In the Shades of Grey

In the Shades of Grey

"Draco Malfoy." Professor McGonagall called from her list, school had finished a few days ago and the seventh years were having their ceremony after settling in back home. A boy of 17, handsome with a mysterious look about him, stood. A few pastel blonde strands fell into his face as he did so, but he quickly wiped them away as not to bother the blue/Grey gaze that was darting onto the platform as he made his way towards the Transfiguration professor, on the way reluctantly shaking Dumbledore's hand.

Narcissa sat in the crowds, a proud smile on her face, while her husband, Lucius, sat next to her looking bored. Narcissa took a few pictures with her special camera and listened intently as his head of house stepped up to read off his accomplishments.

"Draco Malfoy," Snape said clearing his throat, "Is a graduate of Hogwarts and now Slytherin Alumnus, he was Slytherin's house-team seeker in which they won 23 games total since he was on the team. He receives excellence in potions, arithmancy, and Defense against the dark arts. Draco Malfoy earned over 900 points for Slytherin during his total 7 years at Hogwarts, he was a prefect in his fifth and sixth year, then went on to become Head Boy." Snape finished.

"And devilishly good with the young ladies." Lucius added to only he and Narcissa.

Draco accepted his diploma and certificates before walking off the stage. The rest of the ceremony went as planned, quite uneventful until the end when students split up to say their good-byes.

"Mom!" Draco said giving his mother a hug, "I'll just be a minute I have some people I want to say goodbye to." He said, but before he could leave Lucius stopped him.

"Wait a second boy, someone is here to see you." he said, and then stepped aside to reveal the petite figure of 18-year-old Arsnie Sreesely who graduated last year. Draco hadn't seen her much because she had been busy with her new job; she had been one of his sixth-year friends.

Arsnie sported long black strands of midnight, very tanned skin, and yellow cat-like eyes that tended to glow. "Hi, I can't stay for to long but I wouldn't miss your graduation for anything." she smiled, gave him a hug and kiss on the cheek.

"Come say hi to some old friends with me." Draco said taking her hand as they sprinted off together.

The first person they came across was Michelle Garrison, another fifth year Slytherin. She was standing around talking to Christopher Wilson, a fifth year Hufflepuff, one of the few tolerated from other houses. Michelle had lovely golden-blonde curls, green eyes, and Scottish decent. Chris had dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, and very huge crush on Michelle Garrison.

"Michelle!" Arsnie smiled exchanging a hug with her old friend. She nodded at Chris, and her eyes caught her watch on her wrist. "Oh, bloody hell!" she exclaimed, "I'm late for one of my clients, got to run." she said and sprinted off back to her broom. She couldn't disapparate on the grounds.

---

1 year later:

Peering through the bed curtains, the young woman winced at the fading sunlight that spilled through the window, onto the room, the light stopping nearby the bed. She had forgotten to fully close the heavy curtains earlier that day. Pulling the curtains closed again, she lay back onto the bed, and slowly crawled back into the covers. There was still another hour to wait

As she glanced about the enclosed bed, a rare smile crept across her mouth, 'hmmm if it weren't for the size of the bed I could be back at school', she muttered. Turning over to lay on her side, she hugged the large pillow, and let out a long sigh. Her hair, still kept long lay across her back, it's dark color contrasted sharply with the pale, no translucent, skin.

So much had changed in such a short period of time, only 3 years, and yet it seemed an entire lifetime had passed. Physically, Tallis hadn't changed, perhaps a bit paler, and her eye's had taken on a more violet shade, oh and two of her teeth had grown a bit longer, and sharper. Emotionally, well that was a completely different topic.

As if on some sort of sadistic cue, a slender, mildly tall, figure materialized from the encroaching shadows of the quaint Inn room, polish loafers clicking softly on the ancient wood below his feet. He was draped in all black of silk, from robes to the cloak carefully slug over his shoulders, as he approached the bed. He was hooded, however, just for his own ease of mind.

Besides - it's not everyday a former Slytherin becomes a Dark Lord, is it? Even though no one knows it's him, to a few, like Tallis who knew him well in school, could suspect something.

He stopped just at the foot, leaning a facile shoulder against one of the posters.

"Rise and shine," came the velvety words, like a caress from the very material. His tone was quiet, almost amused. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were bored," he commented on the sigh.

After, he fell into an easy silence; a stranger's presence in another's room was a good enough shock anyhow.

Hearing the soft tapping of shoes, and someone distinctly male, strangely familiar, walking across the room, Tallis let go of the pillow and lifted her head up. Still lying on her side she propped her body up on her elbow, waiting for a sign of just who was so foolish to enter her room.

Sitting up she reached over for some clothes, although she wasn't normally embarrassed about nudity, she did prefer to fight dressed.

She was about to pull on her dress when he spoke; she gasped, shocked at first, of hearing after so long the voice of..."Draco Malfoy!" she half giggled through the closed curtains. "Still living dangerously? It appears... "

A vague chuckle escaped from parted lips, as he still leaned languidly against the poster he'd claimed upper appendages crossed over his torso. He made no move to peak into the shrouding curtains; in fact, his flashing, Grey orbs were more so fixated on the shards of waning light filtering in through the window.

Nonetheless, he took time to respond.

"Umm, you might say that," he conceded, more than a hint of amusement to his drawl, as if trying to suppress an out-right laughing riot. "And of course, I'm here to include you in one my adventures. If you're up for it, that is."

He smirked secretively, lowering his hood with the jerk of his head finally. It'd be fun explaining it all.

Throwing the dress over her, Tallis leant over and peered cautiously through the curtains, to the now faintly lit room. "An adventure? Well now that is intriguing...just what do you have in mind...but before that.... Just where in the name of arse have you been?" she asked, raising her voice slightly. Kneeling on the bed, she drew back the bed curtains, the room now much darker.... And safer.

Turning to look to her right, she smirked at the shrouded Draco, who was lazily leaning against the bedpost. "Well? Still the one for drama, I see, Mr. Malfoy," she said noting his attire, "why are you hiding yourself?"

Tallis remained kneeling on the bed, what she really wanted to do was jump up and throw her arms around him...she had missed him greatly, But that kind of action, usually threw most people, who knew what she was now, into somewhat of a panic, and even those who remained calm would stiff in fear. It was awkward, and it hurt.

Tilting his head in her direction when she finally pulled back the curtains, a subtle smirk spread across his lips, features that of a 19 year old man, not much different from his adolescence. He briefly unfolded an arm to flick silvery strands from his visage, icy orbs studying the girl intently, before putting the hand back, just the way it was.

He picked himself fluidly up from the poster, feet shuffling quietly along the paneled wood of the floor, and sitting deftly on the bed, making himself at home without asking. Of course, why should he have to? Considering who he was.

Question is how to go about it. It's not everyday one could say they were behind the recent Dark happenings, nor not everyday one could take credit for being the newest Dark Lord. To his cover, he'd taken up professional Quidditch, a seeker for some of the up-coming, new teams, if there was any opening.

"I've been...busy...as of late. And hiding myself because I look damn good, too good for prying eyes," he said on a sigh, as if it was just another thing, but being sarcastic on the last comment. "But rather than run my mouth, I think I'd just better show you. Otherwise, you might think I'd fell and hit my head." He smirked mysteriously as his slender digits peeled back the sleeve on his right arm, alabaster flesh being reveal with it. But on the under forearm was a silver marking of a dragon with its wings outstretched, what was commonly known as the new Dark Mark, though his had more style to prove his sheer rank over his minions.

"So I hope you're not terribly mad at me for not frolicking over after Hogwarts," he drawled wryly, more Malfoy humor. "And to make up for my lack of certain punctuality, I'm offering you a rank, of course, if you want it." A slender hand reached out, digits passing over her cheek briefly. "I can give you anything you want."

His smirk widened.

Tallis leant back slightly as Draco sat down on the bed. The Malfoy's had always been difficult to resist, and this one was certainly no exception, in fact he was perhaps the worst one...most definitely the most desirable.

She remained silent as he spoke, and when he went to remove he bared his arm, she knew then what he meant when he said he had been busy, even before she saw the mark. Instantly she recognized it, "hmmm, yes I'm not surprised to see that, I've many times, been asked, or rather ordered, by various aurors to present my arms for inspection. They of course where looking for that mark, funny, you become a complete vampire and automatically everyone thinks your suddenly all dark, brooding and evil...I've always been like that." She said, briefly giggling.

Moving a bit closer to him, she reached out a pale hand to touch the silver dragon tattoo. Her long thin, and yes cold, fingers traced across the mark, "well Draco I'll have admit, this is a great improvement from Voldemort's, very beautiful." She added, removing her hand from his arm she raised it to the top of the hood and pushed it back, revealing his face. "Now that's better...much better."

"Join you? And you'll give me 'anything' I want?" she replied smirking, "hmmm seems I've heard that one before."

A brow visibly raised as his hood was removed, but he made no direct action about it, other than reconciling his arm and brushing askew silvery strands from his Grey eyes, and not to mention arching an inquisitive brow.

His head swiveled in her direction to face her, his face an expressionless mask, as his orbs studied her slowly. "Hmm, so they expected it then? Maybe I'll have to change it to an internal mark," he said wryly, laughing at her evil comments and at the thought of marking someone inwardly. "And I don't doubt that you've heard it from others, but on this particular occasion, I'm the one with the sheer power to actually make good on those promises."

He sighed suddenly, resting his palms flat on his lap before rising from the bed, seemingly returning to the shadows. "Have a decision then? Or should I have my people called you?" More wry humor.

"Well now that depends on what you can or plan to or rather are willing to offer me, I thinks it's rather obvious what I can offer, I would be an excellent...umm ally." Bringing her feet out from her position of sitting on them, and swinging them over the edge of the bed, she as well stood up and walked up to him.

Unlike Draco, Tallis hadn't grown, 5'4", and still very slight, he seemed to dwarf her, but anyone who truly knew her would know not to make the huge mistake of attempting to threaten or attack her. Standing before the blond boy/man, she looked up at him, still wearing a smirk, "it'll have to be a very tempting offer, a very high rank of course, and....don't expect me to call you master, unless it's for a...hmmm good reason."

Both brows were arched at her words, stormy-Grey orbitals following her as she approached, cocking his head at a slight angle as the barely there light played across his tresses. He sighed, vaguely exasperated at the demurity he should've expected, though of course, he'd play it cool, and act as if he'd not noticed the suggestive vibe that barely hid behind it all.

Crossing his arms over his torso once more, the limbs rising with his calm breathing, he offered a faint smirk. "A good ally, true, but that's not why I came here. I came here out of the knowledge that you were always a friend, and I yours," he drawled cuttingly, peering down at the shorter woman in an almost business-like demeanor. "And you'll just have to name your price, and I'll have to see what I can do about it."

His lips curled a little more, as he lifted his hood onto his head once more.

The smirk faltered slightly at the obvious rebuff, but she managed to bring it back, albeit forced but still there. Remaining silent, she simply watched him, his every move.... Not unlike a predator. Suddenly she broke her gaze and spun around on her heels, her long silver colored dress, a shade barely noticeable in the darkened room, swished around, gently brushing by his legs. Walking over to where pair of very expensive looking, knee length black leather boots lay strewn on the floor next to the bed. Pulling them on, she reached into the bed pulling out a long dark green velvet coat, quickly putting it on.

Tallis marched across the room, stopping just before the door, "I'm hungry Draco, and there's a muggle buffet nearby..." she whispered. Although no one else was around to hear her, she couldn't take the chance. "I'll meet you at 'your' place in a couple of hours...and yes I know where it is. We can discuss...my price there."

Watching her as she moved around the room once more, he shifted weight between his feet, godly clean dress shoes scuffing on the oaken floor slightly. He arched a silvery brow as she scurried about for the boots, though sighed, leaving it at that.

With a curt nod that sent his silvery strand forward slightly, he let his hands dangle freely at his sides. "That'll work. Don't be late; I've things to do like...trample over small Muggle communities."

With a lingering sneer reminiscent of the Cheshire cat's grin, he disappeared, disapparated, and knew that all there was left to do was wait.

---

A figure sat in the dim pub, thick cloak obscuring any identifying signs. No one else sat in the small-secluded room, the only object besides the furniture a mug upon the tabletop. A delicate hand emerged from the robes, lifting the mug up to the hidden profile.

Digits tapped upon the wooden surface of the table; she had taken time to come here and was afraid of rousing suspicion. Hood unsheathed head turned to observe the other occupants of the pub. It wouldn't do at all to be caught in these early crucial moments. Musing to her, 'No, it wouldn't do at all.'

Unexpectedly and with no needed introduction, a cloaked figure pulled up a seat and made himself at home. At the very table the female has claimed as her own, slender arms folding on the tabletop, revealing alabaster white skin. His hood, like hers, was pulled up, silken fabric shrouding him from prying eyes, and his robes and suit underneath made of matching black as well.

"Not a very good place to be alone," came a drawled chuckle, the voice floating smoothly, like velvet. "Especially when you look so...guilty of something."

The devil himself had arrived, and he had an apparent proposition, too.

A honey-toned voice emerged from the depths of the hood. "Well then, I should be even more thankful of your appearance," the voice intoned. "So thankful, in fact, I would be willing to buy you a drink, if you should lower yourself enough to dine on what an establishment such as this has to offer." Aristocratic hands again emerged, gesturing to the surrounding rooms.

Aware that a such a proposal was about to occur, one foot tapped lightly, soundlessly, in a cognizant-like manner against the wooden boards of the floor.

Even though the hood was raised, the man turned his palm upward, elbow propping his arm up, and rested his chin upon it facilely, watching the other cloaked figure from beneath the hood with predatory eyes. He shifted slightly, attired hissing and rustling as if in protest with the action, before clearing his throat, apparently just going to 'cut to the chase,' per se.

"Ministry worker are you?" he questioned softly, drawl steady, discarding the fact that one might wonder how he knew. "Even so, that still leads me to say that your loyalties and/or services may be of use elsewhere."

The hood was lifted up somewhat, just enough to reveal a damnable smirk, before being lowered again.

Steeping delicate fingers in front of the hooded profile, intent eyes gazing steadily at the other form. Lips parted, silky tones released. "Not just any old ministry worker," she mused, alluding to the rather prestigious position she held.

The satiny voice continued. "You always were an intuitive one m'dear; my services *and* my loyalties could definitely be effectively used in elsewhere..." One slender finger trailed around the upper rim of the mug.

Eyes discerned the smirk; just the sight of it was enough to draw one from her own lips. Emerald oculus continued to gaze at the male, a confirmatory look in their intellectual depths.

At her agreeing, the lithe figure suddenly rose from the seat, robes cascading down his sides to pool at his ankles in seemingly watery form of obsidian. Pale palms lay flat on the table as the hooded figure seemingly chuckled. When he moved his palms, though, a single piece of parchment lay on the table. It contained an address to 'D. Malfoy Estates' in Hogsmeade, which was just down the small village's road.

He didn't say anything about it; he didn't have to. It was clear he wanted her to go there whenever, for whatever reasons. And without another words, he disapparated, with a final hiss of a gentle passing breeze.

Grasping the parchment in her hand, intense eyes perused it quickly. One hand lifted the mug to a hood obscured mouth, and then set it back down once the contents were emptied. Supple frame pushed upwards, a sickle thrown carelessly upon the table, the girl disapparated immediately.

---

---

Tallis Cysgod stopped outside the huge Mansion, she had been there several times previously, although when it was empty. Her eyes gazed across the huge building, as they did usually, the house was beautiful, and she had thought several times that she could get used to living in such a place.

Walking up the few steps, she neglected to knock on the door, she was expected, and knowing Draco he already was aware of her presence. A fact proved by the unlocked door, inside the house was even more opulent than what was expected, but incredibly tasteful. "I have to admit, my dear, you have exquisite taste" she called out to the house. He was nearby, and would surely hear that.

Walking quickly through some corridors, her coat and dress billowing out behind her, she opened the large ornately carved double doors, reminiscent of the one's that led to the Great Hall at Hogwarts, although on a smaller scale. 'Ah Hogwarts again' she thought as she sighed.

The doors opened, led to a large dining room, and a rather long dining table, and sitting at the end of the table, the new Dark Lord himself. Smirking, once again, Tallis sauntered into the room, similar to the way she would enter the Great Hall a few years ago.

Arriving at the end of the table, she stood beside his chair facing him, "Well now you have me in a good mood...that is a rare treat...but I believe we have a few things to discuss first".

A series of magical devices had sounded off the minute that approaching female had set foot on the premises, always announcing in advance, mostly for safety precautions, an incoming visitor. A vague smirk had settled over his lips; her punctuality was admirable, and really, he couldn't be kept waiting, could he?

When she had entered the vast dining hall, it was dimly lit, a few sparse candles bracketed on the walls of smooth Grey/black/creme marble, the floor solid obsidian marble, and a large oaken table right in the center of the vast room, throne-like chairs lining it. The room was basically empty aside from the table, suits of armor, and portraits adorning and decorating the scenery. Four pillars stood in the room as well made from the same marble as the walls, one in each of the Four Corners of the room. Basically, he'd built a dining area to rival Hogwarts's Great Hall.

And he merely sat there as she had approached, leaning back languidly in a chair all the way at the end of the table, palms resting on the midst of his abdomen, rising gently with steady breathing. Heavy-lidded, icy Grey orbitals cocked up as her as she stood, and ever so slowly, a hand moved itself to gesture for her t sit, and quickly replaced itself on his stomach. He was dressed in all black, it being his favorite color; his robes were a flowing black made of silk, which dragged the floor and flared out whenever his strode in haughty grace; the clothing beneath the robes was a black suit, beneath the suit a black, button-down dress shirt, and to top it off, black loafers/dress shoes. The whole colorless ensemble set off his features, a ghostly pale white, the color of fresh milk, with chiseled cheekbones set in just right, frame by a growing head of silvery tresses. He could be an angel, but in fact, he was far from it.

After a nod and fixing his face with an expression that spoke of nothing but some sordid form of business, he prepared himself to speak; he didn't want to get to...relaxed...with the situation until he was sure it was going to work. Pale lips parting, "You expected any less in my taste of living?" he briefly asked, before waving a hand adorned with slender digits, caressing drawl soft in the already silent room, making it seem like a roar, almost. "No matter. Yes, we *do* have some things to sort out, but I do believe the ball is in your court, per se, seeing as it's your price that I must *try* to accommodate."

He arched a brow, leaning forward to fold his arms on the oaken table, finely polished, and interlacing his digits. He'd stay perfectly stony until things were through and done with. Once one signed their existence over to him, he knew they couldn't rightly ever reform. So, he had to stay pressing and slightly commanding until he was sure this was working, that she was an ally, that they were - after all the years - still friends. On guard always - especially if you had much to be on guard about.

Giving a slight nod, she took him upon his offer and sat down at a nearby chair. Leaning back, she placed her hands on the ends of the chair arms, and crossed her legs, causing her silver dress to spill out from the dark green velvet coat.... Old habits die-hard.

"I've given this quiet some thought of course, I was just wondering when you'd get around to asking me, but I must say I'm a bit disappointed at your delay." She broke off her speech, and remained silent for a few moments, but all the while kept her gaze on him. Breaking her silence she continued, "but, lets get a few things sorted, first relax Draco, I'm yours..." she smirked at this, and briefly hesitated. "I won't betray you, a word of warning though, don't make the same mistakes Voldemort made, I've got a few ideas as to how this should be done, but I'll better leave that for a bit later. I want the power as much as you do, I understand your the one in charge, you wouldn't have been in Slytherin if you were willing to share the glory equally. But I require that I have at the very least the rank of next in command that you listen and heed to my suggestions. Don't bother me with offer's of money not much of a necessity for me, never has been and still isn't."

