For Who Am I: Unbecoming

"Non curo. Si metrum non habet, non est puema."

"Visne saltare?" he asked, slamming the book shut. He pocketed it discreetly, turning around. "Viam Latam Fungos am scio-" he broke off suddenly as he realized not only what language he was speaking in, but to whom he was speaking; in shock as his eyes landed on her. "Oh my... Melosa!?"

A tall woman stood in the doorway before him. Her unusually slanted, violet eyes shining intensely in the dark room, giving a very mysterious aura about her. She stepped into the light to give him a better look. She had long, graceful, black hair pulled up in a ponytail. She wore pitch-black robes that fit her figure and made her eyes somehow shine even more unnaturally by contrast. She was quite attractive, even with all the scars. Voldemort smiled inwardly as he recalled how she had received most of them. The woman smiled herself as she drew closer to him, stopping three paces away. "Seventeen years can change a person a lot, you know..." she said, her voice hinting a New England accent.

"Oh my, you've been in Boston too long..." Voldemort circled her once. When he came back around, he grasped her by the shoulders and quickly looked her up and down. "How tall are you? Seven foot?" he asked, letting go of her.

Melosa chuckled softly and shook her head. "I'm only six foot, my lord, and I was in Brooklyn," she said, quickly looking him over as well.

"Brooklyn now? You were in Boston before. Why'd you - never mind. I don't want to know..." he muttered.

"Right, you don't." she said abruptly with a snort.

"Thirty-six?"

"Thirty-five," she corrected him.

Voldemort nodded. "Ahh, of course. No birthday yet. November..." He mumbled. He narrowed his eyes at her. "You don't still--"

"Prophesize?" When she got no response she continued. "No, they started to get dull, so I quit. Easy habit to break, actually. Well, unless it's forced upon me. I can't help it if I go into a trance, you know..."

Voldemort shook his head, laughing. "I know," he said, "I know all too well..." He laughed and looked at her. She looked just like her sister; even most of their scars were the same. Melosa unmistakably had some new ones, but there was no doubt they looked much the same. His thoughts were interrupted suddenly by her voice.

"You're thinking about her?" she said, but it wasn't Melosa's voice, it was her sister's.

There wasn't a single way to tell the two apart aside from their personalities, Voldemort thought, and even those were similar at times. He smiled at her and nodded; she could always decipher him. He sighed and shook his head. "Why did you two have to be identical?"

He had a strange look in his eye that could only mean one thing to those who could recognize it: drunk. Melosa of course did right away and determined to use it to her benefit. She could always get what she wanted when he was drunk. There had only been one occasion when she couldn't and that was when... she pushed these thoughts out of her head as she realized she needed to say something in return. She shrugged and walked past him. "Don't ask me!" she said, throwing herself into the chair previously occupied by Lucius. "Aren't you supposed to be the all-knowing one? That's what I was always told, at least... I'm beginning to doubt the rumours," she said, daring a glance at him as he sat down. He only rolled his eyes at her and looked down into the fire. She smiled. This was exactly what she needed. Not only was he drunk, he was low on life. She slid down in her chair and put up her feet on the table near her. "So, Uncle Tommy, how are ya?" she asked, folding her hands behind her head.

Voldemort, still gazing into the fire, sighed and mumbled, "About a drink away from being wasted, and don't call me that."

"Why?" she asked, removing the twist-tie from her hair and letting it fall to the floor in a blue and black mess. She hadn't had her hair cut since the age of eighteen, to nearly everyone's disapproval. Fortunately for her, it grew slowly.

Voldemort sneered and closed his eyes. "Because it is not my name, and would you please cut your hair..."

Melosa grinned and leaned forward, hoping to have a little fun with this. "Well, Uncle Tom just doesn't sound quite right and I really don't think you'd enjoy Joanna as a pet name!" she mused, completely missing the fiery gleam stirring behind Voldemort's eyes.

