A/N Hi everyone, so I just want to say that this is my first fic where Voldy lives and it's very different from anything I've done. The others have been put up and been taken down for various reasons. Anyways, here it goes. Please read and review. And for the blonde who appears, I picture Amanda Seyfried because she's got this sort of innocence going on.
Warning: This chapter contains a snippet of Sexual Violence. The piece is marked with: XXXXXX before and after. You can ignore the piece and jump over if you'd like.
PS: I AM CURRENTLY GOING IN AND FIXING THIS STORY. ADDING AND REMOVING DETAILS.
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If you walked into Diagon Alley this week, at any moment, you wouldn't recognize it. The sky thundered above, but the witches and wizards who walked with their heads high paid no attention to it. There were others, though. These people did not walk with their heads held high. In fact, they hardly walked at all. Instead, they huddled near alleys and looked down at the ground while the purebloods walked by. That's right, purebloods. They did whatever they wanted, hardly any consequences. Those who huddled? Who else would they be but muggleborns and mudbloods? As for the halfbloods? There weren't any. At least not anymore. After the Voldemort won the war, half-bloods with good connections were considered Purebloods and the others were mudbloods. Those people tried as hard as they could to not cause trouble, but it didn't take long for a pureblood walking the streets to decide they were. You could get killed for the smallest thing, even averting your eyes from a pureblood a second too soon. The girl who was currently sitting in front of the hotel room's dresser would do anything to change that. And she meant anything.
There was an Order once, if you remember. They were called the Order of the Phoenix, consisting of the families of now "missing" teens, and they fought against Voldemort and his followers. Now, a new Order had been created. They didn't give each other a fancy name or anything, these days it didn't matter, but they did fight for the same purpose. They just did it a little…differently.
. . .
He walked out of the restroom, towel wrapped around his waist, and walked towards her, his eyes dark with lust. "I thought you said you'd be getting ready for me?" His voice was sharp, cold. She didn't answer. Instead she turned her head slightly to the left, admiring the light shining over her long golden blonde hair. She ran her hand over it, eyes staring straight into the mirror. He took her by the upper arm and yanked her up, turning her to face him forcefully. "I expect you to answer me, whore. I'm not paying you to stare at yourself." She smirked, and then bit her lip.
"You're right. Why don't we just get onto what you are paying me for?" she said and that's when he took the chance to step back and look at her fully. She had on a silky black robe over a black lace bra and underwear. She watched him intently as he looked her up and down. "Is this alright for you?" she asked innocently, tilting her head.
He nodded, laughing and walking forward to kiss her softly. "It's perfect." She responded to his touch, raking her hands up and down his shoulders and arms, twisting them in his hair, but she didn't want to extend the moment. She kissed him roughly, walking forward so his knees hit the back of the bed. He sat down as she removed his towel and undid the knot holding her robe closed. He sighed contently as she straddled him, kissing his neck, his shoulder, and eventually the Dark Mark that was dancing on his left forearm. He closed his eyes, but she kept hers open, staring vengefully up at him. She moved lower down his body, but stopped at his abdomen. His eyes snapped open. "Why're you stopping?" he hissed.
She smiled up at him, eyes bright with mischief. "I can't go on, you need to pay me first. Now." Marcus Flint rose angrily, pushing her away from him.
"That wasn't what was discussed!" he yelled and she pulled herself up to her feet, retying her robe.
"I'm sorry, boss' orders." She said softly and paused, giving him a moment. "Suit yourself." She continued when he didn't say anything, walking over to grab her things from the dresser, packing them into her bag.
"Wait!" She smiled as he spoke and turned towards him. He snapped his fingers and a bag of galleons appeared on the dresser beside her things. She picked it up, weighing it. Then, she slowly walked back over to him, laughing. "You're bloody lucky that you're worth all this money, whore." Marcus hissed touching her cheek lightly. "You're a beauty, I can't believe I've never seen you around before." She grinned widely.
