The Alliance

Chapter 2

Child of Darkness

Even at night, Muggle London was not necessarily the quietest city in England, or even the rest of Great Britain, for that matter. As soon as the sun slid behind the horizon each night, another life began.

The creatures of the night had awakened.

Cars were no longer just a part of the never-ending streams of traffic that were inevitability in the rush of the morning light. By night, they would be transformed into bobbing circles of light accompanied only by the occasional blasting of a horn to show some form of indignation. Slowly or swiftly, they moved across the darkened rivers of asphalt. Their true colours identified only in the stream of golden light that shone from the street-lamps under which they must pass.

That is until one gets to the centre of the city.

There the lights of the cars become lost in that of the buildings around. Tall giants of cement and stone set with lights that seem to light the way for all who seeks their aid. Many are for businesses, others for entertainment. For it is at night that the pubs and the nightclubs get most of their customers.

Above all the other night stalkers of the Muggle world are the Muggles themselves. There are teenagers who have the most temptations and trials laid before them, yet still believe that they will live forever. The adults who miss being young and dread getting old, so they lose themselves in the moments they have now. Finally there are the older ones who know they won't be living forever any longer, but they refuse to believe the signs around them, and bask in their realm of denial.

And the occasional business people, of course.

Oh, sweet oblivion... If they only knew the war we rage for their souls.

Lifting her head to the stars above, Hermione smiled to clear her mind of the sad thoughts she held for her adopted people.

"Hermione we're here," Ron whispered from beside her, and for a while none of them said anything.

It was a clothing store, and four days ago, there had been a clearance sale. Autumn was just two months away, and apparently, the new collection was due in another two weeks. Now the store would no longer have any use for it.

It was the storeroom that had been magicked into the base.

With her fingers entwined with Harry's, and the other hand wrapped neatly around Ron's waist, Hermione was the first to break the silence.

Rule number one: Never get attached to the bases. Sooner or later they have to be changed or destroyed.

"This is nice, but I want to go back. Preferably in the next few minutes," she said, as she untangled herself.

Harry glanced first at the building, then turned to Hermione with a smile.

"Okay Miss I'm-In-Charge-Always, who does what?"

Hermione gave him an exasperated look and turned to Ron.

"Okay, Ron you do the unravelling spells," she again turned to Harry, "And you do the burning. I'll do the water repelling."

Ron immediately took out his wand, and began to chant the incantations to remove the locking spells, the protection spells, and the spell for Hiding That Which Should Not Be There. It was a full three minutes later that the chanting stopped and Ron turned to give them a bow.

Harry gave him a look of mock boredom, and pulled out his wand. Hermione just rolled her eyes, and pulled out hers.

"Maximus Incendio."

Immediately the building was ablaze with fire, and Hermione whispered her simple spell of water repelling. After all, it couldn't be too strong a spell; otherwise it wouldn't look believable when the firemen tried to put out the flames.

"Well now that that's done with, how about a night cap in Hogsmeade? The entrance to Diagon Alley is only three blocks this way," Ron said grinning, and actually began to walk in that general direction.

Not quickly enough though, because Hermione grabbed his hand and stopped his progress.

"No! We are going back to the cottage now."

With a brief laugh from Harry, the three didn't even walk back to the main road as they had done to get there. They simply Disapparated with simultaneous pops.

It was very well too, because another ten seconds later, there was a crowd of people running towards the building shouting "Fire!" as loud as they could to anyone else who cared.

At the same time on the other side of the main road, ten figures in black cloaks slipped into a nightclub.

Luckily, they were noticed by two identical red haired wizards.

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

First impressions were one of the most important things to the Malfoys. It was why the first impression anyone ever got of them was that of a sense of pride and acceptance of their heritage as a Pureblood and a Malfoy.

To Draco,first impressions were not just important they were everything.

Draco met Pansy for the first time when they were eight years old, and the first impression he had of her was of a sneaky, disgusting little brat who couldn't seem to keep her hands off him even then. A part of him had known at the time that she was going to turn out to be a real bitch. Not surprisingly, she had done just that.