"And another thing!" Voldemort snarled, snapping his head towards her, his eyes glaring yet brighter than her own. His voice was as cold and icy as she had ever heard it. It was rare that it sounded this cold, even on some of his most harmful occasions. Melosa's feet fell off of the table as she sat upright in her chair, keeping an eye on his left hand. He took a slow step towards her. "Frightened? Good!" he snapped. "I am not your uncle. There is no relation between us. You may think so, but there is not. Screw that, you weren't even born! So if I were you, I'd stop calling me UNCLE TOMMY!" he snarled, collapsing into his chair. "I am sick and tired of your antics, Stonier! You may think you can get through to me when I'm drunk, but you're far from it, mainly because I can't get drunk anymore! I seem to have developed an immunity..." He said the word mockingly, almost childish in tone. "Now... I may have sworn to her that I wouldn't lay a finger on you, but right now it really doesn't look like I'm going to keep that promise, now does it?" he asked, his eyes lighting up even more and his pinky virtually buzzing. Melosa noticed this, however, and scooted back into the corner of the chair as far as she could. "Which reminds me," Voldemort added, bringing his temper down a notch or two, "For your information, I do know precisely why you two are identical..." He leaned forward and pulled a bottle out from under his chair. He popped the top off of it and drank some. "Whisky," he muttered, putting the bottle to his lips again. "I hate it." He tossed his head back and drained a quarter of the bottle.

Melosa watched him, loathing herself for tempting him with that Tequila Sunrise when he had attempted to stop drinking. It was her fault he was still an alcoholic. She watched every part of him, looking for a sign of, well, anything that might tell her what had been happening. She stopped when she saw his eyes, now a gloomy, almost dark blood red. They had practically no life in them whatsoever. Not even the look he gets when he's... reminiscing. She sat up out of the corner of the chair and leaned forward, trying to get a better look at them. One of her specialties was reading eyes; she got that from her twin. Her twin... she had realized what it was. He couldn't have, he just couldn't... He couldn't...? She heard a voice in her head say. Why couldn't he have discovered it...? He did!... "You found the book..." she blurted out, still staring into his eyes.

Voldemort twisted his head around towards her, his eyebrows raised. "Pardon?"

"The book she wrote..." she muttered, not daring to break eye contact with him. "...you found it..." She couldn't believe it. She didn't know how or why, but she just couldn't believe it.

Voldemort slid his hand in his pocket and around the book. She doesn't mean her book, does she? If so, how did she know? She couldn't have seen me, she wasn't here... Yes she was, he reminded himself. She could have seen the whole thing. He silenced his thoughts and shook his head at her. "Melosa, if this is another one of your games--"

"Screw that, you know exactly what I'm talking about!" she yelled, leaping to her feet. "Don't give me that bull, Tom! That little black book she wrote that I set on your mantel in 1981... You found it! Don't lie to me! You always lie to me! Just..." She was on the verge of tears and she knew it. She tried to keep herself from crying. She couldn't stand it when he lied to her. He had done so ever since she was a little girl, and she hated it. She didn't deserve that from him. She sat down and held her head in her hands. "Just stop lying to me..." she mumbled, shaking her head before she finally broke down and started crying.

Voldemort watched her, slowly removing his hand from his pocket. He was always uneasy around people when they cried. In his adult life, he had only witnessed three people cry out of sorrow, one of whom had been her sister. She had sat in that same chair twenty years ago, sitting the same way, weeping. She had been a Death Eater, his best, as a matter of fact, A true Knight of Walpurgis. The more he thought of her and looked at Melosa the more he realized how few differences there truly were between them, even in personality. Looking away from her he sighed. "Did you read any of it?" he asked slowly, staring at the ceiling.

Melosa sniffed and nodded her head. "A few p-p-pages. The f-first." she managed to get out between sobs. She hated it when she cried. To her, it was a sign of weakness. She looked over at Voldemort, who was still staring at the ceiling. He glanced at her and she quickly looked away.

Voldemort was glad she had stopped talking. She rarely did. It gave him time to think things through. He looked back up at the ceiling. She put the book there? Why hadn't I noticed it before if she put it up there in '81? Surely I would have seen it before now! Wait a minute... she put it up there in '81? But... she died in...in '80... Why did she wait until '81 to set it there? He was agitating himself. Perchance she meant to say '80 and accidentally said '81. Unless... He looked back at Melosa, who had almost stopped crying by now. She'd know. If anyone knew she would. "Stonier, when did she write it?" he asked, a slight bit of urgency in his voice.

Melosa sniffed once and looked up at him with her red, tear stained eyes. "What?" she asked, confused.