"Oh, you have seen me before, Marcus." She replied matter-of-factly. He looked at her confused. "Except, I didn't look exactly like I do now."
He froze, glaring down at her. "What're you talking about? How do you know my name?" He watched her, waiting, but she didn't answer. She walked over to the dresser and took up something silver, turning to look at him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, giving him a kiss, which he refused to return.
"Oh," she mocked, pulling away slightly from him. "Am I not living up to your expectations?" Marcus pushed her away, watching her hit the wardrobe behind her.
"Knock it off, whore."
"Whore." Her lip twitched a bit as she attempted to hide her smile. "Don't you think it's getting a bit old, love?" she said turning her back on him. He sneered.
"It's what you are. Selling yourself-"
"Technically, I haven't sold anything!" She plopped herself down on the chair and stared at her fingernails. She grinned maliciously. "But I have been paid." She crossed her legs, looking up at him. "You should probably get dressed. The boss will be here any minute and I don't think he'd want to see you naked." Marcus gave her a look, but it was clear she meant what she said and for some reason, one he wasn't sure why exactly, but he listened to her. He was busy grabbing his clothes that he didn't hear the slight pop of apparition behind him as she smiled.
"And who the bloody hell is your boss, anyways?" He barked, pulling on his pants.
"I am, actually." The man answered from behind him and Marcus jumped, turning to him. Before the Death Eater got to answer, however, the man shot a stunning spell at him and he crumpled to the floor.
. . .
"Does anyone know where Mr. Flint is?" The voice that came from the head of the table was taunting, cold. Someone on the left cleared their throat and the Dark Lord turned to him, eyes as red as ever.
"I do not think he fully understands the consequences of not being here, my Lord." Theodore Nott spoke up, "I assure you, he must be doing something-"
"Important? No, when he signed his allegiance to me all those years ago, this inner circle became the most important aspect of his life. And as I do not have a clue to his whereabouts and neither do any of you, I would say it's not so important. Wouldn't you, Draco?"
The blonde haired boy sneered and nodded. "I agree, My Lord, Flint does fully understand the commitments that come with the Dark Mark. He made it clear the other day when he was flaunting it around, cursing anyone who so much as looked at him." His words made Voldemort chuckle.
"Always the truthful one, Draco. One of my most loyal." He said, turning towards the boy's parents. "Lucius, Narcissa, tell me, have you found a suitable wife for Draco?" The boy's eyes widened as he turned from his Lord to his family. No one had spoken to him of any wife.
"Not yet, My Lord." Narcissa spoke, tilting her head up to look at the man sitting at the head of the table.
"We can't just choose anyone, I'm afraid." Lucius explained, shifting in his seat. "She must be intellectually capable and magically equivalent to Draco if we want-"
"I'm sorry, a wife, my lord?" Draco said interrupting his father, blinking himself from the shock.
"Yes, Draco, wife." Voldemort replied, "Draco, you are one of- if not the best follower I have from among you all. Did you think I would let you stay single, running around with girls who don't deserve you? No, I have big plans for you, Draco and for your heir, should your parents find someone suitable enough to produce one." Draco stared at his parents and then back at Voldemort. He grimaced at the thought of having a child so young, but if those were the Dark Lord's wishes, so be it.
"As you wish, my Lord." He replied. The Dark Lord nodded and looked around the table for a moment.
"Very well, you are all dismissed." They all stood up to go when he added, "And please, someone find out where Flint is. When you do, bring him to me."
. . .
"Bloody hell, Draco, an heir!" Blaise couldn't help the amazement prominent in his voice. "The Dark Lord actually wants you to be the first one to produce an heir." The dark-skinned Italian poured his friend a glass of vodka and one for himself, handing it to the blonde and sitting on the couch in Draco's old room at Malfoy Manor. Draco took a swig of the vodka and massaged his temples. His headache was growing enough with every idiot yapping around the Ministry that he didn't need the thought of a wife and child bothering him. He leaned back in his seat, letting the silence wane over them. "You alright mate?"