Likewise, his first impressions of Weasley had been right on the mark. However, in this case he had been told from an early age just what to expect. Well Ronald Weasley was exactly how he had pictured him to be, a money grubbing piece of shite not worth even a cent of his time, and who even had the hair colour to match that smartass temper of his.

Yes, first impressions were important to Draco, and they usually worked, too.

Except for Harry Potter.

What do I care about Potter! He's as predictable as the rest of them. So what if my first impressions of him were --

Draco's thoughts on Harry were rudely interrupted at that point, as he and the rest of the Death Eaters got their first impressions of a London nightclub.

It was loud and crowded.

There were Muggles everywhere, most of whom were teenagers and young adults. The weirdest thing though was that even as the Death Eaters filed into the club, no one seemed to really be paying them attention. In fact, the patrons were either too drunk, or too preoccupied to even care who the ten cloaked strangers were.

Even as the ten figures pointed their wands at the mob of moving bodies, the Muggles remained unconcerned.

Sweet, sweet oblivion.

Then suddenly a fire alarm began to sound, and the noise within the nightclub escalated to beyond deafening.

"What the hell!" Draco shouted.

For a second the ten dark wizards watched in shock as the previously dancing figures transformed into a mob of panic individuals. Before any of them realized what the ringing sound had meant, they were engulfed in a stampede of Muggles, which almost literally swept them off their feet.

When the last Muggle had evacuated the club, there was complete silence. Ten dark wizards stood facing the two Resistance members.

The Weasley twins were grinning.

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

It wasn't until the next morning that The Alliance was even aware that anything unusual had happened the night before.

"Have any of you seen the papers yet?"

Ron and Harry, who until then had been enjoying quite an enriching breakfast, looked up as Hermione strode into the room.

"Which one?" Harry asked cautiously.

"Any," Hermione answered. Then pointing her wand at the table, she transfigured the tablecloth into The Daily Prophet and The Sun Times.

"'Mione!" Ron protested, though he was quick to pick up the Muggle paper.

Harry picked up the wizarding one, and both became engrossed in scanning the papers.

"I don't see anything except the fire."

"When did that happen? We were right there!"

At Harry's exclamation, both Ron and Hermione tried to wrestle the paper away, but in the end, they had to compromise with peering over each of Harry's shoulders.

Though the paper hadn't gone into much detail, the foiled attack on the London nightclub was featured. It was obvious that no one had died in the battle that had ensued after the Muggles had been evacuated from within, though the wizards who had been fighting the Death Eaters were careful to perform the oblivious spell on all the Muggles who had witnessed the fight.

As soon as they were finish, Ron and Harry's attention became focused on Hermione.

"We didn't hear the owl come in," Ron said quietly.

Hermione shrugged.

"It flew in through my window. It's what woke me up actually."

She pulled a small piece of paper out of her robe pocket.

Attack on Muggle nightclub last night. No one hurt.

Castor & Pollux

Ron gasped. A disappointed look crossed his eyes.

"Fred and George were there? If I had known I would have been sure to go over there and tell them ‘hello’."

Harry grinned as he turned to look at Ron in disbelief.

"Of course, Ron, and I'm sure that they would have been grateful to stop fighting just to say hi to their little brother."

Ron pouted in annoyance.

"Well, I would have joined in the battle first!"

Harry still sat grinning but Hermione leaned across to softly kiss Ron.

"Of course you would have," she whispered in a voice that just made Ron feel even more patronized.

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

Bert Malone hated the Malfoys with an unending passion.

Why not?! With a whore like Lucius, a bitch like Narcissa, and an annoying arrogant know-it-all like Draco, who wouldn't hate the lot of them?

It wasn't enough that he had been working for Lord Voldemort just as long as the Malfoys had. Yet, in everything, even since the beginning, he had always been passed over for one of them. It had been quite a shock to him when he was given the position of Head of Missions Strategy instead of Narcissa or Draco Malfoy.

That little -

"Eurgh!"

