A Pale Shade of Night

Author Notes, Header: Set a couple weeks after the end of OoTP. I began writing this story and developed the plotline before the release of HBP. A few useful elements of HBP will be included, but not until much later. Thanks to my dedicated beta reader, astraia_ourania, as well as my gamma, and delta readers. I may be found at http://methylethyldeth.livejournal.com/

Author Notes, After: Next: "Dark Lord Visits to Assess His Soul Hunter and Piques Her Interest." Thank you to those who reviewed the first two chapters. I hope everyone is enjoying the way things are slowly unfolding.

Addition to Disclaimer: Original elements (characters, locations, plot, etc.) are property of Methylethyldeth.

Story Text:

A Pale Shade of Night

Chapter 3: Awakenings

Wonderful nothingness was punctuated with painful awakenings to agonizing reality. The hiss of a snake, firm hands, and cool soothing potions always brought back the blissful sleep. Foggy dreams came from time to time. Ancient forests and shadowed halls drew Arcana to them.

It was early in the summer, under the trees by a gurgling brook.

Arcana sat on the mossy rocks, breathing in the richness of the forest. Shafts of amber sunlight gently fell through the leafy green-gold canopy, painting the forest floor with mysterious shifting patterns. The warm breeze caressed her too pale skin and made her light summer clothes ripple and flutter across her slight body.

The unearthly beauty of elfsong was carried on the wind. They were songs of summer and of life.

A soft footstep sounded from behind. Arcana turned to see an old elven friend walking toward her across the green ground, his eyes warm. He had always liked summer the best out of all the seasons. Arcana stood to greet the dark haired elf, silver silk flowing about her in the wind. They raised their arms to embrace. Arcana smiled happily.

A stabbing pain struck her chest.

Arcana looked down and saw a shining elven dagger lodged deeply in her flesh. It was a killing blow. Blood flowed freely, staining her silver gown with crimson.

Arcana looked up again only to see the elf's face carved in a mask of disgust and hatred. Arcana gasped in pain; she could not breath. Her knees gave out, and she sank to the mossy earth. She gazed up at the elf, feeling overwhelming sorrow and betrayal.

"What have I done? Why do even you hate me so?" she asked in a hoarse whisper.

The elf remained unmoved. Arcana kept looking up at him, pleading for an answer. The elf's face split into a horrid grin. His eyes changed and became piercing red.

Arcana awoke with a harsh gasp, shaking and confused. Everything hurt. Her hand flew to where the dagger had been plunged into her breast, but she only felt soft fabric brush over bony ribs. Shuddering, she realized it had only been a horrid dream.

Arcana took a calming breath and looked around the room. A discomforting sense of deja vu hit her. She had not slept here for fifteen years.

The Dark Lord had given her a set of rooms within his castle after they had both signed the blood contract that began her exclusive service as a soul hunter. Even now that contract was still in effect, despite all that had happened.

Arcana had rarely used the rooms before being branded, but after-

She cringed at that thought, having no wish to dig into that set of unpleasant memories now.

Arcana gingerly sat up and leaned against the soft pillows. Nagini had claimed a spot at the end of the overlarge bed and had halfway burrowed under an extra blanket that lay there. The snake's tongue flicked out, tasting Arcana's physical and emotional state.

The Dark Lord must have left Nagini here to watch over his soul hunter, Arcana thought with a disgusted sigh. She cast a small warming charm on Nagini's blanket and the snake hissed in thanks. The bedroom would always get chilled if a fire were not lit. It was one of the joys of living inside a cliff-face.

She was very weak and her body ached badly, but nothing like it had before. Arcana looked down at her left forearm to check the Dark Mark, and saw that it was still reddened. She knew from experience that it would sting badly if touched.

Sudden flashes of anger, shame, disgust, loneliness, and a host of bitter memories assaulted Arcana. Her breath caught in her throat as a burst of emotional anguish crashed into her. Her darkest feelings merged with those the Dark Lord had projected during her torture, and a confusing hurricane of sensations and memories drowned out reality. She bit back a cry of pain, clenching the sheets in her fists, and pushed the terrible feelings away.

Arcana let out a shuddering breath and closed her eyes. The aftereffects should have faded by now. The long-term implications were troublesome, but she was in no state to deal with that now. Eventually she would have to tackle her own emotions if she was to face the Dark Lord on a regular basis. She just hoped the projections would fade along with her physical pain.

From the feel of her skin, Arcana knew she had gone far too long without a proper bath. Still, someone must have used cleansing spells on her while she slept, since she did not smell terrible or feel very grimy. Despite their common use, the spells could not replace a real bath in her opinion. Besides, it had probably been cast as a favor to whoever had tended to her rather than as any sort of sympathetic gesture.

