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There appeared no hesitation in her response but speed alone was not enough to quell the Dark Lord. "You understand what you risk by interfering in my plans? The lives at stake? It would behoove you and your family to ensure that your position at the Ministry plays only a complimentary role to that of your allegiance here. I would hate for any more families to be torn apart. Are we understood?"

“Indeed.” Another full minute of silence lapsed between the Dark Lord and his cocky servant. A small puff of black smoke alerted the room’s occupants that the raven had returned, sitting on his perch with yellow eyes piercing the witch. The bird shifted his footing and cawed once before falling silent. Lord Voldemort paid the creature no mind, much more intrigued with the enthralling creature in front of him. “Impressive as your husband’s work was, Mrs Lestrange, you seem to have played your own part in the events.”

The room had been peacefully quiet only a moment ago. Enter Dorcas Lestrange. She was greener than he expected of an Auror, but perhaps Rodolphus had purchased her position as part of their courtship. Their affairs were inconsequential to Lord Voldemort and thus he paid them little mind. His only true issue with where Rodolphus chose to stick his prick was in choosing the witch who had murdered Voldemort’s most loyal follower. It was that sort of admiration for the young Mister Lestrange that gave the Dark Lord pause; if Dorcas’ loyalties were to Rodolphus more than to the master who had marked her, then there was going to be a problem. There was only one way to deal with a problem, but he so hated to see another fine minion executed before their time, as his Bella had been.

Silence fell once more and Lord Voldemort sat in it, evaluating the witch before him. He noted that she did not appear nervous. Her confidence was either due to stupidity or sincerity, both of which could be exploited with the right pressures. After another moment of quiet between the two, Voldemort rose from his seat, black eyes penetrating hers as he moved from around his desk. “Your husband was in my employ yesterday afternoon, are you aware?” Voldemort did not typically discuss with others the missions he sent his minions on, but as the couple were married and both well aware of their devotions to Lord Voldemort, he would make an exception as he did with the few other pureblood couples in his ranks. Most were merely canon fodder but the Lestranges had something special. Rodolphus’ wives were a rare breed.

It was early morning when the tapping started. A raven at the window of the Lestranges’ bedroom pecked at the glass, a small scrap of parchment tied to its leg with a black ribbon. It was an invitation for Dorcas Lestrange to join her master. No reason was given but the insinuation was that she be prompt.

Lord Voldemort waited in his study, thin fingers strumming melodically on the ornate desk in front of him. There was no need to busy himself while he waited, knowing he would not be waiting long one way or another. The day prior his faithful hit wizard had executed a house full of muggleborns who all believed themselves not only to be above the law but also under the protection of that doddering old fool, Albus Dumbledore. Their deaths proved that Dumbledore’s reach was short, and that his own much greater. The Dark Lord had been pleased with the work that had been done, although Rodolphus appeared too arrogant for a man with a bleeding wound in his gut. He let his minion suffer a blow to his ego after the blow to his abdomen before sending him on his way. That should have been the end of it, but it wasn’t. Dorcas had been spotted putting out the flames, saving a soul survivor and participating in the dismantling of his glorious Dark Mark. Voldemort needed to see about that.

The weather seemed perfectly in tune with the night’s agenda. Howling winds and a biting cold rain were the perfect accents to the magnificent display in the night’s sky, lightning and thunder cracking through the eerie, desolate landscape. Unnerving and deadly, there could have been no better backdrop for his plans. There was a traitor in their midst and before the night was through, their ranks would be smaller but stronger. Lord Voldemort had little patience for ineptitude and cowardice, two things he viewed as equally repugnant to the other. The dimwitted and the feeble minded had their place in the war, they were easily manipulated and followed orders well when not afforded any tasks of high importance to carry out but there was only so much one could do idiocy. They were easily confused and just as easily could be turned to the other side, their poor pathetic brains not able to think themselves out of a paper bag. Their usefulness was their downfall. Cowards, on the contrary, had the potential to be as bright as the next man but their own insecurities outweighed the trust one might place upon them. Outside forces rarely needed to intervene for the coward to turn tail, thus they could not be trusted with any information of importance. The best outcome in either situation was death and it was a lovely night for a mercy killing.

Black robes whirled around gently as Lord Voldemort turned toward his desk, an unamused smile on his pale face. The barrier had been lifted, he could feel it, and the first of his Death Eaters had arrived. This one, a pretty thing with a heart that no longer belonged to herself, would not be on trial tonight. Mimette was cunning and vicious but most importantly she was loyal. Lethally loyal to the man she called Master. She had had a taste of the back burner which had only intensified her will to please Voldemort, and with her so-called competition deceased and out of the way, Voldemort was finding Mimette even more eager to prove herself to him. He rather enjoyed teasing her and sifting through the thoughts his actions stirred within her. There was no attraction on his end of the relationship but he graciously allowed her to daydream about their future together, endearing himself to her all the more and ensuring her skills would be used only for the good of their cause.