Finally breaking her gaze, her violet eyes wandered around the room, taking in the huge room and the massive bare table, before returning to stare back at the Grey orbs she had so missed. "No house elves, Draco?" she added.

The interlaced hands were brought upward, Draco's chin placed upon them and thus, his face tilted slightly upward, as he eyed her appraisingly as she stated her wants. They were, for the most part, understandable, negotiable, but still, there would be kinks that'd need to be worked out and some in some instances, just play it by ear.

"Would I give you any less than second in command?" he finally spoke after some certain, deathly, silence, depraved half-smirk gracing pallid labia. "I'll at least hear your ideas, dear," he added levelly, "but if they're a bit out in the left field of what I'm aiming for, you'll understand if I don't actually 'heed' them. As much as this is an opportunity to have you in my ranks, it's also an benefit for both of us, and I won't play the Lap Dog role just because I'd like you on my side, so I do hope you're not saying I *must* use your every idea." He arched his brow to accentuate his point, as he *was* the one wreaking havoc on the magical community and shouldn't have to render to another's way. Albeit, if her ideas were good, he'd not mind - he just didn't like the way it seemed that she was saying, "use my ideas or else."

Turning the mood slightly lighter, he rolled his icy orbitals at the query of the servant creatures, nodding. "They're somewhere around here, but they know to make themselves scarce when I'm in one of my meetings; I don't aim on making the same mistakes Father did, speaking about things in front of the treacherous little wretches," he explained, in seemingly one, easy breath. "But, if you're hungry or need something..." he offered as an afterthought.

Smiling at his reply, "that's good to hear, it's more or less what I expected from you anyway, but I had to hear you say it, you understand. And I'm pleased you have your staff under control.... Which brings me to another request, or should I say demand. I'm not going to have the tattoo, as much as I admire it, it's very beautiful, but...I'd rather remain the silent partner."

Uncrossing her legs, Tallis stood up to slowly wander around his chair, arriving at his other side, she leant against the table, placing her arms behind her, and her hands on the table. "Now.... Hmmm master is it?" she giggled "what are your plans?"

His head swiveled to follow her movements, nothing more than an arched brow as she leaned against the table so languidly, causing him to lean back, arms now folded over his torso once more. His tongue audibly clacked against his palate, lips slightly pursed, as he let her words register. And of course, her demand was slightly a problem even *he* bore the dragon mark, and he expected no less, especially from a ranking officer, so to speak.

He chortled derisively. "You see, there's a problem then. I even bare the mark, if not for the sake of unity, to give the others a sense of 'equality.' You, as a high ranking officer, would have to do the same," he argued coolly, briefly closing his eyes. "Or...unless you've become a cowardice these passed few years and are deathly afraid of the ministry discovering it." His latter comment was undoubtedly a challenge. And in a more predatory sinister whisper, "Perhaps you're just afraid to be...owned." He'd gotten Darker in attitude over his transition, a sadist at best. It was a consuming art, to be enveloped in the Dark Arts, and he found himself barely clinging to the edges of humanity sometimes.

He made no start at the master quip because he was basically. One gave up oneself for power, in essence.

Her eyes narrowed slightly at his response, but her expression otherwise remained unreadable. Suddenly, and incredibly quickly, she pushed herself from the table and placed her hands on Draco's chair, arms gripping them.

She drew her face closer to his, it was a very dangerous stance to take, but there were boundaries to be tested, and besides that she was in a playful and well...amorous mood. "Not 'afraid' of being owned...'master'.... Just not overly thrilled with the idea" she replied her voice steady and half-whispering. Her face now hovering over his, she continued, determined to have her say before he retaliated, "you know what has happened to me since I left Hogwarts? Well I really should say you have an idea of what has happened, but I doubt you have a full understanding of what I am. I do not tolerate threats, either actual or implied."

Again she was testing the boundaries, 'perhaps taking it a bit too far' she thought, feeling for the first time in a long time slightly nervous. Keeping her grip on the chair, she remained still, awaiting, preparing for the backlash.

As she got up and braced herself upon his chair, the blond man simply let himself lean back in the chair, holding her narrowed gaze evenly with his own icy orbs, ignoring a single tendril of silvery tresses that hung in his visage. While she may be a great friend and an even great ally, he *was* the conqueror here. The one to work and pick up the opportunity to get where he was, and he surely wasn't about to allow her to call all that shots, nor let her think he'd *let* her.

He scoffed, lips twisting in some sort of sordid delight, cocking his head at an angle. Of course, he could've easily disapparated from the chair and have been free, but he was up for a good game. And besides, he had to get his say in. He was in charge here, after all, and he didn't have to let her join anything. It's not like she was the only vampire in the world that'd be useful.

"You listen to me, and you listen well," he stated firmly, face going intent and firm and commanding, a knack he'd mastered from commanding his own little armies. "I may not *know* of all you've been through. I may not have lived it, but it's not my fault." He paused, keeping his quiet command laced with possible anger, Grey orbs flashing. "But you, like everyone else, will bare the mark. It's *not* an option. While you may hold certain priorities over the others, *I* control things here, and just as you don't tolerate threats - not that any were given, a bit of paranoia on your part - neither do I. Nor do I tolerate being ordered around." The last statement was hissed.

And suddenly, he did what he thought of earlier, disapparated from the chair, reappearing behind her, leaning on the table with arms crossed. "I worked to get where the hell I am today, and it's by sheer privilege that I'm offering you anything. I'd advise you not to push your waning welcome; don't think your little affliction scares me for one second."

He'd gained certain powers, as it was, much like Voldemort had. He could do certain summoning and spells without a wand, but it drained him often times, so he only saved it for particularly bothersome occasions, and this wasn't one of those times. This also meant that his powers *with* a wand were scarily phenomenal...and he liked to called it, quite sadistically, 'The Hand of God.'

But he sat there, smirking at the fact the she was on his turf, and he clearly had a commodity. She'd be an idiot not to bend.

She listened to his reply, and when he disapparated and she was left still gripping the chair arms, looking down at an empty chair she sighed. Knowing well enough not to push him any further, enough had been done already, Tallis remained silent, stood up, but kept her back to him. Boundaries stated she decided she'd said and done enough, the tone in his voice said it all. Now it was time to submit to his will.

Turned to face him once again, smirking, and nodded to him in her usual way to let him know all was understood. Raising a pale hand she moved closer to touch his face in an affectionate gesture she had done many times before, but stopped her, unsure if it would be accepted. Closing her hand she quickly drew it back to herself, and took a step back, the smirk fading as she did.

In an instant she had undone her coat, removing it from her body she threw it back, the coat landed draped across his chair. Pulling back the sleeve of her dress on her left arm, exposing her forearm, and presenting.... Offering it to him. "Well then" she finally said "let's get started shall we?"

As he watched her turn around in some sort of resignation, an easy smirk crept across his face once more, though faded when she wavered between touching him or not, sighing in apparent frustration. Unfolding his arms and lifting himself from the table and approached her, all the while maneuvering one hand through the folds of his robes, reaching his hand into his back trouser pocket and retrieving his wand. With his left hand, he grasped her wrist, firmly forcing the arm straight out as he pressed his wand into the flesh of her arm.

He paused, though, before casting the very spell that would make her one of his own, Grey orbitals drifting upward to narrow on her, as if in thought. Slowly, an unkind smile curled his lips. "Scream," he drawled mysteriously, and with good reason. Not a minute later, he muttered something, a brilliant silver light bursting onto the tender skin, marring it forever. And it was a process that inflicted undue amounts of pain. Call him a sadist.

He'd always been dark, cunning, and predatory. But these days, it had been worse. Power was a self-consuming commodity, and he'd slowly grown more stony and apathetic, not having had a true friend around to keep his 'head straight.' He wasn't quite sure whether to berate Tallis or embrace her, especially since he darker attitude shift. It was like learning to be human again and being reacquainted with humanity he thought he'd left behind.

Tallis relaxed when Draco made his approach, but tensed when he gripped her wrist, a bit too tightly which surprised her. He appeared to be much stronger than what she had expected. She watched curiously as he placed his wand on her arm, and told her to 'scream', "what the..." she queried, but was unable to finish as an intense pain shot through her arm, at first, and then throughout her body. It felt almost like the Cruciatus curse, something she had become familiar to years ago. He needn't have told her to scream it was something that she would have done regardless.

Letting out a cry, clearly one of pain and most likely heard throughout the manor, Tallis began to writhe and finally wrenched her arm out from his grip. Holding her arm close as if such an action could cease the pain still searing though her arm, she looked up at him and snarled. She was angry, but she was angry with herself, for letting her guard down, and not expecting to feel much or any pain.

Returning her attention to her arm she held it out, it was beautiful, this mark, and the exact duplicate of what Draco wore. As she gazed at it, she couldn't help but smile, although it was a rather sad smile. She had managed to resist Voldemort, so why had she given in so quickly and easily to Draco.

There was so much she was still unsure of, except this, she now belonged to Draco..."so now what?"

As Tallis writhed under the spell, Draco had unclasped his slender digits and somehow managed to block out the discomfort of the other, as a mechanical reaction. He busied himself by folding his arms over his torso and inspecting the ivory tips of his fingernails, until the squirming subsided, until she was able to utter something coherent.

At being addressed, he brought his gaze over to her and let and smirked vaguely, tilting his head at a curious angle, which sent several strands of silvery hair askew. "What? Expecting a party?" he drawled, eyebrows quirked, almost mockingly. "Your initiation pretty much was my plan for the evening. I guess you could say...I'm on vacation." His bemused expression took on smug sadism, ivory features devilish. "But I suppose you could hear my latest conquest..."

He was obviously toying, dropping off and not finishing his sentence. He began to walk, striding around the table and letting his nimble digits caressing the unmarred wood.

Growling once again, but shut herself up quickly, she found it infuriating when people obviously about to say something important would suddenly stop. And, she still desired him, more so now than ever before, he had become even more beautiful, but it appeared that Draco's enjoyment of teasing and tormenting had grown since they were last together. It was probably in her best interests to not let on that fact, inwardly she cursed herself for faltering just a few moments before.

Tearing her gaze away from him, and turned towards a window she noticed the sky was turning the dark blue it did just before the dawn. Normally she kept an eye on the time, but this night there had been too many distractions. "Draco, can you tell me about this latest conquest somewhere...more secluded?"

By the time the query had reached his ears, the lithe male had moved into a lavished corridor, composed of the same, smooth marble of the dining hall, and was taking easy steps, polished shoes sending reverberating 'clicks' and 'clacks' around the passageway. He paused long enough for her to follow if she would, onyx robes swishing with the sudden halt and wrapping around his lower calves before righting itself, as he flicked his wrist and sent several torches in their strategically placed brackets afire, lighting the way to a descending stairway.

The sheen of the new light reflected eerie gold hues on the naturally silvery tendrils, as well as sent dancing images across glacier-blue orbs. He out-heighten Tallis by a good 4-5 inches all the same, a fact he noticed, remembering when he was only just above her.

He began to walk; again, much in the same fashion that he had began moments ago, gesturing to the staircase. "It leads to the basement area," he drawled casually, his demeanor shifting from commanding. "The basement holds cells, torture devices, wine, and even some specified guestrooms, if you know where to look. All hidden, of course, so if that suits your needs." Once more, he needed not finish his statement.

"And by the by," he added from nowhere, "a simple tap of your wand will make your mark invisible for awhile from prying eyes. Unlike Riddle, I've taken precautions... and then some."

There was even almost a smug smirk to his voice, much like the one like graced his milky-white labrums.

Out of thin air, a cloaked figure appeared surreptitiously on the predestined doorstep. Stepping forwards, one delicate hand emerged from the murky depths of the robes, knuckles rapping sharply on the unmarred wood of the door.

Taking one step backwards, the other hand emerged from the pooling cloak, and, both reaching upwards, pulled the large hood back only slightly; revealing the silhouette of an elegantly aristocratic profile.

One slender digit reached upwards, tucking a curling golden tendril behind one ear. Raising emerald oculus to the door, she waited for a response of some sort.

"Hmmm torture devices, now that could be fun" she muttered, sniggering. Turning to him, she looked up, smirking, "seems you've thought of everything, I've got to hand it to you Draco, you do surprise me...and that is something I most definitely admire."

She began to descend the stone steps, but stopped 4 steps down, and again turned to him, "I think we are going to have a lot of fun, you and I," she winked at him and turned back to continue her descent. Thinking to her, wishing that she hadn't turned back, looking up at him standing on top of the steps she again felt an overwhelming desire for him. She couldn't help it, having such intense feelings came with the territory of being a vampire.

But taking such an action would have been a mistake, he already had enough control over her, she wasn't about to let him have complete control. Sighing heavily she thought....'Yes this is going to be fun, but also incredibly difficult, I'll need a distraction or a few'

At a standstill atop the small flight of matching marble stairs, Grey orbs watched with something akin to predatory amusement as she descended, hearing her words all too well and inwardly agreeing all the same. "Haven't we always had fun, though?" he drawled from atop, still not moving down. "I mean, who could've asked for more than making frolicking around campus with the Mudbloods?" His sarcasm was obvious, but their friendship in school did have an assortment of mischievous and mean-spirited quirks throughout, things almost any person like the two of them found 'fun,' at those ages anyway.

Now, fun would be different, surely. Advanced a challenge. Power, suffering. Just the thought, as if sharing a secret thought with Tallis, caused an easy smirk to quirk his lips.

Suddenly, however, the lean figure whirled around, a flurry of black silk squishing around him to emphasize the hasty movement; several of his spell alarms were going off, per se, and thus signifying a visitor, on he'd been expecting, he presumed. Projected, slightly hazy, images of the figure appeared with a clap of his slender hands together, flesh on flesh sounding off the hollow entrance to the stairwell, and he recognized the woman as the acquaintance from Hog's Head, the one of which he'd offered a position to.

Stepping behind her, he placed a hand on the small of her back, sort of steering her in the direction he desired. He could be himself all the same...sometimes.

"Yes, I certainly expect so" she replied, grinning, but kept her back to him. Turning halfway around him, she again looked up at him, sighing softly to herself. About to turn back and continue her descent when what sounded like alarms went off. Spinning around, she watched him curiously, as he seemed to expect the disturbance. Unable to see what he was looking at from where she stood, Tallis smirked at the apparent smug look on his face as he walked down towards her.

She hadn't noticed that the torches hadn't been on, well then why would she have? "So what have you sent the elves for? Follower or victim?" she asked as they entered the dungeon, and began to walk towards some large wooden doors.

Shoes clicking on the stone floor, seemingly made of a black marble in this particular section, an audible, though scathing, laugh crept forth and passed his lips, as they encroached upon a small guest room to await the arrival of the expected.

The room itself had walls of a creamy hue, the same black marble floor on the outside served as the floor here. It was square in structure, Grey-black-white pillars of marble in the Four Corners, as a four-poster with black velvet hangings was obtrusively visible and adjacent from the door. Oddly enough, though, the room contained no windows, but artificial light, much like that of Hogwarts's Great Hall, on the ceiling. There were other sparse furnishings, but overall, the room was big enough to house four people and never have them brush passed each other when walking.

And seeing as he lived in such grandeur his whole life, he paid no attention to the surroundings, idly, yet slowly, pacing the room. The lower extremities of the silk-composed ensemble swayed with each minute step, as silently unreadable pale-azure orbs rested on the floor beneath his feet, as if it held a great importance. He was pondering; something he did a lot of; a conqueror couldn't afford to be an idiot.

Cranium to tilted at the glassy floor, fallen platinum tresses framing angular features in a silken halo; he began a retort once more. "The elves are 'fetching' the latest in corrupt Ministry members," came the reply, and though the smirk had faded from his subtle lips, there was the personification of one to his tone. "She could be a key element to getting what we need, you see. If she doesn't bail, in which case, I would hesitate to cease her existence myself."

Finally, his pate inclined, again, pale-blue eyes reflecting a silent, internal storm of things done, seen, wanted, needed, and desired. All obscure and unreadable, though, as he masked them, only leaving the haunting whom in the wake they're after. There was a question there, expecting for her to inquire about their 'need' and plans of the future.

The opulence of the room, briefly tore her attention away from Draco, she of course knew that the light was artificial, but it was nice as she didn't experience it very often. It was when he stopped pacing the room that she was brought back to him. Sensing his presence close by, she shivered as she quickly pivoted and stood just before him. The desire she felt for him was becoming unbearable, whether it was his ability to remain a enigma around her, the power, or his incredibly handsome features, or his charm, wit and intelligence, or the combination of all. It was beginning to consume and distract her. With anyone else she would have, by now at least, already be lying in the bed, exhausted. But, this was different...very different...and she feared his rejection almost as much as she feared the sun.

Clearing her throat and folding her arms across her small waist, she began to pace the room. Raising her head and gazed into his beautiful pale eyes, trying, and yet again failing to read them. So much, too much perhaps was happening behind them that it was impossible to read. "Well then, just what is it can she supply us with? I know the goal is domination, but how are you planning to push ahead with this?" She said calmly, becoming more focused. You've made your alias known, and fear is beginning to spread once again...well done, by the way..." she paused for a moment, placing a slender finger on her lips, before continuing her pace, suddenly stopping as she again found herself standing before him.

Her eyes glazed over as she watched his chest rise and fall from beneath the silk cloth, never before had she seen such immaculately fitted clothes. Forgetting her resolve to keep her distance, she lifted a pale hand, placing it on the silk. Gently dragging her fingers down across the buttons of his waistcoat. "Exquisite" she said aloud, thinking more about the man beneath the cloth.

Listening to her words, a single brow arched, as he tucked his arms behind his back, poised and calculating, gauging her words. He sensed the probing gaze she'd given when he eyes lingered on his, and instinctively, even though he knew his eyes were a turmoil of things and therefore unreadable, his fair blue orbs turned elsewhere, staring just off the side of her head at something.

He kept his still stance, his only movement for a long while being his breathing, until pallid lips parted to give his retorts. "One concept that'd be helpful, you see, is always to infiltrate the Ministry; it's a timeless plan that's never steered any Dark wizard wrong. Just depends on whom one chooses, and I think she's reliable - well, if she's as smart as she portrays, she is," he explained evenly, speaking slowly and surprisingly quietly, drawl flowing like a wrapping caress. "And if we get enough, we'll have the only governing body secretly aiding us without the goody-goody pillocks having a clue." The faintest hint of a smirk twitched at the right corner of his lips.

And when all had gone quiet, he'd made no direct moves, at first, to cease Tallis's daring touching. Icy orbs watching the hand slide down the smooth fabrication of the outfit, all of the deepest onyx shade, and of course silk, just like the robes he wore on the outside of them. He finally moved, though, arms raising to tuck the fallen silvery strands of before behind his elfin ears, and on a reflex, a hand shot out to grip hers and halt it, firmly but gently.

One might have expected him to push it away and scold her, play the untouchable god role. But instead, in his infinite enigma, he lifted the feminine hand to his lips and pressed them gently to the back of her palm, a gentlemanly kiss he was used to giving at social functions he'd had the boring luck of having to attend and/or host.

To further add to the mystery, an obscured murmur was given against the palm: "Your insistence is flattering."

Tallis let out a short gasp at the touch, it was unexpected the feeling of his lips on her skin, it sent a shiver down her back. Gazing up at him, she smirked "and your resistance is infuriating" she replied, half teasingly, half seriously.

Taking back her hand, she stood back, and walked over to the bed, her back to him, she lifted the same hand to her own lips, kissing the same spot. Her long dark hair hiding this action, she quietly sighed, before sitting on the bed. Or rather jumping up onto it as it was a bit too high for her.

