#second war verse

Narcissa’s breath trembled, before finally relenting and opening the door for him. The last thing she needed was chastising from her sister, if her sister bothered to look in on the situation. The only comfort she had was that Draco was now at the school with Severus to protect him— but, who knew how long that could last. So, she allowed him in, and closed the door when she thought no one was there; though, she made sure to keep her wand in her hand should she need a quick escape.

“What more could you possibly want from me?” Narcissa whispered, making sure she avoided his red gaze; her breath was coming in too quick; tears stinging her eyes, but she couldn’t break down in front of him. Not now. “My husband’s gone… locked away on your orders… you’ve indoctrinated my son… what more can I possibly give you?”

Narcissa didn’t look at him as she stood aside. 

Victory! Or reason in her case. Voldemort walks in by two long strides. Madam Malfoy was building upon her desperation. Her cutting words powering by her fear.

The Dark Lord knew the type. They fuel themselves with self righteous imagines. It played like a slide show. There were loved ones. Future dreams and wishes. Reasons to live for. Fear of death and pain. Then justice, of course. 

But it always came back down to reasoning with him. Or begging for their life. Madam Malfoy, with wand in hand, was no different.

🌙 — Send 🐺 to witness my muse transforming into a werewolf!

Moonlight cascaded over him through the window of one of the empty rooms in 12 Grimmauld place. It was a safe moon, Remus had successfully taken the potion each day that Snape had prepared for him but he still felt the need to stay on the furthest side of the house. The one negative part of using the wolfsbane potion was he was all that much more aware of the transformation as it happened. Heightened hearing would hear each shift of his bones as they reformed and rearranged into something less human. His heart beat like a drum in his chest.

And it hurt, god it hurt. 

Remus had put a silencing charm around the room so when he groaned in pain, no one but Sirius who was with him, would hear it. He fell to his hands and knees with a yell, shoulders rolled painfully, widening in width as he frantically moved to undo the buttons of his shirt. No use ripping out of his clothes if he didn’t have to. Sirius had seen him naked plenty of times in school during the full moons, it wasn’t something that bothered them anymore. Yet, there was still shame in his eyes as Remus looked up to see Black watching him in concern from across the room. Remus still hated this part of his life. Hated and disgusted with what he was. Having his friend there made it more bearable at least. 

"I would like to take the Mark with Draco, my lord," she states with a calm firmness, "You are correct about everything. I knew first hand what muggles were capable of and what they weren't, yet remained in denial. For that, and for my previous efforts to stop you, I apologize. You have my full loyalty."

In actuality she wishes to spy for the Order, but Voldemort cannot know this fact. She keeps her newly formed occlumency shields up and bows before her, hopefully, new "master."

@askpolarisblack

Voldemort stares saying nothing for a great while. Boring a hole in to the center of her forehead.

"Have you now?"

The others in the room collectively holding their breath. Their private conversations cease. As does the ambient music. All taste for the Draco's initiation has evaporated. Cueing in for any possible dangers posed. As one could never tell with Voldemort.

The Dark Lord folds his hands upon themselves, "And this epiphany has struck you so suddenly? Has it?"

The Dark Lord was in a mood. Most were wise to give him greater space. Thankful when he dismissed all but Bellatrix. Grabbing her by the wrist and jerking her arm to be near.

“You smell of him!” He said.

He lean in towards her baring his teeth. His fork tongue ran up her sharp cheeks. All the frustration of loosing Potter, he had came and gone from the Ministry itself. He needed to destress and Madam Lestrange was just perfect for that.

The green flames jumped high. Blasting out of the person's high fireplaces. Its flames tickling the polish bricks. Shuffling out in a line, two at a time, masked and robbed, The Death Eaters had arrived.

The afternoon crowd was numb. Tried and with another half day to go they did not, at first, see the gang gather. Nor did the Death Eater give them time. They were making a line towards the lifts. By passing everybody. They knew the genuine threats to be deeper in the halls.

A double look, no. Wasn’t there wards in place for such an event? Thought the lone secretary staffer on hand. He came out from behind his desk.

