This chapter is very, very dark. Definitely not for the faint of heart, and if it makes you cry, then I feel I have done a good job with this chapter. One of my goals in writing is to instill a good deal of emotion within the reader.
Reviews are always welcome, as they are not only an ego-booster, but they help me to improve. If you do cry, feel free to tell me so. I won't judge. I cried writing this chapter.
Sheeva sat in the dungeons at Malfoy Manor, biding her time until they came back and tried to torture her again. Draco, Snape, and Blaise had been forced to watch the entire time, and even though they knew that their magic was ineffective, it still bothered them immensely.
Sheeva had surrendered herself when they'd been caught trying to get Narcissa out of Malfoy Manor. Voldemort appeared and threatened to kill Blaise, Draco, and Snape. Draco, Blaise, and Snape hadn't said a word about her condition, and all four were forced to act as though Sheeva were not immortal.
Voldemort slinked up to Sheeva in the cage, and stared her down, gazing at the many scars she wore. He'd tried everything. Legilimency, torture via Cruciatus, and poisoning through potions—which Snape had been forced to make. She only laughed at him. Mocked him.
Sheeva looked back at him, staring him in the eye. She smirked at him, almost coming off as mentally insane. The way she saw it, these people had nothing on what was done to her in Auschwitz. He ordered that the cage be opened, and they dragged her out by grabbing her arms and jerking to her feet. She cackled and spat at his feet.
Outraged, he grabbed her by the hair and dragged her through the compound and threw her at the foot of the fireplace. She looked back up at him defiantly, smirking still. She allowed herself to look around. She noted that Draco, Blaise, and Snape were standing together, trying not to look at her. It hurt too much. She slowly nodded her head. That was probably the best for them at this moment. Denial.
"You have so many scars, woman. One of them, I'm rather interested in. One, zero, one. Eight, seven, eight. Tell me, what was it like, being in a death camp?" Voldemort asked.
A few of the death eaters looked at her, amazed. Draco winced. It was a sore topic for her. Blaise grabbed Draco's hand, nervous. Draco held it back. Voldemort pushed her with his foot after she didn't answer him.
"I've read so many things, but never have I read of you. What are you?" He continued to ask. She turned her head away.
"You do not deserve to know." She growled lowly. Voldemort lost his temper at this, and tried to kill her with a death curse, then remembered that his magic didn't work on her.
"I forgot to tell you, I've realized something about you. Our magic does not work on you, does it?" He asked. She said nothing, staring at a spot on the floor, blatantly ignoring him. He smirked.
"Your statue to that man was rather impressive, I must say. It's kept all attempts at overthrowing that pathetic school at bay." He commended her on her work.
Such is the power of my kind. At least you commend my work.
"I could not help but notice, woman, that there is also a mark on your shoulder. It is a brand, yes? You were a slave at one point as well. The equivalent of a whore. Tell me, did you enjoy being a sex slave?" He asked. She ignored him, still. Like she'd had a choice at the time she became a slave.
"Considering the way you stretched for all of my death eaters, I'd say that you did. You're nothing more than a filthy, mudblood slut." He hissed.
The hand that Snape had on Draco's shoulder tightened in rage, and he fought to keep his emotions under control. Draco had a death grip on Blaise's hand, and Blaise tried not to wince. All three were shaking with anger.
Voldemort snapped his fingers, and Bellatrix brought forth a whip, which Voldemort unrolled and brandished excitedly.
"Since magical methods don't work on you, shall we try something you're a little more… used to?" He hissed. Sheeva began to laugh.
"Bring it on, you bastard. You cannot kill my spirit. You will just drive yourself to madness trying." She ordered, staring him straight in the eye. Enraged that she'd called him a bastard, he raised his hand and struck her, the whip making a crack on her back. Draco visibly flinched at the sound, and went to step forward.
"Restrain your son, Lucius! Teach him his place!" Voldemort screeched. He raised his hand once again, twice more, three more times as he whipped her. The whip cut her back each time, causing blood to trickle down her back and onto the floor. She grunted while the pain subsided, and then howled with laughter.
