely in an all-too-familiar way.
"What did you say?" They demanded, that odd intensity making their eyes fever-bright and positively glorious.
"About cloud-spun, sunlight bridges?" Corpus questioned, speaking for her mother since she couldn't, and her fathers stood abruptly, Blaise from where Cruoris was nestled snugly against him, his hair in a thousand tiny plaits, and Draco from the low railing where he'd perched like an agile cat.
Cruoris, jolted by the sudden movement, nearly fell headfirst into the Pool, but Blaise's instincts were too quick for that, even though he was barely even in the room anymore, his mind a million leagues away and brewing something brilliant. Draco forgot about the slave completely, and it shrieked and shrieked on its way down, swift, dark oblivion being the best it could hope for at that point. Fred and George looked mildly thoughtful for a second, before they caught the thing a foot from the surface, watched relief and disbelief and joy color its features, and let it go, laughing as it hit the surface, a tentacle scooping it up quickly.
Had Virginia been anywhere but the Pool, she would be sharing in whatever had them so captivated, but the black waters held her too strongly. That's one of the things that they loved about working with her; after they'd shown her the ropes, she'd shared in those bouts of inspiration and had aided them. And female magic and male magic were different. Subtly so, but still different. With her added to their metaphysical mix, nothing was beyond them. They could control the earth and the weather, the sky and the stars, truth and lies, love and hate, life and death. They were almighty and immortal and supreme, gods among their people.
As well they should be.
Begin Flashback:
She met Bellatrix Black seven days before the end of her fifth year, seven days until she would be going back to that…that dingy, conservative nightmare that was supposed to be her home, even though her true home was wherever her loves happened to be. Bella was beautiful, no one could gainsay that, with her glossy black hair that fell to her knees and a face that was over forty and looked barely twenty-five. Azkaban had been no true trial for her, because her good memories were what most people would consider 'bad' to begin with, and she felt no guilt, no remorse for her actions. After a few weeks of healthy food and rest, Bella was back and hissing.
She kept her hair free and flowing, parted down the middle to lie like a silk sheet around her, and high cheekbones curved back to delicate ears that were barely visible. Her eyes were as black as everything else about her but for her skin, and her lips looked as if she'd just finished smearing them with wet blood. Oh, and she was mad, mad and noble and magnificent, and Virginia liked her, maybe even loved her, from the very first moment that she saw her. She'd stepped out of the Slytherin fireplace, not a drop of soot anywhere on her, and the proud cruelty surrounding her had drawn Virginia's attention from the first second of eye contact.
And Bella had been drawn to her, as well. Ignoring the older Slytherins that had the nerve to greet her, she came straight towards Virginia, their eyes never parting. The older woman only looked away when she leaned in and embraced Draco and Blaise, an expression of mingled emotions on her face for a moment; motherly affection, sisterly affection, love, lust. Then those eyes were back on Virginia, and she stepped forward, extending her hands in greeting. Virginia took them without hesitation, not noticing many of the Slytherins' swift looks of shock as she found that Bella's hands were as small and dainty as her own and just as strong. Bella leaned in to kiss both of her cheeks, and her lips were like Draco and Blaise's.
Cold and infinitely drugging.
Her friendship with Pansy started out with fists and fighting, but her friendship with Bella started out with lips and low laughter. For that is what both did when they pulled away, the mirthful sound trickling from their throats like syrupy velvet, and they sat down right there in the common room, everyone but a few being ushered out by her pleased-looking boyfriends, and they talked for hours and hours about…everything. Their connection was instantaneous, immediate, and Virginia didn't look at her as Draco's aunt and Blaise's godmother, but as a confidant in all things, one of her truest friends. And Bella felt it too, like an invisible wire running between them.
"You absolutely cannot be allowed to stay with those horrid people all summer." Bella said long after she'd arrived, taking Virginia's hands in hers once more. They were like ice, but Virginia was used to chilled flesh and found it quite erotic. That more than likely had a lot to do with her cold-blooded boyfriends. Ectothermic, indeed.
"I don't see how I can avoid it. I have yet to reach my majority and won't for a over year yet." Virginia replied, a small, sad smile on her lips. She never wanted to go back; especially not now that she knew what life could be like…
"That is unacceptable." Bella stated, her lips pursing in thought. "You will wither being around them constantly, like a rose choked by weeds."
"The twins—"
"Will get out of there as soon as possible, as well. They would have already were it not for you, and there is no reason to keep them there when you shall scarcely be there yourself."
"But how—"
But Bella had it all worked out. "Well, I shall set a new challenge before my nephews." She said, those eyes turning to Draco and Blaise, both of whom had knowing smirks on their faces, their eyes calm and poised, ready for whatever she asked of them as if they already knew what it was.
"Anything for you, Auntie." Blaise intoned slowly, and Bella smiled, which made her radiant. Blaise was not her nephew by blood as Draco was, but they did have family ties from a few generations back, and as his godmother, she was like an aunt. An aunt who occasionally got the urge to fuck him silly.