Placing both hands in her lap, "Well then, shall we begin?" she began her voice taking on a serious tone, and changing the subject, rejection was something she never handled very well. "Where is this potential follower?"

Finding the smooth wooden surface of the door opened by a house elf, she assumed she was to follow the menial creature. Heels click quietly, long coal lashes blinked over intense eyes, observing the fascinating furnishings. Black cloak billowed behind the lithe form, concealing the garb underneath.

Taken down a staircase, she was confronted by two people, who she knew were obviously not incompetent creatures like the elves. In fact, they were much more. Just how much more to her in particular would soon be determined.

Lips parted, releasing the silky Scottish drawl. "Hello," she began her tone surprisingly pleasant and amiable. One hand was drug through the smooth golden tendrils, sending them into silky disarray. "How are both of you?" she queried, now just making the usual socially polite gestures.

Her form was held straight, delicate, ivory-skinned hands clasped together, hanging loosely in front of her. Emerald orbs glanced briefly around the room, observing all the various accoutrements, ebony lashes blinking occasionally.

A single brow arched, enigmatic smirk fading as soon as it curled his lips, spinning on his heel to turn away from Tallis. He'd gone silent, cold, his demeanor now stony and detached as it'd done so often in the passed few years. Yes, he wasn't quite human, though not yet an immortal. What little conscience he truly possessed had been locked away, beaten down to near death, and he didn't plan on letting it reemerge anytime soon. Not when he was this close.

He had thought by at least giving the smallest of intimate gestures, being a kissed palm, that it would sate his long time friend enough to put her inner turmoil - whatever it was - at ease. But no, she'd, obvious to me, shrugged it off. He wasn't sure he could -love- anyone, especially someone who'd been obscured to his contact for years.

He always believed himself incapable of love anyway; he wasn't raised on it, and in fact, Father had told him that it got in the way of everything. It did - it was the one weakness sure to get any fool who let it. He might screw someone, sure but love him or her? Ha. That'd be asking for the universe, which he could very well deliver, but would he want to?

Even in his adult years, his father's words were his Bible sometimes, though with his own drastically sadistic twist. In fact, bitterly, he wondered how dear old Daddy was taking the news that his son had surpassed him. He mentally scoffed.

However, it was for instances such as these that made him -not- miss the fact that he planned on killing off a good portion of mankind, made him -not- miss the fact that he'd grown apathetic. He did, however, understand that one of the keys to ruling all would be having happy...'minions.' He'd just have to deal with little fact later.

All his musings vanished however, inclining his head to meet a figure materializing from the marble corridors. A vague gleam of things unkind passed behind pale azure oculus and died as soon as it came, in the wake there after, the eyes haunting. Draco Malfoy these days was a rarely scene spectra and with unknown to many, but good, reason.

His hands were tucked behind his back, the stance of an appraising businessman, as his eyes peered over at Michelle. He was still for a long moment, as if frozen, angular features, right down to the finely chiseled cheekbones unflinching. He advanced eventually however, platinum strands wavering with his movement, as he extended a hand by way of greeting. "Draco Malfoy. But you may know me more prominently as Dragondeargenté...not that Malfoy isn't a prominent name in itself." His tone was still refined, and this time it was civil, but not more than that, as he revealed his secret ever so casually. It gave away nothing and behind it there was a personification power, even without trying for it.

While the good-will gesture of asking their well being may have impressed the best stockbroker, that wasn't the blond spectra's trade. No, he was in the trade of conquering, and therefore, with the cliché entailed, talk is merely cheap. A stony, forced smile finally spread its away across snowy hued labrums. "You gave me reason to believe that you could be of some help to us," he began again, the 'us' including his fleet of followers; those dubbed the 'Dark,' as he flicked one wrist simply. "And if not, I don't think you'd have come here, seeing as I'd kill you if you refused me." The smile swayed to more depraved persuasions, as he bantered on in what was a decidedly eerie business manner. "My offer is simple, and I think rather clear from the start - join me. Us."

He turned away from the woman, pacing once more, loafers shuffling across black marble with the grace of gliding along, silken robes that shrouded a matching silk onyx suit sway with each minute movement, as if alive.

He was clearly thinking, as well as awaiting an answer.

Stepping forward, one dainty hand was extended, gently grasping the other one with elongated artistic digits. Intense eyes looked at the hand for a moment, as if observing it, before turning their gaze back to the harbinger of pain.

Releasing, she stepped backwards slightly, flaxen head cocked slightly to one side, listening intently. One dark, slender brow was raised upon hearing the confessions let forth so freely and again at the mortal fate she had so narrowly escaped with her affirmation. A slight clenching of the mandibles and a brief flutter of the coal-black lashes accompanied the latter as well.

The question at last posed something akin to a smile, albeit an eerily sadistic one fleetingly passed over the lips. Deep emerald oculus observed the pacing of the male. "Of course." Thus came the answer, as simply put as the question had been.

"Where do we begin?" was the next remark, making it sound as if the activity occurring was to be more like cleaning house or doing homework rather than enslaving and murdering a good half of the world's population.

Tallis sat on the bed, silent, and watched Michelle, who she remembered from Hogwarts, enters the room. She felt relieved for a diversion, feeling that the relationship between herself and Draco had gone horribly wrong, well for her at least. She had never really gotten to know Michelle, nothing new there considering she had kept to herself during those years.

Narrowing her eyes, she watched her in a way that was reminiscent of a cat stalking its prey. She was suspicious of this former Slytherin, but then. Of course she was suspicious of just about everyone.

Keeping her gaze on Michelle, staring intently, "well that was much easier than I thought it would be," she finally said. Jumping off the bed, Tallis sauntered over to her, slowly circling the girls but not taking her eyes off her, "do you even have a clue as to what you've just said...'of course' too? Somehow I doubt it or perhaps you're just a poor spy? Either way you'll have a short life..." she added with a glance, over at Draco. Wondering just what was he planning to do with Michelle now.

Without waiting for the male to reply, the dark-stranded female had risen, prowling around Michelle, and in all appearances giving her the third degree and then some.

The lithe frame held straight, tapered finger tips entwined slightly behind her back, the piercing intense gaze was kept mainly forward, the golden head turning only occasionally to glance at her appraiser.

The emerald orbs casting themselves briefly on the women, mild scorn hidden deeply within their depths, the midnight lashes blinking once, slowly. "My life is *my* own, to do with as I wish. To promise to whomever I wish. To serve whoever I wish." The Scottish tone was blatant, yet surprisingly pleasant. A very slight inclination of the flaxen head towards the man accompanied these words.

And the words were spoken truly, honestly. Perhaps her existence would be shortened in the service of the man, but she would die faithfully. It was simply a part of her passionate nature.

Pale azure oculus watched passively at first, not surprised but definitely annoyed by Tallis's sudden investigative demeanor. He had reasons for trusting whom he did, and in essence, by attacking someone he more or less recruited, it was an underlying attack on his judgement and Merlin forbid having his highness doing something inefficiently.

However, he had let each get their say in, pallid, pale labrums pursing in irritation, abruptly stepping forth and clearing his throat once Michelle finished her brief spiel, an ordering of silence almost, and even his swishing robes of coal-like silk stopped their flowing protest.

A cutting gaze the color reminiscent of infuriated blue tundra's switched between the two of them, reprimanding them silently for dawdling on -his- time. He towered easily now over the two, tall lean build, causing him to almost peer down in personified superiority, but there was always that air about him. Even as a mere wizard in training, he'd run ramped and belittled anyone. It'd only risen to new levels and worsened in the passed few years, and he'd truly earned and worked for - however depraved the cause and situation was - to have the right.

Just a subtly as he'd stepped up, he turned slowly, gracefully, on his heals, onyx loafers not even so much as scuffing on the matching-hued marble floor. His back was to them, arms tucked securely behind the said back, as he began to meander about, pacing painfully slow, as if each step was precisely calculated to fall in the area that it did.

Finally, he spoke, breaking the impending silence, a silence that seems to feel the ears and be audible. "While I'm ineptly flattered that you two would take the time to squabble over my league and beliefs and loyalty, I find it exceedingly stupid and annoying," he drawled flatly, voice nearly dead and quiet, but as he spoke. There were underlying commands, and the enchanted ceiling's faux sunlight seemed to flicker under the fury and power that he possessed. "It's through that sheer fact that you will refrain from acting like chicken-headed little girls in my presence and, more importantly, on -my- time."

A painstaking pause. "Everyone I choose to be in my ranks is as such for a reason and has my undoubted trust to an extent. To question their being here is to question me, which, in turn, is to make me question you and how just much you truly must desire to live if you do so."

A noise sounded off that was suspiciously like a scoff, a mocking laugh.

By this time, he'd stopped before a mirror, back still facing them as he peered into the glassy depths, making eye contact with the phenomenon that glared back. "Anyhow, plans." He'd adopted the civil, business tone, again, still watching himself in the mirror world, a slow smirk curling his lips as if he enjoyed what he saw. "Well, step one is under way; infiltrate the Ministry. Step two is perhaps the most important of any, though."

He dropped off here, keeping the suspense. While he may be the reigning Dark Lord, he was still Draco Malfoy, even if he'd grown to be too much like what he'd ought naught, and he still loved to pour on the dramatics.

Ever so slowly, icy orbs shifted from his own mirror-form to that of the women's, watching their reflected selves apathetically and also attempting to use a given Malfoy talent; reading people like books.

Silence fell once more.

Tallis's eye's flashed in anger at his words; she had never allowed anyone to belittle her without some sort of horrible and painful retribution. But this was Draco, and more than just Draco was this was the new Dark Lord and she had only just submitted to him. This consent changed everything; she would have to change...something she hadn't been prepared to do in a few years.

Clenching her fists tightly, as a fierce anger and confusion swept inwards of her; she slowly forced a blank look over her face. In silence she walked back to the bed and again jumping up on it, returning to her previous position, staring out around the room.

Vaguely aware of his attention back on herself and Michelle, she returned her the visage that so infuriated her. 'Careful Tallis, time to watch your actions again,' she thought, while returning his gaze.

Immediately regretting her rash words upon seeing the scorn of the man, Michelle had the grace to look slightly abashed, remorse showing slightly in the green eyes. The golden head was inclined slightly downwards, but the eyes still focused upon the male, looking for the entire world like an innocent young schoolgirl reprimanded by a teacher.

Perking her head up at a slight lull in the torrent, she listened mutely to the plan. 'Of course,' she thought to her, 'He intends for us to ask what part two is.' And this she did, looking up at him, a silent inquiry with the intense oculus, a slight raising of one dark brow.

Icy, azure oculus bore into the mirror images, a vague smirk beginning to tug at snowy-hue labrums. The silent inquiry did not disappoint, and in fact, there was a glimmer of gratitude that flitted across his orbs, though fading as soon as it came by mechanism.

Pallid-like, his tongue clucked atop his palate, as if in deep pondering, as he tilted his head in an almost wistful fashion, silken curtains of pale metallic hues leaned with the motion, free flowing; this had been well thought out and all be damned if it was ruined.

Confidently, the pale lips parted, a smooth drawl floating by and seemingly carried on the magical energy shared amongst the group. He was power, commanding, and at the same time, a glimmer of himself. "We're going to have to attain a coveted item...a crystal from a very rare breed of flying unicorn." There was audible sadistic titillation at his announcement. "The crystal comes from the tip of the horn and can be attained without killing the creature, which we -don't- want to do, seeing as we'd be damned. I don't know about you, but I do like my life just fine."

He actually laughed at this.

"The real trouble is finding the beast. I've been trying for the passed year - why? Because of the unfathomable power withheld by it. Even still, I'd like to...shake the wizarding community up a bit before totally rearranging it like a dollhouse of my choosing." He was so sure that it was almost surreal.

Swiftly, he turned on his heel, silken obsidian doubling around his legs at the abruptness, only to fall limp once more.

Arms crossed around the slender waist, robes pooling in a swirl of darkness as she seated herself on a bench, shoulders fitting comfortably into the paneling behind her. Running one hand absently through the flaxen tendrils, the other rubbing itself on one silk-covered thigh, deep emerald oculus stared upwards. An action brought on not by lack of attention to the subject at hand, but by attempting to glean information, dark recesses of the mind working to recall any useful information.

Tongue briefly dampening the surface of the lips, pearly teeth briefly nibbling on one corner. Raising the head, snapping the intense orbs back onto the male, she spoke. "What are some of the places you have checked? Tried the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts? What does this particular quest entail the use of?" she queried, in an attempt at helpfulness, curiosity blatantly splayed across the beguilingly innocent features.

Placing her elbows on the tops of her thighs, slender digits steeped before her the tapered tips tapping lightly against one another. Gazing briefly at the floor near the male's feet, an apparent return to concentration.

She sat, silent, watching him intently while a hand absently caressed the board at the end of the bed. Her fingers traced along the intricate design in the wood, as she listened to his words. It was time to watch and wait and she didn't trust herself to not say anything that would again upset him.

'A rare flying unicorn?' she repeated in her mind, trying to think if she had ever heard about it before. 'We'd be damned? Humph...got the T-shirt mate' she thought, but smirked at his words of disrupting the magical world. It had been something she'd wanted to do for ages, a type of revenge for shunning her, hating her, for their fear and ignorance, but she had felt helpless on her own. Just one of her reasons for joining with Dragondeargente.

Taking her eyes off Draco for a brief moment she glanced over at Michelle, thinking that she'd probably overreacted earlier, but that was the fault of her paranoia, she'd tried to rid herself of, but to no avail. Michelle appeared to be dedicated to the task, they had got along well together at Hogwarts, and now.... And now she would have to at least make the effort to continue that.

Her eyes narrowed as she wondered if Michelle had received the mark yet. She hadn't heard the girl scream in pain, which she most certainly would have, and she had thought she was the first to join with Dragondeargente.

Lithe figure, erect and towering, stood as if he was a fly on some such sticky paper, rooted in thought. Cerulescent oculus stared off and passed the threshold's portal, into the outside corridor, as he, too, did a mental once-over of just what the capturing of the crystal would entail. Well - aside from lots of manpower and sheer Dark magic, anyway.

At the same time, however, he seemed to be thinking on the same route as Tallis was. Indeed, Michelle hadn't been marked yet, and well, that'd have to be done before they got too far along.

Slowly, alabaster lids finally closed over optics briefly in a blink, reopening with a new glimmer of azure fire, dancing with proffered secrets waiting to be shared. In the same time frame, his pate turned silken cascades of argent tendrils swirling with it, to fix his gaze on Michelle.

"You'll find that out soon enough," he drawled quietly in the silence, barely above a soft whisper of smooth wind, "but as for now, give me your arm, dear."

An upper appendage was brought up, fist curled except for an index finger, which beckoned the woman to him, an almost enchanting gesture, as a predatory smirk tugged at either corner of his mouth, subtle lips amused. A wayward glance at Tallis beckoned her presence to him, too. It'd soon enough be found out why.

Lashes blinking rapidly, for a moment, she pondered why she had been beckoned. Then realization struck her like lightening. 'I haven't been marked yet...' she though.

Rising, in an almost trance-like state, sable robs pulled up along with the frame. Legs carrying her over to the man, moving as if she was called by an enchantment she was powerless to, and did not desire to resist.

Stopping a small distance before him, she rested the emerald gaze briefly on the angular face, before turning it slightly downwards. One hand reached out of its hiding place with the silken robe, pushing the left sleeve upwards, revealing the smooth ivory skin.

The silky flesh readily proffered before the man, she tilted her face upwards, the intense oculus gazing at his face almost trustingly. A sort of fear and apprehension, yet mingled with an enigmatic acceptance and trust, was vaguely apparent on the delicately beguiling features.

Her eyes glazed over as thoughts of what power the crystal would enable them to have the revenge she could invoke on those who had persecuted her in the past, and continued to.

Blinking, as Michelle was summoned to receive her mark, Tallis brought her attention to the two magical mortals in the room with her. Looking back at Draco, she smiled with some satisfaction that this new dark alliance was beginning to grow.

Catching his glance and recognizing his request she jumped off the bed and immediately and quickly walked over to him. Standing beside him, her hand grasping her other wrist behind her back, she looked between the two, smiling, and waited for what was about to happen next.

A pleased smile tugged at the corner of ivory-toned labrums, cerulescent optics sinking from her visage to the proffered arm, examining the unmarred flesh there. A chuckle bubbled forth, tinged with callus, at how that was all about to change.

As if gliding, smoothly, he backed up from the two, tucking both arms behind his dorsal side and interlocking them, smile turning into the signature smirk he wore ever since student hood, a gesture that spoke of days passed. Impossibly pale azure optics gleamed mysteriously, unkindly, as the fair-skinned man was on the brink of yet another apparent surprise.

Dislodging one tucked away arm, he elevated it facilely, slender digits running through ivory tresses, pushing them back, only to have them slide and pool on their usual perch, being the effeminately built shoulders. The arm was soon deposited again behind his back, looking every bit like a scheming angel, alabaster skin seemingly aglow in the dim light.

"Mark her, Tallis," the drawl came, the revelation, and it was delivered as a quiet purr, soft and inviting but left no room for arguments. Tallis wanted something to do...then let her do this. "And oh, dear-" his gaze turned to Michelle, piercingly blue as if probing the soul with ice for weaknesses, "-enjoy you're last moments of belonging to yourself. And don't forget to scream."

Violet eyes widened at the surprise of his words, slowly the corners of her cupids bow mouth curled upwards in a closed grin. Pleased with his gift of the control and power over someone, her face beamed. Tearing her attention away from her old friend/new master she faced Michelle, smiling warmly at the girl. The smile could be seen as disconcerting considering what she was about to do to the younger girl. Tallis hesitated, before beginning the initiation, binding this girl to her meant an added responsibility for her to Draco, but it was too late to turn back now. Wrapping her pale, slender hand around the left wrist of the new recruit, the coldness of Tallis' skin contrasting against the warmth of Michelle's, she took care to only add a slight pressure. Still unused to her increased strength since becoming a vampire she thought it best not to break any bones, just yet.

Pressing her wand against the soft underside of the girl's arm, Tallis recited the incantation she had memorized from when Draco marked her just a short time ago. Tightening her grip she waited for the silver dragon to be etched into the skin and for the inevitable reaction to the pain this would bring

Standing stiffly, simply listening, a slight hue of pink entered the otherwise pale features. It seemed almost as if she was watching this all happen to someone else, observing a scene in which she was merely a spectator, not an active participant.

Yet at the cold touch of the other girl, one that could almost be interpreted as cruel, she suddenly snapped back into reality with a slight, sharp intake of breath. The wand pressed against the smooth skin of her forearm, she heard the incantation.

The reflexive of those almost malicious sounding words was an instant, resounding pain, resulting in the expected action of her lips parting, releasing a scream that seemed to emerge from the inner depths of her soul. Emerald eyes originally focused on the forearm, they immediately rolled back, lids clamping shut, midnight black lashes fluttering at the inexpressible pain brought by the silvery threads being etched across her skin. A single tear, not commissioned, rolled down from one eye, leaving a glistening trail like sparkling diamonds behind it, before dropping off the lower jaw.

The arm of the hand not being 'operated' on clenched open and closed, almost spasmodically, as if it was searching for something to grasp, wanting to squeeze the pain out. The roving fingers clenched for a moment on the sable material of the robes, then finding that unsatisfactory, her hand simply clenched into a fist, the nails leaving shallow bloody marks on the pale inner palm.