"There is nothing you cannot do to me that has not already been done." She stated, spitting at his shoes in defiance again. Voldemort unleashed his fury at her, whipping her again and again. He didn't stop, even after she had passed out. He stopped, panting heavily. He calmed himself.
"Draco, Blaise. Clean this filth off of my floor. Snape, prepare a blood replenishing potion. We don't want her to die just yet. Not until I know what I want." He hissed, walking away. Draco and Blaise swallowed, staring at Sheeva lying on the floor. Snape's head dropped and he turned away.
He caught Narcissa's gaze, and she stared back at him pitifully. She couldn't count how many times she'd been forced to witness Lucius be punished for his failures, and she understood what Severus was going through. What her son and Blaise were going through.
Blaise and Draco gently rolled Sheeva over on her stomach, trying not to get any dirt in her fresh wounds. Draco shed his button up shirt and covered her back with it, then rolled her back over, picking her up and carrying her, guarded by Bellatrix. They walked to the basement, and he tenderly set her down in the cage, stepping out and not turning around to look as his aunt locked the cage.
"I still don't understand why this filth is so damned special to the three of you. She must have bewitched you. There's no way you could love filth like her." Bellatrix tutted. Draco smiled inwardly, a bleak memory rising in the back of his mind.
I win them over with my own power. True, she'd won them all over, with her sincerity, her beauty, in and out. Her strength. Her courage.
Draco forced himself to walk forward as she jabbed him in the back with the tip of her wand. He had the urge to fight back, to disarm his aunt, and punch the lights out of her until she was black and blue, and then kill her with her own wand afterwards. He suppressed the feeling. Security was still too tight.
Blaise was cleaning up the blood with a rag and bucket of soapy water when Draco walked back into the living room. He got to his knees silently and helped, promising her and himself that they'd get out somehow.
Narcissa tiptoed to the basement, scanning over her shoulder to check and ensure she hadn't been followed. She opened the door and crept across the floor, trying to keep from shaking. The bowl of soup she had would have spilt.
She kneeled down beside the woman in the cage, and shook her shoulder lightly.
"Miss? Wake up. Please. I've got some soup for you. Draco told me that you used to love it." She whispered. The moonlight shone in through the small window, illuminating Sheeva's features. She'd lost a lot of weight, probably due to the fact that she was malnourished and beaten until she was bloody.
Sheeva slowly sat up, opening an eye. She was weak, but she'd been at this point before. She forced her body to move, despite how much it ached, because she knew that if she could just eat something, she'd be able to heal some of the deeper wounds.
Narcissa fed her with small spoonfuls, and as she got a closer look at the woman, she could see why Draco loved her. They were mirror images, save for the scars.
"Draco and Blaise miss you. I've never seen Draco so depressed." Narcissa whispered. Sheeva's chest ached at the mention of Draco and Blaise, and a tear fell from her eye. Narcissa noticed, and wiped it away, handing her another spoonful of soup. Sheeva chewed it, ignoring the pain it sent along her jawline. It was chunky, much more satisfying than the watery broth she'd had in Auschwitz.
"Tell… them…" She groaned; her jaw hurt from where it'd been dislocated. Narcissa shushed her.
"You love them, yes?" Narcissa finished, handing her another spoonful. Sheeva's mouth curled in a slight smile, and she let out a sob. This woman could read her. Narcissa smiled, and handed her another spoonful.
"I will."
A noise sounded out, and Narcissa snapped her head in the direction of the sound, standing to leave. Sheeva grabbed her cloak before she could leave, placing an invisibility spell on her. Narcissa felt a rush of warm air, and looked around, frightened. When a death eater entered, she froze, but then realized that she couldn't be seen. Sheeva fainted, her arm outstretched beyond the confines of the cage. Narcissa turned sharply and rushed out of the door.
