Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
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It was cold at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. I stood in the middle of the living room, shivering, as the Order of the Phoenix debated my fate. I had been rescued—or caught, depending on how things went—earlier this evening. Now they would decide if I lived or died.
Around me stood a redheaded man and a woman, a purple haired woman, a skinny, scarred man, and a shaggy dog-like man. They were talking amongst each other, about me presumably, but I couldn't make any sense of their words. It was hard to make sense of anything after Bellatrix. She was my only memory.
Kill me, I asked with my eyes. I have nothing. Kill me.
I collapsed onto the floor, my eyes closing, as the truth of the statement hit me.
I have nothing. Kill me.
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When I come to, I am chained to something. A chair? There are voices, always voices here. They pound against my skull. A hand rests on my shoulder, shakes me. I recoil, my eyes open immediately. Before me stand two new people. At least I think they are new. A greasy man and a tight faced woman.
"It is her." The woman states, horrified. "Emily?" Is she talking to me? I do not respond. I am not Emily. I am a doll, a toy, a play thing. I was made for this, for her. The dark lord is kind to let her keep such pretty toys.
"Miss Woods." The man seemed to be talking to me. I stared up at him, blank. Woods. I thought. Trees. I pictured a tree. I saw many of them. I was running, running for my life. I shook. Cold, so cold. I felt myself fall, yet I remained perfectly motionless. Chair, I remembered. I was in a chair.
"She's gone." The man said, turning to the woman. "She was a Hufflepuff, if you recall. We can't expect much of her."
"Severus," The woman spoke sharply. Then there was silence. "Get her some food. I need to contact Dumbledore."
"What am I supposed to do? Spoon feed her? I told you she was gone Minerva."
"I expect," The woman's voice was dangerously low, "That you can accomplish this simple task. I certainly wouldn't trust her with Kreacher, and we agreed that the children cannot know about her. You will do this."
And then the woman was gone. The man muttered something angrily, and then he left as well.
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The minutes past and I was alone. I was used to being alone, while she was away. I knew there was no escape. No point. If I tried I would be punished. The room I was left in was dim, and I was thankful, I was not used to the light. Soon, the man was back. In his hand he carried food. I looked away, wary, but so hungry.
Food either came with her, and one of her games, or him and his pudgy hands. She would leave me writhing and screaming in pain. He would leave me feeling dirty and violated. I didn't want food.
"What, not hungry?" The man asked in a drawling voice as I scooted away from him as best I could, turning my head as far from the bowl he offered me as possible. My stomach growled involuntarily. I whimpered.
He rolled his eyes, and placed the spoon into the rich, creamy soup. My mouth was wet with saliva. I was so hungry. The man didn't move, just held the spoon stubbornly in front of my lips, waiting for me to give in. Wormtail would do the same thing. I swallowed my saliva. No food.
Then, losing his patience, the man pulled out his wand, and I felt my lips part of their own accord. No! I wanted to scream. With Wormtail I always had a choice—at least give me a choice. It was too late; I felt the hot liquid pouring down my throat and started to sob. Soon the bowl was gone, and the man allowed my lips to close. My face was wet with tears, and I closed my eyes.
Just do it, I willed him. Quick, so I can't feel, so I can't think.
I waited and waited, the waiting was often the worse part, but when I finally eased my eyes open, the man was gone.
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A/N: Things will be explained later I promise! Haha…reviews would be awesome =) Constructive criticism is especially great because I'm definitely trying to improve.