"The book," he said, "Primarily the first page. When did she write it?"

"I... don't know," she said, shuffling a bit. He'd get mad again if she told him...

Voldemort sneered at her and closed his eyes. "Melosa Joy Stonier..." he started slowly opening his eyes. "I know you know. When did she write the book?"

Melosa stared into the fire, thinking. He would unquestionably get mad if she told him the truth, but he'd also flip if she didn't tell him anything. She weighed the odds and made her decision. "I-I think she was... thirteen...m-maybe fourteen..." she stammered. She was still a little shaky from crying.

Voldemort roared and threw himself back into the chair, cracking the back of his skull against the hard headrest. Unaware of the small trickle of blood beginning to drip down the back of his neck, he stared into the fire. "Six years..." he muttered. "She knew her fate for six years!!" he yelled, slamming his fist on the arm of the chair, snapping the brilliant, mahogany wood. He looked down and swore quietly. Lucius will kill me when he finds out...

Melosa flinched, but quickly grinned. "Possibly five!" she said, trying unsuccessfully to make it sound better. Her grin faded as Voldemort continued to not respond. He simply stared deep into the fire. She had to think. Why did she come here? She couldn't remember. She didn't come just to see him, no. She came here to tell him something. But what was it? She sat for a minute, thinking. After a while she finally remembered, cursing her awful memory. "However..." she said, looking back at Voldemort. He didn't turn his head or even his eyes towards her. He plainly raised his eyebrows as if to say, "continue" as he stared into the fire. Melosa sighed and continued. "I bring good news of - shall we say - a former Death Eater..." she said, a grin playing on the corners of her lips. She hoped she could still have some fun with this. She usually did.

Voldemort finally looked back at her and raised an eyebrow. "Oh really?" he asked, truly interested for the first time that night, "Who?"

Melosa smirked and opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by someone crashing violently into the room, nearly rending the door from its hinges. She turned her head and saw Lucius running into the room. He stopped in front of them and leaned forward, putting his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. "Snape's - down - in the - main - entrance!" he panted. "He...he - has - the Voddmers. He wants - to talk to you!"

Voldemort sat straight up in his chair. "Snape?" he asked. He suddenly felt something cold and sticky start to trickle down his back. He reached his hand up and felt what it was. He brought his hand in front and looked at the blood. He licked it off his fingers, wiping off the rest from his head with the back of his robes. He glanced over at Melosa. "Snape..." he sneered, "Perhaps my night will brighten up a little bit after all..." He stood up and walked to the door followed closely by Lucius.

"Hey, wait!" Melosa yelled, as she sprung out of the chair and ran through the door after Voldemort.

Lucius and Voldemort hurried down the corridor leading to the entrance hall. Their strides were so long and fast, Melosa practically had to jog to keep up with them. "Vold - wait!" she yelled. "He's on our side! It was all an act! And a good one at that!" She stumbled, tripping over her own feet, but corrected her footing quickly and regained her balance.

Voldemort continued walking briskly down the hall, his eyes darting this way and that. "And I should consider this as true why?" He didn't dare to see the look he knew he'd get from her at a comment like that.

Melosa jogged up beside Voldemort and grabbed his arm, forcing him to a halt. He glared at her as she tightened her grip and turned him towards her. "Believe me," she said, looking up into his large, crimson eyes. Those eyes of his were simply astonishing to her. How in the world he could allow them to become so horribly red, even if it was meant to frighten his victims into a more docile state, she couldn't imagine. Before his eyes changed they had been a particularly fascinating sapphire; she remembered so from her dreams. She would frequently have flashbacks into his past life, even as far back as the orphanage. She didn't know how or for what reason, but she did all the same. She blinked. When she opened her eyes she wasn't staring into Voldemort's rubies, but Tom Riddle's sapphires. Shocked, she looked down and shook her head as if to clear her vision, not believing what she had witnessed. She looked back up at him. Red. Had I just imagined it? Did I really see what I thought I saw, or was her mind playing tricks on her? She decided to forget about it for the moment and set her mind back to the task at hand. She opened her mouth to speak but Voldemort cut her off.

