A Different Dark Age

by dracademented

{COMPLETE} Every DxG shipper knows about Fire and Ice, right? Wrong. You only thought you knew before, but that was just a glimpse, a glamour. These are the hidden chronicles, the black scrolls. 'Tis a tale of darkness.

8. Noxious Consort

Disclaimer: I own nothing! Except, again, for Anton! He's mine, damn it! (cackles gleefully)

Responses to Reviewers: tkmoore, darling, your review was above and beyond, as usual. I'm very honored that you've stuck with me this long! Sunday-Morning,you are toooooooo awesome!however can I repay you? lol :P sillysun, thanks! hope the blaise-goodness is up to par in this one too, lol! morphed, yes, you reviewed and therefore I am certainly blossoming, lol. thanks, as usual! MeghanBlack, I'm blushing, and I hope this one doesn't disappoint! thanks! Haunted-Shadows, yeah, i've heard a couple people say theirs have been fucking up. you might wanna just re-do it. and thanks a million times over! Tytianne, more will be added. it's not quite over just yet! love ya! Lithui, thanks so much, and don't worry about it, lol. loved the review! bigreader, it's explained farther in this chapter, and let me know if anything else is buggin' you! thanks for reviewing! Aleurier, I agree! Death to all things besides their goodness! Artemisgodess, thanks, and they just sort of…come to me, I dunno. I drink entirely too much caffeine and don't get nearly enough sleep. that might have something to do with it… Flower4444, thanks, and sorry! there isn't really any order to it most of the time, lol. Pia O'Leary, it makes sense. that's exactly what I was going for. thank you! AnitaBlake/BuffyFan, thank you so much! love ya! me, don't worry about it, and thanksthanksthanks! bobomiado, and thank you for reviewing! LEGOSGURL, sorry, and I will soon. thanks for reviewing! gin rose raposo1, (snuggles you) you're the best! thanks!

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?

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Everything had once again stilled, the cold light of the stars endlessly fascinating, and the Pool had allowed him a brief respite before plaguing him with ever more memories. All he wanted was to be back in their workrooms, completing what had been so long in the making, completing that which they had designed and carefully perfected over the last century in a half until it was weeks away from finally being finished. The first one would be activated immediately, and after a century of tests with the real thing and not just theory, their true dominion would begin. A delicious tingle raced through him just thinking about it, and the urge to fight the Pool's hold grew stronger.

Until a voice that could make devils weep began a mournful melody.

The haunting, despondent words soothed him, made him relax once more as that familiar voice washed over him, and he opened his eyes slowly. The Dark Knights had drawn close to the one who could spin such a bewitching tune, spreading out at her feet like fearsome, murderous children with their weapons casting starlit shadows over their delighted expressions. None could resist it when a High Royal sung, as their voices alone could take you from despair to glee to heartache unlike any you've ever known, hitting the most basic and primal emotions within any soul. Their voices could kill or heal, honor or disgrace, and Virginia's was the most potent among them.

And he remembered her song; he'd heard it once before.

Begin Flashback:

The war…the war was glorious. It started after their seventh years, Virginia's sixth, and that year had been…quite satisfying. The Death Eaters had accepted her and her brothers, they no longer had to wear glamours, and Virginia left her family for darkness and devious delight. It was when she finally melded into the web connecting all of them that she truly discovered the depths of his and Draco's desire to fix the wounds left by those families whose bloodlines had been broken, and it became just as fierce a goal within herself that night, as well. The year went by quickly enough, and they were ready for the coming summer and the beginning of the end of muggle rule.

The planet would again belong to the purebloods as it hadn't in thousands of years, and their first strike took place two days after they returned from Hogwarts. London was obliterated in less than three hours, nothing left but burning plies of rubble and bodies, and lines of impure survivors were led out in magical restraints to transports that would take them to the slave houses where they would wait out the end of the war before being relocated. They did no more that first night, and did nothing to stop the flying bubbles that the other muggles came in to record them, to record what they couldn't believe. The other witches and wizards, though…

They hid in their homes, glued to the WWN and praying that it was a nightmare.

The next night the true purging began, and half of the British Isles fell to their armies in a series of simultaneous attacks. The muggles could do nothing, the Ministry barely even tried, and the Light wizards that drew together slowly realized that there was no stopping them. The weeks wore on, a constant high of battle and blood, and Blaise had never been so in his element before. Death and mayhem suited him, as did commanding thousands. Due to their strength, he, Draco and Virginia usually found themselves separated when working over the smaller cities and countries, but the larger ones…the larger ones they decimated together.

One such night was three weeks into the war, where they were wreaking utter havoc in the streets of Singapore, and it was the first they'd seen of each other in days, their joy making them all the more deadly. They'd been there for maybe half an hour when an unexpected band of Light wizards had shown up to try and help the muggles and mudbloods, their faces set in brave, heroic masks that would no more save them in the end than their misguided morals would. Word flew quickly through the ranks, shouts of Potter being sighted amongst them, and Draco and Blaise went to look for him, Virginia being preoccupied with a brothel full of drug dealers.

Blaise paused only long enough to whisper into Anton's raven hair.

"Guard her, my fearless one."

He didn't need to say any more, and Anton's short nod earned him a vicious kiss, before Blaise was gone and back at Draco's side. He, too, had had Pansy stay, and the twins flanked their sister as always. None of them took any chances with their dark little vixen. And she, though perfectly capable of taking care of herself, accepted their protectiveness with good grace, knowing that it was futile to argue. He and Draco soon met up with Narcissa and Jeran, the former of which had grown bored and the latter of which hunted Potter as well, and they soon found him. But someone had alerted their Lord, and he had made a rare appearance amidst the raging carnage.

He really should have known better by then.

They'd never really known what it was about Potter that muddled his thoughts so much, but it seemed as if every time they were face-to-face, the Dark Lord lost all common sense, letting his fury control him. It was the one thing about their Lord that they didn't like, because it was a weakness that usually made him look like a fool. This time was no different, as his rage colored every movement and word, and instead of just bloody killing the little bastard, he had to ramble and preen, as if to make sure Potter knew that he was better, superior. And what bothered them was that he was, but he wasn't as secure in that as he usually seemed.

It ended badly every time.

"There's no escape for you this time." Their Lord was saying yet again, and Potter stood before him, a small group of Light wizards at his back, his wand held out and his face hard, though a bit of fear flickered deep within those toad-green eyes.

"You always say that, Voldemort, and I always leave the victor." Potter replied, and Draco stepped out of the alley that they were in, appearing at their Lord's side. Narcissa and Jeran followed, while Blaise stayed hidden, lost in shadows and waiting silently as the fighting continued all over the city.

"Enough of this. Kill him." Draco stressed, and Potter paled the barest bit, while Voldemort regarded Draco for a moment. If anyone else but for a small few had spoken so flippantly and demandingly, they would be writhing in agony. As it was, Voldemort paused, but continued as they'd feared he would.

"I will, just not yet. I've been waiting too long, much too long…"

"Then bind him, take him back to one of the manors, but this is folly!"

"Silence!" Voldemort snapped, and Blaise stiffened as Draco's eyes flashed momentarily before going dead and cold once more.

"As you wish, my lord." Draco sneered, giving a mocking bow.

One of the wizards with Potter laughed, a high, nervous sound that seemed to make something in Voldemort snap, and his hand lashed out, connecting with the side of Draco's face and actually making him stumble a bit, which let them know just how hard he must have hit him. Blaise snarled and moved forward, Jeran glared at their Lord in disbelief, and Narcissa's eyes began glowing a furious, bloody red. Draco lifted gloved a gloved hand to his face, the fingertips sheared off since claws tended to shred leather beyond repair, and touched his already-bruising skin absently. He treated it as he would a mark made from passion, not letting it heal as a reminder.

A reminder that could start a rebellion if Voldemort didn't tread carefully.

"You see what he does to me?" Voldemort asked quietly, adding just enough venom to his voice to make it creep along one's skin. "This is why he deserves to suffer. He makes me forget even the things that I consider the most precious. It's the curse scar, no doubt, and it fogs my perception." He glanced at Potter, who stood stock still, wand still at the ready as he absorbed every word.

Draco said nothing.

