Amara woke up to the sound of footsteps approaching her, and Though she couldn't remember having fallen asleep, she knew instantly that something was very wrong.

No-one in the Dursley household approached her during her sleep, Aunt Petunia would either bang her bony fist against the door like the police in the telly was prone to do, and Uncle Vernon would just scream at her at the top of his lungs to wake her up.

Dudley... just didn't wake her up. Ever.

So, Amara knew that she was no longer in Privet Drive Nr. 4.

Or if she was, the Dursleys had vanished and bought a soft mattress for her to sleep on and changed her into a soft shirt and jeans that actually fit her petite frame.

Feigning sleep was one of her best qualities, so the young Potter kept her eyes shut, and her ears open for any suspicious sounds that might clue her in to her whereabouts.

The footsteps had stopped during her inner monologue. Stopped next to her as a matter of fact, and she felt the heavy presence of someone watching her.

There was a dip in the mattress, slow deliberate movements meant not to wake her.

The girl forced herself to lay still, and at that moment, a sliver of fear entered her heart and she felt like a small mouse awaiting execution from a snake.

A hand on top of her head and a small pleased sigh from the other person.

"I know you're awake."

Amara nearly jumped out of her skin at the deep male voice who had whispered this in her ear, and she felt her heart freeze.

She knew this voice. She knew it very well because it sometimes haunted her in her dreams.

Tom Riddle.

Voldemort.

He chuckled, and she finally opened her eyes to be greeted by his face, who was a mere inch away from hers, his eyes red full of mocking satisfaction.

For the first time since the beginning of the Summer, she felt genuine terror, and Amara shuffled away from him, only to realize that he had counted on this action.

In a second his hand was around her wrist, the grip so tight that she felt her hand go numb.

"There's no need for that love, I'm not going to bite you," he said, as he approached her even more, his movements scaring her more and making her fight against his steel grip.

"Perhaps you won't bite me, but you'll definitely kill me. And I'm not your love."

He must have seen something in her eyes, an irritated expression crossing his face before settling on merriment again.

Voldemort sighed and let go of her wrist.

Like a wounded animal, the teenage witch cradled her hurting hand to her chest, pure fear and adrenaline the only things that kept her from vomiting on the bed.

"Why- What-... Where are we?" After some stuttering, Amara finally decided on the question she meant to ask, and Voldemort's face (A pretty face, she was surprised to find, not the scaled, snakelike one he had worn since his resurrection) looked unimpressed at her eloquence.

"We are home, little girl."

"This isn't my home. Where are we?" She asked again, and Voldemort rolled his eyes slightly.

"It is starting from today. To save you from asking any more unnecessary questions, I will tell you some things in advance."

He stood up, his body towering over hers, and Amara felt like she was going to burst into tears. First, Dumbledore had decreed that none of her friends and loved ones could write her during the whole summer for safety reasons and that she wouldn't be allowed to spend the end of the holiday at the Weasley's.

Then that bastard had found a way to take her despite all the Headmasters talk of the Blood Wards.

"I took you from that horrendously mundane place you call home and have brought you here, to the family estate.

Now, I am telling you this, because I would very much dislike any escape attempts. I am trusting you with a little bit of information.

Now, you are here because I want you to be. You're mine, and that the end of that discussion. This means that I will not kill you, or harm you in any way. You will not return to Hogwarts or any other School for that matter, on September 1st. You will stay here until I deem you trustworthy enough to run some errands by yourself.

You will receive your own room in the West Wing of the Manor, right next to mine, with a connecting door.

You will attend to Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner, and will do so without protest, lest you want to anger me. The Library is Open at any hour of the day for your use and education. There will be no teachers, nor tutors at your disposal since the threat of manipulation on your side is too great, and I don't want anyone to interfere in our business. The House Elves are at your disposal as well but will not obey any orders aiding in an escape or action that could harm you.

There will be more rules as the time comes, but until then you will obey those who were given to you. Or I will punish you.

Any Questions?"