"Stonier, you lost my confidence a long time ago. You deceived me. Your trickery and fraud led me straight into a trap, and most of us barely made it out in a living state," he started. Melosa looked like she wanted to say something, but Voldemort held up his hand. "I know you told me what your premonition said, Stonier, but you also didn't tell me everything in your premonition, and for your own reasons. It's going to take a long time for me to regain my faith in you again, and you know it." At this, he glared down at her. "Now, as for this situation concerning Snape, I need evidence, that of which I have seen absolutely none of..." he sneered. He turned and started to move away from her.

But Melosa still had her grasp on his arm and unexpectedly jerked him back, spun him around hard and fast enough to make him stumble, and slapped him hard in the face. She slapped him so hard he lost his balance and staggered to the wall. Melosa pulled him back in front of her as he straightened up and closed his eyes. He couldn't believe it; no one had dared to strike him for almost twenty years now. Then again, the last time had also been Melosa...

A vivid, red handprint began to show itself on his pale face and he felt some blood start to seep where her nails had cut him. Melosa noticed this, however, and reached up with the sleeve of her robes to wipe off the blood, but Voldemort snapped his head away from her. She glared at him and grabbed his chin, turning his head towards her, his eyes still shut. "Look at me!" she snarled, letting go of him. Slowly he opened his vividly red eyes, staring down at her. "Now you listen to me!" she yelled. "He has a book, too, and it's very much like yours! In fact it's almost exactly like the one she left for you! He's! On! Our! Side!" She shook her head and lowered her voice a bit. "If you need more proof than that stupid book, then, yes, I have nothing, but there's also nothing proving otherwise. Face it, Tom, you were wrong about him! You were wrong!" She thought to say more, but decided against it. Slowly, she reached up with her sleeve again and cleaned the blood off his face. This time, he didn't resist. He focused on a spider scurrying around on the wall behind her.

Melosa looked away, drooping her head. She hated being able to control him this way; it gave her the creeps. She couldn't even begin to imagine how her sister must have felt. He used to obey her every word. He'd even spare someone's life if she told him to... Gradually she raised her head and looked back up at him. "Just don't do anything irrational..." she said, dropping her hand.

Voldemort nodded and acknowledged Lucius, who looked like he wanted to say something. "What magic," Voldemort asked, "Is he using?"

Lucius nodded nervously, glancing down the hall towards the main entrance. "He has them in one of his weird, impenetrable, water bubble things. He looked quite deranged..."

Voldemort sighed and shifted back to Melosa. "You'd better be right, or else you'll have more than my trust on the line this time," he said before hurrying away from the both of them.

The corridor seemed to go on forever. He was glad it did, though; it gave him time to think. Was Melosa right? Was Snape really still on his side? Since when did he too have a book? Why did she leave it for Snape? Lucius would have been more appropriate, and she knew it. As a sign of trust perhaps? He cleared his head of these thoughts as he came to a flight of stairs. It wound its way down many floors and he found himself at the northeast end of the gigantic entrance hall. The walls alone must have been a hundred feet high, reaching up to a great, gothic, vaulted roof with small sapphire and emerald stained windows, facing east and west in the uppermost reaches of the walls. He stopped at the landing where it met with another staircase rising up the western side and looked down at the Great Fountain. The fountain itself was simply a plume of water shot from a large pool set in the middle of the Hall. The only remarkable aspect of it was that the plume shot nearly thirty feet into the air, and, by virtue of its being magickal, did not fall outside the confines of the pool. As he looked at it now, however, he found the fountain frozen in place, like an immense, icy lily. He was about to descend the final flight when he heard muffled shouting above him. He looked up and saw Sarah and Helen Voddmer floating a good twenty feet directly above the fountain, their curling blonde hair floating in front of their faces as if suspended in zero-gravity. They were hovering in what appeared to be a huge bubble, but luckily (or perhaps not so, he thought) were able to breathe. They were beating their fists frantically against its wall, screaming at him to get them out. He grinned outwardly at the thought of keeping them in there for the rest of the month, or year.

"Haven't changed a bit, have they?"

Voldemort turned his head toward the shadows under the raised walkway that ringed the Great Hall to see Snape beneath a large rose window at the south end of the hall. There he was, leaning arrogantly against the pair of great entrance doors, the lightning flashing through the stained glass and reflecting off the fountain and pool onto his face in a malevolent cacophony of colour. He was looking up at the sisters, smirking and twirling his wand between his fingers. "Annoying twins with annoying Boston accents, who somehow have managed to not get themselves killed - another annoying thing about them..." He looked over at Voldemort and pushed off from the doors with his foot which had been locked behind the other leg and ambled casually towards the fountain. "Just as they were thirteen years ago, right?"