"Come now, dragon." Voldemort continued, gliding a step nearer. Jeran put himself half in front of Draco so that he couldn't get much closer, which was very nearly sedition in itself, and Blaise thought that Voldemort put too much faith in Narcissa's loyalty by leaving her at his back after striking her beloved son. "You know I would never truly harm you."

"I do not fear you harming me." Draco intoned slowly, and there was more truth in that statement than Voldemort appeared to like, as every word seemed to bring them closer to some edge that they'd never approached before.

"You shouldn't." Voldemort agreed after a moment, and Blaise watched Potter start to inch away towards another of the many sprawling alleys.

A choice laid itself out before him, and he knew that he could stop the fool in a heartbeat, snuff his life like a candle flame and deposit him at Voldemort's feet. Or…or he could let him get away and let his Lord suffer another loss to Potter. Over and over, Blaise seemed to see that pale hand slamming into an even paler cheek, and his decision was made. All he did, as Potter crept into that alley, unnoticed by any other but Draco, was inch underneath loose mental shielding and wipe the memory from his and his men's minds. No matter how strained their relations at the moment, he wouldn't have tales of their inner circle fracturing spreading through the enemy war camps.

"Forgive me."

Blaise's attention snapped back to his Lord. Had those words really just been spoken? Had Voldemort truly just apologized? Draco's head tilted to the side in something like wonder, Narcissa's eyes bled back to blue, and Jeran moved slightly to the side. Their Dark Marks were pulsing, sending them waves of reassurance and remembered trust, and though it felt slightly strange, their apprehension melted away. Voldemort then discovered Potter's escape, and they left while he raged, Narcissa and Jeran searching for their mates while Draco and Blaise looked for theirs as well. She wasn't too far off, a league or so to the east, and they could feel her giddy excitement.

They were halfway to where they sensed her when an explosion rocked the earth, lighting the sky up a brilliant orange and causing a chorus of even louder screams to sound around them. People were rushing by, bleeding and crying and dying, and neither could stop their grins until Virginia's disbelief and distress swept through them, intertwined with Anton's pain. Abandoning the fighting in order to get to them, both shifted into hawks and crossed the distance quickly, landing and shifting back as they did so. Virginia knelt between two piles of burning debris, the twins held off those trying to reach her, and Pansy was lost in battle madness.

All because Anton lay dying.

He could survive a lot of things most couldn't due to how much of their blood he'd consumed over the years, but even he couldn't heal almost being blown in half. His midsection was nothing but red gore, flashes of white bone peaking through, and Virginia had his head in her lap, her eyes dazed as she murmured reassurances, not quite advanced enough in the healing arts to fix so much damage. There was so much relief on the twins' faces when they saw him and Draco appear that they would have known how serious it was even if they couldn't see it themselves. Pansy didn't even notice them as she brutally tore through any that neared, her dying love all she could think of.

They went to his side, crouching beside him and worriedly searching anguish-filled hazel eyes, and they wasted not another moment before laying hands ripe with dark power on him, sending that energy streaming through them as they sent out a summons through the silver rings on their fingers, calling the rest of those closest to them. Theodore and Melody came, as did Daphne and Sebastian, Parvati and Padma, their mothers and fathers, Bella and Sirius, Severus and Calanthe, Sethos and Lee…They came, and their rage resounded through the city as they did so, for Anton was adored by many. He was too strong, too pure, too cruel and too beautiful not to be.

And as they healed him, they silently asked entrance, brushing against his inner shields, which he opened to them readily. They saw what had happened then, saw Virginia through his eyes as she'd taunted the dealers and their whores as she'd picked them off one by one, and saw him watching her back, killing any that came within yards of her. He didn't only do it so faithfully because Blaise had asked it of him, but also because he genuinely liked her, was even starting to love her as his connection with her deepened. Pansy already did, but Anton had always been the more hesitant of the two, the more cautious. He did not love easily or freely by any means.

They understood, of course, because it was much the same for them. While they cared for a small number of people, scarce few of even those could claim their love. And half of those only had a bit of it, nothing that would cause too much sorrow if lost. In truth, they only loved three, not including Virginia, since she was a vital, intricate part of them and love alone just didn't cover it. She was everything, not just that small, insufficient word. And it was just redundant to say that he and Draco loved one another, a fact long known by many. But three others could claim their full love, and Anton was one of them, as were Pansy and Bella.

Four held a true place in Anton's heart, and no more. Draco and Blaise, whom he'd loved the longest, Pansy, his lifemate, and Bella, who cherished him as he cherished her. But Virginia was weakening his defenses day by day with her constant black mirth and her acidic kisses, and what topped it for him, what made the largest impression and truly gained his respect (which was almost harder to gain than his love), was her loyalty to his best friends. Because they came first to him over all else, and in his heart of hearts, in the darkest, deepest reaches of his soul, he had already forsaken Voldemort and named them his only masters.

It was treason, and they were…touched.

So he watched Virginia's back for both reasons, for her and for them, and none made it near her without meeting a quick end. Then there was the explosion as they made their way out of the brothel, and what happened next happened in mere seconds, though it seemed to unravel so slowly before his eyes. The twins were fighting, curses flying with lethal precision, Pansy was a blur of steel as her short swords shone in the moonlight, and Virginia threw handfuls of darkfire that spread from person to person in engulfing waves. And then wizard with a gold sash of the Light tied around his arm broke past the twins through a group of terrified muggles.

Murder, grief and hate clouded his eyes, his wand lifted and a dark curse formed on his lips, and it was one that Anton knew all too well. Aimed at Virginia and designed to kill, it flew straight and true for her uncovered right side. Anton knew only a second of Slytherin hesitance, a second to wonder if her life was worth his, before Blaise's words rang through his head and he moved forward with a burst of speed, remembering her lips on his and her pledge of devotion. Then there was only pain, searing, burning, never-ending pain, and she was spinning, catching him as he fell and screaming in fury. The wizard died a moment later, his own wand blowing up in his hand.

Snapping back to reality, Blaise and Draco ran critical eyes over their work, the ruin of that muscled abdomen once more whole and ivory white. Goosebumps ran over it as they trailed cold, examining fingers across the firm hardness, like silk covering rippling rock. A waved hand had the trashed robes replaced with heavy velvet ones, since he would be freezing for hours yet due to the blood loss until they could feed him. He'd lost enough that had they taken so much as a minute longer, even their skills wouldn't have been enough to heal him. Hazel eyes slowly cleared, blinking long, bloody lashes, and he smirked when he saw them.

"Ah, my gallant princes came to save me." He crooned dramatically as Virginia brushed a lock of his long hair away from his face. "Here's the part where you tell me how pleased you are that I'll live and continue to grace you with my presence, and how crushed you were when my soul hung to my body but by a tiny thread…"

"You're fucking insufferable when you get wounded." Draco snapped, exasperated, and Anton snickered, burying his face in Virginia's thigh and watching them through dark locks of both her hair and his own.

"And I see the rest of the cavalry was called in, as well." He said haughtily, eyeing the others that had arrived and were currently engaged in what they did best. "It's so nice to be popular."

"Truly insufferable." Blaise muttered, grabbing him by the front of his robes and pulling him, albeit carefully, to his feet.

Draco rose as well, holding a hand out to Virginia, who took it and stood gracefully, her eyes glued to Anton, still slightly shocked. She would have expected such from Blaise or Draco, from the twins, Lee or Pansy, but though she counted Anton among her best friends, she hadn't thought he would risk his life for her. But he had, and she respected that, as did the night within her, and when their eyes met, the ties between them had a new strength, one both understood and accepted. Draco and Blaise exchanged a swift, victorious glance, the innermost web of those they held dearest bonding ever more, the lines between them nearing unbreakable.

Perhaps the closing completion of that moment can be blamed for what happened next, but regardless, they sensed the break in the ring of protection around them a split second too late to activate the charms they each had to stop bullets. Blaise only had time to spin, instinctively shielding Virginia, while Anton, who was still much too weak for such an action, did the same for Draco. They were driven by more than just conscious thought, following a primordial urge to protect both of them in any way that they could, and if seven bullets in a line just under the heart was what was needed to keep them safe, then so be it.

