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Description
Chapter Sixteen: Questionable Virtue

How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is
To have a thankless child!

Nearly a week passed before Snape was able to confirm for the Dark Lord what he had found. But it was a well known fact to the many of the Death Eaters who knew him, that Linsolm went nowhere alone.

So the Dark Lord decided to hit him where it would hurt the most--his profit. He decided he would take a small group of his loyal Death Eaters, including his Wraith, to Linsolm's precious nightclub, Questionable Virtue.

It was just past midnight when the Death Eaters assembled once more at the Malfoys' home. In the parlor, Voldemort waited with Wraith at his side. Those that arrived noted first that she was not wearing her usual guise as Lady Death, and is instead wearing all black instead. She did, however, carry her mask.

When Gavin appeared among the Death Eaters, Wraith's eyes narrowed and she let out a sharp hiss of breath. Voldemort placed a firm hand on her shoulder and bent closer to her.

"I need him tonight, my Wraith," he murmured to her. "He will not bother you."

"May I ask why you need him?"

"He knows the building inside and out."

"He would," Wraith muttered scathingly. She fell silent, but briefly rested her cheek against the hand on her shoulder. Voldemort took this as her acceptance and stepped forward to give his orders to the others.

"Three of you will go in before us, without your masks," he instructed. "I want you on alert, in case Linsolm chooses to do something…stupid. The rest will enter with me. According to Gavin, Linsolm will most likely be in his office, watching the crowd from above. We will corner him there and see what he has to say for himself."

The nightclub, Questionable Virtue, seemed to have the same charm upon it that the Leaky Cauldron did, for the Muggles that passed it didn't seem to notice the bright lights that poured out, or the pounding of the music within. The Dark Lord waited across the street with his followers behind him, watching as the first three entered alone. After a few minutes, Voldemort signaled and they walked across the now deserted street to the club's entrance.

As they swept inside, their entrance is covered by the strength of the music and the hollers of the men within. Voldemort and those behind them keep the hoods of their cloaks up, keeping their faces from sight.

As another cheer rose from the rather drunken crowd, Wraith glanced at the stage and then quickly averted her eyes, blushing slightly. She heard Gavin chuckle behind her and zapped him with a small jolt of power. He hissed in pain, but wisely said nothing.

As they walked towards the door that led up to the office, several of the 'customers' began to realize just who had entered the club. Like Gavin, they decided it was wiser to remain silent and ignore the happenings about to occur.

To the group's collective surprise, a young and very nervous looking woman stopped in front of them. Her blonde hair was long, but chopped and styled strangely, her bangs half covering her eyes. She was dressed in little more than lace and fishnet, her face made up for the stage. She was only able to look up briefly, before her fear forced her to look at the floor.

"Boss says that he knows w-why you're h-here. H-he wants to talk to you." She lifted her eyes again. "A-alone."

"That will not happen," Voldemort said, ready to walk around her.

"He said that i-if you said that, then h-he'll meet you w-without a fight…if you leave her behind." The girl lifted a shaking hand to point at Wraith.

Voldemort went silent and he glanced back at Wraith, who looked back at him, rather unsurprised. The Dark Lord made a low sound akin to a growl and turned back to the girl, who was shaking horrible before him.

"My Lord," Wraith murmured, stepping forward. "I could wait out here." When Voldemort looked at her again, she smirked. "It's not as though I could not be by your side in an instant." She held up her arm to show the Dark Mark there.

"Very well," Voldemort said after a moment. "Rabastan, Avery, remain out here with Wraith. I will call upon you if I find the need."

The two men nodded and stepped away from the group, along with Wraith.

"Stay out of trouble," Voldemort murmured t her.

"As you like, my Lord," she replied evenly.

Gavin moved forward and took the still trembling girl by her elbow. "What is your name, sweetheart?"

"C-Cynthia," she said, her voice shaking.

"Don't worry," Gavin told her, "you've done a good job in delivering your message. Go on now and go back to work. We know the way to Linsolm's office."

The girl, Cynthia, looked very relieved and was glad to hurry away.

"Poor little thing," Gavin murmured, smiling darkly. "I wouldn't mind meeting her in a dark room sometime."

"Lead the way, Gavin," Voldemort ordered sharply.

