Beauty Is Only Skin Deep [Silvery]

[Silvery Bletchley]

The mention of Ophelia's friends reminded Silvery of the fact that she herself had very few friends as well. "Elvira? No, no! I'm pretty sure she's still alive. She was only lost, if I remember correctly. Oh and dear Lucretia. Her potion skills are one of a kind. I do admire her so." 

She considered his question carefully, but it didn't take her long to come to a decision. It was obvious that she wasn't ready for the night to end. So naturally, she opted for not going to the shop. "Perhaps it would be best to go to the S.T.V. for the vial.  And maybe you could even give me a tour of the place afterwards."

Silvery noticed that Dante had been distracted by someone just then, she smiled at the man when he nodded back at them. She thought he looked somewhat familiar but she couldn't quite place him. "Who was that?" she started to ask, but her words got lost in his.  She smiled up at him in response. "Yes, I do believe even you can. And you have."

The carefree vampire of just a few minutes ago slowed down to almost a stop and Silvery could feel him tense up as he recalled the terrible details of his attack. Her eyes grew wider as the story unfolded and she bit her bottom lip so hard she made it bleed. But that was nothing compared to the blood on his hands, or the dark red tear streaking down his cheek. The very thing that gave him away that fateful night.

"Oh Dante..." she whispered softly, her eyes glassy with tears not yet ready to fall. "How can you say that? Don't you know how important you are? Fate kept you alive for a reason." She smoothed her thumb over the streak of blood on his cheek, making his alabaster face impeccable again. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I just..." She sighed, one of the tears she'd been fighting finally escaping out the corner of her eye. "Thank you for sharing that with me."

[Dante Fuilteach]

He visibly brightened at that news. So life still continued, even in unexpected ways. "My dear Elvira is alive! How wonderful. I feel the need to come out of reclusion and return to public life. Perhaps I will start by paying a visit to her. Although, I have already begun the process by visiting my sister, and now escorting you! Dante is back in the world, darlings, and I do so hope he was missed!" His words were casual, with a heavy dose of his usual narcissism, but it was hollow.

"Ah, haven't you been to my fine establishment yet? That dreadful bore, Jadrin, has been taking care of it in my absence whenever Lucretia was unavailable. He is a rather attractive creature, but unfortunately what he possesses in good looks he lacks in personality. I don't know how I ever endured his company for so long," Dante drawled, anxious to get back to normal conversation without his depressive tendencies.

He glanced back at the young man who had passed them, and gently took Silvery's hand, stopping her in her tracks. He pointed at Sam and said, "That Dickensian looking fellow is one Samuel Burke. He doesn't bear the Dark Mark, but he works for your master. He looks scrawny, but you mustn't ever let looks deceive you, my sweet, especially not in his case. He is rather a master at digging graves and casting memory charms. He specialises in a rather macabre art of raising the dead. We call them Nosferatu when it is done to the dead of our kind, but you would call them Inferi." He smiled, and watched Sam disappear into the Leaky Cauldron pub. "We all have our dark secrets, do we not? And his are particularly juicy. And I suppose he is rather attractive, despite his Victorian gravedigger attire and whiskers. Come along, though, we mustn't loiter like a pair of teenage hooligans." He tugged her hand as he began walking again, prompting her to walk with him. They were literally around the corner from Knockturn Alley, and his little business endeavour.

The nature of blood tears was such that it made a film of blood over their eyes for as long as the tears fell. Human eyes went glassy, vampires eyes were blurred and their vision tinted red. As a result, the phrase "rose tint my world" meant something vastly different to them than it did to humans. To vampires, it meant sorrow and pain, whereas to mortals it meant to view the world as carefree and harmless. It was a rather telling difference between the species.

"I'm fine," he lied. "Absolutely fine. Just a passing, fleeting moment of grief. My face was my fortune, and losing it rather felt like losing an old and beloved friend." He met Silvery's eye, noticing her tears for the first time. "Oh, come now, my sweet... Do not cry for me. I survived, I am restored to my family, and my father did not become the monster I so feared he would be. The tale has a happy ending after all."

