13. Time

Persephone sat as patiently as she could in the library, glancing up at the doorway every so often, hoping that Marvolo would walk in.

He had been away for weeks, weeks, and it was killing her.

Be patient, her mind whispered, you know he has work to do. So she did, but she still missed him terribly.

"Did they do a good job with the treaty?" she asked as he read over the scroll.

"Surprisingly," he admitted, "it's rather good work".

"Oh dear," Persephone teased. "Did someone actually garner the Dark Lord's approval? Alert the Ministry, the world is ending!"

He mock growled, stalking towards her and wrapping his arms around her waist.

"You dare mock the Dark Lord?" he asked with fake sincerity, laughter shining in his eyes.

"If the situation calls for it," she replied, smiling up at him. He chuckled, kissing her soundly.

"Even if you warned the ministry, love, they would deny it for as long as possible, and when they finally did acknowledge it, they would add to the mess as they attempted to clean it up." She giggled at the truth of his words, inwardly marvelling over his use of the word 'love'.

He smiled cheekily at her before heading back over to his desk to finish reading. He sighed suddenly, pushing the parchment away from him.

"I knew it was too good to be true," he muttered.

"Oh?" Persephone questioned.

"They want me to finalise the treaty," he told her, his mouth turning downwards in displeasure. She sighed too.

"You're leaving," she stated. "For how long?"

"It is anyone's guess, Morgana knows that the giants are dumber and slower than you could think possible," he grumbled petulantly. A small smile touched her lips. He reminded her so much of a boy at the moment, so content and playful.

"You'll hurry back?" she asked. His eyes sought out hers, and she could almost imagine that they could see straight into her soul.

"Always," he said sincerely.

That was three weeks ago. She worried about him constantly. What if the Order was still poking around, was he safe?

She snorted to herself. Of course he wasn't safe; he was the Dark Lord after all and one of the most powerful wizards in centuries. He could take care of himself though, he had been doing so for years after all.

"Calm yourself child, you are giving me a headache," a voice said from the doorway.

"Allisandra," Persephone breathed in relief. The elderly seer had been a blessing these past few weeks. In the beginning she had confined herself to the library, morosely trailing her hands over books desperately trying to think of something to do.

Her new project had been to dedicate herself to becoming a good deatheater, or whatever she was, and without Marvolo to direct her she was admittedly at loss of what to do and couldn't for the life of her come up with anything else that could be completed by the open time frame in which Marvolo would return. She abhorred leaving things unfinished.

On the fifth day that Marvolo had been away, Allisandra (who, mind you, was a complete stranger to her at this point) had burst into her bedroom while she was still half asleep and ordered her to get dressed and stop moping or she was going to change the colour of all her clothes to orange.

Persephone absolutely hated orange; it clashed horribly with her hair.

Needless to say she had made more of an effort to be active after that. She had painted a few landscapes, researched a ritual and decided that she would create a new spell which she was now laying the ground work for. She wasn't very far though, her worry for Marvolo had increased over the weeks as she visualised everything that could go wrong.

Allisandra had visited her every morning and afternoon, regaling her with stories from her younger years and a few of her clashes with Marvolo, who she called Tom. Persephone had at first been surprised that he allowed her to call him such; until she heard some of the things Allisandra had done to him as payback over the years. As fun as Allisandra was, Persephone decided it was a very unwise decision to cross her.

"Oh, stop worrying about him!" Allisandra exclaimed. "He's perfectly fine!"

"But how do you know?" Persephone said anxiously.

"Am I a seer or not?" Allisandra asked incredulously.

"Right," Persephone said, not really listening. Allisandra sighed.

"Look girly, do you want to know for sure?"

"Yes," Persephone replied immediately.

"Then focus," the seer told her. "Find something that links you and Tom together and reach out to him."

Persephone studied her for a moment. She then nodded and closed her eyes, her hand reaching out to stroke her inner right forearm, where her mark currently resided.

She let her magic pool within the mark, carefully locating the tendril that belonged to him. Before her eyes, an aura emerged. She could tell it was far away, but she could see it as if it was right in front of her. It was black and silver highlighted with the crimson of spilled blood. She would know Marvolo's aura anywhere. Feelings, faint ones, came to her. She knew he wasn't hurt. Relief coursed through her, soothing the worst of her fears though she still worried after his safety. The last thing she felt before she pulled away was his annoyed exasperation. Persephone let out a laugh.

She looked up sheepishly at the seer, absently twirling a red curl around her finger.

