The Humanity In You, The Darkness In Me

Author's Note: Reviews are highly appreciated - especially in the area of character interaction. I want to know that I'm keeping them fairly canon, as I'm trying to make this as realistic as possible. Hope you enjoy ;)

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''Ah Bellatrix, can we skip the pleasantries?'' The older gentleman who was standing like a statue in the shadows of the room greeted Bellatrix Lestrange cheerfully, his face ruddy with drink.

Bellatrix Lestrange however, did not answer Faustus Shade immediately, for she found him to be a most loathsome creature who was undeserving of the Dark Lord's confidence, even in the lowest degree.

Instead, her head held high, she walked over to the furthest corner of the room and poured herself a drink from the crystal glass pitcher. Gulping the fire whiskey down in one instant, she readily poured herself another round.

There were a few other members of the Death Eaters present in the room prior to Bellatrix Lestrange's entry. These included Gibbon, Crabbe and Goyle, Rodolphus Lestrange, Faustus Shade, and a big blond Death Eater who had been playing a game of strangely modified Gobstones with Crabbe and Goyle, where the stones would spit acid and/or bite the losing player.

'' You know your daughter's been captured then I suppose?'' Bellatrix inquired airily as she stared into the depths of her drink before taking another swig.

''Rumour has it that dear old Fenrir shagged her. That's right. Your daughter, violated by a dirty common beast. Must rub the ego a little I imagine,'' she said innocently, finishing her glass.

Oddly enough, Bellatrix's jibe seemed not to have injured Faustus in the slightest. Indeed, the raven haired man's face was touched by an eerie grin.

''My daughter was already being violated by common beasts when she joined the Ministry and became an Auror. But it does strike a new low.'' Faustus strode over to the pitcher, by use of wordless magic making his glass fill itself.

''She murdered my sister, although I imagine you know that as well,'' Bellatrix pronounced, unwilling or unable to cast her gaze upon Faustus. Her face fixed itself into an awful expression.


''Now, now, don't be hysterical. After all, Narcissa had a fighting chance, although we all know she wasn't a very good duelist, '' Faustus retaliated,his arms stiffening slightly.

''Must smart a bit, I'd imagine, knowing that she was deliberately sent to her death,'' he added as an afterthought, smirking as he raised the glass to his lips.


''Your daughter, you realize, is marked for death. The end of your lineage,'' the adept witch stated with venomous tones, using every move in the metaphorical book to deliver a lasting injury to Faustus Shade's pride.


''Naturally,'' Faustus sniffed without missing a beat, no visible remorse present in his features.

'' But you know very well you cannot touch one hair on her head. The Dark Lord specifically had her brought to his person.''

''Does it not bother you, knowing that our Lord refused to make an exception for your dear little daughter?'' Bellatrix said with a smile, knowing what no other Death Eater besides Severus Snape had known, that Faustus Shade had gone to plead his daughter's case, and had been refused.

Jolted, Faustus stared at Bellatrix with growing hatred, his hand slowly moving to the folds of vest jacket.


''Our Lord knows very well that there is no love lost between my only child and I. It is true, with her death there shall be no more Shades, however, perhaps it is faith that moves me; I believe that I shall be rewarded for my sacrifice.''

''You are foolish Faustus Shade. You think you have me convinced for an instant? I know you, I know exactly -''


''Foolish? Ah Bellatrix, has living in Azkaban rotted your brain? Ah, but of course it has,'' speaking more to himself the man murmured reflectively, the onlooking Death Eaters growing more intrested by the minute at the heated exchange.


''That was a rhetorical query I'm afraid. No, no Bellatrix, don't take it personally after all, you are his most faithful. Oh I suppose we mere mortals just play second fiddle to you.''


''Yes, yes, we've heard this all before. How you plus company were his only true followers. How the rest of us are all cowards, ecetera. Well it does get rather tedious, hearing it over and over again.''


''Some of us are, I daresay; not quite heads and shoulders with the rest. Heh.''


Her face quivering, Bella raised her wand, rage twisting itself onto her attractive features.


''And where were you Faustus when the Dark Lord required your services? Where? I'll tell you where,'' Bella spat, her countenance grim as she circled around the older gentleman like a hawk circles it's prey.


''You were off, 'on holiday' in The Bahamas (for an undetermined amount of time). You never bothered to seek the Dark Lord, you never tried! Did you merely assume he perished, that our Lord was weak? What a fool you are, what a simple, stupid fool. The Dark Lord remembers everything, and forgets nothing!'' Bella hissed, the few Death Eaters present silent, their eyes glued to the scene that lay before them.


''We alone were truly faithful, we alone gave our souls to him! What have you done Shade, I ask you? What have you done?''


Raising her wand with a strange glint in her eyes, the words were out of Bella's mouth before anyone could stop them.


''Expelliarmus!'' With a shock, Faustus Shade jolted as his wand was struck clean out of hand, his lip curling; evidently he had a hunch to what Bella intended next.


''CRUCIO!''she screamed, her jet black robes rustling slightly with her injunction.