Just thinking of Narcissa made his blood run cold. Other parts of him weren't so partial, though. Okay, so she was an incredibly sexy woman, everyone saw it, but that didn't mean he wasn't smart enough to know he should stay very far away from her. He had learned that lesson the hard way, and he wasn't going down that path again. Besides, Narcissa really didn't go out her way to attract men, it just happened. In fact she was the opposite of that. Narcissa scared the crap out of most people, all she ever had to do was to turn her icy blue eyes on someone, and they would feel as if she had cast a curse on them.

Not to mention her husband.

Lucius Malfoy may play the slut when the Dark Lord needed him, but outside of that realm, he was a dangerous individual. Lucius Malfoy had no qualms about killing or hurting anyone, and if the detached murderous look he carried around was anything to take notice of, it meant that his family was incredibly important to him. Anyone outside of the Dark Lord and the Malfoys could just go to Hades.

Chances are they'd be seeing him down there anyway.

If there was one Malfoy that Bert despised though, it was Draco. The youngest and the one that intimidated him the most. As much as Bert would never admit it, he knew that Draco had been chosen by the Dark Lord, because he had a raw talent for killing. If Lucius Malfoy was detached, Draco Malfoy was ten times worst, though Bert had always secretly thought that Draco sometimes lacked motivation. As Head of Strategy, it would have seemed quite appropriate for him to join forces with Draco whenever they had a mission to plan, but Bert always felt that Draco knew how horrible he was at strategies. So, he always felt as if he had something to prove, though he had yet to do just that.

Worse, that arrogant bastard doesn't deserve someone like Pansy!

It was no secret that Pansy had a thing for Draco Malfoy. It was almost as if she wanted the whole world to see just how much she wanted him. Personally, Bert could never understand that. Pansy didn't need Malfoy to make her feel good; almost three quarters of the occupants of Azkaban were at her disposal. Bert included of course, though he himself was slightly older than even her father was. Pansy could have been taken care of any time she wanted. Yet, she wanted Draco. If he was totally honest, Bert could see exactly why, too.

"Bertie, baby, I don't suppose you're too busy to help with a little thing? I need it done as soon as possible."

Pansy slowly sauntered in Malone's room with careful precision. When Pansy wanted something,she generally knew exactly how to get it, and when Pansy wanted revenge, she would walk to hell and back.

Well speaking of the she-devil...

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

Draco woke up with a groan and immediately looked around to see what had disturbed him. Instead of a stream of sunlight to signify the break of day, Draco's room remained as dark and cold as the rest of Azkaban.

"Lumos!"

The tip of Draco's outstretched wand immediately lit up, and a distinct figure was illuminated.

"You had better have a good reason why you're in here, otherwise you're going to wish you never heard of the name Malfoy," Draco threatened.

Instead of answering the figure asked calmly, "Have you seen The Daily Prophet?"

"No. I don't believe I care either."

"It reported the failure of the mission."

"I don't give a - "

"How could this have happened?"

Draco glared. Obviously, the other person was in no mood to leave just yet, and Draco was getting annoyed.

"Well, next time you come on one of the missions, and see just how good you are at preventing things from happening." He got off his bed, and walked over to his adjoining bathroom. "Now leave, I'm really not in the mood to answer anymore of your stupid questions."

Glaring again he walked into the bathroom and slammed the door.

Bert Malone walked over to the bed, and picked a few strands of blond hair off Draco's pillow, then he silently left the room.

The grin on his face never once wavered.

I do hope Pansy's plan work. It will be so much fun to watch.

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

Pansy purred from pure pleasure, as her hand glided across Gregory Goyle's extremely muscular body. Behind her, Vincent Crabbe was trailing tiny kisses along her spine and across her lower back. It was now about four hours since she had repaid Malone for his services in bringing her Draco's hair, and she had decided to start working on obtaining the other materials she would need for her plan.

She moaned, and hung her head backwards as Goyle decided to return her touches, but she was quick to find a way to distract him long enough to remove the hand. She needed to make sure they understood why she was here.

"Are you both clear on what I want you to get for me? I will need them by tonight, and my plan won't work unless I have them."

Crabbe looked at her in confusion, and Goyle's hand stilled from the steady rhythm he had been using to stroke Crabbe. He also had a confused, embarrassed look on his face.