"Then you have six days to teach her to Apparate. That or we shall be making portkeys by the bundle all summer long."
"Six days?" Virginia asked incredulously. "But it takes—"
"It took us four." Draco cut in smoothly, his eyes appraising and confidant. "We were considering this anyway. So long without you simply would not be possible, ma chéri."
And so it had been settled, and she went home on the Express as she was supposed to, but that night found the twins at her window on broomsticks, their faces flushed and excited as they took her hands and Apparated away. So began many such long, steamy nights, the air so thick and full with heat that it shimmered even after the sun had gone down, and she finally got to see Tom again. He remembered everything that they had spoken of in the diary, as he had been spiritually connected with it, and he still loved her as he once had, and she him. He Marked her that first night, and the only other times that she'd ever known so much joy was in the arms of her beloveds.
But then, they were incomparable, so…
It was marvelous. Every single bit of her time in the Death Eaters' manors and villas and forests was just marvelous, and she dreaded the dawn more than ever before, for it signaled that her time was up, that she must return to that…that place, that place that was nothing more to her than a cage and she the bird trapped within with clipped and broken wings. But the sunlight was the clipper, the destroyer, and the moonlight healed her, let her soar once more in its dark majesty. The nights were filled with balls and galas and coven meetings, with battle plans and spying and recruiting, with blood and sex and drugs galore, and she was finally home.
Almost every moment of her time with them was spent with her boyfriends on either side of her, Pansy and Anton somewhere nearby, the twins underfoot and causing vicious mischief, and Bella, hovering like an illusion she was sure would shatter, but that stayed stronger than most and next to her during everything. And then, one night a month after summer had begun, Bella's husband, Rodolphus, came home from overseas where he'd been doing business for their Lord. She had taken his last name when they wed and kept her own as well, for she rarely used his, favoring her maiden name above all else.
Virginia was anxious to meet him, and Draco and Blaise anxious to see him again, as they had not in over a year, nor had anyone in France, Britain or Europe. He walked into the ballroom, where Draco was spinning Blaise around on the dance floor and trying to keep them both from falling over, as they'd consumed over half a dozen bottles of old wine and brandy apiece, and neither were too steady, though they still danced with unmatched grace, the drums like lava in their usually frozen veins. Virginia was dancing with Bella not too far away, their hair flying around them madly as they spun and swayed with unrestrained pleasure, and she spotted him first.
A hush fell, the drums and lutes and harps going slowly silent, and every eye had soon turned to their missing comrade. He looked around, finally spotting Bella and smiling, and she went to him, embracing him passionately and finally releasing him, turning to Virginia and her nephews, beckoning them forward. But they were all three rooted to the floor, their eyes locked onto the only wizard that had been able to catch and hold Bellatrix's heart, and fury spilled so strongly into them as they looked at his soul, as they could not help but do, that they felt fit to bursting with it. Virginia vaguely heard a hiss escape her as she took a revolted step backwards.
"Wha—" Bella started, looking, for once, confused and incredulous, but her nephews cut her off.
"You will die for this." They said, but their murderous gazes were not for Bella.
No, those fear-inducing, furious eyes were all for Rodolphus, and he stumbled back a step, just as any person without a death wish would do. Then, with several hurried, blurred strides, they were before him, Draco's fist smashing into his jaw as Blaise's connected with his lower abdomen, and he flew backwards, slamming into one of the marble pillars that encircled the dance floor. Bella's hand shot to her mouth, her eyes wide with true astonishment. Appearing at his side again, Blaise kicked him hard in the head as Draco got his spine, and the steel-toes of their graphorn-hide boots made very pleasing noises when contacting with bone.
"No!" Bella exclaimed, finally finding her ability to breathe once more and starting towards them, her lovely features twisted with dismay. "No, stop this! Stop!" But her nephews didn't listen, much too enraged to tell her why, and Virginia shot forward, wrapping her arms around Bella's waist and pulling her backwards. Bella spun as if to strike her, before their eyes locked and she froze. Something in them must have reached her deeply, and she started shaking. "No."
"Bella—"
"No!"
"Bella, listen to me!" Virginia half-shouted, shaking her and uncaring of the eyes on them. No one had moved forward against the Dark Lord's cherished ones, for no one dared, even if it meant watching Rodolphus die without even knowing a reason for it.
"I do not want—"
"He is tainted!" That time it was a shout, and the whispered murmurings stopped dead, as did Bella's protests. She seemed to deflate, and her eyes were so wounded as they lifted to meet Virginia's again that she seemed to feel physical pain from those words.
"How?" She asked softly, so softly, and Virginia steeled herself, remembering a time before when she had made an accusation such as the one that she was about to, and she feared the reaction to this one as she had not feared the one she had received before, her mother's slap seeming to sting her cheek anew.
"His spirit reeks of muggle filth." She said, drawing together her courage, and the silence, but for snapping bones, was so thick that she felt as if she could tread upon it.
