Maeglin Yedi and the Order of the Serpent

Chapter 3: Confessions over candlelight

The large front doors of Riddle Mansion swing open, and let in the chilling autumn air. I shiver beside Macnair, who merely buttons up his cloak, and steps out. But when I don´t follow, he turns around and gives me a questioning look.

\"It´s bloody cold.\"

Macnair rolls his eyes, pulls his wand out of his cloak, and grabs a candle from one of the candlesticks placed throughout the entrance hall. With a flick of his wand, and a muttered spell, he trigurigures it into a black cloak, and hands it to me.

I pull it on gratefully, and want to button it up. But can´t. \"Um...it doesn´t have any buttons.\"

Macnair shrugs. \"I never was that good at Transfigurations.\"

Ah well. It´s better than nothing, and I pull it closed around me as I follow Macnair out.

It´s a clear day, the sun shining, and a light breeze blowing through my hair. The mansion is surrounded by what looks like a park of sorts, with wide lawns, cobblestone paths leading through them, and tall trees in the distance. I briefly wonder if they maintain these yards by magic. I think they do. For some reason I can´t see Voldemort on his knees on a lazy Sunday afternoon, pulling weeds.

But then I notice a hill in the distance, which looks familiar, sort of.

\"Is that the cemetery?\" I ask Macnair, and he nods.

\"Can we go there?\"

\"Sure.\"

So we walk across the courtyard, and I take my time to take everything in. There´s nothing around me but the mansion and grass and trees, and I realize that even if I did get a chance to make a run for it, Voldemort´s servants with their magic would catch up with me before I´d ever reach civilization. And even if I did reach the Muggle town that is around here somewhere, what would I do then? I don´t have any money, nor do I have a clue where exactly I am or how to get home.

I´m stuck. And I know it.

We reach the cemetery, and I walk around it, admiring the ancient looking headstones. It doesn´t look creepy at all during daylight, but I try to imagine what it must look like at night, with Voldemort regaining his body, his masked Death Eaters by his side. Poor Harry. It´s hard to believe that all took place here, with the sun shining brightly, and Macnair kicking childishly at a pile of brown leaves.

\"So, about that smoke...\" I start, and Macnair snaps his gaze up, and rubs his hands while selecting the edge of a large, marble headstone to sit on. I flop down beside him, and he takes out a pack of cigarettes from an unfamiliar brand, probably something Wizardry, puts two cigarettes in his mouth, lights them with the tip of his wand, and hands one to me.

I take a deep drag, and let the smoke calm me, which is not really working since I´m still sitting on Voldemort´s family cemetery, looking out on his Mansion.

\"Do you have the mark?\" I ask Macnair, trying to make a bf cof conversation on a topic that might actually interest him.

\"Course I have,\" he answers around a lung-full of smoke.

\"Can I see it?\"

Macnair seems to consider it for a moment, and then pulls the sleeve of his left arm up, holding it out for me to see.

And there is it. The Dark Mark. Looking like nothing more than a neat, gothic-like tattoo. Before I even realize what I´m doing, I run a finger across the black skull, and to my surprise, it feels searingly hot.

Macnair pulls his arm back, his face screwed up in an odd expression.

\"I´m sorry,\" I blurt out. \"Does it hurt?\"

\"No, but it tickles.\"

Okay. I try not to giggle at the knowledge that a guy like Macnair is actually ticklish, and quickly take another drag from my cigarette. \"Can I ask you questions...you know...about Death Eater stuff?\"

\"Sure.\"

Ha! Here´s my chance to do some real research, on behalf of the entire fandom of course, and I shift on the marble edge, giving Macnair a big grin.

\"Okay. Death Eater orgies. True or false.\"

Macnair, who´d just taken a drag of his cigarette, chokes violently, and while I pat him on his back, he mutters: \"Who told you we had orgies?\"

\"No one. So it´s true then?\"

Macnair takes a deep breath, and shrugs. \"Yeah. We used to have a lot of them, before our Lord...um...went on holiday, but we still have them occasionally.\"

Most interesting, and I´m tempted to let out a victorious ´I knew it!´, but control myself. \"So, was it the sex then, why you joined?\"

\"That, and the dental plan.\"

\"Are you gay?\"

Macnair snaps his gaze towards me, and glares, brown eyes darkening to black. \"What do you think?\"

\"I think you´re gay.\"

\"Ha! You´re wrong! I´m bi, actually.\"

Close enough.