Voldemort didn't respond; he stood and observed Snape very closely. Severus was twenty-one last time Voldemort had laid eyes on him; he had changed so much, both in physicality and in personality. He never would've attempted a stunt like this before. Voldemort leaned on the banister to his left, watching with cautious interest.

"You're letting me do the talking, then?" Snape asked. "Smart move..." He crouched down and put his hand in the water. It froze suddenly and turned an icy blue. Looking up at the frozen fountain, he stared. "Oh, what a lovely work of art..." he muttered, quite deadpan.

"Get to your point, Snape," Voldemort snarled. He didn't like small talk. He was indeed a get-to-the-point kind of guy when he was being given information. He glanced to his left as Melosa appeared at the top of the steps. Lucius was not with her.

"My point?" Snape asked. "All right, then. We both have our own copy of her book as you know, and our own private message. Now, why she chose me over Malfoy to preserve this record of herself, I'll never know, but I do know that she trusted me with some very important, classified information. But I won't get into that now," he said. He clenched his fist and the Voddmers' left arms were twisted behind their backs. Voldemort watched as they fell to their knees in pain, now blinded by their flyaway hair. "Let's talk business first..." he said, his voice just as cold as Voldemort's had been earlier that night.

Voldemort turned back to Snape and straightened up. "All right, then," he said as he slowly started walking down the stairs. "What do you want?"

Snape suddenly shot his hand out towards Melosa. A stream of water shot from his fingers towards her, encasing and trapping her, too, in a glistening sphere of water that soon coalesced into a solid, frozen bubble. He stared at her for a while before turning back to Voldemort. "Just as a precaution. I know the Voddmers can be replaced, but Stonier is an asset to you..." he said, grinning slightly.

Voldemort reached the bottom of the stairs and walked over to the frozen fountain, stopping directly across from where Snape stood. "Take advantage of things while you can. Something you've always had a knack for, isn't it?" he asked, smirking.

Snape smiled. "Of course!" He spun around and seized Lucius' extended hand, pulling him forward. Snape threw him to his knees and twisted his arm around his back, pulling an ebony-handled dagger to his throat. "Luciusss... I thought I smelled you..." he hissed through clenched, sneering teeth. "I was wondering when you'd get here. Tell me... is it easy? Being the Dark Lord's pet, that is?" Lucius tried to pull away, but Snape's grip was too strong. He winced as the knife nicked his throat. "That's what I thought," Snape said, glaring down at him. "Back to business," he muttered looking back up at Voldemort. "Did you read the book, yet?"

"No," Voldemort said. "I just found it as a matter of fact." He started to walk around to the other side of the fountain, but Snape tensed up a bit and pulled the knife a little closer to Lucius' neck.

"You've read the first page, though, haven't you?" he said, "I can see it in your eyes. You know you can't hide anything like that from me. As a matter of fact, you'd give anything if you could read just a taste more of it right now, wouldn't you? Just to read something she wrote..."

Voldemort glanced to the side quickly before putting his eye back on the knife. Snape was right. He couldn't afford to lose Stonier or Malfoy, not now at any rate. He looked back up at Snape, sneering at him. "Look, I don't have much patience, Severus, and especially not with you right now, so get to the point!" He inwardly cursed at himself. Loosing his temper was the most obvious sign that Snape was getting to him, and the last thing he wanted to do right now was give Snape any chance of an upper hand on him.

"Fine," Snape said. "I'll make it simple and sweet. Well, not the latter, but you get the idea..." He paused for a moment and sighed quietly. He glanced off to the side suddenly, where he could've sworn he'd seen something move. He hesitated before starting again. "...I can bring her back. All I want in return is to be accepted as I once was. I assure you, I never left your side..." he said quietly, but firmly.

Voldemort smirked. "Awfully straight forward for you, isn't it?" he asked, gazing up at the Voddmers.

"Awfully is... Now..." Snape's grip on Malfoy's arm tightened a little bit more. Lucius howled in pain, but quickly bit his lip. "What do you say?"