Wraith watched them go and then glanced between Rabastan and Avery. She shrugged, clearing at a loss as to what to do in the meantime. Rabastan looked towards the stage as the music switched to a new song and gestured towards the crowd. The three stepped over to the audience and found an empty table in the back. Still a little embarrassed, Wraith turned her eyes up to the show.

The stage was dominated by three scantily clad women, each very different from the other. Wraith recognized the girl that had stopped them, Cynthia, dancing in circles on the left hand side of the stage. She moved in careful coordinated steps that made her thin body twist like a snake. On the right was a woman with dark hair done in braids and an outfit that seemed to consist of leather straps. She was more aggressive in her dance and the men seemed to enjoy it.

But the one in the middle made Wraith pause. She was tall and tan, with short chestnut hair falling over one side of her pretty face. Unlike the other two, she was smiling as she twirled and contorted to the thrum of the music. Her smile was wide and infectious, as if she were having the time of her life.

Wraith turned to Rabastan, asking, "Who is the woman in the middle?"

Rabastan smirked and shook his head. "That's Linsolm's pet scandal, Clara Bauman. Her mother is Clarice Flint, a member of a proper pureblood family. Her daughter is the result of a--ahem--very short term marriage to a Muggle-born. Clara there seems to take delight in horrifying her mother. Almost as soon as she left school, Clara came here and started dancing. She's, ah, very popular here."

The song came to an end and the girls took their bows to hoots and hollers and cries for more. Wraith seemed to catch Clara's eye and made a small, almost unnoticeable gesture.

Avery cleared his throat and asked Wraith if he could move to a closer table. Wraith nodded, not really caring one way or the other. He and Rabastan moved deeper into the crowd, leaving Wraith alone.

"Having fun?"

Wraith sneered, not bothering to look up. "Shouldn't you be with our Lord, Gavin?"

Gavin gave her a sneer of his own as he sat at the table with her. "I just wanted to check on you. Where are the others?"

"Enjoying the show," Wraith replied dryly. "Why don't you go and do the same?"

"Yes, why don't you?"

Gavin and Wraith looked up to see the young woman from the stage. She put a hand on her hip and jerked her thumb towards the crowd. "Beat it, creep," she said, her voice like honey. "The lady obviously doesn't care for your company."

Gavin stood, his wand in his hand.

"Gavin," Wraith snapped. "Leave. Now."

Gavin looked back at her. "I don't think our master would care for the company you're choosing, my lady."

"He'll forgive me," Wraith hissed back. She looked up and met Clara's eyes, smiling slightly.

Gavin hesitated and then turned on his heel, disappearing into the crow. Clara watched him go, raising a delicate eyebrow.

"Mind if I sit?" she asked, tilting her head.

"Please."

Clara grabbed Gavin's empty chair and swung it around, straddling it. "You're far from the Q.V.'s usual 'clientele', pretty thing. What brings you here?"

Wraith glanced up towards the office. "Business."

Clara gave her a look. "You came in with that bunch of Death Eaters, didn't you? Bad company, them, but they pay well."

Wraith considered her, and Clara let her do so in silence. She seemed to enjoy the attention.

"Why do you do it?" Wraith asked at last, gesturing to the stage.

Clara grinned and held up two fingers. "Two reasons," she said. "One, it is fun. I enjoy dancing. I like men panting after me like puppies, knowing that they'll never have me. Two, and this is really the more important part, it pisses my mum off."

"Why is that important?" Wraith asked softly.

Clara shrugged. "She made my life a living hell. I'm just returning the favor. You know how parents can be."

"I'm afraid I don't."

Clara looked stricken and then she sighed, shaking off the unpleasant topic. "Can I get you a drink?" she asked.

"No, but thank you."

"Do you mind if I have one?"

"Of course not," Wraith said. "I'm not keeping you from your work, am I?"

"Nah," Clara said. "I can afford a break. Besides, who'd turn down a conversation with a pretty thing like you?"

"You'd be surprised," Wraith said dryly.

Clara frowned momentarily and signaled a waiter. "Sherry and ice for me, love. Are you sure you wouldn't like something?" she asked Wraith again.

Wraith shook her head, but smiled nonetheless.

