Hey all! This is my first fan-fic so bear with me please. Um, I suppose I should start with the disclaimer. Just so you know I will NOT be putting one up for every chapter. That's just too much work, if you want to see my disclaimer go to chapter 1. That's all I guess, hope you enjoy. Me
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters from the series. Any characters that you do not recognize are mine.
Of Good & Evil
Ministry of Magic, Auror Head Quarters, Interrogation Room, London April 14, 2015, Few Days Before War Begins 8:00 a.m.; Monday
PROLOGUE
He watched her walk into the cold, gray, interrogation room with the two-way mirror in it with her usual brisk stride.
She was just as he remembered her; calm, cool, and collected, surveying and calculating everything with an impassive face and narrowed, obsidian eyes.
She took a seat at the straight backed chair at the table in the center of the square room and began drumming her fingertips listlessly on the flat top.
He looked away when his partner approached him. "She thinks you're dead you know." His partner began quietly. "I know," He replied just as quietly. "It's best it stays that way too."
His partner shook his head, his dark hair swirling around his piercing eyes. "You're wrong, mate. What about you're daughter? You just going to let her grow up not knowing her father?" He scowled.
"Drop it, alright? Just – drop it." His friend turned back to the striking woman before them and leaned over, flipping the intercom switch so he could speak to her.
"Hello, Miss, ah, what would you prefer to be called? Riddle, Young, DeVoux – Malfoy?" The woman flinched at the last mentioned name and glared angrily up at the mirror.
"You may call me vatever you deem necessary my young captor." came the smooth reply.
She spoke with a slow, aristocratic drawl, and a soft French/Romanian accent. It was a one-of-a-kind voice.
His partner nodded, even though she couldn't see him, and flipped the switch again. "Very well, Madame. Let us just cut to the chase shall we? You know the story behind the Death Eaters; you know their weaknesses – tell us."
She grinned very slightly and looked at the mirror. "I know ze story." Then, "You don't mind eef I smoke do you?" She asked, changing the subject. Not waiting for a reply she pulled out a cigarette and looked for a lighter. His partner spoke again, "It would help if you actually started the story."
"So impatient..." She taunted. She dragged deeply on the cigarette and savored its rich flavor, then sighed.
"You vant me to tell ze 'ole story?" She asked dryly, smiling that wry smile. He smirked. He missed that cynical sense of humor.
His partner, trying desperately to contain his excitement, leaned over and flipped the switch. "Yes, please. How much do you know?"
A ghost of a grin flitted over her features and she exhaled softly. "I 'ave every personz account of zees events." Came the smug reply from behind the cloud of curling smoke.
His partner flipped the switch again. "Tell us everything." This time she did grin. "I vill tell you vat I vish to tell you. You may guess at vat role I play een zees story – per 'aps you vill see vy I covet zees secrets like I do."
They waited patiently for her to begin but she merely stubbed out her cigarette and lit another, looking pensive. "Well?" His partner demanded, looking ready to throttle her.
She held up a slender hand, "I vill tell ze story on one condeetion – I vant a fresh set of robes and to see my daughter again."
His partner slammed his hand on the desk and cursed. "Look you little – Look, we'll talk negotiations some other time, tell us the goddamn story!"
She stood and walked over to the mirror directly in front of where his partner stood, cold fury in her dark eyes, and stubbed the cigarette into it. "Nunc."
It was his turn to curse this time. His partner seemed to have calmed down and was steadily explaining to the stubborn woman that they would lose their jobs and the war if they didn't get a full story.
She shrugged nonchalantly and sat back down. "You're problem, not mine."
He seethed and finally flipped the switch, but his partner slapped his hand away and glared at him. She would know his voice.
His partner shoved him to the side so he wouldn't have to lean over the intercom and spoke harshly. "It is your problem because if you don't talk now you will never get out of here alive to see your daughter."
A cold breeze rustled her hair and her eyes glinted red. She snarled and pressed her palms flat against the table.
"Of course." She spoke her voice cold and clipped, her nostrils flaring. "Please, allow me to gather my bearings and I vill start from ze beginning."
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, situating herself for the long account.
The men on the other side of the mirror sat too, both noticing the sadness filling the air.
"I vill start vith Tom Riddle and Antares Centauri – may zey rest een peace."
A/N: That looks so much better. I just fixed the paragraphs. (Whew!)