They'd read up on muggle weapons and knew a machine gun when they heard one, and the damned thing cut through them in horizontal lines. The little metal missiles would have gone out the other side, but neither were truly human and their bodies made of stronger stuff than most. Virginia's horrified eyes met his, before twin shrieks of fury drew his attention as he fought to stay on his feet. Bella, Silana and Pansy had fallen upon the man wielding the gun in a whirlwind of veela death, and Virginia's arms wrapped around Blaise's waist a second before she Apparated them away. He laughed when they appeared in his chambers at Morte Nera, quite amused.

He supposed it probably wasn't all that amusing for anyone else, however.

Virginia had Apparated them straight onto his bed, and Draco appeared beside them a moment later with Anton, who still had a smirk twisting his lips, even though his eyes had fallen shut, his blood pooling thickly around him. Draco's eyes met Blaise's almost frantically, and Virginia looked like she was about to faint, the slight bit of color she normally possessed having faded completely as she watched their blood run freely. Hah, he thought absently, maybe she knows how we felt finding her on that tower, now. Then Draco was laying a hand upon his and Anton's foreheads, Virginia was laying hers on Draco's shoulders, and Blaise's world went black.

The next thing he heard was that song, full of Virginia's sorrow.

It changed gradually, though, and became clearer as awareness returned to him, the sorrow becoming wishful waiting and hope, healing and vigilance. It spoke of hardships and triumph, of sadism and sinful salvation, and his eyes fluttered open only to meet Draco's silver ones less than an inch from his, their bodies intertwined under a pile of rich furs. Anton laid curled against his back, Pansy wrapped around him, and Virginia sat at their feet, her eyes closed as she sang and as Bella brushed her hair. The twins were also on the foot of the large bed with Parvati and Padma, next to Narcissa and Silana, whose breathing was even and calm in sleep.

Theodore and Sirius were passed out on a divan beside the bed, Lucius and Jeran sat in high-backed chairs with tumblers of brandy in their hands, Lee and Melody were spread out on a thick velvet rug with Daphne and Sebastian, and Severus, Sethos and Calanthe sat stiffly on a couch, their faces drawn and white. Draco grinned, kissed him soundly and nipped his bottom lip sharply enough to make him moan slightly, and that slight noise had Virginia's voice dying as she turned to look at him. A million things ran unsaid behind her dark eyes, and for some reason, they had the night within him swirling, twisting, whispering its will.

He spoke before thinking, though his words were truer than most.

"You must wed before the next new moon." He said, looking at her seriously, and his eyes trailed to Draco. "And I do not wish to hear any more reasons for delays."

Both just stared at him, but nodded all the same, recognizing the hidden layers in his voice and knowing what had birthed those words, however unexpected they had been. He and Anton both demanded to be let out of bed within the hour, quickly growing bored with the chafing restraint, and they'd almost wished they hadn't when they went outside and saw the estate full of concerned witches and wizards that waited for word of their condition. They were summoned to their Lord's side almost immediately, and Blaise firmly kept the new knowledge gleaned from Anton's mind locked deep inside where even Voldemort couldn't find it.

Treason it may be, but it was treason bred from love of them.

The wedding took place a week and a half later, and though Draco and Virginia had been postponing it, trying to find ways to make marriage vows stretch to three instead of just two, Blaise had been planning it and everything was ready, waiting for his word. The ceremony was held deep in the woods where the wizards of ancient Gaul once worshipped, on a place of power, a dark fount of energy welling up from within the earth itself and spilling over. He had chosen the location well, for nothing less would have been worthy of his beloveds' union. A stream trickled through the dead center of the small clearing, and its gurgling melody complimented the ghostly band.

Fairies flittered through the trees, power-high and glowing a dark, eerie blue as they cackled and howled, their tinny voices nearly lost in the deep thrums of strings and the steady, primal pounding of the drums. Dementors encircled the area, mounted on acromantula, just far away that their cold wasn't too much to bear for the strongest of their kind that were gathered together, spread out through the trees in flowing robes of silk and satin and velvet, of angora and cashmere and suede. They drank wine laced with spice and laughed quietly amongst themselves, their thick, cultured voices making a music all their own.

A chimera and a manticore stood guard at the winding path that led to the gathering, and clabberts leapt through the trees from branch to branch overhead, chattering excitedly as they tried to catch the glowing fairies. Erklings laughed delightedly as they chased the pure children around playfully, knowing better than to eat them, and gytrash hounds ghosted around the perimeters with the Dementors and the Nundu, ever-alert as they guarded the purebloods during their revelries. The kappa tribe leaders had been brought to watch and guard from the stream, but they mostly just sneered at the clabberts, who were their 'disgraced, land-bound cousins'.

The mer-king and his queen also lounged in the trickling creek that had been deepened earlier in the day, drinking kelpie blood from conch shells and absently tying the legs of plimpies in tight, vicious knots before throwing them back under the water to sink. A bonfire burned high and bright in a small center clearing, salamanders racing along the logs, their bodies a bright blue from the heat, and an occamy eyed them hungrily, its wings beating over its scaled back slowly as it considered snatching a few. The sphinx elders were sprawled out close to the flames, cleaning their giant paws lazily, while the great wolves claimed the other side, snarling at them.

The nymphs and dryads flickered through the trees, moving from trunk to trunk teasingly as they sung with the voices of their Siren sisters, alluring and addictive, while the werewolves paced anxiously, sniffing everyone they passed and growling at each other, it being mere days until the full moon. The vampires, too, were affected by the swelling might of Luna, and their eyes glittered strangely, as if they held specks of glowing blood within them. The veela were swaying to the music, and many watched them with entranced eyes, even thought they weren't consciously bespelling anyone at the moment, their white hair and icy eyes reflecting the flames.

And they all, from the purebloods to the predators, waited.

Anton and Sirius arrived first, appearing before the fire in robes of scaled silver, bladed staffs of the same in each hand as they moved to the side, making room for Pansy and Bella, who came next in robes of glassy obsidian, staffs of their own clutched in fists with blood-red nails. Lucius and Jeran soon followed, their own robes of onyx sparking darkly in the fairy light, and Blaise ripped his eyes away from the seeing stone before him, taking Draco's hand and Apparating to the clearing he'd been observing silently. Each wore robes of engraved platinum studded with black opals, and their hair flowed freely down their backs and past their waists.

Emeralds had been braided into it with extreme care, flashing like green fire in ebony and mercury, and he started to pull his hand away, but Draco just gripped it tighter, shooting him a quick glare. The elite of their world were spread out before them through the trees, and they all stayed quiet as they gaped, soaking in the stunning, metallic beauty they were presented with. It took every bit of willpower he had not to sneer. He'd really thought he would handle this better, and while he seemed perfectly calm and composed on the outside, inside he was slowly starting to panic, which was a completely new emotion. Suddenly, it was him gripping Draco's hand as if it would save him.

But then she appeared, and that melted away for the moment.

She was utterly radiant in a sweeping robe of thin, plated rubies that hugged her like a second skin of scales, and it, too, was engraved with runes of power done in white gold, studded and shaped with black pearls. Her hair was her only veil, woven through with brilliant diamonds until it truly looked like their blood, scarlet and silvery, and kohl lined her smoky eyes, making them shine. Her small, black-nailed hand rested within the crook of Voldemort's elbow, and he looked like any other proud father as he guided her towards them. She appeared to float rather than walk, her every movement lissome and lovely, and they were as ensorcelled as always.

She glided slowly through the carpet of summer leaves and scattered jewels at her slippered feet, and her eyes moved between them lethargically, sedately, drinking them in as surely as they drank her in. It seemed an age before she reached them and Voldemort stepped back and to the side, his gaze still full of familial pride and something else, a hunger for the power this final binding would bring. Blaise, suddenly feeling as if he were being ripped forcibly in two, preformed his part and handed Draco's hand over to her like a precious offering. It felt as if he offered his very soul instead of that pale, slender appendage.

For the first time in his life, he felt like weeping.

Fighting for control and making sure that none of his inner agony reflected itself on his face or in his sapphire eyes, he kept his cold, uncaring mask firmly in place, even as he felt his frost-lined black heart slicing itself into sickened shreds. He was stronger than this, he told himself, surely he was. It was only a wedding, a binding, and he'd attended plenty. But not Draco's, a small, devious voice hissed in the back of his mind, not Virginia's. Suddenly sure that he was going to be ill, it took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to flee into the trees and find something to kill, to sate his rage and soul-numbing grief on.