The attractive older gentleman in the light and navy blue pin-striped suit fell to the floor on all fours, his face contorted in a grimace of pain. His body shuddered as waves of untold agony spread themselves throughout his flesh, like torrents of electricity that pricked and julienned atoms of epidermis without mercy.


''Now bark like a dog!'' Bella commanded cheerfully, shouting out ; ''Impervius!'', as Faustus raised his head suddenly found himself inclined to do just that.


''Haha!'' Bella shrieked with laughter, as the Shade turned round and round in circles on the cold stone floor.


Half the Death Eaters didn't know what to make of this. A few were very close associates of his. They had never before seen their friend compromised in such a fashion, such a terrible, horrible fashion - as the type to bring about excessive amounts of shame.


''Now if you piddle yourself like a dog, I wonder,'' Bella smirked, looming over the wizard who was at her feet.


''That is quite enough.''


Turning around in suprise, Bella's gaze fell upon the vexed visage of Voldemort's personal spy, none other than Severus Snape.


Shuffling, many of the Death Eaters that had formed a circle around Bella and her object of misery; parted and allowed him through.


The adept Occlumens' lips quirked, as though he were suppressing some emotion.


His perceptive eyes noted the composure of the fallen Shade, who promptly rose to his feet, coughing up a scarlet pool of blood on the floor.


''Severus,'' he choked, nodding to the other man, who in turn nodded back.


The air was heavy in the room with restrained silence. Many wished to speak, but did not, in fear of Bellatrix's notorious retributions.


Gibbon began wearily, his voice groaning like an ancient ship; '' Just an argument Severus. Just an argument.''


Rodolpholus interjected, his voice pitching with zeal; ''She was right to do what she did!''


Rodolpholus would not be dissuaded by Snape's appearance, it seemed that despite his lack of love for Bellatrix he was quick to jump to the defense of her honor.


''You are nothing, Faustus Shade, but a rich, pompous ape. You play in the Dark Lord's circus, all the while, not realizing that you are the clown while imagining yourself the acrobat!''


Snape noted the now empty pitcher of fire-whiskey, and the seven glasses which accompanied it; that sat in the right hand corner of the room. Before Rodolpholus went any further with his goading of the arrogant Shade, Snape interjected.
He had half a mind to skin the lot of them.

''You all stink like an army of drunks. Clean yourselves up,'' he paused before continuing, placing proper inflection on every word.

''The Dark Lord would do well not to hear of this. I imagine it would disappoint him gravely, to know his followers behaved like a bunch of unruly brats whenever he isn't present,'' Severus remarked cooly, his eyes taking everything in, including the white pallor of Crabbe and Goyle as all their blood rushed straight to their hearts.


A tall, burly blond Death Eater coughed, muttering something only Gibbon could hear.


''Dinner begins in half an hour, and you'd better not be late,'' Snape quipped, gazing levely at each of the Death Eaters in turn; drawing his robes as though he were attempting to shield himself from the apparent idiocy that was ubiquitous throughout the room.


Quietly the Death Eaters stole out of the room, leaving Snape alone with Bellatrix Lestrange. Most unfortunately, and most uncomfortably, alone.


Bellatrix coughed with a sudden bout of alcohol induced laughter, ''Oh Sevvy, Sevvy, you've gone and done it again I'm afraid - you've ruined all the fun.'' Leaning in close to the potions master with what some might call pertinence she whisped softly,


''Is that all you have to say? ''


Bellatrix regarded him closely, cocking her head like a bird; Severus backing away from her like a chemist from a most noxious creation.


His brow wrinkled in distaste as he sniffed, backing further away from her; '' You've had far too much to drink tonight Bellatrix, it would do you well to sober up.''


''Sober up?'' she repeated, her sharp eyes narrowing in an instant.


''And you....'' she said flatly, her tone becoming more and more sharp, ''Dumbledore's man....
While we few were glorified forever in our master's memory most eternal....''


''Do not provoke me.'' Snape said coldly, '' I need not remind you how highly held in esteem I am.''


''Yes,'' Bellatrix hissed softly, gazing at Severus with a mixture of envy and contempt.


''You needn't remind me of that.''


Severus exited the room swiftly, thankful to be rid of her prescence.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Azriel shuffled in front of Fenrir, her worst fears realized.


Her heart thudded in her chest like a wounded bird, she shivered without control; her entire body felt as though it had been soaked in ice. For all her imaginings, all her work set to this very thing; she now suddenly found that she was hopelessly terrified beyond her wits.


Azriel had never before experienced such a thing as terror. Such a deep thing. Such a dark thing.
Such a sinister thing.


She found it to be stifling.


((Yet Felix Felicius still pumped through her veins, and in that she was blessed. To note, she was having difficulty believing in it's power, regardless of the pleasant feeling that combated her waves of terror.))


She and Fenrir walked down the long corridor that led to the basement of the tower, trepidation marking her every step. The dark construct winded deep into the hollows of the earth. It was as though when they crossed the threshold of the tunnel, Fenrir and she had entered into a chthonian realm, where they had revoked their souls at the fringe in payment for their passageway, like occupants in Charon's ferry across the river of the Dead.