"So why'd you signal me?" Clara asked after her drink had arrived. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you, but you don't strike me as someone looking for a quick tumble."

Wraith blushed slightly and shook her head. "Ah, no, I just wanted someone to talk to, I guess."

Clara sipped her drink, frowning slightly. "You're not in trouble, are you?" She set her glass down and reached for Wraith's hand. Wraith pulled her hand back quickly before Clara could touch it.

"Hardly," Wraith replied, covering her rude motion. "I can take care of myself."

Clara smiled to show she wasn't insulted by Wraith's action. "Yeah, you're a tough one, all right. What's your name, sweetie?"

"I don't want to tell you," Wraith said slowly, smiling rather sadly. "You'd stop talking with me."

Clara's brow shot up. "Oh, come on, sweetie. You can't be that scary."

"You'd be surprised," Wraith said again.

Clara studied her, a clever smile on her face. She chewed on her lower lip for a moment before she spoke again. "Can you leave without your, uh, 'friends'? Do you wanna get out of here?"

Wraith started to reply, but she stopped suddenly at the expression on Clara's face. She sighed softly and stood. "My Lord," she said, turning and bowing her head.

"Interesting company you keep, my Wraith," Voldemort said lightly, though his eyes flashed with ire.

"Just passing the time, my Lord. I apologize."

"Time to leave, my pet," Voldemort told her, sweeping past.

"Yes, my Lord."

Wraith couldn't bring herself to look at Clara again as she passed. But when Clara reached out suddenly to take her hand, Wraith paused, looking back. Clara's eyes were wide, but the fear didn't seem to be directed towards her.

"Will I see you again?" Clara asked under her breath.

Wraith hesitated. "I hope not," she whispered, glancing significantly towards the office and then at the Dark Lord's back. "I really hope not."

Clara's eyes widened further in understanding and she nodded quickly. She brought Wraith's hand to her lips before she let go. "Nice talking to you," she said with a wink.

Wraith was caught off guard, but something in her softened and she smiled quickly before she turned to catch up with the others.

"Clara!" A voice hissed at her. "Clara, you're on in five! Get your ass up there!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Clara snapped. She stood, eyes still watching Wraith as she left.

Description
Chapter Sixteen: Questionable Virtue

How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is
To have a thankless child!

Nearly a week passed before Snape was able to confirm for the Dark Lord what he had found. But it was a well known fact to the many of the Death Eaters who knew him, that Linsolm went nowhere alone.

So the Dark Lord decided to hit him where it would hurt the most--his profit. He decided he would take a small group of his loyal Death Eaters, including his Wraith, to Linsolm's precious nightclub, Questionable Virtue.

It was just past midnight when the Death Eaters assembled once more at the Malfoys' home. In the parlor, Voldemort waited with Wraith at his side. Those that arrived noted first that she was not wearing her usual guise as Lady Death, and is instead wearing all black instead. She did, however, carry her mask.

When Gavin appeared among the Death Eaters, Wraith's eyes narrowed and she let out a sharp hiss of breath. Voldemort placed a firm hand on her shoulder and bent closer to her.

"I need him tonight, my Wraith," he murmured to her. "He will not bother you."

"May I ask why you need him?"

"He knows the building inside and out."

"He would," Wraith muttered scathingly. She fell silent, but briefly rested her cheek against the hand on her shoulder. Voldemort took this as her acceptance and stepped forward to give his orders to the others.

"Three of you will go in before us, without your masks," he instructed. "I want you on alert, in case Linsolm chooses to do something…stupid. The rest will enter with me. According to Gavin, Linsolm will most likely be in his office, watching the crowd from above. We will corner him there and see what he has to say for himself."

The nightclub, Questionable Virtue, seemed to have the same charm upon it that the Leaky Cauldron did, for the Muggles that passed it didn't seem to notice the bright lights that poured out, or the pounding of the music within. The Dark Lord waited across the street with his followers behind him, watching as the first three entered alone. After a few minutes, Voldemort signaled and they walked across the now deserted street to the club's entrance.

As they swept inside, their entrance is covered by the strength of the music and the hollers of the men within. Voldemort and those behind them keep the hoods of their cloaks up, keeping their faces from sight.