"No." The protest was back, but it was dull, lifeless, just like her ebony eyes.
"He has deceived you, Bellatrix Black, betrayed you in the most unforgivable way. A magicless Canadian whore now carries his child, as even you have yet to do. And she wears a gold band around her finger with a promise of marriage singing in her heart. I am…sorry." But that word felt empty, unworthy of her pain, and Virginia wanted to scream for her, cry for her, because just the thought of something so foul was stomach turning.
A veela screech, full of fury, echoed through the room moments after her words, but it was not aimed at her like a similar one had been in the past, nor was she slapped and called a liar. No, Narcissa shoved through the crowd, her husband at her side and Sirius, Jeran and Silana on her heels. She was crackling with energy, her white-blond hair whipping around her and her eyes a smoldering, enraged red as she made a beeline for her sister's mate, and she snatched his broken body away from her son and his lover. One clawed hand tangled in that dark brown hair and drug him up by it, before she let go and punched him as hard as she could.
Veelas were not women to be messed with.
"Motherfucking son of a bitch—fucking kill you—dishonor my sister and my family, will you—how dare you!?"
She was shouting almost unintelligibly, her accent thickening until it clouded her words into a mix of English and French, and Virginia didn't think anyone had ever seen her so livid before, judging by the stunned looks on their normally expressionless faces. Silana grabbed her, pulling her back as Blaise and Draco sprung forward again, Blaise slamming his foot into the cringing, crying man's chest, pinning him down as one would an insect, and there was a sword in his hand a moment later, which he flipped with an expert's finesse, extending it hilt-first to Draco, who had the stronger kinsman's right. But Bella finally moved.
"No." Her voice was stronger, clearer, and many looked at her with slightly gaping mouths, unable to believe that she still defended him, after hearing of his treason. Stalking forward, Virginia's hands releasing her that time, she went to Draco, who stood, his face veneered with deadly intent.
His arm was frozen in a downward strike that had been a foot from piercing the bastard's chest right above Blaise's booted foot, and the looks on their faces said clearly that they wouldn't listen to any arguments or pleas in his case, mad light swirling in their eyes. But Bella didn't argue, and she certainly didn't plead. No, she took that black-handled sword from her nephew, who didn't resist her movement, and with betrayed tears of shame and a new, evolving hate, the sort of hate that only scorned love can cause, streaming down her cheeks, she raised that blade herself and drove it into his heart without another second of hesitation.
Silence was not the right word for what enveloped that room before Bella started laughing, and there was a slightly hysterical note to it, as if that sword was stuck between her ribs, not his. Draco and Blaise just stared for a moment, before spitting on the body and telling the house elves to take it away. Virginia went to Bella's side, dropping down beside her gracefully, and Bella looked up at her, an insane grin tugging at her lips as she kept laughing, her tears done with as quickly as they'd started. She doubted that Bella had shed so much as one in years, if she ever had before, and she knew one thing. She didn't deserve to ever again.
Doing the only thing that she could think to do, instinct driving her more than conscious thought, she kissed her. She kissed her with wild, healing ardor, kissed her and told her with lips and teeth and tongue that she was not alone, that she had ones who loved her more than he ever had right there with her, forever and ever, and they would never hurt her so, never even dream of it. She poured her affection into that kiss, her appreciation and adoration, and she powered dark power into it as well, like a soothing, ecstatic pulse of cleansing, numbing flames that burned out the betrayal and made that wounded place cold, dead, shriveled.
A detachment that should have taken years upon years was accomplished in minutes, and when Virginia finally pulled away, breathless and more than half-high on her magic, Bella was staring at her in wonder and a bit of awe, her scarlet lips moist and swollen, a trickle of blood trailing down from the corner of her mouth to her smoothly rounded chin. But what elated Virginia was that there was no more agony in those beautiful eyes, no more overwhelming despair. The madness was still there, but hadn't it always been? Like an echo of herself, a slightly distorted mirror. Looking up at a small movement in the crowd, she locked gazes with her Lord.
She knew not where he had come from, but she was glad that he was there. His presence was comforting and thrilling all at once, not as much as it was with her beloveds, but almost, just on a different level. And he had never desired any different of her, because he had been content with Nagini for many long years. He walked towards them slowly, his every movement perfection, his almost-black hair swaying around him, loose and unbound. They stayed where they were, kneeling on the floor, while Draco and Blaise each gave slight bows as he passed by them, brushing fond fingers over their cheeks as he stepped over Rodolphus as if he weren't even there.
"So, our dear Lestrange trifled with treason, hmm?" He asked, his voice slightly sibilant, his smoldering eyes on Virginia. She inclined her head, and he took it for the affirmation that it was. Looking out over the others that had frozen, clueless hands holding spilled wineglasses and carelessly burning cigarettes and cigars, his voice rose just enough to travel to every ear. "Do any gainsay her claim?"