Pain seeming to almost relieve for a moment, the screams momentarily stopped; she dared to open her eyes, sneaking a glimpse at the forearm. Her breathing was shallow and ragged, almost panting from the intensity of the previous scream. A slight moan involuntarily escaped the lips, seemingly beckoned from deep inside of her to reach the outside world.

Just when there had seemed to be a lull, it began again; a noise almost like a bleat escaping her lips before the nearly full-throttled scream began again.

Her mind was filled with an almost buzzing noise from the pain, making all other conscious thoughts and efforts impossible.

Pale azure optics watched intently, by this time, having moved back to take perch upon the solitaire bed furnished in the room. One slender leg crossed over the other at the knee, ivory palms flat out on his lap; aristocratic features only showed indifference to the sight his witnessed, as if either way, it was the same. Surely, this must hold true, becoming desensitized after living it as such he had.

And soon enough, it was done with, and as to announce the obvious, the ominous sound of his ivory column of throat was cleared, causing silken, argent tresses to shiver slightly with the vibrating.

"Not that that's done," he drawled quietly, just as if it was nothing, as he remained as calm as an ice prince, there but untouchable, "I daresay neither of you would object to dinner, hmm?"

An old, reminiscent smirk curved his pale lips as the offer was given, proving that he wasn't unsociable still, only a bit more...guarded.

Still holding Michelle's arm, Tallis returned his smirk and she pocketed her wand, "hmmm I don't recall feeling that much pain, poor you." she said facetiously, but her attention was on Draco.

"Dinner? Excellent idea" she replied as she dropped Michelle's arm which now bore the mark. In a flash she had grabbed the girls other wrist, and having easily jerked the fingers away she placed her cool lips on the warm palm and began gently sucking at the shallow wounds. A moment later she pulled her lips away. Dragging her tongue along her lips, "just fancied an appetizer, you don't mind do you?" she asked, but didn't wait for an answer. With a wink, as she at last let go of Michelle.

Wandering over to Draco she stood before him and held out her hands to him, smirking, "well then?' she said, as she waited to see if he would accept the gesture.

The marking completed, she gazed at her arm a moment, observing the delicate lines. At the cool pressure against her palm, she raised one eyebrow upwards, a look of mild surprise immediately apparent upon her face, evident in the emerald eyes.

"Anything to please..." she murmured sarcastically, her tone just slightly betraying her mild bewilderment.

Falling in behind the other two, waiting for them to lead the way, she noticed Tallis' actions towards Draco. Apparently, she was destined to play the part of the third wheel at this particular dinner.

A year. A year to the day, that the bronzed feminine had parted company with much venerated and revered masculine. Many a wise person had said absence makes the heart grow fonder. This contradicted the old saying Out of sight, Out of Mind. She, in her heart of hearts, had to opt for the first affirmation.

Deep, chocolate pools forming oculus seemed perpetually like sunrays streamed from them. They scanned the estate rolling out, playing like a scene from medieval times, the bravura, and significantly superlative castle dwarfing her petite-like curved, attractive figure by broad amounts. It astounded her how positioned he had made himself, but then again, she always knew that he was destined to be something great; not necessarily pure and good, but great none the less.

A striking, jade flecked emerald was set in a curving silver ring; the twisting metal forming that of a dragon; a present on their parting day from the snow kissed male himself. To keep her thinking of things past. The ring adorned her left hand, second finger across from the thumb. The only flesh protruding from cloak were her clasped hands, the bronzed, Sunkist digits entwining nervously. Other than that, the alien figure was swathed in robes of the purest white, a silver clasp clutching the two sides together in a grip of death. Hood lowered far enough to hide facade from prying eyes, she shifted, attention span easily severed from the glorious, rising display of the estate at hand.

The figure of the curvaceous female paused at the towering, intricately crafted doors, ivory tipped cremello enamels tapping the iron of the handles in deliberation. Never was one to shy, so ventured onwards, the marble floors of the entrance hall meeting her shoes with the tale-tell clacks of a hard sole. The ivory cloak still forming a barrier between her and the outside world, the hood was lifted, hands unlatching in order to peel back the silk coated polyester, baggy sleeves to the garment pooling at her elbows as she did so, revealing to the watching eye slender upper arms. The hood removed, nails raked through significantly flattened mahogany tendrils, the shoulder blade heightened strands flowing in their natural waves. Angular cheekbones flushed with slight red from the wintry zephyrs rustling the outside environment, tongue wet her lips, allowing top ivories to clasp lightly upon the naturally beige tanned bottom lip of her.

The amount she had changed was substantial; her height had remained the same, expecting to still be shorter than the pale masculine, but the rest of her had altered in subtle ways. Cheekbones were slightly more acknowledgeable than before, the jutting bones creating an aristocratically graceful aura about her. Figure had retained it's lithe, athletic form, yet allowing hips to curve to mould her into the subtle hourglass shape many women went through pain to achieve. Her eyes were the most noticeable. The tale-tell sign of hard work and the hardship of the world had begun to flicker gently within the captivating oculus. Ever so softly, but still there. If you searched long enough it was pinpointable.

And yet she remained silent, shoulders level in an elegant posture, cloak swathing her in snowy colors like a winter day. She knew that he would know there was an 'intruder'. After all, he was Draco Malfoy. He knew what security measures had to be taken.

Facilely, the antics of the two fatales were ignored, moving from his perch in the hastened hiss of silk shrouding robes and toward the door, where he indeed declined the proffered hand by Tallis, and instead, offered her an arm. However, his pate clad in argent tresses oscillated, viewing over his shoulder at the other girl, and blatantly gesturing that his other arm was obviously free.

And they set off, the winding distance of marble seemingly not long enough before they encompassed a short intersection, in which one could go outside, enter the dining hall, or take another corridor. But that was when ear-piercing wailing reached his ivory auricles, pate snapping to the side and sending argent tresses askew. The sturdy building went into an almost auto-lockdown, and systems were blazing in frenzy, seemingly millions and all pointed to the short distance away.

That was when cerulescent optics caught sight of an old friend, per se, whom stood there, radiating after all this time.

Inwardly, his mind whirled with questions, mainly as to why she was suddenly here, but outwardly he was as composed as ever. In his hurry with the alarms, he had drawn his wand and dropped the girls' arms, though the poised wand arm soon lowered, too.

Slowly, the signature smirk of old curved milky-toned labrums, and his drawl rang out, stopping a short distance to give her a once her. "Well, look what the trolls have dragged in, hmm?" He was obviously amused, speaking to all of them as if to ask appraisal, tall form peering at her curiously. Chiseled cheeks set a short distance below pale blues glinted, seemingly, in the fine torchlight that illuminated from the chandeliers above, and the normally platinum tendrils were reciprocating golden hues for the same reason.

And, as most people knew, he had changed a lot and yet not really at all. Physically, his features had just matured, defined, and came into fully fledged manhood, with added height to match. Personality, well, he hadn't exactly done a 180 there. But emotionally...that was where it got into a storm of endlessness, and one could never fathom.

But the words given were the only ones aside from a further invite to join them for dinner; he didn't know exactly why she came here, and growing ever more caution, with good reason, he'd have to leave their history to rest until he was clear.

Silence veiled, it seemed, and it was only ceased by him casually turning on his heel, sable silk hissing its protest, as he made for the dining hall in a flourish of robes.

Predictably, the tinny wail of the alarms echoed through the cavernous, elegantly designed entrance hall, perhaps slightly startled but nothing more. The resounding, aggravating shrieks of the security system would lead him straight to her, and she listened closely as hurried footsteps reverberated through one of the adjoining halls; a follicle, if you will, extending from a source.

And there he was the swishing of the ebony silk a tale-tell signature of his strides. Only an annum apart and yet she had missed him terribly. Of course, she wasn't about to admit it out loud at this point in time, especially when seeing his escort of the two unfamiliar females, attached either side of him.

As he shifted closer, the picture painted was one of contrasting tones; the sheer snow tainted color of her robes a distinct disparity of that of his obsidian and midnight. A subtle double take flickered, the only external acknowledge of it a shifting of mahoganies to scour his lean form. He had certainly changed. The silver of his tresses reflected the luminescent chandeliers from above, and she adjusted a displaced lock of chocolate, shrugging her petite-like crafted shoulders in a nonchalant retort "You know I was always one for a good troll dragging." A feminine, verging upon softly soprano echoed, beige hued labrums parting to split into a mirrored smirk.

Oculus flickered to the drawn wand, though it was lowered, and a perfectly curved brow perked, releasing a slight chuckle amusedly "Ever the vigilant one, Draco."

He turned his back and shifted off to move to the dining area, and obligingly she followed, always the obedient. The finely constructed, attractive female fell into step beside him, noting the fact silently that he was now a good head taller than her. It had shocked her, really, to glance upon him and see how much he had matured.

She had no idea he was the rising dark lord. None of the events played out in Britain, in his large nook of it had reached her ears. She knew he had to be doing -something- with his time...the enigma of it swept her up. But if he felt possessed enough to let her in on his personal life; which she hoped he did; then in time she would know.

And now came the part where he was bound to ask questions, dialogue probably along the lines of "Why are you here?" and so on. The standing problem was, she didn't have a particular answer to be considered right in this case. She was...here because she was drawn here? Because she stills didn't wish to return home? And what was home anyway? A place you felt safe. Protected. Happy. And she felt none of those things at the 'home' etched in her conscious.

And maybe she was here searching for all of those things.

Having entered the room, he halted abruptly, the trailing gushes of sable halting behind him. He seemed to pause as if to appraise the state of his own dining hall - all Grey-black-white clashing marble from ceiling to floor. Pillars of the same material in each of the Four Corners, and in the very center, an elongated table of mahogany oak stretched about half the length of the vast chamber. Throne-like chairs with crimson cushions lay in the seating.

Once he decided all was to his liking, an arm shrouded in ebony rose fluidly, the hand flicking at the carpals, and once this was done, four chairs backed away from the table to accommodate their number and luxury, if not also to demonstrate a certain heighten in wandless power. Only a glimpse of the things he'd learned...and only a glimpse at how ugly things could get.

The silence was pressing, as once more he was in motion, moving for the chair. The sound of the silk that hung in all fashion from his body may as well been a shriek of a torture soul, as he was palpable in the lack of other noise. And he knew it, loved it just the same - it defined a certain air of grace and power, though subtly. It defined him. And just as graceful, digits lightly gripped at the arms of the chair, having reached it, and he lowered himself into the furnishing at a meandering speed. Time on his side, until his posterior hint the fine, scarlet cushion, causing onyx robes to flow in waterfall fashion as if reaching for the floor below. He sat serenely at the head of the table, dim candelabras behind him dancing with their golden flames.

Storm-ridden optics trailed over in all their piercing, unreadable glory to the trio of females, a silent command for them to all sit. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about her unexpected return; things had changed considerably, and even with their passed held in mind, it hadn't rang in on his conscience when he embarked that he may one day have one person to answer to. One of few people he considered himself to care for remotely.

He knew, deep down, that she wasn't here to obstruct his fanciful kingdom of depravity and tyranny, as she knew not what he did these days, and he also received the general inkling that it was more of a primal need of completion. And if he listened to what was left of his feeling side, he reciprocated.

"Oh, how could I forget," he began with the signature air of refinement that seemed to wrap the listener in velvety comfort, deceivingly, facetiously, finally answering her from earlier, "your great affixation for trolls, Crabbe and Goyle included." He still had his humor about it, and took the time to flex it. He did not, however, address the vigilance comment, for it seemed to hit too close to proverbial home and his whole recent means of living. He wasn't ashamed of it, no; but true to vigilance, one had to be careful. "And do pardon me, Michelle and Tallis; This is Alexandra, an old...acquaintance... of mine. And now that we're all met..."

At that moment, as if on a scripted cue, platter upon platter bedecked the table in signature silver almost every dish under the sun imaginable. And he hadn't yet begun to outdo himself.

Her smile disappeared as he declined her gesture, but not about to let it discourage her, she forced the smile back and accepted his offer. The smile remained even as he made the same gesture towards Michelle, actually she felt more at ease with the girl once she had been marked. As the alarms rang out and he rushed off she quickly followed; curious as to whom else he had invited.

Tallis stood behind him, remaining silent as he spoke to this woman, watching them, their movements closely, listening to every word. It was obvious that this Alexandra was far more than a 'acquaintance', and because of her all of his rejections, cut even deeper.

Briefly as her violet eyes met those of this new girl, they flashed in anger and jealousy it didn't matter. Looking away she stared out into a far corner, it was all she could do to control the fury that raged inside, but her expression remained frozen.

What she was feeling went beyond simple jealousy, she had been fooling herself. Whenever he looked at her he it was not with the usual fear, hatred, or both. She had been so distracted at finding someone who didn't look at her in that way she failed to see that he saw her as merely a commodity. If she was angry with him, jealous of her it was nothing compared to the disgust she felt for herself.

It suddenly became suffocating being in there and she desperately wanted to run out of the main doors that instant, but her ego couldn't allow that kind of scene. Steadying herself she finally moved towards the table, but not to sit down, she didn't even glance over as the food appeared. Grabbing her coat she had left on a chair with such quickness and force it made a whip-cracking noise. Tallis winced at the noise, and inwardly hissed, she hadn't meant to be so rough, her long hair that had fallen across her face had hopefully hidden the expression.

Pulling on the long, coat as she walked out of the room, "thank you Draco, but there is nothing on the table that could satisfy me, and I'm not in the mood for elf," she said evenly. "Excuse me but there are things to do and people to eat." she added although not with the previous calm, forcing out the last three words through clenched teeth.

Closing the door behind her, when she heard the soft click of the lock setting in, she finally allowed herself to breathe in deeply and slowly let it out as she hesitated just outside. It was thankfully a dry and unusually warm winter's evening, and somehow it brought her some, if very little comfort. "Hogsmeade" she whispered to herself and set off to leave the grounds.

A smile gently curling the graceful pout of her rosy lips, her delicately accepted the proffered arm a slight timidly seeming to emanate from her. Although she was Draco's senior by one year, and knew both from Hogwarts, it was a new situation, one that she undoubtedly felt a slight vacillation in. But she knew it would fade soon. Along with other things. These would make themselves known all too soon, because, with the reception of this silvery leash, some things would certainly change.

Harshly jerked from this reflective mind-set by a wailing alarm. It appeared to be yet another visitor. Apparently, the 'party,' if it could be called such, had definitely begun.

Upon being introduced, the strangely shy grin once again lit up her graceful features, an inclination of the golden-stranded head acknowledging the other female. Vaguely, she randomly wondered if Draco kept a harem or just didn't get along with many boys.

Obscure thoughts once again dismissed, this time by the intriguing arrival of a variety of cuisine dishes, one slender dark brow was raised briefly in an acknowledgement of the others skill. Yet this silent appreciative gesture was dissipated by Tallis' angry departure.

"Well then!" she stated, droll and surprises both apparent in her tone the sudden noises causing a reaction by the lengthy black lashes blinking. The leaving of the other girl seemed to signify that there were indeed feelings harbored for the male, as well as the obvious prior relationship between Alexandra and Draco.

Which, truth be told, left Michelle in a rather awkward situation.

Pate snapping in the direction of the noise, azure optics had turned upon the departing woman just in time to see her hastily moving out of the grandeur hall, eyes narrowing with certain disdain of the gesture. Being a typical male, even if he was the Dark Lord, he failed to foresee her reasons for this show of blatant disinterest, not noting the obvious sign that Tallis had some sort of affection toward him. He was seductive, yes, but noticing of love? Apparently not.

Sighing in a long dispersal of air, he'd deal with her later. For now, he simply folded his slender digits together, icy gaze turning back to the duo of girls left behind, smirking at Michelle's subtle, lack thereof comment. Not much could or would be said, situation considered.

---

After having deposited what little she contained in her bags, she had decided a little cleansing was in order; putting to use the beautifully furbished onsite attached to the grandly constructed bedroom. The warm water had induced a barely conscious state on the female, and even now when she was dry, she was still plagued lightly by the incessant tugging of sleep upon her thin, thickly lashed lids.

Slender, finely built figure was clothed in a knee length night gown, the pale azure satin of the spaghetti strap garment shimmering like liquid itself in the overhead chandelier light. She had found that once her exceedingly flummoxed crania had hit the pillow, slumber had evaded her. It wasn't the first time. She was bordering on insomnia as it was, the tormenting memories of her dark, tenebrously painted childhood flooding back in dreams, the what should have been pleasant films played in her sleep filled head actually ripping her brutally from the clutches of siesta on a regular basis. Castigated figure lay limply upon the thick quilts, before rising to ascend to a seated position. If sleep wouldn't come to her, she'd find it.

The possibility of exploring had gotten the better of her, curiosity piqued easily by the slightest things. But she thought it rude and certainly uncalled for to snoop through someone's private property, so languidly she made haste for Draco's bedroom, taking directions along one of the obsidian splashed hallways from a passing house elf, who bowed continuously and then left in quite a rush. Perking a slenderly cut brow at the retreating, dwarfed form of the elf, the female gave cranium a gentle shake, tousled curls vibrating with the oscillating movements.

Padding barefoot down the hall, she reached the domain of the lord himself, the realm shielded from her view by a pair of double sided, intricately carved and crafted doors. Extending a hand, she pulled gently and silently at the door, and it obediently swung outwards, with a free hand adjusting the blue satin clothing her lithe and athletic form. The sight that met her chocolate hued oculus was quite unexpected but then again it was his room.

Perched in the center of the room, was the partially naked figure of Draco, chiseled back facing her. Lips fell open ever so slightly in a startled gasp, doing a double take. What caught her eye, though, the most, was the elaborate and quite beautiful tattoo of a silver dragon imprinted in his milky skin, carved on his shoulder blade.

Taking a step backwards, halfway between a jump and a stumble, she allowed lids to close, stammering gently "I'm sorry, I didn't mean...I didn't mean to barge in it's just..." Lids flung open, lashes contracting backwards to gaze at him unsurely.

In various states of undress, the soft clicks of the opening portals hadn't even register; the silken ebony of the shirt, coat and robes he wore cast aside on a deckchair. It was apparent, however, when she spoke of vague humility, going rigid, as must've been apparent due to the flexing muscles beneath the ivory flesh of his dorsal side.

Instinctively, he turned around to face her, not in a haste however, as if to allow her to look shamelessly for a moment. He had, in essence, neglected to note the placement of the signature Mark until it until it was too late to reprimand, so he made no squirms of it. Now, however, facing her, a second Mark was apparent, a miniature version of the very beast on his inner right forearm, in which he hid by folding the appendage with its carbon copy over his gently rising-falling torso.

He was slender, still, with no sparse hairs decorating his body. The chandelier light washed his pale form in gold's and reds, the hues of a thousand sunsets, but he still remained quiet for a time, a subtle smirk on his visage of sharp contours, labrums curved in their enticing glory. Bright cobalt orbs couldn't even be regarded in the dim chamber, as much couldn't in itself, with its overall lack of sufficient light - he'd been preparing for sleep himself, until the intrusion.

However, argent pate inclined with dignity, a silvery brow did just the same, quizzically. "Quite alright," he assured in what was an absently husky drawl. "Not anything you've not seen before." Assuming she hadn't realized just what the 'tattoos' were and signified, anyway. "There was something you wanted?" And the tone it came in entailed endless possibilities as to what it really meant.

Oh, yes. Playing innocent, up-right was another thing he'd mastered, and in this case, it was no different, acting as if the plain-as-day symbols etched into his skin weren't there at all, and using the rest of his figure as a distraction.

He cleared his throat to prompt an answer.

A halo apparent atop her cranium, painted upon her healthy chocolate tendrils by the dimly, washing light emitted from the chandelier suspended high upon them, she felt much like a cornered rabbit at first, being stalked by the fearless predator before her. The feeling was not an alien one either.