Draco looked up at him, grimacing slightly. "I'm perfectly fine. I've got somethings on my mind, though."
"Like what?" Blaise mused, leaning slightly forward in his seat.
"Like where the fuck Flint is, for starters." Draco responded finishing off his vodka. "You know what's odd. Back in the room, when father was talking about my suitable partner, how she had to be intellectually capable and magically equivalent to me, there was one person I thought of."
"I already know who you're talking about, mate." Blaise retorted, downing his drink. Draco raised an eyebrow and the boy continued. "It's bloody obvious. I mean, intellectually capable and magically equivalent. There aren't too many girls out there."
Draco sighed, "There might not be any at all, Blaise. Even if she had been a mudblood, Hermione Granger died years ago."
FLASHBACK
In the muggle world, things were being affected as well. Endless thunderstorms, and days as dark as night. They had no idea of the truth, though. They had no idea that miles from them, somewhere near Scotland, people were dying.
Draco Malfoy ran. He ran as fast as he could, but don't think for a second he was running from the fight. No, Draco was no coward. He wasn't afraid to die. In fact, it almost felt right to him. If he died today, at least he wouldn't have to live in this fucked up world. Because he knew, he knew that no matter what Potter had done to try and defeat the Dark Lord, it wouldn't be enough. Nothing would ever be enough. Destroying those Horcruxes was a waste of time. Yes, he knew about them, his family was meant to protect some of them. He knew that Potter had friends, had people who were willing to die just so that You-Know-Who would be gone. He knew that Potter was loved and that everyone believed him to be the chosen one and in some ways he was. He was chosen, but not to live. There was no way he could because, no matter how much love and support Potter got from people, the Dark Lord had the upper hand. Why? Because he was willing to kill. He was willing to take down anyone and anything that got in his way, just like he had been doing so for many years now. Potter was soft, he would never use the killing curse, and that was his weakness. Mind you, it was an awful weakness to have. It would have been praised by many if everyone wasn't so desperate to get rid of…Tom.
He lifted his wand, firing curses at people he didn't care about, all the while silently helping other students. He turned as a stunning spell whizzed past his head and missed Lavender Brown's shoulder by an inch. He made to point at her and her eyes widened as his mouth formed his next words. "Avada Kedavra!" The girl squeaked and jumped out of the way. Draco sneered at her idiocy, he had great aim and his curse had hit his target. The deatheater standing behind Lavender crumpled to the ground, lifeless. He walked up to her, pointing his wand at her forehead as silent tears rolled down her cheeks. She looked up at him, her eyes glistening with tears, her face stained with dirt.
"Please." She whispered, sobbing. "Please, Draco, do-n't." her voice cracked at the last word. He picked her up and put her against the wall, right hand pointing his wand at her, the left tangled in her hair. "Please don't kill me. You saved me, why would you want to kill me now?" Draco looked at her, shaking his head.
"When Potter dies-"
"He won't!"
"He will! He will die, Brown. You know that! When he does, this war will seem like nothing. Nothing compared to what he has in store." Draco let go of her hair. He spoke his next words carefully, "I am saving you, Lavender. I only wish saving myself was this easy." Lavender had hot, fat tears rolling down her face now, her mouth pressed into a thin line as she leaned into the wall all she could, as if it would help. He looked at her softly. "I'm helping you." She turned her face towards him one last time and Draco muttered the curse that had the colour drained from her green eyes as her body fell forward. He moved out of the way, staring at her lifeless form. He didn't stare at her with hatred though; the look in his eyes was that of jealousy.
XXXXXX
As soon as Hermione reached the edge of the forest, she paused, tears pricking her eyes. She had seen so many people die already, she just wanted this war to be over. She watched with the others as everything became silent, as Harry walked up to Voldemort and shook his head.
"I really wish it didn't have to be like this, Tom." He spoke. "I wish you'd given up when you had the chance." Voldemort laughed and Hermione cringed.
"There's no need for me to give up, Harry. In a matter of minutes, you're going to be dead. And I will rule this world."
