Chapter Two
A wild mix of fury and pleasure ensnared my senses and captured my emotions as I raised my wand. I suddenly felt my heart leap, as the thrill of being the attacker rose to its climax. A grin played about my lips, and I let my wand slip from my fingertips. With the hands that were now free, I stretched forward and slowly grabbed Narcissa by the shoulders. My eyes felt heavy, and I heard Narcissa gasp sharply as darkness dissolved around us.
The familiar rotting smell of Death awakened me, as I looked into the oblivion of darkness and demented shadows. I let my hands fall from Narcissa's shoulders, and she let out a piercing scream, lumbering clumsily for my arm.
"You'll wake them," I whispered maliciously. Her blonde hair suddenly seemed to have stopped shining, and her eyes were full of fear. Her breathing was raspy, and she was tugging my sleeve, pointing at something that was clutching the hem of her robes. "It's only a corpse, Narcissa," I added again.
The dark aura that this place of death gave off was satisfying. I could sense the emotions of the dead; they wanted to get to me, to suck the life from my soul. But more so, they could smell Narcissa's fear. They could feel her radiantly terrified emotions excavating themselves from her shallow soul.
I could hear them coming, moaning. They wanted our life.
I sharply grabbed Narcissa who was clinging to me, and closed my eyes sadly. I took in the last breath of the rotting air, and willed my mind to return to my physical body. The pleasant sensation that lingered on my skin in the land of death was no more, as I felt Narcissa's grip loosen on me, as she stumbled away from me, gasping and coughing, as if I had tried to drown her.
I opened my eyes. "Unless you wish for that to be your permanent home," I sneered darkly, "I would suggest that you keep your mouth closed about what I can, or cannot achieve."
Narcissa shot me a glare, gaining her dignity, and stalked off, shaking her hair in the sunlight, keeping her head held high. Narcissa did not have much of a use in life. She was not as gifted as I was, or as opinionated. She was simply someone who had been born into a family that was pure of blood. She would marry a pureblooded man, and continue on with what the Dark Lord wanted. He wanted the world to slowly correct itself, and cleanse itself from the filthiness. Narcissa was not like me. She was not good enough to personally serve Lord Voldemort.
But I did not fritter away my time thinking of my family members. They were far too petty to spend time wasting my precious thoughts on. I should focus everything on being loyal to the Dark Lord, and proving myself to be a legitimate servant, an better equipping myself to do his every will and following his every command.
As Narcissa strutted off to the front lawn to meet Mother, who was going shopping, I turned with a swish of my robes, and meandered slowly to the door leading into the massive fortress that was my house. The door handle was cold to the touch, and fashioned of pure silver in the shape of a serpent. Pulling open the polished mahogany door, I stepped into my home.
The back entrance hall was not quite as spacious as the front, but it did justice enough for such a magnificent house as mine. The ceiling was high, and painted upon it was a series of entangled serpents, moving and twisting, slithering this way and that. I looked up at it, admiring the snakes, and heard the soft sound of my feet carrying me to the golden staircase that led to my room, my favorite place in the entire building.
Through another magnificent hallway after I had braved the stairs, I pulled open the door to my bedroom. The door was bewitched to have the handle know only my touch, and to bite off the hand of whoever was foolish enough to trespass. Mother was missing a finger, due to this contraption. The silver handle warmed instantly at my touch, and the door swung open automatically, then shut as I entered the room.
The lighting was considerably darker than any other room in the house, even darker than the dungeons. I had a tower room, which was circular and large, with a ceiling that shot up into the heavens, bewitched with a sky that was always stormy and dark to match my mood. Near the small circular window was my bed, with the luxurious emerald sheets and silken blankets, with an emerald canopy and bed curtains to match.
There was a door close to me, which hid a flight of stairs (which lead to the courtyard) near the large hearth that held a cauldron bubbling with a blood red potion. Bottled ingredients and illegal potions sat on the shelf above the fireplace, next to the dead and creatures and Dark objects that bedecked the walls of my bedroom.
This room was where I spent most summer days and endless nights, spindling time away, practicing the Dark Arts. My room was my sanctuary, where I confined to myself, and could be whatever I wanted to be. In this world, I imagined myself not to be related to Sirius, for whatever reason I deemed most important at the time. Some days I dreamed of lust and passion, and other days it was of malice and hatred, leading to fantasies of murdering him.
I lead a lonely life, keeping in solitude to my room, worshiping the Dark Lord, preparing myself to better myself to service him. Perhaps my bitter loneliness was the reason that I had been reduced to fantasizing about my own cousin. The same blood ran through our veins, but his blood had been spoiled. He was the rotten apple, the Black Sheep of the Black family. He was no better off than the mudbloods now. He had betrayed us all, shaming our good name. But I would make up for this. I would serve the Dark Lord with so much that it would make up for Sirius's faults.
Suddenly, I felt dirty. I felt as if dirt covered every inch of my skin, and that earthworms were trying to bury themselves in the nutrients of my flesh. I shuddered, and gasped for air, feeling very, very soiled. I felt like the mudbloods must feel. The dirty feeling was creeping into my veins, trying to make my blood as dirty as I felt.
