Hellfire in New York

Hellfire in New York

Chapter 12: The Heart of Bellatrix Lestrange

Hermione dashed towards Ron. "Ron, where have you been? I was so worried, I - "

Ron opened his mouth to reply, but burped instead. Hermione reeled back a moment, then her eyes flashed. "Pepperoni pizza! You've been wolfing pizza!"

"Oh, you are in for it now, Mr Weasley! I've been in a six-to-one brawl, Ginny got Apparated halfway across the city and had to dash back, and Harry's had to lie through his teeth! Meanwhile, you've been sitting on your great lazy bum, stuffing your face, you, you...."

Hermione's voice trailed off as she registered the grin on Ron's face. "Oh, no, Mr Weasley! Don't you dare! Not while I'm telling you off...Ron!"

He stepped forward, placed his hands round her dainty waist, and lifted her off the ground, holding her up so she was at eye level with him. Hermione rained blows on his upper arms and shoulders, but they weren't serious ones, and she might as well have pounded on a brick for all the effect she had. "Put me down at once!" she commanded.

"Not until you've kissed me!" he told her.

"Oh, if that's all it takes..."

She reached out her arms, Ron drew her close, and they kissed for a long time. Harry and Ginny took the opportunity to indulge in a little osculatory activity of their own.

"Kids!" muttered Sirius. Then the phone in his pocket vibrated. He pulled it out and fumbled with it for a second. "Hello? Yes. They're sort of...occupied...right now. OK. Right. See you later."

He put the phone away and waited patiently until the young people had finished, then called them to order. "Right! That was Emma on the phone. The five of us are to Apparate directly back to the mansion. The others are going to Stark Long Island to fly back. Apparently, young Warren will be arranging for the cars to be flown back tomorrow."

"Will we be debriefing as soon as we get back?" Hermione wanted to know.

"No, it'll be tomorrow morning, when everyone's back."

"Good! Because when I get back, I intend to have a hot shower, a cup of tea, a big bar of chocolate and Ron. Not necessarily in that order!"

On that happy note, the five of them vanished.

*****

It was some hours later when Sebastian Shaw, Bellatrix Lestrange and Mandy Perkington arrived at Shaw's town house. Shaw was a little surprised at his niece; usually, after these affairs, she was bubbly and talkative, but tonight she seemed subdued. For a moment, he had been worried - there were very few people in the world Sebastian Shaw truly cared for, and Mandy was one of them - but then he realised that though she was quiet, she was contented.

"Had a good time, Mandy?" he asked.

"Oh, yes!" she replied happily. "I had a lot of fun tonight."

"Dance with any nice boys?" asked Bellatrix, who despite her prejudices, was growing to like this young Muggle woman.

"A couple, and one was kinda special."

Mandy paused, but Sebastian could see she wanted to talk about it, so he asked, "What was he like, Pumpkin?"

"He was so fine, Uncle! He's about as tall as you, and sorta slim - athletic, though. He dances nicely, and he talked to me like a real person. He's got black hair that's really wild, and the most amazing green eyes!" Mandy gushed.

A quick glance shot between the two adults, then Sebastian asked casually, "What was he called?"

"Simon Templar. He said you knew his Dad?"

Shaw nodded. "I've had dealings with him. Good man. Will you be seeing him again, honey?"

Mandy shook her head. "No. He's gone back to England, and he'll probably forget me right away. We didn't kiss or anything, but we had a few laughs, and it was fun."

Bellatrix laughed. "Wise child. Brief encounters are always the most romantic!"

The young girl agreed, and kissed her uncle goodnight. Then, to Bella's surprise, she bade the older woman goodnight with a brief hug and a light kiss on the cheek.

Sebastian grinned at Bella after Mandy had gone. "I think she likes you better than any of my other lady friends, Bella."

Bella turned away to hide the confusion she felt. How does he do that? It had been so long since a man had been able to touch her that way. Had she been a fool to liberate him from Selene? She changed the subject.

"Sebastian, that was Harry Potter she was dancing with!"

"I know," he replied soberly. "Now we're sure who it was infiltrated the club tonight. Selene is furious at the loss of her Seeing Stone; it may make her do something stupid!"