Hermione shook her head softly, tears falling down her face. "No." she whispered. A hand closed around her wrist, twisting her to face them.
"Yes." He said slapping his free hand over her mouth and dragging her away from the crowd. No matter how hard she fought, she couldn't get him off her. Her legs flailed and she hit him with her arms, trying to be free of him, but she couldn't. No one was paying attention to her yells because they were too busy watching Harry and Voldemort. "You know, it's taken me many years to try and get you here, Granger. I'm glad I now get the chance." Hermione kicked at him and shoved, but it was no use, he was too strong for her. Quidditch had done him well, given him muscles that would never have been there had he not taken up the sport. She was forced to watch as no one turned to look at the boy pulling her deeper into the woods. It seemed like finally, they came to a stop, but his grip didn't lighten.
Theodore pushed Hermione to the ground, pushing her down at the last minute. "Please," she cried, "Please, don't" Her only response was the back of his hand colliding with her face, snapping it to the side. His hands worked quickly, unbuttoning her pants and pushing them down. Theodore did the same with his and Hermione turned away from him, trying to sit up, but he pushed her back down, straddling her. "No, Theodore, don't."
"Shut up!" he yelled, slapping her once more. Hermione wouldn't stop struggling though, and he was forced to pin her arms above her. He moved his free hand down, savouring the feel of her skin. He licked his lips and she squirmed, crying. "I have to warn you, mudblood, this will hurt." Hermione's cries ripped through the air as he violated her. She had never experienced anything this painful. It seemed like a never ending sequence, but after what felt like forever, it was over. He leaned forward to kiss her to which Hermione obliged, making sure to draw blood as she bit his lip. Oh, he didn't like it one bit. His hand shot out as he slapped her, "You fucking bitch!" he yelled, grabbing his lip. He stood, pulling his garments with him. Hermione turned on her side, away from him, hoping and praying that he would just leave. Luckily for her, his team was searching for him.
"Theo!" Nott turned towards the direction of his name, "Theo, are you here?" it was Goyle.
"I'm coming," he yelled, walking away from the brunette as if they'd done no more than talk.
Hermione cried, she cried because if Goyle was walking around casually, if no one had come to her rescue, then it was over. Voldemort had won the war. She didn't know how long she cried, she didn't really care. She just waited until she felt better, which she doubted she ever would.
XXXXXX
They were hidden in the shadows. Neville had been clever enough to put a charm on them, they were invisible now. There wasn't that many of them, but there was enough. This plan had been construed days earlier. They had to have some sort of backup in case Harry didn't make it. Sure enough, he hadn't. The killing curse wasn't what killed him though. There was an explosion created when Voldemort's spell and Harry's connected. Harry was blown backwards, a piece of metal running through his chest. He was killed instantly. The place was vacated almost instantly as witches and wizards apparated away in fear. Voldemort and his Death Eaters leaving once they thought it was all clear.
They were wandering through the forest in search of survivors when they heard her. She was crying, sobbing dry tears now as she seemed to not be able to produce any more salty ones. Neville rushed towards Hermione, engulfing her in a huge hug, planting kisses on her head. She hugged him back just as hard as Ginny and Luna covered her up. Everyone else took the charm off and Hermione looked around, buttoning her jeans and standing slowly. She smiled at their faces.
Arthur and Molly Weasley, Seamus Finnigan, Oliver Wood, Dean Thomas, Hannah Abbott, Parvati Patil, Nigel Wespurt, Percy Weasley, Bill and Fleur Weasley, Fred and George, Michael Corner, Katie Bell, Dennis Creevy, Anjelina Johnson, and Zacharias Smith.
Arthur walked over to Hermione. "I'm so sorry we didn't get here sooner, Hermione." The girl shook her head.