Amarantha was livid. Amarantha was furious. How dare he think that he had any right to control any aspect of her life in such a dismissive manner.

She was her own person, and despite her young age, she knew how to handle herself and to stand up for herself.

Life at the Dursleys would have been impossible otherwise.

To even believe that she was going to quietly accept a life of imprisonment in fear of 'punishments' was ridiculous. She was Amarantha Potter, and she would fight until her last breath if it meant she could enjoy even one second of freedom.

"Fuck you, you asshole. How dare you think that what you're telling me is okay? What the Fucking FUCK makes you think that I will mindlessly obey any of those stupid and Controlling Orders? I won't obey you, even if it fucking kills me, and I will defy you until the end. Do you understand?"

The fury on the Dark Lord's face would have been hilarious if he hadn't immediately caught her head by the chin and forced her to look into his furious, blood red eyes.

"Listen here, little girl, I will explain this more plainly for your simple-minded brain to understand.

You will Obey every single order I give you, or you can kiss your freedom, and your past goodbye. If you are good, I will allow you generously to send one letter a month to a person of your choice. If you do better, it will be one letter a month to each person you care about. If you do bad, you will still be able to send the letters, but they will come back unopened and unread because there will be no one to even set eyes on them as they will be dead. Do you understand?"

His eyes were glowing now, and Amara felt the blood drain from her face, and she could see Hermione with her nose between the yellowed pages of a book, Ron with a victorious grin after winning yet another round of magical chess, the twins whispering to each other, plotting and planning against the world. Luna, Neville, Sirius, Remus, The Weasley's, Dobbie. Even Snape.

There were tears gathering in the corner of her eyes, the anger, the fear and hopelessness causing them to fall down her cheeks and her face. She couldn't bear to think of their deaths, couldn't bear to think that she might be the one to cause them, so she nodded and tried not to feel the humiliation when a lazy satisfaction entered her arch enemies' eyes.

"Do You understand me, dear? Say it out loud, I want to hear it." Amara felt like she was about to hyperventilate, but still, she looked into his eyes, determined not to lower them for anything in the world. Though this was humiliating, she would take it all if it meant her loved ones could live.

"I do. I understand, Voldemort."

"Good girl. Now, follow me, and I will bring you to your room."

It was around 5 O'clock in the afternoon when she heard a knock on the connecting door to Voldemort's ("Call me Marvolo, only followers are required to call me by my title. You, however, are too special to be held to this rule.") room.

Without waiting for an answer, the Dark Lord opened the door but stayed at its frame.

"Amarantha, Dinner will be served at 6 on the dot. I don't tolerate any form of lateness. Be sure to be there on time."

"Yes, Marvolo." Though her voice wasn't rude, it wasn't as meek as he would have liked, she could tell. But She hadn't insulted him, and it was her first day in this nightmare, so he let it slide.

He left soon after that, taking her anger with him.

The room the elves had prepared for her was magnificent and spacious, the tall windows allowing a generous view of the Garden and the surrounding forests. It was magical, obviously, but despite the luxury of the decorations and the high quality of the furniture, she felt sad and empty.

The colours of the room, though slightly impersonal, were very calming. The crème walls complimented well with the dark wooden furniture and the soft yellow colour of her bedsheets and carpets were beyond pretty. It was all very... ladylike.

With the graceful Paintings (Thankfully unmoving), the shelves lined with ancient or expensive books, and a wardrobe filled to the brim with dresses, shirts and skirts, this room could have belonged to an elegant pureblood heiress and Amara would have believed it.

The only things that marked this room as hers, was the broomholder in the corner, which proudly displayed her firebolt, the birdstand, where Hedwig was carefully preening her snow-white feathers, and the empty second-hand trunk that she had opened hours prior.

Marvolo had actually gone through the trouble of kidnapping her and taking her belongings at the same time. Probably not out of the goodness of his non-existent heart, but to show her that he was willing to do her favours if she behaved well.