The desire for a warm bath overtook Arcana, and she slowly moved toward the edge of the bed, cringing at the pain. Nagini, who was now almost completely under the warm blanket, watched her with unblinking eyes.

Sitting on the bedside table were a set of labeled potion bottles and a crystal goblet that sparkled under the light of a few floating candles. Arcana moved closer and noticed there was also a short note. Curious, she reached for the parchment and read the familiar spidery handwriting.

Hunter,

My lord ordered these potions brewed for you. I do not doubt you recognize them, know the proper doses and will not poison yourself. The Dreamless Sleep has been altered to account for your particular constitution.

-SS

Serverus Snape's terse note brought on another wave of deja vu. That man would never change. Arcana had not minded Snape's vitriolic personality too much in the past due to his unquestioned skill as a Potion Master, though it greatly helped that she rarely saw him except for brief business meetings.

In addition to the Dreamless Sleep, Snape had provided a potion to repair nerve damage due to long term exposure to the Cruciatus curse, a very effective two-part pain relief potion, and a small bottle of Voice Ease.

Arcana chuckled bitterly when she saw the last one. Snape probably understood all too well how she could scream herself hoarse under the Dark Lord's not-so-tender attentions. She doubted that he had been welcomed back into the fold with open arms after hiding in Dumbledore's shadow and most likely turning traitor. Snape's current allegiance was mystery for another day.

Arcana sat at the edge of the bed and carefully mixed the pain relief potion in the crystal goblet, mindful of her weak limbs. She gently swirled the dark liquid until it ceased to fume and became clear. Arcana raised the goblet and took a sip.

The sharp sweet smell of anise hit her nose, prompting her to recall Snape's detailed explanation of the workings of his potion. He had said that it was used as a compatibility agent. It was good to remember that without anise, the two parts would become very volatile when mixed.

Arcana slowly drank the potion and felt the aches and pains fade. She set down the empty goblet and then took a sip of Voice Ease straight from the bottle.

Deciding to wait on the rather unpalatable nerve regenerative, Arcana carefully stood and tested her balance. She felt shaky and was still a bit sore, but figured she was strong enough for the short walk to a nice warm bath. At Nagini's angry hissing, Arcana turned back toward the bed, careful not to lose her balance.

"Whhhere are you going? The Massster commandsss you to ressst," Nagini haughtily informed Arcana.

"I am going to take a bath," Arcana hissed back in Parseltongue. She suppressed her irritation at the large snake. Arcana tried to stay on decent terms with Nagini since it was better than the alternative. "Not even Lord Voldemort would deny me that. In fact, he would probably be grateful." Both she and the Dark Lord had keen noses and knew that cleansing charms could not really replace bathing.

Arcana hoped that the snake would listen and not try to drag her back to bed. Nagini was strong enough to do so now, and it would be quite embarrassing, especially if the Dark Lord decided to visit.

A shard of fear lanced through Arcana's heart at the thought of facing the Dark Lord. She fiercely quelled it, preventing her tormented emotions from flaring once again.

Nagini raised her head up and flicked her tongue at Arcana's hand and then slithered back under the blanket, apparently satisfied with Arcana's condition. "Return hhhere whhhen you are clean. The Massster commandsss you to ressst."

Arcana sighed and nodded to the Dark Lord's familiar. There was no use in arguing with Nagini. Besides, by the time Arcana had finished bathing, she would be tired enough to sleep again.

Arcana slowly shuffled across the bedroom, glad that her bare feet were protected from the cold stone by the soft elven-crafted rugs she had brought here. Reaching the far wall, she leaned against it and rested for a moment.

All of the shelves, drawers, and chests in the room were overflowing with her old records, various books and other magical items. Arcana's large desk was even still littered with stacks of parchment filled with scrawled notes and sketches. Before long, she would have to take inventory of her rooms. Arcana had left many things here when she fled into hiding after the Dark Lord fell. Though it was too thin a silver lining to outweigh the dark cloud of her situation, it was nice to reclaim what she had thought lost.

Arcana knew that she was falling back into her old habits and thought patterns all too easily. The fifteen years she lived without this darkness seemed to melt away like some long forgotten memory of an ancient age. Of course, to a fae, fifteen years was not that long at all . . . just an ephemeral dream interrupting a long, dark night of troubled sleep.

She could no longer deny reality. Her brief respite was over, and little hope of escape remained. The future was clouded with dark days and uncertainty. Arcana had hoped to simply outlive the Dark Lord in order to regain her freedom, but she now saw that there was too little time left. All she could do was face her fate head-on with the dignity of the fae.