[Silvery Bletchley]

Silvery didn't recall ever meeting this Jadrin fellow he spoke of but the name did ring a bell. She assumed she must have heard of him from either Ophelia or Dante himself at some point back during the Malfoy Manor days. She didn't say so though, she only smiled and let him explain who the stranger that crossed their path was. She was actually impressed by Dante's description of Mr. Burke. He sounded like quite an interesting fellow and his talents were amazing, even her Master had noticed them. But attractive she did not find him. She disagreed with a laugh. "My dear Dante, I was sure you had better tastes than that!"

They started walking again, this time in the direction of Knockturn Alley and the STV. "I know you're fine. The story made me sad, that's all. That and the reminder that you're beauty is really gone. That what I'm looking at right now is an illusion. It's just so hard to...fathom." She stopped and touched his cheek once again, almost as if checking to see if it was real. It was so soft, and cold, and pale, and perfect. "Dante? Will you let me see you? When the effects of the potion wear off, I mean. Can I see the real you?"

[Dante Fuilteach]

He smiled, unabashed by her teasing. These days, there was beauty to be found in all things and creatures, no matter how small. He often found himself envying people like Sam, whose beauty showed itself in the smallest of ways.

"I have something of a weakness for finely crafted cheekbones, and a pretty philtrum," Dante said with a contented sigh, tapping the hollow between her septum and the cupid's bow of her upper lip. "And while my dear friend Sam has somewhat wayward facial hair, it does set off those features rather well." He grinned. "Surely you have a weakness for certain features? My father, for example, has always had a weakness for red hair and pale throats. Ophelia swoons for soulful brown eyes. And I? I love exquisite bone structure, much like your own. You have a most delightful philtrum, my dear Silvery."

Startled by her hand on his cheek, he said quietly, "You would scream. You would run from me in horror, and spend your nights with that vision haunting your dreams. Then you would wonder what sort of creature I was when I first crawled my way to safety after the fire. Darling, you mustn't look at my face. It's too cruel..."

[Silvery Bletchley]

The initial look on her face was that of someone terribly shaken by what they had just heard. He had to be exaggerating. He was severely burned, yes, perhaps even a little disfigured, but an unrecognizable creature that would make her lose sleep at night? No, she seriously doubted that. There was nothing he could show her about himself that would make her run away screaming. She had seen many terrible things in her young life, especially since she was (forcibly) recruited into the DE, so she didn't think that a marred and scarred friend, one that she idolized as much as she did Dante, could scare her away. She wanted to see...she had to see!

"But..." She started to object but broke off with a sigh, suddenly changing her mind. She would respect her friend's wishes and not press the matter after all. She smiled and took his hand, resuming their walk. His comment about weaknesses made her wonder about her own. Beauty, intelligence, strength, and even power were all qualities she found very attractive in a man, as most other women would. But there was one other thing she always looked for, the one that she couldn't help but go weak in the knees for. Bright, glistening eyes. The color didn't matter, it was that inner brilliance and confidence that they conveyed that made her fall for them....every time. Miles had all the qualities, especially the eyes.

...But so did Dante, didn't he? And Miles had been gone so long and was so, so far away....

She shook the thought away inwardly. She would fight his irresistibility!

"What's cruel is your teasing. You may have a weakness for the likes of me, but I have a weakness for you. Although that probably doesn't mean much to you given the fact that anyone who ever meets you can't help but fall in love...or lust, either one." She sniggered then turned her gaze away from him to look down Knockturn Alley. Here the atmosphere was dreary and much, much darker than Diagon Alley. Their footsteps echoed loudly and the few cloaked figures that they saw disappeared from view almost as quickly as they were spotted. Everyone here had a dark or hidden agenda, just like she and Dante did tonight. Well, a little bit dark anyway.

[Dante Fuilteach]

"Oh, darling..." Dante sighed. "I have seen my sister unmade by her infidelity. I could not possibly do the same to you. Were you unwed, I would beg you on bended knee to permit me spend the night in your bed. Sadly, you are wed to someone as beautiful as you, someone whose face will fall in the coming decades, but will not transform within the space of an hour. I could not inflict this face upon you, my dear friend."