And despite being at the mercy of this psychopath for the time being (she didn't doubt that she'd be able to escape one of these days), Amara still felt grateful.

The fact that the could still look at the pictures of her loving parents in this moment of darkness, felt like the light that may help her get through this ordeal.

That, and Hedwig of course. As if she read her mind, the owl took flight and landed on the outstretched arm of her mistress, talons digging into the naked skin of the uncovered appendage.

"I don't know what to do Hedwig… I feel like, if I take a wrong turn, I could either change or die. I don't want either. I just want to be left alone. With you and our friends. How can this be too much to ask for? I'm just Amara." The owl hooted softly, and the girl felt instantly a little better.

At least she wasn't alone in this.

After a last sweep of the room, she called a house elf, an adorable female called Finny, and asked her to store her empty trunk somewhere safe. The elf, surprised by the witch's kindness, burst into tears in a true elvish fashion and proceeded to pop away to obey her new favourite mistress.

Another Elf appeared as it was nearing Dinner time and gave her a note from Marvolo.

Dress appropriately, a simple dress or blouse/skirt ensemble will suffice. Dinner is not an affair of jeans and T-Shirts.

M.

Sighing, Amara chose a simple, baby blue dress that didn't look too fancy or lazy and took a quick shower. After dressing, and asking Finny to dry her hair, she brushed them and resigned herself to dine with the Devil.

Marvolo looked bored when she entered the dining room, but he smiled at her mockingly when he was her. Though she felt that there was something wrong with the way he was looking at her, she simply sat in the offered chair (His left) and stared incredulously at the sheer amount of cutlery laid out before her.

Crystal glasses and silver cutlery, oh how Amara hated rich people.

"What is this supposed to be?" She asked, feeling entirely out of depth at this new development.

"Basic table etiquette, love. I thought I could give you a small lesson for future occasions." There was a smirk on his handsome face, and Amara felt the sudden desire to stab his red eyes out of their sockets with a silver fork.

"I hope you don't mind Marvolo, but if you seem insistent on addressing me with pet names, I will do the same. And for your information, I am well versed in this topic, and would request that this lesson is cancelled." After all, you don't set the table for your Aunt's and Uncle's more important dinner parties without having a clue about the right etiquette and manners.

There was some surprise on the older man's face, that soon vanished to show a small smile. It seems that she had pleased him in some manner.

"Very well. I will not object to your use of pet names if they are dignified, and will agree to cancel the lesson if you can eat this meal like a civilized person. If you cannot, not only will you have displeased me, but I will endeavour to find every single book explaining the British manners and table rules in this house and quiz you on them. Is that understood?" Marvolo levelled her with an amused stare, but Amara was too tired and hungry to fight with him, lest he take the food away as a punishment.

"Yes Marvolo, I understand."

"Good. Now, let's dine, shall we."

Dinner was an exhausting affair, the stiffness in her back from having sat with a straight back during the hour it took to go through all the 4 courses infuriating her further. The only saving grace was the exquisite quality of the food, that had come in an ample quantity.

Her right hand was trembling a bit by then, but she ignored it in lieu of excusing herself from the table.

Though he had asked her to stay behind and drink a cup of tea with him in the seating room after dinner, she had successfully managed to explain that it had been a rather exhausting day and that she wished to rest.

Knowing the rules, and applying them were different things, but she still managed to eat 'properly', if only to avoid Marvolo's unnecessary punishments.

She had appeared polite and quiet during the whole meal, Amara had barely kept herself from stabbing the Dark Lord in his hand, in his face or in his Chest every time he started a conversation with her.

He angered her beyond imagination, and his refusal to explain the previous words 'you are here because I want you to be. You're mine' was infuriating.

Amarantha hoped that she could keep her Evans temper in check until her escape.

Here's the second chapter.

It's a bit long, and I'm sure full of mistakes, but, as long as I don't have a beta that won't change.

Would love to read a comment or two, that would make my day.

You can expect the second chapter at the end of the week.

Love,

Valery