Her footsteps echoed around the empty ballroom and filtered into the antechamber where Lord Voldemort waited. She embarrassed herself at his chair before the fire was struck up, then she rapped her knuckles gently on his door and announced her presence. The door swung open with a curl of his finger. Mim was cloaked in firelight that streamed into the dimly lit side room, illuminating the handsome features on Lord Voldemort’s face as he sat behind his desk, beckoning Mimette inside. “I trust we are ready?” His voice was like silk caressing her skin. His black eyes penetrated hers purposefully as he awaited an answer.

Dorcas’ mind seemed to open to him as she extended her arm, letting her cloak fall first so as to expose her flesh. The scenes shown to him were only confirming what Lord Voldemort already knew, and Rodolphus’ anxious mind further supported it. Rodolphus and Bellatrix had been a formidable pair in their day, but the wizard’s jealous over his wife’s passion for their master had created a rift in the once great team. Perhaps the connection between Rodolphus and his girlfriend would be something even stronger that Voldemort could use to his advantage. He rather enjoyed recruiting entire families to his forces, it gave him collateral should anyone entertain the idea of straying from the flock. Their loved ones embroiled in the good fight, it was rare that any Death Eater might turn tail and run to the perceived safety of the Ministry of Magic or that doddering fool Albus Dumbledore. Love was such an easily manipulated emotion, one that he himself was blessed not to be burdened with.

Pale skin exposed, Voldemort grasped onto Dorcas’ wrist, drawing his wand up with his dominant hand and slowly pressing it to her forearm. The mark seared at black ink spread across her arm, the skin surrounding turning an angry shade of red as the ink formed the shape of a serpent which slithered and coiled around a skull that had formed at the center. The mark shimmered with slick, wet ink as the snake settled into place, then with a last shiver it froze. The glistening ink turned matte. The edges of the mark burned red and swelled ever so slightly. It wasn’t enough to notice on first glance but were he to run his hand over her new Dark Mark, he would have felt the ridges of a fresh tattoo. Lord Voldemort’s eyes remained locked on the green-eyed beauty as he instead released her wrist and pocketed his wand. He gave a thin smile as he looked at her then turned his attention to the rest of their small group. “Miss Meadowes has much to offer our cause, and if her efforts tonight give any indication, she will make a fine warrior in the fight for our independence from the oppressive muggle world. Welcome her with open arms, as we would welcome all pure witches and wizards.” He turned his eyes back to Dorcas, a knowing smile in hand. “Celebrate tonight, for I have plans for your future, my dear.”

A single nod of his head to the woman stood beside Lestrange was their dismissal. A swirl of black cloth followed Lord Voldemort as he turned and headed from the room, disappearing into an antechamber often used as his private office. The door remained open as the witch and two wizards who had played as the only other witnesses to the event silently followed suit and exited via the antechamber, the door shutting firmly behind them.

Instinct and learned defenses were difficult to curb, particularly in strange environments. Lord Voldemort was impressed with how the auror maintained herself when it was so evident to him that she wanted to draw her wand to defend herself. There was nothing here needing to be defended against, however, as they were all on friendly terms. Voldemort’s lips twitched with a small, momentary hint of a smile feeling Dorcas’ instincts go unfulfilled. He gave a small chuckle following her words, but what the Dark Lord found most amusing was not in what had been said but what had gone unsaid during their brief exchange. “Very good,” he said lightly, his words still echoing in the near empty room.

“Tell me, Miss Meadowes, are you comfortable in the role you’ve been asked to play here? Your family, your work, they can at times be in opposition to our cause, and yet they can also be your biggest allies should you wield them properly." She would not be his first to infiltrate the Ministry of Magic, not even the first auror he had employed in his battle against an unjust world. Sadly, not every skilled fighter could manage to deceive the Ministry while the investigation into the Death Eaters raged. They had already lost some to Azkaban, others to the great beyond. Deception required cunning and commitment. "You are skilled and agile, that much is evident. But are you also shrewd?” Black eyes pierced hers as Lord Voldemort awaited Dorcas’ answer, reading far more into her thoughts than just what her lips said. The sound of robes rustling behind them as one of the other Death Eaters shifted their weight could be heard in silence.