"It doesn't matter. We're going to kill them." She said, "every last one of them" She stood, ignoring the worried looks on the Elder Weasley's faces. "They have taken from us for the last time. We will not cower any longer. They have killed all we hold dear and ended all hope, but not ours. I don't care what we have to do. I don't care who we have to kill. Voldemort will crumble. He will have a short-lived empire, even if I have to do it alone. So if you're not okay with this, then hide. Run and leave Europe. Hide in the muggle world and don't ever come back. But if you're with me, then be with me. Be prepared for anything that might come our way." She paused, waiting to see if anyone would leave, but no one did. They all stood together, chins held higher than before. And although a few had tears streaming down there face, they took hands. "Very well…Welcome to the order."
END OF FLASHBACK
. . .
Marcus' vision blurred him back to reality. It was not good. He stared at the chains that bound him to the ceiling and the ground and pulled. He lifted his arms once more and pulled. Nothing. The chains refused to move. If anything, he felt more trapped than before.
"It's useless, you know? Trying to escape the chains. The more you pull, the tighter they become. So, unless you want your wrists to pop off, I'd stop." Marcus searched for the voice everywhere, but he couldn't find her. There was a sigh from somewhere. "Of course, losing a hand is the least of your worries."
"Show yourself, you bitch!" He yelled and a laugh came from across the dark room. He turned his head in every direction, searching, but it was useless. She was standing right behind him. Not that he could see. "Come on, you coward, what are you trying to prove?"
"That you're not powerful!" Her voice bounced off the walls, hitting him from all directions. "That you can't do whatever you want and get away with it." She appeared in front of him as a light lit up the room. Marcus cringed at the dagger in her hands and she pursed her lips, pressing the dagger on his cheek. "Oh, the little death eater's afraid of a knife." She mocked, swiftly moving it away from him, drawing blood. Footsteps were heard as her "boss" made his way towards them. Marcus' eyes widened as he caught sight of the man. He'd thought it'd been a dream. "No! That's not possible, I saw you die! You're supposed to be dead!" Marcus yelled and the man laughed heartily. As if he'd simply been told a wonderful joke by a friend. He turned to the girl.
"Can I have that?" He asked and she handed him the dagger. He spun it in his hands and pressed it against Marcus' side. "It's a good thing I'm not dead then right?" he said and without warning he stuck the knife into the man's side. Marcus howled in pain as the girl frowned. It seemed never ending, the pain that was inflicted on him. Over and over, there were howls of pain as the blade was continuously working on him. After what seemed a while, the blonde girl looked up from her side across the room.
"I want to have a go at it." She took a step forward and Marcus braved the chance to look at her. Then, her boss nodded.
"Alright, but let's extend it. I don't want the man who killed Susan to die easily." He said pulling out his wand and muttering a spell. Marcus yelled as pain etched through his body.
"You're fucking crazy!" he exclaimed. "You don't do this, you were on the light side!"
"I still am!" The man was right in front of him, getting in his face. "We all are, and that's why we're doing this. Taking you out. One by one."
"You'll never win! There's not enough of you and this bitch." Marcus cried. The girl laughed.
"You don't know that for sure." She said. "We just want to rid this world of you. People who killed innocents."
"You're no better than me." He spat, visibly trembling. Whether it was from fright or the pain, they didn't know nor did they care.
"That's where you're wrong. We will always be better than you." She answered, laughing. The boy dragged a chair across the room and sat in the middle, near Marcus as the girl circled him.
"Don't! Longbottom, don't let her do this!" he yelled and Neville shrugged, crossing his arms.
"I can't tell Hermione what to do more than you can." Neville answered and Hermione licked her lips, drawing back her arm and swinging it forward. Anyone would've heard Marcus' cries, if they hadn't silenced the room.
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A/N okay so that's the end of this story. I've never done one where Voldemort survives so I'm really trying to change it up. As you can see, the good characters are kind of corrupt, they've taken on a more evil aura. They still want to save the world, but they're doing it differently.
On another note, I've searched and in some placed Nigel's last name is Wespurt and some it's Wolpurt or something of the sort. So for this story, I'll just use Wespurt.
Please read and review. Hopefully it'll inspire me! Thanks for reading x