"No!" I screamed. Both of my hands flew to the collar of my black robes, grasping for the clasp. My feet had already carried me to my private bathroom without the consent of my brain. My fingers had made contact with a cold piece of metal, fumbling and groping to undo them. I couldn't stop my hands from shaking; they were far too graceless to undo the miniscule clasp.
So I dug my hands deep into the thin fabric and pulled. Tiny pieces of silver hit the floor with small clinking noises, as I gasped for air. My hands now found their way, turning the handle on the bath. Water steamed out from the mouth of the serpentine faucet, and I pulled what was left of my clothing from my body. The black robes hit the floor softly, followed quickly by my undergarments.
I threw myself into the silver bath, feeling relief washing over me, cleansing the invisible dirt from my body. Steam rose from the tub, as I sank deeper and deeper down into the nearly scalding water. With my toes, I closed the drain, and let the faucet continue to spit out water to wash away my feelings of filthiness. Every inch of my skin was still longing for water, like the touch of a long lost lover caressing the soft skin of your face before he deserts you.
I cupped my hands together, and dipped them into the bath, bringing up the water I had contracted in my palms, splashing it in my face. I sighed contentedly and sank deeper in, turning the knob to the off position with my toes. Water stopped pouring out the faucet, and the remaining steam rose into the air, evaporating slowly before my eyes.
I could see clearly again, with the absence of the steam. My skin was shining with the water, as I propped my legs up on the edge of the bath, crossing one leg over the top of the other. My skin was a pale, yet it still had a healthy glow about it. My body was not perfectly sculpted; I had flaws, though I considered them minor. I was very thin, and my beauty was dark. My face was finely chiseled, though not as severe and pointed as Narcissa's. My legs were almost smoothly built, having small, disappointingly feeble, muscles running up to my slender thighs.
My waist was one of the few things I liked about my body: trim, soft, yet sculpted, and an item that many men wanted to wrap their hands around to pull my body closer to theirs. Above my waist, resting upon my chest was another item that men seemed to find desirable. Admittedly, my breasts were not of ample size, though men didn't seem to mind. I never quite could figure out just what they liked to look at in women.
Whatever it was, I had it. And they wanted it. Oh, the male population of Hogwarts wanted it more than ever. I was on the vestiges of more than great good looks; I was darkly and deliciously beautiful. This pleased me, and I divulged in it often. I was not your typical attractive girl. The slightly harrowing look about me intrigued people, as they looked beyond the inconsequential flaws into the beauty that was vaguely hidden. And it was a flaw that I would divulge in the thoughts of the male population. Shameless snogs, that embarrassed me to think about. I should have thought more of the Dark Lord.
Why not more, do you ask? Why not take my liaisons further? As the cause for everything I refrained myself from doing, it was my allegiance to the Dark Lord that drove me to refrain from engaging farther into sexual activities with another being. There were far too many risks that could pile up, and that was something the Dark Lord would not want. It could risk the potential danger of falling in love with someone if I allowed the relationship to deepen, which would take some of my devotion to Lord Voldemort, who would always come first in my life. There are unclean diseases that some perhaps possess, thus added to the risk of a pregnancy.
Finally feeling cleansed, I unplugged the drain, and reached to the side of my bath and reached for a towel. My fingers curled around the soft green fabric, and I stood up, wrapping the towel around my body. The fabric was pleasantly soft against my skin, and I felt recovered. I smiled, letting an arrogant grin pleasurably play across my lips.
"Ah, Bella," said an eerily high-pitched voice. It was music to my ears. I did not jump at the sound of Lord Voldemort's voice intruding into my private bathroom where only seconds before I had stood in the nude; it enticed me. He was clad in robes of darkest night, with his hood let down, so that his white skin and red eyes looked notably at me. A pleasant kind of shiver ran up my spine as I smiled for all I was worth. He spoke again to me. "Are your skills progressing, Bella?"
I grinned. "I have been practicing, My Lord," I said, gracefully stepping out of the bathtub to come closer. "Today I brought back the cat."
The Dark Lord had taught me everything I had learned. He had taught me how to bring forth a soulless Inferius, and how to take myself into the land of the dead and back. He had taught me how to kill the cat. He had taught me what real power was. Everything of worth that I knew, I knew because of Lord Voldemort. He was my teacher, my leader, and my deity. His visions matched mine like pieces of a simple puzzle.
"Come, Bella," he said calmly, with the tone of a patient mentor. He held out an open hand, which I took gladly, embracing the cold feeling that radiated from his skin onto mine as my other hand held the towel over my otherwise naked body.
That wonderful sense of deliciously dark rage inflated in my soul as I thought of all the hate-invoking beings in the world. Thoughts of being the one to aid Voldemort alone in washing out the Mudbloods and Muggles fleeted across my mind more than once, as the curses leaving my wand intensified more and more.
Lord Voldemort's touch inspired me. Occasionally, he would take my hands and wrap my fingers around my wand, letting go, to show me the correct form. This worked well. It was as if from his touch I drew his powers into my fingertips, and released them in magic. Sometimes, I could feel his anger when something went awry, but that was always made up for.
"Promising," he said at last, drawing nearer to me, so that our faces were but inches apart. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. He leaned in closer. I closed my eyes, preparing for a kiss. But no kiss came, just soft words in my ears. "You give me hope for your generation."
And he was gone.