"I told you," Bella said through gritted teeth, "that Potter is dangerous!"

"You did, and you'll remember I agreed with you," Shaw replied evenly. "Still, the boy is brave and clever, and I respect him entirely, as I do all Xavier's students. If he ever wanted to date Mandy, I'd welcome it - he'd treat her as she deserves, I'm sure."

He caught the look she was giving him, went over and put his hands on her shoulders. "I know Bella, I know. But think about this: Potter's death would sate your need for revenge, perhaps, but it wouldn't bring your Dark Lord back, any more than Selene ever will. But Potter alive, and on our side...what an asset that young man would be! An asset, mind you, that Voldemort was prepared to waste out of what...superstition? Paranoia? Simple, stark fear?"

Bella's mind was in a whirl, an almost constant state these days. Ever since the day she had overheard Selene assuring Grimslade that she had no intention of reviving that 'revolting maniac Voldemort', Bellatrix had felt adrift, rootless. With some vague idea of revenge, she had slipped into the Black Queen's study, and there she had found the Seeing Stone. In it, she had observed Selene taking the Glamorus Potion, and realised how she had been duped.

After that, Selene must die, Bellatrix had decided, but she had needed allies. Selene was using magic and aphrodisiacs to keep everyone around her on the fine edge of arousal, so it had not been hard for Bella to tempt the Black King into her bed, and to slip him some antidote. Shaw had been subconsciously fighting Selene's domination anyway, so it had not taken much. From then on, they had plotted together. Bella had at last found a mind with a depth of cunning and ruthlessness to match Voldemort's.

But the real surprise had been that Bellatrix also found herself wanting to maintain the physical relationship between them. From the age of twelve onwards, Bellatrix Black had been experimenting, first with heir own body, then with those of like-minded female classmates, finally with the eager, young men of Slytherin House. Unlike Godric Gryffindor, Salazar had placed no impediment in the way of young men wishing to access the Slytherin Girls' Dormitories: he had wanted his students to begin producing Pureblood babies as soon as possible!

Bella's sister Narcissa might have found all she wanted in the fierce tenderness of simple sex, and the power over men her slender, white body gave her, but Bellatrix had dreamed higher. At the age of sixteen, she had achieved her ambition, receiving both the Dark Mark and admission to her Dark Lord's bed. Then a vigorous man in his early forties, Voldemort had introduced the teenage Bella to a world of sophisticated sensuality beyond her dreams. True, that world had a darker edge, one that repelled her as much as it attracted her, but that was a small price to pay for being the closest disciple of a man whose cause she believed in passionately.

But then had come the Fall, the black day when the infant Harry Potter had somehow reduced the towering Dark Wizard to a mere shade of malice. Captured by the Aurors and locked in Azkaban Prison, Bellatrix had clung to one hope, one thought: her Lord would one day come for her. Come he had, but it had not been the reunion she had hoped for. Physically, the renewed Voldemort was as potent as the old, but mentally.... As time went on, as Harry Potter continued to live and to defy him, Voldemort had come to need more and stronger stimulation to become aroused, and even greater depravity to achieve the release he craved. Bella had borne it all, even taking a kind of perverse delight in his excesses, because she still believed in him.

Ironically, it had been a Mutant who had placed the first crack in her idol. Last summer, just after the Battle of Salazar's Keep, the Mutant Erik Lensherr - Magneto - a man Bella later learned was one of the most powerful and feared humans in the world, invaded Voldemort's sanctum. Bellatrix had been given an injection by Magneto's companion, the shape-shifter Mystique. While paralysed by some drug, Bellatrix was still able to see and hear everything as the Master of Magnetism had warned Voldemort to stay away from the Mutant world. She had seen her Dark Lord humiliated and dismissed. She had waited eagerly for Voldemort's command to descend on these half-Muggle scum and obliterate them.

But, instead, Voldemort had firmly ordered his cohorts to abandon all Mutant-related research and to avoid Mutants at all and any cost. His given reason had been that their primary goal was domination of the wizarding world. Bella, however, had found herself entertaining other thoughts, ones that would have been unthinkable only shortly before. Was it possible her invincible Dark Lord was afraid?

