Obscured Meanings

Please read and review!

This is a fic, that I will slowly update (stupid school) that revolves around the death eaters and their interactions with one another. It is an attempt to understand the madness that dwells within the individuals, and that perhaps there is a semblance of sanity, manipulation, and pragmatism behind their actions.

With that said...I own nothing and just dabble in the arts.

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"My lord," he bowed, blonde hair falling in wisps to cover his face, then parted as he slowly, yet lithely came up to stand. His eyes remained on the floor, looking at the small pattern on the stone floor, the bits of dirt that had made its way into the small recesses and were allowed to remain. Peter Pettigrew, though faithful to the Dark Lord, was no housekeeper. There were times where Lucius would happen to find him dusting with a small, nearly feather-less duster; Pettigrew said that he had seen it on muggle television and that it helped calm his nerves. It was disconcerting; Lucius had promised to get him a little apron with white frills to accompany the rat's domestic tasks, but only received a hiss as a response. Those eyes were too beady to be human, and Lucius smirked; Pettigrew was one of the few people whose outward appearance was a true visage of the terror that resided within.
Lucius had finally discovered the portly rat's studies of muggle culture, and their enactment stemmed from Pettigrew's watching television to pass the hours of his confinement. His tail (Lucius swore that at times he could see a tail) was furled beneath the expanse of his thick back, legs sprawled on the hagrid carpeting before the small, wooden-framed contraption. It was Peter's escape. So that's how it was to be, contemplated Lucius, as he had passed the old room; Lucius was sure he was slowly driving himself insane.
"So long has it been since your departure, Luc-i-uss," came the sibilant reply. Voldemort enjoyed annunciating words, separating the vowels and consonants from one another. The tall, nearly emaciated figure with sinuous digits lightly tapped the top of his head, indicating that Lucius should rise and give his report. He had been shipped off to the Baltic Sea, the Dark Lord requesting him - yes, that was how he phrased it - to search and see if any recruiting could be done in Finland. According to reports, though Lucius was wary of the information, several giants had been found sequestered in the area, and it was tantamount to have the area reconnaissance and immediately report back. Considering that he would be staying at the Province of Lapland, Lucius knew it was going to be particularly chilly. Though not wishing to be sent out as an emissary for the brutes that would surely see him more as a welcome light lunch, the idea of being among artic regions and having the frigid wind tussle his hair was, at best, a very romantic image.
"What tidings do you bring? What of the giants? Were you able to make any headway with them? I do recall in your lasst couple of corresspahhndences you mentioned you had befriended a pact with close ties to our dear Fenrir," he inclined his head. He loved hoarding information, something reminiscent of his school days, Lucius recalled with a smirk. If he could say there was an extra shimmer, that beam of light that bespeaks of intelligence, Lucius would swear it resided somewhere there in those cerise, glowing eyes. However, as it was imperative that he never gaze directly at his master, he continued to hold those whimsical ideas to himself and never verified them.
"Yes, master. In actuality, the pact was a small one that headed pitiful operations, striking out at the smaller villages the people had established there, but honestly, of little political influence. Finland is one of the most sparely populated areas; we would not need to fortify our strongholds too strongly once we erect them."
"Are they sympathetic to our cause, Lucius? I cannot have renegade pacts running lose. If they need to be eliiiminated, I can mossst sspeedily have Fenrir send a brigade to ...rectify the situation," he smiled. More like the lipless slit that permanently had made its home in the lower region of Voldemort's face opened and had its tips angle upward slightly. He loved this, but was it enough to make sure the blonde would leave unscathed?
He cleared his throat. He was tempted to toss back the left clumps of strands that had made its way over his shoulder, but that wouldn't do. He'd seem weak and concerned only with aesthetics. As the Dark Lord had said once as he had used a slicing spell on one of his victims, which peeled the skin off in soft curls then worked on doing the same procedure to the muscle tissue, "I fine that terror is a component of beauty, but I do not let my love of one interfere with my execution of the other." He then admitted to loving the symphony of human agony, and that it was as finely cultivated as that of a maestro violinist, when the subject was close to losing consciousness but not tired enough to scream. Lucius did not want to take any chances.
"I also discovered a contact that will be most valuable. One of the greater reasons for my delay, my Lord, was because I was, how can I put it? cultivating a relationship with the lovely Ms. Merja Petelius, her connections with the prime minister will give us invaluable information."
"A woman? Please, where is the challenge in this, Luc-i-us?"
