A/N: Welcome to my newest strange and random brainchild. This one is going to be rather dark, but then, it deals with a very controversial subject. Throw in some Imperius magic and a few Dark Marks, and there you go! Hope you enjoy, and maybe I'll actually post more than one chapter on this one. For any of you who started Queen of Heaven, I apologize profusely, but Chapter One has continued to elude me, and without Chapter One, I can't get to the rest of the plot I had planned. So, now that I'm done with my rambling, I present to you, without further ado:
Chapter One: Unwelcome Arrangements
Padma Patil snorted in disgust as the last of her twin's seven trunks landed on their bedroom floor with a crash.
"Merlin's Thesaurus, Parvati, it's Christmas break! We're only going to be home two weeks. Why in Circe's name do you need all that…junk?
Parvati sniffed derisively at her sister. "Oh stuff it, Padma. Just because I keep up my appearance…unlike some Ravenclaws I could name…" with a huff, the Indian girl turned and tugged on the clasp on one of her numerous trunks, finally winning her minor battle and flipping open the lid to reveal a staggering collection of hair potions. After much deliberation, she carefully removed a large and brightly colored bottle full of glowing turquoise potion. Turning to her twin, Parvati remarked, "You know, you might want to do something with your hair. Remember, the Chabas are coming to dinner tonight."
"Oh sod the Chabas!" Padma growled, "Circe's liver, if Kumar so much as looks at me again, I'll…"
"Padma!" Parvati made a moue of shock and disgust. "If Sir ever caught you spouting such nonsense…" she shuddered theatrically as she trailed off.
Padma, however, was unimpressed by her sister's dramatics. "Oh come off it. You know very well Mum promised she'd never force him on me. I don't see why Si-Father should."
Parvati sniffed knowingly. "Well," she cooed, "we'll see, now won't we?"
"Padma! Parvati!" Mrs. Patil's soft alto floated up the stairs. "Remember, dinner at seven thirty. Oh, and do wear some dress robes, dears."
Padma wrinkled her nose at her mother's request. Parvati merely smirked knowingly.
Precisely an hour and twelve minutes later, the doorbell rang. Padma, who, having spent the past hour suffering the ministrations of her ever fashion-conscious sister, resembled nothing more than a harried doll, groaned inwardly. On cue, Mr. Chabas strode through the arched foyer at the invitation of her mother, closely followed by his severe looking wife and snobbish son. Padma plastered a smile on her face and mentally steeled herself for an evening of torture.
"Ah, Sanjay, my friend!" Mr. Patil's voice boomed from his enormous chair, "so good to see you again! And Kumar! My, you're looking well. And so grown up. Might be time to find you a wife soon, eh?" The surprisingly diminutive man winked at the youngest Chabas. Padma nearly choked at her father's blatant hinting.
Mrs. Patil smiled tightly before ushering the whole assembly into the dining room. "Padma, dear, I need your help in the kitchen," she muttered in her daughter's ear.
Padma, happy for any escape from her fathers innuendos, excused herself quietly and followed her mother into the kitchen, where she promptly rounded on the older woman. "What is he doing?" she hissed. "You promised me you wouldn't do this!"
Mrs. Patil offered her daughter a sad smile, but made no move to defend herself. "Padma, dear, there's nothing more I can do. Your father…well, you know Sir." She sighed. "Padma, I'm sorry. I know this isn't what you want, but you will grow accustomed to it. I know you; you're a strong young woman. You can do anything you set your mind to. I know you can be happy with Kumar."
"What?" Padma shrieked. "What do you mean I'll be happy with him? You never said anything about being with him. Yes, I know, Sir had hoped I would end up marrying Kumar, but this? How can you stand there and ask me to give up everything for some…some stupid…Ugh!" In her most childish display in recent memory, Padma stamped her foot and stormed for the door.
"Padma, wait," Mrs. Patil called desperately, "darling, you don't understand…"
"Oh, I understand, all right, Mother. You are going to force me—force me!—to get married. Merlin's sodding bedslippers, Mother, this is the twentieth century. We're living in England! And you know something, Mum? In twentieth century England, you don't force your daughter to marry against her will." With that proclamation, Padma spun on her heel and stalked through the door.
Mrs. Patil's normally proud shoulders slumped in defeat. "No…" she whispered, "no, my Padma, you don't understand."
Eight Months Earlier:
"Srinivas…Ah, Srinivas, my faithful servant. You don't want to upset me, do you?" The impossibly gentle hiss held not a trace of animosity.
"Never, Lord." Srinivas Patil's glazed eyes glowed a soft red as he stared into his master's unblinking orbs.
"Srinivas, my pet, will you do something for me?" The hiss sounded almost pleading now.
"Anything for you, Great One."
"Good, Srinivas, good." Glowing red eyes gleamed as the Master made his request—a request Srinivas Patil found it impossible to deny: "Give me your daughter. She is a fit mate for my favorite protégé, and I would see the young man happy."
Not a trace of doubt crossed the small man's mind as he eagerly agreed. "Of course, Lord. You honor my daughter and my family."
"Good. I am certain you will find the match quite appealing. I believe you already know your future son-in-law…Kumar Chabas."
Mr. Patil's eyes gleamed even brighter. "Indeed, Lord, I know young Kumar…and I approve."
"Excellent, my pet. I am glad. Now, I know you have business to attend to…"
Watching Mr. Patil's retreating back, Voldemort smiled to himself. 'Strange,' he mused, 'how the most precious asset can be obtained so readily.'