"You come tonight to bind your spirits and your bloodlines with ties irremovable by any, mortal or immortal, and such oaths will be witnessed by the dark gods and remembered through time immemorial. Are you ready?" Lucius asked, his voice not entirely his own as he tapped into the fount of black energy underneath them in order to wed them as powerfully as possible.

"Yes." Draco and Virginia replied in unison, and Blaise shot them an encouraging smirk, though he felt like screaming and clawing his heart out, for surely that would stop this splitting torment.

"Do you have the binding bands?" Jeran asked, his voice as spectral and strange as Lucius's, and Blaise nodded, holding out one bejeweled hand.

Two bands of bloodstone and the wizard metal, ebentine, appeared on his palm, dark and glorious, pulsing with the magic he himself had painstakingly poured into them to ensure that they were perfect, just as he'd ensured everything about this night would be perfect for everyone but him. But those were thoughts better left alone to eat at him slowly, corrosively, and not ones for now, in this moment, while his beloveds' eyes shone with such delight and rapture. Plastering the most genuine fake smile that he could manage on his face, he kissed both chastely, wondering if they could taste his soul spilling from him in mutilated melancholy, before he spun and took his new place beside Anton.

Strange how the event that made his future broke his spirit.

"Take this dagger and with it split your shells, letting your essence free." Jeran intoned, holding out a bone-handled blade that Draco took from him with familiar fingers, and Blaise wondered if he could truly die from desolation. It certainly seemed like it.

Draco sliced his palm open and Blaise very nearly swooned, feeling his own hand flare with a phantom ache, one he knew that he would never feel again once his loves had bound themselves so tightly together that it overrode his own ties with them. Anton shot him a concerned look, which he sneered at, but that only seemed to make the crease in the other's flawless brow deepen as he moved minutely closer, placing a comforting, supportive hand on the small of Blaise's back. His hazel eyes reflected a bare piece of Blaise's pain, but it was somewhat soothing to know that someone understood, someone that wouldn't judge him for this slip, this weakness.

He did his bloodline proud for the simple fact that not a single tear escaped him.

He was not yet that degraded, thank the gods, his pride and arrogance had not yet been so pathetically beaten down, and the only signs of his misery were his rigid frame, which was alive with an almost battle-alertness, and the blue eyes that should have been as joyful as everyone else's, but were as barren and desolate as a glacial wasteland. It was just as well that neither Draco nor Virginia happened to glance at him as she, too, sliced her palm open, because they would have been quite shocked at the freezing, murderous fury that was beginning to sour the forlorn wretchedness within him into something beyond darkness, beyond madness.

"Do any protest this union of two of our oldest bloodlines?" Lucius demanded of all those gathered, and Blaise wanted to shout not to fucking tempt him so, not to taunt him with such a desirable choice of refusal. He somehow kept his tongue, and the rites continued.

"Clasp hands and vow your timeless devotion." Jeran commanded, and Draco and Virginia did as he said, their bloody fingers intertwining as their eyes locked, and he was swamped with mixed emotions, finally feeling some sort of happiness, if only because their pleasure mattered most to him. But it was over-shadowed by the agony that threatened to choke him, and at that moment, death seemed like an all-too-blissful release.

"Forever in death, together in life, by the stars and the night, I claim you as wife." Draco's voice was liquid ecstasy to the senses, and he felt bile rise in his throat as he remembered that silver head crowded close to his when they were nearly sixteen, swearing to wed him one day as they flew high in the clouds over the Dead Sea.

"By blood and bone, by blade of knife, love as old as stone, I claim you for life." And Virginia, revered, worshipped Virginia, speaking her part with a voice of honeyed velvet that he seemed to breathe in and which lacerated his lungs, the whispered oaths to one day marry that had passed between them before he'd had his vision dying on now-deaf ears.

"Exchange your bands of bonding and know true consummation and completion."

Lucius and Jeran spoke as one, and they did as they were told, Draco sliding Virginia's ring onto her finger and then letting her return the favor, and the dark pulse that shot out from them felt like a thousand burning daggers splitting through him even as the others all moaned in something very different from pain. It shimmered and shook around them, ring after ring of that black energy leaving them as their faces contorted with fierce glee, and he…well, he felt as though he were finally dying, the connection he'd always had with Draco shattering around him and dicing him into bloody ribbons, shortly followed by the newer, but no less potent, one with Virginia.

His world unraveled, and for the first time in his life, he had no anchor.

Everything spun sickeningly, his stomach flipped and rolled, and a void began eating at his vision as it gnawed away on his soul. He was empty, bereft and lost, and he didn't even realize he'd called his boot knife into his hand until Anton grabbed his arm and pulled him closer against him, which was probably for the better considering that his legs were sure to give out at any moment. He looked down and half expected his chest to be nothing but a bloody, savaged hole due to the blinding torture that currently afflicted him, but the platinum scales had stayed whole even as he fragmented within them, his skin swiftly becoming as cold as his spirit.

"Sweet gods, Blaise." Anton murmured as his flesh turned icy, and Blaise knew then that Anton had expected this when he pulled him into a desperate, heated kiss, trying his damnedest to warm him up as he nicked his tongue and let his blood pool in Blaise's mouth.

But any sort of warmth at all seemed suddenly alien, and the blood, which Blaise knew had to be nearly boiling from all of the whiskey and spice that Anton had consumed, and which he usually found fairer than just about any other, was like clammy rot upon his own tongue. Jerking back, Anton paled at whatever he saw in Blaise's eyes, and Bella was suddenly there, her lips tight with worry as she drew in close to them. But Blaise only had eyes for his estranged loves, and he couldn't bring himself to care if Anton and Bella thought him ready to give in and fade from sorrow, which he just might be powerful enough to do, according to old, old legends.

Draco and Virginia were still lost in their connection, he was rapidly withering as none had in millennia, and his friends grew desperate, mumbled exclamations hissing questions on what to do, and Voldemort's voice vaguely reached him, saying that the only way to save him was by someone binding themselves to him before he passed beyond their reach. Several voices rose in agreement and offering, and another silenced them with an enraged snarl. Then Anton was shaking him and begging forgiveness as he sliced his hand open, shortly followed by his own, and Blaise wanted to protest, to tell them to abandon such a foolish plan, but he couldn't seem to do anything at all.

Pansy was stricken, urging Anton on even as it broke her heart to see him bind another, but she wouldn't die from her grief, and she now knew that Blaise would as his skin grayed and his eyes lost their dark sheen. Anton clasped their bloody palms together, and a faint surge pulled at him, beckoning him back to the living with a pull of pure blood. He fought it, resisted and strained and swore, but it was all internal, and as Anton spoke the vow that would both save and damn him, he felt his resistance beginning to cave under the newly-forming bond's crushing pressure. His lips seemed to move of their own accord, even as he struggled to stop the words.

"By blood and bone, by blade of—"

"Stop!" Frantic voices whipped through his skull, and startled gasps surrounded him before Anton was stumbling backwards, their hands untangling and the strengthening hold falling into nothing, incomplete.

"But you can't stop it, he needs—" Someone that sounded like Severus started, but he was cut off abruptly.

"We know what he needs!"

Then Draco and Virginia were before him where he'd sagged against a tree when Anton had released him, and Draco leaned in, sliced his other hand and kissed him roughly, passionately, letting his bountiful supply of energy stream between them as their blood mingled. Blaise felt the smallest bit of feeling return to his flesh, quickly spreading from head to toe, and he wondered if it was a taunt or a fleeting reward. Fleeting, apparently, as those lips left his, but then another set took their place and his other hand was taken, Virginia pouring heat and life through every vein and nerve ending until both were moaning, before that warmth was gone and he grew cold once more.

Then both dropped to their knees at his feet and changed history.

"Twist fate with us, defy karma and kismet, without you we're heartless, with you we'll force the world to submit. Hollow in your absence, mighty in your grace, stay with us forever hence, eternally safe in our embrace."

They were rhymes spoken in a dialect that had died with Atlantia's fall, musical and flowing, but even he had never heard such words of binding before, words that, if they worked, did the impossible and bound three in a way that only two should be able to survive. He could only stare, wondering at how long they must have searched and hunted for such a thing, what prices they must have paid, before awe dropped him to his own knees and they held out a band crafted like theirs, but that he had certainly not made. And suddenly, he knew how to answer, how to accept, and it didn't involve long-buried languages, just a traditional, slightly altered, simple soul vow.