Voldemort looked back at Malfoy. "What do I say?" he asked, closing his eyes. "I say you give me a few minutes to talk it over with Lucius first." He opened his eyes slowly and stared at Snape. "He is the recruit official after all."

Snape glared at him for a second before increasing the pressure of his knife against Lucius' throat and twisting his arm. Lucius winced and tensed up. To him it felt like Snape was about to rip his arm right off, but he soon found another, more unsettling worry as he felt a steady stream of blood start dripping down his neck. He began to recite: Sancta Maria, mater Dei, ora pro-- before he realized that talking would just make it worse.

Snape looked down at Malfoy, smiling malevolently as he saw the blood drip over his own hand. "I may be crazy, but I'm not stupid! Release your most important asset? Your second in command?" he asked, grinning cynically. Suddenly his crazed look was replace by a cold, hard stare. "Oh, I don't think so..." he said, his voice now dripping with poison, making Lucius shiver involuntarily. He kicked Lucius. "Oh, stop it!"

Voldemort shrugged. "All right, have it your way," he said. His eyes suddenly flicked down to Lucius.

Snape also looked down at him, but the (quite literally) bloody Malfoy had a trick up his sleeve. With his free hand he had slowly drawn his own knife out of his right boot, and with a sudden flash of angry strength, driven it deep into Snape's right shin. Snape let out a grunt of pain. He dropped his own dagger but kept a firm hold on Lucius. Letting go of his arm he pulled the knife out of his leg and, with it, stabbed Malfoy's right shoulder, and released his hostage. Lucius cried out in pain and fell to the floor. Snape jammed his knee into Lucius' back, pinning him to the ground. He pulled Lucius' head up by his hair and removed the knife from his shoulder with his free right hand, moving it once again to his throat.

Lucius swore as Snape glared at him. He hated Malfoy almost as much as Potter, and there were very few others he could truthfully say that about. He nicked the other side of Lucius' throat. "Severus..." Malfoy choked out, whimpering. "Severus, no... Don't... Pleeeze... Severuuuzz...?"

Snape was still for a moment, but shook his head as to clear out all second thoughts and pulled the knife even closer. "Shut up."

Lucius gasped. Snape had put all his weight onto his knee, and it was getting hard to breathe. "Snape! C'mon, pleaze... You don't want to do this... you know you don't... Come on, help me out here... d-don't kill your blood brother... do it for John, for old times' sake..." he managed say before his voice gave out.

"Half-blood..." Snape closed his eyes and slowly pulled the knife away from Lucius' throat. He released Malfoy and raised himself slowly, turning around. "John..." he muttered, letting the knife fall to the floor. He glanced again off to the side, where he could've sworn he saw more movement. Lucius winced as he scurried away from his deranged former comrade. He grabbed the collar of his robes and pressed it against his throat, trying to stop the bleeding.

Snape's mind was racing. Why would he bring up John? He knew better than to do that. He knew John was a sensitive subject for all of them, not just himself... "John is dead," he murmured. "He will be avenged." Another knife slid subtly down his sleeve and into his hand. He gripped the blade, sneering. "And you killed him!" he cried as he tuned facing Malfoy. He raised his arm, intending to throw the knife, but halted as an invisible hand grabbed his wrist. "What in Merlin's name...?" he muttered, utterly confused. He watched as something seemed to pry his fingers off the knife, but he dropped it anyway from shock. He was more curious than anything else. He cocked his head to the side and looked at his wrist where there appeared the indentations of fingers grasping tightly around it. He suddenly shouted in pain, doubled over and staggering backward, gasping for air.

Lucius realized what was happening before Snape did and stormed over to where he was standing a moment before. He seemed to snatch empty space until it was revealed he had pulled an invisibility cloak off of someone. Whoever it was, their back was turned to everyone save Lucius. He jumped and looked as if he had just been thrown into a stampeding herd of wild hippogriffs. "What are you doing here?" he practically screeched in surprise. "Go home!"

"No," the person said. It was the voice of a young girl, probably in her early teens.

"Go home!" Lucius ordered again, this time more sternly as he pointed his finger at her.

"Make me!"

Lucius was starting to look annoyed. "Home. Now. Go, Velasca!" he ordered her.