And to Virginia's growing exhilaration, not a single person in the room objected or questioned her. They took her words for truth, and as she looked at them, she saw that it was not just because she was being courted by the Malfoy and Zabini heirs, not just because she was highly favored by their Lord, but also because they had started to respect her over the last month as they had watched her power grow and strengthen under her lovers' knowing hands. They liked her, she knew that much already, they liked her and the twins, because thanks to them, an old, pure line that they had thought lost to them had been returned.
And…and they just liked them.
It was a revelation of sorts, the sort of thing she'd dreamed of but never really dared to hope for overly much, but it was coming to fruition right before her eyes, and her heart skipped a beat with foretelling. She suddenly saw them all on their knees, their faces, with their voices rising in worship and dark devotion, and then she was in the ballroom again, a feral grin spreading across her face. Yes! She thought triumphantly. Against my family's wishes, against their wildest nightmares, I shall rule in the court of night when it forms, my loves at my side and our Lord in all his glory before us on a dais made of faith and purity.
Little did she know, her fate was greater than even that.
End Flashback
Her husbands were long gone, most assuredly locked away in their suite of workrooms, which spanned an entire wing of the Palace. She did not know what about her words had set off that spark in them, but something definitely had, and she knew that she would hear all about it later, so she did not worry nor wonder at it. Hours had passed, though the sky stayed dark and star-spangled since it was winter in Antarctica, and Umbra would therefore not see the sun again for months. And loving the darkness as they do, they stayed there for the six months of constant night, reveling in the uninterrupted starlight.
They only left for Utopia, the second city on the floor of the Pacific, once the summer and never-ending sunlight took its turn, though they visited the other five cities regularly. But Umbra and Utopia were by far their favorites, and she never felt more at home than she did when surrounded by ice or waves, unless she was deep in one of the mighty, sprawling forests. Her eyes still on the stars, on the cherished sky, she wished…But no, it would not do any good to explore that old dream, as there were some things – a very few, mind you – that magic could not do. And taking her out, out into that speckled, infinite blackness, was one of those things.
But maybe…maybe one day…
Begin Flashback:
That summer seemed to pass so quickly when the sky was filled with moonlight, and so slowly when the sun shone brightly on her in her familial prison. She did not even try to laugh or smile stupidly at them when they talked to her anymore, and the aunts would gather, whispering of her rudeness and need for discipline, while the uncles thought that she should be taken to a reform school after the ninth time that she'd escaped their wards once they'd discovered her nightly absences. Bill and Charlie just said it was a 'stage' even as they avoided her for all they were worth when they were there, and Percy and Ron mostly stayed in their oblivious little worlds.
Her parents, though…She loathed her mother, loathed everything about her, and she despised her father, because he was weak, deficient. He let her run all over him, never taking up for himself or his children and never sticking to it the few times that he did, and Molly knew it, using that knowledge regularly for all she was worth. And he…he just bent over and let her. It made her skin crawl with disgust, and had made her ever more thankful for her boyfriends who, for all their love and affection for her, would never be so cowed and humbled by anyone or anything, even she, their pride and strength being much too great for that.
And then, one night in a muggle church, that year of school and life-changes was decided. The three of them were sprawled across the altar, their bodies slick and glistening from hours of fucking on it just for the hell of it, just to see if they could goad the heathen god into action. Every inch of her skin was trembling and glowing, nerve endings all over her body wriggling in delight as she reeled, her mind mad and mellow all at once. A bare minute passed, no real recovery time at all, before they propped themselves up on their elbows to either side of her, and with one simple question, asked her to forsake her family and House.
"Would you like to be a Slytherin this year?"
They need not have bothered inquiring, and she threw the past away like old garbage, embracing her new life with open arms and dark rapture. School started and she took her rightful place in her true House, not giving a damn what the other Houses thought about it. Dumbledore watched her with sad eyes, and she no longer hesitated to sneer at him. What did he know? He had no idea of the many pleasures to be found in darkness; he had no idea what it was really like, being too blinded by his moral standings. His brother knew, though, and she actually liked Aberforth. She looked forward to Dumbledore learning of his treachery.
Ron acted devastated, of course, and she found it all too amusing. She knew that he cared about the whole mess, but not nearly as much as he pretended to. And then…then Blaise had asked her to take his name and join his family, and she had never known a happier day at that point in time. He also told them of a vision he'd had, a vision of their wedded union and that should they bind themselves, their destinies would span ages and they would be the greatest of their kind. They faltered, though, not wanting to separate themselves from him, but he'd insisted quite vehemently, and they had agreed in the end, Draco's ring heavy and pleasing on her finger.
She kept it hidden until the last illusions and glamours surrounding her were stripped away on the day that she took her love's name and swore herself into his line as a 'sister' to him. By vows and blood and tears, she was tied into their lineage irremovably, the power of the Zabini essence overcoming the Weasley in her until she was flushed clean and rebuilt, her very cells changing with the process, making her both Zabini and Weasley in an odd mix that was intriguing and completely fascinating. Most that were adopted didn't ordinarily take such elaborate measures, but they were not ordinary, and her newly built kin-ties with Blaise and his family were exhilarating.
