Blanc du Noir

Blanc du Noir
By: Aglaia

See first chapter for disclaimer.

Voldemort made a sweeping gesture around the room. “My dear, your followers.”

All bowed their heads again as she looked around – all but one. Lucius Malfoy jumped to his feet when he recognized her.

“Master! You cannot mean that this mublood is you heir! Not only that, but she’s a friend of
Potters!” This exclamation brought gasps from the group, though no others rose, not willing to risk their Master’s wrath.

Voldemort was visibly incensed by this outburst, but Hermione simply raised an eyebrow at Lucius, the corner of her mouth twitching upwards. Not taking her eyes from him, she leaned towards Voldemort, and said in a loud whisper, “For some reason, I get the impression that he doesn’t like me.” The Dark Lord turned to her, and when their eyes met, he laughed his hissing, rasping laugh.

“Very well, pet. Play.”

She beamed at him, gave him another kiss, then hoped off the dais, sauntering up to Malfoy. On her way, she addressed the rest of the group. “Do, please, get up; I’m sure the floor isn’t at all comfortable.” She was now standing only feet from Malfoy, but still, she addressed the others. “I would advise you all to pick a vantage point that affords you the best view of us. I would also suggest you not forget this.” It wasn’t a suggestion.

She coolly surveyed Malfoy from top to toe, a slight smirk on her lips. Locking eyes, she said in a sultry voice, “Lucius, dear, kneel.” He remained standing, sneering, and raised one supercilious eyebrow. Hermione had expected that response, and merely smirked more widely. With shock and anger apparent in his normally cold steel eyes, Lucius found himself kneeling against his will – she hadn’t even drawn her wand or touched him.

“What do you think you’re doing, you Mudbl-” The rest if his sentence didn’t come out – couldn’t. She had waived a hand in front of him in a dismissive gesture, and he found himself forcibly silenced.

“Really now Lucius, that was very rude,” she scolded him as any mother would. His scowl deepened. “Calling me names will get you nothing but a ‘time-out’.” She had stopped behind him, and looked at Voldemort questioningly – he nodded.

Hermione smirked, and bent her head down to Lucius’ ear. Removing his mask so the others could see his reactions, she whispered top him, “Lucius… writhe.”

At that word, his face contorted in pain, as the fire of a Cruciatus ripped through him. His mouth was open in a silent scream, while Hermione circled. Every few seconds she would wave a hand in his direction, and cuts would open on his skin, bleeding freely.

The ‘time-out’ lasted well over 2 minutes. At the end of it, Lucius collapsed on the floor gasping and trembling; the others looked on in wonder and no little fear. Hermione knelt down beside his prone form and tenderly brushed a strand of hair out of his eyes. Her voice, when she spoke, was soft and gentle, completely at odds with what had just happened.

“I think you’re going to listen to me now, aren’t you Lucius?” He nodded. “Good. Now, now, don’t try to get up just yet; I’m not so cruel that I don’t know the pain you’re in.” With that she passed a hand over the length of his body – his trembling stopped, the cuts healed, and his breathing evened out. “Better?”

“Yes… Mistress,” he replied disjointedly.

“Perfect,” she purred, brushing her lips against his ear as she stood, “stay there a moment kneeling, please, dear.”

Hermione looked around silently at the group of cowed and rather confused Death Eaters. She caught Snape’s eye and, using legilimency, told his to meet her in Dumbledore’s office, then moved on, not waiting for a reply.

‘What the bleeding hell is going on??’ thought Snape. He glanced at Voldemort for a second to see if he’d caught the exchange. The Dark Lord hadn’t, but was watching the proceedings with amusement. ‘This game just got a hell of a lot more complicated.’

“I will not suffer fools,” Hermione spoke with a clear authoritarian voice, “and I most certainly will not suffer insubordination.” She again swept the room with her gaze. ‘Yes, Mistress,’ was mumbled by all. “Just as you do what My Lord Voldemort bids you do, you will do as I bid you. There will be rewards for prompt and efficient action, and… ‘time-outs’ for disobedience…” Everyone’s eyes flicked to Lucius at that.

Hermione again knelt in front of Lucius. There was a visible crackle of power now around her – she was building up for something. With a snap of her fingers, Lucius’ robes were open. She kept his gaze as he glared, not trying to cover himself up lest she disapprove.