Upon reaching Draco's bedroom, his mother sighed in relief, and sat down on the chair. Draco looked over at her from his place by the window. Blaise was curled on his side, hugging a pillow for comfort.
"Sheeva said that she loves you, Draco, Blaise." She said simply. Draco rushed over to his mother and hugged her tightly. Blaise sat up, a small smile on his face.
"You saw her? What else did she say? How is she?" He asked. Narcissa looked at him sadly.
"I didn't let her speak. I tried to feed her. Didn't get very far… she's in horrid shape, Draco. She… She might not make it into next week." She admitted. Draco stared at his mother, and then began to cry. She beckoned him to her, and he obliged, allowing her to hold him, stroking his hair.
The three captives were dragged viciously into the living room, and thrown in. They stumbled, but regained their footing. Sheeva was lying on the floor, legs spread out, covered in her own blood and a mixture of semen. Snape nearly cried out in anguish.
"Oh god, Sheeva." He whispered, kneeling beside her and lifting her to rest her head in his lap. She coughed, and opened her eyes weakly.
"Sev?" She croaked. He gently moved the hair out of her face, wiping away the sweat from her eyes with his sleeve. He wiped away the corners of her mouth, caked with blood and semen.
"I'd thought that seeing your lover like this would have broken your spirit, Severus. She's incredibly resilient, too strong for her own good, I'll give her that. I see why you care for her so." Voldemort taunted somewhere from the shadows.
"After all we've done, after all the times we've whipped, stabbed, strangled, raped, and otherwise tortured this woman, she still has not broken." Voldemort continued.
Severus stared down at Sheeva, who'd closed her eyes, too exhausted to keep them open. He remembered the conversation they'd had about the death camp.
I was in that camp for seven years. His thoughts were distracted. She'd only been here for three months.
"The only reason that I haven't killed you yet, Severus, is because I need you to brew potions for us, and plenty of them." He growled. He stopped at the door, waved his wand, and summoned a bucket and some rags.
"Clean her up, and then I might consider allowing you to visit the wench." He ordered. Severus didn't move, staring at her sadly. He stroked her cheek softly, and Blaise and Draco were stunned. The man was crying. He didn't care anymore, and let the tears fall. First, Lily, and now, Sheeva. Even though he knew she couldn't die, it still hurt.
Draco stood and retrieved the buckets and rags, kneeling beside her and dipping it in the water. He wrung it out, starting with her shoulder and working his way down her arm. At least the water was warm. She groaned as he wiped away some semen on her arm, and then looked; it was bruised in the shape of a hand print. He felt his own tears start to form, and he blinked them back.
Blaise shook himself out of his stunned state and walked to the other side, gently wiping away the dirt, grime, blood, and semen. It didn't phase him, and at that point, he knew; his spirit was broken. He felt pain, yes, but it was a dull ache compared to what it'd been weeks ago, the first time that they'd had to clean her blood off of the floor after the whipping.
Sheeva flinched as they wiped at a cut mark that had split open, right above her protruding hip. Her whole body, once full and healthy, was pale and skin and bone. Draco looked at her, and forced a smile, albeit, not a very good one.
"It's ok, Sheeva. We're getting you fixed up… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Draco sniffled as he continued to wipe lower. He lifted her leg, wiping that clean, and when he went to wipe her vagina clean, she groaned and flinched, grabbing onto Blaise's wrist and her eyes squeezing shut.
"I'm sorry, it hurts, but I have to. It could get infected." He said softly. She braced herself and slowly nodded, squeezing Blaise's wrist hard and whimpering and shaking violently. After Draco was sure he'd cleaned everything out, he sighed. The hardest part was over, he hoped. He rinsed the rag and wrung it again, washing down her legs, and brushing her feet.
"I remember, you're ticklish on your feet." He said, attempting to be cheerful, his voice cracking as he wiped the bottom of her feet. She let out what sounded like a half-chuckle, half-sob. Severus was staring down at her, but not focusing on her. He was lost in his thoughts.
