A follower of the former Dark Lord stands at his grave during a snow fall. Written for the fanfic100 challenge.
Standing there, she recalled the first time she saw him walking about in the snow.
He had called her out specifically to help him search for something in a forest. She was much younger back then and he wasn't yet as disfigured as he would later become. His body was still beautiful in its own disturbing way and the snow falling about him enhanced his looks. He didn't bother to keep the hood of his cloak up then, saying that he preferred the cold because it cleared his head. She suspected that the real reason why was that he knew the power of his looks over her. The snow clung to his gorgeous black hair and complimented his almost white skin. He seemed like a god to her in the snow fall, a cold and merciless one. This god was one that was feared by many, but still beautiful to the ones who worshipped him. And she had worshipped him, swearing her soul forever to his service.
His beauty was one of the reasons she loved him. It was not the typical kind nor was it purely physical. The power behind him was the most beautiful part of him. It showed in the way he held himself and spoke, enhancing his physical looks. It completely mesmerized her and she wished she could be able to touch his greatness just once, but he was untouchable. She was so close, yet so far away from him. Even when he was less than what he once was before his death, he never lost that basic beauty that came with his power.
His power was a cold one, quiet and chilling. Just like the snow that he would walk in every time it fell. She remembered that he would often hold meetings of his followers in the snow. Those meetings always seemed to enhance his power as if he drew his power from the cold snow. The his older followers always told her that there was a reason why he chose to talk to the headmaster on a snowy evening for he always felt more powerful when it snowed.
Now he was here in the ground, defeated and with his followers disbanded. His beauty born of power was gone forever. Yet this one follower, Bellatrix Lestrange, still visited him. And the snow would always remind her of him.