"Sorry," she said. "I don't mean to be so indecisive."

"Your mind is wandering worse than Luna!" Allisandra told her disbelievingly.

"Who?" Persephone blinked.

"No one you've met yet," Allisandra said, waving her hand dismissively.

"Right," Persephone said, narrowing her eyes. "I can't think of anything to do! I can't even think of a good new spell to craft!"

"Why don't you go play with the dagger Garrick sent you," Allisandra suggested.

"Garrick?" Persephone said, bewildered.

"Ollivander," Allisandra informed her, as though it was obvious. Persephone smirked.

"Garrick, is it? Oh, I'm going to tease him mercilessly with this," she said gleefully. "How did you know his first name? He never tells anyone."

"I may or may not have broken into the ministry to locate his birth certificate," she said, studying her nails.

"Did you or did you not?" Persephone said curiously, raising her eyebrows.

"Actually, I didn't. But I did seriously decide to. It was just luck that as soon as I decided to, I received a vision and didn't have to anymore."

"That was useful," commented Persephone.

"I thought so. Of course, Garrick made me promise not to tell anyone his name," she said airily, studying her nails. "Oh, drat," she suddenly gasped dramatically (and falsely).

"Indeed," Persephone snickered.

Allisandra grinned widely at her, walking out the door.

"Oh, and by the way," she called over her shoulder. "Tom just arrived."

Persephone stared after her before scrambling to her feet and quickly followed her out the door.

…

Elric Travers was not what most people expected.

Upon hearing his reputation people instantly imagined an elderly man with kindly eyes, long hair as was tradition among the older wizards, a beard Dumbledore would be proud of and a large toothy grin.

Contrary to this however the Master Illusionist, with an Honours in spell crafting, was not a day over thirty five. He had dark brown, calculating eyes that belied the genius behind them and chestnut hair that was swept backwards and was cut closely to his head. A five o'clock shadow covered the lower half of his face and if he smiled you would see the straight, white and perfect teeth that rested there. He had a natural charisma that attracted people to him and he did not hesitate to use in any way that could benefit himself.

He was wearing a long dark grey trench coat fastened with large buttons to ward off the autumn chill, his trousers barely two shades darker and thick black boots covered his feet from the cold stone of the road.

He ran a hand, covered with fingerless gloves worn from use, through his hair absently. Whistling an old half-forgotten tune, making up the bits that he could no longer recall, he strode down the street fully aware of the four figures swathed in black following his every move.

More importantly, he was aware that they wanted him to notice.

Curiosity overtaking his self-preservation instinct for a moment, he abruptly turned into an alley, following it to its conclusion. It was hardly three paces wide and it was warm from the close proximity of the two buildings it resided between.

There was no room for a proper duel and if they did try to take him on, there would only be enough room for one at a time, perhaps two but they would trip each other up. The odds were now even.

Reaching down into his left pocket, he clutched the wand that was there as he turned and waited for them to catch up. As they reached the mouth of the alley, he saw each of them reach into various pockets or rub their sleeves under which wand holsters were contained, respectively, much like he had. It didn't feel like an ambush, he decided, but it never hurt to be careful.

The figures finally slowed to a stop five paces in front of him and lowered their hoods. Travers scanned their faces, his eyes landing on the last figure.

"Selwyn," he said, nodding in acknowledgement and Selwyn dipped his head back. He knew Owain through an acquaintance of an acquaintance and had maybe had one or two conversations over the years. Their lines of work didn't cross over often.

He turned his eyes back to the other three, two men and a woman, assessing them. "And who might you be?"

"Someone in need of your services," the taller male drawled. "I'm Rudolphus Lestrange."

"Lestrange, you say," Elric said. "An English family all the way up here in Bulgaria? Dear me, are we up to something illegal?"

"When aren't we?" muttered the shorter one.

"The annoying sarcastic one is, unfortunately, my brother Rabastan," he continued without blinking an eye.

"Hey!" protested Rabastan while Elric held his grin in check.

"And this is my lovely wife, Bellatrix," he finished with a flourish.

"You are English, yourself," the woman observed shrewdly, her lips pursing.

"That I was," Travers nodded.

"Why did you leave?" she queried.

"England is so… puritan," he sneered. "They have completely destroyed the balance of light and dark and made it illegal to practise the old ways. Did you think I was going to sit back and hide who I was to appease a corrupt government and fanciful old men? No, Bulgaria is much more… tolerant. Durmstrang has stabilised the community here by encouraging the students to choose any side of magic."