"Severus, we need to turn her over." Blaise said. Severus blinked, and stared at him for a minute. Blaise stared back. Whatever life had been in those onyx black eyes had died within the last few minutes.
"Severus, please." Draco called out to him. Severus slowly nodded, and gently moved her head off of his lap, resting it gently on the ground.
"Sheeva, are you ready?" Draco asked. She nodded weakly. They worked together to turn her over as though she were a fragile porcelain doll. Draco steeled himself, and rinsed the rag off once more, running it down her back, some whip marks from the previous week still fresh. The odor didn't bother him anymore, he'd noticed. They'd long gotten used to it. He washed off her back and her butt, and she braced herself once more as he washed between her cheeks.
Once done, they turned her back over, resting her head in Severus' lap and taking a hand to hold and stroke gently. Severus took off his robe and covered her with it, then began to stroke her cheek. She had closed her eyes and began to sleep, exhausted. Exhausted was nothing compared to what she felt.
He began to think, snapping out of his zoned state. There had to be a potion that could take care of all her wounds, not just replenish her blood. For the life of him, he couldn't think of one. He figured that he could mix a nourishing potion with the blood-replenisher, just to give her the extra boost she might need to be able to fight back. Both would lose a little of their potency, but it might be worth it in the end.
Snape was the one to carry her back to the cage in the basement. He avoided the painting's gazes that were calling the woman in his arms a "filthy mudblood". They had no idea that she wasn't even human.
He set her gently down in it, leaving his robe on her to give her warmth. She was still asleep, thank Merlin.
He went back to the living room to help finish cleaning the mess without another look back.
Snape's idea had worked, to his surprise. Sheeva was now looking a bit healthier with the nourishing potions he was slipping her, and could stand with a little help. Of course, they still pretended that she was in a near-death state to fool the rest, but still, Snape felt accomplished. It was something he hadn't felt in a long time.
The end of the fifth month was coming to a close, and Voldemort had been so obsessed with figuring out what Sheeva was that when Harry Potter, Ron Weasely, and Hermione Granger wound themselves up in Malfoy Manor, he almost didn't care.
When Draco carried her to the basement, he had to admit, he was shocked when he saw his three schoolmates sitting there. They stood, glaring at him. He ignored them, and set Sheeva in her cage. Thankfully, he was no longer being held at wand point, and felt that he could explain the situation to them, if they'd let him.
Draco looked at Potter, and when they stared back at Draco, they were almost horrified. His eyes were dark, like he hadn't slept in days, and his skin was much paler than they remembered. He'd lost even more weight, and his shoulders slouched forward.
"Potter. Take care of her. Please." He practically begged. They looked in his grey eyes. Once full of light, especially when insulting one of the three, were now dull, defeated. Slowly, Harry nodded.
A cry of pain echoed through the house and Draco winced; then recognized it as one of Blaise's. He rushed out of the room, trying to make it back to the living room. Voldemort had ripped the boy's shirt off and was now whipping him. Draco went to help his friend, but Blaise shot him a look. Blaise would endure this without Draco's help.
He stayed where he was, feeling useless as he listened to Blaise's outcries at each snap of the whip. He didn't need to wonder what Blaise was going through; Voldemort had whipped them all in Sheeva's presence. He seemed to have resorted to inflicting pain on them in order to see Sheeva break.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione crept up to the woman in the cell cautiously, then looked at each other in horror. The wounds on the woman were far too great for any normal person to survive.
"Who is she?" Hermione asked, grabbing Harry's wrist. Harry shrugged, and knelt down beside her, moving her hair out of her face to get a better look.
"Why are they keeping her in a cage? Is she a werewolf or something?" Ron asked, keeping his distance. Hermione knelt down beside Harry.
The woman in the cage groaned as she came to, then looked up at them. Her eyes widened as she heard Blaise's cries. Her face contorted to one of guilt.
"Blaise, hang in there." She muttered. Getting a better look at her, Harry recognized her.
"You're the girl that healed Malfoy, in the bathroom." He blurted. Sheeva nodded.