"By blood and bone, by blade of knife, love as old as stone, I accept and claim you both for life."

It was a night of magic and dreams and morphing destinies.

End Flashback

Virginia must have stopped singing hours ago, and she was curled up on his left, her hand tangled with Draco's on his stomach, who was on his other side. Both were actually sleeping, which was rare, and he again felt the same wonder as he had back then, a bone-deep sense of disbelief that he was damned enough to have them. And damned enough to have another, as well, one who was currently laying on his stomach on the first landing, one arm and all of that raven hair spilling over the edge precariously, his hazel eyes calm and languid as he watched them. Yes, he would always remember the sacrifice that Anton had been willing to make in order to save him.

"Back among the living for a moment, are you? The others haunt the eleventh level."

Blaise looked a question at him, and Anton replied with long ease.

"I don't know." He said, slightly exasperated and twining his hair between refined, artistic fingers. "Because I wished to stay? You always want to know answers to things that make me sound foolish."

Blaise sincerely doubted that was even possible.

"I suppose that I'll forgive you," he continued, sliding into a kneeling position in a single heartbeat, so controlled and lissome that all but a handful would have missed the movement completely. "But only if you take me on one of these…bridges, when they are done. I wish to see the stars in such a way. I wish to help you ensnare and surmount them even more."

And you will, dear one, eternally at our side and sharing in our glory.

"I'll never really understand exactly how you're doing it, but I understand enough to know that it's fucking brilliant. And how typical of you three that utterly dominating one world isn't enough."

It's not as if you objected. In fact, I believe you celebrated.

"Regardless, I'll be there as long as you'll have me. And it wasn't all out of sacrificial loyalty, Shadow."

Fuck. Blaise hadn't meant to let him see that much. And did the bastard have to smirk?

The water…

Begin Flashback:

They had been thought stronger than possible as two wed together, but that melding had them sinking ever deeper into their depraved, beloved hell, ever deeper into consuming blackness and dark, sublime bliss, and they were watched from there on out with something like revered terror. Anton was…pleasantly rewarded for his selfless act of allegiance, and the three of them converging on him at once while they were still power-drunk and careless with it might not have been the healthiest choice, but it had definitely been the most satisfying for all involved. They reminded him, throughout a continuous day and night, exactly why it was good to serve them.

His throat was so raw from screaming at the end that he couldn't even speak, not that he had the minimum brain-functioning skills left to so much think semi-coherently in the first place, and he'd been drained and fed over and over again until he'd been begging for it to stop and begging for more at the same time. Thankfully, they were still sentient enough to at least know when to quit before killing him, and so thorough had they been that his skin was hypersensitive for days afterwards, the slightest brush of unspelled cloth enough to drive him slightly mad. Then their brief respite from the war was over, and it was back to days and nights of near-constant fighting.

They mended things fully with their Lord, their trust and adoration regained as they spent ever more time with him, and it wasn't until long after school had been canceled and winter had grabbed a firm hold on the northern hemisphere that Anton and the twins came running through the Manor one day, bursting into their rooms and interrupting Draco and Blaise's game of chess while Virginia snagged some much-needed sleep. Their cheeks were flushed and their eyes excited, and they ripped off their sooty robes and blood-streaked masks, the blank, false faces falling unheeded to the ground at their feet as curious gazes rested upon them.

"The Minister of Belarus has been found." George said with a impish grin, and Draco and Blaise rose in smooth, fluid motions, as did Virginia, who'd immediately awoken upon their entrance.

"Where?"

"Romania, of all places." Fred replied, stripping off his gore-soaked robes and then the equally crimson undershirt that clung to his skin, coming loose and raining little dry, brownish flakes over the floor that disappeared as soon as they'd landed, as had the clothes and masks.

Anton and George were soon disrobed as well, and Virginia had disappeared into the bathroom, where the sound of the waterfall could be heard, no doubt activating the warming charms and making sure that the house elves had restocked everything from the night before. The large pools that served as their baths had been full of mages well satiated from a long day of battle and bloodlust, and they'd stayed the few hours left until dawn appeasing their other favorite hobby: fucking each other stupid. They'd all been reduced to lazy giggles and weak threats by the time dawn was upon them, and they, too lethargic from killing and spice and sex, had decided to sleep there.

They'd awoken to Sebastian almost drowning.

So they'd agreed to try and at least crawl out of the pools the next time, and some had gotten up for a while, stretching like cats and padding into the parlor to demand food from the eager little elves, while the others had done just that and pulled themselves from the water onto stones as soft as phoenix feather pillows. Magic was a delightful thing, especially when the alternative was rising to greet the scorching sun. Never mind that it was winter; that bloody thing was pure fucking evil no matter the season. He'd fight in it well enough by dampening the extreme sensitivity of his eyes and shielding his alabaster skin, but he'd prefer to forget that it existed at all.

Bloody fucking ball of light.

"You would think," Anton was saying, "that the fool wouldn't have picked a country that's mage population joined us in the very beginning. Ah well, he was probably trying to go for that whole 'hide in the open and they won't find you' drivel."

"And how did you find him?" Virginia asked as she came out of the bathroom and the twins went in, still grinning roguishly. Anton shrugged, blood-smeared muscles rippling, and threw his own shirt to the side, the billowing silk sleeves ruined and ragged.

"The way I usually do." He responded as he made his way after the twins, and he leered as he passed, sneering lecherously as he brushed up against her in the archway, his soaked leggings and her thin night robe all that keep skin from meeting skin. She tilted her chin and looked imperiously down her dainty nose at him, her lips coiling in a smirk that managed to be warning and wanton all at once, and he took a liberty that only two others but for himself could have gotten away with and not paid for with their life, growling and stealing a quick kiss before he disappeared inside, his next words echoing after him. "I smelt him out and locked him up. Here's the key."

And a glimmering Gringotts key did flash through the air, Virginia catching it nimbly.

"Let's go then." She said, looking up at them, and they smiled slow, savage smiles, taking her cherished hands in theirs and Apparating away.

The goblins did nothing more then bow and offer to escort them to the vault, but they knew their way well enough through those twisting, branching passages, and they'd be blessed before taking one of those rickety-arsed little cars. So, moving swiftly with the aid of their marvelous little flight charms, ten minutes later found them in the very bowels of the place, where only the oldest, richest bloodlines held vaults. Dragons stood before each door and at the end of every hallway, but the dragons liked them, and for a small taste of their blood, they would have let them in any vault they chose, key or not, and so would the goblins.

It was one of the McGregor vaults that they entered, though, and Anton and the twins had certainly ensured that the man would be properly terrified. A lethifold hovered in the air before him where he sat chained to the leg of a sleeping troll, and the thin, black creature would lean in and brush its sides against the wizard every so often to get a little taste until it was later fed for its services. He nearly fucking wet himself when he looked over, eyes wide with panic, and saw who came through the door. One high, shrill shriek after another poured from his lips in between bouts of pleads in both English and Belarusian, pleads to the gods to save him from the Dark Lord's devils.

They were fiends, he said, fiends and sinners and monsters. And he was right.

"Stay back, foul demons, for my faith shall free me!" He finally choked out in a way that made some sort of sense, and they laughed coldly. A quick look inside him showed that he loathed male flesh, so Draco and Blaise were out for this one without completely breaking him, because they'd already decided how to work their way to Dumbledore's Secret Keeper. And they saw something else much more disturbing, something that only solidified their determination to rid the world of such nonsense, because it was not obscure gods that he was praying to, but muggle angels. He truly thought they were demons, and Christian demons at that.

"Truly? Then by all means, let it free you."

Nothing moved but for his shaking form and the hungry lethifold.

"It is as I thought then." Blaise continued after another few moments of a complete lack of righteous thunder and divine retribution. "Your…faith will do nothing but make you die a more painful death."

"Silence, Abaddon, for I will not hear your lies!" He whimpered, and Blaise and Draco exchanged amused glances while Virginia snickered.

"What did you call me?" Blaise asked curiously, and the man seemed to puff himself up, as if Blaise had somehow confirmed his suspicions.