The girl smiled and pointed her finger at him. "That's no way to treat someone who just saved your life, you know!" she said, mocking him.

Voldemort had sat down on the steps to watch the show. It had always been fun watching Lucius and Snape fight it out, and it seemed to be even more so now; Snape had gotten much better since he last knew him. Now, Voldemort set his mind back to what was transpiring before him. He cocked his head to the side and looked at the girl. She appeared to be about fourteen and, if so, quite tall for her age, almost six feet. She had long, brown hair with streaks of red running throughout, the top half was pulled back into a braid while the rest hung down behind her shoulders. "Velasca..." he muttered quietly to himself.

Her head whipped around and she glared at him. "What?" she demanded. Not only was she smart and could throw a mean punch, but she was quick, agile, and had excellent hearing.

Voldemort chuckled softly and shook his head. "Oh yes, every characteristic of a true Malfoy," he said, meeting the stare from her menacing, dark blue eyes.

"No, really, Sherlock? I thought I was a Weasley!" she snapped, a strand of hair falling into her eyes, making her look almost as crazy as Snape just had a moment ago. "What's it to you, anyway, Deadite?"

At this everyone in the room, excluding Velasca and Voldemort, winced. Voldemort grinned, however. "Sorry, Watson, didn't know Sherlock couldn't comment on excellence," he snapped back, looking over at Malfoy - the other one, that is. "She's read my books, then?" he asked.

Lucius nodded slightly, careful not to irritate his cuts. "Yes, my lord. I, ahh, borrowed your Evil Dead volumes for a while. Luckily she got to finish Army of Darkness before Draco, ahh, torched it, shall we say?" he said, now using his sleeve to stop the bleeding.

"Destructive little bugger, isn't he? Considering that it was the first printing of an edition limited to... ten copies?" Voldemort muttered. He stood and walked over to Snape, and grinned at him. "Welcome back, Severus, to the Order of the Death Eaters," he said after a moment. "Now let the others go," he added, nodding behind him.

Snape looked behind him and laughed. The Voddmers had given up on trying to get out and had sat down, or at least what could best be described as sitting in zero gravity, and started meditating. Melosa on the other hand, who seemed to still be under the influence of gravity, was glaring at the two of them, arms crossed, tapping her foot impatiently. "Sorry, Stonier," Snape muttered with a wave of his hand, the Hydrorbis* dissipating into a fine mist. Melosa landed, catlike, on her feet from her small, two-foot drop. However, Sarah and Hel, still meditating, landed on the very center of the frozen, lily-shaped fountain, breaking off a few good-sized pieces of the rim.

Snape winced as he heard something crack. He was about to check on them when Voldemort shook his head. "Don't bother," he said, smiling as he folded his arms. "Stay for the show," and with that they observed the fountain in silence. The great pillar of ice that had been its frozen stem had cracked through the center at an odd angle and was beginning to slide. "The suspense is killing me," the Dark Lord mumbled, sadistically, "I hope it lasts...."

"Merlin..." whispered Sarah, who had raised herself onto her elbows to see what was happening below. The ice fountain then, very slowly, started to fall over. Sarah dropped back onto her stomach and covered her head, only just before she and Hel rolled off and slid over to the wall, crashing into a pillar. The fountain, after it's long fall, smashed onto the floor, shattering into innumerable, brilliantly sparkling pieces, which promptly scattered across the entire hall.

Purely and simply, Voldemort sulked. "Well, that was absolutely appalling! They didn't break their necks or anything!"

"Ah, correction there, Uncle Tommy..." Sarah said as she leaned over, examining her sister.

Voldemort sneered at the name, but turned to look none the less. "What?" he snapped.

Sarah gulped and glanced at him. "Helen is kinda unconscious," she announced, looking away.

"So get her out of here!" he ordered, turning back.

"I can't. My leg's kinda broken...."

Voldemort grinned. Perhaps it would be an agreeable day after all. His eyes scanned the hall, and he shook his head at the sight that met his eyes.

Lucius was sitting on the floor, his head in one hand, his other holding the collar of his robes up to his bleeding neck. He stared at his feet, unmoving.

"Sham..."