For someone so used to Dante's beauty, the transformation would be repellant. It wasn't just his face that was scarred, but his throat, his long, pale torso and his sinewy arms. At times, Dante stared at his reflection, loathing every inch of scarred skin with an intensity that frightened him. He wanted so desperately to regain his former beauty forever, not just as the result of a cunning little potion. He shivered, feeling the effects of starting to wear thin. Soon, if Silvery touched the skin, the illusion of perfection would be spoiled, as she would be able to feel the taut, puckered scar tissue beneath her skin.

There was no time left for dawdling. The S.T.V. was barely three feet away, and with feline grace, he pulled her through the door, slamming it behind him. There was no sign of Lucretia. Perhaps she had stepped out, or was tending to a customer out back. He turned a key in the lock, and pressed his forehead against the wooden door frame, keeping his gaze averted.

"The potion is wearing thin," he confessed. "You may get your wish, sweeting."

He turned around, grateful that he still had a few moments left before his hideous face was revealed. He snuffed out a few candles between his thumb and forefinger, hissing slightly at the mild pain. It was nothing compared to the inferno he had survived. Fewer candles would mean his features would be less ghastly, and that was a great blessing.

[Silvery Bletchley]

"Beg me on bended knee?" She closed her eyes, a years old fantasy of hers flashing through her mind and fading away almost as quickly as it appeared.  She didn't really want to be unfaithful. But if Dante wasn't the gentleman that he was and if the circumstances had been different, she would have very likely given in to his usual charm and beauty. She would have happily cheated. Sad to say, but true.

Was she fine with his resolution? Sure. Disappointed, but fine.  Besides, she could have just been flattering herself all along. It was very possible that he didn't want her at all, that it was all in her head. Yes, it was most likely all in her head. She sighed deeply.

"Well, I admire your..." She didn't have chance to finish her statement because in what seemed like a flash she found herself inside the STV watching Dante snuff out candles and sounding very agitated. 

So the potion was wearing off. Like he said, she'd get her wish. But did she still wish it, after his words of warning? Yes and no. 

"Dante?" She took a step in his direction, but he was moving quickly from one candle to another and she didn't know what to do. "If you want me to leave, I will. We can do this another time. But if there is anything I can do for you right now, please let me know. You are my dear friend first and foremost, and no scars or... lack of beauty... is going to change that." She didn't even look around the unfamiliar room she was standing in, her eyes were fixed on him...or rather the shadows he was hiding behind.

[Dante Fuilteach]

Oh, anything to have his fallen face restored! Dante grieved the loss of his beauty as one might grieve a relative - fine one moment, and a wreck of tears the next. With his loss came suffering, and through his suffering came wisdom. Had he been the impudent brat prince of his people that he once had, his lips would have been pressed against Silvery's by now. As it was, his revulsion for his own appearance prevented him.

He kept his back to her as she spoke, and sighed. The potion didn't hurt as it wore off, but it left a prickling sensation, almost like when one's leg falls asleep and feeling begins to return. He shuddered, and pulled off the wig he wore to conceal his lack of hair. The fire burned it all away, and while he had some fuzzy strands beginning to return, it was ghastly to behold without some covering.

"You are a kind woman, despite your devotion to the Dark Lord. I had heard it said that his followers could not feel emotions, nor could they love. They also say the same of vampires, but we can love quite well, even if we don't love wisely." There was still one candle lit on the desk, set in a cast iron candelabra. It suited Dante's Byronic image. He removed the lace jabot at his throat, and undid the top button of his shirt.

"You may look, darling," he said quietly. "If you flee, I must admit... I can hardly blame you. But you should see what Muggles have done to me with their fire and hatred." He walked behind the desk, careful to keep to the shadows. Taking a seat in his old chair, the wood and leather creaked. "Don't say I did not warn you," he said, his voice grim and tight. He leaned forward into the light, revealing the graphic, full extent of his scars.

[Silvery Bletchley]

She shrugged lightly at his comment about Death Eaters and emotions, her eyes still fixed on his sillouette in the darkness.  "Your sister is... well, she was a follower. You know first hand how that isn't true for all of us. We all have our reasons for following, it doesn't change who we are at our core." She shook her head and rolled her eyes at herself, noticing she was now rambling.  "Anyway, I'm only kind to those who mean something to me. And that list has grown very short in the last few years."

