Chapter Nineteen: Making a Name

Back in their rooms Dray tried to hold Nevra, but she pulled away from him and locked herself in the bathroom. He decided to give her some time alone; she had just killed her own father; she deserved it.

When she came out he was sitting by the fire reading. He looked up and dropped his book. There, standing before him, was Nevra, and she was stunning. She wore a sleeveless blood red leather shirt that had a very low v-cut neckline and appeared to be a second layer of skin. Black leather pants fit just as tightly and the outside seem of the legs were open up to the knee. Black leather boots reached up her calves and had three inch heels. Her hair was thick with waves. It was pulled back and held in a black leather thong just above her neck, cascading down her back. She wore a black choker around her neck and had a whip at her side.

"You know how to use that?" Dray asked, looking at the whip.

"Of course. Shall I take it, by your reaction, that this look is befitting a warrior princess?" She was playing with him, and he liked it, but he was concerned about her.

He knew it wasn't safe to dwell on anything, it weakened occlumency abilities, but he needed to know she was all right. He looked at her. She would understand.

She did. "He knew it was me, and he knew why. That is enough." He nodded, and from the way he removed her outfit she decided it was more than suitable.

The next day their contributions to the death eater strategies were no longer confined to evenings with Snape. They took an active role in the offensive. They planned attacks, organized recognizance missions, and interpreted intelligence reports (though their interpretations were not always accurate, even if they appeared so). If they had earned reputations of efficiency and ability during the previous month, they were now truly making names for themselves.

Lord Draco was cold, calculating, even. His input was reliable and he never spoke until he was sure of himself. You did not question his judgment because you would surely be proved wrong and that was dangerous.

The Dark Lady was hot, fiery, and unpredictable. Her input was sporadic but acute. She did not speak unless she was bored and you were doing it wrong. You did not question her judgment because she was more than good with that whip of hers, not to mention that you would always be proved wrong anyway.

Lord Draco led and the Dark Lady corrected. Voldemort almost always left decisions to them now. Oh, he watched everything they did and knew every move they made, but he was content to give them objectives and let them work out how to achieve his goals.

If the Dark Lady became too bored she would accompany a mission. She never wore the robes or the mask anymore. Why would she? The Order couldn't touch her. No one could prove she ever killed again, after her once father, but there was plenty of eye witnesses who saw her starting fires, floods, and earthquakes, or casting the other two unforgivables for a laugh, and laugh she did, manically.

If Lord Draco doubted your ability to get something done he would do it himself. He did not wear the robes or the mask anymore either. Once, he walked right into the Ministry of Magic, using the guest entrance and getting a name tag that read "Lord Draco, Infiltration," rode the elevator to the Aurors office, walked in, grabbed a file, and walked out. Everyone had been too stunned to do anything. He acted as though this was normal. He carried himself with authority, as though he had every right to be there. He moved so smoothly and directly that he appeared surreal. By the time anyone had registered what they had seen he had left. By the time they chased him he was gone. Even the Minister couldn't stop that from reaching the front page of the Daily Prophet.

If the Dark Lady knew you were utterly incompetent and would blow the whole mission she would make a big show of sacrificing her time because she was surrounded by morons to do a job a monkey could do. Once, she even conjured a monkey to prove her point. Bellatrix failed to find the correct key in Gringott's rather large collection. Nevra transfigured a trashcan into a monkey and sent it to retrieve the keys she needed from the Goblins before turning to Bellatrix and saying "See if you can get it right next time." She really enjoyed torturing the Lestranges for Dare's sake.

Everywhere Nevra went, Dray went as well. He was always by her side when she left the manor. Even if he did nothing more than watch, he was there. Everyone knew better than to speak against the Dark Lady. If you somehow survived her wrath, you most certainly would not survive his, as one unlucky soul demonstrated.

It had been three months since Bill's wedding and the world was in all out war. Not a week went by without a battle. No one had heard from Potter, Granger, Ronald Weasley, or Neville since the day after the wedding. Luna held the belief that they were hunting horcruxes. No one believed her. Luna said that Nevra was good. No one believed her. Luna said that Dare wrote her every third day to let her know he was okay. No one believed her. Luna did not care what anyone believed.

Snape, Dray, and Nevra were eating dinner in silence. It had been a long day. There had been another battle, one they had all been in. Nevra had a long cut under her left eye she wouldn't let anyone heal. She wanted it to scar. Dray had a gash on his right arm. Nevra had healed it easily. Snape had escaped uninjured. They were all tired.

Nevra sighed. "I'm really getting tired of them referring to me as the 'Deadly Beauty.'" She was reading the Daily Prophet. "Are they saying I'm beautiful and deadly, or are they saying that I'm deadly because I'm beautiful?" She put the paper down and rolled her eyes.

"Both, dearest. You have the reputation of seducing men on the battle field." Dray sounded amused.

"I what?" Nevra was honestly confused.

"You strike such an interesting picture, love. You stand there, unaffected by the throws of war around you, your auburn hair blowing in the wind, your whip in one hand and your wand in the other. You have a very ethereal beauty and always appear peaceful and calm on the battlefield. The juxtaposition is mesmerizing and has caused many on both sides to become distracted when concentration is of the essence." Dray sounded far away, as though he were picturing it in his mind.

"Surely you have noticed, child, that no man can stand against you. When faced by you in battle they find themselves unable to raise a hand against you. To them it seems as though they would be striking an angel, the only truly unforgivable offense." Snape was the only one who could get away with calling her child. She actually found it comforting from him.

She shrugged. "Men are strange."

"Undoubtedly." Dray had returned to his meal. He was still picturing Nevra on the battle field. It was really all he could do to keep from staring at her at those times. If it weren't for the knowledge that he got to go home with her he seriously doubted he would be alive today. Someone would have struck him down as he stared at her and he never would have felt it.