Bellatrix had scarcely become accustomed to such thoughts when the Final Fall came. Face-to-face with the Potter boy, Voldemort had shown his true colours in the end. Unable to overcome this mere youth, Tom Riddle had taken the coward's way out, flinging himself from the old Astronomy Tower in a gesture of empty defiance, rather than go down fighting as a man ought.

Bellatrix herself had narrowly escaped capture at the Ministry of Magic that day. The experience had filled her with new respect for the skills of the wizard defenders, and the awesome powers of their Mutant allies, especially the witch-elemental they called Storm. But her escape was a bitter thing. Without her Lord, where could she go?

Lucius Malfoy had seemed to her the one man who could pull the Death Eaters back together, make them a force again. Bella had gone to Azkaban to free him, only to find him instructing his son in what she still thought of as treason. The idea that these Knights of Walpurgis had been using Voldemort, and had abandoned him to the mercies of the Order of the Phoenix, had driven her mad with rage. The rage had given her the strength to force her brother-in-law, under an Imperius Curse, to do away with himself. But that act also cut her off from her one refuge; she could not face Narcissa after that, and she was afraid her sister had taken part in Lucius' treason. Even Bella could not contemplate murdering her own sibling.

So Bella had fled here, to America, where Selene waited like a spider in her webs of lust and conspiracy. Bella had been trapped, but then she had escaped, to what?

"Earth to Bella? You in there, hon?"

She blinked and came back to the present. Sebastian was smiling teasingly at her.

"Sorry, darling," she replied. "I was woolgathering for a minute there."

"Oh, really?" his eyes glittered. "Well, back to Earth you come, my dear!"

Without further ado, he took her in his arms and kissed her. Bellatrix Lestrange, at the age of forty-six, found herself responding with an ardour she had not felt since she was sixteen. When Shaw led her towards the bedroom, she followed eagerly.

Afterwards, she lay happily against him. This also was something new; once sated, Voldemort had always ordered her peremptorily away. But the first time she had pillowed with Sebastian, when she tried to get up to leave, he had gently but firmly pulled her back into his arms, where she had slept like a child. Now he shifted, sat up, and lit two cigarettes, passing one to her.

Bellatrix inhaled deeply, relishing the smoke, before saying, "Filthy Muggle habit! You're corrupting me, Sebastian Shaw!"

"Everyone should have a vice," he told her. "They remind us we're only human. That way, we keep some perspective."

They fell into a comfortable silence, which Shaw broke by asking, "What will you do, Bella, when this is all over and Selene is gone?"

"I don't know," she answered. "Other people have always made the big plans; I just make them happen. I will go to England, perhaps, or Europe. There must be other Pureblood groups out there I could join."

"Does it have to be that?" he asked. "The old battle to keep your world pure? You've already lost, you know. That war was lost before Voldemort was born."

From him, she could hear that without anger. Sebastian had no axes to grind; he spoke as he saw, and he was a clever man. But she had no answer for him, and eventually he said, "You know, you could stay here. With Selene gone, the Inner Circle will need a new Black Queen."

Her heart leapt at the thought, not of being Black Queen - though that was indeed tempting - but of staying with Sebastian.

Gods help me! she thought. Am I in love with this man? In love after all these years?

"Is that a proposition," she asked him, "or a proposal?"

"It could be both," he replied quietly, and they stared at each other for a moment. Then he said, "I doubt if I'd be faithful to you."

She grinned at him. "I wouldn't mind, Sebastian. As long as you give me detailed descriptions afterwards."

He returned her grin. "I'll make videotapes if you like!"

"Well, in that case...." She put out her cigarette, then took his and stubbed that out too, before rolling on top of him. "You'd better start rehearsing your performance!"

*****

The young man called Dante perched on a roof ledge and looked down. The neighboring building was less tall than this one, and in the center of its roof was a glass dome. From the room below he could see flashing lights, and his preternaturally keen hearing caught the heavy bass throb of dance music - a disco, then.

Dante loved discos, even if his personal taste ran to thrash metal, but he wasn't here to dance. His infallible instincts had led him here for another reason. Someone in this city was summoning demons and, as always, thought they could control them. But the creature's hunger for fear and slaughter could never be contained.