The Dark Lord had lost a lot of ground over fifteen years. Now that he had revealed himself to the Ministry of Magic, he would have to move faster than he had planned. It was no wonder he wanted her rested. He was going to work her to death, literally.

Arcana pushed off the wall, shoving her dark musings away, and stepped through the low archway into the adjoining bathroom. She shivered as her feet finally hit bare stone. After she took care of the necessities, Arcana stepped over to the floor-length mirror.

She studied her reflection with morbid fascination. Her skin had taken on an almost gray hue, blotched with light bruises and angry red veins where the Cruciatus Curse had burst surface blood vessels. Hopefully she was in better condition on the inside than on the outside.

Dark shadows gave her silvery eyes an even more haunted appearance as they peered out from above sunken cheeks. She raised a hand to touch the too prominent collarbones below her neck. How long had she been in that drugged sleep? Arcana tried to remember what she had last eaten, but the mere thought of food made her feel nauseous. It was another side effect of prolonged exposure to that Unforgivable. It would probably be impossible for her to eat for another few days, unless Snape brewed a counterpotion. Unfortunately, that would mean asking the Dark Lord for aid. As a way to assert his control, the Dark Lord forced her to make all requests through him, and in her current mental state, she did not want to face him earlier than necessary.

One thing was certain: the Dark Lord knew how to make a point. Arcana had no desire to try his temper again any time soon.

With two soft, lilting words, Arcana caused the sunken pool to fill with warm, clear water. A few candles flared to life with a wave of her hand. She stilled, hand still raised. Where had her wand gone?

The Dark Lord had probably taken it. It would be safe enough in his hands for now since destroying it would be pointless, but she would have to examine it carefully when he deigned to return it. For now, she could easily use wandless magic for most things. It was a skill born of her fae heritage and many long years of work. It was also something that could be lost if she continued to weaken.

Arcana shook off the dark thoughts again. There was nothing she could do about it now. It was better to live today than ponder the unsolvable.

Arcana shrugged out of the shift she had been dressed in, cringing as it brushed against the brand on her arm. Letting it fall unceremoniously to the floor, she waded into the shallow end of the bath. The warm water soothed Arcana's aching body. She sank into the pool and lay back, keeping her left arm above the surface, reluctant to irritate the brand. Scowling in frustration, she decided that if she was going to the trouble of bathing she might as well get everything clean. Besides, it could be considered a test of Snape's wonderfully effective pain blocking potion, since it was only supposed to block the pain not associated with potential harm.

Arcana lowered her left arm into the water, holding it still as the inflamed brand stung. It hurt, but not badly. She snorted and shook her head. Snape was likely to demand an exacting report on the effectiveness of the potion. It was still technically experimental, though he had begun brewing it for both sides of the war well before the "Potter incident."

When the burning had lessened, Arcana shifted a bit so she could rest her head on a relatively comfortable spot of the pool's edge. The taste of old magic and the quiet peace lulled her mind. Arcana's eyes slipped shut and she sank into a trance-like state, feeling the patterns of magic shift around her.

A loud crack from behind broke the silence. Surprised, Arcana whirled around, one hand raised and ready to cast a spell. Only the Dark Lord would dare disturb her here.

But there was no towering wizard standing over her, gloating. If the Dark Lord had come, he would not be hiding in the shadows, Arcana puzzled. Someone had Apparated here, but where were they?

Movement flashed in the corner of Arcana's eye. Her head snapped toward it, a nasty curse on her lips, ready to cast.

"It is only Shelly, Lady," came a frightened, high-pitched, squeaking cry from behind an old wood cabinet. "Please don't curse, Shelly! She means no harm, Lady."

Arcana lowered her hand. She had forgotten about the house elves.

"Shelly only wants to help you, Lady, not hurt," the petrified house elf continued to wail. "Shelly just knew you had awoken."

"Shelly, I won't hurt you," Arcana said gently, hoping to calm the frantic house elf. "You only startled me."

House elves were always very jittery little creatures, jumping at the slightest threat. To complicate matters, they all still insisted upon addressing her as "lady," which the Dark Lord did not appreciate. The first time he heard it, he harshly reprimanded the poor elf and demanded an explanation. Surprisingly the house elf managed to explain his actions with a half-truth, stating that it was the proper address for any fae. She was doubly surprised when the Dark Lord accepted the explanation without question, though he did scowl. The house elves had come to a compromise amongst themselves and addressed Arcana as "hunter" when their master was present, though they still slipped occasionally.

Shelly's head popped out from behind the cabinet. Her large ears twitched nervously as she cautiously waddled across the room to Arcana, who was still mostly submerged in the large bathing pool.