"Abaddon, Apollyon, Asmodeus, the angel-prince of Hell, destruction and ruin given form, the minister of death and the author of havoc on earth!" He cried, trying to make some motion across his chest with his hand only to draw up short because of the chains.

"It's quite sad to see a pureblood spewing such filth." Blaise commented dryly while his beloveds laughed at the indignant man. "However did you become so deluded?"

"It is not delusion, it is truth! The knowledge that will lead me to eternal bliss and timeless paradise no matter what you do to me!"

"Is that what they teach you?" Draco inquired, still sniggering, and the man nodded feverishly. "All right, then, we'll play your game and tell you if you're right. So, who am I?"

"You are Nero, Belial, Berial, the personification of evil, death and all things wicked, the prince of this world and of darkness, the destroyer of all!"

This was actually quite entertaining. Pathetic, but entertaining.

"And I?" Virginia asked, stalking forward slowly. He cringed back from her, nearly waking the troll, and sweat was pouring down his flushed face.

"You…you are Lamia, Lilith, the bitch wife of Adam and the mother of all demons, spirit of the night and queen of everything hellish and depraved!"

"Honestly," Virginia crooned, smiling a very unpleasant smile if you knew what fate it held for the one that it was aimed at, "do you have names for all of us then?"

"They told us about you when the war broke out and our priests saw through you to what you truly are. We know about you, you and your Lord, and we know all about what you've done to the Horsemen!" The last was squeaked as the lethifold moved in again at a silent command from Draco, who was smirking heavily.

"The Horsemen?" Draco questioned when the wavy creature moved back again, and the man's zealous faith seemed to drive him ever onward; it was as if repeating the tales told to him seemed to give him strength. Not that it would help him in the end.

"The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse." The man said, looking as if he wanted to glare but didn't quite have the balls for it. Perhaps he wasn't completely stupid. "We know how Satan twisted their minds during the last millennia that they've slept in their tombs, and we know that when the true Lord called them forward to wipe the abomination that is your existence from the earth, they betrayed Him and now follow you."

"Sweet Circe." Draco whispered into Blaise's hair. "Are you listening to this? Where do they come up with this shit?" But Blaise didn't get a chance to do more then sneer before the wizard rambled on.

"The twins, the betrayers, one soul in two bodies, they are the first Horseman split in halves, the bringers of death, the deceivers and conquerors, they who ride in on a white horse, bow in hand. The next two we did not expect to be female, but then again, perhaps they really aren't one or the other at all. Regardless, the second Horseman, the Black witch, she is war, the taker of peace, she who bears a great sword and is mounted upon a horse the color of blood."

All of it was said with absolute conviction, while Blaise simply tried to get over the image of the twins and Bella that his words had created. Hmm, it's really not too far off, he thought idly. Except that Fred and George would never ride a white horse, and Bella is most assuredly female.

"And the remaining two?"

"The next falsely claims herself a Parkinson, thinking to fool just as the second thought to fool, but we know her true identity just as we know the other's. She is famine, hunger, the third Horseman astride a black steed, the starvation of the righteous and devout. And the last…the last is her mate, the one who caught me, the forth Horseman atop his pale steed, and he is disease, sickness, the Black Death, plagues and Hell following after him."

"So I," Virginia started, looking quite mirthful, "am the mother of demons, they," she shot a pointed glance at Blaise and Draco, "are princes of Hell, and our closet friends are Apocalyptic Horsemen? And this is a…common view among muggles and muggle-lovers?"

"The priests would never keep the people in the dark about such things. And once the war started…everyone suddenly began believing." The wizard said by way of answer, and Virginia laughed a delighted laugh.

"How wonderful! And our Lord, what about him? Surely you have a name for him, as well?"

"Of course we do." The man said, shrinking in on himself even farther. "He is the king of devils, the Lord of Hell, the accuser and the adversary, known now as Satan, the father of lies, and once as Lucifer, the star of morning."

It was suddenly no longer humorous in the least.

"You dare to blaspheme by even speaking His name?" Blaise hissed, a dagger in his hand before he even thought of calling one in, and the man paled farther, tried to make that hand motion again, and started to cry when he failed.

"It is Him then, you do work for Him, God save us all…" He started mumbling to himself more than them.

"Your god is of no help to you here." Blaise snapped, all the while wondering why the muggles would have made one of the Underworld's darkest Kings into their…what had he called it? Their 'Satan'? But it mattered not, for he was a true believer of what he spoke, and had unwittingly handed them a marvelous weapon, never mind the sacrilege that it was based on.

"He will save me…s-save my soul…" The man faltered for the first time, seeing something in Blaise's blue eyes that he sincerely didn't like, just as he didn't like the dagger that impaled his hand, either. It pinned it to the floor and he began screaming again until a vicious curse had his lips slowly sewing themselves shut.

"Careful now." Draco tsked, the last having been his doing. "Or you'll swallow your tongue in truth."

The wizard's jaw wriggled wildly, his eyes rolling like one possessed, and Blaise began a game of serious mind-fucking.

"Think it." He commanded, gliding over to the man's side so quickly that he seemed to vanish and instantly reappear, and he let his shields drop. Not his inner shields, no, but the masking ones that kept what he was from petrifying everyone but a scare few with primal fright just by being anywhere near him. Letting the full force of his eyes bore into the man's brown ones, he let them bleed and shift and swirl in a mad dance of indigo chasing purple chasing black, galaxies seeming to form within them and evolve in a never-ending cycle of death and rebirth. The last was new, something that he and his bonded had only been able to call upon at will since they'd been wed.

It was no less effective for it being recently acquired, however.

"Think it." He repeated. "Think my name again, the one that you and yours so cleverly discovered."

'Abaddon.' The thought was as clear as could be to Blaise's perception, and he gave the trembling wizard a feral smile.

"Thrice now you've called me such, so know that it is true, all of it. I am a prince of Hell indeed, my Lord's right hand, and Lucifer is more real than you've ever imagined. Trust me when I say that there will be a special place in Hell for you, courtesy of the one that you speak so scathingly about."

'I…' And the wizard's iron will crumbled a bit, letting in doubt because his mind wished to deny what it was hearing, as it was simply too ghastly for him to otherwise contemplate and stay sane. 'No, no, I was wrong, it can't be…can't be…'

"Too late for that." Blaise mocked, and an absent thought had his shifter blood waking, huge, black membranous wings unfurling from behind him while a helpful trick of the night had his eyes turning a flaming red to rival Hell's fires. Fangs lengthened and sharpened, deadly claws sprung from graceful fingers, and it was a forked tongue that snaked from between black lips to flutter along the man's cheek. He could look demonic enough when he chose.

"Oh, Asmodeus, don't toy with him so." Draco playfully chastised, joining Blaise and stretching his own ebony wings, having shifted at the same time. An acrid smell reached them, and both crinkled their noses and backed away when they saw that the man had pissed himself. It was just so bloody gross when they did that.

"Don't speak to me of toying with food, Belial." Blaise shot back as their fingers intertwined. "What say you we give him to our lady, now? You know how she loves breaking fools." He spared her a fond glance before glaring at the wizard again, who looked about ready to faint. A whispered spell stopped that from happening, ensuring he would stay conscious until death, and Blaise sneered as he saw the idiot's eyes widen in recognition and dread of that little piece of magic.

"What's wrong? Don't you want to play with the demon queen?" Draco taunted, suddenly pulling the dagger free from the wizard's hand in a fluid, twisting motion, which had muffled screams trying to escape those stitched lips. Blood seeped from them, especially as he tugged on them in an effort to howl with pain, and even more pooled around the claw-like appendage that he cradled in lap, and where it had been laying on the floor. Draco dipped a finger in it, brought it to his tongue, and purred. "Old enough to keep." He said, and laughing and anticipatory, they took to the air as Virginia moved forward like a panther on the prowl, her body becoming her weapon.

And what a weapon it was.

The man sent fervent mental prayers and entreaties to his god and every angel he could name, but as predicted, none came to sweep him away enfolded in white-feathered wings and harmony. His clothes had been striped from him and his body thoroughly cleansed with spell after spell, and as hard as he tried to fight Virginia's bewitching allure, his desire was more than apparent. And he hated himself for that desire, hated himself even more than he hated them, and his mind started to break under the strain. He couldn't get over the fact that he was trapped in a vault with three demons, real, true, honest-to-God demons, and that the mother of them all was making him a heretic.

