Without any ado, chapter 7, folks:
The battlefield, though still full of yells and shouts of wizards and witches, was littered with a fair amount of bodies. Fred dropped Daphne's hand, and looked at her. He felt an urge to kiss her, her hair was blowing in the wind, and her body already tensed, ready to fight. She was beautiful. Without so much as a second thought, he leaned down, only feet from her, and connected their lips.
She was surprised, not having expected him to do this, much less on a battlefield, but after a moment's hesitation she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down closer to her. He walked in closer, right in front of her now, and hesitantly wrapped his arms around her waist. She leaned into him.
After a second, they both pulled away, gasping for breath. Daphne smirked at him, and he smiled back, arms still around each other. He pushed his forehead against hers, nose to nose, eye to eye. They were both breathing equally hard, and the battle seemed faint in their deaf ears.
Suddenly, a jinx of some sort, flung from the battlefield which they were on the edge of, hit Fred in the leg.
Daphne, reacting immediately, pulled away in shock and pointed her wand at him, "Prior Incantatem!"
The slight pain in his leg faded, he didn't even know what curse it had been. Daphne looked at him, eyes wide, surprised, and he looked at her with love. A beat passed, and both Fred and Daphne turned to the battlefield, ready to fight. While Daphne would fight for the cause, as it was one she believed in, Fred would fight for her, and that any death he dealt to people who were once his friends, or were still his family, would be worth it for her. Or so he told himself to sooth his conscience and calm his mind. He would do what had to be done. No matter where his true loyalties lay.
The battle was long, lasting well into the night, and even though Daphne and Fred had only been there for part of it, they were exhausted. Fred had sustained minor cuts all along his arms, and a curse, Fred suspected a sectumsempra, along his stomach had torn open his robes and produced a large, vertical gash, stretching from right below his heart, to just above his hips. It hurt terribly, and was still bleeding heavily, despite being inflicted less than half an hour ago. He felt lightheaded, and looking at his blood drenched robes, only some of which wasn't his, put it up to blood loss.
However he was more worried for Daphne. She, like Fred, had minor, though deep, cuts all over her arms, which were steadily trickling blood. She also had a large cut on her cheek. It stretched diagonally from her left eye, down to a few inches below her ear. It was still bleeding heavily, and Fred had had to guide Daphne to where the Dark was gathering to portkey out. Fred was unsure that Daphne would be able to hold onto the portkey, and so wrapped his arm around her when the portkey left.
Fred, fortunately, hadn't met any of his family in mortal battle. He had, quite temporarily, engaged with his twin, George, who had seemed to make it his personal mission to track down Fred. George was angry. Not that Fred could blame him, he had done everything in his power to make it seem as if he had truly turned to the Dark. Fred knew that George's hatred for him would help him to survive, but the raw hurt and fury in his eyes almost made Fred regret it. Almost.
The portkeys took them to Malfoy Manor, which seemed to be Headquarters. Fred and Daphne, unsure what to do, and if the Dark Lord would call them or not, decided that medical attention would be the best route to go. There were 'medics' who were healing the injured Death Eaters. Seeing Daphne's faint expression, and the blood, from her cheek, that soaked down the front of her black robes, nearly invisible, but still wet and recently bleed, made Fred gently grab her arm, and pull her to the front of the masses, intent on getting her medical attention.
He snagged some bandages from a table and held them up to her face. She gave him a glare and grabbed some more, pushing them heavily into his stomach. Fred had almost forgotten about that wound. Magically he stuck them to his wound, most of which had scabbed over.
Minutes later, still barely at the front, Fred's Dark mark unexpectedly stung. He was being summoned. Based on the sharp gasp from Daphne, and her quick, but weak, movements, she had been summoned as well.
Fred felt anger bloom in his chest. Daphne was in no condition to meet the Dark Lord, she was weakened already as it was. From what he knew, she had gotten her cheek cut only minutes after they had first arrived, and had held a cloth there for most of the remainder of the battle. Despite this, it was still trickling blood, and even when in clotted, she often moved her face, upsetting it enough to bleed copiously again.
It was amazing she was still conscious, and she was certainly in no condition to do anything but sit down and have it treated, much less meet with the Dark Lord himself.
But they were Death Eaters. Death Eaters, Fred figured, served their Lord over themselves, and Daphne was a loyal Death Eater.
Fred and Daphne walked down the hall briskly, knowing that it was where he would be, in the large study previously used by Lucius Malfoy, but taken over by the Dark Lord just after the Manor was used as Headquarters.
They reached the solid oak door all too soon. Fred and Daphne stood outside it nervously, both of their hearts beating vigorously. Sweat trickled sickly down Fred's back. He clenched his hands.
Daphne raised her hand to knock, unsure what else to do. Fred quickly pasted an expressionless expression on his face, knowing that his face would be examined. He would not go down simply due to a slip of the face. He was here to stay.
The door opened before Daphne had knocked even more than once. At the door, holding it, was not the Dark Lord, as Fred had expected. It was ridiculous to think that he would open his own door without magical aid, and at the door instead Bellatrix Lestrange.
Fred blinked and before he had time to look at her closely, a voice within the room called them.
"Weasley, Greengrass. How nice of you to finally join us." Lord Voldemort's voice was cold, calculated. Even so, stepping into the room, Fred could see how the anger glimmered in his eyes, if only because of his lack of attempt to hide it.
Fred swallowed, but straightened his back and squared his shoulders, walking carefully and quickly to the Dark Lord. He was sitting at a large, ornately decorated throne like chair of silver and green. The room clearly would have a desk, but most likely as it currently didn't suit the Dark Lord's purposes- which were undoubtedly to torture Daphne and Fred into forgiveness- the desk and accompanying chair had been vanished in favor of the one he was in.