Bronze, artistic and spindly digits entwining in front of her abdomen, the sun splashed flesh covered by the sliding, liquid affect of the cerulean satin, a hazily deportable blush burnt at her angular, engraved, highest cheekbones. It was true, his body was nothing new to her; but after a year, the memories had faded, like rustic iron left out in the rain. And being subjected with this tormenting flash of hormones wasn't good for her.

The dragon was there again. This time placed upon his upper forearm, imprinted deep upon his snow kissed, ivory skin, the smooth of the white disrupted by the curving, metabolically luster lines tracing the outline of the magical creature. Only...a miniature version? She tilted her apex with unbidden intrigue at the shining, illuminescent portrait of the beast, waves of curls mass migrating with the gentle, subtle movements of façade. What...was it? What did it signify?

Mahogany, cyclone ridden oculus scoured up from the mar on his forearm to meet the ever tantalizing, winter Grey of his gaze, a slightly sheepish glint to the emotionally charged chasms of earthy chocolate. A gentle shrug oscillating shoulders, she probed deeper into the dimly lit domain, padding forward to stop some feet from him. Her bare feet made no sound on the cold flooring. As she walked, the slippery satin of the garment followed the perfected motions of her body, the folds of cyan shifting in the never-ending backlash.

A placid hybrid between a smirk and a smile formed upon her curving, rose colored labrums, all the while keeping her sheepish, abashed façade in place "I...couldn't sleep..." Offered for simple explanation. She hoped he wouldn't turn her away. Not now.

"And you shouldn't ask me something like that...there are a lot of things I want."

The ominous smirk blossomed more and allowed bunches of eloquent dimples to shield the many contours of his visage and chiseled cheeks, an impish action to rival the Cheshire cat's everlasting mocking lips, as she approached spilt corrupt entendres passed beige lips. On reminiscent persuasions, icy blues rolled skyward, as if disdained by it, but he had been the first to imply them after all, and he didn't seem to have a second thought about it. He treaded digits through the silky consistency of argent tresses, allowing their tidy disarray to fall as it deemed fit.

"Tut, Tut," he mocked reprimanded, chest jumping with the tufts of air the words required. "Can't even be hospitable in my own house without getting the backlash for it? Naughty girl." On the other hand, he wasn't exactly a saint on his knees.

Challenging, he'd stepped forward, onyx trousers of silk rustling their protest...

But that was when a cloak-shrouded figure dashed into the chamber, a bundle of nerves, as the baritone voice rang from beneath the hood. "M'lord," he addressed none other than the Malfoy resident, a gracious to the floor given before proceeding. "It seems, sir, that well, we...when attacking a Muggle business center, sir, we...were sighted. And possibly tracked, sir, but I-"

The babbling fool halted when a hand elevated, ivory palm visible, and this it had the desiring silencing effect. His scorn was slight, but palpable, and the words with carefully measured with underlying tones of frustrated fury, though his calm quavered not. "Then, I think you'd better turn your sorry arse back around, and do some Memory Charm handiwork, don't you think?" he retorted bitterly, acid content passed lethal dosage in his drawl. "Because if they don't kill you, I will."

This seemed to be the cue for his mysterious, sable-hidden minion to exit, and a brief silence followed the event. The commanding facade had irreverently faded away as soon as it appeared an exaggerated gust of air seeping passed snowy labrums, as if it was just another chore.

"Silly me; looks like I've been outted." And he actually chuckled, a mirthful sound that was much like his drawl. "Dragondeargenté at your service, then. Now, as we were discussing..."

Belittling the factor was typically him, of course, though the name itself was his renown alias and already held a striking of fear too many? He wasn't sure of her reactions once reality woodshed in - surely it couldn't be all the great that your ex-lover had a certain knack for destruction of the innocent - so he regarded her through gleaming orbs of wintry ice clouds, inquisitive in their lasting gaze. Hands moved to perch in his pockets, firm in his resolve.

Chuckling at his dry, disdainful comments of hospitality, she shook earthy toned apex in a reflective posterior. His witty banter disregarded with a retorting smirk of her own "Naughty is the name, don't wear it out..." Cremello flecked enamels scraped at askew tresses of spun chocolate, impishly cocking a hip and placing parallel hand in it's place cockily upon it. "Not that I can remember you being that hospitable ever, Draco."

The sudden interruption, the breakage in the seams of silence shrouding the darkened, hollow room startled her from her cocky disposition, whirling like a deer in headlights. Always had been one to be on her toes and wary, and strangers barging into closed 'functions' didn't help. But the reverent and awing tone used to address her ex lover put her at further ease, realizing the business at hand was for him.

But the knowledge reaching her ears relieved the words pooling at her lips, leaving her slightly dumbstruck. His underlying rage and frustration at the obvious incompetence of the bumbling followers he had procured was easily read, but then again, she was vaguely skilled at reading him; practice substantial.

The stooping, worshipping cloaked figure exited the room, and slowly she turned to face back at him, a brow quirked. His introduction helped some, and for a moment, she remained silent.

Her obvious approval and pleasure couldn't be hidden for long at this revelation of aliases. Splitting into a grin, lips twisted upwards in a half awing, half pleased show of admiration "Draco Malfoy, the much feared Dragondeargenté. I must say, I'm highly impressed. I always had an inkling you'd turn out to be famous, one way or another." Biting her lower lip suddenly, she stretched out an arm, lightly grasping his arm between her hands. She tilted his limb to her advantage, inspecting the intricate portrait of the miniature silver dragon, before speaking, tone slightly questioning "And this would be your mark." More of a rhetorical question; she knew the answer already.

A dry, highly amused tone crept into her words "Now I can brag to all my friends about how good a lover the Dark lord was..." Of course, was joking. Voicing her thoughts, she touched the dragon gently, nails scouring it lightly "And you give this to all your followers?" Once again, rhetoric.

A pregnant pause followed, weighing up her options, before slowly she nodded slowly, more to herself than anyone else "Didn't I say one day that if you ever became Dark lord, like you so liked to go on about back in school, that I'd come and be a death eater?" Chuckling wryly, she met his gaze, serious and yet amusedly stating her request "Mark away

A bemused chuckled bubbled forth from the ivory column of his throat, painting the air with the smooth refinement. His oculars were breathy lidded from the shudder-like flaps of reflexive skin, before opening to reveal blue to rival all blue in the wake thereafter, a bright hue to out-freeze the earth's very tundra's. "Glad that I move you so. Want a signed photo in me in the buff now?" he voiced the center of his amusement, her apparent mock congratulations and his own mental image. "I could even encrypt a little something on the image about 'Remaining a great shag' and such."

The latter comment came about the time that she had reached out gingerly and taken the pale appendage into her grasp, her digits tracing over the contours of the self-designed artwork permanently marred into the still flawless flesh.

He didn't answer any of the queries, as she knew probably from the Voldemort era, but slowly, his eyes lifted from the digits tracing along skin and to her visage, questioning in their cobalt fire. Slowly, a none too innocent smirk perked his labrums.

"Oh, I think I remember that. And well, if you're up for the whole worshipping-and-serving bit, who am I to argue?" Really, he could make the gravest of decision seem unimportant with circular logic and belittling sarcasm. "But, as for marking, we'll save the tattooing sort for later. Though I do have another resolve of it firmly in mind."

Fluidity and elusiveness of lightning reflexes, his lips firmly melded against hers, pale meeting tan, and reunion of history past. He wriggles his scrutinized arm free, using both appendages to grasp at her waist and pull her flush against his own figure as he articulated his want for the moment: her.

A flawlessly curved brow elevated at the comment about a signed picture, apex tossing from side to side in a negative acknowledgement to his queries "Why would I want a signed photo? The real thing's right before me." Giggling, she groaned, realizing the inflation her comment had; mockingly at that; on his ego. Tsking, tongue movements clucking in reprimand, she tapped her bare foot, mahogany, metallic shard occupied gaze rolling in indignation "Don't go getting an ego on me now or anything. Or at least, a bigger one than you already have."

Worshipping and serving him was nothing new. She'd done it previously, though in a different context to the one he spoke of. Free hand caressing the satin material hugging her curvaceous, hourglass sculpted figure, she curiously adverted her gaze to search the cobalt, snowflake speckled color of his own, questioning why he would wait to mark her until his next actions caught her off guard.

The silky, practiced movements of the taller masculine before her swept her foreword, crushing her more fragile figure to that of his pale skinned form. A melding of their lips startled her briefly, and tentatively she became more established and, like exploring familiar territory that hadn't been tracked for some time, shifted her lips against his sensually.

The all too known feeling of his arms circumbrating her slender waist crept up her spine, and wonderingly appendages moved, snaking paths up his arms to clasp around his neck, only succeeding in tugging him closer. Yearning for the close proximity that hadn't been felt since the abrupt departure of the duo, lips split, allowing tongue to seek entrance to dance with his.

It had been far too long, and it showed, just by the urgency she put into the passionate meshing of lips. So close to him that she couldn't pin point the place where tan color stopped and milk hue began, a realization struck her. This is what she had been searching for.

The moist organ against his lips, the said flesh instinctively parted to give the desired entry, and so sooner had this occurred, her tongue was met by the eagerness of his own. The taste of heady slickness sliding against that of the same was as he'd vaguely remembered, albeit his love life had taken a fatal leap into the void with her abrupt departure. But now, however, it was as if they never spent any time apart at all, hands running along the smooth flesh of his back and shoulders.

His hands, as they were, weren't idle. They'd elevated themselves in nimble fashion, digits working with rapid-fire skill to find the fastenings of her fair-hued robes, the diligent working paying off. The lip-lock was broken with an audible pop, as he now had a better expanse of tanned flesh to feast upon while argent tresses teasingly brushed against as well. His lips placing a firm suction upon the base pulse-point of the honey column of throat, tongue swirling the very area, too.

Deftly, he began to walk, urging her back and toward the abandoned bed, in his seemingly favorite décor of sable and silk, right down to the hangings from the four-poster. Smoothly, though, like all the serpentine grace about him, he lowered her onto the softened furnishing, watching as her tendrils splayed out in a lengthy halo.

It was a baser, primal need, really, and they may, as well been a star burning about in a glorious supernova together.

The sheer intimacy shared between the conjoined lips threw her into oblivion, tongue massaging his with methodic passion as the locking draw soft moans from her larynx easily, like feather hands coaxing the rich noises from her only to end at the mesh of lips that was their own. Like they'd never been apart more than a day. But the need voiced in the probing touches they both administered said differently.

His persistent working at the garment sheathing her gave ample rewards; flesh, dappled and coated in healthy bronze shone, and it was his for the taking. The massaging and sucking at the hollow of her neck, shoulder and collarbone brought forth a gasp of pleasure from her now free lips, the sound resonating fleetingly in the cavernous, diffusely illuminated room. At his direction and gentle pushing, she cooperatively shifted, taking her place on the obsidian silk, splaying tendrils indeed forming the picturesque notion of a halo.

But as he leant over her, the luminescent of the red and gold surrounded his outline, striking her with the ethereal thought of an angel, his ghost like skin clarified by the crimson and amber lighting his skin. Fallen. Earth dwelling. And in silence, she didn't await his swooping on her, but reached up and pulled him slowly down to capture his lips with hers again, a more seductive and sensual meshing of labrums.

And following her initiative, lips slipped from their target, trailing upon his chiseled jawbone and up to snap gently at the sensitive lobe. Hands, however, trailed from their stationary position tempting the skin of his back and neck to lean finger tips against the hem of his trousers, the garment expertly beginning to become pried from his lithe and angular figure. And the sheer fire, an inferno that raged in her veins, liquid hotness circulating her, kept her going without question.

Nervous system on the basic level of a proverbial overload, heightened and perked to the slightest of touches, he was more than definitely aware of palms searching, grasping, and teasing, like invisible specters. And more directly responsive to the beginning of tugging at his trousers, in which diverted his own hands to fumble eloquently with the hindering material, pliant digits tugging them down, and ultimately kicked them off the rest of the way.

This done, he pulled back up, away from the allure of lips-on-lips and warmth contact, taking a decisive moment to begin the reciprocating action of ridding the female of her clothing as well. Watching with careful intent, azure optics tracing his hand's own movements, and mapping the expanses revealed, when not having to stop to brush platinum-blond locks of his fringe from his eyes.

It was elegance meeting elegance, though pale on honey, but it was a clashing nonetheless, one to be reckoned with.

The abstract portrait painted by the two entangled, cadaverously depicted figurines shone carnal essence, unsullied caresses and touches amorously delivered by her artistically slender fingertips. Bronzed and lightly nuance sorrel flesh aligning with his, the friction between valued appendages fuelling the heat created, a vociferous silence washed her, the lack of noise only struck by her susserated undertone of breathing, which in turn was slightly increasing in pace.

Rusty chloasma of russet oculus followed his precise movements carefully, the earthy, effeminate nymphet watching as he rid her without hesitation of adorned garments swathing gracile figure. And with a hint of a smirk, a hand reached upwards to flick the stray argent tresses plaguing his cobalt, glacial gaze away, nails sliding the rebel strands back, and suddenly it was naked flesh upon flesh, sensual contact setting nerves ablaze in a pleasant way.

Aristocratic in her own feminine way, the parasitic belle pulled him back to her in a drawn out fashion, lips latching to his collarbone in unrestrained urging. A light sheen radiating bronze tinge of skin, she took the initiative and allowed her nails of her right hand to lightly trickle across the alabaster flesh of his back, then across his angular hip, down to the virgule's manhood, velvety touch alluring and teasing both in the same. Palm enclosing about the organ, hand shifted, stroking in a steady tempo, main objective to allow him pleasure and that alone. Lips never ceasing to move, a momentary break from their latching of snowy skin allowed a breathy croon to leave her. "It's been far...far too long."

Each touch seemed to gain his undue attention, sinew and muscles shifting at the cascading caressing, a candascent brilliance to the heated, flushing flesh of pallidence. The mist of fine perspiration budded there in the dim devoidity, which seemed to revolt and beckon our duo, as if on their whims alone. Time had no sway here, no tick-tock of the proverbial clock could matter, and for this alone, it was sacred, a reuniting, and yet a discovery.

Hair pushed back almost teasingly, enough to provoke a hazy smirk on the abused and kissed labrums of faint crimson, was in vain, as the touch seemed to snake down to the area that ache most. Nimble digits of bronze rapping around his engorged member and setting it afire even more with the languid, demure actions. As if fragile, a course of patterned, though separated, whimpers and moans broke the air with her words, and as the teasing had exceeded, he knew it best be stopped, or else it all be over with just as timely as it began.

"Too long, yes," he drawled, forcing some poise to his tone, as he freed up one of his upper appendages, and trying to maintain some self-control, gently directed her fingers away from their devious task below.

Just as if a light of some sort had ignited above his pate of silver, he pinned the dainty wrists above her head shamelessly. Light on dark flesh once more, and dipped his cranium down, as if decided which anatomical piece to assault; he settled, rather predatorily, for a perk rosebud of a nipple, taking it gently into the warmth of his oral cavity, nipping, and lapping, lavishing, with his tongue.

All this treatment, however, was an elaborate distraction for his main goal, which seemed to be what they'd both been subconsciously striving for since their preempted reunion just earlier. He lowered himself closer to the warmth of her body, and using a freehand as a guide, moved his hips forward slowly, seeking penetration. His mouth, however, switched to the other succulent breast and proceeded with the same torture nonetheless.

To move heaven and hell - this must be it.

With slim wrists pinned atop of splayed cocoa locks, above crania, spinal chord arched litheness figure into his attentive lips as they attacked a hardened nipple, lids shutting on dazzlingly spectrum oculus, the fiery café au lait concealed beneath the thin veils of crème. A sordino moan building in throat, her lips parted to exhale sharply, shuddering beneath the predatorily disposition imperial with all the cries of one in the throes of passion.

Detesting his restricting hold upon her appendages, sought to wrench her arms free, but the potent virile above her being the stronger, found this rather futile, so allowed attenuate limbs to become lifeless. Belle shifting gently slender, carved legs spread to allow his angular waist to sink between them, then encompassing him lightly with calves.

And then he entered her and in the slow torture of it all a sharp cry ripped from her vociferously, the ultimate exoticness of the web they wove driving her to distraction. With the sudden distraction they both faced, wriggled arms from his lightened grasp, to rest the limbs beside her. The feeling of filling shocked her through her bones and panting, she reached down and pulled his face from her nipple to realign with hers, lips recapturing his in a passionate melding of chloasma and tongues.

Hips shifting purposefully against his, palms laid flat against his achromatistic, wiry back, the muscles beneath her crescent tips rippling in liquid like momentum. And gently raking nails down his sweat sheeted skin, gracile figure flattened against him, close enough to be a second skin, and started to strike up a pace with the coupling of their beings.

Drowning in his essence in a sea of black satin and chandeliers was she.

---

Perched in a dark corner of the fluctuating pub, a silvery-stranded male reclined in a stoic, oaken chair, intent and pallid cobalt oculus staring over at the seamless glass of the window. His arms were declined toward the table, right palm's digits wrapped languidly around a flagon, with the occasional movement of the arm to bring it to his lips and partake of the liquid there.

It was an exceptionally rare thing to seem the renown male out in public, but today he seemed more placid, only the most self-assured of smirks gracing the alabaster flesh of his finely chiseled visage, setting it into aristocratic perfection, maintained into his early adulthood. He was preened to par, of course; a cloak of sable silk flowing facilely off his slender shoulders, as if mocking a waterfall, opened enough to reveal a ensemble below that was in various manifestations of black and Grey. There was a dress shirt with flared and ruffled sleeves, a cravat covering that, with a sweat vest over the cravat, and a petticoat to top is off. The trousers were a form, a byproduct, of ridiculously expensive silk, and even the onyx immaculance of his loafers seemed to fall in sync.

Yet, though he was so near, he was distant in his own world of tumultuous thoughts, most of which encompassed his little...plans...for England's sleepy Wizarding community. And they'd occur once more and transact with a lethal force soon enough.

Tallis, listened as the others chatted amongst themselves, although she was still apart of this group, it had grown to a size where she would automatically fall back in silence, and observe the others instead of participate.

Raising her mug up to her lips once again, she felt a tingling sensation on her left arm, as it occurred in the exact area where she had recently accepted the tattoo from Dragondeargente, she was in no way curious as to what it could mean. It felt strange, not a hot pain she expected when he would invoke the spell to summon his death eaters. No this was different; he was near by, very close.

'Damn' she thought as she glanced about her table, stopping to gaze upon Harry in particular, 'how would he react if he saw the company she kept?' Of course this gathering was unusual, except for Harry, whom she had been spending a lot of time with. That was someone she would rather keep secret from him, not because she was ashamed of their growing friendship, but because she didn't want to risk it.

Trying not to be too obvious, she glanced about the pub, in mere moments she had located him. He appeared to be lost in thought as she gazed upon him, confused as to how she felt about him.

Arsnie would only leave her secluded home, would only stray from her silent sanctum for three reasons. One, she had business to tend to, such as a little annoyance called a job. Two, she was angered and needed to walk. Or perhaps it was three; she was trying to seek out the one who had stolen her glory. Now she was walking today for two and partially for three. Who should she see, however, as she walked into The Three Broomsticks, but Draco. It had been a year since she had last seen him, and when she did her animosity faded, her wrath settled, and revenge was no longer on her mind. As she walked the inky tresses followed behind the glowing eyes that were filled with suspense, as they had been every other time in the past. Swiftly and silently she sat next to the fair-haired, elusive stranger and smiled. "Come here often? I never see you," she said evenly with interest in his answer. Her head tilted back letting the light shine on her soft features, the midnight strands cascading down her back. She didn't take the trouble to remove her cloak, but continued. "What are you doing now?" She asked congenially. Though she had let her whimsicality consume her, it did not hide a small spark of rage that had been there before.