"Yes. I am." She sat up, grimacing as a pain shot through her thigh.
"You made that statue of Dumbledore too, didn't you?" Hermione asked. Slowly Sheeva nodded.
"Is it still standing?" She asked. They nodded, and Sheeva smiled.
"Good." She whispered before going into a coughing fit. She pulled away her hand, and saw blood. She calmed herself, her breathing labored and raspy.
"If we could, we'd let you out, but they've confiscated our wands." Hermione offered. Sheeva smiled at her, then nodded.
"They would be in a chest along with Severus', Blaise's, and Draco's." She told them. She rested her head against the bar and closed her eyes, still tired. Harry backed off and walked away while Hermione remained, lost in her own thoughts.
Malfoy wants us to take care of her. Are they… lovers? Are they being punished for being in love?
The door opened again, and Hermione stood, frightened as she'd been caught trying to comfort the woman. To their relief and horror, Snape stepped in. He put a finger to his mouth and stepped forward. Harry went to stop him.
"No way. The last time that you did that, you killed Dumbledore." He spat. Snape rolled his eyes and pushed Harry out of the way. They stopped him again, this time all three. Snape glared back at them, and then softened, his eyes downcast.
"Didn't you hear her? Albus had already accepted his fate. Besides, I'm here to give her a potion to help her heal. Move out of my way." He muttered.
"Let him." Sheeva whispered behind them. They'd barely heard it, save for the resonance of the room. Hermione moved out of Snape's way first, muttering a small apology. Snape merely nodded his head and knelt down, pulling a potion out of his pocket, pulled the cork, and held it to her lips. He tilted her chin delicately, and as she downed it, she shivered. She'd gotten used to the taste of the potion, but nothing to measure to the tingling and the warmth as it spread through her body.
"Should you three find a way to escape, take her with you. Far away from this horrible place." Snape demanded, shocking the hell out of them. When they didn't answer, he turned to face them, glaring again. His expression softened, and he sighed.
"Please." He asked. Harry slowly nodded.
"Yes sir." He agreed. Snape merely gave another nod of his head and walked away. They noticed he had a slight limp. Ron looked at Harry incredulously.
"What is wrong with you, Harry?" He asked. Harry turned to Ron, somewhat irritated.
"It's a humble request. Besides, Draco asked us to take care of her. Blaise seems to be a captive too, and I've got a feeling that he would say the same." Harry said. Ron blinked, and slowly nodded, accepting that Harry was right.
Hermione turned to Sheeva. She was already looking better. Sheeva stared off in the distance, thinking. Hermione kneeled down beside her once more.
"You were there when Dumbledore was killed?" Hermione started. Sheeva nodded.
"I tried to stop them. I did. Albus ordered me to step aside. As Severus said, he had accepted his fate. I had no right to change it." She admitted. Harry's chest ached with the mention of Albus, as the death was still recent, and fresh in their minds.
"Come to think of it, it is almost a year since, yes? The weather is beginning to warm up. I am not quite so cold down here at night." She muttered. Hermione nodded, amazed that she hadn't frozen to death. Then again, she had Snape, Malfoy, and Zabini taking care of her, it seemed.
"How long have you been here?" She asked. Sheeva thought for a bit.
"Almost 6 months. This is but a blink, compared to other circumstances." She whispered, holding up her wrist to show the tattooed numbers. Hermione and Harry's mouths dropped open, and they began to shiver visibly.
"What's with the tattoo?" Ron asked. Hermione and Harry looked at him, lost for words. Of course he wouldn't have known, but how could they explain? Sheeva noticed their gapes, and smiled a little.
"Ever the intelligent witch, Granger." She complimented.
Sheeva yawned, and she felt her eyes droop.
"He must have added some sleeping draught. Give him my thanks." Sheeva whispered, yawning again as she shifted to get comfortable, drifting off to sleep. The sleep would do her much good.
Well, what did you think? I'll have the next chapter up soon, maybe. I'm at a block unfortunately...