Tin, or those who patrol above because of the conflict? They had given him no warning. The alarms had not gone off. Oh god! The secretary guard felt an icy feeling in his gut. Knowing what that likely meant.

They however did not bother to look his way as he stared. He feared even reaching for his wand. A coward. He was no Auror. 

Aurors! He snapped. Rushing behind his desk. The Auror’s, if they got a heads up! He pulled out drawer after drawer, trying to find it. 

The first set of Death Eaters grabbed and pushed the staffer out of the lift. 

The atrium was waking up now. A mindless drone of trapped people growing in panic. A few rushing for the fireplaces only to find more wizards coming. Some hid, avoided the lifts, rushed behind the coffee stand or rope off the fountain. A few with a mind set off safety alarms. Yet the Death Eaters were far better prepared. Smothering the safety wards and the fools who were trying to help. The halls echoed with screams as the helper was hit.

There! He found it, the panic button. He unlocked the piece, ready to push for help.

“That won’t be needed.” Voldemort said.

Lord Voldemort had been coming up behind his army. His wand lifted and pointed at the Security guard.

The young, newly married guard looked up for the last time. Before the green light hit, he pushed the button, his last act that of bravery. Before his body hit the ground, the alarms rang out. Level after level down to the empty Minister of Magic office. Making every person jump awake.

@wewhoareflawed

It would be five more months before the Battle of Hogwarts. The same which would have seal both fate forever. Five months before The Dark Lord knew the boy had found out his secert. The trauma of the incident at Gringotts and the shame at Malfoy Manor which would prelude the end. 

Here Lord Voldemort had shape his will to transfix the world. Feeling like an Emperor who was nearly at the finish line. Soon, He told himself. Outside of Harry Potter everything was in place. Besides the troublesome Orphan none could say The Dark Lord had not won.

As such his mood was more agreeable. So when a little mouse happen to cross his path, instead of pulling out his death stick Voldemort lunge for her neck instead. Grabbing the back of it to pull her towards him.

Musing at the charming thing.

“What do we have here?” He said, one whole hand nearly wrapping fulling around her slender neck. His fingers long enough to choke her alone, “A spy? A wayward muggleborn?”

Toying with her now.

Leaning over to sniff the air around her, “Luckily no...Who dares to look upon The Dark Lord?”

As if he had not taken over the Greengrass household. Temporarily of course. The reason for was solely his own. Merely that the head of house be grateful he saw fit to visit. 

@scriptorxfabularum . 𝐒𝐄𝐌𝐈 𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑

The scrambling of feet on the cold stones disturbed Lord Voldemort. He looked up, annoyed to find Lucius Malfoy, disheveled and in a hurry, holding a coat that could not possibly be his (unless he had started to wear fur recently). Ah, how the mighty had fallen. Hadn't Lucius been respectable, once upon a time? Now he was nothing but the sad shell of a man. Pathetic.

"What, Lucius?" asked the Dark Lord, irritated. But before Lucius could reply, and tell him that a strange woman wanted to see him, the woman walked into the room herself.

Observing the unwanted visitor, he raised hairless eyebrows. "You are bold, coming here uninvited," he hissed in place of hello, "but boldness is useless to a dead woman. So, speak up, and tell me what is it you want?"

@candere​ / plotted starter for Harry

When the Dark Lord had begun realizing the connection between him and the boy, it had sent him in a cold and blinding fury. Oh, it was infuriating. That there could be a link between someone as great and terrible as him, and someone as pathetic as the weak Potter boy... Not to mention the repulsive idea that the “chosen one” could see in HIS perfect and impenetrable mind.

But then, it had hit him.

Potter was feeble, nothing but a boy, a boy with a malleable mind. And now, the Dark Lord had a perfect access to it. 

And so, he had simply whispered in his mind. Poisoning him slowly but surely, using every pathetic little moment of frustration against him. It had been ridiculously simple. Harry Potter was young, impressionable, and it seemed that even Dumbledore had grown tired of him. Voldemort had plunged his hands into his mind with more ease than he thought. Corrupting, defiling his thoughts. 

It was getting easier and easier, too.