Initially, the ever-alert male felt the pair of eyes that flickered to him, hiding something in their depths, and he followed the line of gaze with a preternatural skill, finding none other than Tallis sitting across the pub in a suspiciously close area to what he recognized as the Potter pest; however, if he was peeved at all, no sign of it crossed his face as he held her gaze, orbs burning with a glacial light, before a smirk of certain cruelty and many a secret crossed his pale lips, a deceptive wink given to the girl. But just as if he'd not looked at her at all, he turned his head back to the window, when Arsnie suddenly approached him.

Silvery brows perked up at her though his smirk faded naught, looking at her expectantly and gesturing for her to sit. He shifted in his chair, crossing his elongated, slender legs.

"Not often, of course," he drawled, answering her question civilly. "Quidditch stuff keeps me busy as it is. That and the fact that some of these idiots aren't special enough for me." He snorted a bit at himself.

Tallis blinked in surprise at Draco's reaction when he finally met her gaze. Having found out that his facial expression's been often deceptive, she wondered if that smirk and wink had been genuine. Knowing that she would eventually find out she decided, for the moment to play it safe and return the gesture, although all she could manage was a rather weak smirk.

Returning her attention to those at her table she tried to put aside his presence in the pub, and rejoin the conversation, hoping that her demeanor wasn't very noticeable.

Both from his peripheral vision, and the soft sound of material touching, he could tell that Tallis was looking somewhere behind them to someone. Not knowing whom it was, he considered asking. But Tallis would surely tell him who was there if it was someone noteworthy. However, it was then that it happened. It started just as a tingling sensation and moved quickly to the ever-familiar burning sensation. The one in his scar, which he assumed he would never feel again. Immediately panic began to spread. How could Voldemort be back? It was impossible after all that they had done just more than two years ago.

The only way he expressed his rash thoughts was a slight blush in his cheeks and raising two dark eyebrows ever so slightly. Thinking that the one who caused that reaction in him could be anyone in the room, he scanned the perimeter once more and surveyed the people it held. Emerald eyes landed at last on Tallis, once again. Not wanting to arouse suspicion in anyone who had not seen his slight reaction, he hastily calmed himself and attempted a casual comment to smooth whatever hitch there might have been.

"Who's that?" he directed to Tallis. Harry had seen her smile at whoever it was behind them. No matter what the answer, he prepared to yes his best pokerfaced, if needed.

Tallis met his gaze and putting on her most genuine smile she could, "oh just some old friends," she replied "it certainly seems to be the night for it, doesn't it?" she added looking back at the table now full of Hogwarts alumni.

Although she actually did like Harry, she had just been subtly reminded of who and what she was, where her loyalties now lay, and she had been caught fraternizing with the decided enemy, her next reminder would not be as easy.

Not since she had first been told of the spell, curse, potion or whatever it was that was changing her into a vampire had she had felt so confused. Once again though she kept it bottled up, reaching once again for her mug of butterbeer, forcing herself to not look his way again.

Slowly yet fluidly, he finally rose, bidding that the girl who he'd invited to sit to excuse him. He set into motion, various textiles of silk swaggering with his step, and in no time, he was leaving the pub, allowing winter's biting chill to enter as he opened the door, as if to convey the way he felt.

The tiny breeze whipped through the pale strands, as if teasing, and he briefly shielded his azure orbs from the very same wind by raising a pale arm, digits held up protectively. But no sooner had he gathered his wits about him, he was gone, his figure, lithe and tall, dematerializing, as he had disapparated.

Noticing movement out of the corner of her eye, Tallis glanced up to see Draco quickly leave the pub. He hadn't bothered to look over her way as he left but then he needed have, she knew what he would expect her to do.

Smiling back at Harry, she finished her butterbeer, "hmmm think it's time I headed home, I've been here for ages, Harry," she said placing a slender pale hand on his shoulder as she stood up, "I'll see you around sometime. The Leaky Cauldron's always a good place to start," she added, looking over everyone else at the table she continued, in a tone that was perhaps a bit unusually friendly for her, "g'night, nice seeing you again"

Adjusting her coat as she walked, somewhat reluctantly, out of the pub, she was nonetheless relieved to make the break from them. Standing outside she scanned the street looking for any sign of him, but quickly gave up deciding she would have to search for him.

Arsnie was just about to reply when she was left in about a time frame consisting of no more than 10 seconds. She sat for a minute in silent indignation, but got over it fairly quickly as she spotted Tallis leaving to. Then, to the exclusion of all conversation, Arsnie stood and walked outside to see if Draco had merely went for fresh air or what. She was too much engrossed by her thoughts to notice anything else and it was hopeless to get her to pay attention to anything else. As she left she perceived Tallis' shape and walked next to her. "Where did he go?" she asked her, hoping she wouldn't have to go through the introduction thing, hoping she would be remembered. "And exactly what kind of charming amusement is he playing at?" she asked not knowing anything of him being the dark lord, and not even guessing it, after all she had tried to forget her anger over the whole situation. How would it be, and when would it be when and if Arsnie ever found out? The conclusion remained to be seen.

Watching as Tallis rose and then left the small pub, he unconsciously dropped his jaw slightly. Of all the things he had prepared himself for, he did not expect her to walk out so suddenly. Never the less, he drained the last of the cool cola and also decided to take his leave. Nodding to those he had spoken with, he then disapperated on the spot.

---

In the small alleyway running alongside the simple, wooden structure of the sought after candy store, a brief flash of dim light and sparks signified the apparating of a figure, who at once, raised his platinum-blond head and appraised the place he'd chosen to appear; not bad, really. No one had seemingly even noticed his arrival. All the better.

As if such a brief trip of magical persuasion could've mussed him, his hands flowed down his front, smoothing out the black and Grey of his Victorian suit of various silks and other smooth fabrics, the alabaster on his flesh a stark contrast to the material indeed.

While one would figure he'd move and go about whatever busy he intended to do, he didn't; he melded with the shadows, as if expecting something or someone, the icy-Grey oculus peering down lazily at the tips of his fingernails. A finally curved shoulder leaned against the wooden wall.

If he had guessed right, he wouldn't have to wait long for what he wanted to see.

Pulling back some long strands of her hair that had been blown across her eyes as she began her walk down the main street of the village and began her search for Draco.

Quietly she swore, this was most likely not going to be pleasant although she had really done nothing to jeopardize his secret, 'so why do I feel like I'm about to be sent to Azkaban' she thought.

Walking past Honeydukes she just managed to catch a glimpse of the blond locks she loved so much. Coming to an immediate stop, she glanced about first, those who were still outside weren't paying her any attention, too busy to return home or the pub.

Slipping into the shadows of the building she approached Draco, "surprised to see you out here, I thought that you would have been busy with what's her name" she whispered.

His head inclined as he heard the soft, telltale footsteps approaching, azure orbs locking on the figure he expected. His hands lowered it and took up perch on his slightly jutting hip, his whole demeanor sealed out and unscrutiniable.

At her words, though, his head tilted inward some, the depthless eyes narrowing into blazing blue slits, though he kept his poised stance, showing his clear opposition.

"Who are you to speak," he hissed, "when you've just blatantly been wining and dining with the person we're trying to get rid of?" His tone was cut, waspish, and revealing nothing aside from that mood. "But, if you must know and delve into my own personal life, which I still insist on having, she's a friend, an ally, but sadly, not more than a @#%$."

Swiftly, though, he picked himself up from the wall, looming. "But I'm not the one on trial here, dearest."

A satirical smirk crossed his face, embittered.

Tallis took a step backwards at his sudden movement, much of his powers where still unknown to her, but she could sense a great strength, more than enough for her to approach him with caution. But she still reasoned with herself that she hadn't done any thing really wrong.

"On trial? For what exactly, for going out for a drink? They, and yes I'm including Harry.... Came in after and invited themselves to sit with me, what was I supposed to do, tell them to *&%# off? I've already got enough suspicion on me, I was being nice to them for a reason," she hissed back.

She ignored his reply regarding Alex; his explanation hadn't brought her any comfort. Tempted to retreat once more, she forced her legs to remain still; perhaps appearing defiant, but she couldn't afford to seem weak in front of him.

A chorus of cold chuckling broke passed his lips and his optics lidded himself with the sadistic bemusement. His arms crossed delicately over his chest, turning his back to her without a second thought, and beginning to pace the shadows, while he pondered her explanation; he didn't fully believe her, truthfully, for there was the one element that he picked up upon that she had left out - she had been enjoying herself with Potter, and that, in his own eyes, would lead to a myriad of problems, along with straying alliances and conviction for the cause.

"You know for what," his drawl rose, again, as he turned back to face her, though now a distance off. "You enjoyed your little rendezvous with that lot; to deny it would be useless, as I was there."

He fell into a lofty silence, a draft casting its way through the alley and whirling around his garments, flapping them before dying down.

"Such things will lead to conflicts in loyalties when I'll need you the most," he continued dryly, now arching a brow. "But, as a friend, I'll spare your life, and such a decision, by letting you go and leave the ranks of my Death Eaters. It is understood, though, that you would become my enemy thereafter."

He tilted his head, the glacial eyes roaming over her figure, calculating. "If you do stay and betray me in the end, know that you will pay with your life."

She cringed at his words, true she had been enjoying herself with them, especially with Harry, but where would she go now? To leave Draco, would mean she would eventually lead to some sort of betrayal to him, Harry would find out she join, leading to yet another loss.... And it would mean a continuation of this stagnant life she had been subjected to.

"I have never had any intention to leave or even a thought to ever betray you," she replied, her voice quavered for a second, just managing to mask the fear, not a fear of his ability to hurt or kill her but of leaving him.

Raising her head her violet eye's met his, "Please Draco," she whispered, "don't send me away."

A single palm raised, revealing the inner alabaster flesh, as if to signal her not to plead or anything of the sort. "Your motives are selfish," he began, detached, "and quite frankly, I now trust you, your allegiance with me, about as far as I can throw you, and without magic, that probably isn't very far."

He moved now to prop himself against the wall, one foot flat against it, though his oceanic gaze was still locked upon her slight figure. The grown-out strands of platinum blond were framing his face gently, and a small sigh escaped his lips.

"Sending you away was never an option, though; you leaving on your own accord was. Since you claim you've had no desire to, then that answers that."

His face turned away from her, declined toward the cobblestone, the arrogant features set into an expression that was a form of angular solemnest. "But mark my words; when it all boils down, you better have it straight where your loyalties lie."

He didn't mean that she could no longer associate with whom she chose to he did mean, however, that they better not sway her sworn alliance. She was his.

"My loyalty is with you, even before you asked for it, it was, it hasn't altered just because I enjoyed myself with them" she answered, tersely, although she still spoke in hushed tones. Her vivid violet eyes and pale skin seemed to glow in the darkness.

"I won't deny I had a laugh in there, but to give up on power to join them, and continue this semblance of a life? Before you suddenly appeared in my room, I was half out of my mind with the boredom and the loneliness. Do you think that if they knew what I was they would have stayed? I'd prefer them to fear me for an actual reason rather than a perceived one." Sighing she glanced about the area, "can we continue this somewhere less open?"

His face didn't rise from its downward position, intricately inspecting the workings of stone beneath his feet, but as she spoke, the glacial gaze of his ooids moved upward, landing on her with an eerie, lifeless stare. The expression seemed rehearsed, for it was that authentic.

A bitter smirk crossed his lips, and he finally shifted while raising his head, rolling it on his shoulders and cracking the tensed vertebrae within his neck. The garment of silken hissed softly with his movements, but aside from that, the small village's bustle was the only other noise.

"It's as I said; your motives are purely selfish," he laughed, shaking his head. "But whatever could there be left to talk about?"

---

Strands of midnight were almost dark enough to match the sky, and her eyes seem to be matching the stars. Her cloak of green and silver covered her tanned skin, and she wore a smirk unlike any other. A mystery solved, after looking back on old memories of what she had done during her time at Hogwarts, where was her first step that set her up for failure was, she remembered one specific day.

Draco was the dark lord, it was like a light switch had been turned on inside of her head, and she had been so angry the first few minutes. As she dwelled even farther back on the memory she distinctly remembered being drunk, and she remembered one thing she had said, "Maybe I'll stand by your side", or something to that effect.

Now she was smirking, if she couldn't be the dark lord/lady she could at least stand beside the person who was. With stipulations of course. Had it been anyone else, anyone at all, old friend or not, Arsnie would have already set out to kill them and obtain her glory. She had not even thought of it when she had her revelation that killing Draco was option, not even in all of her anger. 1) Draco was surely much, much harder to kill than anyone else, he read Arsnie like a book. Knowing her past even gave him an even bigger advantage. 2) Arsnie, whether or not she liked to admit it, had some sort of respect for him, as well as his accomplishment.

Her legs moved quickly, leather boots, knee high, clicking the ground. Click, clock, click, clock. And then she spotted his door; one delicate hand raised itself and knocked softly at first, but steadily grew somewhat louder. Running fingers through her hair she smiled, time for compromises.

The resounding noise of someone at his door was louder than it should've been, perhaps; then again, he had be treading through the Entrance room, and this could account for the prominence of the sound. Intrigued, he didn't even bother to inspect any of the ground monitors, detouring his current trek to greet the individual at the door in person.

A hand extended graciously to grasp the golden hook-handle of the oaken door, massive in size, and effortlessly, he seemed to carefully wrench the wooden portal open. He was met by the more than familiar figure of Arsnie, and with this recognition, he immediately arched a brow, nothing more, but his very demeanor seemed almost pleased to see her here. It was still clad in what had become his very own signature attire; shades of onyx and Grey made of silk, which collaborated together to form a find suit, complete with trousers, dress shirt, dress shoes, petticoat, and robes. Soft to the touch, as was the alabaster of his flesh.

"Well, well. If this just hasn't been a week of old acquaintances or something of the sort," he drawled mysteriously, smirking now. Pastel blond tresses hung to frame the gentle features of his face, as he stepped aside. "Do come in," he continued, rather aloof with a devilish charm, as he reached out to take her hand and plant a small, polite his upon it.

He was not romantically committed to any one person, and for this reason, he did as he wished. Lucky would the person be to finally grab hold of his elusive heart.

Arsnie smirked as he opened the door making various comments and the. She ran her hands through midnight strands and her yellow eyes shone within the room. Looking down at her hand she smiled and shook her head, "You flatter me" she commented.

She then turned her head upward and looked at him, her expression gaining a near serious composure, Disregarding all the comments she began as her labia parted for speech.

"It's you isn't it?" she asked quietly. "You're the new dark lord, aren't you? Tell me the truth" she said getting down to business. Her eyes looked nearly golden and they flashed with sensitivity.

"Because...if you are, well I'm pretty sure it's you," she said correcting herself. "But I have a proposition for you, care to hear? Or are we busy...?" she asked looking around expecting to see a girl, or some female type, and raised her eyebrows very surprised not to see one. Why she expected that, she wasn't even certain herself, it wasn't as if Draco slept around or anything, of course not. He just seemed to be...gifted in that department.

"What? No mistress here to keep you company?" she teased. "Oh. Poor baby." she whispered putting one finger under his chin. Even so, no mistress, no girlfriend...well it just made it all the more better, more exciting to be there

A single brow was arched at her actions and words, but yet, he said nothing. With the door open - even if it was private property - it was neither the time nor the place, seeing as the Wizarding press liked to hound him anyway for his work in Quidditch and his family wealth. With nimbleness of feline persuasions, he reached up suddenly, clasping the adjoined wrist of the finger that so teasingly touched his chin, and prying it away from his face, somewhat narrowing his glacial orbs at her for the taunting. However, after the initial greeting, he genially stepped aside, spanning his arm out in a 'Come in' fashion, and holding the door open. No sooner the door was closed; he whirled around to face to, feigning indignation at her accusations.

"Me? The Dark Lord? I'll have you know that I'm an up-right citizen of the Wizarding community, m'lady," he mock chided, but as he spoke, he was graciously toying with the cuff of his sable robes and coat, both made of silk, and revealing the argent mark of a dragon lying beneath. This was the new Dark Lord's mark. He still never said in words whether it was he or not; perhaps he was merely toying. What idiot would readily admit it aloud, anyhow? "But...a proposition? And you're so sure that it might actually interest me?" He laughed at this, laughter that was almost cold.

However, when he began to reply to her comments about no ladies flocking around his place of residence, he merely leaned against the fair marble of the wall, his flesh nearly as flawless as the smooth stone, and peer over at her rather smugly, eyes almost lidded heavily.

"You see, when one's busy kicking arse, there are some thing one doesn't have time for; relationships that'll actually work fall into that category," he explained sarcastically, though there was MUCH truth behind the statement. However, as if he read her mind, he continued. "But that's not to say I don't have the occasional old female acquaintance over every now and then...for whatever fun. Forgive me for sounding clichcé, but I'm still rather waiting to 'fall in love', if you'll believe me to be capable of such a thing."

He shrugged carelessly, slender shoulders rolling beneath the soft fabric of black the hung from his slender frame. It's true; if he did marry, or anything remotely romantic of the sort aside from a brief shag, he'd have to love the person, and they'd have to meet his own personal requirements. Otherwise, he'd doom himself to misery, and he was above that. Far above, indeed. Anyhow, the lucky girl would become the leading Dark Lady, so she'd get a bonus, too! However, there was plenty of time and such a wide variety to choose from.

"But last I recall...you came here for a reason, which didn't include discussing my love life, or becoming apart of it, I presume," he added, now inspecting the tips of his nails lazily. "Do indulge me, Miss Arsnie."

She smiled as he went on, he seem to be the same, clever as ever. He'd grown into something more, she knew that beyond his words, he'd grown just as he said he would, just as he had told her. His power had escalated, and while hers had too, it obviously had not been good enough.

Moving over to a window, leaning on the seal, she looked into the sky and began talking distantly. "You were always so much more careful than I was, you remember don't you? I let so many things distract me...but you, you were straightforward. When I was 16, you were 15 then, you told me something I never forgot. Maybe I took it to heart for no good reason, or maybe I was right to. I was stupid then, I had the same dreams as you, same wishes...but I didn't have that much talent. I tried...just couldn't do it. I told you then that I'd help you if you ever accomplished anything like this, and I know you've accomplished it...I'm not brain dead. But even so I thought that it would never happen, I thought I would have a whole year out of school to plan ahead of you. I was wrong. It seems I'll have to get up earlier to beat Draco Malfoy anything," she smirked.

"So now I want to help you-" she said moving towards him, "just as I said I would. If I can't have the power, I want to help the person who has it...and if had been anyone but you...I would have done anything to eliminate him or her. I respect you to much..." she said airily. "I only have one request, and that is, if you trust me...not to mark me"

Slender arms crossed over his proportionally mince torso, as pallid azure ooids eyed her with some appraisal. The offer seemed sound, if not arrogant, and it both amused and irritated him at the same time. It would if any other person would have the Gaul to waltz into what was rightfully his and try to stake a claim on it, or strike a deal.

Nevertheless, he kept his languid perched against the wall, a finely structure, shrouded shoulder propping him up, as she approached. He jerked his crania subtly to dismiss a rogue strand of platinum blond, but aside from that, he was placid and surprisingly cold, more stoic than he would've been otherwise. Initially, he didn't even portray his usual fits of sarcasm.