“Your Lord commands you loyalty and you strength. I command you honor, and your souls.”

With the last word, she placed her hand palm down on Lucius’ chest, just bellow his heart. Power was seen to be moving along her arm and out her hand.

Lucius clenched his teeth as a searing pain was concentrated where her hand lay. In short order it was removed, and it was seen that there was now a curled black panther tattooed there – matching the one on the small of her back. The new mark burned, and Lucius was still grinding his teeth, glaring.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. “Oh, come on! It wasn’t that bad.” He continued to glare. “Fine, fine; if you insist on being a baby about it…” She pressed her hand over the area again, though this time it felt as though a soothing balm was placed on it.

She stood and bid Lucius do the same.

“You are bound to me now, as you are bound to your Lord. There are, however, only three reasons I will ever personally summon you. Firstly, if I want you assistance with a…” she turned and winked at Voldemort, “surprise.” He chuckled at that, and she smiled. “Secondly, if the final battle has come, when both our marks will burn. And thirdly…” She trailed off, and stepped back onto the dais, resting her hands on Voldemort’s shoulders as he sat.

She absently kneaded his shoulders, with that same strange affectionate look. Voldemort reached a gnarled hand up and clasped one of hers. She gave him a small smile, cleared her throat, and again spoke clearly. “And thirdly, if My Lord has passed – which hopefully will not happen for many years to come.” She dropped a kiss to the top of his head, and he patted her cheek.

Hermione sat down in the chair beside Voldemort, all traces of sentimentality gone. “You will approach and kneel in order of precedence. Once you have received my mark and bid My Lord farewell, you may go. Lucius,” she turned to him, “you will stay a moment, if you please, I want a word.” He nodded in assent, still glaring at his new Mistress.

Hermione beckoned the first Death Eater forward to receive their mark. Each person in turn was given her mark, a healing charm to stop the burning, words of affection (bizarre) from their Mistress, and a dismissal from their Master.

When all but Malfoy and Pettigrew had left, Hermione motioned Lucius to step forward. He knelt gracefully in front of both; when he raised his eyes to Hermione, however, they were full of anger.

“Now, now, we’ll have none of that,” tutted Hermione. It galled him, being treated like an errant two-year-old. “I realize you resent me, Lucius, and I fully expected, and understand that. You’ve been loyal from the beginning, and proved your worth a thousand times over, and a thousand times again.” Lucius was beginning to preen again and smirk in a smug manner. “Your power and influence in our world is matched by none, and I daresay your son will follow proudly in your footsteps.” She paused there to see is his smirk would hold on the unspoken ‘but’. It didn’t.

“However, there are reasons you or anyone else wasn’t chosen.” He raised a questioning eyebrow. “You are all much more useful in your current roles, and that aside, you simply haven’t been groomed for the role as I have. You are a leader, Lucius, but you are not our leader.”

Voldemort had remained silent throughout this exchange, but spoke now, seeing that Lucius didn’t understand, and wasn’t willing to. “Lucius,” he hissed. Malfoy bowed low to him. “Your Mistress is correct – you are much more valuable to me as you are now. As well, I’m sure you noticed certain… talents, she has.”

He had noticed, in fact – through the blinding, bloody pain. Very powerful, very controlled wandless magic. Difficult to master, he doubted above a handful of wizards in the last century had come close to that level of control. Talents indeed.

“Forgive me, my Lord, my Lady. I was merely concerned for your well being, and our cause.”

“Thank you for that concern, Lucius. Now, off home before Narcissa misses you too terribly,” said Hermione in dismissal.

Malfoy kissed her hand, and Voldemort’s robes, then disappeared.

“Pettigrew!” called Hermione coldly. She had never, and would never warm to the rat; vile thing that he was. “Go with My Lord, and do as he pleases, see to his comfort.”

“Yes, Mistress, of course,” replied a twitchy, smarmy Pettigrew.

Hermione rose from her chair, as did Voldemort. She gave his hand a squeeze, and kissed him goodbye. “Goodnight, Sire,” she said softly, “I’ll be by tomorrow or the next day to discuss our plans for the next meeting.”

“Very well, pet, I’ll await you then.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead, released her hand, and all three disapparated.
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A/N: Thank you, Thank you, to the people who reviewed, that was lovely of you!!