Every Zabini alive and dead felt her inclusion among their ranks that day, felt the new power settle itself in the midst of their head branch at their patriarch's command, and they knew who she was, just as she knew who each and every one of them were. And then, more distantly, she felt the Malfoys, the Parkinsons, the McGregors, the Arcdines, the Blacks, the Snapes, the Notts, the Delacours, the Averys, the Baddocks, the Montagues, the Rosiers, the Warringtons, the Wilkes…The list went on and on, spanning millennia of marriages and alliances and dalliances, and faintly, she could even feel her old family.
Because as much as they liked to claim otherwise, they had not always been of the Light, and they fit in the circled web of shared blood, however little. And it shocked her, the enormity and depth of those connections, and it made her feel as if she could never be alone, because there would always be someone close to you that you could call 'cousin' at the least, no matter how many generations removed. Because the oaths that a wedded pair took were unbreakable forever, carrying down through descendant after descendant as long as the blood stayed pure and untainted. And because of that, there were holes in the web, holes that reeked of waste and pieces missing.
'The Ruined Ones,' the purebloods would murmur, 'the Lost Ones,' and the weeping decay of those holes was poisonous, maddening, and they constantly ached for them to be filled, for their lost lines to be returned to them, no matter how impossible that need was. A prime example was the Potter line, fouled and wiped out in one blow as soon as James had spoken those unremitting pledges to a mudblood, which his parents never would have stood for had they still been alive. They would have killed Lily before they would have let their son destroy their honor and pride and purity by marrying her and breeding her.
And then look what she did, the filthy muggle bitch! Nearly killed their Lord to protect a child that's very existence shamed the name Potter unforgivably! Voldemort had been weak when Sirius's plan had worked and they'd made Peter their Secret Keeper, weak from one of his many experiments in finding the secret to true immortality, but he had gone to Godric's Hollow anyway, against his first circle's pleading. And their world had fallen apart at the seams. Lucius and Jeran's quick planning had been the only thing that saved so many of them from Azkaban or worse, and they'd waited quietly for their Lord's return, for they'd known that he was not fully dead due to their Marks.
And all of that could have been avoided had James not been a complete fucking idiot and just married a Black or a Johnson or even one of the Weasley cousins if he'd wanted a light witch. Or if he'd really loved the mudblood that much, the least he could have done was produce a pure heir before he ran off with her. It was uncommon, very uncommon, but not completely unheard of. But because he hadn't, the other purebloods suffered, and every new hole created a new weakness. She had vaguely felt something of the sort before, but her family had never taught her how to tune into such things, and the night had known that she would learn later.
And learn she did. Keeping the blood pure and undiluted took on a whole new meaning when you could feel the overall waning magical supply that it was causing, when you could feel the slow corrosion of all you and your people were like an un-healing wound deep in your heart of hearts. It took on a whole new meaning when every new pure birth gave the web some of its strength back, when you could sense it all as if you were a spider sitting upon silken threads, the vibrations constantly running along them telling you so much if you knew how to listen. And that night was when she learned of one of her boyfriends' most earnest wishes.
To repair the wounded holes that never stopped bleeding.
And step one was to stop the dilution at its source: the muggles and mudbloods. At the end of her sixth year, the Great War started, and what could she say? She loved every moment of it. She found battle of all kinds to be beyond titillating, and there were few things better than slaughtering entire cities and fucking like wicked demons come to earth right there on the bloody field among the corpses of those that fell before them. She came to crave it, crave it until she could barely stop at all, and when she saw the bloodlust and grisly madness in her beloveds' eyes, she knew that her own echoed theirs perfectly.
Rarely was she without a blade in her hand for months afterwards, the other fist filled with darkfire, and she hunted and played and commanded and conquered, her family being some of the first to suffer at their hands, but they were the least of their prey. That August she turned seventeen, and she already had claim to the utter demolishment of eight countries and five world leaders, was a general to thousands in her Lord's command, and was wedded to two of the three strongest people on the planet, barring herself. Everything was going perfectly according to plan, and it all came to a head one night on the lower border of Texas, spilling over the river into Mexico.
It had definitely been climatic, to say the least, the last of the American, Mexican, European and Soviet troops meeting them full-out, their problems with each other forgotten over the long weeks of watching their 'invincible' armies fall to dust before creatures of legend, of seeing their 'tecknolollogy' mastered by forces they couldn't comprehend or hope to overcome. And in the end, when she stood side by side with her husbands and the twins, victorious and light-headed with triumph, waist deep in the river that was running thick with blood and bodies, she howled in absolute conquest and dominion, mocking heaven with their defeat.
But how unfitting that that giddy joy was to last less than a day.