Pansy tried not to snap at them. She really needed them to get the things from Draco's room, because there was no way that he was going to let her near him again. It was as if Draco no longer had any use for her since Hogwarts, and she felt abandoned. She would get her revenge soon enough.

She drew in a slow and steady breath before she gave them their orders again. This time she made sure that there were no longer any distractions.

"Goyle, you are to get a set of his clothes for me and one of his robes. Make sure it's one of the normal ones though because I don't want anyone being suspicious if they see me. Understand?"

As soon as Goyle nodded she turned Vincent.

"Crabbe, I need you to bring me one of his parchments. Make sure it has the Malfoy crest on it too, so there will be little doubt that it's his, and I also want you to bring me one of his quills. His favourite one. I need a large amount of his trace magic on it, so it will cancel out mine. When I write the note I want it to feel like Draco Malfoy."

She looked at each of them in turn then to make sure that they didn't forget her orders again. It looked as if they would remember this time.

They may not have been the smartest Death Eaters in Azkaban, but they knew how to carry out orders. It seemed to be all they did in life anyway. She knew that for seven years, they had been loyal to Draco to a fault, but she could give them something that Draco would never have given them. Though they had been seeing each other for almost a year now, and had sworn that they were gay, she had changed their minds in one fateful night, and they had felt indebted to her ever since. Now they weren't gay, they were confused. Not that they cared at all.

Feeling more assured about her plan now, she smiled an evil little smile as she watched their mouths close over each of her breast.

*By the pricking of my thumb, something wicked this way come!

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

We are sorry about the attack. We were not aware of it happening. Please pass on our gratitude to Castor and Pollux.

Athene

Dumbledore smiled at the owl he had received, and shook his head in disbelief and pride.

Now why do they always think I expect them to be everywhere at all times?

He was just about to pass on the thanks himself when he reconsidered. The Alliance would more than likely send their thanks to the twins themselves, and he was sure Fred and George would have felt happier to receive it from them instead of a little old wizard.

Dumbledore smiled again with the twinkle in his eyes.

It would have been so funny to see what Ron would say to his brothers to express his pride without giving his identity away.

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

Where is it? Where is it? Where is it? Shite why does this place have to be so bloody huge!

Slowly, Pansy tried to make her way along the winding corridors, but the further she got into Azkaban the colder she was getting. If she was honest with herself, she was also getting quite afraid of the darkness and the eerie silence that made her feel as if a thousand little eyes were following her.

She was also getting pretty ticked off.

It would be evening soon, and she needed to get her plan in action before nightfall, otherwise it might just not work and all her efforts would go to waste.

"Zabini, if I don't get there soon I’m going to rip your bloody head off!" she muttered angrily to the darkness.

Where the hell is it?

Then she saw it. At least she saw the door to where it should be, that is. She quickly ran to it. Trying the door, she realized that it was locked, but Blaise had warned her that it would be. Pulling out her wand, she pointed it at the doorknob.

"Alohomora!"

Amazingly, to her, it worked, but she didn't even pause to give thanks. She pushed the door open to as far as it would go. The sight before her made her eyes gleam.

There were cauldrons everywhere. Most still had flames beneath them, and those seemed to go on in rows for as far as her eyes could see in the magically elongated room. Those that weren't still boiling were lined up along the walls on both sides. These were categorized, and above some of the cauldrons were vials of the potions brewed.

Now which side should I start on?

She chose the right, and immediately began her search.

Of course, it didn't take her long to realize that the potions were in alphabetical order with thirteen letters on each side. That meant that the letters on her right were from A to M and the letters where she was were from N to Z. To her that meant that the potion she needed would be somewhere in the middle of her row.

Shape-shifter...shape-shifter...shape-shifter...shape-shifter...Shite it's not here!

For a while she stood there looking quite baffled. She knew it had to be there. There was no way that the Dark Lord would be brewing potions, and not brew that one. It seemed too important.

Maybe he really doesn't brew it. Maybe it takes too long. It would be just my luck if it really is the one potion that Death Eaters don't brew!