None could resist her.

She never even really touched him, but neither she nor her husbands needed to do so to bring pleasure bordering on madness, especially not to one so weak and unprepared for what darkness could do. Anton, for instance, required more flesh on flesh for him to become truly undone in such a crazed, keening, mindless way, while the little white wizard before them barely took more than ghostly psychic caresses and sharp nails raked down a thigh. The night overwhelmed him, conquered and claimed him, and she broke him like one would destroy a room full of china, snatching handfuls of his very soul from him and throwing them against mental walls, giggling as they shattered.

They circled above them throughout, taking tidbits of their own from him, enough to recite scripture from his Holy Book backwards and make him think that it was some horrible, archaic ritual to damn his spirit, aiding in the process of drawing forth that growing breaking point. Because he was starting to want it, want it as he so achingly, desperately wanted her, while all they wanted was his bloodline. His mind snapped, the sweet, cold blackness rushed in, and he was remade at her hands, internally begging for it with everything in him even as what was left of his conscience screamed that she was tainting him, defiling him, corrupting him.

He rose a new man and told them exactly where to find their next target, still insisting on calling them by his demon names.

The Minister of Mexico was shocked to see them three days later, and he didn't have any aversion to male flesh, nor did he spew muggle propaganda at them. No, he knew exactly who they were, and as for what they were…well, he wasn't blind, nor was he stupid. He attempted to fight at first, but he fell under Blaise's spell as easy as any and was more than happy to tell them whatever they wanted, if only he could find release…He didn't, of course, since they'd already stolen the bit of information worth it from his mind, but he did tell them where several other leaders were before he died. The Minister of India was next, and Draco had him enthralled within minutes.

But then again, Draco had everyone enthralled within minutes, no matter if they loved or hated him.

The third one's the charm, or so they say, and it held true then as the man screamed McGonagall's location over and over again while his children watched quietly from the hallway, having been the ones to let them in the house in the first place. The children they kept, the man they killed, and with an odd sense of foreboding, they found the old raven-haired witch alone in a hut in the middle of Australia. She didn't look as if she'd slept in weeks and she didn't seem all that surprised to see them, which piqued their curiosity. Had she known, then, that they would find her own Secret Keeper? She didn't appear to know much of anything, her eyes befuddled and her tea long cold.

"Hello," was her greeting, and it was devoid of any sort of emotion. Sweat poured from her brow, the heat outside and in her little…cabin quite stifling, but it didn't bother them, for they were much too cold inside for such a thing to matter anymore. "And yes, I knew you were coming." She continued slowly, mechanically.

"Then you know what we want." Virginia pointed out, her face serene as she stared at her old professor evenly. She would kill her if she had to, and everyone in the room knew it. McGonagall looked at her, her eyes clearing slightly, and she sighed.

"You seemed so sweet as a child." She said, looking for any reaction to her words, but Virginia's face stayed an unreadable mask of marble-white skin, bloody red lips and ash-colored eyes. "Even though I knew it was a lie."

"Did you now?" Virginia humored her, and McGonagall nodded.

"Yes. My bloodline is nearly as old as yours is, if you recall. I could see it in you."

Smart of her to remind them of her purity.

"And I knew you were coming because the man you just murdered was my husband." She said it in a detached, distant way.

"You are not listed as being wed, nor is he." Virginia stated, and McGonagall smiled a small, secret smile. Or, it would have been secret had they not had the power to splay her mind open in a moment's notice. It was just so much more fun to get them to do it themselves.

"No." She agreed, setting her mug on the one table in the room, which accompanied a single, rickety chair and a small, threadbare couch. And…that was it.

He sort of felt as though he were standing inside his closet, but without all the clothes and with a severe downgrade in quality. And it smelled like bloody moth-repelling spells, moth-repelling spells and fear and grief. The latter two he was used to; the former made him want to rip out her fucking eyes. Of course, that urge probably had a lot to do with having loathed her for years and not just the smelly spells, although they seemed as good a reason as any. And whoever said that he had to justify such things in the first place? Truth be told, he didn't need a reason at all, because any who questioned him would die as well.

It was a marvelously efficient and productive rule to live by.

"We kept our marriage quiet after our son died because of our names in the last war." McGonagall kept on, though why she was telling them all of this, he had no idea. Perhaps she just wanted to tell somebody as the Reaper neared. "We weren't married at the time, and we acted as though we broke apart from one another. But we didn't, and you killed him. You killed him." She looked at them as if that was supposed to matter somehow, even just a little. But it didn't, not to them and not to his chil…Oh, this night turned out better than planned, Blaise thought gleefully, because if she was telling the truth, which she was, then they had her children and she had nothing left to bargain with.

That thought in mind, Blaise wasted not another minute on the old bitch, tearing through her inner barriers and sucking free all he wished to know, ignoring her agonized cries. Dumbledore was in China at something called a 'monastery', where he stayed with other overly-aged men and worked in the fields all day to earn his keep. The old fool had vaults of gold, and he was living in poverty voluntarily without any guard whatsoever. It was just so…so…so Dumbledore that it was vaguely sickening. They couldn't go to him just yet, as they were preparing for their last major attack on those who resisted their rule, but they would go, and soon.

"Thanks so much, love." Blaise sneered viciously as he released his hold on her, and she slid from her chair to the ground, clutching her head and still screaming, tiny little rivers of blood running from her eyes, ears, nose and mouth. Now to finish the game. "So…what's this I see about you having children?"

That got her attention, even through her torment.

"No!" She ground out through lips she'd chewed raw, her eyes pleading and cracking. "No, not my children, you callous bastard!"

Virginia backhanded her into a barren wall. "You will show him more respect!"

"Beautiful little things, too, aren't they?" Draco questioned once the woman's sobs had evened out, and she didn't even glare. Her children were her breaking point, and unfortunately enough for her, they knew it.

"Don't…please don't…not my children…"

"And what will you give us for our silence?" Virginia asked in a sugary voice, smiling innocently and gliding over to McGonagall in a rustle of velvet skirts. The woman clenched and unclenched her jaw, opened and closed her mouth several times, and finally, another of the mighty fell from grace.

"Anything. Anything at all."

"Anything?" Virginia stressed. "Are you sure?"

"Yes!"

"Then tell us all of the details, all that you know of the Light's campaigns, generals and safety houses, as well as verbal maps of the underground cave systems that we know you and Dumbledore started working on before the last war. We want every weakness, Minerva, and we will know if you are lying." Virginia's grin turned nasty, and McGonagall, though looking nauseated and wounded, nodded.

"Fine. But promise me, promise me that you won't touch my children, that you'll leave them be."

"I promise." All three intoned at once, since it was a simple enough request to fulfill. And it wasn't as if the words meant anything when spoken to her.

So Minerva McGonagall, the proud Head of Gryffindor and hero of the Light, betrayed her people for love of her blood.

And needlessly, to boot.

Hours later, when she had even told them things that they hadn't gleaned through Blaise's violent scan, they handed her betrayal back.

"Lovely, darling, positively lovely." Draco crooned, rising and vanishing the divan he'd called in to sprawl out on and draining the rest of his wine.

"So, that's it? You'll kill me and leave my children alone?" McGonagall asked for reassurance. She really should have known better, but then again, she was a light witch and believed that everyone had some good, some decency within them. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Oh, about that." Blaise said, donning a mask of tragic regret. "We lied."

"W-What?" McGonagall stuttered, trying to get to her feet. But restraints slid around her wrists and held tightly, and she didn't see that they were serpents until she tried to claw her way free and scrabbled uselessly at their scales. "Let me go!" She screamed as more started pouring in from the shoddy windows and doorways of her tiny little hideout, pythons and tree snakes, taipans and copperheads, king snakes and brown snakes, tiger snakes and death adders.

"Now why would we do that? And don't worry so; they'll be well taken care of. We already have them, you see." Virginia explained guilelessly, a wicked light dancing in her eyes all the while.

McGonagall's face fell and her struggling ceased. "No. Please, sweet Merlin, no…"

"They let us in, scared not to and more curious than they'd admit, and they watched their father die without saying a word." Blaise spoke softly, and let her see the damning truth in his eyes. "We took them to Voldemort straight away, and felt them receive the Mark while you forsook your people."

