A Song for Severus ~ (Not Update, but Edit)

Chapter 11 ~ Bella Blows a Torch

Devon Rosier was sitting behind the shop counter drawing a design for a new piece on a parchment when the door let out a warning chime seconds before it opened. He looked up to see Draco entering. He was dressed in dark green robes and sporting his father’s ring and silver-tipped cane. Devon smiled. Draco’s appearance definitely meant he could expect a good sale.

“Ah, welcome Draco,” Devon said to the blonde wizard, “It’s been quite a while since I’ve seen you…in the capacity of a customer. How can I help you today?”

Devon’s greeting was a thinly veiled reference to seeing Draco at the revels.

“I’m in the market for a ring. Something…different,” the wizard said.

Devon eyed Lucius’ ring.

“Something of your own, I imagine,” he commented.

“Yes,” Draco replied.

Devon nodded and looked thoughtful. Then he pulled out his wand and securely warded the shop door.

“Come with me into my office. We can discuss your needs in comfort,” Devon said to the wizard.

Draco walked around the counter and followed Devon through a door into his office. A huge hardwood desk dominated the room, and three plush armchairs sat before it. A number of books about precious metals, stones and jewelry rested on shelves, a beautiful, large oriental rug covered most of the floor and a marble floo was embedded in the right wall, a small flame crackling within. Most likely it was warded against uninvited visitors.

Draco sat down in the middle armchair. It was extremely comfortable. Devon took a seat behind the desk, removed a few sheets of parchment and an inkbottle from a drawer, then plucked a quill out of a stand. He opened the inkbottle and dipped the quill into it.

“All right Draco. I imagine that a serpent will figure in the ring design, you being a Slytherin…”

Draco nodded.

“Platinum setting. And emerald. High quality,” the young wizard said, then looked thoughtful. “I would also like a small rose made out of ruby incorporated into the design.”

Devon looked at Draco thoughtfully.

“A red rose made of ruby. Interesting. Yes, I could do that. Is the ring for you, Draco?” Devon asked.

“Yes,” the wizard replied.

Hm. The rose must have a special significance. Devon jotted down the information, then looked up at Draco.

“Give me a week to create several designs for you to consider,” Devon said to him.

“That’s fine,” Draco said, rising as if to go.

“Wait Draco. Please sit down. I would like to speak to you about other matters,” Devon said to him.

Draco knew this was coming. He reseated himself as Devon cast a powerful silencing spell around the room. That only meant one thing. Death Eater business.

“Draco, it has been decided a new Dark Lord will be chosen from among our ranks. We are too scattered and need to be unified with a purpose. Voldemort’s dream of Pureblood Superiority and the cleansing of the Wizarding World must not die,” the wizard said.

Draco feigned surprise, then said, “Agreed, Devon. I’ve felt lately that all we’ve been doing is spinning our wands. We do need to get back to our roots. But how do you propose to do this without causing a riot in our ranks? Everyone will want a chance at being the leader.”

Devon smiled.

“Only those truly committed will compete for the position, considering that several duels to the death are required. We are searching for the two strongest wizards or witches in our ranks. Elimination…will be permanent. The final two will battle only to overcome the other. The winner will take the elixir that transformed Tom Riddle into Voldemort. If he or she dies as a result of not being able to handle the magical changes, then the runner-up will take the elixir,” he said.

“What if he dies too?” Draco asked, an eyebrow arched.

Devon shrugged.

“The process begins all over again,” the wizard said.

Draco processed this.

“But Devon, most likely no one will come forward for a second round, particularly if everyone in the first died,” he said. The plan sounded incredibly stupid to him.

“Possibly in the second round, fighting to the death won’t be required. Just winning. And we will select more runner-ups. We’ll figure out something. We need to find someone,” Devon said darkly. He didn’t like Draco pointing out the faults in their plans. He was as arrogant as his father.

“Maybe I’ll wait for the second round then,” Draco said with a nasty smirk. He knew he had ruffled Devon’s robes. “Has anyone come forward yet?”

Devon nodded.

“Elizabeth Yaxley and Fenrir Greyback,” he replied.

A look of horror fixed itself on Draco’s face.

“Fenrir? Are you all mad? He’s a werewolf with an attitude! He’ll turn every one of us into werewolves if he becomes the Dark Lord!” Draco said incredulously.

How stupid were they? It was a well known fact that Fenrir did not join Voldemort because of ideological reasons, but for access to victims. He would like nothing better than to create an army of werewolves and contaminate the entire wizarding world.

”Fenrir is a Death Eater and a pureblood. We can’t deny him his right to compete for the throne. Hopefully, someone will kill him in the competition,” Devon said with a sigh.

Shit. Fenrir Greyback. Something had to be done about this. If that crazy werewolf should become the next Dark Lord, all hell would break loose. He’d be a thousand times worse than Voldemort.

Draco decided to take a stab in the dark.

“Does Bellatrix know about this? You know she claims the Dark Lord is going to return. She’s going to be livid and protest this,” Draco said.

Devon’s brows furrowed.