He sat down now, the creaking of his chair startling her.  She whispered, almost inaudibly. "No Dante, you don't have to..."  A shocked gasp escaped her lips when he finally showed himself to her, her hand flying to her mouth to keep from crying out.

"Merlin's tears!" she managed to mutter.  It was true, his scars were terrible to behold. His once perfect face was mutilated... desecrated! He was beastly!  She sighed heavily and looked away. She was scared, and sad, and angry, and utterly torn as to what to do or say. She would not flee, though. Quite the opposite actually. She was ready to remain and help him through this any way she could, if he needed her to. 

She forced herself to look at him again. This time she saw Dante behind the gruesomeness. He was still there, and he would heal himself in time. He was a vampire after all, was he not? 

"I... I must admit that it is terribly hard to look at you like this.  But, I'm not running away, Dante. You could use a friend right now."  She sighed again, hoping against hope that she could lighten his heart somehow, because deep down inside she understood how his father would have felt.

"Right now, Dante, nothing would make me happier than to watch every single muggle responsible for this tortured the way they used to torture our kind...burned at the stake!" She was balling her fists so tightly that her nails pierced her skin.  She looked down at her hands and took a deep breath, reminding herself that she needed to control her temper.

"It's actually not as bad as you made it sound, you know. If I stand here to your left, I can see you."  She smiled now. She had to.  It was that or she would either blow up in a rage or break out in tears. And she didn't want to do either.

[Dante Fuilteach]

He closed his eyes, visibly flinching when she gasped. Gone were the days when people passing him in the street would give an envious little sigh, and turn their heads to watch him. How it stung to be made to feel so mortal and so hideous! He should have kept his beauty for centuries, not lost it all after barely three decades.

"Yes, it is ghastly, isn't it?" he asked, the bitterness in his voice obvious. "Even my hair is gone!" He blew out the candle and stood, walking silently through the shop. He could at least spare her the sight for now, and darkness was so forgiving of his flaws.

"You want a pound of flesh for every inch of scars on my skin, don't you?" Dante asked. "Can't say I blame you. My father took his revenge. He thought I was dead, so he killed them all. Their old, their young, their whole and healthy. You have only seen him as a gentleman, a little cold, stiff and old fashioned, perhaps, but still a gentleman. I hope you will never have to see him as anything but that, but at the same time I wish to caution you. Never forget that my father is not mortal, and never was. He has no human kindness in him."

He gently touched her fists and whispered, "How your heart pounds, Silvery! Those responsible were punished, and in time, I will be beautiful once more. Your loyalty is fondly appreciated, my dear." He hesitated, and added, "Would you prefer if I took my potion now? The illusion is so much easier to bear, I know..."

[Silvery Bletchley]

Silvery gazed down at his hand as it touched hers, not wanting to look at his scarred face any more than she needed to. It wasn't just horrifying, it was heartbreaking. It was too painful to see her friend like this, in a million more ways than one.

"I'll not pretend it isn't difficult...looking at you in this state. So yes, I think I would be more at ease if you were to take your potion. As would you, I'm sure." She smiled weakly and turned, slowly walking over to an unlit candle and lighting it with her wand. She didn't do so because she didn't like the dark, she adored it, it was more a way of giving him his privacy as he took his potion. She continued to speak while still facing away from him, her delicate fingers now playing with the tiny flame. "You should probably try an "intensified healing" potion as well. If taken during a new moon, it can potentially cut a mortal's healing time by half. If your vampire body doesn't reject it, just imagine the speed at which it could help you to look your own self again."

There she went rambling again, this time she'd let the healer in her take over. Old habits do die hard. "Sorry, you need support, not advice. I'll let Lucretia handle the healing." She smiled.

Bored now by the candle, she made her way over to a dusty corner bookshelf. She pulled out a random book and blew the cobwebs off of it. "Going back to the subject of your father. I don't really know him at all, but I'm sure I need no warning about his nature. He terrifies me already. It's strange actually. He's terrifying but...also exhilarating. You know what I mean?"

Of course he knew what she meant! But she was trying to change the subject and lighten up the mood a bit. She opened the book in her hand and found that it was in a language she could not understand. She had to squint to look at the pictures in the darkness. They were gruesome! It was surely a book of torture.

"So tell me Dante, what now? What's next for the damaged brat prince?"

