Hello Lord

A secret revealed

Voldemort looked around the dank alley in disgust. He was a dark lord, what the hell was he doing here? Lucius and Severus looked equally disgusted but the younger Malfoy had no such problems. "Draco." The sibilant tones of Lucius's voice almost echoed through the small alley. "Are you sure this is the right place?" A gloved handed landed on the boys shoulder, squeezing harshly in warning. Lucius pushed the boy so much, but Voldemort no longer had such a demanding temperament. He admitted, his mind was not so together as the last war ended. After the horcruxes and his obsession over the prophecy, he had lost his way. After being resurrected in the Graveyard by Wormtail, using the blood of a surprisingly obedient Harry Potter, his power and sanity had been regained, as well as his more human features. His eyes however, remained the same. As red as the devil those cruel muggles had compared him to.

Draco winced as his fathers nails dug into his shoulder. His father had been so harsh, so tense recently. Mother claimed it was because he worried of the Dark Lord's temper, but Draco just didn't understand why. Sure the man was intense, and powerful, but he seemed rather sensible to Draco. The man had moved into their manor with his aunt Bellatrix a few months ago, after the break in to Azkaban. It was then that Draco had finally been told everything about his father's role with the Death Eaters. And when he had been sworn in. Shrugging off the man's hand, he rubbed his forearm, where the tattoo stood stark against his alabaster skin. "Yes, I'm sure! The bar is just through this wall." He pointed at the black stone opposite the Muggle hotel, water dripping down from a hanging pipe. Of course his father didn't believe him, and he walked through it, feeling the ward scan his aura. It let him through, revealing the true entrance to the Demeure Des Ombres. The abode of Shadows. A bar specifically for the dark sides higher class.

Following behind was Lucius, Severus and the Dark Lord. "Hmmm, a ward that scans auras, allowing only dark magic in. I've never seen anything like that before." Severus remarked, clearly intrigued. Voldemort was impressed as well, ward weaving was incredibly difficult, and few could do it anymore. They knocked on the door, feeling an incredibly strong compulsion spell wash over them, one to tell the truth. Only Voldemort could resist, and the Wizard doorman leaned against the door. "Are any of you spies?" It was understandable that the club owner was cautious of such things, considering their high clientele. Immediately Lucius, Draco and Severus answered yes, announcing that they were spies for the dark lord. Voldemort was surprised that it even broke through Severus's occlumency shield, and worried that the guard would not let three spies through, but they were quickly waved through. Apparently politics weren't involved here, only magic. That was something they had in common.

As they stepped through the black doors, waves of almost hypnotic music rose over them, thrumming through their bodies. Soft red lights bathed the club in a comfortable glow, tinting the mirrored ceiling and reflective surfaces. Soft purple velvet adorned the seats, where many customers were lounging comfortably. Golden pillars rose to the ceiling, seperating the bar from the dance floor and the curtained booths. Above was the balcony, for guests requiring more privacy. And that is where they were going. To meet the Lord of Vampires for aid in the coming war. They walked up the black winding staircase to take a seat at the middle booth, where the Vampire and two guards were seated.

Only ten minutes in to the negotiations, a load uproar drew their attention to a fight going on below. "They shouldn't let your kind in here!" A werewolf was thrown across the room, crashing into the bar, which held strong. The bar staff barely flinched, only looking down before continuing to serve drinks. Clearly this wasn't the first fight. The vampire that had thrown them prowled forward hissing. "My kind? At least mine are more civilised than filthy, flee ridden mutts." Severus snickered at that, and several nearby werewolves glared at him. Sobered he turned back to watch. The werewolf jumped on the vamp, crushing him into the floor, stone breaking beneath the weight. The vampire simply snarled, kicking the wolf off of him and into a pillar, which cracked and bent from the force. Both opponents picked themselves up, launching themselves at the other. "Enough!" A load shout reverberated through the building, along with the strongest, darkest magical aura Voldemort had felt in a while.

The mysterious stranger stood between the vampire and werewolf, holding both aloft in the air. Quickly a repairo was cast wordlessly, repairing all the damage done instantly. "You know the rules. No illicit dealings, no murdering fellow customers, and no fighting!" The wolf growled, swiping at him, and recieving a harsh bolt of electricity before making contact. He dropped to the floor whimpering, and the vampire stopped struggling, worried. "Sort this out, or you leave." The vampire hissed, clearly unhappy with his options. "You should tell the owner not to let the dogs in." Several wolves growled, and all the regulars started laughing at the idiots words. "That would be rather pointless considering I created this bar as a haven for all dark magicals." The vampires eyes widened as they realised, before stammering out an apology. Rolling his eyes, the owner raised his hand, both the vampire and the wolf disappearing in a cloud of smoke. The owner turned to the balcony, looking up at the guests. "Francois, lovely to see you again. Your vampire has been sent to your home." The vampire Lord nodded thankfully before returning to his seat, and the stranger walked behind the bar, disappearing.

They retook their seats, all intrigued by the surprise interaction, but continuing the discussion. Offers made, the Lord agreed to consider their terms. "Excuse me, my Lord." They turned to see a waiter holding a tray with a decanter and three glasses. "Noir apologises for the disturbance to your meeting, and would like to offer a gift in thanks for your last meeting." The tray was placed on the table, and the Francois grinned, fangs flashing. "My favourite I suppose?" The waiter smiled, nodding and pouring a small amount of the drink into each glass. "Of course sir, A positive, drawn fresh from a Spanish Muggle woman." The three vampires happily tasted the blood, sighing in satisfaction. "Warm, full-bodied and pure. No pollutants. Please give your employer my kindest regards." The young man smiled, and bowed, picking up the tray and turning to the wizards. "And may we offer your guests any drinks?"

Voldemort politely declined, much to the disappointment of the three others. He looked at Draco. "You aren't old enough to drink yet anyway." Looking sheepish, the teenager looked down, flushing red at His Lords laughter. Turning back to the Vampire Lord, he had a question to ask. "May I ask what you know of the owner of this establishment?" The vampire let out a dry chuckle in response, quickly downing the rest of the glass. "Lord Evans does not pick sides, Dark Lord. He simply does as he wishes, acquiring power and money and favours. He opened this place as a safe haven for my kind and Fenrir's, a place to protect dark creatures from the ministry. The one place my kind are safe from persecution. The blood is fresh, the food is good and the protection is unparalleled. When your Death Eaters began to attend he allowed it, simply as dark calls to dark. He is not allying himself with anyone. He shares his influence and protection in return for reward. He has no alliances and no agenda. Noir Evans is not a man that likes scheming. It would be in your best interests to leave him well alone."

As they left the bar that night, Voldemort immediately began thinking of ways to find out more of this Noir Evans. Perhaps to even gain a meeting. Surely he would not turn away the chance at gaining the favour of the Dark Lord.