“Bella is a Death Eater like any other. If she doesn’t like it, she can compete herself. She’s mad anyway. The Dark Lord is dead and gone. He’s not coming back,” he snapped in irritation.

Bella was like a burr on Devon’s ass, spreading her crazy claims throughout the ranks. She actually had a few Death Eaters believing her delusions. Well, he’d deal with her whenever she appeared. It had been a couple of months since he’d seen her. Sometimes revels overlapped, being held in two or three locations at the same time, so running into her was a matter of chance. Generally though, Bellatrix contacted Elizabeth to find out what revels were being held and where, though that was no guarantee the witch would show up. It was more like she was keeping track.

Draco shrugged then stood up.

“Still, you know how Bella is, Devon. If she doesn’t like something, she’ll find a way to throw a wand in the works,” he said, fastening his cloak.

“I’ll handle Bella,” Devon said darkly, “By the way, there’s to be a revel tonight at Pumbleberry’s manor. I trust you will be there, even if you…”

Here, Devon’s eyes flicked to Draco’s loins. He too had heard about the terrible STD he had contracted.

“…can’t participate. There’s still the entertainment value,” the jeweler finished.

“Yes, there is that,” Draco agreed. “I will be there.”

”Good,” Devon said, rising, walking around his desk and opening the door for Draco, who stepped through. They walked back into the shop area and Devon removed the wards, then shook Draco’s hand.

“As I said, the preliminary designs for your ring will be ready in about a week, though I am sure I will see you before then. There’s a good chance this will be a rotating revel and a wizard with your ‘leisure’ time will most likely not miss out on the fun. I will bring the designs to you if you are otherwise engaged,” Devon said solicitously.

“That will be fine, Devon. I will see you tonight,” Draco replied, taking his leave of the wizard and exiting the shop. He drew a deep breath once outside, his stomach knotting up at the thought of attending the revel tonight without Severus. At least when the Potions Master was there, he had someone to stick with of a like mind. Now, he would be forced to mingle with the others.

Draco shuddered as he remembered Peter Pettigrew calling to him as he drilled a screaming muggle girl of about fifteen in the ass viciously. Draco had been leaning against a wall waiting for Severus to return with drinks when the fat, ratty little wizard squeaked his name.

Draco looked over to see the wizard kneeling on a dirty mattress and the young girl on her knees and face first in the filthy cushion before him. Peter was twisting one of her arms behind her back as he buggered her with all his might

“How’s…this… Draco?” the fat wizard called, holding up his paunch with one hand and bouncing grotesquely against the howling girl’s buttocks as he speared her. Peter was naked, hairy and greasy with perspiration. It was disgusting.

Draco was forced to give Peter a smile and nod when what he really wanted to do was hit him with a Killing curse. The sadistic pig.

God, Draco hoped tonight would pass quickly.

The wizard walked to a public apparition point and disapparated to the Manor. It made no sense to seek out Malina.

He had work to do.


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Elizabeth Yaxley looked at her face in the mirror. Most of the bruising was gone. She had very expensive and powerful healing elixirs in her medicinal stores, and she needed them after Fenrir finished with her.

The werewolf had not scratched or bitten her, though he did beat and humiliate her unmercifully as he raped her repeatedly and forced her to perform all manner of perversities on him.

“You won’t be able to meet my eyes next time you see me, you bitch,” he growled as he sodomized her.

The reason Fenrir didn’t bite Elizabeth was because that would have made her a werewolf as well, and could be beneficial when he faced her in the arena. He didn’t scratch her because werewolf wounds never healed properly, and the scratches would be proof of his attack. Not that he needed to worry. There were no “champions” among the Death Eaters. No one would make him pay for what he’d done to the witch. Only if she reported it to the Ministry, and they were after him already. If she gave away his hiding places, others would be taken as well, and Elizabeth deemed a traitor. Besides, if he was taken…she wouldn’t get her opportunity to kill him.

Elizabeth wanted to kill him more than she wanted to take her next breath. The competition didn’t matter anymore, and she would kill every opponent just to have her chance at Fenrir. He would die a humiliating and painful death if she had her way.

He left her naked, broken and curled on the floor after urinating on her, howling as he did so. He demolished her parlor too. Horrible didn’t begin to describe what he put her through. He was a huge man with a huge organ. He also didn’t have a love affair with soap and water either and smelled just like an animal. Worse than an animal actually.

Elizabeth lay curled on the floor for about an hour and a half before she managed to crawl on her hands and knees to the bathroom, pull herself up by the sink and get to her stores. It took several bottles of healing and pain potion before she could stand properly, and she had to drink pain potion through the night before the monster’s ache diminished enough for her to function properly. Even with the pain potion, using the loo was excruciating, and for the time being, Elizabeth was only eating broth so her body didn’t have to pass much bulk.

As she was studying her face, there was a knock on her front door as a warning ward went off. Picking up her wand, Elizabeth walked through her restored parlor and stopped, moving to the side of the door, her wand at the ready.

“Who is it?” she called.

“It’s Bella, Elizabeth…open up,” Bellatrix replied from the other side of the door.

Elizabeth unwarded the door and opened it, letting the witch in.