She replaced the book on the shelf and slowly turned to face him.

[Dante Fuilteach]

"If you think my face is a horror, you should see what the flames did to the rest of my body," he murmured. He pulled his hand away, taking the opportunity to drink down his potion while her back was turned. He gasped as the potion took effect, the sensation like bubbles popping all along his flesh while it forced the appearance of normality. When the sensation wore off, he looked up at the ceiling, and the shop's gorgeous golden chandelier, a little thing he had salvaged from a broken down old church many years ago.

"Might I trouble you to use that marvellous magic of yours to light the candles, my dear Silvery?" he asked, gesturing at the chandelier.

Intrigued by her suggestion, he made a mental note to mention the potion to Lucretia next time he spoke to her. "Ah, but a skilled potioneer like yourself might have different techniques to my lovely Lucretia!" he remarked. "Your advice is appreciated, darling Silvery, make no mistake."

He scoffed at the talk of his father being exhilarating. "Of course ... the element of danger is always enthralling to mortals. It's the power you sense, naturally, and while it prickles up your spine and hits that little part of your brain marked 'primal terror' you cannot help but be intrigued. I suppose that's why you serve your Dark Lord ... the power intoxicates you, even as it terrifies your very soul."

He shrugged, and flopped onto the fainting couch he had installed. It was mostly for clients who passed out after donation, but partly for himself to pose on and look pretty. "What's next? Healing, I hope, for both myself and my sister. The Fuilteachs will rise again, Silvery! And we will be more beautiful and terrible than we were before."

He cleared his throat and added with a touch of his old arrogance, "And when that day comes, I shall be the envy of every man, woman and child who looks upon my face, and I will bask in their admiration."

[Silvery Bletchley]

Silvery looked up at the chandelier, she hadn't noticed it in the dense darkness of the room.

"Of course!"

She pulled out her wand, nodding in agreement with what he was saying about his father. With a quick swish of her wrist and a tiny whisper the room was suddenly filled with warm candlelight. Just in time for her to see him flop down on a couch, looking as beautiful as ever. Again, she envied his eternal beauty and youth.

"Ah Dante. Of course you are! There never was a doubt."

So much more at ease now that he was back to normal, she decided to join him on the couch.

"Now, why don't we talk about the reason we came here tonight."

[Dante Fuilteach]

Dante smiled, and blew her a kiss from his position on the sofa.

"Thank you, my darling dear. I do so miss magic at times like these ... not that the Dark Gift doesn't come with magic all its own."

He watched her as she approached him, his eyes roaming over her figure, and he gave a soft sigh of envy.

"You mortals break my heart, you really do! So soft and tender and fragrant and breakable and beautiful ..."

He perked up a little when she reminded him of the reason for her visit. Sitting up straighter, he clapped his hands on his knees.

"Yes! You fancied a vial of my blood, didn't you?" he asked, and stood up. He pulled a velvet rope, drawing a black curtain back to reveal a Victorian cabinet, filled with crystal vials, cork stoppers, rolled up parchment and a peculiar arrangement of skulls that may ot may not have been human.

He winked at Silvery from over his shoulder, and took two vials and stoppers from the cabinet. "My little cabinet of curiosities ... it became more of a storage unit of late. I really should invest in a proper bureau for letter writing. Nevertheless, it serves its purpose!" He approached her, and crouched on one knee, holding out the vials to her. "If you would be so good as to hold these, my dear?"

[Silvery Bletchley]

Silvery frowned a little at his melancholy words. "Yes, but my beauty fades a little every day. My body weakens with every passing hour. That's the part that should break your heart.  It does mine."  She wanted his everlastingness and he envied her warmth and vulnerability… her thoughts were followed by a heavy sigh.  "It's inevitable, we always long for what we can't have, even if it makes no sense to."

Her eyes moved with him to his amazing hidden cabinet.  It reminded her somewhat of her personal potions cabinet, but his was so much more impressive. "Very nice!" she complemented.  And when he kneeled in front of her she smiled, taking the vials from him, one in each hand.

"Um, you're not really about to cry right here in front of me, are you?  I won't be able to take it.  I'll have to kiss the tears away."  She smiled again, even though having him that close was like sweet, soft torture.  If there was such a thing.