\"Are you shagging Avery?\"

Macnair´s eyes widen, and he lets out a strangled gasp. \"How the fuck do you know that? You really are a seer, aren´t you?\"

I knew it! I can´t control myself any longer, and give Macnair an enthusiastic nudge with my elbow, pushing him right off the headstone.

\"Oh God! I´m sorry!\" I yelp, reaching out a hand, and helping Macnair back on his feet. He lets out a tired sigh, brushes the dirt off his arse, and sits down next to me again.

\"So, what about Voldemort?\ask,ask, now wanting to know every last filthy detail.

\"What about him?\"

\"Straight or gay? Seeing anyone?\"

Macnair frowns. \"Definitely bi, and he still sometimes joins us when we have a bit of fun, but no, I don´t think he´s been seeing a lot of action lately.\"

\"Really? I always thought he´d bugger Lucius on a daily basis.\"

\"Lucius? He´s as straight as a broomstick.\"

\"You´re shitting me.\"

Shaking his head, Macnair leans over conspiratorially. \"It´s the cane, isn´t it? We told him when he bought that stupid thing: Luc, it will make you look as queer as they come. But did he listen? Noooo.\"

I burst out in helpless giggles, and Macnair chuckles beside me. We finish our smokes, occasionally snickering, and then Macnair gets up, gesturing for me to do the same. \"I´ll show you around the mansion.\"

And he does. Macnair turns out to be quite a gifted tour guide, pointing out interesting pieces of antiquities, telling me – often gruesome – stories about their origin, and acting out entire Wizarding battle scenes all by his lonesome self. We make our way through the mansion at a leisurely pace, have tea in the salon where I learn more about Friedrich the Fierce Fairy than I´ve ever wanted to know, and finally Macnair leads me to a narrow staircase.

\"The dungeons,\" I state.

\"Oh, yes.\" Macnair practically skips down the steps, and I follow him reluctantly, trying not to ga the the stench of stale urine, old blood, and other things I´d rather not identify.

\"This is my favorite room,\" Macnair says as he drags me inside a dimly lit room. It takes my eyes a few moments to get used to the darkness, and slowly I start to make out shapes around us. Shapes that don´t look all that pleasant. Spiky, and pointy, and with lots of chains, and what are those dark stains all over this place?

Now, it´s one thing to imagine these sort of things while writing a bit of non-con. It´s an entirely different thing to actually see them, and I clasp my hand over my mouth, and run out of the room, up the stairs, until I´m standing inside the entrance hall again, and can breathe in clean, stench-free air.

I hear Macnair laugh loudly behind me as he climbs up the stairs and joins me again. I just give him a mock glare, and he slings an arm around my shoulders.

\"Don´t worry. Stronger men than you have fainted dead-away at thightight,\" he says, and I shrug.

\"Don´t tell anyone I said it, but Lucius can´t even make it down the stairs without puking all over himself. Course, he claims he simply doesn´t want to go down there cause he doesn´t want to dirty his expensive clothes, but we all know better than that.\"

Feeling a lot better after hearing that, I give Macnair a happy smile, and he squeezes my shouldeeforefore letting go of me.

\"This is the end of the tour. I´ll take you back to your rooms. Get some rest before your date with our Lord.\"

Date?

What date?

