"What's the plan!" a voice shouted.
Severus pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Someone asked that question at least once a day and had done so for the past month. The man was near the point of pulling his wand and cursing the lot of them.
Talbot stood those around the table fell silent as the ancient man held a thin, wrinkled finger out and pointed it at Severus.
"We need answers, Severus. Where is the Dark Lord? He's been missing for over three weeks now! The Resistance is gaining momentum!" He shouted the last part his whole body shaking slightly before becoming rigid. The man's outburst caused another round of shouts to echo throughout the room.
The man held up his hand the room once again grew silent.
"They are continuing to gain more followers, there are attacks daily; sometimes two and three a day. They have been embolden by the Dark Lord's abandonment and they seem to know our plans before we even have time to act. Which means there is a traitor in our mists," the men once again shouted their agreement a few stood.
Blaise remained quiet at the far end of the table and watched the scene unfold.
The men were scared and rightfully so, the renegades of the group were out for blood and some of the more rebellious members ignored Neville's orders and had started attacking the private homes and businesses of Dark Lord supporters. Even those that had remained neutral during the last war weren't spared. Once again their world was on the verge of war and this time neutrality would not be tolerated.
Severus stood and leaned forward his hands firmly placed on the table.
"The Dark Lord hasn't abandoned the Regime. He remains steadfast and to suggest..."
Talbot quickly cut him off, "he isn't afraid, is he?" the old man held Severus' gaze and it seemed as if the man's eyes twinkled.
Severus wrinkled his brow in confusion and in silent warning to the wizard. Regardless of the times, the Dark Lord still had his fanatics; those that had gained great wealth and privilege after the war and wouldn't part with their new status easily. Even if it meant propping up a hypocrite.
The old man stood up straight the small hump nearly disappearing; the room had grown eerily silent and Blaise sat up in his seat as well. He saw a potential ally and resource for the Resistance.
"What's the reason for the silence lads? You have all talked about it. For years now. Do you not have questions about his Lordship's whereabouts and more importantly his contradictory actions?"
He looked around the table, some of the men looked away their eyes downcast others nodded in agreement.
"I have them; I will be the first to admit, I had my concerns when he wedded the girl, the mudblood, Harry Potter's Mudblood in fact!" he shouted.
Janice stood, "that word is not to be used!" she hissed harshly.
Talbot sneered, "why not? That's what she is! A mudblood, is she not? Why can't we state the facts?" he addressed the young woman, "Is it because the Dark Lord lies between the thighs of one every night!"
Some of the men shouted and banged the table in agreement.
He turned to address the men in the back of the room, "our sister, Bellatrix, a fine pureblood woman. A woman of proper breeding and a strong, pure bloodline. I knew her father one of the Dark Lord's most adamant supporters, both in deed and in finance. Cygnus is the reason I joined the ranks. I knew Bellatrix when she was just a wee girl." His voice broke unshed tears in his eyes.
"It was shameful, a disgrace, how the Dark Lord had her tortured and..." he paused his features now hard, "murdered."
The atmosphere was heavy, over the years many had the same questions displaying the same anger and dismay. Unlike the man before them, they had done so only in private and among trusted friends that shared the same sentiments.
"He's right," a Scottish accent cut through the tension as, James, the thin red haired man stood, "Bellatrix was our sister in arms. She didn't deserve that. If anything the woman is a hero; she called the Dark Lord out on his hypocrisy. She was the only one to have the courage to do so." He nodded at Talbot.
"We all had questions about him marrying the mudblood." He looked around, "Kate? Sam? Sebastian? Where is that fire you had before? That anger? What he did was utter madness. What was it ten years ago that he killed Peterson for the very thing that he has done! He's a hypocrite I tell ya." He sat and was awarded with several pats on the back.
Blaise mentally took note of the ones nodding in agreement and those that sneered and crossed their arms.
Severus sighed as he stood up straight, he wasn't angered by their outburst he knew their master was a fraud, Bellatrix figured that out and now apparently so did they.
"I don't question our lord." McNair spoke up, the man had begun to sweat.
"Coward!"
"Murderer!"
He heard the shouts from behind him and tensed.
"I did as I was instructed," the man's voice began rose and he folded his hands in an attempt to disguise the shaking.
Talbot turned toward him his eyes accusatory, "you carried out the death sentence! You coward!"