His eyes gleamed. "In the fact that I later became bosom buddies with her good friend, Bjorn Eloranta, who is head of the imports and exports company that is principally affiliated with muggle relations. With a bit more persuasion I'm sure we could use this contact to smuggle in toxins and other maladies that would wreak havoc in the smaller communities. From there, we can extend our reaches to Poland, and the shores of Russia."
"Yes, Russia has numbers, and I need those. They've had bleaker days, those Russians, so they musssst be desperate for some cause. Good, Lucius, good. You have pleased me and done well." The paternalistic edge, ever present, laced its way off his split tongue and to the blonde's ear. He would walk away intact, or mostly intact. It was his cue to depart, a small bow and Lucius turned around to leave. Pettigrew made his was through the door before he could depart, sniffed the air and frowned. Why ever his master kept the imbecile around was a conundrum he'd never solve completely, save for it being nice to tote a subservient body around.
Lucius walked through the narrow corridors of the old house, absently glancing at the paint-chipped walls. The white bits had curled and the ends were now grey, almost bluish but with grime. There were slight yelps to the room on his left, the very left, his having to pass the infernal staircase that was the most unstable piece of crap. He had the urge to kick it; a couple months ago, when testing the durability of the safe house, Lucius had decided to try the stairs to reach the upper levels and fell through the eighth step. Pettigrew and squeaked and laughed in some hissing manner, gasping for air. Lucius had been able to apparate and promptly used his snake cane to trip the rat; no, it wasn't very mature, but that hadn't matter. Pettigrew had fallen flat on his face, with all his weight, giving the taller man every reason to throw back his head and chuckle.
He could hear some thrashing, and what was indistinctly a whip hitting a heavy body. The small yelps, barely registering, were breathy, tired. There would be no great orchestrations tonight, he mused. There was really only one person that preferred the whip when allotting punishments, and just as he made his way to the open door, he caught sight of her. Her black turtle neck and black pants hit whatever blood was slapping her back from each hit, but it did not save her hair and face leaving their evidence on her. She was a tainted beauty. Bellatrix could make them all look sane. She was panting from all the exertion, and was soon to go on with her preferred methods.
"Seventy-three. It's a record, I can still hear him, but barely." Were they such aficionados of screaming and auditory responses due to pain? He almost hoped it was a passing fad. She breathed heavily through her nose, placed her hands tentatively on her knees while slightly bending her knees, then came back up.
"They're getting slightly better and taking the punishments. I'm soon to tire out before I can finish." She grinned, her honest, too-wide grin. Her hair was now sporting a layer of frizz, and also caked down with her victim's blood.
"What was his crime?"
"The usual. He looked up at one of the meetings. I can understand the fantasy of it all, the wishing to be one with our lord, but," and here she hesitated, adjusting the straps that were barely holding the child up - no, young man - he was just small, with his arms held above his head, "there needs to be some respect." She tugged, the boy whimpered slightly, his marron-streaked arms protesting the angle. She turned to face her prey, taking his rolled-backed head precariously into her hands, her whip held in her left. She opened his half-closed eyelids to see if he was responding.
"Out already? My, my, I thought you knew how to keep them up before they went out," Lucius tsked. He only did it to annoy her, but it was just banter, no hard feelings or malice was attached to his words.
"I might be losing my touch. They're all so weak, so boring, too young. Any progress on your mission?"
"Some, it could turn out favorable. I have hopes."
"Grand." Bellatrix pulled the prone body to the other side of the room, dragging him on the system of chains and pulleys he had helped assemble with Nott when they had first arrived. "Tell Narcissa I'll stop by in a couple of days for tea. I haven't seen her, and she told me she'd bring me some herbs from her trip to Paris. I'm sure Severus must have asked her for a few things while she was on her trip."
"Indeed. I'll let her know you'll send her an owl to confirm the date," he said while looking back up at the wild woman. What else to call her? She was a Viking with dark brown hair, the bits of light that entered through the cracked shutters adding red highlights to that waspy mass. She no longer was concerned with Lucius and had diverted her attention back to her plaything. She was walking around again, and opening drawers and muttering under her breath.
Lucius heralded the sunlight with squinted eyes as he passed through the large white door, grateful ever to make a good impression. He would talk with Severus tonight, as he had planned, and see what developments, if any, had occurred while on his sojourn. He wanted to find a young boy to leave his impression on, a quick taste before behaving in a much more tamed manner with his wife. Spousal duties could never be forgotten. It was a blessed day, and Lucius had much to do.