But Macnair refuses to say anymore about it, and we say goodbye outside my room while I´m still very confused about what he said. Still, I think his suggestion was a good one, and I flop down on the bed, closing my eyes, and drifting off to sleep almost immediately.

~~~~~~~~

A knock on the door pulls me away from weird, surreal dreams, and I blink sleepily before getting up to open the door.

Voldemort looks down on me, dressed in very nice looking, black robes, and smelling all fresh and clean. I wonder if he uses aftershave. Hell, I wonder if he even shaves at all, since he seems pretty hairless. I give him a half-nod, and try to straighten my bed hair without looking like a complete idiot.

\"Are you ready?\" Voldemort asks, clasping his hands behind his back, looking me up and down. I feel very under-dressed compared to him, but I nod anyway, because I don´t have any other clothes, and I don´t think you´re supposed to keep a Dark Lord waiting, even if you aren´t ready yet.

So I straighten my sweater, and follow him down the corridor, until he stops in front of a heavy door, which he pushes open before gesturing for me to enter.

When I step inside I realize these must be his private rooms, and I look around curiously, noticing the large fire place, the desk in the corner stacked with books and scrolls of parchment, and several doors, undoubtedly leading to his bedroom and bathroom. I look up at Voldemort, feeling a bit lost, and also a bit anxious, and watch as he steps up to the dining table centered in the room.

It looks...um...well...wow, and I just stare at the set table; shiny porcelain, satin napkins, and a silver candlestick with three lit, white candles in the middle of it all. My surprise, and shock, must be written all over my face, because Voldemort gives me an amused smile, and looks from me to the table and back.

\"Not what you had expected?\"

\"I thought you said something about tea,\" I mumble, approaching the table, and the Dark Lord, with a certain amount of caution.

\"Tea is merely an expression we use for having dinner,\" Voldemort explains patiently, pulling a chair back and gesturing for me to take a seat.

Sitting down, letting Voldemort elegantly help me in my seat, which is so surreal that I´m beginning to wonder if this isn´t an episode of the Twilight Zone, I smile up at him. \"I´m not from around these parts.\"

\"Then where are you from?\" Voldemort straightens his immaculate, black robes before taking a seat opposite of me. I feel his knees brush against mine under the table, and quickly shift my legs. I have no intention of playing footsie with the Dark Lord.

\"The Netherlands.\"

\"Really? One can wonder how you ended up here then, of all places.\" Voldemort reaches for the bottle of wine, and gives me a questioning look.

I let out a soft snicker, trying not to make it sound too hysterical. \"Yes, one can.\" I nod in the direction of my empty wine glass, and Voldemort pours the wine. \"Thank you, my Lord,\" I whisper, and reach for the glass, taking a grateful sip. Something tells me I´ll be needing a lot of alcohol to make it through this evening sane and in one piece.

The moment I set the glass down again, plates appear in front of us, and I´m staring down at a crab, surrounded by a variety of greens. Now, I adore crab, so that´s not the problem. It´s just that, this is a whole crab, shell and all. How on earth am I supposed to eat that?

I look up at Voldemort a bit lost, and he grabs a narrow fork and this clipper thingie, holding them up so I can see them.

Ah. I notice the same instruments next to my own plate, and set to mutilate the crab. But it´s a lot harder than it looks, and before I know it, I´m in a vicious battle with one of the crab´s legs, and manage to launch my clipper thingie right across the table into Voldemort´s lap.

Looking up in horror, I notice Voldemort pursing his lips, and for a moment I´m very sure that I am going to die, because it must be a capital offense to throw cutlery at a Dark Lord. But then Voldemort´s shoulders shake just a little, and I realize he´s trying not to laugh.

I´m tempted to tell him he can laugh at me all he wants, as long as he doesn´t AK my arse on the spot, but instead I just accept the clipper thingie with a foolish grin, and go back to trying to eat my crab, be it a lot more careful this time.

But the crab is fighting a strong battle, and with a sigh I look up at Voldemort again. \"Can´t you just Crucio it open for me, or something?\"

For a moment, Voldemort frowns. \"I could,\" he says, a sly smile tugging on his lips. \"But where is the fun in that?\"