"No!" She screamed as they turned to leave, sweeping out of the room now covered from wall to wall with writhing, hissing serpents. "NO!"

"They won't eat you quickly and the poison won't work nearly as fast as you'd like." Draco called over his shoulder, smirking devilishly. "Happy Holidays, Professor."

And they left her to the snakes.

Five days later, they'd wished they'd never fucking met her as their entire world fell apart with Dumbledore's death and the discovery of their Lord's treachery. Blaise would never forget seeing Draco begin to fall apart at the seems, overwhelmed with shame for the first time in his life. He would never forget the crushed, heartbroken look on Virginia's face as she watched her dreams shatter. He would never forget the raw, naked betrayal in Anton's heart or Bella's scarce, scorned tears. He would never forget Pansy's lost, abandoned stare or the twins' numb shock and sorrow. No, he would never forget or forgive, and he would have vengeance for them all.

And later, all he heard when Voldemort asked who would lead the people in his stead, all he heard as he silently asked his bonded the same, was the dry, raspy voice of a Dementor calling them Consort and King and the sound of water sluicing over ice. And Virginia…Virginia wished to rule, and who were they to deny her? They'd told her once before that they would flatten the fucking world at her feet if she wished it, and they'd meant every word. A new era began that night, an era of returned Royalty and dark majesty, and though they'd guessed at what they were before, they knew that night. They knew, but it was not yet time for others to know the full extent of it.

So for two years, they brewed and spelled and stargazed under the pretense of looking for the hidden key to true immortality, the missing piece in Flamel's mixture. But they did not need to, for they were fully aware of what they were. The others had some idea, smelling the divinity, tasting it, but they didn't know all of the side effects. So instead, they finished their work on the blood potions, the potions that would remove the impurity from those they chose to bestow it upon. And when they were done and the people used to their rule, they gave a live demonstration of their long-achieved immortality, and said that they had found the secret of ambrosia.

What no one else knew was that the ambrosia was simply the High Royals' blood, seasoned to disguise the flavor.

All that had to be done to share in their endless life was for them to will it so when they bled said blood, blood that was now blue since they'd fully awakened to what was inside them. And while it was immortality for those that they bestowed the gift upon, it was not the complete immortality that they possessed, because they could strip it away should they chose to do so, which only a god or a Divine Pool could do. Nothing else could kill those they blessed in such a way, nothing, though they could be wounded, and if not treated quickly, sickness could still grab a hold of them, and much more cruelly than it did for any other as punishment for neglect of their gift.

They did not lie when they said that they were gods, nor did they exaggerate.

End Flashback

"Ah, and the eyes slowly refocus, intelligence seeping back in…it's about fucking time." Was that Cruoris? His sight realigning to the present, he saw that it most certainly was, for no one else had those startlingly scarlet ringlets and those molten mercury eyes all mixed into one beauteous vision of perfection. "Come on, come on, submerge. I've been waiting forever."

Snarling, Blaise slid underneath the water, and the last of the cloying fog cleared from his thoughts, the past falling away once more into nothing more than memories. Surfacing, he pushed Cruoris under and sprung away. He would have made it past the little shit's grasp, too, had he not still had lingering traces of lethargy making him a nanosecond slower then usual, which was just enough. A hand tangled in his hair and pulled him sharply backwards, but Cruoris wasn't expecting for him to go back under, and certainly not as fast as he did. But truly, what did he expect if he wished to play a game of dominance?

As the Crown Prince to his Prince, it was his duty to let him have enough of a go to boost his already over inflated ego before reminding him who would win such skirmishes every time. So he sunk, sunk straight down after a mental command had a tentacle of the nearest creature winding around one muscled leg, and Cruoris let go, waiting for him to resurface. But he was hungry, and it was a lesson, after all, so he took a detour and found a more savory denizen of the depthless Pool. One of the mermaids came as if she could sense his bloodlust, and they were one of the few breeds of creatures that thrived in the onyx water and weren't mutilated or deformed.

Her blood tasted like the sea and its deepest, darkest treasures.

It wasn't until he heard Cruoris alert the Dark Knights that his attention returned to something other than that smooth, blue-gray skin and those glowing yellow eyes. A female shout also reached his keen ears, followed by someone diving in from quite high up considering how far they sunk when they sliced through the surface, and he rose long enough to snatch his daughter by the waist and flip her around before she could even fight the movement. She let her eyes glow enough for him to see her glare, and he only shook his head before pulling her down with him. She eyed the water around them, obviously not wishing to cater to anything groveling.

'Sooo…What, exactly, are we doing? Cruoris is going to have a fit.' She said mind-to-mind, and he smirked in reply. 'Oh. Ohhhh. That's evil, papa. And he'll get mère and Father.' ((mother))

'Let them come. Your mother and I did this to Draco once. He ended up killing seven of the squids, thinking that they'd eaten us after six hours.'

'Six hours? You stayed down here that long?'

'There are many things the farther down you go. But yes, and here he comes.' They both glanced up as another entered the water, and Draco soon reached them, narrowing shining silver eyes at their mischievous expressions.

'Cruoris says that you've been under for nearly an hour.' He said, looking at Blaise before those eyes trailed to Corpus. 'And that you dove to find him, only to vanish yourself. Not trying to drug your blood father now, are you?' He asked suspiciously, and Corpus's mouth fell open the slightest bit.

'What? And I wasn't…wasn't really going to…oh, you're such a bloody arse!'

'Me? You're the one who…who molested me!'

Corpus, quickly regaining a semblance of composure, scoffed. 'There's nothing left about you to be molested, Father.'

'Just what in the fuck are you all doing?' They'd all been just a bit distracted, and Virginia had snuck up on them. 'Never mind, I don't even want to know. But I would come back up if I was you, or one of the Dark Knights might soon try their luck.'

'They know better.' Corpus retorted, quite visibly enjoying the thought of her brother's turmoil. 'And he'll dive before they do.'

'So you hope.' Virginia replied. 'But none of them have attempted it yet, and they only have our warnings, which might not be enough should they truly think something has happened to all of you.'

'All of us, love.' Blaise corrected. 'But I suppose you're right. The twins might think themselves invincible enough.'

'Or Anton.' Corpus added with a knowing leer.

'I assumed that went without saying. Come, this is what we'll do.'

He briefly explained, and though Virginia argued half-heartedly, she followed as they swam farther down, to a tunnel that they'd shaped themselves and that led to their rooms. Draco's blood opened the seals on both ends, and they crawled out through the bottom of one of the pools in their bathroom. Drying and dressing quickly, they headed back to the Divine Pool, by way of the teleporting stones. Appearing outside the enormous obsidian doors leading inside, they sent a thought to their Knights, telling them that they were safe and to pull back into the shadows without Cruoris noticing. They did as commanded, and Corpus shoved the doors open.

"Brother!" She called, and he abandoned his intent study of the dark water to turn and stare, his platinum eyes wide. "What holds you so captivat—" But Cruoris's swift spin on slick marble with, conveniently, silk slippers, sent him over the edge and into the water. And he somehow — a true mystery, this — managed to do it gracefully. That didn't seem to make any difference to him when he surfaced, however.

"B-But…but you…and they…" He stuttered as he looked between each of them, and to their credit, they managed to keep straight faces. It wasn't every day that one could shock the Prince, after all, and especially not so exceptionally. He knew that one couldn't Apparate out of the Pool, and he and Corpus had known nothing of their maze of underwater tunnels. Then his cheeks flushed the barest bit, a growl trickled from his throat, and he shot out of the water and up one of the huge pillars. Melody stepped out to meet him, and Cruoris whispered something short and to the point. The Knight paled, seemed to think for a second, and finally nodded.

But not before shooting an extremely nervous glance at the other High Royals and Anton.

"Well, family of mine," Cruoris started venomously, "I'd been trying to gather you all up before you had your little lapse of juvenility so that I could tell you in a somewhat civilized manner, but I can see that that's not what we're playing at today."

"Tell us what?" Virginia asked, suddenly serious, and Cruoris smiled a malicious smile, flashing fangs.

"That I'm to be bound."

Bloody.

"To Celeste McGregor."

Fucking.

"Within the week."

Hell.

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(cackles) I enjoyed that all together too much. Please review!