Disclaimer: Nope, not mine, but that isn't too bad, is it?

Please enjoy!


Chessboard Revolution

III

- Promise me -


Thunder and rain were reduced to a distant rumble, where ever they were now. It was dry, warm and lavishly decorated. Quite dark, too.

The room was huge, even if somewhat odd. Several cupboards filled to the brim with ancient books stood on the left, a fire was crackeling merrily nearby, yet there was still a gloomy atmosphere, betraying that those room previously served as a dungeon. Chains on the ceiling bore proof of that. As did brown-reddish stains on the bare floor, where no thick plush carpets were covering it.

Once again, Voldemort was sitting on a throne, which actually looked more like an oversized plush chair from the last century. Molly's sight was somewhat obscured by the fact, that she was peering out of a pocket of Snape's robe.

The professor was awfully tense, even though she could practically sense his exhaustion. Teaching and playing double agent were taking a visible toll on the man, as did all the spells. An Unforgiveable … it had mattered precariously little to Snape, or so it seemed to Molly. Then again, if he had to watch torture as he had, silently and unmoved, he couldn't afford a conscience, or qualms about the Dark Arts.

Dumbledore always worriedly pointed out the thin line his spy was walking. Molly had the impression it was a path heading straight to hell.

Unforgiveables, torture, vampires – and she'd almost forgotten about the wand- and soundless transfiguration charm he'd cast on her. Those were considered borderline dark and took a great deal of strength… oh, and then there had been Lucius Malfoy, the broken wrist – which probably still wasn't healed…

Truly, the drying charm was cast left-handed, while the right hand stayed safely hidden away beneath oversized black sleeves.

"… so you're saying that one escaped?"

Malfoy was kneeling in front of Lord Voldemort, head bowed obediently.

"Unfortunately, yes. On the other hand however, the notification of the aurors had successfully been delayed, so that…"

"Oh, I am well aware of that. Yes, tonight's raid was a success. But – crucio – and now listen closely to me – how dare you spoil the result? How is it, that a mere witch manages to slip from the grasp of a wizard of your capabilities?"

Malfoy – to his credit – had not made a sound under the spell, yet his voice was trembling, as were his hands.

"M-my Lord, forgive me, I was … momentarily distracted … by speaking with … Severus."

An eyebrow rose. "So both of you – a disgrace, really. Crucio!"

Malfoy jerked and only barely remained kneeling. Sweat was pouring down his bloodless face.

"Severus, come hither."

Molly sensed his nervousness, even if outwardly it was invisible. Severus Snape assumed a kneeling position beside his childhood friend, although somewhat less deferent.

"Does Lucius speak true?"

A grimace. "I deeply regret saying that he does."

"What subject had you both so distracted?" Voldemort leaned forward, starring pointedly into Snape's eyes.

Molly held her breath. She could feel the air bristling, certainly legimilency was being employed, or god-knows what kind of dark spells Voldemort was capable of casting. Lucius whimpered quietly, trying to draw himself up.

"We were arguing about targeting members of Dumbledore's order."

"Smooth." ,thought Molly, impressed. And Malfoy send Snape a rather appreciative glance, that Voldemort luckily missed.

"Understandable, yet order must be. Crucio!"

Snape twitched and Molly felt his heart beat speed up. Dark magic danced around her senses, and for several moments she was afraid the curse would be transmitted onto her. Even if she wasn't harmed, she was awfully glad when Voldemort finally lifted the curse after what had seemed like a small eternity.

"Say, Severus, since you already mentioned the subject; are there any news pertaining this blasted bond of bird-lovers?"

Both, Malfoy and Snape, laughed rather shakily, while Lord Voldemort obviously was content with his literary achievement.

"It is, unfortunately, as you have expected. Dumbledore himself is the secret-keeper."

"It has been confirmed?"

"Yes."

Voldemort looked, as if he had bitten into an especially sour lemon and grimaced. The night was not proceeding to his likening, first the vampire's rejection and now bad news on top of it.

"And you are still unable to convince the old fool to trust you with this secret. Crucio!"

When the spell was lifted, Snape was swaying dangerously.

"Anything else of Hogwarts?"

"Nothing of importance, my lord."

"Very well, back to you Lucius, if you have regained capacity of speech."

Snape heaved a quiet sigh when Voldemort turned away, yet didn't dare to relax.

"There is something you must do. You will have at least two month, perhaps even more, but when the time is up, everything must be ready without fail. There will be no place for failures or mistakes here – you know what fate awaits you."

Breathlessly and white-faced Lucius Malfoy nodded.

"When time comes to reveal ourselves to the world, we must assume control through all means. That includes the ministry. Our plans will not come into fruition if we can not convince the masses or achieve administrational power.

