aibhinn_fics

Title: Heal The Pain
Interlude #5
Rating: Teens
Words: 734

The once-crumbling house had been repaired by his loyal servants. The chimney no longer smoked, and the room was no longer so drafty he had to huddle in his cloak to keep warm. He lounged, now, in an armchair his faithful Lilith had provided. She and her husband Arnold were doing everything in their power to make certain he, the future Dark Lord, wanted for nothing.

He felt important for the first time in his life. He revelled in it. His feet rested on an upholstered footstool and a glass of very good red wine was in his hand. He leaned his head back against the chair and sighed in pleasure. Once the war was over and the wizarding world was his, he would take his revenge upon those who had thwarted him. Two were already gone—one many years ago, one in the Last Battle with Voldemort. Only a third remained, and the scion of the first rivals he had killed.

But the latter was being taken care of even as he sat there. He chuckled into his glass. And it was the boy's own fault, too. That was the beauty of it, the true genius. Nobody'd had to set him up to fall; he'd fallen on his own. And quite deftly, too, and in front of witnesses. Such a pity he wasn't in Azkaban already. But he would be. Oh, yes, he would be.

There was a knock at the door, and he raised his head to glare at it. "Come in," he said in a tone of voice he thought would show his displeasure without scaring away whoever it was. Nobody would disturb someone as powerful and important as he without good reason; ergo, he wanted to hear that reason, however annoyed he was at the interruption of his quiet reverie.

It was Lilith. She approached him and knelt submissively at his feet, her dark hair hanging forward and obscuring her face. He waited for a moment, as Voldemort had always done, to make certain she knew her place, then said, "Speak."

"The trial goes forward, my Lord," she said, her voice pitched to be heard by him but not overheard by anyone else. "That fool Whitaker offered a deal: one year in Azkaban for a guilty plea. The boy has turned him down."

A smile stretched his lips. He hoped it was the kind of sly, evil smile he had seen so often on Voldemort. "Excellent," he purred. "Keep me apprised of any more news. For now, we wait and let the pieces play themselves out. Has a date for the trial been set?"

"No, my lord," she said. He noticed her hands were clenched into fists, and he grinned internally. She was so afraid of him that she had to force herself to be there—she, one of his two closest servants. And about time, too. "There is another group of men, the Court-Martial Convening Authority, who must review the case first," she continued. "It is they who will schedule the trial. For now, the boy remains in the protections of the Burrow." There was a slight pause. "Oh, and he has become engaged to the Weasley girl."

He blinked. That was a surprise. He felt a slight twinge of fear; the Weasley girl had been the one to actually destroy Voldemort at the height of his powers and nobody knew how she'd done it. If she were to ally herself with the boy… "I see," he said, to cover his trepidation. "You may go."

She rose fluidly and backed toward the door, shutting it tightly. He took a deep drink of wine and stared into the fire, pondering.

They won't marry before the summer, he thought, as she's still at Hogwarts. That leaves me less than six months. Once they are married and their powers bonded, they will be nearly impossible to defeat. I must take action before that time.

He chewed his lip thoughtfully. Tomorrow, he would talk to Lilith and Arnold. Their advice was always sound. The boy was wandless; this was the ideal time to take him. As for the girl, well, she was a more difficult proposition. Perhaps the next Hogsmeade weekend. They could Apparate in, surround her, and take her that way. Yes. Yes, he would mention that tomorrow.

For now, he would enjoy his wine and his power. They were hard-earned, after all.