Chapter Seven: What Kind of Bullshit Is This?

"What kind of bullshit is this?" Bellatrix exclaimed, half-dismayed and half-seething with jealousy as she stood against the glass door that separated the kitchen to the giant, well-manicured, and albino peacock infested garden with her sister. They were watching the Dark Lord hold an animated conversation with the red-headed bipedal mermaid.

"I don't know," Narcissa admitted, nearly speechless. She wouldn't have believed it if she weren't seeing it for herself. At first, when she came back from her daily four-hour excursion to the liquor market and had a distressed Bellatrix explain the situation, she thought her sister was exaggerating. Bellatrix was hatefully jealous of any person who seemed to curry the Dark Lord's favor. It didn't matter the Dark Lord had the mood swings of a dictator or that being his "favorite" often meant being inevitably pushed from a much taller pedestal. "This is weird."

"So weird!" Bellatrix screeched her hooded eyes flared as they were unable to tear themselves away from the pair.

It didn't help, Narcissa suspected, that this creature—this former-siren—was beautiful. Extremely beautiful in fact. Though she doubted this meant anything to the Dark Lord, Narcissa knew this only served to enrage Bellatrix more.

"It's—it's like he's—" Bellatrix sputtered; her fury was too fast for her own thoughts. "Fangirling."

"Adella, Alana, Aquata, Arista, Attina, and Adrina."

They both cringed, audibly. He was listing the names of her sisters, proving that he had read all the books he swore he read about her.

"This is too fucking weird." Bellatrix spat, folding her arms across her chest, frowning and glaring.

Narcissa studied the pseudo-siren. "She seems…nervous."

"I don't know why," Bellatrix said acrimoniously. "I spent twelve years in Azkaban for that man. I barely got a thank you. This fishy bitch is here for two hours and he thanked her forty times for being "a spectacular influence on him"." Then, Bellatrix gasped. "You don't think he wants to fuck her, do you?"

"I doubt it," Narcissa said emphasizing doubt. "I mean, this is the Dark Lord. If he wanted to, he would've forced himself on her already."

"You would hope so," Bellatrix said with bitter disappointment. She thought of all the times (19 since she got out of prison to be precise) she had thrown herself at the Dark Lord only for him to rebuke her, again and again, and again. She unfolded then refolded her arms, too agitated to stand still but too stubborn to move from her spot. This was torture. Only this worse, because she actually liked being tortured. This was a waking nightmare.

The Dark Lord and the fake-siren shared a laugh. She ground her teeth so hard her molars nearly turned to dust. "This is bullshit."

Narcissa didn't reply. She merely watched the unlikely pair as they continued to talk like old friends while the beginning of the idea formed in the back of her head.

By the time Snape and Draco arrived for their impromptu midnight meeting with the Dark Lord, the general consensus of the room was, what the fuck is going on?

"Did you hear?" "Hear what?" "No?" "There was…" "No!" "Yes!" "We lost…" "Merlin's Beard." "For fuck's sake!" "How?" "Who?!"

It took everything in Draco to not run up and hug his mother when he first saw her. He wasn't ashamed to admit he missed her, and his aunt. But when he tried to catch their eyes as he took his seat at the dining room tablet all his mother did was squeeze his hand underneath the table before turning her solemn face downward, as if suddenly fascinated with the black wooden table she and her husband had owned for decades. He couldn't help but notice the manic glee in his aunt's eyes were gone. Something was wrong, he knew and when he looked across the table to find Snape with his hands folded out in front of him, nose pointed down like he was waiting for the worst, Draco felt his heart drop to his feet.

All conversation died the moment the Dark Lord stepped into the room.

He walked to the head of the tablet, clasped his pale spider-like fingers around the headboard of his chair and told the room, "As I'm sure you are all aware, we lost five members to our organization today."

The air in the spacious room thinned. Nobody dared make a sign of mourning for the dead. When you're a Death Eater, death wasn't seen as a tragedy. It was seen as a mark of weakness not only for the individual and group but on the Dark Lord too. And the Dark Lord loathed failure.

"Now," the Dark Lord began as he started to walk slowly around the table, "At first, when I found out, I was furious. Absolutely furious. After all, how could we lose five members in a random Thursday morning squabble, right? But then, I found out who the person responsible for such an attack was…" The Dark Lord turned on his heel and started back to the chair. Everyone waited with bated breath as they watched him return to his chair and rubbed his chalky hand against the ornate back of the chair before he turned his attention back to the room and said, "Then, that's when I realized—this was my fault."

Reflexively, everyone in the room attempted to appease the Dark Lord by dissuading him of his blame.

"No!" Argued the dozens of voices each desperate to be heard groveling the loudest.

But Voldemort raised his non-wand-wielding hand to the group so everyone shut up immediately and he continued, "No, it's true. This ambush that left us five men short was, in fact, my fault. After all, neither Rudolfo, Yemo, nor the Beckles triplets would have known better had I been a little more…open about my childhood."

Draco felt his spine rust over with terror. He looked to Snape but only saw that his godfather's cold calculating eyes were focused on his master.

