The Pureblood Coup
folder
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
58
Views:
41,282
Reviews:
137
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
58
Views:
41,282
Reviews:
137
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Triumph of the Dark Lord
I am finally up to the beginning of the very, very exciting part! It feels so good to say that! I really feel joy…But…the night is young. There will be much to tell…
Chapter Eight: Triumph of the Dark Lord
The two men stared in front of the full-length mirror, appraising themselves. Lucius had an urge to clap Voldemort as a congratulatory gesture on the back, but hesitated, thinking it most unwise to even lay a finger on him.
Two house-elves, who served like valets were hovering at their knees below, looking up at the two wizards who had just finished dressing.
“Those are the finest, most expensive dressrobes in Great Britain, My Lord.”
Voldemort had taken them from Lucius Malfoy a few minutes ago without thanking him. Now he glanced in the mirror. He nodded slowly with approval to his follower’s words, fiddling with the collar. With his wand, he added further embellishments, making the robes even more impressive.
A high, plain black collar appeared, covering the base of the back of Voldemort’s bald head. Then he added a ruffled, many-layered black necktie, so large, it went from the top of his chest at the beginning of his neck, all the way to the edge at his waist. In a way it looked as if Voldemort had grown a beard. Voldemort liked this. It was a pleasant reminder of his belief that he surpassed what Dumbledore had been.
Other than that, Lord Voldemort was going to look beyond dignified tonight in the impressive, ancient robes, to which he added his own flairs. Along with puffed-out shoulders, glittering emerald and silver studded forearm bracers connected to the sharp, yet elegant droops of the sleeves. Behind him, woven like a tapestry, was a black cope with miniscule embroiderey of green and silver crescent moons. The cope was attached by a spherical brooch at the base of his neck. It was an emerald located just above the ruffled necktie. He would stand tall in dragon-hide boots, like the most god-like, glory-seeking general decked out for war.
Lucius actually smiled, as he watched Voldemort primly regard himself at varying angles. He was filled with happiness that his Lord was satisfied.
“And the interior is of Graphorn leather, My lord which repels most jinxes and hexes,” Lucius explained, ardently interested in fashion.
Voldemort gave an irritable twitch and responded coldly acidic, “I do not require protection.”
Lucius gulped apprehensively, but did not answer, thinking it best not to say anything. In any case, it seemed Voldemort had forgotten this slightly cumbersome aspect of his attire.
Lucius bent down to where a male house-elf, was observing them with starry, black eyes, holding a tray of men’s toiletries. Malfoy picked up a comb, and gave it one last run through his sleek, straight blonde hair. He had worked very hard today to tame his straggly hair, that of course, had once been naturally sleek.
Voldemort left the bedroom that Lucius and Narcissa had taken up, proceeding to the Drawing Room for the dinner party.
Lucius, after spraying on cologne from a brown glass container, which the male-house elf handed him, darted to the corner to retrieve his pimp cane. He placed his wand, inside it, with a loud snap, and then twisted it shut. Nobody, would thankfully see that his wand wasn’t the same one he had possessed before. And yet, he certainly could not host a party without his pimp cane!
Chapter Eight: Triumph of the Dark Lord
The two men stared in front of the full-length mirror, appraising themselves. Lucius had an urge to clap Voldemort as a congratulatory gesture on the back, but hesitated, thinking it most unwise to even lay a finger on him.
Two house-elves, who served like valets were hovering at their knees below, looking up at the two wizards who had just finished dressing.
“Those are the finest, most expensive dressrobes in Great Britain, My Lord.”
Voldemort had taken them from Lucius Malfoy a few minutes ago without thanking him. Now he glanced in the mirror. He nodded slowly with approval to his follower’s words, fiddling with the collar. With his wand, he added further embellishments, making the robes even more impressive.
A high, plain black collar appeared, covering the base of the back of Voldemort’s bald head. Then he added a ruffled, many-layered black necktie, so large, it went from the top of his chest at the beginning of his neck, all the way to the edge at his waist. In a way it looked as if Voldemort had grown a beard. Voldemort liked this. It was a pleasant reminder of his belief that he surpassed what Dumbledore had been.
Other than that, Lord Voldemort was going to look beyond dignified tonight in the impressive, ancient robes, to which he added his own flairs. Along with puffed-out shoulders, glittering emerald and silver studded forearm bracers connected to the sharp, yet elegant droops of the sleeves. Behind him, woven like a tapestry, was a black cope with miniscule embroiderey of green and silver crescent moons. The cope was attached by a spherical brooch at the base of his neck. It was an emerald located just above the ruffled necktie. He would stand tall in dragon-hide boots, like the most god-like, glory-seeking general decked out for war.
Lucius actually smiled, as he watched Voldemort primly regard himself at varying angles. He was filled with happiness that his Lord was satisfied.
“And the interior is of Graphorn leather, My lord which repels most jinxes and hexes,” Lucius explained, ardently interested in fashion.
Voldemort gave an irritable twitch and responded coldly acidic, “I do not require protection.”
Lucius gulped apprehensively, but did not answer, thinking it best not to say anything. In any case, it seemed Voldemort had forgotten this slightly cumbersome aspect of his attire.
Lucius bent down to where a male house-elf, was observing them with starry, black eyes, holding a tray of men’s toiletries. Malfoy picked up a comb, and gave it one last run through his sleek, straight blonde hair. He had worked very hard today to tame his straggly hair, that of course, had once been naturally sleek.
Voldemort left the bedroom that Lucius and Narcissa had taken up, proceeding to the Drawing Room for the dinner party.
Lucius, after spraying on cologne from a brown glass container, which the male-house elf handed him, darted to the corner to retrieve his pimp cane. He placed his wand, inside it, with a loud snap, and then twisted it shut. Nobody, would thankfully see that his wand wasn’t the same one he had possessed before. And yet, he certainly could not host a party without his pimp cane!