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They wronged every err we fought to right Swords flew high and men called in fright Seemed to be a lie, the promise of "greater good" Thus we fought against the very side on which we stood
The sun was shining, making the colored trees glow. Autumn was near, the droplets of rain falling on the hungry grass was singing so. The clouds looked darker than they should've, making the stars seem more distant at nights. The nature was happy as it always was. If only it knew what was to come.
The muggle world was happy in its ignorance. But the wizarding universe was wobbling over chaos, the side of war was heavier, now it seemed.
The ministry of magic finally had realized that the death of Cedric Diggory wasn't just "a tragic accident." as Dolores Umbridge had said.
Voldemort was back.
And he had something that he didn't have the last time he was in power. Someone to be exact. And this caused more fear amongst those who knew of the power he held now.
Bridges falling off, black smokes consuming the streets, people missing, black silhouettes roaming around aimlessly, killing everyone at their wand point. Confusion, darkness, death, fear,
war.
The Malfoy Manor was far from the happiness the nature had. The dark dimly lit passageways were now darker than ever.
Draco sat in his room. Looking out the window he sighed and turned his eyes to his left arm where he was marked. The snake in the skull had been glaring at him for two days now, Voldemort had wasted no time in grabbing his hand and pushing the eternal pain of being pointed at as the wrong side upon him. Grabbing a handful of the blanket, Draco refrained himself from screaming miserably.
There were several shy knocks on his door.
"Master, mistress has told Waddy that you are needed downstairs." The small house elf said in a squeaky voice.
"Alright Waddy. You go I'll come right now."
Draco dragged his feet down the stairs, glaring back at the portraits of his ancestors as he did so. As a child he had found them miserable, couple of folks who could only moan about and roll their eyes. From the moment he knew he was to be one of them after his own death, he hadn't really thought much of it anymore.
"Ah Draco. Have a seat." The snake faced man hissed. His eyes red, his pale hands all from bone and skin, and his nose... well he really didn't have one.
Draco did so, pulling his feet shakily off the ground and pushing them onto it to take steps.
What's going on?
"Don't you worry boy, you're not to die yet." Voldemort snarled, taking a pointed look at Draco's nervous eyes, Narcissa squeezed his hand from under the table as a roar of laughter came from around the table of maniacs.
"There is a friend of mine, she comes all the way from America. A young one she is, but powerful. So if I am not there to remind you to watch your tongues around her, I am sure she will be more than happy to." Voldemort smiled maliciously. "Elizabeth, why don't you come in."
Draco did quite a double take upon her grand entry.
Hair in a high ponytail stopping gracefully just above her waist, strict jaw, dry chopped lips, a tall bony nose that fit her features nicely, a few curves here and there, eyes sharp and hazel, taking in the scene with no more than a flick or two before they rested on Voldemort, she seemed to be no older than Draco himself.
Blaise would say she was amazingly gorgeous and add a whistle for good measure but not Draco, he was too busy eyeing the tall black wand that stood in her hand and by the looks of it, she knew how to use it.
Arrogance was falling from her mouth and dripping onto her feat, there was a matter of sin in her eyes and she seemed quite repulsive, somehow burning a throaty feeling in Draco to just choke her to her death and get out of here, he knew this type of proud people, for the sake of god he was one of them, and he hated the egotism. For a moment, he thought if his pretentious superiority looked this hideous from afar as well.
"Riddle." She nodded. Voldemort winced at the name but stood to greet her all the same. He flashed a pale hand in her direction which she looked down at with distaste.
"What's the business Marvolo?" She muttered as he retreated his hand to his side.
"Elizabeth," Voldemort tutted, chuckling. "How about you sit so we can talk business?"
"Very well." Elizabeth said, walking past Voldemort and sitting on his chair. "Let's talk business." Draco shared a look with his mother.
Who is she?
"Elizabeth. Elizabeth Beckham." She said turning to look at him. Draco looked around frantically.
Did I say that out loud?
"No, but it's all the same to me if you did." She raised a brow. "Don't you brits know legilimency?"
"Not to the extent of your knowledge." Voldemort cut in. "And that is exactly why you are here, this is your business. To help me, to help us, to win this war. We need all the men we can get."
"All women, darling." She sneered, turning her eyes to Voldemort's and away from Draco's. He took a breath at last.
"Certainly." Voldemort nodded, rising an eyebrow.
"What's in it for me?" She snapped coldly.
"Recognition...power...a chance," Voldemort leaned in to her ear. "A chance for revenge." He whispered.
She froze for a moment, staring at the snake that slithered its way on the table.
At last, Elizabeth tilted her head to her left shoulder, a loud crack filling the silent room as all looked at her in curiosity, she ran her tongue over her bottom lip, wavering the miserable dry skin as she rolled the notion in her brain, tasting it for its every edge and curve.
"Count me in." She said at last. A shiver ran down Draco's spine as Voldemort let out a cackle.
Lord Voldemort was back. This time more powerful than ever. He had something this time which he didn't have the last. Someone to be exact. He had Elizabeth Beckham.
