Lykanthropos: Drarry at Full Moon

Prolouge

"My Lord," Bellatrix greeted the silhouette by the fireplace, reverence present in her voice.

"Ah. My dear Bellatrix." The man by the fire acknowledged her presence, his raspy voice clear even over the heavy crackling of the bright orange flames.

"Wormtail, leave us," he snapped in annoyance, although the round man standing in the corner had done nothing to provoke this.

Wormtail bowed from his place against the wall, then hurried off with a timid squeak. Bellatrix watched him go, thoroughly amused with his meekness.

"My Lord," she repeated, waiting for orders.

"Lucius has . . . disappointed me," Voldemort said, anger blazing in his otherwise calm voice. Bellatrix was well aware of what had happened, and was determined to set him apart from herself.

"My Lord, he is no true blood relative of mine-"

"Young Draco is though, correct?" he interrupted, already aware of the answer. He motioned Bellatrix to come forward, and she went around the chair to meet his eyes.

"Uhm . . . yes, my Lord," she said hesitantly, unsure of where this was going.

"I trust your loyalty, Bellatrix, but I must ensure it anyways."

Bellatrix merely nodded, knowing her silence was what was called for.

"Would you sacrifice Draco if I required it of you?" Voldemort leaned forward, his eyes glinting in the dim light as he hissed with so much menace, it sounded similar to a snake. Indeed, the snake around his shoulders raised its head to see if it was being called upon, before determining it wasn't needed and lazily resting its head back down.

Bellatrix answered immediately. "Anything for you, my Lord."

Voldemort leaned back against his chair. "Very good, Bellatrix."

Bellatrix felt a small twinge of sympathy for her sister, but it was overwhelmed by the need to please the Dark Lord. She knew very well that Lucius — whom she had never particularly liked — would pretend to grieve, but would be more delighted that it was not himself who suffered the blow. There was no way to confirm her theory though, as Lucius was in Azkaban, and would remain there until his death.

Either way, the child must die, she thought, coming to a conclusion.

"Not die, my dear," Voldemort said as he read her thoughts.

"No?" Bellatrix asked, bewildered.

"No, he shall suffer something worse than death. And not what the Longbottoms suffered either," Voldemort clarified, an amused smile playing on his thin lips at the memory of the two victims. "No, that was mind-numbing. He needs something . . . excruciating."

There was a pause, in which Bellatrix tried to catch onto what the Dark Lord had in mind.

"Lycanthrope," he hissed in that same snakelike manner. Bellatrix gasped softly.

"You have something better in mind?" Voldemort asked shrewdly upon noticing her elicited gasp.

"No my Lord," she said hastily. "No opposition to the idea, simply taken by surprise at the idiosyncrasy of it. But a brilliant idea, of course," she reassured quickly.

"I see," Voldemort replied thoughtfully. There was a pause. "I would like you to see to it that Draco makes it out alive. Once his recovery is complete, you must bring the boy and his mother to me. He can prove to be a useful . . . pet," he hissed.

Then his demeanor changed to one of business. "Is that understood?" Voldemort asked brusquely.

"Yes, my Lord," Bellatrix acknowledged with a nod of her head.