Then an idea came to her. What if 'Shape-shifter' wasn't its name? She had grown up hearing it being called that at her home, but she seemed to remember hearing another name for it when she was at Hogwarts.

Oh shite! Well what was the other name for it then?!

She stood there pondering it for a while, as she tried out variations to all the potions she had ever heard before and then suddenly she remembered.

Polyjuice Potion! Yes, that's it! You would think they'd be smart enough to name it something closer to its function! Well that makes it P then and not S.

As soon as she figured it out, she ran back up to the top of the row. By now she was incredibly tired and not a little bit pissed.

"It had better be here!" she grumbled.

Pa...Pe...Pi...Po...here we go...Polyjuice Potion. Finally!

Grabbing one of the vials off the shelf above the cauldron, she looked at it with pleasure. All the trouble she had gone through to get it seemed to become erased from her memory as she saw another piece of her plan fall into place.

Silently she left the room, and even remembered to put back the locking spell on the door.

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

A dark figure paced back and forth across the expanse of his room in Azkaban. His face was that of deep concentration and puzzle.

Something weird was going on.

Something weird was going on, and he didn't like the feelings he was getting as a result of it.

It was too secretive, and it seemed that only a handful of people knew what it was all about. Most of those persons were minor minions of the Dark Lord, and though that should have made him feel better somehow, instead it made him uneasy.

This wasn't a plan of the Dark Lord. This was someone else’s and it felt weird.

// What's wrong? You seem perturbed.//

The figured stopped pacing. Instead, his eyes became unfocused at the intrusion of the soundless voice in his head. A voice without sound, without words, a question conveyed through emotions.

// I don't know, but something doesn't feel right.//

// Voldemort? //

// No. //

// Then what?//

In his mind,the figure shrugged.

// I don't know, but it feels...wrong somehow. I'm not even sure it's important.//

There was silence then the voice came again.

// Be careful....//

This time the figure shook his head both physically and mentally.

// It's not me. It's too small for me to be the problem.//

// Yet... it worries you.//

// Yes. I don't know why.//

Again there was silence, then the voice spoke. This time even more gently than before.

// Don't worry, it will come to you.//

The connection was gently severed, and the figure went back to pacing.

Something was going to happen.

Maybe something big.

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

Pansy stared at her naked reflection in her full-length mirror. The vial of liquid in her hand was now ready to be consumed. The strand of silver blond hair had already been added. It was almost time.

Pansy stared into the eyes of her reflection, and her mirror image smiled evilly.

I am so beautiful, almost perfect.

Yet, even as she whispered the words in her mind, another though overshadowed it.

He doesn't think you're beautiful anymore. What if you're really not?

Fear.

It was what had consumed her the moment Draco had rejected her. The moment she had outlived her usefulness to him, and he had discarded her. What if she wasn't beautiful anymore? What if she had never been? What if he had been the one to make her seem beautiful? What was she without him now?

Anger.

It had made her angry at him, at herself, at her world. Who did he think he was? Treating her as if she was nothing more than a convenient cunt to him? He didn’t deserve her! That Mightier-Than-Thou-Art-I Malfoy didn't deserve all the energy she had spent in trying to keep him! He didn't deserve her love!

She smiled at herself in the mirror as her eyes focused on the reflection of the vial of potion.

Hatred.

Now she didn't love him anymore. Now she was sure he didn't deserve her. There were many in Azkaban, or even when she was at Hogwarts, who would have died to spend a night in her arms. Many would have given the world to have her body move against theirs. Draco made her look as if she wasn't worth his time, and she would make him pay for it. No, she didn't love him anymore.

Violence.

She would make him pay for it, and he would regret ever making her feel ugly for the rest of her life. Moreover, she would like it, because she understood that violence sometimes soothe.

Bringing the vial to her lips, she watched herself drink the potion, and then closed her eyes to try to escape the sound of her body changing. For a while it was almost too much. There was no pain, but at least she could have dealt with that. There was just the uncomfortable feeling of her insides shifting slightly, her muscles hardening, her bones grinding, her proportions changing, her body adjusting to her new form. Finally, it was almost over and she almost cringed as she heard, more than felt, her scalp slurping in the excess length of hair on her head.