Install people wherever you want, kill whomever poses an obstacle – the moment I rise Fudge must be given notice and someone of my faithful followers shall take his place. If you must, take the post yourself – I don't care who it is, as long as he will obey."

Molly shivered. She could see Malfoy biting his tongue, silencing protests. Even she knew, that Voldemort was asking for something more or less impossible. The ministry couldn't so simply be … overtaken.

"Yes my lord." ,was the less then steady reply.

So here it was – proud and mighty Lucius Malfoy signing his own death warrant.

Sad, ironic, idiotic, useless, foolish, disgusting, horrible, comprehensible, awfully irresponsible, honourable, reckless – and whatever else. There were hundred threads storming through Molly's mind, but she couldn't find the energy to pursue a single of them. Beginning to tire of the strenuous evening, eyelids drooping and attention fading away from the present.

What were her children doing now?

They certainly had noticed her missing – were they worried, did all of them know, did …

Too many thoughts, too many different ideas. Faces sliding through, her vision continued to darken. Like the sound of the storm previously, noises dimmed. Somebody was screaming, curses – perhaps an uproar …

…yet so distant …

… far away…

… beyond her interest

Molly Weasley closed her eyes and welcomed oblivion.


Consciousness is fickle, if it pleases. Or maybe reality isn't all it is made out to be and perhaps dreams are more true than this blurry world, where perception determines everyone and everything. Perchance all depends on the point of view taken in correlation to a situation and truth is one fundamental lie.

The blurry realm of the in-between currently occupied by Molly Weasely offers a thousand layers between truth and lie, white and black and even more possible paradoxical combinations of those.

"Severus…"

"What is it?"

"I know, demanding two promises of you in the course of one single night is outrageous."

A resigned sigh. "Now, if you're quite finished by displaying your incredible sharp wit by stating the obvious, please proceed the subject."

Dry laughter. "As if you are any better. Still hiding behind scathing words, I see."

"But that's not what you wanted to speak about."

"True, true. You know me too well, you know that? Not even…"

He faltered.

"Well – you heard about my assignment…"

Grave silence indicated a mutual understanding of things better left unspoken.

"What would you have me promise?"

Evasive, distracted and distraught – not at all comparable to the regular, confidence-oozing Malfoy.

"Severus, I know, you and… The task…"

"Lucius, do me a favour and stop wasting both our time and blood and just wrap it up."

"Yes…. Sorry."

Rustling clothes. Somebody taking a deep breath, steeling himself.

"Severus, we both are aware of the fact, that our lord becomes more and more delusional and obsessed as time passes. Actually, I doubt we will achieve a single of the goals we set out for under his leadership."

A short pause.

"I doubt I will survive the outcome. Yes, I know chances are odd for all of us. But you have Dumbledore's trust – and I don't doubt you'll be able to convince the man a second time, if push comes to shove."

"Where are you heading, Lucius?" Emotionless, tight – a voice formed not to reveal anything.

A wry smile. "I had hoped for a little more time. To see Draco grow up and all such foolish nonsensical things – recently I noticed, I'm somewhat fond of those notions. Irony of fate, I suppose… the moment I am supposed to give up all I find that I'm quite unwilling to."

"Spare me your contemplations at least until we've reached other surroundings."

"Well – only chance will help me overthrow the ministry when our lord asks me to. I'm not very fond of trusting fortune, but there's little choice here. If…

"If I happen to be killed in the process…

"Promise me, you will take care of Narcissa and Draco in my place."

"Lucius…"

A hand lifted to silence the protest.

"I am perfectly aware of the little affair my wife's been having with my best friend. And no, I don't mind. Don't ask me why, lately I fear I've become unable to explain a lot of my notions. Perhaps it's better this way."

Understanding dawned; a horrible, crawling sensation that made hairs rise and hearts stop. A sensation as clear as glass and cold as ice – sudden comprehension of something she never wanted to know, never wanted to see – because she could relate.

Because this was far from evil, far from cruel.

Because another chess piece had just ripped his mask into shreds, revealed living and feeling colour beneath the black and white cover.

"If I die, or something else befalls me – they will first-in-line targets. For both sides. Yet … you, with your precarious-precocious position – you could protect them. They'd be more than happy. Draco said he'd have left Hogwarts long ago if you hadn't encouraged him to face the prejudice."

Clammy, cold digits reaching for a warm heart that had always prided itself for being open to each and every one. Perhaps the proclaimed tolerance hadn't been as unconditional as they'd all deluded themselves to think.

"Marry Narcissa if the situation allows it. Take her and go into hiding or leave the country. I still possess one or two residences the Dark Lord knows nothing about. I don't care what you do, as long as those who I hold dear are safe and happy."

It had been so much easier to hate a death eater. Why had there to be a human behind that cold mask?

"And, my friend, that includes you."


C'esttout pour aujourd'hui…

A bientot!