He felt the change before he saw it. There was a sudden sensation like a chill in the air, then through the dome, he spotted flashes of unnatural violet light. As the screams began, he rose to his full height, drawing Ebony and Ivory from their holsters. Then he leapt from the ledge onto the dome, breaking through the thick Plexiglas into the large room below.

They were Hell Guards, skeletal creatures in tattered black robes, armed with scythes. They looked up as Dante crashed through the dome, and immediately forgot about their human targets. They knew him, of course, and the son of the legendary Sparda was too juicy a prey for them to ignore.

Dante whirled in the air as he fell, blazing away with the enchanted pistols. The recoil seemed to serve to keep him airborne far longer than was natural, and several demons fell before he even reached the floor. The terrified dancers were fleeing, hiding behind furniture or fighting each other to reach the exit.

The young demon-hunter landed in the middle of the dance floor with a boom that echoed through the room. He holstered his pistols and grinned at the Hell Guards who slowly closed in on him. Dante jerked his head at the speakers, which were still blaring out music, and remarked, "Geez, guys, you'd think they'd play you some decent music to die to!"

Then, in an economical motion, he drew the broadsword Rebellion from where it was slung across his back, and attacked. It was a furious and bloody melee. Dante leaped, spun, cut and stabbed. The Hell-forged blade, with his superhuman strength and speed behind it, sliced through demon-flesh easily and lethally. Everywhere he struck, demons fell. But Dante himself was not unscathed; several scythes had found their mark, and he was bleeding profusely from slashes that would have killed a normal man.

Then the last of the demons was down. Dante leaned on Rebellion, panting. He tensed as another violet glow heralded the arrival of one last foe. This creature was still skeletal, but taller than the others, perhaps seven feet. It too had a black robe, but not of tattered cloth; this robe seemed made of darkness itself. The thing carried a scythe that glowed with a blue light, sparks running along the blade. A Hell Vanguard!

The creature considered Dante, then spoke. "Come to me, Sson of Sssparda! I will relisshh the taste of your traitor'sss blood!"

"You and about a zillion others!" replied Dante. "You're gonna havta wait your turn, dude!"

The demon gave a gurgling laugh. "Ssuch bravado! You will sserve uss well, as your brother does!"

At this, Dante bounded forward in a rage. The duel was savage, but he was clearly outmatched. The wounds inflicted by the other demons slowed and weakened him, and the Vanguard pressed its advantage.

"Alass," it hissed. "I had hoped for a more worthy opponent!"

"You ain't seen nothin' yet!" snarled Dante as he leaped back. For a moment, he stood, head thrown back, face stretched in a rictus that could have been either agony or ecstasy. Then a globe of scarlet light surrounded his form for a second, and when it vanished, he had changed.

He was taller, more powerfully built, and a pair of bat-like wings sprouted from his shoulders. The white hair, instead of falling to his collar, now stood around his head like a flickering argent crown. The skin of his face was black, his eyes glowed red, and when he smiled, his mouth was filled with gleaming fangs. The Vanguard hesitated. "Sssparda!" it hissed.

Dante said nothing. Instead, he extended his hands, palm outwards, toward the demon. Gouts of orange-red flame leaped from them, enveloping the creature in agony. As the thing staggered, Dante pressed forward, drawing his sword again. This time, Rebellion's blade glowed as if red-hot, and flames ran along it. With a single sweep, he decapitated the Vanguard, and it crumbled to ash as it fell.

Dante stood for a moment, then spread his wings and flew out through the dome and away. Settling on a rooftop, the demonic figure sagged for a second, then the red glow enveloped it again before disappearing to reveal Dante in his normal form.

He looked down at himself. His father's legacy at least brought with it a measure of healing. The worst of his wounds were gone, and as for the rest.... He pulled an object out of his pocket, a five-pointed star made from crystal with a benign face carved into it. The star was hollow and filled with a glowing green liquid. Dante pressed the star to his chest, and his entire form glowed green for a second. The rest of his wounds vanished. He shook himself.

OK, he thought, now I'd better go find out who's behind the fun and games - before things get dangerous!