McNair violently pushed away from the table, "NO! The Dark Lord delivered the final curse! I was just there, it was my job to keep her alive! To extract information without letting her die, tell them Severus!"
All eyes were fixed on the raven haired wizard.
Several of them shushed bringing the room once again to an uncomfortable silence.
"McNair did as instructed as we all have in our service for the greater good. Our duty is not to question our lord but to obey and to know that his actions are not without just cause."
He looked to Talbot, "I would warn you old man to be careful with your words. The Dark Lord will hear of these treasonous remarks," he stated the latter looking around the room making eye contact with many.
"Your words don't scare me, Severus. I am not some child to be chastised," he chuckled, "and what of you Severus, you speak of treason but wasn't it you that betrayed dear old Albus in the end to save your own skin?"
Severus began to fume, "you know nothing," he hissed low.
Talbot remained unfazed, "perhaps, but I know enough."
The man eyed Severus over the rim of his glasses eyes shining with malice, his wrinkled features hard. His eyes carrying a familiar twinkle.
He was unsure of his emotions upon receiving the news his wife had finally awoken.
Most husbands would have been overjoyed their spouse made it through such an ordeal. He was somewhere between relief and dread. He couldn't decide so he settled for numbness.
It was easier than dealing with the truth.
He stood over her grateful she had been asleep, he didn't have to face his failure or the disappointment that was sure to follow. It bought him more time. He nodded toward the healer before leaving. Voldemort didn't want to be there, he couldn't be what she needed, he wasn't capable. For the first time in his life, he was willing to admit there was something he could not do and that unsettled him.
Back at the castle, dread returned along with a heaviness in his stomach. Only for a moment, he entertained the thought of her death. If she had died it would have been easier; there would be no one to answer to and he could get lost in his rage allowing it to consume him and once again could tear through the wizarding world wreaking havoc and mayhem with no questions asked.
So, for over a month, he stayed away.
Seeing her lying there unconscious once had been enough. His visiting would have put her at further risk. That was his justification for staying away. He wasn't sure if he was protecting her or himself.
The day following the attack, he held the charred, mangled remains of his son and wondered who could do such a thing to a child. It was during that moment, he thought of himself; his mind drifted to her, his best soldier and lieutenant.
If only had Bellatrix had recognized her own greatness she could have been a general with her own army. During the years in his service and under his guidance, she had proven herself beyond capable, more than willing to do the unsavory to achieve the end game.
He remembered the actions he had condoned. All of which had been life alternating, devastating actions that occurred on his watch in the name of the greater good. All in the name of the cause. The cause a mere illusion that aided his rise to absolute power. No one had been off limits. No one had been spared in the bloodshed that lasted for almost two decades.
In spite of what she had done, his thoughts always ended on her-always.
The Dark wizard had watched as his two followers, his most skilled at torture, cast curse after curse.
Nothing would break her, not the cutting or devices McNair brought forth stirred her. It only seemed to drive her childlike excitement and she laughed harder. It was hysterical and as the days wore on the pitch seemed to grow; he couldn't let it show but it unnerved him. After two weeks, he had grown as tired as his men. The around the clock torture proved fruitless.
He shifted causing the chair to creak.
Being in the former headmaster's office had grown uncomfortable in the recent weeks. Rarely, did he find solace there, he couldn't find it anywhere in the castle. Something had changed he wasn't sure what.
In the days following the attack on his wife, a new recruit, had the nerve to ask did he know? Did he know what she was capable of? In a flash, he cast the killing curse without thought.
Yes, he knew, how could he have not known?
He had seen the madness in her eyes.
Initially, it wasn't as obvious but as the bloodlust grew so too did it. The witch's rage had always been present, he nurtured it. Her love and loyalty were strong and he exploited it for his own gain. He toyed with her affection taking all and leaving her with nothing.
His anger was misplaced. Voldemort had given her no choice in the matter and she behaved as trained. Enact revenge at all costs no matter the casualties.
He still didn't know why; he hadn't cared for her, he never wanted her not in the way she wanted, but her power. Her power was unlike any other and he could not let her fall into the enemies' hands. That had been his greatest fear.
The Light would have used her as a weapon against him and he couldn't allow that.
He reminisced long into the night at times overcome with fits of rage and bouts of hysteria; the memories ended as he descended into an emotion he refused to put into words. He recognized it as regret.
For the first time since thwarting his enemies he questioned whether it had all been worth it.