Iniquitous

Chapter Ten

"Very well done, Hera," praised the Dark Lord, when they'd stepped out of the fireplace and into the gold and creams of Malfoy Manor.

He was not alone; the Lestranges were with him, and the Rosiers, and Avery, and a few others, all still in their Wizengamot purple. His serpent Nagini was there also, the upper half of its lengthy body draped against the back of its master's chair, its triangular head resting on his right shoulder.

After having spent all those hours away from him, returning to hear the chilling tones of Voldemort's voice and to see his flat white snake-face again brought the old fear in Hera out of dormancy. That sharp, urgent, fight-or-flight fear that lived in every pore of Hera's body, but that had been slowly attenuated by his constant, normalising presence over the last weeks, took her by sudden force, and rendered her, for a second, completely immobile.

But the waiting touch of his red eyes on her face sent a new fear to chase away the old, this new fear being concerned only with avoiding his displeasure.

She smiled and thanked him.

He motioned her close.

Everyone watched her approach him with varying degrees of veiled interest or antipathy, all having already noted the way their Lord received her before anyone else, a few astute ones perhaps even catching the surreptitious way he scanned her form with the sort of near-concern they'd only ever witnessed directed towards the serpent currently tasting the air by his ear.

"Do you know how many flavours of fear there are?" Nagini asked rhetorically. "In this room alone, I detect several. It makes me so hungry..." Its forked tongue vibrated.

Lord Voldemort transferred his attention onto Thicknesse. "I was informed that the Wizengamot was no longer sitting as of thirty minutes ago. How is it that everyone here are returned before you to whom only I gave instructions to come back at once?"

"My deepest apologies, my Lord," Thicknesse started to say, a pleading note already evident before the actual pleading had even begun.

"What has transpired?" Lord Voldemort's voice came out in a low, seething hiss. "Why have you disobeyed me? What excuse have you to give me?"

"My Lord, there was an urgent incident that had to be dealt with."

"Was it more urgent than Lord Voldemort's orders?" the Dark Lord demanded, chin extending as if he were an actual snake.

"We came back as quickly as we could," Hera, with pounding heart, offered. "We came straight back..."

"Sit," he commanded her. A chair came sliding forwards.

"Your orders are paramount, my Lord," said Thicknesse. "We intended to return immediately, but an intruder with a grievance against Miss Potter came searching for and managed to find us. We apprehended him but unfortunately lost time in doing so."

This time, the side glance that Voldemort threw at Hera was unmistakeably diagnostic.

"Nothing happened," Hera mumbled.

"You will be quiet, Hera." He turned blood-red eyes onto the false Minister. His wand flicked; his victim flinched.

"Legilimens."

Hera had never seen the spell performed on someone else before. Thicknesse's face distorted in obvious pain. Not a sound escaped him. Hera recalled that agonising, freezing sensation. Her own face was beginning to screw up in empathy. Thankfully, it went on for just seconds. Lucius Malfoy was next to receive the same treatment, and Hera would be lying if she said she felt as badly for him.