The stones were dark and cool, the entire place gave off an air of incredible evil and neglect. It seemed to her keen eyes that perhaps the passageway had not been in use for more than a fortnight.


''Move it,'' Fenrir growled, shoving her up towards the winding stairs at the end of the tunnel.

Silent, she obeyed wordlessly, weariness manifesting itself in her posture. She let out a long breath, before slumping down soundlessly onto the ground, completely exhausted from the horror of the evening's events.


''I didn't ask for a reflection on your life's history. I told you to move,'' Fenrir growled in annoyance, staring down at her small form that lay crumpled up on the dirty stone floor. With his wand still fixed on her, muttering, he poked her lightly with the edge of his right foot.


She lay still like the dead, soft breaths escaping from between her lightly parted lips.


Swearing an oath, Fenrir muttered, ''Locomotor Azriel'' her slumped body levitating itself up the stairs.


* * * * * * * * * * * * *


Half an hour later, Greyback found himself at the first level of the tower, where Voldemort resided.


He brought a large fist to the door, and his flesh did not come in contact with the wood before an all too familiar voice stated, '' That won't be neccessary Greyback. Please, do come in.''


The door sweeped open as if of it's own accord, to give view into a large antechamber that was well lit and well furnished. The more comfortable part of the tower was given to Voldemort, of course; and in the short time they'd been there, he'd managed to have it decorated most pleasantly in accordance with his tastes.


There was a wonderful fresco painted on the ceiling, and many various portraits valued in the millions that lay strategically placed around the room. The armchairs were fine and upholstered with black silk, set in frames of glistening dark wood that Fenrir suspicioned was charmed.


'' Cheery,'' Fenrir remarked, surveying the room as he levitated the Auror's body in front of him.


Voldemort couldn't help note the tinge of sarcasm that hinted at the ends of Fenrir's statement, although for the moment his complete and full attention was brought on the Auror that levitated before him.


Voldemort coldly analyzed the body, and without him uttering a word; Azriel's dirty form fell to the hard marble with a clatter.


''Her wand.'' Voldemort commanded icily, the werewolf swift in his obediance as he lay the object of desire in the palm of Voldemort's hand.


Voldemort inhaled briefly, his nostrils flaring. His eyes shone with a strange fire, and Fenrir felt oddly timid. He had a feeling that right now, nothing existed for Voldemort besides himself and the wand.


Was it strange that the Dark Lord bestowed such special attention upon a mere Auror? It certainly was unlike him, but then of course the Auror of subject was unique in certain regards. She had dogged Voldemort's steps for as long as he could recall, and although in the beginning he had thought her intrest nothing more than harmless and a slight bit amusing, now she had become more than a nuisance. She had become a liability.


''Ah, 11 and 1/8 inches, crafted of oak. Swishy,'' Voldemort's eyes ran over the wand as he flourished it, held in his left hand.

A small blue glow emitted from the end of the wand.

''With a core of one Abraxan tail hair.'' Voldemort extinguished the light from Azriel's wand.

A large dark box suddenly appeared in the air next to him, which was about fourty by fifty inches. It was engraved with strange, ancient Runes that Fenrir supposed were curses of some kind.

Without a sound the lid on the clearly enchanted box unclasped itself, popping upward. Within, sitting on an inlay of crisp blue velvet; was the wand of Harry Potter.

The Dark Lord placed the wand in the box next to Harry's wand, the lid shutting itself with a hiss as a strange green gas wisped out of the crack, before disappearing completely from view.


''Well, I brought her to you, there'll be something in it for old Fenrir eh?'' Greyback inquired, his ears pricking with greed.


''But of course dear Greyback, you shall be rewarded well,'' Voldemort agreed, using his wand to manipulate Azriel's comatose form into a 'T' position that was reminiscent of those who were crucified in ancient times.


''Voldemort never forgos the ones who serve him. Go and speak to Severus, and you shall have your reward. Now go. I desire to be left alone with my latest acquisition.''

Nodding, Fenrir strode away, leaving the Dark Lord alone, as commanded.

''So, we finally meet, girl.'' Voldemort said quietly, using his wand to force Azriel's body up from the floor like a marionette; the room growing cooler as he spoke.

''You who has caused Lord Voldemort irritation most remarkable, after all these years.''

Reflecting, Voldemort brought her body to rise and lay itself on a black leather couch that presided opposite himself in the antechamber.

''You will find Voldemort not to be an ungracious host little Auror, however, you will scream before the end, I imagine.''

Voldemort casually glided over to a bell-pull that hung next to a tapestry with moving pictures. He rang it without delay, and as he did, a quiet moan pervaded the room, as the candles suddenly extinguished themselves.

Two shadowy black servants apparrated instantly into the room, being of obvious demonic descent. Their faces and bodies were covered with linen black cloth in the fashion of the Arabs to the East, revealing only their luminous blue eyes that shined with indifference.

''Bathe her,'' Voldemort ordered with a hiss.

The two Djinn servants nodded, one taking Azriel's hands while the other lifted her feet, suddenly fading from sight as they removed themselves from the room.

Left to himself, Voldemort strode to the tall wooden door that preceded his innermost quarters, shutting it behind him.