*****

Funny how things turn out, thought Caradoc Grimslade, eyeing the man who sat opposite him. He had never thought, in his long life, that he would become the boon companion of a Muggle!

The two men were certainly a stark contrast to each other. Grimslade was the essence of New England 'old money'. He was tall, spare and stoop-shouldered, with aristocratic features and piercing blue eyes. He wore an impeccably tailored wizard robe in dark worsted cloth, the latest fashion half a century ago.

Ralph Cole, in T-shirt and BDU pants, was just as tall, but powerful muscles rolled and slid under his ebony skin. His features were blunt, as if roughly molded from stiff clay, but when he grinned, as he did now, he looked like what he had once been, a Detroit street kid. He had already told Grimslade how he had grown up in an area where you either joined a gang or got out. The day his cousin was killed in a drive-by shooting, Cole had decided to take the second option. With no talents for sports or entertaining, Cole had taken the only available choice and signed up for the Marines, finally being selected for the elite Reconnaissance battalion. But an incident involving a suspected terrorist who turned out to be a CIA double agent led to a dishonourable discharge. Cole had drifted into the shadowy world of the professional mercenary, earning a reputation for discipline and efficiency that had brought him to the attention of the Black King.

"The rest, as they say, is history! But how'd you get into this, Caradoc? I mean, I hate to say it, buddy, but you look more like a school teacher than a scrapper!"

Grimslade sighed. "It's a matter of conviction, Ralph. Look, you Muggles assume that Europeans first came here what, three or four hundred years ago?"

"Pretty much. 'Less you believe them guys in Minnesota that talk about Leif Ericsson and the Vikings."

"Well, they're right about the Vikings, though they never actually got to Minnesota. But wizards from Europe came here maybe six, seven hundred years back. We came for a reason.

"Look, my family was English. We lived in a place called East Anglia, and we sent our kids to Hogwarts, always Slytherin House, because we were, and are, Purebloods and proud of it! But other wizards weren't so proud, and they married Muggles, ordinary people like you, with not a drop of magic in 'em. They bred Half-blood kids who had wizard powers. On top of that, Muggle families tend to throw up kids with magic talent - we call them Mudbloods - occasionally. That started happening more and more often.

"Now the wizard school, Hogwarts, was founded a thousand years ago by four wizards, who each got a House named after them. But they couldn't agree on one thing. You see, Salazar Slytherin had the right idea. Wizards are a special breed, and there are so few of us we can't afford to dilute that. So he said only Pureblood wizards should come to Hogwarts, and when Slytherin was there, Slytherin House never took anyone who wasn't pureblooded. But the other three!

"All Godric Gryffindor cared about was courage and fire. He was a warrior as well as a wizard so his House takes anyone with guts and a temper. Rowena Ravenclaw looked for brains; she didn't care about your blood, as long as you were smart enough for her. As for Helga Hufflepuff, as long as you were breathing, she'd take you!

"So, before you know it, Hogwarts, and the wizarding world, was overrun with Half-bloods and Mudbloods. Add to that the Muggles were breeding like flies! England's a small country - we were getting crowded out.

"My family, and others like us, went to the Wizengamot, asked them to do something. We wanted them to warn the Muggles off, to stop Mudbloods being brought into our world, and to forbid wizards to have kids with Muggles. They wouldn't listen. It caused a war, a rebellion."

"And you guys lost?" Cole guessed.

"We lost," Grimslade admitted. "We were already outnumbered, and some of our own Pureblood families, like the Weasleys and the Potters, fought against us - blood traitors!

"But wizards had known about America since the days of Merlin. We knew it was a big, empty country. So, some of the Pureblood families decided to leave, to make a fresh start over here. And so we did, for nearly three hundred years. We avoided the natives, even their wizards. We set up our own towns, our own villages, even our own school.

"Then the European Muggles started to arrive. Some of us wanted to drive them out, back into the sea. But others said, 'We've got plenty of space, let 'em come'. So, we did."

"Don't tell me," Cole interrupted, "next thing you know, it's all starting again. Wizards start marrying Muggles, Muggles start havin' wizard kids, the works!"