As another cheer rose from the rather drunken crowd, Wraith glanced at the stage and then quickly averted her eyes, blushing slightly. She heard Gavin chuckle behind her and zapped him with a small jolt of power. He hissed in pain, but wisely said nothing.

As they walked towards the door that led up to the office, several of the 'customers' began to realize just who had entered the club. Like Gavin, they decided it was wiser to remain silent and ignore the happenings about to occur.

To the group's collective surprise, a young and very nervous looking woman stopped in front of them. Her blonde hair was long, but chopped and styled strangely, her bangs half covering her eyes. She was dressed in little more than lace and fishnet, her face made up for the stage. She was only able to look up briefly, before her fear forced her to look at the floor.

"Boss says that he knows w-why you're h-here. H-he wants to talk to you." She lifted her eyes again. "A-alone."

"That will not happen," Voldemort said, ready to walk around her.

"He said that i-if you said that, then h-he'll meet you w-without a fight…if you leave her behind." The girl lifted a shaking hand to point at Wraith.

Voldemort went silent and he glanced back at Wraith, who looked back at him, rather unsurprised. The Dark Lord made a low sound akin to a growl and turned back to the girl, who was shaking horrible before him.

"My Lord," Wraith murmured, stepping forward. "I could wait out here." When Voldemort looked at her again, she smirked. "It's not as though I could not be by your side in an instant." She held up her arm to show the Dark Mark there.

"Very well," Voldemort said after a moment. "Rabastan, Avery, remain out here with Wraith. I will call upon you if I find the need."

The two men nodded and stepped away from the group, along with Wraith.

"Stay out of trouble," Voldemort murmured t her.

"As you like, my Lord," she replied evenly.

Gavin moved forward and took the still trembling girl by her elbow. "What is your name, sweetheart?"

"C-Cynthia," she said, her voice shaking.

"Don't worry," Gavin told her, "you've done a good job in delivering your message. Go on now and go back to work. We know the way to Linsolm's office."

The girl, Cynthia, looked very relieved and was glad to hurry away.

"Poor little thing," Gavin murmured, smiling darkly. "I wouldn't mind meeting her in a dark room sometime."

"Lead the way, Gavin," Voldemort ordered sharply.

Wraith watched them go and then glanced between Rabastan and Avery. She shrugged, clearing at a loss as to what to do in the meantime. Rabastan looked towards the stage as the music switched to a new song and gestured towards the crowd. The three stepped over to the audience and found an empty table in the back. Still a little embarrassed, Wraith turned her eyes up to the show.

The stage was dominated by three scantily clad women, each very different from the other. Wraith recognized the girl that had stopped them, Cynthia, dancing in circles on the left hand side of the stage. She moved in careful coordinated steps that made her thin body twist like a snake. On the right was a woman with dark hair done in braids and an outfit that seemed to consist of leather straps. She was more aggressive in her dance and the men seemed to enjoy it.

But the one in the middle made Wraith pause. She was tall and tan, with short chestnut hair falling over one side of her pretty face. Unlike the other two, she was smiling as she twirled and contorted to the thrum of the music. Her smile was wide and infectious, as if she were having the time of her life.

Wraith turned to Rabastan, asking, "Who is the woman in the middle?"

Rabastan smirked and shook his head. "That's Linsolm's pet scandal, Clara Bauman. Her mother is Clarice Flint, a member of a proper pureblood family. Her daughter is the result of a--ahem--very short term marriage to a Muggle-born. Clara there seems to take delight in horrifying her mother. Almost as soon as she left school, Clara came here and started dancing. She's, ah, very popular here."

The song came to an end and the girls took their bows to hoots and hollers and cries for more. Wraith seemed to catch Clara's eye and made a small, almost unnoticeable gesture.

Avery cleared his throat and asked Wraith if he could move to a closer table. Wraith nodded, not really caring one way or the other. He and Rabastan moved deeper into the crowd, leaving Wraith alone.

"Having fun?"

Wraith sneered, not bothering to look up. "Shouldn't you be with our Lord, Gavin?"

Gavin gave her a sneer of his own as he sat at the table with her. "I just wanted to check on you. Where are the others?"

"Enjoying the show," Wraith replied dryly. "Why don't you go and do the same?"

"Yes, why don't you?"

