Voldemort seemed, if anything, amused by the defiance.

Time would take away the beauty, the elegance, the handsomeness, however – any and all good looks he possessed, right now, would turn into a plain picture of horror, in much less than a decade.

Ice and pretense, she could comprehend. Ice and pretense in him, not simultaneously.

“You know you remember correctly. I would, too, if my life depended upon it,” she added, her lips almost curving into a smirk.

“There are a lot of things I haven’t told you,” she said, coolly. “Oh, and did I ever mention? Lots of things I’m not going to tell you, either.”

“You think any female death eater comes in here thinking she can take advantage of something you do?” Jenna asked, pointedly.

She decided, right there, right then, that perhaps she was capable of hate, after all.