The Dark Lord smiled nastily at the room. Their consternation, their fears, were intoxicating to him. Then, he took the chair, pulled it out from underneath the table and proclaimed, "That's why I wanted to introduce to you someone who has been a spectacular influence on me for the last sixty years."

With that, the Dark Lord waved his arm and on cue, Ariel emerged into the room out of the shadows looking so ridiculously out of place in her pale pink dress and her bright red hair amongst the sea of darkness. Draco felt the room balk at the sight of her. He looked to gauge Snape's reaction but all he saw was the back of his head as the man turned himself in his seat to give all of his attention to his master and the new guest.

"You are in the rare presence of royalty," the Dark Lord announced as Ariel made slow deliberate steps to the head of the chair and took her place while he stood. "Everyone, joining us today is former princess Ariel. Daughter of Triton, granddaughter to the God Neptune, but most impressively, you are looking at the leading cause of death amongst muggles from 1813 to 1865, second only to war and disease. You may remember her from your old Care of Magical Creatures textbooks as the Great Viper of the Seven Seas but lucky for us she had made the permanent move to land and graciously accepted my invitation to tonight's meeting."

The atmosphere of the room changed profoundly. Silent fear died out to give way for murmurs of intrigue and eventual applause. Draco forced himself to clap despite the disgust that stabbed his stomach. If the Dark Lord liked someone, that meant they had to be fucked up beyond reproach and here he was practically gushing over this creature whom Draco couldn't help notice hadn't lifted her gaze away from the table as if embarrassed by the attention.

"You may find it hard to believe," the Dark Lord continued smiling broadly, "But Ariel knew me when I was nothing but a pudgy little orphan. Back before I knew of my magical blood or I knew of my greatness. Back when I was languishing away in the muggle world, Ariel found me trying to steal from her personal collection. And though she could have easily drowned me then and there, she didn't. Instead, she taught me two of the most important lessons I ever received as a child: First, she taught me there is strength in numbers." (This garnered a tittering of laughter. With his return to power, his followers were in the hundreds of thousands, if not millions.) "But most importantly, she instilled in me a passionate pursuit for immortality. And if it wasn't for her, I can honestly say, I wouldn't be the great wizard that I am today."

He ended his speech by clapping Ariel on the shoulder while the room applauded. When the applause died down, took his hand from her shoulder, looked down at her, and said, "Did you want to say a few words?"

She looked like she'd rather throw up, Draco observed but Ariel took her cue and stood before the room, clearing her throat like a diplomat before unleashing her glorious mezzo purr onto the room,

"Hello, everyone. I'm going to keep this short because, believe it or not, even sirens can't stand public speaking. Ha. Get it? Can't stand… 'cause they have…tails."

No one laughed until Voldemort laughed then everyone laughed.

"First: I want to say right away, I only killed those five people today out of self-defense so, you know, if you don't try to kill me, I won't try to kill you. It's just that simple." Ariel explained, her voice so airy and light it belonged better for conversations about the weather. But her voice was harsh and her blue eyes were narrowed as they moved across the room, saying, "And second, if any of you says something creepy, demeaning or sexual to me, I will not hesitate to make you rip your own genitals off and sing an old sailor's song while you bleed to death."

"She's not joking," Voldemort reiterated with glee. "Ask Bellatrix." He turned to Ariel and asked brightly, "Did you want to demonstrate?"

"No," Ariel replied as she took her seat while the abrupt sounds of a dozen chairs reflexively scooting away in fear danced on her ears. "I think they believe me."

"Excellent," Voldemort said, mollified. "Well, if that's that, then the only thing left then for this meeting is for everyone to get up and pay respects to our honorable guest." Voldemort decided while he pulled a chair from the wall and created a new space for himself beside Ariel at the head of the table. When a stunned silence kept the Death Eaters from moving fast enough to his liking, he shouted, "Now!"

What fresh bullshit is this? Snape asked himself as he got into the groveling line with Draco, Narcissa, and Bellatrix.

What's the problem? Asked a secondary voice.

What's the problem? I finally meet the woman of my dreams and it turns out she's the Dark fucking Lord's fucking idol, that's the problem.

So what?

So what?! You have to be a morally reprehensible person to be liked by the darkest wizard to ever live!

Oh, don't act all prissy. The first thing she told you when you met was about how she murdered her husband. You didn't seem to mind then.

I thought she murdered one person in a heat of passion not countless.

Look who's talking. How many confirmed deaths do you have on your conscious, Severus?

Fair point…I just hoped…

You hoped her love would turn you into a better person. Well, lucky for you she's a piece of shit too. It's probably better for you now. At least you know she's not too good for you.

True…

Besides. At least the odds of him killing her are significantly lowered now. Hell, this might even help you.

How?

The Dark Lord said it himself. She's been a "spectacular influence" over him. Maybe she still holds some sway with the wizard…

Perhaps, he thought as they marched closer to the front of the line. Ariel remained in her seat, looking regal in her wooden throne as she accepted the ass-kissing of the masses. When Dolohov moved aside, allowing his group to move to the front, he tried to guard himself. But then he saw the way her bored blue eyes brightened at the sight of him and he couldn't stop his heart from melting all over the floor.