Grimslade nodded. Cole was a brighter man than he appeared. "There're only a few families left who care any more about keeping the bloodlines pure. We heard about that Voldemort character over in England. He came over here looking to drum up support. But he was crazy - he wanted to rule the Muggle world as well as the wizarding one. We don't want that. We just want to be left alone!

"So, when Selene approached me, I had to listen. She's Slytherin's daughter after all, so she should understand. She's promised that when the Hellfire Club takes over, we wizards will have a place of our own, somewhere Muggles can't come, ever!"

There was a snort of contempt from the nearby cell. Fenrir Greyback gripped the bars with his sinewy hands and glared at his guards.

"You are pathetic, both of you! Dancing to the Black Whore's pipe because you don't have the spine or the blood to get what you want yourselves. If you want something, just take it! If you can, then the owner is weak and has no right to anything, even life! If you can't take it, then you are the one with no rights!"

Grimslade barely spared the werewolf a glance. He reached forward and tapped the heavy SIG-Sauer handgun that lay on the table in front of Cole.

"Is that thing loaded with silver, my friend?"

Cole shook his head. "Don't need it, man. That's just superstition. Yeah, werewolves are allergic to silver; it burns their skin, and even a little in their bloodstream kills 'em. But they only seem invulnerable 'cause they heal so fast. You can kill 'em with regular weapons, as long as you get a killshot in quick. And man, I never miss!"

Fenrir subsided with a growl, slinking to the back of his cell. Cole and Grimslade continued to chat, until Selene, accompanied by the White Knight and Draco Malfoy, swept into the room.

"You may leave," she told the two men. "We require speech with the prisoner alone."

Fenrir tensed, snarling, then was suddenly pinned back against the cell wall. Selene advanced, the door swinging open before her, and approached the struggling werewolf.

"You can squirm all you want, Fenrir, but you'd do better to listen," she told him. "I have a proposition for you."

Fenrir quieted, but didn't otherwise acknowledge Selene. He looked across at Draco.

"It's young Malfoy, isn't it? Knew your father, boy. He at least kept decent company!"

"Did he indeed?" Draco raised an eyebrow. "Then how is it that you knew him, Greyback?"

Fenrir barked laughter. "Oh, you're a Malfoy, all right! All cold arrogance on top, spitting venom underneath!" He looked at Selene. "Watch yourself with that one. The Malfoys are scorpions, always were!

"You said you had a proposition. I'm listening."

Selene smiled. "Do you still want the Mutant girl, Wolfsbane?"

"Want her?" Greyback laughed again. "That green-sick little virgin? It's not about wanting her; it's about her whelps. Oh, she's pretty enough, and there's fire in there, I'd swear, but that's not the point. I mean to breed a race of werewolves who needn't wait on the whims of the Moon, and for that, I need her!"

It was Jason Wyngarde who replied. "You don't know much about Mutants, do you, Greyback? There's little or no chance that any children you might sire on Rahne Sinclaire would be Mutants, unless you yourself carry Mutant genes. Even if you do, there's no predicting what powers they might or might not have."

"Much you know about it, Sir White Knight!" Fenrir growled. "I'm a werewolf, and I can sire other werewolves by fang or by seed. I don't know and don't care about your 'Mutant genes'. That girl is a werewolf who can change at will. She must pass that ability to at least some of her children!"

"It doesn't matter to me, one way or the other," Selene stated. "What matters is you, Fenrir! You're too powerful an ally to waste. I don't want to have to keep you locked down here.

"So," she took a breath, "I've decided to give you your chance. I want you to lead a raiding force to Xavier's mansion the day after tomorrow. Do as much damage as you can; kill some of his precious X-Men for me. If you can bring Wolfsbane back, I'll ensure she comes to your bed as eagerly as any loving bride!

"I'll send some of Donald's Sentinels, and some Hell Guards, as well as wizards and mercenaries. Even better, I'm going to send the first Named Demon I've been able to summon. He calls himself Phantom, and he'll be more than a match for the X-Men."

Selene came closer to Fenrir, and spoke confidentially. "What's more, Fenrir, I have a gift for you."