It was a glorious twenty hours, though, positively glorious, with wine and liquor of all kinds coating every throat, spice being handed out freely, and the darkness called and layered over them like an orgasmic blanket. They danced and fucked and sung and praised, they laughed and fought and fucked some more, and they made magnificent plans as they spun around the bonfires to the deep, booming drumbeats that made their insides vibrate, their arms stretched to the night sky in thanks and glory. It was a night of shifting powers, the rule of the world switching sides once more, but the fate of it was not decided until the next night.
For they had found McGonagall, and ripped Dumbledore's location from her mind some days before. And Draco, feeling a weird tug of foreordination, left them only to return in their midst with a scowling Aberforth and Dumbledore's lifeless shell. The people celebrated with even more zeal after that, but those closest to Draco knew that something was wrong, horribly wrong. They went to him, she and the twins and their most trusted friends and family, and they left, Apparating to Morte Nera and questioning why he looked so furious and so heartbroken. Slumped in a chair, his head in his hands, they had never once seen him so discomposed.
It was quite terrifying all on its own.
"He…I…" He couldn't seem to find words, any words, and they all exchanged glances, their worry and blooming fear becoming denser, more real.
What could have possibly upset him so? Out of all of them, the old Death Eaters and the new ones alike, out of all the people who had grown up hiding and concealing their emotions, he and Blaise were by far the best at it. They could watch their own mothers being slaughtered and not so much as bat an eye. Hell, they could probably do it themselves and laugh the entire time if either one ever pushed their patience that far. But there he was, his body shaking ever-so-slightly and making light tremors in the velvet of his robes, unable for once in his life to meet their eyes, as if he were ashamed. But he was never ashamed of anything he did. Never.
And they could feel nothing from him, not the faintest whiff of emotion, because he'd shut down his Dark Mark and retreated deep within himself, a feat that only the strongest of them could manage because of the Marks' power. He just sat there for the longest time, his hair like a curtain of flickering molten steel in the low candlelight, falling over his hands and face and trailing down to lay like silk on the rich black carpet. He didn't move or even seem to be breathing, that fine trembling the only indication that he was even alive. To say that they, the ones who knew him best, were beginning to panic was an understatement of massive proportions.
"Luaidh…" Blaise started slowly from where he was kneeling on one side of Draco's chair, Virginia on the other, and she finished for him, a habit that had grown harder, rather than easier, to control over time. ((Beloved one))
"You are scaring them with your silence. You are scaring us."
But Draco said nothing, and it was very, very bad if he wouldn't even answer them.
"That's it." Lucius said after another minute, standing, his eyes showing the barest bit of a fierce alarm that only parents can possess in regards to their children. "I'm getting Tom, maybe he can—"
"No!" Draco shot out of his chair, his face a mix of so many things for a single second that it was impossible to decipher it all before he went blank again. But his eyes were still shining, shining with fury and hurt and hate, and the wretched note in that demand had them almost as shocked as his refusal.
"No?" They all questioned incredulously, new apprehension building in their hearts. His eyes fell closed, his fists clenching, and then they opened again, filled with purpose and returned tenacity, the madness in them more advanced than they'd ever seen it. He gained his own strength back and more just before ripping theirs away.
"We have been betrayed."
He might as well have cast a silencing spell, for the room grew deathly quiet and still, as if time had literally stopped mid-tick, and she could feel her heart freeze over, feel her lungs close up and her blood start pumping slower. Who? Who had betrayed them? Who would dare? Her eyes darted around the room, searching everyone within it in a way that she hadn't since first meeting them, trying to see if she'd missed something, if she'd really been so wrong about one of them, because it had to be someone in that room. Draco would never have been so wounded and enraged had it not been someone he trusted, someone he loved, and only they that fit onto that short, short list.
Blaise was the only one skipped by her suspicion. There were no misgivings with him.
"By who?" They both asked Draco, sliding closer to him and rising to their own feet, narrowed eyes still sweeping the room's occupants with deadly intent. Draco laughed that rare laugh that sounded like bubbling brooks and trickling fountains, flawless liquid music, but there were hints of crushing waves and deeper waters in it then, hints of a brewing storm unlike any ever known. A storm that was building rapidly and starting to escape his hold.
"Ah, and that is the question, is it not?" He asked, spinning away from them in a swift, slick movement and turning to face them, his back to the others in the room. Confused, since he never would have done so had he not still had faith in their loyalty, Virginia and Blaise watched and waited, a sense of doom and rebirth thick in their throats.
"Yes."
"It's quite like looking for a wand in a woodpile." He laughed again, and pulled a knife from one billowing sleeve. "A very cleverly hidden wand."
And then, in a move that took a total of two seconds, tops, he lifted his arm, the sleeve falling back, and impaled the Dark Mark on his forearm with one vicious stroke. Virginia nearly fainted as the ripples of that action reached her through her own Mark and through the ties of their binding, and the others did but for Blaise, though he swooned and nearly fell over. And strangest of all, Draco grew stronger rather than weaker, his aura bursting from his skin and coating the walls in silver light bright enough to blind. He was laughing again, his eyes glowing with a deranged, psychotic spark that swirled through them as if being chased.
