"It's been while"
The voice was low, warm, and…seductive. He wouldn't expect anything less from her. She was his Femme Fatale; his downward spiral and his complete and thorough undoing of his very well kept pristine mask of steel. She was his Bonnie to his Clyde and she would awaken something in him he had kept locked away since he left Hogwarts.
It was cold and wet. One of the many reasons she despised Russia and why she was looking forward to stepping into the Floo powder to visit some old friends. She had been sent to Russia by the deatheaters for meddling in their plans to take over Hogwarts. She was a cold hearted woman as much as any Bellatrix Lestrange, but she loved her school over the dark lord and was eventually found out.
She stepped into the Floo Powder and imagined the cold marble floors of the Malfoy Manor. She felt the powder rise her up and popped her into their enormous white fire place. She knew Draco was now married to Astoria and they shared a son, just as handsome as Draco himself.
She heard the music coming from the all too familiar ballroom. Thankfully she dressed for an event. Her long gold mermaid style gown wasn't at all too formal for her taste. Her heels clicked on the white marble to the double doors leading to the ballroom.
The gatekeeper stared at her with disbelief.
"N-N-N-Name?"
She raised a brow, "really? You don't already know it?"
"Miss Romanoff, I-I-I regret to s-s-say that you are n-n-not on the list"
He cringed, and looked down, expecting a sort of punishment.
She lifted his chin and smirked, "Let me in."
He bowed and opened the double doors. She sighed, the green and silver shimmered on the drapes, and the night sky was twinkling on the ceiling. She scanned the room. All the right couples were present; the Zabini's, the Greengrass's, and the Malfoy's. She shook her head, not one Romanoff…how tragic.
She smirked once she saw that Draco saw her, he reacted as she expected; confused, then hurt, then angry.
She made her way through the crowds.
"Natalya? Is that you? When did you get back?"
She turned and smiled "Blaise! Today actually, I'm officially out of the barren which is known as Russia. I don't suggest you visit there."
He chuckled "one doesn't just go to Russia, unless exiled there."
She smirked "my exile is done. I think we both know that. The Dark Lord is done, I have nothing to fear."
He put his arm around her waist and led her to the patio surrounding the Malfoy Manor. She looked at Blaise confused.
"Nat, he's married; with a child, please don't tell me that you are back for him." He looked at her concerned.
She sighed "no, I'm not here for him. I'm here to regain my life back Blaise. I lost everything in Russia, my family is extinguished. My name once feared is nothing to society anymore. Thank God my parents died wealthy people, because otherwise I would be some bum under a bridge. I might as well be hanging out with the Weasley gang, seeing as to what I've been reduced to."
Her eyes watered as Blaise wrapped his arms around her. This was a rare moment when Natalya actually proved she was human with feelings.
He led her back into the ballroom. She shook her head and pulled out a mirror.
She huffed with impatience as to her make-up. Pulling out her wand she fixed the problem and smiled one of her fatal smiles. She wasn't going to mark this event a complete wash.
She looked up from under her lashes "Blaise, would you like to dance?"
He grinned and led her to the floor.
Her work was her life. She loved the mystery of it all, the mystery of interviewing people who were not approached by anyone else.
She took the risk. And she loved it.
It's an adrenaline rush, interviewing the damned and forsaken.
And her next subject was going to be her bread and butter.
Natalya Romanoff was rumored to be back in town. It was also rumored she crashed the Malfoy gala.
Sounds like my kind of woman.
She avidly typed on her typewriter, a trait she was made fun of daily. She enjoyed the constant clicking sound of it; it was soothing.
"Chambers"
She looked up and grinned "Granger"
She smirked "What's the story this week?"
"The last deatheater, isn't it brilliant? This is what's going to land me the front page!"
Hermione raised a brow, "Yeah, on the Quibbler! Marie, you know you could have gone to Malfoy's gala and picked a handful of them. I don't understand why this is so brilliant?"
She grinned and pointed to a picture of a intimidating witch, "Yes, but not all of them are Natalya Romanoff. She is the LAST deatheater and she is back in town. No one is brave enough to interview her. She's apparently pretty ruthless."
Hermione shuttered, she remembered that face. Flawless in all its beauty, but just at cold-hearted. She still had no clue how she came out of the war unscathed.
"What makes you think you can just walk in and interview this woman? She'll kill you where you stand; she still doesn't seem to have a problem doing that to people."
Marie stared at her typewriter "I don't, that's the beauty of it."
The flat looked as if it had never been left. She opened the door to polished wood floors and a string of house elves.
"Missus we kept it clean in case one came back."
She narrowed her eyes, only one will ever come back now.
She walked over to the fireplace. Pictures of her family lined the mantle, all very proper and cold. She picked up one from when she was a little girl of eleven. She had just been accepted into Hogwarts, the little girl in the picture stood straight with her letter in her hand. Who knew this little girl would be given a task that would change history.
She set it down and sighed; it was a lot more painful than she thought.
She walked into the master room where her mother and father once slept. It was exactly the same. Her mother's silver brush and mirror on the dresser. Some of her deep red hair remained. She straightened it.
Her father stood proud in one of the pictures on her mother's dresser. They were so in love with the idea of both of them together.
She always thought she had been given a lovely mix of her mother and father; her mother's looks and her father's ruthlessness.
She put her father's picture down.
"JIGNA!"
A small house elf ran into the room.
"Yes madam?"
"I will be sleeping in my old room. Please, move my things in there and size it accordingly."
"Yes madam"
It was going to be a long night…alone.
Sighing; Marie packed her cubicle for the night. She knew what tomorrow held, she would approach a woman once compared to Bellatrix Lestrange.
She laughed a little; this is nuts, but right up her alley. She had interviewed the likes of the Malfoy's, the Zabini's, and Crabbe's and Goyles. But, this, this was going to be a little more tricky, the Romanoffs made the Malfoy's look like a cupcake covered in sprinkles.
She smirked and grabbed her wand. She never went to Hogwarts; her parents never allowed it. Hogwarts was rumored in France to be too dangerous, so her parents settled for Beauxbaton.
Maybe, that's why she craved the dangerous, because she was never introduced to it.
She turned off the lights as she left and started the journey to her flat. She lived about five minutes from the phone booth to get back to her work.
She turned the corner to the large multi-story building of her flat. She nodded and smiled at the doorman and continued to the elevator. She lived with muggles and she preferred it. They're quiet for the most part.
She got to the eleventh floor and opened the door to her flat. She hung her coat and set down her briefcase.
Starving, she made her way to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Sighing she pulled out a frozen dinner and threw it into the microwave.
Staring over to the window that faced all of London a feeling of depression came over her. People at work whispered about how she was only friends with her outdated typewriter.
Maybe they were right; she was in the end alone right now. No love to cling onto, except her parchment.