The Life and Times of Denebola Black

warning... there is only one small bit of torture in this chapter and if you have ever seen the miniseries from a few years ago (that is on dvd so you should all go watch it)called The 10th Kingdom then you will know what it is based on this question... what was the evil stepmother forced to do at snow white's wedding?

The rest of the week found a flurry of gentleman callers to Black Manor. Deni had barely ever met some of these men before and she knew that they were visiting to try and leave her with a good impression of them because they intended on putting in offers for her with the Dark Lord. They knew that their master would not force her to marry someone that she absolutely did not want to when there were sure to be a large amount of offers; many of them had lost wives in the war and had yet to find replacements. It had quickly become boring and tiresome, but was made a little bit better the times when she had other women around with her to help take away some of the tension.

The next thing she knew, it was New Year's Eve and she had to prepare for the ball, which was being held at the Dark Lord's castle. Voldemort had arranged the entire thing; she didn't have the slightest idea even about the color scheme. Though, if she went by the dress he picked out for her it included blue. She hadn't even been able to sneak around and try and see anything as she had been busy at work. (She was a Junior Healer at Pur-Sang Hopital in Paris, a hospital that only dealt with purebloods so as to not have to go against their worker's ethics and force them to heal halfbloods and mudbloods. It was a top notch facility and almost every family she knew went there as opposed to St. Mungo's)

But, since she couldn't spy on anything and she had had to work, all she could do was go to her room and let Bellatrix help her into her dress. It was an off-the-shoulder number, her waist was cinched up with a corset that covered three quarters of her bosom in an ice blue satin. Above the corset, silver gauze balooned out to form the rest of the top as it circled her shoulders and fell down her arms into bell sleeves. The sleek skirt fell from under the corset to the floor, the silver gauze draped over the same ice blue satin, and would flare out nicely if she twirled around (which she did profusely). Her black hair was done up in a sloppy knot with curled tendrils falling out and down her back, a silver and aquamarine tiara perched on her head with a matching choker and bracelet.

The older woman's dress was similar in that it was a corset top and the skirt fell to the ground, but it was made up completely of black leather. Hers also stopped at the top of her bountiful cleavage, leaving nothing to the imagination. She wore no jewelry but left her long hair to flow down around her body that had made up for her time in Azkaban, as she was now the curvacious beauty of her youth.

It seemed like only a minute before the Dark Lord was at her room to escort her to his ballroom. He was incredibly handsome in his black and green robes; it was all she could do to stop herself from tearing them off of him. Really, the only thing stopping her was the fact that she didn't want there to be any lingering aroma of him on her during the ball, and that she didn't want to mess up her hair. When he picked these thoughts up off her he smiled down at her while thinking about how such a girl she was. And that he could go for a good shag at the moment as well, but it would have to wait. Why must she be the guest of honour? Damn ball.

"The guests have all arrived, it is time for your entrance, my dear."

She smiled up at him as Bellatrix kissed each of them full on the lips and made her way down to join the rest of the party. She spun around for him to survey what the outfit he had had made for her looked like. "Exquisite," he murmured, pulling her lips to his in a short but demanding and heated kiss. When he pulled away he continued a bit louder. "Now, to go and find you a husband." She made a face at him, but followed him out the room none the less.

A hush fell over the large room as the Dark Lord and Denebola Black appeared on the top of the staircase (because he wanted to be as cliche as possible.... and it gave the best view) as all present turned their heads to look up to their master and the beautiful young Lady. As Deni gazed at the crowd she saw that every pureblood Death Eater over the age of seventeen was there, male and female alike. While Voldemort now had an iron grip on the United Kingdom, and he no longer actively recruited new Death Eaters, there was never a shortage of those who believed in his cause strongly enough to want to be branded. He introduced her (Lady Denebola Claire Crouch Black) and they swept across the room to their table so the dinner could begin.

The head table included the Dark Lord and Deni of course, but also the Minister and his family as well as Headmaster Snape and his wife, who looked non too pleased to be there. After the war had ended, she had been given to him to do with as how he best saw fit, and he chose to marry her no matter how much she was disgusted by and loathed him. She had already given him two children in their three years of marraige; he was just happy that both took after himself in looks.... he didn't want any children with red hair to share the name Snape. Also seated at the head table, evening out the number of the group was Bellatrix.

Just before desert, when the little ice cream to cleanse the palate was served, the Dark Lord stood up and announced that they were all going to be treated to some entertainment that he had arranged. He then put his wand to his Mark and no less than thirty seconds later three lower level Death Eaters had arrived. Two held a struggling person up between them, and the other moved over to the large black marble fireplace in the center of the far wall. The third said an anti-burn charm and reached into the fire and pulled out a pair of glowing red boots.

