Blanc du Noir

Blanc du Noir
By: Aglaia

Disclaimer: No part of the Potterverse is mine, I simply like to play with the characters and use them for my own nefarious purposes... Mwahahaha, and all that rot.

“Severus,” hissed the dark lord.

“Master,” was his immediate reply, as Snape kneeled and kissed the hem of his ‘master’s’ robes.

“You’re late in answering my summons – do you have a reason for such lax obedience?” There was an unspoken threat of ‘you’d better, and it had best be a very good reason.’

“Forgive me, Master,” said Snape, bowing lower still, “I was in a staff meeting with that fool-of-a-Headmaster, and could not immediately get away. I pressed them to finish as quickly as possible without seeming conspicuous.”

“Hmm,” was the only response, while Voldemort circled Snape’s kneeling form. As the tension became palpable, he seemed to come to a decision. “Very well, but do attempt to not displease me further.”

“Of course, Master.”

“Rise, Severus, and take your place among our number.”

“Yes, Master,” he murmured as he rose, stepping back into his place in the circle of Death Eaters – the inner circle only, noted Snape to himself.

Voldemort was by then standing on a dais facing the room, with his “throne” behind him. ‘Oh, so subtle,’ thought Snape. However, something was different this time. Beside his sorry excuse for a chair was another. This one was smaller, finer, or the same wood and lavishly carved.

“My most trusted, my most loyal,” began Voldemort, “I have gathered you here today for an announcement, and a presentation; one which will invariably guarantee us success.”

There were excited whispers around the room, wondering what new weapon, or scheme their Lord had come up with. Snape’s stomach bottomed out at the news – ‘Oh, lovely, more carnage’, he thought with a heavy mental sigh.

“Tonight, I announce my successor, my heir.” The whispering grew louder, as speculation of the person’s identity began. All thought it was to be one of them; Malfoy was visibly preening. “Before I continue,” began the Dark Lord again, “I will tell you that it is not one of my inner circle.” Grumbles all around; Malfoy visibly deflated.

“This person has been groomed to follow in my footsteps, to be my equal, not subservient. You have not heard anything or met them until tonight because their training was not complete. It is now, and they will take their rightful place by my side.” Everyone was now anxious to meet this successor – see who their Lord considered more worthy than one of his inner circle – and hopefully “remove” them.

“They match the Potter twit in power, match Dumbledore in power, and nearly match me.” There was excited muttering of ‘Gods, we surely will win with this!’ Snape’s inner monologue, however, was running something akin to: ‘Match Albus? Surely not. Who the hell could do that? Be that? Gods, this is going to be a horrid debriefing. A new weapon. Shit, bugger, damn.’

“And so, my most loyal, I give you my most prized – my heir.” The great doors at the end of the room were thrown open, and a figure stood silhouetted in the light from the anti-chamber. It was a woman, all noted with surprise. She strode forward, and the circle parted to allow her entrance. She was built on Juno-esque lines, and carried herself with dignity and grace, but not pomposity.

Her skin was of alabaster, her hair a curled mane in rich auburn tinted brown, piled high on her head. She was wearing a Grecian style, high-waisted dress of striking copper colour. It was floor length and flowing, sleeveless, with a low cowl neck, and a lower dip still, making it backless.

As she passed, the Death Eaters noticed the Dark Mark emblazoned on the small of her back, but this one had a black panther lying at the base of it. Her face was still unclear to everyone; the lights seemed to purposely keep that part of her in shadow.

She stepped onto the dais, giving Voldemort her hand, which he kissed. She then leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek in a show of – affection?

“My servants, take a knee for your new Mistress.” All the Death Eaters did as they were told, as one, saying “Mistress,” then looking up to her. The lights were now fully upon her, showing a heart-shaped face with full lips, a pert nose, and the large, rich, caramel coloured eyes of-

‘Gods… Hermione Granger-’

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A/N: ok, so that last bit was predictable, but what can ya do, eh?

Also, “Juno-esque” means someone built along the lines of the typical image of that goddess: tall, but not overly, with a shapely figure. No skin and bones, model types here, thank you very much!!

Lastly, this is my first posted fic so please, be kind!