\"Yeah, I suppose you´re right.\" I shrug, and look at him for a moment, contemplating my next question. I know I would be skating on thin ice, but Voldemort seems relaxed enough, so I decide to take a chance, since I am very curious about this particular subject. \"I just figured you wouldn´t want to do these kind of things the Muggle way.\"

Voldemort narrows his eyes just a bit, and puts his fork down before reaching for his glass of wine. While he takes a delicate sip, he gives me an intent look, and I wonder if my comment was perhaps too inappropriate to pass as dinner conversation with a Dark Lord. But then he puts his glass down, takes a deep breath, and remarkably, lowers his gaze.

\"You know what I am. And you know where I grew up.\"

That statement says so much, and at samesame time it leaves so much open for my own interpretation, that for a moment, I´m at a loss of how to respond.

\"Um...yeah. But I bet you never had crab for dinner there.\"

Oh, way to go, girl. Why don´t you just stick a post-it to your forehead that says: ´Please kill this pathetic Muggle´.

But Voldemort doesn´t take his wand out of his robes. He just gives me one of those intent stares. \"No. All we got was porridge, bread, cabbage and potatoes.\" Looking down at his plate, he viciously stabs his fork right through the crab´s shell. \"And an orange for Christmas.\"

Letting out a silent sigh to relieve myself of some of the tension that I feel, I try to do the same to my crab. I slam my forkn, an, and flip the stupid thing right off my plate. Picking it up by one of its legs, I drag it back to my plate, and look up as I hear Voldemort snicker.

\"Allow me.\" Pushing the candles aside, Voldemort leans over the table, suddenly very close to my face again, and I sit very still, watching in fascination as he positions my crab on my plate with his fork.

\"So...um...is that like one of the reasons for all of this?\" I startle a bit when Voldemort slams his fork down, and cracks the shell of my crpen.pen. \"The whole world domination thing I mean.\"

\"One of many reasons,\" Voldemort whispers as he looks up, and for a moment I just look at him, his face close enough I can feel his breath on my lips.

It´s funny how he looks a lot less scary in candlelight and without the immediate threat of a Killing Curse hanging over my head. Sure, he doesn´t look exactly like an ordinary man, and his features have a definite snake-like quality, but at the same time there are also some surprisingly human details to be found on his face; thin lips that cover white, even teeth, a rather flat nose with narrow nostrils, and sharp, light eyebrows curving above those piercing red eyes that have the ability to see straight into my very soul. His pale skin, stretched out across his face and bald head, seems to glow in the soft light, and looks remarkably soft.

I just look at him, and he looks back at me, and I dart the tip of my tongue out to lick my dry lips just as he does too, and...

\"Eat.\" Voldemort sits back down on his chair, and gestures towards my plate briefly before returning his attention to his own meal.

Yes. Of course. Crap. I mean, crab.

I take a big gulp from my glass of wine, and wonder if he´s turned up the fire in the hearth, because it´s suddenly awfully hot in the room. Draining my glass, I put it down, and start to eat my meal silently, occasionally looking up at Voldemort, and noticing that he´s giving me curious glances as well.

When we´ve finished our meals in rather companionable silence, Voldemort refills my glass, and the plates disappear with a soft pop. Leaning back in my chair, I cradle my glass, taking occasional sips, and already start to feel the alcohol rush to my head. Which might not be a good thing, since I am in the company of an evil Wizard, but which feels pleasant all the same.

\"Tell me about yourself,\" Voldemort says, leaning back in his chair as well.

\"Um...\"

\"How old are you?\"

\"ty-nty-nine.\"

\"Are you...bound to anyone?\"

\"Nope. I´m divorced.\"

\"Ah.\"

\"Yep.\"

\"How long have you been able to see certain things?\"

Oh, boy. We´ve gone from small talk to serious business, and I shift in my seat, thinking of a way to tell him parts of the truth without having to confess that I´ve read all of it in a couple of children´s books. \"Well, I don´t really see things. It´s more that I just know certain things.\"

Voldemort raises an inquisitive eyebrow. \"And how long have you known these things?\" "For"For about three years.\"

\"And you have no idea how or why you arrived at my home?\"

Shaking my head, I lower my gaze, fidgeting with my napkin. \"No idea whatsoever.\"

\"Very peculiar,\" Voldemort says, and then adds in a softer tone of voice: \"But not unpleasantly so.\"