"But England is the seat of power of all magic," she pointed out. "It's where the Ancient's decided on the old laws, it's where time began."

"You think I don't know that?" demanded Elric. "Of course I do! I want to go back, I want to see it again, but it's not what it's meant to be!" He drew in an angry breath, his dark eyes flashing. "I had a sister, you know," he said lowly, "Juliana. Kindest person you would ever meet. She was particularly gifted with runes, especially blood runes."

"Had?" Selwyn picked up on the operative word.

"Had," Travers growled. "One day she comes across a child in a park, all alone, and that child is dying. She tries everything she can to save her, she can't apparate her to Saint Mungo's because the upset to her molecules would kill her instantly, uses every legal light spell in her repertoire, and the child is still going to die."

He paused, his right hand clenching into a fist. "So she conjures a knife and cuts across her own palm and draws a circle on the ground around her. Within that, she carefully draws runes in her own blood and activates them, and the child lives. She can finally take her to the hospital, and all will be fine, she is safe," he chuckled bitterly. "Or so you would think."

"Two days later, the aurors turn up on her doorstep and arrest her for dark magic, never mind that she saved a life with it and harmed no one. The girl had her magic bound; she was still young enough for it to be, so thoroughly that she was declared a squib. Apparently it was too risky for someone who had been tainted with dark magic at such a young age to be allowed to continue to practice. Juliana was thrown into Azkaban," his lips tightened into a thin line. "She couldn't handle it though; she died four years after being thrown in. They don't know the exact date, they don't check on the prisoners too often. Don't want to face the dementors that they sentence them to, you see."

He studied the cobble stone of the alley angrily, clenching his jaw. "Like their light spells are any better. You levitate a person out a window, banish them into a wall and break their spine, a tickling jinx up the nose can disrupt the brain signals and give someone a stroke. They discriminate against the creatures in every possible, they steal outlaw the common rights they should have. They teach the students about the burnings as if no one died. Wendalyn might have had a flame freezing charm, but do you think they mention the thousands of children who died screaming while they burned alive? As the muggles stood around jeering and came to watch as entertainment?"

"We're trying to change that, Elric," Rudolphus murmured. "We're trying to restore England to what it should be, to what it's always been." Travers studied them all again, his eyes flashing in sudden realisation.

"You're deatheaters," he breathed. They all nodded, their eyes evaluating his every move. "You're part of the movement. Morgana, he's back, isn't he?" he said, falling to his knees, a smile on his face. "Fourteen years, I had almost lost hope."

"Our Lord was preparing for his final stroke, Elric," Rudolphus told him softly. "He never left us."

"Of course," he whispered. "I should have known. He will lead us back, he will grant us victory." He stood, back straight and looked Rudolphus straight in the eye. "Let me join, let me help in any way I can."

"Travers," Bellatrix purred. "That is exactly why we're here."

…

"Did you miss me?" he asked, breezing into the entrance hall she had just entered.

"Hardly realised you were gone," she lied cheerily. He smirked and crossed the floor to kiss her lingeringly.

"I did too, you know," he told her, drawing back.

"I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about," she told him easily.

He rolled his eyes and Persephone's narrowed.

"So, how were the giants?" she asked. He huffed.

"I don't even want to talk about it," he grumbled. Persephone arched an eyebrow.

"You did finalise the treaty, right?"

"Yes, but it was an extremely slow process. 'Slow' isn't even the word!"

"That bad," she said sympathetically.

"You have absolutely no idea, love. I have a new respect for Anderson and Fenwick, I should promote them or some such."

"They are already in the Upper Tier," she told him, grabbing his hand and leading him up the stair to the second floor.

"Right, drat," he said.

Persephone giggled.

"Next time, you are coming with me though, Persephone," he moaned. "It was devastatingly dull, necessary, but dull."

"Didn't you talk with any of the bards?" she asked, drawing him down the hallway to where their rooms were.

"No. Should I have?"

"They're the smartest. As the Dark Lord, you are meant to know this," she teased lightly.

"I'm good at wizarding politics and fighting tactics. I care for the creatures, but I'm focused on liberating us first before I can even attempt the rest of them, excluding those that are already allied with us. I learned all I needed to know before I left, but I didn't have enough time to go to in depth. I admit, giants are not the most interesting of the creatures."

"They are rather dull, aren't they?" Persephone admitted amusedly. "I'll just have to take you up on that offer and accompany you next time, distract them from your lack of knowledge with my plentiful charms."