"He is dead to me." Draco purred, pulling both of them to him, the dagger still in his arm, and they understood the impossible. They understood what he'd done, why he'd done it, and they almost wished that they didn't.
Their Lord would never betray them…would he?
"He has been lying, lying, lying." Draco said in a singsong voice, his nails digging into their skin where he held them, and they melted against him, trying not to start screaming, because if they did, they would never stop. "He is nothing more than a halfblood orphan that siphoned purebloods' power until he could fool even us. He is a parasite; a muggle fungus that deceives and destroys and devours, poisoning purity with his very existence."
"Oh gods." Virginia was barely aware of speaking, her entire world falling apart as she stood motionless, the rubble of it seeming to cage her in with bars built of deception and despair as he explained it all, as sentence after venomous sentence spilled from lips turning a strange, frosty blue. None of them noticed that the others had come to long before, listening soundlessly, stunned and horrified. And when he was done, when he had told them of all he had stolen from Dumbledore's dying mind, his next words would shape the new world.
"He, he who wished to be King of us!" Draco spat, the hole in his arm long-healed around the blade that had turned his Mark a brilliant, bloody red that shone even through the rivulets of the real thing. "He who we have bent the knee to for years! He who we put our faith in, our pride in, he who we followed unerringly! The bastard son of a broken witch and a muggle that didn't even want him! And now…now I must do the only thing honor will allow that pride to do. I will cleanse the taint from my name and appease my ancestors. I will have revenge."
"No." Virginia and Blaise said slowly, their minds stopping their rapid spin and that fine trembling spreading along their own skin. "No, we will have revenge."
Perhaps it was luck that they always carried so many blades upon their persons, blades hid and held by spells and charms and sheathes, or maybe it was just because they felt uncomfortable without them. But regardless, it was no hassle calling one of those blades into their hands, no hassle to pull back their sleeves and puncture their own Marks, no hassle to ride the ripples that time as something buried far beneath the surface erupted within them. Suddenly, she felt hot, so hot, as if she were burning up from within, and she barely noticed the crimson glow pouring from her flesh, which felt like a furnace. And through their binding, she sensed her husbands.
Draco was cold, so cold, like a walking statue of solid ice, and Blaise was dark, a starless night sky and smothering shadows. She had a second to acknowledge that something seriously strange was going on, before she was completely consumed by boiling fury. She melded into her husbands' minds with long ease, and they saw as one, felt as one, were one. Grabbing the hilts of the knives in their arms, all of which were freshly healed around the spelled platinum, they twisted them roughly and pulled, the sound of ripping, tearing flesh loud in the silence. Before they could heal again, they sent this newfound power of theirs down the links in the Marks, calling…calling…
Those in the room that had buckled under the strain of the violation of Virginia and Blaise's Dark Marks shot up again, gasps flying from full lips as every eye was irresistibly drawn to the three of them. Crawling to them, their proud heads lowered in respect and awe and fear, they waited at their feet as they had only done at one other person's. But he had lost them the moment they learned of his lies, and they were adrift, leaderless, until they felt that dangerous, comforting pull at their Marks. It was different, layered, stronger, and they could no more refuse it then they could refuse a god. They didn't wish to anyway.
But they were not the only ones affected. Apparating back to their field of victory, every living soul that wasn't already there and that bore that now-scarlet brand came to them, thousands upon thousands upon thousands, Voldemort the last to arrive. The multitude of confused purebloods parted before him, making an aisle as they usually would, and Draco, Virginia and Blaise waited for him at the head of it. He watched them with wary red eyes, as if he knew what had finally happened and had been dreading such a thing. He reached them and held out a hand bearing the heavy silver ring of Slytherin, but none of them knelt or laid lips upon its smooth surface.
"Will my cherished children no longer bow before me, then?" He asked softly, his face set and hard, and Nagini slithered around his ankles anxiously, sliding in and out of snake form randomly.
"We are not the children of a halfblood." Their voices rang clearly, accusingly, and the instant uproar around them was instantaneous. An explosion of sparks from Anton's wand and a rumble of thunder from Bella's quieted them after a minute, and every eye came back to them.
"A halfblood?" One nameless wizard cried out. "What trickery is this!?"
"His trickery." They hissed, their eyes on one they had loved and now hated with everything in them. Throwing their magic together, they lashed out with a panther's quickness and stripped him of his illusions, illusions made from the stolen power of their people. The outcry that time was deafening as all sensed what they already knew, and Nagini solidified completely into a petite, dark-skinned woman with black, beaded braids and destroyed eyes, leaping away from him and landing in an animalistic crouch at Virginia's feet, a whimpering keen building in the back of her throat.
"M-my lord?" She called in a strangled whisper, and his eyes held nothing when he looked at her, while hers held enough grief to flood the world.
He stayed silent.
"You, Tom Marvolo Riddle, stand accused of perfidy and duplicity." They said in voices like cold, uncaring iron. "How do you plead?"