From within her robe, she produced a pendant on a heavy chain. The pendant was a seven-pointed star, and just below the point of each star was set a pearl. Three of the pearls were black, the other four glowed with a milky radiance.

Fenrir stared. "The Star of the Wolf-Kin!" he breathed. "I thought it was lost!"

"It was," Selene told him, "but I found it. Seven black pearls, each charged with the radiance of the full Moon. All the werewolf who wears it need do is recite a simple rune, and whatever the phase of the Moon, or even in broad daylight, one of the pearls will release its power. You can transform at will, Fenrir!

"But have a care, the power is of limited duration, an hour, no more, for each pearl. The Star cannot be re-imbued with moonlight until all seven pearls are black again. Here, Fenrir, the Star is yours by right. Now will you lead the raid for me?"

Fenrir nodded. "You have my word, Selene."

Selene smiled, releasing Fenrir and handing him the Star. "Jason, take Fenrir and get him some food. Draco, come with me?"

As they walked towards the living quarters, Selene took Draco's arm in a familiar fashion, walking very closely beside him. She was both puzzled and piqued by his continued resistance to her charms. She had even gone to the lengths of transfiguring herself into a beautiful young man, only to have 'him' dismissed from Draco's room with cool courtesy. In her long life, Selene had taken a perverse pleasure in making even the most ascetic of holy men break their vows of celibacy for her, but had she finally met her match? Was it possible that here was a man who was genuinely uninterested in sex? She didn't - wouldn't - believe it! Still, Draco was here, so even if she could not seduce him, she might make use of him.

"So, Draco, what do you think?"

"I think Fenrir's going to get himself killed," replied Draco bluntly. "He has no idea what he's up against. Your White Rook told me that Greyback has got himself noticed by the one they call Wolverine - a Mutant who has, single-handedly, killed six trolls in as many minutes!

"So, I have to assume, Selene, that there is something else behind this offer to Fenrir. Some scheme of your own, yes?"

"Ahh, you're so perceptive," she purred. "Women like a man who understands things! The X-Men broke into the Club tonight, and they stole something that belongs to me. That, alone, calls for punishment.

"But there's more to it than that. By sending a credible force, I can test the mettle of these X-Men, and your Harry Potter and his friends. Phantom is a low-level demon, powerful in his way, but rather stupid and quarrelsome. He's expendable. I think and hope he will do some damage, but I fully expect him to be killed or banished back to Hell. How quickly and easily he is defeated will tell us much about the X-Men's capabilities.

"While they are distracted, I intend to Apparate directly into the mansion, recover my property, and teach this arrogant Muggle Xavier a lesson in manners!"

"I see." Draco smiled. "And what is my role in this?"

"I want you to watch for me, dear Draco. You and Sebastian can watch the battle and analyse the enemy tactics, see how their wizards and Mutants work together. That way, we can make our own force more effective and counter theirs."

By this time, they had reached the door of Selene's private chambers. They stopped, and she smiled invitingly up into his face. "Join me for a nightcap?"

Draco shook his head and assumed an expression of regret. "I'm sorry, Selene, but I still have some instructions to send to my people in England. Then I really must get some sleep. I'm still a little...jet-lagged? Is that the phrase?"

She pouted. "You know, I'm beginning to think you don't really like me, Draco."

"I respect you a great deal," he told her. "Your abilities and ambitions are considerable, and they complement my own. If I'm reluctant to compromise a potentially valuable business partnership by entering into a personal relationship, you must put it down to my training and upbringing."

Selene sighed heavily and looked a little hurt. "That's the difference between men and women, isn't it? You see personal things as unimportant distractions. We put them at the centre of everything we do!

"Please, Draco, try to meet me on a personal level? It's so important to me. I find it so much easier to work with people I'm close to!"

"We'll see," Draco replied. "But now I really must go."

He gave her a courteous half-bow, and went on his way. Selene glared after him. He's not human, she thought. Father was a fanatic, but even he had his lovers! Draco Malfoy was becoming a vexing problem. Selene had to find some way to control him. Sex didn't work; fear almost certainly wouldn't. Perhaps she should simply rely on his obvious lust for power? It would be a shame, though. He was so handsome! Selene was not about to give up on Draco Malfoy just yet!