"Let me get this straight," he began, almost patronizing and most of all, in a tone of drawling, wintry persuasions. "You come here, after saying you wanted to beat me to what I've claimed over you, and suddenly decide that if you can't be the one wielding what I currently am that you want to help the person who is?" At this, he laughed, bitter and not at all amused. "Excuse me if I find your motives a bit...off...and more than selfish. After all, I don't want those who would readily betray me if they saw the chance arise. See - I'm way beyond Voldemort in planning." Icy eyes narrowed. He still hadn't moved, though, and as the light changed angles through the window, it imparted an eerie illumination to his form. "If this is the case, then I don't want your help, certainly don't need it, as I practically have people lined up simply to lick the ground I've walked upon."

He laughed once more, and this time, he was smirking, coldly, and suddenly, walking as well, to meet her, towering over her. "And while you may remember us from Hogwarts and our teenage dreams, that was then. All who serve me are my property, are treated as such, and as goes with most property marked accordingly. Catching my drift yet?"

He seemed as if he was going to close the distance between them some more, but instead, he dodged back, and reclaimed his nonchalant pose against the wall, all the grace of a stalking predator. "You're in no position to demand a single thing from me, and the fact that you seem to think that alliances are negotiable..." he cut off. "Realize that you are in no position to demand a thing from me."

It was true, for she had walked into his lair, with someone who had surpassed normal powers and apparently had no ills about being cruel with them. And she had also offended him never a good thing.

He was now watching her calmly, awaiting her retort.

Arsnie stood mute, becoming slightly scared. She wasn't sure he wouldn't kill her then and there, one more wrong move...it wasn't impossible. Looking away she shook her head slightly.

"It was a request. And you're correct, demanding anything would be wrong...and my motives are not as you would think. Even if you don't want me to help you...I'm not going to work against you, and I would never betray you. Why do you think anything of the sort? As you said things changed since we were teenagers, I was stupid then. Very stupid then. And since I've never actually had the opportunity to 'arise above', nor will I ever, why do you not trust me? I demand nothing, but ask for a chance..." she said in a whisper, feeling intimidated by him standing over her and breathed a sigh of relief as he moved away.

She began timidly again, "...And if...if being marked is what I have to do then I will." she agreed.

She turned around to look out the window again, "I can help you Draco, I can be one of your greatest assets. Just say the word...if not today...when ever..." she said and turn to face him again. "I'm always at your service..." she whispered.

Her yellow eyes were shining with desire, she felt that anything and everything she wanted was there in that room. When she got it everything would be complete; she'd be whole again.

He simply peered at her for awhile, calculating icy orbs barely even blinking as they set upon their target. Onyx robes, of some silk, cascaded along his slender, tall frame, and it gave him the appearance of something ethereal, something that had the power to decide the fate of the world. What with the slightly grown out tendrils of pastel blond that framed the angular features - pale, pointed, and elevated. Finally, the seeming ice sculpture cracked a smirk that was definitely more of the old Malfoy, sultry labrums curved self-confidentially. It appeared his forceful demeanors often paid off, and while it was for show this time, it wasn't always on other times.

"I see," he drawled simply, his tone lighter and more amiable this time around, strangely soothing and lulling as well. Laughing, "Well, with such a request, who would I be to deny it...aside from the ass that I can be sometimes?"

It seemed that he was contented with her answers, as he moved forward, languidly, and grabbed her wrist gently, beginning to lead her off into the dining hall. Before he continued to lead the way, however, he craned his head back at her, a monochromic brow arched, questioning. "And is that all you wanted? The look in your eyes tells me there's something you're not telling me..."

His smirk only widened afterward.

The silence was so menacing that she barely breathed. She watched his face, trying to see something in it the way that she use to, but it seemed she was to nervous for her own good. And then a smirk, she knew that smirk so well, she was so pleased to see it.

Running her tongue over her lips she listened as if missing one word would be missing the entirety of what he was saying to her. And as she heard the 'verdict', a smile was plastered onto the tan features, small and bewitching.

She felt his hand on hers, the paleness clashing with her tan skin, wondering where they might be going. Yet, his words jerked her from anatomizing her surroundings. She gave a small laugh and looked at him, "You read people to well. Your right there is something else I want, but...you don't love me. So I guess we don't always get what we want," she said looking at him thoughtfully. Did he already know what she wanted? Was he just asking so she would outright tell him? Or did he just know there was something, but not what it was?

Guess she would find out

As they entered the dining hall, he stopped nearly dead in his tracks at her words, turning around completely to allow his icy gaze the scathe over her significantly smaller figure, as if appraising what she really meant. He shifted weight between his feet, the sable silk of his clothing rustling together noisily, and casually, as if in slow-motion, swiped some locks of fair blond from his visage. He was perplexed by her comment, which was obviously with the quizzical look he was giving her. He fought desperately to suppress a smirk. And won.

"And you're implying that you do love me? I can only help but wonder if it's the Dark Lord in disguise persona... you're the third one this month," he joked in signature sarcasm, settling his arms down by his sides as he resumed walking.

"After all these years, you show up and tell me such a thing. Perhaps you're a few years too late. In our days at Hogwarts, well, maybe I would've readily dated you," he paused, eyes heavy-lidded and maybe purposefully seductive, as he now allowed himself to smirk. "But what now, hmm?"

She watched him wondering why she had so openly told him anything, maybe because she just wasn't shy with him; she just didn't feel the need to be secretive. Besides being secretive to someone who was soon to become her 'master' wasn't in her best interest.

She listened to him wondering if he what he said was true, in school, would he have really had done it? Arsnie had been so sure he wouldn't of, she had always held back, went the opposite direction in most cases. She thought that Draco would want someone else, she just wasn't sure whom. Apparently assumption had gotten her in more trouble these years than she thought.

"I imply a great many things if you've not noticed, but this I'm almost certain of. And if you were to be just some ordinary person with the same personality, I think I'd still love you all the same. How many people can say that?" she asked.

Her head was turned down, black strands covering her face, "If I was able to decide what happens now...I would. But I'd be selfish, I'd make everything happen in my favor, but I don't really get the choice anyway," she whispered.

Putting out one hand on his shoulder to slow him she watched, "You can have anything-anyone in the World that you want, not like you don't realize it. You've got power now and all of those old friends are coming around and telling you how they feel or felt it has to get disturbing. Every guy wants to be you and every girl wants to be with you, and all for different reasons. Some want money, fame, and power...sometimes its lust even. I wanted power a long time ago, but I don't want your power, I want my own. Other than that I'll leave you to decide whether or not my feelings are genuine"

Glacial-azure optics peered at her with something akin to perked interest, perplexed by her actual openness, and at the same time, the seeming submissiveness behind it all. It was almost appealing, this blatant offer of such undeniable loyalty, but he was careful as to how to answer it exactly.

An audible 'Hmm' of thought escaped the confines of the ivory column of his throat, and leisurely, he began to pace, soft steps that reverberated throughout the massive room, while sending the onyx of loose, shrouding clothing, robes mostly, into silent flurries of movement. Pastel blond tendrils wafted gently with the thoughtful movements, and it seemed that perhaps an eternity would pass before he even said anything to address her comments, or the question that lay behind them. He could perceive the hopelessness but the want... he was not stupid.

He finally laughed, however, a carefree sound in the endlessness of the vast chambre, and his eyes eventually strayed back over to her. He admired, admittedly, her self-confidence that left just enough room for her to be unsure of herself - and all options considered, he felt that, if he were to choose a companion, well, she'd at least be in the running. And the more that he thought about it, the more he remembered their friendship in their schooldays, as well as the prospects of the future, with her or anyone else. It seemed that his mind processed the facts within the blink of an eye, quick thinking most likely, for he spoke a few moments later.

"I could have whomever I wanted, probably," he mused aloud, as he watched her, with an almost devilish intent, laced within his caressing drawl. "But at the same time, that's not wise, is it? To just choose whomever, that is."

At this, he turned his body back around, and he began to approach her once more. His steps seemed overly placed, as if he thought about where he might place his feet each time, but when he reached her, mere centimeters before her and towering in huffy self-confidence, it was clear he'd found some sort of resolve.

"I remember us at Hogwarts, as you do. I'd daresay we were virtually inseparable. And did we not trust each other?" He looked at her, as if looking for confirmation, but he continued all the same. "Some even suggested that we date," he continued, his voice that of one remembering a seemingly peaceful, happy time. "Know that I trust you then, I held nothing from you, and with a little work, maybe it could be like it was then. Only more... in depth."

At this, he seemed to grin...though even his grins seem to resemble too closely to impish smirking. "Perhaps, we shouldn't take it for granted now that fate has tossed us back together. But my affections do not come without a price, for it means I am trusting you, ultimately, with my..." instead of finishing the sentence, he reached for her hand, and placed his over his toned, yet slender chest, over his heart. "And I refuse to be made a fool of if, in the end, it turns out that I had indeed wasted my time."

Now, to his self-assured, relaxed exterior, he added an arched eyebrow. And beneath all this, what had really happened was that, in so many words, he had sort of admonished a relationship of the romantic sort between the two of them - and this time, a committed one, something he'd not had in awhile.

It was just tormenting. The moments that he spent pacing were brutal suffering, she survived on his answer, and that alone...for the time being. She thought he wouldn't answer, or that this was maybe how long it took to find a nice way to say 'no'. There was no nice way to say no though. So Arsnie braced herself.

Then he confirmed as she had said he could have anyone he wanted yet also pointed out that it was not wise. No.it wasn't. Why choose what you want if it will only make disaster in the end? No point in getting hurt for no reason, not when it could be prevented. Somehow she doubted that Draco would be the one hurt in a relationship that ended between him and someone.

Then as he talked of school she seemed to drift back in the past, reliving moments she wished she could be stuck in. Times when she had so wistfully watched him amongst his flurries of 'girlfriends', and times when she had talked with him, a secret longing hidden within.

And then he spoke of fate; Arsnie only nodded. As he towered over her she breathed only lightly, and when her hand was placed upon her heart, she felt her own beat wildly. A sense of euphoria from within, a feeling you feel when all of your dreams come true.

She breathed to keep from sounding like a silly old school girl and smiled, "You're not wasting time, not with me. I'm going to make you so happy-" she smirked, "Baby, you're never going to want to let me go," she said. And then, as if resistance was beyond her (for she had held it in a minute to long), she threw her arms around his neck and gave him a big hug.

Cautiously, he watched her reaction, and as she threw her arms around him, the smirked that adorned the small pucker of his labia only increased - it wasn't clear why; perhaps it was the prospect of not having to stay in such a huge establishment alone any longer. Maybe it was more.

Either way once she had broken the embrace, he gazed down at her with a slightly different softness, and immediately, it seemed he began to count off things that needed to be arranged or done on this slender digits. Announcing his mental list later:

"Well, then," he drawled, laughing a little at her reaction. "I'm afraid it can't be like this every time around, or how else will we get much accomplished?" he questioned sarcastically, but he continued right on.

"This means, of course, that you'll be staying here; no mistress of mine should live alone...since, you realize, this puts you in immediate danger," he stated, more as a side note to himself, ", my Dark Lady. I'll send someone for your things shortly."

He reached for her hand, and leading her over to the table, he pulled at a chair, a gesture of kindness that quested for her to sit. "But really..." he asked suddenly, "is that all you can say?"

He smirked more, as always.

Arsnie smiled no much would not be accomplished, he was correct. She raised her eyebrows, surprised, as he told her that she would be staying with him now. Things seemed to happen so fast, but how she loved every word. But danger? What danger? Why would Arsnie ever be in any danger?

It was Arsnie after all. Yet, if he said that danger would come, she had better listen. Besides the thought had barely any time to cross her mind, the minute she heard the words 'My Dark Lady' pass from Draco's lips she felt a wave of warmth secure her. Dark lady was awesome enough in itself, but to hear 'my', especially from Draco...the words were just magical!

Taking his hand and sitting down, all with her natural grace that had been hereditary amongst the Sreesely family (well except for Ethan who insisted on being arrogant).

She shook her head as he suggested there was more to say, indeed there was. Losing her aloof demeanor instantly at the sound of the question she smiled. "I could say a million things, I promise you I could talk all day! But as you said, much wouldn't get accomplished, would it? I could go on and on about how blessed I am, and how this is the best day of my life, or...how wonderful you are. I could talk forever I swear, but all in all...I'm speechless. So many things to say, not enough time to say them all, and I don't even know where to start"

Pulling all of her silky black hair around her left shoulder she seemed to have started thinking then. She had been pretty darn dangerous before, and now that she was Draco's ally/girlfriend, she was lethal. A deadly angel

A smooth chuckle bubbled from the ivory expanse of his throat as she seated, and he, too, moved to the head of the table to take a seat, effortlessly lowering his slender, tall form into the thrown-like chair, onyx shroudings and robings of silk hanging off in and spiraling down to the marble floor in almost watery consistency. He found her excited banter amusing, and the glacial oculars set within his visage seemed to betray his bemusement for the moment, until his laughter subsided as quickly as it had arrived. Deftly, nimble digits pushed platinum tendrils away from the aristocratic features, and the hand was later brought down to steeple with its counter-part.

"Oh, such the flatterer and the sweet talker," he practically cooed, though he said it with a teasing, if not charming, tinge to his drawl. "I'll note your giddiness for later, but now, what do you say to some champagne?" No sooner had he offered the idea of the liquidy substance had he waved his hand, and a bottle with two goblets materialized on the table before them. It was obvious that it powers were...not normal. "So, m'dear. Tell me is it that you've been up to? We've got catching up to do, especially since we're on whole different level now."

An emphatic brow arched, and he barely noticeably, he winked, as well.

Arsnie smiled at him, she certainly was 'giddy', but who wouldn't be? If Draco Malfoy had just given you possession of his heart- and that was hard enough to accomplish - and you weren't excited about it, well perhaps Draco should give it a second thought. But Arsnie was so happy she could barely contain herself.

Then the champagne appeared, and she stopped and blinked. She looked around to see a house elf but there wasn't one, and his wand wasn't out either. She blinked again...but finally concluded that this is just some special power that he had received through the dark arts.

She eyed him suspiciously, "Have you forgotten about alcohol and I? We're good friends...too good." she said, but took a sip, small as it was, all the same. "And I've actually been locked in my house everyday for the past year with the exception of my job and purchases, I'm a doctor. I hate it, but whatever you've got to do, right? My parents died during Voldermorts short reign until he died, and then Ethan died the year I graduated. Finally popped off his mouth to the wrong person..." Arsnie said before stopping, she remembered that night. Arsnie hadn't ment too, really, she hadn't. It was an accident. She was so mad at Ethan, he was always trying to control her, and she'd talked that night about finally getting to see all her old friends because they had finally graduated.

"You remember them all don't you? I don't think they liked you very much, and you them, but still, I can't wait to see them all again. Good to get out of this house."

"The blonde boy?"

"Draco, you actually remembered something, history has been made, what about him?"

"You're not going to see him are you..."

"Of course I am, why wouldn't I-"

"I don't think you should...."

After that was a blur. She'd remembered threatening him, but...she didn't mean to say...she didn't mean to kill him. The idea didn't haunt her though, she was just a little afraid of what kind of things she did when she was angry. Things she did to her own brother.

Finally she came back to reality and realized she'd left silence.

"What about you?" she began quickly, "Spent the whole time working on this?" she asked

Arsnie waited for a minute before she thought of something else, "Just out of curiosity, who were the other two girls? And what happened with them?" she asked, she only wondered because she still couldn't believe this was really happening. Draco had obviously turned down two girls before her that had expressed a similar desire, but had not refused her. A miracle, surely.

Silvery brows were knitted together as she gave the shortened summary of her life, and being the person that he was, he saw right through the charade. However, he didn't pry, leaving hatchets buried where they should be, for he knew that he himself wouldn't appreciate the gesture. As he listened, he busied himself with filling his goblet up, the golden liquid tumbling into it smoothly, and afterward, wrapping both slender hands about the glass. Wintry-Grey orbs stared in at the liquid for a time, as if he was contemplating something in which could be answered through the substance before him, before his arms elevated, and lifted the finery to his supple pucker of labia, pallid as it'd always been.

"Yes, I remember you pissing off many a person when alcohol paid you a visit," he smirked, placing the goblet back on the chestnut-brown oak of the table. He seemed pleased from what he heard of her life since Hogwarts, and he nodded, as if to show as much.

"Well, I've been directing productions at a theatre in London," he explained, when she asked about him. "This-" he gestured grandly with a free, pale hand, "-is a side project of sorts." He laughed at this. "I've also substituted when Quidditch teams needed a replacement Seeker. But I really don't have to maintain anything profitable, since, as you know, I'm the Malfoy heir."

He leaned back in his chair at this, still smirking, and admittedly, there seemed to be something mischievous and devilish about the gesture. He laughed, however, when she questioned of the girls.

"I sense some jealousy already," he purred, shrugging his finely sculpted shoulders. "They... just weren't for me." He paused, as if searching for more clear words. "I couldn't trust them. They'd betray me, if not disobey me."

He lifted his goblet once more, and this time, as he sipped, azure ooids remained locked on Arsnie. "But I've always rather fancied you; you're just enough of spice, yet still a lady."

At this, he rose to his feet, waving a hand, again. A chorus of classical violins began playing, and smoothly, he swaggered over to her chair. "Dance with me," he suggested, seductively.

Arsnie smiled, she'd upset so many people with drunken banter, or her just acting crazily, embarrassing many. She'd remembered being sick, having to act normal in front of her teachers, luckily that habit had since left her.

She listened to him talk of his theatre productions in London, how his...power was a side project, and how he replaced Quidditch seekers. She thought she'd heard something about him playing. And then he talked of being the Malfoy heir and she remembered how Ethan had snatched her family inheritance from her. He was older, and therefore received everything. By the time he had died he had spent every single sickle. She wondered how she could even be related to him some days.

But then he 'sensed' jealousy, and she was about to open her mouth to defend herself, for Arsnie was never envious of those she could be better than, and even hose better, she respected them. Of course in her mind eye, Draco was the only one who fitted in that category.

She smiled at the compliment, "Thank you, I try." she said.

Violins sounded out of nowhere and she gasped. She'd have to get use to him just doing things without a wand. Placing a slender digits in his hand she laughed, "Your wish is my command." her voice hummed, yellow eyes interlocking with the Grey

At her sentiment of gratitude, the elfin smirk that he usually wore increased to that of a softer expression, almost a smile, and he merely nodded to show that the notion was acknowledged. But when her digits were placed in his pale palm, hues contrasting, he gently tugged her upward and led her out onto the clutterless side of the expanses of marble flooring, and slowly, he initiated a slow, swaying movement of dancing.

"There's a good girl," he joked at her comment, making her sound as if she were a pet of some sort. He let a comforting silence fall about them, and during this time, his blue-Grey ooids systematically switched from peering unwaveringly into her eyes and to surveying the room. He was thinking, and after he'd done such, he always felt it necessary to voice his verdicts.

"I don't want you to feel as if you can't be yourself just because things are slightly different now. Because we're older. Because things are more risky," he began, sighing, and noting that there seemed to be something lacking. "I admire how feisty you can be sometimes, and if you suppress that, well then, that'd be terribly awful...and I might have to use sneaky methods to get it out of you. Also understand that you have a say-so in what goes on here, too. Your ideas are valid and respected, and if ever I'm gone, it's you that may be left to take over things for that time, which means you need to be commanding sometimes, and domineering. Just so long as you don't try to boot me out of my own estate."

Chuckling, eyes raked over her face, the color resembling a calm before the storm. In essence, he'd just told her that he admired sarcasm and joking in a woman, someone who could keep up with his wit. But also, a woman that wouldn't try to override him.