"I dare say you would need something more obvious to distract them, they don't pick up well on subtlety. "

"Oh dear, no one to trade jibes with? You must have been comatose with boredom!"

"It was torture of the highest degree, Persephone," he told her with mock seriousness.

She giggled and pushed open the door to his room.

"Sit down and rest," she told him, placing her hands on her hips.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, sitting on the bed and pulling her with him.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Did I imply I wished to sit too?"

"You also did not imply that you did not want to," Marvolo pointed out. Persephone shook her head.

"You are such a Slytherin," she said fondly, patting his arm in mock pride.

"I'm told it comes from my mother's side of the family," he told her, grinning.

Indeed," she said drily. "Imagine that, would you? Your Slytherin nature coming from the side of the family descended from Slytherin himself."

"Isn't it strange how the world works?" he said, lying down and pulling her with him so they laid side by side with his long arms securely around her. They stayed there silently for a while.

"What was her name?" she asked.

"Hmm?" he replied.

"Your mother, what was her name?"

"Merope," he said quietly.

"Merope," she repeated, testing the three syllables on her tongue. "It is a beautiful name."

"It is," he agreed softly. "I've never met her." She glanced up at him, her hand automatically reaching out to stroke his face.

"As long as you love her, she will be with you," she told him.

"I don't know if I love her," he said, staring at her as if she was a life raft.

"Then you don't have to."

"I think I want to," he admitted. Persephone looked at him right in the eyes.

"I'll support you whatever you do," she said with complete sincerity, her silent strength stunning him.

"I'm not very good at loving people."

"Then they didn't deserve your to love. You weren't foolish enough to care for them because they said a few kind words."

"Most people would say I am a monster for it."

"Then they don't know all of you."

He gazed at her wonderingly, the first person in the world that he could rely on to be there for him, to see past his destiny and treat him as a person.

Leaning down he captured her lips with his own and tried to tell her everything he couldn't bring himself to say yet with it.

He thought, perhaps, she understood what she needed.

Besides, some things were beyond words.

…

Hi everyone! Thanks, as per usual, for reading!

I wanted to show the other side of the dark with Elric. These are the people who get their kicks and giggles out of torturing people, but they are people themselves and the light are just as bad as them in their own way but they claim the moral high ground. The Dark are actually fighting for balance, but since the Light are in power…

Just what did Tom put the Lestrange's up to? The hint is in what both Selwyn and Travers do for a living (items dealer, spell crafter/illusionist), but I doubt you will figure it out just yet.

I love Tom in this bit because he puts away all his masks just for a little while and is so vulnerable. The street goes both ways, when Persephone lets him in, he opens up.

I had some questions left in the reviews for the last chapter, so…

Lostfeather1: Yes, it will get darker but only when they have missions or are faced with anyone that isn't just Tom/Persephone or her family (Lestrange's not Potter's) or Allisandra. They all trust each other so they will be open and joke a lot when they are together.

Outofthisworldgirl: Yes, I like slash. I love fem!Harry, 'Pureblood' Harry and pretty much anything where Harry kicks ass. I usually don't like anything where Dumbledore is pure evil and stealing his trust fund and stuff but usually that's the only thing I don't like about HP Fanfiction. Usually I love it all as long as it's well written.

Apy: Persephone is definitely going to interact with the light. It's briefly mentioned in Allisandra's vision that Lily is watching her while sleeping. Thanks for the suggested Fanfic's! I actually haven't read the second one :)

Twibe: Persephone isn't going to be angry as such, though she is going to be a little upset with Bella and Rudolphus who kept it from her. She detests the single mindedness of the light though, so I don't think I'll have her throw a tantrum or run away or anything. As Outofthisworldgal mentions in her review, we know Persephone will be captured by the light because of Allisandra's vision, though. No way am I letting her be a bitch and leave Tom.

Rubie Blakie: I agree Persephone needs to get the upper hand over Tom more often, and she will get there but he will still win for the majority of the time at the moment, he has more experience than her. When she becomes the Dark Lady though, that is WHOLE different ball game. Big thanks for the list of Fanfic's! You are quickly becoming my personal library : D

Piper Riddle: Yes, she will be captured by the Order eventually. It's hinted towards in Allisandra's vision. We still have a while until that happens.

Thank you all so much! Please review, ask questions, tell me what you want to see or what you think etc. so on and so forth!

xxx

Electra2Pandora