Chapter Three
Prison in paradise
Harry Potter is in no way mine
Water splashed vibrantly down the fountain, tracing the smooth carved rock. Around the fountain albino peacocks strutted majestically, full plumage gleaming in the sun.
The grass was dry, and the hot wind promised another scorching day.
Tall manicured yew hedges, running parallel to each other, flanked a straight driveway.
At the end of the driveway, an ancient oak door, belonging to the handsome manor, swung slightly in the air.
Through the front door, past the huge entrance hall, and into the drawing room, a plain brown door sat.
A dark passageway on the other side of the door, lead to a steep staircase and a cellar.
In the cellar a young woman paced the room, confined by bars and mire.
"I demand to know why I am here".
She spat at the man who stood guard, perfectly hitting the front of his robes.
The hooded man tensed in anger, then let it go. Wand twitching in his hand, wanting to kill, vengeance like poison boiled in him. He fought to control it, he must.
"Your anger amuses me."
" You pathetic coward. I know who you are. You think you can break me? You think you can hurt me? You think you can win me over? Why do you they call you Voldemort anyway? I heard whispers that you look hideous, even now you hide your face from me. Do you not think I can read your thoughts? How you loose control, and even now against your own will, your body wants to kill me."
She laughed, loud, manic and drawn out.
"You better learn to hide your thoughts better, because I will find out everything. It is better for you, to stay away from me, I'm dangerous."
"I am the dark Lord, you will not talk to me like this. Crucio."
The woman's body began to shake, but it did not look like she was in pain. Voldemort stopped. He knew it was pointless. He couldn't break her through pain. He hated to admit it, but she was strong willed.
"I am a merciful Lord. If you speak such words again, you will have no mouth from which to speak them." He turned to leave the cellar, but stopped to hear her reply.
"Very well my Lord," she spat each syllable out. "Just remember that I am always thinking them."
She smiled.
Voldemort carried on walking, pretending he didn't hear her. He must stay away from her for now he thought. Otherwise he may kill the girl too soon.
The young woman named Chandra sat, absentmindedly brushed her dark curls. Regret stung her.
He had treated her tolerably since she arrived. True he had kept her prisoner, and had tried to torture her.
But she was not the easiest of people to put up with. She knew at the best of times she was stroppy, loud mouthed, prone to irrational outbursts, and seductive with her beauty.
Yet for the most, she was treated like a queen. Her prison was extravagantly dressed, like a prison but in paradise, but with her gaoler been the devil himself.
She looked around.
Red carpet had been put on the stone floor. Draws and a four poster bed, accompanied mink and fur blankets.
A magic toilet chamber had been put in another corner with a screen for privacy.
In the middle of the room a three legged table sat, upon which permanent dishes were stuck. Several times each day new food and liquid appeared.
She ate heartily, unafraid of hidden poison.
There was even a filled book case, a glass case with lizards, a velvet couch, colored swaying candles, and enchanted bricks which cast the weather in.
This puzzled her.
A prisoner of the dark Lord, kept in extravagance, and attended personally by him.
She read some of his thoughts clearly, but most seemed murky, hidden, somehow ripped away. She had always been able to read minds when she tried hard enough. Always.
She would try again.
Seven days she had been here, and she didn't care if she ever left.
Her family had been murdered, and hate like fire, had filled her, burning her wounded pain. Hate kept her alive, hate kept her safe. She stopped brushing her curls and listened to the footsteps above.
"My Lord, may I inquire as to why the girl is here?" Bellatrix asked calmly.
"She is of use to me. Eventually all will become clear. She is to be left under your charge while I am gone. You will not speak to her, or touch her though. You are to make sure nobody else goes near her, nor finds out of her existence. You will however send Draco to spend time with her."
"Draco, my Lord?"
"Yes Draco, they are of a similar age. Let him into the room with her. Let them be close to one another, develop a... friendship. What I want from her can not be taken by force. So I will employ other methods, even those foreign to me."
"Surely anything you want my Lord can be taken-?"
"By force?" Interrupted Voldemort. "Yes, but some are more enjoyable with permission."
Bellatrix felt a stab of jealousy. This girl was getting treated like a queen. The scum. Probably a dirty bud blood.
"Jealous?", Voldemort smiled like a snake. " Do your duty, you will be rewarded. Shes only a young woman, why should that bother you? Put your thoughts to better things."
He walked away from her, into the entrance hall, out the front door and with a swish of his cloak was gone.
But Bellatrix couldn't. Something odd was happening. Was the dark Lord going to take this girl for his own pleasure? Or did she have something else to offer him?
Chandra's face swam before her, the girl was the most beautiful young woman she had ever seen.
Even her attitude was attractive- dark, strong willed, careless and powerful. Power beyond her age. Skill beyond almost even her. She was everything Bellatrix wanted to be.
Pained filled Bellatrix, her body shaking. It should have been her be filled with the dark Lord, not some unworthy, filthy undeserving brat.
Maybe Draco could help after all. She would show the dark Lord that Chandra was only a girl, and that everything he wanted he could find in her. She would encourage Draco and Chandra to be lovers.
For once in her life, emotion clouded her. She did not think of the consequences which would fall on herself or her nephew.
Bellatrix found a mirror, and looked hard at her self. Azkaban had stolen her beauty. Years of dedicated service to her Lord had done this to her. Yet even now he held back most things from her. It wasn't fair.
Draco passed the room, his reflection pale and rushed in the mirror.
"Draco, the Lord has work for you to do. There is a prisoner in the cellar, make sure to fulfill all her needs. She is to be treated with respect. You must become close to her."
"The dark Lord wants me to become close to someone?"
"Yes, but do not to talk to anyone of this, not even the dark Lord. Go down there at once. I will tell your mother and father that you have been given a job. You will be relieved of all other duties. Report to me daily. I want to know how far you've... come with her."
"What do you mean how far?"
"Think about it Draco. Your a young man, with physical needs. Don't deny yourself. Downstairs is someone like you. Now go."
Draco blushed, a mixture of nerves and pain.
"Yes aunty."
Draco turned and walked down the dark stairs. He hadn't bothered to bring his wand.
Draco was frightened, and yet so curious. But he knew if the dark Lord had anything to do with it, it would be horrible. The dark Lord brought pain and destruction to everything. This was probably a sick game.
Who could he trust? He had never felt so trapped.
He swung the door open.