Shelly knelt down by Arcana. "Is there anything Shelly can do for the Lady Arcana? We have missed you, Lady. Very few of the Master's servants are kind to us, unlike the great Lady fae."

There were many things Arcana wanted, but few she could ask of the house elf, and, unfortunately, the creature would become quite distraught if Arcana simply dismissed her. Still, there was something that Shelly could do, and it would stop her from wailing again.

"I could use help with this hair." Arcana put a hand up to her head where her white hair was still pinned up. Her scalp was itchy and sore, but that was only bothersome compared to Cruciatus Curse aftereffects. "I was going to leave it for later, because I am already getting tired," she smiled slightly, hoping to reassure the house elf, "but it would be very nice to have it clean again."

"Yes, Lady! Of course Shelly can help!"

Arcana lay back and waited while the house elf ran about gathering potions and towels. She wished she had that much energy, but was glad she did not have that squeaky voice. It would induce a headache all too quickly and would rob her of the joy of song. Not that she sang often these days. When Shelly returned, the house elf took down Arcana's long white hair and carefully washed it. It had been many years since anyone had done such service for the fae, and it made her feel somewhat awkward, reminding her of days long past.

Thankfully, Shelly did not ask about the troubled expression that Arcana could feel on her face. The loyalty and discretion of house elves were qualities that many wizards used, but few truly appreciated. Surprisingly, the Dark Lord was one of those few wizards. Arcana imagined that his well-hidden early life was responsible for that. Those who have lived without such luxury often appreciate it far more than those who have known it since birth.

As Arcana relaxed, the house elf combed and braided her damp hair. Arcana then stood, shakily. She would need to return to bed soon; Snape's potions were wearing off. Shelly brought Arcana a new shift and one of her elven robes. Arcana slipped them on gratefully. All the fae races crafted beautiful works, but she had a particular fondness for elven cloth. Wistfully she wondered if it was summer in the woods of her dream, and if the elves there were singing.

"Thank you, Shelly," said Arcana, looking down at the house elf. Shelly's eyes brightened happily.

"No thanks needed from you, Lady. Shelly just wishes to help."

"I will thank you, just the same," Arcana told her, and smiled sadly. "You have made a hard day more bearable." Arcana almost dismissed the house elf, but a worrisome thought came to her.

"Shelly, does Lord Voldemort wish to see me?" Arcana sighed, unsure. She hated this. "And is he still angry?"

Shelly looked rather nervous about answering. She was bound to the Slytherin line and would serve the Dark Lord before all others.

"You do not need to answer, Shelly," Arcana said gently, not wanting to frighten the creature again. "I know and respect your duty."

"Well, Lady," Shelly said hesitantly. "The Master wishes to know when you are strong enough to speak with him."

The Dark Lord must have been acting touchy enough to incite the house elf's protective nature. "That is fine, Shelly. Thank you. I think I understand."

The Dark Lord was giving Arcana a choice. She could face him earlier when she was weak, or wait longer and try his fickle patience. Though the thought of facing the Dark Lord again made fear curl unpleasantly in her stomach, it would be better than the alternative, especially given the painful evidence of his temper.

Arcana pondered this for a moment and looked down at Shelly who was eyeing her worriedly. "Please tell Lord Voldemort," she said, struggling to keep her voice steady, "that I can speak with him tomorrow, if he desires it."

Arcana hoped she had made the right choice, and that she would be strong enough to face him.

Shelly was silent, still regarding Arcana with a worried expression.

"Shelly, I need to rest now," Arcana said. She was starting to feel the aftereffects of the Cruciatus Curse coming back in full force. "Please wake me early if the Dark Lord wishes to see me."

"Shelly will do as you ask, Lady," the house elf said, distractedly wringing he hands, "even though Shelly thinks you should wait a bit before speaking with the Master."

"Thank you, Shelly," Arcana replied. The house elf's tone made her nervous. If the Dark Lord was still angry, things could go very badly.

"You may go now. Nagini will be most upset if I stay away for much longer." Arcana dismissed Shelly and attempted to smile, hoping to lighten the mood.

"Sleep well, Lady," Shelly said and then Disapparated with a pop.

Arcana made her way back to her bed, which appeared to have been made in her absence without disturbing either Nagini or her blanket. Arcana sat on the edge and rested for a moment, as her muscles had begun to twitch and ache. She clenched her hands to still their shaking. She would need to be strong tomorrow.

Nagini watched from under the warm blankets as Arcana drank the nerve regenerative potion with a grimace. It tasted truly foul. She then grabbed the Dreamless Sleep and downed enough to knock her out for a few hours. Arcana crawled under the covers and fell asleep before she could worry any more about the next day.