\"Can I be honest?\"

\"By all means. We are two adults who should be cle ole of having an honest conversation.\"

\"Um...I mean without you...um...\"

\"Killing you?\" Voldemort lips twitch up, and his eyes narrow, betraying his amusement. \"Rest assured that I have no interest in killing you. You pose no threat to me, and you hold information that could be valuable to my cause.\"

That statement makes me feel slightly more comfortable, and I feel myself relax in my chair, taking another long sip from my wine. Even though I know it´s probably not a good idea to trust anything Voldemort says, there is a certain logic to his reasoning, and he sounds honest enough. So I nod, and lick my lips, and give him a small smile. \"But I assume that you won´t let me leave anytime soon.\"

\"I would appreciate it if you could extend your visit to my home for a while, yes.\"

Well, that´s a polite way of saying ´you´re my prisoner´. Still, the knowledge that he wants to keep me for what I know instead to torture or kill me, at least makes it easier for me to breathe. I nod again, and try to resign in my fate as Voldemort´s prisoner, since I know I have no chance in hell of getting out of this place. At least not on my own. And since no one knows I´m here, well, I guess I´d better start making myself at home.

Which probably also means I won´t be checking my email anytime soon. Damn.

\"So I won´t be able to go back home?\"

\"No.\"

\"But why?\" I know I sound a tad desperate, but the idea of not being able to go online, or see my dogs anytime soon, isn´t a very pleasant one.

\"I´d rather have you on my side.\"

\"Ah. As opposite to their side.\"

\"Exactly.\"

Of course. Their side. It´s strange to realize that in this world, all those people from that side also exist. Harry, Snape, Remus, Sirius – no, wait, Sirius is gone – Dumbledore....the moment I think of Dumbledore, the contempt I feel for that man must be written all over my face, because Voldemort leans forward and stares straight into my eyes.

\"Not too fond of the old man, are you?\" Voldemort asks, his voice nothing more than a whisper, but spiked with curiosity.

I shrug, and sip my wine. \"It think he´s a manipulative bastard.hat hat was it again about alcohol? Ah yes, it loosens the tongue. Oh well.

Voldemort laughs, deep and loud and warm, and it startles me because it is a very un-Dark-Lord-like sound, so I just look at him. And giggle. Oh, this blasted wine.

\"It´s all about power,\" Voldemort says, after taking a deep breath. \"Some of us don´t hide their desire for it. And others do. But know that every single one of the big players out there wants it.\"

I nod. It makes sense. At least to my alcohol-addled brain it does. \"So Dumbledore just hides his desire then?\"

\"Dumbledore likes his ignorant followers to believe he has no desire for it, so they will sleep peacefully at night, while he takes control of their lives and their worwithwithout them even realizing it.\"

\"And you just take it.\"

Voldemort smirks. \"Indeed. I don´t believe in false modesty.\"

That´s one way of putting that you´re an evil Wizard set out to rule the world, I guess. I put my empty glass down, and Voldemort refills it again.

\"I think it´s time for sweets.\" He snaps his fingers once, and a plate appears in front of me.

\"Oh, chocolate!\"

I´m staring down at the most delicious piece of chocolate cake I´ve ever seen, and look up at Voldemort, giving him a bright smile.

\"You like chocolate?\"

I giggle, and pick up my fork. \"I´m a female. It´s genetic.\"

We eat our cake, and holy hell, it´s like an orgasm melting in my mouth, and I let out a soft moan, quickly followed by a furious blush rising to my cheeks, but Voldemort merely smiles. We finish our cake soon enough, and I wipe my mouth with my napkin while the empty plates disappear.

\"Can I ask you a very personal question?\" I lean forward, and give Voldemort a cheeky grin.

\"Be my guest.\"

\"Can I...touch yoand?and?\"

Voldemort blinks. \"My wand?\"

I nod, and bite my lip to stiffen a giggle. I mean, I´m alone with a powerful Wizard. Of course I want to touch his wand!

Voldemort looks at me thoughtfully for a moment, and then nods. \"Very well.\"

I lean forward a bit more, and see him push his robes aside, and pull out his wand, running his pale fingers along the hard length. It looks longer than I had expected, but not as thick as I had hoped. Still, I find it fascinating, and reach for it the moment Voldemort holds it up and offers it to me.

It feels like...wood. Plain, hard wood, and I twirl it around in my fingers, trying not to think about the fact that this is the tool that has killed so many people, including Harry´s parents. It really just feels like an ordinary piece of wood.

