Thick Walls, Thicker Bonds

Chapter Ten

Voldemort had to admit that Sammael was… interesting to say the least. When he first heard the other man's name, he immediately thought of the old basilisk's stories. Could he really be descended from the original Sammael Slytherin? It was looking more and more like it. Voldemort examined the young basilisk on Sammael's shoulders as they danced smoothly to the instrumentalists. "Your companion," Voldemort gestured with his head towards the serpent. "He's beautiful. I must say I've never seen a snake quite like that before."

"Liar," hissed the basilisk. It took all of Voldemort's Slytherin training to not react to the basilisk's words. After all, he was supposed to be just your average nobleman; not a Parselmouth. Sammael didn't respond to his basilisk's mutterings either. He only smiled that brilliantly bright smile.

"Basilisk breeding is a bit of a family tradition," He said, his eyes dancing in amusement. "My father aided me in hatching Besnik when I was a boy. He's been my constant companion ever since. He along with Kai." Sammael nodded towards the phoenix who was still sitting upon Neville's head.

"A basilisk and a phoenix," Voldemort mused. "What an ironic combination."

"On the contrary, I think they perfectly complement each other," Sammael said. "Basilisks live but one long life. Phoenixes' lives are short, but many. One is a killer, but can be used to heal. One is a healer that can kill. Both have intelligence that rivals a human's, and yet neither survive very well on their own."

"But can't they?" asked Voldemort. "Basilisks are powerful beasts, much like dragons. Surely they can care for themselves? As for phoenixes, I've never known that species to be particularly weak, either."

"You misunderstand me, Renatus," said Sammael. "I never meant to say they were weak, only that they cannot survive very well on their own. Basilisk's can only be born after forming a bond with a wizard. If that bond is ever severed, their mind begins to slip away, their power wanes, their very magic fades until there is nothing left but a husk. Phoenixes are social creatures, despite not having flocks. Phoenixes can die permanently, should they choose to. And lonely phoenixes often do wish to die."

Voldemort thought on this for a moment as he spun the smaller wizard in a circle. "You speak as a philosopher or, at the very least, an old man. But your youth is evident on your face. How old are you?"

"Twenty-three."

Voldemort stopped dancing abruptly, causing his partner to stumble. 'Renatus' caught Sammael by the waist, before he could fall all the way. Besnik hissed in annoyance. The two wizards were pressed chest to chest and Voldemort found himself staring directly into the much younger wizard's luminous eyes. "Are you alright?" Sammael asked him.

"You're barely more than a child," Voldemort said, his eyes wide.

"Now you sound old," joked Sammael as he straightened back up. "I supposed you're far older than I."

"That I am, though I might not look it."

"I'd guess your age to be around thirty."

Voldemort was about to respond when he suddenly remembered he was supposed to be playing the part of Renatus Malfoy, a 27 year old. He cursed himself, for allowing Sammael to distract him. "Indeed." Voldemort decided upon with a smirk. Sammael rolled his eyes. Voldemort took back up Sammael's hand, and began to lead once more.

His younger partner seemed content to remain silent for now, which suited Voldemort. This young man intrigued him. Sammael's views were not very different from his own, if from a more pacifist standpoint. Not only that, but power poured off of him like a waterfall. Glorious, warm grey magic. Voldemort was content to simply bask in that power as he watched Sammael's hair sway in time with their dance, and his robes flutter against his slender legs.