Lucius suddenly came back to life and looked at him. "How'd you know?" he asked as he slowly raised himself to a standing position. Having already healed the wounds in his shoulder and throat, he was obviously still in pain from the severe beating he had just received at the hands of Snape. "I mean, not that I didn't think you'd be able to figure it out, sir..." he added, doing his very best to suck up and regain some of his standing with his master. Snape rolled his eyes and went to help the twins.

Voldemort grinned and walked over to Lucius. "Let me see Snape's handy work." Lucius lifted his chin, giving him a good look at what was left of the gash in his neck. Voldemort furrowed his brow. "You'd think he had assassin training," he said as Lucius lowered his chin and glared over at Snape.

"I have," Snape grunted as he pulled Sarah to her feet. Neither looked like they were glad to be near each other.

Voldemort looked to him, questioningly. "You have?" he asked. "When?"

Snape turned around and smiled outright at the memories. "Summer of '84. I was running a little low on funds, so I joined a syndicate shortly. Quite fun, actually..." he added as an afterthought.

"A syndicate? That explains things," Voldemort said, glancing back and forth between Lucius and Snape, set to break up any new scrap that might ignite between the two of them. "Who else is ready for a drink?" he asked, clapping his hands together. Maybe getting them a little drunk could heal the old wounds they share. Snape and Lucius turned to look at one another, looks of utter disgust and disdain sheathing their faces like kabuki masks. Then again, maybe not.

Lucius and Snape stood there, glaring at each other. Neither was going to attempt to break the ice between them, except, of course, unless one of them suddenly had a heart attack, but that wasn't about to happen, either.

Voldemort watched them for a moment, looking for even the slightest twinge of movement. There were none, of course. "I'll just take that as a yes, then." He turned and walked towards the door, Lucius following him. He turned around and looked at him. "No way. There is not going to be any real blood in my Bloody Mary! Go clean up, all five of you!" he ordered, looking over them all.

"Five?" Snape asked.

"Yes, Snape, five. F-I-V-E. You, Lucius, Sarah, and Hel make four, and you hit Melosa so hard with that spell you gave her a bloody nose, so, five. At least last time I checked, that was five, unless society has changed dramatically since I have been gone, which it obviously has not," the Dark Lord added as he gestured to the room, seeing that Sarah would have commented to the contrary if he hadn't.

Snape shrugged and walked out of the hall to the nearest lavatory. Melosa rolled her eyes at him and conjured a stretcher under Hel, Sarah jumping onto the end of it and grinning at her. Muttering a few select words under her breath, Melosa walked out of the room, the twins floating behind her. Lucius, after daring a last glance at his master, slowly walked out of the immense room, taking care not to leave the same way Snape had.

Voldemort sighed and turned around to see two dark, blue-hazel eyes staring up at him. Groaning inwardly, he glared down at Velasca. "What about me?" she asked impudently as she brushed the stray piece of hair out of her eyes.

"What about you?" he said, stepping around her and out of the hall.

Clarifications:

*Hereafter referred to as: DEP

"Vodka, not Gin."

Let's just say alcoholics will put anything alcoholic in anything non-alcoholic. Voldie doesn't like Gin too much...

"With all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, and with all thy strength."

Mark 12:30, King James Version

"Do you want me to bring you a Tom?"

Tom Collins:

1 tsp. Granulated sugar

4, ¾" ice cubes

1 J. Whisky

¾ oz. Lemon Juice

fill with Soda

stir

"Better make it a Russian."

Black Russian:

3, ¾" ice cubes

1 J. Coffee Liqueur

½ oz. Vodka

stir

J. = Jigger = 1½ oz.

I really don't think you'd enjoy Joanna as a pet name!"

Go read SpamWarrior's Insanity series. You'll understand.

*Hydro + orbis = "Water Sphere"

"What's it to you, anyway, Deadite?"

Deadites are the armies of the living dead from the Evil Dead movie trilogy and game. Voldemort supposedly had written copies of the story. Early copies apparently written longbefore the Raimis ever got their hands in it.

"The suspense is killing me," the Dark Lord mumbled, sadistically, "I hope it lasts...."

Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory quote

"There is not going to be any real blood in my Bloody Mary!"

Bloody Mary:

2 J. Tomato Juice

1 J. Vodka

½ oz. Lemon Juice

1 dash Sauce Worcestershire