Gavin and Wraith looked up to see the young woman from the stage. She put a hand on her hip and jerked her thumb towards the crowd. "Beat it, creep," she said, her voice like honey. "The lady obviously doesn't care for your company."

Gavin stood, his wand in his hand.

"Gavin," Wraith snapped. "Leave. Now."

Gavin looked back at her. "I don't think our master would care for the company you're choosing, my lady."

"He'll forgive me," Wraith hissed back. She looked up and met Clara's eyes, smiling slightly.

Gavin hesitated and then turned on his heel, disappearing into the crow. Clara watched him go, raising a delicate eyebrow.

"Mind if I sit?" she asked, tilting her head.

"Please."

Clara grabbed Gavin's empty chair and swung it around, straddling it. "You're far from the Q.V.'s usual 'clientele', pretty thing. What brings you here?"

Wraith glanced up towards the office. "Business."

Clara gave her a look. "You came in with that bunch of Death Eaters, didn't you? Bad company, them, but they pay well."

Wraith considered her, and Clara let her do so in silence. She seemed to enjoy the attention.

"Why do you do it?" Wraith asked at last, gesturing to the stage.

Clara grinned and held up two fingers. "Two reasons," she said. "One, it is fun. I enjoy dancing. I like men panting after me like puppies, knowing that they'll never have me. Two, and this is really the more important part, it pisses my mum off."

"Why is that important?" Wraith asked softly.

Clara shrugged. "She made my life a living hell. I'm just returning the favor. You know how parents can be."

"I'm afraid I don't."

Clara looked stricken and then she sighed, shaking off the unpleasant topic. "Can I get you a drink?" she asked.

"No, but thank you."

"Do you mind if I have one?"

"Of course not," Wraith said. "I'm not keeping you from your work, am I?"

"Nah," Clara said. "I can afford a break. Besides, who'd turn down a conversation with a pretty thing like you?"

"You'd be surprised," Wraith said dryly.

Clara frowned momentarily and signaled a waiter. "Sherry and ice for me, love. Are you sure you wouldn't like something?" she asked Wraith again.

Wraith shook her head, but smiled nonetheless.

"So why'd you signal me?" Clara asked after her drink had arrived. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you, but you don't strike me as someone looking for a quick tumble."

Wraith blushed slightly and shook her head. "Ah, no, I just wanted someone to talk to, I guess."

Clara sipped her drink, frowning slightly. "You're not in trouble, are you?" She set her glass down and reached for Wraith's hand. Wraith pulled her hand back quickly before Clara could touch it.

"Hardly," Wraith replied, covering her rude motion. "I can take care of myself."

Clara smiled to show she wasn't insulted by Wraith's action. "Yeah, you're a tough one, all right. What's your name, sweetie?"

"I don't want to tell you," Wraith said slowly, smiling rather sadly. "You'd stop talking with me."

Clara's brow shot up. "Oh, come on, sweetie. You can't be that scary."

"You'd be surprised," Wraith said again.

Clara studied her, a clever smile on her face. She chewed on her lower lip for a moment before she spoke again. "Can you leave without your, uh, 'friends'? Do you wanna get out of here?"

Wraith started to reply, but she stopped suddenly at the expression on Clara's face. She sighed softly and stood. "My Lord," she said, turning and bowing her head.

"Interesting company you keep, my Wraith," Voldemort said lightly, though his eyes flashed with ire.

"Just passing the time, my Lord. I apologize."

"Time to leave, my pet," Voldemort told her, sweeping past.

"Yes, my Lord."

Wraith couldn't bring herself to look at Clara again as she passed. But when Clara reached out suddenly to take her hand, Wraith paused, looking back. Clara's eyes were wide, but the fear didn't seem to be directed towards her.

"Will I see you again?" Clara asked under her breath.

Wraith hesitated. "I hope not," she whispered, glancing significantly towards the office and then at the Dark Lord's back. "I really hope not."

Clara's eyes widened further in understanding and she nodded quickly. She brought Wraith's hand to her lips before she let go. "Nice talking to you," she said with a wink.

Wraith was caught off guard, but something in her softened and she smiled quickly before she turned to catch up with the others.

"Clara!" A voice hissed at her. "Clara, you're on in five! Get your ass up there!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Clara snapped. She stood, eyes still watching Wraith as she left.