“Hello, Elizabeth…I was just…” Bella began, then stopped as she looked at her fellow Death Eater’s bruised face.

“What happened to you?” Bella asked her.

“I tangled with Fenrir,” Elizabeth said, walking into the parlor. Bella followed her.

“Fenrir can be brutal…but…if you like that kind of thing...he’s perfect,” Bellatrix said. She had tangled with Fenrir on occasion too, but not the way Elizabeth had.

Elizabeth snorted, but didn’t tell Bella she had been raped by him. She was too proud to admit she couldn’t defend herself against the werewolf. Bella sat down on the sofa.

“Any news I should know about?” Bella asked Elizabeth, who smirked slightly. Bella was going to have a troll when she found out what was going on.

“Just a little. There’s going to be a competition to choose a new Dark Lord from among the ranks,” Elizabeth said with narrowed blue eyes.

“What? What?” Bella screamed, jumping up off the sofa. “You are lying. They would never do that…who would dare to try and fill Voldemort’s robes? What unworthy…”

“Apparently, anyone who wants to. They only have to sign up and fight to the death. The two left standing will then face off to defeat each other…not kill. Then the winner will drink the elixir that transformed Tom Riddle into Voldemort and assume the throne,” Elizabeth explained concisely.

Bella fell silent for a moment, her pale skin becoming redder and redder as she stared at Elizabeth before she finally exploded.

“They cannot do this! There is already one who can rightfully claim that throne!” she hissed.

Elizabeth frowned.

“Who?” she asked Bella, who focused on her as if she’d forgotten the witch was there.

“Don’t worry about it,” she snapped. “Where are they getting the elixir?”

”Severus is brewing it as we speak,” Elizabeth replied.

Bella’s eyes narrowed.

“Severus!” she spat, “He still betrays the Dark Lord.”

”Bella, what the hell are you talking about? Severus can’t betray Voldemort…Voldemort is dead,” she said to the witch reasonably.

“I didn’t say Voldemort…I said ‘the Dark Lord,” Bella replied to her, then said, “Never mind about that Elizabeth…I know Devon is behind this, this travesty! When is the next revel?”

”Tonight. At Pumbleberry’s manor. And they are going to have a couple of muggle men this time,” Elizabeth said.

She was going to attend, though sex was the last thing on her mind. Still there would be males to torture in lieu of Fenrir. Displaced aggression would have to do…for now. She’d finish the unfortunate muggles off after the others were done having their pleasure with them. First…castration…slowly. Then, neutering. Then…

”I’ll be there,” Bellatrix said, rising, a black scowl on her face. “And I’m going to stop this competition one way or another.”

Elizabeth looked at her with raised eyebrows.

“Bella, we need a leader to unite under. Surely you see that,” Elizabeth said reasonably.

“Of course I see that. I’ve always seen that,” Bella said, “But the Dark Lord should not come from the ranks. An ordinary wizard will never do. The next Dark Lord must be born and bred for greatness.”

”Tom Riddle was an ordinary wizard until he took Severus’ elixir,” Elizabeth reminded Bella, who snarled in response.

“He was NEVER ordinary!” Bella hissed, her eyes wild and looking as if she wanted to draw her wand on Elizabeth.

Bella had been Voldemort’s most devoted servant until she saw that he would never make her his queen. She still had a warped view of the despot however.

“Calm down, Bella. I know how you felt about him,” Elizabeth said soothingly, “But this is the view most have about him. That his power was created, not something he initially began with. If he could gain such power, so can another witch or wizard.”

Bella scowled at her.

“Witch? What do you mean ‘witch?” she demanded.

“I’m competing too,” Elizabeth said.

It took a great effort for Bella not to pull her wand and cast the Killing curse on Elizabeth for even suggesting such a thing.

“You?” Bella spat, “Don’t be a fool, Elizabeth. You are too weak. Completely unsuitable to rule.”

Elizabeth leveled her eyes on Bella. They weren’t friends. The only reason they associated was because they were both Death Eaters. If she did become the next Dark Lady, Bellatrix LeStrange would pay for her doubt…in stripes.

“We’ll see, Bella. We’ll see,” she said evenly.

The two witches locked eyes for a moment, blue eyes to gray eyes, dislike clearly evident in both their gazes.

Then Bella said, “If I were you, Elizabeth…I would withdraw from the competition. When the real Dark Lord returns, he will be highly displeased with everyone who coveted his throne. He will seek revenge upon them.”

“I’ll take my chances, Bella,” Elizabeth replied.

“You’re a fool, then,” Bella hissed at her, walking toward the front door. “A stupid, foolish, fool.”

The witch let herself out. Elizabeth warded the door behind her, then sighed.

Now she had Bellatrix to worry about as well as Fenrir. The witch was known to turn violent when things didn’t go her way. In this case, things weren’t going to go her way and most likely she would target those she knew were competing for the throne.

Currently, she was the only one Bella knew about.

Elizabeth sighed again.

Maybe she wouldn’t go to the revel tonight.

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A/N: Not too much to say about this chapter. I’m fried from writing today. Emmet's story took a lot out of me. Thanks for reading.