"You'll kill me, won't you?" He asked instead of answering. "You'll kill me, one you claimed to love, and you won't think twice, will you? You'll destroy me as you've destroyed so many others, destroy all I've built in the process, and I'll merely be one of the uncountable bloodstains on your hands, hmm?"
"That you've built?" They snapped angrily. "We led the armies, we fought side by side with our people, we won this war, while you sat on your throne and mocked our heritage with every breath that you continued to take. But it won't be so anymore. This stops here, tonight, and nothing will be destroyed but the shame you have brought to us. Now, how do you plead?"
"Fine! As you can all now see, I am not pure nor wholly perfect! But who will lead them? Who will govern and guide them without me?" Voldemort shot back, his voice becoming heated, and they grew still and reflective, thoughts flying between them.
'Well?' Blaise asked dryly. 'Who shall lead us, then?'
'I am done with being led.' Draco replied icily. 'Look where faith and trust have gotten us.'
'I want to rule.' Virginia said suddenly, and they turned to face her almost lethargically, long, satiny hair sliding over their cheeks and obscuring their features with the movement.
'As the lady wishes.' They responded after scant seconds, their eyes glowing with an unholy light, and when all three next spoke aloud, their lips formed their next words carefully, guided by something other than themselves as they spoke with the voice of divine decree, their hushed syllables carrying to the farthest reaches of that gore-splattered field.
"We will."
Then, that odd, familiar energy engulfed them, and all three screamed as it crashed through them. The unique sparks that had long flickered within them fucking exploded, exploded inwards, and they blew apart before being rebuilt into something so much greater than they had been, their inner shields lost in the maelstrom and releasing something that they hadn't even known was inside them. Mystical and majestic, immaculate and almighty, it became them as they became it, and all faded before them as their power stretched over the earth, until they held it in dark hands and knew they could destroy it with a single squeeze of sacred fingers.
Then the power exploded out, leaving her in wall of liquid lava as it took different shapes within her husbands. Draco was ice, ice so frigid and glacial that nothing stood a chance before it, and Blaise was shadows and darkness, crepuscular and eclipsing, devoid of any light at all. The three twisted with one another beautifully, and made her want to kill things. A voice that sounded an awful lot like her mother's bloomed in her mind, screaming at her to fight it, to not give in, but she had surrendered to depravity long ago and was used to getting what she wanted ever since. So she didn't hesitate when they slammed that destructive power into their fallen Lord.
Cackling with delight and retribution, they forced him to the grimy ground, forced his mind open and made one who'd never screamed shriek in pain beyond nightmares. Calling on the very demons that had made him a Dark Lord, they gave him back to them, gave him into their nefarious care and felt not a twinge of…anything. The pain of his betrayal was gone in the face of their new power, gone in the face of whatever divinity had awakened in them with it, and every person there felt the change in them. And when, after long, long minutes, the demons finally took his spirit and retreated back to hell, they proved their own worth inarguably, once more guided by unseen hands.
"Behold a new age!" They crooned in those echoing voices, lifting their arms and flaying their skin open with razor-sharp nails. A startled, exuberant cry went up next to them, soon flowing out in widening rings until every throat echoed it, and the earth shook with their people's triumphant howls as they all fell flat upon their faces, a sea of living souls at hers and her husbands' feet.
Because that night, they began bleeding blue and Old Royalty ruled once more.
End Flashback
And still does, she thought smugly. She felt the Pool's power start to pull back from her, abating until strength was the only thing gained from the water, the visions of memories slowly clearing from her mind. Taking a deep breath, she sat upright, the water supporting her as easily as stone would, and she found her children curled up on either side of her, dozing upon the softly lapping waves, their arms pillowed underneath their cherry-haired heads. They were so beautiful, so precious…My darling little ones, she thought, even though they were no longer small. They came to attention when she moved, and both smiled at her lazily.
"Rejoined the living, have you, Mother?" Corpus teased, stretching before rising herself and giving Virginia a soft, quick kiss, taking her hand. "Come, we can finally go see what papa and Father have been doing now that you're back. Some ingenious new experiment, no doubt."
No doubt, she agreed silently, smiling ruefully. The swim to the edge was easy, a half-formed wish letting them sink into the water, and she pondered what new discovery would be waiting for them. The Light ones, the righteous ones, would have said that many of the things they made were dangerous and deadly and cruel, were too dark and frightening to ever even think of, but they were all dead, and their opinions mattered not. How sad they would have all been to know their futures of rotting in mass graves while the pure mages held court above their forsaken and forgotten bones, how sad they would have been to know that Dark would conquer Light, that Night would conquer Day, that Black would conquer White.
How sad they would have been to know that sometimes, there are no undefeated heroes. That sometimes, the righteous just die.
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…(snickers)…Anyway, as you can see, it's not finished yet, due to the requests for a D&B point of view, which voids the extended summary altogether…(sighs and grumbles)…I'm such a slave to your whims. So REVIEW and return the favor, bitches! LOL