Meeting Them in the Middle

It was one of those things he knew, that you couldn't turn back from. Where, once you got involved, just a little, you were already in too deep. And maybe that was what made it so thrilling to him.

Lucius Malfoy made his way to the gathering, clad in his black robes and casual sneer. The killing going on before him made no emotion well guiltily inside him. It didn't make him flinch or turn away. Instead, it sort of made him smile. I mean, who wouldn't, knowing that they had as much power as he did? He was the right hand of the central one; Lord Voldemort.

It was one thing to remain faithful, and it was another thing to be faithful. Lucius could already see them, beneath the masks, the ones that had guilt self-possessed in their eyes. Lucius was like them once, but that was so long ago.

He watched before him, the torture of the Muggle. He closed his eyes and savored the sound of the Muggle's screams, of his pleas for help. To Lucius that sound was like Christmas. Opening his eyes he watched as the helpless man's limbs bent in ways they only could by magic. How pathetic are they? he thought as he watched. Now, Lucius knew real pain. But that's what it took to be really loyal. Every time he messed up he had to be punished, and he knew this. But Lucius had long ago found ways to avoid messing up. It had been so long now that sometimes Lucius would watch those in pain and wish it was him, if just for a moment.

Lucius stepped out of the circle toward the man, all eyes on him. He crouched down and turned the trembling body toward his. He could see that here was hope lingering in the man's eyes; praying that Lucius was here to help him. Lucius was here to help him, to help his passing run more smoothly. Taking the man's arm Lucius twisted it painfully behind his arm until he heard the pop. The man cried out, but to Lucius it sounded like laughter. Standing, Lucius placed one boot on the man's weak stomach, and then another. Thrusting all his weight onto the already weak, defenseless man, he laughed; making sure the man could see him. The man's pleas didn't even reach Lucius's ears. Stepping off slowly he glanced down at the pathetic Muggle. Knowing his place Lucius stepped back and, with his eyes, dared another man to physically torture the man with as much grace as he had. No one stepped forward. Lord Voldemort, looking quite pleased, finished the man off and cast away his body.

Lucius left the circle, all but satisfied to return home to his cold hollow manor. He knew that, as always, Narcissa would have, by now, tucked herself away into one of the many guestrooms, leaving his bed cold. She was always trying to remind him how much she truly despised what he did. But what she did had little impact on Lucius; he owned her, that's all that matter.

Lucius had been destined to fall into darkness, and he had always known that. But never had he imagined how he now lived it and breathed it. Before, Lucius had been scared; but one taste had him coming back for bloodshed. Most Death Eaters had simply chosen the side that they could throw themselves into, making sure that they wouldn't be the victim. But, for Lucius, it was more than a matter of choosing sides or doing what was right, it was the way he lived, and it was how he lived.

Being evil was about having hate and having ambition, and meeting them in the middle to bring about a new type of power that had never yet been seen; Lucius was that power.