Fred quickly walked, with no hesitation and quick, short strides to the Dark Lord, he immediately kneeled in front of him and bowed his head, studying the shoes and floor in front of him. Fred, unlike many a Gryffindor he knew, wasn't too proud to bow. He had however, had to unbend quite a lot of his pride in the beginning, during his training. He was used to it. Not to say that even a simple kneel and bow of head didn't burn him up with anger on the inside, but Fred was a well trained and practiced at occlumency, and kept that anger deep inside him for fear it would betray him. It was crucial he was not discovered, for his own sake, for there would be no mercy given to a traitor Death Eater, and for the sake of the war.
Moments after him, Daphne did the same, kneeling beside him
Moments passed, Bella still by the door, which was now closed, with Rodolphus, who Fred hadn't noticed but Daphne had, at her side.
The entire room was still, as if waiting. Fred barely dared breathe.
"Hmm, Weasley, how nice to have you back. You have been missed, I'm sure."
Voldemort's silky voice was all the warning Fred received before his mind was ripped open and viewed at the Dark Lord's leisure. It was easily the most painful thing Fred had felt, and he was sure that he was screaming, but it never reached his ears, he was too far involved in his head. He had to hide the more treacherous memories, such as discussing with the Order's leaders.
Vaguely aware of the Dark Lord's invading presence, he shoved those few memories to the deepest pits of his mind, knowing that to do so was a skill hard developed, one of the highest forms of Occulmency, that Voldemort would never assume he had. Indeed the difficult skill was painstakingly taught to him by Snape, which was a far cry from pleasant. Snape was one of the few people, according to Draco, who had the skill in the country, at least that he knew of. Although, Fred had thought, if you could hid any and all memories at your very core, you wouldn't exactly bandy it around.
Almost as soon is the mind wrenching agony had come, it was gone. Voldemort studied Fred, who had somehow retained his kneeling position. Breathing heavily with anger and pain, but bowing his head all the same. His throat was sore, and Fred knew that it was probably from screaming himself hoarse, even if he hadn't heard it, involved in his head though he was.
The mind invasion, Fred knew, had probably lasted only a minute, or even less, but nonetheless, it had been hell to say the least.
"Very well, Weasley. The papers?"
Of course, Voldemort had seen Fred 'steal' that papers from the Order as he and Daphne fled. Although Fred was confident that he hadn't seen the accompanying story.
Reaching into his coat, where he had tucked the papers, he shakily handed them to Voldemort, his head still bowed.
After a few minutes of dead silence in which Voldemort perused the papers, he nodded crisply.
"Very good, Weasley. You will be rewarded for this, after of course you are punished." Fred could hear the evil smirk in his voice, and resisted shivering. He nodded, but kept his eyes and head bowed as he said, "Thank you, my Lord." He hoped he had injected the right amount of obedience and gratitude into his voice, knowing despite the soon to come punishment, he was expected to be grateful.
Evidently he had seemed honest, because Voldemort turned to Daphne, done with him for now.
Her screams were awful to listen to. Voldemort repeated the same process of examining her mind that he had done to Fred. Fred knew that she would have nothing to hide, and that the Dark Lord would surely forgive her, but that did nothing to soothe the worry and fury he felt when listening to her agonized screaming.
But there was nothing to do. So he waited for her pain to be over, with his his eyes screwed shut, and resting his chin on the bend knee.
A minute later, he was done examining the contents of her mind.
"Greengrass, I trust nothing like this will happen again? You will stay out of the Light's grasp at all costs. No loyal Death Eater can be trusted if they are captured at every chance."
"Of course, my Lord." Daphne's voice was stronger than ever, though with a slight wobble to it. Fred was suddenly overwhelmed with admiration for her. She was so strong despite the ordeal she had just been through, not to mention the physical exhaustion she must be feeling after the battle and their stressful capture.
"Now, you both must be punished, think of it as a deterrent from capture again."
As if they needed it, thought Fred, but was unable to push down the mounting dread and fear. Any punishment from Voldemort would be hell to pay.
Then it was finally over.
Daphne and Fred's punishment had lasted at least half an hour. It ranged from the cruciatus curse to Dark curses that cut them open.
Fred, though he hadn't been a Death Eater for long, had seen a few Death Eaters after a punishment from the Dark Lord, and suspected that the Dark Lord had held back.
Bellatrix and Rodolphus, fulfilling what Fred suspected was their only purpose in the room, took them from the room. Minutes later, out of the house, and with a portkey, took them to Lestrange Manor.
Daphne had lost consciousness, and Rodolphus carefully carried her into her room, where a healer immediately began to work on her.
Fred, as he could still walk, was escorted by Bellatrix, who sported an uncharacteristically worried look on her face, to the healers waiting for him.
In his dizzy mind, laying on a bed, healers buzzing around him, he heard Bellatrix yelling at them, demanding that they heal him immediately. He almost smiled, clearly, after the months he had spent with Bellatrix and Rodolphus, they had grown to care for him and Daphne.
Just before he passed out, he saw Bellatrix's face, a maternal look in her eye, similar to the one that Fred's mother had often had when he was sick.
Oh, the irony, he thought. The reputed ruthless Death Eater, had motherly concerns for a Death Eater, Order spy, who had injuries inflicted by her precious Lord.
Really hoped you enjoyed. If you did, drop a review, :). Also, if you found any errors, grammar or otherwise, feel free to tell me. :)
Have a great day!