\"Yew, phoenix feather,\" I state, running a finger up the entire smooth length.

\"Yes.\"

\"I´m not good with inches, though.\"

\"I´d say it´s long enough.\" Voldemort raises a suggestive eyebrow.

\"Oh, yes.\" I lick my lips, and narrow my eyes. I´m feeling a bit cocky here, probably more than I should, but hey, this is fun. I slowly point the wand at Voldemort, who doesn´t even blink, but just tilts his head to the side, silently daring me.

\"Are you sure I´m not a Witch?\" I ask, flicking the wand once.

\"Positive.\"

\"So you won´t mind if I do this.\" I swish the wand dramatically through the air, trying to feel some sort of magical tingle inside of me. \"Crucio!\"

Nothing happens, and Voldemort hasn´t so much as flinched. Talk about a poker faceth sth snake-like features.

I shake the wand once, as if it´s defect, and sigh. \"Ah, well. It was worth a shot.\" I grin up at Voldemort. \"What would you have done if it had worked?\"

\"I would have ducked.\"

Giggling, I tap the tip of the wand against my lips, but stop that the moment I notice Voldemort staring at me with a rather odd gleam in his eyes. \"So,\" I say, clearing my throat briefly. \"How about wandless magic. Can you do a wandless Cruciatus?\"

\"You are awfully interested in my magical abilities, aren´t you?\"

\"Just curious.\"

\"Curiosity killed the cat.\"

\"Good thing I´m not an Animagus then.\"

Voldemort chuckles, and shakes his head. \"Wandless magic is possible, but it requires an amount of power most Wizards don´t have. To cast the Unforgivables wandless is near impossible. Even for me.\"

\"Ah. Too bad. It would have been cool. In an evil sort of way.\" I realize I´m babbling, and snap my mouth shut. A bit reluctantly, I hand Voldemort his wand back.

\"Oh yes. Very evil,\" he whispers, and brushes the tips of his fingers across mine as he accepts his wand. This wine is really kicking in hard, since I feel more heat rising to my cheeks, and I lower my gaze while Voldemort tucks his wand away.

\"I believe it´s time we call it a night.\" Voldemort pushes his chair back, and rises. \"Allow me to escort you back to your rooms.\"

\"Okay,\" I say, and get up as well, feeling a bit wobbly in my knees, but Voldemort grabs my elbow gently, and leads me out of the room while I manage to stay on my feet without leaning into him too much.

\"Are these the only clothes you brought with you?\" Voldemort asks casually as we stroll through the corridor.

\"Um...yes. I must have forgotten to pack before I magically appeared here.\"

\"I´ll tell Walden to take you shopping then, tomorrow. You two seem to be getting along well enough.\"

Shopping with Walden? Sounds good, and I give Voldemort a grateful smile. \"Yeah, we had fun today.\"

\"Not too much fun, I hope?\" Voldemort asks when we stop in front of my room.

\"Um...\" I´m not sure what he means, so I just blink and stare up at him blankly. Voldemort waves his hand, and the door to my room swings open. Now that´s a neat trick.

\"Have a pleasant night,\" he says, nods once, and turns around.

\"Um...yeah, you too.\" I step inside my room, and then pop my head outside again. \"And thanks for dinner.\"

Voldemort doesn´t stop walking, but looks at me over his shoulder. \"It was my pleasure.\"

Now, that was an odd night. I close the door, and lean against it, letting out a deep sigh. So, Voldemort doesn´t want to kill me, and he has an interesting wand. And I´m sure other stuff happened as well, but I can´t remember them right now, because I´m feeling warm and woozy and tired.

But when I step up to my bed, I notice a pack of cigarettes, and a small box of matches on my nightstand, with a note beside it.

´Be sure to open the window.

Walden´

Bless him. There´s nothing like a good dose of nicotine after dinner with a Dark Lord, so I grab the smokes, and open the window, seating myself on the sill.

The night´s air is cool and refreshing, and I inhale the smoke gratefully, looking out on the grounds that surround the Mansion. And then I spot a tall figure strolling across the lawn, looking up at the waxing moon, hands clasped behind his back.

It´s Voldemort. And he´s looking up at me. I think about hiding my cigarette, but it´s already too late, so I just give him an apologetic smile.

\"Those things will kill you,\" he says, shaking his head dismissively, before continuing his midnight walk.

I shrug, and take another drag of my cigarette, wondering if Voldemort actually sounded concerned there for a moment. But nah, he´s an evil Dark Overlord. It must have been the wine. Again.