Arsnie swayed to the rhythm gracefully, and listened only to the violins as she danced, until the majestic silence was broken. She listened as he voiced his thoughts and noted everything he said she was glad he didn't expect her to wallow in the shadows, even though she had been prepared to do that. She didn't think he'd want that anyway.

But then she grinned, "Tricky methods?" she asked. "Do you honestly think you could trick me into doing anything?" She smiled. He could, he was the only one, though. She could see right through most things, but Draco was full proof. Of course, it didn't mean she had to tell him he had that advantage, anyway she had the strange feeling he already knew.

"Anyway, it's not possible for anyone to boot you anywhere, one I don't think anyone has the nerve, two I don't think anyone has the strength. Besides, I wouldn't want to..." She smiled playfully.

"I like you right where you are, in my arms."

An impish smirk crossing his features, he tilted his head to the side as if contemplating, and freely, he allowed a chuckle to reverberate from the pale expanse of column that was his throat. Azure-Grey ooids seemed to glitter mischievously within the confines of the dimly lit room, watching intently the face of his dance partner, and as their world became a revolving pattern, as the music piqued, he decided to speak once more.

"Oh, maybe I could," he said, shrugging his shoulders loosely, as if it didn't really matter. "But perhaps you'll just have to wait and see for yourself, hmm?" His smirk spread.

And as her next comments spieled forth, he firmed the grip he held on her, leaning in a considerable distance, before whispering, "And who's to say I don't like you in mine?" At this, he gently brushed his lips against hers.

Arsnie was being consumed in the moments around her. This was her world now, her 'new' way of life, and she wouldn't change on thing. As Draco shrugged his shoulders aimlessly she raised her eyebrows; "I guess so." she smiled.

She waited to see him react to the last thing she said, and when he tightened his grip on her she wasn't too sure what was happening. As he asked what was probably a rhetorical question she was about to answer anyway but was caught by the soft brush of lips she felt against her own.

Arsnie shut her eyes enjoying every little moment of that kiss, and it wasn't just a kiss either, not to her. Guys before had kissed her, they hadn't been anything special, but Draco definitely was. It was hard to describe really; it was simply...magical.

Her eyes fluttered open revealing the glowing yellow again, as she looked him straight in the eyes, a smile spreading on her face that she couldn't help.

Normally this was the part where she pulled away, let the guy stand and think about what he'd just done, and leave. Leaving them wanting more and more, of course they never got it. Tease by nature.

She didn't pull away this time, however. She stayed right where she was and smirked. "Well...anyone who is jealous, maybe?" Arsnie said. She ran her tongue over her lips; they longed for his touch again.

As the duration of the kiss dwindled, the silver-blond eventually retracted his lips, and much like the smile that adorned the female's lips, he wore one of his very own. Fair brows raised, however, and his smirk sort of transformed into one of a playful defiance, painting the arrogant features impish and dashing. As if he wasn't any other time.

"Jealous? Well, perhaps you'd fall under that category, too, don't you?" A gleam seemed to spark within the depths of his azure oculars. "But I don't think you'd have to be like that anymore, hmm?"

Arsnie gave Draco a fake look of pouting as he replied to her, as if he might have figured her out and she didn't want him too. Of course Arsnie was never jealous, she really hadn't ever had a reason to be. Maybe if Draco had already found someone before her she would have been.

"Me? Jealous?" she questioned as the pout faded into a smirk. "Of what? The two girls who 'weren't for you'?" she laughed. "Hardly. If I was jealous of anyone, or anything, it would probably have to be the way your brilliant little mind works." she said as she tucked her black hair behind her ears.

Even as she said all this she couldn't help but find some truth in what he said, perhaps she was just the tiniest bit insecure about the other girls, if they were anything like her she knew they weren't going to give up.

"But..." her voice continued as if acknowledging something new, "If it would make you happy for me to hush-up about the other girls I'm supposedly madly jealous of, I suppose that can be arranged." she said her eyebrows raising as a smirk spread over her face, "at a price." she finished. It was the familiar smirk from her days in Hogwarts when she was clearly playing and teasing.

The figure was hidden in the shadows, glass-green eyes glittering softly as he watched his master's every move. He would not interfere unless his master so indicated, he knew just as well, that he may well be introduced to the woman. His abilities to play with both light and darkness were nothing next to the abilities of the dark Lord, but he knew that the Master would prefer the deadly hands of the winged assassin, rather than his own, to be covered in the blood of a traitor. The twinned blades, one that had killed the beings own predecessor were sheathed at his back, wings arching devilishly.

A pleasant thought slipped across the creature's mind. Maybe the master would take her, fulfil her sad wish to sleep with the Dark Lord, then let him kill her. But the master loved make moments wait. The wintry man's patience was the chain around Blackbird's neck, and the restriction was a savory flavor that sat in his mouth.

Arsnie was awaiting an answer when she got a sickening feeling in her stomach, the smirk and smile faded quickly. She stopped herself from moving, and she looked around, but saw nothing. The yellow eyes darted back and forth; the only sound was the violins. What was there? Something her perceptive eye couldn't catch? Both impressive and scary. Still...she could feel the eyes on her back. Someone was watching her, watching them.

Turning back to Draco, the yellow glow of her eyes traveled over face, a little shiver running up her spine. That which she could not see, but knew was there, only frightened her. However slight it was, was beside the point. "Draco...is there anyone else here?" she asked, trying not to sound afraid, the eyes still darted in and out of the shadows. How embarrassed she was going to be if it turned out to be a house elf. More and more her eyes circled, and then...there it was. A small scream escaped her lips, before she put a hand upon her mouth to stop it. Calming herself, fear diminishing ever so much, she put her hand on her wand, but did not retrieve it, no sudden movements.

"What in the hell is that?" she asked one eyebrow raised, but still and unmistakable quiver in her voice. It reminded her of the way Keith would sneak around and scare her...and she hated it.

As her playful demeanor shifted, it was the deceivingly angelic Dark Lord's turn to share an unreadable smirk, not answering her teasing words of a few moments ago, pallid cobalt ooids watching intently as Arsnie's eyes sought out the other presence. He was a bit wary of her reaction, and as she seemed to recoil, he let her slim figure slip from his long-armed embrace, so that he might face Blackbird himself. And that he did; the onyx garments - cloak, robes, and suit - of nearly completely silk swishes about his lithe frame as he turned on his heel to face the being that lurked in the encroaching shadows. Shadows that crept in nearly every part of this excessive, plantation-styled estate.

For a moment, though, after the floating of his clothing stopped, he merely stood there, eyes staring off into the shadows, in what was the direction of his minion. There was an undeniable air of cold calculation in that unshakable gaze and his arms crossed over his chest in an almost haughty manner. He was still, apparently, much like the moody teen he had been in school, except this time around he had the means to be domineering with it. On his own, without the involvement of Lucius. Maybe he'd even kill Lucius one day.

Finally, though, something flickered in the sharp, alabaster-hued face, and his body became animated once more. A mental command of, ' Come forward,' was issued to the hidden assassin, along with the curling of his index digit, at which point his shifted his position, so that both people in the room he see either side of his profile.

His attention shifted warily toward Arsnie, as if Blackbird might tell him something about where her loyalties really resided. However, the complacent smirk was still upon the Malfoy's lips, and smoothly, yet chillingly, he spoke. "What's the matter, Arsnie? Don't recognize a classmate of old?" His eyes narrowed just so, for a moment, before returning to their natural, glittering size of varying blue. "Really, I'm disappointed in your reaction-" and that this, he did put on a vague scowl, "-for did you expect such a life to be filled with simply pleasantries? What do you expect to be dealing with?"

Now, he did doubt her capabilities, and he paused, with the weighty silence of one determining a verdict, a judgement. "At any rate, you may know my trusted companion here as Blackbird. And Blackbird, this is Arsnie Sreesely."

Much like an ancient Roman watching gladiators in old arenas, he seemed to wait from an signals from either as to clue him in to the disposition he should take. For this Dark Lord was a thoughtful man and hell-bent on not being crumpled the way he predecessor had.

Arsnie watched Draco, she wondered what he was thinking, and he seemed to be making some connection with well...whatever it was. As his words met her ears, she shifted her position to face him. 'Classmate?' she thought. 'Who turned into that?' she thought.

Maybe it was because she'd never seen anything like and had no clue what it was or where it came from was the reason it intimidated her. More of his voice reached her ears and she wondered if perhaps her reaction had been wrong, she just couldn't help it. It had really surprised her.

"No, no, Draco...it's just well, it surprised me. You know it was lurking in the shadows, which tends to arouse my suspicion every so often." she said raising her eyebrows. To her it didn't seem unnatural to be a little afraid of things that looked as if they could eat you whole.

"Blackbird." she said under her breath. "Who is it?" she asked Draco, she didn't recall a student named 'Blackbird' because there wasn't one. Arsnie could only imagine what Draco might be thinking now.

Her loyalties were with him, and now, him alone. The minute he'd established this relationship she left her own stupid childhood dreams behind because she wouldn't want to ruin this by being greedy. And somehow, she felt as if this were more power than she could ever have being the commander of everything. Somehow, this seemed a whole lot better. She was here, in a place she loved, with the one she loved. Arsnie was very pleased on how things were going, and she hoped her short moment of being off guard didn't hurt anything.

Arsnie ran her tongue over her lips, Draco seemed to know what/who this was, and it obviously wasn't going to hurt her. "Is it a...pet? Did you make someone into your...pet?" she asked, even though in some ways she was beginning to warm up to it. 'It' was extraordinary, unlike anything she had seen, and as long as it wasn't ripping her head off, beautiful. Beautiful in its own dark, twisted way.

Wings opening just slightly, the creature relinquished his hold on the shadows and stepped into the light. Black clothes fitted loosely over firm muscles, pale skin spotted with freckles and too-red hair swept to one side, the being approached, trapped between haughtiness from being in the presence of one of Draco's lessors, and a respectful cower for the sake of the great master himself. But the command had been clear. There was no need for cowering, bowing or scraping at this moment, even though he willingly would at the beck of his Lord.

The cruel ebony mask tilted the form of the beak in a pitiless smile. A glass-green eye stared into the soul of the girl. A fetching smile fell on his cheeks as she spoke to his Lord.

A pet? Most certainly.

He was the Master's favorite beast.

With careful poise, the former Slytherin stood as his so-called 'pet' approached and listened as Arsnie spoke whatever it was that troubled her. His mind roamed vaguely on her capabilities, if she could be able to be as ruthless as such demanded. If she was bothered by a simple curse, a creature, what would that say to massacres and death? Destruction and desolation?

It was apparent that he was mulling over it, too, as his wintry blue eyes narrowed to mere slits, arms crossing over his torso and he paced, as he often did when he was thinking. This time, however, he seemed to be spouting off his thoughts aloud, as well.

"See, dear Arsnie," he began, his drawl sounding complacent and calculating, "this tells me something about you. If you couldn't handle this sight - after having had to deal with vampires, werewolves, and Merlin knows what else in classes - what's to say you could handle such a virtue on this side of power? This isn't your flowery, happy magic from fairytales, and I'm, at least, giving you credit for gathering that much. But if you knew that so well, it doesn't explain your 'surprised' reaction, the urge to recoil. Granted it, I appreciate the vanity and the would-be aristocracy of it all, but when it comes to things helping you in your conquest for what you want, I think it's time that you learn that there are no restrictions." His speech paused, but he still paced back and forth, a slow and meticulous motion, but cat-like and graceful. "It just makes me question your capabilities and how well you can use your ambition. While you are under my technical, yet illegal, jurisdiction, I may not always be there to call off 'scary' things. But Blackbird might be a pet - but try to cuddle him and see if you get to keep an given appendage on your body."

At that, he snorted, sharing a small smirk, but, suddenly, he was walking toward the door to exit the room. He halted in the threshold, however, a sliver of platinum blond hanging in his face as the rest hung loosely upon his shoulders. "Blackbird, perhaps you could teach her something? What sort of something? I've no clue - but I fear she needs an adjustment to our way of life. Acquaint her, if you will, but no mangling, harming, or anything of the sort. This is my personal house, and I want no bloodshed in it just yet. After an hour or so, both of you are to meet me at my 'hideaway' on the English Channel. Please be discreet about getting there - punctual, too."

It was amazing the way that, as his spiel wavered on, he began to sound more like a flustered, rich businessman, and, maybe, that's what he was. Just in a hell of a trade. "And Blackbird - remove the mask when ready."

At that, he disapparated on the spot, leaving only vague traces of smoke in his wake.

Arsnie eyes traveled over Draco with unsureness as to what his words my be implying. God, what was so wrong with being a bit startled? So she was caught off guard for one moment, exactly why she couldn't hold Draco's power, being off guard with a position such as his was just not allowed. She slipped up, and that is why she failed. She had already explained that to him. Of course there was always another day, she'd get her chance again. She wasn't about to let one of her biggest dreams come true, lose it, and then just let it go. No, it just wasn't going to happen that way.

So he doubted her abilities, well, she'd prove him wrong. She'd prove herself to him, one way or another. As he disapparated her mind was already racing on what she was going to have to do to provide proof. Her yellow eyes stared at the mask on Blackbird's face, he was supposed to teach her something now. And what could this 'pet' teach her? Her mind was still lingering over who this person was. She studied the body, and yet, she still couldn't place him/her.

And then she wondered if Blackbird could talk...one way to find out. "So, um, can you talk?" she asked it unsurely. This whole thing was still a bit new to her and it was going to take her just a little time to fall into step. The only problem was she seemed to have gotten way off track with Draco.

A slow wicked smile spreads across the creatures' face as Draco gave him leave to teach this new slave a lesson. A lesson in loving the dark path. On her question, the being became quite suddenly animated.

"Indeed I can." He leans forward, just so. He is a threat, and his smile has not faded. His eyes glitter within his mask. This child knew nothing of the glory he lived with, and it was time she learned. "I sense your fear...your apprehension towards me. Might I inquire...what do you think is the worst thing you've ever done?" His body then becomes still, waiting. Breathing. Silent.

Arsnie shuddered as Blackbird replied she hadn't expected it to speak even if it could. Arsnie wanted to recoil, maybe even run away and get out of this place as fast as she could, but she was to frightened by what this thing could do to her. By the time she could get her wand and stupefy it, it might have already ripped her arm off.

Another thing was she got this strange feeling like she did with Draco that it could if she were lying or not. His question was an easy one; it was very simple to immediately think the worse thing she had done in her life. So she answered, her voice a little shaky, "I...I murdered my brother." she said quietly.

With malice, the creature sneers, "I murdered the oldest creature alive on this planet, who also happened to be a kinsmen of mine." His smile did not leave his face, "But you seem to be upset by this...while I simply understand that death happens, be it at my hand or yours."

Strong hands spread and the shadows twist. They circle into a ball in his hands, which he tosses from one hand to the next. The darkness is his to command, and it is like a toy to him. "Why not take pleasure in it, then let it hinder our actions?"

He looks down at the ball, which grows fuzzy, then solid. A tiny black kitten looks up, blue eyes blinking slowly. The hideous/beautiful thing that holds it in gentle, calming fingers not at all horrifies it. He meets the eyes of the girl who stands before him and he strokes the kitten with kind fingers. He notes the look there, reading it, "Does this...this kitten in my hands...make you nervous...or is it that something such as I am holding something so pure and innocent?"

The tiny creature purrs and rubs its face against Blackbird's poised hands.

Arsnie stared at Blackbird; he seemed to think her act nothing. She thought everything of it. Everything. "He might have unnerved me...but I was probably drunk...and that was my brother, my brother." she said, but she didn't expect Blackbird to understand about Ethan.

Arsnie wasn't sure she fully understood about taking pleasure in the deaths of others. She killed because she had to, for revenge, to serve, to get to the top. Never for pleasure. Maybe that was a problem, maybe it wasn't. "Why would you take pleasure in killing someone?" she asked a little disbelieving.

The yellow eye darted to the shadows...was he playing with them? Arsnie had obviously stepped into a New World the minute she had knocked on this door. Had it been a mistake? She didn't know. As the question was issued from her 'teacher' of sorts, she stared at the kitten for a minute.

"I learned not to trust anything no matter how innocent it may seem, there may always be a hidden motive or surprise you're not aware of." she said, and it was all very true, she'd learned this lesson the hard way.

Blackbird raises an eyebrow, then tilts his head, coolly, "Why not? If sadness is in the hand that holds the willing blade..." He stokes the kitten with a black-tipped finger, "...that blade might be stayed."

He was rather amused by this woman at this moment. Now that she had ceased to fear him, for whatever reason, the creature mused; she was getting more frank. She had been so frank with his master. She had no respect.

And that was a mistake.

He then gave the kitten to her, placing it on her chest and the hand that rose to catch it. It is still purring eagerly. The being speaks again, "Your brother haunts you..." he smiles briefly, "do not be so surprised that I know. And you do not wish to make that mistake again...do you?" He chuckles, and kneels quite suddenly, the shadows increasing as he laughs suddenly. "No, you don't. I have one more question to ask you then...what use do you think you have to my master?"

Arsnie listened to Blackbird trying to read between the lines and figure out what he ment. Her mind had wondered elsewhere briefly, however. Her mind was on Draco and there was a far away look in her eyes until a kitten was placed on her.

Suddenly she came back down to Earth, listening, trying to make up for what she had missed when her mind had been on Draco. She heard what Blackbird said; she didn't appreciate him talking about Ethan. She had not wanted to discuss it and she had been very grateful towards Draco silence about the matter. She knew he knew, even if she didn't tell him.

"Of course I don't want it to happen again!" she exclaimed. However, a new question was being asked. Arsnie found that for the first time in her life she didn't have a real answer. 'I can be one of your greatest assets...' she had told Draco, but what did that mean? Sure, she could help him but what did she have to offer? She didn't know.

"I...I don't know." she said very surprised with herself. Maybe she was in the way. She felt as if she were in the way now. That she was just an obstacle in Draco's way that he shouldn't even have to bother with. That she should go away. Arsnie felt like she didn't belong within in his ranks. She tried to hide all these feelings from Blackbird, but again, as with Draco, she got the nagging feeling it was impossible.

Self-doubt was like a sudden rush of flavor that added much to this conversation. Still crouched on the floor, the birdman's smile grows wicked, as though taking pity on the girl whom has stepped into a mire she had not expected. The laugh on his lips is silent this time, seeming more dangerous this time.

"I am able to say I expected as much." His head tilts to an unnatural angle, his glass-green eyes digging into her soul, not allowing her to look away, "And my master was not fooled by your game. You have come into matters that are far beyond your grasp, child, and it is far too late to run and hide. And if you try..."

The shadows suddenly grow around them until they are the only things apparent in the room. He stands, his muscular frame over-powering hers as the kitten disappears in a whisp. The shadows close in, Blackbird's insanely strong hands flash out, one at her neck, the other between her legs, making the duel threat that much more real.

The black mask tears into her soul, the lips below it, with a twisted smile, whisper the threat; "you shall be mine."

Blackness overtakes the area.

When it clears, the twisted creature is gone; the shadows have receded to their former nooks and crannies.

Arsnie stared at Blackbird, her eyes unable to move from him. Things were becoming tense and weird. Everything was awkward and she wasn't use to awkward moment.

Her yellow eyes stared into the glass-green ones, but soon her attention was distracted by a threat. As the shadows increased and she felt the creatures' hands, she was silent and shaking with fear.

When the darkness cleared she looked around, but she saw nothing. Blackbird was gone. Arsnie sank down against the wall and pulled her knees to her chest and put her face against her kneecaps. "What have I gotten myself into?" she whispered to herself and disapparated from that spot.