The boots were then brought over to where the other two had lead their captive and forced the boots onto the feet of the prisoner. A violinist started to play an upbeat song, and was quickly joined in by another violinist. The captive had started to dance about the second the boots had been strapped to him and the party guests were applauding and calling out their approval over the vaguely recognizable screams of the one being tortured. Soon the hood from over the captive's face fell from his head to reveal the pain contorted face of Ron Weasley. His sister cried out but was quickly silenced by her husband, though quiet tears fell unchecked down her cheeks.

A few minutes later desert was served and everyone went back to their conversations with Ron still dancing in the background. It was almost an even worse punishment to be in a room full of people and have none of them pay attention to his torture and act as though it were just some minor little thing to gaze upon during a lull rather than to have their full rapt attention. After about fifteen minutes his burnt feet gave way and the Dark Lord motioned for him to be taken back to his cell.

Once everyone was finished with their food there was a short interval for everyone to mingle and settle their stomachs before the dancing started. The first dance was a round, much like the dances of Victorian times though after the first dance, Deni was to dance with each bachellor in the room and try to get to know them. It reminded her of the fairy tale Cinderella, only she was the Prince.

Though very few of the men she danced with repulsed her, there had net been a large amount that she was attracted to. After an hour or so, with the permission of her Lord she decided to take a break from dancing and go sit down in the gardens and get some fresh air. She had a house elf retrieve a fur lined cloak for her and made her way almost unseen out the door.

The only person to have seen her leave the room was Draco; he had been watching her every move and waiting to make his. When he saw her leave he decided that this was the time. After fetching his own cloak he also slipped out of the castle and into the moonlit gardens. He walked around for a short while before he spotted her, sitting on a stome bench, shoeless and rubbing her stockinged feet. He walked over to where she was seated and gave her a slight bow while greeting her. "My Lady."

She rolled her eyes at him. "No need to be so formal, Draco," she told him as she motioned for him to sit down. When he did, he took her feet into his lap and continued with the work she had started. Her feet were killing her from all of the dancing and it decidedly did not help her to know that she still had at least twenty more men that she would have to dance with that evening; especially since so many of them were either really boring or only wanted to speak of her.

When she failed to keep in a moan that had been building up inside her from his light but sure touches on the bottoms of her feet, he gave her a small chuckle while smiling at her. "You know, Draco, you should do that more often."

"What? Make you moan because I'd be quite ha-"

"No," she answered as she playfully gave his arm a smack. "Smile. Your whole face lights up, it makes you even more handsome."

Thankfully he was a Malfoy, otherwise such a comment may have made him blush. Instead he simlpy answered, "Deni, you and I both know that it's not possible for me to be even more handsome than usual." As he said this, his lips twisted into their usual smirk.

"See, now there you go, all breaking the spell."

"What spell?" he asked confusedly.

"It was a figurative statement, Draco."

"I knew that."

"Right."

"I did," he insisted with a pout on his ever-changing features. She stared at his lips, he just looked so... so... kissable.

She shook her head and pulled her legs and feet away from him (he was now massaging her calves) and put her shoes back on. She looked down at her watch with a start. "I should be going back in, it's almost midnight."

"Why don't I escort you. Then I could be your next dance partner."

She looked at him appraisingly before she agreed. Until this past week she had never even thought of Draco in such a manner. Yes, he was drop dead gorgeous at just over six feet tall with straw blond hair that fell down to his ears (she thought it was much sexier than his slicked back look of Hogwarts) framing his face. His eyes were a grey that had just the slightest hints of blue. Then there was his body. She had only seen him without his robes once the previous summer when a large group went on a trip to the Costa del Sol in Spain. His body was one of a god, chisled but not overly muscley. But yeah, she had never though of him in that manner. Who was she kidding, of course she had, but he had been taken. Though if he was even half the lover his father was.... she let the trail of thought leave her as he held out his hand to help her back up.

When they arrived back to the ball they had a house elf take away their cloaks and entered the room. Draco immediately swept her into a dance, holding her rather closely. When the song was amost finished the lights started turning different colors in a count down to the new year. When the clock struck midnight, couples throughout the room found themselves kissing. Draco bent his head down towards hers and caught her lips with his own. The kiss was gentle and sweet, but also intense and demanding. She could feel his lust for her in that kiss, and she never wanted it to stop. But stop it did and she was whisked away to another dance partner.

The ball wasn't finished until almost three in the morning. Her last two dances were given to the Minister and to her Lord. Lucius spent the time trying to convince her to take him up to her room afterward, he was sure that Narcissa wouldn't mind. She was sure that Narcissa would want to cause her irreparable harm and flatly refused, telling him that he should go home with his wife. The Dark Lord on the other hand wanted her thoughts on who she was leaning towards. To this she told him that it would wait until the next day and instead just enjoyed being in his arms. When she did finally get to her room she was so tired out that she fell right onto her bed, ballgown and tiara and all.

a/n hmmm, no one seems to feel the need to review this story. is it too violent for you?