Then she opened her eyes, and smiled at the reflection of Draco Malfoy in the mirror. And she laughed.

Yes, violence sometimes soothe.

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

Draco was livid!

Ever since the start of the day he seemed to be losing things, and now he had just about had it. His favourite shoes, his near favourite robe, his favourite quill, shite, even the only piece of good parchment he had seemed to have evaded him for the entire day somehow! Draco was now far beyond angry.

"Where the hell could it have gone?!" he shouted to the empty room.

Pulling out his wand he gave it an angry swoosh, and practically yelled the summoning spell.

"Accio quill!"

Of course as soon as he shouted the spell, quills shot at him from seemingly all directions in his room. He barely had time to stop the onslaught.

Needless to say, he was truly ticked off enough to not give a damn where anything was anymore. Today had been too much for him, and the sooner it was over with, the better.

Throwing his wand across the room in frustration, he took a deep breath.

Somehow this day couldn't get any worse.

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

Bloody hell, don't tell me I’m lost again! What the ass is wrong with this place?

It had taken her a good hour to drag herself from her reflection in the mirror. She had stood there admiring the perfect body that Draco Malfoy owned permanently, and though she hated him, she couldn't help the lewd thoughts that had immediately entered her mind as she stared at his naked form. For a while she had even watch his body respond to her again.

It had been almost too hard to wrench herself away from the mirror, but it had to be done. She had come too far to throw it all away in one moment of lust. After all no matter what she did, she knew she would still crave him sexually. She could live with that, but it appeared that he couldn't anymore, and that was why she was doing this.

Finally spotting the door to the owlery, Pansy entered, and was met by almost total darkness. A few of the owls nearby hooted from their perch way above, but otherwise they only watched her with mild interest.

What was the bloody name again?

Phoenix.

The Immortal Firebird.

For the life of her, Pansy couldn't figure out why anyone would want to name their owl Phoenix, especially since it was ebony black, and not anywhere near the real colour of the phoenix, but who was she to judge? It didn't matter to her how Draco had settled on such a name for his beloved owl that he had personally chosen.

All she wanted was for the stupid rat-trap to come to her so she could complete her plan.

"Phoenix, come to me," she commanded.

Raising her hand the way she had seen Draco do it so many times on the training field since he had gotten the owl, she waited for the bird to ascend.

When he did, she carefully attached the piece of parchment she had stolen to its leg, then she commanded the owl to fly through the window.

Phoenix didn't move an inch in response to her command. Instead, he nonchalantly began preening his feathers.

Pansy's eyes narrowed in anger.

"I know you know I’m not the real Draco, so don't expect me to play nice with you. If you don't do as I command, I will have no qualms about using the Imperius Curse."

Phoenix gave her a look that could only be described as pure disgust and slowly, almost reluctantly, did as she had commanded.

It didn't take long for the guards outside of Azkaban to notice the owl.

It didn't take long to decipher the message that was oh so carefully written.

By then they had seen enough.

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

The door to Draco's room exploded into a million shards of wood as about five wizards rushed into the room.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

They had all shouted the spell simultaneously, but Draco had been almost too stunned to move anyway.

What the shite is going on? he screamed silently in his mind but no one seemed to care that he didn't know.

It was days later that he saw the message that had been intercepted, but by then there had been no doubt in his mind what he was being held for.

Treason.

He had betrayed the Dark Lord.

He would certainly be killed.

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

Dumbledore,

Your interception at the nightclub was purely ingenious. No one suspected that it had already been planned as such. There is nothing of much interest to report now, but as soon as the next attack is planned I will inform you of the details.

Death to the Dark Lord!

May good always triumph over evil, and may The Resistance be successful in the end.

Your servant of the Light,

Draco Malfoy

Pansy snickered softly as the procession left Draco's room and he was led pass her door. She tried to look solemn as his levitated body floated by, but it was all she could do not to laugh out aloud at the pure ingenuity of her plan.

*Yes....violence sometimes soothe.